#but then i get my roof rack on!!

[canadiankakashi]

I get to drop kick a speaker later :D

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Man, I'm so tired.

[demoness-one]

this guys window is going to break and hes just doing this For The Bit but if i do the same thing but better my window wont break and ill have my full size spare, AND most important my sticker collection wont be covered up. winning all around. at the cost of some rear visibility but i can just get a backup camera

[gilfrespecter]

OH!!! FUCK I FORGOT I GOTTA FIND AN ARCHERY RANGE NOW THAT I DONT HAVE TITS IM SO EXCITED TO LEARN HOW TO SHOOT CORRECTLY

[alnilaem]

a more fleshed-out version from the third prompt of this post of mine.

cw for emotional manipulation, breaking in, stalking, smut, babytrapping, and dubcon to be safe

simon riley/reader

-

Something is wrong. 

Your suitcase is halfway past the threshold of your front door, halfway past your new grave, when you notice the hum of salt and tobacco in the air. Discomfort licks your insides and binds to your skin so heavily that you begin to sweat. A tinny sound peals out as you rearrange your keys between your knuckles, clenching it, and step inside your flat. 

Your heels are at the foot of your shoe rack. Your coat isn’t where it’s supposed to be, crimped in a pool on the floor. Your framed photographs are all inched to the left—you know this because you committed their placement to your memory—because you feared this would happen.

Something is seriously, gravely wrong. 

You feel like you’re lost at sea. Dull-headed and impaired under the alluring melody of a blood-thirsty siren. Walking towards their call, your legs moving before your mind can, spit in the presentiment of fear the same way insects get caught in spiderwebs. Stuck, and about to be eaten.  

You trek further into your flat, following the telltale signs that someone has been here—is here. A general shift in air. The stench of stale herbs and metal. A trail of silt on your hardwood floors, that of which could only be caused by certain mud-clogged boots tracking into your flat.

Here, you pause. On the threshold of your kitchen. Your stomach turns inside out and if it weren’t for your ribs, your heart would have burst out of your chest. 

It’s like you’re walking on glass. Every thin sliver that pokes your skin, invading you, is a splinter of fear. And it also makes it so that you can’t walk away—you’re frozen in place, watching him above your stove, setting a kettle to boil. 

He hears your squeak. Simon turns around, cotton-plated in his civvies, and hums. 

“Welcome home, Love.” 

The moisture leaves your mouth and rushes to your eyes. A film of dew materialises on top of your waterline. It’s thick and pearlescent and clouds your vision, turns Simon into an incorporeal blob in your vision, turning him into a trick of your eyes that you hope will go away after you blink.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Simon rests himself against your kitchen counter. He crosses his tattooed arms over his chest, tilting his head, and bends his lips into an unseemly smile.

“How was your friend’s place?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?” You try getting your anger across, but your voice betrays your emotions. It’s heavily distorted by fear, waning, so much so that it makes him blandly chuckle. Like he can smell the terror roiling off of you. Like he feeds from it.

“How did you get in?”

Simon shrugs. “I’ve got a copy of the key.” 

“I changed the damn locks.”

“I got new ones,” he says.

“We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” Simon snarls. “When I was at my fuckin’ lowest. You broke up with me and I didn’t agree to tha’ shit.”

“Simon–” a gust of disbelief cuts your sentence short. You grip your hair at its roots, tugging it, twisting it, coiling your face in frustration. “Simon, you need to leave.”

“You’re talkin’ like that ‘cause you’re mad at me. Give it a few minutes, and you won’t be.”

“Are you fucking insane!?” You yell. You draw towards him and slam the kettle off the stove. “You broke into my flat!”

“I had a key,” Simon says. He steps towards you, bullying you backwards until the hind of your spine catches on the cold granite of your countertop. Until your back bends over it, Simon, looming over you. “I’ve always told you to use the deadbolt.”

You bite your lip. The blood sticking to the roof of your mouth isn’t as bitter as Simon’s eyes. His are cold, depthless. 

“Fuck off.”

Then, Simon flips. His expression shifts in a whirlwind of seconds. Now, his brunette eyebrows are pursed and his lips are pointed down. His head is ensconced on your neck, his shoulder suddenly laden with an invisible weight as he kittens into you.

“Just came ‘cause I wanted to talk…” he mumbles. “One a’ my men died on me yesterday. Got early R&R for it. Thought you’d be happy to see me...”

You’re motionless as Simon clemently begins kissing your neck. You split your hands on his chest and try shoving him away, but he doesn’t move. He’s as solid as rock. Pushing himself into you, grovelling into your sleek skin. 

A phantom chain is tightening around your throat. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what you can say. You feel that with any words that poise themselves on your tongue, Simon won’t take kindly to. 

“Simon… I’m sorry for you. I really am,” you slip out from under him and step back. “But this isn’t the way to go about it. We’re adults. And I’m asking you to leave.”

Simon raises his head, lukewarm. He stares at you through his half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily, clenching his fist around the lip of your countertop. Thickly, you swallow. You fidget with your cardigan and hope it will offset the discomfort hanging in the air. Simon takes a deep breath, sucking it all up—the discomfort, the presentiment—and you expect his huffing to precede an explosive reaction, but it doesn’t come. He just slips himself off the island and turns around, quiet when he speaks.

“Yeah,” he hums. “My old man didn’t want anythin’ to do with me, so why should you?” 

Your eyes widen. Though you’ve spent so much time trying to bury it, trying to familiarise yourself with Simon’s sick gambits, a pang of guilt hits you hard.

“Don’t say things like that,” you point an accusing finger to his chest, “it isn’t fair.” 

“No, no,” he grumbles. “Makes sense, does’n’it? My old man walked out on me, so I should handle you walking out on me, too.”

Simon shudders with a long breath. He slaps his face into his hands, and it’s at this point, does your knee-jerk impulse to comfort him take hold of you. The last of your even-tempered brain screams at you—he’s trying to ply you with a humanised side of him, but that side died a long time ago—but you press forward and awkwardly bring him into your arms, patting him on the back. 

“Simon, I’m… sorry, okay?” He buries his head in your neck, nips at your skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t you jus’ yell at me tomorrow?” He asks. Simon slips his hands into the depression of your waist, pulling you against his chest. Against the ever-rising tent of his jeans. 

Your mind protests, but Simon keeps you close. He stinks of sweat, impairing you with it, spinning you around and pushing you against the counter. 

“Simon–”

“Shhh,” he hums, catching his fingers on the hem of your leggings. “Y’said we can talk later. ’m tired, Love. Just need you right now.” 

Any protests rot on your tongue because the wind is knocked out of you as you’re folded over the counter. Simon’s hands travel, gripping every part of you, rekindling old bruises left behind and making space for new ones. 

He ruts into you, cock fattening in his boxers and stressing against his jeans. He slides a hand over the divots of your spine and bends it around your neck, hoisting your head back, huffing into your ear. 

“You’ve no idea how much I missed y’Love,” Simon’s humping you now. Rutting himself against your ass with unrestrained vigour. He bites the husk of your ear, flattens you against the counter, and sinks a hand below your waistband. He spreads your pussy open like the shell of a fruit, pushing his thick fingers into its flesh, knuckle-deep and kneading you. 

“How’s here?” He grumbles. You whine, and he twists himself deeper. “What about there?” 

Your mind and body wrestle between pushing him away and yielding under his touch. Simon fucks his fingers a little deeper, a little meaner, into you, and chuckles when you squeal. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, and you see a sliver of bared teeth as his lips hitch up into a gnarled smile. “Ah, so that’s the spot, innit?”

You’re dew-skinned and fuzzy when Simon throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom. Your tongue is heavy and numb and bootless against any objections as he throws you on the mattress, standing balefully at the foot of the bed. 

If you were a child, you’d hide under your sheets until he disappeared. But you’re not a child, and Simon doesn’t disappear. He sinks his knees into your bed and swipes his shirt off over his head, unbuckling his belt in one slick motion. 

He unzips his jeans and doesn’t even pull his balls out, just cups the gauze of his boxers beneath it and leans onto his hands.

A pearlescent bead of precum slips down the slit of Simon’s dick and drools onto your comforter. He wraps his hand around it, slips his palm up and down, tugging down your pants.

Your legs kick into a paltry complaint, but Simon pins your legs down. 

“No reason in fighting,” he says, rubbing his cockhead against your clit, “You’re so wet, Love.”

Simon nudges your panties to the side and thumbs your clit. Leans in for a biting kiss and swallows your moans, slapping his fat cock against your puffy, wet cunt. 

“Missed me just as bad, eh?” He huffs, setting his dick against your winking hole, pushing past your first ring of muscle and rolling at the sticky sound of your cunt spreading open.

“Simon–” you hic, latching onto his forearms. Trying to offset his bruising grip on your hips as he falls into a steady, deep rhythm. “At least wear a condom.”

He’s so thick, so heavy between your legs. Hoisting you onto his thighs and leaning over you, snapping his cock into you. He screws his face tight, pellets of sweat running down his marred collarbone. Congealing into the spindly, blonde threads of hair on his chest. Down to the wire of steel wool that thickens on his pelvis, pinching your clit each time he slams into you.

“You’re stayin’ with me, Pup,” he pants, kissing a stripe up your neck, suckling on your pebbled nipple. “Gonna gimme a litter, ain’t you? Just like we talked about?”

A little, lone tear slips down your hot cheek. Simon leans in and licks it off. He stuffs himself to the hilt, shuddering with abrupt pleasure as he skips to his feet and folds you in half, pounding into you, biting down on your shoulder.

It hits you like whiplash when Simon pushes himself so deep that you feel him swelling under your skin. He gives you no warning before emptying his balls inside you, flooding you with a white-hot come, clutching your jaw into a wet, messy kiss.

You’re blinded and eclipsed by pain as your orgasm shoots through you. The pleasure is numbing and makes you quiver, tremble, until you’re gushing around Simon’s cock and swivelling your hips to get away.

You’re shaking when he pulls back, giving your pussy no time to soften. Simon gives it a swat and flays himself off of you, heading to the bathroom. You hear the cellophane of your birth control peeling open, and the successive thunk as Simon tosses it into the bin. 

You try getting up but Simon flattens you back as he crawls in bed next to you. There’s a hand of his on your waist, seemingly benign, but tightens itself each time you try slipping away. Your sniffles are piercing and Simon pulls you close. Brushes your tears away, kisses your eyelids. 

“You’re not gonna leave me now, eh? You can’t,” he whispers, “you’re all I’ve got. You and our baby. You can’t leave me now.”

A pitiful cry escapes you. Simon takes that as agreement.

[garbinge]

Cowboy and Pony

Tyler Owens x F!Reader

Summary: Tyler comes home with the crew after a chase and after a unpleasant run in with your ex. Word Count 4.5k Warnings: Light angst, mentions of parental death, really bad science and tech explanations for the sake of plot lol, anxiety, talk of trauma/guilt/grief, fear of leaving home, kissing and i guess PG-13 sexual situations (not really but like blink and you miss it type stuff). A/N: I saw Twisters last night and cannot get Tyler Owens out of my brain. Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

You knew Tyler practically your whole life. He was the boy next door, but that quickly turned into your friend next door. Throughout all of his crazy life adventures, bull riding, studying meteorology, chasing storms, you were there. Except while he was trying out a million things, you were doing one. Tinkering with shit. Some people probably would have called you a mechanic, but you hated it. Because you didn’t just stop at cars, you were the person that would dig through the garbage to find trashed parts and build a computer out of it. That’s actually when Tyler talked to you for the first time, he stood back watching you pick through his trash just to get a circuit board from an old computer. You just liked to build stuff, you learned how to solder, how to rewire shit, the whole nine yards. 

Tyler wasn’t just your neighbor growing up, he was a friend. One of the best of ‘em. It’s why when he switched up to tornado chaser and asked you to join his crew there was no hesitation in your decision. You also managed to find a boyfriend, two of them actually, a jerk off one, that only lasted a few months and then the one you currently had, who was in front of your face this entire time. 

You were nose deep into some project as you heard the bark from Pony, the rescued Great Dane who you spent most of your days with. It was a miracle you didn’t hear the loud speakers of the truck you knew pulled into the driveway, but then you realized they had probably been broken off or mangled to the point of repair. 

“He-hey Pony, who's a good girl.” His voice was muffled, he had to have been a few feet out from the barn, which meant he was keeping the truck a good distance away from you on purpose. 

Sliding the barn doors open, your eyes first fell on him. Your number one concern always being him. But when you saw that damn handsome smug face on him, looking up at you with the most apologetic smile as Pony licked his face, your eyes jumped to the truck. They were jumping just as soon as they were closing shut. 

The exoskeleton of welded steel had been crushed on one side, which honestly was the least of your problems. The weather station atop had been missing complete pieces versus just a couple dings and scratches. The roof rack lights were broken and the trailer hitch was bent in an unusable position. But the firework launcher was in perfect condition still, of course. 

“I fixed what I could on site.” You heard the statement through gritted teeth as Tyler stared at you knowingly. 

“Oh. There was more.” You opened your eyes and saw him with an expression that could only be described as yikes as he nodded and stood up, Pony attaching to his side instantly. 

“Yeaaaaa.” He was still gritting his teeth as he walked towards you with open arms, knowing he was going to work his way back into your graces. His arms were around you in seconds, and his lips on yours moments later. Reaching to the top of your head, you removed the soldering headband that was resting on the top of your head like a simple pair of sunglasses although was 5x the size. Tyler instinctively grabbed it from you, and moved his hand right back to your lower back while you let your hands cup his face. “I’m sorry.” It was whispered as he pulled from the kiss to rest his forehead on yours. 

You looked up at him and noticed the smallest scratch on his face and wiped your thumb along it in hopes that it was just dirt but when the mark stayed and you felt the rigidness from the skin starting to heal already, you knew it wasn’t. “You know all that shit I build for you is so this doesn’t happen, right?” 

He let out a laugh, and you felt his body vibrate against yours as he did. “It’s barely the size of a papercut, and I, uh, recall you using your wiring tools to stitch up my head one from bull riding so I’d say it’s not too comparable.” His hands were now reaching up to your face to place a swift kiss on your forehead in an attempt to ease you. 

“I don’t compare, I just find a way to make things better. So now you need to tell me what happened to make this happen.” Your hands had moved against his chest. 

“One of Storm Par’s guys didn’t tie down their gear right and it nicked Tyler.” Lilly was walking right by you both into the barn to drop her drone for its own repairs. 

That made your entire mood change. “I’m sorry, what?” Your head jumping from Lilly to Tyler who was smiling with his mouth open readying an excuse.

“It was one of the new guys, didn’t know his ass from the tornado.” This was him trying to simmer the situation with humor.  

“Yea and when you told him that, that David guy got all up in our pretty boy’s face!” Boone was also entering the barn, following shortly behind Lilly with the drone eyes and controller. 

“I’m sorry, what?” That’s when your body got more tense and Tyler did everything to try and shake it off you. 

David. The jerk off ex-boyfriend. 

“Which ones David?” Dani was calling out from the RV, her hat crooked as she hung from the passenger door handle. It was obvious she was probably busy when the situation occurred. 

“The jerk-off one!” You and Tyler both called out at the same time. It earned him a smile, you could always count on being in sync with him. Surrendering from your tension you raised your arms up again to his neck, just below his jawline. 

“What’d he do?” 

“Ah, you know, storm up in my face.” The irony of his statement wasn’t lost on you, it’s why you rolled your eyes which made him explain further. “You know, just said some stupid shit, Boone’s probably got it on video, probably really drive up our views.” 

You didn’t give a fuck about views or watching the footage right now, you wanted to hear it from him what happened. And he read that off you immediately. “He just got mad. I mouthed off to someone in his crew, he said some shit to me and I just brushed him off.” 

Looking over to Lilly and Boone, you were looking at them for the real answer. “I didn’t realize we were calling, pushing the guy to the ground, brushing him off.” Lilly was smirking as she was looking around at the pieces of the drone that were needing repairs. 

“Let me see the video.” You were pushing off Tyler, who was leaning in trying to get you back in his embrace until he dropped his head in defeat. 

Boone was eager to show you the footage he caught, ditching the drone and coming to your workstation to set up his camera for you to watch. 

“Watch your mouth, Tornado Wrangler. One of my guys is worth all of yours combined.” A typical thing to come from David’s mouth. The MIT degree he held must’ve come with a minor in selfish pretentious douchebag. 

You saw how Tyler’s tongue swiped against his bottom lip inside his mouth as he looked out past David, considering he had a few inches of height on him. “See that’s the difference between me and you, Storm Par, we value things a little differently.” 

It was immediately apparent that Tyler was referring to you. Yes, he valued his team way more than David his, but Tyler knew what he was doing when he said it. David put a lot of things before you when you were dating, and the straw that broke the camel's back was when he didn’t show up to the hospital when you found out your mother was sick. This was before Storm Par and Tornado Wranglers though, this was when David was just working tracking storms in the area for his college internship and Tyler was just starting to get over taming bulls and more into taming twisters. 

When David joined Storm Par, you were already with Tyler for about a year, so it was much to his surprise when he saw you at one of the many motels on the storm trail in Oklahoma not only on top of the red dodge RAM truck fixing something, but also on top of Tyler at the little bonfire gathering in the field adjacent to the motel later that same night. 

But it wouldn’t have mattered if you were together with Tyler or not. The two never got along, when he first met David from when they both started chasing the same storms, there was always something in the air. 

“Yea, we do. Extremely difficult and exhausting emotional baggage weren’t high on my must-haves when I was looking for a girlfriend.” It was the exact words he used when you broke up with him. Correct, you broke up with him, and he hit you with the yea this isn’t working, you’re extremely difficult and the emotional baggage is beginning to exhaust me line. The extremely difficult line was probably in reference to not wanting to build machines for him to use to track the weather, modeling equipment, etc. And the exhausting emotional baggage was the whole your mother being sick thing. He clearly was still using the statement which meant he thought it was effective. And it was. At getting pushed to the ground. 

After the words left his mouth, Tyler’s hands were on David’s collar bones and shoving him with such little effort but enough to get him to stumble to the ground. Tyler smirked, a fully sarcastic look as he shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands. Very that’s what you get of him. “Told you not to talk about her, Storm Par.” 

“You told me not to say her name.” David was annoyingly dusting off his shirt, knowing that physically he couldn’t take Tyler even on his best day. The secret was, you knew he couldn’t outsmart him even on his worst day either. 

“Hm.” Tyler was taking a couple steps closer now, really towering over him now, blocking any sun from David's vision as he stood tall looking down at him. “Well let’s just add it to the list, huh?” Just as Tyler was about to step away, the smirk on his face went from sarcastic to a full blown smile as he grabbed the ‘not my first tornadeo’ t-shirt that was on Boone’s shoulder and tossed it down to him. “Here, something to change into, you got a little dirt.” He pointed to his own torso when he said it.

That’s when the camera flipped to Boone raising his eyebrows, “you mess with the bull you get the horns!” His fingers raised to his forehead where his pointer and pinky finger were extended in the rocker sign and his teeth gritted to imitate a bull. 

“Classy.” You looked up to see Tyler still in the same spot, at the entrance of the barn leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. “Maybe next time we can get you both knight costumes and we can make it a true fight for my honor.” 

Despite your satire, he knew you weren’t mad. “Next time, huh? That mean you comin’ on the next chase with us?” 

That was the question. It was so much the question, that everyone was looking at you now. Lilly, Boone, Dani, and Dexter. After your mother got really sick, it was hard for you to leave the house, when you needed time for yourself, you’d come to the garage barn and work, that way when she needed you you weren’t too far. When she passed, you were away, on a chase which held enough guilt to basically move you into your barn. The house was merely a place for you to eat, sleep, and shower. And have sex with Tyler, although the barn had seen its fair share of that as well. Now, you had explained it as a habit–preference even, you preferred staying home, it was habitual. But everyone really knew… it was that emotional baggage. 

Even though he was mentioning it now, you knew there was never any pressure to go. You used to go. But ever since you got that call from the nurse’s aid that your mother had passed in her sleep while you were 75 miles away, it was hard to pull yourself from here. 

“Let me bring the truck in here.” Avoidance.

The keys were being dangled from Tyler’s fingers before you could say another word. As you jumped into the driver’s seat of the truck, you looked down to see a note on the odometer with your name on it. 

She got a little more mangled than expected. But can’t wait to tell you about the chase. Give you a little sneak preview, twins, changing wind shear and a surprise. Did what I could on site to fix the ol girl but no one’s as brilliant as you, especially with the vehicle sonar. You probably didn’t notice the vehicle sonar was broken. I’m sorry, did I say that? I don’t think I said that. I love you, I’ll say that too, in hopes that it’s enough for you to forgive the state of the truck, and if not, I brought back barbecue to win your love back. 

T 

These were your favorite; they made you feel included, like you were there. And Tyler knew that. Tucking the note into your jacket pocket, you pulled into the garage barn and got to work. About an hour in was when you were interrupted by the smell of barbecue and Tyler attached to the plate. 

“Winning back my love?” You called out with a smile, your legs extended out on the roof of the truck as you installed the new-old weather station to it. 

He placed the plate next to you, barely needing to reach up to get it that high and jumped into the bed of the truck. “And if not yours then Pony’s.” He was picking a piece of chicken off the plate and tossing it to the Great Dane who was nestled in the corner of the truck bed. “You get my note?” He was standing in the bed now, leaning against the back of the truck cap, his arms crossed on the roof as he watched you work. 

“Of course I did. You gonna tell me about,” You pulled the wrench away and looked in his direction while trying to remember the keywords he gave you from the chase. “Twins, and the shifting shear.” 

“Don’t forget the surprise.” He was picking up the fork from the plate and waving it as he spoke. “Yea, so we caught twins, although they didn’t look like twins, one was thin, small radius, the other was growing, kickin’ up a lot of dirt.” 

“Which one did you follow?” Despite not being much into meteorology, Tyler talked enough about it for you to learn a lot, and even though you hadn’t been on a chase in while, you knew the ins and outs pretty well still. 

“The wrong one.” Now he was pushing the fork in your direction, knowing you wouldn’t stop what you were doing long enough to relax and eat. 

“The shifting shear.” You mhmed in acknowledgement to the word in his letter about the wind change and also as the taste of your favorite Oklahoma barbeque spot filled your taste buds. 

“Yep.” He nodded, “We lost it and Storm Par didn’t.” 

“Before or after your run in with David.” 

“Before.” 

“Then, Tyler Owens, I think you still came out on top.” You said it while still looking at the plate, about to grab more food but the interruption of Tyler’s arms pushing him up on the truck roof, his boot stepping up on the fixed exoskeleton to boost him up so he was on top of you. 

“You’re damn right.” He was leaning his face dangerously close, as if his body atop of yours wasn’t dangerous enough. The slightest touch of his lips met yours and any thought of barbecue and fixing weather stations was out of your brain, in fact any thoughts at all were gone from your head aside from the many thoughts of Tyler caressing you.  “I missed you.” That was until he said that. 

He meant well, and you missed him too, but it just reminded you of not being there. Tyler picked up on your change in mood immediately, his left arm pressed against the metal of the car so he wasn’t as on top of you anymore, his face twisted in concern as his eyebrows raised in a way to ask you what happened but as you thought about how you wanted to explain he got it without you needing to share a word. “Fuck.” Dropping his head and the confused concern, his head fell on your shoulder. “I didn’t mean it that way. Even earlier today, I just–” 

“Miss me. I get it.” Your hand fell on his head, your fingers getting tangled in his blonde locks, your mouth moving to pepper kisses on his head as well. “I missed you too, for the record.” You mumbled it against his head. 

He moved off you and fell next to you, his hand cupping your head as he placed a kiss to your forehead as he moved. “There’s never any pressure. At your own pace.” 

“Says the guy who faces his fears by riding them. If I was anyone else, you’d laugh and scream cowboy obscenities as you walked away from me.” 

That caused Tyler to laugh out loud, his body vibrating against yours as his laughs fell in the crook of your neck. “You’re not scared.” 

“I’m scarred.” Making jokes was the only way you felt comfortable really talking about it. 

“And for the record, you’re you, not anyone else, so yes I treat you differently.” He left a kiss in the crook of your neck as he left it. “And what are cowboy obscenities?” 

You cleared your throat and began hollering typical midwestern slang and finished it off with the Tyler Owens tagline. “Woooohooo, if you feel it chase it!” 

There was his laugh again, buzzing against your body, making you miss him even when he was right damn next to you. 

Things quieted down for a bit and the two of you sat up and finished off the plate of barbeque on the picnic table you turned the roof of the red dodge into. “So, I was thinkin’ you know how you have the buttons in the truck to release the rockets and drill in and all that.” You spoke like you weren’t the one that helped him install all of those gadgets. 

“Mhm.” He smiled thinking the same thing, his arm propped up on his folded leg. 

“Well, Storm Par they have those data trackers, the things they gotta get out of the car and place down around the vortex.” You explained. 

“Think it’s the PAR in Storm Par.” Tyler teased.

“Exactly, Phased Array Radar. And I know we have the drone, which is great but what if we could have both? Footage and data.” Before Tyler could answer you were jumping back down to your work station and moving some things around to pull out a mechanism you had been working on before the group arrived back. 

Tyler was following behind you, not as quickly paced but still intrigued. “Okay so this we could install in your truck and attach it to this.” You were now showing a large panel that had hydraulics on it. “And basically, you press this and the truck bed flap will open and this will move out, dropping whatever you want out, you guys won't have to leave the car.” 

Tyler nodded as he took it all in, impressed, as always. “Pretty sure the handsome fellas at Storm Par use 3 of those bad boy radars though. Don’t think we could get the RV that close to a twister.” 

“I’d build you a data catcher where you’d only need one.” Already having the answer to his question you folded your arms and smirked. You had the mechanism to release it pretty much done, now you just had to build the radar, no biggie. 

“How?” He copied your pose, arms crossed, leaning more on one leg than the other, although his eyebrows were frowned while yours were raised. 

“Because you just have to drop it in the vortex.” Now his eyebrows raised and before he could ask his one more follow up question, you were answering it for him. “And I’m planning on building one that shifts its panel, so even when the twister passes, you can still track it for up to 5 miles. Dorothy reimagined.” You were referring to the hundreds of sensors people would generally have zipped up into a tornado to radio back data. 

“We’d have information on the twister way quicker.” Tyler’s brain was starting to wrap around this idea. 

“It’s not perfect, it’s not going to change much but–”

“It’s a way to get more information faster, that’s pretty big.” He stopped you from doubting the idea. “And keeps us from needing to race against the twister outside the truck. 

“I’m nothing if not concerned for your safety.” You pointed at him with the large switch in your hand while he walked over to start helping you piece some more things together. The two of you fell into a silent groove, working on the idea you had just shared with him, rewiring things and going over different equations to best prepare the data capture radar. As time passed, Tyler looked over at you from across the workstation and spoke up. 

“You know, I get why you can’t come out. I know prolly better than anyone how much your mom meant to you, what seeing her get sick did to you.” 

Shifting your focus from the lamp lit table covered in wires in front of you, you looked up at him. His eyes were staring at you, softly, it was something he seemed to want to share for a while and was just waiting for the right moment. And he was right, Tyler did know. It was the perk of growing up with him as your neighbor, he just knew things because he was there. Not only did he know, but he experienced them with you. He’d come by for dinner, bring you any piece of tech or electronics him or his aunt didn’t use anymore. When you popped your bicycle tire riding home from school, he picked you up in his aunt’s truck even though he didn’t have a license. On those weekend trips you’d so often take with your mom, he’d come by and check in on the barn, on your family pets. When she was sick and 90% of your time was spent making sure she was okay, he was making sure you were okay. And when your mom passed, he was the one who drove you the 75 miles back home in the same red pickup truck when one of the most historical twisters touched down. 

It was memories and thoughts like those that always made you wonder what took you so long to realize you were in love with Tyler Owens. He’d love to tell everyone now that he knew from the moment he saw you picking through trash that he loved you. That when you were rushing down the high school hallway with some contraption you made explaining to him that you made it to help him with the focusing issue he had casually brought up to you was when he realized he could never lose you. This person who knew neither of them had the money for noise cancellation headphones and just decided to make them herself with a playlist of his favorite songs in one night to help him focus? You cared about him. And he could never lose that. Which is why he could never tell you that he was in love with you. He watched you date losers, even went on his own dates too sometimes to see if he could get over the feeling. The only thing comparable was bull riding. Or storm chasing. And with that came you, because as much as you didn’t realize you loved Tyler, you knew you loved being around him. 

“We can start slow if you want to get out, maybe we can go away for the weekend, go to that town you and your mom used to drive out to in Texas, Sun Valley, right?” 

It was honestly the perfect idea. Getting out and doing something that reminded you of your mom. “Yea that’s a good idea.” 

He sensed the hesitancy in your voice though and changed the topic quickly. “Never asked me what the surprise was.” 

“What’s the surprise?” It was spoken in a mockery tone, you knew he’d get around to telling you. 

“Be right back.” He was eagerly standing up from the table and lightly jogging down the driveway into the RV where Dani and Dexter were probably working on making sense of the data they had already captured. 

As Tyler came back into the barn, Pony whined and tilted his head as the scent of what Tyler was carrying entered the barn. He had a young dog in his hands, although the dog was big enough to likely not be a puppy but you could tell from his face, he still had a few more young months ahead. It was a real dog and pony show, literally. 

“Found him in the aftermath rubble, pretty sure his owners didn’t make it because no one claimed him.” The heaviness of his statement hit you as you stepped out and made your way towards both Tyler and the dog.  “Didn’t have a nametag on ‘em.”  

“Cowboy.” You grabbed the dog from Tyler’s hands, giving him his name, and scratched him behind his ears before putting him down on the ground to meet Pony. 

As you looked at both dogs, now curiously sniffing and playing together in your workshop barn, Tyler tossed his arm around your shoulders and kissed your head. “Pony and Cowboy.” He nodded. 

“You bring him home because you don’t think Pony has it in her to protect me all by herself?” 

“Somethin’ like that.” He smirked. “Plus now, you got an excuse to stay home more. You got a puppy to raise.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Dead Man Walking || LN4 {2}

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Summary: Christmas with the Norris’ is a long standing tradition but will that still be the case after this years? Warnings: 18+ only, angst and fluff WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist || one || two

Flo’s old bedroom in her parent’s house hadn’t changed since she moved out. There were still glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that you had helped her to stick up when you were fifteen. Lando had made fun of them and called them lame as walked past the doorway, but he had still come and held your chair stable when you were precariously close to tipping over.

“What are you staring at?” Flo asked as she walked in to find you lying on her bed, eyes on the roof. 

“Nothing, have you picked a dress yet?” She huffed at your question and opened her closet with a shake of her head. “You do realise the party has already started.”

There was no way to miss it with the christmas music drifting up the staircase and echoing along the hall. Every year was the same, it didn’t matter that all their children had left home - Adam and Cisca still held the annual event and attendance was non-negotiable, even for you. 

The bedroom door opposite Flo’s opened and Lando froze from tugging at the black tie as he caught sight of you. A slow smile grew on his face and he started to take a step forward until Flo appeared with a dress in hand. She held the floor length gown up to her body and swayed the metallic-finish material side to side. “What do you think?” 

“Didn’t disco balls go out of fashion in the 80’s?” Lando teased, drawing her attention to the doorway.

“Didn’t ask your opinion, noob,” she shot back as she grabbed the door and shut it in his face. “I can’t believe he’s staying all week too. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

“You should be thinking about your dress right now,” you reminded her as you got up and searched the rack for another option. “Here, this is perfect.”

You could hardly explain to her that you were the real reason Lando was staying local all week. For six months you had stolen nights together, not only avoiding the paparazzi and fans always trying to snap photos of him, but more importantly, Flo. The guilt was a constant fist squeezing your stomach but every time you thought about telling her the truth, the fear of her response kept your lips sealed. Then months had passed by and you thought it would be even worse to admit how long the secret had been kept.

“Babe! This is why you are my best friend,” Flo exclaimed as she dropped what she held to take the emerald green chiffon dress from your hands. “What would I do without you?”

Your smile was forced as you wondered the very same thing. Your mothers had joined the same playgroup before you could walk but you had crawled to Flo and face planted, accidentally headbutting her and making you both cry, but you had been inseparable ever since. Whenever you made a promise to each other it was sealed with the mantra from cradle to grave - ensuring the promise would be as strong and long lasting as your friendship.

You caught the empty hanger she tossed back and hooked it back onto the rack. “End up looking like a disco ball, apparently.”

“Not even,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she shimmied into the dress. “I refuse to take fashion advice from a man who has a hoodie for every occasion.”

You laughed at the completely true statement and pointed at the door. “Not tonight though.”

“That’s not by choice. Mum said he had to smarten up or he would be on dish duty after dinner.” She scoffed as she turned around for you to tie the lace back together. “I told her, wearing a suit won’t make him any smarter.“

You shook your head with a laugh. “If I could get away with wearing a hoodie tonight, I absolutely would too. It feels weird dressing up one day a year. I spent the whole morning here in sweatpants.”

“It’s tradition, and you look gorgeous.”

“I should for the effort I put in,” you giggled, offering your elbow as you opened the bedroom door. “Shall we?”

She looped her arm in yours with a nod as the music downstairs grew with each step. “Let’s do this.”

If you had to listen to another Christmas song you were going to scream, so you escaped the warmth of the Norris’ home and took a breath of wintery air on the balcony where it was less audible. Though there was a chill in the air the eggnog and brandy kept you from feeling the full brunt of the night and you could hardly believe there was snow forecast to fall. 

The only light that reached you was what slipped through the joins of the curtains but it was enough to see the paddocks beyond the grassy lawn. This late in the year the horses that usually grazed the paddocks would be holding up in the stables, away from the morning frosts that occurred daily, but you could still hear their neighs in the distance. 

“Still not a fan of Bublé?”

You smiled to the sky as a pair of cold hands settled on your waist and warm lips found the delicate spot behind your ear. 

“If he hasn’t grown on me by now, I don’t think he ever will.” You turned to face Lando and linked your arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” His body started to sway, taking you with him as he hummed the stupid song in your ear, laughing when you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? All I want for Christmas is you.”

Your gaze softened and you smiled again as you tucked your head into his chest and buried your hands in his jacket to try steal some warmth. “Are you cold, love?” he asked, looking back at the warm house where all the log fires were lit.

“No, I’m not ready to go back yet,” you admitted as you cradled his cheek in your hand and guided his attention back to you. “Just a few more minutes together.”

He nodded before giving you a soft kiss and pulling away to shrug his wool suit jacket off and drape it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my girl getting sick for Christmas.”

One Year Earlier “I don’t buy it,” Flo muttered over her flute of champagne as she sat to your left at the dining table, waiting for dinner to be served. 

“Buy what?” you asked as your attention was pulled away from Max on your right, and the pictures of the new simulator he had just finished setting up in his room. 

“Them.” You followed her nod across the room to find Lando on the couch in front of the roaring log fire, his girlfriend sat on his lap as if there weren’t two other cushions available beside him. “There’s no chemistry.”

“Eh,” you shrugged as you grabbed your glass that Max had refilled for you, “since when do you need chemistry if you’re a model or whatever?” 

“You almost sound jealous,” he teased quietly, wary of Flo on the other side. 

“Am not,” you bit back a little too harshly, only making him chuckle more and take a sip of his beer before he said anything else. 

“Dinner will be a little late, I’m afraid,” Cisca announced with a sigh, muttering about the gravy catastrophe. “Adam, honey, turn the music up for a bit.”

“If you aren’t hung up on him, then come have a dance with me,” Max dared as Oliver and his pregnant wife joined Flo’s aunt and uncle dancing in front of the hearth, beneath the twinkling fairy lights. He wiggled his fingers as he waited for you and with a sigh you placed your hand in his and rose from your place setting. 

Flo grinned as you passed by, poking you in the ribs with a laugh and giving you the thumbs up - but Max was only a friend. He could only be a friend because the person you actually pined for was his best friend.

“I know,” he whispered in your ear as one hand rested on your waist and your feet followed his lead.

“Know what?” you asked innocently, but he had caught your eyes drifting to the couch as you circled your way around the room.

“I won’t say anything, I just thought you might want to talk to someone. God knows you can’t talk to Flo about it, she would smother him while he slept,” Max joked. “And I kind of like having my best friend.” His eyes looked at the couple before he sighed. “Most of the time at least.”

You weren’t the only one vying for his attention anymore since he got a girlfriend. “You’ve been drinking too much, Fewtrell. You’re seeing things with your beer goggles on, I have no interest in Lando.”

“Is that why he hasn’t stopped staring at you?” Your head snapped around but Lando’s attention was firmly on Luisa and the very deep kiss they were openly sharing. “Totally not interested in him, huh,” he chuckled as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to pull away. “I’m sorry, it sucks, wanting what you can’t have.”

“There are worse things,” you muttered under your breath but he heard and curled an eyebrow in question. “Wanting what you can’t have right in front of you.”

He had no response but a sad smile as the song changed and Michael Bublé’s Cold December Night crooned over the speakers. 

“The twinkling of the lights, The sound of carols fill the household, Old saint Nick has taken flight, With a heart on board so please be careful, Each year I ask for many different things, But now I know what my heart wants you to bring.”

“I fucking hate Bublé,” you sniffed as you pulled away from Max’s arms. “I’m just going to get some fresh air.”

“It’s bloody snowing out there,” he objected as he followed you to the backdoor. “You’re going to be sick for Christmas.”

The dinner bell rang out and you sighed as it shattered the bubble you had found yourself in and knew you would have to release Lando from your arms.

“Come to my room tonight,” you whispered against his lips before they shared one last kiss. ‘Your room’ was actually one of the guest rooms down the hall but you had spent so much time in it over the years that it was only ever referred to as yours now. It was so much yours that Cisca had even asked you for your opinion in the wallpaper when she renovated the house.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby,” he said with a smirk as he opened the backdoor for you. You reluctantly removed his jacket and missed the scent more than the warmth as you passed it back. Lando pulled it back on and dipped his head to steal one final kiss before stepping inside with a warning over his shoulder, “No dancing with Max this year.”

“It’s your turn to be jealous this year,” you said as you blew a kiss to him along the narrow corridor.

He paused and cast his arm out, planting his palm on the wall and blocking you from rejoining the party. “What makes you think I wasn’t jealous last year?”

“Maybe it was the tongue down Luisa’s throat, or the hand up her skirt?”

You tried to duck under his arm but he caught you around the waist and used his body to cage you against the wall. “I had to do something to distract myself,” he admitted lowly in your ear, hiding his face from your disbelieving eyes. “You were all I could think about, you and that sexy little dress.” You tilted your head back as you felt his lips on your neck as he continued his confession. “If I didn’t do something I would have gone crazy watching him hold you when I couldn’t.”

His kiss set your body on fire and you combed your fingers through his hair tugging the strands so you could capture his lips.

“What the fuck!”

Both of your heads snapped towards the outburst and your stomach dropped as you saw Flo standing at the end of the hall. Her arms were limp at her side, the blank look of shock bleeding into betrayal as her head started to shake before she turned away.

Your body reacted before your brain could, pushing Lando away as you chased after her despite his call to let her go. You couldn’t let that happen, she had always been a worrier and the longer she stewed on something the worse it got in her mind. You had to talk to her.

You raced up the stairs, apologising to Adam as you passed him in the hurry, the confusion of catching his daughter’s rush to escape clear on his face. Her door was shut and you tested the handle to find it was locked and your head thumped against the wood with defeat.

“Please, Flo, let me in,” you begged her. A quick no resounding from inside. Turning around, you took a seat on the floor and rested your back to the door. “I’m going to stay right here until you open the door.”

“You’re going to be there a very long time.”

You sat there in silence for a few minutes wondering where to begin, how to explain what happened, why, how long. Finally you decided on a simple apology. “I’m sorry, Flo. We didn’t intend to fall in love, didn’t intend on anything happening. I fought the feelings for years, because I knew what it meant to you.”

“Still didn’t stop you though, did it?” She spat, her voice closer than you expected. “I had one rule. One!”

Your make up was certainly ruined as tears spilled forth, eyeliner and mascara stealing down your cheeks. “I know.”

“They say they don’t have favourites but mum and dad have always put him first. They missed my events to go to his races,” she sobbed, a sense of déjà vu filling you as she retold the history you had consoled her through years ago. She had always felt second place to Lando. “I thought you would always be my best friend.”

Your gut wrenched as you realised what she was feeling. She thought you were choosing him over her - like there had to be an ultimatum. “I still am,” you promised, shaking the door handle again. “Please, unlock the door.” She made no move to turn the key.

“Do you remember when you got Summer and I thought you were going to forget all about me?” you asked, remembering the day the pony arrived at the house and Flo had been so excited she had run off to the stables without you. “You told me I was always going to be your best friend, from cradle to grave. She was your horse, and you could love us both, right?”

The door tugged open and you fell back, sprawled on the floor as she stood with her arms crossed. “Are you calling my brother a horse?”

“Depends, would it make you feel better?”

She rolled her eyes and offered a hand to pull you to your feet. “I don’t know yet, I’m too pissed off at you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey, you guys okay?” Lando asked as he jogged to the top of the stairs, his tie and jacket missing.

You screwed your eyes shut at the timing and pinched the bridge off your nose as you asked, “Can we just have a few minutes?”

He turned twice first to head back down the stairs before he changed his mind and went to his room. “You said I had changed,” he muttered to Flo as he stood in his doorway and held the door knob. “You said I looked happier than ever.”

“I’m going to vomit if you tell me she’s the reason.”

“Sorry.”

“For what? Stealing my best friend?”

You stepped into her line of vision and waved a hand behind your back hoping Lando would get the hint. “He hasn’t stolen me, Flo. Cradle to grave.” You held up your pinky and held your breath as she stared at the age old promise you had made. “I should have told you how I felt about him, but you can be really scary and I was a coward. It was still a shitty thing to do.”

“Really shitty.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe it was you,” she said with a shake of her head. “I knew there had to be a girl. This is annoying, more than anything, because he’s not such a muppet anymore, but knowing it’s from you - I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“Surely being happy is what matters most, not the who or why.”

She fell silent and her eyes fell to the door that he had quietly shut. “What happens if he breaks your heart?”

You hoped it never came to that but you couldn’t see the future so you shrugged. “Then I will cry on my best friend’s shoulder like I always have.”

Her shoulders bounced once with a laugh before she caught herself and tried to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I would offer to key their car.”

“And I would say it isn’t worth it.” You reached for her hand and she let you hold it as you gave it a squeeze. “But…if he doesn’t then I might not just be your best friend, might be your sister in law too someday.”

“Too soon,” she said with a scrunch of her nose as she pulled her hand away and went to Lando’s door. “Hurt her and I’ll key your new car, noob.”

The door swung open and Lando leaned against the jamb. “You don’t have to worry, sis.”

“I love her more than you.”

Lando snorted, a sound so similar to Flo’s, and he shook his head. “It’s not a competition, you muppet.”

She appeared almost pleased, though also surprised as she nodded and stepped away, “good answer.”

“But,” Lando smirked and you sighed inwardly, “if it was I would win.”

Flo oddly didn’t respond as she started to make her way back to dinner, pausing only as she reached the stairs before looking back. “By the way, I’m dating Max.”

“What? No fucking way, I gonna kill him,” Lando growled as he took a step towards her before her head fell back with laughter.

“Of course I'm not, Lando, but now you know how it feels.”

Her laugh echoed down the hall as she descended the staircase and left the two of you alone. Facing Lando, you stared at him wondering if anything had changed but the moment of uncertainty was gone when he pulled you into his arms and kissed you without fear of being caught.

“I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow, it’s all I’ve wanted to do for so long,” he laughed as he pressed his forehead to yours and recovered from the almost blessing you had received from Flo. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Tomorrow's Christmas,” you said with a smile.

“Shit, okay then, the next day. Hey!” He grinned as he pointed downstairs, his head bobbing along to the song that was playing again on the playlist. “Christmas came early for me,” he said as he dragged you to his bedroom and closed the door, silencing Bublé as he sang, ‘All I want for Christmas is you’.

“We are going to miss dinner,” you warned as he sat on his bed and pulled you onto his lap.

“There’s always plenty of leftovers, plus, what I want isn’t on the menu downstairs,” he teased as his hands brushed beneath your dress.

“Bob, what are you up to-oh!” Max covered his eyes as he busted into the room. “Bro, everyone is waiting for you two. Time and place, people.”

You stood up and pulled the dress back into place, sending Lando a look that said ‘I told you so’ before tapping Max on the shoulder as you passed him. “You can look now.”

“I think the damage is already done, the image is seared on my retina,” he said with a dramatic shake. “So you two finally…”

“Got caught,” Lando said with a chuckle, slipping his hand in yours as the three of you headed to the dining room. “No more hiding.”

Max grinned and clapped Lando on the shoulder. “About time!”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Uh…I have been in the middle of this situation for like five years. Of course I knew. I think I knew before the two of you knew.”

You frowned at the news and came to a stop halfway to the landing. “So last year?”

“Was my trying to get you two to see what was clearly right in front of you the whole bloody time. You’re welcome for that, you know. And I expect to be thanked as the best friend and wingman one can ask for in our next stream. Now can we please go and eat, I’m starving!”

Lando looked at you with a different look of hunger in his eyes as he kissed your hand. “Me too.”

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[midnight-hotel]

Missing (Alastor x Reader)

My first fic in 4+ years, please go easy on me. This story occurs during and after the final episode of season one. Enjoy and feel free to give feedback!

Coughs racked your body as you struggled to take in a breath of dust polluted air. Pain shot through your undoubtedly broken ribs and back with every cough, blood splattering across your bottom lip and tongue, amplifying the smell of iron in the air. Wrapping an arm around yourself, you stared up at the executioner who was quickly approaching with their broken spear. 

‘Shit- I might actually die here…’ 

They lunged, ready to plunge their holy weapon through your skull. You tried, with all your might, to push off the wall and away from death’s path, failing to notice that it wouldn’t have come to begin with. The next time you looked back at the angel, they were on the ground, covered in their alarmingly golden blood, several holes littering their body. 

Looking around, alarmed, you realised that you had been saved, but by who? Your eyes briefly met with Angel Dust’s, and in that moment, you knew your saviour. With no time to show your gratitude, you spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground and stood, grabbing the angel’s broken weapon to take as your own. If Alastor’s shield could fail, then there was no way you could take a moment to stop and breathe, everyone needed you to keep fighting, as much as you needed them to as well. You could only hope they were all okay. 

It seemed like there was no end to the onslaught of angels. They just kept coming out of that damned doorway into heaven. You were growing tired, injuries burning and only getting worse, but stopping now would only lead to your death and possibly the death of others. Stabbing another Angel through the chest, you kicked their body away, stealing their intact spear to replace the broken one you had left in the corpse. That’s when you heard more commotion from behind and then an irritatingly familiar voice. Turning, you understood why everything had kicked up a gear.

Adam was still alive? But that could only mean…

“Alastor!” His name tore up your throat as you quickly looked up towards the roof of the hotel. Shit- he couldn’t be… but would he have really allowed Adam to get away and rejoin the fight? 

Dropping the spear in your hands, you ran for the hotel, barging in through the doors and rushing up the stairs. You needed to get to him. He couldn’t be dead. 

Third floor.

The whole building began to shake as you reached the third floor. Looking down the stairwell, just barely able to see through the dust, you could make out Dazzle and… was that Vaggie? You contemplated jumping down to help- Dazzle was clearly not about to get up but… you needed to get to Alastor. Vaggie would be fine. So, you continued running up the stairs- cursing yourself for not being in better shape.

Sixth Floor.

The building shook again. ‘Shit- I don’t know if I’m going to make it up there.’ It sounded like the fight had made it to the top of the hotel already. Based on the rubble constantly falling overhead and how the place was quickly falling apart.

Seventh Floor. 

There was a bright light- a flash really- and you think you heard screaming? Fuck it, there had been non stop screaming for the past hour, what was one more? Your vision had hardly cleared from the flashbang when the whole building started to come down. Dropping to the ground, you tucked yourself into a corner, hoping that there was enough structural strength in that section of the building to prevent you from being crushed. The last thing you could recall was the feeling of something falling on top.

Who knows how much time had passed before you were being pulled from the rubble. There was too much going on- too many people talking at once, too many people hovering… you reached out, swatting away the faces that were too close. 

“Alastor… where’s Alastor?” you croaked, trying to push yourself up into a seated position. Your beaten body screamed at you- begging for you to just lay there and rest, but you needed to know if he was okay- needed to know where he was. 

Multiple hands helped you up, but you took no notice of who it was. From who you could see, the makeshift army hadn’t lost too many numbers but everyone was about as fucked up as you were. 

“We… don’t know…” You turned your head to Charlie who looked as if she had been crying. Of course she had… out of everyone, losing anyone would have hit her the hardest. Your heart sank. No one had seen him? Looking around at the others- even Husk shook his head, almost looking worried, before he spoke up. 

“He’s not dead. Not yet anyway. That asshole’s probably hiding away somewhere, butt hurt that he lost to an angel,” he grunted out, subconsciously bringing a hand to his throat. Of course Husk would know if Alastor was gone… he’s bound to him after all. 

“He could be buried under there though- we need to search. He could be dying in there,” You tried to argue, standing only to stumble back into what used to be the hotel. 

Angel Dust grabbed you by the wrist to stop you, pulling you back. “Easy there Doll Face. We’ll find him or he’ll show up. You’re in no state to go digging through what’s left right now.”

It wasn’t fair. How could everyone walk away from the disaster that was once their home while there were still people missing?

That was three weeks ago. As you laid in bed, in a room provided by Lucifer himself to those who had nowhere else to go, you stared up at the ceiling, thinking the last few weeks over. Everyone’s injuries had been healing pretty well, though yours were a tad worse since you had the building come down on top of you. There was a lot of talk about rebuilding the hotel. Plans had been drawn up and Charlie and Lucifer had teamed up to clear the rubble from the original hotel so that everyone could start building fresh when the time was right. 

There was also a lot of talk on what to do about the lost lives. Memorials were being planned out, names of the fallen cannibals taken down in order to properly remember those who sacrificed themselves for the cause, a painting for Pentious and even a statue of some kind. You hadn’t really been listening to that part. You hadn’t listened to much at all really, either constantly lost in thought or bed bound by your injuries. You were getting pretty sick of not being present, physically and mentally.

As you closed your eyes to sleep, something inside the room moved. Eyes snapping back open, you quickly looked to where you saw the movement, just barely catching the tail end of a shadow disappearing from outside your door. Climbing out of bed, you pulled a robe over your bandaged body and quickly exited the room, looking around for whatever it was that you had just seen. There was no one in sight. All the other occupied rooms in the hallway had their doors closed and lights off, so you doubted it was one of them. Right as you were about to head back into the room, you saw it again, rushing around a corner.

Quickly you ran after it, hoping that by the time you reached the corner, it wouldn’t have disappeared. Injuries, mostly healed but still tender, began to ache from the sudden strain as you tried to keep up with the shadow that passed through another door. 

Before you could open it and continue your pursuit, you had to stop and catch your breath. Healing ribs ached and your once punctured lung protested with every deep breath taken. Sucking in one more deep breath, you pushed yourself to open the door, leading out into the courtyard. Pretty big place for just one person to be living in most of the time, but this is the home of the king of hell himself, so you supposed it was fitting.

Subconsciously holding your ribs, you looked around for the shadowy figure again, but in the dark, there was no way you would be able to see it so easily. Without really realising it, you had walked further into the courtyard, admiring the garden in the small amount of light that was available. ‘Lots of roses… surprised there isn’t an apple tree or something.’

“They are quite beautiful aren’t they?” A voice suddenly spoke up, making you jump. Whipping around, wincing as your bruises and stitches stretched, you eyed off the culprit.

“Of course, I much prefer Nerium over roses.”

“Alastor…” Standing before you was the man who had made this last week a living hell. Did he not realise how much sleep you had lost, not knowing if he was okay? How worried you had been? 

“Only because they’re toxic you freak…” you retorted softly, not even sure if he had heard it as you slowly approached him.

“I had a feeling it was your shadow I had seen… You’re the only sonofabitch I know who can do that.”

Stopping just short of the man, you stared up at him with tired eyes. He looked down at you, that stupid grin on his face, like it always was. 

“Now Darling, must you use such language during our happy reunion? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He mocked, before you weakly punched him in the chest.

You hadn’t even realised it but you had started crying sometime after seeing him standing there. “You asshole… Don’t you know how fucking worried I was about you? Where have you been?” You hit him again, hardly bothering him by the looks of it, as he hardly flinched with every hit. He was a lot stronger than you were… but you supposed you didn’t really want to hurt him.

“Why couldn’t you have at least told us you were okay? Why didn’t you show yourself? I was scared you were dying under the hotel or something- after losing Pentious- I don’t know what we would have done if we found you dead as well.”

A hand dropped onto the top of your head, silencing you and you stopped hitting him, dropping your arms and instead, falling forward to rest your head on his chest.

“I apologise for causing you such grief my dear. I must be honest, I had some loose ends I needed to tie off before I could return. If I had been able to inform you of my whereabouts, I would have,” Alastor remarked, a familiar, almost comforting radio static coating every word. 

“Everything is okay now though isn’t it? We’re all alive and we can start rebuilding the hotel much faster now that I’m back! Though I must say, I am honoured that you care so much!”

You shut your eyes, concentrating on the hand that was gently petting your head before pulling back. “You’re a liar. You got hurt. You can fool everyone else as much as you want Al… but you can’t fool me that easily. I’ve known you far too long for that. You got hurt and you should have come to me. Hell, I was coming after you- to help you and I got crushed because of it!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, or blame him for the building falling on top of you, it just happened. You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand and watched as his gaze softened a little while his smile remained. 

“You said it yourself (Y/N), you’ve known me too long, to think I didn’t get away. But, if it’s all the same, I apologise. I truly never meant to frighten you.” Alastor cupped your cheek, gently guiding you to meet his red gaze. “I promise, from now on, I will assure you I am okay before running anymore of my long term errands. Okay?”

Anyone could tell he was still hiding things from you, but what more could you do? You knew him well, but you didn’t think anyone truly knew what was going on inside of Alastors mind other than Alastor himself. 

“Okay…”

“Wonderful Darling. Come now, I do believe we should be getting you back to bed. Those wounds aren’t going to finish healing if you keep running around like a headless chicken.” Spinning you around, he set a hand onto your lower back and started heading you back to your room so that you could get some rest. Typical Alastor… always quick to disturb and dismiss… but at least he was okay. You felt like, as long as he was okay, maybe you could be okay as well.

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday pt. 2 - vu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, etc.

part 1

wc: 4512

a/n: lmk if u want a pu ver pls <3 if there's part i forgot to make gender neutral pls lmk!!

masterlist

jeonghan -

jeonghan had no idea what to do. he'd never been in this position before. he prided himself in being a good friend and specially boyfriend. nothing in this world mattered to him more than his loved ones, which was why he was extremely disappointed in himself at having disregarded you and hurt your feelings in such a careless way. he knew it was your birthday, and he had wanted so badly to be with you, but he had been an idiot and let it slip his mind. there was no other way to put it. it made him sad more than anything, to know that you had spent the night worried over him only to wake up to zero communication from him, having spent a good 14 hours into your birthday without any word from him. he needed to fix this, he just didnt know how.

this was so unlike him. jeonghan had always known himself to be an attentive person. he noticed any time you changed your hair almost immediately, he'd notice new additions to your recipes, he'd take note of any time you switched things up in your apartment, he'd remember any and every important date. even now. he had remembered it, except he had skipped over it due to his idiocy, which really only made it worse.

after getting mocked by joshua for ten minutes as he racked his brain to find a solution, he decided to just improvise. he'd go to your apartment and see if you'd at least let him in to try and explain his way through an apology. he would pull all the dramatics if he had to. there was not a single care for his dignity in his mind right now. nothing would prevent him from showing you his utmost remorse.

only thirty minutes later and he was now outside your apartment window, looking up from his secluded spot inside the complex's garden. he pondered about calling you, but decided that going for a more unconventional route might do the trick a bit better. spotting some pebbles nearby, he grabbed a few, beginning to chuck them at your window. okay, kind of corny, but knowing you, he knew you'd appreciate the thought. he spent an unfortunate ten minutes throwing pebble after pebble until you finally opened your window, sticking your head out as soon as you spotted him down below.

"jeonghan. what the hell are you doing?", you seemed and sounded pissed. but, hey! that was a good sign. at least you were acknowledging his presence.

"my love!', he clutched at his heart, 'let me come see you. please. i want to apologize."

"fuck you, yoon jeonghan. why dont you go treat your hangover somewhere else?", you went to close your window, only to stop in your tracks as he yelled out again.

"wait! do you want me to beg? i will. i love you. i dont care what i have to do. i'll climb to the roof and profess my love for you for all of seoul to hear," yes, he was being overly dramatic, but he was also being genuine. if you actually wanted him to scream out to the world how much he regretted his stupidity, he would. you didnt even have to ask.

but he also knew public displays were a huge no for you, dating an idol and knowing the controversies being known as the significant other of the yoon jeonghan would bring. he was putting you in a bit of a spot. you could either let him up to apologize, or wake up to some ominous article stating yoon jeonghan of seventeen might be taken.

fortunately for him, you chose the former, which now placed him in your living room as you crossed your arms and huffed at him. okay, one step at a time. it was time to put jokes aside and get serious.

"angel ... i'm so sorry," he cooed at you, stepping forward a bit.

"jeonghan, dont talk to me like im a baby. im not in the mood."

"but you are my baby," he pouted at you, "you're my angel, my everything. i'm sorry. i didnt show you how much you mean to me last night. all i want to do is love you and take care of you. you can punish me all you want. i deserve it. but please let me sleep in your arms. im already away from you most of the time. dont deprive me one more day," and he meant all he said. you were his favorite form of comfort, and the thought of you being angry or hurt by him made him scared. he never wanted to risk you being ripped away from his arms, specially not due to his own doing.

"jeonghan ..."

"no, wait. i'm sorry. i shouldve never forgotten. i dont know how it happened. all i ever want to do every day is come back home to you, but i did the opposite on the worst day possible. i'll apologize over and over until you forgive me if that's what it takes. please just let me be with you on your birthday. i dont want you alone. i dont want you sad. i want you happy and content in my arms. please? i love you."

he mustve broken you down, as you landed in his arms immediately after he finished his speech. he couldve sworn he saw you eyes puffy and swollen before he wrapped his arms around you. his suspicion was confirmed just seconds later when he heard you sniffle against him.

"aigooo, no angel. dont cry. didnt wanna make you cry. you're making me look like such a bad guy, baby, making you cry on your birthday," he cooed at you as he held you as tight as possible.

you separated yourself from him, finally looking into his eyes while he caressed your cheeks, wiping any lone tears in them, "im so sorry, angel. forgive me? let me stay, please."

"yes, hannie. i love you."

"i love you so much more," and he'd spend the rest of his life the day showing that to you.

joshua -

joshua had not been this hungover in a while. he wasnt sure how this happened. last thing he remembered was his manager rushing him into a car right after the award show, letting the group know they'd been invited to an after party, and the company had deemed it smart to be in attendance for public image purposes. all members agreed enthusiastically, excited to mingle among their peers and maybe make some new connections in the process. joshua had been the lone member to be skeptical, knowing he had promised he'd be back to the hotel at an appropriate time in order to get on the phone with you and celebrate what was remaining of your birthday with you despite the current distance between you. however, he did not want to get in the way of his members' fun, so he kept any objections to himself and joined them with matching enthusiasm.

his original plan was to roam the party for an hour or so, which wouldve allowed him to get back to call you on time, but ironically, time got away from him. the next thing he knew, he was waking up at 11am in the morning in mingyu's hotel room, head pounding and phone full of unread notifications. he wasnt sure how this happened. the last thing he remembered was being at the party, margarita in hand as he and his members drank their souls away in celebration of yet another successful award show season. it was around three margaritas in that joshua had begun to disregard his phone, and with that you as well. as soon as he saw the dejection in your messages upon waking up, he spammed you with texts and voice memos expressing his regret, but received no response from you. he had hurt you and now you were ignoring him. and with good reason.

joshua knew that there wasnt much he could do from his current location, specially while you were (justifiably) icing him out. so he committed to his next best option. he immediately booked a ticket back to korea, letting his manager know that he'd just be returning home two days in advance to the rest of the members. all they had scheduled left was an interview tomorrow, so his absence would probably not have that big of an effect. five grueling hours later and he arrived to korea, exhausted and still slightly hung over, but with a whole speech planned to beg for your forgiveness.

in the process, he had tried calling you again and again, still earning no response. this disheartened him, making him think that maybe his grand gesture would only be taken negatively. he picked up some flowers on the way, gift he had bought in japan a few days ago in hand, ready to knock on your apartment door. despite the exhaustion, he was here. a day late to celebrate your birthday, but still here nonetheless.

your face upon answering the door had been of surprise, not anger like he feared, but that only lasted for a few seconds until you started to berate him.

"joshua? what are you doing here?"

"baby, i'm so so sorry. can i come in? please?"

you moved aside without further words, gesturing for him to continue talking.

he suddenly remembered the flowers and boxed gift in hand, signaling to them before handing them to you, "oh, these are for you," he felt extremely inadequate, something that was very rare for him. he had practiced a whole speech, a whole profession of love and regret, but now his mind was blank. you just looked so. disappointed. he couldn't stand it.

'i'm sorry. i- i have no good excuse. the party got the best of me and i completely spaced out on our plans. i never meant to forget about you. please believe me.'

"joshua ... this was your idea. you had me waiting all night just to ghost me. you spent my birthday partying without even thinking of me."

he grabbed onto your hands, placing the flowers and gift on the table before doing so. he held onto you as he began to get exasperated in his speech, "there's no world in which i wasn't thinking of you. you're all thats ever on my mind. i didnt even wanna go to that stupid party, but i didnt want to inconvenience anyone. please, i- i wanted to call you. i ... yeah, i got drunk and distracted. and thats my fault. im sorry. i came back early to be with you. to make up for being a dumbass. please let me make it up to you. please? i'll serenade you like i promised. i'll get on my knees. do you want me to get on my-"

you interrupted him as he began to kneel halfway through his speech, slapping at him lightheartedly as he began to get more dramatic by the second. he knew it was hard for you to get angry at him when he started pulling all stops like he did. he came back and begged on his knees, even offered to express his love to you through song. he was making you hold in your laugh. these were all good signs, right?

"you .. you're such an idiot, hong jisoo. i hate you," but he knew you didnt mean it. he could hear and see the smile on your face, knowing he had been successful at wearing you down.

"if you ever do this again, ill date jeonghan instead."

"ouch!", he dramatically grabbed onto his chest, as if you'd just wounded his heart, causing you to laugh, "hannie? okay, can't blame you. he's pretty cute," he chuckled, "but for now ... let me spend the day with my love? hmm?", he pulled you closer, nuzzling his nose against yours as you feigned annoyance at him.

"fine," you rolled your eyes, "i'm still mad at you, though."

yeah, he had a lot of making up to do, but this was a start.

jihoon -

jihoon had not stopped beating himself up over his actions ever since you hung up the phone. he had spent the entirety of the day rethinking all his choices leading up to this. he had wanted to go running to you and apologize, but you had specifically asked him to stay away, so he wanted to respect your wishes. still, he felt like complete and utter shit at the way he disregarded you so easily. he wished he could go back in time and slap some sense into himself.

he had always been scared. scared that his job would someday get in the way of your relationship. it had been so hard for him to find someone to love; someone who loved him just as much. and the moment he found you he treasured you more than anything, but now his stupid workaholic tendencies had gotten in the way. he was terrified right now that you'd start to see the error in your choice to be with him. that you'd want to find someone who wouldnt so easily put his job over everything else.

it was now 11am of the following day, and you had not called him yet. he was beginning to get worried. were you icing him out? had he hurt you that badly? he could never blame you for feeling hurt at his neglect, but he could also not help his own feelings of dejection at you ignoring him due to your anger. alas, he still gave you all reason; this had been his own doing.

he waited a couple hours before giving up on waiting, instead choosing to confide in a few of his members to inquire as to what they'd do if they ever pulled something like this with their own significant others. after being scolded for a good few minutes due to his carelessness towards you, they told him that maybe showing up to your apartment as a demonstration of his affection to you (joined by a sincere apology, of course) would make you look his way again.

so now he was here, about to knock on your door with your favorite flowers in hand. he was terrified. the two of you had never fought. there had never been a single time in which you'd hurt each other's feelings. it had all been nothing but love and tenderness in your relationship thus far. he was your best friend, and you were his. yet he had no idea how to communicate to you how much you meant to him, and how much of a stupid mistake his slip up had been.

before he could think further, he forced himself to knock on your door, hoping you wouldnt immediately throw him out. to his surprise, you opened the door and even wordlessly gestured for him to enter. you looked ... sad. you looked the way he'd feel had you ghosted him on his own birthday. yeah, he didnt care much for his birthday, but your absence would wound him nonetheless. he imagined it felt the same for you.

"i ... i'm so sorry. i dont know what to say .. i- i fucked up. so badly. i have no idea how or why i forgot. there's nothing i can do to make up for it, but please know im so fucking sorry."

"jihoon ... how? you picked my birthday of all days to lock yourself in your studio? i've never judged your busy schedule. i understand your career. i respect it. i get that you cant help being busy. your job is too demanding of your time, but for you to ignore me when you had full control of your free time? why?", he could see how disappointed you felt at his neglect; how hurt you felt at him, not only through your words, but through your closed off body language. you were hugging yourself with your arms, not holding eye contact as you stared anywhere but into his eyes. despite your confident words, your demeanor was deflated. and it was his fault.

"it was- it was a mistake. it was all my fault. i cant argue my way around it. but i love you. i didnt .. i didnt mean to neglect you. you're all i think about. every song ive ever written, even before meeting you, was about you. you're everything. i'm just an idiot. i dont know how to do this ... ive never loved like this. i have no idea what to do when i fuck up. all i can do is promise you to be better. please give me a chance to be better. i'll be more attentive. i know i'm cold, and im not too affectionate, but i love you. i'll make it up to you. please, just dont let this be the end. i'll keep you in my studio with me whenever i lock myself away. won't ever go a day without letting you know what im doing, how im doing. please. i'll do anything to show you."

he worried his ramble mightve been too much, feeling to scared to even hold eye contact with you as he went on and on about how much he loved you. unexpectedly, upon looking up, he found your reddened eyes, with a stuffy nose to match. fuck. had he hurt your feelings again?

"jihoon ... i- i love you. i'm sorry. i cant believe you could ever think i wanted this to be the end. i was hurt and mad- i am hurt, but i love you," you sniffled your way through your short speech, but jihoon heard it perfectly fine. these were the words he prayed to hear from you all of last night as he stayed up thinking about you.

"fuck. thank god," he couldnt help himself in hugging you, holding you tightly against his arms, and sighing in relief at your reciprocation, "i love you. i'll take the week off. let me take you away and show you how much you mean to me. please? will you come with me?"

"yes, jihoon. i love you."

"i love you. you have no idea."

seokmin -

seokmin felt extremely scared. you weren't answering any of his calls. he knew you were physically okay, but he also knew your feelings were hurt, and you were probably extremely angry at him. you had all reason to be angry at him. he ditched you and kept you in the dark all day. on your birthday! seokmin had never been in a situation like this before. he had always prided himself in being the best boyfriend that one could ever be, even sometimes introducing himself as your boyfriend instead of with his own name. except today he had disappointed both you and himself beyond belief.

he knew you'd asked him to stay away for the night, and he'd usually respect your one and every wish, but today he needed to go against the current and go and beg for your forgiveness.

in very non-seokmin fashion, he exited the event just as quickly as he'd arrived, not even caring to say goodbye to his friends. you were his number one priority, after all. specially today of all days. he had his driver stop by a flower shop on the way, hoping the innocent gesture would maybe have you show some mercy on his stupidity.

he showed up to your apartment immediately after, having mentally prepared a whole speech for you on the way there. he was going to tell you how much he loved you, and how this was just a completely stupid slip of his mind, that this would never happen again, but all these thoughts left his mind as soon as you opened the door, eyes swollen and glossy. every rational thought went out the window upon spotting your saddened state causing seokmin's eyes to match your own as he felt himself begin to tear up. he couldnt help himself in immediately embracing you in a tight hug, thanking god when he felt you hold him back.

you two sniffled against each other for a bit, neither of you full on crying, but still being overly emotional at the situation. seokmin mumbled endless apologies against your hair, running his hands up and down your back as if to soothe you. he was over the moon to hear an 'i love you' from you in the middle of your sorrowful mumbles against his chest, doubling the sentiment as he cried to you how much he loved you and how badly he regretted letting you slip his mind for even a second. when he pulled back, he expressed the same sentiment all over again.

"my baby ... i love you so much. please let me make it up to you. i- i brought you flowers!", he finally recalled the flowers he had dropped as soon as you closed the door behind him ten minutes ago, "i know it doesnt make up for anything, but please let it be a start. i'll do anything you want. just want you to never cry over me like this again, baby. i love you too much to make you cry," he wiped at your tears as he said this, caressing your cheeks while he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

"minnie," you pouted at him, "stay the night? please? want you at least for the bit that's left of today."

"today? oh, baby. i'm giving you my whole week. told you i was gonna make it up to you. i'll do everything you want, my love. now let me take you to bed, yeah? wanna hold my beautiful angel to sleep."

he slept soundly that night, knowing you had somehow forgiven him and even given him the privilege to hold you in his sleep, also knowing he'd do anything and everything necessary to make up for his stupid mistake.

seungkwan -

he had put literally everyone else above you. on your birthday. there was truly no other way to spin it. he had never felt more guilt in his life, and it was all completely on him. having even thought of going out with his friends on your birthday shouldve given him the first red flag in his stupid plan. why didnt he just bring you along? god, he was such an idiot. and then allowing mingyu and dongmin to entice him into a two hour long live broadcast just to secure some fanservice was just the nail in the coffin.

he knew he hurt you badly. he had promised you he'd be there, but had just left you in the dark all day. he couldnt blame you for not wanting to see him today, but now he was stuck tossing and turning in his bed as he itched to hold you in his arms. he had called the company immediately after your call, letting them know he'd be skipping the usual dance practice and recordings in favor of being with you, which is what he should've done all day today.

it wasnt long until he grew too restless to simply stay in bed while he knew you were probably in a similar position, except most likely sad and angry. he couldnt help himself when he decided to head to you, feeling bad at calling up his driver at such late hours of the night. the journey to your apartment was a short one, which left him with little time to think over what he'd say to you in order to convey his regret. he didnt care much for what he said, he just wanted to alleviate your hurt somehow.

just as he expected, you were awake, now standing in front of him as you opened the door to your apartment. your eyes were puffy, a huge indicator that you'd been crying. your eyes also wouldnt meet his, with your eyebrows lowered in clear sadness. seeing you and knowing your current state was his fault felt like a kick in the gut. he had never made you cry before, so he was extremely disappointed in himself. worst of all, seeing you cry made him start to tear up a bit himself.

"baby ..."

"what do you want, kwan? i thought you were busy all day," your words carried venom behind them, but your delivery was still of someone who had been hurt.

"no, baby. you know that's not true. i'm never too busy for you. i'm so sorry. i was such an idiot. there arent enough apologies i could give you. i- i never meant to hurt your feelings."

"you still did."

"i ... i know. i'm sorry. i love you. the last thing i ever want is for you to be hurt by me. i never shouldve gone out with my friends to begin with. you're too understanding of my busy schedule, and i dont deserve it. i shouldve made time all day for you today."

"was ... was it that important? being gone today specifically?", you seemed insecure in your question, which only made seungkwan's heart soar at making you feel insecure around him in any way.

"no! no, of course not. i wasnt thinking. i shouldve told them id go with them next time, or taken you with me! i was so stupid, i'm sorry. you're my priority. i need you to know that."

"it's- it's fine, kwannie. i understand. you dont see your friends that often, you-"

"no! stop. dont try to rationalize it. i made a mistake. you dont have to cover for me. i hurt you and i made you feel unimportant when you're the most important person to me. im so sorry. please never doubt that. i get you all to myself so little, and staying away from you was such a stupid mistake."

more tears had started flowing down your cheeks the further the conversation went on. he wasnt sure if it was because you were touched by his words, or because he was failing at making you feel better. as he neared you enough to wipe your tears with his thumbs, he hoped it was the former.

"baby .. don't cry over me. please. i'm just an idiot. you should never cry over me. i only ever want you to feel good things when thinking of me. i- im so sorry."

"kwannie ... i love you. i understand. i know you dont want me to understand, but i do. you have to make your choices when you're as busy as you are, and .. even though it did make me feel unimportant, i get it."

"it'll never happen again. i'll- i'll keep you by my side day and night. let me- please let me keep you to myself tomorrow. just wanna be with you. please?"

for the first time in the night, he saw you shoot him a small smile, uttering the words he wanted to hear most, "yes, kwannie. will you .. will you stay? please"

"you don't even have to ask."

a/n: thank u to everyone who enjoyed this lil series aaaa i hope it was realistic enough T-T sorry if the reconciliation seemed rushed, i just didnt want any of them to end up with an angsty ending hehe also sorry for seokmin's being shorter than anyone's i just cannot imagine that man ever hurting anyone's feelings.

[macfrog]

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

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[pastelcheckereddreams]

I added more things to Lotus Tower! Can you spot them all? To be honest, I can't pick anything I'm the most proud of. I'm so pleased to see all of it come together like this. Perhaps my brain will finally let me put the project to rest 😂

Breakdown of all the new fun decorations and modifications below.

You can see the first part of my model build here, or more of my art and my craft projects in my pinned post, where you can also find a link to my INPRNT store and my ko-fi if you would like to support my creative projects in any way 💛

So, the first thing I wanted to do was utillise some spare parts from my Life of Su Dongpo booknook kit to make Li Lianhua a small tea tray:

I cut tiny planks of wood from a strip of basswood to form the sides, but the base and teapot come from the Su Dongpo kit. I was also able to make the goodest girl Hulijing a stand from the same piece that makes the base of the tea tray. Now she can sit in Lotus Tower anywhere she wants to instead of being stuck into the wood outside her kennel!

To hold the tea tray, I also made a table and stool similar to the one in the show, and created some tiny baskets out of beige cross-stitch aida to replicate the many baskets and storage Li Lianhua has hanging from the Tower:

In that same vein, I used thread to make a net for some more storage beneath the stairs:

And used part of a bamboo place-mat and some dried flowers to create a herb drying rack on the upper level.

One of the more complex pieces I created was a second sail to hang under the eaves of the gourd door:

It was difficult trying to get this sail to hold a good final shape as, just as with the other sail in my first build, I had to guess how much material would be needed and how to gather it. But I'm pleased with how it turned out in the end! It, like the herb rack, is hung from the eaves with small pieces of metal wire, bent into hooks and stuck into the reinforced card.

You can also see in the pictures above that I added "rope" and a fake hook to the shelf on the side of the Tower to make it a bit more accurate to the show's design.

(You will also see in the very first picture that I made a set of removable stairs for the porches - unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures of their building process and kept forgetting to move them back into the big picture.)

The biggest addition, though, is of course the lanterns:

I am so proud of these. I made them from paper and basswood, and they are ridiculously tiny (about 1.5cms). I wasn't going to put lights in them to start with, but when I bought the tiny bulbs (I was planning to try and put them inside Lotus Tower at the time) and shone them behind one of the lanterns - it looked so good I knew I just had to try it.

So here's how I pulled it off:

I first carefully slotted the bulbs and their wires through the beams of the sail awning, twisting the red and blue cables around each other to give them more structure and make sure they were hanging at the right length. I made sure the wires both led back to the side of the Tower I was going to store the battery pack on, and fastened them to one of the supports of the awning so that the wires would discretely trail down to the floor of the upper level. (I also painted them at this time.)

As for the battery pack, I stuck a small piece of wood underneath the porch where Hulijing's kennel sits for the battery to sit on. I tidied up the wires as neatly as I could and fastened them to the side of the Tower with a spare U-shaped piece from the Su Dongpo kit, wedged into the window slats of the ground level (making sure there's plenty of slack for me to unfasten it and change the battery without struggle). I then joined the wires as best I could and painted it all a yellow-brown colour.

As you can see, it looks a bit crude, but once the roof is back on over the door, the wires all but disappear!

I am so sooo happy with how it's turned out. Please let me know what you think! Is there anything else you would add? Anything you would do differently?

[lovelettersfromluna]

can i request one of your girls' drabble, ellie is edging u while filming 🤭

Oh god….the camgirl!Ellie saga continues….

an: if any of you would like to see more of these little drabbles from my series pls feel free to inbox me! I love writing these two so so much

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MDNI!!!, edging, dom!Ellie, camgirl!Ellie, live stream sex, dirty talk, usage of toys, fingering, clit slapping, nipple play, let me know if I missed anything!!

In all honesty? You don’t think you’d ever get fully used to being fucked in front of thousands of people.

Virtually, that is.

Ellie had slowly introduced you to it, allowing you to be on camera whenever you were ready, and opting out whenever you weren’t.

It wasn’t entirely different from pre-recording something and then just posting it. It was still a camera pointing at you and Ellie while you played with each other…

Apart from the constant pings that came through Ellie’s computer.

“Jesus Christ…I’ve never seen them so…active..” Ellie would breath out softly after your first time live streaming, her own disbelief clear as she scrolled through the amount of tips you two had racked up after a quick stream of her eating your pussy.

That only further proved that the crowed fucking loved you, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a rush that came with putting a show on for them.

And that’s how you eased into it, knowing how much they loved you and Ellie together. The amount of messages that Ellie had received when you came back to her page was almost overwhelming, her audience practically foaming at the mouth for more content of you two.

It’s how you ended up on you bed, your back pressed against Ellie’s chest, her hands spreading your legs and giving the camera the perfect view of your soaking wet pussy.

Her soft lips were pressed against your neck, large hands roaming over your body, playing with your nipples, your hips, your stomach, your thighs, every single part of your body receiving the pleasure of feeling her calloused hands on your soft skin…

Expect for where she knew you needed her most.

The whine you let out was pathetic, your eyebrows furrowed, swollen lips forming a pout. The camera stopped just below your nose, allowing the audience to see just how fucked out you were from the sight of your messy, maroon tinted lips.

Ellie’s chuckle rang through your ears, making your aching pussy throb as her slender fingers rolled your nipples between the pads of her digits.

“She’s so fuckin’ needy….doesn’t she get so cute when she’s like this? You guys know I could probably get her to say whatever I want as long as I let her cum…pathetic…” Ellie hummed out, a soft hiss sliding against her tongue as her hands slid down your body, settling between your legs. Both of her hands came down, spreading your pussy further, your lips making a wet, sticky sound at the gesture.

“Fuck…you can fucking hear how wet she is…all that for me baby?” She hummed softly.

Your hips thrusted up, eager to make her fingers slip and somehow settle on your throbbing clit.

Ellie had been at this for what felt like an eternity, rubbing your clit, finger fucking your poor little pussy and bringing you right to the edge, all for her to stop and leave you high and dry. Your cheeks were wet with desperate tears, lips swollen and pouty from all the biting you’d done, it didn’t help that the mirrored image of the two of you made you even hornier.

You loved seeing Ellie’s hands playing with your body.

Ellie chuckled softly, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Such a needy girl…come here baby…lemme make you feel good…”

The moan you let out was hysterical, your back arching almost painfully as her fingers went to your clit, rolling tight circles into the bundle of nerves. Her eyes never left your face, always loving the way you came undone against her no matter what she did.

“That’s it…that’s my good girl…feels good, huh? You’ve been so good for me baby…been so good for everyone watching…” she praised you.

And she was right, the amount of tips that would come in whenever Ellie would start playing with your pussy again was almost appalling, the comments all praising you for being a good girl, urging Ellie to keep going, wanting nothing more than to see you cum on camera.

But this was far too fun to end so quickly…

Her fingers stopped working against your clit, and you let out a loud whine despite the fact that you expected her to stop. Ellie always liked going long during streams like this, when you were so needy, and desperate, and fucked out that all you could do was give her whatever she wanted.

When Ellie hears the whine leave your swollen lips, her hand comes down quickly to give your clit a light spank, which makes your body jump, and makes you moan loudly. You quickly grab her wrist when she raises it again, shaking your head as you stare up at her with hazy eyes.

“D-don’t! I’ll…you’re gonna make me cum if you…fuck…do that again” you whimper out.

Ellie raises her eyebrows at this, her eyes drifting over to the camera for a minute to catch sight of the mess between your thighs. Her hand comes up, gripping your cheeks and squishing them together before she smashes her lips against yours in a messy, needy kiss, the sounds of your tongues lapping together mixing in with your moans and creating something truly erotic.

“Gonna be the death of me someday, baby…fuck…” she whispered softly against your lips, only loud enough for you to hear, too quiet for the mic she has set up to catch.

Those moments are frequent, when for a split second, the act of being two performers is dropped, and it’s Ellie, your Ellie, coming through and letting you know just how fucking obsessed with you she truly is.

Makes your heart flutter every single time.

You giggle softly, smiling against her lips as you simply give her a quiet nod as if to silently agree with her, and you can feel her smiling against your lips too.

But the sweet, syrupy moment between you two dissolves quickly, because while you’re far too deep in the feeling of Ellie’s lips on yours, you can barely register the feeling of her reaching behind her and grabbing something, and you can barely hear the sound of the vibrator she bought for you buzzing.

And you wouldn’t have realized she had it at all, if it wasn’t for her pressing the buzzing head of the toy against your drooling core, making you gasp loudly.

Ellie smirks almost proudly when she watches you turn your head from her to look down at the toy she has buzzing against your clit, against your labia and against your weeping hole, giving all of you the attention you’ve wanted all night long.

“F-fuck! H-haaa….i won’t…m’not gonna last long..” you stutter out, trying your best to close your legs, running away from the intense buzzing of the vibrating wand.

“Nuh-uh…you stay right there, and give the people what they want….come on baby…you deserve it” she demands, voice dripping with dominance as she pries your legs apart, keeping you spread open for the camera.

Your eyes are so blurry, and you can’t even hear the sounds of the tips coming in through the noise of the vibrator and your own moans.

“Fuck! Fuck I’m…you’re gonna…oh my god!!” You cry out, back arching once again, pushing your head against Ellie’s shoulder as you came hard, the sound loud and guttural, sure to leave your poor throat hoarse in the morning.

“That’s it baby…fuck yeah…so fucking pretty…that’s my pretty girl..” Ellie praises over and over again as she holds you down, keeping you against her as she helps you ride out your orgasm, stopping you from running away from the toy.

When you finally come down, she removes the toy from between your legs and tosses it somewhere on your bed. Her hands let you close your legs, and exhausted whine leaving your lips as you let her hands massage your body, hiding you away from the camera.

You were now entering a time that was reserved for only you and Ellie, you learned that it was just for you two by how quickly she ended the streams whenever you had finished.

“She’s all done for tonight you guys…we always appreciate putting on a show…” she hums out softly.

Your eyes were already so hazy, and you could feel the exhaustion from the orgasm taking over the second it had washed over you, and probably even before then. You couldn’t even say goodbye to your audience properly, because Ellie was ending the stream and closing her laptop before you could even lift a finger.

Ellie chuckled softly, pulling you down to lay with her as she grabbed your blanket and tossed it over your naked body.

“Did so good for me baby…so proud of you…” she sighed against your skin, peppering your face with kisses as she watched your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

Honestly? You couldn’t wait to get her back on the next stream.

[rileyslibrary]

Hello! I just wanted to say that your fics have such a distinct feel that it makes it feel like a cinematic masterpiece so moving as each sentence is full of detail and care it’s INSANE

Could you do one where the 141 as a whole are able to go on leave for a few months but reader doesn’t really have a place to go? Like due to thier participation in the military their family has essentially cut contact with them and the military has been a placeholder for their home-life—how would Ghost react?

Once again I love your works and hope you have an amazing day ‼️

The Log Cabin: Pack Light

A/N: Hi, anon! Thank you for your kind words. Here’s the story; enjoy! :)

———————————————————————

You’re at the base’s garage, squatting on the roof of a battle-worn 1994 Land Rover Wolf, welding a rack that had been blown apart during your last mission. It’s quite admirable how these vehicles can withstand anything coming their way and still stand strong after so many years.

How long are you going to stay strong? The sparks dance around you as you manipulate the welding torch, wishing there was a similar way to mend your scars and those you’ve hurt in the past with your decisions.

But these things are far more complex than welding metal; you can’t mend fractured relationships with mere tools. It takes understanding and empathy—qualities that seem foreign to those once close to you.

Or maybe they’re right, and you’re unworthy of their forgiveness…

You close the oxygen and fuel torch valves, lift your welding mask, and wait for the molten metal to cool. You assess the seams and sigh; it needs more work. You put the welding mask back on, reignite the torch, and continue.

As the heat emanates from the torch, glowing around your gloved hands, it suddenly flickers and sputters before its flame eventually dies out. Baffled, you lift the torch in your hands and shake it. You turn towards the valve, only to see Ghost standing beside it, holding the handle. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, though he still wears his mask and carries a rucksack over his shoulder.

“I was calling out for you, but you couldn’t hear me over the...” he trails off, pointing at the torch.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” you say through the mask, “this thing is a pain to fix.”

Ghost looks at the rack, then back at you. “Does it need to be fixed now?” He asks.

“It does.” You insist, not wanting to disclose the actual reason.

“Liar.”

Your eyebrows shoot up from behind the welding mask. “Excuse me?”

“You expect me to believe that while the rest of the team is on leave and doesn’t require that vehicle, you absolutely need to fix it.” He says.

You look at the torch and then back at him. “I must do it so it’s ready when you guys return.”

“When you guys return.” He repeats. “So, you’re not leaving.”

You forcefully turn to face him. “I am leaving.” You assert.

“Oh yeah?” He provokes you. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business, Lt.”

“See?” He says and lifts both hands, “You’re lying.”

You lower your head and throw the torch onto the roof. “What do you want me to say, huh?” You murmur, “What?”

“The truth,” he replies, “and take that bloody mask off while you’re at it.”

“Why should I take it off?” You sneer and point at his mask. “You wear yours all the time.”

“You can see my eyes, though, can’t you?” He explains and points to his face. He gestures with his head towards you. “Let me see yours,” he commands.

You roll your eyes and lift the mask. He removes his balaclava in return.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He asks. “What exactly are you trying to fix?”

‘My relationship with my family,’ you think to yourself and feel your face getting warmer than before when the wielding flames were burning around you.

He stands there with one thumb tucked under the rucksack’s strip. He’s waiting for an answer—a proper, truthful answer.

“This is my home.” You whisper, shrugging and lowering your head.

“What about your family?” He asks, and you shake your head, tears start filling your eyes.

“Any friends?” He asks again, this time softer.

You give him another negative shake of the head, which causes the tears to run down your face. You quickly wipe your cheeks with your gloves.

He removes his rucksack from his shoulder, drops it to the ground and puts his hands on his waist.

“Have you tried talking to them?” He asks.

“I did,” you reply, “but they don’t want anything to do with me. I disgust them, and I’m not proud either...”

“Nobody’s proud.” He admits and puts one hand on the roof’s rack, “But somebody has to do what we do.”

You sniff and rub your nose. “See? That’s why I’m here, fixing that damn rack; somebody has to do it.” You explain. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Not necessarily.” He shrugs. “Not all of us will go see family or friends; Price is travelling to the Caribbean alone as we speak, and I’m off to Scotland.”

“With Soap?”

“Fuck no!” He yells, and a chuckle escapes his lips. “He has no idea I’m going there.”

Your lips curl up, and he returns your smile. He knocks on the vehicle’s roof twice and opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates and stops. You decide to break the silence.

“Thank you for listening to me.” You whisper.

He bites his bottom lip and pats the roof once more.

“Wanna come with me?” He asks.

Your face warms up again but for a whole different reason.

“T-to Scotland?!” You ask, surprised.

Ghost scratches his cheek and nods. “Yeah,” he replies, “it’s a small cabin in the woods—it has a single bed, an outdoor toilet, and we’ll have to hunt for food. But it has a beautiful pond for swimming and plenty of hiking trails.”

“Wow, wow, wow, one bed?!” You shout, throwing your hands up, “That’s a bit too forward, don’t you think, Lt.?”

“Come on!” He smirks, “As if we haven’t experienced that before. We’ll make it work.”

You look at him, and he returns your gaze. You’re grateful for his offer, but doubt still lingers.

“Thank you, Lt.,” you reply, “but I need to finish that rack.”

“Bollocks!” He shouts and smiles. “How long will it take you?”

“That’s not what I mean-”

“How long?” He repeats.

“Simon..”

He drops the smile and looks you straight in the eyes.

“I’m serious,” he whispers.

“You’re just offering out of pity.” You speculate, and he throws his head up, letting out a sharp chuckle.

“Very bold of you to think I’d invite you out of mere pity.” He says. “I thought you also had plans; that’s why I didn’t offer before. I’m doing it because I found the opportunity.”

You look at him, contemplating his words, then shake your head.

“Thanks,” you say, “maybe next time.”

He picks up his rucksack and begins walking towards the garage’s exit.

“We’re leaving in an hour!” he shouts as he walks towards the door.

“Ghost! “

“Pack light!”

———————————————————————

Part 2 this way ->

[mingsolo]

awful summer nights

wonwoo x reader (f) / angst, romance, friends to lovers, smut / warnings: alcohol mentions, cursing, unprotected sex, that's it I think, pretty light / wc: 5k — r: 21+

For most people, the hot air of mid June, when the sun was high and its rays shone bright almost all day long, was certainly a blessing. 

Certainly not for you.

Exhausted, despite not having done much all morning, you stretch out. Laying on the fluffy rug in your room, the fan on maximum power makes your hair blow up in all directions. You wish nothing more than for the sun to go to the other side of the planet. Also, the heat is making your mind dizzier, not letting you think straight about what happened earlier in the day. You take your phone and see the text message again, as you have been doing all morning:

‘See you tonight, I have something for you.’

“Jeon Wonwoo, you idiot.” you curse under your breath. He had been away the past weeks, barely responding to your texts. He didn’t mention where he was going or what for, and you got angry at yourself for thinking he was obliged to tell you.

A new text interrupts your thoughts. Glancing over it quickly thinking it could be another message from Wonwoo you feel guilty for being slightly disappointed it’s from Yeri, your best friend, and the host for tonight’s party. 

“Come down! We're going shopping.” Yeri’s text it’s followed by a picture of her leaning against her brand new pink convertible’s door, flashing a full teeth smile and her fingers framing her small face. You scoff, texting her back that you’ll be there in a minute. With the little energy you have, you put on your shoes and leave the apartment.

“Well damn, look at this!” you say, passing Yeri by and hopping straight into the shiny pink car. You have seen pictures of it already, since she sent everyone at least fifty of them from all angles, but seeing it up close was obviously more impactful. “This is Barbie's car! everyone will be looking as you pass by on this thing” you raved, hopping in and feeling the leather seats against your bare legs. 

“That’s the point sweetie,” Yeri smiles, getting in the driver's side and putting on her sunglasses. You laugh with her, feeling the excitement to ride on her new toy, but while Yeri is busy fixing her hair on the front mirror before getting going, your mind wanders back to Wonwoo.

You are head over heels in love with him and you shouldn’t. That wasn’t the deal. 

.

.

.

At the mall, you continue to drag your feet, wiping away the sweat over your brows thanks to the open roof, letting all the sunrays land on the top of your head. Yeri on the other hand seems fresh as a daisy, coming in and out of all clothing stores, not quite finding what she is looking for. 

“Yeri, the party is today, I can’t believe you don’t have an outfit ready yet” you grunt, finally sitting on a bench inside one particular store, facing the summer sets on display. 

“Of course I have mine ready, I chose it like a month ago” she answers, picking out a dress from one of the racks. 

You arch your browns confused. “So we here on your birthday, looking for random outfits” 

“No silly, this outfit is not for me” she interrupts you with the biggest smile ever, holding against her body a baby blue crop spaghetti dress, adorned with white flowers. “It’s for you.”

“Huh?.” you shove away the dress as she hands it over for you to try it on. “I’m not wearing that.” you refuse, now being dragged to the changing room.

“Come on! a gift for me, you will look so pretty!” she pouts and nags, using her baby voice that annoys you as much as it makes you soft for her. “There’s no way you will show up at my party in a t-shirt and shorts” she huffs, arching her eyebrow knowing exactly that’s what you were planning on doing.

“I already bought you a gift you know, besides what’s wrong with shorts, it’s hot!”

“Yeah, and this dress is pretty, lightweight and short! So no excuses, try it on.” She pushes you behind the curtain of the dressing booth and waits for you. 

Defeated you do as told. Just because it's her birthday you can’t refuse letting her get away with this. And what is wrong with looking cute for once, if it’s to please your best friend on her special day? You tell yourself as Yeri hops behind you, you look in the mirror, surprised  and scandalized at how good you look with such a short skirt and prominent cleavage.

“Well take it!” She signs, getting out of the changing room with an ear to ear smile.

“Fine.” you sigh, not really mad about it at all.

.

.

.

Fuck this heat. 

You huff and puff, wiping away the drops of sweat from your forehead, again. You stand across the street from where the party is taking place, on the other side in full bloom. Music blasting loudly as far as two blocks away, hanging lights illuminating every window, from the first floor to the rooftop. You spot friends of Yeri and other familiar faces coming in and out of the main entrance, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves despite being under the humid weather. 

Pressing the gift against your chest, you breathe in and out again for the last time before walking towards the party. The other gift, your outfit— was awkwardly revealing, but it helped let the air ease the heat against your skin. 

As soon as you step in from the stone tiled floors of the entrance, you see it’s even more crowded with people than you could imagine. Seemingly half city was here and you got anxious just knowing you had to walk in the middle of all these people. You make your way between the sweaty skin of everyone you pass by, pushing your way to the stairs desperately wanting to reach the upstairs patio. 

The stairs are also fully crowded by people coming down or like you, wanting to go up to the second floor. You press yourself against the walls to let people pass you, avoiding as much as possible to come in contact with anybody. The sensation of others touching your exposed skin was a hard pass in your book.

When you finally reach the second floor, you walk straight to the big balcony. With a final shove you get to the patio doors and find with relief that there’s just a few people outside. Your eyes look for Yeri or another of your friends, desperate to find a familiar face. But definitely not that face. Just not yet. 

“Y/n!” The squeaky voice of an already tipsy Yeri greets you from the other side of the patio, coming towards you with open arms. “My god you look too good!” your friend says loudly, making you spin over your heels, modeling the perfectly crafted outfit for her. 

“You do look great Y/n, like a doll.” the voice of Dami, another of your good friends, reassures Yeri’s statement. 

“I told you Dami! She should let me dress her more often” Yeri smiles again, taking a drink from one of the waiters and handing it over to you. You roll your eyes and just let her praise you, or more so herself about how good you look.

As Yeri and Dami begin catching you up with who and what’s going on in the party so far, a shiver goes down your spine, feeling a familiar intense stare on the back of your neck. Instinctively you turn over your shoulder, spotting Wonwoo looking at you— and also a girl you didn’t know speaking enthusiastically to him, arm intertwined with his. You look away immediately, trying to catch up with what your friends were saying. 

“Stop, I’m not your barbie,” you shove Yeri’s hand off from pinching your cheek, and take a sip of your drink. With your free hand you put the gift on her hands. “Happy birthday again, here’s for another year keeping up with your shenanigans.” you say, kissing her cheek with a loud smack. 

Yeri squeaks and thanks you again, not before reassuring that the best gift is that you look so pretty today. You brush over her compliments, awkwardly trying not to spin thanks to the short length of your dress, but trying not to think much of it. You did look good after all, and it made you feel nice that people were noticing. 

“Y/n, you ok?” Dami asks with narrowed eyes. 

“I’m fine, is just the heat… it’s making me dizzy” 

“Y/n doesn’t stand the heat,” Yeri pouts, “Sorry for being born this time of the year.” She mimics crying, and you push her lightly. 

“I’m going to freshen up, walking between all the people made me kinda nauseous.” 

“Want help?.” Dami asks.

“I’m fine Dam, just wait for me here, please don’t get lost or I will never find you again.” 

You excuse yourself and walk towards the door, looking for the upstairs bathroom, glancing over Wonwoo quickly again— watching as he hasn’t shaken off the girl from his arm. You try not to mind it, getting away from the patio. As soon as you reach the bathroom you close the door behind you. 

Who could be that girl? And why is she clingling over him? You shake your head. You have no right to be thinking this way. You swore that you wouldn’t be that girl. Getting jealous over him, as if he was your boyfriend. When he is not. 

What Wonwoo and you had was a friendship, arranged with certain special terms, for those days when both of you were in need of a certain type of company. “Fuck buddies.”, Yeri concluded when you finally confessed to her that Wonwoo and you occasionally slept together without compromise. “Yeah, fuck buddies.” you sighed at the time, realizing that’s not what you really wanted. 

But it was too late now to tell him you needed more from him, that you wanted him to be yours only. He had told you when all of this started, that if someday one of you got serious with someone, that was it, no hard feelings or resentment. And you have agreed, that was the deal. Now that you thought he might find that someone to be serious with, it was more painful than you thought it would be. They’re just talking, you don’t even know if she’s with him, you tried to calm yourself, but it wasn’t working.

It's just that, you really were so afraid of losing him. These kinds of relationships never work out once someone backs up. The friendship won't be the same as it was, and it pained you that it couldn’t be more than that either.

After splashing water over your face and cleaning the sweat over your skin, you take the phone from your purse and look again at the message from this morning. ‘See you tonight, I have something for you.’ Maybe the text wasn’t even for you in the first place. Your chest tightens. Trying to forget about the whole thing, you decide to just  get a drink or two and leave, there were so many people that Yeri wouldn’t even notice anyway. 

Before getting out you decide to delete the message to avoid looking at it again and again, when three dots appear on the screen below it. Your eyes are wide open, glued to the screen. Waiting. 

.

.

.

Wonwoo’s eyes get fixated on your back as soon as you make your way to Yeri and Dami. God damn Yeri, I swear. The birthday girl smirks at him once she notices him watching. He would have to thank her later for having you come dressed like this, knowing she did it to get to his nerves intentionally. 

“Y/n doesn’t deserve to be anyone’s fuck bud, so you if you want her to be with you for real, better buckle up.” Yeri had practically threatened him over text when she knew about the arrangement between the two of you. Wonwoo wasn’t really mad that you told her about it, you were best friends and he knew Yeri could be very intuitive, and persuasive. “I know, I know…” Wonwoo texted her back. He wanted to be more than that to you as well, but he didn’t know how or when to tell you. “What if she doesn’t want this to change?” He asked.

“Tonight, tell her and find out.” Yeri then told him she was choosing your outfit for the party, letting him know he was completely ruined. And hell, he was.

He can’t avoid getting fuzzy at the sight of the very short skirt barely covering your ass. How the thin straps of your dress lay onto your collarbones and tiny drops of sweat covers your chest. A drop or two roll past your cleavage.

Well fuck me. He swears to himself, as you spin on your feet per Yeri’s request showing a little of what’s underneath your dress. He notices the people checking you up shamelessly and his blood boils with a possessive feeling that makes him groan slightly under his breath. Wonwoo shook his head. She’s not yours. He didn’t like it, thinking of you as a possession. Yet the thought was present so often lately.

By his side, Jeonghan is ranting about something loudly, making his already drunk sister laugh uncontrollably. She clings over his arm as she has done since he got up here, and tells him something he can’t really pay attention to. 

For a moment you glance over his direction, as just as quickly you look away. He gulps down the knot on his throat and wishes Jeonghan’s sister wasn’t tied up with his arm. She’s a nice girl but is so drunk already, so he tries to softly unlink their arms but she is not letting him, and he doesn’t want to shove her off just like that. Wonwoo shoots glances at Jeonghan trying to make him take the hint and take his sister away, but he is just as drunk or even more so, and even if he was sober he would make him suffer anyway.

His eyes are locked again on the back of your neck. Seeing how you sip on your drink cautiously. Then you give Yeri something and kiss her heartily. Wonwoo smiles. The love for your friends is always showing. He likes to think he is one of them. He knows he is, unless your situation changes that for you. He needed to ask, he needed to know. 

Just as he is about to politely shove Jeonghan's sister off and walk towards you, Wonwoo watches you tell something to Yeri and Dami and quickly sprinting off the patio, glancing over at him before disappearing inside. 

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He finally and firmly takes Jeonghan sister's arm off him and walks between people trying to reach you before you decide to leave for good. 

Wonwoo notices you entering the bathroom, closing the door behind you. He sighs relieved. At least he knows there’s only one way for you to get out there, so he’ll wait so you can go to a place without people, and talk. His right hand goes to the inside of his pocket, toying with the contents inside, for a moment he is hopeful.

About ten minutes later anxiety takes the best out of him. He thinks of calling you, but decides on texting you instead, hoping you decide to come out and talk to him.

“Are you alright? I’m outside.”

You read the message a few times not knowing what to respond to. Why?. Wasn't he accompanied now?. You type in a response, but keep deleting what you write over and over. If he’s outside the door, what's the point?. You sigh out loud, nerves and anticipation eating you alive. It’s better if you just come out and talk, he surely wants to tell you about the girl and settle things over. 

Yeah, it’s better to deal with this quickly.

As soon as you open the door you meet his eyes a few feet from where you stand. Wonwoo is leaning against the upstairs. A soft smile draws on his face when he sees you. You try to smile back normally but you only manage to make a weird grin that makes you want to throw yourself down the stairs.

“Hi,” he whispers with that low tone you know so well. “You look amazing.” He twitches trying not to look so much down over your outfit, or the lack of it. 

“Thanks, you too.” you mumble, heart thumping feeling Wonwoo’s dark eyes over your body, despite trying not to. 

“Are you alright?,” He asks again, sensing something is wrong because your eyes are kinda puffy and you can’t smile back like you always do. 

You breathe in softly, gaining courage. “Can we go downstairs, where there’s less people?.”  Wonwoo hums and nods in response, taking your hand and leading you through the sea of people down the stairs— trying not to let anyone touch you too much. Your heart beats so fast that is the only sound you can focus on, despite the loud music blasting in the house. Quickly, he finds an empty corridor, away from all the people at the party in the main halls. 

“What happened?,” He says first, back leaning onto the corridor walls. “I can tell you are upset.” 

“Uhm, it’s nothing.” 

He gets closer. “Your eyes are all big and shiny like when you cry or are about to.” 

He knew you too well. And it was making you feel worse about what you saw upstairs.  Just ask him. Get this over with. “Wonwoo, is there something you want to tell me about?.” 

Wonwoo seemed confused, watching you look away at him, your shoulders stiffening. “Is there something in particular that you want me to tell you?.” 

You sigh, getting frustrated.

“Is it about where I have been the past week?.” 

“No! Well, yeah, that too.” you frown, remembering he went away to God knows where for a week and didn’t tell you about it, you had to find out by texting him, receiving a “I'm out of town.” in response. “Who’s your friend from upstairs?”. 

Wonwoo sighs, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Just tell me. ” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Just tell me if this is it, I promise I won’t make things difficult for you.” 

Wonwoo leans forward, so close that it sends shivers down your spine. Then he makes you jolt as he wraps his hands around your waist, tugging his chin on the space between your neck and shoulder. “What are you doing?.” you say, not really moving or pushing him out. 

“She’s Jeonghan's sister ,” He tightens the grip around your waist, facing you again, “Why would I be here with anyone else if I told you I wanted to give you something tonight?” He couldn’t deny being amused that you were jealous over some girl he just met. But again, that’s the confirmation he needs to know that you want him as much as he wants you to be his only. 

You look at him confused and hurt, watery eyes about to burst out with tears. “What do you mean? you were hanging onto her.”

“Nuh-uh, she was hanging onto me,” He smiles, “You know Jeonghan can be an asshole if he wants to, and he just shoved her to me hoping she wouldn’t bother him too much.” Wonwoo felt bad talking of Jeonghan’s sister as if she was a thing, but the reality was that as soon as you entered the rooftop patio looking so radiant, he forgot the name she had given to him minutes prior. 

“I’m not jealous,” you press your hand over his chest, trying to push him off, but with so little strength he is not buying it. “I shouldn’t be, right? We are not together.” 

Wonwoo hums, slightly hurt from your words. But it was true, you were not yet together. 

“Come with me, this hallway is not where I want you to have what I got for you.” You frown, as Wonwoo takes your hand and leads you back between the sea of people until you both are outside by the back door of the house. 

You look up to the rooftop, spotting Yeri and the rest of your friends laughing vividly and having a great time. The rest of the people spreaded outside the house, drinking and talking, seem to pay no mind to you two.  Wonwoo passed between some bushes, leading to a stone tiled path to the back garden, two little guest bungalows at the back. Yellow lights inside of them.

Wonwoo takes out what seems like a key, and enters the one at the right side. You follow behind him, eyes wide open.

“How do you have a key for this?.” you ask him as he closes the door.

“I asked Yeri to get it for me.” 

“Huh?, Yeri?” you were confused asking yourself if your best friend was with Wonwoo on this scheme of making you feel jealous over Jeonghan’s supposed sister or what was happening. “Wonwoo!.” 

Wonwoo shushes you, which annoys a little, but you get distracted by him placing you in the seat of the couch inside the bungalow’s small living room, sitting in front of you. He then takes out a little black velvet box from his pocket, opening in front of you. 

You look at what’s inside, taking out a shiny silver necklace. Your favorite charm hanging on it. This was the same necklace you had as a child, that you lost on a trip overseas with your parents on your high school graduation. You remember telling Wonwoo on one of those nights in his apartment, lying beside him, how much you missed having it. Sadly it was custom handmade and the little jewelry store that made them had closed long before you had lost it.

Your mouth hangs open as you admire the form of the charm, identical as you remembered it. “Wonwoo… How did you find the exact one?.” 

“I know how much this charm means to you, so I looked out for the owner of the store,” He said, as he took the necklace and turned you over to put it across your neck. “I just described it to him in detail just as you told me, and he remembered exactly what it was, I just had to wait until he was done to come back.”

“Wonwoo!” you jumped out as he finished hooking the clasp of the necklace and hugged him tightly.

“I wanted to tell you something tonight,” Wonwoo buried his head on your neck again, brushing it with his lips softly. “You are the one for me, I don’t want anyone else.”

You close your eyes, letting his scent envelop you, both arms wrapped around his shoulders firmly. His lips brush against your skin as he speaks, you feel a shiver down your spine, letting his words sink into your mind. 

Wonwoo doesn’t need you to say you feel the same, cause he knows. He‘s pressed against you, and you could feel him. His love, his desire, his passion. But this time it's slightly different from the before, because he doesn’t rush things out, he stays still and lets himself be embraced by you. After a moment, you slowly break the hug and look him in the eyes, dark gaze glossy of adoration. And you know yours are the same. He leans and traces soft pecks over your shoulder blades. “I’m sorry I was away,” He lifted his head and pressed his forehead against yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You let out a sigh, feeling your chest tighten by realizing he had gone to get this for you, but with your heart blooming inside you started crying softly. You smiled and he did it too, eyeing your lips until he pulled you into a kiss. His hands slowly go down from your waist to the side of your legs, finding a path under your short skirt. 

“Wonwoo,” you hum against his lips. This was Yeri’s party after all and someone could come at any minute. 

“The little devil would kill me if I let you go right now, you think she gave me these keys just so we could talk?.” A lustful smile drawn on his lips, reading your mind. “The door is locked, and you must know how good you look in this outfit.” 

You put your hands on his chest, breaking apart from his face to ask him about what he just said. “Do you love me?.” 

Wonwoo paused his movements for a second, realization hitting him hard. Your pleading eyes about to cry out again, this time a different kind of tears waiting to roll down your cheeks. 

“I do love you,” He breathes, pushing himself against you. Hurried hands run along your waist and down the curves of your ass, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. “I love you so fucking much.”

You then kiss him again, this time roughly, as he grabs you by your tights and lifts you until you wrap your legs around him. Without breaking the kiss he walks over the room at the back of the bungalow. Brownish curtains reflect the yellow light from inside. Wonwoo turns around and sits on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap. You kept kissing him, hands messing his perfectly styled hair. He's going to undo his belt, and when that’s gone, his fingers are back on your clothed heat, brushing a finger along your already wet center. 

“Can’t believe you thought I could be interested in somebody else.” Wonwoo’s voice sounds huskier than usual, pride fueling his lust over your little jealousy. “No fucking way someone else make me look away from you.”

You buck your hips against his crotch, feeling the hardness of his length. You break the kiss and quickly remove Wonwoo’s shirt and throw it away. Knowing exactly what he wants to do, you lift your hips a little, giving him access to your center. Wonwoo brushes his fingers once more, palming you over you for a while, and easily sliding two fingers inside you. A moan, and then soft whimpers come from you as his fingers begin rubbing your clit. Both stop kissing, just looking at each other as he finger fucks you with a fast pace.  Your hips roll against his hand, and he can’t look away from how your eyes get heavy lidded, and you try hard not to close them. With his free hand Wonwoo pulls down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts and he begins kissing them. You throw your head back, the pleasure of his hot tongue rolling over your sensitive nibs and the noises he makes with his mouth as he bites and licks are driving you insane. 

Wonwoo’s fingers keep sliding in and out of you and the stimulation is almost bringing you to the edge, you only resisting the urge to come because you are desperate for him to fuck you properly. Again, he seems to read your mind because next thing he’s removing his fingers, making you whine by feeling the sudden emptiness. He stands up, moving you gently, even if he wants to be as rough as he can be.

Once he’s standing up, he bends you over the bed, putting you on hand and knees. He pulls your drenched panties down until they reach your feet and throws them away. He undo the buttons of his pants first and massages the curve of your ass for a second before aligning himself with your entrance. 

“This view.” He groans, licking his lips and caressing the side of your tights softly.

“Please Wonwoo,” you whine. the spiral in your lower stomach intensifies by his words. “Fuck me already.”Wonwoo chuckles, the tip of his dick already touching your clit. You whimper as he finally pushes himself inside you, his eyes shutting down by the sensation of your tight center receiving him so well. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” he groans, hands firmly pressing at the sides of your hips. You waste no time and, driven by desire, start rolling your hips rapidly. Wonwoo’s now thrusting inside and out at a fast pace that is making you both see stars and feel numb quickly. 

He bites his lip, trying not to be too loud, with every thrust. Every time he goes in and out of your squeezing pussy feels like it might make him come, but he holds on to dear life to keep on longer. He caresses the curve from your hips, your spine and shoulders, and his eyelids get heavy. The sound of your fast breathing combined with sweat beds rolling down from your back as he pounds in and out of you driving him crazy.  He then leans, chest pressing against your back. One of his arms slides under your breasts heading towards your clit, where he begins rubbing on your clit in motion circles. 

“Wonwoo.” you moan, the contact of his cold hand suddenly pressing on your heat making you shiver. “Hard. Fast, please…”

“Yeah?,” Wonwoo groans, pushing himself now harder and faster per your command. He listens attentively to every noise you make, as his fingers rub your clit, trying to keep the same pace. His chin is resting on your shoulder blades, and you lean to the side looking for even more contact. “Just say the words, love.”

He realizes you are looking for more of him and he leans, connecting his lips with yours. As you kiss messily and hurriedly, him going in and out, your soon release feels now even more intensely on your lower stomach. 

Your legs begin to shake, you know you won't last much longer if he continues to overstimulate every sensitive part of you. With a breathy moan you announce your high is crashing over you, and Wonwoo presses himself even more onto your skin. He tugs your hair instinctively, making you cry, and in that moment you come without warning, coating him entirely. Not much longer and he is done for as well. You can feel his load filling your walls up entirely.

“Oh… fuck” he mumbles, as he spills all inside you, still hugging you tight making sure nothing gets out. You collapse in the bed, and with the little strength he has, Wonwoo grabs you by the waist, falling down with you. 

He stays for a few moments on top of you, breathing heavily, moving aside when he has recovered control of his breath. You on the other side, stay chest pressed on the bed sheets, numb body unable to move an inch. 

“Let me clean you up,” Wonwoo’s raspy voice says as he gets up slowly and walks to the bathroom. You smile, eyes still closed, heart racing inside your chest. He comes back immediately after, and you roll over letting him take care of you. 

“You don’t have to,” you mumble, beginning to recover your breath. 

“I don’t see you putting up a fight,” He chuckles, cleaning the mess between your legs with a warm towel.  “Now that you are officially mine, you will get treated like a princess.” You reflect on his words. You don’t want anyone else to have him, and you are sure he is the only one you want, but Wonwoo has never struck you as the possessive type.  

Wonwoo folds the towel and puts it away, laying by your side, watching the dim lights of the built-in lamps on the ceiling. “A part of you is mine now, as much as a part of me is yours.” he whispers, caressing your face.

You press your body against him, wrapping your arm over his chest and kissing it softly. He hums and hugs you as well, both embracing the silence of the room a little longer, in contrast with the boisterous sounds of people partying just a few feet away.

[darkfemininenergy]

LET’S PLAY THAT GAME ━ ethan landry

pairing: gf!ethan x fem!reader

warning: smut, ghostface phone call, dom!ethan, sub!reader, fingering, rough sex, choking, ropes, spit kink, fingers sucking, dirty talk, gloves kink.

author’s note: english is not my first language, and also my first time writing smut so i hope it’ll be good. if you have any request, let me know !

YOU’D COME HOME from the gym an hour ago, the only classes you had were this morning and you were grateful to have the whole afternoon off for once. you'd had lunch with mindy at noon and then decided to take her home, since the ghostface attacks had hit new york, following the 4 survivors of woodsboro, you didn't want the young meeks martin to go home alone, even in the middle of the day, who knows what might happen, especially when you knew who her uncle was.

now you were in your kitchen after a nice shower, in the background as sound of « how to get away with murder », one of your favorite tv shows, mindy found it quite ironic since you were in a law major.

you were cooking dinner quietly after a bit of studying, standing in front of the hob, dressed in a short, tight-fitting black top and gray shorts, your phone at your side as you wrote to the young meeks martin, who was confiding in you about her feelings for anika.

and that's when your phone began to vibrate, thinking it was mindy, a slight smile appeared on your lips before you grabbed your phone, but this smile slowly disappeared in your face due to what appeared on your screen: unkown caller.

a bad feeling began to take hold of you as, paranoid as you were, you looked around you at the knives just inches from you, spotting the largest of them.

you then answered the phone, adrenalin coursing through your body.

- hello ?

the sound of the oil against the frying pan camouflaged the sound of your series in the living room, as you added spices, waiting for an answer from your interlocutor, the wait was heavy.

- hello, y/n, replied the deep, gravelly, modulated voice.

ghostface.

a shiver ran down your spine, and your body froze, paralyzed as you realized the obvious: you were part of the group of friends of the survivors of the 2022 attacks.

you turned off the gas, stopped cooking. And clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

- well, go ahead, i’m wainting for the “what's your favorite scary movie ?” part.

you tried not to show any signs of fear, but inside you were terrified, imagining yourself already dead on your kitchen floor, but you knew you didn't have time to think about it and passed your index finger between the various knives on the rack in front of you, leaning slightly over the worktop.

the only response you got was a little laugh of amusement, mixed with a hint of sadism, from the killer, and it made your blood run cold.

- you're a bold one, aren't you? now, i think that i'm really going to enjoy this.

- fuck you.

-but you're also a very pretty one... he said with a seductive tone, too bad that i have to correct that filthy mouth of yours, he finished with a voice full of brutality, as if your insult had made him angry.

his change of mood startled you, and you immediately straightened up, then nervously tapped the surface of your kitchen with your freshly manicured nails.

- what do you want ? you asked, trying not to show how scared your voice sounded.

he hums slowly, as if he's thinking, and you can feel the goosebumps on your skin.

- that's a good question... what do i want... ? i want to play a game.

your heart was starting to race, so without thinking any further, you grabbed the largest knife and suddenly turned around with dynamism, all your senses now activated.

- do you want to play a game, y/n ? the modulated voice asked you.

- go to hell, i’m not going to play any of your sick game, you replied brutally.

- you look cute with that knife, tell me, what are you going to do with it, sweetheart ? stab me ? he teased.

you could practically hear the smirk in his voice and it drived you insane as well as the pet name, your grip on your knife was starting to tighten.

- where are you, asshole ? you spat hatefully.

you started to look from left to right, if anyone else could see you through your window, they'd think you were crazy to get so agitated, you leaned over to look towards the right exit which led to the hallway of your apartment, before returning to the kitchen which overlooked your living room.

you put your phone on the worktop behind your hob not far from your fridge, and activated the speakerphone to leave the call and type in the police number before he even answered.

- oh i wouldn't try to call the police if i were you, y/n, it'd be a real shame for mindy and anika to pay the consequences of your stupid actions.

your fingers stopped typing on your screen, not only because of the threat, but also because a detail had caught your attention, how did he know i was going to call the police ?

- h-how.... you began before cutting yourself off, can you see me?

he was sniggering again, and you were really beginning to hate that horribly creepy sound. you swallowed that awful lump in your throat that prevented you from speaking properly and waited for an answer.

- of course i can see you. i must admit that you look good in those, a little bit short though, does your boyfriend know you carry around in your apartment like that, y/n ?

panic-stricken, you hung up, and what a grave mistake you'd made, dropping your phone onto the wooden surface, you clutched the edge of it as if your body were threatening to collapse and you were looking for something to lean on. but then you pulled yourself together and grabbed your phone, never letting go of the knife you'd armed yourself with.

you moved towards the large window in your living room and pulled back the curtain slightly to see if anyone was outside watching you, since your kitchen was connected to the living room and, above all, open, with no door separating them.

but you couldn't see anything suspicious, only the horrible traffic jams of the city that never sleeps and people minding their own business down your street. you weren't the least bit reassured, certainly not, you had no idea where he could see you and you were terrified of it.

then you let out a groan of surprise when your phone started vibrating in your hand again, except this time it wasn't a call but a notification from an unknown number, it was a video.

your hands began to shake as you huffed and puffed to regain your composure, naively hoping to regain an ounce of control over the situation. once you'd opened your phone and clicked on the video, you saw mindy and anika on it, kissing on a sofa, the video had been taken from outside through your window and you pursed your lower lip, anxious, but starting to get angry that ghostface wasn't just threatening you, but also your friends, after everything mindy already endured because of that stupid mask.

and then, another call, again. you stared at your screen for a few seconds, looked around your living room and swallowed, grabbed your tv remote to turn it off, a silence falling over every room in the apartment when you finally accepted the call as you peered into every corner of the room, your stomach burning with fear.

- hang up again and i'll rip their heads off and send them in a box at your door ! shouted the killer menacingly and violently.

the violence of his threat burned your eyes, but you were able to swallow back your tears. you were sure he could feel your panic through the phone.

- not them, don't hurt them, s-stop it, i’ll do anything, i-i promise, you cried, afraid that something might happen to your friends.

- good girl, you see how easy things are going when you start obeying ? his voice softened, but you could still hear the amusement in it that told you he loved what was happening, that he loved scaring you.

despite the fear, the nickname he'd used triggered a reaction you'd never have suspected: a wave of heat spread through your body, even between your legs, and you suddenly felt ashamed.

- now, let's play that game. have you ever heard of hot and cold ?

you simply nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears, knife still sharp in hand.

- words, pretty girl.

another heat wave.

- y-yeah, yes, i have.

- perfect. you want to know where i am, right ? then come and find me. go on.

you frowned, apprehensive about the objective behind this game, especially apprehensive about the moment when you were going to meet him.

- and then, if i find you, what will happen ?

- find me and you'll see, answered mischievously ghostface.

a new silence, neither of you speaking, the silence was heavy for you. you took two steps forward, and turned to look behind you again, the fact of not knowing where he was disturbed you and increased your degree of fear.

- are you scared, sweet thing ? he continued to mock, knowing he had the upper hand.

- shut the fuck up motherfucker, you're gonna pay for all of this, you grumbled in between.

- oh, really? i’m waiting then, he sneered, and you were willing to bet he was smiling.

his words only provoked you and you walked out of the living room, realizing that he couldn't be there, you were surprised to realize that you actually started looking for him, now angry at the way he was openly mocking you. you opened the bathroom door, peering in after turning on the light.

- cold.

you immediately left the room, closed the door and stepped into the corridor, which this time led to your bedroom. but before you got close to it, your steps slowed down, as you became more reluctant to head towards this part of the apartment, what if he was inside ?

- why are you slowing down ? maybe I'm inside.

- fuck it, you muttered.

you continued to hold your knife, getting ready to use it, when you arrived at the door to your room and opened it, you went in, and looked all around, near your desk, in the nooks and crannies, then your gaze fell back on your wardrobe, which was closed.

- are you in there ? you asked, your breath catching.

you heard his breathing through the phone become more erratic, and that's all you could hear as you held it to your ear.

- open it.

without further hesitation, you grabbed both wrists of your wardrobe and suddenly opened them, brandishing your knife in your face the next second.

but surprisingly, he wasn't there, so you straightened up and let your arm fall back down your body, then brought the phone up to your ear to hear your interlocutor, who seemed to love playing with your mind and emotions. he started laughing again, and the more he did it, the more it annoyed you than it frightened you now.

- no, i'm not there sweetheart, i was just messing with you.

- asshole, wanting to play a game without even knowing how to play it, you laughed bittersweetly.

you could sense that he wasn't happy with your answer, maybe even angry, but in any case, he didn't show it and decided to restart the game.

- you're getting colder, keep looking.

since you'd gone in the opposite direction and weren't getting any closer, you decided to return to the area you'd been in when you received the bloody call, retracing your steps, finding yourself in the hallway where your bathroom was once again.

- you're still cold.

you sighed in annoyance, but kept on walking, and when you passed the bathroom door you'd already looked in.

- warm, he warned you, and his husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

the further you went, the more your heart pounded to the point where that was all you could hear now. now you were back in your living room, you couldn't make any sense of the situation, you must have misunderstood his directions, he couldn't be there.

- you're getting warmer, good, very good sweetheart, you're almost there.

and yet, the praise almost made you blush again, you felt butterflies in your stomach and snapped inwardly as you remembered who you were on the phone with.

slightly frustrated by the flirtatious tone, you began to hold your knife out in front of you, preparing yourself better in case you found him.

as well as being frustrated, you were in total bewilderment, you had no idea where he could be, he kept messing with your head and he was very good at it.

he definitely wasn't in the kitchen, nor in the living room, not even towards the entrance, since you'd glanced around.

- keep looking, y/n, it'd be a shame if i find you first, wouldn't it ? tormented ghostface.

you held back from insulting him once more, avoided the living room areas you'd already looked at, and moved towards the only corridor on the opposite side of the apartment where you hadn't glanced.

and to do this, you had to pass through the corridor to your left leading to the front door, when you passed this door, and moved into the unlit corridor where in one of the doors lay your washing machine and other belongings, he spoke again.

- you don't want to turn colder again, don't you ? now, turn around.

paranoid, you thought he was right behind you, so you quickly turned around and took a big step back, the knife right in front of you, your arm raised, and you let out an expletive when you couldn't see anyone again. He was definitely playing with your mind and you'd had enough. You could feel the frustration heating your blood.

you made the choice not to pay any more attention to your footsteps, beginning to believe that he had lied to you and wasn't even near you, that this was just to scare you.

- warm.

but then you stopped, and that's how you noticed you were near the entrance hall. no, it couldn't be.

you headed in that direction, advancing slowly, cold sweat beginning to take refuge on your forehead.

- warmer.

shit. shit. shit.

you noticed the cupboard embedded in the wall a metre from the landing, and realized he was probably here. I'd have heard him, the kitchen's right next door. you had no idea what was going on.

- very very warm, he whispered.

your trembling hand came to rest on the wrist of the hall cupboard, hesitantly, you didn't open it immediately, feeling your breathing quicken.

in a split second, you brought your other hand to the cabinet and jerked it open. but nothing, absolutely nothing.

- fucking bastard, you growled.

you sighed, and slammed the wardrobe doors shut, the sound echoing throughout the apartment after this act of anger and you could hear him laughing in your ear.

pissed off, you returned to the kitchen to the very same spot where you had decided to call the police, still holding your weapon in your hand which was now on the kitchen counter facing the living room.

- now you're boiling.

you held your phone so tightly in your hand that you could have crushed it. you didn't know whether your hands were shaking with fear or anger, or both.

- i’m done with that shit, you growled again, if you want me, come and get me.

- want you in which way, darling ? don't get me wrong, both involve ropes, but it's an important distinction to make before we proceed.

- w-what ?

and just then, you saw a shadow with a very tall figure forming right in front of you.

you immediately dropped your phone from your hands, about to turn and brandish your knife to stab him, but a large gloved hand pressed against your mouth and an imposing body slammed you against the surface.

your scream was then muffled by the hand over your mouth, and your knife was snatched from your other hand, panic instantly seizing you after your weapon was snatched from you, you tried to fight back by reaching behind him with your hands, but his free hand had no trouble grabbing both your wrists and pinning them behind your back.

- i told you it'd be a shame if i find you first, he said mockingly.

the tears in your eyes blurred your vision, you kept squirming in all directions and your screams kept choking against your attacker's glove. then you felt them, your hands bound by ropes.

ropes that burned your wrists, he had to take his hand away from his mouth to bind your hands, and you couldn't control the rhythm of your breathing.

- no no no no no, you protested, naively trying to free yourself from the ropes.

just then, you felt his hips push you against the counter again and his hand slid down your back to force you against the surface, bended you over, he towered over you.

- p-please, please let me go, you tried not to let the tears roll down your cheeks, but your voice betrayed your fear.

- where's that attitude you were giving me earlier, hm ?

- i-i’m sorry, you let your forehead hit the cold surface of the counter, your eyes closed.

- you look so good like that, he murmured under his breath, bended over, begging for me, better than i have imagined.

a new complaint came from the back of your throat, and you started to struggle again, unconsciously moving your hips to push him away. then you felt something against you, something hard, then you heard him growl.

your mouth fell open in astonishment, you must surely have heard wrong, you thought. then you continued to rub your hips against him, your two bodies pressed together, and suddenly his left hand grabbed your hip to immobilize you.

an amused smile spread across your lips, contradicting the tears in your eyes.

- does this turn you on ? do i'm turning you on mr. ghostface ? you said in a playful tone.

- shut up, i'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you, spat the killer.

a groan threatened to leave your mouth but you managed to control it, feeling all wet after rubbing yourself against him and his modulated voice making you feel things you shouldn't feel.

a moan threatened to leave your mouth but you managed to control it, you felt all wet after rubbing yourself against him and his modulated voice made you feel things you shouldn't feel.

quickly, he removed your shorts followed by your underwear, leaving you almost naked apart from your black top, your wet intimacy exposed to the cool apartment air sending a shiver down your spine and forcing you to squeeze your thighs together.

- uh uh, none of that, open those legs for me, he said, slapping one of your thighs.

aware of the extent of your desire between your legs, you spread them slowly and slightly, enough for him to slip his hand in.

his fingers began to tease your crotch, you were about to open your mouth to express your desire, but closed it when his fingers moved to brush over her clit. you breathed deeply and closed your eyes as you felt his fingers gently beginning to knead at your clit and press against your entrance.

you took a shaky breath, clenching down around the finger gently as it was pushed in up to the second knuckle.

you moaned happily, your hips pressing forward. your hips swayed further as he began to move his fingers slowly. his fingers moved in and out of her slowly. then he gently curled them as he moved them, smiling at the cry he drew from you. his thumb gently massaged your clit, and you arched your back silently asking for more.

- you like that, huh ?

you nodded positively, moaning softly, your lip still between your teeth.

- come on, what did i told you earlier, sweetheart ?

words.

- f-fuck, y-yes.

- yes what ? while curling his fingers inside of you.

- yes, yes i-i like that.

he was starting to pick up his pace, you could hear his breathing jerking in turn, getting harder and harder by the pretty sounds you were making and the way you were moving your hips against him. although he'd been using a fairly gentle rhythm, now he was thrusting his fingers into you harder and harder, going even deeper.

causing moans that you could no longer control, especially when he added another finger, unconsciously, you closed your legs once more against the sensation that invaded you, but his other hand forced you to keep them spread for him.

even if you wanted to deny him access to your legs by closing them, you couldn't, his grip was too strong for you to move, it would probably leave a mark later.

when his fingers reached that spot inside you, you tilted your head back, eyes closed. he took advantage of your position to lean towards you, so that his fingers were deep inside you, and your belly was completely pressed into the countertop surface, as were your hips.

he grabbed your jaw to force you to open your eyes and tilt your head back even further, causing you to arch your back even more to the point of slight pain, and with your hands tied behind your back, it wasn't easy, so when you did, you fell into the big, intimidating black eyes of his mask.

but the idea of him fucking you in his ghostface costume, mask and gloves made you wetter, it was so wrong.

you gave him those doe eyes, and he swore he could have cum right now just from the look you were giving him. you half-opened your mouth as if to let out another moan, but nothing came out.

his thumb moved to your lower lip, his hand still gripping your jaw. his other hand continued to penetrate you roughly, but you still wanted more. he could read the desire on your face, in your eyes.

- what's the matter, pretty girl ? do you want my cock instead ?

you nod eagerly.

- please, i w-want it so bad.

the position you were in meant you couldn't breathe properly, your back arched, your head back as you stared into the big black eyes of the ghost mask.

his thumb pressed your clitoris just right, in a delicious way that brought back that exquisite sensation in your lower belly. but suddenly he withdrew his hand, feeling you suddenly empty, you let out a whine.

but he quickly silenced you by pushing the two fingers inside you into your mouth, his other hand controlling your movements through your jaw and forcing you to take his fingers covered in your juices.

- that's it, taste yourself, take those fingers right down your throat, whispered ghostface.

you felt your taste on his two fingers deposited on your tongue, you closed your mouth to suck greedily on his fingers that he pushed deep into your throat, creating new tears in the corner of your eyes and causing you a gag that seemed to satisfy him.

his fingers were so deep in your throat that your saliva was starting to drip down the corner of your mouth.

His hand that held your jaw withdrew from it, you felt the trace of the fabric of his gloves burn your jaw in the absence of his hand, then just after, you heard the sound of a belt unbuckling just behind you.

claiming only his fingers or his cock inside of you again, you moved your hips back, and felt the brutal material of his jeans, and then, from his underwear, you could especially feel his erection that was right against your ass.

you tried to speak, but with his fingers in your throat and the taste of your wetness on your tongue, those sounds were muffled, but you knew he'd heard you because he pushed his fingers even deeper into your mouth, making you feel a little dizzy.

as he let out a muffled moan against the movement of your hips against him, he in turn thrust against you, feeling your clitoris swell with excitement.

then, a few seconds later, unexpectedly, without any warning from him, you felt his tip right in front of your entrance and quickly, he penetrated you brutally, knocking the wind out of your lungs, causing you to scream due to the impact.

- did i go in too fast ? he laughed, tilting his head to one side, his voice still modified by the modulator.

he started to thrust in and out of you at a pace that made you see stars. his fingers left your throat, and you took a deep breath of air, you were suffocating, and yet his index finger remained between your mouth and your teeth, understanding what he wanted you to do, you bit the material of his glove, allowing him to slide his hand out, removing his glove for him, letting go of the glove in your mouth, you could then observe his hand.

large and covered with veins. You could almost recognize his hand. Your pussy was throbbing and the harsh thrusts didn't help.

suddenly, his hand grabbed the back of your neck and tilted you forward, pushing your chest against the surface where you rested your cheek. it felt so good, you could hear him growling behind you and your whole body wanted to submit to him. his thrusts pushed your belly against the counter, his hips slammed into your buttocks.

for support, he grabbed the ropes he'd tightened around your hands, still holding your neck to make sure you didn't move, you were his to fuck.

you tried to straighten up, but his grip prevented you, so you tried to look over your shoulder, and just seeing him fucking you could make you cum on the spot, his tall figure, the mask, him dominating you.

the erotic sound of his cock thrusting into you filled the room and mingled with your moans and grunts.

- harder, please fuck me harder, you begged, letting your forehead fall back against the counter, eyes closed.

- you want me to fuck you harder ? he said playfully, fine then, i’ll fuck you harder.

he did as you asked, but first by slowing down his thrusts, you then let out some moans as you arched your back, but then he thrust more brutally, deeper into you, all the while being fast. you opened your mouth in pleasure, before going back to biting your lip.

his bare hand grabs your waist and uses it as leverage to thrust into you, leaving you little or no time to adjust as he drives deep into you.

he pulls you back, using his grip on your wrists as your pussy tightens around his cock under his thrusts.

after a few more strokes that made you feel disoriented to the point where it was hard to keep your eyes open. a small noise near you caught your attention, you reopened your eyes breathing hard, and noticed the ghostface mask right next to you, he'd just pulled it off. your eyes widened in astonishment.

- taking it so well, hm whore ? he said in a taunting tone, the modulator was off, god, you feel amazing, he moaned.

and you recognized that voice.

- e-ethan ?

you couldn't see him, but he was smiling and pounding into you, his curly hair falling back on his forehead with a little sweat on his temples.

without you expecting it, his hand on the back of your neck slid down your throat to pull you back to his torso, your hands tied behind your back making the position slightly uncomfortable, but when you let your head fall below his shoulder to look up at him, you forgot the discomfort.

you couldn't believe it, ethan, the shy, dorky guy you were so close to.

- hi baby, surprised ? he smirked devilishly.

- i- you tried to speak, but another of his blows triggered a soft moan.

he laughed again, his eyes never leaving your face, watching as your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth opened in pleasure. he tightened his hand around your neck enough to reduce the air passing through to your lungs, and again he felt you tighten around him.

- look at you, what a little slut. you look so pretty with my hand around your throat.

wanting to look at him, you opened your eyes again, your eyes met and you noticed how dark his gaze was as I'd never seen it before. his hand on your hip began to rub your clit deliciously while he was thrusting in you.

he leaned over and placed his lips against yours to kiss you passionately, not giving you a chance to breathe, you kissed him back without hesitation, which made him smile.

when the kiss ended and you parted, you looked up at him again, his hand still around your neck. you let out at surprised gasp when he forced you to bend over once more, removing his hand from your throat to move it into your hair, which he grabbed to pull you back.

you found yourself in the same position as before, your back curved and your head tilted back. you could see him, but instead of the ghostface mask, you saw ethan's angelic face, who wasn't actually so angelic.

his grip on your hair made you groan, and you'd never have suspected this dominance from mindy's number one suspect.

- open your mouth.

damn.

you opened your mouth as he asked, tongue out, with a doe eyed gaze that made him growl. he leaned closer and spat into your mouth.

- swallow it.

and you did. you swallowed without replying under his eager gaze. you stuck out your tongue to prove it, god, you were sure you looked so dirty like that. his gloveless hand found its way to your cheek, and he patted it before caressing it with a delicacy that contradicted the brutality of his strokes that made you stammer.

- that’s it. you’re being very good baby.

the praise pushed you to give him a fucked up smile. the more time passed, the more you felt that knock in your lower belly. you were close,and ethan could feel it too by the way you tightened around him.

- s-shit, e-ethan, i’m close.

- i know, baby, cum for me.

with his hand pulling your hair tighter so he could get a better view of your face to see you cum, before long, you were cumming and felt your legs trembling under the intensity, and when you came, you let out the prettiest sound without worrying whether your neighbors heard you or not.

he let go of your hair, and both his hands bestially gripped your hips, he was close too, you felt overstimulated but you knew he was going to cum soon so you

let him use you. he muttered "fuck" under his breath, and cummed as he sank deep inside you, stopping his thrusts to stay deep inside you. he tilted his head back, his adam's apple perfectly visible and you didn't have to look at him to know he must be incredibly beautiful like that.

[vrisrezis]

need a part 2 for the atsv love triangle where the reader is actually in love with them and after they get together they tell them about their alter ego 😩

Your wish is my command y’all!

Gwen is was carrying you, bridal style, swinging away with you in her arms. Not that you knew it was gwen anyway. Spiderwoman, upon meeting you, often decided to take you home as a means of protection, because for some reason you decided walking home in the middle of the night was a swell idea. She offered to swing you home as a result. If you didn’t know any better though, you’d say it was because she loved flirting with you so much. She never denied it when you brought it up. Honestly, she’s just not used to such a flustered look on your face, she can’t help herself. Though she does secretly envy how the real her can’t manage you make you all shy and embarrassed like that.

Today though, you seemed rather… off. Something was bothering you, and she could tell. Nothing seemed off at school, so she figured something had to have happened. “What’s got you so upset?” she questions before dropping down on top the roof of a building. “Somebody I gotta knock some sense into?” she asks, putting you down to stand next to her, looking at the scenery before you, it was nice out today. You smile, but even that feels forced. She can’t help but frown under the mask and the worry she carries is radiating off of her. You shake your head, “it’s nothing to worry about” you say before shrugging, “just normal highschool stuff.”

“What does that mean?” she inquired, and you sigh, albeit rather dramatically.” “It’s so stupid.” You admit, but before you can assure you it probably isn’t, you continue “there’s just this girl I really like. More than like. I think I love her.”

As soon as those words come out of your mouth, she feels her heart drop. Girl? Was it her? Spiderwoman? Or some other girl at school? You didn’t talk to many people aside from her, who could it possibly be?

“O-oh..” she says, looking down for a moment. She hopes you don’t hear the crack in her voice. She can’t help her curiosity, she needs to know. “Well.. who is it?” she says, trying to recover as quickly as possible. She nudges you with her elbow, “need to know if they’re good enough for you or just some tool.”

You laugh, and give her a smile. “Her names… gwen..”

“G-gwen?!” she shrieks out, her body stiffening. You don’t seem to notice.

“Yeah.. gwen… gwen stacy…”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she eventually grabs onto your shoulder.

“Y/n…”

“Yeah?” you ask, confused for a moment, before you see her pull at her mask. Your eyes widen, and you suddenly feel a wash of shame upon seeing who’s under the mask.

However, she gives you a smile.

“I… love you too… by the way..”

Miles had a very simple plan, no big deal at all. All he had to do was confess he was in love with you and then eventually down the line if it works out in his favor, confess to being spiderman. No big deal…..

Or should he do it in the opposite order?

And should he still confess to being spiderman if you two end up staying friends when you reject him?

He has a lot of questions racking his brain, and to be fair he doesn’t think it’s completely unreasonable. Maybe he should’ve told you from the start. Would you even be accepting? Supportive? He’s been lying to you for a whole ass year now, you were kind, but were you that kind? He feels like there’s just no way, right? Then again, you never failed to surprise him.

He doesn’t have time to think about these questions any longer though, as he hears chaos going on outside. Not the normal kind of chaos, this was his cue.

His confession would have to wait a little longer.

—

He’s quick to his feet. Not that spiderman didn’t give it his all when it came to saving civilians, but he saw you in the fray. He bounces from building to building, webbing civilians to safety along the way, he sees you fall and he’s never jumped so fast in his life.

He reaches his hand out to yours, and finally you’re able to grab on and he’s able to pull you into his arms, picking you up bridal style all while in the air.

“We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this..” miles mutters to you, and you chuckle lightly. “Yeah well..” she look off to the side, before looking back at him. “You could always take me on a date, miles.”

Miles?

Date?

“Excusemewhatnow?”

as soon as he lands, you manage to escape his grip. Maybe it was because he was so caught off guard, since normally escaping his grasp was near impossible.

“We’ll talk later!”

You were going to be the death of him.

Hobie had enough.

If you weren’t going to figure this out on your own, he was gonna have to tell you.

I mean seriously, he loves you but you are so clueless sometimes and he genuinely wonders if you admire spiderpunk so much that you don’t want to consider he could be your best friend. He wonders if he’s being selfish and if this ruins the imagination for you but at this point he’s too pent up to even care, something he isn’t used to being. He’s typically so honest about the way he feels, never holding anything back. This should be no different.

He leaves his bag zipper carelessly open, in hopes you find it. And you do. He’s busy cleaning up his guitar, but he sees you look at him, then look back at the spider suit in the corner of his eye.

But you say nothing.

You go on about your day like you didn’t just see that.

Is he the one being played?

He eventually decides he needs to simply confront you. There’s no way around it. So he does.

It’s one of those many nights where you two are hanging out, as friends do. You’re both lying on his bed, side to side, he’s writing a song, you’re reading a comic book. He turns over on his right side to look at you, and you do the same on your left side. “Hey.” he whispers, “hey yourself.” you whisper back with a smile. He rolls his eyes.

Just be cool, man. He tells himself.

“You know..” he starts slowly, a bit unsure of the next words that will come out of his mouth, “you know I’m spiderman, right?”

He doesn’t have time to dwell on just how casual that was, to drop some information like that so simply. Then again, he did that constantly. This felt so different though.

“Yeah..” you let out a sigh, and hobie realizes that you really were playing with him the whole time. But before he can rely, you say “you know I’m in love with you, any version of you, right?”

He feels his heart stop for a moment, but he gives no indication that he’s flustered by your words.

“About damn time you said somethin, darlin”

Pavitr thinks about it, over and over and over and over and ov-

He just doesn’t know how to tell you he’s spiderman. He’s been so buys living the life as spiderman, it felt so simple, so easy. Go to school, beat up some bad guys, take some breaks to see you and his auntie, go back to fighting, come home. It was the same everytime and he didn’t seem bored of it, yet.

He hadn’t really gotten to see the consequences of being spiderman.

And then he did, when he nearly lost you. He was only able to save you because miles, gwen, and hobie were there to help him.

And from then on he knew he couldn’t lie to you anymore.

Things have been.. weird lately, to say the least. Some weird ass dark black abyss in the middle of mumbattan left many civilians curious, including yourself.

Though Pavitr felt like he could explain those bits later, he knew he just needed to tell you what was on his mind.

Because he and you both knew, he had something to say.

Spending time in your room wasn’t a rare occurrence but Pavitr found himself doing it a lot more lately, which in your opinion was good given how busy he’s been lately. You figured he must’ve been freaked out by mumbattan nearly falling apart at the seams, and you tried to be there for him. He made it clear he was there for you, too.

“Y/n I have to tell you something.” he says, turning to look at you.

You look back at him, knowing this would be a serious conversation. He never called you by your actual name, usual nicknames. You nod and place your hand on top of his, and you give him one of your warm smiles. He feels heat rush to his cheeks, but for once he doesn’t let his nerves stop him. He moves his hand to intertwine your fingers together, “I’m…” there’s a pause, and you figure you have to assure him you know.

“You’re spiderman?” you ask, and there’s a moment he looks at you, shocked. His mouth is agape, and you can’t help but smirk. “You know?!” you scoff, “yeah of course I know pav I’m not an idiot!” you say with a laugh, and a lot of his tension dissipates before he remembers what he wants to tell you.

“Well.. while that is true, that isn’t what I was gonna tell you.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, you raise a brow. “Yeah?”

He takes a moment, before blurting it out.

“I’minlovewithyou!” the words all come out jumbled at once and he almost considered repeating himself before you give him a kiss on the cheek. “In love with you too, pav. But I also knew that already.” you say cheekily, “what?! How?!” “You’re not exactly subtle” you shrug.

“Can I have any victory today? Can we start over and you just pretend you didn’t know?”

you smile and shake your head, and he groans.

But honestly, the only reason he’s being so silly right now is so he doesn’t absolutely melt into your hands like putty over the fact you kissed him on the cheek.