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waitimcomingtoo · 2 years ago

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Bringing Sexy Back

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: Peter tries and fails to seduce you

Masterlist

To kick off the summer, Tony organized a group vacation to a resort at “one of his less crowded islands”, as he put it. The team sat together on the quinjet while Tony gave out the room assignments to everyone, ending with you and Peter.

“Parker and my beloved offspring, you’re in the penthouse suit with me. But don’t worry, you guys have your own room. It’s just connected to mine with thin walls and a door I can easily break down.” Tony said with a calm smile.

“Thanks, dad.” You smiled back at him before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. Once you were gone, Sam leaned over to him.

“Wow, I feel for you, man. You really got the short end of the stick.” Sam said and patted Peters back.

“Short? I’m 5’8. That’s average height.” Peter defended himself.

“For a woman.” Sam snorted. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” Peter wondered.

“I mean you finally get to spend the night with your girlfriend and her dad is in the next room. That means the only way you’re getting laid is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait.” Sam replied, making everyone laugh at Peters's expense.

“Oh. That’s gotta hurt.” Bruce laughed. “It hurt me and it wasn’t even directed at me.”

“That’s called a ricochet.” Natasha said. “Also done by bullets and Taylor Swifts tears.”

“I understood that reference.” Steve chimed in.

“Did you?” Peter asked skeptically, making Steve’s smile fall.

“That’s the one that sings “Single Ladies”, right?” He whispered to Natasha.

“Uh huh.” Natasha smiled sarcastically.

“Are you gonna take that, Parker?” Bruce asked Peter. Peter noticed everyone was looking at him and blushed in embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that clever. Chickens don’t even lay eggs. Hens do. And we don’t do that so it doesn’t matter.” He mumbled. Everyone’s eyes widths they leaned forward in their seats.

“Don’t do what?” Sam asked for clarification. Peter looked around at all the peering eyes and shrunk down in his seat.

“Sex.” Peter reluctantly admitted.

“You don’t do sex?” Sam laughed in surprise.

“Have we forgotten how to speak?” Natasha asked the crowd.

“Why are you guys all looking at me the way we looked at Bucky when he told us he didn’t wash his ass in the shower?” Peter asked.

“It honestly never crossed my mind.” Bucky shrugged.

“Hold on. How long have you guys been together?” Bruce asked Peter.

“Two months.”

“Two months? And you haven’t smushed yet?” Sam gasped.

“Ew. Smushed? There’s no actual smushing involved, right?” Peter forced a laugh. No one replied and his smile fell.

“Right?” He asked seriously.

“No offense kid, but that’s a long time to keep a lady waiting.” Steve said. “You two need to do a little bit of the old how’s yer father, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t. What the fuck does that mean?” Sam asked and pulled out his phone.

“Who are you to talk? Aren’t you a 1,000 year old virgin?” Peter deadpanned.

“100 years.” Steve corrected. “And yes. I am.”

“No he’s not.” Bucky said.

“I googled it. It was Steve’s old man way of saying putting some stank on it.” Sam read off his phone.

“Why haven’t you guys done it yet?” Natasha wondered. “It’s not like you just met. You’ve known her for years.”

“Yeah, but she’s only been my girlfriend for two months of those years. It’s a big transition. We’re waiting for the right moment.”

“So you’ve talked about it?” Steve asked him.

“Well, no.” Peter admitted. “I’m just assuming.”

“Assuming what exactly?” Natasha asked.

“That’s she’s waiting for the right moment to tell me she wants to do it. And then it’ll just happen then.” Peter shrugged.

“Hm.” Natasha said curtly. Peter noticed the look on everyone’s face and grew worried.

“What?” He laughed nervously.

“Nothing.” Steve shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“You can’t make that face and say “hm” and then not tell me.” Peter insisted.

“I think she’s ready.” Steve admitted. “I think she’s more than ready. You’re the one who’s not ready. That’s why you haven’t made a move yet.”

“She could’ve made a move.” Peter pointed out.

“No girl wants that.” Sam waved his hand. “They want their man to take charge and sweep them off their feet. You know, romance? Making her feel special?”

“She hates being lifted off her feet.” Peter insisted. “I picked her up once and she punched me in the throat and the bing bongs at the same time.”

“Hey, I taught her that move. I’m glad to see she’s using it.” Natasha smiled proudly.

“I have to agree with Sam on this one.” Steve said. “Girls like a romantic gesture. I’m not saying you have to literally sweep her off her feet, but make it clear that you want her. Or else she’s gonna start to feel under appreciated and unseen.”

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re waiting and that’s okay.” Peter insisted.

“She’s waiting. For you. To make a God damn move already.” Sam replied.

“And you know what happens if you wait too long?”

“What happens?” Peter gulped.

“She’ll find someone who’s ready now.” Sam shrugged.

“Well what am I supposed to do? How do I make her feel special?”

“She was your best friend before your girlfriend right?” Bruce asked him.

“Yeah.”

“So she should be the person you’re most comfortable with. Just make a move. She’ll make a move in return. That’s how it works.” Bruce explained.

“Just like that?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Just like that.” Sam confirmed. By the point, you were back from the bathroom and sitting in a seat by yourself. Peter graced himself before going over to sit beside you.

“Hey.” Peter smiled at you.

“Hey Petey. What’s going on?” You smiled back.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to come sit by my lady.” He said and wrapped an arm around you.

“Aw. You’re so cute.” You smiled and leaned into him.

“You’re cute. Are these new?” He asked and tugged on the hem of your shorts.

“New to me.” You shrugged. “I stole them from Pepper.”

“I like them. They look good on you.” He said as he looked into your eyes. You smiled at the compliment and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Peter blushed and looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was nodding his head to give him the go ahead. Peter nodded back before returning his attention to you. He went to put his hand on your thigh, but since the action was unnatural to him, he ended up grabbing your thigh so quickly and harshly that you jumped.

“Oh my God. What was that?” You gasped and pushed his hand off.

“Sorry. There was a spider on your leg.” Peter quickly lied.

“And you killed it? Isn’t that like…cannibalism?” You asked him.

“No.” Peter chuckled. “Wait. Oh my God. Is it?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “But thanks for killing it. I didn’t even feel it on my leg.”

“Hm. Weird.” Peter forced a laugh. He looked over at Sam again, who was shaking his head in disappointment.

“This is gonna be harder than I thought.” Peter thought to himself.

With Tony in the room right next store, Peter didn’t dare try anything while on the vacation. But once you returned to the tower a week later, it was game time.

“Peter? Are you in here?” You asked as you knocked on his bedroom door one day.

“One second, baby. I’m in the shower.” Peter called to you from the bathroom in his room.

“Okay. I’ll wait out here.” You shouted back and took a seat on his bed. Peter heard your response and thought back to what the team said about making a move. Before he could second guess himself, he called out again.

“You don’t have to do that. Why don’t you join me?”

“What? I can’t hear you over the water.” You said as you walked over to the bathroom door so he could hear you better.

“I didn’t say anything.” He lied when he felt he had failed.

“Oh. It sounded like you did.” You laughed and leaned against his bathroom door.

“That was just the sound of my shampoo bottle falling.” Peter lied.

“Oh. Okay.” You answered skeptically. You were about to go back to his bed when you heard a loud thud.

“Peter? What was that? Did you shampoo fall again?” You opened the door a little to ask him.

“No. My body did.” Peter groaned from the shower floor.

“Oh no. Are you okay?”

“Not really.” He winced. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah, but…” Peter began but trailed off.

“But what?” You asked.

“I’m nakey.” He said in a little voice.

“I’ll close my eyes, okay?” You laughed.

“You don’t have to. I just wanted to warn you that you’re about to see the biggest penis you’ve ever seen.” Peter said seriously, making you laugh again.

“Oh really? Is Thor in there?” You asked.

“That was hurtful.”

“You’re such an idiot. I’m coming in, okay? Hide your massive penis.” You warned as you entered the bathroom.

“I’ll try. But it won’t be easy.” Peter sighed. You opened the shower door with your elbow while covering your eyes with both hands.

“I’m here. Can you see me?” You asked him.

“Why would o not be able to see you? You’re the one with your eyes covered.”

“Oh. Right. Where are you?”

“The floor. Because I fell. That’s typically where people end up after they fall.”

“I should just leave you here to drown.” You said and turned to leave.

“Wait, come back. Please.” Peter whined. “They’ll never find a casket big enough to hold my massive schlong.”

“I hate you so much.” You laughed and came back. You bent down and helped him off the floor but grabbing his arm.

“Ah!” You screamed and dropped his arm.

“What?”

“You’re wet.” You grimaced.

“I’m in the shower.” He reminded you.

“I don’t know why but I wasn’t expecting you to be wet. Put my hand on the knob. I’ll turn it off.” You told him. Peter took your hand and guided it to the knob while you kept your eyes tightly shut. You heard the sound of the water turning off and Peter sighing in relief.

“There we go. Much better.” He said.

“Okay. I’m gonna pick you up now.” You told him and bent down to wrap your arms around his torso.

“Ah!” He screamed.

“What?”

“That tickles.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “Where’s your robe?”

“Hanging on the back of the door.” He told you. You kept your eyes shut but walked over to the door and felt around until you found his robe.

“Okay. I found it.”

“Throw it at me.” Peter said. You threw it outwards and it smacked him in the face. “You got it?”

“Yes. Ow.” Peter huffed as he put it on.

“Sorry.” You grimaced.

“Okay. You can open your eyes now.”

“Okay.” You said but didn’t open them.

“Baby. You open them.” Peter laughed.

“Sorry. I got scared.” You admitted as you opened your eyes.

“Of what?” Peter gulped, thinking you were scared to see him naked.

“Of seeing you on the shower floor and getting the biggest ick of my entire life.” You replied, making Peter laugh in relief.

“Fair enough.”

“Come on, little guy. I gotcha.” You bent down and helped him up with ease now that you could see.

“What did we say about calling me “little guy”?” Peter reminded you.

“That it’s funny and hilarious?” You asked innocently as you helped lead him out of the bathroom.

“Those are synonyms.”

“What about cinnamon?”

“What?”

“What?” You asked in reply. He shook his head endearingly as you walked him over to his bed.

“Okay. We’re here. Sit down.” You said and helped him into his bed.

“Well that was fun. And wet.” Peter said as he combed his wet hair out of his face with his fingers.

“You’re telling me.” You said and showed him your now soaking wet shirt.

“Sorry about that. You can grab a shirt from my closet.” He told you.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him before going over to his closet. You pulled out a T shirt and we’re about to put it on when you felt his eyes on you. You looked over your shoulder at him and he turned red.

“I’ll close my eyes.” Peter offered.

“It’s okay. You can watch. I don’t mind.” You smiled innocently at him before turning back around. Peter gulped as you pulled your shirt off and stayed perfectly silent. He could see your bra band when your hair moved and though it wasn’t much, it was as naked as he had ever seen you. You’d never been in so much as bathing suits around the other so this showing of skin was both unexpected but highly anticipated. Peter watched you pull his shirt over your head and fix your hair before turning back around.

“Better?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Better.” You nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew about the conversation he had had with the team. It wasn’t like you to get changed in front of him so maybe you weren’t trying to make a move as well.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” You asked as you sat on Peters bed.

“Not bad. I think it’s already healing.” He said and moved his robe to look at it.

“Good. You need it to climb walls and shoot webs out of your butt and stuff.”

“I have told you so many times.” Peter sighed. “The webs do not come out of my butt.”

“There is no doubt in my mind that you’re lying and just won’t show me. And that’s fine.” You shrugged.

“You’re ridiculous.” He laughed and took your hand.

“Yeah. Maybe a little.” You chuckled and played with his fingers. A comfortable silence filled the room as Peter started to form a plan in his head.

“So.” He laughed nervously. “Here we are. In my room. Alone.”

“I know. It’s nice.”

“You think so?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Yeah. It’s so rare we get time when no one else is around. It can finally just be the two of us.” You said and reached out to brush some hair off his forehead. Peter felt his whole face flush and scooted a little closer to you.

“I’ve actually been hoping we’d get some alone time.” He told you.

“Me too.” You smiled coyly and leaned in a little.

“Did you have anything in mind you want to do?” He asked and leaned in as well.

“I could think of a few things.” You flirted.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“For starters, you’ll have to lose this robe.” You said and ran your hand along the collar of his robe. Peter gulped as you got up and went back over to his closet.

“Done.” Peter nodded as he frantically started to undo the belt of his robe.

“And put this on.” You said as you tossed him some pajamas.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl. Wait, what? What’s this?” Peters smile fell when the pajamas fell into his lap.

“Pajamas. So you can get comfy and we can finally watch New Girl before it leaves Netflix.” You told him.

“Oh. Right. Pajamas. I’ll just put these on.” Peter tried to mask the disappointment in his voice as he tugged his shirt over his head. By the time you were snuggled into his side with your head on his shoulder, his disappointment was gone. He had gotten so caught up in what the team had said that he forgot to appreciate the little moments with you. He let it go for tonight and just enjoyed spending time together.

The next day, he was back on his bullshit. He found you in the kitchen with your back to him as you flipped through a magazine. Peter and wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on your shoulder to let you know he meant business.

“Hey you.” He said as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey Petey. What’s going on?” You smiled over your shoulder at him.

“Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

“You’re so sweet lately. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. I just really like you.” He replied and kissed your shoulder again. He decided to make a move and tilted his chin a little higher so he could kiss your neck.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as you flipped a page of your magazine. Peter immediately perked up and turned you around, thinking his plan had worked.

“What was that?” He gulped as his face burned bright red.

“Sorry. Paper cut.” You said and held up your bleeding finger. Peter took a split second to realized you were cursing, not requesting, before jumping into action.

“Here. Let me help.” He said and gently took your finger. He walked to the bathroom with you and turned on the faucet. He was about to put in under the water when he got a different idea. He looked you right in the eyes as he took your finger into his mouth and sucked the blood off of it. You watched him as he did this and gulped a little.

“Peter?” You asked in a soft voice. A hope sparked in Peter’s chest that he had successfully made a move.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea how many germs you just put in my open wound?” You said, making all Peters hope disappear.

“Oh. Sorry.” He shook his head in embarrassment and held your finger under the running water.

“Why did you turn the water on and then suck it instead?” You asked him. Peter thought about lying, but knew it was no use.

“I…I thought it would be sexy.” He admitted.

“You thought sucking my paper cut would be sexy? Okay, Edward.” You snorted as you got a bandaid out of the cabinet for yourself.

“Edward? Who’s that?” Peter felt a hot flash of jealousy over the mention of another boys name. He normally wouldn’t have that reaction, but he was extra sensitive after what Steve said about you finding someone else.

“The vampire from Twilight. Relax.” You laughed in surprise.

“Oh. Right.” He smiled in embarrassment.

“Peter Parker. Were you jealous at the mere drop of another boys name?” You playfully gasped.

“Is that bad?” Peter asked as he helped put a bandaid on your finger.

“I don’t think it’s bad.” You shrugged. “I think it’s kinda hot that you’re the jealous type. As long as you don’t get all possessive on me.”

“I won’t. I’ve seen enough white women with “love her but leave her wild” tattooed on them to know better.” Peter replied, making you laugh.

“Well that’s good to hear. And for what it’s worth, you’ve proven to be a lovely boyfriend so far. I’ve really enjoyed these past few months.”

“So have I.” Peter smiled softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss to let him know all was forgiven.

“So why were you trying to be sexy before?” You asked once you pulled away.

“I don’t know. I was just trying to make a move.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Make a move? Why would you need to do that?” You laughed. Peter could barely conceal the disappointment that he felt from your response. It seemed like the number one thing on his mind right now was the last thing on yours.

“Oh. I don’t know.” He faked a smile. You took his face in your hands and made him look at you.

“Petey, if you want me, just take me.” You said like it was obvious.

So he took you.

Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you with ease as he kissed you. You anchored your arms around his neck so that you wouldn’t slide off as he carried you to his room. Peter laid you down on his bed without ever breaking the kiss. Both of you could feel the electricity in the air and knew something big was about to happen. But before you could get too far, the door opened.

“Hey guys - stop screaming, it’s me.” Sam held up a hand when he was met with screams from you and Peter.

“We know it’s you. What do you want?” Peter groaned.

“Nothing. I’m just bored.” Sam shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich in his hand. You and Peter stared at him in disbelief of his inability to read a room while he noisily chewed his food.

“So what are you guys up to?” He asked and pointed between the two of you.

“Take a wild guess.” You said sarcastically.

“I would tell you what I think is happening.” Thor chuckled. “But I know that’s not the case since you two don’t-“

“Sam.” Peter cut him off.

“Did I say too much? Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” Sam winked at Peter before leaving the room. The silence between you was uncomfortable as you struggled to know what to say.

“What was he about to say?” You asked an after a minute.

“I have no idea.” Peter lied. You looked at him and he knew he was caught.

“Don’t lie to me. Was he gonna say we don’t hook up?”

“Yeah. He was.” He admitted.

“You told him that?” You asked and got off his bed to put some distance between you.

“No. I would never.” He assured you. “It came up on the plane the other day. They were teasing me about you and it just kinda came out that we haven’t…you know.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nodded but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“I’m sorry. I know you like to be private.”

“It’s not your fault. I just worried that you had been complaining to them that we don’t…” You trailed off and Peter realized why you were upset.

“Honey. Never.” He assured you as he took your hand and gave it a squeeze. This seemed to ease your mind and you sat back down on his bed.

“Okay. Good.” You smiled in relief. Peter avoided looking at you as he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“Does it bother you? That we haven’t done it yet?” He asked as a deep blush spread across his face.

“Well,-“ You began.

“Do you guys know the Hulu password?” Sam asked as he opened Peters door again.

“Get out!” Peter shouted and threw a pillow at him.

“I’m trying to watch Bridesmaids. Please.” Sam whined. “I’m desperate. They just added it back on there.”

“Oh my God.“ Peter groaned and rubbed his eyes, knowing the moment had lost.

“Go ask my dad or something.” You huffed.

“You guys suck. Not you, Y/n. Clearly.” Sam laughed at his own joke and left the room again. A awkward silence filled the room again and Peter felt like the worst person in the world. He knew it bothered you that he had told the team something personal and even worse, he could feel your disappointment in him.

“I’m gonna go.” You said to break the silence. You got off the bed and Peter felt you quickly slipping out of his hands.

“Wait! Don’t leave.” He pleaded.

“I have to go move my car.” You said hastily.

“Can we please talk about this?”

“I have to go move my car!” You exclaimed and swiftly left the room.

“I know you don’t have to do that!” He called after you. “We’ve watched New Girl together. I know you got that from Nick Miller.”

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and flopped on his bed. He wasn’t alone for long before Pepper and Thor knocked on his door.

“Hey, kiddo.” Pepper said kindly.

“Woah. Weird combo. Have you two ever interacted before?” Peter asked and pointed between the two of them. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No.” They said in unison.

“So what were you doing outside my door?”

“Not that we were listening to your entire conversation, but we were. And you guys need to talk about this.” Pepper said as she sat on Peters bed.

“We tried.” Peter sighed. “Sam kept interrupting.”

“But even before he interrupted, you weren’t really getting anywhere, were you?” Pepper asked kindly.

“What do you mean?”

“Neither of you could even say the word “sex”. How do you expect to do it if you can’t even say it?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about that.” Peter realized.

“You need to have a mature conversation with her about this. That’s the only way to know how she’s feeling and to let her know what you’re feeling.” Pepper said and patted Peters knee.

“Okay. I guess you’re right.”

“Or.” Thor began, getting Peter’s attention.

“Or? There’s another option?” Peter perked up.

“Yes. Here’s what you do. You seduce her. No words, only passion.”

“I’m listening.” Peter leaned in.

“You spray yourself with a sexy body spray. You put some sexy sheets on your bed. You lure her to your bedroom. You play a sexy song. You dim the lights because bad lighting is sexy. You light some sexy candles. You make the setting so irresistible that you won’t need words. She’ll know exactly what’s about to happen.” Thor told him.

“I think that’s a solid plan.” Peter nodded along.

“That’s a horrible plan.” Pepper exclaimed. “That is the dumbest plan I have ever heard. You clearly need to talk to her.”

“How sexy of a song are we talking here?” Peter ignored her.

“The sexiest. But don’t confuse that with raunchy. She’s not gonna get in the mood if she walks in to some degrading song. You need to pick the perfect playlist that does all the talking for you.” Thor told him.

“Or, you could do the talking for you.” Pepper suggested.

“No. I’m gonna go with Thors idea.” Peter decided.

“Huzzah!” Thor raised his arms in triumph.

“Huzzah? How come sometimes you soudn completly normal and sometimes you sound like a World of Warcraft character?” Peter asked him.

“I’m not familiar with this World of Warcraft. But if I had fought in it, I would’ve won.” Thor smiled proudly.

“Thanks for the advice guys. I know what im gonna do.”

The next day, the plan was in action. Peter found some red silk sheets from a box in Tony’s room labeled “my bachelor era” and put them on his bed. He doused himself with a cologne he borrowed from Bruce before taking off his shirt and rubbing baby oil all over his chest, leaving him in just his black boxers. He looked at himself in the mirror and flexed his muscles.

“Perfect.” He decided. Now it was time to lure you in, just like Thor told him.

“FRIDAY, play Careless Whisper. George Michael.” Peter requested.

“Playing Careless Whisper.” FRIDAY said and the song began to blast from the speakers.

“Thank you. Now dim the lights.”

“Dimming, sir.” FRIDAY complied.

“Time to lure.” Peter smiled wickedly. He pulled out his phone and tried to text you but his fingers were too slippery from the baby oil.

“Damn it. FRIDAY, text Y/n stark and tell her to meet me in my room. And say it’s urgent.”

“Texting Tony and Y/n Stark.” FRIDAY, replied, but the music was too loud for Peter to hear it.

“The trap is set. Now we wait.” Peter excitedly rubbed his hands together and turned around. It wasn’t long before he heard his door opening behind him.

“Peter? Are you in here?” He heard your voice and slowly turned around.

“Well hello - TONY?! I mean, Mr. Stark? What, uh, what are you doing here?” Peter laugh nervously and covered his crotch with his hands. You looked at his piled up body and boxers and slapped both hands over your mouth to stifle your laugh. Once you realized what song was playing, you had to turn around so your dad didn’t see you losing it.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Are you covered in sunblock?” Tony asked him.

“No. It’s baby oil.” Peter sheepishly admitted.

“Was that supposed to make this less weird?” Tony asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why is he here?” Peter whined and looked at you.

“You texted both of us and said it was urgent. I thought you fell im the shower again.” You explained as you struggled to make eye contact because of how distracting his shiny abs were.

“Again? Peter, can’t you stick to walls? How did you fall in the shower?” Tony wondered.

“I slipped, okay? I’m only human. And a little bit spider.” Peter mumbled.

“Wait a second.” Tony held up a finger when he took in his surroundings.

“Sexy music.” Tony gasped and pointed to the speaker.

“Candles.” He gasped louder and pointed to the candles.

“Baby oil.” He gasped even louder and pointed to Peter. He then walked over to Peter’s dresser and let out the loudest gasp of all.

“Pack of extra small condoms?” He gasped and put his hand over his heart. He then looked at Peter with the rage of a thousand men. Peter looked at you, who looked like a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and fondness.

“Um, it’s not what it looks like?” Peter said weakly. Tony threw the box of condoms at him and it stuck to Peters oiled chest.

“I knew it! You derelict. You ne’re-do-well. You scallawag. You were gonna try to sex my daughter, weren’t you?”

“Can that word be used in that way?” You wondered out loud.

“No. It’s not a verb. Your form was incorrect.” Peter told Tony, immediately regretting it.

“How’s this for form?” Tony asked and raised both his fists as if he was about to mollywhop Peter. You quickly stepped between them and held up a hand.

“Dad. Stop. You’re not gonna fight Peter. You’re obviously misreading things. There’s no way he brought me in here for that. Right, Peter?”

“Uhhh….” Peter trailed off and smiled weakly. Your jaw dropped for a second, but then you looked really pleased. Tony saw the look on your face and let out a loud, elongated groan.

“Goodbye. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go rinse my eyes out with drain cleaner.” Tony stared at you both in disgust as he walked out.

“Dad. You’re embarrassing me.” You whined.

“FRIDAY, add baby oil to the shopping list. Somebody used it all.” Tony called out as he left the room.

Once you were alone, you and Peter looked at each other and laughed in embarrassment.

“Did you really do all this for me?” You asked and rubbed his oiled up shoulder.

“I did. And it was incredibly stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Because I wanted our first time to be special. You deserve special.” Peter sighed. You pouted and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Aw, Peter.”

“I know. It was dumb.” He sighed.

“It wasn’t dumb. I think it was really sweet.” You assured him. “Just executed in a kind of terrifying way. The song is so loud that it’s rattling my bones and you look like uncooked chicken.”

“Yeah. This was Thors idea.” Peter laughed in embarrassment and looked down at his shiny body.

“Well it’s not the worst sight in the world.” You shrugged and ran your fingertips down his chest. Peter gulped and looked at you, feeling that electricity return.

“FRIDAY, stop playing the song.” You called out without ever taking your eyes off Peter. He got the hint and shot a web at the door to shut it before going to blow out the candles.

“Wait.” You held out your hand, stopping Peter.

“Leave the candles.” You told him.

“Okay. But why?”

“Well, it’s our first time, isn’t it?” You smiled coyly. “It should be special.”

Peter liked where your head was at but couldn’t go through with it without telling you the whole truth.

“They’re M&M scented candles that I stole from Morgans playroom.” He admitted. You stared at him for a long time before nodding your head.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking before I change my mind, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded excitedly and pulled you into a kiss. You kissed him back and felt the same electricity that was coursing through his veins. Peter laid you down on his bed without breaking the kiss and you felt the red silk sheets he had put on under your skin.

“These sheets are a nice touch.” You flirted in between kisses.

“Only the best for you, baby. I took them from your dad.”

With the mention of your father, you immediately pushed Peter off and felt your entire body cringe. He had once again successfully ruined the moment.

“That’s it. I’m done.” You held uo your hands in defeat and left his room.

“Wait!” Peter called after you. “I cleaned them! I swear!”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

@unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah

@seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x avengers!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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icallhimjoey · 10 months ago

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♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot

Author’s note: this sort of came about after taking small little bits from several requests that i combined and then shaped into what i wanted for myself, and for a minute, i thought 'what if i don't make this one extremely self-indulgent for once' but then... why the fuck wouldn't i? so...

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

One of those days.

You weren’t going to wait until you got home to ask Joe what pizza toppings he wanted. Not today. So you texted,

“peperoni or chicken?”

And it took just a few seconds for Joe to open Whatsapp and to reply.

“those my only two options?”

You didn’t have the mental capacity to even think of any other pizza toppings, let alone get into some banter over text with your flatmate.

“joe”

There were a million ways for Joe to have read that, to have interpreted that. Yet, he got the tone of it just right.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of it”

No playing. Just quick solutions to problems of which Joe didn’t even really know what they were yet. Then another text from him followed, asking you the question you’d just sent him.

“peperoni or chicken?”

“chicken”

You remembered exactly when this pizza tradition started. Could pinpoint the exact date, time, and place.

“no i was wrong.” “peperoni”

The first time you and Joe shared a pizza as new flatmates, was when you’d gotten home one morning, still very obviously in the outfit you’d left in the night before. Joe had been cooking up some breakfast in the kitchen and had his jokes ready, already grinning to himself when he hadn’t even seen you yet.

“Well, well, well,” he called over his shoulder as you took a moment by the front door to just... breathe. You would’ve tried gathering yourself, but there wasn’t much to gather.

“I know you said the plan was to go out and celebrate Friday, but you didn’t mention anything about Saturday morning,” you could hear the joy in Joe’s voice, all chipper and lively. He’d very clearly had a great night’s sleep, unlike you.

Joe heard footsteps, and when they stopped in the doorway, he turned his head to look. Spatula still in hand, eggs just about ready in the pan in front of him.

“Look at what the cat’s drag–...” the comment died on his tongue. “Jesus, are you all right?”

Joe had expected a tired, sloppy girl to have walked in. One with messy hair, eye make-up all smudged and sort of drunk a little, still.

He’d been right.

That was exactly what he was looking at, which should objectively be funny. Hence the smile that still lingered on his face as his brow slowly furrowed in confusion.

“You look like the inside of a shoe,”

Joe tried his hand at humour, but it fell completely flat.

What he hadn’t anticipated, was for his flatmate to look quite so sad in reaction to his comments. So very drained of life. You’d obviously been crying and looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks.

For a moment you just stood in that doorway, looked a little dazed because, um, why were you going into your shared living space again?

You needed your bed.

Without answering Joe, and without even really acknowledging him at all, you took a shuddering breath and slowly turned back around, only to ignore Joe’s question and disappear into the hallway.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Joe quickly turned the hob off and rounded the island to go after you. He was too late though, stepping into the hallway just as your bedroom door closed behind you. The immediate guilt that followed his poking-fun carried him over to stand in front of it, just enough self-restraint left to not just open your door and walk in right after you.

You didn’t seem like you needed to be pissed off any more than you already were.

From just outside of your bedroom door, you heard a very faint knock, followed by Joe’s voice, asking if you were all right once more.

“Did– did something happen? What’s going on?”

All you managed to do was sigh, just loud enough for Joe to catch it.

“What happened?”

But you didn’t want to get into it.

“Do you– hey,” Joe called your name, waited for a second, in case you wanted to answer him, but then when you didn’t, he followed it up with, “Do you want some breakfast?”

And honestly, breakfast sounded nice. But so did burying yourself into your duvet for a few days, where no one would try to look you in the eye, and where no one would try to make you talk. Were you going to listen to your rumbling stomach that wanted some food, or to the rest of your body that just wanted to be horizontal?

“Some scrambled eggs? Piece of toast?”

You milled it over in your mind.

“Or, I could make you something else? You want some yoghurt? With some berries in?”

Joe tried. Was actively trying. But it didn’t seem to work, just didn’t seem to do the trick. It stayed silent on your side of the door.

“Some pizza?”

And it was meant as a careful joke. A hopeful small little thing to at least lift the mood, if nothing else. If you were even still listening to him at all, that was.

He was about to tell you that he’d be in the kitchen if you needed anything, that you could just let him know. No worries if not. But then he heard rustling. Stumbling footsteps, followed by your bedroom door slowly opening.

“Hey,” Joe cocked his head to the side at the sight of you, his eyes all soft, forehead crinkled with worry. “I’m sorry.”

You looked right past him.

“What... what kind of pizza?”

You focused on the important things instead. Didn’t really care to acknowledge Joe’s apology.

“Well,” Joe tried to hide his smile as he looked down at his feet before stepping aside and holding an arm out, inviting you to walk ahead of him, making your way back into the living area. “I think there’s a few to choose from in the freezer.”

You’d shared a pizza that morning, you sat at one of the stools of the kitchen island, and Joe stood on the side. He hadn’t asked you any questions then, but instead had just tried his hand at light conversation until suddenly, halfway through a slice, you’d started sobbing.

And it wasn’t like you and Joe had never hugged before.

But you’d never been hugged by him like that before.

Where Joe instantly dropped his food and stepped closer to fold arms around you. Where Joe got an arm around your head to press your face into his chest whilst the other curled down around your shoulders that pressed your chest into his stomach. Where he decided he wasn’t going to be the one to pull back first, and so you’d just embraced like that for over half an hour.

He hadn’t asked you any questions.

Not when you cried.

Not when you’d stuttered through breaths as you tried to recollect yourself after.

Not when you eventually pulled back and reached for another bite of now-cold pizza.

Not when you then silently frowned at the hardened cheese and softly sighed to yourself.

Not when you did eventually retreat back into your room but came out just a minute later and asked if Joe had any plans that day.

Even if he did have plans, Joe knew that he’d cancel them all for you.

“Want to rot on the sofa with me? Watch films all day?”

And you hadn’t meant to fall asleep all sagged into his side then, but you had. And Joe had played with the ends of your hair until the warmth and comfort had pulled him into a nap as well.

You’d never talked about what had happened then, why you had been so sad, because you didn’t need to. It was nice that Joe hadn’t asked for you to explain why you’d cried, and instead had just comforted you until you managed to smile for him again.

Joe thought that maybe, if you wanted to tell him, one day you would. But he didn’t need to know why his flatmate was sad when she was. He was happy just being there to help and fix it.

And now, here you were. Two flatmates who shared a tradition of having pizza and watching a film when you’d had a bad day.

And today had just been... long. Hard. Frustrating. You didn’t want to get into all the things that had nearly pushed you over the edge, and you were glad that you didn’t need to.

Joe didn’t ask questions. Never did.

Just went to get you the peperoni pizza you’d asked for.

Would cuddle you on the sofa all night if that was what you wanted.

It was what he wanted, anyway.

He was well aware that none of that was normal though.

You were flatmates.

If Joe referred to you in conversation with a friend, with a family member, or even with a stranger, you were his flatmate. The girl that he shared the living area of his flat with. The pantry, the fridge and the freezer. The coat closet by the door. A letterbox downstairs by the entrance.

Flatmates.

But if someone were to ask you if you and your flatmate were friends too, you’d tell them yes of course. You shared dinner more often than not. If you had friends ‘round, Joe would hang out too. And vice versa.

Normal.

Just normal friendly flatmates that also knew each other’s parents by their first names, but you know, those things sort of just came with sharing a living space together, right?

And no one ever really thought there was more to you and Joe, anyway.

Why would they even assume?

You dated other people. Went on regular dates with different men. Other guys. Would even sometimes sit and watch a film with someone, and Joe would join you for a little while. Have casual conversation with whoever you’d invited over.

Normal.

What wasn’t so normal was that the second it would just be you and Joe, you wouldn’t hesitate to touch if you wanted to touch. Wouldn’t hesitate to find him, wherever he’d be, and sling your arms around his stomach from behind, just to hold him for a minute. Would wait to get comfortable on the sofa until Joe would join you there and you’d wait for his arm to find its way around you before you’d settle in.

You never talked about it.

It was just what it was like. You were close. The affection was just a natural thing between the two of you. It didn’t need any words. Any explaining.

But Joe knew you both understood that this could be interpreted very differently through other people’s eyes.

It’s why you kept referring to each other as flatmates, and why you weren’t like that in front of other people.

Which was fine.

You lived together.

There was plenty of time without other people there.

When you walked into your flat that evening, the promise of a shared peperoni pizza combined with the contrasting warmth that immediately made you feel uncomfortably hot in your coat, was nearly enough to bring you to tears.

“Joe?”

“Hey, bad news,”

Oh no.

Joe appeared at the other end of the hallway.

“They didn’t have any Sprite left, so I got you a Fanta.”

You let your shoulders drop and let your head fall to the side in relief. That was hardly bad news. You didn’t love Fanta, but the bad news revealed Joe had gone out to get a pizza instead of throwing a frozen one into the oven.

“Fanta’s fine.” You smiled. Joe easily copied it.

“Good, okay. Now,” Joe continued, suddenly his face all serious again as you took your coat off and toed your shoes off. “I know that last time, I got to pick a film, so technically it is your turn... but, I’ve already chosen something to watch, and I did go out to get us the largest peperoni pizza London has to offer, so...”

You stilled and gave an exaggerated sigh, all mock frustration, because you honestly didn’t give a shit. If anything, it was nice that Joe had made the choice for you, seeing as you didn’t really have the mental capacity for any decisions right now. If it had been left up to you, you’d hav been scrolling through Netflix for at least half an hour until settling just to watch some celebrity panel shows on Channel 4.

“No sprite and I don’t get to choose the film?”

“I’m sorry,” Joe was trying stupidly hard to hide a smile.

You blinked at him a second.

“You’re not sorry.”

“No I’m not. You made me go out and it’s fucking freezing outside today.”

You made your way over to your bedroom to get changed, and just before disappearing, you said, “Cool way of letting me know you’ve not left the flat all day.”

Like Joe’s hair hadn’t told you as much already.

You wished your job would let you work from home too. Although, with Joe spending weird stretches of time just sitting around and reading, you didn’t think you’d get much work done. Would probably be a bit weird if you logged onto a zoom meeting from your spot on the sofa, half of Joe in frame.

“I did leave the flat! I just said!” Joe argued, leaving you to get into a more comfortable outfit.

You grinned to yourself.

Joe was an idiot.

In an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of joggers, you joined Joe in the living room where you found a large pizza box on the coffee table, two cans of Sprite next to it.

Sprite.

“Surprise.”

Joe had lied.

Then you looked at the TV screen, paused at the title of the film Joe’d chosen and, fuck all the way off, did he want you to cry?

“I know it’s not your genre...”

It was. It absolutely was. It wasn’t Joe’s genre, though. “But I promise you’ll like it.”

You didn’t know if you wanted to hook an elbow to his jaw or squeeze your nails into his cheeks, but you needed to do something to get this surge of emotion out.

You opted for swearing at him instead of physical violence.

“I fucking hate you so much right now,”

“Yea?” Joe sat down, pressing play on the remote and reaching for the throw blanket. “Come hate me over here.”

And so you did.

Sat down next to Joe, thigh to thigh, and let him sort the blanket so it covered the both of you before leaning over to grab the pizza box.

The heat coming from the pizza quickly found your legs through the blanket and through your joggers. It was a stark comparison to how cold your fingers still felt from your trek home.

You rubbed them together as Joe opened the pizza box and, shit, that looked good.

“You cold?”

“Just my fingers,” you replied, already putting both hands to use, ripping the pieces of crust that hadn’t been cut properly and lifting a slice out of the box.

Joe did the same, and then when he saw one of your hands lower down, he was quick to grab it, encasing your cold fingers into his large palm.

The act of being upset with him for being nice faltered, and you smiled at Joe as he smugly grinned whilst he chewed.

See, had someone else been there with you, you’d have gotten comments. If not jokes, at least you knew you would’ve gotten some judging looks. Some questions later, about what was going on between the two of you?

Nothing was going on between the two of you.

Just warm cuddles and comforting touches, which was fine when it was just you and Joe.

So what if Joe held your hand whilst you ate pizza and watched a romantic comedy together?

So what if a piece of peperoni was about to slide and fall to your chest, but Joe saw and got it just in time, and you thought he was going to pop it into his own mouth, but then instead he held it up in front of you and waited till you ate it from his fingers?

So what if, after finishing the pizza, Joe planted his feet on the coffee table and pulled you into his side a little? Grabbed your arm to lay over his stomach? Ended up with both arms slung around, his own fingers locking on your back to keep you in place whilst you watched actors older than the both of you act as if they were in their early twenties still?

Life was just more comfortable when it was filled with good snuggles, you and Joe both agreed.

But you never talked about it.

You were just close.

No questions asked.

Flatmates. Friends. Just, close.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey

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alwaysforevermaybenever · 1 year ago

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YANDERE EX-HUSBAND: INTRODUCTION

× cw: general yandere stuff; malaysian/cantonese slang; reader is implied ethnically chinese (read her dialogue in Steven He’s accent); reader is also female; obsessive behavior; bribery; stalking; being held at gunpoint(?); threats; felony; implied murder; controlling behavior

× note: it's basically renheng/uncle roger and auntie helen

⌗ your beloved ex-husband? Hah! He’s no better than a plate of burnt egg fried rice with no spring onions or meat from a kopitiam(coffee shop). In fact, you’d pick studying at art school over looking at his face for a single second, even if it means your mother disowning you.

⌗ Unfortunately, even after getting divorced, you still live together. That’s because the house is bought under both your names, so you can’t just kick him out. And it’s not like you’ll have enough money to buy a new house after selling your current one, because half the money goes to him. Tsk. What a nuisance…

⌗ Yala, he’s handsome and rich, but he’s such a jerk and a micromanager! He always insists on telling you how to cook your signature noodles. (Mind you, you grew up learning how to make that. Your ma made sure of that.) He didn’t go to culinary school, so who is he to tell you that, huh?

⌗ You can’t stand being married to such a pompous man like him, so you locked yourself in your room on the wedding night. No way you’re gonna do anything with that eyesore (metaphor). That’s why five months later, after countless arguments and fights, you divorced him.

“Haiya, he CEO of a company, his net worth 1 billion. But he cannot even cook rice or defrost chicken for me when I ask him to? And you ask why I divorce him ah?” *slaps table*

⌗ However, your ex-husband doesn’t really care about your rants or complaints. You’re talking for hours on end about him, so that’s already a win in his book. He’s always on your mind!

⌗ He fully expected you to divorce him. That’s why he insisted on buying the house under both your names - you can’t get rid of him that way. All long as he’s under the same roof as you are, he couldn’t be happier. He eats the food you cook (leftovers because you’re used to cooking for all your relatives during family dinner), rolls on your perfectly made bed while you work your accountant job (in one of his other companies that you don’t know he’s the CEO of) and plays the picture perfect husband when your mom drops by (your 28501864817 relatives marching right behind her) with mooncakes and tangyuan (because she’ll beat you up with the tea set heirloom passed down forty-five generations when she discovers that you’re divorced with no sons!!).

⌗ How did you even get married to him if you hate him that much? Well, long story short, your mother and his mother are best friends, and their husbands are brothers, which made daily reunions even longer because they had so much to talk about. When they noticed that he showed interest in you as a child (one time), they decided that you two would get married when you were of age. While you were resentful that you were essentially forced into an arranged marriage, you pushed through it for the wedding ang pao (red packets) and tax benefits (at least until you divorced, which was when you started working and putting that science stream (not art!) degree to use).

⌗ You hate your ex-husband, but you do admit that he’s a good wallet. Besides, it’s not like he’s obsessive or possessive or a micromanager who stalks you when you go out or a genuinely bad person who commits felonies because he found out you were searching for potential bachelors because after all you’re in your prime! Right? And besides, who wouldn’t want to date and eventually marry you? But don’t worry your pretty little head because he’ll take care of them since he’s the only one you’ll ever need. Yeah, you’re divorced but who’s to say you can’t get remarried? Not the law!

⌗ And if he has to drag you screaming and kicking and cursing him (and his ancestors) to the ancestral plane and make you stand by the altar, that’s what his strength is for! And if he has to pay hush money to all the people present that’s ok, cuz he’s not rich for nothing and the relatives aren’t greedy bloodsucking money nabbers (me) just for show.

“Once again, until death do us part, my love… You at the back - put down that phone. I’ll pretend you weren’t trying to call the police, for the sake of this auspicious occasion. What do you mean my wife is being held at gunpoint and trying to punch me no she isn’t.”

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

I ADORE your writing it is so so so amazing. Could i request poly!marauders x fem!reader who works in a store (maybe like a supermarket or something) and they keep coming because they "need" stuff but they actually just wanna see her and its all cute and flully and stuff?? If you don't wanna do it, no worries at all<3

Thanks lovely! Hope you enjoy it :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You’ve barely flipped the sign in the front to open and begun restocking the tomatoes when the door opens. “Good morning,” you say automatically, a Pavlovian response to the chime of the bell.

“G’morning, lovely,” a familiar voice replies, the curly-haired boy flashing a smile at you as he stops below your ladder. “How’s your day going?”

“Well, it’s—” you look at the clock behind the counter “—quarter past seven, so…so far so good.”

“Happy to hear it.” His dark-haired, sharp-edged friend appears, startling you, and the curly-haired one holds up his hands, ready to steady you if you need it.

“Shit, Pads,” he says once it’s clear you’re not going to fall, “you don’t sneak up on someone on a ladder like that. You scared her.”

You give them both a tense smile. “It’s fine,” you say, mustering your best customer service voice (not an easy task with two of your best-looking customers standing so close to you). “I’m alright.”

“Sorry, dollface,” Pads says, sending you a half-sheepish grin in return. You don’t really understand these nicknames they have for each other, but embarrassingly, they’re the only names you know them by. The same group of three boys has been coming by your store for months, almost every day, and it’s reached a point where it’d be too awkward to ask for their names. They’re by far your favorite customers, but you only know them as what they call each other. There’s Pads, Prongs, and…

“Moony, weren’t you saying we’re out of eggs?” Prongs asks.

The tall one comes into view, already holding three cartons of eggs. “Yeah, but I can’t pick. What’s better, free-range or organic?”

“Free-range,” you say, feeling your face heat when they all look up at you. “I mean, it depends on your preference, but that’s what I’d get.”

There’s a beat of silence wherein you suspect the boys are exchanging silent communication and have to force yourself to keep your gaze on the tomatoes, and then, “Dove, I hate to trouble you, but would you mind helping us choose?” Moony’s voice is soft, unobtrusive but compelling. Of the three boys, you find him the easiest to talk to. Prongs oozes charm and Pads flirts like it’s breathing, but something about Moony’s calm demeanor is disarming. “You seem like you know a lot more than any of us.”

“I don’t know about a lot.” You shake your head dismissively, but you’re already starting down the ladder. You miss the last step, and warm hands grab your waist, lowering you cautiously to the floor.

“Easy,” Prongs murmurs.

Your heart’s in your throat, more from embarrassment than from the alarm at your near fall, and you understand why you’re blushing, but you don’t get why he is.

Your “thanks” comes out as more of a breath than a word, but he gifts you one of those dazzling smiles anyway. You turn to the egg cartons like they’re your lifeline, trying to steady your breathing while you read the labels.

“Um, yeah, so.” You clear your throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but organic just means they give the chickens food without chemicals or anything, and free-range means they get a certain amount of space to roam in. I don’t think it changes how the eggs taste or anything, it just depends on what you think is most ethical.”

Moony nods, looking like he’s mulling this over, but you can’t stand to stay under his gaze any longer than that.

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with!” you squeak, abandoning your ladder to go tidy behind the counter.

You’d think after months of these guys coming in you’d be used to them, but you’re not. They wind you every time. They’re obviously close, and you like to imagine them as housemates, maybe even lovers, with the way they seem to interact with such casual intimacy. So many of your customers barely look at you as they go about their business, and you don’t blame them for that, but these boys always have something to say to you. They’ll ask how your day is going, or whether you’ve tried the coffee shop down the road, or what you think of a new jacket. The way they talk amongst each other is so easy, and they talk with you like it should be easy too, but somehow you always manage to make it difficult for them. You’re too quiet, too nervous, too awkward. And yet they keep coming back.

You’re not allowed much reprieve before Pads is sauntering up to the counter, free-range eggs in hand. He sets them on the counter. “Thanks for the advice, sweetheart.”

“It’s no problem,” you say, distracting yourself with the manageable, routine tasks of your job. Scan the item, open the cash register, ask “Would you like a bag for that?”

“No,” he replies just as cordially, “but thank you.”

Before he goes, he tucks a bill into the tip jar on the edge of the counter, just like always, and just like always, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. It’s not like it’s ever a massive amount of money, but still. They’re only your age. Unless they’re all heirs to separate fortunes or something, they probably have about as much money to spare as you do. And it’s so, so unnecessary, especially considering they come here every day to buy one or two items, and then leave you a tip—for what? For ringing them up? For having limited knowledge of chicken ethics?

“You really don’t have to do that,” you blurt, shrinking in on yourself sheepishly when all three boys turn to look at you, nearly out the door. “I just mean, you guys come here all the time. You only ever get a couple of items, it’s really not necessary to leave a tip every time.”

The three boys look at you with varying degrees of bemusement, and Moony gives you a small smile. “We don’t mind,” he replies, at the same time as Pads says, “We like coming here.”

“I just…you shouldn’t feel obligated to leave a tip just because you need something from the corner store. I’m sure you live nearby, right? It’s not like you have a bunch of options in this area.”

The ensuing pause stretches a moment too long, and you tilt your head curiously as both Moony and Prongs begin to blush faintly. “Well,” the latter says, looking about the store with forced casualness, “actually…”

Pads isn’t so tactful. “We don’t live nearby,” he says, gray eyes frank and unflinching.

You blink. “No?”

Moony shrugs, looking alarmingly shamefaced. “No.”

“We used to live around here,” Prongs supplies. “We just don’t anymore. Haven’t bothered to find a new store.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t taken them for creatures of habit, but what all do you know about them really? “Um, where do you live now?” you ask, then want to hit yourself. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t mean to intrude—”

“No, it’s okay,” Moony says, in his usual kind way. “We moved down onto twenty second street.”

Your mouth actually drops open. A giant O, and you can hear your mom telling you you’ll catch flies. Pads snickers at your reaction. But fuck, that’s nearly across town. It has to take them at least a half hour to get to your store from there, and that’s if they have a car. “I, um.” You shake your head, collecting yourself. “Sorry, that’s just so far. I used to live around there, actually.”

Prongs perks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s a Tesco just a couple blocks down, on twenty third? And a Sainsbury’s and—oh! There’s a great local corner store not far from there, you should definitely check it out. They make their own bread.”

“Neat,” Moony says, nodding. “Thank you.”

You smile, happy to help even though you’ll be sad to see them go. “Of course, anytime.”

“Yeah, thanks gorgeous.” Pads grins at you, tucking another bill into your tip jar and ignoring your squawk of protest. “See you tomorrow.”

You blink, wondering if you’d just invented the previous conversation, but they’re all starting for the door, acting as though nothing is amiss.

Perhaps you’re feeling extra bold today, because you halt them for a second time. “But don’t you want to go somewhere more convenient?”

Prongs turns around, walking backwards towards the door. “Really appreciate the advice,” he says, “but we like this store just fine.” Moony shoots you a bashful sort of grin, and Pads winks—actually winks—over his shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

And, well, if they want to keep crossing town to come in every morning, far be it for you to stop them. You’d hate to drive off your best customers. “Yeah,” you echo. “See you tomorrow.”

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yelenasdiary · 8 months ago

Text

Forbidden || Chapter I - Welcome To Blisswater

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Bishop! Reader.

Summary: Just outside of the small town of Blisswater, lives two young sisters, Kate & Y/n Bishop. It's hard not to know who the Bishops are, Kate is the eldest by a year. She is a beautiful young woman, smart, protective and is known to have a talent in using a bow. Y/n, she is shy but quiet as some would say but nevertheless, she holds her own talents and can often be seen tending to the animals of Bishop Ranch. One evening while Kate is out hunting to make some money, Y/n is surprised with an unwanted guest, Yelena Belova. A bounty Hunter from Drybellow who has taken shelter in the young Bishop's barn after being wounded from a gun fight.

Struggling to keep money following, Y/n has no choice but to take the bounty hunter's offer of $5 a day if she is able to help the woman recover. During Yelena's stay, the two grow closer, a little too close if the wrong pair of eyes were to see them.

| No Warnings, I don’t think? | 3.6K |

Forbidden Masterlist

"I'm leaving Lucky here with you" Kate, my older sister said as she entered the dining room, "I'll be gone for a least two days at the most. Will you be okay to handle things here?" she asked. A few, long months ago, our parents went on a business trip and are yet to return. Kate and I have been left to run the ranch and keep money flowing until they return, although we haven't heard from them, not even a single letter. My worries for them are endless. "Of course, I will be" I smiled before taking a mouthful of the porridge I made for us.

"Do you need anything from town before I go?" she asked while putting her bowl in the sink for me to wash later, "no, I think we have everything we need. Just be safe, please" I looked to her. "Always, rabbit" she smiled. Kate has always called me rabbit, ever since we were younger. It comes from when my adult teeth were still coming through, they reminded her of a rabbit's front teeth when they would nibble on their food. "I'm just going to go get Arrow saddled up then I'll be on my way" she added before walking out the back door.

I'm used to Kate leaving for a day or two, she goes off hunting for us while I tend to the ranch. We have 3 cows, 5 pigs and 6 sheep! All of which have names of their own, of course. I've been saving some money to buy a couple of chickens so we can have our own fresh eggs. My father said we'd get some but that was before he and mother left on their trip. Today seems like it will be an easy day, feed the animals then off to the general store for my shift.

"Alright, you know the rules" Kate spoke as she returned from saddling up Arrow, "father's rifle is in the case under your bed and please, don't let any of those wandering men stay too long! You can't trust everybody just because they say they've had a long day" she adds. "Yes, I know! You don't need to remind of that every single time, it was just once. Besides, Mr Lang has some very interesting stories to tell" I replied. I wish Mr Lang would return; his stories were almost unbelievable.

"I guess I don't need to remind you to get some more coffee and canned peaches after your shift then?" Kate rolled her eyes at me as she tucked a few canned goods into her saddle bag. "You just did" I replied, sarcastically. "Let's go Lucky! We don't want to be late" I patted my right thigh after placing my used bowl in the sink for laters problem. "Hey!" Kate stopped me just as I was leaving the kitchen, "be safe, okay? If you need anything Mr Barnes is only a call away" she reminds me, again!

We have a bell that Kate brought, it's rather large. I am to ring it if I'm in any trouble and Mr Barnes, the Salon owner, will come over and see what the matter is. Im not exactly sure how he's able to hear the ringing sound from so far away, we've done a couple of test runs and so far I haven't had the need to use it.

"Yeah yeah, how about you be safe? I can't do everything around here if you go missing too!" I smiled softly at my older sister, she knows I'm joking. If anything were to happen to her, she knows I'd be okay…I guess.

Lucky follows me around everywhere, especially when Kate goes off on her hunt. He'll come to the general store and wait outside by the door until I've finished my duties. Mr Wilson doesn't mind, he loves Lucky and even asked Aunt May to bake some of her famous cookies that everybody in town loves, she makes a little extra and dog friendly ones for Lucky. Everybody calls her Aunt May, not really sure why though, I think it's because she's such an aunt to everybody. Almost like a grandma that cooks everybody's favorite treats for the tea party.

The walk to town is always peaceful. In the warmer seasons, it can be rather hot but on days like today when the sun is just starting to peek over the mountains from afar, the wind isn't too cold and the birds sing their morning song, it's relaxing and maybe I tend to take smaller steps just to soak up the morning fresh air before I stay inside for most of it.

"Good morning young Y/n!" A rather tall and very muscular man smiles to me, it's Thor. Nobody actually knows why his name is Thor, considering it's a very unusual name but he's very lovely. "Good morning, Thor! Keeping well I see" I replied with a friendly smile as Lucky and I slowly make our way past the Salon. "Oh, you know me! Can't resist the great liquor that is served here" the most likely drunken man chuckles. It's barely 7am and he is drinking. I guess that's a hobby for most people around here.

Blisswater isn't a town for much entertainment, you have your basics. The Saloon ran and owned by Mr Barnes, the General store ran and owned by Mr Wilson, the doctors office with the only doctor within miles, Mr Banner. The gunsmith, Mr Barton owns and supplies Kate with discounts on arrows and sometimes ammunition for us. Mr Fury is the towns barber, my father wasn't a fan of him but when he was desperate for a cut, he had no choice but to see him. Then there's Sheriff Rogers, T'Challa the friendly banker, Peter the newspaper boy (by the way, he's love for me isn't exactly a secret!) and Mr Quill is the towns blacksmith.

So that's all there really is to know about who lives in and around Blisswater, it's a small town. A town where everybody knows everybody, and word travels faster than you can blink! We all look out for each other here and most don't take kindly to newcomers. Sometimes we have outlaw gangs come passing through, they spend the night at the Saloon, get drunk and make a mess of themselves before pushing on by the afternoon. The walk-through town the following morning is usually a sight of Mr Barnes boarding up the windows of the Saloon from their drunken fights.

The bell rings loudly as I open the door of the general store, and I'm greeted with Mr Wilson's warm and welcoming smile. "Good morning, Mr Wilson!" I smiled.

"Please, Y/n, call me Sam! I've known you long enough" he chuckles before reaching down behind the counter for the plate of Aunt May's famous cookies.

"I'm sorry, it's habit! I see Aunt May has come early this morning" I wandered up to the counter taking one delicious treat. "Lucky's biscuits are back here as well; did you bring him this morning?" Mr Wilson, I mean, Sam asked. "Of course! Kate is out today and left him all to me" I took a small bite out of the homemade goodness. "Parents off again?" he questioned, I nodded lightly. I miss them so much.

"Well, I've got the perfect job to keep your mind distracted. How about you watch the store today?"

"Alone? Me? Are you sure?" I asked with a mouth full of cookie.

"Yeah, I have a couple of things that need my urge attention. I wasn't going to open today but I think you're ready for this. What do you say? You can even bring Lucky inside if you want" Sam smiled proudly. I thought about it for a moment while I finished my morning treat, it can't be that hard, right?

"Sure! I can hold the fort as they say" I replied with a smile, wiping the crumbs from my lips with the back of my hand.

"I'll be back before closing, earlier I can. If you need anything, slip out the back door. I don't need to tell you this, I know" he chuckled, "Bucky will be around if you need anything" he assures me. I guess that's the handy thing about having your store next door to a saloon. "You're starting to sound like Kate!! I'll be fine, I have Lucky! What's the worst that could happen?" I raised a brow.

"Right" my boss smirked, "well you already know where the stock deliveries are, and you know your main duties. Just don't leave the store unattended" he reminds me, I playfully rolled my eyes at him as he stepped away from the counter. "Stop stressing, Sam, the store will be fine. Go do what it is that you need to do" I hoped the door, patting my thigh for Lucky to enter.

Mr Wilson left as Lucky made himself welcome in the store, I closed the door and treated Lucky to his own biscuit before starting to restock the shelves.

——

"Good afternoon, Y/n!" A familiar voice sings louder than the bell as the door fly’s open. "Peter! How are you?" I smiled softly as I was greeted with a smile of his own. "Oh you know how it is, busy busy!" He chuckles, "I ran into Mr Wilson earlier, he mentioned you were here alone today so I thought I'd come by and see if you, uh, needed anything" he adds. A hint of red fills his cheeks while his eyes struggle to stay connected to mine.

It's no secret that young Peter Parker has a crush on me, the entire town knows it. Although he is a very sweet young gentleman, I guess I've just never found myself interested in him in a romantic manner. In fact, I've never really thought about anybody in a romantic manner now to think of it…

"You're very sweet, Peter. Thank you but things are pretty good. I've had no troubles today and please, thank your Aunt May for the cookies and Lucky's treats!"

"Oh, you're welcome! You know Aunt May, always baking" Peter chuckles once more. I could sense a hint of nerves in his voice and the redness in his cheeks grew deeper. "Peter, is everything okay? Do you need a drink? Some water?" I asked with a concerned frown. "No, no. I'm more than fine, thank you. It's just, it's getting a bit wild out there and I thought I'd walk you home later when you're finished here. Don't want you getting sick or anything" he gives me another soft smile.

"It's meant to rain?" My frown only grew bigger as I looked out the window. Dark gray skys covered the town and beyond, distant flashes of lighting lit up the darkness for a moment. Wind blew the dry leafs onto the Main Street, horses stomped their hoofs with every crack of thunder that could be heard from the far, far distance.

"Well shoot!" I sighed.

"Did Mr Wilson tell you when he'd be back?" Peter asked.

"Sure hope it is soon, I have the animals I should move into the barn before the storm arrives"

"It doesn't seem like it is far off. Maybe I could watch the store for you? I wouldn't mind at all"

"You're very kind, Peter but I'm not sure if Mr Wilson would appreciate me leaving the store in somebody else's hands. I know you wouldn't ruin the place or steal from him but he is trusting me today and I don't want him to think otherwise" I explained as I watched the dark clouds darken, it'll be a big storm by the looks.

"I'd be more than happy to make sure your stock is in the barn then" he offered, I turned to him and kindly shook my head. "I'm sure Mr Wilson will be back soon. Thank you again Peter, you're very kind. If you don't mind, there's a few things I should really get done before Mr Wilson returns" I smiled softly, hoping not to have hurt the boy's feelings.

"I plan on having supper at the Saloon, if you need me, I'll be there" Peter smiles before leaving the store.

For the rest of the afternoon, I cleaned the store and did some stock take and made sure the store was exactly how Mr Wilson would like to have it when he returns and just my luck, he returns before the storm hammers down.

"Y/n, thank you for all your help today!" He walks into the store, placing his hat on the coat rack. He looked rather dirty; a nice bath would be in order for when he gets home if I didn't know better.

"You're welcome, Mr Wilson! I'm sorry to leave in a rush but I really need to be getting home before the rain starts" I grabbed my things, Lucky following closely behind me.

"Of course, you best be safe now"

I rushed out of the store, glad the rain hadn't started pouring down as yet but it was coming. You could smell it, the thunder got louder, the lighting got closer and the wind got stronger. The main street was quiet as people already began to make their way indoors until the storm pushed over.

"Come on, Lucky! We haven't got much time!" I patted my thigh lightly before Lucky and I began to race home.

——

The rain soaked the dry ground as expected and Lucky and I were able to get the animals into the barn before it came down heavy. I left a lantern in the barn just so I could keep an eye on it from the house, Kate hates when I do that, says it's a waste of resources but she'll thank me one day for it.

"How long do you think she'll be this time Lucky?" I looked towards him as we both rested by the fire. He tilts his head at me as if he truly understands what I am saying. We listen to the rain dance on the roof and wind whistle outside while the fire cracks and keeps us warm. It's nights like this that I wish Kate wouldn't go off hunting, it's most lonely at night. But I know we need the money, just until mother and father come home.

"Come Lucky, let's check the barn" I stood up from my mothers rocking chair, and wandered over to the window. A frown creeps upon my brows when I notice the lantern, I left behind earlier in the night was gone. I rushed to my room and grabbed the rifle under my bed, grabbed my father's thick coat, a lantern and headed for the backdoor with Lucky right beside me. It was only a short walk from the house to the barn, but the rain was quick to soak me in its gift to the ranchers. Slowly, I pushed the large wooden door open, my rifle tightly in my grip. Lucky entered first, sniffing the ground for anything that didn't belong while I slowly followed behind him, one foot after another.

Only a few steps in and I saw the lantern I had left behind, in the corner where Kate's horse would've been stabled. "Come out! I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it!" I called out, keeping my distance. Lucky walked quickly over to the empty stable slot, growling. "I said come out!" I repeated.

"Don't shoot" a thick Russian accent came from the corner of the barn, "I won't hurt you, just call off the dog, please" the unknown voice added.

"How can I trust you? You're a stranger in my barn! I have every right to shoot you"

"Trust me, if I were here to harm you, you'd already be dead"

I took a few small steps closer to them, Lucky stood his ground and continued to growl. I wasn't going to tell him to back off just yet. "What are you doing here? Do you always just welcome yourself into other people's properties like this?" I asked.

"You ask too many questions" the voice replied, "call the dog off, please" they asked once more.

"Lucky, back!" I called once I laid my eyes on the intruder. A young woman, maybe no older than me. Blonde hair that was braided and she certainly didn't seem to dress how most women dress. Beside her was her gun belt and holster, her hat placed freely beside them. The woman was covered in blood, her right hand pressed tightly against her left shoulder. "You're hurt" you spoke softly while keeping my rifle pointed at her.

She chewed her bottom lip and nodded, "I'll be gone by morning, I just need a place to stay for the night"

"How can I trust your word?" I asked. The woman smirked like I had just made a joke, an odd joke if my question was funny to her.

"I know better than to kill a rich small-town girl" she replies causing me to frown at her words.

"I am not rich girl. So, if you planned on robbing me later, you would find nothing, I can assure you of that"

She chuckled, "well, maybe not rich but you are well off than others. Besides, I have no interest in robbing homesteads"

"You know nothing about me" I snapped, pointing my rifle at her a little higher, aiming for her head. "Get off my property!" I demanded. Lucky growled once more, showing the unknown intruder his sharp canine teeth.

"Maybe we could come to a deal. It seems money is a touchy subject to you, yes?" The blonde hissed in pain when she moved her right hand even the slightest inch. I didn't reply, my eyes were drawn to the amount of blood her hand was covered in. "I'll pay you" she spoke, gaining my attention once more, "$5 a day. If you help me. I'll give you the first three days right now if I could move my hand but as you can see, if I do that, I will bleed out" she offers.

"Once I have recovered you will never see of me again, I give you my word" she adds. $5 a day would really help Kate and I and by the looks of her wound, she could be here for weeks. "I know you're thinking about it but I do not have time for you to think" her thick Russian accent brings me out of my thoughts, I nodded as I slowly lowered my rifle.

"We best get you to the house then"

----

"I'm sorry if that hurt" I spoke softly to the blonde as I bandaged her up, after pulling the bullet from her wound and cleaning the area with alcohol, she suggested cauterizing the wound with a lit candle. The smell of burning flesh is something I will never forget. "Don't stress, I've experienced worse" she looked to me with a soft smile.

"How did this happen anyway?" I asked as I started to clean up the mess. I offered the woman my room until she was back on her feet, and I hoped Kate wouldn't have noticed when she came home.

"Just a little miss understanding with an outlaw. I'm a bounty hunter" she informs me.

"A bounty hunter? That's a little strange for a woman to be doing"

"Well, sometimes women just do a job better"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's not often I meet women who aren't following the rules of society" My eyes dropped, I knew my comment offended her.

"You should travel more; you'd be surprised on what or whom you might come across. What's your name?" She pulled the covers up over her, making herself comfortable on my bed.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine" I looked to her once more. She chuckled, "I'm Yelena, Yelena Belova. Your turn" she replies. I walked towards the bedroom door, my hands full of rubbish from cleaning her wound, "I'm Y/n, Y/n Bishop. I'll get you some water"

"Bishop" Yelena repeated, "your father is Derek Bishop?" she questioned. I nodded slowly, "you know him?" I asked. Yelena shook her head, "no, just heard of him in passing. Water would be great, thank you" she watched as I walked out of the room. Her tone made me question if she was telling the truth; did she know my father? Maybe she knew where my parents were?

Lucky followed me to the kitchen, I grabbed two cups of water and returned to my bedroom, placing one glass on the wooden beside table next to my lantern. "You should get some rest; I'll make breakfast in the morning" I looked to Yelena who reached for her coat that sat at the end of the bed. "As promised, the first three days" she says before handing me $15 dollars in 1 ten-dollar bill and a 5 dollar bill.

"T-thank you" I smiled softly, "do you like coffee? I could make some in the morning" I asked.

"Never start the day without one" she smiled, "goodnight, Y/n" she added.

"Goodnight" I walked towards the door, "oh, I hope you don't mind" I turned to face the blonde stranger once more, "I'm going to lock the door, you know…for safety" I added nervously.

"I thought you would. I understand, I need to gain your trust" she nodded slightly.

"If you need anything, just call out. I won't be far"

"Thank you, again" Yelena smiled once more before I closed the door, making sure it was locked before making my way to Kate's room.

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's link at the top of this post.

#fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #Kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #forbiddenau

182 notes · View notes

kittyball23 · 9 months ago

Note

Hey, Kittyball23, I was hoping for the fanfiction of the birth of the Broppy baby, whenever you're ready to publish it.

Ready now!

Baby (a Trolls fanfic)

“Ugh, how long is this gonna take?”

Clay looked at Viva as though she had grown a second head. “How long?” he asked. “Rhonda’s parked just outside the clearing. We’re literally two seconds away from reaching it!”

“Yeah!” John Dory piped up. “Hold your horses there, girlie, we’ll get to camping soon enough!”

“No, not that,” Viva clarified. “I mean, how long until the baby?!” she said, tossing the pleading eyes at her younger sister, and glancing longingly up into her bright pink hair, where she and Branch’s unborn egg was still safely incubated.

Poppy giggled. “Viva, it’s not long now! It’s any day!”

“I know,” she moaned, “but, heck, how do you know when it’s gonna happen?”

“We don’t,” Branch explained. “But Dr. Moonbloom said when it’s time, we’ll know. Especially once Poppy says - “

“The baby is coming!!”

“Exactly!”

“No, Branch!” Poppy cried, grabbing onto his arm. “The baby IS coming! It’s coming, like, NOW!”

The blue troll froze. “Now? Like now, NOW?!”

Poppy responded only with situating herself at the nearest mushroom that could support her weight and bracing.

It was at this point that everybody else began to react.

Viva was absolutely bursting at the seams. “OmigoshomigoshomiGOSH!!!” she gushed, over and over, bouncing around in an uncontrolled ball of energy.

Floyd offered reassurance. “Everything will be alright, Poppy, just remember to breathe.”

“Floyd’s right! Just stay calm and breathe, Poppy, BREATHE!” Branch said, although he himself was not as calm in his tone of voice, and sounded more like he was ready to have a heart attack. Smacking a leaf mask onto his face he approached Poppy with frantically waving arms. “Just remember your training!”

“Training?” John Dory blurted out next to him. “What training? We don’t have any training!”

“NOT YOU, man!” Clay cried. “He’s talking about Poppy!”

But the Pop Queen brushed them all off. “Guys, we don’t need any training. All I literally have to do is just put out my arms” - she put them out - “and get ready to hug!” she demonstrated, beaming.

“Luck favors the prepared!” Branch countered.

“I think you mean the crazy-prepared,” Bruce amended, “but, I have to agree with Branch on this one. It’s better to take at least some precautions.” With that, the experienced father began to shout out orders. “All right, you get some towels,” he said, motioning to Clay, “and you get some hot water,” he said, motioning to Floyd. “And - “

“What can I do?” John Dory asked, grinning hopefully.

Bruce’s eyes widened, having not exactly thought of a task for their oldest brother - aside from standing out of the way. “Err…”

“Come on, I’ve got tons of supplies that could be helpful! Look!” He reached into his green hair and pulled out a frying pan. “Ah, see? This will work, right?”

“Yes,” Bruce said sarcastically. “And I know just how…” He snatched it from his hands, and whacked JD upside the head!

“OUCH!” the Troll whined. “What was that for?”

“Does it look like we’re frying chicken?! Or scrambling eggs?” “WHATT’YOU MEAN THE EGG IS SCRAMBLED??”

Bruce whirled around at the sound of his frantic younger brother’s voice. His younger brother, whose eye was twitching, and was just about on the edge of a nervous breakdown!

“WHOA Branch, chill, I wasn’t talking about you guys’ egg!” Bruce attempted to clarify. “Everything is going splendid. Right, Poppy?” he called out to his sister-in-law.

“I’ll say it has,” Poppy giggled, “Jr.’s been enjoying the whole show!”

“See, Branch?” Bruce said to him. “There’s nothing to worry abou - “

“Jr.?” Branch questioned, interrupting.

“Jr.?” Clay and Floyd echoed, having just returned with the items that they were sent to get.

Slowly, all five brothers glanced over towards Poppy’s direction -

- and their breaths were taken away at the sight that met them.

Because right there - cradled in her arms and with her Auntie Viva gushing over them - was the baby, having hatched as the frantic new father was flustering about.

OUR baby, Branch reminded himself as he met Poppy’s sparkling fuschia gaze with calm, yet emotional, teary eyes.

“Poppy…” he whispered, touched, heart so full of love that no other feeling was possible to be occupying his emotions.

Bruce recognized this moment - having felt it so many times before himself, when Brandy had had their children - and ushered their brothers away.

“All right, come on, guys,” he said, “it’s time to give them some privacy.”

“But the baby!” John Dory exclaimed, clearly wanting to meet his niece or nephew.

“I’m sure we’ll have our chance,” Floyd said optimistically, patting him on the back.

“Well… okay,” JD said, pouting in a way that made him not at all look like the eldest of their bunch, but ultimately complying.

“And that goes for you, too, Viva,” Clay said with a meaningful look.

“Aw…” She pouted, but knew he was right, and followed him. Viva took one last peek over her shoulder before heading off. “Kinda makes me wanna have one of my own,” she said, casting a look heavy with implication at him.

Clay blushed. “O-oh! Well, um, I, um… maybe it will happen one day,” he replied.

She snuggled beside him and grinned. “That would be great.”

And as they trekked off, it was only Branch and Poppy left to themselves.

“Come on,” Poppy said, gesturing to him from where he was still a distance away. “She wants to meet you.”

“It’s a girl?” he asked, mystified.

Poppy nodded, and indeed, Branch could see the little lashes on her eyes and the adorable little smile that looked so much like her mother’s that it took his breath away. He, however, could see his own features on the child as well, indicative with her indigo hair, and bluish skintone. Slowly, he moved forward, each step becoming lighter and more eager than the next, until finally he was next to them.

He looked down at the baby.

The baby looked up at him.

Both smiled at each other.

“She’s… gorgeous,” he finally said.

The baby sweetly giggled in response.

He reached out, ready to caress her, but paused. “Can I… touch her?”

Poppy gave him a baffled look. “Can you? You’re the father! Of course you can!”

She transferred her to Branch’s awaiting arms, the baby giggling again.

“Daddy’s silly, isn’t he?” Poppy said, smirking.

Branch would’ve thought of a comeback, but he was completely enraptured by the small child he was holding. The most wonderful representation of their love for one another, and the greatest gift she had given him; his entire being seemed to glow with pride and love, and a warm feeling filled every corner of him.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Poppy sighed, equally as fascinated.

"Yeah..." he replied, and then spoke to the baby. "It's great to finally meet you... um..." Branch faltered, realizing that he didn't even know exactly what to call her!

"Oh, right, we need a name!" Poppy stated excitedly. She hummed in thought for a second, and then came up with a suggestion. "How about... Baby Branch?"

"Uh, she's a girl."

"I know, I'm kidding," she giggled. "It's just, she wouldn't even be this cute if it weren't for you, right?"

Branch chuckled. "I beg to differ," he said, nudging her playfully, in a way that let her know that she was also a contributor to the baby's adorableness. But when he tried to think of a name that would be unique and suitable, his mind was drawing a blank.

Poppy could see this, and she asked, “What was your grandma’s name?”

“Rosiepuff,” he answered.

“How about that?” she suggested.

“Really?”

“It’s nice, don’t you think? And I like it.”

It is. But Branch had another idea. “How about just Rosie?” It was an homage to his grandmother, and also allowed their baby to have her own distinction.

“Rosie,” Poppy repeated, testing it out, and liking it very much. She wasn’t the only one who liked it. The baby squirmed and smiled in response.

“I think that would work,” she agreed, first leaning in to peck little Rosie on her forehead, and then sharing a kiss with Branch. He wrapped an arm around Poppy’s shoulder and cuddled the baby close to them with the other, fully content with the decision and the new life produced.

“Can we come see now?”

The new parents looked up to find Viva and the rest of the bros, huddled together some paces away, seeming all-too-ready to greet the newborn.

They laughed. “Yes, you can,” Branch assured, feeling much more relaxed than he did before.

Viva beamed. “YAY!” She whizzed over and was the first to reach her sister’s side. “AWW, sis! I’m so happy for you!” Then she peered down at the baby and all but died from the sheer overload of delight. "Oh my gosh, helloooOOOO!" she gushed, in just about the same way she did when first meeting Poppy and Branch on their journey to Mount Rageous. "My name's Viva! Or, in your case, AUNTIE Viva!"

"Didn't you already introduce yourself, V?" Poppy giggled.

"It doesn't hurt to do it again!" Viva exclaimed, and then grabbed onto Clay's arm. "Oh, Clay, isn't she the most precious little thing you've seen?!"

Clay sucked in a breath, looking like he was trying to keep himself in control. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry," he mumbled, looking like he was very much on the verge of bursting into joyous tears.

Next to him, Floyd's lip trembled and his eyes misted over. "I didn't," he admitted, and then promptly broke into a sob.

"On behalf of all of us, Branch, congratulations," Bruce said, smiling proudly at his brother. "From one dad to another, I think you're gonna be a great father." And then, to Rosie he said, "And I have a feeling you're gonna have plenty of playdates with my kiddos."

John Dory jumped in at this. "Yeah! And just wait till you meet your cousin Rhonda!"

Bruce looked at him bewilderedly. “Cousin?”

JD rolled his eyes. “DUH! That’s how cousins work, right? Children of siblings? Am I right?” He extended his arms out like it was so obvious.

“But… But Rhonda’s not actually your child!” Bruce pointed out.

JD sighed. “Still going on about that? Sheesh.” Sure his daughter might be a 3-foot-long caterbus and not a little trolling, but she was still his daughter!

“Anyway,” Bruce said, not wanting to touch on the subject any longer and drawing his attention to the Trolls of the hour, “Congrats!”

Branch smiled, grateful for all his brothers sincerity in their praise. "Thanks, guys… really. You're all gonna be great uncles."

"Or in John Dory's case, a great-great uncle," Clay joked.

John Dory beamed, not quite getting it. "Thanks, bro!"

"He meant it cuz you're old," Bruce said, smirking mischievously.

JD scoffed. "HEY!"

But his mood dissolved when Rosie smiled up at him, amused by her eldest uncle. "Awww, look at you, girlie. You got your mom and pop all over ya! And if you don't believe me... hooo! Have I got some Bitty B photographs for YOU to see!"

Branch gasped and shot him a murderous look. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, I would," John Dory teased, "but right after this!" And then he hugged Branch tightly, very close to smothering him under the weight of his affection.

"John Dory!" Branch muffled, but found it to be a useless effort trying to worm his way out of the hug, with the way that the other bros were surrounding him in a huge embrace as well! His protests were ignored, especially when Poppy encouraged the matter by calling out "HUG TIME, EVERYONE!" Baby Rosie was carefully cuddled in the midst of it all, everyone beyond elated at the prospect of their expanded family.

And what else could Branch do in that moment? Well, nothing except relishing in that feeling of being surrounded by the ones he loved and who loved him.

That’s what.

#trolls #broppy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #viva trolls #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #brozone #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball answers #brodacious fanfiction

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live-laugh-legolas · 2 months ago

Text

The fellowships fears

I’m not including fears they may have developed during the events of lotr. These are meant to be a bit less traumatic lol

Aragorn:

-Ok this isn’t a fear per say but I want to include it

-He gets motionsick

-Not from horseback riding because he is so used to it

-But never put him on a minecart

-Idk if it feels too ooc but I could see him being bothered by bees

-Not that he doesn’t like them or is scared of them in general; but he doesn’t want them flying near him

-He does the duck and slide move if one flies by his ear

-It’s sort of an instinctual thing; like in his brain he isn’t bothered by them but his body reacts anyway

-He also has a slight fear of little kids

-Not of the kids themselves necessarily; but of the things they do

-Like don’t show him a loose tooth that you spin around

Legolas:

-He gets claustrophobic

-He grew up running around tree tops and shit

-So being in a small dark place feels unnatural for him

-Also he is terrified to eat anything that is still moving

-Like he won’t kill a bug with his teeth (Aragorn just munches on bugs) and gods help him is he ever sees the tentacles that are still moving or will like suction to your throat?

Gimli:

-Heights

-I just sort of imagine a lot of dwarves having this fear

-And I should specify the heights really only applies to climbing up things

-Like walking across bridges in Moria wasn’t a problem

-But climbing a tree is

-If he was already above something it’s fine (like a ravine)

-Idk if this makes any sense

Boromir:

-Fires

-Not contained ones like torches or campfires

-But he is very cautious about making sure they stay contained

-Like he is a little paranoid about the dead fire; like what if the ashes are hot and start up a fresh fire?

-It’s a reasonable thing to worry about but not to the extent he does

-If he was in modern times he would not like leaving things like toasters plugged in when not in use

-I have this and I just could see him having this problem too

Frodo:

-I’m totally not projecting here…

-But mice

-Not like the animal in general; seeing them outside or as pets is fine

-But when one is in the house; absolutely fucking not

-I unfortunately discovered this fear recently and I’d like the think maybe Frodo would share my mortification

-I’m pretty sure he is also canonically scared of dogs

-He wants to like them but he’s just too traumatized from Farmer Maggot

Sam:

-Chickens

-Not all birds; just chickens and roosters

-I imagine he once was collecting eggs and got attacked by the mom or a mean rooster

-He will never reach under a chicken again

-“nice chicken” while he sees a friendly chicken minding its own business that just wants to look for bugs in his garden

Merry:

-Things in skin

-Like needles and splinters

-I absolutely have this

-A splinter will make me faint

-This one is kinda a joke though because of Dom with the splinter incident

-Maybe not a fear per say but he gets really nervous when he doesn’t know where the people he cares about are

-Like he has to know what you are doing and where you are going

-He claims it’s just so he knows where to find your body should you not come back

Pippin:

-This hobbit is a bit squeamish

-Faints at the sight of blood

-Especially his own

-But not in a serious situation; then he is fine; he can keep a level head then

-It’s like paper cuts and stuff that are the problem

-He could look at open heart surgery and be totally fine

-But one little nick with a knife and he’s on the ground

Gandalf:

-Galadriel

-Ok not really; but also he wouldn’t say he’s NOT afraid of her

-Anyway

-I honestly can’t think of anything for him; but lmk if you have any ideas

-I just think he’s too high and old to give any fucks

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr headcanons #lotr preferences #legolas #lotr fellowship #aragorn #frodo baggins #boromir #meriadoc brandybuck #peregrin took #gandalf the grey #gandalf #gimli #samwise gamgee #the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring

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writer-by-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

Can I ask for a gender neutral drabble request about farmer feeling insecure and asking Elliott if he thinks they’re sexy and he admits to thinking about them when he touches himself? 🥺

“Have you ever just felt so unattractive that you don’t even think a turtle would be interested in you?”

Elliot startled beside me, I forgot that we hadn’t spoken in a few minutes… Or was it more than an hour now? I wasn’t sure. We would often hang out at the beach together after Elliott finished his yoga for the day. I’ve even joined him a few times, but honestly I stretch enough getting eggs out from under the chickens little bums that I couldn’t bare to do one more damn ‘triangle downward pose’ even if I wanted to.

“In your defense,” Elliot began. “I don’t believe turtles can be sexually attracted to humans.”

I snorted. Of course he would reply with the facts. And it was a silly question to begin with, the man looked like a bronze god sitting next to me. Shirtless and wearing those god damn red shorts that have me drooling in my sleep. “Never mind,” I replied with a laugh. “It was a dumb question—“

“No, it wasn’t.” Elliott’s voice was firm as he stared at me, his frown actually making me feel bad for even asking. “And, for the record, you’re very good looking.”

Um.

What?

I said nothing and just stared back at him, his eyes soft and caring as he gazed back at me. He had a single elbow propped on his knee, smiling now as he watched me— waiting for me to say something, anything in reply.

“I think about you,” Elliot said before I could manage to mumble out literally anything. “As in, when I’m in bed, or in the shower…” He paused, pressing his lips together as he thought to himself. “In the bathroom at the pub once, it was the day you walked in after being at the mines and the monsters tore half your clothes off...”

Hang on.

WHAT.

I held my hand up, stopping him from continuing and shook my head as I tried to process what the hell he was saying. He thought of me? In the shower? In bed? At the pub? What the hell did that even mean—

“I cum so easily when I think of you.”

Well there’s my answer.

Elliott was so relaxed as he spoke, shrugging after he just dropped a bomb on me as if it was nothing at all. “You’re very good looking, I never saw myself fantasying about the only farmer in town. However, it’s become a daily event now.”

“Elliott,” I paused. How does one even reply to this? Sure, the question I asked may have been a been asinine— but! To reply, and to reply so causally. “Ar you— are you saying to jerk off to me?”

“Everyday, yes.”

I dropped myself into the sand, uncaring anymore about the hot sand as it burned the back of my neck and arms, my hair was going to be a real bitch to wash later but I couldn’t even think about that right now. Elliott, the hottest guy in town, who writes poems and short stories with ease, who does yoga on the beach, who laughs with me at Gus’ pub, who is actually a dork that’s obsessed with Star Wars—

Jerks off to me.

Every. Single. Day.

Elliott laid down beside me on his side, worry painted all over his gorgeous face. “Farmer? Do you want me to stop?”

I laughed, just amazed at the entire situation. “No, you don’t… no.”

“Thank goodness,” Elliot said with a sigh and rolled to his back. “I don’t think I would have been able to stop. Especially after today.”

“Elliott,” I said and sat up, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “What on earth would have happened today that would make it any harder to stop?”

“Well—“

I gestured down to myself. “I stink like chickens, my jeans were so beat up I cut them into shorts, I’m wearing an old hole filled white tank top— none of this,” I took a beat to gesture to myself one again. “Would give you the material needed to jerk off to.”

“Your shirt is absolutely soaked from the swim you took earlier, I can see your nipples.”

….

I looked down and groaned. “Elliot!”

“They’re very sexy nipples.”

And I could die.

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drabblesandimagines · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet & Salty

I'm feeling a bit sad today so wanted some comfort... Sebastian x (afab) reader, Stardew Valley, Fluffity fluff Warnings: Mention of recreational drug use

It’s been a day. You’d sat down heavily on your porch steps, trying to keep the tears at bay. You should probably go mope in your bed, instead of staring at the land that is causing you so much distress. Despite your carefully placed scarecrow, you must’ve miscalculated the distance because the crows have still had a go at your most recent plantings and that’s hard-earned money down the drain - again. You’ve been here two months now and, surely, by now you should know better. The farm has been somewhat transformed since you arrived - a mass of weeds, stone and dead branches - but it’s nowhere near how you remember it in your grandpa’s heyday. He would’ve never made such a rudimentary error in his scarecrow placement.

Some of the fences around your crop patches have started to erode too – it won’t be long until they need replaced, but you’re trying to save up your wood supplies to put in a coop from Robyn. You desperately want to add chickens to the farm as eggs would be steady income – or at least you reckon – but you also don’t want them pecking at your crops alongside the crows, so having a fence seems important too. Your endless to-do list swirls around your head again. Why’s everything so hard?

It's not just your failings on the farm on your mind, but also your lack at making any real friends around here. Shane glared at you this morning as he headed off to work. That’s not unusual, despite your best efforts of a smile and a friendly greeting. Then Haley looked you up and down, judging your dirty dungarees. You’d only popped into town to get some seeds from Pierre’s. It didn’t make sense to get changed… Elliott is sweet but locked away in his cabin most of the time, Emily in her own little world… Sebastian, Sam and Abigail have invited you to play pool with them, but they’re such a tight-knit group and you always feel like you’re missing out on the joke, especially when you were partnered up with Sebastian. He’d been teaching you how to hold the cue correctly, leaning over you, his breath tickling your ear. Sam and Abigail kept nudging each other and whispering, but you couldn’t catch what about and it was clear Sebastian was becoming irritated. You’d begun to think they were making fun of your abysmal pool skills.

Ugh. Your emotions are a rollercoaster and the twisting pain in your stomach reminds you why – stupid period. It emerged with a vengeance this morning. It had stopped in your last months of JoJo Corp. There was no chance you were pregnant, your last intimate relationship fizzling out a year previously, though you’d taken tests just to be sure. The doctor in Zuzu City said you were stressed, burnt out… that it would return once you were feeling better in yourself. So why had it returned now, of all times? You feel more stressed and burnt out than ever before, regretting ever moving here. Why did you think you could become a farmer…?!

The barrier finally breaks and you let out a sob, hugging your knees.

To your shame, there’s a scuffing footstep and your heart stops as you look up, worried who’s seen your breakdown.

“Sebastian?” You sniff. You’re tempted to rub the tears from your cheeks but maybe he hasn’t noticed in the evening light. The black-haired man is standing there looking sheepish, a brown paper bag from Pierre’s clutched in his hands.

“Er, hey…” He’s not meeting your eyes. Poor boy probably wants to run. “Sorry, I… I was just leaving Sam’s and I didn’t want to go through town and see everyone, so I thought I’d take the scenic route back home through your farm…”

“Oh.” You mumble, waving him on. “That’s okay. Go ahead.”

He takes a step as if to go on his way, but then hesitates. “Are… Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you plaster a smile on, which you’re sure makes you look ridiculous as the stupid tears are still flowing. “I’m just being silly. Don’t let me keep you.”

He stares at you for a moment, before a sympathetic smile graces his lips. “You’re a terrible liar, you know?”

“I’m not ly- Ow!” You flinch as your stomach cramps terribly and you squeeze your arms around it, hoping in some way it might alleviate the pain.

Sebastian is suddenly at your side – the paper bag from Pierre’s dropped to the ground. He’s kneeling down on the first porch step with a frown on his face. “Whoa, are you hurt? I can get Harvey…” His hand hovers over your arm,

“No, honestly, I’m fine…” You try and wave him off again with one hand, the other arm still wrapped around your stomach.

He stares at you, a raised eyebrow. He seems to be putting the clues together – the wincing, clutching your stomach, the tears… He nods, making up his mind and gets to his feet, picking up the discarded bag from Pierre’s as he does so.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He offers you his free hand.

“Thank you, but I’ll be okay. You get on home…”

“Farmer, I know I’m probably not the person you want to see right now, but let me help you out, okay? I can’t go home and just leave crying on your porch.” He waves his offered hand again. You look at Sebastian, hesitantly. He looks genuine, at least, but there’s something a little off about him tonight… Heck, you’ve already made a fool of yourself enough, so what’s one more thing?

This time you accept his hand and he easily pulls you to your feet and leads you up to your door. He opens it – you’d easily adapted to the habit of leaving the front door unlocked since moving to Pelican Valley.

You go to open your mouth, to tell Sebastian thank you, but he can go now. You’re inside, you’ll go to bed and pretend this never happened.

“Sit down.” He orders, pointing at your bed. “You like hot chocolate, right?” You wonder how he knows that, how he knows you have a stash. Had you mentioned it at the saloon before? “I’ll make you a cup.”

“But you don’t know where…”

“I’ll find it. Sit!” He pushes you gently towards the bed and you do sit, keeping a wary eye. To be honest, it is quite easy to find your cups and kettle. Robyn had advertised an extension to you but you don’t even want to think about the price and the materials needed. For now – perhaps even for the rest of your life - you’ve got a cupboard filled with crockery and silverware. The fire’s roaring away, you’re thankful you’d lit it earlier to try and make it cosy ahead of going to bed later on. The cabin always had a slight chill at night. Sebastian retrieves a mug and spoon, scooping the hot chocolate powder into the mug, fills the kettle with water from the jug you keep besides the cupboard, before taking it over to the fire to heat.

“Do you have a hot water bottle?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Hot water bottle.” He enunciates.

“Y-yeah, I think it’s under my bed. Let me…” Before you can bend down, he drops to his knees and Sebastian is now crawling under the bedframe to retrieve it. You pull your legs up off the floor to the bed, not sure what to say.

He reverses back out, holding the fluffy hot water bottle in the air triumphantly, and gets back to his feet. “Finally, where do you keep the snacks?”

“I don’t have any. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting to entertain.”

“Not for me,” a chuckle – it sounds a little odd coming from him - “..for you!”

“For me?” He’s acting so weird.

But he’s not listening, already rummaging around the brown bag from Pierre’s. He walks over to the sofa and empties the contents besides you – there’s a couple of packs of chips, cookies and candy. “Ta-da!”

You look at the assembled junk food and back up at the black-haired man, noticing his blood-shot eyes.

“You’re high.”

Sebastian laughs again, rubbing the back of his head. “Guilty. Is that a problem?”

“No, it just… explains a lot.” You wince again as the kettle on the fire whistles. Sebastian grabs the mitt you keep nearby for that exact purpose and places it on his hand, removing the kettle from the fire and placing it down on the hearth. Methodically, he pours some hot water in the hot water bottle, tightening the cap, before pouring some in in the cup he retrieved, stirring the hot chocolate powder until it dissolves. Once he seems happy with his work, he brings the two over to you on the bed.

“Okay, since you worked out my thing, it’s my turn. Time of the month, right?” He flops down next to you on the bed, ripping open a bag of chips. “My sympathies.” It feels surreal as he holds the bag towards you and you take a handful – maybe junk food would make you feel better, and the warmth of the hot water bottle is soothing too now against your sore tummy.

The only sound for a few moments is the rustle of the chip package and the crunching of said chips. You take a sip of hot chocolate, probably a weird combination at that moment in time, but it’s working.

“Sebastian…”

“Mm?” You’ve caught him with his mouth full.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Erm…” He swallows. “Well, I guess cos I have a sister and a mom… and a friend named Abigail.” He replies in a teasing tone. “Maru and Abi usually just get super pissy though. Mom’s the crier.” Sebastian leans forward and grabs the blanket off the end of your bed, throwing it over the both of your laps in a smooth motion. Who knew he could turn into a right chatterbox? “Wanna watch some TV?” He picks up the remote control and turns it on without waiting for a response, flipping through the channels. “Do you have a preference? Nothing deters Abi from horror, Mom and Maru go chick-flick mad…”

You burst into tears again.

“Whoa, okay, no TV! That’s fair too.”

“N-no, it’s n-not that.” You let out a shuddering breath. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Because we’re friends…?”

“No, everyone hates me here.” You know you’re being irrational now, but the floodgates have well and truly opened.

“Come on, you know that’s not exactly true.” His face looks serious now.

“It is. I don’t know what I was thinking – I worked in customer support, why did I think I could farm the land? I’m going to be broke by the end of winter if I lose another batch of crops and this town is so tight-knit that they’re never going to like me being here.”

“I like you being here.”

“No, you’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me.” You go to take another handful of chips, but he snatches the bag out of your reach indignantly.

“I am not.”

“You are.” You clip back.

Sebastian lets out a huff in frustration and he acts before he can even consider the consequences. He puts a hand on the side of your face, turning it slightly and presses a gentle kiss on your lips for a moment or two, immediately causing your tears to cease.

“Would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“I…” You don’t have any words.

He swipes his tongue over his lips. “Mm, salty. That’s not how I expected our first kiss to go, I’ll be honest.”

“Our first kiss?” Your face is on fire. It has to be on fire, why else would it feel so hot?

“Yeah, well, I told you I like you, didn’t I?” He grins, before it drops. “Though I’ve just realized that you probably don’t like me like that, I’m high, and now I’ve made this a hundred times wor-…”

You cut him off, caressing his lips with your own for a moment.

“No. I like you too.”

“Well, that’s that settled, then, isn’t it?” He leans back, a smug look on his face before he grabs the packet of candy. “Shall we see what a sweet kiss tastes like next?”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi I'm also running an event for x reader fics to celebrate 200 followers, so please check it out and send in your requests.

#ghostdogwrites #sdv sebastian x reader #sebastian stardew x reader #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian fluff #sdv sebastian x you #stardew sebastian x you #stardew valley fanfic #stardew imagines #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x you

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dreamsclock · 2 years ago

Text

“So let me get this straight,” Techno deadpans, face perfectly straight, “you’re layin’ eggs.”

( HAPPY VERY BELATED CHRISTMAS @kenjo-arts !!! you wanted emeraldduo and dream interactions or one of your aus so i combined both ^_^ i Hope You like it AND THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT. I LOVE U <333)

(THANK YOU @the-final-sif FOR RUNNING YHIS :])

Dream scowls. Under the glare and the shadow of his mask, his face is flushed. “Look,” he says, “I’m not— I didn’t even want to tell you. But–”

“But you did,” Philza jumps in, bemused, “I don’t really get why, though.”

If looks could kill, both members of the Syndicate would be dead thrice over. Instead, they remain unaffected as Dream’s cheeks turn warm enough to fry an egg – bad choice of words, Techno thinks, all things considered. He sure hopes Dream doesn’t actually fry his eggs: he really doesn’t want to get into the logistics of egg-infanticide with his dubious ally-turned-bestie.

Said bestie, however, is pulling out a clutch of eggs he holds protectively to his chest as if he expects Techno and Philza to snatch them away and begin jumping on them in malicious glee. When Philza moves closer in curiosity, Dream has a sword out before either of them can blink, unwavering and firm.

Philza raises his hands in surrender and lets out a little clucking noise. Techno thinks it’s supposed to be soothing. It sort of just sounds like a chicken. “Easy, mate,” he reassures, “I’m just looking. They’re pretty.”

“Obviously,” Dream says, half-preening, “they're mine.”

And they are pretty, Techno supposes, not that he cares much about eggs. They’re pale green and freckled with darker shades, five of them huddled in Dream’s arms. It’s impossible to tell what will hatch from them, though he sure isn’t thinking too hard about it. He’ll find out in due time, probably: one of them already has feather-light cracks speckling its side, while the others are pristine, unmoving.

…He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dream so proud and protective over something of his before. He can’t decide if this is positive character development or not.

“I… wanted you guys to… like, hold onto them for me. For now.” Dream looks uncertain, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. In the pale light of the snow, his face is pale and drawn. “I will… come and get them. After tomorrow is over.”

“You mean the shit you’re pulling with Tommy.” Philza surmises, his expression flattening and tightening just slightly. He’s not forgotten the state Tommy had come to them in after exile: neither has Techno, who notices the way Dream’s shoulders straighten and his face grows deliberately impassive, when Philza’s anger makes itself known in the shape of one ruffling wing. “That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah, it is.” Dream allows, and says nothing more about his plans or his thoughts on the matter. Instead, he very gently and very carefully wraps the eggs in a blanket, swaddling the five of them so that only the tips of them are visible, before handing them over to Techno. His expression tightens into one of wistful yearning for a fraction of a second, before it disappears entirely behind that white porcelain mask. “I can’t take them with me, and… I don’t have any other allies. So. You know. We’re not exactly friends, but… I can pay you for it.”

Techno wants, for a wild moment, to pry the mask from his face and unearth Dream’s feelings about the eggs. His kids, he supposes.

He doesn’t do anything so lame or uncharacteristic. Rather than that, he accepts the bundle of eggs, handling them carefully, and– oh god, he cringes when one of them wiggles inquisitively. They’re warmer than he’d thought, thrumming with a quiet energy he faintly recognizes from the deepest, most inner parts of the server: which makes sense, considering they’re eggs from the admin of the SMP. Expecting anything less than slightly magical is dumb.

The aforementioned admin of the SMP shifts from foot to foot. He looks like he might grab the eggs back and make a run for it.

Taking pity on him, Techno clasps the bundle a little more securely, and offers his ally a firm nod and shrug. “Ehh, don’t worry about paying,” he says easily, “I just re-retired. I could do with somethin’ occupying my time. Even if it is five eggs.”

Philza squawks a laugh. “Never took you for a babysitter,” he teases, even as Dream relaxes fractionally, “what a career change. Never would’ve expected it.”

Techno shoots his friend a mock-glare. “I’ll have you know I have the credentials,” he says, haughtily, “you should’ve seen me before the Empire, Phil. You should’ve seen me. I was the pinnacle of babysitting, man. The pinnacle.”

“I bet.”

Dream whispers to you: so you’ll look after them for me??

When he turns to Dream, the man isn’t looking at him. He’s toying with the edge of his cloak, gloved fingers thin and shallow, and that’s when Techno realizes with a terrible clarity that Dream doesn’t plan on coming back for a long, long time.

His grip on the eggs tighten.

He’s hardly paternal, but he is loyal, to a fault.

You whisper to Dream: you have my word

And when Dream pearls away, leaving Techno with five eggs and a wonkily hand-stitched blanket, he knows it’s the last time they’ll see each other like this.

***

“Do you still have them?” Dream croaks in prison, throat slick with blood and voice hoarse from screaming. Techno wonders how long it’ll last before it gives out completely. Wonders if Dream’s voice might disappear entirely overnight. He barely uses it anymore.

“The eggs?” Techno asks, and his lips press when Dream nods. “I mean, not— not with me, Dream. Listen, I’m no Dad Of The Year, but I know not to bring five hatching eggs into a prison, alright. Jeez.”

Dream misses the rest of his ramble. His eyes light up for the first time when Techno speaks. “Hatching?” He repeats, as if he hardly believes his own words. “Like— You mean hatching hatching. Actually hatching.”

“No, no, the fake hatching.” Techno can’t keep the amused grin off his face despite his sarcasm. “I mean, they were pretty cracked when I left for here. They’re not about to start dancin’ around, but there’s not long now. Probably.”

The expression on Dream’s face is one he’s never seen before. It’s strange, wild. Hopeful.

“Okay,” his ally-turned-friend says, “okay. My eggs are hatching. So we’ve gotta get out of here.”

The firm tone is a switch from the hollow desperation he’d yelled at him before. (You were my only way out of here!) There’s determination, now, there’s reason to escape: reason, Techno knows now, for Dream to fight.

So he pushes an empty book across the scorch-marked obsidian to Dream, and offers a nod and an instruction. “Write down everything you can about this prison, Dream. I’m gonna need it if we’re breakin’ out of here.”

Dream flashes him an almost-grin, and it’s thin and exhausted and bright, and Techno watches him pick up the pen, and start to write.

***

“So.”

Dream doesn’t even look up from his dead-eyed staring contest with the wall. He just flips his middle finger in Techno’s vague direction, a silent shut up, before letting his arm fall limply at his side again.

“Soooo.”

Dream’s eye twitches. “So what?”

“I feel like we should discuss naming rights.”

“We— what?”

“Well,” Techno reasons, “it’s kind of joint custody of the eggs at this point. Sure, you birthed them—”

“That’s not how—”

“You birthed them, but I stopped Steve from eatin’ them. And believe me, that was a hard task, Dream. Almost impossible. Steve put up a valiant fight. He almost had them.”

That gets Dream’s attention. Eyes narrowing, mouth thinning into an annoyed scowl, he shuffles closer to Techno. Techno gets the impression he’s supposed to feel intimidated by Dream’s pout. “You let my eggs near a polar bear?” He demands, horror in his voice. “Techno. Seriously.”

“You remembered,” Techno beams, “you remembered Steve. Listen, you say we’re not friends, but this feels pretty friendly. I dunno. I’m just saying.”

“This— That’s not the point!”

“But no, I didn’t.Like I said, I won the battle. Steve fought hard, but I won. Good thing I’d been trainin’ so much recently. Any less and I think the eggs would’ve been breakfast.”

Dream’s eye twitches. “I don’t know why I even trusted you with them,” he mutters, antsy, “anything could happen to them.”

Techno scoffs, and offers Dream a trustworthy, reassuring look. “Dream, do I look like the kind of guy to let anything bad happen to your children?”

Dream stares dubiously back. “Yeah,” he says, “you do.”

…That doesn’t hurt his feelings, nope, not at all. He shoots his friend a pensive look. “When I get home, I’m gonna give your eggs to Philza,” he threatens, “he’ll put them in his nest. Don’t push me.”

“…You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Pass me another potato, nerd.”

The potato Dream throws at him bounces against his arm and clatters on the floor next to a splatter of blood. Techno wrinkles his nose. “Dude,” he says, “prison is lame.”

“Keep the eggs far away from Philza’s nests,” Dream warns, “or prison will get worse for you.”

***

You whisper to Philza: btw where are the eggs right now

Philza whispers to you: Why

You whisper to Philza: just answer the question phil

You whisper to Philza: where are the eggs right now

Philza whispers to you: They’re not in my fucking nest

You whisper to Philza: phil

Philza whispers to you: I’m taking them out of my nest and putting them back

Techno breathes a sigh of relief, and glances over at a fitfully sleeping Dream. “Crisis averted,” he mutters out loud, and then, “Chat, don’t be snitches. What Dream doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

***

And Techno’s not hurt when the eggs are the first thing Dream checks when he gets to the Syndicate. Pft, why would he be? It’s not like he’s the one that helped free him or anything, nah, course not.

“All I’m saying,” he grumbles to a cackling Philza, “is that the eggs didn’t sit in prison for three months with him. I’m not jealous, Phil. I’m not jealous. That would be crazy. They’re eggs. Not even that cool. But—”

“For fuck’s sake,” his friend laughs at him, “go inside and show him where his eggs are. He’ll be tearing the house apart looking for them.”

And Philza’s right. Dream is already pulling the chests apart searching for his eggs, as if Techno hadn’t stored them somewhere safer the very moment he’d escaped Pandora’s Vault the first time.

“Where are they?” Dream demands.

Techno nods to the wall. “I’ve been callin’ it the Baby Backrooms.” He says, proudly. “Though it’s kind of more of a Baby Hideout. Doesn’t sound as cool, though.”

A couple of swift strokes with his pickaxes tears open the wall, and reveals four large eggs, cracked but safe, huddled together in the corner of a light blue room. Dream’s gaze softens when he sees them, and steps inside, narrowly missing the bedtime story Techno’s been reading them most nights. Sun Tzu isn’t light reading, but hey, Techno’s determined to make incredible battle strategists of them yet. One of the eggs likes it the most: it wriggles whenever he pulls the book out, and he hates playing favourites, but he has to say, he’s got the most faith in that one.

“I’m back,” Dream breaks the silence to say to his eggs, kneeling down beside them and gently tracing the thick fractures along the curve of the darkest green one, “hey, hi, hi! Did you miss me?”

Techno doesn’t point out that eggs can’t talk for two reasons. The first is that he thinks Dream might actually murder someone if his moment with the eggs is disturbed. The second, slightly more alarming reason is that one of the eggs are missing.

When he’d left the room before, there had been five eggs in that room. The four now aren’t exactly inspiring him with confidence. Dream is really going to kill him if he’s lost a whole egg in the space of, like, four hours.

Dream scoops up the eggs, and turns to face Techno. There’s a look of relief on his face that’s so raw and unfiltered that it takes Techno a moment to recognise what he’s seeing. It’s like a part of Dream that had been missing during prison has been returned to him: Techno realizes with a pang that that’s exactly the case.

“I have a question,” Niki chimes in from behind them, “I have lots of questions.”

When Techno turns, she’s holding a tiny miniature version of… Dream himself.

“Mama,” it squeaks, reaching out to Dream, “Mama.”

Dream melts, right there and then.

***

“So… you laid this.”

Even someone blessed with the patience of a saint would have snapped by now. Dream, who is neither blessed nor patient, seems to be on the verge of murder someone: specifically, Tommy, who hasn’t stopped asking questions since he’d appeared at Techno’s door with questions. Four months had been enough time to solve the conflict between the server (…mostly), but it seems like Tommy’s boundaries don’t include tiny little green blobs like Dream’s newly hatched eggs running about the SMP.

“I already told you,” Dream says, “I didn’t lay them. They just appeared as eggs.”

“So you… make eggs,” Tommy says, “and then you like, you black out, and then you like wake up and find the eggs. Egg amnesia. Egg-nesia.”

Dream very visibly counts to ten in his head. Techno can’t stop himself from smirking and joining in.

“Yeah, Dream, I’m not gettin’ the science behind this whole thing,” he drawls, “can you explain it again?”

“You—” Dream splutters. A tiny version of himself with a green cloak travels by on one of the dogs, and throws himself into Dream’s arms. Dream cradles him absentmindedly. “We live in a world with a revive book and a randomly implemented three life system, and you’re confused about eggs?”

“I get it,” Tubbo says wisely, “sometimes every man reaches an age where he must lay an egg.”

“…That’s… actually not true,” Dream says, “most people don’t produce eggs randomly from thin air.”

“Who did you produce them with?” Tommy asks. “Was it George Not Found? Oh, that’s so weird. You’ve made it weird, Dream.”

“How have I made it weird? I—” Cutting himself off, Dream’s head perks up. “Hang on,” he says, “Philza’s trying to take one of my new eggs.”

Tommy’s face drops into total stupefaction. “It happened again?!” He demands. “When will the horror end?”

“What is wrong with you?” Dream groans, pushing himself to his feet and very carefully handing over his baby to Techno. “Look after Ray for me. I swear to God, if Philza is building a nest around my eggs again…”

He doesn’t finish his threat. Nevertheless, his warnings of violence are clear. Techno silently wishes Philza luck, and shifts his hold so that he’s juggling both the baby and the book in his other hand.

“I still think we should think about naming one of your eggs after me,” he says, “I was such a great babysitter. That’s why they turned out so great.”

Dream, halfway out the room, turns slowly, and gives him a very incredulous look.

“You think you were a good babysitter? So you think letting my babies play with Steve was a good idea?”

“They didn’t die,” Techno protests. “They were fine.”

“There comes a time where every man must fight a polar bear.” Tubbo says solemnly

“Tubs,” Tommy tells him, “that’s just not true. Wilbur just told you that because I wanted to see you be mauled horrifically by a bear.”

“Oh.”

“You could call one baby Blade,” Techno calls over Tubbo and Tommy. Dream laughs. “It’s not very creative, and a little hurtful, but hey, it sounds pretty cool, alright, it sounds pretty awesome. Or— Tech. I’d be fine with Tech.”

“I’m not naming a baby after you.”

Dream rolls his eyes as he walks out, but there’s a grin on his face.

You whisper to Dream: can i at least be godfather

Dream whispers to you: only if you gaslight tommy into thinking he was an egg once

You whisper to Dream: you drive a hard bargain

You whisper to Dream: it’s a deal

“Hey Tommy,” Techno calls out, “you remember being an egg? I still have pictures of you somewhere from before you were hatched.“

The look of absolute horror on Tommy’s face is priceless, and the knowledge of the title godfather makes him grin all the brighter.

#dreblr #c!dream eggs monday

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lulublack90 · 19 days ago

Text

Prompt 27 - Hunter

@jegulus-microfic October 27, Word count 727

Did it turn into a series? Yes, it did. Honestly, I can't help myself.

Previous part First part

Regulus followed James inside. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. He’d seen James walk into the bistro and freaked out. He’d wanted to get there first, find a good seat, and check the menu and drinks list out, but then James turned up early, and his entire plan was in shatters. He’d turned down the alleyway and let his panic take him.

But somehow, James had found him and made everything all right.

“Tea, coffee?” James’s voice snapped Regulus out of his thoughts.

“Erm— Tea is fine. Thank you,” He blurted quickly, embarrassed that he’d zoned out. James didn’t bat an eyelid and busied himself with the kettle.

“Make yourself at home, everyone does,” James added, waving Regulus towards the living room. Regulus didn’t move. Maybe if he came back, he’d feel more comfortable, but right now, he wanted to stay close to James.

He began to wring his hands together as he realised he’d walked willingly into a stranger's flat. He’d only med James once, for crying out loud. And even that had been fleeting when all he’d done was order James about as he drew him. “Do you think you could get some plates down for me?” James’s calm voice brought him back again. He flushed with embarrassment, but James just pointed at the cupboard directly behind him. “Please,” James’s smile made Regulus feel calmer. He tried to return a smile, but it fell short. He spun around and opened the cupboard.

“Big or small plates?” He asked nervously.

“Two small ones, please,” James said as he opened the fridge and began filling his arms with food. “Follow me,” James said, before walking back into the living room. Regulus followed. James carefully laid out the food on the coffee table and directed Regulus on where to put the plates. “Sit down.” He told him. “I’ll go grab the teas,” And before Regulus could open his mouth, James was gone. “Sit,” James urged, as he came back through, and Regulus did as he was told.

James began piling food onto both of their plates: pork pies, tandoori chicken, mini scotch eggs, thick slices of crusty bread coated in butter that Regulus hadn’t even seen him get and of course, slices of cheese to make sandwiches with. James handed over the plate, and Regulus began to eat. “Sorry, I should have let you get your own,” James apologised around a bite of pork pie.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” Regulus glanced up at him before returning his attention to his plate. Honestly, he was glad James had done it. He would have worried over how much he was putting on his plate otherwise, and this way, he could just enjoy himself.

“Let’s put some noise on, shall we?” James said before picking up his TV remote and turning it on. He put on some mundane show about a ghost hunter who, with a team of other hunters, went to old properties and tried to find out if they were haunted or not. It was not something Regulus would have picked to watch, but after about ten minutes, he was laughing along with James when the presenters were all freaking out over nothing.

They finished up their lunch and drank their tea and Regulus found himself quite relaxed. James gathered the leftovers and plates, taking them back to the kitchen. When he returned, he had a whole packet of chocolate hobnobs that he opened and offered to Regulus. Regulus took a deep breath and took one. “More tea?” James asked. Regulus nodded.

He nibbled on his biscuit while James made more tea. “So, do I get to see the finished drawing then?” James called through from the kitchen.

“Erm, yeah,” Regulus picked his bag up from where he left it and took his sketchbook out. He’d just sat back up when the front door opened and a loud voice called into the space.

“Honey, I’m home!” Regulus looked up at the man in the doorway and felt his blood run cold. His brother Sirius Black stared back at him as a beaming James walked back through with two steaming cups of tea.

“Hey, Pads, this is…” James started to introduce Regulus to Sirius, but Sirius cut him off.

“Oh, I know exactly who he is. Hello Reggie,” Regulus swallowed, this was not going to go well.

Next part

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yanderemommabean · 2 years ago

Note

Southern yandere being raised on those good morals and Christian values until they meet reader. Being the apple of the towns eye and everyone’s favorite golden boy turned into a savage mess when anyone dares to mess with his darling! Perverted once he see’s reader in revealing clothes for the summer (to beat that southern heat!). Suddenly he has to pray more often since only not so sacred thoughts come to mind when he thinks of you (which is ALL the time). The polite manners being CRANKED UP when they are in ur vicinity. The oh so bold flirting! BEING COURTED by the most desired guy in TOWN. And no one would help u girl, u think THE (his name) would bother stalking YOU? How pretentious. Knows how to court a lady but if you keep on playing hard to get he’ll just have to show you he’s the BEST and ONLY option for you.

“Well hello there August!” You say with a sweet smile, fanning yourself by tugging at your shirt as sweat seeps into the fabric. “What brings you by? Needing more chicken eggs?” you ask, used to the man asking for one or more things he could buy from you or help you out with. Always so courteous and gentlemen like, even when you insist he doesn’t have to be.

It’s sweet, you’ll admit. He’s been trying his best to be sweet and kind to you, even the town is beginning to think you’re all he worries about anymore. His duties often get neglected when you’re on his mind, which seems to be every hour of the day.

“No, no, I was just comin by to see why you’re working in heat like this. You could get killed if you aint careful y’know? Jesse nearly had a heat stroke a few days ago ‘cause he thought he could handle the stables all by himself”

You snort, dusting your hands off on your jeans “Well, I ain’t Jesse. Jesse needs to learn a thing or two about asking for help when he needs it too, I learned that lesson the hard way”. August laughs at that, tipping his hat as he does so. “Yeah, boy aint the brightest. I’ll give you that. You wouldn’t mind taking a break for sweet tea or anything would ya? I’d love to waste your time for a bit”.

Nodding, you begin to walk into your house, heading to the sink to wash your hands from the dirt and muck covering them from the chores. “I’ll make ya a glass in just a sec, let me get a bit cleaned up. You get your things done today? Pastor told me to yell at you a bit if you lagged behind one more time. Think he meant it too, ‘is face was redder than hell”.

August comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around you as you stand at the sink. Your face dusts pink as he lays his head on your shoulder, his breath right on your ear as he gruffly says “Don’t worry about what he says. I know what I’m doing, and how I’m gonna do it. Anyone gives you more trouble you come to me alright?”

The sudden playful mood felt more tense, his arms squeezing you tight against him as your voice struggled to come out. “You’re like a hen, I swear. I'm not some dainty little belle, I can tell a pastor off if I need to. Now sit down, I’ll make you a glass”.

You two sit and chat for a while, August giving you stares that you couldn’t quite read from time to time as you mention how your life here was going. He was a real sweetheart, a man of manners and good values, it’s no wonder the whole town loves him. But there's something there, stirring and growing, you just don’t know it yet.

It’s a dark, unleashed beast of a thing for sure.

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

Six months have passed since you’ve moved down here, and the winter seems awfully brutal. Your house is refusing to stay warm lately, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re terrible with a wood cutting axe. Never could get the aim right.

As if on cue, the towns most beloved bachelor comes driving into your yard in his truck, practically leaping out as he runs to you with a worried and dare you say frustrated appearance. “What on earth has gotten into you? Put me down!” you hollered, being lifted up over his shoulder with ease as he carries you inside without so much as a hello.

“Me? What’s gotten into you? It’s below freezing and you’re out there trying to cut wet wood that won’t burn! You’re gonna get frost bite, and momma won’t let me hear the end of it if I let you get hurt!”

“For your information I was doing just fine!” you scold, being dropped down gently onto your couch as he stands over you, arms crossed over his chest. “...I ain’t moving until you promise me you won’t go back out there in weather like this”

“Unfair game to me. Seeing as alls I gotta do is tickle you in the right spot to get you out of my way”

“Dangerous game to play to me, seeing as your touch would do a bit more than tickle me” he says with a seductive tint to his voice, his face coming down to meet yours as you become more flustered “A touch from a sexy thing like you, wouldn’t make me move out of the way. It’d make me pick you up and show you how I wanna touch you too”

You both stay there for a minute, your eyes becoming playful and your tone more flirty as you lean closer, daring to kiss his lips. “Hmm. And what would your momma think if something happened before marriage?”

“Who says I can’t make you say my name without breaking that rule?”

“Oh now you’re just being a mean old flirt. Is this your way of warming me up? Cause as much as I like it, I do need to get work done”

August doesn’t budge. If anything, he seems determined to tower over you like this, keeping you in place. “I think you’d be better off at my house for a few days. Especially since the holidays are coming up and the weather is only gonna get worse” he says as if he didn’t just act like he would go a few rounds in the bedroom with you.

“We’ve talked about this-”

“I know. You’re worried about the animals and such. Never said I wouldn’t let you come by to do your stuff, I just think you need a place with actual heat since this place is clearly in need of more repair than we thought. It ain’t gotta be a month or nothing, just til we get it fixed”

You worry your lip, unsure and not exactly comfortable with just staying a few nights at his house. “The town will think we’re being a bit-”

“The town also thinks aunt Susie's pie is the best, but they ain’t right in that regard either” he cuts you off, taking your cold hand and kissing your fingertips softly “I won’t do nothing, I promise. I’ll even let the church and every gossiper in town have a piece of my mind if they start making you upset. Just please, let me keep you warm. It’ll break my heart if I know you’re suffering like this any longer”

His eyes are so sweet as they plead, and how he holds and warms your hands makes this deal all the more enticing. What can you say? You really have no other choice, and you’re so lucky to have him here for you like this. “A-alright, August. Just until we figure out why my heat aint working. No more than that”

Oh, just knowing you’d come willingly at all is more than he could’ve asked for. He hates having to force his hand in these situations, but it’s needed! That’s why he had to ruin your heating system, to show you that he’d be the better option in the long run and he could get you out of that shithole house faster.

But he won’t tell his little secret. The plan is to get you in his home, then in his bed, and in his arms. Town can think whatever they want, but no one would suspect him of sabotage and stalking. He plays his role very well, knows how to manipulate anyone who tries and ruin his chance with you. If they push too hard for you to leave, he might just stage another accident or two.

Whatever it takes to keep you with him and him only.

((HI! I hope this didn’t go too off the rails, I really enjoyed it! I hope you did too! -Mommabean))

#yandere male #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #mommabean #southern yandere #August my oc #my ocs

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zepskies · 10 months ago

Text

Being Human – Part 2

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Thank you for your lovely responses on Part 1!! I'm very excited to bring you the next chapter of Being Human.

Chapter Summary: You know that Alec is hiding something, and it’s more than the fact that he’s been dating another girl behind your back. [Set during 2.11]

Song Inspo: “Sailing” by Avant

Word Count: 6,200

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, two-timing (don’t worry), mentions of Manticore’s training (torture), hurt/comfort, mega feels, smuttishness.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: The Only Place

Alec showing up at your door unannounced isn’t anything new.

This time, however, he comes bearing a raw chicken in a plastic bag and a sack of potatoes. Your eyes go wide as you let him into your apartment.

“Where the hell did you find that,” you gesture at the chicken. In this economy, it might as well have been a five-pound lobster with a side of caviar.

Alec waggles his brows at you and flashes his familiar grin.

“Farmer’s market,” he says. “I fought some rich lady and her Pomeranian for this.”

You extend “gimme gimme” fingers at the bag as you lick your lips. You two are going to eat good tonight. You can even use the bones to make soup for the rest of the week.

Still, something niggles at the back of your mind.

“But this must’ve been so expensive. You didn’t have to do this,” you say, looking up from the bag of goods to your boyfriend’s face. He gives you an easy smile as his arm hooks around your waist.

“Don’t worry about it. I won a few pool game bets off Sketchy. Not to mention a couple of his paychecks,” Alec says.

His smirk makes you shake your head, but you wonder if he’s telling you the truth. He always seems to have cash to spare, despite the fact that he’s only been working at Jam Pony for a few months—barely making minimum wage.

Regardless, you start to prepare the chicken with what seasonings you have in your pantry while Alec peels the potatoes for you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

Not for the first time, you wonder how he really lives. You’ve never been to his apartment before. Despite being friends with Max (there seems to be history there), he just got to Seattle a few months ago. And as for family, he claimed he had to leave home.

“It was what you’d call…an unstable environment,” he��d said.

That, you could understand. Your own father had died when you were fairly young. After the Pulse, a virus had swept through and ravaged your hometown in rural Massachusetts.

Unfortunately, a shortage of antibiotics at the local hospitals left your mom without much help to fight off what ailed her body. You’d spread her ashes in the Charles River, where she used to love to paddleboat with you when you were a kid.

Then, you’d packed up what little you had and left the East Coast to make a life for yourself out here, alone. The city had been a challenge for you at first, being a smalltown girl at heart, but the hustle and bustle distracted you in a way you’d needed.

Now, Seattle has become your home, for better or worse.

Alec knows all of this about you. He knows about your guilty pleasure of fried eggs, rice, and Vienna sausages: one of the ultimate struggle meals. He knows you love ice cream so much, you’d eat it for breakfast if you could.

He also knows you wanted to be a veterinarian, of all things, before the pulse. Now you have no hope or prayer of ever affording college, even if you tried.

But Alec…he still largely remains a mystery to you, no matter how deep he’s wedged himself under your skin.

“You’re really concentrating on that chicken,” Alec says, but his voice startles you, as it’s suddenly very close to your ear. You jump slightly as his arms wrap around your frame from behind.

You giggle a little, but you tilt your head to allow him access when his lips find your neck.

“Have I thanked you for this yet?” you ask. “I can’t remember the last time I had honest to God poultry…that also didn’thave a 50% chance of being radioactive.”

You feel the shape of Alec’s smile against your skin.

“No, as a matter of fact, but feel free to express your gratitude sexually,” he rejoins.

You have to laugh in earnest at that. You wash your hands in the sink before you turn in his arms and take his face gently in your hands. You bring him down to you for a sweeter kiss than he expected.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “It’s nice, having someone who thinks about me.”

His brows furrow a bit at that. He didn’t think bringing you an unexpected meal would be all that impressive, but…he also knows how long you’ve been alone.

For reasons he can’t tell you, it makes a twinge of guilt hit him behind the ribs.

All throughout dinner, and afterwards, Alec is hooked on the familiar soap opera playing on the TV in the living room. You both are sitting on the couch, but you’re half watching him, amused by his reactions. He’s absolutely glued to an episode you’ve already seen.

“You’re even more obsessed than I am,” you tease.

Alec spares you a wan look. “I just wanna know whose baby it is.”

A teasing smile forms across your face as you shift onto your knees and lean over to him, as if whispering a secret in his ear.

“And it’s actually twins,” you tease.

His expression of enrapture shifts with a wry edge.

“Twins, huh?”

That seems to take him out of his enjoyment, somehow.

You frown a little. “You okay?”

“Always,” he responds, glancing at you. He visibly lightens up, pulling you into his lap with a muttered, Come ‘ere.

You giggle at his manhandling and oblige him with a few stolen kisses.

You feel bold enough to push him back to lie on the couch, and he actually lets you. His hands find your hips while you move to straddle his. Your fingertips drift down his chest as you consider him with a tilt of your head.

“Why haven’t I ever been to your place?” you ask. You draw an imaginary pattern across his chest, grazing him with your nails. His skin prickles under his clothes, but he stares up at you and shrugs without giving into your distraction.

“What, do you live above a strip club or something?” you add, smirking.

Alec’s expression matches yours as he squeezes your hips. “I like coming to you.”

Letting out a breath through your nose, you lean down and try plying him with slow, nipping kisses down his jawline, then his neck.

“Hmm, I still think you’re evading,” you say between kisses. “Tell me. Why haven’t you invited me back to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you getting demanding,” he teases back, even though his breath hitches when you nip a bit harder, just under his ear. Your deft hands run over his chest, toying with his senses. Already the scent of the soap you use has invaded his nose, like it always does. Jasmine.

“You knew this about me,” you say against his skin. He feels the movements of your lips like an added tease.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. His smirk deepens. “Not gonna lie, I kinda like it.”

You smile. “So answer the question. Or do I have to punish you?”

Fuck, sweetheart, be my guest, Alec thinks. But he forces himself to focus on your words, reading between the lines of what you’re really fishing for.

“My place isn’t all that safe,” he says.

You snort. “Safe is relative in this city. Besides, I thought you said my apartment was questionable at best.”

“I said you needed better security.”

“You’re my security.”

Alec’s smirk returns at that. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Better than a doorman,” you joke, leaning down to him again. “You deliver right to my door.”

“You think you’re so clever,” Alec says. Your lips find his in a kiss, and they lure him back into the pull of you. How easy it would be, just to let you “catch” him. Every night. Every day.

Your arms cage his head as you finally lay down on top of him, slowly rolling your hips against his. Both of you feel his hardness twitch against your thigh. You smirk against his lips.

“And right on time,” you quip.

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore.

You lower down and kiss him with meaning. With tenderness.

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you mutter.

Your exasperation has reached an all-time high.

You’re really trying not to clock this bitch in the throat. When she grabs you by the hair, however, you have no choice.

Your punch lands squarely up the bridge of Marina’s nose with a crack that makes even Original Cindy wince.

You feel sick to your stomach.

Not just because your coworker and former friend Marina has stumbled to the floor, looking up at you with ire and a bloody nose. But because you just found out that you and Marina have somehow been dating the same man.

Alec had been standing off to the side with a semblance of concern behind his eyes (but mostly shock). You turn to him next, and he freezes. All the nearby Jam Pony employees watch the scene as you grasp Alec’s arm and warn him with only your eyes—it’s in his best interest to follow you to the lockers.

He acquiesces, even though his shifty eyes say he wants to bolt. Cindy’s shaking her head with a flat expression. Max is outright glaring at him. Sketchy is grinning, shoots him a thumbs up as the two of you pass by.

Alec heeds your unspoken demand, but he crosses his arms once you let go of him.

“Apparently, Marina claims you’re her boyfriend,” you accuse. You press two fingers into his chest. “Despite the fact that you’ve only been dating her for what, two weeks tops? A relief to me, since I thought we’d been dating for almost two months.”

Alec laughs nervously and rubs the back of his head. “Well, you know, we never did say that we were exclusive—”

“Did you sleep with her?” you ask.

He falters at the look on your face. So incredibly hurt, but still holding out a sliver of hope.

The longer he stays quiet, the more that too starts to dim.

You can’t help yourself. You slap him across the face.

Alec takes the hit, making it look like it actually hurt him in the way he snaps his face to the side. He’s more shocked than anything, though he knows he doesn’t have a right to be.

Your lower lip trembles, but you also gasp with a wince and hold your hand, because somehow his face felt like a slab of iron. Shit! Does he have a metal plate in his head or something?

Alec sighs. “You okay there?”

He reaches for your hand, but you back away from him.

“Don’t touch me. Never touch me again,” you say shakily, through tears.

You don’t want to admit that your heart is breaking. You fucking idiot. You should’ve known your instincts would be right about Alec McDowell.

You grab your clipboard and your forgotten backpack from the floor by your locker, and you walk away from him before your tears start to fall.

In the aftermath of the fight, Normal raises hell about the fact that Marina’s quitting. You can’t really give a shit, but you’re not about to follow suit. You’ve never, and will never let a man get between you and your money.

You take your deliveries for the morning and start on your route.

And if you have to park your bike in an alleyway to cry without the prying eyes of your coworkers, then that’s your right as a woman.

Alec hides it well, but inside, his chest aches the way his face should. He doesn’t altogether know or want to think about why.

So he worms his way into a delivery run with Max to distract himself (and to escape Jam Pony HQ). Max gives him hell, as expected, but he tries to ignore her and get this job over with so he can drink himself into a stupor at Crash tonight.

…Or try to. Getting drunk is a difficult feat with his genetics, not to mention a very expensive pastime.

Right now, he and Max are riding their bikes through the richey rich side of town, so at least it’s cleaner. Manicured hedges and tall gates surround every house here. It’s almost kind of familiar, though he’s too focused on following Max to care much.

“I mean, it’s not like I intended to date ‘em both at the same time,” he defends himself. “And then when it turned out I was dating them both at the same time, it’s not like I didn’t intend to tell both girls about the other one. …You know, eventually.”

It’s like the universe itself calls himself out on his lie when the front tire of his bike skids. He pulls to a sharp stop in front of an iron gate and falls over onto the asphalt, but his reflexes are quick, and he picks himself up with a forced spring in his step.

“But let’s be real for a moment, shall we?” he says. “I mean, suppose I did tell them. What would happen, huh? Same thing. Big fight. Lots of anger and resentment and recriminations, and then who wins? Nobody.”

Max continues to watch him with a deadpan frown. “Well, at least in this case, you won.”

“Exactly,” Alec smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His expression falls anyway. “Well, no. Seeing as though neither of them will be likely to speak to me, which makes any kind of sex a virtual impossibility…at least for a couple of days.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Clearly both of them lost their damn minds to even give you the time of day.”

Alec has a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s waylaid by a memory that used to make him smile. It now just settles heavily in his chest.

Two Months Ago...

Just then, the bartender slides you a beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you answer.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. You tense up and blush at his proximity, making his grin deepen.

Damn, she smells good, he thinks.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

He knows he’s making you nervous in a good way. He can sense it, though you eye him wryly. He means to go in for the kill, but he’s thwarted when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink, the way women do when they have their own unspoken language.

You then smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

He’s still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

He means it. Every time you turn him down, he’s genuinely disappointed.

But if you ever change your mind, he’ll be right here waiting.

That memory falters as Alec stares up at the familiar mansion. He just doesn’t remember that he’s been here before—not until he rings the doorbell. That sound dislodges a fragment in his mind.

One that makes him hide from the surveillance cameras on instinct. It has him throwing the package over the gate and grabbing Max to guide her away from the house before they’ve been able to get a signature.

And a name rings through all the clutter. A name that was once seared into his mind is wrenched open like a badly sewn wound.

Rachel.

You don’t see Alec for a few days. Which is good, because you’ve been avoiding him.

Until he finally shows up for work, and somehow, he looks off. He lacks the jovial, devil-may-care attitude he wears like a second skin.

He glances at you down the line at your locker, catching your gaze.

You still can’t bear it. You turn your head away, feeling like a coward. You hear his locker door slam loudly and he leaves without even getting his schedule from Normal.

You rest your head against the cool metal of your locker.

“Where the hell’re you going, mister!” Normal calls after his former favorite employee.

Despite your better judgment, you sigh and push away from your locker to face your boss.

“He’s got a stomach bug. Real nasty,” you call out.

Normal’s frown deepens, but his expression softens from his hardened edge.

“Oh. Well…that’s all he needed to say,” he sniffs. He hands what would’ve been Alec’s load of packages onto Sketchy, who gives him a flat look.

“Go, get to work. Bip, bip!” Normal points a finger at him, then dismissively at the door.

Sketchy rolls his eyes, but he makes sure to send you a “thankful” look before he heads out. You give him a sardonic smile. Serves him right for taking Alec’s side in this whole messy situation, like the man children they both are.

Original Cindy comes to your side and lightly bumps your hip. She’s a strong support as always, and you give her a small smile.

“Come on, boo. I’m buyin’ your drinks at Crash tonight,” she says. You loop your arm through hers.

“Thank God for you, OC,” you breathe, though with a smile that feels a little more like yourself.

“Ladies night, it is,” she snaps playfully.

And if that’s what tonight is, then you’re going to look good. No ratty jeans and boots meant for walking. After work, you dive into the depths of your closet and find an old favorite of yours: a black leather skirt and a lacey top, open-backed and a sweetheart neckline. You complete the look with a pair of heeled ankle boots and the only shade of red lipstick you own.

You just don’t count on Alec wanting a night out too.

He hangs out at Crash all the time. You can’t be surprised, you remind yourself, when you spot him at the bar. Except he doesn’t wear his usual suave confidence. No, he’s hunched over a glass of whiskey as he sits alone in front of the bartender. He doesn’t even notice you, Max, and Cindy as you guys claim your usual table in the back.

You can’t help it though. Your eyes keep drifting back to him.

Both Max and Cindy catch you, with something like sympathy on the latter’s face.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Cindy remarks. “Anguished, and all Heathcliff-like.”

She’s right, you think. He’s been like this for days.

Max seems to know him better than anyone. You turn to her in askance.

“This isn’t just because of…what happened, is it?” you say.

Max sighs and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

But she’s either unable, or unwilling to give you any more to go on.

…Goddamn it, you think, as you contemplate doing something stupid, like going over there to talk to him. You know you shouldn’t give him the time of day, but God help you, you still care about this asshole.

You heave a sigh. “I’ll be back in a few. And if not, I give you full permission to haul my ass out of this bar.”

“Don’t do it,” Cindy advises, with the tone of someone who knows you’re not going to listen.

You get up from the table and give your friends a placating hand. You roll your shoulders and force your feet to move—towards the bar.

The seat to Alec’s left is empty, and you take it. His gaze slides toward you, and he’s forced to do a double take. His familiar once-over has you almost smirking, but even that is missing something. It’s like something sucked the life right out of him.

He gives you a haphazard smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me,” he says.

“How many of those are you going to drink?” you ask, gesturing at the third glass of whiskey in his hand. He glances down at it, then at nothing as his gaze travels away from you.

“Until I can’t feel the burn anymore,” he replies. Even his voice isn’t like him, dull and wry.

You hesitate, but you surprise even yourself by offering an olive branch.

“Look, if you want to talk about what happened…or anything else—” you try, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking at you again. “I should’ve made it clear from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

Your heart plummets. Your mouth works past shock and fresh hurt. You fight the sting in your eyes as your mouth flattens.

“So, you and I were just casual,” you confirm. “None of it meant anything to you?”

He looks over at you and pins you there. There’s a glimmer of something behind the cool green of his eyes. Like maybe part of him wants to rebel and give you hope.

He stays quiet.

So with tears in your eyes, you close out your tab, and you leave the bar to go home. You can’t even bring yourself to look over at your friends. You’re too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Alec focuses on the contents of his glass, even though he knows nothing will ever be enough to numb him.

Now that Manticore’s psychological reprogramming has crumbled, now that he remembers what happened two years ago—and what he did—nothing will make his fractured, bloody insides feel like nothing ever again.

Max and Original Cindy see the entire scene play out from across the bar. Cindy shakes her head with a hum of disappointment that black women have perfected.

Max’s answer is to get up, with much the same reluctance as you had, albeit for different reasons.

“I know I’m gonna regret this,” she sighs.

“Take your time,” Cindy says. She already has her flirtatious eye on another woman by the pool table.

Max smiles in amusement and leaves her friend to her business. She goes to her fellow transgenic and slips into the same seat you occupied moments before. Alec barely looks up at her.

“Call me crazy but I get the feeling you’re in some kind of jam,” she says. “More than just about your messy ex situation, though that was a nice cold shoulder you gave her.”

“Okay, you’re crazy,” he replies, raising his glass back to his lips.

Max presses her luck, asking about the locket Alec has always kept. At Manticore, he’d kept it in his shoe. He’d pull it out at night and try to remember why it was important, but he never could. All he knew was that it made him feel better, and he’d go to sleep easier.

Max saw it on him days ago. And now they both know it had belonged to Rachel Barrister, daughter of Robert Barrister. The man Alec was once sent to kill.

He’d both failed and succeeded.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Max,” Alec says snidely. “Stay out of my business.”

“Fine,” she says, but part of her still worries about him. And she worries about you. “Look, I know we don’t always get along—”

“Nicely understated,” he cuts, and sets down his glass a bit too hard on the counter. The bottom of it fractures. “Barkeep!”

“But if you’re in some kind of trouble and you need my help, then you should ask now, and not when it’s too late and everything’s all messed up, like you usually do,” she says.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, Max. I really do,” he says dryly, “but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You know, I would, see, but…you wouldn’t understand,” Alec says. He points out that Max and the rest of her little X5 friends left Manticore (escaped) when they were kids. The truth is, she has no idea what he’s endured ever since.

Manticore cracked down on the next series of X5s like him, and every series afterwards—they all paid the price for what Manticore saw as the failure of Max’s unit. Lax training. Traitors. Deserters.

Alec didn’t see it at the time, not completely. He now knows just how deeply fucked up he was.

And is.

There’s no fixing it, like there’s no use trying to fix a broken toy.

So Max eventually walks away from him, just like you did. Just like he should have done for Rachel.

He knows he hurt you, but he also thinks it’s working out better this way. Better that you walk away from him, before he gets you hurt even worse.

It happens in stages, the way Alec’s memory unlocks.

It sorts through the psychological methods of torture and erasure Manticore used to try and scrape the Barrister assignment from his mind. Not only did it not work, but Manticore still won. No matter what he does, he can’t block out the pain or the rush of memories. He can’t not feel.

It’s a frustrating state of being for a soldier.

Alec’s laissez faire way of coasting through life after Manticore burned down was his version of stoicism, of surviving.

But if this is living, then he doesn’t want it.

That’s why he loses focus. He runs headlong into the trap his rational mind is warning him of—into that mansion, where Robert Barrister has led him with the torturous siren song of Rachel’s favorite piano sonata. The very same one he taught her, just two years ago.

Alec wants to rip the notes out of his head, but he still goes to the house.

Somehow, a fifty-five-year-old man gets the drop on Alec, a soldier. A transgenic.

Barrister knows who and what he is. He’s been in the game long enough against Manticore to know who he used to sell his products to, but he can’t quite pull the trigger on that gun, even though Alec goads him on. Shouting at him to do it. End his misery.

Rachel.

Max saves his ass again. It’s a frankly embarrassing number she’s racked up on that count, as she stuns Barrister and knocks him out before he can deliver the kill shot directly into Alec’s temporal lobe.

Alec doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care, until Robert tells him where she is, upstairs in her room. Alec travels down the familiar corridor, and he sees her again.

Rachel. Oh God…

She’s wrapped up in wires because of him; in a coma, slowly dying for the past two years. She pulled her father from the car that was meant to explode and end his life. Rachel fell.

Alec sinks down into a chair beside her bed. For a moment all he can do is stare at her pale face.

Because of him. His job. His mission, that he couldn’t complete, because he tried to save her. It was too late, she paid the price, and it was all because of him.

Because he couldn’t fight the training drilled deep into his mind. He couldn’t fight his captors, not hard enough.

She paid the price.

Alec sits at her bedside for as long as he can. He slips her locket back into her cold hand. He holds her as close as he dares, and begs for forgiveness through near-silent tears.

“I didn’t understand,” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t understand…how much I loved you.”

Alec attends Rachel’s funeral, a few weeks later. He stands almost a quarter of a mile away, but he can still hear the service. He goes to her grave, and he accepts the caustic words from her father.

“Never come back here,” Robert hisses. “I wanted to kill you. I hated you that much. But I’m still her father. I want her to be proud of me…and I don’t want to be like you.”

Alec silently accepts this. He knows what he is. Now, he knows what he’s done is unforgivable.

He also knows it’s time to let her go.

So he says a silent goodbye before he walks away from the grave and the cemetery. He intends to go home…

He doesn’t quite make it there.

Alec is forced to walk through a torrent of rain. He barely feels it beating down on his head, back, and shoulders.

Somehow, he ends up dripping wet at your apartment. His tall frame takes up your doorway when you open it to him.

This feels familiar, you think, as you take him in. Once again, you’re dressed in just your pajamas of choice: a loose shirt over a pair of shorts. Your hair is tossed into a bun.

You aren’t sure if it’s rain or tears dripping down his wet cheeks. His eyes are red enough to convince you of the latter.

“What’re you—”

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is a hint unsteady.

Your mouth falls open the slightest bit, but eventually, you sigh.

“Alec,” is all you can say. Go away, are words you can’t force past your lips, even if you have every right to say them.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I uh…I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?” you repeat, your eyes widening incredulously.

He shakes his head, but he aims to leave. This was a mistake, he thinks.

You don’t know what to make of him right now. Hasn’t he hurt you enough?

He seems different though. He looks like he’s one step shy of falling apart, and you’ve never seen such rawness in his eyes.

Something inside you breaks, and you grab his wet hand before he can escape down the hall. You’re persistent in leading him inside your apartment, where it’s warm. You offer him some dry clothes he left behind last month.

After he gets changed, he sits on your couch with you. His silence is so confusing, you’re not sure what to do.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Me,” he says, chuckling humorlessly. “I’m what’s wrong. I uh…I should go.”

He gets to his feet, all twitching nervous energy, and again he tries to leave. You feel compelled to stand with him and follow him to the door.

“Wait,” you say, holding the door closed. Your hand lands on his arm, imploring with everything you have. “Alec, just tell me what the hell is going on. You’re scaring me.”

His eyes drag up your body, and slowly meet yours.

I didn’t understand…

Alec can’t help it; he raises a gentle hand to touch your cheek. You don’t deserve someone like him wrecking your life. He can’t be fixed, and he doesn’t want to break you too.

You hold his hand to your face. “Alec. Talk to me, please.”

In your face, he finds concern and the threat of tears, and his heart continues to hemorrhage.

There’s still room for you there. You’ve carved out a place in what’s left of it, without him realizing. He’s getting better at seeing the warning signs.

You let out a shaky breath. “Just tell me the truth. Are you in trouble? Are you here because you have nowhere else to go, or—”

“Honestly, yeah,” he finally admits.

You deflate in response. What the hell?!

Now you’re just about ready to push him out of your apartment and warn him that he better not come back. His grip on your arms stops you.

“This is the only place…” he continues, his jaw working. “Can’t seem to move my feet anywhere else.”

He means what he says, even if it’s not coming out right. After seeing Rachel’s prone body in her bed, coming back to face you is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. And yet, there's nowhere else he could go that felt right. He meets your eyes and notices the way you’re holding your breath.

“Uh, I kinda lied to you before,” he confesses. Your brows raise at that.

“When?” you challenge.

He licks his dry lips. “At the bar. Last time we met.”

“So when you said,” you struggle to articulate it, because just the thought of it still hurts. “What you and I had…that it didn’t mean anything…”

His hands slide down from your arms, to hold your hands in his.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t know what it meant,” Alec says. “I do now.”

Your eyes flood with tears as you let go of a heavy breath. Alec releases your hands to hold your face with shaking hands. In turn, you hold his wrists steady.

"You really hurt me, you know," you say. Your voice is a near whisper, but your words cut into him all the same.

"I know," he replies, as his thumbs caress your skin. "I'm sorry about that. About everything...which is why we probably shouldn't do this."

He really says that, even as his hands drift down to your neck, where he can feel your pulse beating and picking up speed. Alive.

“What?” you ask, with genuine confusion. You pull away from him a little, frowning up at him. "Then what are we doing right now? Either you want to be with me, or you don't, Alec."

His eyes meet yours.

You’re so real, so honest. Alec starts to think, to understand that this is what lured him in. It had him coming back to you every time you turned him down. It kept him coming back to you when you were his.

She can still be yours, he thinks. It’s a selfish thought, but here he is.

So he draws you in and kisses you deeply.

He doesn’t know how this can still feel right, even though his chest pulses with pain. But maybe, being with you is a different kind of pain. Maybe it’s not pain at all.

You asked him for the truth though. He can’t give you everything, but he can give you one piece of the puzzle; perhaps the only one that matters. He parts from you, opening his eyes to find your face. Your eyes are still closed, and when you open them, you start to blush.

It almost makes him smile, but his brain is still warring with his heart.

“I’ve only ever cared about one person in my life…and I lost her,” he says. “I’m not good at this.”

“How,” you ask, a bit hesitantly. “How did you lose her?”

His throat is tight. It’s all so fresh, he doesn’t even know how he gets out the words.

“She died,” he admits.

Your expression falls, and you shake your head.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, holding onto his shirt. “I’ve lost people too.”

He thumbs at your cheek. He sees your sympathy so clearly across your face, though he doesn’t know how you can still give that to him. It goes against everything he’s ever been taught, and everything he’s learned in order to survive.

He can’t help but let you back in, just like you’re about to do for him.

“It’s really this simple. If you want me to forgive you, if you really want to be here, with me, exclusively…then all you have to do is stay,” you say at last. Your lips press together for a moment. “But if you play me again, Alec, I swear to God—”

“No. No swearing’s necessary,” he says, and kisses you again. He’s surprised he’s able to smile, just a little, and he does so against your lips.

You break from him to grip his shirt and glare up at him. “You understand me?”

Alec’s smile deepens a fraction. He brushes your hair away from your face.

“Indeed, I do, Miss Ma’am.”

It takes you a beat, but you roll your eyes, despite a lingering blush.

“Ugh, don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he starts to tease. “You seem to like giving out orders, I just thought you’d like a title change to go with it.”

You slap his chest half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“See? More demands,” he quips. “I don’t know if I can work in this environment—”

You pull him down for a kiss to shut him up indefinitely.

And like it so often has, it leads into your room with the two of you falling haphazardly into your bed. He situates himself between your legs and traps you underneath him as he kisses a wet path up your neck. You arch against him and your hands dive under his shirt to help him wrench it off.

It’s all very fast, and a bit frantic until he has you naked underneath him.

His hand finds your cheek, touching softly, like he’s afraid to break you. There’s pain in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Your brows furrow, though you caress a hand up the back his neck. He shudders when you unintentionally brush his barcode.

“Alec, what happened?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He wishes he could tell you. He wants to tell you…everything. It scares him, because he also wants to run out of here, putting as much distance between himself and you as possible.

But again, he’s selfish. This time, he understands why his heart is pulsing with both pain and longing when he stares into your eyes for too long.

“I can’t,” he says. “Not tonight… Can we just focus on the good part here?”

Despite yourself, you smile with a small huff. You take his face in your hands and bring him down to meet your searing kiss.

The good part, indeed.

AN: And here's an angsty Part 2! lol Let me know what you think! 💜

You might want to buckle up for where we're going next...

Next Time:

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your face.

He smiles, taking down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease. He laughs against your skin.

“You’re about to find out.”

Keep Reading: Part 3

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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