#don’t expect me to be too quick with the links- I work nights and sleep most of the day

[alexiroflife]

"soft"

flufffffffff, reader is burned out, i love me some toji

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: you ponder over how gentle toji has become with you during your time together

to sum it up: you and toji have a casual relationship, but he just may care about you a little more than he leads on

WC: 2,079

Warning(s): vaguely sexual themes

You had never expected Toji to be as soft of you as he is with you.

The Fushiguro’s hardened exterior combined with his intimidating physical appearance in addition to his unique occupation often sends people walking into the opposite direction of his path when they see him coming. He’s an uncommonly large man with a rather inhospitable air about his bulking frame. 

He’s not very friendly, for he’s often glowering daggers into the backs of people’s heads when they pose as minor inconveniences to him during his day to day, such as standing too close behind him in a line to order food or blocking his view of the television screen where the race he has bet on picks up speed. 

Toji’s a frightening man with an exceptional talent for murdering people swiftly and mercilessly. He isn’t the kind of guy you stop on the side of the road to ask for directions, for he exudes the epitome of unfriendliness. 

When you start seeing him, you truly don’t expect much but a passionate fuck and a short text every other week or so. The two of you don’t have an official title to your relationship, therefore you imagine at first that he can’t care less whether you live or die, leave or stay. 

You don’t think he’s a bad guy initially. While he’s rough around the edges and quick to agitation, he has the decency to text to make sure you get into your home safely though not the position to walk you home from his house. He also doesn’t yell at you when you notice that he is angry, though you understand that is not necessarily something that should be praised. When he’s mad, he puts forth his emotion into the way he fucks into you, hands gripping harshly around your waist while you writhe beneath him as the filthiest words you’ve ever heard in your life fly from his lips, then he’s alright, asking if you enjoyed yourself and going on about his night.

You never expected much from Toji, for you aren’t his girlfriend and he isn’t your boyfriend. But as time goes by, you notice his behavior shift ever so subtly toward you. Before you know it, he’s taking you out to grab food more often before your links, he’s letting you sleep over in his bed from time to time claiming that he ‘doesn’t feel like having to worry about you getting kidnapped on your way home,’ and he’s texting you more, randomly; asking about the movies you want to watch the next time you’re over, demanding to know what time you get off of work so you can visit him, and listening to you talk about your day as you curl up into his sheets under his arm, babbling on as he watches you blankly. 

You don’t think he’s listening to you the first time you start chatting a little while after the post-breathlessness of your orgasm has died down, but then he’s mentioning something you briefly mentioned in your rant the next day casually, tossing it into the air like it’s nothing. 

He tries to make it seem like his shift toward you is something he pays little attention to or doesn’t care about, but you know that this isn’t the case. He grows gentler with you both inside and outside of his bed, hand finding the space on your lower back as he moves carefully around you in public, palm lingering for a few seconds too long before it drops. He begins to put forth more effort toward cleaning you up when he’s done with you, smoothing his calloused hands over the aching muscles in your thighs and bum and running you a shower to wash the fluids from your skin. And his jade green eyes melt into something softer when he looks at you, his expression flat but his gaze cradling you within his vision as though you’re a priceless gem he’s just discovered, something that he must admire and protect. 

Your fling with Toji no longer feels like a fling. Instead, his free time is opening up for you, his phone no longer pings with the names of foreign women, and he’s shamelessing telling you to stay with him as much as you possibly can. He acts so nonchalant about it, but you know it’s a sudden, yet pleasant change for the both of you.

What stuns you the most, however, during this steady transition in dynamics between the two of you is the way he first reacts to your rather rare instance of vulnerability. You’re exhausted, work tiring you to the point where you feel like practically collapsing to the ground face first, your mother nagging you about finding a more stable career, and your rent gradually rising with each passing month you spend in your apartment. You’re completely overwhelmed, feeling trapped within your own skin, and you’re so caught up in your stress that you forget Toji is visiting.

You open the door after you hear that familiar knock pattern of his and greet him with tired eyes and a slumped posture. He towers over you, eyes dragging over your figure to analyze your state. His brow quirks when he examines you, stepping into your apartment after you hold the door open for him. The moment he closes the door, he’s onto you.

“What’s the matter with you?” he poses the question lowly, tilting his head to get a better look at you with his hand on his hip. 

That’s all it takes for you to break down.

Embarrassingly enough, you’re ducking your head and crying before him, shoulders tensing as your hands come to shield your face. Your gentle sobs wrack your frame, and you feel humiliated. 

Toji’s eyes go wide as he looks at you, caught off guard. He isn’t sure if it’s something he has said that’s got you crying all of a sudden, but he feels his heart clench at the sight of you in pain. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffle into your palms. “Rough week.”

You half expect the dark haired assassin to turn away and let you melt down on your own, promising to come back another time, but instead you feel strong arms envelope your figure and wrap you into his chest, holding you softly yet with security at the same time. Your shoulders jerk in shock before you’re crying again, the comfort of Toji’s hold absorbing you into his chest as you continue to weep into your hands. “Alright, girl,” he murmurs gruffly, tilting his chin down to rest his lips against your head. “Let it out.”

His hands, tinged with the blood of millions, gripped with the memory of gruesome deaths, caress tenderly over your back as he wraps you up tighter, sheltering you within his mass. You tremble as he holds you, chest quivering as you snivel in a distorted pattern. Toji can feel you twitching uncomfortably against him, trying to catch your breath.

“Breathe,” he instructs with firm consolation, his hand motion over your back soothing into circles. You whimper, attempting to follow the pace of his breaths that you feel rising in his broad chest. You quiver, struggling a bit more before your breaths ease into a steady pace that mimics his own. “That’s right, you got it. Nice and easy,” he says into your hair.

You nod stiffly against him, pushing your hands down from your face to wind tightly around his waist, sinking further into him. He lifts his chin to look down, trying to sneak a peek of your hidden face. He sighs, bending down to tuck his arm under your knees and keep the other firm against your back. Your arms adjust, winding around his neck and tucking your face into his shoulder as he carries you to your room. 

He sits down on the edge of your bed, keeping you swaddled in his arms. He nods his head down to you, nudging against your forehead to urge you to look at him. You pull away and look up, teary (e/c) eyes swimming with sadness and weariness. Toji twists his lips up to the side, scar stretching with his movements, and he stares tenderly at you, lifting a knuckle to brush at the dampness on your cheeks. You shiver, unfamiliar with this delicate, attentive side to Toji. His face is hardened as though he’s mad, but the concern in his orbs and the fragility of his touch tells you otherwise, that he is only concentrated intensely. 

His thumb wipes at the corner of your lips where a tear or two has drifted before inhaling slowly. “You all there with me, now?” he asks, his voice a low murmur, and you nod, suddenly feeling foolish. He hums in approval, fingers smoothing over your hair. “Good. Now who did this to ya?”

You shake your head slowly. “No one,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”

“Well, it can’t be stupid if it’s making your pretty self cry.” You gaze up at him with round doe eyes rimmed with pain. Toji didn’t know how much he hates the sight of you upset until now. “Out with it.”

You shrug, sniffling as you unwrap your arms from his neck and lower your hands into your lap, picking at your nails. “I’m just so tired,” you mutter. “Everything’s been so hectic, I haven’t had a chance to breathe.”

Toji’s eyes search your face as you avert your gaze, shrinking into yourself. “For how long?”

You shrug again. “A few months maybe.”

“You ‘been holding everything in for months?” he repeats incredulously. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know…” you frown, a single tear dribbling down your cheek when you blink. Toji’s chest tightens at the sight. “I’m used to pushing through, I guess. Plus, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Toji’s brows pinch together as he marvels at your words. “Now that’s stupid,” he sighs. “What you need is a break.

“But I don’t get to take breaks. I have to work so that I can keep the lights on, and rent is due in two weeks but I still have-”

Toji ducks down to shut you up with a featherlike touch of his lips to yours. You stop, subconsciously returning the soft peck with a pout, his hand moving to cradle the side of your head. He pulls away, smirking lightly. “You talk too much.”

He’s then standing up, lifting you along with him, and turning around to lay you onto your sheets. He kneels down, pressing a kiss to your knee, taking off your socks and tossing them aside, then shrugging you out of your jacket. You watch him with slightly baffled red eyes as he touches you as though you’re going to break, each brush of his hand against your skin softer than the last. 

He props up his hands on either side of your thighs on the bed, crouching to pepper soft kisses from your hip up to your abdomen, then over your chest to your collarbone and shoulder. He ducks to kiss your lips gently once more before pulling away to meet your eyes. “Don’t you move an inch from this bed, y’hear me?”

“Wh-”

“Don’t ask questions,” he interjects. His hand is gripping your cheek as he kisses you one last time before pushing himself off of your comforter and away from you. “I’ll be back. I’ll grab you some food, you just text me what you want.”

You ogle at him in awe, nose red as you sniff. “But… what about… tonight…?”

“Don’t stress about that. I gotta take care of you first.” 

He tells you he’ll only be ten minutes and to text him your order before leaving your room. 

You freeze up when you see him stick his head in your door. 

“Oh, and let me take care of that rent for you. You just lay out the details when I get back,” he says, and then he’s gone, leaving you stunned and tear-stained. You did not expect Toji to react so swiftly or understandingly to your predicament. By the way he swept you up and held you, you would have thought that you’re his girl. 

You sigh, sinking back into your pillow with a fuzzy feeling bursting in your chest. Who knew that Toji Fushiguro, the man of steel with cold, calculated brutality in the face of his targets, could be so compassionate?

[soleilapproves]

you condition your roommate, Gojo Satoru, into expecting a forehead kiss every time he leaves for work.

Notes: gender neutral reader

main masterlist

It all started on a Monday morning.

You had read about classical conditioning the night before- when a stimulus is linked to an action that is done routinely. You were feeling cheeky so you decided to test it out on your roommate who you knew had been trying to ask you out for the longest time.

You’ve been waiting for him to explicitly say how he feels but he’s chickened out way too many times. So as revenge, you played mind games with him. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t satisfying to see his shocked expression.

“Satoru, before you leave-“ you skipped to him before he could grab the door handle, and grabbed his arm to turn him towards you.

“-don’t forget this.” You pulled his tie down and kissed his forehead.

The white haired man’s eyebrows reached high enough to almost touch his hairline. “Wha-“

You pushed him out before he could utter another word. “Bye, you’ll be late!”

Soon after that fateful morning, you’d kiss his forehead before work. It became so ingrained in both your routines that he’d simply walk up to you while you were making breakfast and you’d slip him a quick peck.

You almost conditioned yourself to it too. Whenever Satoru would move his hair away from his forehead, your mind would automatically make you lean in towards him. It confused him the first couple times you did it and then you caught yourself on after that. You were the one playing mind games. Not him.

It had been three weeks of giving him forehead kisses when you decided to stop the action.

Your morning started the same way as it always did- you woke up, showered, made your coffee, and then sat down to eat your breakfast. However, it was the opposite for Satoru. He had slept late the night before and woke up with only fifteen minutes to get ready so to say that the apartment looked like it was hit by a hurricane was an understatement.

You saw a flash of white go towards the fridge as you calmly stirred the berries in your oatmeal. “Huh, I was wondering if you had taken the day off.”

“I didn’t. My manager gave me some intern’s report last minute and I had to correct the whole thing. I was up until three am.” You felt bad over how he was rushing to spread jam on his toast so you pulled out a tumbler and began to prepare his coffee as he liked it (so sweet that a hypoglycemic person could be cured).

You could see the effects of sleep deprivation on him- tie crooked, bag half-zipped, shirt tucked out of his slacks and of course, crumbs of bread all of his face. The man looked like a walking mess.

You walked him to the door, handing his tumbler over to him and muttering a small ‘goodbye’ as he shoved his feet in his black leather loafers.

You were about to close the door on him when he stopped you. “Did you forget something?” You innocently asked as you leaned your head to the side while folding your arms.

“No, you did.” He haphazardly moved his hair away from the center of his forehead and pointed at it.

“Why are you doing that?” You wanted to laugh at him so bad but you pinched your arm to prevent it. “What do you mean? You always kiss my forehead.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Yes, I’m way too used to it!” You almost jolted at his urgency. The man was clearly yearning for a forehead kiss.

“But why? It’s weird- only couples do something like that. I don’t know why I did it in the first place.”

“Wow, NOW you care if it’s something couples do?”

Gojo sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “Look, I’m really late right now and I don’t have time to explain myself. All I’m gonna say is this- you, me, date at seven tonight. And you best believe I won’t be late for that. Now give me my kiss.”

Your face was flushed after his sudden boldness and you quickly leaned in to press your lips against his sweaty forehead (you had worked him up with your little prank). “I’ll be waiting.” You grinned.

And he had walked right into your trap.

Gojo scoffed at you before closing the door with a small slam. You began jumping as soon as he was out of your vision but your celebration was soon stopped when the door opened

“What now?” You groaned.

The man simply pulled you towards him by your elbow and left a sweet kiss on your cheek. “This.”

—

Trust me when I say that playing mind games like this is a lot of fun. My ex situationship can’t listen to Childish Gambino without thinking of me 🙏

[kaezerdoodles]

Okay so I DIDNT make a server for Dan fans *specifically* BUT I DID make a server for fans in my niche little corner of the Phandom- for those who enjoy Dan, Vlad and dragons. Writers, artists or simple enjoyers are welcome- shoot me a dm and I’ll hit you up with a link! (18+ only- I very much enjoy spicy talk- I WILL be checking)

Is there is a discord for fellow Dan fans?

I’m having fun connecting with the phandom but I gotta know

Or would anyone be interested in one being made?

[gothcsz]

imagine pornstar javi having an only fans 😩

girl i'd subscribe so fast

oh hell yeah nonnie, me too... top subscriber, working 3 jobs just to support this sexy man. who's with me?! ��‍↕️ tagging @miss-oranje-disco-dancer & @almostempty because duhhh 🖤 i hope i did this justice!

tags: f!reader, smut babes, onlyfans!javi let's gooo, he talks you through it, dirty talk duh, masturbation (f&m), use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart, muñeca, bella), roleplaying (?), i have no idea how OF works so just vibe with me, everyone say thank you to your bestie, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 3.1k w/c

p.s. if you’re into pornstar!javi you should check this out 🖤

look at how yummy this dick is 👀

You frown as you read the message preview sent from your best friend. Your eyes flit up to check the time.

It’s barely past two in the morning. Does this bitch ever sleep? Granted— you’re also up late.

You tap on the notification before it disappears, going into your message thread with her and you see the link attached to her horny message.

why are you sending me unsolicited dick pics at 2 am? what would your man think of this?

She replies right away.

first of all i don’t have a man second of all it’s a video and just please go watch it

You’re confused by that first message since she was just raving about this guy she met at her job but you let it go, tapping on the link and waiting for safari to open it up.

The OnlyFans website loads and prompts you to log in before continuing. You go back to your messages.

tabling the i don’t have a man convo for another time can’t see it because i don’t have an account 

She’s quick to send you her log in and you laugh out loud— of course she’s a registered user.

You type in her email and password, patiently waiting before the post she sent you loads and your eyes widen.

Just the thumbnail has you intrigued. A man, dressed in a tailored navy suit sans the jacket and tie, the fabric of his white collared shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The title reads: Late Night at the Office. 

The transparent play button teases you, almost daring you to give in to the intrigue.

So you tap it.

It begins with the mystery man seated, the frame capturing him from the tip of his strong nose down to the top of his thighs. His features are striking from what you can see— plump, pink lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, adding a hint of rugged sophistication to his appearance.

His legs are spread wide, unapologetically taking up space, the rich leather of the chair creaking subtly beneath him. His thighs strain against the fabric of his suit pants.

There’s something about the way he sits, so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, that draws your eye immediately to the center of the frame. One hand rests lazily on his thigh, the other cradles a phone, as if he’s deep into an intimate call. His eyes, though hidden, seem locked on you through the screen, pulling you deeper into his fantasy.

And then, he speaks.

“Have to stay late, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His voice slides through the speakers of your phone like liquid velvet— deep and smooth, carrying an accent that’s definitely southern but tinged with something else, wrapping itself around each word like a caress.

“Don’t be upset, doll. Let me make it up to you.”

His tone is gentle but authoritative, luring you in. The air feels charged, and despite the fact that you’re watching from behind a screen, it feels as though his words are meant for you and you alone.

“Why don’t you undress for me and lean back,” the command is soft yet irresistible.

Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp you weren’t expecting, as your thighs instinctively press together beneath the plush comforter, seeking some form of relief from the growing ache.

It’s as if he has some kind of power over you, the pull in his voice coaxing you into compliance. Your skin prickles with anticipation as you glance around your quiet studio apartment, almost instinctively checking if anyone might be watching; like your best friend who lured you into this horny trap in the first place. 

But of course, there’s no one else here— just you and his low, hypnotic voice filling the space around you.

You pause it, antsy fingers reaching for the hem of your nighttime slip dress, the soft fabric sliding effortlessly off your skin then being tossed aside. Propping your phone up with a decorative pillow at the edge of the bed, you angle it so you’re able to see him perfectly.

You feel a rush of warmth, excitement, as you resume the video and settle back against the mountain of pillows behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, baby,” he murmurs, his tone low and husky, the faintest edge of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t stop picturing you, lying in bed… all warm and soft, just waiting for me to take care of you.”

Your lips part instinctively, tongue grazing the corner as you feel the pull of lust tightening in your core. Your nipples, already taut from the cool air in your space, ache for attention.

You shift, thighs rubbing together again, unable to stop your body’s response. His voice feels like it’s seeping directly into your skin, making it impossible to sit still.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he orders so tenderly and impossible to refuse. “Slowly, sweetheart. Just run your fingers over those soft thighs of yours… don’t rush.”

You obey, hands traversing down the length of your torso until they’re at your thighs, fingertips grazing your skin lightly as you follow his instructions. Your breath hitches again, heart beating louder in your ears as his voice continues to weave around you, wrapping you in the intimacy of the moment.

“That’s it,” he purrs, “Let me hear those little gasps. I want you to think of my hands doing that for you. Think of me sliding my fingers up and down your beautiful body… teasing you.”

And so you do. You think of his larger, surely rougher touch at your inner thighs. The growing pressure at the apex of your legs builds with every syllable, but it’s not just his voice that has you derailing.

It’s everything. 

As the camera lingers on him, you watch his free hand move to the top button of his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate precision as he undoes it then the ones that follow. His movements are slow, taunting you as the shirt falls open, exposing the smooth, muscled lines of his chest.

“You want to see more, don’t you?” he asks the camera, and the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit twitch. “I’ll show you, baby. But you need to keep touching yourself for me. I want you to feel how wet I get you. Imagine me right there, taking care of that aching little cunt of yours.”

He’s intoxicating, and as he slips another button open, revealing more of his firm, toned chest, you slip your hand to your pussy, your body begging for more. You can almost feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way he’s undressing for you, the slow reveal of what you’re aching to see.

He’s unhurried, intentional— he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to keep you, the viewer, on edge.

“Let me hear you,” he commands, fingers grazing his buckle now, threatening to undo his belt. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to touch you… how much you need me.”

His words have a gush of arousal leaking from your cunt, a whine pushing past your lips as you lightly run a finger down the seam of your folds.

“Need you so bad,” you murmur to yourself, not caring that there’s no one there to hear you, no one in the room but the phantom of his presence. He’s completely transported you into another world, and you’re too far gone to feel any shame in talking to him as if he’s right there in front of you— or over the phone with how he’s set this scene up.

All he’s done is talk, but it’s enough to render you a puddled mess. The heat licking at your core is undeniable, each instruction winding you tighter.

You can’t help but wonder— are you really this starved for a good fuck, or is this faceless stranger just that skilled at weaving desire into every syllable?

His deep, commanding tone oozes with intention, a carefully crafted tease that seeps through the screen. It’s clear he’s an expert at this— at knowing exactly how to pull you in and leave you aching for more. Now, your curiosity is piqued; what other sinful content could he possibly have on his page?

It suddenly makes perfect sense why your friend is subscribed to him. The moment you come, you know you’ll be rushing to make an account of your own, no hesitation, ready to drain your bank account if it means getting more of him— every cent worth it just to see what else he can do to you.

He���s catering to something raw, drawing out a fantasy you didn’t even realize you had.

“I need you just as bad. Real fuckin’ shame I’m stuck at the office… my cock misses you, sweetheart.”

Your breath quickens as the clink of his belt being undone echoes through the speaker, slipping the leather free from its loops, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of his dick, thick and prominent beneath the tailored slacks.

The sight sends a surge of heat through your body, your skin prickling with desire, yearning for more.

His fingers toy with the waistband of his pants now, brushing tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing both you and himself with the promise of what’s to come.

His voice is low and seductive, dripping like molten honey, each word striking you like a touch.

“I wish I could be in bed with you right now,” he grunts, and you swear you can feel his eyes locked on you through the screen, as if he can see every inch of your trembling body. “You have no idea how badly I want to worship you… feel your skin against mine. I’d start slow. My lips, my hands, they’d be everywhere. I’d make you come so many times it’d make you stupid.”

You moan, finally dipping two of your fingers between your wet folds and massaging at your clit, spreading your slick all over.

“Go head, play with that pretty little pussy. Use your other hand to touch on those perfect fuckin’ tits of yours.”

Your free hand instinctively goes up to cup your breast as you imagine him there with you, his body pressing you into the mattress, lips tracing over every inch until he’s suckling on your pert nipples then moving down to where you need him most.

“I want to taste you,” he continues, his fingers popping the button of his pants then the zipper, “Feel you quivering on my tongue, feel you melt on my fingers as I fuck them into that tight cunt. I won't stop until you’re shaking, begging me to let you breathe.”

His hand slips beneath the fabric as he shifts in his seat, and you can see the subtle movements of him touching himself. The sight alone takes your breath away, the need coiling inside you, growing unbearable as your own fingers pick up the pace, rubbing the sensitive flesh while your other hand works to pinch and tug at your nipple.

“And when I finally break you, sweetheart,” he whispers, sending shivers all throughout your body, “when you’re crying, trembling… pleading me to stop, that’s when I’ll slide my cock inside. You’d be so full, so wet, and I wouldn’t stop until I’ve reminded you who you belong to, until I’ve had you again and again. Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it’s leaking out of your fuckin’ mouth.”

He finally pulls his dick out and you gasp loudly. It’s fucking beautiful. Thick, long, a few shades lighter than the brown skin of his chest with a glistening pearl of precum right at his slit. He spreads it around the crown of his cock and you salivate, imagining how good the weight of him would feel on your tongue.

Yummy in-fucking-deed.

“Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, then stick two into your pretty mouth and suck on them.”

You do as you’re told, sinking two into your fluttering entrance while the ones at your tit slip into your mouth, eyes fluttering close as you suck on them like they’re his cock. It feels so good, your thumb pressed up against your clit— the stickiness of your arousal aiding your fingers in pumping in and out of you.

The sound of him spitting snaps you from the mini daze, pulling your attention lazily back to the screen. There he is— his large hand wrapped tightly around the thick length of his cock, glistening and throbbing as he begins to stroke it languidly. 

“Got me so hard,” he grunts, his voice thick with lust, “just picturing you with your fingers in your mouth like a good little slut.” His grip on the phone by his ear tightens, you can tell by the way his knuckles become flushed and you whimper.

“Choke on them,” he growls, “Let me hear you gag.”

Obedient as ever, you push your digits past your tongue and deeper, your breath growing ragged. The moment they hit the back of your throat, you gag, the wet sound loud and raw in the quiet of your apartment.

You sputter around them repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. Choking sounds echoing off the walls, bouncing back at you in a symphony of depravity. Saliva pools in then out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and the mess of it only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel how slick you are, the sheets beneath you now damp from your horniness, every fiber of your being aching for release.

His pace on the screen quickens, the sound of his bated breath mingles with the obscene smacking of his fist against the skin of his cock, grunting between strokes. His dick looks even bigger as it pulses in his grip, thick and veined and covered in his spit.

“Bet you’re dripping for me,” his words are strained. “I can just picture it… how wet you are, soaking those sheets. Can’t wait to hear you come undone for me, baby.”

Your fingers, still wet from the mess of your mouth, slide down your body, grazing over your hard nipples before switching with the ones between your legs, where your pussy is throbbing. You moan at your own heady taste, the relief of your saliva soaked digits in your cunt almost overwhelming.

The tension builds, every stroke of his hand matching the movement of your fingers, the friction pushing you closer to the edge.

“Ahhh yesyesyes— just like that.” You whine, removing your fingers from your mouth and bringing them down to your nipples again to pinch and pull; anything to heighten the already intense pleasure you’re feeling.

The room feels thick with sexual tension, the filthy sounds of your wetness mix with his groans through the speakers, creating an intoxicating melody that pushes you further into your own climax.

“I’d have your pussy stretched out so good,” he continues, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster now, thrusting his hips upwards. “Have you feeling me for days… filling your sweet cunt until all you can do is squirt all over this cock.”

The things you’d do to make that happen. To have him bend and twist and fuck you in a myriad of pleasurable positions. To feel the thickness of his dick leaving you sore and hurting, absolutely helpless. These desires send you careening toward the edge.

“C’mon baby, give it to me.”

Your fingers move faster, abusing your cunt as your hips buck into your hand. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as your whole body tightens.

You can feel it coming, that sweet rush of pleasure towering over you, until it crashes down in a wave so intense, you cry out.

“Oh fuck!”

You spasm, back arching off the bed as your digits do all the right moves, chasing the high. In a flood of pure ecstasy, your pussy pulses and clenches, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets as you come hard, giving in to the overwhelming euphoria.

Drool leaks from your mouth like a feral animal, your chest heaving, and your eyes lock on the screen, pupils dilated, watching as he strokes himself through his own climax, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his cock twitching in his hand, thick ropes of his milky cum spilling over his fist as he finishes. “Made a mess all over my lap. Wish you were here to lick it up. Getting to feel that wicked tongue of yours on my spent cock would be like fucking heaven, mi muñeca bella.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any fucking sexier; he goes and speaks fucking Spanish. You’re in love. 

You’re left exhausted, trembling, and utterly satisfied. Your body hums with the aftershocks, still riding the wave of your orgasm, and all you can do is lie there. 

Your fingers lazily tracing the wet mess between your thighs, hissing at the sensitivity, as you catch your breath, the screen flickering with his smirking lips.

“I’ll be home soon,” he purrs, “Take a nap so I can wake you up by burying my tongue inside that used pussy.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you let out a frustrated sigh, wishing— desperately— that this wasn’t just a video, but reality. A real call from a real man, someone who could be on their way to you right now. You stare at his disheveled, post-climax appearance on the screen for a moment longer before the video fades out, the last remnants of fantasy slowly dissolving as you blink yourself back to reality.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, muscles still quivering, and bend down to pick up your slip dress, your legs wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to clean up. 

oh my fucking god that was amazing

You text your friend once you’re back in bed, having pulled off the loose sheet that you ruined and thankful that it didn’t seep through to the fitted one.

right? i need him so bad you should see some of his other stuff. fucking gold you’re welcome 💋

You scoff, a breathy laugh, as you ‘HAHA’ react to her message. Still, her words stick with you as you open the browser, logging out of her account. The curiosity from before tugs at you harder than ever now, and without a second thought, you find yourself signing up for your own subscription.

When the prompt to choose a username appears, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard until a sly smile spreads across your lips.

@muneca_bella

Perfect.

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Nine / Thursday, Four Months Later - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Angst!!! 🌶 This one is spicy. 18+ only. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

I do not give anyone permission to replicate or translate my fic.

THURSDAY EVENING, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Bouncing up and down, straddling the handsome man lying on the bed beneath you, your hips rolled together in unison as he thrust up into you, moaning. His familiar hands held your hips in a vice-like grip, lifting you as he filled you over and over again, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Take it.” he rasped, pulling you down for a breathy, passionate kiss as he pressed his cock deeper. You’d never felt so full and it wasn’t long before you were almost there. 

“Cum for me.” he said, “Cum on my cock.”

“Fuck!” you screamed as your companion flipped you over onto your back once more, pushing in relentlessly, leaving you gasping as you shuddered out your second orgasm of the night. The man on top of you wasn’t far behind, expertly pulling out as he too reached completion, splattering your stomach.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said, rolling over to lay beside you, “Why did we not do this again sooner?”

You rolled over to lean on your elbow, your eyes finding his, “Really?” you said.

“A figure of speech.” he said, propping himself up to face you fully, “We should clean up, come and shower with me?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you said, grinning at your charming lover. This was not how you had expected the evening to go when you’d accepted an invitation to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition. But you were not one to complain. Life always had a funny way of working out.

REWIND TO A TUESDAY AFTERNOON, TWO MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Days had turned into weeks that quickly stretched to two months as you tried your best to piece your life back together following your split from George. The pain of the break-up still hit hard but was slowly dissipating with each passing day. It wasn’t easy, the press having gotten wind of the split and done their utmost to link George to numerous other women in the wake of your separation, his photo constantly splashed unceremoniously across the gossip pages. 

To begin with, seeing articles and photos of him with other women had upset you but the saying that time heals all wounds was starting to ring true and the more time passed, the less it was affecting you. You were starting to feel like yourself again, no more worrying about what people thought of you, enjoying being your own person once more, no longer just George’s girlfriend. 

Although brutal, the break-up had brought the clarity that you had long been seeking. Of course, you regretted how it had come about but you didn’t regret it happening. You wished you hadn’t hurt George in the process and you somewhat regretted sleeping with Toto but you couldn’t turn back the clock, you could only learn from your mistakes.

On the matter of Toto, you had felt torn. Despite the clandestine way you had found each other, there was a real connection and you had toyed with the idea of exploring it. True to his word, he had sent you a text asking if you’d like to go for lunch but it had felt too soon so you’d politely declined. A few weeks later, he’d invited you for drinks, but again it felt all too quick. You needed space to heal, to figure out if your attraction to him had been genuine or was just a product of the yacht’s close quarters, fueled by your unhappiness with George.

In a surprising turn of events, Cara had also checked in with you regularly, the older woman sympathetic to your plight. The unexpected blossoming friendship had become a comforting constant, with the two of you meeting every few weeks for coffee or brunch and Cara making you privy to George and Toto’s workplace comings and goings. According to James, their relationship was still frosty but both were professional enough to keep it out of the workplace and the wider team were none the wiser.

You hadn’t heard from George, save for a short text telling you that someone was coming over to collect his things from your apartment. It had been emotional packing up George’s possessions but somewhat cathartic once they were gone. Out of sight, out of mind and it had helped you begin to fully move on.

TUESDAY EVENING

That was until one fateful evening. You’d been invited to a charity auction, auctioning off racing memorabilia for a good cause. You had RSVP’d months ago and forgotten until a reminder popped up in your calendar the day before. It was too late to back out and all you hoped was that George would not be there. 

On arrival you scanned the room, looking out for the familiar mop of brown hair. Breathing a sigh of relief, you saw he was nowhere to be found and milled about, sipping on champagne and chatting with your former acquaintances from the paddock. Ready to grab another flute of champagne, you jumped as a hand suddenly wrapped around your arm, a deep, all-too familiar voice booming from behind you.

“I didn’t know you would be here.” 

It was Toto. Fuck. Your heart skipped a beat, but you steadied yourself, turning to face him.

"Hi," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions. "How have you been?"

"Busy, as always," he said with a small laugh. "And you?"

"Good. Work’s been busy too and I’ve been trying to get out for some hikes every weekend. Take my mind off things, you know?"

There was an awkward pause, a moment of unspoken understanding. "I’m glad to hear that," he said finally. "You look well."

"Thank you, so do you," you replied. "I’ve also had a lot of time to think lately."

"About us?" he asked, keeping his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

"About everything," you admitted. "What happened… it wasn't fair to George, to you, or to myself."

Toto nodded. "I understand. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in it."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “What’s done is done and we can only move on.”

"I agree," he said, his tone respectful. "And if you ever need a friend, I’m here."

You smiled, appreciating the gesture. "I’ll keep that in mind."

– – – 

As the evening progressed, you felt a sense of closure. The chapter with George and Toto was over and you were ready for new beginnings. Your future was uncertain, but you felt ready to embrace it for the first time in a while. 

You didn’t see Toto again that night and thankfully George didn’t show up. You were able to slip out early, knowing that this was a world you were finally no longer part of. It was cathartic and as you walked into the night, you savoured the promise of new adventures and the lessons learned from your past mistakes.

SATURDAY EVENING

As the days passed following the auction, the memory of your encounter with Toto at the charity event lingered. You found yourself replaying the conversation in your mind, wondering if you should have said more. The closure you felt that night started to feel incomplete and you couldn't shake the feeling that there could be more to explore between you and Toto.

Late one Saturday evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, you decided to bite the bullet and reach out. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and typed out a message.

"Hey, it was good to see you the other day. Would you be up for coffee? I’ve been thinking a lot and would love to talk."

You hesitated before hitting send, but you figured what the hell. The message was sent and all you could do was wait and see what he had to say in response - if he responded at all. 

SUNDAY MORNING

Fortunately, you didn’t have long to wait when early the next morning, Toto’s reply came.

"Of course. I’m in town today, I can do this afternoon if that’s not too short notice?"

You replied quickly, texting back and forth as you made concrete plans for the location and timing. Your stomach was already filled with butterflies, you weren’t sure what you were going to say to Toto but all you knew was that your heart had thumped at the sight of him at the auction. He was a striking man and a single flash of that dimpled grin had your heart melting once more.

Arriving at the café, you spotted Toto seated at a corner table, looking pensive. He smiled warmly as you approached and you were struck by how natural it felt to see him again, albeit surreal to see him sat down at a regular table, away from the glitz and glamour you typically met him in.

"Hi," you said, sitting down across from him.

"Hi," he replied. "It’s good to see you."

"You too," you said, taking a deep breath. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since the auction."

"Me too," Toto admitted, his expression serious. "That week was…something. I’ve found myself missing you."

"Same here," you said, feeling a sense of relief. "Seeing you the other night made me realise that. Maybe, if you wanted, we could see each other again?”

Toto leant forward, his eyes searching yours. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that I know this came about in not the best way but maybe we could see where things go?"

Toto’s face softened, and he reached across the table to briefly take your hand in his, conscious you were in public. "I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t want to push you, after everything that happened. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d like that too. Let me take you out to dinner."

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I’d love that. Let’s start again, no pressure.”

"Absolutely," Toto agreed, his dimpled grin returning, chocolate eyes crinkling. “No pressure.”

THREE MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Over the next few weeks, you and Toto spent more time together, enjoying a cosy dinner, a trip to an art gallery and a walk around the park, dropping back into easy conversations as if no time had passed at all. Toto had behaved like the perfect gentleman, not taking things beyond a relatively chaste goodnight kiss following your dinner. He knew that you were still healing and when you were ready to take the next step you’d be sure to let him know.

With Toto now away for three weeks on a triple header, you kept in touch digitally, dropping each other occasional texts throughout the day, Toto calling you on the odd quieter evening. When he did call, you found yourself chatting away the hours, it was easy and you felt as if you’d known him for years.

Although you were taking things slow this time, you couldn’t wait for Toto to return and swoop you up in those strong arms. You craved his touch and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get close once again.

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

The day Toto was set to return had finally arrived. You woke up with an excitement you hadn't felt in a long time, a spring in your step as you went about your morning routine. You texted him good morning, and he replied almost instantly.

"Can’t wait to see you tonight. Dinner at 8?"

"Perfect, Can’t wait," you replied, smiling at the thought of seeing him again. 

You spent the day preparing, tidying up your apartment just in case anything were to happen and spending some time pampering so you looked and felt your best. You were tingling with anticipation at the promise of what the evening held.

WEDNESDAY EVENING

When eight o’clock finally came, you arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, nervously checking your reflection in the window before stepping inside. Toto was already there, ever the gentleman, standing up from the table to greet you with a warm smile.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice deep and sincere.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look good too."

Dinner was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, Toto sharing stories from his action-packed travels and you telling him about the new hobbies you'd picked up during your time alone. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual respect that you knew had not been present in your relationship with George. You found yourself once again falling for the older man’s rakish charm, such a stark contrast from the grumpy persona he seemed to adopt in the workplace.

After dessert, Toto offered to walk you home and you eagerly agreed. The evening was cool, the stars just beginning to peek out from the darkening sky as you strolled through the dark streets. Toto’s hand brushed against yours and you felt a spark return, a connection that was impossible to ignore.

"Can I confess something?" he asked, stopping to look at you, his dark eyes serious.

"Of course," you replied, your heart racing.

"I’ve thought about you every day since that week on the yacht," he said, his voice soft. "I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances, but it is what it is."

You took a deep breath, the honesty in his words touching you deeply. "I feel the same way, Toto."

He smiled, stepping closer and taking your hands in his. "These last three weeks have been torture. All I wanted was to come back and see you. It’s been driving me crazy.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you. "I missed you too."

As he leaned down to kiss you, the world seemed to melt away. His lips were soft and warm, and you felt a sense of rightness as if this was where you were meant to be all along. When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, his forehead resting against yours.

"Let’s take it slow," he suggested. "No pressure, just us."

"Just us," you repeated, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you walked towards your apartment, hand in hand, you knew that this was the start of something new. It wouldn’t be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long while, you felt hopeful. More mature than George, Toto was different, the breath of fresh air that you had needed.

THURSDAY MORNING

The next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face, the memory of Toto’s kiss still fresh in your mind. Something about it felt right and you couldn’t wait to see him again.

You rolled over and checked your phone, pleased to already see a message from him.

"Good morning beautiful. Last night was wonderful. Looking forward to seeing you again soon."

You replied quickly, your heart fluttering. 

"Good morning! I had a great time too. Can’t wait to see you again."

Toto was straight to the point, playing no games. He had told you exactly how he felt and you believed him. You had heeded Cara’s warning of him being a playboy but he had given you no reason to fear so far.

As you set about your day, you kept catching yourself smiling for no reason in particular, glowing from your evening with Toto. You had been invited to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition that evening and you were looking forward to spending time with your girlfriends and spilling the details of your budding romance. You hadn’t shared what had happened on the yacht with many but you knew if your relationship with Toto was to grow, you couldn’t keep him a secret.

THURSDAY EVENING

Walking through the doors of the small gallery, the room buzzed with conversations, the walls adorned with large, vibrant pieces. Your friends were yet to arrive so you decided to take a look around. As you moved from painting to painting, you heard a familiar voice behind you. Turning around, you saw George standing there, looking as surprised as you felt. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, a bit unsure of how to proceed, aware that you were exposed in public.

“Hi,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same,” you said, forcing a small smile. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” he said with a shrug. “You?”

“Good. Just taking things one day at a time,” you replied.

An awkward silence hung between you, and you decided to break it. “This is weird. Do you want to talk somewhere else?”

George hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Dropping a hasty text to your friends, telling them a white lie that you weren’t feeling well, you found yourself outside, alone with George. The evening air was cool and refreshing and as you walked side by side in silence through the quiet streets, the city lights cast a soft glow around you.

“I’m sorry, George,” you said, breaking the silence. “I’m so sorry for everything. For cheating on you, for hurting you. You didn’t deserve that.”

George looked at you, his expression softening. “I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend. I got caught up in my career and forgot about us. I’m angry, yes, but I also understand that we both made mistakes.”

You shook your head. “It’s not at all your fault George, please never think that. It was my fault entirely and I just hope we can both move on from this and find happiness.”

“I hope so too,” George said, his tone softening. “I did love you, you know. A part of me always will.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I loved you too, George. I still care about you and I want the best for you.”

He gave a small smile, a hint of the old George you knew. “Same here. Let’s just try to be better for ourselves and whoever comes next.”

“Agree.” you said, “Whoever that is is a lucky girl.”

“I appreciate that,” said George, “And likewise, although I think we both know who that is.”

You raised your eyebrows, George interrupting you before you were able to deny his suggestion, “I know you’re seeing Toto. We’ve spent the last few weeks together and I’ve seen him glued to his phone when he’s not working. He’s been grinning like an idiot.”

Smiling weakly, you shrugged, “We’re just friends. It didn’t feel right to do anymore.”

Looking unconvinced, George turned to face you, “Look, I’m sure we’ll run into each other, I hope we can be friendly?”

Surprised that George was being so amicable, you reached around to hug him, his arms wrapping around you in return, “Deal.”

Stood in George’s embrace, you felt a sense of relief and closure wash over you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. Sure, George had not been the perfect boyfriend but you would always cherish the moments you had spent together and you could only wish him well.

– – – 

Having bid goodbye to George, you returned to your apartment, feeling lighter than you had in months. As you settled in, your phone rang. It was Toto.

“Hello?” you answered, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, is now a good time to talk?” he said, a warm tone in his voice. 

“Of course,” you said, thrilled that he already wanted to talk to you again.

“Are you home?” he asked, “I’m close by, I wondered if I can come up?’

Surprised that he was inviting himself over, you looked around, scanning the mess you’d left in your apartment as you’d hurried out the door earlier, “Sure, how far away are you?”

“About twenty minutes.” he said, “I’ll ring when I’m close by.”

“Perfect,” you said, “See you soon.”

“See you,” he said ringing off. 

At that, you bolted from the sofa frantically, chucking the dirty plates and cookware that you’d left in the sink in the dishwasher and running to your bedroom to put the laundry you’d been too lazy to fold away back in your wardrobe.

You’d hardly managed to tidy anything when the buzzer rang. Twenty minutes your ass, Toto needed to work on his timing! You pushed the button to let Toto up, making your way to the kitchen to dig out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Not long after there was a soft knock on your door and barely containing a smile, you made your way over to answer the door to the older Austrian, mildly embarrassed at your excitement. You took a breath, steeling yourself to calm down and greet Toto normally.

However, nothing could have prepared you for who stood on the other side of the door. It was George, grinning widely, clearly tipsy, holding the largest bunch of white roses you’d seen in your life.

"George," you said, taken aback. "Not that it’s not nice to see you but what are you doing here?"

His grin faltered for a moment, replaced with a flicker of uncertainty. "I know this is unexpected. But after we talked earlier, I felt like there were still things left unsaid. I wanted to come by and see you."

You hesitated, glancing down the hallway, half expecting Toto to appear any second. "George, this really isn't a good time..."

"I won't stay long, I promise," he said quickly, sensing your hesitation. "I just need to say this."

You stepped aside, allowing him to enter and he handed you the roses. They were beautiful, but the timing felt wrong. You placed them on the kitchen counter and turned to face him.

"Thank you for these, but George, we really said everything that needed to be said earlier. We have to move on."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But I’ve been thinking too. I realised I never properly apologised for my part in everything. I was so wrapped up in my own world, I didn’t see how unhappy you were. I’m truly sorry."

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. "George, honestly, what I did to you was the worst thing in the world. Unless you were some abusive boyfriend there was no excuse. I’m the biggest piece of shit for doing that. There is no need to apologise.”

He gazed at you, unconvinced, “I don’t know about that. I miss you.”

Your eyes widened, not only were you not expecting George, you certainly hadn’t expected this one-eighty. If things had been the other way around you were not sure if you could have forgiven him.

“I miss you too,” you confessed, “But it’s natural, we spent a lot of time together, good times.”

“Exactly!” he said, his eyes a little crazy, “And I’ve been thinking. I think I could forgive you. I know you’ve been chatting to Toto but c’mon, you can do better than that old man.”

Suddenly well aware that the old man in question was currently en route to your place, you tried to remain tactful, “I appreciate that but I honestly think it’s better if we both just move on. You can do a lot better than me!”

“No. No, I can’t.” he said, his eyes looking saddened, “I’m still in love with you.”

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable  @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen@amandadesantasworld

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt

Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.

Soap x Reader AU

Link to AO3

JUNE

You shouldered your backpack as you waited in the aisle of the train, sleep-deprived and hungry. When Hamish had called you to let you in on his little surprise, your heart had leapt in your chest for your best friend, Brigette MacTavish. She and Hamish had been together for nearly two years, and he had finally worked up the nerve to pop the question.

Brigette thought Hamish was just coming over for a Sunday roast, but you were showing up as the red herring. While she was distracted and fussing over you, Hamish could quietly panic until dinner was served, and you could take the pictures. You were glad to help him, you really were, and the MacTavish cottage was only an hour outside of Glasgow, so you didn’t mind, but your work had been exhausting lately, and your body ached for your own bed.

You hailed a cab on the app and waited in the cool night air for your ride to arrive. It was a cold one, and your Floridian bones weren’t used to it yet, even after five years of graduate school at the University of Glasgow. You were a Shakespeare scholar, and you loved every moment. It was just more demanding than ever, and you could barely meet the deadlines as it was. Now, you had a wedding to help plan, and you were torn between excitement and stress.

A clean Saab pulled into the gravel lot of the train station, and a cheery old man popped his head out,

“Where to, lass?”

The cabbie smelled like coffee and smoke as you climbed inside. You handed him a slip of paper with her house number on it,

“Old Kilpatrick, please. Here’s the address.”

A quick ride and you were dropped off at your destination, eager to see Ham and Pidge. Brigette hated her nickname, but it had stuck to her like glue. Her younger brother, Johnny MacTavish, had given it to her ever since he was a little boy, unable to fully form the proper sounds until it was too late. Pidge caught on like wildfire, and there was no escape.

Johnny was famous for making trouble around these parts. You’d never met the man, but you’d probably slept in his room more often than he had in the past year. When you stayed over with Pidge, you slept in his bed and wore his old, soft Rangers football tees. But, Johnny was a sergeant in the SAS, and he never took leave. When he did have to come home, his sister would complain about him staying in strangers’ beds instead of his own. She’d warned you from the start,

“Don’t look my wee brother in the eye, or he’ll hypnotize you like he does to every lass who comes within six feet of him.”

Pidge called Johnny a playboy, a womanizer, and a lush. She smacked him on the back of his head when he came home with another hickey on his neck, and by the time he went back to his deployment, Brigette said she had to chase the women out of the front garden like stray cats looking for their Tom.

“Promise me you won’t touch Johnny boy without gloves and a hazmat suit.”

You’d always promised you wouldn’t get involved with her brother. It seemed like an easy enough promise to keep with a man who was never home. His photos were few and far between, but it was obvious there wasn’t a girl north or south of Hadrian’s wide wall who would turn him down. Johnny’s boyish grin, his striking blue eyes, and his devilish mohawk made for a terrifying triple threat. Combine that with the body of a Spartan warrior and he was a sure weapon. Lucky for you, you were certain he’d never even look your way.

You knocked on the MacTavishes’ door and waited for her to crack it open for you. When she did, she looked astonished, but she wasted no time in hugging you around the neck and squealing with delight.

“What are you doing here, babe? I thought Hamish was takin’ the piss when he said you were on your way, haverin’ on about settin’ three plates for dinner. Come in! Come in, ya dafty. Give us your bags. Go on. I’ll put ya up in Johnny’s room,” she shooed you into the parlor and yanked the backpack from you, strong as hell for her small size.

You found Hamish in the kitchen, minding the potatoes, testing them with a fork to see if they were done.

“Hammy! Show it to me right this second, or else,” you laughed, whispering as low as you could.

His wide, bright smile was framed by his full, dark brown lips, and his deep skin gleamed. He was glowing like a virgin, and just about as nervous as one.

“Okay, but quick as you can,” he tugged the ring from his pocket and showed it to you.

Hamish’s hands trembled, and you clutched his palm in yours, shaking your head

“It’s beautiful. She’s going to love it.”

He smiled at you with joy and gratitude, but as soon as you heard Pidge coming down the stairs, he pocketed the ring as fast as he could, turning back to the food, nervously stirring potatoes that didn’t need to be stirred.

You poured a generous glass of wine for you and your hosts, making sure Brigette was distracted until dinner was served. You caught up on all the latest gossip. Pidge was the primary source for the juiciest news. As a librarian, people from all over would come to tell her things that they probably shouldn’t have told anyone, ever. And when a new romance novel came out, Pidge had the scoop on just how spicy it was. A five alarm fire on Pidge’s scale was a hard score to achieve, but the books that earned it, really fucking earned it.

“…and apparently, while she was out with Pink Shoes’ mister, the Skateboard Dad was out with Pink Shoes! Can you believe it?”

All of her gossipers had codenames. She was mindful about privacy, but you’d been hearing about these people’s dirty laundry for so long, it felt like you knew them well enough to come around for Christmas dinner.

“Here we are, ladies,” Hamish set down your heaping plate and slowly sat in his chair, looking like he’d seen a ghost between the oven and the fridge. You smiled at him, sending the strongest vibes you could with your smile, praying for him to hold it together.

He didn’t.

“Actually,” the noise of his chair scooting back away from the table was grating and a bit of a shock, but when he paused, it was dead silent. He continued, “Brigette, babe, I just…I want to say that, um, I don’t…uh…”

Pidge looked concerned. Her bright blue eyes gleamed as she gazed at her tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend. She dropped her fork and turned to face him, giving him her full attention. He was a full professor of biology and very rarely was he inarticulate. She checked on him,

“What is it, darling? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, grabbing her hands in his, bending down on one knee so he could be eye-level with her,

“Brigette. It’s quite obvious to me that I can’t live another moment without you. Please, say you’ll marry me before I come apart like a total idiot.”

“Hamish! What?” She was beaming, but still a little confused and shocked by his proposal.

You were catching the entire moment on your phone, trying to keep your hand from shaking with excitement as you did so, holding in your joy. Hamish pulled the ring from his pocket and Brigette gasped, all of the air left her lungs in a shaky sigh, and she began to sob. It was the most picturesque response, and you couldn’t have been happier for her.

After she had hugged him around the neck a hundred times, gasping and laughing as he told her his secrets and showed her your texts, she threw herself into your arms. Her hair was soft in the way that a girl’s hair was supposed to be, and you wondered if yours would ever feel that way. She smelled like the sun and old books, warm and nostalgic.

“God! I cannae believe you kept this from me! You’ve got the worst poker face. I never thought you’d be able to stand it,” she pinched your arm, gently teasing you.

“I know,” you admitted, “It wasn’t easy. Hamish had to talk me down from the ledge more than once.”

“Well, you’ll be my maid of honor, of course!” She squealed, pausing for a moment, remembering how busy you were, “Right, babe?”

You nodded, already thinking about the sleepless nights and missed deadlines,

“Of course!”

Hamish took your plates after you were done eating, and his warm voice boomed from the kitchen,

“This calls for champagne, right, ladies?”

He received two very loud “yes” shouts in agreement. You drank and talked until it was well past midnight, and with a goodnight hug, you sent the lovebirds to bed.

In your room (his room), you dug through Johnny’s old tee shirt drawer. You loved staying with Pidge, because her brother had the softest tee shirts in the world. Sleeping in them was like a buttery, smooth, transcendent experience and you were glad he wasn’t around to stop you from wearing them. You’d be mortified if he found out, but he was off in some terror-filled Green Zone, and these big, glorious tees were just languishing here unused.

You quickly spotted your favorite. It was a blue Rangers shirt made to look like a jersey with the name McCoist on the back. You clutched it to your chest, inhaling the smell of oranges and clove, mixed with some other human scent you couldn’t quite place. The sheets smelled just like it, too. You kept forgetting to ask Pidge what detergent she used.

The shirts he had in his old dresser were so big on you, you imagined he must have been tall his whole life, and wide. You never wore anything underneath, savoring the sensations of the fabric all over your body and reveling in it. You threw your hair into a high bun and padded back into the kitchen to get a warm cup of sleepytime tea before calling it a night.

You put the kettle on and opened the cabinet to reach for your favorite tea box, stretching up so that the shirt barely skated across the edge of your ass cheeks.

Then, you heard a low wolf whistle. Your heart stopped beating. You turned around as slowly as you could, paralyzed.

There was a man looming in the foyer in black riot gear, hoisting two huge rucksacks over his shoulder, staring right at you. You gasped, wanting to scream but no sound was coming out.

He stepped toward you. His eyes were blue, just like Brigette’s, but he was so very tall. His muscles were huge, bursting from his sleeveless tank and stretching out of his gear vest. Covered in guns and canisters and ammunition of all kinds, he looked absolutely terrifying. On his head, he had a shaggy, grown-out mohawk, laying flat and unstyled. His eyes were blackened with soot. When he glared at you, you thought you might melt to the floor in fear, until he opened his mouth,

“You’re a pretty little thief, you are. Better gimme back my favorite shirt, hen, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Johnny?” You hoped beyond measure that you had matched old photos to this new, dangerously handsome face.

He halted his approach, his features softening immediately, reminding you of the pictures of him you had a habit of studying in the hallway.

“Yeah…who are you, lass?”

You told him your name, and he nodded,

“Ah, Pidge won’t shut up about you. What are you doin’ here a’ this hour? I just got in from my tour. Got a note from Hammie that it was urgent.”

Johnny dropped his bags and came closer to join you in the kitchen. The soft light from the stove cast delicate shadows over his bright eyes and golden skin. He looked like a dream. He reached toward you and you flinched. A low, sarcastic chuckle resonated in his chest,

“Easy. Just keepin’ the kettle from keenin’.”

Studying you like an explorer in a new land, his eyes watched your every move, as if trying to memorize your skin like a map. He moved the steaming pot to a cold burner and you watched as the white hissing clouds died back down. You decided to break the ice, smiling knowingly at him,

“Good to finally meet you, Johnny. I’ve heard…so much about you.”

He took your hand in his and shook it once, dropping it and grabbing his own tea bag from the cabinet, plopping yours and his in their respective cups. It was an easy reach for him, and he grinned,

“It’s all lies. So, what’s the craic? What was so urgent?”

“Hamish proposed,” you said, watching his mouth fall open in shock.

“You’re takin’ the piss.”

“No, it’s true. Look,” you showed him the video.

The way his eyes gleamed, full of emotion, as he watched his sister agree to Hamish’s proposal was breathtaking. Surely this was not the same Johnny famous for accidentally inviting his two flings to the same Christmas dinner. He didn’t seem like the type.

Then, the sergeant leaned in closer to you, situating his enormous shoulder behind yours, getting a closer look at your screen, and you could smell him. That familiar, delicious, earthy citrus made you fall apart. It was nearly edible, and the fact that it emanated from such an attractive man made it that much more intense. No wonder he had women crawling all over him. The thoughts that invaded your mind made you blush.

His smile was back, and you never wanted it to leave,

“Tha’s fuckin’ brilliant. She’s asleep?”

He didn’t wait for your answer. Treading off down the hall, he knocked on Brigette’s door. You couldn’t see them, but you heard her answer it, the wood was creaking and popping from age and weight.

“Johnny boy? Is that you, you fuckin’ numpty!? Brother,” your friend’s voice was muffled as if she was crushed to his wide chest, “I’m getting married.”

“Let’s see it, then, Pidge.”

There was a span of silence, and then you heard him say in a low tone, unaware that his voice was carrying down the hall,

“You put a fit lassie in my shirt as a part of the occasion, or…?”

The sound of a slap on a heavy body reverberated along the wall, then a dark warning,

“You. Will. Not -“

“I dinnae ken what you’re abusin’ me for, Pigeon! I’m a saint!”

“Johnathan Fergus Euan MacTavish, she’s off-limits! You’ll not lay a hand on that girl’s pretty wee head, or I swear on Mother Mary and all the actual fuckin’ saints…”

“No promises, Pidge. If she wasn’t such a smoke show, you might have had a dog in the fight, but a gorgeous wee hen making tea in my kitchen wearing my fuckin’ shirt; it’s enough to make a lad start sinnin’.”

“Start! Tell me when you stopped. Is she out there? Oh, fuckin’ hell, you arsehole.”

You heard footsteps. You spun around and pretended to fuss with the tea.

“Babe! You met Johnny?” Pidge looked red in the face, and Johnny looked redder.

“Yeah, just came home. Showed him the video,” you shrugged.

“Great, this is just great,” Pidge forced a smile onto her face, and you got the sense that this was anything but great.

After not a small amount of insisting, you ended up in his bed and he slept on the sofa. So, when you awoke in the morning to the heavy weight of a body sinking into the mattress, you jolted up, thinking that he’d come to start sinning with you and you’d have to somehow find the inner strength to fight him off. Pidge would kill you both. Based on her reaction last night, you knew it in your bones.

But, he wasn’t even looking at you. He was sitting on the edge, digging in the side table for his phone charger. He tugged on the jumble of wires and acted surprised when you groaned out a quiet,

“G’Morning…”

“Ah, hey, lass. Sorry to wake you. Goin’ down to the shops for coffees. I always -”

“You bring them to Pidge your first morning back, I know. She told me,” you smiled and then smiled wider when he looked overjoyed with your knowledge of his fraternal lore.

“Pidge mentioned that?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, she loves it.”

He looked…healed, somehow, like you’d added space into his heart.

“Well, you’re part of the tradition now, so what’s your order?”

“Really?”

He rolled his eyes, feigning impatience. You laughed and answered him,

“Chai latte, please. Let me give you some money, hang on…”

You started to dig below the bed to find your bag, but he was already walking out the door,

“Back in two shakes, bonnie.”

As the door clicked closed, you lay in the man’s bed, in his room, in his house, in his shirt, and you wondered what exactly you’d gotten yourself into. It had been all fine and proper when he was just a cute face in a picture frame, but now that you could feel his heat and see his eyes looking at you, and hear that warm voice - and gods, his scent…

“Shit,” you said to nobody and everybody at the same time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 02

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 5

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

..........................................................

Ananya reached her apartment around 1 am. Roma was not back yet, thankfully. She wasn’t ready for her interrogation. 

The night still felt surreal. She leaned against the dining table and held on to the edges to steady the head-rush she was feeling. If the Tupperware of leftover pasta was not in front of her (he had insisted she took some coz she had barely eaten), the girl would have seriously wondered if she had hallucinated the whole thing. But no, this really happened. And she didn’t bail on whatever this was, as she had initially planned to do.

The wine was still buzzing in her system, helping calm her nerves. Before turning in for the night, she sent him a quick message.

Ananya: Reached 15 mins ago. Thanks for the drop. 

She wasn’t expecting a response. He must have a ton of people to talk to / respond to after the match earlier that night. So she started an episode of Friends, hoping to fall asleep in a bit.

5 mins later, her phone flashed.

Jude: Cool. Tired?

Ananya: Oh yeah, in bed already. You?

She rubbed her temple to soothe her straining eyes. It had been some day. 

Jude: Wanted to crash but some of the guys still partying at Vini’s house. Cama kept sending me videos, gosh he’s so wasted right now. Came there for a bit.

She smiled at her phone. The team deserved every bit of celebration tonight.

Ananya: That’s nice. Have fun :)

Jude: Yup. What plans for tmrw? Boss cancelled our training so I am free till afternoon. 

Ananya: Have to work a few hours in the morning, which might extend, not sure.

Jude: On Sunday morning?

Ananya: Welcome to investment banking.

Jude: Keep forgetting how smart you are.

Ananya: Not that smart, but ok :)

Jude: So, I have an ad shoot tomorrow evening, then flying out for an away game on Monday after training. Don’t know when I will see you next.

A wave of sadness hit her, surprising her with its force. Her brain admonished her. She had only just met him and she needed to get a grip. 

Ananya: It’s fine. Will figure something when you are back.

Jude: Hmm. Haven’t even kissed you yet and you are already messing with my head.

The sadness was replaced by a warm shiver as she stared at the screen and thought of a response. But couldn’t come up with any.

Jude: Did you just fall asleep on me? 

Ananya: Stop being dramatic. I am right here.

Jude: Naa, wish you were HERE. Why’d you leave?

Ananya: Jude, you know why.

There was something about the way she said his name that made him want to hear it on loop, in various settings. God damnit this girl.

Jude: Yeah yeah. You thought we won’t be able to keep it in our pants.

She choked on water, and some spilled out on her blanket. 

Ananya: How drunk are you?

Jude: Plentyyyy. Don even know what’s been shoved down my throat anymore. 

Ananya: Figures :)

Jude: One last thing. Veryyyy important, like proper critical. 

Ananya: Yes?

Jude: Need to see you in my jersey. 

She smiled to herself before typing.

Ananya: Maybe win the Madrid derby next, score the winner, and then we’ll talk?

Jude: Tough, tough crowd. No mercy. No rest for the wicked. No respect for the Classico winner. 

He was even more dramatic when he was drunk. She could almost hear the whining from his texts.

Ananya: Good night, Jude :)

Jude: Good night, dove. Try not to dream of me too much. Mwahhh!

She smiled at the screen and ended up kissing it, finally drifting off to sleep.

Next morning, she woke up to a message from him. Sent at 5 am. A drunk out of their wits pic with Jude, Cama and Fede. Along with a caption.

Jude: Your preciousss Cama.

Then, another message from a few seconds later.

Jude: Don’t stare too long. 

She responded with a heart emoji to the picture and got started with her day.

Next few hours were hectic. She got into her work mode, shutting out all the madness that had transpired the day before.

Still, in between, her eyes drifted to her phone, to see if there were any new messages. Poor guy must have been sleeping. Or busy. He did say he had an ad shoot in the second half.

She somehow pulled through the day, and it was almost 5 pm when she finally finished work. Roma was also on the same project. The girls sighed about it being Monday morning just  next day, and decided to make the most of their remaining evening. 

They ended up at the same cafe where Ananya had met him the other day. Was it just two days ago? God - so much had happened since then.

She ordered her favourite churros and took a picture. Then wondered whether she should send it to him. Would it look desperate? Like she was just seeking his attention? She couldn’t have that.

But it was a harmless pic. He would get the reference. Deciding to not overthink it, she ended up sending the photo with a caption.

Ananya: Back to ground zero!

No blue tick for over 15 mins.

Roma rolled her eyes at her then.

‘Can you stop the sappiness? Look around - lovely day. Lovely food. Let’s get some Sangria and let the world go to hell.’

Her roommate was the best. The two perfectly complimented each other. Plus, her American upbringing lent her this carefree attitude which Ananya really wished to imbibe.

‘Well, how can anyone say no to Sangria?’

The girls ordered a pitcher and ended up staying there for a few hours. Gossiping about their colleagues. Talking about life. Planning a vacation - Sevilla and Granada were top of their list. They looked up their calendars and found a long weekend that seemed ideal. The prospect itself making them cheerful.

By the time they got back, it was already 9 pm. There was still nothing from him. Not even a blue tick. She knew he was working. Yet, an ugly thought still creeped in - was this just a one night distraction? Did he already…lose interest after she dumped her constraints on him? All her doubts from last night came rushing back, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

She got into bed and tried watching a movie. Anything random to keep her thoughts at bay. While scrolling through her insta.

And there it was - a post from him a few mins ago about the ad campaign for a cologne. With a gorgeous, stunning model at his arm. Ofcourse. 

The first photo looked like a part of the creative. The two were dressed immaculately in all black, she was leaning against his chest while his hand rested just above her butt. Seductiveness oozing from every inch of that frame.

The next was a BTS video - of him just being goofy on set while getting ready or trying to take a shot & not getting it right. The whole crew just getting charmed by his antics and boyish smiles. The model, in particular being extra supportive, extra attentive, giggling a bit too hard while holding onto his arm. Perfect hair, perfect figure and perfect skin. Ofcourse. 

And just then, her insta reels recommendation showed Jude hugging multiple female fans who had lined up outside his shoot. They screamed his name, begging for hugs and he obliged. Warm, cozy, Jude hugs. Granted he only wrapped one arm around their shoulder and looked embarrassed when some of them reached up to kiss his cheek or pulled him closer, but still. This wasn’t something she needed to see right now. 

Was this going to be her life from now on? Curled into bed, following his activities on social media, feeling inadequate. She didn’t deserve it. No girl deserved this. 

She threw her phone aside and forced herself to focus on the movie. It was already 9:45, it would be best to get some sleep soon. Next week was going to be super hectic at work. Yes, work is what she needed do focus on. That’s why she was halfway across the world in this city. That was her goal in life right now. Not some ridiculously handsome random boy who made women go weak in their knees everywhere he went. 

Around 10 pm, her phone buzzed. She had tucked herself into bed by then and almost decided to not look at it. But curiosity got the better of her.

Jude: Heyyy. Sorry my phone was not with me. Just getting back from a shoot.

She was equal parts relieved and irritated with that message. Ananya took a deep breath to calm herself down, and thought of a neutral response.

Ananya: Oh yeah, you had mentioned. How did it go?

Jude: Not too bad. Somehow got an ok on my take, that’s all I care about honestly. This acting gig ain’t no joke. 

Ananya: Hmm.

Jude: Churros looked lovely. Hope you had fun.

Ananya: Yep, and yep.

Jude: Tired? Am I keeping you from something?

Ananya: Nope. 

Jude: Why so wry then? What’s happened?

Oh, how she wanted to scream. What’s happened was exactly what she didn’t want to happen. What she swore she won’t put herself through with another boy. And this was amplified 1000 times here coz of who Jude was. 

She started typing, then deleted, then typed again, unable to find the right words. This went on for two mins. 

Jude: Can I call?

She sighed, exasperated. Her voice will immediately give away her irritated and confused state. But he knew something was up and typing like this was getting exhausting.

Ananya: Sure.

He called the next second. She braced herself, then answered. 

‘Hey.’

She couldn’t have possibly made it sound drier even if she tried. 

‘Hey. Wassup?’

‘Nothing, was just about to crash. Already in bed.’

‘Hmm, won’t keep you for long. Just wanna hear your voice.’

Damn him. To the moon and back. Damn his sweet agonising voice. 

‘Why? Looks like you had enough company today.’

The words just tumbled out of her before she could check herself. Great going girl, way to make yourself look pathetic. 

He paused for a few seconds.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing, forget it.’

‘Tell me you’ll sort this on your own and wake up all fine tomorrow morning, I’ll leave it be.’

She knew that wasn’t gonna happen. There was also no way for this to ever work if she wasn’t honest with him. Especially given his situation, things will just compound and then break very quickly. If they ever even get started, that is. 

‘The photos bothered me a bit.’

She could sigh him breathe audibly at the other end - probably getting irritated at her insecurity. Or her immaturity. Maybe both. 

‘What about them bothered you?’

Damn him for always making her spell everything out loud.

‘Just…her? Everything about that stunning woman. Looks like she fancied you.’

She could tell the wheels were churning in his mind at the other end.

‘I see. And you think I should be with someone like her. In fact, maybe I am going to her hotel room right now & talking to you on the way.’

Her silence was deafening. Jude gripped the edge of his seat to not curse out loud. 

‘Ananya - didn’t we speak about this last night? Are we gonna go back full circle here?’

‘I am sorry. It’s just - I don’t know how I could ever compete with someone like that. Also, I don’t want to. I am a normal, regular girl Jude. Don’t need that in my life right now, or ever.’

‘YOU DON’T HAVE TO COMPETE. Can’t you see you have already won?’

Warmth and fuzziness ran over her, making her feel gooey inside. She had to clutch her tummy to arrest that feeling. To arrest the freefall. 

‘You don’t know what’s gonna happen.’

Jude fought the urge to throw his phone against the opposite seat. 

‘DO YOU? Does anyone? Girl, why don’t you believe me when I say I want you? Should I list down how much I have fantasised about you the last two days? How much I wanna…..’

‘Stop, please stop Jude. Please.’

Both were breathing heavily at this point, for different reasons.

‘Can I ask you for one thing, Ananya? Try trusting me till I give you an explicit reason not to. I am not such a dog, y’know. Yes, I have seen multiple girls together before but all parties KNEW it was casual. No commitments. This is not that. This is not a situationship. I would have told you to your face if that’s what I was looking for.’

She clutched her phone close to her chest. Him being who he was had made it all so hard. But he was right - he hadn’t done anything. Well, not yet. 

‘I don’t know what to say, Jude. Like I know a lot of this is in my head but I don’t know how to make it go away.’

Heavy breathing continued at both ends. He broke the silence after a few moments. 

‘How about this? Ask me what you really wanna ask me. All your unsaid questions, assumptions, perceptions about me that make you want to distance yourself. I won’t lie, promise. Be the smart girl I know you are and break it down like you will a work project.’

That was actually a fair suggestion. She could see what he was trying to do by appealing to her logical side. Not just a pretty face. Clearly not. 

She chucked her inhibitions on how crude her questions might sound. He was right - without this they would keep coming back full circle.

‘So…when you said you were dating multiple women together..’

‘Seeing…not dating.’

He clarified before she could go on. It was an important distinction for him. 

‘Yes, seeing them together, how long back was that?’

‘In Dortmund.’

‘Hmmm.’

She didn’t know how to feel about that. So she skipped to the next obvious question.

‘And…what about Madrid?’

‘Seen a couple, texted a couple, but not at the same time.’

‘Ok. When was the last time you were…you know..’

He understood the question before her finishing it.

‘Two weeks ago.’

‘I see.’

That wasn’t too long back. Was he still in touch with her? Did they meet up at his house? Something about the last thought made her feel icky.

‘And, these rendezvous, usually happen where?’

He chuckled at her choice of words. She really was something. 

‘At a hotel close by. It’s a private, exclusive property.’

‘Ofcourse.’

He could tell there was a tinge of sarcasm in that last word but chose to let it go.

‘Are you in touch with her….the last one?’

‘Not since a week.’

She was feeling particularly bold at this point. Jude could anticipate her next question from a mile away.

‘Well, are you planning to?’

‘Nope. Not her. Not anyone else. I will only be with you and you will only be with me. Exclusively.’

He declared without hesitation. Her mouth open and closed at his last line, unsure of how to react. He waited patiently. 

‘And what about the hordes of women who throw themselves at you daily? Who would do absolutely anything you want, and more?’

‘There is no easy fix here. You will have to find a way to believe that I will not stray, I will not indulge them.’

He could have backed his statement with evidence. Coz the model from today did slip him her number & he had politely wriggled out of that. But even he had the good sense to know this wasn't the time to bring that up.

She appreciated how he didn’t try to feed her any rosy crap, really following through on answering honestly. His tone & speed of response gave her enough assurance that he wasn’t being evasive. 

She had run out of questions and said as much to him. Weirdly, in some inexplicable way, this was healing.

‘My turn then.’

This caught her off guard. But it was a fair ask, after the grilling she just put him through. 

‘Sure, go ahead.’

‘Open your door in precisely 1 minute. I will ask in person.’

The phone dropped from her hand as she sat up, landing somewhere under the blanket. She reached for it blindly with one hand while switching on the lights with the other. 

‘What do you mean in person? You don’t know where I live.’

‘Agnes knows.’

Ofcourse. His driver had dropped her home last night. Great, his presence was making her dumb now.

‘But….what if someone sees you? Roma is home too. The house is so messy. And I am, I am..One second, your shoot was on the other side of town and this is not in your way. What would you be doing here? Are you messing with me?’

She rambled faster that the speed of light. He ignored every other comment but picked up on the last one.

‘How did you know where my shoot was?’

Damn. Bloody rotten hell. She groaned audibly on the phone and he laughed out loud.

‘Dove is a stalkerrrrrr!’

He said teasingly, in a sing-song voice. 

Before she could respond, she heard a car honk under her window. No, this couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. Would he?

‘Buzz me in and open the door. I am getting out of the car now.’

Ananya rushed frantically to the door, buzzing the building gate open. The idea of someone seeing him here filling her with nerves. Thankfully, she was on the first floor, half a staircase away from the building door.

Three seconds later, she saw him enter the building. Eight seconds later, she was grabbing his arm and pulling him into the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind them.

What was he thinking? What if someone had seen him outside? The media crap storm would have been unstoppable. How irresponsible was this? The gall of him to show up unannounced like that, anytime he wanted. Oh, she was mad. Raving mad.

Before she could turn around and give him a piece of her mind, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. 

‘Sorry. Just wanted to see you once before I fly out tomorrow. Didn’t want to leave on this note.’

And just like that, he knocked the fight out of her chest. With two simple lines. Frankly she was a goner at sorry itself. The boy carried a magic wand of persuasion with him. 

Her shoulders, which were tensed in anger, dropped as she leaned back into his chest. He kissed the back of her head, conveying his gratitude.

She could stay like this forever. In his warm, comforting hold. His scent, familiar by now (when did that happen?), seeping into her skin, taking over her senses. His big, calloused hands enveloping her smaller ones. Involuntarily, she sighed.

‘Thank you for being honest with me earlier. I feel better now.’

‘I am glad. My turn? Only have one question.’

‘Ofcourse.’

He turned her around in his arms and tilted her chin up to look straight into her eyes.

‘Would you let me kiss you right now?’

Time stood still. She was very numb yet very aware in that moment. The dim lighting in the living room from the night lamp, the faint noise from the street, the rhythmic tapping of feet coming from Roma’s locked room who was blaring music on her headphones. All registering in some peripheral part of her brain.

But what she was hypnotised by was his face, and his eyes, gazing intently at her, drawing her in. How was it ever possible to say no to that face? To those big brown eyes which looked even deeper, softer, more vulnerable than ever before?

She didn’t realise when he took off his jacket, nudged her towards the dining table a short distance away, put his hands on the sides of her waist, lifted her slightly to place her on the table. But when her legs were being parted gently so he could stand in front of her, their torsos touching, her trance broke. The heat radiating from his body was palpable. 

Jude’s face was inches away, almost eye level.  A pleasing, handsome, perfectly symmetrical face. The dim lighting creating a halo around him. Ananya tilted her head to look at Roma’s room and if it was still locked. But he put two fingers on her cheek to turn her back to him.

‘Been waiting for this since I saw you.’

Jude lifted her arms & wrapped them around his neck, while his hands stroked her back. The flimsy fabric of her tank top not providing any barrier; it was almost like he was stroking her skin. Her legs, spread wide apart to fit him in, dangled aimlessly on the edge of the table.

How was he expecting a coherent verbal response from her in this situation?

She slowly slid one of her hands from his long muscly neck to his hair, fingers gliding through the thick, firm, soft curls. Her eyes searching his, telling him this is the best she could do right now.

That was all the signal he needed. Her grip in his hair tightened as he angled his head to cover her lips with his. Plump, pillowy lips caressing hers. Making her tightly shut her eyes and whimper out. Which broke something in him.

He dove in again with more urgency, parting her lips this time, getting them to move in sync with his. She gladly obliged, submitting to his rhythm while her heart hammered against her chest. She wondered if he could hear it too. But he was too occupied with tasting her mouth. All her little sounds & shudders giving him a head rush. His hot breath fanning her cheeks. 

When her whimpers went up an octave, he gave her a little breather, connecting their foreheads as they breathed in the same air. Her hands had fallen to the wide expanse of his shoulders, clutching at them to anchor herself. 

He kissed her forehead, the top of her eyes, and placed two delicate pecks on each cheek. His light stubble grazing her skin. She tilted her head involuntarily along with his movements, giving him ready access, like a puppy would to someone petting it. 

‘Ananya, lemme see you.’

The way he said her name, the fondness in his voice, it was like a silent command she couldn’t deny. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter as she opened her eyes. 

He smiled affectionately, and it took her breath away. All the walls she had built around herself, all the rules, all the notions of just focusing on her work for now, this boy had bulldozed his way through all that with just his breathtaking smile.

Some part of her still conscious brain tried to chide her that she was no different than any of the other girls fawning over him. All it took was him showering her with his undivided attention and she was putty in his hands. But her brain couldn’t get a word in edgewise, her other senses had taken over. 

Jude reached for her hands, unclasped them from his shoulders, somehow sensing the tension in them. What he did next made her lightheaded. He moved his lips to her palms, placing soft, lingering kisses on both. And then, he moved her hands to his face, as if asking her to hold him. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than their kiss. 

His unending torso was all hard muscle, pressed into hers, but his face was soft. Rugged yet soft. Her hands couldn’t even fully cover his cheeks, she noted absentmindedly. So she used the pads of her thumbs to stroke the rest of his gorgeous face. 

Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer into him. She looked up in surprise, finding darker, hooded eyes. 

‘The next time you wanna run away from me, remember this feeling.’

Not only had his eyes changed colour but his voice had turned hoarse too. Insistent lips crashed into hers, prying them open, his tongue penetrating her mouth. She gasped at the invasion. One of her hands fell from his face  & settled behind her on the table, trying to find balance, as the force of his kiss made her lean backwards, with him looming over her. 

His spare hand gripped her bare thigh to help steady her. She just realised how her tiny sleeping shorts had completely inched up her legs, leaving them almost fully bare. His hand was firm and his fingers dug into her skin, making her head spin.

She lost her balance, despite his support, falling further backwards and knocking down a container behind her on the table. He broke the kiss & stretched his arm to reach for the container, finding it just before it was about to crash on the floor. While she just panted in his hold.

‘Jude…I..’

‘Shhhhh, I got you.’

They fell into a warm, comforting embrace. Arms settling around each others’ backs. Her face resting in the crook of his neck as he quietly stroked her hair.

‘Did it ever occur to you that it’s hard for me to trust as well?’

That made her grudgingly break the hug and look up at him with confused eyes, while their arms remained locked around each other. 

‘It’s tough to figure if someone really likes me for me or it’s the lifestyle, fame, money and exposure that they are after. If a private encounter would remain private or the details would be splashed over some social media later. If some photoshopped images or invented stories be circulated as sworn truth. I have struggled to judge, so honestly I stopped trying. Keeping it just about sex was simpler. Uncomplicated. Convenient. No strings attached.’

No, it hadn’t occurred to her at all. Not till he put it like that. On any other day, she would have been irked at him trying to conveniently defend his conscious indulgences. But it felt more like an admission than justification. 

She stroked his neck and shoulders as he continued being vulnerable with her. 

‘You see, the normal and regular you think to be such a distancing factor, is in fact the opposite. A huge chunk of my life will always be public, I get that. I signed up for that. But this bit, I wanna protect. I’d love to come home to someone normal.’

Ananya stroked his face with all the tenderness she could muster. Trying to show that she understands. From the way he relaxed into her, she figured he got her message. 

Jude knew he had to be careful with her. Seeing her skimpy nightclothes hugging her body tonight had already disrupted his brain chemistry. He couldn’t shake the thought of how easy it would be to just push her on her back then & there. To rid her of the flimsy fabric barely covering her form l, with one determined tug. 

That’s why he knew he had to leave soon, while he was still thinking with his head. She wasn’t ready, not yet. 

‘That your room?’

He tilted his head towards the open door at the end of the corridor. 

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Want me to carry you in and tuck you into bed? I will leave after a goodnight kiss.’

She met his gaze with a twinkle in her eye, cocking her head sideways, biting her lip slowly. His eyes followed every little movement. 

‘Think you can handle being in my bedroom just to tuck me in?’

Boy, he didn’t see that coming. Didn’t know she had it in her. It immediately made him even more interested. The open challenge in her eyes, the suggestive tone, and that jutting out bottom lip. That needed to be responded to.

He leaned in and bit down at the same spot on her lower lip, making it sting a bit, then flicking it with his tongue. His hand gripped her bare thigh again, knocking the sass out of her.

‘Lippy. So lippy. I love it.’

He continued rubbing circles on her thigh with his thumb till he drew a moan out of her, despite her biting her cheek to keep it in.

‘Your pretty brain may not approve of me yet, but your body is definitely #TeamJude.’

She gasped, and he chose that moment to lean in for a deep goodnight kiss. Making it wet & sloppy, on purpose, so much so that she had to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand when he was done with her.

‘Sleep tight, dove. Talk to ya tomorrow. And..’

He leaned in to whisper in her ear, enunciating each word.

‘Will think about you tonight. Maybe in the car as well.’

With one last attempted wink, he bid her goodbye and walked out. While she was still perched up on the table, her body tingling everywhere he had touched her, her lips tasting of him, and her mind reeling from what had just happened.

……………………… 

There it is. Was delayed because, well, the pictures threw me off :)

As always, feedback / comments are always welcome. Hope you are enjoying their journey so far!

[flightlessangelwings]

Us Against the World

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.4k

Dialogue prompt- “ hey! why don’t you try picking on someone your own size! “ Action prompt- [ DISTRACT ]: sender causes a distraction to draw the receiver’s attacker/s away from them.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY), action, protective!Peter, food mention (reader makes salsa), Peter lifts reader, attempted harm to reader, the villain uses gas and chemistry to attack and reader is described as being trapped in a cloud at one point, reader interacts with kids briefly, no use of y/n

Notes- This month’s Year of Protectiveness is in honor of Andrew Garfield's birthday! I can't believe we're in August already! @yearofcreation2023 But this one was alot of fun to write so I hope y'all enjoy it! And I wrote it so that it could be read in the same timeline as Just Kiss Like Real People Do so if you liked that one, here is more with that pair but of course it could be read on its own! I"ll link it in the taglist rb if you want a refersher!

@flightlessangelwings-updatesis my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs!

~

The city lights illuminated the way as Peter swung through the tall buildings of New York. The air was crisp so high up, and it felt refreshing after a long night of being Spider-Man. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew it was late… well after midnight. And even though the villain he was chasing got away… again… all Peter looked forward to was coming home to you.

Peter expected you to be sound asleep in the tiny apartment, so he was surprised when the light from the widow shined like a beacon calling him back. His heart pounded in his chest and he hoped you were alright as he flipped his wrist to shoot a web towards the building and hurled himself into the window. Letting out a heavy breath, Peter ripped off the Spider-Man mask and closed the window behind him.

Just as he was about to call out your name, the sound of the blender filled the space. That combined with the intoxicating aroma of the spices and tomatoes told Peter exactly what you were doing. His stomach growled as he stepped out of the tiny bedroom and into the living space where you were occupied at the kitchen counter. 

He stood in the doorway for a moment and just watched you with a lovestruck expression on his face. Every time he saw you it was like the first time, and even dressed down in a t-shirt and shorts, you looked stunning to him. You were too consumed with putting the last touches on your salsa that you didn’t hear him come in. But, Peter enjoyed the view for the time being and his heart skipped a beat in his chest with the overwhelming emotions he felt towards you.

But, when you let out a startled yelp, Peter quickly jumped into action. 

You had turned around and were surprised when you saw him standing there. So surprised that you almost dropped the blender that held the salsa you had worked so hard on. But Peter was quick, and in a flash he jumped across the room and caught it before it hit the floor and splattered everywhere.

“Peter!” you exclaimed, “You scared the shit out of me! I didn’t hear you come in!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he mumbled sheepishly as he set the blender on the counter, licking a drop that splashed onto his fingers after, “Wouldn’t want to waste any of your famous salsa,” he laughed softly, “But why are you up? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged as you eyed him up and down. Ever since you found out that Peter Parker, your best friend, the person you had been in love with for years, was Spider-Man, it never got old seeing him in the suit. His long, toned arms, muscular body and especially the messy hair took your breath away every time.

“Everything alright?” Peter asked, concern lining his tone as he peeled the top half of the suit off and stepped closer towards you. 

“Fine,” you fidgeted as you felt your skin heat up under his gaze as your eyes dropped down to the floor, “Just thought you’d be hungry when you got back…” your voice sounded distant.

Peter looked at you with a softness and adoration in his eyes as he reached out and cupped your face, gently pulling you to look at him, “You know I know when you’re lying to me, right?” his voice was soft as his thumb brushed your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath as his eyes locked with yours, “I…” you trembled in under his hand, “I was worried…” you admitted.

“Baby,” Peter rested his free hand on your waist, holding you in his special way, “I’m fine, honestly. You know nothing would ever keep me from coming back to you, right?” he exhaled deeply, “I promise,” he took a breath, “You and me, remember?”

Tears filled the corners of your eyes at the sincerity in his voice and the confident look in his face. You knew he had been Spider-Man for a long time now, he had his powers and he knew what he was doing. Yet, you’d never loved anyone as much as you loved Peter, and sometimes you couldn’t help but worry as your mind went to the worst possible scenario. 

“I know,” you breathed. You opened your mouth to say more, but the words were caught in your throat as Peter reeled forward and kissed you deeply. Somehow, you were sure he knew what you were going to say, how much you worried for him. He said it in his kiss. 

“Sweetheart,” Peter mumbled between kisses as he backed you up against the counter, “As much as I love your salsa…” his voice dropped and his eyes darkened, “There’s something else I want right now…”

“Peter!” you couldn’t help but laugh at his insinuation, but you also felt a pulse of need through your body. You clung to his shoulders as your mind swam and your body warmed.

He let out a soft chuckle as his hands roamed up and down your sides, savoring the feeling of you under his touch. As much as it was a comfort to you to feel Peter’s hands on you, to feel his touch, it was just as much a comfort for him to know you were here and safe. Peter’s cock twitched as his hands dipped under the waistband of your shorts and in a flash he yanked them off of you, causing you to yelp in surprise.

But, before you could react to your shorts and underwear suddenly on the floor, you found yourself hoisted up onto the kitchen counter. Giggles erupted between you as Peter nestled himself between your legs… your bare legs. A low groan unlike anything you ever heard rumbled from deep in Peter’s throat as his eyes landed between your legs.

“Fuck…” he breathed heavily in a tone that made you shiver.

“Pete,” you sighed as you watched him drop down to his knees.

Immediately, you buried your hands in his hair as his hands ghosted along your inner thighs. Peter mumbled your name in a praise before he licked his lips and dove into you, causing you to scream loudly.

You saw stars as Peter worked you with his tongue, licking and slurping every sensitive spot with precision. You could tell even in your blissed out state that he was too desperate to tease you and take it slow tonight. Tonight was all about need; it was the need for both of you to know the other was here.

Tugging at his hair, you felt like your body was on fire from the way he worked you with his talented mouth. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure up your spine, and you were sure you weren’t going to last much longer. You arched your back as parted your legs more to give Peter more access to your body, an invitation that he immediately accepted. 

“Shit… Pete…” you moaned as you felt your body tingle.

Peter grabbed your inner thighs and squeezed hard as he intensified his motions, determined to push you over the edge in bliss. And from the way you screamed his name, he knew you were close.

It only took a few more licks of his tongue, a few more nibbles of his lips, one last nuzzle of his head before you came hard. Your head slammed against the cabinet as you screamed, your legs trembling under his strong grip as you gushed into his mouth. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as bursts of color clouded your vision.

As Peter coaxed you down from you high, you felt his movements slow before he reluctantly broke away from you. A trail of spit connected the two of you until he moved far enough for it to break, but in the corner of his mouth remained a shiny dribble of your release. Peter watched until you opened your eyes to lick it clean with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Delicious,” he chuckled as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around you, “But I’m not done with you yet,” he tone dropped as he easily picked you up and spun you around.

“Pete!” you yelped as you wrapped your arms and legs around his strong body. No matter how many times he lifted you up, you never quite got used to his super strength, and it caught you off guard in the most wonderful way every time.

He quickly made his way across the small apartment and gently lowered you down onto the bed, handing you with tender care as he did so. Peter stood for a moment and admired the sight of you, spread out on the bed, naked from the waist down and a look of pure bliss on your face. Hastily, he ripped off his Spider-Man suit so he was bare for you, and the way you eyed him hungrily made his cock stiffen even more.

“Like the view, sweetheart?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Very much,” you purred as you bit your lip and extended your arms for him. You loved when he got like this.

“I do too,” his tone matched yours as he hovered over you, “But,” Peter grabbed your shirt, “You’re overdressed.”

You burst into laughter at his antics and allowed him to take off your shirt, the only barrier between your bodies. The two of you let out matching gasps at the sight of the other, as if it was the first time all over again. At times, it felt like that for both of you. The wonder, the passion, the desire never got old so matter how many times you slept together.

“I love you,” Peter broke the silence with a breathless voice as he cupped your face.

“I love you too,” you replied in a dreamy tone as you mirrored his action.

In a flash, Peter closed the gap between your bodies with a heated and desperate kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as you parted your lips for him once more. The taste of yourself on Peter’s tongue was just as intoxicating for you as it was for him, and you bucked your hips against his hardened cock in a wordless plea.

Without breaking away, Peter muffled a moan as he positioned himself between your legs once more, this time with his cock poking at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you, past the first ring of muscle and into your warmth to connect your bodies together.

The moan you let out made you break away from the kiss, and your cry of pleasure echoed in the tiny room as Peter entered you inch by slow inch. You heard Peter’s own moans as he felt you engulf him, and he rested his forehead against yours as he slowly bottomed out inside of you.

Together, the two of you laid with Peter on top of you. Heavy breaths filled the room as you stayed with your sweaty foreheads pressed together. You wrapped your arms around him and dug your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him desperately.

“Move,” you pleaded softly.

He groaned your name and compiled without another word. He started slowly at first, rocking in and out of you, savoring the moans and groans you let out every time he was fully sheathed inside you. It wasn’t until you let out a higher pitched cry that Peter picked up his pace; he found what he was looking for.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Peter moaned, “Shit…”

The bed creaked as Peter thrust in and out of you faster and faster. As much as he wanted to keep his eyes open, to watch every expression you made when he was inside you, he couldn’t. He knew he would cum too fast if he watched the way your mouth hung open and your body bounced with his every move.

But luckily for him, you also weren’t far behind.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you dug your nails into Peter’s skin, “I’m gonna cum… Peter…”

“Me too baby,” Peter grunted, “Fuck…”

Peter’s thrusts became fast and erratic as he chased his climax as well as your own. He pounded into you with fervor as you screamed and your second climax hit suddenly. Your inner muscles clenched around him as you squeezed him inside and out. That and your beautiful screams were just the final push Peter needed for his own orgasm, and with a loud moan of your name, he came deep inside you. But, he kept going, wanting to savor every second of your shared climaxes together until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. 

Peter let out a deep exhale as he collapsed down on top of you. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as you could. Neither of you wanted to move, content to stay in the other’s embrace, safe and loved. For several long moments, no one spoke, and just the sound of slow, deep breaths filled the room as you felt the other’s heart pound against your bodies.

It was Peter who broke the silence first with your name in a low voice.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you ran your hand through his hair.

“You know I’ll always come back to you, right?” Peter said as he propped himself up on his elbows to look into your eyes.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, “I know,” you cupped his face the same way he did yours earlier, “I trust you… I just worry sometimes,” you admitted.

“I do too,” Peter breathed, “But I’ll always keep you safe, sweetheart.”

The truth was Peter always worried about you too. He was scared that someday someone would find out his superhero alter and use you against him. He was scared that one day you would get hurt because of him. He was scared that one day he might not get back to you in time… But, as much as you trusted him, Peter had to trust you too. Having no one else, it was just the two of you against the world.

“I’m gonna go shower then we can sleep in tomorrow,” Peter broke himself from his thoughts, “How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you purred as you gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, “A day at home together sounds like just what we both need. But remember, the day after is that science museum day I wanted to go to.”

Peter let out a soft laugh as he tapped your face playfully, “I wouldn’t miss it, baby.”

*

“Looks like we came on a school field trip day,” you commented as you and Peter walked hand in hand into the science museum.

Children filled the space and chattered excitedly among themselves. The two of you followed close behind the class as you lost yourself in the exhibits. At one point, you broke away from Peter so you could play with one of the hands-on displays, and he couldn’t help but chuckle brightly at you as you were just as excited as the kids were.

As Peter watched you, a thought popped into his head: he was ready to marry you. He had never been more in love with you than he was at that moment as you laughed in fascination at the exhibit. He wanted to marry you for some time, but as he stared stupidly at you, Peter knew it was time for him to pop the question.

“Hey Pete…?” your voice broke him from his thoughts.

Peter suddenly found himself face to face with you, and he must have zoned out for a moment because you looked concerned, “Yeah?” he asked as he cleared his throat and tried not to look conspicuous. 

“Everything ok?” you asked as you tilted your head to the side a bit.

Peter just smiled back at you; you had no idea what he had in store for you, “Perfect,” he slid his hand in yours again, “Shall we check out that chemistry demonstration?” his tone was light, “You look like you’re having more fun than the kids are,” Peter joked.

“Shut up,” you giggled as you playfully nudged him.

Peter imagined that your hand would feel like with a ring on your finger as he fiddled with your knuckles. Yes, it was time, and everything was perfect. But, just as it felt like nothing could bring down his mood, a chill ran up Peter’s spine and he was suddenly filled with a sense of dread the moment the two of you crossed the threshold into the other room where the chemistry table was set up.

He stopped dead in his tracks as his heart sank and the hairs on his neck and arms stood up. The man behind the table was instantly recognizable to him; he was the one that kept slipping out of his grasp. And the feeling of dread was only made worse when the chemist looked up from his table and made direct eye contact with him.

It was like he knew.

“Peter?” you sounded even more worried than before as you tugged his arm.

Without a word, Peter dragged you out of the room and down the hallway towards the bathrooms. His heart pounded in his chest as his first thought was of keeping you safe and getting you out of harm’s way.

“Peter?!” you repeated more forcefully, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” Peter grabbed your shoulders and spun you to look him in the eyes, “That guy… He’s…” he let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s the guy I haven’t been able to catch,” he finished in a hushed tone.

You gasped as your eyes went wide.

“I think he knows who I am too. Something just feels off,” Peter sounded more scared than you’d ever heard him before, “But I want you to get out of here, I’m going to stop him here and now.”

“What about those kids?” you asked as your breath came out fast and ragged, “We have to get everyone else out too,” you inhaled deeply, “Let me help you, Pete.”

His lips tightened as he paused for a moment before he spoke with a heavy exhale, “I’m going to create a distraction, and you help them out,” Peter’s grip on your shoulders tightend, “But you promise me you’ll get yourself out of here.”

You nodded, swallowing your fear, “What kind of distraction were you thinking?”

At the same time, both your heads turned and both your eyes landed on the fire alarm that stood out on the wall. You looked back at Peter and he nodded at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“I love you.” Peter’s words sounded more like an assurance than a confession.

You knew what he meant too: Stay safe.

In a flash, Peter pulled the fire alarm before he rushed around the corner to rip his shirt off, revealing the spider suit underneath. At the same time, you ran towards the children, who you headed screaming and panicking before you even reached the room.

“Quickly!” you shouted, “Outside! Now!”

The kids scrambled as they rushed towards the door and you ushered them out. But, as you did that, a movement from the front of the room caught your attention.

The chemist dissolved into a fit of rage, and you heard his angry mumbles to himself even over the fire alarm. Smoke billowed out from either side of him as he mixed his viles together and for a brief moment, he looked up and caught your gaze.

Everything felt like it froze as you locked eyes with him, and suddenly you knew what Peter felt. It felt like this man looked into your soul and read your deepest secrets. Your blood ran cold and fear pulsed through your veins as he suddenly launched himself at you.

You yelped and covered your head, anticipating an impact, but it never came. Looking up, you saw Spider-Man clinging to the ceiling, a shot of web tangling with the chemist and stopping him in his tracks.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Spider-Man quipped as he flung another web shot at him and flipped over to stand in front of you.

“Spider-Man…” the chemist growled as he threw a bottle towards him.

Peter quickly covered you, protecting you from the impact as well as the few kids who still hadn’t gotten out. 

“Spider-Man!” They cheered together as they kept for joy- and relief- at seeing their favorite hero.

“Get out of here kids!” Peter instructed before he glanced at you for a moment. The two of you nodded subtly before he turned back to the chemist and launched himself at him.

“Come on,” you breathed, “Hurry!”

You pushed the rest of the kids out of the room, but before you yourself exited, you couldn’t help but look back. Deep down, you knew Peter put himself in danger as Spider-Man, but to actually see him fight in person, and so close, was something else. You felt fear, but not for yourself. Watching him take and deliver hit after hit honestly scared you. 

But you suddenly had something else to worry about.

“You!” The chemist roared as he gathered his concoctions.

“No!” Peter sounded more scared than you had ever heard him before.

Clearly, it was obvious to the chemist how important you were to Spider-Man, to Peter, and he took advantage of the opportunity. Before either of you could react, he threw something at you, and you found yourself surrounded by a blinding gas. 

You gasped as you covered your mouth and dropped to the floor. Faintly, you heard the grunts of Peter fighting him still, but you couldn’t see anything. You were sure if it was from the gas or just from the adrenaline but you felt more and more dizzy the longer you stayed in the fog.

I’m another flash, you heard an explosion and the building shook. You struggled to keep from falling completely flat on the floor and you scrambled to stay on your hands and knees, ready for anything. 

You heard your name in Peter’s voice before you saw his silhouette appear in the fog. You tried to call out his name, but your voice croaked. Reaching out for him your hand trembled until it finally made contact with his.

“I’m here,” Peter murmured to you as he yanked you close, “Cover your mouth and hang on,” his voice trembled, “I’m getting you out of here.”

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself lifted into his arms with his super strength. You covered your mouth as you clung to him with your other arm. A gust of air hit your face as you found yourself flung through the air as Peter flipped and flung your bodies out of the museum. Faintly, you both heard the kids cheering for Spider-Man and shouting excitedly. Usually, Peter would have stopped for them, but right now his first priority was you and your safety.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you felt the air get fresher and fresher as he fwiped through the buildings and landed you both in an empty skyscraper far away from everyone.

The moment he sat you down, Peter ripped off his mask and looked you over, cupping your face as he did so. “Look at me,” he sounded breathless, “Are you hurt?”

You immediately saw the look of pure fear on his face, and it made your heart sink. You were sure you looked a mess, and you felt sore but you didn’t feel hurt. “I’m ok,” you whispered. 

Peter exhaled your name in relief as he gathered you in his arms. “You’re ok, sweetheart,” he cupped the back of your head as he held you as close and as tight as he could, “You’re ok…”

You weren’t sure if his words were for you or for himself. Perhaps both.

“I’m ok Pete,” you whispered softly in his ear as you clung to him, feeling safe in his arms. All the fear and adrenaline slowly faded away and you felt calm and safe the longer he held you. With one deep exhale, you felt better and you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes while still remaining secure in his arms, “Did you really have to wait and pull a dramatic rescue like that?” you smirked softly.

Peter rolled his eyes at you, but at the same time he was relieved to hear you say that; it meant you were back to normal with your wits about you, “Sweetheart…” he breathed. The truth was he had never been more scared, especially with the explosion. He opened his mouth to voice that, but the words were caught in his throat. Peter grimaced at the thought of losing you and a tear formed in the corner of his eye.

Sensing the change in tone, you tried to distract him, “Hey Pete?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“What happened… To…?”

His grip on you tightened, “I think the mixtures he was using affected his mind… Made him so angry… He…Umm,” Peter trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud and upset you.

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure of what to say next. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for several moments as the breeze hit your faces. “Well, thank you,” you broke the silence, “For saving me.”

That brought a smile to Peter’s face. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, expressing all his emotions in the kiss instead of with his words, “You never have to thank me, honey,” he murmured against your lips as he placed a chaste kiss, “I’ll always protect you.”

You grinned against his cheek as your eyes fluttered closed, “And I’ll always take care of you too,” you hummed, “We made a good team back there though, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Peter chuffed, “You and me…”

“Against the world,” you finished the thought.

Silence fell over the two of you again, but before either of you could say anything, a growl from your stomach interrupted. You looked at Peter and both of you burst into laughter.

“I guess all that excitement made me hungry,” you chuckled.

“How about we get out of here then?” Peter said with a smirk, “I know a place that’s got the best salsa. We’ll pick up some tacos or something on the way too.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Sounds perfect…” you poked his chest, “Spider-Man.”

Peter felt his heart flutter in his chest. Oh yes, he definitely was going to find you the best ring he could and he was going to ask you to marry him as soon as possible. 

[anadiasmount]

expect the unexpected - ruben dias.

an: i decided to remake and edit the first part of this fic series i did for ruben! i hope you all enjoy! <3 this is slightly based off the book of the spanish love deception! ❣ link to OG!

quick sum: fairly new to your job at the club Manchester City, you find yourself in some trouble. ruben overhears you talking to john stones about having to travel for a wedding with no date. he’s willing to do the extreme even though you two are closer than expected…

wc: 2.8k

It had been an issue you wanted to avoid, but lately, it’s been hard to push it away. You had less than 3 days to figure out what and how you were going to resolve it. You had it all planned out of course, but that was before finding out your boyfriend of six months cheated on you with your best friend.

Of course, you were devested, losing two people at once wasn’t quite ideal. Your family in Spain looked forward to meeting him, as you spoke so highly of him. How were you supposed to prove that if he wasn’t in your life anymore? You can’t lie because it was clear you were going as a pair, a couple like you had told them. He even helped you pick out the black satin gown for the night. An elegant gown by the way…

During your short fifteen-minute break your thoughts distracted you once again. It was an unnecessary cycle that made your heart race. You slowly took sips of your warm coffee mug, looking over last-minute paperwork. “You don’t look so good Y/n,” A voice too familiar said, you peered up from the white paper sheet to blue eyes. “Jeez thanks, John,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he defended raising his arms in a surrounder way. “What’s up? You can talk to me you know?” you sighed and slumped back into your chair. Dragging your fingers across your forehead to the bridge of your nose. “So you know how I’m leaving soon?” John nodded taking a seat in front of you.

“I kinda-, well, so basically-” you rambled fidgeting with your rings. “I told my mom Jace would be attending the wedding. But due to what happened I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do now. Everyone, I mean everyone is ready to meet him. My own mother gave us the guest house to stay in while there! It’s driving me crazy-” You let out. John’s eyes slightly widened as you spoke louder, but he knew it was your frustration.

“First of all breathe. Have you tried to talk to her about what things happened?” he questioned. “She doesn’t let me. She puts this pressure on me, saying how everyone is ready to meet this man. That she’ll be disappointed if things go wrong. That she is extremely happy I found someone. That I shouldn't let this man go” you groaned. “I leave in less than three days and I’m going to show up alone…” Silence took over the room no one knowing what to say.

You begin to laugh hysterically, your stomach cleansing as you throw your head back. John cocks his head to the side smiling and chuckling confused. “Of course, this would happen to me.”

Ruben stood outside the small break room listening to the conversation. Due to being injured, he was doing slight therapy and recovery work to get back in shape. He and you were close, to some people, it looked like you were a couple. He had no idea about the wedding making him rethink a couple of things.

He was there during your breakup which was over a month ago. He let you sleep in his arms, have movie nights, eat ice cream, and take walks around Manchester. He was developing these unknown feelings that scared him a lot. He cared for you too much and John saw that. You were slowly becoming one of the most important people in his life.

He was still so confused why he didn’t know. You had known for a while he figured, how come he was never aware? So many late nights where you talked about everything, so many opportunities where you could’ve told him. But what held you back? He had his shoulder propped against the wall, smiling and shaking his head when he heard you laugh.

He knew you too well, you did this when nervous, faking something, or like right now, panicking. Something inside him to just go for it, be that person. Your eyes drifted off to him as he leaned against the doorway. You too felt bubbly inside whenever you saw him, you couldn’t get enough of him. His personality, big brown eyes, the way his forehead would crinkle when talking to you.

Part of you felt something for Ruben, something you never got to experience in past relationships. “I’ll be your date,” he said so effortlessly, not even questioning the outcome of it. John decided at that moment to stand up and leave, saying goodbye of course, “I'll see you two around.” he smirked.

Ruben strode over to the chair John once sat in, making your heart race as you noticed him. He was a bit sweaty, wearing a tight Nike training shirt, with his shorts running dangerously high. “Ruben. As much as I would love that, I can’t let you do that.” You shook your head acknowledging what he finally had said to you. His eyebrows furrowed, “Why y/n? You desperately looking for a solution, there’s nothing bad about it. Think of it as going as friends! Just a couple of nights then boom, back to normal.”

How do you tell your best friend you are unsure of how it would affect you? How you see him more than a friend? “But Ruben you have your job here, you need to get better before the international break,” you tried coming up with more excuses. “I need a break from that right now, the physio said I’m recovering and soon can start training with the team. Just agree, I have a suit ready. Plus I’ve wanted to visit Madrid, this would be the time.”

He stared into your eyes, looking at the uncertainty, the overthinking. Ruben knew because a small vein on your temple popped out. He knew you couldn’t disagree at this point, it was true you were desperate but with this offer on the table… it will change things. “It’s a week we’re staying there. We’d have to act like a couple, a couple who are deeply in love. Are you sure you want to do this? My family expects high expectations for no reason, I don’t want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.”

Ruben knew how your family was. He didn’t understand why you of all people would get mistreated. You had provided for them, took care of them, and even did abnormal things no one would even think of, yet you were unappreciated. They were ungrateful he thought, but never said aloud, he thought you deserved better. “I’m a thousand percent sure, I’m sure I can manage.”

He was up for the challenge, he wanted to be there for you. Who knows maybe this trip could change things between you? You stood up and went over to his side, he looked up at you standing up as well. You hugged him tightly wrapping your arms around his broad body and setting your head on his chest. You swore his heartbeat began to beat faster. Hesitantly he wrapped his arms around you as well, setting his chin under your head.

“Thank you, Ruben, you don’t know how much this means to me! I will make it up to you I swear,” you promised. “You don’t have to make anything up, take this as a favor for helping me while injured,” he muttered, you felt the vibrations of his voice when he spoke. You pulled away going back to work. He as well as he went to talk to Pep for the week off. His thoughts lingered a bit more, now more than ever determined to find out why you did not say anything about the wedding.

Later that evening, you and Ruben had agreed to go out for dinner, a small unknown Italian place that was hidden, your favorite spot. You ordered a small pizza since you were in the mood for it, along with some white wine to relax the nerves still present. You didn’t dress up fancy, something casual and similar to what Ruben wore.

“Can I ask you something?” you nodded taking a sip of the crystal wine glass, Ruben's brown eyes became soft, his outer corners slightly wrinkling. “Don’t take this the wrong way, or that I'm going to get upset, Well I kind of am but it's okay if you had a reason… how come you never told me about the wedding?” he said confused and slightly conflicted, that accent you adore so much coming out, his voice weaker rather than the deep voice he had.

You drop your eyes down to the empty plate, not knowing what exactly to say to him. Ruben had done so much for you the past month the last thing you wanted was to become a burden for him. You hated feeling like that, people feeling like they’re forced to like you, it's the last thing you wanted Ruben to feel since he had a lot on his plate as well. You also didn’t want to tell him for this reason, him being insistent to accompany you.

“I was going to eventually, right before you got injured but I didn’t say anything because you've been there for me. Way too many times, I guess I didn’t want this to be in that pile… It's not because I didn’t want to I did, but this would just be added to the plate of stress you have going on,” you rambled. But Ruben shook his head letting out a small scoff in disbelief, your gut dropping.

“How many times have I told you, that you can come to me for absolutely anything? I think by this point we've established that we're always there for each other no matter what,” he emphasized. “You’ve helped me through my recovery process physically and mentally, and I couldn't be more than grateful for that. This would've not been stressful to me, I care for you, and I wish you could see that more often,” his voice now gentler than when he was ranting.

“Yes, I know that, and I care for you that's why I didn't say anything. It wasn't that big of a deal until just recently when I began to stress about it more,” you say. The waiter comes by with your plates of food, him being in a cheery mood unaware of the tension that you and Ruben were having. “Am I missing anything?” to which you both shook your head no, “Great, call if you need anything else.”

“Sorry, I was just kinda upset and confused you didn't tell me, since we tell each other everything. We’ve known each other for little time but i’ve grown to trust you so much Y/n, it's a feeling I can’t explain. I feel at home with you…” Ruben soughed, becoming tense at the thought of you not feeling the same way and him oversharing.

“Since we're being honest, when I'm with you I can just be me. Not the girl who I was forced to grow up as or the professional Y/n at the training grounds. The Y/n you know and those around me whom I trust. Ive never also felt like this, the feeling of being at home, it's only been you who released that feeling, not even Jace made me feel that way” you say, bringing him out his worries and fear, the reassurance he was looking for, but you take notice at the way his jaw clenches at Jace’s name.

Ruben hated him. He hated the way he made you feel, the way he treated you after you remained loyal and loving through your relationship. How can someone do that to a pure and innocent perfect? With your best friend too? Anytime you mentioned or cried over him he saw red, he hurt you and the only thing he desired was to beat the shit out of him. But Jace didn’t have you anymore, you were Ruben’s, and only his now.

To cheer the mood up you change the subject, not wanting to talk about the wedding or the feelings the two of you confessed out loud. Hell, you weren’t in Spain yet, but the air between you shifted a lot…

“Madrid is gorgeous you’ll love it. We will be staying outside of Madrid for the first three days and then go explore the city. We can visit the plaza and buy reservoirs, go to the royal palace, go to museums, and do some hiking near this camp. And we will for sure that the late night walks through the city, just like we have been doing…”

Ruben finally smiles, the frown no longer there. You were best at that, bringing the good and not strict professional Ruben was. The man with routine as he claimed to be. You let him be loose and worry-free. “Can we visit the Bernabeu or is that too soon?” he joked. Your mouth opened wide at his comment, referring to winning the semi-final this year, and the UCL. But also to when City lost last year.

“You sure you can handle seeing the great success of Real Madrid and their fourteen Champions League trophies?” you teased, to which Ruben let out a loud laugh. “Will that be Madrid’s fanbase comeback and excuse when we call them out or attempt to humble them?” he says, continuing the banter. You shrug your shoulders and lean back, taking a sip of your wine once again, “I don’t know… Guess you’ll find out once we're in Madrid…”

The once harsh tension that was there before was now long gone. The two of you enjoy a peaceful dinner like planned, continuing joking and tease each other about the teams, but also rejoicing and sharing the favorite memories from your earlier childhood. Ruben laughed as you told him about a time you faked being sick so you wouldn't have to attend a ballet dance recital and the times when you snuck out to get drunk with friends at a nearby park. He drove you home after walking through Manchester and sharing a cup of ice cream, kissing your cheek goodnight, promising to always be there for you.

Three days later you found yourself waiting for Ruben to pick you up to go to the airport. You insisted on Uber but he wouldn’t take your ‘No’ for an answer. You had your suitcase ready, along with your carry-on, filled with your electronics, blanket, and some of your and Ruben’s favorite snacks. Your mother had called the night before making sure once again to remind you about your boyfriend.

Ruben honked outside distracting you from your deep thinking. The night before you couldn’t sleep, you had admitted you were pretty scared of this. You knew what you felt for Ruben wasn’t going to go away. You hoped maybe someday he would feel the same. He as well couldn’t sleep, his thoughts drifting of how you two were going to pull it off.

You greeted a good morning, hearing his deep and slumber voice as he greeted back. “Ready?” he asked then laughed when you shook your head. “Never, but here goes nothing.” The drive was filled with both of you singing to the playlist you created, somewhere between that you intertwined hands, feeling your skin burn at his touch.

After parking in the reserved area, you two made your way inside, checking in bags and getting your boarding passes. “Just to let you know, I brought your favorite snacks so you wouldn’t have to buy them…” you said as you sat down in the lounge. Ruben felt his heart warm up as you thought of him, smiling when pulling out the Scooby-Doo graham cracker cookies and the rainbow goldfish cheesy snacks. He had tried them during his pre-season tour with Benfica in America years ago, and he quickly loved the snacks.

“Thank you… Girlfriend.” You giggled at his words, blushing at the thought as well. He intertwined your hands once again as you made yourself inside the plane. He looked better than ever, wearing a white shirt underneath his black hoodie, a baseball cap, and sweats. “Just to let you know I’m super tired, so I may fall asleep right here,” You raised his brows at his choice of words, quickly understanding after.

He leaned over placing his head on your right shoulder, crossing his arms across his chest. You chuckled enjoying the feeling of being close again. “In that case, I’m falling asleep here,” you leaned over placing your head on top of his, covering your bodies with the blanket. He sighed comfortably soon drifting off to sleep.

Ruben couldn’t stop staring out as you guys landed in Madrid, he fell in love with the city so quickly, even more so as you reached your destination. Before he got out you stopped him, “Wait! Listen my family isn't… so kind at times. If they say something I deeply apologize, they can be a handful.” Testing the water a bit he leaned over pecking your temple letting his lips linger on there for a bit before reassuring you.

“As long as you’re here, that matters most.”

[eddiemunsonsdrug]

The Missing Link Part 2 | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve knew Hawkins would drag him back one day or another, but coming back because Dustin was missing was almost something out of a nightmare.

warnings: A few curse words and smoking of the devils lettuce

A/N: I hope you enjoy part two, please like and repost if you like this as it keeps me going. Also let me know if you would like to be tagged in future parts. (I can totally picture Eddie living close to Wayne when he gets older, just wants to be close to his father figure)

Words: 2323

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Steves steps were heavy as he climbed the stairwell up to Robins place, he had told her to pick the place with the elevator but, she wanted the cheaper option, and he thinks she enjoys the mild work out. But currently Steve would give anything for an easy ride to her 9th floor apartment.

He felt close to falling asleep or passing out when he finally got to her door and gave two exhausted heavy knocks on the cheap plywood. The door narrowly missed his slumped over body as it swung open quicker than he had expected, though he knew Robin was most likely sitting close to her door at the kitchen table.

“You’re late.” Robin began her usual time management lecture but was interrupted by Steve collapsing in her arms. Her shock lasted a quick second before she securely wrapped her arms around Steve and held him tightly against her. Though Steve weighed significantly more than her, the adrenaline of seeing her best friend so broken and weak kept them both up. She could feel his tears begin to soak into her shoulder, through her shirt.

“Hey, hey. Its okay.” She squeezed her grip to reassure him. “I’m here.” She whispered. “I missed you.” Steve sobbed into her, he was trying his best to regain stability, he hated appearing weak, he hated being weak. He was supposed to be the strong one, but Robins arms stayed around him.

“I missed you too.”  

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You had napped after you had gotten back to your own place and Steve had left. But after waking up and seeing the darkness of the night flooding your apartment you knew you didn’t want to be there; you didn’t want to be alone.

After chewing your thumb for a while, debating on reaching out to Robin to see if Steve had gotten there okay, you convinced yourself you were simply being paranoid. Its not like this was his first time at her place, he had visited before. Though you only found out he had been there after he had already left back for college and Robin had let it slip.

But you still couldn’t help sitting and wondering what could have been going through Steves mind earlier in the day. You finally calmed yourself down and wanted nothing more than to get out of your apartment.

You called the one person you knew would answer, would be happy to see you at anytime of day. “Well, hey there little bird.” Eddies voice rumbled through the phone; it sounded like you woke him up. “Were you sleeping? You were probably sleeping.” You rambled as you looked at the nearest clock, it was nearing 1 in the morning. “Hey, hey, woah. I’m never too asleep to answer your calls, you know that.” He reassured as you took in a deep breath to calm your racing heart and the guilt rising in your gut. “Eddie, go back to sleep. I’m fine.” You attempted to convince him. You knew how rare it was for Eddie to get a full night’s rest. The months after Vecna had been hard on everyone, but the lasting effects were mostly on Eddie. Well, Eddie and Steve. They were the ones left with the scars; they were the ones that were reminded of everything they had been through just from a simple glance at a mirror.

“Do you want to come over?” As each moment passed, the more awake he sounded, the more you felt awful for waking him in the first place. “You don’t need to do that Eds.” A scoff came from the other side. “Get your ass over here already.” You could hear him getting out of bed and shuffling around. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He said before abruptly hanging up, ending your ability to fight him more on this.

You stayed seated for a few more minutes, you couldn’t shake the nerves built in your stomach, you needed to decide if you were going to let anyone else know that Steve was in town, that you had seen him with your own two eyes, that you had touched and held him and that he looked like a ghost.

You exited your place and hopped on your bike, wondering why you didn’t choose to ride it to the police site earlier that day. But a bit happy you hadn’t, or you may not have gotten a ride from Steve.

The spring air cooled the sweat you had inevitably caused during your overthinking, and the wind in your hair began to relax you. You felt like you could fall asleep again just from a short bike ride.

Pulling up to Eddies trailer you could see his silhouette in his kitchen window.

After everything with Vecna was finished the government replaced Waynes old trailer with a slightly newer one and offered Eddie a place of his own, it could have been anywhere. He could have moved to a new country and changed his name. He had a chance at a new life, he wouldn’t have had to work much in his life, he would have been set.

But instead he had a simple request, he wanted a trailer of his own  next to Waynes.

He worked as a mechanic in the day and still played shows at night with Corroded Coffin. Though fame and fortune was no longer what he wanted in life after Vecna, he still loved music and playing with his friends.

It warmed your heart that he had stayed in Hawkins, that he had stayed humble and modest, that he still lived right by Wayne.

Climbing up the wooden steps you reached the door and knocked lightly, still scared to be here, and bothering him. He appeared in a flash, the door swinging open and his smiling face beaming towards you. He looked exhausted, his hair was a knotted mess, and his eyes were rather blood shot. “Y/N.” He mused . “Eddie.” You said back attempting to plaster a smile to your face. “Come in and tell me what’s wrong.” He pushed open the screen door to allow you to enter.

As you stepped into his place you shook your head. “Nothings wrong, did I ever say something was wrong?” The screen door slammed when he released his hand from it. “No you did not, but you, madam, have a tell.”

“A tell?”

“A tell.” He gestured towards your body. “You just kind of-” He slumped forward, his arms hanging loosely in front of him. “Deflate.” You snorted at his actions. “I do not.” You poked at his kidney to get him to flinch. “You do, its your tell.” He mocked as he straightened upwards and entered his kitchen area.

He leaned backwards from the cabinets and wiggled a joint between his fingers along with wiggling his eyebrows. You chuckled. “I don’t know if I should, my brains already so foggy.” Eddie moved over to you resting on the back of his couch and dramatically dropped onto it upside down. “Come on, you know it would help me sleep.” You rolled your eyes, still deep within you felt that guilt yet again.

“Okay, but you can’t use that excuse again for a week.” You looked over your shoulder and down towards him, he crossed his fingers against his chest before rolling the rest of the way off the couch and onto the floor before bounding back up.

“Lets hit the roof.” You could use the fresh air once again.

As the two of you made your way outside you followed behind him, watching him climb up the ladder he had perched onto his trailer. It was something he had done to his new place almost immediately after getting it. Once the trailer was secure and steady, he placed an older looking ladder against the side and placed two cement blocks against the bottom. It had become an instant new hang out place for the gang. Whether anyone wanted to get some sun, smoke, or have a safe place for intense conversations.

After reaching the top and joining Eddie sitting on the roof, you watched as he lit and took the first hit from the joint. Though he had quit dealing, no one thinks Eddie will ever go without pot.

He passed the joint towards you and laid down against the cool metal before exhaling. You took a few smaller hits; you didn’t want to be falling asleep at Eddies like normal. You wanted to get up tomorrow to see if you could find Steve once more. “So, are you ever going to tell me?” You sighed and passed the joint back into Eddies hands, laying next to him and watched as he took some puffs. “Well, I mean Dustin’s still missing.” Eddie exhaled and the two of you watched the smoke float into the sky before disappearing completely. “I know that little bird.” Plucking the joint once more you took a bigger hit, hoping the weed would give you some form of comfort.

“But you’re carrying something else with you.” He stated, you held your breath for a second too long and coughed out the smoke. Eddie couldn’t help but grin in your direction. “ Eddie.” You began as you cleared your throat and took in a few breaths to cool the raging fire now burning your chest. “Listen, if you’re not comfortable telling me now, just know I’m always here for when you are ready” he said, the timber in his voice rumbled through the roof and down your back. “Thanks.” You replied meekly.

The joint was nearly finished as you both stared up into the stars and moonlight of the night sky.

“God, I wish I knew where that kid was.” Eddie muttered. “Yeah.” You breathed. “Me too.”

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

Steves vision was hazy as he began to wake up, he didn’t remember falling asleep but, here he was on top of Robins bed with his muscles aching every time he took a breath. He looked around the small open concept apartment, Robin was in the kitchen portion stirring gently into a pot. “Hey.” Steve creaked out, his throat and mouth were both dry. He coughed and cleared his throat as he forced his sore body to sit up right. “Hey.” Robin said back as she moved to her cupboard and grabbed a glass, quickly filling it with water and walking over to Steve.

He brushed his hair back out of his face. “How long was I asleep for?” He questioned as he grasped the glass and took three giant gulps from it. “About two hours.” Robin answered looking behind her to her stove clock. “You feeling better?” She asked as she went back into the kitchen to watch the pot on the element. “Not really.” Steve said truthfully, his brain was thumping in his skull and his whole body felt like stone, plus everything else that was running through his mind wasn’t exactly going to be fixed with a small nap.

“What are you cooking?” He finished the glass of water and moved to sit at the kitchen table, pulling out a seat and watching Robin as she chuckled. “Instant noodles, hope you’re hungry for some gourmet cooking.” She continued to laugh as she added in the soup mix. Steves stomach inadvertently began to grumble. “Honestly, that sounds like the best right now.” He smirked. He exited his seat and headed to the cabinets. “Where are your bowls?” He asked whilst digging through every shelf. “Oh, yeah, I just eat this out of mugs.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You have no bowls but, you have mugs?” Robin turned the stove off and placed a hand on her hip. “Don’t judge me, I couldn’t find any I liked.” Steve pulled out the biggest mugs he could find and set them on the counter. “Pour the soup Buckley.”

They sat back at the table and forked at their noodles and sipped at the broth for a bit. “So.” Robin began, Steve looked up from his mug and raised an eyebrow. “So?” He asked back. “Are you going to ever tell me what happened today? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you, Dingus.”

Steve went back to staring down his mug of noodles. “Oh, long day.” He shrugged, avoiding the exhausting subject. “I uh- saw Y/N.” Robins eyes bulged with shock. “Don’t tell me she was at the scene?” Robins voice had a panic in it that Steve was surprised to hear. “Yeah, she was. How did you know that?” Robin’s eyes softened as she pushed the food from her. “She’d been doing that since Dustin disappeared. Its like she has a police scanner, she always finds where they are that day. She’s been warned to stay away, Hopper usually drives her home.” Steves heart sank in his chest from this news, you had been on this since the day after Dustin disappeared and were willing to get in trouble to find him. And yet Steve felt exhausted from one swim in a pond.

“God, I had no idea.” Guilt ran through his blood. “She was so distraught today.” Robin nodded. “She’s been like that every day; she tends to run out of energy from how much she stresses.” Steves mind flashed with the memory of you today. “Yeah, she looked exhausted and ready to give up.” Steves shoulders slumped as he fiddled with his fork. “She’s like a sister to the kid.” Robin nodded lightly, she loves the kids but, Y/N always had a way with Dustin and his need for answers.

“Fuck Steve, what if its-“

Steve cut her off with the slam of his fist onto the vinyl table.

“Its not, he’s dead, okay? Repeat it. Vecna is dead.” He stared harshly into her eyes.

Robin stared back in a moment of shock before closing her eyes and taking a breath.

“Vecna is dead.” She repeated.

[thomine]

unfolding reputation : venti

pair: venti x reader info: general audiences, unreliable narrator, one-sided misunderstandings, not proofread

summary: venti and you were enrolled in the same school since a young age. you wouldn't really call him a friend though, and the stories surrounding him discourages you from even caring. however, when he's assigned as your teammate in a life-changing project, you start to care.

word count: 1.5k words series: day 6 of au august 2023 / prompt: university links: work tag

His name might not be what people remember, but everyone knows the animal he becomes when he’s given a bottle of booze. It’s what draws the crowd, and when there is a crowd mixed with music, there is a party hard to miss. Even after all those years, he has not changed. He’s still the core of rumours. Venti truly was a force to be reckoned with, and he was going to destroy your perfect cumulative score if you did not intervene.

“I don’t want to partner with him,” you demand. If this was anyone else, you would have sucked it up and saved the energy to email the professor to meet. However, this was Venti. He’ll party all night. You don’t expect good contributions from such behaviour, and he’ll probably be too drunk all the time to know there are deadlines to meet. You’re surprised he hasn’t been expelled when he’s done crazy things in parties and probably does not have a good cumulative score.

The professor looks at you with his chin resting on his hand prompted on the table, an eyebrow raised. You know that look.

“Just because you excelled in my previous module and we’ve gained rapport from your outstanding performance, changing partners is not something I can do just because you want to. I’ve already submitted the randomly assigned pairs to the higher ups. Unless you are willing to write a 5-page report due tomorrow explaining to grumpy old men sitting on the board that this unfair practice is excusable, I cannot help you.”

“But sir,” you start, almost on your knees and ready to beg, “It’s unfair to me that he’ll not be pulling his own weight. Although there are components graded individually, I don’t have the means to tank this project by myself and I really want to produce a project you’ll be proud of.”

He sighs and rests against the back rest of his chair. “Kid,” he starts after massaging his eyes, “life is not going to go as you wish all the time. It’s also an important skill to learn how to adapt to the unwanted circumstances thrown at you. Take it from me that it’s better to encounter and learn from this situation during your schooling days than when you’re out in the workforce.”

“But—”

“I cannot help you.”

He presses his lips into a flat line and shakes his head when you open your mouth to counter his firm stance. You deflate, acutely aware that he’s still your grading professor, and if you’re too insistent, this moment might leave a sour taste which will only lead to more disasters for your sore.

You say a quick apology and bow, then leave.

In the years you knew him, you did not have to work with him even once. Doing well in this module will be what sets you apart from the rest, raising your chances to find a job overseas. Why now?

This was fate playing with you. You just know it.

When you leave the office, there’s a familiar silhouette at the bench outside. Speak of the devil. He’s talking with someone who’s crying. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was the reason she’s crying. He does have eye-catching features and who knows what crazy thing he’ll do without meaning it under the influence of alcohol?

You roll your eyes and make your leave. There’s no time to dwell on the details when your shift at your part-time job starts soon.

 Sleeping in the library was the last thing on your to-do list. Unfortunately, it’s the only thing you’ve accomplished. Someone taps on your shoulder, jolting you awake. You expected to see the librarian. Instead, it’s the infamous Venti. He has a wide smile, and before you can stop him, he takes the seat beside yours.

“I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“What time is it?” you ask, checking your phone. It’s lunch time now. Internally, you groan. Not only did you waste a perfect morning, but you also must deal with a partner who draws eyes everywhere he goes. It doesn’t help that the last thing on your bucket list is to be wrapped and preserved eternally in one of those rumour Venti often ropes himself in.

“It’s time to wake up,” he jokes, but he’s the only one giggling. “I never expected myself to be paired with you for this project,” he says, staring as you fight against your natural instincts to rest your head on the table. “It’s nice to see a familiar face though.”

“Please, you know everyone in school.” Whether you said that out loud or it remained in your head, you’re too tired to care.

Venti chuckles. “I don’t know you though.”

You scoff, not wanting to play any mind games. Unlike him, there are no stories of you floating around the campus. Of course he wouldn’t know you when you try your best to stay out of the limelight.

“So, when do we start?” he asks. You narrow your eyes.

“I started a week ago.”

“That’s good,” he comments and you’re not sure if he means it. “But I asked when do we start?”

You straighten your back, eyes growing wide. He’s cooperating?

“We can start now.”

He wags his finger. “Wrong answer. You’re supposed to say, ‘after lunch’.  How else are you going to have energy and work on this project without eating something?”

“I’m not hungry—”

A low rumble emits from your stomach. You curse.

“Guess that’s enough of an agreement. Then let’s go!” He doesn’t care about the stares at his sudden declaration in such a quiet environment, but you do, and when he grabs your hand to drag you out, it aligned with your desire to just fade into the background so you leave your chair with little resistance.

In your hands are paper. For once, it is not your own. Venti had finished a chapter of the report earlier than expected, although he said he had planned to get it done today so that you could have more time to vet through and ensure consistency. You give his work a cursory glance, and the work is substantial. In fact, you think he might be on to something in one of the points he wrote. You highlight that page to return to it later, but your simple just a peek soon transforms to a full dissection of his arguments.

He returns with your lunch, order memorized from the number of occasions he invited you to eat with him. Then, he heads off to get his. In the meantime, you continue breaking down his work.

A shadow looms over you, but there is no smell of food. You look up and meet with a face you’ve seen around campus—you just can’t remember when.

“Was Venti here?” she asks. She has her hands behind her back and a faltering gaze. You look at the direction in which he left. The stall he ordered from must have been further in as you don’t see him around.

“He’ll come back, but we’ll be busy discussing something. I can let him know if you want to talk to him though. What’s your name?”

It hits you. She’s the girl Venti was consoling outside the office.

“Actually,” she says, breaking you from your thoughts. You did not catch her name. “Could you just give this to him? I don’t think this is worth troubling him to meet me another time.”

You extend your hands for her to pass you a small trinket. It’s a handmade clay charm shaped in a letter “V”. She turns around and grabs something from her backpack, giving you a card as well.

She says her thanks and promptly leaves. You’re not one to pry, but when there are only 2 words taking up all the space on the card, it’s hard to ignore the message even from the corner of your eye.

Thank you.

There was a story you heard, once, of Venti convincing the janitor that he did no wrong even if he was the one who vomited all over the sink, leaving a smelly mess. This could be one of the moments where he tricks someone into thinking he’s innocent, but when he calls your name and you lift your head to spot his dazzling smile, you can’t believe you’re starting to doubt your own beliefs you once held so strongly.

He did finish a whole chapter for the project, which far exceeded your expectations.

He places his lunch down and leans towards you to get a better look at the charm in your hands. Gingerly, he takes it, examines it, and without you uttering a single word, he keeps it with a knowing smile.

The paper in your hand absorbed your attention prior. Now, you can only look at Venti as he chews through his meal.

author's note: this idea was super ambitious and i did not do it justice, but i had fun trying to condense the idea into 1k words or so, and publishing this meant i wrote 6 days in a row. that most i've ever written in my life. it was something to be proud of, and this fic makes me happy :)

[suntoru]

ok so can i request a touch-starved gn! reader x bakugo? like they have trust issues and bakugo is helping them get used to things like cuddling, holding hands, etc. but they’re taking baby steps until reader is comfortable. sorry if this isn’t worded clearly, it’s my first time doing a request 〒▽〒

a/n: hi love, thanks for the request! no need to worry, you did great <3

⤷ katsuki bakugo

○ okay so you know his ego is too fat to ever initiate any form of touch

○ so he expects you to do it first

○ he waits… and waits… and waits…

○ a couple months go by before he realizes something is off

○ his insecurities start to rise and he overthinks everything

○ is there something wrong with his hands? why do you never want to hold them? why won’t you cuddle him? does he smell?

○ if he does manage to put his ego aside and just hold you, consider yourself special

○ he’s gonna make some random excuse on why he needs to touch you in the most tsundere way possible

○ like how you’re going to get lost at the mall if you don’t hold his hand, or that if you don’t cuddle, you’re gonna get cold in the night and be whiny the next day

○ so one day, you’re walking in the park and your hand brushes against his

○ it’s like that for at least five minutes before he sucks it up and just intertwines your fingers

○ he sighs in relief when you don’t pull away

○ but you tense up and go stiff, and he knows you’re uncomfortable

○ he just silently lets go and for the rest of the walk, there’s an awkward silence between you two

○ he’s trying, you can see that, and it makes you feel worse

○ so when you do open up, he’d honestly be relieved the problem isn’t him

○ you can almost see the outline of a small smile

○ but he holds it in because he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care

○ whatever you have to say, he’ll listen

○ he won’t say it out loud, but he loves you and would do anything to make you comfortable

○ so he just keeps his distance until you tell him you trust him and you want to try something new

○ it starts with intertwining pinkies and quick hugs to linking arms and small cheek pecks

○ he quietly tells you he’s proud of you when he thinks you’re not listening, but you do hear it and it encourages you more

○ eventually you are comfortable enough to just hold each other, and he almost lets out a grin

○ he tries to cover it up

○ it doesn’t work

○ if he sees anyone getting a little more touchy with you than you’re comfortable with, he’ll either yell at them or just drag you away

“tch, dumbass… you could’ve just told me in the beginning… i’d wait a thousand lifetimes to be with you.”

⤷ shoto todoroki

○ he really has the same problem

○ after his painful childhood, he craves affection but is also a bit reluctant to trust

○ it takes a little bit of effort and mutual assurance to start something with him

○ but regardless, you know he loves you even if he’s a little awkward with words

○ if todoroki sees you in a romantic sense, it means he trusts you a lot, but it still takes time to open up

○ when he feels ready, he’ll tell you everything about his past

○ whether you do too or save it for another time, you’re both there for each other

○ the two of you are a little stiff when it comes to physical affection, so you start off slow

○ casual touches and light hair ruffles are shared in the comfort of your dorms

○ always making sure both of you are ready before moving on to another step

○ you relish in the small bits of affection you give to each other, but soon it’s not enough

○ getting a bit greedy with your touches, you find yourself pulling a little closer into his hugs and feeling a bit disappointed when he pulls away

○ one day, you decide you want to try cuddling with shoto

○ you feel a bit embarrassed asking him straightforward, so you try to subtly hint at him

○ telling him it’s a bit cold in your bed alone, or it feels kind of lonely sleeping by yourself

○ unfortunately, he’s a bit too dense to get it

○ you hear a knock on the door and you find shoto standing there holding a large heating mattress pad and some stuffed animals to make it less lonely

○ he gives you such a soft and innocent smile that you don’t have the heart to tell him this isn’t what you wanted

○ so you thank him, and as soon as you shut the door, you deadpan

○ eventually you just give up and ask him if he wants to cuddle

○ you’ll have to explain the concept to him, but he’s more than willing to

○ you’re both really tired so you just sink into each others arms

○ the feeling is definitely foreign to him and something you haven’t felt in a while, so you tell him you understand if he isn’t comfortable with this

○ with a slight blush, he’s quick to mumble he doesn’t want to pull away

○ when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers something in your ear that makes your heart melt

○“my love, thank you for trusting me enough to do this. i love you.”

[ivestas]

within the hornet’s nest

Part two: LINK

Summary: Fring calls you in the dead of night.

Word count: 1.0k

Warnings: Mentions of death and grief, (implied) mental breakdown, confessions, spoilers for BCS s6e3

Note: Damn its been a while since i wrote oneshots, much less for tumblr. apologies in advance for the rustiness

When you arrived at the chicken farm, you didn’t know what to expect. 

It was dark, way past midnight—you should be sleeping, and so should he, but what could you say? To postpone whatever had him call you at this hour for the next day? 

You didn’t care that much, anyway. Sleep wasn’t something you were able to indulge in easily. 

Walking through one of the gaps between the buildings, you spotted a door with light shining through. 

“Once you find the door, walk in. I’ll be there.” 

Your hands twist the polished knob, and walking in, you hear the eager clucks of chickens echo throughout. 

It was only a few steps in that you found Gustavo Fring, hunched over a group of fenced chickens and tossing what seemed to be seeds and bread alike. The chickens were quick to pluck at the food, and what looked like a ghost of a smile twisted Fring’s face. 

The look lit a feeling in your stomach—a palpable disgust you did well at hiding, alongside something else. Something that was warm and sluggish. 

“Mr. Fring?” 

He looked up, straightening his posture, dropping the rest of the feed that had been in his hand. 

Gustavo’s face was calm and neutral, no longer tainted by what you thought was a human expression. “You arrived quicker than I expected.”

“I thought an emergency occurred, sir.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “That isn’t quite what’s happening.” 

I could see that… Neither of his trusted men where there—and you realized then, that, even Mike wasn’t there. 

You didn’t know what to thing, or to feel. What does he want?

“You see, it dawned on me the other day…” He picked up a white bucket and walked over to you. 

Inside the bucket was birdfeed. You looked at him, and he nodded. Take. 

You took a handful of that feed. “...you and I, we have been in very similar circumstances. Perhaps to some degree, we still are.” 

He took a handful of feed and tossed it to the neglected chickens. The cluck with newfound vigor. You do the same, completely and utterly lost, both at what’s happening right now and at Gustavo’s words. 

You don’t talk though. You watch Gustavo with what you hoped to be masked suspicion, glossed with confusion. 

“Your friend, Varga, he died because of me.” 

You froze. 

Why was he bringing that up now? 

“I had a friend—a brother—who was killed, too.” 

?

“I’m forced to work with the man that killed him, just the way you are,” a strange expression crossed his face in that moment, something that tore the visage of stony calmness before it flickered back to normal. 

You grab another handful of feed, bits of seed and dried bread digging deep into your skin before you tossed it to the chicken. 

“And strangely, that makes me a little… ah. Sentimental.” 

You breathe in sharply. Grabbing another handful, throwing it again at the chicken. (You would later realize that it had been only you feeding the chicken.) 

You were acutely aware of how Gustavo now stared at you, as if breaking down every piece of your being, carefully analyzing like a scientist would with a strange petri dish—and you hated it. Every second of his oddly soothing eyes scanning the nooks and crannies of your face was like torture. 

“Speak.” 

“We’re nothing alike!” You spat immediately. Possessed was what your tongue was now, controlled by the volatile nature of your heart. You didn’t care though. Not now. Not ever. “Just—fuck, no, you can’t say that, I don’t care if we’re the same, because we’ll never, ever, be the same!” Heaving, you tried to add coherence, but unspoken feelings seemed to push all logic away. 

“You left Nacho to die, and now you have me as—what? Some sort of prize?! God, fuck, you can’t just—just—” 

You stumbled back. Your mind, that had long since become a haze of gray, opened momentarily to reveal nothing but absolute dark and blood-stained wishes. 

When you look at Gustavo, he still has that contemplative expression, just observing, like you were, what? Some circus monkey? Some fool that still listens to the same person who killed her only friend? Like some—fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Fuck off, Fring! Just fucking die—or kill me! You can’t… you can’t just…” Raw feeling tinged your coherence, and now you were no longer sentient, just a bundle of ashen wishes and unspoken feelings of both old and new.

Gustavo took a step closer to you, however, bucket long since abandoned to the chickens. 

“Can’t what?” He echoed softly. 

“You can’t keep fucking with my head like this! It’s evil!” 

“And how am I doing that?” 

You shook. “I don’t know!—you, I’m supposed to hate you, and yet..!” 

His voice was strangely light. “Yet?” 

“I don’t have the heart to kill you!” A strange laugh ripped from your throat. “Can you believe it? You killed my own, and yet, what? I can’t do the same thing..!”

The strangest thing happened when you looked at him, hoping to find an answer, to find reason—

—he was smiling. Softly. Tenderly. Calmly. Soothingly. And, like a moth, the flame completely entranced you. 

For a moment, no one says anything. What fills the air is your broken gasps of air—trying in vain to soothe your frayed nerves—and the chickens’ cawing and cooing. 

And then, Gustavo was the one to break the odd silence, his smile growing the slightest bit.

“I’m glad.” He shook his head, still smiling, as if it were a silly thing—a peculiar novelty that could only be regarded with laughter. “Because I feel the same.” 

You feel the same?

You laughed. Absurd, absurd, absurd. 

You wanted to smile. You wanted to cry. You wanted to draw a knife to your throat. 

But you just stood there, and Gustavo remained smiling so fucking softly, grabbing the bucket once more and turning away, his focus now back at the chickens. 

And, after a few minutes, you had joined him.

[pokegalla]

More fluff coming your way!!! But first a quick note!

A shoutout for @theneurodivergentdummy

They always give me new ideas, they are a talented artist and they deserve some follows!

Also! If y’all love learning about new Undertale AUs, I have an AU I’m creating called Unitytale! I’m working on a fanfic that already has two chapters up and an ask blog just for it! Come on by to ask more questions about the characters, story, or just pop in to say hi! Link to account right below:

Sorry for the long intro! Let’s get right back to it! (Little warning for a little NSFW. Nothing crazy just….Y’know how Red is.)

Underfell bros’ First Time Sleeping over at S/o’s home.

Red:

* MAN was he PUMPED. He played it cool though. Like oh sleep over at your place? What are we, kids? Sure let’s have a little pillow fort set up and make s’mores while we’re at it. Mind you he is mentally fist bumping in the air.

* Bake together before heading to bed! He actually knows how to bake so it would be fun! (Bonus points if it’s super late and y’all just say fuck it I wanna make some cookies-). You’d probably fool around and get into a messy battle of flour and batter.

* After a messy battle and cleaning up, you guys probably just wanna head to bed. He was a little nervous at first but tried to deny it but with your reassurance, he gets the confidence he needs and turns into a huge cuddly teddy bear!

* Though he does get a little….TOO confident if you get what I mean. Expect a firm grip on your tush or as a girl, on your chest. And a cheeky little smile from him if you point it out. (Lil shit-)

* And in the morning you can bet on lazy cuddles and kisses. He would be at his softest and sweetest. Please take advantage and make him blush with compliments and sweet words. He’ll love it and even be just as mushy.

Mini Story Time!!!

You stretched and snuggled more into the blanket. You should probably get up….you had a guest after all. You giggled as you looked up to see your bone-friend slightly snoring as he had an arm around your shoulders. You slowly tried to get up but Red quickly pulled you closer.

“C’mon! I need to make breakfast!”

“Five more minutes….,” He mumbled.

He opened his eye sockets and stared down softly at you, moving your hair out of your face and rubbing it between his fingers. The gesture was so gentle and loving….you smile and cup his cheek bones.

“You’re so adorable when you wake up. Teehee, it’s almost like we’re married,” You said.

You notice his face turns into a brilliant shade of his namesake but smiles before quietly saying, “If I get to see you every morning like this, I wouldn’t mind tying the knot.”

His smile widens as your face flushes up. He kisses you right on the lips. You kiss back, both of you giggling in between and finally ending it with a big hug.

“I love you,” You say happily.

Red kisses your forehead, “Love yah too sweetheart~”

Boss:

* He probably has been waiting AGES for you to ask him. Even setting up minor inconveniences to try and get you to invite him inside. (He was too embarrassed to ask you personally.)

* But when you asked him (or probably figured out his plan) he was estatic!!! He’ll be sure to be making dinner that night! And you can bet he made it elegant AND romantic!

* He even set up a romantic candle lit bubble bath! It comes with wine! (Don’t worry wine doesn’t have to have alcohol in it).

* Once you guys hop into you sleepwear, he low key was nervous. He’s excited to cuddle with you but he was calculating how his tall ass was gonna fit-

* You guys manage though! And in the morning you wake up to a breakfast in bed!

Mini Story Time!!!

You woke up to a lovely smell of coffee and pancakes, making your stomach rumble. You sat up right when Boss had entered the room.

“Ah! You’re Awake. Excellent. I Made Something For You,” He walked over and carefully placed a tray of food over your lap, “There! Now Eat Up! I Want You To Start Your Day With A Nutritious Breakfast!”

You giggle, “Aw you didn’t have to!”

“Of Course I Did! You Are My Date Mate! I Must Tend To You! What Kind Of Monster Would I Be If I Didn’t,” He proudly states.

“That or you’re showing off that your cooking is getting better?” You said.

He blushes, “Well That Too! Look! It’s Not Burned At All!!!”

You laugh and pat the bed beside you, “I’m proud of you. But you did make a bit too much food. I simply can’t eat this myself. Come eat with me! Pleeeeeeease?”

He chuckles softly, “Oh….Alright.”

You both enjoy the food together.

[tunastime]

Hot Tea

Summary:

“Let me over the fence,” Bdubs says, all at once. He turns his head, but not his body, to Etho. Etho looks away, shaking his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“Let me over,” Bdubs says again, and as he sees Etho open his mouth in protest yet again, he lurches forward, stuttering out his words. He nearly knocks the tea out of his own hands. “Just—just for tonight. Just tonight.”

Etho knows he has to divide the base between them. It's the only way to settle, now, knowing everything between them. How Bdubs shouldn't be there. Etho builds the fence. Etho divides them. And Etho divides himself in the process.

(AO3 link)

(2,448 words)

The worst part about the whole situation was that Etho did not want Bdubs to leave. The fence was his idea, just high enough to where if either of them tried anything, it wouldn't be profitable, and just low enough to still meet halfway.

The loneliness set in approximately three days after Etho set the last fence post.

It wasn't even like Bdubs and him were physically apart—aside from a wood railing between them. But Etho felt the emptiness in the space next to him, when he checked the farm, when he sharpened his axe, when he hung the kettle over the stove and willed it to boil, when he looked up, seeing the stars in the sky.

He never knew it would be so hard to look up into his husband's face and expect there to be something else behind red, hungry eyes. It was like Bdubs was possessed by a creature that could never be sated by the bloodshed of one.

Striking flint against steel, Etho lights a fire. It was a dangerous torch in the night, but for this moment of respite he does not care. He lays meat in the red hot coals and hooks the kettle to the rig balanced precariously above the smooth yellow flame.

Bdubs is at the fence in an instant, the flames reflecting in his eyes, casting gaunt shadows on his bruised and healing face.

"Nice of you to keep the fire close to the fence," he chirps, shooting Etho a toothy grin. Etho looks over for only a moment to study the fire in his eyes before he turns away, face morphing into a grimace first then back to neutral in quick succession. He shrugs.

"Figured I could do something for you," he says coolly. He can’t help but smile just a little, though. "It'll be a cold night without it."

"You don't have to pity me," Bdubs says. "Better off without your help."

Etho's eyebrows raise. "I can snuff it out if you prefer—"

"No! No," Bdubs lunges forward, holding to the fence post he had been leaning on. "Don't do that. Don't be like that,"

Etho laughs to himself, casting another throw away glance in Bdubs' direction.

A solemn silence falls over the two of them as Etho works, busying himself. He stokes the fire to keep the coals alive, and Bdubs keeps his back to the fence, soaking in the heat. They partake in an equivalent exchange so often a part of their intertwined lives, whether or not Etho or Bdubs really noticed.

Every so often, Bdubs turns, looking up into the clear sky, tipping himself to lean against the fence posts. He finally stills, eyes turned to the sky, as Etho lifts the pot of water and dried leaves from the flame and settles, precariously, with his cup of tea. The wooden cup is warm in his hands, steam rising from the lip. When he takes the first sip, it’s scorching and bitter, and he swallows with difficulty.

Etho, too, finally looks up, kettle cooling on the coals, still steaming. He speaks softly, as to not startle Bdubs if he were sleeping, but finds that he barely meets a whisper.

"It's clear tonight," he says. He hears Bdubs hum to himself. "I hope it stays that way."

"I don't think it's rained once since we got here," Bdubs says, sitting up. He turns to face Etho, who shifts back on instinct. He nearly kicks himself for it, since Bdubs made no further movement toward him. For a split second, a fracture opens in Bdubs’ scowling facade, and the bone deep hurt shows instead. Etho's face morphs into concern, and he shifts back.

"Yeah," he says, looking away. "You're right."

Bdubs sighs. The fence creaks as he leans against it.

"So you're still doing our ritual, huh?" He asks, his voice flat. When Etho looks at him, he can't see his face, but Etho doesn't speak for fear of the confusion being too evident in his voice. He can't tell if Bdubs reads it in his body language or his face but Bdubs shakes his head, settling back against the fence.

"The tea, Etho. You used to make tea for us at night. Especially if you weren't feeling well."

Etho blinks. His stomach is in thick knots, twisted in on itself—sick, as Bdubs had assumed. He holds the cup loose in his hand, bringing it up to drink, the motion deliberant.

"I did?" he asks, voice somewhat lost. He sets the cup in the soft sand beside him. "Oh. Hm. I guess I’d forgotten that."

“I’m sure you did,” Bdubs says, and then in one motion, he rises to his feet. Etho can hear the sand crunch as he walks away and for a moment lets out the breath in his chest.

Etho listens as Bdubs leaves, and only then does he eat. It’s not a satisfying meal in its own right. It’s plain and lukewarm and hard to swallow, and would be even without the lump in his throat. He sits on Bdubs’ words as he eats, turning them over to inspect the sentences. He never thought twice about how the little habits might change each meeting but clearly the two had gone from meeting like a semicolon to meeting like a period. There was a sense of finality in every word Bdubs spoke to him. Like he expected it to all come down around him.

The ache was back in Etho’s chest, a solemn silence that replaced hunger and hurt a little less. It wasn’t welcome, but it was bearable.

Etho tracked the sounds of Bdubs’ footsteps across the sand. He must have gotten something to eat because he hadn’t said anything in between the moment he left and the moment Etho was within his sight. Everything was within earshot, silence was only a formality.

Etho hears Bdubs sigh as he sits, then hears him clear his throat.

"You know, Etho, it doesn't have to be like this,” Bdubs says, almost nonchalant. “I can help you. We can help each other, even, it's not that hard—"

"C’mon, now,” Etho cuts him off, raising his hand. “You can't possibly mean that."

Bdubs sighs, and it has a certain quake to it that does very little to settle Etho's nerves.

"I don't," he says after a beat, but immediately inhales as if to note that he's speaking again. "But Etho—"

"Bdubs, please—"

"No, Etho listen—"

"No, you listen—"

"I miss you, okay?" Bdubs says, turning fully around to face Etho. "I miss you so, so much, you have no idea ..."

And then Bdubs falls silent. His chest rises and falls haphazardly like he can’t get a breath in otherwise and his face has fully morphed into something very painful for Etho to look at. Even in half darkness he doesn’t want to see the ache in his eye that may surely manifest in his chest if he does. He does not want there to be a hand shaped hole in his heart where it may be held and willed to beat. He does not want anything. If simply wasting away in this space would be enough to sate Bdubs he would do it. But he finds that that is not the case.

“I know,” Etho says, voice bowing. It barely scrapes by a whisper, so he clears his throat. His words stick together. “I know .”

The quiet, though unbearable, envelopes them again. Etho takes the time to look up to where Bdubs’ head is tilted, shoulders knocking back against the fence posts. He watches the sky, hoping to find any sort of solace he can, and finding only the cool black, and the stars that wink back at him. He opens his mouth for a moment, almost pointing out a series of stars that form one of the many constellations he’d gotten good at recognizing, but then shuts it. He stays quiet for a minute even though it weighs like a heavy coat on his shoulders. He holds his cup in one hand, letting the warmth seep into his fingers until he reaches over to his bag, and sets the cup in the sand. There, he takes another small wooden cup from the satchel and turns back to the pot. The metal tin is lukewarm at best, and only a few long wisps of steam rise from the cup’s surface, but Etho cradles it in both hands. With a deliberate slowness, he turns to Bdubs, and extends his hands.

Bdubs sees him out of the corner of his eye and when his gaze fixates on the cup outstretched to him silently, Etho’s gaze elsewhere, his eyes snap to the cup and his hands and not Etho’s face. He doesn’t dare look, likely for the same reason. He takes the cup and only then does Etho sigh in relief. Bdubs takes a long sip of bitter tea (Etho can tell its bitter, Bdubs’ pulls a face so scrunched it takes everything in him not to laugh) and then moves to speak. His eyes fixate on the stars above him.

“Etho...” Bdubs says, still looking up into the sky. Etho turns his head to him, and in the light of the fire, he can just see the profile of his face, tipped back. Etho’s eyebrows raise questioningly.

“Yes?”

“I want to offer you a proposition.”

Etho’s voice bubbles with amusement.

“Shoot,” he says, as if he doesn’t already know where Bdubs is going. In all honesty, he’s thrown away the notion all together until the words slip from Bdubs’ mouth.

“Let me over the fence,” Bdubs says, all at once. He turns his head, but not his body, to Etho. Etho looks away, shaking his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“Let me over,” Bdubs says again, and as he sees Etho open his mouth in protest yet again, he lurches forward, stuttering out his words. He nearly knocks the tea out of his own hands. “Just—just for tonight. Just tonight.”

His voice mellows out as he sits on the words, the last of them spoken low and without fervor.

Etho sighs, his brow furrowing.

“Why, B?”

Bdubs shrugs, a motion that’s almost lost to the dark.

“We both said that we miss each other,” he reasons. “What’s one day? One night?”

“I...” Etho tsks , sighing through his nose. The words he wants to say are hard to find, and he folds and unfolds his hands, as if the words might be written somewhere on the backs of them, or in the sand around him. He finds nothing but the grey-brown swirls in the soul sand.

“Bdubs...” he tries. “I don’t think it would be just one night if I let you do that.”

Bdubs is silent. He deflates, body moving as he twists around, leaning sideways against the fence. He folds one arm over himself, letting the other rest on the sand.

“Then...then...” Bdubs fights, looking anywhere but Etho’s eye. “At least let me hold your hand.”

He finally manages to get the words out with what seems like a frustrated sigh. Etho almost laughs. He almost can’t help himself. The notion that Bdubs would be asking to hold his hand when they were married not long before, and for all accounts and purposes, still. But the notion remains terrifyingly the same. He requests Etho’s vulnerability, face up. Palm up. Much like how his hand rests under the last rung of the fence, palm up, fingers outstretched.

And Etho gives it to him. He sets his hand, palm down, into Bdubs’, and nearly instantly does he find that Bdubs locks his fingers around his own and the side of his hand, slotting in the funny way he always held his hand at this angle. Bdubs gives Etho’s hand a hesitant squeeze.

It’s as if all the confidence Bdubs had at the beginning of their meeting tonight has seeped out from his body. He holds onto Etho’s hand with careful pressure, thumb skimming the side of his fingers and over the top of his hand. He stops for just a moment to trace a thin, fine scar at the base of Etho’s thumb. Etho makes a noise in the back of his throat, a huff out of his nose, as the motion settles.

With his free hand, Etho finishes the last of his luke-warm, bitter tea, and realizes that the flavor isn’t so bad anymore. It settles in his stomach, no longer knotted, and as he presses back against the fence he can actually feel the dark, heavy sky around him again. There’s still a shred of empty air that claws at the corner of his heart, but, all at once, Etho decides that there’s no reason it should fester.

He detangles his fingers from Bdubs’ hand. In doing so, a short, painful oh catches in Bdubs’ throat, but it’s very nearly replaced with the sound of Etho pulling himself to his feet. He looks down at Bdubs, and Bdubs’ eyes are wide and Bdubs blinks hard as he looks away, and a second later Etho isn’t looking at him. He’s moving, pulling himself over. He doesn’t even need to hop the fence. He lifts one leg, then the other, and he’s over it. And he’s there. He falls to his knees and Bdubs is in front of him, eyes still wide and mouth slack jawed. There’s nothing behind the red in his eyes, at least, to Etho, the hunger is gone. There’s nothing. But they are round, and wide, and glossy, and Bdubs is halfway to reaching out to him before he even thinks about pulling away and Etho can’t help but meet him anyway. He pulls himself into Bdubs’ outstretched arms, lurching forward into him. His head falls into the dip of his neck, hands cradling his shoulder blades. His knees sink into the sand and his body forms a convex at which Bdubs is the apex. He lets himself be held in Bdubs’ hands like everything else has suddenly stopped mattering. And to Etho, it has.

Bdubs holds the back of his neck in the palm of his hand and the other rests at the top of his spine before he curls his fingers into Etho’s jacket and holds him fully.

“Etho you said—” he tries, the nervousness bubbling up into his voice. Maybe he, too, fears the inevitable that Etho is promptly ignoring.

“I don’t care what I said, I missed you,” Etho says against his shoulder. “I miss you, Bdubs.”

“I know, Etho,” Bdubs says. His forehead falls to Etho’s shoulder, his body sagging as he sighs. “I know.”

[urwelcomeforthis]

Alex’s tattoo shows up the day after she punches Marcus Hinkle.

He had been picking on Kara in the hallway, dangling her math book above her head, taking advantage of his summer growth spurt.

Kara still doesn’t know what possessed Alex – Marcus Hinkle had been a thorn in her side since she had landed on Earth and started school a year ago, but whatever the reason, today was the day Alex couldn’t take anymore.

Eliza had been furious. Jeremiah had been (not so) silently proud.

Kara didn’t know what she had felt, really. Especially not when she asked Alex why, and the older girl had just shrugged and said “You’re my sister. It’s what we do.”

Up until this point being sisters meant fights in the hallway over the bathroom and ignoring each other at the dinner table.

Apparently, things were changing.

Kara is just waking up when she hears Alex’s hushed “What the hell?”

“What is it?” She asks, groggily sitting up and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

Her sister is holding her forearm up, frantically scrubbing at a spot right in the middle, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t…. I don’t know! It’s like a tattoo but I didn’t get a tattoo! Fuck, Mom is going to kill me.” Alex sounds panicked as she continues scrubbing at the spot, and Kara feels her heartbeat speed up.

“You had a tattoo just appear on your skin?” Kara asks slowly, her mind suddenly far away on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore, in a culture she had been forced to leave behind.

Alex stops scrubbing and looks at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Yeah. It’s some funny symbol too, like the way you used to write before you learned English. Did you do this to me?”

Alex leaps off the bed and crosses the room in two quick strides, arm held out like an accusation.

Kara shrinks in on herself a little but nods. “I think so. I didn’t know it was possible here, but well, on Krypton when your soul mate reveals themselves, a tattoo linking you appears. I should have one too, somewhere, if you do.”

Alex stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Soul mates? But we’re sisters! That’s so gross!”

Jumping up from the bed, hands held up in surrender Kara hastens to explain further. “No! Not like that, I promise! Back home, people had different kinds of soul mates. Sometimes it was the romantic kind like you talk about here on Earth, but other times it could just be a compatible soul, someone who was meant to be a part of you.”

Alex still looks wary, if not relieved, as she tentatively holds out her arm. “So, what does this mean? What kind of soul mates are we?”

Stepping forward Kara delicately traces the symbols on Alex’s forearm. “It literally means “sister of the soul.” Je shesur. The symbol after it is unique, the way we would know we were linked. If this had happened on Krypton it would mean we were soul sisters. Not from the same parents but family just the same.”

Alex nods. “And here on Earth? What does it mean here?”

“The same thing. At least that’s what it means to me.” Kara refuses to meet Alex’s eyes, not sure she wants to see what waits for her there.

There’s a long minute of silence after Alex takes her arm back. The clearing of her throat brings Kara’s eyes up from their place on the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Alex asks, eyes burning with curiosity.

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not on my arms like yours is. It must be hidden. Can you look on my back?”

“Sure.” Alex nods. “Lift up your shirt.”

Kara turns and tugs her shirt up and over her head. It takes a moment, but she hears her sister gasp followed by the feel of fingertips against her left shoulder blade.

“It’s the same as mine.” Alex says reverently, and Kara closes her eyes against the emotion welling up there.

Who would have thought she would get to have this piece of home?

“So, I guess I’m stuck with you. For like, ever, huh?” Alex smiles once Kara has turned back around.

Kara grins back. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alex shrugs. “Could be worse. But you have to tell Mom about this, because she’ll never believe me, and she is going to be pissed that I have a tattoo.”

“Sure, I can tell Mom.” Kara grins, a piece of her heart settling in place. She hasn’t felt at home on Earth, not really, but at this moment she feels like it isn’t all that bad.

--

The next person to get a tattoo is, interestingly enough, James.

It doesn’t come when they’re dating, or whatever it was that they were doing, no.

It comes after he has revealed himself to be Guardian, and he and Kara have the biggest fight of their friendship.

Kara wakes up the morning after tired, groggy, and more than a little cranky. Its as she’s stripping down to get in the shower that she notices it – the Kryptonese scrawled along the inside of her right bicep.

Throniv Shesur. Protector of the soul.

Kara heaves a deep, deep, sigh and grabs her phone.

She meets James at the DEO, both tentative around each other after the yelling match of the day before.

“So. I woke up with a tattoo. Kryptonese. Any idea what that’s about?” James looks smug, like he’s won some kind of battle with Kara and god, at that moment she wishes they were in the training room and she could just punch him.

“Yeah. I did too. It means “protector of the soul.” She crosses her arms against her chest, desperately trying to hold onto her anger from yesterday but the wide grin on James’ face is making it hard.

“I know. I asked Clark first thing since I figured you’re still pissed at me. He was a little surprised, but he translated it for me.”

“Where’s it at?” Kara asks, still pretending to be upset but truthfully it was hard given the glaring message from home telling her that James was meant to be Guardian. That they were meant to protect each other. Protect others together.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” James says with a waggle of his eyebrows and that’s what finally breaks Kara, a laugh ringing out across the room.

It wasn’t who she expected to have a tattoo, not in this way at least, but if it had to be anyone, she’s glad it’s James.

--

Mon-El doesn’t get a tattoo. Kara wishes she were more disappointed.

--

The last person to get a tattoo is someone Kara had desperately hoped both would and would not get a tattoo.

For a long time, she feared what that tattoo would be, if it were to happen. She feared having to explain it, having to explain herself.

She had checked with Clark a few times, when paranoia would get the better of her.

No, he always told her. Lex did not have a tattoo. They were enemies, yes, but it hadn’t been decided by destiny or fate. It just was.

That mollified Kara because she couldn’t stand it if she and Lena were to become Clark and Lex. She would fight against it, fight against fate to keep it from happening.

And then, well. It kind of happens anyways.

They aren’t enemies, not really. Lena just hates Kara and aims a few Kryptonite cannons at her and tries to mind control the entire planet, but really everyone is allowed a brief lapse of their sensibility, right?

And what matters is she came around, in the end.

It did take time, however, for them to build back to what they once had. It was different now, but in the way that things once broken and fixed usually are.

It was better, if anything.

They were back to shared lunches and dinners, quick breakfasts and coffee breaks. They were back to game nights as partners and movie nights as friends, and the occasional sleepovers as best friends.

Things were finally back to normal, so of course Kara had to go and absolutely, irrevocably, mess it up.

It was Alex’s fault, really.

If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t asked Kara what was up between her and Lena lately, Kara probably never would have stopped to think about it.

She never would have stopped to think about the way her heart sped up when Lena entered a room, or the way her palms got sweaty when they hugged, or the way she just could not stop staring at Lena when she laughed at game nights.

But now she had thought of it and had come to the very scary conclusion that she was in love with her best friend.

Her best friend who didn’t have a tattoo.

She would, after all this time, have a tattoo, the tattoo, if they were meant to be together, right?

Kara mulls it over for weeks. It haunts her. She asks Lena about tattoos, and if she has any.

She learns that yes, in fact Lena does have tattoos and boy howdy one of them is on her lower back and it is seared into the back of her eyes now that she has seen it.

But she doesn’t have any kryptonian tattoos, which is really what Kara was aiming for.

Much like it was Alex’s fault that Kara even realized she was in love, it’s also Alex who reminds Kara of one important detail.

“Well I didn’t get my tattoo until after I punched what’s his face. Maybe you have to tell Lena how you feel and then she’ll get the tattoo.”

Kara feels dumb struck, right there on her own couch, because of course, Alex is right.

The tattoos always come after the person has already revealed themselves.

Then of course comes the true fear: what if she tells Lena and she still doesn’t get a tattoo?

That’s the question she’s mulling over the next night as she and Lena sit on her couch watching some documentary that had been put on Netflix.

Lena looks beautiful, face bare of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose.

She’s eating a piece of pizza, a rare treat after a long week of work, and Kara decides that it doesn’t matter if Lena doesn’t get a tattoo.

She’s hopelessly, desperately in love with the woman and she can’t let a tattoo that may or may not come dictate her life.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” Kara blurts out, like this isn’t a life changing moment, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. (It is.)

Lena chokes a little on the bite she was swallowing, her hand coming up to her chest as she sets down the slice.

“Excuse me?”

Kara laughs. She’s never felt more free than in this moment. “I’m in love with you. I just thought you should know.”

Lena looks at her, shock written all over her face. “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

“Just good?” Kara nudges Lena’s thigh with her knee.

Lena shakes her head. “I mean it’s more than good, considering I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Kara could float up to the moon, she thinks.

Lena smiles, nose crinkled. “Yeah.”

It’s the next morning that Lena calls and asks if Kara can stop by. She has this tattoo she didn’t have yesterday, right on her ribcage, and it looks like it’s Kryptonian.

Kara frantically searches her own body, finding the script on her hip, on the left side.

Zhao Shesur. Love of the soul.

It took them five years to get to this point, but Kara knows, this moment was more than worth the wait.