#friendly neighborhood fic exchange

[junkissed]

bad neighbor

member — neighbor!dino x f reader genre — smut, college au word count— 6.3k synopsis — pros of living next door to a frat house: your neighbor is really really hot. cons of living next door to a frat house: probably everything else. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, fingering, lots of making out, facial (cum on face), semi public sex (hooking up at a party) content warnings — slightly introverted!reader, chan is in college but reader isn't: can be interpreted as older!reader but that's up to you tbh, mentions of weed & alcohol (chan & reader are both sober), cameos from cheol & hoshi hehe notes — thanks again to @onlymingyus for helping me get my brain in order <3 please reblog or send an ask if you enjoyed reading!! it means a lot to me and it helps me continue writing :) i hope you like this fic!

it's still early in the evening when the music starts.

the sound of voices and cars honking outside your house draws your attention away from the latest episode of your favorite new show. you get up and walk over to the window, peeking out through the curtain at the bright headlights beaming at you.

with a sigh you push the curtain closed again, heading into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. if tonight is like any of the other nights, then it'll be a long time before you fall asleep. hopefully the chamomile will help—is what you tell yourself every time. and every time, it doesn't help.

living in the same neighborhood as the frat houses from the nearby state university was certainly a choice, but the rent in the area was the cheapest in town and you didn't have many options left. with the fall semester coming up fast, every other apartment complex and condo in the city was already rented out. after moving in, you'd quickly discovered why the rent was so cheap: not because the house was in bad condition or because the location was inconvenient, but because of the parties. nearly every fucking night.

you might actually be impressed at how these college kids find the energy to party so often, if you weren’t so fed up with them. every friday and saturday night, and even sometimes during the week, at least one house on your block was throwing some kind of wild party.

by now you'd seen it all: drunk girls throwing up on your lawn, shirtless guys doing keg stands in the middle of the cul-de-sac, people making out literally everywhere. and yes, including that one time on halloween when you found two playboy bunnies having sex with spider-man in your backyard. how they got back there was anybody's guess, but from then on you’d started double and triple checking that your back gate was locked every night. 

tonight, it seemed that the festivities were being hosted at the house across the street. and the man behind it all? none other than lee chan, president of the fraternity and owner of the house.

you'd only officially met him twice, once on the day you'd moved in and once the day after. his red honda had pulled into his driveway at the same time you were unloading your boxes from the u-haul, and he'd jumped out and offered to help carry your furniture inside.

at the time it had felt like this was finally your meet-cute moment, the friendly and unfairly attractive boy-next-door that sweeps you off your feet with love at first sight. but once the final box had been moved, he'd simply given you a smile and a wave and went back inside his house. no cute bonding, no exchanging phone numbers, no asking to see each other again. he just left.

of course, that had been before you found out about the parties, and the shock you were in for that same night when people had started showing up in droves had nearly led you to call the cops. so the next morning you'd put on a nice outfit and went to knock on his door, and it was then that you found out more about the neighborhood you'd found yourself living in.

with the same polite tone he'd used yesterday, he'd been friendly and apologetic for the noise, promising that he'd make sure everyone stayed on his side of the lawn and that no one disturbed you or your house. he'd explained that it wasn't a quiet neighborhood, no matter the time of year, but repeated that if anything happened he would take full responsibility for it. he said that you were welcome to come over any time, whether you needed something or you just wanted in on the fun.

you'd taken his word for it, sheepishly waving goodbye as you crossed the sidewalk between your houses, though you figured you would probably never set foot inside his house while there was a party going on. and as you’d walked away, you had tried to ignore the feeling of your heart fluttering with the beginnings of a crush on your neighbor.

tonight, however, your heart was doing anything but fluttering. music blasted outside, definitely a lot louder than usual, and the sound of car engines revving was already getting on your nerves.

you dunk your tea bag into the boiling water at the same time a loud banging on your door makes you jump, and you narrowly avoid spilling it all over yourself and the counter.

quietly you rush over to the door, looking out the peephole to see a group of people carrying cases of beer, looking around at your front porch.

before you can figure out how to react, you hear someone yell something distantly and the group turns around in the direction of the sound.

"shit, wrong house," one of the guys says loudly. "sorry, whoever lives here! have a good night!" he calls as they walk away, the others laughing over a joke you can't hear. 

with the crisis averted, you head back into the kitchen and pull the tea bag out of your mug, chucking it into the trash with a huff. full responsibility, your ass. 

and then… you have an idea. 

chan had been so insistent that you could come over if you ever needed anything, so you might as well take advantage of his offer. because tonight you did, in fact, need something. you needed the party to not be so goddamn loud that you can literally feel your living room floor vibrating beneath your feet.

you stick your mug in the microwave to reheat later and quickly change out of your pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. presentable enough that you don’t embarrass yourself, yet comfortable enough that you don’t feel so awkward.

with a deep breath, you pull open your front door, keys tightly in hand as you lock it behind you and start making your way across the street.

you're almost at chan’s front door when a man steps in front of you out of nowhere, stopping you short. "hey, here for the party?" he asks, holding up his hand for a high-five.

"um… kinda," you say, lightly tapping his hand. you figure he must be the bouncer of some sort, from his friendly yet confident no-nonsense attitude and the way his thick biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. "i'm looking for lee chan, he owns the house?"

"gotcha," he nods. "gotta check your age before i let you in, though."

you pause, his words sinking in as you realize why he's asking. "oh, sorry, i didn't think i'd need my id," you apologize. "but i live next door, my driver's license is just in my wallet, i can go grab—"

"are you over 21?" he interrupts, and you frown at the question.

"uh, yes?"

"cool. head on in, then," he says.

you look at him suspiciously. "you're sure you don't need to see my id? what if i was lying?"

"dino will probably be downstairs, his room is the door at the end of the hallway on the left," he says, pointedly ignoring your questions. "and while you're down there, tell him cheol sent you. ask him to grab another beer for me."

he waves towards the open front door, and hesitantly you make your way inside. you have no idea who the hell dino is, and you can only hope it's just a nickname of some kind and the man you're about to go find isn't some stranger.

the second you set foot inside the doorway, it's like entering a completely different world. the air is stale and humid, clinging to your skin as you push through a crowd of what must be hundreds of people packed like sardines into every corner of the room.

the music gets louder the further inside the house you go, and you have to focus on repeating cheol's instructions in your head so you don’t get lost in the maze of hallways and doors. downstairs, end of the hallway, left. 

you soon find out where the music is coming from. unlike the normal house lights on the first floor, downstairs everything is dark except for colorful flashing led lights around the room. a man stands on top of a table between two huge speakers as people crowd around him, jumping and shouting lyrics to the song that’s playing.

there’s so many people that you have to push your way through the crowd, but most of the people around you either don’t notice or are too drunk to care. but finally, you make it to what looks like the hallway that the man outside—what was his name, cheol?—told you about.

you open the first door on your left and find four people sat quietly on the floor passing around a bong, a thick cloud of smoke hanging over the room. all four of them look over at you at the same time, glazed eyes silently asking who the hell are you?.

"sorry, wrong room," you squeak, slamming the door and retreating back into the hallway as you try your best not to step on anyone's feet.

with a deep breath you crack open the door directly beside the one you'd just opened and poke your head inside, and relief washes over you when you see chan inside.

he's sitting on a couch with a couple girls sitting next to him and a guy slumped against his shoulder, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

he looks up when the door opens, and a look of shock spreads over his face when he recognizes you. he calls your name and you step inside tentatively, saying his name in response. "chan?"

"close the door behind you," he says, and you jump to turn around and shut it with a click. he must notice you standing like a deer in headlights, because he motions you closer to him with a friendly smile. "sorry," he explains. "people will think it's an open room if you leave the door open. i don't want anybody in here without a reason to be."

you nod, but your eyes dart over at the girls sitting beside chan. he makes eye contact with them and clears his throat, and without a word they stand up, understanding the message.

he helps the man laying against him sit up, then helps him stand up and hands him off to the others. "don't let hoshi drink anything else tonight except water, okay? keep an eye on him until your driver shows up."

they nod and slip their arms around their friend, helping him stumble out of the room as he grumbles about something incoherent. "thanks, dino," one of them says with a little wave. "see you monday for that bio test."

the girls open and shut the door quickly, suddenly leaving you alone with him in the room.

"hi," you start, not knowing what else to say. it's been such an ordeal just trying to find him that you've almost forgotten why you came searching for him in the first place.

"hi," he repeats with a laugh. "honestly, i never thought i'd see you here. you don't seem like the type. so, what brings you over tonight?"

"you've only met me twice, how would you know what i seem like?" you reply defensively, thought he's spot on. this is not your usual scene at all, and you’re sure that anyone at this party who’s even a smidge sober must be able to tell how out of place you look.

he shrugs, patting the couch seat next to him. "alright, fair point. come sit down."

you carefully take a seat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the collection of ambiguous stains on the couch cushions.

"oh, before i forget. somebody named cheol told me to tell you he wants a beer?" you say awkwardly, relaying the message.

"bastard," chan mutters, but he's smiling, and you assume the guy you met earlier is a friend of his. "fine, i'll grab him something when i go back outside." pausing, he turns his attention back to you. "but really, why are you here? i don't wanna make any assumptions, but i doubt it's for the free alcohol."

"if i was, you'd have to tell me where to find it," you say with a shrug, and he laughs but stays quiet for you to finish.

you fold your hands together nervously. "anyway, i just came over to ask—could you maybe turn the music down, like, just a tiny bit? and also… can you tell people to stop having sex in my yard?"

he winces and gives an apologetic smile. "yeah, of course. sorry about that. i told vernon to keep it down, but you know how he gets when he's…" he stops as if he’s just realized something. "nevermind. i'll go let him know right now. do you wanna come with, or you wanna stay here?"

"no offense, but i'd rather not go back out there," you laugh awkwardly. “it was bad enough just trying to find you in the first place.”

"all good," he replies with that friendly smile of his. "it's not for everyone, that's for sure. just make sure the door stays closed, and you'll be fine in here by yourself. shouldn't take too long."

he opens the door and slips out, slamming it closed behind him. you sit unmoving on the couch, finally glancing at your surroundings.

unlike the first room, the air here is fairly clean, other than the faint smell of alcohol and weed wafting in from under the door. you realize this must be chan's actual bedroom, when you see the posters that cover the walls and the bookshelf full of knick-knacks and textbooks.

you start to wonder who else lives in this house, but soon the door opens again and chan returns, the sound of voices and music flooding in while the door is open but quickly falling quieter once the door is shut again.

"alright, he'll keep it down. i'm sorry about the noise," he apologizes again, but you wave him off, suddenly feeling shy around him. with him still standing and you still sitting, he towers over you in a way that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter back to life.

"no, it's fine. really, it's not that big of a deal," you rush, trying to ignore the growing feeling in your chest. was he always this hot? for the first time tonight you notice how his blonde hair falls in waves around his face, perfectly framing his soft features.

he shakes his head. "really, i mean it. vernon will make sure it doesn't get out of hand, he’s good at that. i can't exactly give you a quiet evening, but i can give you the best i've got."

you take a deep breath and stand up. you're already way outside of your comfort zone even just coming to this party, but maybe this experience hasn't been all that bad. after all, you got to see chan again, and you got to exchange more than a handful of words with him like you did all the other times you’d met him.

"well… what is the best you've got?" you ask him, and you almost see him raise an eyebrow.

he puts his hands in his back pockets, pausing for a second as he looks at you. "mm, best i've got? probably this room. my room. quietest in the house, and nobody will come in to bother us."

your heart races as you take a small step towards him, standing close to him but still keeping some distance between you.

"so does this mean you're not leaving?" he asks when you don’t say anything, just barely loud enough for you to hear him.

"do you want me to stay?"

he takes a step closer to you. "only if you stay with me."

"do you say that to all the people you bring in here?" your question is joking, but a part of you still worries that he thinks you're just another girl at the party looking for a one night stand. though honestly, you wouldn't even really mind if that's all this was. hell, maybe all the secondhand smoke is getting to your head and clouding your judgement, because hooking up with your neighbor seems like a pretty fantastic idea right now.

"the only time i let people in my room is to let them use my bathroom and to make sure they don't die of alcohol poisoning," he says in a low tone, a little laugh escaping him. "and now, i guess i let my hot neighbor in here, too."

"you think i'm hot?" you ask, taking another small step forward.

he matches your stride, taking one last step towards you so that you're finally standing toe to toe with him. "i'd be an idiot not to."

"but how would you know, if we've only met twice?"

he laughs. "well, you had just moved in. i wasn't gonna hit on you when you hadn't even finished unpacking your furniture yet."

"so you did want to hit on me, then," you say confidently, straightening up a little.

“did i ever say i didn't?” he rests his hands on your hips and gently pulls you towards him, closing the last of the distance between you. his eyes never leave your face, gauging your reaction and looking for any hesitation.

you wrap your arms around him and lean forward, a smile on your lips. "good to know."

he leans in the rest of the way and presses his mouth against yours, and everything else just falls into place. your hands reach up to find his hair, threading your fingers through his blond waves and tugging experimentally, and when he lets out a little noise of pleasure you kiss him harder.

the noise of the party fades into the background as his hands slide down your body to grip your ass, and you can’t help the little moan that escapes as he starts to back you up against the wall. his hands stay put, kneading your ass as you try to keep your legs from giving out already. it’s painfully obvious how bad you want him, but it’s equally obvious how he feels the same way.

“fuck, been dreaming about this since the day you moved in,” chan says, pulling away from you with a shaky breath as your fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt. 

he pulls it off over his head before leaning over to kiss you again, his tongue tracing over your lips. he’s good at this; not like you’re surprised by it or anything, but it still catches you off guard.

he seems to be able to sense the tiny bit of lingering hesitancy, so he breaks apart from you but still keeps his arms firmly around you, loosening his grip just a little. “is this okay?” he asks in a low voice, but you can hear the concern laced in it.

you nod quickly, tugging your shirt off quickly and letting his hands settle at your hips before you pull him back closer. you never do this. maybe you really had inhaled too much secondhand smoke on the way in and you aren’t thinking straight. but deep down, you know that’s not the case. 

as much as you hate to admit it, your harmless crush on your neighbor has grown into something much, much more. you can’t say you’ve never been a little jealous when you see girls leaving his house on sunday mornings after parties. you can’t say you’ve never let your eyes linger a few seconds too long when he goes out to check the mail and he’s wearing that tight black tank and thin silver chain he never takes off.

or the fact that he works out in his garage with the door open, and you aren’t really purposefully trying to look but it’s not your fault that your window just happened to be open. and it wasn’t your fault that you just happened to look outside and see him shirtless and bench lifting a very large amount and if you were really really quiet you could almost hear him groaning—

he slides his hands down your bare skin, hesitating again at the waistband of your jeans, but you arch your back a little to push yourself closer and he takes the hint. he easily undoes the button with one hand, and you try not to think about how many times he must’ve practiced that in order to get that skilled at it. but that thought is quickly pushed out of your mind when his hand makes its way into your pants, his fingers experimentally sliding down past your underwear and brushing through your folds.

you let out a groan, rolling your hips into his hand encouragingly. you’re already hot and sweaty, standing with your back against the door in just your bra and jeans, but it’s hard to tell if the heat is from the crowded, stuffy house or from something else.

“god, you’re so wet,” he murmurs under his breath almost incredulously as he presses his fingertip against your clit, circling the swollen bud before dipping back down to collect your arousal on his fingers.

you squeeze your thighs together out of instinct, trapping his hand between your legs, and he looks up at you for confirmation. “more,” you whimper, just loud enough to be heard over the music and the noise on the other side of the door. “chan, please.”

he groans and puts more pressure on your clit, starting to rub a little faster and a little messier. he slides his middle and index fingers inside and you let out an involuntary yelp, clenching and bucking your hips in search of more friction. he starts out slow, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion as his other hand massages the bare skin of your waist.

after more of your pleading he finally concedes, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on his stomach, leaving a glistening trail of wetness on his tan skin. he glances back up at you in questioning, but he finds no hesitation in your expression as his hands start to push your pants down your legs and you kick them away, leaving you bare in front of him.

“you sure you're ready?” he pauses to ask one more time, but your quick nod has him jumping back into action in seconds.

he follows hurriedly, stripping out of his pants and shoving his boxers down to free his cock. his length springs up and slaps against his stomach, the tip looking flushed and heavy, and your mind goes blank, replaced only with the thought of him inside you. he holds himself in one hand, lining his cock up at your entrance as you adjust your position in preparation.

you groan as he finally ushes into you, your fingernails digging into the back of his shoulder blades as you struggle to balance.

“feels good?” he mumbles as he lifts your thigh, wrapping your leg securely around his hip. he doesn't move yet, his hips still as he lets you move however you need.

you barely manage to nod in return, keeping your hands firmly planted on his shoulders, slowly but surely adjusting to his size. “god, yes,” you manage, trying to keep your breathing steady. “if i'd have known you felt this good i would've come over way sooner.”

“mm, well. you're welcome over here any time.” he grins at you. his dark eyes get hazier with desire as he holds you firmly against his pelvis. “for any reason you'd like.”

the best response you can come up with is “sure”, barely listening as you start to roll your hips, but you can tell the sincerity in his statement. your attempt at movement doesn't work very well in this position, but chan quickly takes the hint, pulling back and letting his cock slip halfway out before he drives back into you.

the first thrust has you seeing stars already, and you let out a broken moan as he starts to build up his pace. your back slides against the wall as you feel the bass reverberating through your bones, and it only enhances the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“if there weren’t so many people in this house, i’d have you screaming my name right now,” chan huffs against your lips, pulling your body closer and wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“mm, but the music is so loud they probably wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway,” you bite back with a brazen smile. you're feeling bold, the party atmosphere filling you with a cockiness that you don't usually possess. but something about the environment, the fact that you're fucking the hottest person here while hundreds of people rave obliviously outside the door, is a thrill you've never felt before.

he rolls his head back with a groan, and you feel his thrusts suddenly getting harder and deeper. you have to fight to stay standing, using all your energy to keep yourself upright and leaning most of your weight on him, but if he notices it he doesn't let it show. all those push-ups and bench presses that you ogle him doing in his garage must be good for something, from the way he hoists you against the wall and drives his cock into you without even barely breaking a sweat.

“say it, then,” he goads, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he holds your leg up. “you want to, don't you? you wouldn't have come over here tonight if you didn't.”

the worst part is that you know he's right. your own curiosity is what brought you here tonight, masked by the claims of noise complaints. the noise isn't even really that much of a bother: you could've gone to bed, turned on your fan and played some white noise, and you would've been perfectly fine. but some part of you longs to know what goes on at these parties, to see your devastatingly sexy neighbor in this setting you've never witnessed him in yet. so now that your curiosity has been satisfied, you really have nothing to lose.

“chan! fuck— mmph, yes—” you whine loudly, unintentionally clenching around him as the words fall from your lips. there's no way anyone would hear over the music, and even if they did, there's a high chance they wouldn't care either way. it's just what happens at parties.

his eyes light up at the sound, a moan of his own leaving his mouth as he thrusts into you over and over again, burying his cock as deep as he can go with every stroke. a familiar heat burns in the pit of your stomach at his movements, winding tighter and tighter with each passing second. your walls throb around his length, filling every inch of you until you can't take it anymore.

“chan…” you groan again, pulling him towards you with your leg around his waist. “please, keep going… c-close, i'm close—”

he leans in and presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth. “god, please cum for me,” he says breathlessly, pulling away but leaving just enough room for your lips to stay connected by a thin string of spit. “need to feel it, need to feel you. please, baby, fuck…”

he slams into you even harder, driving his cock right up into the spot that makes your knees nearly buckle. you manage to whimper out his name one last time before your lips go slack against his mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as you crash into your climax. the force of his steady, constant thrusts combined with the force of your orgasm leaves your body tingling, every nerve alight from the waves of pleasure pulsing through you.

his movements don't ever slow, but you can see the emotion twisting in his face in reaction as he watches you cum, squeezing around him so warm and wet and perfect that it takes every ounce of his self control not to immediately follow you over the edge.

his eyes bore into yours, watching your face until he's sure you've recovered enough to handle him. he pulls out and keeps his hand firmly wrapped around the base of his cock, jerking himself with tiny flicks of his wrist to keep the momentum going.

immediately you drop to your knees in front of him, tilting your head back to stare up at him between his thighs, your eyes wordlessly pleading with him as your tongue nearly rolls out of your mouth.

“fuck, you're so…,” he groans, keeping his fist tight around his cock with a few final motions. “you're so fucking hot, god, i'm gonna—”

he whines and his hips buck as he spills across your face, thick white ropes landing on your tongue and your cheeks. your smaller hand reaches up to replace his and you take him into your mouth, gagging only slightly as the salty taste fills your mouth. you wrap your lips around him and swallow, letting your tongue swirl around his sensitive head to collect it all until he's finished.

he pulls back and his cock slips from your mouth, leaving you gasping and licking your lips to catch the stray drops of his cum. his voice is low and strained as he reaches out his hand to help you up, his thick biceps flexing as he pulls you to your feet. despite the blissed-out look on his face you can see the guilt in eyes and it makes you pause, wondering if he didn't enjoy it the same way you just did. but it's only another moment before he speaks again, and your short-lived worries are put to rest.

“i'm sorry it was so fast,” he says almost shyly, pulling you over to sit at the edge of his bed. “i can go again if you aren't done yet. or we can do something else… or i could walk you back home. whatever you want, i'm happy to do.”

you expression softens into a grin, still a little hazy but definitely not finished. “oh, i can go again, for sure. i've got all night if you'll let me.”

his eyes crinkle with an eager smile, and you're already spreading your legs to give him space as he falls down onto the bed between them, landing on top of you. his hand cups your chin ans he pulls you into him, his lips finding yours and melting into you with a satisfied hum. his tongue finds its place once again in your mouth, prodding inside as he kisses you with a level of passion and desperation you haven't felt in a long time. 

he groans into the kiss as he tastes himself on your lips, exploring your mouth and the bitter taste he left inside. you feel the vibrations from it in your jaw and down your neck, and it only makes you kiss him harder in an effort to draw out more of those pretty sounds.

"hey, dino, didn't you say you'd bring me a beer? it's so boring standing out there—"

the door opens and you jerk away with a scream, hiding yourself under chan and using the nearest piece of clothing to cover up as someone barges into the room.

"cheol, get the fuck out!" chan shouts, wrapping his arm around you and keeping you pressed tightly against his chest, using his back to shield you from view. "fucking knock next time, dude, you know better!"

"jeez! how should i have known? i thought you said you didn't hook up at parties," cheol mutters as he turns around, slamming the door shut behind him. "i'll get the damn beer myself."

the door slams shut once again, and chan sighs and hangs his head, his forehead leaning against your chest before he reluctantly crawls off of you and crosses the room to lock the door.

“you don’t hook up at parties, huh?”

he turns around to look at you, and you pause to take him in. his hair is messier than it was when you got here, glued to his forehead with sweat and sticking up at odd angles from you tugging on it. his broad chest is tinged red with tiny scratches from your nails, and it makes you want to bite him all over, but you contain yourself for now.

your voice is teasing, but cheol’s words have honestly made you feel a million times lighter. you hadn’t expected to be anything special to chan after tonight; at the very least, you hoped that it wouldn’t be awkward when you see each other, but you’d figured you were just the next in a long line of girls waiting to have their turn with him. for once, you’d never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“i’ll make an exception for the pretty neighbor girl. just this once.”

“oh, so now i'm just pretty. i thought i remembered you saying that i was the hot neighbor girl,” you giggle, watching as he hops on one leg to put his boxers back on.

“two things can be true at once,” he says with a grin as he walks back over to you still lying on his bed. “besides, i still haven't taken you out on a date yet. would be kinda forward of me to call you hot when i haven't even bought you dinner yet.”

you smile at him, trying to fight the warmth burning in your cheeks as you reach up to ruffle your fingers through his soft hair. he lets out a satisfied groan at the feeling, and it gives you an idea.

“do…” you trail off, suddenly unsure, until you see the warmth in chan’s eyes as he lays on top of you and it fills you with confidence again. “do you wanna continue this at my house? i’ve got the quietest room, and nobody will bother us.”

“mm.” he grins at the way you repeat his words from earlier, enamored with your shy yet playful tone. “if we’re at your place, does that mean i get to give you the noise complaint this time?”

“i’ll allow it.” you roll your eyes and pull yourself to sit up. “i need a shower, and i’m sure you would like one, too. plus i have food that hasn't been spilled on the floor or soaked in alcohol.”

he picks your shirt up off the floor and hands it to you with a smile, moving around his room with a quiet confidence you find unbearably hot. “does this mean anything to you, or is this just a tonight thing?” he asks.

you bite at your lip as you shimmy back into your jeans, shaky fingers sliding the button into place as you sit back down on the bed. “it does,” you reply simply. “you did tell me you'd buy me dinner, after all. i'm gonna hold you to that.”

he leans over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips. “and i plan on keeping that promise.”

you stumble your way through the house, squeezing chan’s hand tightly as he pulls you up the stairs, following him towards the door. you're not worried about anyone noticing you anymore: everyone's too wrapped up in their own business to care, including you. the party seems dulled now, the music fading and the people around you becoming blank faces. all you care about is chan, your eyes roving over his broad back muscles that peek through his shirt as you trail behind him. you must look no different than every other drunk college kid here with the giddy smile on your face, but you haven't had a drop of alcohol. it's just the effect he had on you.

finally you make it outside, and the cool night air feels sharp compared to the humidity inside the house. already it seems quieter as you start to walk the distance across the street, moving away from the party and towards the comfort of your own home. chan moves up beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist while you lead the way, but you're stopped once again by the same man from earlier.

“hey,” he greets chan, only sparing half a smirk in your direction but otherwise not bothering you, despite the heat that instantly rises in your cheeks at the fact that you were caught. “did you get my beer?”

“no. you said you were getting it yourself.” he rolls his eyes, and cheol whines and gives him a look that you swear almost looks like a pout. “if anyone asks about me, tell them i'm not home. tell them i had to…” he looks over at you with a cocky grin. “…had to go take care of something. noise complaint.”

cheol groans, making a face. “god, whatever. i don't want the details. but just don't make me stand outside next time. i'm doing you a favor here. i'm supposed to be working on my thesis.”

“sure,” chan replies, but he's still stuck staring at you, barely processing his friend's complaints. “yeah. anyway, i'll catch you tomorrow.”

he tugs gently on your waist and you start walking again, leaving cheol without so much as a goodbye or even a proper introduction. you'll deal with that later, you guess. there’s a lot of things you'll have to deal with, but at least the wild parties your neighbor boyfriend throws won't be one of them anymore.

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[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[huuuuughes]

First Time Feeling - Mat Barzal x Reader

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: so much fluff, did i go overboard? maybe lol

A/N: this was my first time participating in a fic exchange and i honestly had so much fun. this is for the summer fic exchange 2k24 hosted by the lovely @wyattjohnston. it is written for the also fantastic @ahockeywrites! i am your friendly neighborhood exchange writer. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!

also i used google translate for the french. pls dont come for me if its not right im doing my best

It’s that time of year, when hockey pauses and every hockey player you know has a wedding because they scarcely get to have them in season. Growing up a coach's daughter, you were not unfamiliar with NHL weddings, and it meant your best friends were other kids from the organization your dad was in at the time. Now that you were getting to be that age it meant everyone you knew was having weddings.

Except you.

You were the one single person remaining in the bridal party for your best friend. Everyone did their best to try and include you without making it feel like third wheeling but sometimes it felt like that anyway. It wasn’t like they could help it and you were always happy for them. Weddings just seemed to rub salt in a wound now. Being alone scared you more than a lot of things. Which is why you were taking this bachelorette weekend to let loose and have fun. At least more than you usually let yourself. Your ability to do shots at a fast pace and without hesitation got you to that buzzed feeling a little too quickly.

But everyone was having fun. The band that was playing for the bar was insanely good and every song kept making you wanna dance. You managed to drag a few of your friends out onto the dance floor with you and it was the first time you felt free in a very long time.

“We’re gonna go get a drink, do you want something?!” Hannah attempts to yell over the volume of the music.

“YEAH, just water is good! Thanks!” You didn’t want to leave the dance floor- you were having a really good time. You let the music be your happy place for the moment, forgetting any problem you had before coming in the door. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a trio of men looking at you. And then you have to do a double take, because you’d just seen those same 3 men at the previous bar, and the one before that…

Moving to a different spot on the dance floor didn’t seem to help. Hannah still wasn’t back from the bar and you were starting to think that these creeps were trying to form some kind of blockade. It was unsettling, but your usual fears were blurred by the alcohol that was currently coursing through your veins. You had forgotten there was a reason you didn’t like to drink that often. Then there was a tap on your shoulder, and as you turned around one of them was right there.

“You wanna dance sweetheart?” He screamed in your ear.

“No thanks! Just waiting for a friend!”

“I don’t see that friend anywhere right now, why don’t you want to dance?” Attempting to get closer to you, he moved forward causing you to back up into a stranger. Another one of his friends, you discovered, once you saw the first one smirk like there was some kind of inside joke that you weren’t in on.

“I said no.”

“That’s not what that outfit says.”

“Get away from me you fucking creep.” Your voice was firm, attempting to just go back to having fun. You closed your eyes, trying to let the music flow through you again. When you opened them there was yet another man coming at you, but this one didn’t feel threatening. He looked familiar, like you had maybe seen him before in passing. You couldn’t place it sober, and you definitely couldn’t in the current state you were in. He was making a beeline for you, pushing the first creep out of his way and almost onto the ground.

“Holy shit babe, there you are!You, my love, are too drunk! Time to go home!” Before you knew it he was reaching for your waist and your feet were no longer touching the ground. He throws you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a paper weight. Instead of the panic you should have felt, you relaxed over him. You didn’t fight the motion, it felt good to just stop for a moment. But then you realized that you really didn’t know who this was either and you just let a strange man pick you up and carry you out of the dance floor area.

“UM YEA HI, WHO ARE YOU?” You attempted to yell at him but the music was still loud. He either didn’t hear you or chose not to respond because you didn’t receive a response.

“Excuse me! Sir! I demand to know who you are please!”

Still nothing from him. He was like a big brick wall.

“JUST BECAUSE I'M SMALL DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN JUST MAN HANDLE ME.”

But then you were on the ground again. It had felt like years before he set you down again but when he did you were once again reunited with your friends. You finally had a chance to get a good look at the stranger who carried you. He was definitely over six feet tall, and was honestly the hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. His eyes were a soft brown color that you could almost drown in. His hair was also brown, and fell in different directions all over his head. The expression on his face was a neutral one, but you felt drawn to him.

“Girl holy shit, why didn’t you tell us those creeps were still following you?!”

“Stop shouting at him babe, you are FINE!”

“You guys failed to mention your friend was such a chatterbox when she’s intoxicated.” The man laughed, but you could barely focus on anything with the way the world seemed to be swaying about.

“Thanks so much Mat, for rescuing our friend. She’s kind of key to the wedding festivities this weekend.”

“No problem. I hope your night gets better from here. Tell Coach I said hi. Maybe I’ll see you this weekend ladies.” He winked, like he knew he was going to but was just saying that to be clever. He looked like he felt accomplished about your frustrated state. As if he found it cute or endearing that you were so small yet had so much anger.

“You know she’s single Mat!” One of your friends interjected. And with that the handsome stranger who now had a name walked off and out of the bar, and you wondered who his friends were. You watched as a smile broke out on his face again, as if he was thinking hard about the proposition just said to him.

“Have a safe night ladies.” He lifted his head in a nod and you watched him walk out of the bar and out of your sight.

Everyone in your group had also decided that they had enough for the night and you booked it back to your hotel. The wedding was in 2 days, and the rehearsal dinner is tomorrow evening. Tonight was the last night to let loose and perhaps you had come too loose.

The next morning…

Your head was pounding. Opening your eyes was a no go, the light too painful to look at. It was like your entire head was pulsing. Liquor should definitely not be mixed with any other type of alcohol, you thought.

“WAKEY WAKEY BITCH, UP AND AT EM!” The bride came into your room, clearly more ready to tackle the day than you were.

“Oh my god Hannah. STOP YELLING. My head is killing me…” you groaned.

“Oh I know, I was there too, bestie. I’ve brought Tylenol and water, and there’s breakfast in my room. Oh and here’s some sunglasses. Those might help for a bit.” She thrust all of the items in your arms and helped you sit up without dying.

“Come on, we have a bridal party meeting, maid of honor!”

You loved Hannah, you really did, but if she didn’t lower her volume you thought your head might explode. After a quick shower, some meds, and an outfit change you were ready for the bridal party meeting there was to be had. When you walked into the room it was a mixture of excitement and groaning. All of the bridesmaids looked like they’d been through it, but the groomsmen were relaxed. The groom had his party a few weeks ago, just in case any shenanigans ensued.

“There she is!”

That voice. You knew that voice…God why did you know that voice?

You almost dropped the plate of food in your hands. When you turned around the shock of who it was rendered you speechless. It was the man who carried you across the bar last night. The man you thought you’d never see again after that embarrassing spectacle you’d caused. The memory was slowly coming back to you, and you really, really hoped there wasn’t video evidence.

“Good to see you survived your journey home.” He smirked.

“Wait! Do you know Mat?!” Clutterbuck asked. You knew Cal from your dad’s years in the league. You knew most of the people in the room, but Mat had been a pretty private guy. You didn’t really know much about him other than he was damn good at hockey and had pretty nice eyes. Since you only knew him in passing, you had never heard him talk much and drunk, you definitely did not recognize him. You felt like the blood had entirely drained from your face all you could think of was how quickly you could get out of that room.

“Apparently I do.” Your eyes tried to stay fixed on the ground as the meeting got started. It was basically just going over who was going to walk down the aisle with who and what everyone’s entrances would be for the reception.

“So, you’ll be with Mat. You guys good with that?” You locked eyes with your best friend. You knew exactly what she was doing. She was trying to play matchmaker without even asking you first. How would she even know if he was your type?

“I mean I-,” You stammered.

“Yeah, it sounds great to me.”

Finally you had to look at him. Of course he would say that, maybe he was in on it, you were being tortured by all of your friends. You had to begin lining up to practice, making sure you didn’t fall flat on your face and embarrass the bride. They all knew him, there was definitely an underlying motive. You had a feeling it was because they didn’t want everyone to pair up and you were left by yourself. It was a nice gesture, but being filled in would have felt nice so you did not in fact have a strange man picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder in a bar.

Being the maid of honor, you were last in the order to go. You waited patiently in the back of the line, the only one who was not linked in arms with their partner. Mat offered his arm to you, attempting to show some good will.

“You gonna take it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“No.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night. Your friends told me to come get you by whatever means necessary so that is what I did.”

“So you decided the only way was to pick me up with no warning? Who taught you to do that?” You threw your arms up in the air almost in defeat, you didn’t know what to make of what he did. You may have been drunk but you were never going to forget looking down at the ground when being carried across the room.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” He shrugged and still somehow managed to look smug. He knows what he’s doing, and he definitely thought that he was being charming by doing so.

“I want you to tell me why you did that! All you had to do was grab my hand and lead me away!” You’d had enough of his games. You were going to get some answers before the night was over and done with.

“They all seem to know you, but I don’t. Why is that?” You had turned to face him, staring him down in order to get him to crack. It was almost your turn. You’d run into a slight issue when the bride decided she wanted to switch up the order of things before the honors of maid of honor and best man. All this meant was more time to get him to crack, which if he had known any better, would not take you very long. His resolve was weakening, and quickly.

“I’ve been around. You just haven’t noticed me.”

“I think I would have noticed you.” It would be hard to miss someone as pretty as he was. Did you really just admit that? Your dad hadn’t been with the Islanders for several years, but you still knew who most of the team was. Based on what you had managed to Google on the walk from the meeting to the present rehearsal location was that he was a pretty damn good hockey player.

“I don’t think so sweetheart. Your friends have told me all about you too, you know.”

“Oh yeah? What did they tell you?” You were almost angry but didn’t know why.

“Well for starters they just want you to be happy. They know you haven’t been happy for a little while now.” He smiled at you, and you tried not to melt in response. The way your body reacted so physically to him when all he did was smile was not something that you could ignore.

“And what else?” You prompted.

“My last relationship was some time ago, and let’s just say it didn’t end that well. They’ve noticed I haven’t been happy either.”

“You look happy to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving. The cameras and the media pick up only what they want to see.” This time he didn’t meet your eye. Which told you everything you needed to know. You would never understand how strangers and the media thought they knew someone just by what you see them do as an athlete. As if they don’t have personal lives or things that are important to them. Your suspicions were confirmed, but not in the way you thought. Of course your friends wanted to set you up with someone. Not to be funny or to try and make a joke, but they hated to see you so unhappy. Things were starting to make a little more sense.

“So you knew their motives?” You asked, feeling bad about how you had sort of gone at him without knowing why. You couldn’t undo the years of crappy guys that you had to deal with in the past, but now you could learn to give Mat a better chance.

“Partially. I knew they wanted to set me up with someone, but I don’t enjoy the anxiety of blind dates. They didn’t want me to say anything to you- they wanted to protect you. Based on your reaction I’m guessing you don’t enjoy surprises either.”

“Correct. So what would you like to do about this?” You asked, hopeful.

“I think we should see where the weekend takes us, and go from there. How’s that sound?”

You hoped that he couldn’t see the blush starting to appear in your cheeks. Your friends did this on purpose. They wouldn’t just set you up with some hockey player they didn’t know or trust, they knew he had to be vetted first. They also knew that you wouldn’t just take being set up with someone due to your stubbornness, so this was the only way they knew how to get to you.

“I’d like that.” His smile was infectious and you could feel yourself reciprocating.

Once the rehearsal dinner was figured out, the rest of the evening seemed to go as planned. Most importantly, the bride was happy. You noticed Mat across the room, smiling at you. You were alone at the bar, and watched him excuse himself from the conversation he was having to walk your direction.

“You wanna get out of here?” It was almost a whisper, so only you could hear it. You looked around the room to make sure that your absence wouldn’t be noticed.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You took the hand that he offered you and followed him out of the room. His car was already waiting, the perks of having the wedding on Long Island was a lot of the wedding guests already lived in the area.

“I feel like a teenager sneaking out when I’m not supposed to!” He held the door open for you as you slid in, and he climbed into the driver’s seat, “Where are you taking me sir?”

The sun was starting to set, making the sky an orangish pink color. It was like all of the colors of the sky melting together, painting a beautiful scene that no camera could ever do justice. He reached over and grabbed your hand as he began to drive. It looked like he was going nowhere in particular, and he squeezed your hand gently. You appreciated a first move when you saw one, it took the anxiety out of the way and you instantly felt more relaxed around him.

“There’s somewhere I want to show you. It’s not that far from here, is that okay?” You nodded. According to maps, the destination was only a few miles away. It was almost dark out, but not quite. The sun rested quietly in the sky, hovering just above the skyline ready to disappear. Mat still held your hand in his, gently squeezing every so often as if to reassure you of something but you weren’t quite sure what yet. When you arrived at your destination, there wasn’t another car to be seen. The only sound came from a distance, and then you looked around.

“Where are we?” You asked.

“Crescent Beach. I used to come here a lot when I first came to New York. The city can be overwhelming sometimes, but out here you can actually hear yourself think. The sunset’s here are something to behold, I’ve heard.” He held out his hand for you to take, and led you on to the beach. He had already grabbed two blankets from his trunk. You laughed a little bit, you always kept blankets and towels in the back of your car just in case too.

“It looks like we’re just in time for sunset.” Mat laid down one of the blankets on the sand. You were close enough to the water to be able to smell it, but not close enough that the tide could touch you. He placed the other blanket over the two of you, sitting down beside you after you got comfortable.

“The sky looks beautiful right now. I would have never thought a sunset in Long Island could look like this!” You closed your eyes for a second, taking in the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves. It was the peace you were looking for during the wedding weekend.

“New York can be beautiful when it wants to be. You just have to know where to look.”

“I like to think that whenever there is a sunset this beautiful, it’s just someone you lost saying hello. Like a little wave from the sky, you know?” You asked him. He nodded, looking out across the horizon. “Tell me about you Mat.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why did our friends want to set you up with someone?” You were curious.

“I’d been on and off with someone for a long time. It was unhealthy for me, and for anyone to be around me. Let’s just say I wasn’t always the most pleasant person. I want to start a family one day. With as much as players can move around, my home is with a person. Not a place or anything like that, if that makes any sense at all.”

“I was the same way with my dad. We moved around every few years, it felt like I could never really put down roots in one place.”

“What’s your favorite color?” He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“What does my favorite color have to do with anything?”

“It says a lot about a person to me.”

“You’re a little strange, has anyone ever told you that?” You both laughed, his was infectious.

“Just answer the question!”

You tell him your favorite color, smiling.

“Don’t you want to know what mine is?” He asked.

“Tell me.”

“It’s blue.”

“Like Islanders blue?”

“Any blue, but right now, blue like the ocean.” The breeze started to blow hard, quickly reminding you that you were in fact in New York, not a beach somewhere tropical. Mat was good at making you feel like you were somewhere else but in a good way.

“Tell me something else about you Mr. Barzal.”

“Is this 20 questions or something?”

“It is now!” You playfully smacked his thigh, you were so close together it wouldn’t take much for you to lean in and kiss him.

“Tes yeux sont les plus beaux que j'ai jamais vus.” You could tell he was speaking French just from the way he changed his accent. Since when could this beautiful man speak french?!

“You can speak french?”

“A hobby of mine, you could say.” From the way the words flowed out of his mouth, you knew it wasn’t just a hobby.

“What did you say?” You turned to look at him, slightly shorter so that you had to look up to look at each other. Everything else seemed to disappear behind him. There could have been roars of people around you, but you wouldn’t have been able to hear them. It was true what they said, when you found the right person it was like everything else melted away.

“I said you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” You couldn’t even attempt to hide the blush you could feel forming in your cheeks.

“Is that how you get all the ladies?” You managed to speak finally, after gaining your composure again. But your voice was quiet, like you didn’t want to know the answer.

“Tu es le seul que je veux.” His forehead came to rest against yours. You could feel his hot breath against your face, lighting the nerves in your body on fire.

“Tell me what you said.” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath as if it had been taken from you.

“You are the only one I want.”

“Okay.” You didn’t know why you were saying it. But he seemed to know why, and crashed his lips against yours. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, bringing you as close to him as you could get. The ocean breeze no longer seemed to matter as you began exploring each other’s bodies. He pulls you onto his lap, wrapping the blanket around you in one fluid motion. His lips tasted slightly of whiskey and chocolate, inviting and warm. Warmth blossomed in your chest, like you wanted to be engulfed in each other. You could feel his hands wanting to go under your shirt, and you nodded into the kiss to let him know that it was okay.

You pulled back just for a moment to catch your breath, but not letting your forehead leave his. You were breathing hard against each other as one, in sync already after the slightest touch. His eyes told you everything you needed to know, and you felt safe in his arms. Mat placed his hands on either side of your face, allowing you to feel just how much the moment meant to him. To him, he was holding his world in his hands and now he never wanted to let you go. His next kiss felt like fireworks, and now you knew what it felt like when people said they never wanted something to end. A kiss like the two of your lives depended on it, and you wanted to get lost in him. His kisses were soft at first and increased in intensity every time you drew back for a breath. You wanted more, you wanted all of him.

He breathed your name, realizing that it was in fact now dark outside. The only light came from the street lights in the parking lot and the small flashlight Mat had brought from his car. He brought you in for a hug against him, tucking your head into the nape of his neck. You fit there perfectly, and the smell of his cologne engulfed all of your senses.

“We should probably head back to the hotel.” He whispered, but didn’t make any moves to let go of you.

“Maybe…”

“That doesn’t mean we have to be alone tonight.” He squeezed you, the reassurance washing over you. You nod, and get up off the ground. Mat shakes off the blankets, trying to get rid of as much sand as possible. But you knew that there would be sand all over you for days, in places you never think sand would end up. He got you settled in the car, placing the supplies back where he got them from. Once back in the car, he took your hand once more and you drove quietly back to the hotel.

“Where do we go from here?” You asked.

“I like you.” Another hand squeeze. You didn’t know what to say back to him, too afraid that anything would scare him off just like the other guys you’d dated. “You don’t have to say it back yet, I just didn’t want this night to end without telling you that. When I know I want something, I won’t stop until I can have it. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“What about tonight?” He didn’t answer you, but that was okay. It was unspoken, hanging in the air like a cloud, but you knew you weren’t going to be alone that night. Or the rest of the weekend, if Mat had anything to say about it. Arriving back at the hotel, Mat handed his keys off to the valet and led you inside.

“Is there anything you need to get from your room?” He asked once in the elevator.

“Not that I can think of.”

“Good.” Once the elevator doors opened to his floor, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder once again. But this time you were more than okay with it. He had to set you down in order to open his room, but picked you up again once you were inside. He laid you down on the freshly laundered bed, throwing your shoes across the room and his along with them. You crawled under the covers together, and all he did was hold you. There were the occasional make out sessions throughout the night, but nothing more. He told you about his childhood and growing up playing hockey, and you told him about the life of being a coach's daughter.

He told you about the way he likes his eggs cooked, his pregame rituals, and all the movies he liked to watch. You talked about anything and everything that came to mind, eventually falling asleep in his arms. When you woke up it didn’t feel strange, it felt like you were supposed to be there. The morning after was always an awkward moment, falling over your words and trying to sneak out without the other person noticing. There was no sneaking out this time, instead you woke up with a kiss from Mat being planted on the top of your head.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He whispered, kissing around your neck and cheeks as much as he could.

“It’s wedding day today.” You smiled, you were excited to get your best friend in the world down the aisle. In helping her find her happiness, you had also managed to find some of yours.

“I’m guessing you have to go soon?” He asked, looking down at you.

“Well I am the maid of honor you know, I think someone will notice if I’m not there.”

“But what if I told you I just wanted to hold you all day instead?” He smirked. The hold that this man already had over you..

“What if I told you, that starting tomorrow you never had to let go of me again?” He sat up quickly and looked down at you.

“You mean it?”

“Well I don’t just spend the night with anyone, Mathew. I think our friends might just be right…” You smiled, he came down to kiss you so fast you didn’t even know what hit you. Was it crazy to rush into something so fast? Maybe. But did it feel right? Absolutely. You’d read all the romance novels of quick relationships, always telling yourself it wasn’t actually like that. Those were just fairy tales you could read about, nothing like that would ever happen in real life.

It took a little more convincing for him to actually let you get out of bed and go to the bridal suite where everyone was getting ready. Of course he had to be with the grooms party, but somehow it never took guys quite as long to get ready.

“Are you sure you have to go right now?” He asked once he pulled away from you. You didn’t want to get out of the nice comfy bed with a pretty man laying in it but duty called.

“Yessss, do you think you’ll be able to survive without me for a few hours?” You started to throw off the covers, but he pulled you back in.

“No, I don’t actually. I might just lay here and cry all day!” You laughed, knowing that both the bride and groom would come for him but let him pretend.

“You’ll be fine, I promise. If you let me go, I’ll let you grab my butt when we dance later.”

“DEAL!” One more quick kiss, and you were finally able to get up. One wave goodbye as you opened the door to leave, and you were off. You had to stop by your own room to get your dress and makeup, and then it was off to the bridal suite. You were surprisingly one of the first ones to arrive, and were able to eat a little bit of breakfast for once. Everyone in the bridal party got to choose their own dress as long as it was within the color palette, and yours was your favorite shade of blue. It fits you in all of the right places, just the way that it should. The bride paid for everyone’s hair to be done, and once everyone was all finished getting ready it was time to take pictures of the bridal party. The photographer seemed to be on her A-game, and for once things were running on time in your life. Anthony already gone to take his place

Finally you got to have a moment just you and your best friend on her big day. The day both of you had talked about since you were kids, the one that you spent planning on pinterest for hours without even a thought of someone in the picture.

“Hannah… you look stunning! I hope today is everything you ever dreamed it would be. I can’t wait to see the look on Anthony’s face when he sees you today. I’ll still beat him up if he ever hurts you though. Are you ready?”

“Have I told you I love you yet today?”

“I love you too girl. Let’s get you married!” Each bridesmaid had their groomsman, and you took your place at the end. Mat walked around the corner and paused when he saw you, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“You like something you see sir?” He offered up his arm for you to take once he made his way to you.

“Tu es le seul que je veux.” He repeated his words from last night, kissing your cheek.

“Me too.” You’d learn how to say it in french, one day at least.

Of course there wasn’t a dry eye in the house after the ceremony. After all of the guests made their way to the reception hall and the rest of the wedding party photos were taken, the evening seemed to go rather smoothly. You may or may not have felt Mat’s hand graze across your butt a few times during pictures, but you kindly reminded him that he wasn’t allowed to feel your butt until you got to dance. He acted like you were torturing him though, depriving him of a dream.

You wanted to get your wedding mingling out of the way first, so that you could enjoy the night with who you wanted. It did not go without notice that Mat’s eyes were following you around the room in a very flirty kind of way. You hadn’t felt like this in a really long time, like you could relax because you were finally comfortable with someone.

“Hey bestie, how is your night going?” Hannah found her way over to you, and more of your friends noticed. You recognized what was happening, they wanted to get all of the dirty details about you and Mat. Of course their plan was successful, but you were also a proud individual. All of them were smiling a little too big at you, asking without actually asking.

“I know what you’re trying to do here!” You accused her.

“Don’t waste time woman, we wanna know! How’s it going with Mat?” Hannah asked.

“I saw you going into his room last night!”

“We know you two snuck off last night, don’t even lie.”

“Where did he take you! Was it romantic?”

“One question at a time!” You were only one person after all, “It’s still very new, we just met this weekend.”

“That smile doesn’t lie sweetie.” You were a bad liar and they knew it.

“Okay fine. Yes we snuck off last night, yes I was in his room but we didn’t do anything but talk and make out, he took me to a beach, and yes it was romantic! Now if you don’t mind, I promised my man a dance and that he could touch my butt. I always keep my promises!”

“YOUR MAN?”

You ran before they could question you further, right towards Mat, who held his arms open for you. Hiding things was never your strong suit, so you two had decided to not even bother.

“They look like you just told them the world is going to end tonight, what happened?” He asked, bringing you into his arms for all the world to see. Clearly he was ready to make everyone aware you were an item, and you weren’t going to object.

“I called you my man, and then immediately walked away.” You smiled up at him.

“Oh you did?”

“Yes sir.”

“I guess that does leave us with the big question.”

“What question?”

“What are we going to do with us? Did this weekend make you want to see me again?” Great opportunities rarely presented themselves at your doorstep. Mat had treated you better in the last 24 hours than a lot of people and you already knew your loved ones approved. It felt right, your gut always had a good feeling about these things. It would always be fun to tell the grandkids you met at a wedding, you’d tell them the part about the bar when they were old enough.

“I said you were my man, did I not?”

“Well you did keep me waiting ma’am, that’s a criminal offense. I’m not sure if I’m your man yet.” He said through a smile.

“Oh is that so?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Nah I’m just fuckin with you, I’ve been dying to kiss you all night.” He brought his hands up to cup either side of your face, and kissed you in a way that shouldn’t be in the middle of your best friends wedding reception.

“You don’t want to touch my butt?” You ask when you finally pull apart.

“Of course I do, but if I touch your butt right now we would be leaving this party within the next few minutes and I believe we both have important things to do.” He whispered in your ear, giving him a look. A look that said I know you want to take my clothes off right now, so I’m going to do my best to tease you. After pulling away, Mat offered you his hand for the dance you had promised.

Standing in the middle of the dance floor with him, while looking at your surroundings and seeing how happy your best friend was, kind of hit you like a sack of bricks. A few years ago if someone had told you this was where your life would end up, you’d have called them crazy. You felt him kiss your forehead as you danced, and you felt yourself melt into him a little. You had no defenses against him, your walls suddenly disappeared when he was near. If he was out of your sight, suddenly the world wasn’t as clear anymore. Maybe summer wasn’t just a time for flings, because this one felt different. Who would have thought just one summer weekend could be so life changing.

........

Half a summer and one year later…

You couldn’t believe you were standing where you were. Summer was starting to become your favorite season. The only thing that brought you back down to earth was the squeeze you felt on your hand from your new husband. The look of reassurance on his face told you all that you needed to know, that he loved you and that you’d be fine. Crowds weren’t always your thing, even if it was your own wedding.

“You ready?”

He knew the timing of your entrance better than anyone, and you could hear Tito start to speak from the other side of the door. The doors opened, blinding you with light. You felt one last squeeze, and then your brain managed to get your feet to start moving again.

“My friends, it is my honor and great pleasure to introduce to you for the very first time… MR. AND MRS. MATHEW BARZAL!”

[prodbymaui]

These Secrets That I Have.

what if I told you that I've fallen?

PAIRING: mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE: our friendly neighborhood spiderman ; the best friends

WORD COUNT: 4.3k+ words

WARNINGS: eventual smut, choking kink, arson

SYNOPSIS: Joking that your best friend is the infamous superhero bitten by a spider has been a habit for the group. It was all a joke, until it wasn't.

A/N: THE UPSIDE DOWN KISS!! spidermark agenda, I wouldn't let you die. and forgive for the poor attempts of comedy lmao. anyways, happy reading and don't forget to share your thoughts about this fic! <3

''With great power comes..''

''Great responsibilities--''

Gasping dramatically, Johnny stands up as his finger points accusingly to the male who's unknowingly straining his vocal chords due to laughing so much.

Mark shakes his head, clapping his hands in amusement. ''Dude, everybody knows that.''

''Nobody gets it right.''

Jaehyun joins the tallest among all of you. ''Except spiderman.''

Cackles once again blooms, the way these two delivers their impromptu exposing session is so comical that you are all gasping for air.

If you didn't know better, those faces full of shock mixed with betrayal would fool you into thinking your best friend is actually the one behind the infamous red and dark blue suit with webs and spider symbols decorating it. No ones knows when it actually began, the spiderman jokes. Johnny and Jaehyun are certainly the ones to start the teasing on Mark, doting on him and urging him to 'admit it' in every chance they get. Oftentimes, the jokes are fueled by Mark's fast reflexes. Someone can react fast, alright, but something about Mark's tells that there's a deeper root or cause, Johnny's words.

Personally, you don't really think Mark would be the 'friendly neighborhood' superhero neither do you consider even the smallest chance because-- one, the male is literally with you almost 24/7 and spiderman saves people 25/8. And two, you've stayed at Mark's apartment more than you've done to your dorm, you know the in and outs, every nook and cranny of the space-- not once did you found even a mere clue that suggests what Johnny and Jaehyun had in their mind.

''You really gotta back us up here, dude. You know what you've seen.'' Once again, the faux seriousness shows in his words and his eyes widening to convince, you decides to ride his flow this time.

''Actions speaks louder than voice, Mark. If you're not spiderman, then explain the spidey senses!'' Johnny throws a cap towards Mark's direction, effectively making the man catch it within seconds, eventually proving your 'theory'.

'I told you so' looks are exchanged between the three of you. Haechan barks a laugh at that.

''This is fucking crazy.'' Clearly, he's enjoying the show judging by the tears escaping the sockets of his eyes.

The series of persistence is left to deaf ears. Mark prefers downing as much pizza as he can right now rather than dealing with endless accusations that, to say the least, is absolutely nonsensical. ''Y'all would cut this shit out or you'll have webs shoved down deep in your throat in a minute?''

By now, Mark should've known making empty threats that has connections with spiderman's universe or spiderman himself will just worsen the situation he already finds hard to be in. Albeit his ears ringing, Mark didn't make any effort to stop the banters of his friends regarding if he's the superhero bitten by a spider or he's just a natural. Concluding that the discussion is harmless, he doesn't find the need to.

Ha! It's not like he's actually the 'Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman', right?

Another groan escapes past your lips, fingers drumming the white table. 15 minutes upon arriving at 7/11, your instant ramen slash source of distraction from boredom sadly disappears in thin air. What the fuck is taking Mark Lee so long?

''--so you mean, 10 muscled people holding rifles each was nothing against 1 spider descendant or some shit?'' Your ears perks up.

''Yup, flicked those robbers away to the police like it was nothing.''

''Damn crazy, and fucking awesome.''

''That's spiderman for you,'' The boy browses through the ice cream freezer near you. ''Still can't believe he's in this area just minutes ago.''

Eh? The superhero was here? Then that would mean the said robbery took place somewhere not far from where you were eating your ramen peacefully. How come you didn't hear the sirens? You sigh, mind wondering the possible outcomes if the robbers decides to raid the stores nearby and eventually reach yours. It fuels your urge to go home even more.

Supposedly, this trip shouldn't last no more than 10 minutes considering the fact that the store is not even 3 minutes away from your dorm and choosing chips to your liking only takes less than 5 minutes of your time-- depending on how indecisive you are and how crazy your cravings are. It'll all bring you back to the comfort of your bedroom in no time, nonetheless.

But a certain someone thought it's a good idea to leave you at the store and tells you that he'll be back in a bit, making you wait like some child for their parent. Heck, no parent would even leave their child alone at a convenience store, opting to take the kid with them. He insisted on meeting here again in spite of your whines to go separate ways so you can enjoy the warmth of your bed all the while he fulfills the errand that he so eagerly wants to finish.

''This motherfucker, I swear to God.'' Informing Mark that you'll go back via message, the chair lets out a faint screech as your body heat lingers a little longer after standing up to leave. Just as you turn around, your shoulders meets a chest, sending you both to a halt as the collision sinks in. You look up to see your most awaited best friend with his unstyled chest nut hair serving as a curtain for his same shade orbs. He breathes heavily, as if catching some air to fend his lungs.

Eyes raking down his body, you drink in his appearance. He looks like he just came from.. a fight. ''The hell happened to you, dude?'' Your figure heads towards the store's exit.

''Police thought I was one of those that belonged to the robbery, took me a while to convince them I'm not, sorry.''

You snort. ''Well, I would mistake you as a robber too with this beanie and all black outfit you have.''

Mark scowls. ''They thought I'm a victim, just for your information.''

''Really? That's surprising.'' Laughing softly under your breath, you tosses a bag of chips to Mark as compensation for your teasing.

The gust of cold breeze remains disregarded, warmth coming from the other's body heat is enough to ease the coldness. Passing by where the crime occurred, your feet unknowingly fasten their pace, shuddering at the thought of danger albeit the police cars and armed officers surrounds the area in protection stance.

Overhearing a reporter going on about something along the lines of 'the cops thanking Spiderman as it weren't for him, they wouldn't be able to catch the criminals' makes you sigh.

They should really stop depending on the superhero. You thought.

''Isn't it scary?''

Mark turns to you. ''What is?''

''The way greed can drive humans to intense, irrevocable madness.  It pushes them to do these things that'll not only put their lives in danger but will also fail to satisfy their desires. Sure, they can have money in the palms of their hands with just a snap, stealing from people-- but will those bills last for a long time? Will that be enough for them? Certainly not.''

A brief glance from Mark is what you received, the bop of his head caught by your peripheral vision assures you to keep going. ''The more they steal, the more they crave. If the officials thinks that every on-going and unsolved crimes plastered on the news by the media will scare the criminals away because they are apparently doing their best to find the suspects and pull them out of wherever hole they are hiding, they're wrong. The cops wouldn't be forced to  use their best assets and experience sleepless nights if the criminals are not doing well at their job, right? Those announcements of endless searchings and calls for the people's help only pats the wanted people on their back, telling them they've done an excellent mayhem job.

Sometimes, I don't even know who to blame when crimes, like this kind, happens. Is it the criminals themselves because they lost their morals over materialistic things? Because they gave in to the urge of possessing those that goes beyond what they can comprehend? Is it the police for not hearing the reason why these criminals have done it? Is it the society who embodies judgemental and discriminating in all sorts of way that probably pushed them to do such things? Or is it the government who failed to make education and employment accessible to everyone no matter what their status in life is?''

Kicking a pebble out of your way, it creates a dull thudding sounds. ''Proper education and enabling people to have a grasp of legal source of income would probably prevent crimes from happening. I'd like to think that most are just desperate measures.''

Mark hums. ''What you said are somewhat right. They makes sense.''

''But.. ?'' You know there's more that he itches to say.

''But, as much as everyone deserves to be heard and understood, some are just born evil. Born without remorse for others. It'll surprise you how we encounter many people such them in our daily lives. So avoid thinking that criminals did what they've done because they had a traumatic and devastating life. You're unknowingly justifying the ends by their means, something you cannot do especially if the lives of innocents are on the line.''

It's unclear why Mark sounds firm and sure regarding of meeting the people he just talked about but since their existence is not exactly a secret from the whole world, you suppose he's correct.

Too caught up in your conversation, your feet reached the entrance of your dorm's building in no time. Turning around, you offer a cheeky smile at him. ''Thank heavens then that I don't need to worry about my safety.''

Mark returns your smile with a hearty scoff. He knows where this is going. ''Uh-huh, and why is that?''

''Because I have Spiderman as my best friend! You'll protect me, won't you spidey?'' Giggling, Mark nudges your arm as you walk side by side, resorting to shaking his head instead of joining your spiderman agenda.

Spiderman or not, Mark vows to himself to keep you away from the darkness of this world with all his might. He already lost his uncle, he couldn't afford to lose someone so dear to his heart once again.

The alarm blares loudly and pierces your ear drums, almost busting them yet you didn't make any effort of getting up. The ringing sounds extra loud today, though. Ah.. you don't really want to wake up. Your body shifts to a new position, hands searching where your phone lays.

Definitely, no one wants to wake up before the roosters crows in a weekend where you should be using all your time to rest in preparation of yet another tiring week.

Skin making a contact with the source of the sound, you didn't feel any vibration with it. Just as when you decided to go back to sleep and withstand the annoying ringing of the alarm, rapid knocks on your door overpowered the previous sound, effectively pulling you out of the borderline between dreamland and reality.

You sit up. ''Fuck--'' It is only then that you realized, the alarm isn't coming from your usual alarm clock. Instead, it is the fire alarm ringing and announcing the state of your building.

With panic taking over your emotions, your body moves fast. Getting all the things that you know is important before soaking a blanket in water, covering yourself with it, and finally running out to leaving your room. Tears pricks your eyes as you meet the fiery blaze engulfing the whole building, enclosing in with every blink and every breath you take. You step a few backwards, lips quivering as you try to ignore the scorching heat seeping through the wet blanket, threatening to burn your skin any minute. Your eyes wavers.

There's so many ways you could die but dying helplessly amidst of an arson is not what you fancy. A scream of horror couldn't even be used to express your fear, you remain quiet and whimpering despite the shivering of your body, arms hugging yourself.

Your doors shut close once again, your back leaning against it as you falls to the ground, drops of tears continuously running down your cheeks. The fire started from a floor below yours, or at least that's what it seemed like. Meaning you absolutely have no chance of escaping the flames unless you jump out of your window. Surely, you're somehow survive a fall from the 5th floor, right?

A rattle created somewhere in your house snaps you out of your nonlogical thoughts. Looking up, you don't know whether to believe your eyes or rub the surface of your orbs, taking a second look in case what you're seeing is just a figment of your imagination. Maybe you're slowly losing some screws in the head.

But the movement of the figure, jogging towards you, tells you otherwise. ''What the fuck.. ?''

It's real.

It's him.

It's Spiderman in the fucking flesh.

Once again, you are stolen from your trance by his arms gently pulling you up, steadying you. Without much of a warning, the superhero scoops you in his arms and flies out of the window. And holy fuck, does it scared the shit out of you that the fibers of your body started to scream nothing but hold on tight to the man who's swinging down the building with you.

The uncalled adventure ended before you could even processed that your building is currently burning down, you got stucked between the fire and now Spiderman just saved you. No one should be able to blame you if you take days to properly digest what just happened.

He stands before you for a few more seconds, as if raking down his eyes. You tilt your head when he nods and runs to save the others. ''The fuck.. ?'' For the nth of the day, you let out a curse.

Your brain is totally playing with you. There's no fucking way Spiderman helped you, made sure that you got no wounds slash you're safe and sound before nodding as if to assure himself. Johnny is gonna combust if he's to hear your story.

The comfort of the thick blanket engulfs your figure as you hold your cellphone and wallet in your hand. Sighing, you turn to Jaehyun who came to your aid at this goddamn hour. ''You don't really have to stay with me, Jay. Pretty sure this'll end in an hour or so, you can go back now.''

Stubbornly, the male shakes his head. ''Did you know how worried we are when we heard from Mark that your dorm was on fire? Johnny and Haechan almost even flew out of Busan just to make sure you're alright.''

''Dude, I'm really fine, I promise. I can manage this, just rest.''

His hand pushes your head lightly to lay on his shoulder. ''No, you rest.''

Giving up, you let yourself relax, leaning your weigh towards Jaehyun as you pull the blanket tighter around you. The dreamland train is ready to send you to your slumber when your eyes opens abruptly, realizing what Jaehyun just said.

''Jay?''

He hums.

''From whom did you heard about the fire again?''

''Uh.. Mark?''

''And where is he right now?''

''... Dunno, maybe he's somewhere that's why he couldn't come.''

Your silence tells Jaehyun you're not convinced by his reason.

He silently prays Mark doesn't kick his ass.

2 hours passed and you decided to make Jaehyun drop you off on Mark's place, opting to stay there until everything's alright back at your apartment. It is proven that the male's walls have nothing against your persistent whines as you now lay on Mark's bed, scrolling through your phone.

Ever since stepping a foot here few minutes ago, you didn't catch nor sense Mark's presence. In usual days, it's Mark who zooms from wherever he is to your place once the news of something happening to you reaches him. But today, it was Jaehyun instead.

Your thoughts ponders to where it has been circling earlier. A voice inside you says something you surprisingly don't find hard to believe. Maybe it was your best friend who found you first after all, just not in his signature beanie and all black outfit.

''That's dumb. I should stop joining Johnny and Jaehyun with their shenanigans.''

You must've gone crazy now that you're talking to yourself.

''What's so crazy about that? Doesn't everyone talks to themselves at least once? It's not like it's so bad. According to scientists, taking to yourself brings you comfort and such.''

Of course, that's bullshit. You hate reading anything that involves science.

''Mark is not the superhero who got bitten by a magical spider that turned him into a man who saves the people from fire and crimes. Mark is just your stupid of a best friend that thinks putting strawberries in a microwave is a good idea because he likes his fruits warm. Mark is your best friend who's scared of cockroaches so how come he's a hero whose powers came from a spider? Mark is not Spiderman--''

Wrong. Absolutely Wrong.

Your claims got debunked right after you lay them down. You're absolutely fucking wrong.

The superhero whom you got to meet earlier, now stands in front of you once again. Hissing at what seemed to be a burn, unaware of the other presence inside the room, the mask comes off of his head, revealing the face the media and government would pay billions of money to see.

All this time, the jokes that Johnny and Jaehyun threw weren't all bullshit. Because the moment Spiderman turns out, the familiar chestnut shade eyes meets yours, effectively stilling both of your figures.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Spiderman IS Mark Lee.

''...''

''...''

''...''

''... let's treat your burn first.''

The hero nods like a puppy.

''Ouch! At least dab it gently. I may have powers but immunity to stings isn't one of them, you know?'' That only pushes you to dab the cotton pad harder on his burnt skin, earning a yelp.

''You deserve that after hiding this secret from us for how many years.''

''Who said I hid it from all of you? Johnny and Jaehyun have known about this months ago.'' Your glare scares the superhero embarrassingly. To be fair, it's not like Mark intended to let the duo know. It was accidental.

''And you didn't even dare to tell me, your literal best friend?'' You know exactly why he didn't want to risk revealing his secret even with those he trusts the most, you just don't know how to properly mask the worry inside you.

Mark, instead, smirks. ''Just say you're worried, it's not that bad to admit it, you know?'' He's right.

Your finger fumbles the cotton, eyes staring deeply to Mark's as you weigh the outcomes if you say the very sentence that lays at the tip of your tongue. The hem of your shirt moves, courtesy of Mark of playing with them.

Fuck it.

No one knows who leans in to who, all you know is that you desire to take more than the heat coming from Mark's tongue on yours. His arm wraps around your waist, flipping your position so you would be the one to lay on the bed, hovering your figure as his kisses travels down to your neck. Whimpers escapes your lips, hand threading the brown strands while the other feels the firm chest through his suit.

Your clothes soon flies to god knows where, the chilly wind bites through your bare skin but the flames of Mark's tongue licking every surface he can eases it. The lips comes back to meet yours one more time, devouring every area that he can reach. It's nothing like you expected to experience from Mark.

It's fierce, hot, and needy.

Wet sounds of kissing echoes through the silence of the room, rustling clothes accompanying it as Mark takes off his suit.

Fingers ghosting over the line that serves as an entrance to your core, your breath hitches. They entered Mark's mouth first, sucking and licking before pulling them out full of saliva just for the show. Finally dipping inside you, a sigh couldn't help but to be let out. It's deep, something you're unable to do whenever you're left to fend for yourself.

Mark gets on it, inserting one after another with little rest in between until he feels you're stretched enough for him. You pant, the angry red tip touching and tracing the line of your pussy, enough to send you desperate. So desperate that you whine and grinds your hips upwards to meet his length.

Caging you in his embrace, Mark's lips stays on yours as his cock slowly but smoothly slides past your opening, the veins rubbing along your walls enough to receive a quiet moan from you. There's a slight sting caused by the stretched of Mark's girthy dick but that's what you wanted, for it to hurt even a bit. In order for you could feel Mark fully.

''Good?''

''So good.''

Mark chuckles, observing your facial expression as he makes circles with his hips, hand caressing your sides in a comforting way. When he senses that you've gotten used to his cock sliding in and out of your entrance, he with no doubts quickens his pace. He starts fucking.

Screams of his name along with vulgar profanity fills the apartment, loud skin slapping fuelling the hunger for release. ''More, more, more-- fuck, Mark, please.''

The male grunts. God, just your calls of his name is enough to make him come. It takes him a lot of self-control to prevent his climax from raining on him quickly. With the determination of bringing you over the edge, his hips snaps harder, harsher and faster.

The way his tip gets caught on your walls before fully pulling out is hypnotizing. Hands gripping the pillow beside your head, Mark changes his angle a bit and that's when you scream his name loud enough for the neighbors to complain tomorrow. Mercilessly, Mark's bulbous tip jabs on your spot dead on continuously, giving you no time to catch some air.

His mouth attaches to your skin as he paints it with love bruises, a remembrance of your activity. ''Aah, shit-- are you close, baby? Are you gonna come around my cock? Tighten your-- fuck-- walls around me until I can't fucking-- aah-- breathe?''

You nod, chanting his name like a mantra as you plead him to bring you the mind numbing pleasure. Scratching his back, nails digging and creating crescent moon shapes on his skin-- Mark finds himself only getting closer to coming. His fingers wraps themselves around your wrist, placing your palm on the expanse of his neck. Mark groans when he feels the pleasuring grip on the sides of his throat, eyes rolling to the back as the perfect press sends him to his peak.

With your walls pulsating around him, white cream creating a customized ring for his cock, Mark thrusts once, twice, trice and a few more before he pulls out. Ribbons of white makes itself known on your stomach through the warmth it radiates. His head is thrown to the back as his mouth falls apart, moaning your name.

Minutes passes by and it was only then that Mark came to his senses, laying carefully beside you. Despite just having his cock inside you not long ago, Mark visibly stills when you wrap your arms around his waist. You chuckle.

''Any secrets you have that you want to tell me?'' Whispering against his shoulder, Mark gains the courage of placing his arm to hug you side ways. He smiles, staring at the ceiling.

''If I didn't know any better, I'd say that smiles means you like me.''

''Well, do you?''

''Do I what?''

''Know better.''

Giggles of happiness echoes the bedroom.

It is night and your heels clicking the floor is heard along the quiet alley. You purses your lips, hands buried in the pockets of your jacket to hide from the freezing cold of the night. Eyes remaining to the ground, you steps comes to a halt when you sense another presence just behind you.

The shadow shows an upside down figure of someone, a strange yet familiar way. You turn around with no fear, smile of adore dawning your face as the sight of your boyfriend waiting greets you.

''Hi,'' Softly, you caress his upside down face. ''The people are waiting for you to save them, spidey.''

''Can I get my good luck? So I'd know someone is waiting for me to get back home?'' Chuckle rumbles on your chest as you pinch his cheek.

Your fingers tugs the hem of his mask, enough to reveal the naturally red yet slightly chapped lips that you love. Pressing a loving kiss, you hoped that Mark was able to decipher all the feelings you've put.

''Can I tell you a secret?''

You didn't wait a respond from him.

''I love you.''

You peck his lips.

''So damn much.''

You fix his mask and ensure that it wouldn't slip off of him.

''Be careful while saving the world, will you? I wouldn't know what to do if I lose mine.''

With one last kiss through the fabric of his mask, Mark vows that after helping the people, he will come back safely-- to his very own home, his own world.

[merotwst]

SUMMER WENT AWAY, STILL THE YEARNING STAYS !

‹. ace trappola, deuce spade, jack howl, jamil viper ›

. bulleted hcs

⇝that fleeting summer love that comes once in a lifetime.

[ n: uhh idk if i can consider this angsty??? it's kindaaaaa angsty lmao??? sort of modern au. this has been rotting in my drafts for centuries. ty for 900 ! this fic can be interpreted as romantic or platonic. not proofread. jamil when he when w ]

⑇

---→ tw. violence associated with delinquency in deuce's part.

⑇

ace trappola ‹ heartslabyul ›

. you met ace around your neighborhood one summer when you were 14.

. he was the temporary boy nextdoor staying with a relative.

. he seemed to get close to the other neighborhood kids pretty quickly and you were impressed.

. you would see him around as you passed by the basketball court or by the curb sitting on his skateboard with a popsicle in hand.

. you never made a move to approach him, but everytime you passed you would always catch each other's gaze.

. he never broke eye contact first and you always found yourself turning away from the awkward staring contests he traps you in.

. this went on for a few weeks.

. til one afternoon you were out with your friends at your usual spot.

. ace and his group of neighborhood kids arrived no later and you all collectively decided to mingle together.

. and as everyone was talking amongst themselves under the 4 pm suburban atmosphere of the neighborhood, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

. his spiky red hair and boyish grin greeted you when you turned around.

. you don't remember how it happened but you found yourself trying to balance yourself on his skateboard.

. he held your hand trying to help you balance yourself as you gently kicked on the pavement.

. ace's teasing laughs and your yelps as you tried your best to learn the skateboard went on for hours until eventually the light of the street lamp was the only illumination you both had.

. and as you sat under it, popsicles in hands exchanging friendly banter amongst yourselves, you realize how charming he actually was.

. he was still a dick at times. the way he teasingly lets you go when you're out of balance or when you fall onto the pavement and he has his good share of laughs before going over to help you.

. it pissed you off a LOT whenever he did those.

. but along with this, ace was also the boy that treated you to popsicles. he was the one who patched your little cuts and bruises from times you fell off the skateboard.

. ace was the boy who would walk you back to your front porch and wave at you with that signature cocky grin before skating back to the house he stayed at.

. and every afternoon, at the same time and same place, you and him would rendezvous because you were determined to learn to skate (mostly out of spite because he kept being an asshole).

. it had become a sort of routine. this went on for the whole summer. and you always found yourself looking forward to your little skating lessons.

. one particular evening though, as you were both walking home—well, ace walked. you skated on the board having much improved since the first time you tried it out.

. something felt a little off. you couldn't quite put your finger on it, but ace seemed to be acting a bit strange.

. he treated you to a nearby cafe without attempting to have you pay, he was a lot more talkative than usual asking about you (without saying much about himself, but you figured you could ask him some other day), and saying you could bring his skateboard home with you.

. you wanted to ask him about it, but you didn't want to ruin the moment. ace was being genuine and this was a rare occasion. if anything, you should capture this moment and hang it up a wall gilded in gold.

. he smiled. an honest smile yet somehow it felt a bit melancholic before waving you off with a goodbye, his signature grin creeping its way to his features.

. you twisted the knob to your front door but turn around one last time to see his figure move past the streetlight.

. but all you caught was a last glimpse of his shadow before he was gone.

. the following day, ace didn't show up to your usual spot.

. you still had his skateboard, so you figured you should just visit his place to see if he's alright.

. “oh my, he didn't tell you? his family picked him up early this morning.” the lady who answered the door said with an apologetic smile.

. “but i'm sure he left the skateboard with you as a gift. because otherwise he would have taken it with him.”

. you've never seen of heard from him again since. and throughout the years, you'd grown up. you gained new interests, worked part time jobs and you'd grown out of the mostly silly things you liked when you were younger.

. but occasionally, you glance at one specific corner of your room and see an old skateboard that once belonged to a boy you'd met who will always have a piece of you with him wherever he was today.

⑇

deuce spade ‹ heartslabyul ›

. at 14, you were a wild child.

. the rebellious kind. the kid that ran around at night vandalizing the buildings around the city.

. though you were a delinquent, you didn't pick fights and bully the helpless.

. you fought those who you thought deserved to get beat up, taking your anger out on the world through violence.

. you were a kid who was sick and tired of being forced to do things you didn't like.

. the typical rebellious teenager on the streets.

. during one of your escapades, you run into a boy.

. hair dyed blonde, a tacky looking jacket and a demeanor that looked as if he was ready to fight someone all the time.

. and fight he did because this boy was STRONG.

. that was clear to you the day you found yourself facing against a group of assholes who were too afraid to fight by themselves.

. they had advantage in numbers and it was frustrating for you being the only one against them.

. you turned your head to brace yourself from the impact of one of their fists when instead of the familiar pang of a fist hitting your cheek, it never came.

. instead there was a grunt and a thud. the arms holding your weak body loosened their grip on you and you took the opportunity to break free.

. that's when you first met deuce spade.

. he wasn't like most of the jerks you've met. this guy was a lot more... well, he was like you.

. he understood why you did what you did. he was essentially the same. he was frustrated so he used his fists to help ease the anger he feels towards himself.

. soon, you found yourselves spending time with each other. you fought alongside each other, you treat each other's wounds—you were partners.

. and every time you met up to hang out you would wait for deuce to show up at your meeting spot.

. then you would ride around the city in his blastcycle till you both decided you were tired and called it a day.

. you both didn't engage in violence towards anyone that wasn't another delinquent.

. and although you would get beat up sometimes, it was always better if it was with deuce.

. afterwards you would get up, ride to the nearest convenience stores and with your knuckles littered with matching bruises, eat some ice cream and laugh about whatever it was you guys thought was funny about that day.

. somehow, you found yourself feeling all the anger towards the world start to dissipate.

. you felt like the world wasn't as cruel when you were with deuce. the friendship you had gave you comfort.

. it was nice to have someone to lean on. someone who understood you.

. they were the best months if your life.

. then one day he stopped coming.

. days turned to weeks and weeks to months.

. you finally decided he wasn't coming to see you anymore.

. you found yourself wandering the city in your own. you were on your alone again.

. but instead of getting angry or going out to look for deuce, you felt like it was best if you didn't.

. deuce was a good guy deep down. if he was in any sort of trouble, you would have definitely heard about it by now.

. maybe he finally decided there's more to throwing fists at other people. maybe he finally realized life of a delinquent doesn't get you anywhere. maybe he's decided there's better things—more important things.

. because you did as well.

. so you stopped wandering the city. you stopped being angry.

. because you already knew what peace felt like around your old friend. if you can find that with him, you can find it with yourself.

. you both learned from each other and although you don't know if you'll ever see those familiar bright blue eyes again, you know he's taught you something special.

. you hope he's doing better out there.

⑇

jack howl ‹ savanaclaw ›

. during one summer when you were 10, your family took you camping.

. and as a curious child, you ran around every day since you got to camp grounds to play.

. everyday was a new adventure. and though you would play by yourself near the creek splashing on the shallow water as you listened to the cicadas chirping in the summer air from the trees above you, you didn't seem to mind.

. until one afternoon, while you were building yourself a fort made of sticks, you caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes and a fluffy tail from the tall grasses nearby.

. you were a bit scared because you thought it would be a big animal, but as you observed it some more, you could see the tail was a lot smaller.

. probably a baby wolf?

. wolves were still scary though. but your parents told you everywhere in the camp grounds was safe. it's why they let you wander around freely to play.

. maybe it was a friendly baby wolf.

. while you were contemplating whether to run away and tell your parents or stay and pet it, you felt the creature leap from the grass and land in front of you.

. it wasn't a wolf. well, not completely. it was a boy with wolf ears and a tail..!

. and he howled. well, he attempted to. it didn't come out as a roar, though. it sounded like a cute dog trying to bark really long and loud but still ended up sounding squeaky.

. it made you giggle. and by the expression he had, that didn't seem to be his goal.

. his name was jack and his family were also staying in the camp for a while.

. it didn't take long for you and jack to meet up at the same spot everyday. sometimes you would even run over to his family's camp just to call him over to play.

. and everyday, jack would attempt to howl.

. and everyday you would cheer him on, even if it didn't come out how he wanted.

. jack was serious when it came to playtime. he would give you instructions on how to build your fort. he would always gather the food (acorns and rocks) for your home (your stick fort) and would fight off any monsters (scare away wandering small animals that pass by) that try to threaten your home.

. it was sweet and you both had a lot of fun.

. you both found a seed on the ground on the day jack said his family was packing to leave.

. you planted it and pinky promised that you would both come back when the tree is fully grown.

. now you stand underneath a tall, sturdy tree and you smile at the carvings left by someone at some point in time.

. there was a mark with your initial and the letter J.

. you don't know where he is now. but you were sure he was here.

. you don't know him by anything else other than just 'jack from the other camp'.

. but you hope someday your stars will align and you'll meet again.

. and you can both stand underneath the small seed you both planted and watch its beautiful blossoms shimmer under the sun together once more.

⑇

jamil viper ‹ scarabia ›

. you were going through a messy time in your life.

. you were 24 when your friends said you should do solo travelling. they said it would help you get your mind off of your recent 3-year relationship breakup.

. with nothing really much to lose, you take their advice and book a flight off to somewhere.

. the only problem now was if you could actually fly off to that somewhere.

. they couldn't let you board because your baggage exceeded the weight limit. and now you sit down in the airport bench, aggressively taking out your clothes and considering just throwing them at a garbage bin.

. you sigh deeply and frustratedly and just considered going home.

. until a man came up to you. he was beautiful with gorgeous long black hair and dark skin.

. he said he'd overheard your situation with the flight baggage earlier and offered to keep some of your clothes in his bags.

. he felt bad since you seemed like you really needed to get on this flight.

. although you grew up being told not to trust strangers but you were too enamored with his effortless charm (he wasn't trying to charm you, he was just very hot) to decline. ted bundy would have loved you, you thought.

. besides he seemed very genuine. he told you he had a sister and he said she would get upset if he didn't help someone in need.

. and as he zipped up his luggage that now had a mixture of your clothes. that was what got you onto your plane.

. when you landed to your destination, the man came up to you again to return your clothes.

. you asked where he was headed. he said he was headed anywhere. you said you were headed anywhere, too.

. this man could be a killer on the loose. there is a high possibility you could get murdered and go missing.

. but when he started thinking and eventually said he didn't mind a travel buddy for a time, your heart skipped a beat.

. you found out his name was jamil. and this wasn't his first time travelling. he goes out to visit places every year ever since he graduated from college.

. he doesn't talk much about himself, but he didn't seem to mind listening to you talk.

. he had one rule, though. whenever he travels, he never uses his phone to go online unless it was for communicating with his family. he says that going off the internet and trying to experience life and the beauty of the places you go to completely was the only way he'd let you travel with him.

. so you turned off the internet. tuned everything out and focused on the world.

. and somehow, you found yourself thinking of all the burdens of your life lesser. whenever you felt the breeze of the ocean hit your face or you wandered around the local shops, you felt yourself feeling more freer.

. jamil was a dream, too. you don't know his last name, you don't know where he's from, but he always treated you kindly.

. and you got to learn subtle things about him the more you spent time together.

. like how he loved taking pictures of the sunset and the feeling of the ocean waves hitting his feet. he would kick his feet up to splash some water on you and you would do the same until you were both almost soaked.

. he would dissect the food you guys ate. not in a bad way.

. he would try to figure out how it was cooked and write it on a little leather notebook he carried around with him.

. he liked to ask the locals more about the place you were both at and learn everything there was to know about the place.

. he also loved to listen to music whenever you were riding public transport.

. you both grew accustomed to each others' presence. and on the last night of your stay, he took you to the beach and taught you how to dance.

. you donated your extra clothes to a local charity (his suggestion) before you went home.

. he took you to the airport. he wouldn't be flying back yet.

. but he said the week you spent together was something he wouldn't forget.

. you left him with a tight embrace and a thank you. he let you leave with the promise that if your paths ever cross again, he'll tell you his full name.

. you arrived home with less baggage (literally and figuratively), but plenty of photos on your phone of the man who gave you the most magical week of your life.

© merotwst 2023 · do not steal, translate, copy or reproduce.

[remember-that-one-blog]

Picking Up the Pieces

Here is another series I decided to start. Let me know what you think! I do have a few original characters and they will be named but this is a reader insert fic. The reader will not be names and I do not do Y/N, I was never a fan of those personally, but I did want y’all to know how this would be and how any of my fics will be if you decide to read them. I’ll be posting Part 3 of my other series later as well!

********

Warnings: talk of car accident, death, miscarriage

You looked around as you made your way down the street. Your pitbull Diesel sniffed around at the new place he was. You couldn’t believe your luck. You had always wanted to move out toward Boston but not quite in the city. When your real estate agent found a small house in Sudbury you knew immediately this was where you were meant to be. After everything that has happened to you in the last year, you needed a fresh start and this was it. You smiled as you walked through the quaint town. It was a crisp fall day and the leaves were changing colors. You thought it was poetic for your situation. Fall is a season of change and this was the exact change you needed.

You smiled as you passed a couple walking their dog. Diesel started wagging his tail but they looked at him and crossed the street. You sighed looking at him. Bless his heart. He didn’t understand why no one wanted to pet him or play with him. You scratched the back of his ears. 

“It’s okay, buddy. They don’t know what they’re missing.” He wagged his tail happily at you while the two of you went on your way. You met another lady walking her dog as well. You gave her a soft smile and she gave you one back. She stopped a few feet in front of you. 

“I know this might seem cliche, but is your dog friendly? I always ask before I let Dodger near another one.”

“No worries and yes, Diesel is friendly.” She made her way closer to you. Diesel and Dodger sniffed each other and started wagging their tails. You smiled. You were so glad this woman decided to give him a chance. 

“I didn’t want to sound prejudiced, he didn’t look mean.”

“It’s fine. People usually cross the street or freeze when they see him. He’s the best dog I’ve ever had though.”

“I’m Lisa, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before and you don’t sound like you’re from around here either.” You introduced yourself as well.

“I’m not, I just moved here from Kentucky actually.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood. Your accent gave you away.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m not surprised, it usually does.” The two of you stood there for a while watching Diesel and Dodger run back and forth for a bit. She asked you which house you moved into and it turned out to be the one right across the street from her.

“Would you like some company on the walk back? These two seem like they’re gonna be great friends.”

“I would love that, thank you Lisa.” The two of you headed back towards your houses. Diesel and Dodger played with each other the entire way back.

“What made you want to move out this way.” Your heart sank a little at the question.

“That’s a pretty long story, but the short version is I needed a new start and I always wanted to move out this way. The stars just seemed to align and here I am.” You didn’t want to dump your baggage on this sweet woman. She was just too kind.

“Well, I’m glad your new start is here in Sudbury. There isn’t a place like it.” You believed her. The second you moved here it felt as if you had been here your entire life. The two of you exchanged numbers so Diesel and Dodger could have a playdate soon. You walked in letting Diesel off his leash. You looked around your house and smiled. This was the exact start you needed.

~

A few days later you were baking some cookies when there was a weird sound at your door. Diesel looked at you to see what was going on. The two of you made your way to the door. You opened the door and saw Dodger in front of your screen door. You opened it and he made his way inside.

“What are you doing here, Dodger? Did you get out?” You looked across the street to see the lights off at Lisa’s. Just to make sure she wasn’t home you put both dogs inside and made your way across the street. You knocked on the door waiting for an answer. You didn’t hear any noise on the other side of the door. You knocked one more time and still no answer. You made your way back over to your house and called Lisa’s cell.

“Hello, dear. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. You’re not home are you?”

“No, I’m at the airport picking my son up. Did you need something?”

“No, I was just making sure. Dodger got out, but he’s at my house. I just wanted to let you know where he was and that he was okay.”

“Thank you, dear! Oh I don’t know how he got out. You don’t mind keeping him until I get back do you?”

“Not at all. He and Diesel are running around playing right now.” You laughed as they chased each other around your coffee table. The two of you talked for a few more minutes while she waited for the plane to land. You said your goodbyes after it landed. You turned around to see both dogs curled around each other asleep on your loveseat. You laughed and decided to feed them when they woke up. The timer went off for your cookies. You smiled as you heard paws hit the floor. You sat the hot tray on top of the oven.

“Those are not for you two. However, I do believe it’s time to eat and then go on a walk, how does that sound?” Both dogs barked at you excitedly about the idea of a walk. You got your other dog bowl out and filled both up so both dogs could eat. You got the cookies off the baking sheet and put some more dough on it and put it back in the oven. When the dogs finished eating you got them ready for a walk. When the timer went off for your last batch of cookies you sat them on top of the oven and let them cool while you took the dogs for a walk.

~

You were halfway back to your house when you heard a car horn and your name being called. You turned to see Lisa. You smiled as she rolled her window down. 

“You didn’t have to walk him, dear.”

“I don’t mind at all. I also fed him when I fed Diesel, so he’s already done his business and by the looks of it is ready for a nap.” You laughed as you looked at the tired dogs. Lisa laughed with you.

“Looks like it. Would you like a ride the rest of the way?”

“That’s okay, if Diesel doesn’t finish his walk he’ll have the zoomies for an hour tonight. I can put Dodger in if you want though.”

“Sounds good. I know he’s missed Chris.” She looked over to the person in the car with her. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat at how handsome he was. He leaned across the middle console.

“Hey, Dodge! Did you miss me?” Dodger started barking and going in circles. You laughed as you led him to the car. Lisa unlocked the car doors and you opened the back so Dodger could hop inside. Dodger was immediately in Chris’s lap.

“Thank you again for keeping him.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight, as a thank you.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“I insist. Dinner will be ready at seven.” You just nodded at her. She drove on up to her house as you finished your walk with Diesel.

~

Later that night you headed over to Lisa with a plate of cookies in tow. You knocked on the door and waited. The door opened and your heart stopped again as you realized it was Chris that opened the door. Your heart needed to quit doing that. You didn’t need to go there. Not again. Dodger ran to you distracting you from your thoughts. You gave him some scratches on the head and smiled at him. You didn’t see it but Chris gave you a small smile watching you with Dodger.

“Right on time. You didn’t have to bring anything.” He nodded at the plate in your hand.

“I was raised to never show up empty handed.” He gave you a bright smile taking the plate from you.

“Where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.” You laughed at his question.

“Like I told Lisa, it usually does. I’m from Kentucky. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks.”

“Ahh, that explains the accent. What made you move here?”

“Needed a fresh start and this seemed like the right place.”

“This place is pretty great. I miss it when I’m away.”

“Do you travel a lot?” He gave you a quizzical look. As the two of you made your way further into the house.

“Yeah, do you know who I am?” You were confused.

“I’m sorry, but should I ? Have we met before?” He shook his head. He gave you a small smile and led you into the kitchen.

“Sorry, no, we’ve never met before. Um, that sounded terrible. I just assumed you knew who I was. Most people do.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” Chris sat the cookies on the counter as Lisa turned to you. She looked at the plate Chris sat on the counter. Lisa ushered you to sit at the table as she brought the lasagna over and sat it down. “Lisa, this looks wonderful.” She sat down and so did Chris. Dodger made his way over to you laying down at your feet. You bent down and gave him a couple of scratches behind the ears. Lisa and Chris started filling up your plate for you and then theirs. They were so kind and you appreciated that with people you just met. After you all had food on your plate you started eating. 

“So, what made you move out here? I know you said you needed a fresh start, but why the big move?” You looked to Chris as he asked his questions.

“It’s a long story and pretty sad. I don’t think it would make for a great dinner conversation.”

“We don’t mind, dear, but if you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine, too.” You gave Lisa a small smile. You didn’t want to bring their moods down, so you opted not to talk about it. Sensing that Lisa changed the subject. The three of you talked about a lot of different things. They asked you what it was like growing up in Kentucky, what your favorite thing was and what you missed the most. Conversation flowed easily and you were grateful. Once everyone was finished with their plates Chris started clearing the table. You stood up to help.

“I can get this.”

“I don’t mind. It’s the least I could do since you had me for dinner.” He relented and you helped him take everything to the kitchen. You helped put the leftovers up and insisted you wash the dishes. Chris relented as long as he could dry. The two of you stood there in silence for a while. It wasn’t awkward, but it was comfortable. 

“So, what do you do for a living? Since you thought I would know you?” You asked after a while. Chris laughed at your question.

“I’m an actor.” Your heart stopped. 

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ve been in quite a few movies. It’s been so long since someone hasn’t recognized me that it caught me off guard when you didn’t.”

“I can see that. I don’t watch movies that much. I mostly read.” 

“What do you read?”

“Anything. Romance, thriller, horror, you name it, I read it.” You laughed and he laughed with you. “What kind of movies are you in?”

“A little of everything. Most recently it’s been Marvel movies. I play Captain America.”

“Oh! Like the comics?” Chris nodded. “I read the comics when I was younger. I knew they made movies about them. I’ve just never watched them.”

“Would you like to go get some coffee after we’re finished? I know a nice little spot.” There is no way this handsome man, let alone an actor, was asking you out for coffee. You started to panic a little. You said you wouldn’t do this again. Never again.

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to jump into anything. It’s just a neighbor asking a neighbor for coffee. What do you say?” You looked over at him and you could tell he meant it. 

“Okay, but I need to let Diesel out first.”

“Okay.”

~

Chris came over to get you after you let Diesel out. The two of you drove about ten minutes down the road to a little coffee shop. He drove around to the back door. There someone let you in. You assumed as to not disturb the crowd that was already there. They led you to a secluded room in the back. The two of you ordered your coffees.

“You can say no to this and I won’t ask again.” You nodded for him to continue. “But what led you here? Why did you need a fresh start?”

“It’s a sad story, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Not if you don’t want to talk about it, but I would love to know more about you.” You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Well, to start. I was married. His name was Jake.” You smiled thinking about your husband. “About a year and a half ago we bought a house with our dogs and we were ready to start a family. We had actually just found out I was pregnant and we were coming from the doctor’s office after they confirmed it. We were so excited.” You started to tear up. You grabbed a napkin off the table and dabbed your eyes. “On the way home we were hit by a drunk driver.” You took a deep breath and stilled yourself for the next part. “Jake died on impact and I lost the baby a few days later.” Chris reached across the table putting his hand on yours.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Did you have your parents or his?” You shook your head.

“No, I lost my parents the same way not long after Jake and I got married. His parents wrote us off when we got engaged so now it’s just me and Diesel. After Jake died a lawyer showed up and it turned out he had been investing since before we got engaged. He made sure I was taken care of and that’s how I ended up here.”

“So you said you had two dogs. What happened to your other dog?”

“She was old. I had to put her down right before I moved out here. Her name was Abby.”

“Wow, you’ve been through so much. You’re a strong woman.” The waitress brought your coffee. You both thanked her. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I am glad you ended up in Sudbury, I’m just sorry about the circumstances.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You gave him a small smile. The smile he gave you back was blinding. You said you would never date again, but there was something about Chris. You weren’t about to jump into anything obviously, but you still weren’t sure. Maybe, just maybe this man would wiggle his way into your heart.

[eurydicees]

center by sir chloe ☝🏼☝🏼☝🏼

shoutout to when i asked for music recs in exchange for fics in september and then wrote, like, one of them. well. better late than never?

the heart of the matter is that i love you quietly

summary: in the car, after a confession, kuroo talks. kenma listens. everything is as it should be, except for how it's not. prompt: music recs, center (sir chloe) pairings: "it's complicated/situationship" tetsurou kuroo/kenma kozume words: 2031 warnings: none

In Kenma’s head, they’re on the train together, making their way home from evening practice. They’re pressed close together on the seat, their thighs just brushing and knees knocking together every now and then with the unpredictable motion of the train. 

Kuroo is on his phone, texting or scrolling through some social media app Kenma hasn’t checked in months. Kenma is on his PSP, playing a game, maybe one he's already completed but found himself yearning for a replay and a chance to try out a new route. 

In Kenma’s head, they are eternally comfortable with each other and Kuroo never said what he did and nothing ever changed. 

But the truth is that they’re stuck in the never-ending Tokyo traffic on a road that doesn’t seem to ever turn or smoothen out and Kuroo is humming softly along to the music and—by all means, this should be fine. Except there’s a tension in the air that hasn’t been there in years—not since the first time Kuroo said it—and maybe Kenma is the only one who notices it, but it’s there nonetheless. 

Kuroo says, “There must be an accident up ahead,” and Kenma just nods. Kuroo continues, “Well, according to the GPS, we’ll be back in less than two hours, at least,” and Kenma offers a bare hum of acknowledgement. 

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Kuroo observes. 

Kenma shrugs, turning to look out of the window. It’s dark, much later at night than he really would have liked to be out, and he can’t see much in the way of scenery. There’s just headlights and a glint of his own reflection. He looks tired, even to himself. 

“I’m always quiet,” he says, eventually. 

Kuroo snorts. “Not like this. There are different kinds of quiet. This is your overthinking and anxious quiet, not your contemplative or bored or analytical quiet.” 

“I thought I was supposed to be the observant one,” Kenma mutters. “I’m fine, Kuroo.” 

“I’m allowed to steal your tricks once in a while.” Kuroo quiets for a moment while the car inches just a little further forward. Then, “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? What I said earlier.” 

Kenma swallows, shrugging noncommittally. Kuroo doesn’t say anything, though if that’s because he’s waiting for Kenma to speak or because he doesn’t have words of his own, Kenma doesn’t know. 

Finally, Kenma turns away from the window to glance at Kuroo, and then to the license plate in front of him. “How can I not think about it?” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Kuroo says, subdued and dulled. “Or it doesn’t have to be. I told you not to worry about it. It’s my problem to worry about, not yours.” 

Kenma can feel his heart flinch at those words. “Then why even bother telling me?” 

Kuroo’s hands tighten their grip around the steering wheel. If he weren’t driving, Kenma imagines his knee would be shaking: up, down, up, down. In his head, they’re going to forever be on that train, before the first time; and now, before the second time. 

They had gotten halfway through the train ride back to their neighborhood when Kenma felt Kuroo’s eyes weighing on him. And it’s not like that’s exactly abnormal, because Kuroo watches people in much the same way Kenma does, even if he’s able to play it off as friendly rather than analytical. But this gaze felt different. Kenma remembers pausing his game to look over at Kuroo and ask what he was looking at. 

In his head, he had not done this. But the memory goes differently than he would have liked it to. 

What happened, instead, is that rather than ignoring it, he looked over at the flush of Kuroo’s cheeks and the unsteady bouncing of his knee and the stiff, uncomfortable way he forced himself to sit straight up and look away from Kenma. What happened, instead, is that Kenma studied him just a little too long; and saw that it’s almost like Kuroo was scared of what he himself would see in Kenma, or, like he was scared that Kenma would keep seeing him. 

“Say it,” Kenma had told him. “What’s wrong?” 

Kuroo exhaled, a little shaky, but determined. No—resigned. “Lev told you, didn’t he?” 

Kenma swallowed. He looked away from Kuroo, and maybe that was answer enough, or maybe it’s not, because Kuroo forced himself to continue. 

“He told you I’m in love with you, right?”

And look, Lev might have said something during a water break only a few hours ago, sure, but Kenma already knew. He knew before Lev, he knew before that train ride that feels they never left. He knew back in middle school, when Kuroo had begun to grow more and more excited about his life at Nekoma but never once looked away from Kenma. He knew. 

But still, it’s different to hear it said out loud. It’s different for it to come from Kuroo himself. It’s different, Kenma knows, because hearing Kuroo say it, confess to him, hurts so much more than Kenma had ever imagined it would. 

In the end, he had said, “Yeah,” and Kuroo had given him a sharp nod, wordless but still saying so much, and that had been the end of that. Kuroo didn’t bring it back up again, and neither did Kenma. On top of that, Kuroo must have told someone who told someone who spread the word, because any teasing about the blurred lines of their friendship stopped by the next day. 

That should have been the end of it. Only here they are, two years later, and Kenma is once again thinking about what he was almost able to forget about after so much time and careful establishing of platonic boundaries; and after two years of Kenma pushing down and away all the thoughts and feelings and wantings of his own that are all so much easier to strangle than to say. 

In his head, Kuroo did not confess in high school and it didn’t change everything for months and months, until they settled into a new rhythm with Kuroo away at university. In his head, this first confession did not wake up anything so overwhelming inside of Kenma himself. 

And in Kenma’s head, Kuroo did not confess again, only an hour before the biggest game of his university career so far, when Kenma had come to watch and then to drive back home together for the weekend. He had not done it in an empty hallway between the court and the locker room. He had not pulled Kenma aside only a few minutes before the game’s start. 

Kuroo had not said, “Don’t freak out when I say this, okay?” and he had not said, breathless and anxious and, again, so resigned, “I’m in love with you and I think I always will be, and I don’t expect you to—I don’t expect—I just need you to know. I’m tired of keeping secrets from my best friend. And it can’t come from Lev or whoever again.” 

Then Kuroo had been pulled away to warmups, leaving Kenma with that stupid, soft, adoring smile. Leaving Kenma to stare after him in that deserted hallway. Leaving Kenma to his desperate wishing that those words had never been said aloud. 

“I don’t like keeping secrets from you,” Kuroo says, sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, staring out at the taillights on their drive back home, some darker, more practiced echo of what he had said under the fluorescents of the stadium hallway. Then he laughs, a little too self-deprecating for Kenma’s comfort. “It’s not like you didn’t already know, Kenma. We’re both well aware that you knew.” 

Kenma doesn’t say anything to that. He turns back to the window, squinting at the glass to see past his own reflection and into the spot in the road next to them. “That lane is moving faster. You should merge.” 

“It’s that kind of attitude that creates traffic,” Kuroo says, which Kenma isn’t totally sure is true, but for once he doesn’t feel like taking up an argument. 

It would be such an easy way out of the conversation—starting a mindless argument, that is—but Kenma doesn’t take it, despite everything in him wanting to avoid the actual subject at hand. He sighs, deep and steady. 

“Yeah,” he admits, more to himself than to Kuroo. “I knew.”

Kuroo seems to recognize immediately that they aren’t talking about traffic anymore. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his gaze steady on the car head. Again, the silence is uncomfortable, strained, and Kenma hates it, hates what this confession has done to a decade of friendship, hates that Kuroo was brave enough to give such a confession—and, really, honestly what Kenma hates is that he himself still isn’t brave enough to listen to it. 

Because—because it’s not like Kenma doesn’t love him back. It’s just that Kenma is too scared to say it. 

Kuroo has been waiting for Kenma to hear him out for two years now. He’s probably willing to wait a lifetime for Kenma to be brave enough for the vulnerability that comes with sharing a heart with another person. Kuroo has always been patient, if it’s regarding Kenma. 

Kenma, meanwhile, has been waiting for Kuroo to give up or get discouraged or frustrated or angry or bitter for years, and it has yet to happen. But still, there’s always time for the other shoe to drop. One day, in his quest to uncover all that Kenma has kept hidden, he’ll bite down too hard and make bleed the hand that feeds him. 

“Kenma—” Kuroo stops. Takes a deep breath; lets the car roll forward another few feet. “I don’t expect you to love me back, whatever promises we made back in high school. A lifetime has passed since you said to give you time to think, you know? I don’t expect you to be in love with me—that’s not why I confessed.” 

Kenma swallows, another question or protest or something on his lips, but Kuroo shakes his head and Kenma shuts up. 

Kuroo finally turns away from the stillness of the traffic to look at Kenma. He’s smiling, even if it’s a little sad, when he says, “You don’t need to worry so much, Kenma, I promise. I’m never going to get tired of being your friend. Whatever you figure out about your own feelings, and however long you need, that’ll always be true.” 

“You deserve better than waiting for me,” Kenma says, feeling somewhat hollow as he says it, as he suggests that Kuroo find someone else to love. 

Kuroo snorts, turning back to the car ahead of them. “Do you listen to anything I say? It’s not waiting for anything. You’re my friend first and I’m never going to be tired of having that.” 

Kenma closes his eyes, tired of the taillights and the reflection of his own breaking heart. “Okay. If you say so.” 

Kuroo hums. There’s infinite understanding in the sound and Kenma isn’t sure that he deserves it, but Kuroo has always been the kind of person to give until he has nothing left and Kenma has always asked for infinity. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” Kuroo says tentatively, “but can I tell you I love you now? No expectations, just—it’s nice to say out loud.” 

Kenma’s heart is in his throat, a lump of coal which could maybe be a diamond if Kuroo keeps pushing and Kenma keeps letting him. “That’s okay.” 

“Okay,” Kuroo says, a real smile broadening over his face. “I love you.” 

Kenma bites down on his bottom lip. He thought that the weight of Kuroo’s I love you would be oppressive and stifling, but he finds that he’s biting back a pleased laugh rather than the urge to cower. “You’re so embarrassing.” 

Kuroo laughs. “I can live with that as long as we’re friends.” 

Kenma rolls his eyes, but—yeah. It’s definitely something happy he’s holding in at the center of his chest, at the molten core of his heart. Maybe one day soon, he’ll be brave enough to taste it on his tongue and let it fly free. “Sure, Kuro.” 

[hanleiacelebration]

Exchange assignments are out!

We’ve received your requests, your prompts, your offers — so much variety and creativity in the HanLeia fandom! We employed our best matching magic and possibly also the Force, and found what we hope will be a great match for each of our participants. And now through the power of AO3, you should have received your assignment for the exchange!

So what’s next?

Find your assignment. Assignments went out to the email address you use for your AO3 account. (Be sure to check junk or bulk mail boxes if it didn’t land in your inbox.) You can also log onto AO3 and find your assignment in your dashboard under “Assignments.” If for some reason you did not receive your assignment, please contact one of the mods.

Make sure you're Tumblr-ready for the exchange. Make sure the Tumblr used in your sign-up is set up to receive anonymous messages, and that you check that Tumblr account regularly (at least every couple of days) during the exchange to respond to messages from your writer or from the mods, as this will be the primary way folks will get in touch with you about exchange business. Plus, it can be a fun way to share the excitement with other participants!

Say hello (secretly!!) to your giftee. Within the next couple of days, send an anonymous message to your recipient's Tumblr Ask box to say hello. This is a great opportunity to ask your giftee questions about their preferences or prompts, to bounce story ideas off of them, or just to greet them and say that you're excited to be working on their gift. And by no means do you have to limit yourself to one message — a little back-and-forth with your giftee can build excitement and help you with your story. If your giftee's Tumblr does not allow anonymous messaging, please contact the mods and we'll remind them to turn that feature on.

Have fun writing! Mods will be checking in with folks the week of December 25 (halfway point, -ish) to see how things are going, but don't feel like you need to wait until then to ask questions or ask for help. Need a beta reader, a cheerleader, or someone to help you bounce around story ideas? Hit us up! Have a problem or a question? Let us know!

Submit your fic via AO3 once it's ready. You'll go to your AO3 account, find "Assignments," go to "2023 HanLeia Holiday Exchange" and hit "Fulfill". Then follow the instructions and AO3 will do the rest!

As always, your friendly neighborhood mods are here to help. You can send an ask to our inbox here at the blog, or contact one of us directly -- @lajulie24, @otterandterrier, or @hanorganaas.

Happy writing, friends!

[arsonyte]

Crack A Smile, Sir (Egon Spengler x OFC)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Rating: General

Author’s Notes: As requested by @spenglerposting, this fic is inspired by Joy Again’s “Looking Out For You”. Barely proofread (I tried!), please bear with me.

This is a love song for a girl who will never know it's about her I know it's pretty stupid, but I'm much too shy to tell her She's beaming that smile, all the while I'm all choked up on my own throat, I guess there is no hope

Sweat running cold down the back of his neck, Egon Spengler found himself facing an empty firehouse, almost five minutes before midnight.

Panting, gasping, clutching his suitcase against his chest, he chastises himself inside his head. Peter after all did warn him that he will be coming home to a dark lab if he didn’t stand up from his usual spot in the library. He didn’t tell him, amidst all the racket Peter was making (gathering all the librarian’s negative attention towards him, as usual), that he was too busy hiding in the library on that one miserable Christmas Eve. 

He was hiding from you.

You may be a contractor bio analyst/technician for the now-famed “Ghostbusters”, more like the friendly neighborhood Paranormal Exterminators, but you’ve known Dr. Peter Venkman, Dr. Ray Stantz, and especially, Dr. Egon Spengler from your time at the Columbia University. You were some wide-eyed biotech graduate student who may have been initially dragged into Dr. Venkman’s psychic “experiments”, but thanks to the wit and grace of Dr. Stantz, you completely saw through Peter’s machinations. Despite being unable to coax you into his wiles, Venkman still became one of your good friends, allowing you to consult and work with Ray regarding your research on plasma biology.

It was Dr. Spengler who was actually hard to crack. Ray’s closest friend usually worked at the back of their office, hunched over some energy-measurement meter of some kind, with sparks from his solder being reflected on those round spectacles. Whenever you talked, consulted, exchanged notes with the jolly Dr. Stantz, you’d barely hear from the other academian, unless he had to interject with a correction or an obscure fact which Ray would just enthusiastically confirm and explore. Most of the time, he’d just stay quiet in his corner, shoving another piece of Cheez-it in his mouth.

You somehow got used to the three differing personalities in the Parapsychology department -- the flirty Venkman, the enthusiastic Stantz, and the ever-elusive Spengler. However, the word “elusive” took on a new meaning that night you offered him the last Twinkie in the box you brought in that one long night you agreed to help Stantz and Spengler with their ghost research. The ever coveted Twinkie almost fell into Peter’s conniving hands, but by some stroke of luck -- you were the last person who got ahold of it (and despite you being a usual fixture in their department, Peter wouldn’t steal it out of a guest’s hands -- a lady guest’s hand even) and instead of eating it, you stuck your hand out and offered it to the sulking scientist who regretted not getting to do the groceries the night before. 

Things were never the same after that, but you -- being the oblivious scientist yourself buried in her own work, barely noticed it.

First it was those helpful comments when you were building your own version of a P.K.E. meter to help Ray test his plasma subjects. The helpful comments were also accompanied by a few tweaks by his own hands here and there, and completely ignoring your exasperated “Please let me do it, Dr. Spengler!” noises behind him. 

Then there was the unopened box of crunch bars left at your station. And the spare notebook that was just handed out to you, without any hesitations, when you ran out of pages in the middle of an experiment. And the expensive Parker sign pen almost thrust in your nose when your pen ran out of ink. And that one evening when you woke up in the darkness of the lab, having fallen asleep beside the microscope. You found yourself covered in a thick blanket you’ve never seen before, but it wasn’t similar to what Ray often used (which he just often took out Venkman’s cabinet). But it wouldn’t have been Venkman (as he’s busy dating his current psychic assistant), nor could it have been Ray (as he left the lab five hours ago to chase a lead). You started getting ideas when you heard the crunch of a Cheez It coming from the other room.

You swore that you were so close to making Egon Spengler smile (a feat that most of his students wanted to do before their graduation day), and you did see the corner of his lip twitch upward when you correctly assumed the correct equation to the experiment they were doing before they ran off to the New York Public Library. Well, right after that they were expelled by the Dean and you had to go looking for another department to work with to finish your mini-thesis. And the rest was history.

It was barely six months when you were looking for a part-time internship to cover your requirements and you got that phonecall from Ray. Enthusiastic as ever, almost hollering on the phone, Dr. Stantz talked about their first catch and the need to have someone come in and help analyze the subjects. Maybe come in for a few days, provide the results, and then back out. It wasn’t a full time job, the pay wasn’t going to be as steady, but it had everything you needed to work on your CAPSTONE project. Ray didn’t even have to beg -- you immediately said yes.

You did it for your studies. You can say that. You do wanted to graduate on time -- somehow. But somehow, there was that tiny voice in your head wondering if you would ever get the chance to make Dr. Spengler smile before you graduate. Little did you know, it wasn’t really Ray’s idea to invite you to join their cause.

It was almost as quiet as your lab days in Columbia, but it was chaos the moment the fire alarm was rung. Then there would be some days when the plasma subjects would pile up and you would find yourself sleeping over, curled up on the single sofa in the middle of the lab. Somehow, there were nights when you’d wake up in that same comforter you recognize from Columbia, and you couldn’t help but peer around the corner as if waiting to hear a bag of Twinkie opening itself. 

There was that one night when you finished your work early, turned in the papers, and almost crashed into the boys who just arrived on their remodeled Cadillac.

“Going somewhere, Y/N?” You heard Spengler address you with your last name after you greeted Ray. This wasn’t the first time you saw him in the Ghostbuster jumpsuit, but there was something that made you step back when he towered over you. (Spengler on the other hand, wondered if you were startled with the smoking ghost trap hanging from a cord on his hand.) 

“She’s got a hot date!” Venkman called out behind him as he entered Hook & Ladder Company 8′s double doors.

You barely noticed the “Huh” that escaped Spengler’s mouth, nor the way Ray signaled to him, crossing his hands back and forth, trying to deny what Venkman just stated.

“It’s not a date!” You were used to Venkman being ridiculous that way. “I was going to return a senior’s book-bound thesis--”

“That’s how it starts!” Venkman’s voice now came from within the doors, causing Stantz to palm his face. Spengler, however, wasn’t listening. “Where will your dinner be?” He asked as if he wanted to take you there, swinging the ghost trap out of the way so he can step closer to you without driving you away again.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s just at the Galleria around the corner,” you gestured, making a face at Stantz, as if a plea for help to get out of the situation. “I’ll be back next week--”

He already had his back turned to you and Stantz when he looked over his shoulder and quietly asked, “Is the report on the Chinatown Ghost subject done?”

You blinked at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I left it on your desk.”

Ray wondered if you were that oblivious to see the sad glint behind Egon’s thick glasses. “Good,” he answered flatly. “See you next week.”

What you didn’t know was Egon actually hovered around Janine’s station the rest of the night, asking if there was any ghost incident call coming from the Galleria. Venkman left an off comment wondering if Spengler would like to haunt the restaurant himself.

It may have already seemed obvious to the boys, but it wasn’t that obvious to you. Or, you just didn’t want to recognize it, thinking that maybe Egon just thought of you as one of his good friends.

You start having doubts when you find a note underneath his microscope that read: 

If anything happens to us -- then this microscope set is yours. 

P.S. The black trunk beside the fridge is yours too. Take care of it. 

You’ve always noticed that black trunk beside the refrigerator, which you often piled the completed reports you have regarding the ghost cases. Pushing the wad of yellowing papers aside, you managed to clear the lid of the trunk and eventually unlocked it, only to discover dozens and dozens of petri dishes inside. The strong odor of molds filled your head.

“Huh,” you found yourself mimicking Egon during that night when you went to the Galleria. You wonder where the boys were. (There was a gaping hole in the roof that day you found the note, anyway.) The last thing you knew they were working on was an incident happening at a Manhattan High Rise in the Upper East Side, and about some Sumerian God named Gozer.

Luckily, they were back and hailed as heroes the next day. Of course, the work tripled, and the more testing and paperwork had to be done over the next few nights (with Janine now giving you an extra hand with all the chaos going on. You did help out with answering the phone too, after that Gozer incident.)

You never touched that black trunk again. But there was something in Dr. Spengler’s eyes when he saw you waiting at Hook and Ladder when they got back from that Manhattan high rise. For a moment, you thought you would be able to brag that you were able to see Egon Spengler’s pearly whites on Graduation Day.

Speaking of Graduation Day, it was getting closer. The more you had to focus on your culminating project, the more you started to miss appointments with the boys in Hook and Ladder 8. At one point, you felt bad talking on the payphone with Ray, telling him to find another analyst for the meantime as you had to focus on finishing your thesis.

“You mean to come back right, Y/N?” Ray sounded worried on the phone. It made you feel bad. “Someone’s gonna be upset if you can’t finish the numbers on the Granada Residence case.”

You found yourself chuckling. “Venkman hates that case. He’ll be fine.”

Silence was found on the other side of the line. “I wasn’t talking about Venkman.” That was the first day you started thinking about it. About him.

Towards Christmas, you were slowly pulling out your things from the Ghostbusters Firehouse, but these were mostly things you can fit in a box. You were a transient contractor after all. You were on the curbside waiting for a taxi when a tall figure almost bumped into you, carrying a giant brown box.

“Y/N?” The deep voice made you turn around, and you find yourself looking up at Egon who found himself staring at the brown paper box. “Y-You’re leaving?”

You smirked at him. “Didn’t Ray tell you, Dr. Spengler?” To your surprise, he only slowly nodded.

However, it was your turn to stare at the box in his arms. “Wait a minute--” you exclaimed. “Did you have the coffee maker fixed?”

Egon shrugged. That coffee maker has been broken ever since that incident with the containment unit. Luckily, you weren’t in that day the EPA stormed Hook and Ladder 8, but you were there when the repairs were being made. You had to work through a leaking ceiling and without coffee for days on end. You did get coffee from the deli around the corner, and you were kind enough to buy the boys their own cups of coffee during those days after the Manhattan High Rise incident.

“Yes,” there was some sort of glee in Egon’s voice. “And I’ve got a new bag of Arabica beans with a wonderful roast that I know you’re fond of--” He finds himself rambling amidst another taxi passing you by. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a cup of coffee with--” he clears his throat. “Us, before you go.”

It was weird. It was awkward. But it was Spengler. It was what made him Spengler. It suddenly felt something refreshing, almost rejuvenating.

“I can’t,” you wrinkled your nose at him as you looked at the nth taxi that passed you by. “I’ve got this report to present at the University.” 

Trying to ignore that crestfallen air forming about the man, you quickly muttered, “I will be back Christmas Eve though! I still have some more things to pick up.”

The “oh” that escaped Egon felt like a breath of fresh air. “On Christmas Eve?--”

You nodded. “I’ll be there,” you murmured as you tried flagging the yellow taxi that ignored you again. Fucking New York taxis. “Walker will be helping me carry the rest of the papers--”

You saw him blink behind those thick specs. “Walker?” Egon’s flat tone was returning. “The Guy from the Galleria?”

You shrugged at him. “Yeah, the classmate--” you corrected him. 

“Huh.”

You turned around to find him walking towards the Firehouse doors, his face obscured from you once more. “Let’s hope he doesn’t like coffee,” were the last words you heard from him before the door closed.

It was Christmas Eve. And that was the racket that Pete was making the library about. 

“Don’t be so silly Spengy--” he was exclaiming as he flopped on the chair beside the bespectacled, disgruntled scientist. “Those boxes will be out before midnight and you’ll never get to bug that girl about the mitochondria count on the plasmic sensor--”

“Venkman,” Egon said sternly.

“So what if Galleria Boy is there with her? What if he’s just there to hold her papers?” Venkman muttered while eating Spengler’s unfinished bar of chocolate to further aggravate him. “You fixed that coffee maker for what? A couple of dollars and not even one cup brewed--”

There was something that made Spengler look at the library’s Grandfather clock which was almost thirty minutes to twelve, causing him to grab all the books on the table and leave Venkman alone on his chair, who was starting to get the stink-eye from the library admin.

“Finally!” Venkman boomed before being swapped on the shoulder by the elderly librarian.

But now, it was already twelve. He got there a few minutes to Christmas and the Hook and Ladder 8 remained empty. He must have been too late.

Egon Spengler walked over to Janine’s empty reception desk and slumped on a guest chair in front of it, still hugging his suitcase. He almost kicked himself by not making it obvious. Venkman hated it whenever Egon took his comforter from his cabinet and draped it over you whenever you were sleeping. It became a habit for him to leave a small treat on your table whenever you left or weren’t looking, and he found joy when you looked around wondering from who it came from, before opening it and putting it in your mouth. He decided one day to have the coffee maker repaired after he saw you exhaustedly asking him if he wanted some too before you trudged miserably towards the deli. 

It was the small things. He frowned wondering if he shouldn’t have tried to hide it, and maybe for once you’d be smiling at him -- not at Venkman who made those stupid jokes, not at Ray who enthusiastically supported your ideas, not that Walker kid he had no idea about and probably slept in his class a long time ago. Him, who thought about leaving his spores and fungi collection to you in case Gozer got him and the guys.

Leaning back against the chair and sighing, Egon peered in the dark and tried to gain some resolve about the situation. I guess she’ll never know. I guess it’s best she doesn’t know.

That was when the Hook and Ladder door burst open.

Spengler was too consumed in his thoughts to recognize the small steps that wandered in, only coming to his senses when that person opened the lamp on Janine’s desk.

“Dr. Spengs???” You exclaimed, staring at the Ghostbuster whose glasses were misting with the cold. Or was it? “You’re still here?”

He stared at you, wondering if he was just imagining things.

“Didn’t expect to see you here -- on Christmas even -- all alone,” you said unbelievably, shaking your head at him.

“But--” he started, setting his suitcase down to fix his glasses. He couldn’t believe it was you. “But I thought--”

You placed a hand on your waist and sighed. “I was here,” you answered the question he couldn’t finish forming in his mouth. “I almost cleaned the place if I wasn’t your contractor,” you laughed, brandishing the firehouse key at him. “All those journals on ghost formations--”

“Any self-serving thief would go for the proton packs--”

You shook your head at him. “Eh, I’m a researcher--” you laughed. “I’d be going after your journals.”

Was that a shadow of a smile on his face or was it just your imagination? Is this really happening?

“And that Walker guy--” he started slowly, brown eyes slowly appraising your figure in front of him.

You shrugged. “Went home to celebrate Christmas with his family. Left me alone running after the journal I left--” You picked it out of the mess that is Janine’s papers. “Here.”

A cold breeze came through the door. Suddenly, for Egon, it really felt like Christmas.

“So, will you stay and have coffee with me?”

You couldn’t believe it.

You are definitely going to brag to your batchmates that Dr. Egon Spengler had the brightest smile you had ever seen.

[faibleprompts]

Drawn to You

Spiderman/Peter Parker fic inspired by today's Faible prompt:

Peter sat in the corner of the school library, his textbooks spread out before him, but his eyes weren’t on the pages—they were on MJ. She sat across the room, her focus intently on her notebook. Her brow furrowed as she penned down notes, that familiar determined look on her face that Peter had missed so much.

Since the spell, Peter had kept his distance. He didn’t want to endanger her again, but every slight, involuntary glance her way reminded him of the life they once shared. 

MJ suddenly paused, her pen hovering indecisively. She looked up, scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone. Peter quickly averted his gaze, focusing intensely on his notes.

Then, the library door creaked open, and in walked Ned, giving Peter a friendly nod. Peter’s heart ached, but he forced a smile and nodded back, his thoughts still clouded by the fleeting moment with MJ.

Peter gathered his books, deciding it best to leave before his emotions got the better of him. As he stood, he noticed MJ’s eyes flicker toward him again. This time, her gaze lingered, confusion clouding her eyes.

Unable to resist, Peter gave her a small, hesitant wave. MJ hesitated, then returned the gesture, looking more puzzled than before. 

---

MJ couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had taken root within her. The way Peter looked at her—there was something unexplainable in his eyes. It felt almost as if he knew her. 

She recalled the subtle exchanges, the hesitant smiles, and the unspoken connection that had sparked between them more times than she cared to admit.

Confusion ate at her, and MJ decided she needed answers. 

That evening, she pulled out her laptop, delving into whatever public information she could find about Peter Parker. She found articles about his academic achievements at school, but not much else. There was nothing extraordinary to indicate why she felt such a strong pull toward him.

So, the next day at school, MJ decided to keep a subtle eye on Peter. She noted his routine, how he interacted quietly with teachers, and the almost invisible distance he kept from everyone else. It was as if he occupied his own world within the crowd—a world MJ was strangely compelled to enter.

She needed more information. 

MJ decided to follow Peter home from school, slipping out quietly onto the street after him. She maintained a safe distance, ensuring he wouldn't notice her. Being discreet was imperative; she didn’t want to seem like a stalker.

Her curiosity intensified as she followed Peter through the bustling streets and into quieter neighborhoods. He seemed to be heading somewhere specific, not just wandering. After ten minutes of zigzagging through alleyways and dodging crowds, MJ was surprised when he slipped into a nondescript building. She hung back, watching him enter, the door closing behind him without a backward glance.

MJ approached cautiously, her heart pounding. The building looked abandoned from the outside, its windows dark and uninviting. She found a small window and peered through. Inside, Peter moved swiftly, almost as if he knew the place intimately. She couldn’t see much more from her vantage point, but the intrigue was undeniable. What was he doing here? Her curiosity was gnawing at her stronger than ever, urging her not to look away. 

Then she saw it—a flash of red and blue as Peter pulled out the Spiderman man suit. MJ looked away, leaning against the building in shock. There was no way—Peter was Spiderman? She peered into the window again, her heart raced as she finally saw him donning the Spiderman suit—something about it felt achingly familiar. 

---

MJ's breath hitched as she watched Peter—Spiderman—perched on the rooftop, seemingly scanning the horizon. The city lights reflected off his suit, creating a mosaic of red and blue against the shadows. Before she lost her nerve, MJ ducked further into the shadows, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

Peter moved swiftly, bounding across rooftops with ease. MJ followed at street level, her eyes never leaving his form. 

Spiderman swung through the city expanse, eventually landing in a less bustling part of town. MJ kept her distance, careful to remain unnoticed. She felt a strange mixture of excitement and dread, wondering if she was ready for whatever she might discover.

As she turned a corner, MJ saw Peter crouched on a rooftop above a dingy alleyway, his mask angled down, watching something below. MJ edged closer, peeking around the wall to see what had drawn his attention.

In the alley, a group of men had cornered a young woman, their laughter tinged with menace. They were armed—knives glinting in the dim light. MJ gasped softly, fear sparking within her, but she stayed rooted to her spot.

Peter didn’t hesitate. Dropping silently into the alley, he landed between the criminals and their victim. “Evening, gentlemen. Might I help you with something?” he quipped, his voice light yet carrying authority. The thugs turned on him, clearly not amused.

The ensuing fight was mesmerizing. Peter moved with agility and precision, disarming the men and dispatching them with seemingly little effort. MJ’s amazement mixed with pride—a strange, inexplicable feeling of wanting to cheer him on.

It ended quickly. The men were either unconscious or fled, and the young woman had bolted the moment she was freed. Peter lingered just long enough to ensure everything was safe before he left. 

MJ followed as Peter resumed his patrol. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of how he risked his life so unrelentingly. Maybe it was his heroism, his selflessness that drew her to him. 

Hours passed, and she remained as vigilant as ever, even as the night grew colder and quieter. When Peter finally returned to the abandoned building, MJ found herself longing to talk with him. 

---

MJ waited a few moments until Peter had disappeared into the building before she gathered her courage and followed. She took a steadying breath and pushed the door open as quietly as she could. The inside was dimly lit by moonlight seeping through the cracks in boarded-up windows. She moved silently, her heart racing in her chest.

There, in one of the upper rooms, Peter stood with his back to her, removing his mask. The sight of him in his familiar, yet now so alien, Spiderman suit struck her deeply. She recognized the outline of his shoulders, the way he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the very essence of Peter that she had unknowingly missed.

"Peter," MJ’s voice trembled slightly, but she forced herself to remain firm. “We need to talk.”

Peter spun around, eyes wide with surprise and panic. “MJ? What are you doing here? How did you—?”

MJ stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. “I followed you. I needed to understand... something. And now, you're Spiderman?”

He visibly swallowed, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. “MJ, you shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous. You have no idea—”

“I don’t care about the danger,” MJ interrupted, her voice rising. “Peter, for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt this... this connection to you. It’s confusing and maddening, and I need to know why.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, resignation settling in his eyes. He took a shaky breath. “I didn’t want this, MJ. I didn’t want to drag you back into this life. You—You’re safer not knowing.”

“But I do know now, don’t I?” MJ’s tone softened her confusion and longing evident. “Peter, there’s something between us, something I can’t explain but can’t ignore either. You owe me an explanation.”

Peter hesitated, the weight of his double life pressing down on him. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against her cheek. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he confessed, his voice cracking. “But knowing me, being with me—it puts you at risk.”

MJ felt a tear slip down her cheek. “I’d rather face the danger with the truth than be safe in ignorance, Peter. Tell me.”

He drew in a deep breath, and for the first time, he began to recount everything—their shared past, the spell that erased her memories, his life as Spider-Man, and the constant battle to protect those he loved. As he spoke, MJ felt fragmented memories flutter at the edge of her consciousness. The pieces were still scattered, but they began to form a picture, one filled with love, sacrifice, and heartache.

The room fell into a heavy silence as Peter's words hung in the air. He squeezed MJ's hand, his eyes searching hers for reassurance and finding only a fierce determination.

MJ stepped closer, “Peter,” she whispered, her voice breaking the stillness. “We’ve both been through so much. But I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll be there for you. You won’t have to face this alone.”

Peter’s eyes softened, glistening with unshed tears. Before he could respond, MJ’s hand reached up, gently cradling his cheek. Her thumb brushed the stubble on his jawline, sending a shiver through him. 

She leaned in and their lips met in a tender kiss—a moment of pure connection that felt both familiar and entirely new. It was as if all the lost moments, the erased memories, were trying to pour back into them through this simple touch. Peter’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as if afraid to let go again.

The kiss deepened, and when they finally pulled away, foreheads resting against each other, MJ let out a soft, content sigh. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

Peter smiled a genuine, heartfelt smile. “I can’t believe we’re here,” he murmured. “I thought I lost you forever.”

MJ shook her head slightly. “You never lost me, Peter. I think, deep down, some part of me always knew you were there. And now that I know the truth, I won’t let anything come between us.”

They stood there in a silent embrace, soaking in the warmth of being together again. 

“I don’t know what the future holds,” Peter admitted softly, his fingers threading through her hair. “But whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

MJ nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Always.”

You can play out this story for yourself on Faible: https://app.faible.ai/#/story/c90f8650-b524-4d7e-b145-ad6c56407ad9

[heavyartillery]

Heavy Artillery Holiday Exchange 2023

It's that time of year again, y'all! We're gearing up for the Heavy Artillery Holiday Exchange 2023. If you've never participated before, I encourage you to check out the info post, which you can find linked at the top of our Tumblr page or read over on Dreamwidth.

Here's the projected schedule:

November 5, 2023: Tag set nominations open. November 10, 2023: Tag set nominations close. November 11, 2023: Sign-ups open at 8AM Eastern Time (UTC-4). (Link will be provided in a separate post on November 11th.) November 18, 2023: Sign-ups close at midnight Eastern Time (UTC-4). November 20, 2023: Assignments go out. (The extra day is to make sure we have time to adjust if anyone comes up as unmatchable.) December 1-3, 2023: Check in #1/writing weekend. December 15-17, 2023: Check in #2/writing weekend; default deadline. December 22, 2023: Fic due by 8PM Eastern Time (UTC-4). December 24, 2023: Collection goes live. December 27, 2023: Author reveals.

Please feel free to share this post to spread awareness! If you have any comments, questions, or concerns, you can contact your friendly neighborhood moderator @thrillingdetectivetales here on Tumblr, via Dreamwidth DM, or via Discord.

[retro-memo]

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange and @iron-mum! I hope you enjoy this fic and I wish you a Merry Christmas!

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man), Happy Hogan, Dummy (Iron Man movies), You (Iron Man movies), Friday (Marvel), Karen (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Pepper Potts, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Warnings: Swearing

Ao3 link

"H'y Kar'n." Peter paused, taking a moment to swallow the bite he'd taken out of his sandwich. "Can you crank up the heat a little? It's getting chilly up here."

"Of course, Peter." Not even seconds later after she said that, there was a low sizzling and Peter leaned back into the suspended hammock he'd strung up earlier, basking in the warmth.

It was times like this when he really appreciated Mr. Stark's suit. Especially now that it was the middle of December and temperatures were way colder than they had any right to be.

Peter was pretty sure if he had been wearing his old suit — and no it wasn't a onesie. Stop calling it that, Mr. Stark — he would've probably gone from Spider-Man, and this was in May's words, to 'Spider-Popsicle'.

Which was something Peter found a little ridiculous since it hasn't even started snowing yet.

He would've been fine.

Well, he wouldn't have gone into a coma like last year when he was waiting for Mr. Stark to fix his usual suit after the wiring got damaged in the fire and he was stuck with his old one. 

Maybe. 

Peter groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, cursing his stupid spider DNA. Why couldn't he just have gotten the cool powers without basically having snow as his kryptonite?

Was that too much to ask of the universe?

"Peter, there's a police report of a bank robbery two blocks down from us."

"Wait, really?" Peter perked up at that and lifted his arm; all thoughts on spiders and the overprotective adults in his life flying out of the window.

"Yes, there are reports of six armed individuals holding several hostages in the building." Karen paused. "They appear to be possessing extraterrestrial firearms."

"Wait, extraterrestrial?" Peter froze, his outstretched wrist hovering mid-air from where he aimed it. "As in alien?"

"It appears so." That was the last thing that Peter expected to hear today. Especially since Toomes had been in jail for the better half of this last year. It couldn't have been him that sold these.

So it wasn't him, that meant it had to be someone else that sold these weapons…

"Should I contact Tony Stark?"

Peter blinked. "Uh, no. No." He shook his head. "You don't need to do that, Karen. I'll be fine."

At this point, he'd gotten very much used to Karen suggesting to call Mr. Stark. He had a sneaking suspicion that she'd been programmed to do that but decided to not question it. It was nice to know help was there if he needed it.

"Are you sure, Peter?"

"Yeah, besides what's the worst that could happen?" Peter paused only for a moment. "Hey Karen, do you think Mr. Stark would like an early Christmas gift?"

"While I can't speak personally, I believe he'd appreciate it. May I ask why?"

Peter grinned. "Send Mr. Stark a message that I'll be swinging by to drop off a present."

Tony had been having a pretty good morning if he had to say so himself. 

For once, he actually got in a full night of sleep. And no; he didn't mean his usual two hour power catnap that came with ditching the other five in the lab way. 

This time, he clocked in all seven hours and was energized in a way that he hadn't felt since forever.

Hell, even the cheese burgers and coffee he had ordered had tasted better than it had in ages. It felt as if nothing could ruin this day. Not even one of those dreary meetings that Pepper had set up for him seemed to dampen his mood. 

That was until he got a message from Peter. 

Tony didn't want to think the worst of the kid.

But goddamn, Peter made it hard. The newly-sprouted grey hairs on his head - that certainly weren't there before the kid practically bulldozed into his life like a bull in a China shop - were enough evidence of that.

So when he got the notification from the kid's suit about Peter dropping off a 'present', all sorts of possibilities immediately started whirling through his mind.

With the kid involved, that 'present' could range from a 'minor' stab wound to being shot or even impaled.

Tony tried not to think about those 'worst-case' scenarios as he glanced at the workshop's window. It was the one of kid's favorite spots to crawl through when he popped in for lab days after patrol.

The kid had to be fine. If he wasn't, Tony would've already known from the suit which was programmed to send out an automatic distress signal if something had gone wrong.

This time around, he'd even made sure to put extra encryption so that the heart-attack-inducing kid wouldn't be able to hack into it again with his grubby fingers.

Unless the kid somehow managed to bypass the codes again and was bleeding out somewhere without Tony knowing. Too far away to call for any help.

Alone. Cold. Hurt and -

"Hey, Mr. Stark!"

"Holy shit!" Tony jumped, the soldering iron that he'd been holding clattering onto the metal table below as he whirled around to where the offending voice had come from.

"No, just me." The kid's head popped through the window, and even through the window, and even with the damn mask on, Tony could practically see the grin from where he was standing

The little shit.

"Oh, hey, kid." Tony crossed his arms, watching Peter as he crawled through the window. The kid seemed fine, his movements didn't seem jerky, there wasn't any visible blood that he could see and -

"What the fuck is that?" Tony knew what it was. He recognized it as soon as the kid landed on his feet and turned to face him but still.

"Uh." The kid shrugged as if the glowing alien weapon wrapped up in his arms wasn't a big deal. It was comically picture perfect to the whole damn turtle fiasco from a few months ago. "Merry Christmas?"

"Where the hell did you get that thing?"

"I found it on patrol." The kid answered like it explained everything and Tony stared. 

So much for a good morning. 

"What are we going to do with it?"

"We're not going to do anything." Tony leveled a glare with Peter. "I'm going to take this Happy and have him deal with it the way he wants to and you're going up to your room."

He should've known that with Peter, it wasn't going to ever be that easy.

"Why do I have to go to my room?" The kid looked awkward but determined as jutted his chin up and shifted on his feet the same way he always did when he didn't agree with Tony. 

In a way, it reminded Tony of May whenever they would get into an argument. Which didn't happen a lot even after finding out about Peter's alter-ego. 

"I didn't even get hurt this time and technically, I got the weapons here. Finder's keepers."

Kids these days and their damn loopholes.

Tony scowled. "One, because I said so and two, I know for a fact that you have one of those fancy language quizzes tomorrow. May called me earlier to make sure that you study for it if you swung by."

"Wait, you talk to my aunt?"

"Just give me the weapon."

"But—"

"No." Tony shook his head. "Kid, I value my life. I'm not going to risk it with your scary aunt."

Tony wasn't exaggerating there. May was terrifying in her own right. He'd been there to witness how May transformed from Peter’s usual sweet aunt into a pissed off mother bear who’d tear his head off if it meant protecting her cub. 

He wasn't going to go through it again. 

"Please?" Goddammit. The kid was on the verge of pulling out the big guns; those damn puppy eyes that made even the coldest of men melt into a warm puddle of goo. Tony knew if he didn't get this finished quick, it was going to be game over. 

"Come on, Pete." He was on the verge of begging the kid to throw him a bone. A small chance. He could feel himself crumbling, just as he had with the turtle. "Just hand it over. I promise later after you've finished studying, we can blow up some other stuff here in the lab."

The kid didn't miss a beat. "Can we work on it for five minutes, please?"

And there they were. Those puppy-dog eyes that not even Tony on one of his best days he could say no to.

His mouth dried as he stared at the kid, who was clutching the weapon against his chest. Like it was a stuffed animal rather than something capable of massive destruction.

He groaned, throwing his hands up, finally waving the white flag of defeat. "Fine! But if your aunt asks, say that you were doing boring non-dangerous shit."

The kid grinned, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as if he didn't con Tony into risking his life on the line. "Thanks, Mr. Stark! You're the best!"

"Uh-huh." Tony waved Peter off. "You better remember that next time when you're grounded."

The kid giggled and Tony rolled his eyes as he turned back to the table and picked up the soldering iron that he'd dropped before.

He faced the kid again, gesturing to the table behind him. "Okay, gently, place here. We don't want to accidentally blow that thing up. For all that we could know, just sneezing the wrong way could make it go off."

Tony took a small step back, making room for the kid but keeping an eye on the weapon as Peter moved past him.

Once it was on the table and he was satisfied that it didn't look like it was going to blow up anytime soon, he felt the tension in his shoulders loosen. 

"Alright." Tony tore his eyes from the weapon. It was fine. Nothing bad had happened. They were fine. Peter was fine. "Alright, I'm going to get a few tools."

He paused, giving Peter a pointed stare. "Do not touch that thing while I'm gone."

"Yeah, mom." The kid snarked back. "I'll be fine, don't worry. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Famous last words," Tony grumbled under his breath, stalking away and passing Dum-E on the way. He pointed a stern finger at the bot, who had for the past hour been trying to find the screwdriver that Tony 'lost', and asked the bot to find. "Don't let the kid get into any trouble, you hear? If he does, I'll be donating your parts to MIT."

The bot whirled at that and Tony shook his head. However, he'd barely taken another step when it all happened at once.

He felt the blast of heat hit his back before even hearing it. He was blown forwards, his insides feeling as if they were ricocheting against his skeleton as he hit the ground.

And just like that, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

Everything was silent as Tony pushed himself up, having been blown forward hard enough to have lost his balance in chaos.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. Even straining past his ringing ears, Tony couldn't hear anything. All he could hear was his thundering heart beating against his chest.

Oh God. Peter.

"Kid!"

Tony scrambled to his feet, whirling around to where the kid was, his heart in his throat at the cloud of smoke covering the whole lab.

"Pete!" He ran, a million possibilities running through his head. Distantly, he heard the lab sprinklers turn on but paid little to no attention to them. "Buddy, you there?"

He didn't get any reply and Tony was almost scared as he came to a stop where the kid should've been. Where he left him with that damn weapon. He should've known better, shouldn't have turned his back and now Peter was -

That was when Tony heard it. The smallest of coughes but it was enough to jumpstart his heart faster than a V8 roaring to life, but something stopped him from running forward.

Terror gripped Tony so that he stayed rooted in place as it overwhelmed him. Fearing that he'd just heard the kid's final breathes. 

"Kid?" Tony took a hesitant step forward, almost too scared to peer through the smoke and - 

He blinked once. Twice. And then a few more times because there wasn't the burnt-to-a-crisp corpse or pile of ash that he'd conjured up from the darkest depths of his worst fears. 

No, no, no. It wasn't that but rather, there was a baby.

A baby, who barely reached to Tony's knee and was waist deep in the Spider-Man suit with hair soaking wet from the sprinklers. It was rubbing its eyes, letting out the smallest of coughs and whinning, its little chest heaving with the action.

Tony stared. He was a genius. He could put two and two, together. Heck, he could do even more than that.

That didn't stop him from freaking the fuck out. 

This had to be some sick part of his imagination or he'd finally gone crazy from the blast hitting the back of his head too hard. Because there was no way that this was possible. 

Still, Tony swallowed and opened his mouth. "Kid?" 

If it wasn't possible for Tony's heart to beat faster than it had before, it certainly was now. The baby tensed at Tony's voice, its head turning up to him, blinking up at him with those oh-so-familiar brown eyes. "Mr. St'k?"

It was muffled, choppy, and barely coherent but it was enough. The final nail in the coffin. It confirmed everything. Any sliver of hope that Tony had that the baby in the middle of his lab wasn't who he thought it was, vanished with that single word.

"Oh God." Tony stumbled back, gripping onto the table nearest to him to stop his legs from giving out from under him.

He stared at the very small and fragile baby a few feet in front of him while his heart throbbed in his chest. It felt ready to jump out from his throat and throw itself out of the nearest emergency exit. 

"Shit, Pete." Tony closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a small giddy laugh that felt as if it quaked his heart with it. "You're a baby."

And May is going to kill me. 

[sunwarmed-ash]

🤗

11, 14, 43, 59

(Oh! Asking about your favorite position - how naughty of me 😳😆)

😈🥵😏😏😏

11. Do you write scenes in order or do you jump around?

A little of both! But mostly jump around. Usually the rest of the details of the story works its way out that way too!

14. Whats your favorite location and position to sit in when you write?

Position to write in?!?! Are there other positions other than sitting?! Hahahaha I sit cross legged in a crooked ass desk chair\set up in my basement hahahaha but I really enjoy writing in an all windows room during a rainstorm 😍😍😍😍

Now if we're talking about positions for other things..... Def from behind ✌

43. Trope or idea you want to write but haven't?

Lots haha but I really wanna write a good vampire fic, and probs a polycule a\b\o

59. Have you participated in any fic events?

Yes!! I did a couple of stony and starker gift exhanges and I think I did a harringrove one too, let me go check ao3

...

Alright I did three for the starker gift exchange

Pandoras box: bdsm club

Tony stark: billionaire, playboy, philanthaptist, daddy

and its sequel

Peter Parker: Student, friendly neighborhood spiderman, Daddy's boy

I also did a Harringrove gift exchange

Kitten-modern day au, bdsm, dif first meeting

A thorki secret santa

merry christmas my sun

And a stony secret santa

Restrain me

[aceofwhump]

Most wonderful Ace!

Ive recently binged my way through 9-1-1 Lone Star (in no small part encouraged by the whumpy goodness I’ve seen on tumblr) and I have become OBSESSED with Tarlos. Every time TK calls Carlos “baby” I swoon a little bit.

Now I’m not usually one for fan fiction. My trifecta of ADD, auditory fixation, and hypophantasia means that reading takes tremendous focus and I can’t visualize the scene most of the time anyway….but I NEED some content where TK is playing caretaker to Carlos in some way.

Maybe Carlos cuts his hand cooking - “Babe I think you’re gonna need stitches”

Maybe Carlos slips on some stairs and sprains his ankle - “Ok babe, I’m gonna have to take your boot off. You ready?”

Maybe Carlos dislocates his shoulder somehow and TK has to pop it back - “I’m sorry baby, this is gonna hurt”

Do you know of any content like that? Or could you point me in the direction of someone who could write it? Thanks so much!!! And thank you for your wonderful blog that I may or may not be constantly stalking!

Hi there! Ya know what I do have a few recs for you! Also those situations you're looking for are so good and i love them.

Ice Cream Makes Everything Better by FrizzleNox Summary: TK treats Carlos after a minor injury

what if we tried to learn each other better by Introvertedfangirl Summary: breaking news: ur local friendly neighborhood queer girl posts a 1.5k fic at almost 11 pm at night but is denying all claims to ehr mental instability 😗 ANYWAY Excerpt: “Baby if you want to sit here with me until the sun rises that’s fine. You wanna scream? That’s ok too. You want to cry (which I think you need to) that’s ok too. But I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere." It’s that last part that broke Carlos and his head fell forward as he finally cried, and it’s such a relief—like a heavy thing is being lifted off of his whole being. “Ok, ok, ok. I'm here love,” TK said gently as he guided Carlos’s head to settle against his shoulder. Tightening his arms around his boyfriend, he held him until he was too exhausted to do anything else but fall asleep in TK’s arms.

From surviving to thriving by Road1985 Summary: Carlos was returning home after being discharged from the hospital. The kidnapping had turned out to be the biggest scare of everyone's life. The ice accident suddenly seemed silly to TK, because nothing was comparable to doing CPR on your fiancé and feeling his life slipping through his fingers. Carlos wasn't well and this time, he wasn't hiding it well, because he couldn't.

Let me be your shoulder by happygowriting Summary: Carlos struggles to let TK help.

hold me in my toughest moments by Alis__fa Summary: Carlos has a panic attack after being kidnapped. TK is there to help him and support him through it.

breathe life back into me by boneswrites Summary: Chasing a suspect on foot wasn’t new to Carlos, neither was exchanging fire with said suspect. But nothing is as it seems in the aftermath of the fire fight. Hurt Carlos Reyes: ABC’s | G is for Gunshot

and all the ways i'd keep you safe by hoodieweather Summary: New Message from TK Strand: On my way home. You have ten minutes to get back in bed and tell me you’ve been there the entire time. Carlos, who was in the kitchen, groaned after looking at the message from his new phone, one that hadn’t been destroyed with a meat tenderizer by a serial killer. He was fine. Just a concussion, some bruised ribs, and some aftereffects of morphine overdose. He didn’t need to be on bedrest. Okay, so maybe it was a severe concussion with a small brain contusion. And maybe he was still being monitored for any aftereffects from a morphine overdose and subsequent cardiac arrest. Bad Things Happen Bingo: Confined to Bed Rest

[spicler-man]

to be a bit of warmth for you by oriocookie for Call_Me_Coley

Peter keeps sticking to his loved ones whenever he gets nervous. It's becoming a problem.

OR

well, okay, maybe it's not a 5+1 anymore. but it started out that way and it's the thought that counts. it's now basically "5 times Peter stuck to his loved ones and 1 time he didn't do that because it would have been very bad for his health and general well-being"

here’s the brand new fic for the one and only @call-me-coley, courtesy of @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!!!!

enjoy! im so damn proud of it!

[imyoursavinggrace]

✨Irondad Fic Exchange 2023✨

For the wonderful @littlemissagrafina for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange ❤️

Summary: “What the hell is that?” Tony demanded.

“Uh, a dog?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I can see that. You got a dog?”

“Um, not exactly,” Peter stuttered, shifting on the spot. “You got a dog.”

"I'm sorry, what?"

Or: Peter starts bringing stray animals home, much to Tony and Mays horror, but luckily Tony always has a way to help his Spider-Baby.