#he's friends with pal's but he really should get out more

[legomonkiefics]

*BOLTS TO YOUR INBOX*

hiya!! i really love your work and am glad that you are feeling better, even if its a little bit! welcome back :3

could i request red son with a S/O he’s known since he was a kid, but only as an adult did he confess to them?

❤️🔥 Flickers Left Unsaid — Red Son x GN Reader Drabble 🔥❤️

Genre: Fluff || He/she/they pronouns for Red Son, they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🔥୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

Though he often refrained from admitting it, the flame prince was rather emotional. However, that's not to say that he was particularly good at managing said emotions. She felt very intensely, anger like a wildfire and joy like fireworks. But expressing these feelings, processing them, or reasonably resonating with them? Much less common for the princess.

You, somehow, had stuck by him when he was a particularly rambunctious and chaotic kid. His parents saw you as someone to keep their kid distracted while they planned his future, so you were allowed at the Demon Bull Kingdom whenever you pleased. Red Son delighted in your visits as a kid, always excitedly holding you by the wrist and dragging you everywhere. She wanted to show you every single scrap of metal they'd find, and displayed great enthusiasm n having you witness her majesty. But there was something a little more to it, something that stuck with the demon for many years to come.

She remembered a particular instance where you were playing his favorite game, Kingdom Battles. He'd set up obstacles, having designated areas for where each 'Kingdom' was, and you'd be his most trusted right hand, helping them take over the world. After a vicious fight with a mock dragon made of cleaning materials, Red Son had excitedly taken you to his 'castle' to announce to her loyal subjects of stolen home objects that you'd returned safe and sound. In the middle of narrating and acting out the joy of the monarchy, you'd said something that caught her attention. "You're such a great king, Red Boy! I can't wait to be part of all this for real someday!"

And though it had all been a game, just a young royal and his pal playing pretend, in that moment it felt very real. You were genuinely his closest and only friend, so having you in these big, important positions only felt right. And he'd always brag about how they'd be the king someday, so it made sense. He'd given you a bright smile that day, already mentally planning how he was gonna convince his mom and dad to let you rule beside him.

Things... didn't quite end up going as planned. Red Son was still merely a prince, and he'd had a few arguments with his parents over you for so long. But things were getting better. Red Son was flopped on his bed, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes. They'd never had the chance to tell you how she felt back then. When they were young, they had no idea what it was. She assumed the flutters in her chest and warm feelings were some demon biology thing or something. But he knew now, and he was all too aware of it. He ruminated over his feelings for what felt like the 50th time that hour. Sure, he was still abrasive, but he was much more controlled than he was a kid. This shouldn't be so hard, right?.... Gods this was going to kill her. But they were pulled out of their own thoughts at the sound of the door being knocked, making him shoot upright immediately.

"Darling, your friend is here" Princess Iron Fan announced, not even sparing a glance as she held open the door. You entered, giving her a polite "Thank you, ma'am" before the door was closed, leaving you and Red together. You walked in, flopping on the bed next to her "Whew. I thought their lectures were never gonna end". Red Son smiled, laying back with you "Did they try to convince you to leave again?". "Not quite, but they did go on a lot about how a prince 'should' associate himself with others" You answered. Red Son rolled his eyes "They can complain all they'd like, you're still welcome over anytime". "Thanks, Redsy" You smiled, making that extra soft warmth fill Red Son's chest once again. He was almost on pins and needles from the idea of actually doing this.

"So, why'd you call me in? Get bored of royal junk again?" You asked. This was it. That was her opening. Red Son took in a shaky breath, slowly sitting up once more. "No, I... I have something I need to discuss with you" they said softly. You sat up as well, a concerned frown on your face "Shit, did something happen? Are you okay?". "Yes, I'm alright, it's nothing like that" Red Son replied, waving their hand a bit. They felt a little heat to go their cheeks as they added, "But it is... rather personal". "Ohhh" You responded. You sat cross-legged, scooting in closer "Hey, you know I won't tell anyone, yeah? You can tell me anything". Red Son nodded, giving you a thankful smile. She was sure the pink hues to her face were growing noticeable, but he purposefully tried not to think about it.

He took in a deep breath, taking your hands in his. "Do you remember that game we used to play when you'd come over? With um-". "Flareblast Kingdom?" You responded, chuckling at the memory "Yeah, of course, why?". "Well... I've been thinking a lot recently. We've known each other for so long, and... I want to fulfill my promise that I made back then" Red Son said. He was speaking a little slowly due to some stammering, but you nodded a little as you followed along "Which is?". Red Son took a second to collect herself. They took a chance, moving one of their hands to gently cup your cheek in her palm. "I... want you to be a part of my kingdom. This one" they began, adding in, "Mother and father have said I can appoint my own staff now, but with very limited positions. I- I want you to be my advisor, in real life, and-" he nearly got choked up on his nerves, but he pushed through "If- If you'll have me... I want you to be mine. My- partner, for life"

Red Son had turned their face away from you, full of anxiety and worry. He knew this was probably a massive shot in the dark, and that there were many more appealing than a hotheaded royal. He felt like his heart was in his throat, and he was almost tempted to immediately apologize. But that's when he felt you plant a soft kiss to his cheek. Her hair sparked, a puff of smoke and flames coming up in surprise. They turned to look at you as you giggled from the reaction, gently cupping the hand Red still had on your cheek and leaning into it. "I'd be glad to. You'll need someone here to keep you sane. And besides..." you smiled warmly "I love you too"

Red Son blushed even more, nearly all of his face entirely pink. They were stunned for a moment before hugging you tightly, burying their face in your shoulder. "I- I love you too," he finally said, hugging you close. He felt elated as you returned the hug. "I love you more" You replied playfully, causing the princess to chuckle as she nuzzled into your neck "That's impossible". You huffed in amusement, patting her back "Is too. You're just too stubborn to accept it". Red Son let that one slide, too wrapped up in the feeling of being in your arms to mind. You stayed there with them, holding them close as you enjoyed his warmth. "You gonna tell your parents?" You asked. "I'll tell them you're my new advisor, yes. The rest..." Red Son trailed off with a smile "they'll figure it out. For now, I just want to be here with you"

[0ddbugs]

I made a spidersona :) It's a Peter from Earth 51404! Unfortunately, this Spiderman was very lazy and careless. He mishandled an alien artifact which held a fungus that mutated with his DNA; this exploded from him and caused the downfall of humanity. He was resurrected by the the fungi some years later - he's not sure how long. So he's kind of undead and doesn't talk much. Every so often a creature is also resurrected, but as a giant mutant spider monster. He is working on the cure, but idk if it will help at this point...

[spiinsparks]

         ||. discord shenanigans

[wonderjanga]

Part-time Jobs

Billy needs money, or at least more than what he currently has. So, he gets a job. Scratch that. Marvel gets a job. Marvel is now a part timer named Mark who works at a Target, a Baskin Robins, a Bojangles (I worked at one, so now he has to), and a couple other places. The stamina of Atlas is really carrying him.

Marvel and Coworker 1: *taking a lunch break together*

Coworker 1: “Wait, so is this your only job?”

Marvel: “Hm? No. Why?”

Coworker 1: “Well, it’s just that I briefly remember you saying one time about how this isn’t your only job.”

Marvel: “Ohhhhh… Well let’s see, I work here, Target, a Baskin Robins, and a Bojangles. I’ve been a bouncer at a club a couple times since a friend of mine at the Baskin Robins will let me fill in for him. And then there’s the Autozone, and the Taco Bell.”

Coworker 1: *starts growing more and more alarmed/horrified after the Baskin Robins mention* “Mark, buddy, that’s like… six— seven jobs! How do you have the time for that, one, and two you have like no one eyebags or visible exhaustion whatsoever.”

Marvel: “I clean up well…?”

Coworker 1: “That’s a bit of an understatement, pal. You look like you have a full nights rest, a good meal, and a good conscience. I’ve never once seen you drink a drop of caffeine to.”

Marvel: “Uh…”

Coworker 1: *stands on tippy toes to place a hand on Marvel’s shoulder* “Dude, are you alright?”

Marvel: *leans down so they don’t have to stand on their tippy toes* “Yes?”

Coworker 1: “You sure?”

Marvel: “Yes?? You’re making me second guess myself.”

Coworker 1: “Maybe you should, because working 7 jobs is actually insane, bud.”

This interaction honestly set Billy on edge afterwords. He didn’t really want Coworker 1 worrying over him. Especially when Billy was just trying to get that bag. Speaking of worrying there was another coworker who tended to worry about him a lot, Ms. Gertrude. She was the manager of the Target he worked at. Her worry was more that of a grandmother. She pinches his cheeks and gives him candy despite the fact that in his Marvel form, he not only looks like a grown man, she’s also half his size. He doesn’t particularly mind though.

Marvel: “Ms. Gertrude, why do you always pinch my cheeks and give me candy?

Ms. Gertrude: “You remind me of my husband.” *hands him some old lady candy*

Marvel: *extremely confused* “Huh?”

Ms. Gertrude: “Yes, Micheal, my husband. You remind me of him. So, I’ve decided you’re now my grandson.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… okay.” *doesn’t know whether to be happy or not*

Ms. Gertrude: “Yes, now go stock the toy aisle, dear.” *shooes him off*

Marvel: *scurries off to the toy aisie*

The time bubble worked in his favor, Billy supposed. Ms. Gertrude likes her 1950s to 60s not-really-grandson grandson.

Then there’s the time Flash was in town for whatever and went to the local Baskin Robins.

Flash: “I’ll take a double fudge sundae— Whaaaa…? Cap?”

Marvel: “It’s Mark.” *taps name tag*

Flash: “Your name is Mark?”

Marvel: “Well… no. But it’s my name for this job. A double fudge sundae, right?”

Flash: “Right.” *stares for a couple seconds* “Dude, why’re you here?”

Marvel: “It’s my city?”

Flash: “You know what I mean. Dude, why’re you working at a Baskin Robin’s?”

Marvel: “Money.”

Flash: “Money?”

Marvel: *nods head* “Money.”

Flash: “You know we get a salary right? Also why do you even need money in the first place? I didn’t even think you were a human.”

Marvel: *donates most of the money to homeless shelters, but doesn’t use any of it for himself cause he’s scared it’ll let them find out he’s a kid* “I did know that. I just like to eat. I work at like 5 different fast food places cause the food is delicious.” *walks to the ice cream to start making the sundae*

Flash: “How do you have the time for that?”

Marvel: *shrugs, finishing the sundae and handing it to Wally*

Flash: “I will be very much asking about this later, bud. You will be warned.”

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is learning firsthand just how lonely a deployment can be when he's gotten used to talking to you all the time. You are more than happy to record your daily adventures for him, including your steamy ones.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, masturbation, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Your original plan to commute to work from your apartment in Mira Mesa went out the window after the box from Bradley arrived. Suddenly his place seemed cozier now that there were tidy rows of envelopes from him covering the table in the living room. You sipped a mug of coffee and looked at all of them, selecting the one that said Open me with your class.

"Whatever you say, Bradley," you murmured with a smile, tucking it into your tote bag for work. You missed your kids almost as much as you missed him, but at least you'd finally get to see them today. You just hoped there was something upbeat in the note, because you were going to have to inform them that he'd be gone until Career Day. Or maybe longer.

Opening the note that was meant for you and your class before digging into all the others just felt right. Really, he was a faithful pen pal to all nineteen of you, even if his current letters were pre-written. As you drove to work, you wondered how long it would take your students to ask about Bradley. Turns out, it didn't take too long at all.

You were standing behind your desk, getting hugs from some of the kids as they got reacquainted with each other and the classroom for the first time in almost two weeks when Jayden asked, "What did you get Lieutenant Bradshaw for Christmas?"

Images of lingerie danced in your head as you cleared your throat. "Stationery," you replied. "So he can write us letters while he's deployed."

"He's deployed?" asked Nia, face lighting up. "With Marty?"

"Can we do another drawing contest with him?" shouted Oliver, already getting colored pencils out of his desk.

"Will you ask if he's allowed to take a video while he's flying this time?" Violet asked calmly.

"Actually," you replied, walking slowly to the front of the room with a single envelope in your hands, "we can't do any of those things. He's not allowed to communicate with anyone who isn't on the aircraft carrier this time around. If he writes to us, he'll have to save the letters until he returns."

Everyone stared blankly at you. 

Jackie raised her hand. When you pointed to her, she said, "But we're not like random people. We're students of aviation. We're his pen pals."

"Yeah!" came a chorus of voices, and you were half tempted to write up a petition to the Navy for all of them to sign.

You had to clap your hands and wait for them to clap in response after they all quieted down again. "I have a note that he wants me to open with you. Should we do that now?"

After literally everyone agreed that was a good idea, you opened it and found a handwritten link to a YouTube video followed by a short note that you read out loud.

"Greetings, Fourth Graders,

By the time you read this, it will be January, and I'll be on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean for a seven week deployment. I'm sure your lovely teacher has explained that sending and receiving letters is sadly not a possibility for me right now. I'm going to need you to keep track of all your questions about aviation until I get back for Career Day next month. I'll bring some of my friends along, and we can answer them for you then. Sound good?

Make sure you listen to your teacher, and I'll see you all in February.

Yours Truly,

Lieutenant Bradshaw"

You looked up from the notecard and added, "He also included a link to a YouTube video. Should we check it out now?"

It was actually amazing how quietly they all sat in anticipation while you set up your projector and typed out the link. When you turned out the lights, you had to grab onto the edge of your desk as Bradley's face and voice filled your classroom, even though he wasn't actually there. The twenty minute video began with him sitting on his living room couch in his worn out jeans and the Top Gun shirt you wore to bed last night, and you realized he must have filmed this on Christmas Eve when you were out with Natasha.

"Hi, everyone," said video Bradley as he waved to his phone camera. "I thought I would try my hand at a little lesson on aviation so your teacher could get a break. Make sure you take notes. There will be a quiz the next time I see you."

All of your students were watching him with rapt attention and pencils poised over their notebooks. Bradley kept them engaged and entertained while you fell even more in love.

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

"What the fuck?" Bradley groaned as he sank down into an empty spot on one of the long benches in the mess hall. The spaghetti looked like mush, but his stomach was growling so aggressively, he decided to take a bite anyway. It tasted just as bad as it looked, and he grimaced as he started to shovel it into his mouth anyway.

What he wouldn't give for dinner at Salvatore's. Mouthwatering pasta. Expensive as hell wine. You in a short little dress with his hands all over your thighs. Maybe Bronco parking lot sex.

Instead he got another USS Gerald R. Ford meal which was barely edible, and a view of a very hairy Atlantic Fleet aviator with the call sign Curly. Fantastic. Even the garlic bread was so stale it was hard to chew, but if he didn't eat, he would start losing weight. And if he started losing weight, it would make working out harder, which would suck, because going to the gym was his main source of entertainment.

Other than writing letters he couldn't send.

"Are you gonna finish that?" Curly asked, pointing at the roll Bradley only bit the corner of.

"It's all yours, man," he replied, watching the other aviator pick it up and crunch on it with a smile. 

Bradley picked up his tray with the intention of heading to his bunk to change into gym clothes, but when he got there, he collapsed onto the twin sized bed instead. It was clear that he'd only been brought along for this deployment to fly one very specific mission, because as a whole, the Atlantic Fleet pilots were young and green. But as a result of the current political climate, he had internet access completely taken away from him, and he was stuck here for five more weeks with nothing to keep him sane. He didn't even have Marty this time around. Just the pretty stationery set you gave him and the holiday cards from your students.

So he would do what he always did now. He would write. To all nineteen of you. But mostly to you. He realized, like he always did, that this was probably the most boring shit that anyone would ever read. How many times could you really read about your boyfriend telling you that he loved you and missed you. It wasn't like he was writing elegant poetry here.

Gorgeous, I miss you so much. You'd cry if you saw the spaghetti I had to eat for dinner. First thing I'm doing when I get home (besides you) is driving us to Salvatore's, and I won't stop eating until I pass out. The Atlantic Fleet food makes the Pacific Fleet cabbage rolls seem like a delicacy, and the US fucking Navy can quote me on that. 

I love you. I wish you knew I was coming back to you instead of Norfolk. I wish I could ask you to use the credit card in my sock drawer to fully stock the refrigerator before I get home. The only things I want to do for three solid days after I arrive back in San Diego are eat, sleep, and fuck my girlfriend.

Definitely not poetry. "Was my writing this shitty last time around?" he murmured to himself with a laugh. It couldn't have been if you kept responding to him for the duration of that deployment. Just thinking about your letters, both professional and personal, made him ache right now. Your emails and your sassy selfies and the sunset photos were things he didn't even know he had been taking for granted.

One letter from you now would have made everything so much better. With a deep sigh, Bradley changed to head to the gym.

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

Time passed slowly. Packing up and moving boxes of your things from Mira Mesa to Coronado helped, but you were a little too nervous to unpack too much other than the necessities. You didn't even want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was plan your next visit to the wine bar with Natasha so you felt a little less lonely. 

As you hung the framed blueprint of the Super Hornet Bradley gave you in the living room, you realized he would have to be lonelier than you were. At least you had Jayden's tales of Vanessa the dog to make you laugh during the work day. And you went out to dinner with some of your friends you hadn't seen recently. And you had a never ending text thread with Natasha now. 

There was a pretty good chance Bradley didn't know anyone on this deployment, and you wondered if he was spending a lot of time in the gym. What you wouldn't give for a gym selfie. You collapsed onto the couch and scrolled through the images of your boyfriend that you had saved to your phone.

"God," you moaned. He was so hot. Especially in front of a sunset. Especially with your lipgloss smudged on his cheek. Especially when he was looking at you in his arms instead of at the camera. "Fuck."

When someone knocked on the door, you nearly fell off the couch. Your eyes caught on the envelopes from Bradley that you hadn't yet opened lined up on the coffee table as you walked across the room. The last time you had an unexpected visitor, it was Natasha. The time before that, it was Vanessa. You didn't know who to expect, but you squared your shoulders and pulled the door open with an abundance of attitude only to find a slightly hunched over older woman standing there.

"Oh!" you said, immediately softening your stance. "What can I do for you?"

She looked from you to the Bronco in the driveway and then back again. "Is Bradley home?"

"No, he's not," you told her, unsure about how much information to give. "Is there something you need?"

She eyed you carefully. "Are you his girlfriend? The teacher he fell in love with?" This stranger knew who you were. When you gave her a concerned look and took a step away from her, she said, "I'm Edith. I live next door. Sometimes Bradley helps me with yard work and repairs around my property." She smiled and added, "He only lets me pay him in piano lessons."

"Edith!" You told her your name with a smile. You knew exactly who she was, because the first time Bradley wrote to you about getting piano lessons from his retired neighbor, you fell halfway in love with him on the spot. "Right, of course! Bradley is actually deployed for a few more weeks." She looked immediately dejected, so you asked, "Did you need help with something?"

"I don't want to bother you with it," she said immediately.

"Please," you replied, already reaching for your shoes. "I'm so bored without Bradley around. I would absolutely love a distraction, Edith."

She wrung her hands and then held them up. "Well, I can't change my light bulbs, because my arthritis is bad this time of year when it gets chilly out. And my back patio is so dark at night, I can't see anything."

"Say no more," you told her, joining her on the porch and closing the door behind you.

It only took you a few minutes to change the exterior light bulbs and rearrange her patio furniture. Then you cocked your head to the side and asked, "Is something beeping?"

Edith sighed. "My smoke detector needs new batteries."

"I'm on it."

She led you inside the sliding glass door, into her kitchen where the beeping was annoying enough that you didn't know how this woman could have slept in the house unless her hearing was starting to slip. Edith told you where you could find a step ladder and new batteries, and once you finished that chore, she started digging around in her purse, pulling out five dollars.

"Thank you for your help," she said, trying to hand it to you as you walked past the piano with the step ladder.

"I am absolutely not accepting your money, Edith. This was the most entertaining part of my day. As long as your arthritis allows it, you can pay Bradley in extra piano lessons when he returns." 

The idea of Norfolk suddenly made you feel anxious, but Edith smiled. "Oh, he's an advanced student. He mostly just plays from memory. I only point out when he's flat instead of sharp."

You weren't sure how long it had been since Bradley checked in with her, but as long as he was allowed to come back to San Diego, you'd make sure he did it more often. "I'll send him over as soon as he gets back."

Edith smiled knowingly. "Something tells me he's not going to want to leave your side right when he gets back. But maybe after a day or two, you could send him over?"

"I'll do that," you told her with a chuckle.

After you walked back across the yard and let yourself inside, you kicked off your shoes and decided to treat yourself with one of Bradley's notes. You'd been trying to ration them, but they were all so tempting. The ones you had already opened were stacked up on the kitchen counter where you could easily find them to read them again and again. You took a few seconds to decide which one felt right, and you settled on Open me when you need a laugh.

Inside the envelope, you found no note at all. There was just one photo, and when you pulled it out, you burst into laughter. Natasha was right; twenty-two year old Bradley was endearingly skinny and mustache-less. He still wore that same grin today, but he really grew into his frame. You marveled over how fresh his scars looked in the picture, deciding to hang it up in the bedroom for now. 

And when you woke up on Sunday, the photo was the first thing you saw.

You reached for your phone thinking you could text Bradley before tossing it aside in frustration. You were frustrated in every way. Mentally and emotionally, but also physically. You missed sleeping next to him most nights. You missed his warmth and the way he kissed you. His strong body and attentive hands.

When you tried to burrow down under the covers in just his sweatshirt to go back to sleep, your skin felt like it was charged. Like there was an undercurrent of need that nothing would soothe except for Bradley.

Open me when you're in bed

That's what one of the envelopes said. You bit your lip before burying your face in Bradley's pillow and moaning. The need was still there, more palpable by the second. You had about an hour before Natasha was supposed to pick you up for brunch and the wine bar; it was the perfect time to read that note.

You ran down the hallway to the coffee table, grabbed the envelope, and took it straight back to bed. Your curiosity had been gnawing away at your mind over what could be in the note meant for the quiet solitude of the bedroom, and now was your chance to find out as you slipped back under the covers.

Gorgeous,

You better be in our bed right now. Maybe you just got home from work. Maybe you're still waking up for the day. Maybe you're ready to fall asleep soon, but you just need something to take the edge off. It doesn't matter, as long as you're thinking about me and my hands all over your body. I hope you're ready to read about how I would take care of you right now.... in an abundance of detail.

You moaned as you looked around the room, wide-eyed like someone was going to catch on to what he had written to you. Desire flared inside you as you squeezed your thighs together and took a few deep breaths before continuing to read.

You're beautiful inside and out. It's no surprise that you really get me going. One thought about the soft swell of your ass or the way you taste when you cum is enough to get me seriously hard. Jerking off while thinking about you is fantastic, but nothing compares to the real thing. Next time I see you, we're taking our time to get reacquainted, but right now, if I could have you, it would be fast and dirty.

"Oh god," you groaned, closing your eyes as you pushed his sweatshirt up, letting cool air meet your warm skin. Then your hand slid down to the apex of your thighs, and you weren't at all surprised to find you were wet.

You look sinful in that bed. I just know it. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. My lips would find your breasts before sampling my way down your belly to that soaking wet pussy. When I say every inch of your body is Gorgeous, I mean it. You've got such a tight, pretty little pussy, and I would love to tease you until you're so worked up, you're practically crying. Just my mouth and fingers until you're begging for my cock, Gorgeous. Go ahead. Beg for it.

"Bradley," you moaned softly, a complete mess for your boyfriend even when he wasn't with you.

Good girl. Now touch yourself just how I'd touch you. Rub yourself just right. Use two of those fingers to warm yourself up and then dip them down inside that perfect pussy. So fucking tight, you drive me insane when I can't be with you. I'd be right above you, singing your praises, telling you how much I love you, and pumping my fingers in and out of that pussy while you whine and beg.

This note was absolutely lethal. You were already close. Sweat beaded on your brow as you stroked your fingers along your clit before pumping them inside you. His name was never far from your lips as you kept reading.

You taste so fucking sweet. I'd run my tongue everywhere until you couldn't stand it. I would eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth. I'd keep going until I couldn't handle how badly I needed you. Then I'd fuck you so hard and fast, you'd have tears in your eyes, voice ragged as my body slapped against yours. Tits bouncing as I bottomed out, holding you in place as I came inside you. And then I would let you know that I'm yours.

I'm all yours, Gorgeous. You absolutely own me.

You were panting, grinding the heel of your hand against your clit as you came. Bradley's note fell from your fingers as your back arched off the bed, and you grabbed the sheet as you cried out. You could hear something familiar mingling with your own voice, but it took you a second to realize your phone was ringing as you writhed around in bed, heart pounding fast from your orgasm. You rolled onto your belly and grabbed your phone as you sucked air into your lungs.

Natasha Trace

Shit. Shit. You tried to get your breathing under control as you answered her call, but you even sounded strange to your own ears as you said, "Hello?"

There was a pause before Natasha asked, "I'm leaving now, and I might stop for a fancy coffee on my way to get you. Do you want something?"

"Sure!" you replied, trying your best to sound casual, but pretty sure you were failing.

"I'll be there soon."

You dropped your phone and reached for the journal instead to let Bradley know just how hard you came for him before you got dressed for the day. 

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

"Bradshaw!"

It felt like an almost foreign concept for Bradley to hear his name now. Essentially nobody spoke to him outside of his mandatory meetings, and he'd spent so little time in a cockpit over the last few weeks, he spun around in surprise when someone called him.

Of course it was Admiral Walker. Bradley wasn't sure if he was being punished for what Cyclone had done, but he was hardly given any flight tasks to work on. But now that his deployment was starting to wind down, he realized the danger he was going to be flying into for his mission was much more than he originally anticipated.

"Admiral Walker, Sir?" he replied, saluting his superior officer. He wasn't looking to ruffle any more feathers here as long as it meant he'd be going home to you before too long. He felt sick with longing, missing you so much, especially at night, that he hurt until he was finally able to fall asleep. And then he'd wake up to the same choking feeling all over again the following day.

The older man examined him closely for a few beats before saying, "The weather looks ideal for tomorrow. You're team leader. Be ready to go at first light."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, because there was really nothing else to say. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return home to his house in Coronado where you lived now. Where you were waiting for him. He just needed to get through this safely.

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

I hate how isolated he feels. He's not thriving. He's not even eating well. He needs a hug. Gorgeous is enjoying the box of letters even is she is missing him terribly. I think I'll send him home soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

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[tarysande]

There are a couple more Garrus-Vakarian-related hills I'm willing to die on.

Maybe this particular bit of fanon has faded over the years, but there used to be a lot of insistence that Garrus is young and somehow inexperienced when he meets Shepard. Canon doesn't really support this. Turians start their mandatory service at 15. Garrus has at least a decade of experience. Even if he's 2-4 of years younger than Shepard (according to Patrick Weekes), he's got at least as much field experience as she does by dint of the difference in turian and human "enlistment" ages.

Garrus is really damn good at his job at C-Sec. You don't give the Case of Investigating the Rogue Spectre to a greenhorn. You give it to your best, most tenacious agent. Pallin may not always approve of Garrus's actions, but that doesn't actually stop him from putting Garrus on the tough case. Also, we don't know much about how C-Sec works but we do know a bit about how the turian hierarchy works, and we know C-Sec was essentially a turian initiative. That means it's a meritocracy where failure reflects on the superior, not the one who failed. So, in roughly a decade (Shepard's 29 in ME1; I always think of Garrus as about 27), Garrus has not only done shipboard military service, but he's also risen to be one of C-Sec's top investigators; Pallin wouldn't risk having Garrus's "failure" reflect poorly on HIM otherwise. I'd say that actually makes Garrus as remarkable in civilian law enforcement terms as Shepard is considered to be within the ranks of the Alliance military.

Of course Garrus was scouted by the Spectre program. And honestly, if his dad hadn't stepped in, I think Garrus would have become a Spectre, no problem. Especially for a turian, he's cut from precisely the cloth the Spectres would be looking for: extremely skilled, extremely capable, and--most importantly--he's a turian not just able but willing to work outside the chains of command that turians are taught from birth to revere and be loyal to above all else. This is the reason Pallin is leery about Spectres: he's a good turian. Good turians follow straight lines; they don't carve out their own paths.

Garrus's dad's not dumb, and he's not cruel, and he, too, rose to the top of the C-Sec hierarchy. He took one look at his kid, I think, and said, "I love my child, but I'd say it's a 50-50 chance he ends up a shooting-first-asking-questions-later Spectre like Saren Arterius, and I don't want to see that happen." Yeah, he uses his parental influence to try and jam square-peg-Garrus into round-hole-C-Sec and Garrus resents him for it, but there's no way he did it just to stop his son from getting his way or because he doesn't like Spectres. I expect Vakarian Sr. had to clean up more post-Spectre-interference messes than we can possibly imagine. But we also know he and Alec Ryder were pals later.

So the importance of what Garrus learns from a Paragon Spectre Shepard is this: You can't just do what you want and claim the ends always justify the means. That's what Saren does. Over and over again. Garrus's code and his idealism and his sense of justice and his ability to work alone should make him a great Spectre, actually, but he needs Paragon Spectre Shepard's actions to show him the lesson he tells her he's learned during ME1: "If the people I'm sworn to protect can't trust me... well, then I don't deserve to be the one protecting them." (And the seed of Archangel was planted.) I think for the first time he realizes that even though he believes his sense of justice to be correct, it doesn't matter for shit if he can't show others why that's so. And that's where the trust comes in. (Also, ow, the extra level of importance this gives their exchange where she tells him she trusts him and he tells her she's about the only friend he has left is... a lot. Cool, cool. I'm totally fine. Nothing to see here.)

When Shepard asks him what happened on Omega, he replies, "My feelings got in the way of my better judgement." Something tells me that this never happens to "good" turians, which just makes the line so much more devastating. And although the lesson some might take away from this is "feelings bad; no feelings ever," the "grey" that Garrus has to learn to deal with is precisely the grey of recognizing feelings, validating them even, but not acting on them until they've been examined. (Which is why my Shepard stands between him and Sidonis; she doesn't give a shit about Sidonis. But Garrus has refused to process his own feelings of failure and self-loathing, so they have to take the therapy session to the Citadel and deal with it there.)

Ahh yes. The mountain range of character analysis.

[iamnmbr3]

I keep thinking about the fact that hinny is kind of the opposite of drarry in the sense that Harry really shouldn't know that much about Draco but he does, while he should know a lot about Ginny but he doesn't.

Harry and Draco aren't friends and aren't even in the same House but Harry is so attuned to him that he remembers items Draco looked at in a shop more than 4 years previously, knows every detail of his appearance down to the exact shade of his eyes and skin, and can recognize him instantly just by the sound of his footsteps or a glimpse of him from far away. He also knows a lot about Draco's interests and beliefs and can usually tell his exact mood just by a look at his face.

Conversely, Harry and Ginny are in the same House and Harry has also spent every summer since second year living with her, plus holidays during 5th and 6th year. They also start dating in the end of sixth year. Despite this fact Harry has never even been in her room till 7th year and when he goes in, he shows no sign of recognition at the posters he sees there. You'd think, for example, that he would already know that she likes the Harpies and the Weird Sisters and thus think about how of course she has that in her room, or something. Who are her friends? Who knows? Certainly not Harry! What kind of wand does she have? Harry doesn't know. (Even though he does know both of these things about Draco). What does she want to do after graduating? How did she handle the trauma of what happened with Riddle in book 2? Does she have any insights from that that could be helpful? No idea. Harry's doesn't care and isn't interested in finding out.

Honestly, when he thinks of her it's mostly about her physical features. And even then, her eye color only gets mentioned once - in book 7, and we still don't get the specific shade. I'll buy that he feels lust for her. But love? Honestly I find myself once again thinking about the parallels between hinny and ron/lavender.

Consider:

Versus:

Kinda sounds like both the relationships being described are light on the talking side of things...

Also guess what the first thing Harry does after kissing Ginny, the alleged love of his life is? If you guessed "looks lovingly into her eyes" or "says something to her" you'd be wrong. Here's what goes down:

That's right guys, gals and nonbinary pals. He looks right over the top of Ginny's head (and isn't that a metaphor for their relationship right there - he's literally overlooking her to think about other stuff) to check in with Ron. His actual priority - the person whose opinion and regard he actually cares about.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

At This Hour

Jonathan Levy x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 24: On the counter

Summary: You look after Ava while Jonathan goes out on a date.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing and being so lovely! <3

Warnings: neighbour!reader, mentions of the reader liking horror films/Terrifier, reader also has a cat, p in v sex, cream pie, fingering, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2554

Jonathan knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he just can’t help himself. 

The date had been a bad one, pointless in fact. He should have ducked out after the first ten minutes, no five. 

But he’d stayed and now it was nearly twelve fucking am by the time he got home. He should really go to bed. Get some sleep. 

Instead, he was talking to you, and drinking coffee. Oh, three am him was going to be pissed.

“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” Jonathan pushes his glasses higher. “Please, you got to let me give you some money.”

You shake your head, raising your hand, “Oh, no, no, no, you letting me pinch your netflix and amazon password for the last four months is more than enough.”

He chuckles, fiddling with his mug, “Yeah, but that’s just being neighbourly.” 

You scoff. “It is not, Jonathan.” 

Your friendship had started about seven months ago, when Jonathan had taken in a grand total of eight parcels from fedex on your, and your roommates, behalf in one day.

After collecting them, you’d apologised profusely, and baked him a banana cake. Panicking when you gave it to him that a, you didn’t actually know if he was allergic to anything, and b, that he actually liked bananas. 

Luckily he did.

Your friendship had grown when his car wouldn’t start one morning, and you’d given him a lift to work on your moped and picked him up after. Plus you’d got your friend’s cousin’s, uncle’s ex-colleague to have a look at his car and sort out the problem. 

He’d bought you lunch and looked after your cat if you had to go out of town. You watched his daughter if he had to work late on the days he had her. 

Originally, this hadn’t been his weekend to have Ava, hence why he had a date. A very, very bad date. 

“Come on,” he smiled at you, that horrible brilliantly blinding smile that leaves you weak at the knees, “usually you’re just with her for what, forty five minutes? An hour, this was nearly four.” 

You giggle, “I can’t believe you didn’t just politely leave.”

“I am a man of faults.” 

You laugh harder, “Look, I like Ava, we watched a series of R rated horror films and I made sure she ate her weight in sugar without brushing her teeth.” 

He grins. “I’m sure I would have had a better time with you guys here.”

You shrug, “Well, you can join us next time. We’re going to watch Terrifier.” You tease.

“Ugh,” he shudders, “Don’t tell me you like those kinds of films?” 

You can’t stop from smiling at his dramatic reaction. “What? You don’t?” 

He pulls a face and you giggle.

“They’re fun!”

“They are not.” He takes a sip of his cooling coffee, trying to nurse it as long as he could.

“They are.”

“All blood and guts.” He screws up his face, putting it on a bit for you.

“But the prosthetics! Plus it’s not real.” You say playfully. 

“Freaky.” He shakes his head. “Too much for my old heart.” 

You snort. “Jonathan.”

“What?” He smiles.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” 

“You just want me to tell you how young you are.” You rest your chin on your hand as you look at him.

He pauses and then nods rapidly, “I do actually, and you have to, it’s the social contract.” 

You giggle, “Well, I’m not.” 

“That's unfair.” He says in mock outrage, making you laugh harder. 

“Fine,” you hold up your hands, “You’re very handsome.” 

He pauses, looking at you for a moment. “I said you had to tell me I was young, not beautiful.” He teases, expecting you to throw a comment back at him immediately. 

But instead, you pause. For a moment, it’s almost funny how you freeze. 

“I…” You swallow, your mouth dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“It’s okay,” he quickly covers, “I’m just teasing, it’s fine.” 

You smile weakly, your skin burning. You get up quickly, nearly knocking your mug over in the process. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sorry, I, erm,” you pick up your mug, and then his, “Let me, erm, I’ll put them in the dishwasher.” 

You turn before he even has a chance to say anything, rushing over to the other side of the kitchen, putting the mugs on the counter.

Jonathan stands quickly, calling your name, “Hey, it’s fine, really. Don’t worry,” anxiety cuts into his chest, leaving his ribs bare. He walks behind you, accidentally bumping into you as you turn. 

“Sorry,” he grabs your arm to steady you and himself, his heart thudding so hard in his temples he’s sure he’s going to burst a blood vessel. 

You glance at his eyes nervously, breathing hard. “I…”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He says softly. He should put his hand down, stop touching your arm. “I was just teasing.” 

You nod, “I know, I… I’m sorry.” Your insides squirm a little, trying to find a way out to escape this awkwardness. 

“Don’t be,” he breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “It’s always nice when someone beautiful calls you handsome.”

Your brain glitches, static for a moment, rebooting.  

“Beautiful?” You repeat.

“Beautiful.” His mouth says before he has any say in the matter. “And kind, and funny, and wond-”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeply. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back against the counter.

It takes him a moment to catch up with his body, to figure out this is actually real, not some well used fantasy he plays out behind his eyes in the shower. 

You pull lightly at his hair, moaning softly when he licks into your mouth and pushes his legs between yours. He rocks against you, his cock quickly hardening in his trousers as he presses against the seam of your jeans. 

Part of him wants to pull back, to not push things, to not rush. But the much louder voice in his head laments at how long he’s been holding back, how long he’s been thinking of you while touching himself with a lubed hand. 

You gasp as he kisses along your jaw, his beard tickling your skin as he sucks at your pulse point greedily. God, if he could just get you to make that noise one more time.

“Jonathan,” you moan softly, pressing yourself closer to him and pulling on his shoulders, needing to rid the fraction of space between you.

He growls, nipping at your neck and nearly coming on the spot when he hears how needily you call his name. “Can I take these off?” His words are nearly lost with how he sucks on your skin, barely able to move his mouth back more than a centimetre. He pulls at your top, your trousers and you nod hastily. 

His groan at your confirmation makes you shiver. He practically tears your clothing from you, pushing and pulling the material away as if it personally offended him, before he hikes your right leg up around his waist and urges you up onto the counter. 

He sucks your breasts into his mouth greedily, quickly going from one to another, like a child in a toy store unable to choose his favourite. While he presses his thumb to your clit and strokes his fore and middle fingers through your folds. 

He groans deeply at the wetness he finds, rocking against you as he pushes inside. 

You gasp, biting down on your lip to keep yourself vaguely quiet as you cling onto his shoulders with one hand and the counter with the other. 

He strokes gently, pressing rhythmically against your walls as he toys with your clit and you sob, practically clinging onto him for dear life.

Pleasure builds dizzyingly fast in your belly, threatening to pull you down with every stroke. You moan in his ear, lightheaded, just about gathering yourself together to whimper his name. You weren’t prepared for this utter onslaught, for him to be so determined to pull you apart piece by piece. 

Spikes of sensation buzz along your skin, twisting and building. 

“You’re going to make me come,” you sob, shocked at how quickly your body is ready to fall apart. 

“Fuck yes,” he growls, sinking his teeth into your collar bone before he licks up your neck back to your lips. It’s hot and wet and messy, his tongue in your mouth to quiet your sobs  as you pulse and gasp, coming violently around his fingers. 

You shake in his grip, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. He works you through it, stroking and pumping until you feel like liquid in his hands. 

“God,” he groans, kissing your forehead and breathing hard. He takes his fingers out of you slowly and shoves them in his mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste. 

When you manage to pull back a fraction to look at him, you can see his glasses have steamed up. You giggle and he grins around his fingers, taking them out with a pop to kiss you. 

You run your hands through his hair, shivering as he presses close once more. 

“Do you?” He starts at the same moment you speak - “Can I?”

He chuckles, nodding for you to go first. 

“Take these off.” You mutter, pulling at his jumper. He moves back a fraction, letting you pull it over his head and snorting when his glasses get caught in the neckline. He whips them off, placing them on the side, his curls wild. 

Jonathan bites his lip as you unbuckle his jeans, helping you by undoing his fly.

“Can I fuck you?” He groans, kissing your cheek and jaw, each glide of his tongue makes your body sing. 

“Please.” 

He growls, barely pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs before he’s taking his heavy cock in hand and pumping himself a few times. 

You take a cheeky look down and bite your lip. 

He grins, “Like what you see?” 

The line would make you giggle in any other situation, but now your mouth is watering. You nod rapidly. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, spitting in his hand, “So that’s what makes you lost for words, I get it.” He smears his saliva over the head of his cock before he presses closer, guiding the tip to your folds. 

“You’re really-” You whine, gasping as he notches at your entrance and just glides inside. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your body bucking unthinkingly as he pushes deeper. 

He groans deeply, sighing like this is his first drink of water after a long hot day. He slides his hands to your inner thighs, spreading you wider as he eases in.

“Jonathan,” you gasp.

“I know, I know, fuck, you’re so tight.” He lightly rocks his hip, sheathing himself in the last few inches. 

You whine, licking into his mouth when he kisses you hungrily. He thrusts experimentally, easing out a fraction before he pushes back in. 

“How do you like it?” He mutters against your lips, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. 

“I don’t mind,” you manage to say, your voice barely there. 

He snorts, moving one of your legs to wrap around his waist again as he takes hold of your hips in a firm grip. “Tell me if you want something.” He groans, pulling out and then plunging back in. “Want to make you come again.” 

You nearly shriek, throwing your head back and managing, somehow, to keep your voice muffled as he sets a brutal pace. 

He bucks into you rapidly, shaking the cutlery on the drainer by the sink with every deep thrust. The toaster jumps with every buck of his hips into yours. The sound of your slick echoing as you coat his cock.

“You look so fucking hot when you come,” he groans. “So fucking wet.” He pounds into you, sweat beading in his hairline, the way you grab at him and whine setting his blood ablaze. 

His pubic bone smacks against your clit with every thrust, his cock rolling against your walls and pushing impossibly deeper. 

Something in you wants to break, needs to snap and flood out as he keeps rhythm, your body moving in time with his desperately. 

You bite at his neck, sucking a love bite into his skin and shivering when he tenses and growls. He pulls you back a fraction with one hand on your jaw, his eyes so dark, and licks into your mouth like you hold the secrets of the universe. 

You whimper, so needy for anything he’ll give - and he’ll give you everything. 

Pleasure pulses in your core, makes your pussy flutter and you’re so close you can taste the sweetness on your tongue. 

“Jonathan!”

“You gonna come on my cock? Gonna make a nice creamy mess?” He groans, his balls tightening. “Want to feel you, please.” 

You gasp, sobbing silently as your orgasm is ripped from you. Pleasure explodes along your nerves, wiping out any other thought as he drowns you and revives you in the same instant. 

“Shit.” Jonathan’s hips stutter, his mouth open as your walls squeeze and suck him deeper, milking him for every single drop. He comes with a deep groan, emptying rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside. 

He clings onto you as he finishes, hazy for a moment with the strength of his orgasm. 

You breathe hard, he can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

Lightly he sucks on your neck, licking the salt from your skin. He kisses your temple. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk for a week.” You tease, exhausted, and he chuckles.

“I’ll wait on you hand and foot while you recover.” He smiles when you look up at him, stroking your cheek as he kisses you softly, reverently. 

“Honestly, was that alright?” He mutters, a pang of worry settling under his ribs.

You snort, and kiss him deeply, stroking your fingers through his beard. “Fucking amazing.” 

He grins. “Do you want to do it again sometime? Maybe in a bed after I’ve bought you dinner? I’ll even watch that Terrifier film with you.” 

You giggle and nod. “I’d like that.” 

He tries to help you down, but you end up helping him. His jeans have twisted around his calves and he nearly falls to a heap on the floor. 

“My hero,” he mutters as you pull them off and kiss his thigh. “We’re lucky Ava didn’t wake up when we were… can you imagine me falling over is the thing that actually wakes her? She’ll need therapy for years after seeing her dad naked on the kitchen floor with his jeans around his ankles.”

You clap your hand over your mouth to stop your fit of laughter and he grins as he helps you back to your feet.

“I love hearing you laugh.” He lightly touches your cheek. “Do you want to take a shower?” He gives you a cheeky smile. “With me? You can stay over… if you want, I mean. No pressure.” 

You smile and nod. “I’d like a shower. With you. And sleep over.” 

He grins, wrapping his arms around you. 

Thank you for reading!

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[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two

Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.

John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.

It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.

With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.

Dear Friend From Home 

You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you. 

I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might. 

There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that. 

May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return. 

If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time. 

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration

Major John Egan 

“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.” 

With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”

The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.

At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.

Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.

"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.

An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.

Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.

"Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"

[nmakii]

How about yandere! Alastor (human) with a reader who ran away from him... Reader and Alastor are married out of obligation (because of the decade), but what no one counted on was that Alastor really fell in love and was obsessed with his wife, but the reader didn't ...because of work and his secret (that he killed people and devoured them) Alastor hardly spent time with the reader.. Reader then began to fall in love and have a secret relationship, without Alastor knowing.. . So even though reader didn't want to hurt Alastor, since she saw him as a friend (more than her husband), reader ran away with her lover and passion... Leaving behind a very angry Alastor... (reader doesn't know what Alastor It's true)... What would happen?

NO ONE’S BETTER THAN I AM

— the feeling of a fresh love— oh, how wonderful. you only wished that man would have been alastor, just so that he wouldn’t have hunt your true love.

— hey pals 🔥🔥!! i took manipulation tactics from my social studies class and mother gothel, did i do well? HAHAHA :]

being married to alastor, the radio show host is quite the sensation in your town. you grew to be quite a local celebrity, many women even attempting to befriend you to get closer with your husband.

although, because of your marriage, many assumed you were a woman of many talents and high intelligence. but, unfortunately… it appears as if you have the perfect life; beautiful home, wonderful husband, a comfortable life— and, while most of it is true, it is still very far from the truth. the sad truth of it all was that this was a marriage of convenience

it was the only thing that made sense. you and alastor were close in age, you were both still single, you refused to marry a man as old as your father, alastor simply wished to rid himself of the many women throwing themselves at him, and you were already quite close to him since your parents were close, it was the best-case scenario.

when both of your parents had learned of the news, that alastor proposed to you, they were more than delighted. alastor’s mom immediately welcomed you into the family as one of her own, and alastor had grown to be fond of your father.

in front of cameras and watching eyes, alastor played the role of a loving husband well; keeping you safe with an arm wrapped around your waist, giving you his coat in cold weather, and speaking nothing but lovely worship in your name.

you played the ‘doting wife’ role surprisingly well too. the only thing that was different was alastor didn’t stop the act when you were behind closed doors.

‘what if someone is spying on us, hm? they may reveal our little secret to the media!’ that was his excuse. and your reason to let him kiss you, hold you against his chest, and even join you as you bathe occasionally. it always felt weird though. to you, alastor was nothing more than a friend, even something like a brother. doing all these intimate and romantic things with him, it felt wrong.

and even despite all the intimacy, you still felt lonely. here in your large house, you felt lonely; cooking a dinner for two, eating as one, and always having to leave the pot simmering over the stove, so that it’s still warm for your husband. warm for him up until midnight, when he’d usually come home— sometimes even returning home later…

and, on these late nights, you’d remain sleepless. what could he be doing? his radio broadcast only lasts up until 9 in the night. could he possibly be engaging with a mistress of sorts? doing all kinds of scandalous things before returning to your bed, bringing your back close to his chest and resting his face on the nape of your neck.

although it was unlikely… considering how you always wake up to a love letter from alastor in place of where he should be in your bed, but nonetheless, it didn’t stop those thoughts.

eventually, life began to grow boring… chores day and night before going to sleep again— it was just a boring cycle that filled your life with despair and simply just making you miserable.

that is, until you met eugene. quite the handsome man, he may even be a model! you ran into him when he was in a luxury shop, inspecting various items for purchase.

his fuzzy eyebrows, his big brown eyes, and his charming and gorgeous american smile— it’s hard not to fall for such a man.

it started off so innocent; just meeting him to shop together, then it escalated into lunch together, and then that night…

alastor brought you to a club he frequented, and just by coincidence, eugene had been there with some of his high school friends. under the influence of alcohol, alastor had climbed up the stage and danced along. laughing at your silly husband, you pointed him out to eugene as well.

and, in that moment he turned you around and kissed you. you tensed, fearing the sudden infidelity; how media would cover this kind of news for months. oh wait… everyone’s wasted, aren’t they..?

your breath heaved in fear, eyes darting to your husband, not even glancing at you— that was when you melted into his kiss.

after that night, the two of you had made an agreement to rendezvous every now and then at your house while alastor was still busy as ever at ‘work’.

and as these meetings with eugene became more and more frequent, the two of you may have… fallen in love. despite that, you still felt guilty; cheating on your husband who has done nothing but be a gentle and loving provider, how could you repay him like this?

but, then again, it is simply a marriage of convenience… alastor doesn’t love you, he couldn’t possibly… the two of you are best friends! so, if you told him, would he mind?

still, you couldn’t possibly risk it. this isn’t a relationship that will last long if the two of you keep it a secret, you have to find a solution soon.

“run away with me.”

“what?! are you insane?!?” you frowned at your lover. “you need to get away from him, and you’re too scared to tell him, aren’t you? it’s the perfect solution.” he argued back.

“alastor… won’t accept it that easily… he’ll probably try to hunt us down, then take me back…” your nose scrunched in fear at the thought. “isn’t it worth the risk, my love?” he took your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on your fingers. “ah, f…fine…”

a week later, that was when you decided to leave. you packed a suitcase filled with your belongings. honestly, it was not much. most of the things in the house were bought by alastor before he had married you.

you were just about to leave, your lover right outside the door with a getaway car, prepared to leave your life in new orleans behind when your husbands voice stopped you.

“going somewhere, my love?”

“alastor! w-what are you doing up?” you jumped, turning around to face him. “i’d like to ask the same thing, my sweet darling. why do you have a suitcase and a car waiting for you?” he grinned wide, tilting his head.

“ah— i was gonna go out of state for a surprise for you…” you lied, breath shaky. “were you now? was this surprise that i’d never see my beautiful wife ever again?” he scoffed, walking over to you and grabbing you by your chin.

“did you think i’d really be so ignorant as to not know when my own wife is sneaking out? especially to meet other men…” he raised an eyebrow. “alastor! t-this isn’t what you think it is…” you frowned, tears building up in your eyes.

“oh, my dear, how pretty you look when you cry…” he smiled, taking a finger to wipe your tears and putting his finger against his tongue. “fine then, leave your loving and sweet husband behind… just know that— i’ve already corrupted you for any other man to enjoy. no one will love a divorcee, will they?” he moved his hand to cup your cheek, gentle despite his harsh words.

“i’ll let you have your fun, darling. soon enough, you’ll realize that there is no man who can love you better than i can.” he pulled his hand away from you, moving to your hips and leaving a lasting kiss on your lips.

unlike how he usually is, this kiss was harsh, possessive, and brutal. so devoid of any love, it was a pure, unadulterated obsession.

“i know what is best for you, darling. i’ll see you home very soon.”

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

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[moutainrusing]

pen pals

943 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

On the other side of town, there was a hospital, where children in need of long-term care spent their days and nights. On this side of town, there was a boarding school, where children in need of discipline spent their days and nights.

As an act of further discipline, the Headteacher, Professor McGonagall, had decided that the students of Diagon Academy should write a letter to a patient in Pomfrey’s Hospital, and forge a new friendship, become pen pals for life.

According to Sirius, she was delusional. But he still wrote a letter.

- - -

With his incredibly bony, stick-like, shaking fingers, Remus wrote a letter to someone in the rich, stuffy boarding school, who would apparently become his pen pal for life. (Unlikely.) Firstly, he was Remus. No one wanted to be his friend. Even if they weren’t in their right mind, he was a sick, frail loser, unable to do anything except stutter and sit in awkward silence.

Secondly, the people at Diagon Academy were judgemental snobs. Posh and pretentious and loaded. Why would he befriend that?

- - -

Minerva and Poppy sorted through the letters in companionable chatter, pairing a student with a patient in a match they hoped would lead to a long-lasting friendship.

Once the pairs had been made, the children could keep addressing letters to their pen pal; the school Prefects and hospital wardens would be able to deliver the letters by reading the name on the envelope, ensuring the children got the privacy they needed to open up to each other.

Minerva wanted the slightly troubled (okay, very troubled) students at her school to learn how to care for someone who didn’t live in their narrow-minded world, and Poppy wanted the minorly self-loathing (okay, very self-loathing) patients at her hospital to open up to the possibilities of the world around them. Together, the couple had come up with the idea of pen pals, and together, they wanted this to work so badly.

“I think we’ve found the perfect pair,” Minerva commented as she held Remus’s and Sirius’s letters side-by-side.

Poppy grinned. “I bet those two’ll end up more than friends.”

- - -

Dear pen pal (for life, apparently; I think the nurse may be barmy, but she’s well-intentioned and she’s my favourite and I want it to be known that I am doing this for her. So if I make an embarrassment of myself, it was for her. And I’ll never even get out of this hospital, so I don’t care if you think I’m weird.)

I’m supposed to write about myself. I’m fifteen. I’m a boy. I’ve been sick for as long as I can remember and I look like undercooked pastry. I like reading. There’s not a lot you can do in hospital. But you do get stickers. I’m actually fond of my sticker album. You get a sticker for every injection you take, and when I was younger, I used to get stickers for talking, because I was and am an anti-social freak. I’m really selling this.

Anyway, I’ve organised the pages of my sticker album because I have nothing better to do. There’s a page for leaves from deciduous trees, animals that specifically live in the savanna, fruits which are FRUITS and that includes tomatoes, and a lot of other fully sorted pages. This is my legacy. I might die any day but I still made this impact.

Look, if you’ve read this far, I’ll have to assume you’re as weird as I am.

Yours,

Remus Lupin

Sirius traced over the wobbly penmanship of his pen pal with a grin on his face. Remus was funny. And nice. Those seemed like such simple adjectives, but Sirius meant them to such an intense degree.

He got to writing back about how he was so much weirder than Remus. Although Remus must already know that from Sirius’s introductory letter.

- - -

Dear pen pal,

Minnie, our lovely Headteacher, and my future wife, even though she’s resistant to my charms at the moment (I don’t know why, I’m literally the hottest hunk of meat in this school I’m kidding sorry too soon) (also it may be because she’s gay and so am I) anyway, Minnie came up with the fanciful idea of pen pals. She really hopes this will mean something, and I don’t wanna let her down now, do I?

I mean, I also hope this means something because she has POISONED my brain with these delusional fantasies, and so has my best mate. James really believes this will benefit the country or something from the way he talks.

So, about myself. (It may seem I like talking about myself. I hate it. I’d rather show people who I am.) So, I’m not gonna talk about myself! I’m mysterious like that. Oh-so-interesting.

Like, yesterday, James and I put bouillon cubes into all the shower-heads and the boys ended up smelling like chicken broth (us included). It was fucking GROSS. And fucking awesome. Minnie immediately knew it was us though. My mystery works on everyone but her (another reason we’re soulmates, I should tell her).

LOTS OF LOVE

SIRIUS BLACK, EL AMOR DE TU VIDA

Remus actually snorted. He’d been worried, initially, to see ‘POISONED’ glaring at him in swirling cursive when he cast a cursory glance down the letter, but then he saw ‘THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE’ in Spanish, and found that Sirius was a hyperbolic little shit.

He proceeded to write a letter to tell him exactly that. Oh, and another prank idea, because why not? It wasn’t like he’d be suspected. Maybe he could help Sirius and James with an original idea that couldn’t possibly be pinned on them.

[mmhcs]

Say It With Your Chest

Warnings: None, maybe an emotionally constipated Miguel if that's not your thing

"Why don't you just confess?"

Miguel O'Hara shakes his head for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

Ay coño, how did he get here? he silently wonders, looking at Peter B. alongside quite literally the entire Spider Society—save for you—squeezed into his office.

It all started at around noon when Peter B. had walked up into his office both unceremoniously and unannounced. Today, he was without his daughter Mayday, making his steps quieter than they had been in the past few months. Unlike most days when he would call out for his (self-proclaimed) best buddy, this time Peter B. simply waited to be acknowledged, seeing that Miguel was in the middle of a squabble with Lyla.

"...Miguel, why don't you just say something?" she asked rather concerned. "The worst that could happen is that you get shot down. But if that happens then it just means that you're one step closer to finding The One."

The One?

Peter's eyebrow quirked upwards in curiosity and interest.

For as long as he's known Miguel O'Hara, Peter had never heard Miguel discuss dating, marriage, or anything romotely related to the realm of romance for that matter.

But now—now Miguel possibly had a crush? Someone who he was interested in and, judging by Lyla's words, wanted to pursue?

Peter had to know more.

But just as he opened his mouth to chime in, Miguel spoke.

"Lyla, please," he said, waving his hand as if to shoo her away. "We don't need to discuss this."

"But we do!" Lyla exclaimed, throwing her arms up the air. "Miguel, this could be the start of something. Who knows? Maybe one day you two will get married, have some children—"

"Lyla!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Lyla said, this time truly apologetic.

Miguel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, Lyla, this—whatever this is—" he spread his arms, gesturing to something that wasn't there "—doesn't matter. It will go away in a few weeks, give or take and—"

"But it's been months! Almost a year!"

Almost a year?

Okay, now Peter really had know more about this little crush of Miguel’s.

"Lyla!" Miguel sighed again. "(Y/N)—how am I supposed to talk to someone who barely shows up at HQ? It's not like I have much wiggle room here,"

"But you do have a best friend who is friends with (Y/N) and as of today has a burning desire to see you two together!" Peter finally spoke up.

From there, Miguel’s day went downhill. At first, it was just Peter. Which, though not ideal, was fine. But then Jess came in and after her Ben Reilly, then Miles, Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr...And then before Miguel knew it, quite literally the entire Spider Society was in his lab, talking over one another as they shouted useless love advice.

Except you.

It always irked Miguel that you preferred to limit your time at HQ as much as possible. But today—today he couldn't be more grateful for your choice.

"Hey, what's going on in here?"

He spoke too soon.

The entire room goes silent and every Spider including Miguel turns to face you.

"Uh...hi?" You give a sheepish wave of your hand.

"(Y/N)!" Peter exclaims. "So great to see you!"

Miguel winces at how overtly friendly Peter is being right now. If he's behaving like this then he can only imagine how the other Spiders will act.

"It's great to see you too, Peter," you say, glancing around. There are so many Spiders in here. Some of them you haven't even spoken to before. "And everybody. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting—or should have been here. I don't know. I just dropped by to ask about my schedule for this week."

"Oh, your schedule?" Peter's mouth shifts to one side of his face as he puts a hand on his chin. "Hmm, well, while I personally don't know anything about that, I think you should ask my pal Miguel."

"Okay..."

All the eyes in the room fell back to Miguel like dominoes. Hums of agreement with Peter's sentiments begin to echo throughout the room.

"So, about my schedule..." you say once you are face-to-face with Miguel.

You glance around between every sentence or two, seemingly painfully aware of how crowded the room is and how many people are eagerly watching your interaction. It causes something to stir within Miguel, seeing you so uncomfortable and nervous.

"...I will email you your schedule again," Miguels explains, trying to act as normal as possible. "I did before but it seems that something hasn't went through properly. For now, you have nothing scheduled, though. You can go home and relax."

Miguel swears that he hears a few awwws from the masses.

"As for the rest of you," he begins, now addressing the hoards of unwelcome visitors. He's let this go on for far longer than it should have. "I am certain that at least two quarters of you have some type of assignment to do. I suggest that you all stop dilly-dallying and get back to work because though you do not have paychecks, you will have to work late tonight if everything isn't finished at the appropriate time."

There is a collective groan amongst all the Spiders as the door opens and they begin to file out of Miguel’s office. You stifle a giggle at the pairs of sad yet uneven eyes you see.

Before Peter leaves, he turns to you two and gives Miguel two thumbs up that you imagine to be directed at Miguel. He is Peter's best buddy after all.

"Was there an impromptu meeting that I wasn't told about?" you ask, turning to face Miguel as soon as you two are alone.

Though this is technically not a job and you do prefer to be in your own universe rather than at HQ, you still wanted to fulfill your duties and be a committed member to the team.

"No, there was no meeting," Miguel reassures you as he turns away and begins walking to his platform. "There was a...matter that the others found particularly interesting. It was all Peter's idea, really."

Judging by the annoyance in his voice, you think that you should be glad that you missed whatever transpired earlier.

"Oh, okay then," You nod. "If I'm not needed then I'll be returning to my universe for the rest of the day. Goodbye, Miguel. Goodbye, Lyla."

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

The next day you and Peter B. are strolling through the cafeteria of the Spider Society, munching on empanadas.

You occasionally glance down at his once again empty baby carrier—Mayday was upstate, attending the birthday party of her maternal cousins, Peter explained earlier—finding it abnormal to see him without the young girl that the entire Spider Society has grown to love.

"So, what was so interesting that everyone had to gather in Miguel's office to discuss yesterday?" you ask.

You often felt like you came in to HQ at the wrong times. Always after something happens. You were rarely ever there to be apart of the moment and often had to resort to asking your friends to fill you in. And normally that sufficed. But this time—whatever it was that had happened yesterday obviously had HQ in a chokehold.

"Oh, what, yesterday?" Peter scoffed, waving a shaky hand. "Oh please, yesterday; who even talks about the past like that? Today is tomorrow's yesterday."

"Come on, Peter!" you whine, slightly nudging him. "I know it has something to do with Miguel. Everyone has been talking about how weird he was acting yesterday before I came in—What was it? Is he okay?"

"Okay? Miguel is more than okay," Peter laughs. "He's fine. Really fine actually, don't you think?"

"Uh-huh..." You nod, not knowing how to respond to that last comment. You've grown to learn that a part of Miguel and Peter's friendship also included not-so-subtle innuendos from Peter.

"Don't worry about him—he's great. Fantastic. Nothing wrong with him. Or nothing more than the usual at least."

You know Peter is lying. But what you don't know is why.

Normally, Peter B. Parker is an open book. He'll tell you about Mayday's gassiness, show you a picture he took of a thing that he thought was cool, tell you about all of his favorite sports teams, or how he and MJ finally got a night to themselves and how amazing it was. Nothing is a secret with this man.

Until now.

It makes your curiosity double.

"Peter..." you start, trying to put on your best set of puppy dog eyes. "Come on, just tell me. You said that Miguel is fine—is it something embarrassing? You don't have to tell me if it is but I just—everyone is talking about it. You can't even get through the coffee line without being asked about 'it'."

Peter's nervous expression softens into a frown for a second.

He feels bad. Really, really bad.

On the one hand, he wants to tell you. He really does. He doesn't like it when others feel left out. Especially you. You're not known to frequent HQ unlike so many other Spiders and he knows how much that affects your social status amongst the rest.

But on the other hand, he can't tell you. Because it's Miguel's secret. Probably one of the deepest, most darkest ones he's had in a long time. What kind of best friend would Peter be if he told you?

It's already bad enough that the rest of the Spider Society knows. They've been teasing the poor guy to no end about his crush on you.

Peter bites down on his lip. Oh, the woes of being so friendly and trusted.

"Hey guys, what’s going on?" Gwen Stacy waves at the two of you.

Behind her is Hobie, Miles, and Pavitr who give you and Peter their own forms of greeting as well.

"Gwen," you say almost desperately and Peter gets nervous. He looks at all four of the kids, silently begging them to keep quiet.

"Do you know what happened yesterday with Miguel? Everyone's been talking about it all day and I feel like if one more person says something about whatever it is, my brain is going to explode."

Now Gwen seems to have been bitten by the same nervous bug that Peter was when you asked him previously.

Her eyes widen and she begins looking at everything but you.

"Oh, that?" she laughs nervously. "That was nothing. You know how everyone likes to rag on Miguel. Right, guys?"

The only one who backs her up is Miles. And his response does more damage as he says, "Who's Miguel?"

You sigh, facepalming.

"Hobie, you'll tell me, right?" you half-ask, half-plea.

"Sorry, mate," Hobie shrugs, a smirk on his face. "Information's kind of classified."

Okay, now you really want to know what happened yesterday. Not even Hobie will tell you? Something monumental must have happened yesterday.

Still desperate, you turn your gaze to Pavitr who immediately tenses.

"Don't look at me!" he says, frantically waving his hands in front of his chest. "I don't know anything!"

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

The day after next, you find yourself standing outside of Miguel’s office.

Though Miguel promised that he would resend you your schedule for the week, you have yet to receive it. And it's already Thursday. You don't even want to think about how many assignments you've missed. You'll probably have to stay late next week, so much so that you may even catch a glimpse of the mythical "zombie Miguel" that spends the night at HQ and only comes out of his office for coffee.

Or so you've heard from other Spiders.

You knock on the door once before entering.

"Miguel?" you say both in greeting and question. "I wanted to talk to you about my schedule; I've still yet to receive it and—"

"Leave."

You stop dead in your tracks. Once again, you've heard about the infamous "moody Miguel" but you've yet to encounter him.

"Did you hear what I said? Leave and I'll make sure that I get to it as soon as I can. I'm busy right now."

You look up and see Miguel focused on his screens, typing away.

A bit of relief flows through your body. Miguel isn't in a bad mood; he's focused. Probably doing something very tedious and imperative to the Multiverse's ensurance—

"(Y/N)?" Now Miguel has looked up from his screen and his eyes are on you, studying you intently. "You still didn't get your schedule yet? I've emailed that to you about a thousand times now."

"You have?" you frown, checking your watch. You haven’t gotten anything from him.

"Yes, is there something wrong with your watch?"

With a wave of Miguel's hand, the screens disappear.

"I don't know," you say, staring down at your wrist. "Maybe there's an update or two that I missed? Whatever it is, don't worry about it. If could please just tell me what I have assigned, I'll be out of your hair in two seconds."

"You can't leave," Miguel tells you with a sterness that makes your heart jump a little. He must see the fear in your eyes because he softens then explains, "I think that there's something wrong with your watch. You can't leave until I at least inspect it. Walking around with a damaged watch could have consequences that I think we would both like to not deal with. You can put on a day pass and chat with Lyla in the meantime."

"Are you sure?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm sure," Miguel says as Lyla silently flickers into existence, a day pass in her hand. "I know I told you to leave earlier but that was just because I thought that you were another Spider. I...I've been trying to avoid them all week."

"Is this about your..." you trail off, not wanting to breach the subject.

Miguel's eyes widen. He feels his heart rate pick up and his limbs freeze in place.

"It's okay, I don't know anything!" you quickly reassure him. "Not a single soul would tell me today! Not Peter, not Hobie—and believe you me, I tried to get them to."

A little smile creeps onto Miguel's face at that. Maybe some people can keep a secret.

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

Peter B. Parker is estatic. Proud. Elated. Overjoyed.

Over the past few weeks, you and Miguel have been spending more time together. And that could only mean one thing. That Miguel finally confessed his feelings for you and that you two were dating. Or at least seeing where things go.

And Peter couldn't be happier for the two of you.

Yes, he does miss having his best buddy (you, of course) to sit and devour cafeteria food with but he understands what it's like to be in that honeymoon phase with your partner where all you want to do is be around them.

He sees the way that Miguel smiles at you when you're not looking, how a look of absolute and utter softness overtakes his features each time he glances at you. Peter gets it. And he's happy to see his bestest pal in the whole Multiverse finally get the love that he deserves.

"Hey, Peter!" you call from down the hall.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Peter crossed his arms and pops a hip to mimic a sassy pose. "You finally got a chance to come and visit me, eh?"

"Peter," you laugh, playfully swatting his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you suddenly get a tall, handsome boyfriend and abandon me!" Peter huffs. "I haven't seen you in a week! I had to eat empanadas in the cafeteria by myself yesterday morning. Do you know how much of a sad, old lonely fool I looked like!?"

You can't help but giggle at Peter's dramatics.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter," you say. "How about we go and get lunch right now? Miguel and I are supposed to head out on a patrol later this afternoon and I need all the fuel that I can get; he goes so fast sometimes,"

"Ugh, you lovebirds sicken me."

You quirk an eyebrow at Peter. Does he actually think that you and Miguel are dating?

"Ha-ha Peter, very funny..." you deadpan. "Miguel and I aren't dating; we're just friends."

"You are!?!"

Why did he seem genuinely upset by that?

"Yes?" You give Peter a look of concern. Has he lost his marbles?

"Uh, (Y/N), you go to the cafeteria and grab us some food and seats. I'll be right back—I have to go do something."

Without further explanation, Peter rushes past you, giving you no time to question him further.

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

"Lyla, what time is it?"Miguel asks.

Though he knows that the outing between you and him is not taking place until a couple of hours later, he knows that he has a tendency to get lost in his work and, before he knows it, the hours have slipped away like water.

It's why he normally prefers to go on patrols alone but you had insisted on coming, claiming that you wanted to explore other universes—especially the one that housed the Society—and, well, who was he to deny a Spider the opportunity to learn more? And you—his friend—no less?

Miguel takes in a deep breath, his chest growing tight and fuzzy as memories of you flood his mind.

He moves to go back to work when he hears the door of his laboratory slam open.

"Miguel!" Peter yells.

He sighs. This couldn't be good.

"You didn’t confess!?!"

Miguel freezes.

Mierda.

[creamsickle-writes]

Waiting in the Wings: Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, ModernAU, friends to lovers, oral (specifically face sitting), penetrative sex, creampie, and dirty talk

You felt humiliated.

Your stupid date just had to ditch you right before your night out. You had gotten all dressed up and put your makeup on; you even did your hair a particular way, only for him to say he couldn’t make it an hour before the outing.

This was so stupid.

You kept repeating that to yourself over and over as you scrubbed off your makeup, tied your hair back, and changed out of that lovely dress you were wearing.

This was frustrating; you didn’t even like the guy that much, yet he thought he could stand you up? You knew you could do much better and still decided to accept his date proposal anyway.

As you settled into your pajamas and were looking for takeout to supplement the nice dinner you were supposed to have, your phone rang. Your eyes focused on the name at the top.

Ace

Ace was your best friend. He always had been, and, honestly, you really wished you were going out with him instead. 

But you didn’t want to mess up your relationship, so you’ve been trying to find someone else. 

It felt weird going to him about relationship stuff, but you were trying to push past that feeling; you had to start treating him like a friend, not a potential partner. So, you decided to vent to him like a friend would. You quickly wiped away the tears you didn’t realize had started to form.

You answered the phone with the camera tilted towards your bed frame and the wall above it. You could see his video feed, though; he was lying in bed too, only the upper half of his face showing, his eyes wide with excitement.

“You’ll never guess what I found at-” He stopped himself before asking, “Hey, what are you doing in bed? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for that date?”

“Not anymore,” You sighed, “The guy canceled on me.”

Ace blinked a few times before angling the camera downwards so it showed his whole face, his face screwed up in a confused expression, “What? Did he say why?”

You shook your head, “He just suddenly said something came up. Didn’t even bother saying he wanted to reschedule for another date or anything-“

Ace clicked his tongue, “That’s rude-“

You hummed and nodded slowly, agreeing with him. 

And you made the mistake of sniffling. 

Ace sat up at the sound, furrowing his brow, “Are you crying?”

Despite your embarrassment, you angled the camera down so he could see your puffy red eyes and wet cheeks, “Just a little..”

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

“Hey, tell you what,” Ace said after a while, “Let’s hang out tonight, okay? You, me, and some pizza. Sound cool?”

You nodded and spoke up, your voice wavering, “Thanks, Ace. You always know just what to say.”

He laughed a bit, “Hey, what are buds for, right?”

Your heart broke at those words.

Buds. Friends. Pals.

He always used those words to describe you guys.

It was clear he would never feel anything more for you. 

The thought made you feel conflicted; Sure, you had him as a great friend- Look at what he was doing now, buying you dinner and giving you a shoulder to cry on, but you wanted more than this, and the fact that you knew it would never be more only made you more upset.

But you wouldn’t think about that now; you decided that, for the moment, you should just be grateful that he’s in your life at all.

 “I’ll be over with the pizza in half an hour, okay?”

“Okay.”

_____

Ace eventually knocks at your door, and you answer, dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants. Your eyes are still a bit swollen, but fortunately, your tears are no longer flowing.

Ace smiles a bit, “Hey, sorry about your date. Buttttt…”

He presents the pizza with a flourish, “Ta-da.”

You laugh a bit at his gift and showy display. 

“Thanks, just put it on the table.”

Ace takes the familiar route to your living room and places the pizza on the coffee table in front of the couch. He plops on the sofa and leans back, placing his hat on the table.

“So, how you holding up?” Ace asks, looking up at you as you sit on the other end of the couch, leaving space between you both.

“I’m alright,” You sigh, leaning back into the couch cushions.

He raises an eyebrow, some silence occupying the room before he speaks, “It’s okay to not be okay, you know…”

Your lips form a thin line as you think his words over. He was right; if there was anyone you could talk about this with, it was him. Tentatively, you begin to speak.

“I know, it’s just…” you sigh again, “You know this isn’t the first time someone I was supposed to meet canceled on me…”

He nods, his words apologetic, “Yeah, I know…”

“And it’s not even like I really liked him that much or anything, so I’m not really crying over him.” You start, annoyance and frustration in your voice.

Ace nods in understanding.

 “I’m just starting to think that, I don’t know, maybe there’s something wrong with me? Maybe they think I’m boring to talk to over text?” You shake your head and look down at your hands on your lap, “Or maybe they look at my photos again and realize I’m really ugly…”

Ace clears his throat, and you look up at him. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re boring… or ugly at all.”

You smile softly, your heart racing, “Thanks, Ace…”

Ace smiles, and you notice his eyes comb through the room, looking for a way to change the topic. When his eyes land on the remote, his face lights up.

“Here,” Ace picks up the remote, “Let’s throw something on to take your mind off it. Trashy reality TV always takes people’s minds off their problems, right?”

You snort, “What?”

He shrugs lightheartedly, “I don’t know, I just know people eat this stuff up! Let’s throw on something that looks really bad for fun.”

You giggle as he turns on the TV, navigating to your favorite streaming app. He hums as he scrolls through the menus, eventually settling on something that looks absolutely horrible.

It’s perfect.

You kind of pay attention for the first fifteen or twenty minutes, but you and Ace are talking over the whole thing, commenting on the contestants and the stupid plot of the show. Eventually, your combined commentary goes off track when one of the male contestants says something a bit too forward to another. You momentarily tear your eyes from the television to give a snide remark.

“God, these people act like they’ve never had sex before,” You snort, “It’s the first day, and they’re already trying to fuck each other.”

Ace snickers along with you, his eyes still glued to the tv, “I mean, maybe they hadn’t gotten laid in a while?”

“I’ve been going months without dick, and you don’t see me acting up- “

That catches his attention.

He turns his head towards you and blinks a few times as if surprised, “Wait, you’re serious? It’s been months?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Damn,” Ace says, something unreadable in his expression, “I mean, was the last time at least good?”

Your face heats up, “Uh, well, he didn’t go down on me and lasted, like, two minutes, so…”

Ace looks shocked, stunned even at your confession, “He didn’t eat you out? Like, at all?”

You feel your body grow hot, and you shake your head. You never thought you would talk to Ace about your sexual encounters with other people like this. 

Ace chuckles before speaking, “Goddamn, if I was in bed with you, I would’ve eaten the fuck out of that-“

His face immediately goes bright red, “I-I mean, with a girl like you, not you!”

“U-Uh, right-” You cough awkwardly.

He abruptly stops talking, and the only sound in the room is of some women arguing on television. Ace looks away from you and tries to get back into the show. But as you turn to look back at the television, you occasionally peek at him from the corner of your eye. Ace is shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and you can tell he’s embarrassed about what he just said.

Under normal circumstances, you’d drop the subject, but after tonight, after dealing with shitty guy after shitty guy, you weren’t going to let the man you actually wanted get away.

 “I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to do it with me.”

That gets Ace’s attention.

“Huh?”

“W-Well,” You clear your throat, “The way you said it, it sounded like you wanted to do it with me, so I figured I’d, uh, offer… Let you know I’d be up for it.”

Ace turns, offering you his full attention now, “N-No, that’s not right. You’re all messed up about this dating thing. I’d be such a piece of shit to take advantage of-”

Your ears twitch at his phrasing. It sounds like he really did want you. You weren’t going to back off now, not when what you’ve fantasized about for so long was within reach.

Suddenly, in an act of boldness, you begin to crawl toward the dark-haired man. He backs up until his lower back hits the couch’s armrest. He gulps as he looks down at you, his face turning a soft shade of pink.

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me…” 

“You’re not… thinking straight…” he swallows thickly, strictly keeping his hands at his sides.

“Ace,” You start, your lips moving on their own before your brain can catch up or stop you, “I’ve always wanted you… I just didn’t want to mess up everything..”

Ace’s eyes bulge as wide as saucers as he looks down at you, your confession continuing, “I started going on stupid dating apps and stuff to try and get over my crush on you but, fuck, it just isn’t working. None of those guys compare to you.”

You crawl even closer, moving so that your lips are dangerously close to his, “I still just want you… A-And I know I avoided saying all this because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I can’t keep pretending like… like I’m not in love with you.”

Your face feels hot as you realize you have confessed your love for him. You’re terrified that you’ve scared him off, that maybe he only wanted to hook up with you casually or as a one-time thing to satisfy his curiosity. 

But you know he feels the same as you do when he closes the gap without another word.

Your lips press against each other’s, and a gasp escapes you as he snakes his hands over your hips, his warm palms resting comfortably on your body.

You sigh happily into his lips as he licks over your bottom lip, politely asking for permission to taste you. You part your lips and introduce your tongue to his, the wet appendages dancing. 

When he pulls away, he laughs softly, “You have no idea how long I wanted to do that…”

“You have no idea how long I dreamed of you doing that…”

“I guess we should make up for lost time then…”

He pulls you into his lap and kisses you again, his hands trailing over your ass and squeezing it firmly. You gasp at his boldness. As you two continue to kiss, you feel his cock hardening beneath you and blush softly at how excited he is for you. 

“Fuck, I-” He breathes shakily, “Can I be real for a second?”

“Go ahead,” You laugh, “Tell me what you’re thinking..”

Ace places his hands on your hips as he looks up at you, his face bright red. 

“I know we literally just confessed to each other, but, ah,” He stutters a bit, “I really wanna fuck you right now- And I know that’s not, like, romantic or anything, but I really wanna be inside you.”

You look back at him, your face burning hot at his honesty.

Before you can respond, he starts babbling, “Uh, but, y’know, it’s cool if you wanna take things slow! We can just pretend I never said that and-”

You grab him by his shoulders and kiss him deeply. And as quickly as the two of you come together, you part. 

“Did you forget how this all started?” You giggle before lowering your voice to a whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

Ace smiles and captures your lips yet again. The kiss is passionate and maybe a bit sloppy, but you both have been yearning for each other’s touch for so long that it doesn’t matter. But as soon as things start to get a bit more heated, Ace pulls himself away.

“Oh shit, wait.” Ace curses, “I don’t have any condoms or anything on me-”

“Don’t worry about that,” You giggle, “I’m on birth control, so we’re good.”

“Oh, thank god,” He sighs in relief, but you can see the gears turning in his head before he speaks again, “Does that mean I can…?”

“Cum inside me?” You snort.

He blushes a vibrant red, “Y-Yeah.”

You smirk and lean forward, whispering in his ear, “Only if you promise to fill me up real nice…”

“Fuck,” He breathes shakily, “I promise. Hell, I’ll pinky promise-”

“I’ll hold you to it,” You grin, extending your pinky before he takes it with his own, sealing the deal.

You giggle before pressing a kiss to his lips, your kisses soon trailing down to his neck. You suck gently on the skin, surely leaving marks behind. 

Soon you’re tugging on the hem of his shirt, and he gets the message, pulling it over his head. With his torso newly exposed, you kiss and nip at his chest, sliding your tongue over his nipples just to see if they’re sensitive. He groans and calls your name so sweetly, making your heart swell with pride; he is so vocal and all just for you. After playing with his tender nipples for a bit, you decide to chart the rest of his body; after all, there is much more to explore. You eventually reach his stomach, your lips grazing over his dark happy trail. Ace bites his lip as your lips are mere centimeters away from his cock, the only thing separating your lips from his shaft being a few layers of clothing.

With eager fingers, you reach to unbutton his shorts. He lifts his hips so you can slide them down along with his underwear. His cock is dark red, precum leaking desperately from his tip. 

“Looks like you could use some attention, hm?” You giggle, wrapping a hand around him and stroking slowly. 

He reaches out a hand, stopping your movements, “No, wait-”

Your brows raise, and he continues, “This whole thing has been you taking care of me so far, and you said last time you had sex, he didn’t even go down on you, so let me take care of you…”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He grins, “Just take your clothes off and climb up here…”

Your face blushes at the implication, “You want me to sit on your face?”

His smile only widens, “Is that a problem?”

You shake your head and begin to peel your clothes off your body. Soon you’re before him, completely nude, just as he is. You notice his dick twitch as you crawl forward, and you laugh at how honest his body is.

With your hips positioned over his face, your pussy terribly close to his lips, you announce, “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You need to get lower, sweetheart.” Ace laughs, and your heart throbs at the nickname.

You lower yourself even further, but Ace doesn’t seem satisfied, “You’re still hovering. You gotta actually sit on my face-”

“Won’t it be hard to breathe..?”

“Hey, if I go out like this, I’ll die a happy man.” Ace chuckles before grabbing your hips, “So c’mon, just sit down, okay?”

You hesitate for a second, but after taking a deep breath, you sit on his face, your pussy pressed against his lips.

Ace groans loudly as you do so, immediately getting to work. He kisses your clit a few times before his tongue darts out, swiping over it. You jump a bit, lifting your hips off his face accidentally. You’re about to apologize and lower yourself back down, but Ace beats you to the punch, gripping your ass and forcing your cunt back onto his lips with a growl. He eats you out like a man possessed, slobbering all over your clit and sucking on it greedily. You were starting to think he asked to do this not just because he felt sympathetic but because he would enjoy it so much.

You sigh as you feel his tongue press penetrate your hole, the warm, flexible appendage feeling incredible inside you. Ace’s hands squeeze your ass, firmly keeping you in place despite how you squirm and squeal. You look down below as Ace has his eyes closed, his brow furrowed in concentration as he focuses on making you feel good. You bite your lip and reach up to squeeze your breasts, rocking your hips against his tongue.

He pulls his tongue out for a moment to murmur, “That’s it, baby, use my tongue however feels good…”

His voice is husky and deep, sending a shudder through you; his words of encouragement light up your core, and you’re bolder with your movements now, rocking your hips shamelessly. 

As Ace speeds up his pace, your legs begin to shake. He chuckles into your mound, moving his hands to your thighs as if to reassure you that everything is okay and that he wants you to just let go. 

“Ace…” You whine, “I-I’m so close.”

Your chest grows tight as you hold your breath, your hips speeding up to shoot yourself over the edge. Ace grips your thighs even tighter, trying to stay close to you. 

Soon you’re squealing as your orgasm washes over you, Ace still sucking and licking your clit as you ride the intense wave. Your toes curl, and your back arches as you wiggle your hips, trying to get as much friction as possible.

As the feelings of pleasure fade, you move down from his mouth, straddling his waist. You notice his cock is even flushed scarlet now, the angry-looking shaft throbbing and twitching like crazy. 

“That was so hot, you don’t even know.” He says, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

You giggle and reach down to stroke his cock, coaxing precum out of the swollen tip, “Was it as good as you thought it would be?”

“Hell yeah,” He smirks, “I’d eat your pussy all day if you’d let me-”

“Maybe another day, because now…” You hum, “Now it’s your turn to cum…”

Ace’s dark eyes sparkle and flicker with anticipation as you lay on your back, spreading your legs wide, “Come on and fill me up… Remember, you promised~”

Ace licks his lips as he hovers above you, one hand holding the base of his cock as the other supports his weight. He rubs his head over your sensitive clit a few times, his warm precum dribbling onto it.

When he pushes in, there’s hardly any resistance at all. Your pussy greedily sucks him in, clenching and squeezing around him tight. He groans and lowers his head, his dark curls falling in his face as he is lost in the initial penetration. 

“Start slow,” You laugh, “Like I said, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Don’t worry, I got you, sweetheart…”

He rocks his hips slowly, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back inside to the base each and every time. His movements are smooth, fluid, as he takes his time and focuses on being gentle.

You sigh happily as he makes you feel good. You can’t help but look between your legs and watch as his cock slides in and out of you. You like seeing his swollen cock leave, but you also love watching it plunge back inside. 

After a short while, you begin to grow antsy; this felt nice, but you wanted him to go faster, to fuck you harder.

“Ace…” You whine sweetly, and he practically reads your mind.

“You want me to speed things up?”

You nod, and he kisses you again before leaning back and lifting your hips, angling his thrusts so they hit your g-spot. His hips work faster now, his gaze glued to where your bodies repeatedly meet. You moan out his name, and your hands ball into fists as you’re overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Ace notices and leans forward, his face inches from yours as he teases you, “Am I fucking you right, baby? Do you feel good?”

You nod dumbly and reach for his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. 

“Aw, you gotta say it,” He coos, his confidence at an all-time high, “Say exactly how you feel, sweetheart.”

“It feels so good-” You gasp, “Please, don’t stop-!”

He licks his lips, and his voice rasps, “How can I say no when you beg so pretty, huh?”

Ace leans forward and kisses you deeply, your tongues sliding against each other as you moan together. Your hands find his dark hair and use it to pull him closer, wanting him to be as close as he possibly can be to you.

Your lips part, and Ace takes your legs, pushing them as far as they can go to make a complete mess of you. The new angle makes him hit deeper, your toes curling in delight. Your breathing becomes labored as he fucks into you hard; the rough, harsh thrusts will definitely bruise your insides, but it feels so good that you don’t even care. 

“Oh my god,” his voice drips with lust, “You’re squeezing me so tight. I can feel your pussy sucking me in; it feels so fucking good-”

You whimper as his thrusts jostle you, your nails digging into his back as you desperately try to ground yourself. He pounds into you like it’s the last time he’ll ever experience such pleasure, his eyes hooded as he watches you writhe and moan. 

His own sounds grow louder, his moans and whimpers filling the room as he fucks you. Each powerful thrust leaves you breathless, and with every desperate call of your name and curse that he utters, you feel your core lighting up even brighter.

Soon the pressure becomes unbearable.

“A-Ace, I’m gonna cum-” You gasp.

“I can feel it, baby,” he rasps out, “You’re so fucking close- you can do it-”

He grits his teeth and works himself in and out of you with renewed vigor as if your words were an enchantment. He huffs and moans shamelessly, his cock twitching and throbbing within you.

“Come on,” he urges, “Cum for me- cum all over my cock-!”

His pleas reach your ears, and it causes a glorious orgasm to emerge from within you. Stars dance across your vision as you let out a shaky moan, your juices coating his thick shaft.

He watches your face as he now focuses on chasing his high, his thrusts growing sloppy and erratic. He grunts, “Fuck, you’re so good- you’re gonna make me cum…!”

As soon as he says it, his hips still, and you feel him fill you up with his cum. He groans loudly as shot after shot fills your cunt, the sticky cream stuffing you full. Your legs quiver as he lowers them gently, keeping them spread as he slowly fucks his essence into you.

He lets out a shaky breath before pulling out, the cum leaking out of your hole despite his efforts to keep it inside. 

His eyes dart to your face before he grabs you, pulling you on top of him as he flops onto his back. Ace kisses you softly, his hands finding your hips and circling the flesh with his thumbs. 

He hums softly as he pulls away from your lips, “I love you…”

Your eyes widen in surprise and his in realization.

He quickly stumbles, “Uh- shit- sorry- that was probably too soon to say that-“

You smile, pressing a finger to his lips, “Don’t you remember? I already said that earlier.”

“You said you were in love with me, not that you loved me. I feel like that’s different-”

“Shut up, you’re overthinking it,” you laugh, “We both love each other, okay?”

Ace lets out a relieved sigh and hugs you tight, kissing your cheek. A soft giggle leaves your lips as you see how he stares at you with admiration and love. 

“But you know, if we both love each other,” he chuckles, “You’re gonna have to delete your profiles off those dating apps now.”

“Way ahead of you.”

[urrockstar-xe]

winter formal - p.parker x fem!reader

aka a starstruck christmas

posted jan 2nd, 2024 8:55pm

this is specifically for @heywardsarchive who said i should make a part 2 so thank u pals :D

this is also fairly late, happy new year, thanks for being here.

summary; although reader misses hanging around her special spider friend, her crush on a certain peter parker boy has her distracted use of Y/n

starstruck does not need to be read first to enjoy this!

starstruck

masterlist

wordcount: 2.1

It had been a few weeks since you had seen that familiar spider up close, nothing more than him swinging from afar, not that you should’ve been complaining. All of your time was being taken up by studying and then getting tutored by that Midtown High kid, Peter Parker. He was a lot cooler than you had expected but the fact all you did when hanging out was math really tainted the image of him in your head.

no matter how pretty he was.

Although with the holidays, more crime typically followed Santa around the globe so you weren’t exactly surprised how Spidey was extra busy this time of year.

Yet you still sighed in disappointment when you got home and once again met a note on your windowsill. 

”Hey, pretty lady, stopped by but you weren’t in :( can’t wait til you’re done with your tutoring sessions” 

The note was short but still, it brought a stupid little smile to your face, pulling out the notebook from your backpack, you wrote a note of your own.

”miss you spidey”

you set it on the outside of your window, setting a small rock from your desk on top so that it wouldn’t run away in the wind before quickly shutting your bedroom window and shivering from the cold.

“Maybe I should get a onesie”

~

“Y/n? You still with me?” Peter asked, grabbing your attention away from the window of the coffee shop you sat in. “Yeah, sorry, Peter” You give a quiet laugh, looking back at the window for a second, just checking to see if he’s out there before turning back to Peter, who was looking at you with a soft smirk. 

“What, why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, earning a laugh from the boy as he set his pen down.

“When did I lose you?” He asked, ignoring your question. “I don’t know,” You shrugged, honestly.

Peter shook his head, his smile unmoving as he closed the book in front of him. He leaned back into the leather of the booth, turning his gaze to your face. “Can’t get you focused at all lately” He joked, but not really. “I’m sorry” You gave him a half smile, hoping it would help your apology come off as genuine, just earning another laugh from the boy as he took his glasses off. 

God, he’s so hot. dude don’t think like that he’s right there

oh god what if he’s a mind read-

“Y/n? Again? C’mon, sweetheart” He chuckled, snapping you out of your thoughts. You laughed with him this time. “I’ve just got like no sleep lately,” You explained, ignoring the way your heart sped up at the pet name and earning a sympathetic smile and nod from Peter. “Is there a reason why?” He asked, leaning forward just slightly as if you were sharing secrets. 

“It feels like waiting for a phone call every night” You shrugged, not missing how Peter’s face fell at your words.

“Oh, boy trouble?” He asked, quieter this time. “something like that” he just hummed in response, not wanting to press any further. 

“Well, if you need a distraction, there’s this school thing-“ “Oh you mean at Nerdtown High?” You cut him off with a tease, laughing at how Peter scoffed and couldn’t help his smile. “Yeah, it’s like a winter formal dance thing, I’m in charge of takin’ pictures and stuff, could use some company” He shrugged, not wanting to just outwardly ask you. 

“And I have a special invite from the photographer himself?” You feigned a flattered face, dramatically putting your hand over your heart.

“Yes,” he laughed, “if you want to come, that is.” He shrugs, smiling at you. You mimicked his actions from earlier, leaning forward into the end of the table, still far enough to not feel his breath but close enough to make Peter slightly tilt his head as if unsure of what you were doing. 

Okay, so maybe how pretty he was did make a difference

“So, what are we wearing?” You asked, smiling.

~

The last-minute invite limited your options but luckily you managed to dig up something from your closet and accessorize enough to feel good about how you looked. While you were putting your earrings in, a knock hit your window, interrupting your giddy feelings about going to a school dance with Peter. 

Your head whipped around when there was a second knock, knowing now who it was as you got up and quickly opened the window, laughing at how Spidey dramatically fell into your room, completely on purpose. 

“hi” You smiled, putting on your jacket to shield yourself from the cold. “hey, pretty lady” Spider-man’s voice was distorted, muffled almost but also sounded like he was purposely making his voice quieter and deeper. “Why do you sound like that?” You laughed as you asked the question.

“Got a cold” he shrugged, before looking you up and down. “You look nice” Spiderman nodded, as if in approval but also as if he had to shut up before saying more.

“Thanks, don’t stare too much though, I’ve got a date!” You teased, smiling excitedly as you sat back down and focused on the red color lining your lips before blending it with your fingertip.

“A date huh?” He asked, not even trying to hide his shock at this point. You sigh, dramatically looking back at Spiderman, earning a chuckle at your theatrics. “Well, I think it’s a date, but if you ask questions, it sucks the fun out of it.” He nodded as if he understood your explanation.

He didn’t.

“You remember that tutor I mentioned?” 

Spidey hummed in response, making himself comfortable on your old bean bag chair, watching you finish getting ready.

“It’s with him” You spoke with a giddy light to your voice as you applied lip oil over the red on your lips. 

The silence from the usually obnoxious talkative spider caught your attention.

And while you didn’t know why, it was because he was internally panicking. 

“Thought he was like a total nerd” He laughed awkwardly, worried he’d blow his cover.

“Oh, he totally is,” You chose to ignore the scoff from Spidey as you continued speaking. “But, he’s also like charming and funny, and he’s so fuckin cute, he calls me sweetheart and like how he rambles apologies whenever he’s late and he always insists on walking me home even though I'm way out of his way for his own walk. Oh my gosh and the other day he hugged me which reminded me so much of that scene at the end of Tangled, like he just hugged all of me, does that make sense? Like he needed to be as close as possible, Ugh”

As you rambled on about your almost embarrassing crush on Peter, all he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest, he had spent weeks as Spiderman, coming to your rescue for mundane tasks, going as far as leaving notes when he wanted to see you but couldn’t. 

Here he was thinking Peter Parker was ruining his plans as your math tutor, meanwhile, He was the one you couldn’t stop rambling about.

Not Spiderman

But Peter.

He was freaking the fuck out.

“Oh my god, what time is it?” You asked, cutting off Peter’s Spiderman’s thoughts as you urgently looked for your phone. “Spidey, you know I love you, babe, but he’s gonna be here like any second.” You offered an apologetic smile as Spiderman waved it off, a way to say It’s all good, 

“Hey, have fun tonight, pretty lady!” He said, clearing his throat as if he was trying not to cough, and before you had a chance to respond, Spiderman was gone. 

~

“Did I mention how pretty you look?” Peter asked as he snapped another picture of you, complimenting you for the 5th, no 6th time tonight.

not that you’d been counting

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think you have” You teased, earning that laugh that felt so painfully familiar in return.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” Peter started, still unsure about your previous conversation with Spiderman, even if you laid out all he’d need to know. 

The christmas lights and hanging snowflakes around the room suddenly became incredibly interesting to you as you nodded, avoiding all hints of eye contact possible, and silently thanking anyone who was listening in prayer as instead of looking at you, he started photographing other students and teachers dancing around the room to the Christmas music playing. 

Peter bit the inside of his cheek as he thought out his next few words, trying to not talk himself out of it. Distracting himself by taking photos of his classmates, he finally spoke.

“Do you prefer Pepsi or Coke?” 

coward

You laughed at the question, so it must’ve counted for something, right?

Or that’s at least what he had hoped as he smiled and listened to your unnecessary rant of an answer.

~

You shoved your hands into the pockets of Peter’s jacket that you were currently wearing at his insistence, of course, not being able to help yourself as you did a quick scan of the sky as Peter walked you home. 

He didn’t need instructions on how to get there anymore.

“Lookin' for something?” He asked, nudging you lightly.

Why did he always notice you looking for Spiderman?

“Someone, actually” You smiled at him, turning your gaze to your shoes, counting the cracks under your feet. 

“Oh,” play it cool, Peter. “Spiderman?” Was that too obvious?

You shrugged, looking at Peter with your head tilted.

“Didn’t know you were a fan” He continued, his turn now to count the cracks. 

“Yeah, something like that” you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head before looking at Peter, watching as he smiled softly at the concrete beneath his feet. 

“I had a really great time tonight, Peter” You sighed, nudging him slightly once your apartment complex came into view, even if you still had 3 more minutes of walking.

You really enjoyed your walks home with Peter. Of course, you counted how long the walks were.

“Me too” he nudged back, stopping for a moment and getting your attention by the feeling of his scarf getting tossed around your shoulders, you stopped walking now, allowing him to properly adjust the soft fabric around your neck making it two items of his you were now wearing.

“Can’t have you catching a cold for the holidays” Peter whispered, soft eyes moving to look into yours upon realizing how close you were. “Course not” you agreed in the same tone.

The moment lasted for however much time wasn’t enough, ending with the sound of police sirens, you both turned at the sound, watching as 2, 3, 4 cop cars rushed past you both. 

“Think I know where Spidey’s been” You mumble to yourself, though not missing the quiet laugh from Peter as he threw his arm around your shoulder, urging you to keep walking, seeming to be sort of rushing now. 

You didn’t question it, it was getting late and you knew he didn’t like leaving May alone too late into the night, it makes her worry would be all he told you anyway, so why pry?

You also had quickly decided to try and forget about the ruined moment, content in feeling as he wrapped his arms around your waist, forcing your arms around his neck in the hug you had loved so much and a quiet “I’ll see you in two weeks” mumbled into the shoulder of his your jacket.

Shit, winter break, you almost forgot about that

“Merry Christmas, Peter” You mumbled back, holding your breath as he pulled away and not letting it go til after you opened the door to the lobby. 

“Hey,” his voice made you turn around, tilting your head like a silent question mark.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart” 

~

The words replay in your head even still as you lie in your bed, waiting for your dreams to overtake you. How he looked at you and how he spoke the words so softly, despite having heard him call you Sweetheart a dozen times by now, you couldn’t get over it.

That seemed to mix with the anxiety you were feeling about whatever was going on with those policemen tonight, why was he not following? Was he already there? Is it about what’s had him so occupied the last few weeks?

The unanswered questions of worry and giddy feelings of adoration put you in a seemingly never-ending loop of anxiety that you were completely unable to come out no matter how hard-

Thump thump thump 

You sat up, almost giving yourself whiplash with how you turned to look at your window. 

Thump thump

They were weaker that time, uh oh.

[gilverrwrites]

Dickies Mom has got it goin’ on

Had to get this convoluted, angsty but fun idea out of my head. One day I might expand it into a better-written, fleshed-out fic, but for now please enjoy my yappy ramblings.

Wally West/BatMom!Reader

CWs: Wally being a not so great friend.

So like, imagine you're roughly late 20s/early 30s and happily married to the love of your life Bruce Wayne, there's an age gap sure, but ultimately that's not important. What matters is that you've made a life with him and his children. You're especially close with Dick, his eldest (late teens/early 20s) as you've known him since he was a teenybopper.

All is well, until one day in true comic book fashion; you die. You sacrifice yourself for a greater cause. It's all very tragic.

A decade later, it turns out fate isn't done with you. You've no idea how or why, but you wake in a coffin one day and have to claw yourself out of it. Cold, alone, and afraid, you make your way back to Wayne Manor. There you're greeted by your husband Bruce, but not really. This Bruce is greying. There are fine lines on his face you've never seen before and a ring on his finger that does not match yours.

You're not mad, it's been 10 years, and he was supposed to move on! But it doesn't feel like 10 years to you, it feels like only yesterday everything was perfect. It's devastating.

Queue Dick finding out. He just so happened to be hanging with his best pal Wally at the time, they both drop everything to rush over in a flash.

Your first night back on earth is messy. It's emotional, and stressful, a hell of a roller coaster. Ultimately, you spend most of it with Dick and Jay who surprise is also back from the dead. Dick is really your emotional soundboard, while Jay offers more practical advice about navigating a world that has gone on without you. He recommends you just take some time off, heal your wounds, catch-up with friends and family. You should learn from his mistakes.

Wally helps too. Primarily in a comedian relief way but also just as a sunny friendly face. His freckles and kind green eyes go a long way in making you feel at ease amongst a sea of familiar strangers.

He's adamant you've met before but you insist you'd never forget eyes that green and it stops his heart. You mean nothing by it, but it means a lot to him.

After you’ve parted ways, Dick makes a point of telling Wally not to flirt with you if he ever meets you again.

“Flirting? I wasn't flirting.”

“I was there.”

“But, come on man she's hot!”

“She’s my mom.”

“But she's our age now.”

“Wally, she's my mom!”

Eventually, after a lot of teasing, Wally surrenders but he deliberately makes no promises. He can't, not when he's been replaying the same 5-second interaction you'd had at Dicks 18th Birthday party many moons ago in his head over and over. He’ll try for his best friend, but it seems to him like this was meant to be.

Bruce may not be in love with you anymore, but he still loves you. So he helps how he can, offers you food and shelter, medical attention, a job, whatever you need to get yourself back on your feet.

You decide to take Jasons advice. Bruce still has a lot of your things; your clothes and your car. You ‘borrow’ gas money from your widowed husband and hit the road to seek out lost friends and family. Sad, but eager to get away from the city that no longer feels like home. You leave your rings with Alfred, a sign to Bruce that you expect nothing from him, that you'll leave him and his new wife be even though it breaks your heart.

The first stop is Dick, obviously, since you have to travel through Blüd. After joining him for a routine patrol, you spend the night on his couch, eating Thai food and talking about his life since you… passed. Nightwing as just finding his footing back then, but now he's a force to rival Batman.

You're two states over when you get a call from a number you don't recognise. Most of the people you know have changed their numbers since you last spoke, so don't hesitate to answer. You're surprised however by whose on the other end.

“Wally West? How did you get this number?”

“From Dick.”

He's not lying, he's just omitting the fact that Dick doesn't know Wally got your number from his phone bill. If he didn't want that info getting out he should probably put his bills somewhere other than a lockbox in a safe and quit being only person in the entire world to still actively use a landline.

His not-a-lie works however, the implication of Dick's approval helps you to let down those mother-appropriate conversation walls.

“Heard you're travelling cross country, any chance you plan on stopping in Keystone?”

“Why? Whats in Keystone?”

“Um, the Patriots?”

“Baseball?”

“And hotdogs! Al who serves em does not skimp on all the toppings, you've gotta try em.”

“You want me to detour in Keystone for baseball and hotdogs?”

“Well, there is something else.”

“And whats that?”

“Guess.”

“Unmmm… You?”

“Ding ding ding. She's smart and beautiful, a woman after my own heart.”

He's cute. So cute. He's no Bruce, but Bruce never made you laugh like this.

“Wally, this is a bad ideas. I was married until like a week ago.”

“And? I'm not askin’ you to walk down the aisle again, just one game and like 20 hotdogs. For me. You don't have to eat that many unless you want too.”