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[esleep]

i actually do kinda like delivering groceries on the side because it gives me such a unique cross-section of the community. i never know whose groceries im shopping for until i finish the delivery and see them/their home and it's like it adds more detail to the picture of who they are. the baby supplies going to the apartment that i know for a fact is one bedroom (they'll be moving soon - i bet they're apartment hunting, i hope they find a place). the new cat litter box, bowl, and kitten food going to the house covered in "i <3 my dog" paraphernalia (a kitten definitely showed up on the porch recently and made itself at home). the fairly healthy boring grocery order that includes an incongruous tub of candy-filled ice cream going to the home of an elderly woman with toddler toys in the yard (it's clearly for her grandkids, whom she sees often).

shopping for someone else's groceries is a fairly intimate thing. i've bought condoms and pregnancy tests, allergy medicine and nyquil, baby benadryl and teething gel, a huge pile of veggies paired with an equally huge pile of junk food, tampons and shampoo and closet organizers and ant traps and deodorizing shoe inserts and a million other little things that tell a million different stories in their endless combinations. one time someone had me buy one single green bean. i messaged them to confirm that's actually what they wanted, and they said yes - neither of them liked green beans very much, but they had a baby they were introducing to solid foods, and they wanted to let him try one to see if he liked them. another time i had someone request 50 fresh roma tomatoes - not for a restaurant, but for a person in an apartment. the kitchen behind them smelled like basil and garlic when they opened the door. another time i brought groceries to three elderly blind women who share a house. that was one of the few times i have ever broken my rule and gone inside a place i've delivered to, because they asked if i could place the grocery bags in a specific location in the kitchen for them to work on unloading and there was no way i was going to refuse helping.

i gripe about the poor tippers, but people can also be incredibly kind. one time i took shelter from a sudden vicious hailstorm inside an older lady's home in a trailer park, while i was in the middle of delivering her groceries. we both huddled just inside the door, watching in shock as golf-ball-sized hail swept through for about five minutes and then disappeared. she handed me an extra $10 bill on my way out the door.

when covid was at its deadliest, people would leave extra (often lysol-scented) cash tips and thank-you notes for me taped to the door or partially under the mat. i especially loved the clearly kid-drawn thank you notes with marker renderings of blobby people in masks, or trees, or rainbows. in summer of 2020 i delivered to a nice older couple who lived outside of town in the hills, and they insisted i take a huge double handful of extra disposable gloves and masks to wear while shopping - those were hard to find in stores at the time, but they wanted me to have some of their supply and wouldn't take no for an answer.

anyway. all this to say people are mostly good, or at least trying to be, despite my complaints.

[k-hotchoisan]

body language

<yunho x fem!reader>

well, pining after your brother’s fucking attractive best friend isn’t a sin if he doesn’t know right? nobody has to know.

nobody has to know that you're lodged in his fantasies when the nights deepen.

nobody has to know what happens when you're forced to share a room with Yunho.

Genre/Warnings: smut, big dick! X Perverted! Yunho, unprotected sex, low key corruption kink, mutual pining, cream pies, fingering, orgasms, overstimulation, oh no they are forced to share a room!, sexual tension, dirty talk

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷 back to staying perverted

A/N: send me to jail for being so inactive TT I know life happens and I shouldn't apologise for going mia for a bit but I still feel so bad! Nonetheless, please continue giving my works as much love as you all always do, and that ya'll are my source of motivation. Thank you for waiting ❤️

Undoubtedly, it’s either your brother has good taste in making friends, or you just have interesting taste in men, because out of all men you had a crush on, it had to be the one closest to your brother—Jeong Yunho. Something about him made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Maybe it was the way he would lean in towards you when he wanted to whisper something in your ear, keeping your brother an arm’s length while his voice tickled perfectly as it reverberates in your brain. Maybe it was the way he would hold your stare for a couple of seconds before his pretty smiles spreads across his lips, as if he was keeping a secret that he wants to tell you. Maybe it was the way he would bump his arm against yours when he wants to ally with you to piss your brother off. 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that the feelings you had for him were growing exponentially. How you managed to keep said feelings in bay was a mystery. You could attribute it to knowing Yunho for as long as you did. Maybe he treated everyone nice and politely like that. It was hard not to keep your hopes up sometimes and it really made you frustrated. 

“A chalet?” You repeat. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Just a weekend out”, your brother replies. “A couple of friends will be coming. You know them, including Yunho.”

“Are you going?” Yunho suddenly asks. 

You break eye contact with Yunho, going back to your phone. “No. I’m going on a date.”

Yunho’s eyes widen. There is a flash of panic that flickers in his eyes. His words spill out of him before he realises it. 

“With who? How come I didn’t know?” 

You cast a confused glance at him. “Why would you need to know?”

That was when Yunho realises, and he simmers down, going back to hiding behind his phone screen. He bites his tongue, hoping you nor your brother ha caught on. But thankfully, no one else questions him. In fact, your brother doubles down.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me?” Your brother echos. 

“As if you’re interested in my love life”, you playfully retort, rolling your eyes before you disappear into your room, before Yunho starts to hear your heartbeat right in your ears again. 

Yunho stares blankly at his phone, still processing that you’ll be going on a date. Something sits uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He’s running his brain, thinking of a million ways to make you cancel the date, half of it under the pretence of your brother. How could he do it without making it obvious? 

“And why would I cancel my date, Jeong Yunho?” You ask, your arms crossed. For some reason, your brother and Yunho were suddenly way too interested in your date. Especially Yunho. He would not get off your back about it. 

“It’s dangerous? Who knows he might be a serial killer!” He was really dramatic about too, might you add. 

You scoff, and an amused smile tugs the corner of your lips, as your hand reaches out to pat his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Yun. You’re on my speed dial if anything happens okay?” 

For a moment, you feel his gaze piercing right into you, as if time didn’t exist—the both of you caught in between each other’s gazes, Yunho looking like he wants to say something, but he stops himself. You quickly break the eye contact, remembering that he’s your brother’s best friend, and that Yunho is just being as worried as your brother. Nothing more than that. Yunho wants to hold the gaze longer. He almost wants to break the imaginary boundaries then both of you set, but he snaps into to reality when he watches you leave, his voice trapped in his throat. 

Fuck. Looks like he’s the one losing now. 

It doesn’t help that during that night, you slip into his dreams, and instead of you leaving, he has your face in his hands, and your lips are on his. He feels you in your entirety, and you feel so fucking good pressed against him. Yunho wants so badly to mark every part of you, to remind you he could do so much better than whoever you’re supposedly going out with. He could kiss you better, fuck you better. Then it switches—to you in front of him, your ass bouncing off his cock, loud smacks echoing from the walls as he sinks into your pussy with a broken sigh.

That’s when he fucking jolts awake, warm fluids streaming down his thighs, as he swallows an imaginary mass in his throat because what the fuck just happened? He stares blankly at the white ceiling of his room, mind as blank. 

How fucked is he?

Yunho reaches to the doorstep of the chalet, almost close to midnight. Dance practice had bleed past the time, later than he thought. He greets his friends at the barbecue pit, still grilling chicken and seafood, stealing a stick and getting playfully hit before he enters the chalet itself. 

Your brother sat there, comfortable with his girlfriend’s legs crossed over his lap as they had joycons in their hands, playing some kind of co-op game together. His friend turns to him, before his eye dart back to the screen once he acknowledges Yunho, much too engrossed with the level he and his girlfriend was at. 

“Your room’s to the left of the stairs. I hung your lanyard there”, your brother says, before his attention goes right back to the game. For a spilt second, he suddenly remembers that he wanted to tell Yunho something, something important, but when his girlfriend squeals at clearing the level, the thought is completely erased from his memory.

Yunho climbs up the stairs, pushes the door open, and completely stops in his tracks as his gaze locks with yours. You’re seated on the bed, relaxed and on your phone until the door suddenly pushes open, and Yunho stands there, looking as bewildered as you. 

There is a long moment of silence between the both of you. 

“Can I help you, Yunho?” You break it. 

“No…isn’t this my room?” Yunho clarifies. You glance around and shrug. 

Yunho drops his bag, his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

His eyebrows furrow, confusion sprawled across his face. 

“Hold on. Weren’t you suppose to be on a date?” 

You shrug again. “Yeah. It ended early. I thought of finding my brother and he asked me to use this room since it was vacant. I supposed he forgot to tell you? I could leave if-“

“N-no. You can stay, since you’re already here”, Yunho cuts you off. No fucking way is he wasting this chance. Somehow the thought of you within the same, close proximity is making his head dizzy. “You’re okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep downstairs.”

Your face starts to heat up. As much as it was the elephant in the room, for Yunho to bring up so straightforwardly like that was making your mind wander a little too close to the sun. 

You force a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Well, not a lie, the only thing was that the both of you were blacked out drunk when it happened that one time. 

Yunho’s signature smile appears. He looks comforted, at least. “Right. Then I’ll use the bathroom to wash up.” He grabs a spare towel on the rack, then walks back to dig for his clothes in his duffle before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you with your messy thoughts. Your hand is over your heart, and you feel it beating a little too wildly. 

Nothing’s gonna happen. Two people of the opposite sex can share a bed just fine, is what you tell yourself. Yeah, that would have been the case, if the opposite gender wasn’t Jeon Yunho. 

Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years in all honesty. The anxiety wouldn’t simmer down, so you end up burying yourself underneath the cold sheets, hoping that you’d end up falling asleep. 

And by some miracle, you did. That is, until you feel the mattress weigh down, and shuffling on the sheets, then something bumping against your leg. You stir slightly from the disruption.

“Sorry. The bed’s a little…cramped”, you hear Yunho’s voice tickling your ears as his legs press against yours. 

You stay silent, the only things that you hear are the whirling of the air conditioning and the sound of your heart about to fucking burst from your rib cage. 

“It’s fine”, you finally reply, your body completely still, unsure how actually close the male is against you, only his legs pressed up against the back of your knees and his arms are barely touching your back as a gauge. Well, you weren’t in the mood to find out. The myriad amount of assurances you repeat to yourself that he’s just a friend, that he’s just Jeon Yunho, does nothing to comfort you to say the least. 

You hear his voice ring a little to close to your ears again. “How was your date?”

You don’t want to answer, your eyes are focused onto the darkness of the door in front of you. You fear that he might hear your thoughts if you speak, even though that’s literally impossible. 

“It was fine”, you curtly reply, squeezing the spare pillow in your arms. 

“What did you think of him?” 

“I think he’s okay. He’s quite a decent guy. Then again, it’s just the first date”.

The mattress shifts suddenly and you freeze when you feel him inch even closer to you. You have no clue what expression he’s making but from the way he suddenly shifts rather dramatically, you would assume that he seemed shocked? 

Oh, you were definitely about to find out. 

“You’re planning to see him again?” He’s closer now. You feel his chest almost pressing against your spine. You feel his gaze piercing daggers into the back of your head. You feel his agitation. But over what?

“I haven’t decided on that yet”, you reply. But you cut him before he says anything, “but what’s it to you? You usually don’t care about the things I do. Let alone my dates.”

This time, it’s Yunho’s turn to fall silent. The weight of the mattress beneath you shifts once more it stills. For a moment, you assume that he’d shifted away from you, and maybe he’d let the matter die off.

“Who said I didn’t?”

Now he’s completely pressing his body against you—you feel his lips just a hair’s length from the back of your neck, his chest completely flat against your back. 

His crotch right against your ass. 

“Yunho-“, you try turning to face him before the both of your start making any mistakes, but his hand presses your waist down, halting any movements you were about to make. Heat is flushing your cheeks.

“I’ll stop if you don’t want to, and I’ll turn away, and sleep downstairs. I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

Shit, shit, shit. The more words Yunho speak, the more they aren’t registering in your damn head. His voice is melting in your ears, low and dangerous. The consequences that once rang like alarm bells in your head slowly grow muted, and now it’s just your carnal desire to let Yunho do whatever he wanted to you.

“I’m not doing this without your consent, my dear”, he reminds , and his hand is slowly trailing off your body. 

All the repercussions, completely wiped off when your feelings that you once tried to fucking hard to suppress behind to bubble up to the surface, and for Yunho to just summon them so easily when he says it so gently and with such  temptation.

But you should still probably stop this-

From the way you’re staying quiet, Yunho is ready to just cut his advances. After all, he’s not interested in making you feel uncomfortable, as much as he wants to just ruin you all for himself. He keeps his breathing light, but his heart is still beating loudly in his chest, bracing himself for the rejection, his hand gradually lifting from your waist, very much reluctantly-

Until he feels your hand cup his. 

“I wanna feel you, Yunho”, you answer him, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was only the two of you within the confines of the room. 

Yunho feels like he’s not close enough to you, even though the both of you are squeezed together, and his erection is evident—pressing shamelessly against the curve of your ass. It’s driving up the wall. 

Another thing he doesn’t expect is the way your fingers curl around his wrist, and you bring him to your braless tits, and he short-circuits when his fingers press against your hard nipples. You curse softly when he rolls them gently against his fingertips, and you lean back against his chest. Yunho takes the chance to kiss your neck down to your shoulders, making you melt all over again. 

But he doesn’t want to stay there for long. His cock is just throbbing and it’s overtaking his rationale. 

You always offhandedly complimented that Yunho had such long, slender and pretty fingers, and that he made mundane actions—writing, typing—look so attractive.

And now, his fingers are prying your legs to spread open for him.

His fingers dip into the wetness of your soaked folds, and his mind almost completely blanks out for the second time at the way you’re drenched for him. 

“Fuck. All of this for me?” He asks rhetorically, as he easily sinks two fingers in, hearing you choke from how his fingers are filling you up so well. The tip of his fingertips press against a spongy spot, and your head tilts back, face so flushed from the pleasure when he begins curl his fingers while in you and while he fucks your wet cunt. 

He’s not letting you form any coherent thoughts in your head, not while he’s finger fucking the thoughts right out your poor brain.

“You’re so fucking soft. Shit. I really want to fuck you so fucking bad”, he grunts in your ear, his hips grinding against your ass like a natural instinct to. 

“Your cock”, you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open and mind clear. “Fuck. Need you to fuck me so good.”

Yunho inhales the scent of your hair wash as he peppers bites and kisses down the nape of your neck, smiling when he feels goosebumps spread across your skin.

He’s so tempted. But not yet. He desperate—desperate to see you fucking fall apart just with his fingers.

So he pulls his soaked fingers out, and for a moment, you whine at how empty your cunt feels, just ready to fucking beg him to fuck you with his fingers, his cock, whatever. 

He sits up, pushing the thick and heavy blankets aside, tugging your wet bottoms and panties off, giving himself a mental reminder to pocket your panties when he’s done with you. 

You’re spread open and perfectly wide for him to admire and drool over. By now, his eyes are pretty much adjusted the darkness, and the both of you are lazy to switch on the nightlight, so he’s definitely able to see your pussy in full view.

“Y-yu-“, your words completely cut off when he plunges two fingers right into your pussy again, filling you up completely. And this time, his other hand is on your clit, fingers rubbing, sending sparks flying beneath your eyelids. 

The pleasure makes you buck your hips, and it builds so dangerously quick in your abdomen. The sounds of your pussy growing so fucking wet only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, catching a rhythm of fucking and rubbing your clit so perfectly that you realise the feeling is growing way too funny. 

“Y-Yunho-“ you try again. “Oh god. Feels weird.” Nonetheless, you don’t say it without your eyes rolling back and your abdomen flexing. 

“That’s it. Let it go for me, baby. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

Oh fuck. You don’t even register it before it happens—it totally washes over you, and you’re just helplessly submitting to how fucking good this feels as you squirt all over Yunho, your mind swimming in the depths of ecstasy, your moans drowned when Yunho seals your lips shut with his, greedy to just keep them all to himself, and well, also not trying to wake the whole chalet up. 

When Yunho pulls back and sees how flushed spent your face looks, he can’t help but sink deeper into his feelings for you. He goes in for another kiss, this time with your mind slowly clearing from the mind-blowing orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck instantly, pulling him as close as you could, soft moans in between kisses only making him impossibly harder than he already was. 

He shifts to lie down on the bed with you again, this time the both of you facing each other. He tugs the hem of your shirt and lugs it over your head, before lowering himself slightly to face your chest. You don’t know how but his pants are somehow kicked off, somewhere on the bed, and he’s bare and so fucking hard when he presses his cock on your pussy. 

“Lift your leg for me, babe”, he says, palm sliding on the underside of your thigh as he feels you spread your legs open for him once more. 

Yunho rubs his cockhead along your wet fucking folds, before he pushes himself in, a whimper leaving his lips as he bites on your shoulder to stop any loud noises from slipping past his lips. 

He pushes himself in even more, and your arms are around his neck once more, light red imprints from your fingernails dig into his skin.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Feels like fucking heaven. So fucking tight and soft”, he mutters, eyes so glazed, and arms so tight around you when he finally buries himself into the hilt. 

Your mind is complete mush by then—combined with Yunho’s cock that’s stuffed in you and the scent of his hair wash, you swear you were gonna cum for the second time. You knew he probably packed something, but holy fucking shit, you just never thought it would fill you up this fucking good. The rest of your senses slowly start to dull, the feeling of Yunho’s cock almost taking them  all away. 

“Shit. You’re fucking squeezing me-fuck!-here,” Yunho says, but it comes off as a broken moan. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, and you hear him trying to steady his breath through a slew of curses. 

“You wanna move now?” You ask, your fingers combing through his messy locks. Yunho thinks he might have some sort of hair combing fetish with you now. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” is all he replies before he pulls out slightly, then thrusting right back in, projecting fucking stars into your eyelids when he fills you up again and again. 

You press your head against the pillow, eyes shut from the pleasure. When you find the strength to open them, Yunho’s glazed out expression is what comes into view. He’s looking at you like you’re his fucking treasure. 

“Does it feel good? You feel so fucking amazing, y/n.”

“You can’t be asking me that when you’re fucking the thoughts right out of me”, and you squeal when he thrusts into you once more, filling you up to the brim.

“Even better. So my cock will be only the cock you know, right?” He smiles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when your walls clench around him again.

And when you don’t answer, his hand slithers to your neck, and he squeezes, making you gasp. 

“Answer me, pretty.”

“Yes, fuck yes. Don’t need anyone else’s when you’re fucking me so good”, you cry, relishing in the way he’s gradually cutting off your oxygen supply. 

His thrusts grow harder and faster, his hands slowly letting go of your throat.

“That’s my good girl.”

And that makes your cunt flutter and pulsate uncontrollably for the second time, only now it’s on his cock this time. 

“F-fuck. Oh, that’s it. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, his voice ups a pitch when you fall apart again. “I’m gonna cum. Make sure you’re full and dripping when I’m fucking done with you.”

And when he does, he leaves a whole garden of bites on your chest and shoulders on top of filling your pussy up with his thick and warm cum. You never thought his face would get anymore attractive, but when he cums? You could get addicted to pulling that expression out of him, that’s for sure. 

The both of you are panting as your highs wear off, hands still not off each other despite the shared warmth. He’s the first to let go, and you’re about to say something until he turns you around, and it’s then when his cock starts to harden in you. Your heart is beating rapidly again when his cock is filling you up once more, as it slowly displaces his cum that leaks past your sopping hole.

Your hand grabs onto his arm that’s snaking around your waist. 

“W-wait. We need to talk about my broth-“, and he hears you whimper when he pushes himself deeper into you, throbbing in you. The way he’s littering kisses down your neck is sending you into a spiral, and now you’re nothing but weak against him, and his fat cock.

“That can wait to tomorrow, babe. I promised that I’ll make sure you’re full and dripping once I’m fucking done with you right? Well, I’m not done fucking you yet.”

[rosemariiaa]

~Caffeinated Crush~

𐙚- pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚-synopsis: Paige works at a bookstore, and Azzi is the girl who comes in every day but never buys anything. When a spilled coffee incident occurs, she learns Azzi is sketching her in a nearby cafe.

𐙚- this is so cuteeeee, yes i am still currently working on chapter 3 of RMH so you’ll have that soon, but for now enjoy these cuties! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚-themes: fluff, au

𐙚- taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @juspeaks @imaginespazzi @pbaz7 @bueckersbitch @xxloveralways14 @d3arapril @lupinqs @pazzilover101 @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful

enjoy!!!

I should’ve never let Nika get in my head.

My thumbs hover over the screen of my phone as I scroll through yet another endless TikTok, airpods blasting maybe the best R&B playlist handpicked by the queen. Anyway, the store is empty—of course it is. It’s barely 10 a.m., and no one is running to a bookstore this early unless they’re sixty or a morning person.

Not me, though. I’m here because Nika decided to call me lazy last week and the whole team agreed. Said all my NIL deals made me too comfortable, like I didn’t just have the Big East Scholar of the Year award, not to be cocky or anything but doesn’t that mean i’m smartest to ever exist? Exactly. But no, she just still had to run her mouth, so now I’m working this dumb part-time job at “Bound and Brew,” where the only exciting thing is the smell of cinnamon wafting in from the café next door.

Speaking of which, I mentally add a bagel to my lunch break checklist. Asiago, toasted, extra cream cheese—don’t judge me.

I glance at the clock on my phone. Still early. My chin rests in my palm as I lean on the counter, half-heartedly refreshing the store’s Instagram page. No new likes. Big surprise. God, I have practice tomorrow, and for what?

My earbuds buzz with a notification, but before I can check, the door chimes.

My eyes flicker up, and there she is. The girl with the brown, coily hair.

She’s been coming here for weeks now. Never buys anything, just walks around, poking through shelves like she’s on some personal treasure hunt. I’m pretty sure she works at the café next door—I always see her there, either taking orders or perched by the window with a book in one hand and a green matcha latte in the other. Matcha. It’s alright, I guess, but I can’t help the silent judgment. gatorade > tea.

Her eyes meet mine as she steps inside, and I clear my throat, pulling out one earbud. “Hey, what can I do for you?”

She smiles softly, the kind of smile that’s more polite than warm. “You’re fine. I don’t need help yet.”

Her voice is quiet, soft enough that it almost doesn’t match the confidence in the way she carries herself. She’s bundled in a gray puffer coat, her pink sweatpants tucked into winter boots. The UConn shirt under her jacket catches my eye.

She goes to my school? Weird. I’ve never seen her on campus.

I nod, going back to my phone, but I can’t help the way my eyes track her as she moves through the store. Her hands graze the spines of books, pausing occasionally to pick one up, read the back, then put it back in place.

She doesn’t rush. There’s something careful about the way she lingers in each aisle.

I shouldn’t be looking (staring) at her like this.I really shouldn’t, but her hair is just…nice. Thick curls that spring with life, framing her face like something out of a painting. And her skin? Smooth, glowing, the warm tone almost golden under the soft overhead lights.

Wow. I’m really gay.

I snap my attention back to my phone, pretending to scroll. My heart’s doing that annoying thing where it skips.

When I glance up again, she’s at the door. Leaving already. She didn’t pick up a book or anything again.

The door chimes softly as it closes behind her, and I’m left staring at the empty space where she just stood.

She’s really, really pretty.

And just like that, I’m shaking my head, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Get it together, Paige.

This is supposed to be a job, not some secret queer daydream.

By the time my lunch break rolls around, I’m practically counting down the seconds.

The café next door is my safe haven. Warm, cozy, and always smelling like cinnamon and espresso. It’s everything the bookstore isn’t. I step inside, stomping the snow off my sneakers, and head straight for the counter.

There’s no line, which is a small miracle, but then I see her pretty face again.

Brown curls, her same shirt, pink sweats, and those same bright eyes. She’s standing behind the counter, tying an apron around her waist.

Oh.

I knew she worked here! Scholar of the year i told you.

“Hi,” she says when she spots me. Her voice is just as soft as before, but there’s something about the way she looks at me that makes my stomach flip.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to sound casual. “Can I get an asiago bagel, toasted? Extra cream cheese.”

She nods, her hands already moving to jot down the order. “Anything to drink?”

“Just a black coffee,” I say. “Simple.”

She glances up briefly, the corner of her lips quirking like she’s amused. “Simple’s good.”

Her gaze lingers a second too long, and I feel the faintest heat creeping up my neck. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me, like she’s trying to figure me out but doesn’t want me to notice. I definitely noticed.

I glance at her name tag, needing some kind of distraction. “Azzi,” I murmur under my breath. It suits her.

She catches me looking, her cheeks tinting the slightest pink as she fiddles with the pen in her hand. “It’ll be ready in a minute,” she says quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks, Azzi.” Her name rolls off my tongue easier than I expect, and the way her eyes widen just a little makes it worth it.

Azzi ducks her head, pretending to check the order screen, but I can see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She’s shy, reserved even, but there’s something so genuine about the way she carries herself. It’s almost refreshing.

As I wait, I glance around the café, the hum of chatter and clinking mugs filling the space. A few students are hunched over laptops in the corner, and there’s an older couple sharing a slice of cake by the window. The atmosphere is cozy, intimate, like something out of a movie.

“Bagel and coffee,” Azzi calls softly, placing my order on the counter.

I step forward, and for a split second, our hands brush as I reach for the tray. Her fingers are warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside, and I swear I see her inhale sharply before quickly pulling away.

“Thanks,” I say again, trying to meet her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She hesitates, like she wants to say something else, but instead, she bites her lip and busies herself wiping down the counter.

As I turn to leave, I catch her glancing at me again, her gaze lingering on my face before quickly darting away.

I smirk to myself, holding back a chuckle. So she does notice me.

Sliding into a seat by the window, I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes drifting back to Azzi. She’s leaning against the counter now, flipping through what looks like a notebook, nah definitely a sketchbook. Her curls bounce slightly as she moves, and there’s a faint smile on her lips, like she’s lost in her own little world.

For some reason, it’s hard to look away.

I finish my bagel way too fast, but instead of leaving, I sit there for a while, pretending to check emails on my phone while sneaking glances at her. She’s busy now, taking orders and chatting with customers, but every once in a while, her eyes flicker over to me.

It’s subtle—barely noticeable—but it’s enough to make my chest tighten.

When I finally get up to leave, I make a point to walk past the counter.

“See you around, Azzi,” I say, letting her name hang in the air.

Her head snaps up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Yeah, uh—see you,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing as she fumbles with a stack of napkins.

I chuckle to myself as I step back into the cold, the warmth of the café lingering in my mind.

This job might not be so bad after all.

—

The next morning, Paige finishes practice, her muscles aching but her mind buzzing with anticipation. She now knows Azzi works morning shifts, and though she tells herself she’s just stopping by for breakfast, there’s no denying the extra pep in her step as she drags Nika along with her to the café.

As they walk in, the comforting aroma of coffee and freshly baked goods fills the air. Paige’s eyes scan the room, immediately finding Azzi at the counter, focused on a stack of receipts. Her heart skips a beat.

Paige shrugs off her hoodie, tossing it onto the back of a chair at an empty table by the window. She and Nika sit down, glancing over the breakfast menu. Paige tries to act casual, but Nika, ever observant, leans in.

“Calm yourself down and find something to get.” Nika pipes up.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, burying her face in the menu.

Just then, Azzi glances up and notices them. Her expression softens, and she waves, a shy smile spreading across her face.

Paige beams back, her cheeks tinged pink as she waves back.

“Hi,” Azzi greets, approaching their table. Her soft voice makes Paige’s heart flutter.

“Hey,” Paige responds, a little too quickly.

“What can I get you guys?” Azzi asks, pulling out her notepad.

“I’ll have eggs and a croissant,” Nika says, glancing between Paige and Azzi with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll take some pancakes,” Paige says, handing Azzi the menu.

Azzi jots down their orders and looks up. “What would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice,” Nika answers.

“And—” Paige starts, but before she can finish, she and Nika both say in unison, “Coffee, black.”

They burst into laughter, and Paige sneaks a glance at Azzi, whose dimples appear as she smiles.

“Got it,” Azzi says, gathering the menus and walking back toward the counter.

Paige’s eyes linger on her retreating figure, her gaze drifting downward until Nika snaps her fingers in front of her face.

“Yo twin, is that the girl you keep talking about in your sleep?”

Paige’s head snaps toward Nika, her eyes wide. “What? In my sleep?”

Nika leans back, smirking. “Yeah, I heard you last night saying her name over and over again. ‘Azzi, Azzi,’” she mimics, feigning a dreamy voice.

Paige’s face flushes. “Shhh! I don’t—whatever, I just say random stuff when I’m sleeping.”

“Sure, sure,” Nika says, winking. “But you keep staring at her. And she keeps looking over here.”

Paige shrugs, slipping into her usual cocky demeanor. “Well, I mean, it’s me. Can you blame her?”

Nika rolls her eyes. “Cocky ass.”

A few moments later, Azzi returns with their food. She sets Nika’s plate down first.

“Thank you,” Nika says with a grin.

As Azzi places Paige’s plate in front of her, she hands her the coffee. But before Paige can grab it, another worker bumps into Azzi from behind, sending the coffee spilling onto Paige’s shirt. Azzi stumbles forward, gasping as she falls right into Paige’s lap.

“Yo!” Paige snaps, turning to the worker. “Can’t you watch where you’re walking? You just made her fall.”

The worker mumbles an apology and scurries off as Azzi scrambles to her feet, her face burning red.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Azzi stammers, her voice shaking.

Paige brushes it off, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. But I do need a new shirt now.”

Azzi looks stricken. “I—I think I have an extra one in the back. Come with me to the bathroom?”

Paige stands, turning to Nika, who is smirking like the Cheshire Cat.

“Shut up,” Paige warns, flipping her off as she follows Azzi.

In the bathroom, Azzi motions for Paige to wait while she fetches a shirt. As soon as she leaves, Paige peels off her stained hoodie, leaving her in a sports bra and sweats. She grabs a paper towel, wets it at the sink, and wipes the remaining coffee off her stomach.

When Azzi returns, she pauses for a moment, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly hands Paige a black t-shirt.

“Sorry again,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige grins as she pulls the shirt over her head. “You’re good. Thank you.” She smooths the fabric and gives a playful twirl. “See? Good as new.”

Azzi giggles, her dimples deepening.

Paige’s expression softens. “You have a really pretty smile.”

Azzi ducks her head, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she says softly. “We should probably head back before my boss notices.”

“Lead the way, Miss Azzi,” Paige says, motioning dramatically toward the door.

As Paige returns to the table, Nika raises an eyebrow. “Everything good?” she asks, smirking.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, sitting down.

Once they finish eating, Nika and Paige pack up to leave. As they’re about to walk out, Paige glances around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Azzi. When she doesn’t see her, she sighs and heads for the door.

Just as she steps outside, she feels a light touch on her back. Turning, she finds Azzi standing there, holding a folded piece of paper.

“Hey,” Azzi says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to say sorry again about your shirt.”

“I told you, it’s okay,” Paige says, smiling. “Things happen. And I love my new shirt.”

Azzi smiles nervously, then holds out the paper. “Okay, um, don’t think this is weird, but it kinda is? but it’s also- anyway I wanted to give you this.”

Paige takes the paper and unfolds it, her eyes widening at the detailed sketch of herself.

“Woah,” she breathes.

Azzi shifts on her feet. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just did it for fun.”

Paige fakes a pout. “And here I thought you did it because you liked me.”

Azzi blinks, her cheeks flaming. “Well… that too,” she admits quietly.

Paige grins, her confidence swelling. “This is so good I could literally kiss you right now.”

Azzi’s voice drops to a whisper. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Paige steps closer, her hand cupping Azzi’s cheek as she leans in. Their lips meet, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a kiss that leaves them both breathless.

When they pull apart, snowflakes drift around them, settling in their hair. Paige grins. “So, if I asked you on a date right now, would you sketch me again?”

Azzi laughs, her dimples showing. “Maybe.”

“Pretty please?” Paige pleads, pouting dramatically.

Azzi rolls her eyes playfully. “Fine fine. Since you’re begging.”

Azzi glances over Paige’s shoulder, spotting Nika in the distance, pumping her fist in the air and yelling, “Go gays!”

“Isn’t that your friend?” Azzi asks, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I don’t know her.”

[lovelivision]

can you write something about brat tamer toji punishing reader for a day full of brattiness by manhandling and overstimulating them? this isnt in your will write or wont write but can you add daddy kink in there?

₊⁺ જ⁀➴💌 i sure can and did ! >:3 it's short but longer than my other drabbles ! i personally don't love daddy kink and don't have it in myself to write it fully but i did a little bit of what i can bear 💗 thank you sm for your ask and i hope you like it ! have a beautiful day/night 💗

꒰꒰mdni // masterlist꒱꒱

Toji punishing you in a deliciously cruel kind of way, his voice dark and gruff when he speaks to you, tone agitated, “Never behave do you? Can’t fucking help yourself.”

His hand harsh on the back of your neck, holding you down, your back arched meanly while he fucks into you from behind. Toji can’t help but bite his lip at the way you grip him, your cunt creaming around him, your past orgasms making his cock so slick and shiny. Trying to suppress his noises so you can’t tell just how much he’s enjoying himself.

You’re out of your mind, words slurred and coming slow between moans, “Mm sorry! Ah!– I– hnn– I didn’t mean to upset you– hah–”

“See,” he’s leaning down, mouth right next to your ear as he spits, “I think you did; I think you annoyed me all day just so you’d end up right here.”

He clocked you so easily, knowing what you were doing as soon as you started pissing him off all those hours ago. He can’t say he’s overly disappointed in you though, he loves taking you like this as much as you do.

“Noo, I wouldn’t–”

“–We both know you would,” he cuts you off.

His hammering pace suddenly stops, stuffing you full to the hilt of him, shallowly grinding into you but not much more. He’s able to feel the way you pulse around him, groaning at the snug fit of your pussy.

You whinge and wiggle your hips back into him, trying and failing to fuck yourself onto his cock. You need him to keep going, to do anything, but he only bites into your shoulder, a light punishment for your complaints.

“You need it that bad, baby?” his voice holds a kind of mirth that makes your skin prick, “Fine.”

He has two fingers on your clit before you can even register his threatening compliance, circling it insistently. You twitch and jolt under him, halted by his hand pressing into your upper back. So sensitive, everything feels hot, your toes curling and feet kicking into the mattress as you gasp out whines.

His cock throbs desperately inside you at the way your cunt pulses and leaks all over him, loving how you struggle against the pleasure. Already so overstimulated and he knows that, he likes pushing you to your limits.

Prying an orgasm out of you without moving his hips, only letting his fingers slip all over your clit until you’re trying to milk his cock. Muscles pulling taut as you cum all over him, Toji moans at it before chuckling breathlessly.

“Fuuuck– look at that,” he clicks his tongue, “Sometimes I think I’m too nice to you.”

Not really registering anything of what he’s saying, not when his fingers are tapping on your clit just to make you jerk under him at every touch.

Pouting out at him, “You’re so mean to me…”

“What do you mean?” you can practically hear the smile you know he’s wearing, “Daddy’s always so nice to you.”

You groan at him, “Ugh, shuddup.”

He laughs at your reaction but doesn’t miss the way your cunt jumps at his words, “Think you liked that a little more than you’re willing to admit.”

Shaking your head back at him in response, going to say something bratty in reply only to gasp and claw at the sheets when he starts fucking into you again. Fast and hard, almost driving you up the bed with how frenzied his thrusts are.

His hands are moving to your hips, using his new grip to fuck you like some kind of toy built for his pleasure. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, he always knows just how to fuck you into insanity, or stupidity.

“Close again? So soon?” He’s teasing you, though he’s breathless as he does, “That’s a little pathetic.”

So many orgasms forced out of you over the course of the night with him that you think he could look at you and you’d cum. “Toji– Ah! Ah! It’s too much–”

“–Should’ve thought about that before you acted the way you did,” he muses, not even a little bit mad anymore. And how could he be? You’re always so pliant when he’s fucking you, it’s something he delights in greatly.

The slick slapping sounds reverberating in the room are obscene, your moans just as loud, no doubt you’re going to wake up to a noise complaint from an angry neighbour again. Your nails dig into the sheets, bracing yourself against your next orgasm.

Fresh tears slipping from your eyes and down your cheeks at the force of it, whines pulled from your chest as your pussy spasms around Toji’s cock for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Such a good little thing,” he fucks you through it, “Only time you’re so well behaved is when I’m balls deep in you, I fuck you that good?”

You’re too busy trying to stay conscious to really be aware of what he’s saying, settling for dumbly nodding at him and mumbling out, “Mhm.”

The state he’s fucked you into is the last straw for him, cock twitching pitifully before he’s cumming inside your tight, little cunt. Painting your walls white and continuing his thrusts even if he’s overstimulating himself to do it.

He’s sounding fucked out himself when he asks, “Are you sorry for today, or do we need to do this all again from the beginning?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I love writing toxic people.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“Mr. Hansen--” You begin, choking on your error, “Lloyd, my flight--” 

“Christ, I told you, cancel it. I’ll add the difference to your next check,” he grits under his breath. 

You plant your feet, shifting despite your effort as he keeps his grip on your hand. He turns back with a grunt. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks. 

“No, what are you doing?” You throw back. “What the hell is going on?” 

“First, watch that sweet mouth of yours. Second, we’ve been through this, Pixie pie. You just need to play along,” he keeps his voice low and peeks over his shoulder. “Loosen up a bit.” He loosens his hold on you and runs his hand up your sleeve. “Hm, I guess I shoulda told you to dress up a bit.” 

“What?” You look down at your black cotton tea-length dress. You chose it for comfort but it’s not entirely frumpy. The ribbed stockings might not add much to the attire however. 

“Just...” He grabs your shoulders and nudges them back, “push the chest out a bit.” 

“Ugh,” you clasp onto his wrists, “stop. Okay. I’ll stay for dinner but I can’t miss my flight--” 

“You have to,” he argues. 

“You realise this is wildly inappropriate,” you say. 

“Do you really expect anything different?” He tweaks a brow. “You’re staying. I’m not doing this alone. I put it off for a decade already--” 

“Jesus--” 

“No blasphemy either,” he lets go of you and presses his finger to your lips. You growl and shove his hand away. 

“I want a bonus, a big bonus--” 

He hushes you and waves his hands. He leans back and once more looks over his shoulders. “Later. We’ll deal with numbers in private. Right now, you need to come meet your in-laws.” 

You squint at him. It’s an act, you remind yourself, but something about his commitment to it makes you uneasy. You know better than to believe a word that comes out of his mouth but there’s a degree of earnestness in him that’s unsettling. 

“Baby, please, don’t look at me like that,” he steps closer, “I need you to look at me like I’m the second coming, okay? We’re madly in love, you and I.” Your eyes widen and he sighs, “okay, you’re not scared of me.” 

You neutralise your expression and blow out a long breath. You shake away the tension and shrug. It’s as good as you can do. 

“Here,” he grabs your wrist and turns, guiding your arm through his, “just smile pretty for me.” 

He hooks your elbow with his and urges you onward. You steel yourself for the room of strangers as their voices drift through the archway.  

You enter the front room and quickly scan the space; there’s a large-mouthed hearth, lit and draped in evergreen and berries; a long cream sectional, a matching duo of armchairs, and a chaise in the same shade; a low glass coffee table with a golden perch and a console table in a similar style along the wall crowded with bottles and crystal; an area rug in a smooth white with patterns in dulcet beige and rich butterscotch; and the low din is cast by tea lights daintily set around the space in glass holders and candelabra. 

More pressing than the decor are the bodies that fill the room. You recognise Ransom as he speaks with an older woman with short white hair and thick-framed glasses. She wears a red pantsuit with a gold blouse. Very festive. 

You glance over at Lloyd and take him in fully. You hadn’t paid much attention for the whirlwind all around. He wears a pair of evergreen slacks and a sweater with a reindeer's face on the front. He wouldn’t even let you put tinsel on your desk but now he’s dressed like a kid in a holiday parade. 

“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo,” a tall blonde woman approaches with a glass of pale wine in hand. You try not to look with concern at her rounded middle; it sticks out starkly as her long limbs are thin and lithe. “A very grim Christmas indeed.” 

“Lillian,” Lloyd faces the woman about his own height. She has his eyes and his lips. You assume their relation before he declares it. “My sister, Pixie,” he gestures to her carelessly. 

“Older sister,” she preens and rests her hand on her swollen stomach. Your eyes flick away from the crystal in her hand. 

“By about thirty-one seconds,” Lloyd scoffs. 

“Oh, sweetie, it’s non-alcoholic,” she swirls the wine in her glass, “she’s so tiny and quiet.” 

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

She laughs, “oh, so polite. Entirely not his type.” 

You try not to react. You agree. You know the women that Lloyd really likes. You’ve screened their calls until they just give up on getting a second date. 

“Believe it or not, Lil, you’re not everyone’s type,” Lloyd retorts. “I think your ex-husband would agree. The second one too.” Lloyd lifts his chin and looks around, “is the third here or are we on number four?” 

“Lovely,” she spits. “Love you too, brother.” 

He shakes his head and draws you away from her. She raises her brows and her glass and sips. You let him take you away. You already despise most of these people. The room radiates with derision. Your family might have some grudges but there’s a general air of good will. 

“I need a drink,” he mutters. 

You gladly follow him to the table. He pours himself a tumbler from the boxy decanter. He sighs as he picks it up but stops himself from drinking. 

“Well, help yourself,” he says. 

You hesitate but not for long. You need something if you’re going to get through this. You pour yourself some chardonnay and sidle away from the table. You check your watch as you raise your glass. 

“Don’t fucking worry about your flight,” he hisses under his breath. “If I’m not getting out of this, you aren’t either.” 

“But why?” You ask behind the glass. 

“Not right now,” he warns and nods at another figure as they approach. “Uncle Benson.” 

“Junior,” the man returns. You drink your wine and don’t comment on the epithet. “Where’s the old man?” 

“Where he always is,” Lloyd replies. 

“Mm, and this is...” the older man looks at you pointedly, dipping his chin to do so. 

“Pixie. My fiancee,” Lloyd answers dully, almost deflating. 

“Benson,” the man offers his hand, “but a pretty girl like you can call me Benny.” 

“Benny,” Lloyd repeats to himself in confusion. 

You shake Benson’s hand, “um, thanks, nice to meet you.” 

“Mm, very nice to meet you,” he lifts your hand and smushes his lips to your knuckles. He clings to you, petting your hand. “You’re gorgeous, what’re you doing with this lump?” 

“Uncle,” Lloyd drones. 

“Adorable,” Benson inches closer, “my inheritance is bigger than his, among other things.” 

“Alright,” Lloyd snatches your hand away from him, “go have some water, Benson,” he growls, “think you’ve been into the brandy.” 

“I’d like to get into something else,” Benson snickers. 

You almost laugh, despite your disgust. You’ve heard that line before. Lloyd puts himself between you and the older man. “I think that’s why Carolyn filed the papers, huh.” 

“Oh, you little twat,” Benson snarls. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to disappoint her on your own.” 

Lloyd tuts and shakes his head as the man lumbers off. He turns around and drains his glass. It’s strange, seeing him in his natural habitat; he’s not so ‘alpha’ here. 

“Let’s get the rounds over with.” He grumbles. 

Your wine lasts you through the introductions. Two more uncles; Carter and Linus, along with their wives, Andrea and Angela. Then the full-blooded aunts; four of them, Raquel, Shanna, Beatrice, and Lana. All of them tall, blonde, and bold in their own way. Then a batch of cousins you can’t keep sorted; Ransom and his mother Linda, among them, with no explanation as to the rest of their tribe. 

Lloyd pours himself more whiskey. You abstain from a refill and stand near the wall, observing the wilderness of entitled trust-funders. It explains so much yet inspires so many more questions. You never expected Lloyd to be the dark horse. 

“Lonely?” The timbre startles you along with the twisting pinch on your ass.  

You yipe and snag the attention of several sets of eyes around the room, not least of all Benson, drooling over another snifter of dark alcohol. You swat Ransom’s hand away and face him amid the row of laughter. Despite the airs they put on, your audience is more amused than appalled. 

“Where’s your prince, huh?” Ransom asks. “All that whiskey and...” He holds up his index then lets it go limp, “don’t think it’ll be a very peppy after party, sweetheart.” 

You sniff and cross your arms. These people are at least consistent, grossly so. It makes you wonder why Lloyd was so insistent that you watch your mouth, especially when you’ve never stooped to his level before. 

“Is it much of a party if there’s only one attendee?” You counter. 

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “what?” 

“Nothing,” you shake our head. You don’t need to explain the joke. Besides, this is all fake. Don’t let it get to you. 

“So, how long did he wait to put that ugly thing on your finger?” Ransom asks. 

You shrug, “long enough.” 

“Did he do the whole schtick? Get down on one knee? Put the ring in your wine glass?” He prods. 

“I’ll let him tell the story,” you say. 

“Hm, never knew a woman so unexcited about a wedding,” he snorts. 

“Maybe I’m just unexcited by my company,” you back away as his hand jiggles at his side. You eye his fingers, wary of another pinch. 

“Fine, marriage is boring anyways. What’s his favourite position? I always figured he lets the ladies do all the work,” he snickers. 

You stare at him. Not quite as offended as annoyed. You could ask him which hand he uses but you are not letting Lloyd drag you that low. Why are you even letting him put your through this? 

“Hugh,” Lloyd appears and slides his arm over your shoulders. 

“Little L,” Ransom retorts dryly. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd sneers as you resist the urge to shrug him off of you. 

“Where were you then? Leaving your woman all on her lonesome,” Ransom rubs his fingers together subtly and you scowl at him. 

“Broke the seal,” Lloyd deflects. “What do you care? You wanna hold it next time? 

“Hands are too big,” Ransom cackles. 

“Speaking of,” you pipe up. “The bathroom, where would that be?” 

Lloyd clucks and looks down at you, “down the hall, opposite the kitchen.” 

“Thanks,” you carefully slip away from him, “I’ll be back.” 

“Wait,” Lloyd catches your arm and pulls you back. “Not without this.” 

He leans in before you can react. He bends to press his lips to yours and you can’t repress a surprised squeak. He purrs and the vibration makes your skin crawl. What on earth?! 

You part and ignore the stares you can feel all around. Not just from Ransom but the rest of the room. What is he doing? That’s so embarrassing. 

You force a smile, “uh, be back.” 

You spin and scurry away. That room, those people, are suffocating, and Lloyd, not least of all. You hide in the bathroom, locking the door, and you take the moment of stillness to think. Big mistake as it all starts to set in. 

You drove all the way here under false pretenses. It’s believable that Lloyd would forget to bring the gifts. That tracks but this? The whole pretending to be engaged? What is his game? Is he really trying to impress anyone or is he torturing you? Why? 

You can’t figure any of it out. You gave up trying to understand your boss ages ago, you suppose you should do the same with these people and just get through this. For all your trouble, the food better be fucking delicious. 

You let yourself out of the bathroom and flatten against the door as you nearly collide with another person. Lillian nearly stomps right over you as she holds her stomach and rushes down the hallway. She lets out a sigh. 

“Oh, are you done in there? I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills. 

“Um, yeah, all done,” you sidle away from the door. 

“Could I trouble you for some help?” She asks. “This thing,” she pats her stomach, “I can get down but I can’t get up.” 

“Hm?” You furrow your brow in confusion, “help?” 

“We’re both girls,” she giggles. “And we’ll be sisters soon enough, won’t we?” 

“Um.” 

“You know, a pregnancy at my age, I really can’t strain myself,” she explains. 

“Oh, er, I guess--” 

“Thanks, sweetie,” she nudges you back into the bathroom. You have no choice as she heard you through. 

You stare at the wall as she slams the door and hustles over to the toilet. She pulls up her white dress and turns to sit, her silhouette a blur in your peripheral. You flick your eyes to the ceiling and bounce on your heels. 

Her stream flows out and fills the tense silence. She sighs. 

“Thank the lord,” she groans. “I swear, the little twerp is right on my bladder right now.” 

“Mm,” you nod and glance at the door. 

“I knew we should’ve gone with a surrogate,” she sniffs. “A piece of advice, when he puts one in you, make him suffer.” 

“Puts one...” you blink. “Um, I don’t...” 

“I mean, he’ll have to start trying as soon as the wedding night,” she laughs. “He’s getting up there. His swimmers won’t be as fast, will they? And the way he drinks, they’ll be too groggy to know which way is which.” 

“Um, we’ll worry about the wedding first--” 

“Enjoy it. Once you’re tied down, it’s not very much fun,” she says as she tears of tissue. “Alright then, darling, I need you.” 

You do your best not to see all of her. She reaches for you and you get close. You pull her up to her feet and she squeezes past you to the sink. You look at the toilet and shut the lid, flushing it with a push of the button. She washes her hands with a hum. 

“You’ll be so adorable when you’re big. Like an overstuffed teddy bear,” she chimes. “He’ll love that. He always did hate feeling small.” She twists off the faucet and dries her hands. “You must make him feel like the man he wishes he was.” 

You just look at her. You have no true reason to defend Lloyd, but because she’s so smug it irks you. You look her in the face, even if you feel ridiculous having to look up. 

“Well, he can piss on his own, so I think he’s just fine,” you step around her and swing open the door. The silence that follows you is the only satisfying thing about that night. 

[rafeandonlyrafe]

accused (part two)

words: 1k

warnings: established relationship, accusations of stealing, protective!rafe (hes such a good boyfriend <3)

followed (part one) / accused (part two)

“hi.” you smile, cheeks slightly blushed.

“hello, beautiful.” rafe doesn't give you time to be nervous, pulling you into a hug.

you relax into his hold, taking a deep inhale and exhale as your cheek rests against his chest, remembering the solace you found in his arms when you needed it most.

“excited?” rafe asks.

“we are just getting ice cream together.” you giggle.

“yeah, sure.” rafe joins in your laughter, loving the way it sounds in his ears. “but it's an ice cream date.”

“does that mean you're gonna kiss me goodnight?” you look at the rapidly setting sun. 

“of course.” rafe loops your hands together, guiding you towards the line to order.

-- 6 months later --

“missed you.” you wrap your arms around rafes shoulders, pulling him down into a strong kiss.

“missed you too, baby.” rafe doesn't point out that it's only been a couple days, having to spend the weekend apart as you were out of town with your parents.

“what are your plans?” rafe asks, hands gently massaging up and down your back.

“hanging out with you all day-”

“and night.” rafe interrupts you, smirking.

“anyways, then shopping with the girls tomorrow. we might also go out for dinner.” you shrug.

“sounds fun.” rafe nods. “just staying on the island though, right?” rafe knows you usually like to go inland or up the coast to shop, but that's usually a longer planned trip.

“mhm. just gonna hit all those little boutiques.” you shake your head, “but i dont wanna talk about tomorrows plans.”

“what do you wanna talk about then, sweetheart?” rafe asks.

“don't wanna talk.” you admit shyly. “just wanna kiss you.”

rafe bends down, lifting you up with large hands under his thighs, rushing up the stairs. “we can definitely do that, baby.

--

“that looks so cute on you!” you squeal, grabbing your friend giannas hand and pulling her over to the mirror.

“i love it!” she gushes before checking the pricetag. “only $85, im absolutely buying it.”

“oh, girl that's a steal!” you nod. 

“it's not like you don't have rafes credit card.” tina rolls her eyes, but there's a smile on her face to convey she's not serious.

“he says to buy whatever i want, as long as i give him a fashion show when i get home.” you say as gianna heads back into the changing room to get back into her clothes.

you pull out your phone to text rafe an update as tina does the same to her boyfriend.

hey rafeyyy miss you! shopping is going so well 💕 I think we're gonna hit up like two or three more stores and then ill be home!

alright, princess. have fun. see you real soon ❤️

“can i take some of the dresses?” the voice makes you jump, not even realizing that the shop owner was standing in front of gianna, hand outstretched.

“uh, yeah.” she hands over two of the hangers. “im not getting these two.”

the owner makes a disgruntled face, looking over the other two dresses gianna is still holding. “where's the other dress?”

“what dress?” you interject.

“yeah, she only tried on four.” tina adds.

“well, i saw five go in. you'll have to empty your bag.”

gianna is only wearing a small purse, no way a dress would even fit inside of it, but that's not the point, it's the principle that counts.

“hell no!” you say. “check the security cameras if you want, but we aren't allowing you to search us.”

“really?” the shop keepers eyebrows rise, like she expected you to just bow your head since you're a group of younger girls. “i guess you'll just have to pay for the dress i saw go into the dressing room and didn't come out. its $500.”

you pull out your phone, furiously messaging rafe and sending him your location.

“you messed with the wrong person.” tina shakes her head.

“and here, i don't want these either.” gianna hands the owner the other two dresses, even the one she loved.

“yeah, we will never shop here again.” tina says.

“we don't need thieves like you, anyways!” she grabs the dresses. “just pay for the one you're trying to steal and get out!”

you're sure if she pulled this scam on other people that they'd just get sick of the arguing and pay up, but you're absolutely refusing to play into her little game.

you smile as you hear the door open then slam closed, turning to see rafe with an angry look on his face.

“thank god you're here, rafe. this lady is trying to say we're stealing from her but refuses to watch the security cameras.” you inform him.

“is that so?” rafe looks around the shop. 

“rafe…” the shop keeper mumbles, trying to figure out why she knows the name. “you're rafe cameron?”

“yeah.” he crosses his arms. “like cameron development cameron. you know, the ones who own this entire block? including your landlords?” rafe tsks, shaking his head side to side. “i wonder what my dad would say if he knew you were accosting his son's girlfriend.”

“im-im sorry. i think this is all a big misunderstanding.” the owner quickly quoted, rushing away back to the counter.

“gianna, tina, you girls okay?” rafe asks.

“yeah.” tina twirls her hair around her finger, making you give her a quick glare.

“all good, thanks rafe.” gianna nods.

“lets get you girls out of here.” rafe wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the shop. 

he presses a kiss to the top of your head once you're outside, leading you a couple steps away from your friends. “want to keep shopping? or are you done?”

“maybe…” you pout your lower lip out and look up at rafe. “maybe you could come with us to the next couple shops?”

rafe can't control the smile that stretches over his cheeks. “id be more than happy to, baby.”

you let out a little squeal, pressing your lips against his cheek. “i hate to say it, but thank god that guy followed me that day. cause i got the best boyfriend ever out of it.”

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[thatgirlie-diaries]

My weekly reset routine

Hello girlies! After some days offline I come back with this blog, I will be telling you quickly my every Sunday "Weekly reset routine" which is popular among girlies like us, isn't it? For me, this is the first day of my weeks and probably the most important one, since I get relaxed, taken care of and I reflect on what to focus next. I hope it inspires you in case that you don't have a routine like this, and if you do I hope that it's working well for you!

My routine

Tidy up and clean all my space: Includes the kicthen (that's my assigned section between my family), my bedroom and my bathroom. While cleaning downstairs I listen to a podcast and in my room I listen lo-fi playlist.

Begin the laundry: Every week I do my laundry, every two weeks I also add my bedsheets.

Do my full shower routine: I use shampoo, hair mask and conditioner. After, I use my cleanser and face exfoliant. To finish I use my soap, body exfoliant and shave my legs and armpits. I listen to new albums every time while showering.

Post-shower routine: I do the rest of my skincare routine, dry my hair, apply cream on my body, get comfy clothes and check my nail polish.

Tidy up my clothes

Plan and reflect: 1.How was last week? 2. I plan next week goals and tasks 3.Add calendar events 4. Revise my routines and schedule 5. Check my budget

Digital detox: Eliminate any unnecessary data on my laptop and cellphone, mostly.

My post-routine

Light a candle and listen to frequency music: I listen mostly to heal my feminine energy and positive vibes

Practice journaling: I look out for prompts or I express my feelings, I have a new journal book and I prefer now to do it by hand.

Say positive affirmations in the mirror: I get them from pinterest! I have cried twice by now, it has helped me with my inner dialoge, concept and steem.

Practice meditation and yoga: I normally practice between 20-30 minutes, for me is more than enough and actually helps me relax and maintain my mental health. I recommend you Jessica Richburg in Youtube.

Watch a movie: I really love to watch movies! So now every Sunday I make some popcorn and get cozy in my sofa to watch one. Right now I'm into chick films, they are really funny and inspire me alot.

See you girlies, time to enjoy my sunday! 𑄽𑄺ྀ

[satoruswifeyyyy]

grocery shopping with bratty satoru

masterlist

grocery shopping with satoru was supposed to be a quick errand. a normal task. something simple. but you forgot one very crucial detail: satoru is incapable of being normal.

“you’re pushing the cart too fast,” he whined dramatically, jogging to keep up as you walked down the produce aisle. “what’s the rush? it’s not like the tomatoes are gonna sprout legs and run away.”

“they might, if they hear you talking,” you deadpanned, grabbing a handful of tomatoes and placing them in a bag.

“how dare you insult my sweet tone!” he gasped, clutching his chest like you’d just slapped him. “my voice is a gift to the world.”

“your voice is why i wear noise-canceling headphones at home,” you retorted, moving on to the cucumbers.

he grabbed a cucumber and held it up like a microphone. “tell us, oh great shopper, how do you choose the perfect cucumber?”

“by shoving it into the cart before my overgrown toddler of a boyfriend can use it to embarrass me,” you replied, tossing the cucumber into the cart.

satoru grinned, leaning on the cart as he sauntered after you. “so mean, yet so cute. i'm starting to think you keep me around for entertainment.”

“i keep you around because the store doesn’t let me use the express lane without two people,” you teased, heading toward the snacks aisle.

“ih, the betrayal!” he gasped, trailing dramatically behind you. “i thought it was my charming personality, my good looks, my—”

“don’t forget your giant ego,” you interrupted, attempting to toss a bag of chips into the cart but failing to do so.

picking the bag from the ground, he threw it into the cart with unnecessary flair. “you’re lucky i’m forgiving. what’s next? chocolate? ice cream? no spicy food though!”

“how about something to keep your mouth occupied so I can shop in peace?” you suggested, grabbing a jar of salsa.

“you wound me,” he sighed, clutching the cart like he might faint. “if only,” you muttered under your breath.

but before you could add anything else to the cart, satoru wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you’re so mean to me,” he pouted, his voice full of affection.

“If i were nice to you, you’d think i was sick,” you replied, trying to wiggle free.

“no way. i'd just assume you finally realized how amazing I am.”

“amazing at being annoying,” you shot back, though the corners of your lips twitched upward despite yourself.

“ah-ha! I saw that!” he exclaimed, spinning you around to face him. “you’re smiling. admit it, you love me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, grabbing a box of cookies and shoving them into his hands. “i love you almost as much as i love grocery shopping alone.”

satoru laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “too bad, you’re stuck with me. now, let’s go find the ice cream before i start crying in public.”

as you turned toward the frozen foods, satoru suddenly lit up like a kid on christmas morning. “ooh, the cheese section!”

“do we really need five different types of cheese?” you asked, staring at the cart that was beginning to resemble a buffet.

“yes,” he replied confidently, tossing a block of gouda into the cart. “What if I wake up one day and feel like swiss, but all we have is cheddar? tragic.”

you grabbed the pack of gouda cheese and put it back. “we don’t need all this. you’re not a one-man charcuterie board.”

“but my refined palate!” he gasped, looking scandalized. “your refined palate eats instant ramen at 3 a.m. and thinks potato chips are a food group,” you deadpanned.

he smirked. “and yet, here you are, still madly in love with me.”

rolling your eyes, you pulled the cart away. “we’re sticking to the list. no more random luxuries.”

“random luxuries? excuse me, but this cheese is a necessity,” he argued, holding up a tiny packet with an outrageous price tag.

you snatched it from his hand and put it back. “no one needs $1300 pule cheese for their pizza,toru.

"fine, fine,” he relented, though you could tell he wasn’t actually upset. “but you owe me something sweet for being such a responsible adult.”

grabbing a pack of his favorite candy, you tossed it into the cart. “happy now, you spoiled brat?”

he grinned, ruffling your hair. “ecstatic. you’re lucky you’re cute, or i'd be unbearable.”

“you’re already unbearable,” you replied, laughing despite yourself.

with satoru, even the simplest tasks turned into a chaotic adventure. embarrassing, loud, and ridiculous—but also sweet in its own way. life with him was anything but ordinary, and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: suguru coming up next :)

[theslvttysimp]

ADULT CONTENT 18+ ONLY

Brothers Eat Out MC

NSFW

AFAB

Breasts are mentioned

Lucifer

Likes to gaze into your eyes while he's between your legs.

Long, slow, tongue strokes to make you squirm and beg for more

Likes feeling your thighs press against the sides of his head and face

Once in a while he'll very lightly teethe at your clit for extra teasing and stimulation. He also enjoys nibbling on the inside of your thighs.

He likes to curl his fingers in a C shape and slowly pump his fingers against your G spot.

His pointy nose adds extra pleasure ( if ya know what I mean 😉)

Mammon

Loves it when you tug at his white hair while he's sucks on your bud

Will hook his arms around your thighs and pull your legs closer. He wants to feel every inch of you against him

Is a HUGE fan of face sitting. He would die happy if he suffocated underneath you.

When you sit on his face he's again, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pressing you down harder. He doesn't want you to hover, he wants you to SIT.

He likes to reach over and toy with your nipples as he eats you out

Will make you ride his tongue, and when you do, his eyes are stuck on your breasts bouncing above him

Levi

Hell beg you to let him eat you out half the time

He let's out whiney little whimpers when between your folds. He gets off by pleasing you alone

Another one who wants to suffocate between your legs. Please MC, crush his head with your thighs

Likes to stick his tongue out and shake his head back and forth. He enjoys having his face covered in your essence

To catch his breath, he'll rub his thumb on your clit as he reaches himself over and sucks on your titties

Satan

He loves having your legs draped on his shoulders. It's a good way to hoiste you up a bit so he can have his hands on your ass cheeks.

He likes to give gentle kisses on your pussy lips and clit before demolishing it with his mouth

He'll tongue fuck you while rolling your clit between his thumb and pointer finger

His slender fingers are great at hitting your special spot. He enjoys sliding three of them in there at a time and making you cream all over his hand

Likes circling his tongue in circular motion, spreading your slick all over your clit. He'll even occasionally give it a quick flick just to see you jump

Asmo

The louder you are, the better. He'll do whatever he has to I order to make you cum at least 3 times.

He loves the feeling on your folds on either side of his tongue. He'll lick from your hole all the way to the tip of your clit

He'll fuck you with a dildo as he eats you out. When he tales the dildo out, he'll suck on it in front of you and remind you how good you taste

He is definitely moaning in to your pussy. You're so sexy, he can't help it.

He loves gazing into your beautiful eyes. His favorite view is seeing your face contort with pleasure above him.

Will try and slip a finger in your butt

Beel

An absolute savage for your pussy. He's a messy eater.

Will pin your thighs all the way up to your sides by the back of your knees so he has full access. He's so strong, you won't be going anywhere if you tried.

His mouth completely swallows your pussy whole

He's a slurper. He's enjoying your taste and won't stop anytime soon. Lots of satisfied groans coming from him as well

Will lick his fingers clean when you're done

Belphie

Likes to spread your pussy lips apart so he can admire all that you have

Likes to tease you by tracing your entrance with his finger, sliding it in quickly, and then pulling it out

Taunts you with words while eating you out. " you're such a slut for me, are you sure you can handle this?"

Pins you by your hips to prevent you from squirming

He'll flick your clit with his fingers. He likes hearing the little yelps you let out for him

Will suck on your clit and pull on it with his lips, then release it with a "pop" of his mouth.

[anantaru]

what kinks do you think dan heng has?? <3 ily yoru

cw. kink analysis, fem! reader

a/n. i love you too, love

marking

bending out of shape of your own very soul when dan heng targets your swelling cunt and fondle with your bodies in the midst of a sweat-stricken bed, with a large hand planted on your hips now, the exhaled scents of his body cling down on you as you squirm sweetly with equal parts of both pleasure and need mess up his cock.

despite it all and how you're so warm, so inviting when you take his cock until he's fully slotted in you, dan heng will still place his steadfast focus on your alluring chest only, sensually cascading his eyes over your fingers playing with yourself, where your puffy, pretty tits were bouncing at his deep ruts, and following by being utterly, most perfectly stimulated by his warm mouth.

he likes, no, fucking craves suckling on the thin skin, until your heels are desperately digging into his back so he could fuck you stronger and make you cum already, and then he'll add a layer of hickeys on your flesh too, enjoying watching how you're wincing when he grazes his teeth over the pounding spots.

your thudding skin beneath his touch, soft and hot, wet of his saliva when he continued to sensually roll his hips against yours. it's when his thumb finds the slickness of his spit to messily spread it around your erected nipples, when you heave out breathlessly, his cock twitches within your silken walls, placing new heights of awareness on your sore body that you didn’t even know existed in the first place.

his hips slap languidly against yours, cock easily slipping into you with a filthy, wet noise that made you wince and cry out his name, his dick creamy and wet with your arousal, with the sounds he made both embarrassing and hot at the same time, yet the tasteful expression you wore was one of utter fondness.

praise kink

dan heng can’t quite place a finger on what made this in particular so special to him— and it's not necessarily only you showering him with praise, because he can't help himself and be utterly vocal in bed too;

a little secret— come closer, but he's mostly louder than you whilst he's forgetting everything around himself, only focusing into every deep, slow stroke of his fat tip into your mushy insides fucking you, using you and he doesn't want to stop feeling it, he could honestly go for it for hours on end and roll his eyes back when you're viciously clamping down on each rill and vein on his dick, bouncing your hips up and down as you ride him.

if he had to compare it to something, hm, it's difficult, yes, but perhaps excitement and some sort of assurance were the words he was searching for in the end.

he heaves out through a clenched jaw, "you feel so—" while sharing sloppy kisses with you, "feel so fucking' good and—" as your wet cunt swallows him whole, rutting into his creamed up cock so fucking mesmerizingly that his eyes drop into the back of his head, his large palms branding the cheeks of your ass and fisting the skin, weakly jerking his hips up to meet your wet warmth.

"so good.. so good.. so good.." as your boyfriend babbles in half broken sentences, each of his moans breaking through his words, slowly but surely losing his mind as you slant your body down, chest on chest, your hips never giving up on tempo.

"i love you," you whisper back, lips puckered up into a smirk, sensitive and with your eyes brilliantly shining, the scent of filthy sex tangling in the air while both perspiration and sweat covers either of your moving bodies, "and you're doing so well for me."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[homestylehughes]

kiss me

pairing(s): luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke and his pretty girl spend a summer day in central park

warnings: none. pure fluff and cuteness.

wc: 647

an: hiiii loves!! i kept having this thought about luke last night and i decided to write it LOL. i'm a sucker for cute and soft luke. it's a short little baby fic but i love it. i hope you all enjoy it!! like and reblog if you do!! as always much love <3.

happy reading <3

The warm summer breeze moves past Luke and I as we walk through Central Park, enjoying a soft summer day. 

“And one vanilla cone for a pretty lady” Luke dramatically says from beside me, handing me the sweet treat on the cone. 

“Thank you kind sir” I giggle back, before wrapping my tongue around the sweet treat, internally moaning at the taste. 

“Good?” Luke asks, chuckling at me, as he watches me eat the desert. 

“Mhm!” I mumble back, mouth full of ice cream. Luke replies with a smile, grabbing his warm hand in mine as we begin to walk further into the park. 

The bright sun litters over the vibrant green trees that litter all around the park, the slight breeze causing them to sway as if they're dancing. Flowers of all types add color and more life to the park, the scene around us is beautiful, like something out of a painting.

I'm not really sure how we ended up here today. Luke wanted to take an impromptu trip to New York, and now we’re here, and I'm not complaining.

Luke looks so amazing in the sun. The way it highlights his chestnut brown curls. Seeing how his mussels contract under the white shirt he chose to wear together is enough to make my mouth water. He's a sight I'll never get used to seeing. 

“Are you okay over there pretty girl?” 

Luke asks beside me, breaking me out of my daydream.

 “Yeah I'm fine” I say beaming up to him, flashing him a sweet smile. “Just thinking about and how lucky I am” I follow. 

“Oh, who knew my pretty girl was such a sap for me” 

“Hey now, don't be mean. I was trying to be cute and admit my love for you and you just bullied me." I say turning on my heel to throw away my cone wrapper. 

“I was jokinggggg, come here '' Luke says, grabbing my wrist, pulling me back towards him. “You better be,” I say with a small pout on my lips. 

Luke chuckles at my face, “you're so cute” he says before leading me down the trail again. We walk in silence for a few moments, taking in the view around us. 

“It's so pretty out here today” i say looking at luke, “thank you for taking me here today”, “you're welcome pretty girl” he says looking at me 

“I feel like I haven't, we haven't seen each other a lot recently, and I wanted to take my pretty girl to a pretty place.” 

Luke's words have my face heating up instantly, he never fails to make me feel loved and special. “Now who's the sap?” I say playfully, nudging my elbow into his side as we continue walking. 

“Wowwwww. Okay i see how it is' ' he says with a dramatic sigh.

 “You know I'm kidding” I say, pulling his arms, so he's now standing in front of me. 

“I love you” I softly say looking into his eyes.

“I love you more” he counter,

 “impossible.'' I say looking back at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Shut up” Luke laughs at me. 

“No, you shut up” I sat tilting my head to the side, waiting for his next move. 

“Oh really?” he says, taking a step and half closer to me. 

“Mhm, what are you going to do about it?” he says, tilting his head down closer to my face. 

“Kiss me” I say, not even a beat later, I feel his warm hands cupping my cheeks pulling me into a sweet kiss. My arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer to my body. 

Luke pulls away from my lips softly, “I'll never stop talking if you always shut me up with a kiss.” he says in a teasing tone. 

“Oh shut up” I mumble back, 

“oh I will” is all Luke says before pullin me back for another kiss. 

[bedoballoons]

Hi! How are you?

This is my first request on this blog so it’s nice to talk to you! I was wondering if I could request Childe and maybe Kaeya (you can add anyone else you deem as fit for the role if you want to) with fem!reader where reader is sad and character does the dirty sad little sushi roll thing…If that’s okay!

Feel free to decline this! And have some flowers for your time 💐

Thank you lovely!

I'm doing well thank you, hope you are too! You called me lovely oh my gosh >////< Welcome to my blog cutie! I won't lie I had to Google this so I hope I got it right and you enjoy! <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Dirty sushi roll~༺}

CW: NSFW: MDNI! Bottom Fem reader! Rough s*x, overstimulation (Wanderers), orgasm denial (Childes), kinda bondage?, and cream pies! (Pet names: Lyney: My love, baby, Wanderer: Goodgirl, Childe: Beautiful, Kaeya: Goregous, my dear)

Also in case you don't know what a dirty sushi roll is: It's when you wrap up your partner in a blanket like a sushi roll, d*ck them down really good and make them happy by doing so!

(Includes: Lyney, Wanderer, Childe, and Kaeya!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

You gasped quietly into Lyneys kiss, feeling your sadness fade with every touch, every soft moan that escaped your lips as he sunk deeper into your cunt, making you forget the reason for your downcast mood so quickly. The blanket wrapped around you made it even better, heat surrounding your body inside and out, comforting you while also making your legs quiver.

"Feeling better my love~" Lyneys warm breath caressed your ear and it sent chills down your spine, your tight walls clenching around him so perfectly. "Y-yesss nnhh-hh!" He intentionally thrusted into your wet heat as you spoke, delighting in the way you threw your head back with glazed over eyes, so goregous for him.

"Mmm good~" His hands wandered down your silky legs, forcing them forward so he could go deeper inside you. His groans growing louder with every snap of his hips in yours, your pussy sucking him in everytime he almost slipped out...this may have been to help you feel better, but he enjoyed it just as much.

"L-l-lyney! Gonna nhgh! Gonna cum!"

"Me too baby, finish with me~"

You clenched the blanket in your fingers, making eye contact with him as his name escaped you over and over. He gave one more harsh thrust into you, causing waves of lust to was over you, muddling your mind while strings of sticky hot cum shot deep inside your womb...in such large amounts that it dribbled down your fluttering cunt onto the blanket.

"Cuddles my l-love?"

"M-mhm!"

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderers hands gripped the couch on either side of your head, keeping him steady as his dick plunged into your drooling cunny with no remorse. He'd keep going until that sad look in your eyes was all but gone, till the only emotion written on your face was that blushy doe like lust that made him want to ravage you all over again, "How's my good girl doing~"

You cried out a moan in response, your mind was barely able to come up with words as your body grew hotter with every second, pussy aching to finish once more and soak the blanket wrapped around you, "B-better! Cu-mmminh! Nhhh-gh!"

He smirked, keeping up his pace as your love splashed around him, dripping down the base of his cock,...this was going to be fun, "Better isn't good enough~"

"Ahhnh! W-wanderer! S-to much!"

"You like it when it's to much~" He leaned in close, sinking his tongue into your hot mouth as his hips thrusted into you faster, "Mmm you always taste so good~"

𑁍༄Childe:

"Awe beautiful, why the whimpering? Don't you like being wrapped up all cozy and full of me?" Childe chuckled teasingly, listening to your pleas for him to let you finish like they were his favourite song. He would've too, but he was just so entranced by the way your drenched pussy fluttered around nothing needily everytime he pulled out of you, the way his hot white cum had begun to mix with your wetness and make stringy line from his tip to you.

"W-wanna finish! P-please mnhnhh-hhah! P-p-leanse!"

He slowly ran his hot fingers along your clit, internally deciding if you'd had enough yet while you moaned loudly, "Hmm, but we are having so much fun...maybe if you moan real nice and loud for me I'll give you what you want, and I mean scream my name loud~"

You gasped under your breath, feeling him softly rub himself against your entrance, prodding you to give a answer...he was making you feel better after all..."S-someone could h-hear-"

"And? Come on beautiful, please~"

𑁍༄Kaeya:

Kaeyas mouth felt hot against your neck, his lips leaving prints on your soft skin as he adorned it with perfect marks, if only he could relieve your sadness the second it appeared...but then he wouldn't be able to wrap you up like this. Watching your sweet little face get more relieved with every movement he made in your heat, listening to your melodic moans while his length stroked your tight walls, already slick with his pre-cum.

"How are you feeling goregous? Is my love helping~"

You squirmed inside the blanket, wanting to grab his hair and pull him into a deep kiss, move your hips in time with his for that perfect rhythm, but the comfort of the blanket also felt nice after the tough day you'd experienced, "Nhghh, i-is good. T-thannk you~"

"Any time my dear~"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[thebearer]

please can i request reader being carmy's taste tester? something sweet and cute please i love your writing

omg thank you so much!!!!! <3 yes! fluffy taste tester blurb ahead with carmen berzatto! just an inside look at his banter with you!

"Ok, taste this." Carmen gave a final stir to the pot on the stove, tapping it firmly on the side before reaching for the small spoon.

You swung your legs, contently perched on the counter beside him- well, not beside him bc Carmen was sort of a maniac in the kitchen, a little chaotic and bounding around when he got in his rhythm. You sat out of the way, but close enough to still watch him, how electric and excited he got cooking. It made your chest swell.

"What's this one?" You hummed, leaning forward while Carmen came towards you, one hand cupping underneath the spoon to stop spillage, the other holding the spoon delicately.

"Uh, same thing. Added the cream and shallots to it, might add those black cherries if it still needs some sweetness..." Carmen rambled out loud, his mind already whirring with what he could add next.

You smiled, placing your hand on his wrist gently. "I thought the last one was good. Perfect." You added.

Carmen gave you a look, pointed and a little playful. "C'mon, it's not perfect." He shook his head. "Too salty with the veal and the steak. Maybe if it was salmon or chicken, something a little lighter it'd be alright, but-"

You giggled lightly, Carmen cutting himself off. He flushed, shaking his head lightly at his own ramble, lips curling with your infectious laugh. "Just open up for me."

You unhinged your jaw, eyes on Carmen's while he guided the spoon into your mouth, free hand cradling your cheek sweetly. You let the sauce swirl on your tongue, really taste it like Carmen was always yapping that you should.

"Mmm..." You hummed, eyes fluttering closed, the blend of spices and creams and sauces all dancing in a melody on your tongue. You weren't a chef, not by any means. You could barely make eggs, but you appreciated that Carmen valued your opinion.

"Good?" Carmen's eyes lit up, tinging with excitement for your approval.

"Really good." You nodded, beaming at him. You held the spoon in your hand, grinning at him. "I was wrong. This is perfect."

"Yeah? You think?" Carmen's fingers tapped anxiously on your thigh. "Are you sure with the Wagyu? Syd's making these creamy potatoes with a sauce that's already kinda creamy like this. Fuck, I-I just think it needs something sweet ya know? To break up the flavor palette-"

"-Carmy." You cooed, jumping down to pad towards him lightly. You wrapped your arms around his waist, hands gliding over his back, rubbing the toned- tense muscles through the soft cotton of his shirt. He relaxed into your touch. "Just slow down. Add the cherries if you think that would be best, but whatever you decide will be best. You know that."

Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head. "No, no, I don't." He muttered, face falling.

"You do." You hummed, running a hand through his hair, finger twirling around a curl. "You should."

Carmen felt the sides of his lips curls, the anxiety bubbling in his chest simmering down with a feeling of calmness at your words, soothed into your touch.

"Can you just... just taste it one more time, ok? And-And picture it with the steak." Carmen ran his hands sweetly down your arms, grabbing a spare pot. "I'll save some of this and add the cherries to the others, and we'll do the tasting tomorrow with everything and see what works."

You nodded, reaching for your spoon from before, dipping it into the sauce. Carmen turned around, eyes bulging gently. "Eh, eh! Hey!" He tsked, loud and startling you.

You stopped, staring at him in irritation. "What?" You huffed.

"Is that- is that a clean spoon?" Carmen's eyes flickered from you and the spoon.

"It's the one from before-"

"-Baby," Carmen gasped, like you had committed a federal offense- in his kitchen, it was. "I told you, don't dip a spoon in there you've had in your mouth! Fresh spoon! That's a health code violation, c'mon."

You rolled your eyes. "Carmy, it's just us."

"Ok, but-but, now you have your spit all in that."

"Doesn't the heat cook it out?"

Carmen scoffed, eyes rolling before pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, I-I can't believe you just... Now you got your germs all in my sauce."

"My germs?" You gawked, eyeing him carefully. "You don't want my germs now?"

"Not in my food." Carmen hummed, lips pressed to hide his smirk. He was a little wound tight, a little too strict about things he shouldn't be especially in the kitchen with you. He couldn't help it, and he was glad you found it amusing.

You scoffed loudly. "Please, Carmen. You act like we've never kissed before. You've had my spit in you all the time." You glared at him playfully.

Carmen couldn't help the blush he felt rising in his chest, heart hammering away lightly. "Yeah, but wasn't in my food."

"I think you'll be alright." You dismissed, setting the spoon down on the cabinet. Another twitch of his eye when there was a spoon rest right there.

"I hope so. Hope you don't have any germs-"

"-If I have any germs, they're yours." You eyed him knowingly, smug at the way he blushed.

"Watch it." Carmen pointed at you playfully, turning to wipe the counter with his rag, tossing the spoon in the sink. He waited a beat. "Get a clean spoon next time, please."

You laughed. "Oh my God, Carmen! You have literally eaten my ass before and this-"

"-Hey!" Carmen snapped at you through a feigned sternness that faltered with his glowing cheeks. You giggled, leaning back against the counter to watch him, all flustered and fighting a smile. "That's even more of a reason I don't want your germs in my food."

"More like your germs." You muttered, jumping back up on the counter, hips shuffling back to press your back to the cabinets.

"Easy." Carmen's eyes cut to yours, a stern look that had you flushing, tummy flipping with that familiar heat. "Don't get me distracted in here. I'll have you step out."

"Heard, Chef." You nodded exaggeratedly.

Carmen wasn't sure why he blushed hearing you say it, cock twitching behind his zipper at the words. "Get over here and help me stir this, please. Don't want it to burn. I'm gonna chop these cherries up."

[bitchimasnake-sss]

i had this idea for ace x reader id love to see😭 basically idk something along the lines of the reader being apart of the whitebeard pirates and ace having a crush on them/pining for them and they stop at some island to chill/celebrate or something and while partying later in the night reader tells ace he can kiss them if he catches them and after a bit of (playful) runing reader goes into the water at some beach and ace obviously cant follow bc of his devil fruit and yesh djdjjdhd idk how it would play out but lets say ace somehow ends up getting that kiss :3 you’re very much free to add to the story or change it!!

heheheh, this is so cute. i am an ACE TRUTHER FOR LIFE AAAAAAAH *rips my shirts and turns into a wolf* [i-ignore the fact that this has been a wip for about... 1.5 months now, im sorry. i will repent.]

❤️‍🔥hey! that's unfair! ft. portagas d. ace

set-up: as mentioned above by anon! playful banter, nicknames, chasing each other around. that's just part of being a crew, isn't it? okay, but what if your very attractive crewmate was running after you to kiss you? not very crew-mate-y of them, is it? warnings: NOT PROOFREAD CAUSE MY BAD, DUDE. nothing major cause i have wrote enough smut to last me a lifetime and i need a cleanse. contains playful banter/flirting, mentions of the asl brothers' past, "slut" as a joke. ace ughhh light me up. [my digital footprint goes crazy, but so does yours.] wc: 2.5k

"slut behaviour." your drawled out the words, nose scrunching up as you looked up at the man. your fingers drew patterns into the coarse sand, as the man above you barked out a laugh.

"huh?" ace's eyes widened, a boyish grin overtaking his features as the sun shone from behind him. the winds from the sea almost blew his hat off, and he put a hand on his head as he peered you down, "what did you say?"

"i'm just saying~" you shrugged, eyes squinted to make out his face under the harsh backlight, fingers still writing something into the sand.

"you're saying i'm the slut?" he plopped down next to you on the beach mat once he was done setting the beach umbrella. giving you the same unabashed grin, he popped his knuckles, "that's harsh, dude."

"i'm not the one walking around with my top off all the time!" you stuck your tongue out and ace scrunched his nose up. he was adorable. "hey, i've told you. i run hot, okay?"

he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively next, "i've always said, you can sleep with me and find out the truth."

an aggressive blush blossomed from the tip of your nose to your ears, and you instinctively pushed ace away, "is that offer only for me? or can marco uncover the truth, as well?"

his expression turned sour, eyes squinting as if he had the worst daydream a man has ever known, "tch, why would you even make me imagine that?"

"mhm." you grinned, shooing him with a flick of your nail, "now, go get me some ice-cream."

"mean." he muttered, but got up nonetheless.

you stared at the gentle waves, the scorching sun, the wet sand that changed with every little movement of the ocean. your eyes travelled to your far right where some of your crewmates drank cocktails and some of the younger ones ran around, chasing each other with faux grievances.

then, your gaze fell atop portagas d. ace.

pops ruffled his hair and the fire-fist grinned in return, talking about some nonsense that you were sure to enchant everyone who stood there. he had that effortless thing going on. he could smile and offer out his palm and the entire crew will chop off their hearts to give it to him. how pretty. i mean— er, how pretty fucking annoying!

huh?! a nauseating feeling built up in your stomach as you tried to shake down these thoughts. it was wrong, ace was just a crewmate!

a crewmate who made you laugh till you cried, someone who would come running to you with gossips, buy you souvenirs when he went to visit luffy. someone who was just a crewmate. so, you really shouldn't be thinking how he made your chest tighten or about the way his biceps flexed, or the way his eyes glinted under the sunlight or the way his smile was so—

"—here you go, princess." he shoved the orange popsicle in front of your nose and you broke out of your daze. he sat next to you under the cool shade of the beach umbrella, sucking on his own blue-colored popsicle.

"who're you calling princess?" you muttered before chomping down on the ice-lolly, "your shampoo for a year would cost half my salary if i got paid."

"mmph huh? you are so mean—" he spoke with the popsicle still in his mouth, and you flicked his forehead at how dumb he looked. he grinned and you made fun of how his pretty lips were painted a dull shade of blue.

the two of you sat there in the shade, occasionally looking over to where the crewmates played volleyball. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to spend hours upon hours together. out of all the high ranking faction commanders, you two were the closest in age. he would often crash on your couch after a long day, and you would admire his annoying, freckled face. uh, no. what the fuck. knock it off. just a crewmate.

after a while, ace grew fidgety. fingers playing with the red beads of his necklace, mouth busy with the ice-cream stick, he asked you, "wanna play a game?"

"hm? sure." you slurped down the quickly melting ice-cream, "what is it?"

"it's called twenty questions." he balanced the small stick between his teeth, leaning back on his forearms. "luffy's navigator taught me the last time i visited them."

you hummed, "what do you do in that?"

"well, you ask twenty questions, genius." he laughed as you glared at him, and picked the ice-cream stick caught between his lips, "yeah, i figured that much out. i mean, that's it? just twenty questions."

"yeah." he nodded, eyeing the plucked wooden stick in your hands for a second before dragging his gaze up to yours. god, you were so pretty that some days ace wondered if he would go in overheating just by looking at you. probably not. but what if?

you flicked the stick away, turning towards him, "so, wanna play or what?"

turns out, ace is an absurd man. you found that out as you two were on your eighteenth question. the sun dipped below the horizon and the clouds reflected back myriad of shades, painting you and the man next to you in a thousand hues.

"huh?!" your eyes widened comically, words spluttering into a half-sob-half-laugh, "repeat that, please."

he nodded, repeating solemnly like he didn't hear himself, "i said if you had to fuck one warlord, who would it be?"

"jesus christ." your rubbed your temple, "i dunno, like mihawk? the emo thing kinda gets you going."

"tasteful choice, i agree. you think he's a vampire?" he brushed off the comment, shaking his head, "no, wait, we've seen him in the sunlight. wait, have we? anyways, your turn. ask away."

"well, i'll ask something normal." you hummed in deep thought before asking, "if you could have any devil fruit, which one would it be?"

"mine, obviously." he flashed you a cashmere smile, "somebody as hot as me must ofcourse have a hot power."

"you're cheesy as fuck," your lips puckered up as if you had something sour, "dumbass."

but marco called you both over to help set up the campfire. and so, you followed ace as you both got up to walk over to where the rest of the crew was. chatting, chugging bottles upon bottles of sake, and laughing about days long gone.

the sand got stuck between your toes, the wind blew your hair over and you could just watch awestruck as ace turned around, giving you a soft smile before tugging your wrist and running towards the crew.

"i'll fall!" you shrieked but followed him nonetheless. you would probably follow that man to the depths of hell, it seemed.

by the time you both were free, it was dark. the moon hung low, the sky lay exposed with millions of stars, the dying embers of the campfire still twinkling as ace sat down on a log next to you. the rest of the crew had either slept on each other or retired to their rooms, having drank down every inch of sake available.

"ugh," you groaned, "gotta restock in the next island."

ace laughed, and the sound was so soft. he sounded like a boy in a wrong reality, so young. "why are you so sad? didn't get any today?"

"as if i'd get any with those fuckers drowning anything that even barely resembled liquor." you grumbled, and the fiery boy could only stare at you for a second. taking in your barely illuminated form, the steady rise and fall of your chest, your eyes as you sighed and fluttered them shut, and your arms as you stretched them over your head.

you were adorable. and he was an idiot for fancying his own fucking crewmate.

he shook his head as if to gently pull himself away from staring at you too hard, and you turned to look at him strangely, "what?"

"n-nothing." the section commander muttered, choosing to look at the dying embers in front of him. blushing furiously, you chose to focus on the same welcome distraction.

you air grew thick with tension, the kind both of you got crushed under like bugs. so you cleared your throat, rubbing your palms together as you quipped up, "wanna finish that game?"

"yeah." ace mumbled, mindlessly copying your actions by running his palms against each other, "two more questions, right? you start."

mulling over his words for minute, you tipped your head back to gaze at the stars. you sighed, "if you weren't a pirate..." you paused, "then, what do you think, what kind of job would you have?"

he tipped his head back all the same, hand coming to rest a mere inches away from yours. the glowing charcoal casted a subtle glow against his toned chest, the metallic necklace shimmering against his skin. he finally spoke, "i don' know, really. just think i'll do everything to stay with my brothers. whether that's to become a thief, or to become a marine."

you slowly turned your face to look at the somber man next to you. portagas d. ace rarely got quiet. he was all high-spirits and boyish laughs, freckled nose scrunched up in mischief when he wasn't busy leading the whitebeards to victory. but whenever he got back from seeing luffy, there would be a certain gloom that clung onto his aching bones — the kind he tried to laugh away and hid behind bowls upon bowls of food.

you never understood why seeing his younger brother filled him to the brim with regret. after all, monkey d. luffy was all smiles and reckless punches, right? but one drunken night, he confessed to you about sabo. heavy words, forlorn eyes, a man racked up with guilt. no. a boy racked up with guilt over not being able to chase off death.

your fingers inched closer to his, and your pressed your soft palm against his hand. squeezing down slowly, you found yourself comforting the fire-fist without even as much as a single word.

now, the same man boy next to you cleared his throat, squeezing your soft hand right back. as he dragged his eyes from the night sky back to your face, he gave you an earnest smile, "but then, i would have never met you, and what a shame that would have been."

warmth blossomed from the tips of your fingers to the tip of your nose. what a bother. you huffed, trying to hide away anything that gave away your voracious heart, "you're so cheesy, ace."

"hah, only for you." he was all smiles. he snuck in a prolonged breath, "okay then... my turn, right? if you could join any other pirate crew which would it be?"

"aha, i know this!" you lit up, "your brother's."

"the strawhats?" ace looked genuinely surprised and you nodded, "i wanna see what kind of weirdo are you responsible for. up close."

"that's fair." he shrugged, "okay, last question. go."

"d- d'you think that some day..." you drawled on, fingers stilling against his warm skin, "that some day, we'd leave this place? retire, and do something else with our lives maybe. i don't know if i wanna still be running from marines when i'm all sagging skin and weak bones."

"do you wanna leave?" he asked softly, and you shook your head, "no. i love pops, obviously. but... like i said—"

"—you don't wanna be seventy and still with a bounty on your head?"

"maybe, yeah? if i live for that long, anyways."

"then, i suppose i would have no choice but to follow you. just promise me good food, and i'll come with." the man said it so easily, but he knew it with every inch of his heart. he would follow you to hell and back, if you ever let him.

"tch." you pulled your hand back to your chest, you palm still slightly warm from his body temperature, "what's gotten into you? stop flirting."

"okay, my last question. ready?" he spoke softly, gaze searching your face and studying the flush as you looked away from him.

portagas d. ace moved closer to you, his fingers gently taking your palm in his own slightly burnt ones, and interlocking them. he exhaled, eyes meeting yours, "if i kissed you right now, will you kill me? or will you kiss me back?"

what? your eyes instinctively moved to his pretty lips. soft, pink lips that you've daydreamed about too often in the past few days. should you lean in? or should you tease the man some more?

well, you've never been a saint, have you?

a smile tugged at your lips as you pulled at hand back to yourself again, "hm, i think i will kiss you back. but for that, you'd have to kiss me first."

and with that you took off.

"hUH?!" ace's voice shot up as you bolted away from him, and he chased after you without a second thought, "come back, oh my god."

the sand under you feet almost made you fall but you reached the sea before your crewmate could catch you. clothes growing heavy as they wetted, you moved inwards till you were submerged till your waist in the cold, oceanic water.

the water around you reflected the star-studded sky, and among them you looked like an ethereal being. divine.

"hey!" ace yelled, a small pout on his lips, "that's unfair! come back!"

you found yourself giggling, "why?" you pouted back, "come get your kiss, ace."

"ugh, aren't you troublesome?" he groaned but a grin broke out on his face as he walked towards where you stood, each step drawing you two close. when he stood barely a meter away, his feet wobbled, "if i faint, you're gonna have to carry me back princess style, understand?"

"why? marco will save you, princess. hey, don't fall!" you teased, but ace wobbled again and the smile on your lips shriveled up into a frown. you found your feet moving to him. fighting the push of waves, you reached the man and supported his figure. hands on his toned torso, eyes staring up at him, concerned. "are you okay?"

he wrapped his strong arms against you and grinned like the devil itself. you found the muscles flexing against your wet clothes, gaze trained as he stared you down. what an asshole. he was pretending.

you glared at portagas d. ace, "you cheated."

"no, i didn't." his face titled downwards expectantly, hot breath fanning your nose, "i just tried to get what was rightfully mine."

"and what's that?" you whispered up at him.

"this." his finger lifted your chin up and he pressed a soft, chaste kiss. his lips slotted against your, soft lips dancing against yours so gently. but then his grip on your chin tightened, and he pressed himself against you heavier.

hand tightening against your waist, chest flush against his and tongue passing your pretty lips. as ace pulled back, he smiled to himself. closed eyes, parted kiss-bitten lips and flushed nose and cheeks. what kind of forbidden alchemy were you? and how did he get so lucky?

"huh," you opened your eyes to catch his smile, "looks like you really do run warm."

and turns out he's not "just a crewmate" either. a day full of discoveries, it seems!

credits: @bucciniexe for the bby boy header! tagging: @help-i-lost-my-sock [i hope you genuinely like it!]; @chrollohearttags [ur tags on one of my ace fics were so funny, i had to tag you]; @tetsuskei [you told me ages ago to tag you in ace fics aaah :')] a/n: DROPPING TWO FICS IN TWO DAYS?! WHO AM I?1 omg i had so much fun writing this. don't tell anybody this, but i feel maybe my writing's block is slowly going away. yay! maybe i can upload consistently? who knows? anyways, ace has become one of my favs since i saw his greasy ass in alabasta and declared he's to be the father of my children [he's a 2d man, help].

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, character death, CPR, hospitals/surgeries, ANGSTY AS HELL

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I may or may not be sorry for this

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Part 7: The Summer Filter {You Are Here}

Part 8: The Favor

It was the night of the dance. You were in your room sliding on sandals with thick black straps; they sparkle as you admire the inky polish on your toes. Standing in front of your long mirror, you inspect the outfit.

Still as starry and beautiful as you remember – little dazzling specks of light against a deep navy sky. The heart-shaped neckline gave your chest shape while revealing your battle scars. You didn’t feel the need to put concealer on the discoloration of them.

This was the real you.

Your hair was pinned up in an elegant bun with a few curled strands framing your face. It might’ve taken you fifteen minutes, but you were finally able to put eyeliner on the way you like. Other than that, your makeup was relatively minimal.

It was time to show your parents and wait for Scott to come pick you up.

Since he wasn’t telling parents that he was banned from the dance, he was free to escort you without suspicion. Once at the dance, you’d have to find other friends to mingle with.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your dad says at the bottom of the stairs, “You look amazing.” He looks proud as your mom appears with a camera.

She snaps a picture, “Ah, you are stunning!” she takes another picture of you laughing. “I love everything about the dress.”

Your mom pulls you aside for a posed picture next to the front door before she gives you a hug. One of her hands lingers on your shoulder, her thumb grazing the edge of your 3-inch incision scar.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispers, “And so brave.”

“We’re proud of you, sweetheart,” Tom says next to his wife. “You’re right – a girl needs to go to at least one high school dance in her lifetime.”

You snicker, “Even if I am going with just friends.”

“Remember to take breaks if it feels too overwhelming,” Angela frets, “Get some water and sit down for a few minutes.”

“And you have friends and teachers there that can help you,” Tom adds, “Don’t be all stoic and pretend you’re fine.”

You wave them off as you hear a car pull into the driveway. “Don’t worry, everything will be great.”

You suddenly have an inkling of the fear Stiles must feel with his dad. Your parents don’t know about the target on your back from a bloodthirsty supernatural creature. They don’t know how in danger you actually are. And if anything were to happen, you would feel immense guilt at keeping them in the dark as they fret and worry.

Scott knocks on the door and you open it to reveal him holding three large daisy flowers. “Hello. Oh, wow…” he looks you over, “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks go pink, “Thank you, Scott. I’m loving you in a suit.” You give him a hug and he presents the flowers.

“At least one of these is from Stiles because he’s upset I didn’t give him a chance to contribute,” he laughs, “I know they’re not much, but…”

“I love them. They’re a wonderful surprise.” You take the flowers from him, and your dad takes them quietly while your mom takes a few pictures. “Mom!”

“Just a few pictures for the album,” she says, “I want you to make sure you get more with your friends tonight.”

Scott feels a little tense standing next to you, a gentle hand on your lower back as you smile. “I’ll have her back before two.”

“One,” Tom says, still holding the flowers.

“One,” Scott agrees, “We’ll send you pictures.”

Angela beams, “Perfect, have fun you two!”

The walk to the car was full of tense giggles. Scott holds the door open for you and he clambers into his seat a few moments later.

“Thank you for driving me,” you smile, “I know tonight is going to be a little stressful.”

“I’d rather drive you and make sure you’re safe than just appear on the roof somewhere,” he shrugs, his knuckles pale where they grip the steering wheel. “You are one of the main targets tonight.”

“Don’t remind me,” you say, “Stiles was still bummed when I said he couldn’t drive me.”

“He’ll get over it.”

You smile, “I’m sorry you couldn’t take Allison.”

He’s quiet for a second, “Me too. But she’s not alone either. And it would be harder for me to explain why I wanted to drive with them when I’m not allowed at the school dance.”

“Well, I’m grateful anyways,” you say, “I didn’t realize how nervous I would be.”

“About the Alpha?”

“About the dance,” you laugh, “Is that ridiculous? There’s a psycho werewolf terrorizing us and instead I’m nervous about who I’m going to dance with and how I’ll look compared to everyone else.”

Scott smiles, “Those are the things you should be worried about. And you really do look amazing – I don’t think you have to worry about that one.”

The drive there feels quick with nerves fluttering in your stomach. Your heart rate is elevated, but you focus to keep a handle on it.

Ironically, the front of the school is decorated with stars, just like your dress. Blue and white balloons stand like statues on either side of the front doors while projections and strands of light wind around railings and stairs. You’re dazzled as you watch hordes of students make their way inside.

Scott looks guilty as he says, “I can’t be seen on the grounds.”

“I know,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt, “I’ll walk the rest of the way. Good luck trying to get in,” you laugh.

Crossing the parking lot was like a never-ending runway. You feel many eyes on you, whispers being said about your scars or your outfit, you weren’t sure. You suddenly wish you brought a purse so at least there’d be something for your hands to hold. Right now they were clenching and unclenching at your sides.

Your heart was starting to beat a little faster as you near the entry table. All these eyes, dozens of people, loud music and strobing lights, and…

“(Y/N)!”

You whip around to see Stiles tripping over the sidewalk curb. He has on a crinkled suit with a black plaid tie. He looks rosy as he straightens himself in front of you, “I, uh… woah.” His eyes are stuck on you – your dress, your chest, your face. His mouth hangs open; he is completely speechless.

You pull him into a hug, “You look handsome in a suit.”

He giggles awkwardly, still choking on words as he looks you up and down. “I – I um… you look…” He looks into your eyes, very warm and sincere when he says, “You look beautiful.”

You try to hide your smile, “See, that’s why we don’t invite boys to go dress shopping. Their reactions are so much better at the dance.”

He shakes his head, acknowledging your rightness, and extending his elbow. “Might I escort you inside?”

“Sure,” you smile, holding onto the crook of his arm.

The inside of the gym was loud and boisterous. Hanging chandeliers and blankets of shimmery star fabric hang from the ceiling. Lights of pink and purple fly around the room, complimenting the live band in the back center.

Your hand tightens around Stiles’ arm, and he stops instantly.

“Too loud?”

You try to take a deep breath, “I just need a second to adjust.”

“Let’s sit down then,” he guides you to one of the round tables and pulls a chair out for you. “I’ll get you a drink,” he says as he tucks you in.

You smile your thanks, trying to relax enough to breathe steadily. You take the time to look for friends around the room. It didn’t take long to find Jackson huddled with Danny and other lacrosse players. He was pouring something clear from a glass bottle into the punch cups. You roll your eyes – well he was coping in his own unique way.

You continue to people watch, seeing your classmates and the dates they came with. Behind you is Scott hiding next to the bleachers. You pinpoint where Coach is and decide that there’s enough distance between the two.

Allison comes sulkily to your table, sitting down and groaning, “I told you I had a feeling Jackson would be a shit date.”

“He’s not in the mood, is he?” you grimace, watching him across the gym drinking straight from the glass bottle. “We could report him.”

“Let him be stupid,” she sighs, leaning back in the folding chair, “He’ll regret it enough in the morning.”

You grab her hand and squeeze, “Did you see that Scott is here?”

Her eyes light up, “I saw him sneaking in through the roof.”

“A flair for the dramatic,” you huff, “I bet you anything he’ll try to dance with you even with Finstock watching.”

“If not, we can just dance together,” she laughs, “As long as I get to lead.”

You hold up your hands, “Whatever you say.” You nod your head across the gym, “Did you see Lydia and Ben?”

Lydia was aggressively dancing with Ben Manley, the pair of them treating the school dance like a nightclub. Allison shakes her head, “She’s trying to get over Jackson.”

“She can’t hide that she’s hurt forever,” you say, “Jackson isn’t going to care that she’s grinding on some other guy at a dance.”

“We’ll be there for her when she needs it.”

Stiles reappears with two cups of punch, “Oh, hi Allison. You look nice.” He hands you a cup.

“Are you sure these aren’t spiked?” you say comically, “Jackson has been passing around the bottle.”

“Of course he has,” Stiles grumbles, “You okay, Allison?”

“We’re waiting for Scott to make his move,” she says. But a loud commotion in the crowd has caught your attention, “Or maybe he is right now?”

You hear Coach yelling a few things in the center of the crowd that you can’t make out. The audience and band go quiet for a second as he yells for everyone to keep dancing. The band picks up with a soft slow dance song and Scott appears a little out of breath but smiling from ear to ear.

“How did you manage that?” you ask.

He only has eyes for Allison as she says, “Yes, I would love to dance with you.”

Scott looks like a lovestruck puppy as Allison drags him onto the dance floor. You smile after them, happy that they’re reconciling. You don’t even notice how long Stiles has been looking at you until he asks:

“How’s your heart?”

“Still a little elevated,” you sigh, “But nothing I can’t handle.”

He nods, looking afraid and hopeful when he asks, “Do you wanna dance?”

You turn to him with warm eyes. You are completely endeared by him again. “Sure.”

His smile comes on quick and fast, standing and letting his chair topple to the ground. You accept his outstretched hand, laughing, and follow him to the dance floor. It was full of couples slowly dancing with their arms wrapped around each other.

The quieter music and lack of raving students was easier on your nerves. Stiles was timid in how he puts his hands on your waist, waiting for you to make the deciding move.

When you wrap your arms around his shoulders and force him to stoop so you can reach, he finally sinks into you. His head rests beside yours, pulling you close by the waist and swaying to match the rhythm.

You have to tilt your head up so you weren’t smothered into his shoulder. “This is better.”

His fingers twitch on your sides, “Slow dancing?”

“It’s less chaotic,” you agree, “It feels… safer. For my heart.”

He leans his head into yours, “I’m glad you still came, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You put a hand up his neck, grazing the edge of his hairline, “Let’s just forget all the werewolf business tonight.”

“We can until something happens,” he agrees, “I just… I like holding you like this.”

Your brow puckers, face shadowed by pink and purple light. Something warm enters your chest and dribbles to your stomach. “What else?”

Stiles grips your sides, “I like… being this close to you. And smelling that wonderful fruity stuff on you.”

Nervous butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, teasing your lungs with their wingbeats. “You’ve said that before.”

He smiles, “I like you in this dress. I like that your scars are out. I like the fact you came without a date because I get to dance with you like this. And I like knowing you’re smiling right now without me needing to look because I can feel it against my cheek.” He pulls away to see proof of that smile. “I like you, (Y/N). Like a lot.” You giggle and it eggs him on, “Like a lot a lot.”

You smile and shake your head, “I think I’m a little late to the game. Everyone seems to know that but me.”

His expression starts to dip. He wants to hear a similar confession from you. But you don’t have a real answer yet. “You’re not surprised?”

“I think I’ve been in denial,” you say, still swaying to the music but getting lost in the motion. It was making you feel dizzy. The decorations on the gym walls were blurring behind Stiles’ head. “I think I…”

Stiles looks like he’s on the edge of desperation. His cheeks are flushed with oncoming embarrassment, and you can see the hurt behind his eyes. You move a hand to his cheek, feeling the heat there, “I think I feel… faint.” And your head falls to his chest, still conscious but on the verge of passing out.

Stiles holds you tightly to him, still swaying despite your limp legs, “I’ve got you.” He holds you up by the waist, a hand going for your neck to check your pulse. “I got you – I won’t let you fall.”

You dance like this for the remainder of the song, you breathing in his sweet woodsy smell and grounding yourself in his hold. He carries you gently, running his free hand in soft patterns along your back and arms. It was incredibly soothing and if your head wasn’t pounding like you were about to faint, you would’ve fallen asleep.

The song ends and you’re still swaying with Stiles. It takes everything in him not to force a word out of you. It was killing him waiting for you to speak.

You were in the throes of dissecting your feelings. How did you feel about Stiles? You remember the sleepover. The blue handprints on the car battery. The fries in the hospital cafeteria. The mac and cheese with the Sheriff. The suit jacket searching the woods. The garden trellis and rocks thrown on the tulips. The peachy light of your room and Ollie asleep between you two. The way he bandaged your shoulder. The panic in his voice from the video store call. The hugs when you cried. The truth about his mother. The gas station candy in the parking lot. The lessons in kissing.

You feel warm all over, blood still trickling to your legs and leaving your head heavy with cotton. You finally push him away, “I need to sit down.”

He’s compliant, “Okay,” guiding you by the hand and waist to the round tables. “Um… I’ll get you something to drink. Do you want to find a place to lie down?”

You put a hand to your temples, shading your eyes, “Let’s try the drink first.”

He swallows hard. His question about if you reciprocate any feelings for him left in the air. It’s eating him alive. But he leaves to navigate the boisterous dancing crowd to find the punch bowl and maybe something for you to snack on.

You’re left in your sticky feelings about Stiles. You had promised yourself no serious relationships. It would hurt less when you inevitably had to leave them. Therefore, there had to be no serious feelings.

But what you felt around Stiles. It was safe and warm and natural. And after the kissing in the jeep? Puzzle pieces were falling into place everywhere.

It was going to be dangerous liking him back. You would have to be honest with him about your prognosis. You would have to tell him why it wouldn’t work. It would cause him more grief than joy.

You pinch the bridge of your nose – would you allow yourself to like Stiles back?

Your phone in your dress pocket dings with a message from Lydia.

“I can’t find Jackson.”

You whip your head around to find Ben Manley sulking on the bleachers. Of course Lydia couldn’t let Jackson go. She still cares about him.

“He was crazy drunk last I saw him,” you reply, “He might’ve left to blow off some steam.”

“I’ll check the lacrosse field,” she says.

You feel a tinge of panic, “No, you shouldn’t go out there alone. Come back and we’ll think of something together.”

Lydia doesn’t reply and you feel that panic grow. She was on her way to being the most vulnerable pack member tonight. You stand up and will the shakiness from your drained limbs. Scott and Allison are still dancing, Jackson is missing, and Stiles is swarmed with thirsty students at the refreshments.

You were wasting time trying to get backup. If Lydia had at least one more person with her, she’d be safer.

You are quick to leave the gym and find a path to the lacrosse field. All the stadium lights are on and call to you like lighthouse beacons. You decide sending a text to both Scott and Stiles was the safe course of action.

“Lydia ran off to the field. No time. I’m going to get her.”

The grass was damp and uneven. You were grateful for wearing sandals beneath the long dress. Even more grateful when you notice a limp figure on the ground and another towering over her.

“Lydia?!” you cry, running for the pair in the center of the field.

There was blood painting her pale skin, a horrible contrast in the stadium light. Peter Hale was crouched over her, a trickle of blood running from his lips.

“Ah, (Y/N),” he says with his sinister smile, “I was wondering who would show up. Turns out it was the masterpiece coming to the rescue.” He stands and wipes at his lip, “Now, gauging the relationship between pack members, I do believe you are the more invaluable one.”

He speaks with a calm tone, but the blood on his face and the hunting nature of his eyes was unsettling. Your bare arms erupt in goosebumps, and you watch him take a sniff in your direction.

He grins, “Your fear is delicious.”

“Others are coming,” you squeak, blood pumping in your ears. Your eyes keep flickering to Lydia, searching for her chest moving with air. “A fight will break out.”

“We don’t want that on your special night,” he says in a terrifying coo, “I just need to find Derek.”

Your face scrunches, “And how would we know the answer to that?”

“One of you does,” he smirks, “And I’m going to make sure there is plenty of incentive.” He walks over Lydia and in your direction.

In a split second Peter is swiping at you, sending you flying to the ground in a mass of shimmering blue fabric. A thrill of pain like nothing else explodes in your side and you know his claws are out.

You gasp in pain, too sharp to cry out.

“I can hear the unevenness of your heart,” he growls, fangs lengthening in his mouth, “I can smell the sickly symptoms of death.” He bows to take hold of your neck, the tips of his claws digging into the soft skin there, “Let me speed up the process.”

And he lifts you into the air, his nails sinking further into you. This time you cry out, hitting him pathetically with your arms. He throws you back into the ground and pins you beneath his body. His jaws are inches from your jugular when a frantic voice screams across the field.

“(Y/N)!”

Peter lifts his head and watches as Stiles sprints across the grass like his life depends on it. He slides the last few feet, getting on your level. His hand rises to touch you, but Peter growls at him – protective of his prey.

“Don’t kill her,” Stiles says in a shaky voice. His eyes stay on you, avoiding the gaze of the Alpha. “Please.”

Peter hums, “I might find it in me to spare her; if you tell me how to find Derek.”

Stiles stammers, “What?”

A clawed hand grips into your already damaged side and a sharp cry of pain comes out of you. “Tell me how to find Derek Hale.”

Stiles is losing control of his breathing, digging his fingers into the grass to stop himself from getting killed. “I don’t know that. How would I know that? Leave her alone!”

Peter removes his claws, each dipped in the dark red of your blood. “You’re the clever one, aren’t you? And deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth or I will rip her apart.”

You feel weak and faint as Peter trails his fingers along your bare skin. Tears are streaming from your eyes and into your hair. The tears to your side are searing with pain; with every breath you’re hurting.

One of your ribs must be broken.

Stiles was panicking, unsure of how to help you. “Okay, look… I think he knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Derek, I think he knew he was gonna be caught.”

“By the Argents?” Peter was staring at him with a hunters mark.

Stiles struggles to look between him and you bleeding on the ground. “Yeah, and when they were shot, he and Scotty… I think he took Scott’s phone.” You wince in pain and he pounds a fist into the grass.

“Why?” Peter asks lowly.

“They all have GPS now. So if he still has it and if it’s still on… you can find him.”

“Then lets go.”

Stiles is still frantic, fingers in the grass and tears of frustration burning his eyes. You were writhing on the ground in clear agony.

“No, I’m not just letting you leave them here.”

“You don’t have a choice Stiles; you’re coming with me.” Peter bends down to fish in your dress pocket, producing your cell phone, “Here ‘Lydia is hurt on the field,’ happy now? Sent it to a friend chat.”

“What about (Y/N)?”

Peter searches his pockets for a handkerchief, “She’ll be coming with us.” He wipes superiorly at his chin. Stiles begs from his place on the ground.

“You can’t drag her around with us! She’s bleeding out; she needs a doctor!”

“Then I suggest you don’t waste my time trying to find Derek,” he straightens his leather coat, “Because the longer you take… the longer she suffers.”

“She has a bad heart,” Stiles pleads, those frustration tears building in the corners of his eyes. “Any more stress could kill her.”

Peter squats beside you, making you whimper. “Then don’t cause her any more stress by fighting me.” He sinks his claws under your arm and drags you effortlessly across the field.

You cry out in pain, your legs too weak to flail. Blood leaves a trail behind you, Stiles scrambling to his feet, “Stop it! That’s hurting her too much. Her heart will give out before we find Derek – and there goes my incentive.” He yells the last part, “I won’t care after that!”

Peter grumbles and wraps his arms around your waist and legs, carrying you the rest of the way to Stiles’ jeep. You’re placed in the back, panting and hissing with pain as Peter and Stiles sit in the front.

You try to think of a way to prolong your consciousness. You gather the extra fabric from your dress and apply pressure to your side. The punctures to your neck and arm are less of a concern. At least he didn’t bite you.

“I forget how long it takes for humans to heal,” Peter huffs a laugh, “You’d be perfectly fine by now if you were a werewolf, (Y/N).”

Stiles sets his face as he drives away from the school. He keeps checking his rearview mirror to see how you’re coping.

You elevate your legs, take deep breaths, and keep pressure on your largest wound.

“Don’t feel bad,” Peter says, “If Lydia lives, she’ll become a werewolf. She’ll be incredibly powerful.”

Lydia had been bitten, you realize horribly.

“Yeah,” Stiles says sarcastically, “And once a month she’ll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear people apart.”

“Oh, the bite isn’t so bad,” Peter laughs, “It might actually save (Y/N)’s life if she can’t surpass her own wounds.” He directs Stiles to a parking garage further into town, “I could grant her a bite.”

“And make her a raging monster every month? No, thank you.”

Peter smiles wickedly, “Not even to save her life?”

It was quiet after that, the jeep making its way into the hospital parking garage and to a certain level. They park near a small gray car and leave you there.

The wounds to your side were pulsating with rhythmic pain and heat. Blood continues to soak through the fabric you keep bunching over it. You can hear Stiles being frantic and you can’t imagine how he must be feeling.

The longer he takes the more you suffer.

He was probably going out of his mind with worry. But you know instantly that you would forgive him for however long it’ll take to appease Peter.

There’s a loud bang and the back of the jeep is torn open. You tumble out at the momentum, crashing to the asphalt in a painful heap. You gasp at the cascading amounts of aching hurt.

Peter grips you by the hair and lifts you from the ground effortlessly. You scream, bundles of bloody fabric leaving your hands to claw at Peter’s hand.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don’t make me persuade you.”

“Okay, okay!” Stiles yells, “Put her down!”

You sob on the asphalt, the effort to breathe between cries is putting strain on your heart. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into a limbo between pain and unconsciousness. Stiles began to frantically type on a laptop. You couldn’t understand what they were saying.

The hurt was too loud.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasp.

Peter goes to stand over you, urging Stiles to focus on the computer, “I’d suggest typing faster there, Stiles.”

“God. Fuck. Shit. God. Damn,” Stiles keeps messing up the keys and needing to refresh, meanwhile hearing you gasp for air behind him. “Wait! Here, look… they’re keeping him… at the Hale House.”

Peter gives you a good kick to the back as he steps over you, “Not at it. Under it. I know exactly where that is.” His ears perk up, “And I’m not the only one. Give me your keys.”

Stiles is practically bouncing on his toes to get to your struggling figure. “Careful, she grinds in second.” But his keys are returned bent and unusable. “What… how am I supposed to get her to the front of the hospital?!”

“You have a cell phone,” he says, “Now, because you did me a favor, Stiles. I’m going to offer this only once… do you want me to give her the bite?”

“The what?” Stiles is unable to focus with you quieting behind him.

“Does she want the bite?” Peter asks more clearly, “This is her one chance to get a cure all for her wounds. Of course it might kill her either way, but… that’s a risk you’d have to take.”

Stiles is at a loss, quiet as he considers. “No. She wouldn’t want that.”

“Very well,” Peter slides into his car without another word.

Stiles’ dress shoes squeak as he reaches your side, ignoring the way Peter speeds out of the parking garage. He kneels at your head, terrified that your lips were going purple. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, “(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me?”

Your eyes barely flutter open before closing again, unable to breathe. He puts his head to your chest, one hand on your neck, searching for a pulse. Your heart was giving out.

“No,” he says, “No way. Not today. You’re not supposed to faint when you’re not breathing.” He pulls out his phone and puts 911 on speaker. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” He brushes the hair out of your face, revealing road rash from where you fell from the trunk.

911 instructs him to start CPR and wait for personnel to pick you up. Being in the hospital parking garage meant that help would be there soon. Stiles has his hands over the scars on your chest, smeared with blood from your side. He tries to keep his arms straight as he attempts to pump life back into your body.

He gives you a kiss of life, two breaths that would hopefully keep oxygen moving throughout your body. This was not how he envisioned your next kiss. Your lips were lifeless and soft. They were still purple.

You couldn’t die now – not when he still needs to apologize. Not when it would be his fault for not getting you help sooner.

Not when he had just confessed having feelings for you.

~~~

Stiles sits in the hospital hallway, legs bouncing and arms shaking with the movement as he leans on them. His head is bowed as the Sheriff comes speeding towards him.

“You know what?” Noah says as he approaches, “It’s good that we’re in a hospital because I’m gonna kill you!” He speaks firmly, “It has been a madhouse trying to find all you kids.”

Stiles finally looks up and the Sheriff stills.

His son is red-faced from crying. He rubs at his eyes, sniffling loudly as he tries to speak past the lump in his throat. “Is she going to be okay?”

The Sheriff looks behind them at Lydia, “They don’t know, partially because they don’t know what happened.”

“No… I mean, is (Y/N) going to be okay?”

Noah looks at the sorrow in his sons face. “You haven’t gotten an update?”

“No,” Stiles says in despair, “She went back there not breathing and I don’t know if they’ve gotten her back!”

“Listen,” Noah sits beside him, resting a hand on his back, “Let’s handle what we can control first. Now, these girls were attacked by the same thing, right? Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked them?”

Stiles licks his lips, hesitant in the truth. He still needs to protect his dad. “No,” he says, “No, I have no idea.”

“But why was (Y/N) with you and Lydia with Jackson?”

“(Y/N) was dragged off the field by whatever attacked them,” Stiles lies through his teeth, “We split up to protect them both. (Y/N) was closer to my jeep.”

Noah clenches his jaw, unsure of how to help his son. “And she was still breathing when you made your way over here?”

“It wasn’t until we reached the parking lot,” Stiles mutters. He runs his hands over the short length of his hair. “God, dad… what if I was too late?”

The Sheriff looks disheartened. “You did everything you could.”

The wait was agony. Agony that only gets worse as Chris Argent comes to interrogate him and Jackson. He’s barely able to keep it together long enough to help create some Molotov cocktails. He instructs Jackson to take them to the Hale House and help.

Your parents appear a few minutes later.

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Angela cries, as red in the face as Stiles was half an hour ago. “Have they said anything?”

“No,” he says, “I’ve been waiting here for nearly an hour.”

Tom runs for the nurses station, “Maybe they’ll give her parents the news.” Angela follows with Stiles on her heels.

A nurse was trying to calm Tom down, “Sir, I understand – let me call into the OR and check.” She makes a call to a different part of the hospital and speaks quietly.

Stiles stays a foot away, not wanting to intrude but needing to hear the news just as badly. Angela was stifling sobs as Tom holds her close to him.

“Okay,” the nurse replies, placing the phone back on the receiver. “She’s currently in surgery.”

“So she’s breathing,” Stiles says loudly.

“Yes,” the nurse continues, “The lacerations to her side are being stitched and some were deep enough to puncture the abdominal wall. There’s been lots of damage and blood loss. So far so good, though,” she consoles. “She did come into the ER not breathing and spent a lot of time without oxygen. But they were able to restart her heart.”

Angela continues to sob into Tom as he says, “Thank you. Please tell the doctor her parents are here waiting for updates.”

They walk back to the waiting room, sitting on the hard cushioned seats. Stiles was slow to follow them, unsure of how to be included in their fretful waiting. It was his fault you were kept from help for so long.

“Stiles,” Angela says, her voice thick with emotion. “Your dad said you were with her when it happened.”

He scratches the back of his head, afraid to look them in the eyes. “I found her after the attack. I tried to get her here as quick as I could.” He licks his lips, “She… she couldn’t breathe as we parked.”

Tears continue to leave Angela’s eyes, “Her heart?”

“It just… gave out,” Stiles breathes, upset that he felt like crying again. “I g-gave her CPR… in the parking lot um – while the doctors came for us.”

Tom is getting teary too as he listens. He leans his elbows on his knees and covers his face. Angela looks horribly between being grateful and being resigned. Like she knew this would be her daughter’s fate, but glad you weren’t alone.

“Thank you for helping her, Stiles,” she pats the seat beside her and he sits. “She wouldn’t have made it to surgery without you.”

He gives her a painful smile. Yes, he got you to the hospital. But he could’ve gotten you here in better shape.

She puts a hand on his arm and rubs soothing circles with her thumb. The burning in Stiles’ eyes was quickly making them water again. He sniffs and leans into his hands like Tom. Angela moves her hand to his back, rubbing the expanse between his shoulders.

They sit like that for another hour before a doctor appears, “Westbrook?”

The trio stand eagerly.

“How is she?” Tom asks. He hadn’t said a word the entire hour.

“She’s stable,” the doctor says calmly. “We were able to repair the lacerations to her side and a few punctures elsewhere. We did have to restart her heart once at her arrival and once during the surgery.”

Angela swallows hard, eyes red but out of tears, “Can we see her?”

“They’re setting her up in a room now. Give it another twenty minutes.” He looks uncomfortable as he prepares himself to say something more. “(Y/N) went without oxygen for over five minutes. When the brain goes without oxygen for that long it results in the death of brain cells. We call it an anoxic brain injury.”

“What does that mean?” Tom crosses his arms, “What would that do to her?”

The doctor clears his throat, “We won’t know for sure until she wakes up. She may be comatose for a few hours or a few days. She may experience some coordination issues, communication problems, amnesia, or other impairments.”

“Oh my god,” Angela whispers, covering her mouth, “Could all that be permanent?”

“It depends on the severity of her brain injury. All minor impairments can be corrected over time,” he gives them all his reassurances.

Not soon after your parents were called back into your room. Stiles stays behind, bouncing his legs and waiting for something – anything – to happen. Everyone he loves is in some kind of danger and he has no idea where they all are.

He’s trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic chairs when Scott and Allison appear. They’re holding hands and running into the waiting room.

“How are Lydia and (Y/N)?” Allison asks.

Stiles slides off the chairs and awkwardly straightens himself. “Lydia is going to be okay,” he nods to the middle room with windows, “Her wounds…”

Scott squeezes Allison’s hand. “Allison knows. She knows everything.”

“Alrighty then,” Stiles hums, “She was bit, but the bite hasn’t fully healed, and she isn’t dead so… whatever that means.”

“And (Y/N)?” Scott asks, looking at every sign that his best friend has been crying.

Stiles swallows, “I don’t know. Her heart gave out and she went without oxygen for a long time.” He licks his lips, rubbing hard at his eyes, “The surgery went well, but we don’t know how bad her brain damage will be until she wakes up.”

Allison, already having lost much that night, was exhausted by the news. She leans into Scott who holds her tightly. Stiles watches it with a pang in his chest.

They talk about the events of the night. How the cocktails Jackson brought weakened the Alpha and Derek delivered the final killing blow. He was now the Alpha. Kate was dead and the Sheriff was at the crime scene. It was a distraction that Stiles was grateful for. It made the time pass quicker than just stewing in his own guilt.

“If it weren’t for you I think Peter would’ve killed a lot more,” Scott says as a way to cheer his friend.

“Jackson’s the one who delivered,” he replies.

Allison looks worried at the obvious disregard of his contribution. “Stiles… you have been a hero tonight.” She shakes her head, “A lot of people are alive because you helped.”

“At what cost,” he mumbles, thinking of your brain injury. “I don’t know.”

“How about we go home,” Scott suggests, “You need some sleep and the Westbrooks would call with updates.”

“No,” Stiles chews on his lips, “I’m not leaving until she wakes up.”

Scott looks at his friend seriously, “Are you sure? That could be a long time.”

“I’m sure,” he waves them off, “I’ll wait for my dad.”

They leave with plans that sound a lot like ‘rooftop cuddling,’ and Stiles is again left to wonder the ‘what ifs’ of the night. What would have happened if he had never left your side to get that drink? What if he hadn’t found Scott’s location in time? What were you going to say about his confession of feelings?

It hurt too much to think.

~~~

Sheriff Stilinski had spent the majority of the night managing the crime scene at the Hale House. The bodies of Kate Argent and Peter Hale were removed, and the property was taped off while forensics worked.

It was nearly daybreak when he left to pass out on his living room couch.

Several hours later he awoke for a finger of whiskey and a sandwich. He was just layering the turkey and cheese when he yelled for Stiles to come down for a talk.

When there was no reply, the sheriff went searching the house, turkey in hand. Stiles was nowhere to be seen.

“Damnit,” he curses, “That complete…” He searches for his phone, dialing and forgetting about his sandwich. “Tom?”

“Yeah, Sheriff, is everything okay?”

“Fine, fine. I just can’t find Stiles. Is he still at the hospital?”

There’s a pause where Tom has a breathy laugh, “Yeah, the kid’s still here.”

“Thank god,” Noah sighs, “I’m sorry, Tom – has he been pestering you guys?”

“No, he’s… well he’s actually just been stuck in the waiting room this whole time.” Tom sounds exhausted. “The times I’ve gone out for drinks he’s been there waiting for an update. I just tell him (Y/N)’s still comatose.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Noah rubs at his eyes, “She still hasn’t woken up yet?”

“Not at all,” Tom swallows, “Not even a twitch.”

The sheriff searches for his keys, “Well, I’ll come grab my son. He needs a shower and some sleep at least.”

“Sure, and Sheriff, we would call you if she woke up,” Tom adds softly, “I know she… she cares about you and Stiles.”

An unexpected twinge of sadness envelopes him, “Thank you, Tom. She’s a special girl.” He clears his throat, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

It takes him another twenty minutes to get to the hospital. On the right floor, he finds Stiles slumped in a hard cushioned chair with his feet propped on a coffee table. He has several magazines open and covering him like makeshift blankets.

His face looks swollen from frequent tears and his eyes look irritated from wiping at them so much. Noah looks at him with a quickly softening heart. The last time he had seen his son cry this much at a hospital…

“Stiles…”

The boy turns his eyes to his father, hidden beneath the blanket of magazines.

“Read anything good?”

He gives a half-hearted smile, “No, but this Victory magazine is actually thick enough to help retain my body warmth.”

“I see you’ve found ways to entertain yourself.”

“I got tired of being stuck in my thoughts,” he sighs, scratching at his head. “You should see the towels the nurses let me fold.”

Noah’s eyebrows raise, “Man, you must’ve been really bored. Did you not sleep at all?”

Stiles shakes his head, “I was afraid of missing when she woke up.”

“And how’s the Martin girl?”

Stiles shrugs, “She’s been able to get up and down with some help. But she’s been sleeping a lot. Her parents are taking turns sitting with her. You know… tension with the divorce.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can,” Stiles says, shifting until a few magazines fell to the floor. “I can’t sleep knowing that (Y/N) could still be seriously hurt.”

“And she could be seriously fine.”

Stiles scoffs, “And it’d be all my fault.”

“Hey,” the sheriff goes to sit by his son, knocking a few magazines off his chest. “None of this is your fault. You had nothing to do with the attack.”

“… but I could’ve kept them inside the school. I could’ve stopped them before anything bad happened.”

Sadness creeps into the sheriff, “Let’s get you home. You need to get cleaned up and have a rest.”

“No,” Stiles was quick to reply, “I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay.”

“The doc said it could be days, Stiles. You’re not going to be able to stay awake for days.”

“I can try.”

Noah stands, “No. You’re going to come home for a few hours. I’m gonna be honest, son, you look terrible. And I know you don’t want your little reunion with (Y/N) to be memorable because you smell like musty teenager and look like you’ve got a head cold.” He waits for a few seconds while Stiles pouts like a child. “After you get some sleep I’ll let you stay at the hospital as long as you want.”

A silent battle rages between the two. It takes only one more nudge for Stiles to stand from his uncomfortable chair. “Stiles, you’re not the only one who’s worried about her,” the sheriff gives him another look of concern.

“You have to wake me if I sleep through a call from the Westbrooks.”

“Deal,” Noah claps a hand around his son, leading him to the front doors. “God, do you even own a deodorant stick?”

Stiles jabs his father in the side, “And an antiperspirant spray, jackass.”

Noah slaps the back of his head, “You need to actually use them for them to work, smart alec.”

The entire car ride back has Stiles nodding off against the window. There’s a wet, foggy mark where his mouth rests open. He stumbles into the house and starts stripping as he climbs the stairs.

Noah follows and gathers the clothes, catching the bent ring of keys as they fall from a pocket. It makes him sigh, memories of his wife handling those same jeep keys… then he saw the random sets that had to belong to places Stiles shouldn’t be.

A key to the police station, to the school, to a few neighbor houses.

He would arrange to have the proper keys fixed, and the others confiscated.

Stiles stands in the shower for longer than usual. He lets the hot water run down his head and work at the knots in his shoulders. He feels cramped from being stuck in an uncomfortable hospital chair for nearly twelve hours.

It takes the thought of seeing you again to make him scrub himself clean. His father was right, he wants you to see him fresh and sane. And right now he was anything but.

It feels good to be in a pair of pajama pants and a simple black shirt. He collapses on his bed without much thought. He was more desperate for sleep than he realized.

He drifts into dreams – dreams that he will hold onto in the days to come.

~~~

He walks along the path of a lake, grand berry bushes grow wildly there. Large, tart blackberries and deep, rich blueberries bloom along the leaves. Bushels of ripe berries are everywhere, halfway picked with plenty more to go. He picks a handful of plump raspberries and delights in their sweetness.

The trees overhead protect him from the sun, welcoming him with their shimmering leaves and singing birds. The berries leave sticky sweet juice on his fingers, each delicious as he sucks on them.

Ahead is the path leading to the boardwalk atop the lake. He grins as the summer sunshine appears to warm his skin. He admires the shiny red strawberries growing in twisted strands near the picnic tables. A cutting board is laden with freshly cut lemons and red berries – a pitcher containing sour pink lemonade beside them.

All the colors seem brighter, like a summer filter overlay everything. Stiles picks up an already prepared glass, ice cubes clinking and submerged in the pink drink. After a sip he promptly eats a few cut strawberries, smelling them with an air of familiarity.

He loves the smell of strawberries and summer fruits.

In an open cooler beside the table, half-buried in chunks of melting ice, are bright orange creamsicles and bubbly sodas. A candy tray holds caramel chocolate, sugary peach rings, and sticky gummy worms.

He was quick to sample everything, his attention catching something floating in the lake. A girl was lounging in a large nectarine orange floatie, sunglasses on her face and sunscreen on her shoulders.

Stiles smiles wide, running for the boardwalk. It was all so vibrant and warm. The red of the berries, the lemon yellow, bright orange creamies, shimmering green trees, sparkling pink lemonade, and the brilliant blue of the lake water.

It smelt of sugar and sun warmed earth and fresh berries. It smelt like (Y/N).

He stops on the edge of the boardwalk, shading his eyes to see you lounging in the floatie. “(Y/N)!” he calls to you.

You look up at him, cheeks peachy pink from the sun, “Stiles?” You sit up, swimsuit beautiful with lavender purples and sage stems. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “But I’m glad to see you.”

You float closer to the boardwalk, moving the sunglasses to your hair. “Do you even own a swimsuit?”

He laughs, “Probably buried beneath a few camp shirts.”

“Figures,” you smile, lifting a hand bangled in rose gold, “Help me up?”

He swallows, “Yeah, sure.” He bows to take a hold of your hand, but there’s resistance. You yank on his arm and manage to flop him onto your floatie. He flails as you try to balance the giant inflatable.

It makes you laugh to see him so frantic, “You’re going to tip us!” He lands on you, your hands wrapping around him in a fit of giggles.

He holds onto your sun warmed skin, pulling you too close to the edge. Side heavy, the floatie tips over with a scream from your lips. A splash makes the water ripple as you tread to the surface, spluttering water.

“I told you to calm down,” you laugh, splashing at Stiles.

He splutters more, making ridiculous faces as he wipes the lake water from his eyes. “It was getting hot anyways.” He splashes at you next, causing you to squeal with laughter.

The splash battle was short and intense, Stiles mimicking his favorite water benders in sending waves your way. You dive for the ladder at the boardwalk, scaling it to make a quick getaway.

Stiles curses, following your dripping figure. “Get back here!” he runs across the boardwalk to meet you at the picnic table.

You are eating a plump strawberry, tossing one at his head for good measure. He ducks and gives you a sly smile, opening his mouth like a target. You promptly aim a large berry, laughing hysterically as he jumps and catches it in his mouth.

Both his arms go in the air, triumphant, “Did you see that?” he cries between loud chews. He runs to you, tickled by your laughter. He wraps you up in his arms and soaks you in.

This is you. You remind him of summertime. The vibrant colors of life. The sweet berries that grow wild. The sun that warms whatever it touches. The water cooling sunburnt skin.

The orange cream and peachy sugar.

He spins you once and sets you down, still inches from you. The pair of you are laughing like summer will never end.

Then you lock eyes.

The laughter dies slower, smiles never leaving your faces. But your eyes are entirely too warm to be just mirth. He’s looking at you like the sun itself. He was embracing the embodiment of color and sweetness and warmth.

He looks down to your berry stained lips.

With one second of hesitance he leans down to your mouth. He devours the sticky sweetness of your berry lips. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like it was the one and only time he’d be able to kiss you.

You respond with holding his face, fingertips digging into his cheeks. His hands drift down your sides to the backs of your thighs. In an upward motion he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

A sigh of surprise escapes you, taller than him momentarily so you have to angle his face up to yours. He groans in delight as he carries you to the picnic table. He sets you on top of it, moving his hands to your thighs, searching for that moan of satisfaction from your mouth.

He nips at your lips, loving every sound you make. He nuzzles into your neck, finding that sweet spot to kiss. He has to pull back to take a breath.

You look tired. Your lips are purplish-blue. His brow knits. “(Y/N) you’re…” He lifts a hand to your chin and finds that it’s coated in bright blood. Brighter than those red berries. “Oh my god!” He pulls back to see a fresh wound to your side, soaking the lavender swimsuit in rich blood. “Oh my god, (Y/N) – what do I…”

Your chest stutters and choking sounds come from your throat. A strained redness enters your eyes as you reach for him, puncture marks along your neck. Stiles is frantic at your absence of words, “What’s happening?” he yells, “What did I do?”

You fall back onto the table, dull lemonade spilling and mixing with your bright blood. Berries and lemons roll to the ground. You choke and flail as Stiles cries his panic.

And he sits straight up in bed, sheets tangled between his legs and pillows on the floor. He’s sweating and cold, the sun setting outside as he scrambles for breath. He throws his legs over and bows over his knees.

~~~

With no word from the Westbrooks, Stiles finds himself wandering the neighborhoods until he finds your house. He looks longingly at your window, dark as it was with the recent sunset, he could just make out the cat staring back at him.

“Oliver,” he whispers, finding something else to distract himself with. He goes for the front door, hoping that in the commotion of getting to the hospital, your parents left it unlocked. He was right.

The cat was there to greet him, mewling loudly and rubbing his head against Stiles’ legs.

“You hungry, little buddy?” he closes the door and makes his way to the kitchen. Inside the pantry he finds a container of dry food shaped like little fish. “I would think (Y/N) made you gourmet cat food.”

Ollie stands on his back legs and stretches his front paws up Stiles’ leg. It was super cute. “I guess maybe just for special occasions, huh?” he sighs, taking a scoop and pouring it in the food bowl by the back door.

The cat purrs and flicks his floofy tail as Stiles sits at the dining table to watch him. It must’ve been ten minutes when the front door opens again.

There was Melissa and Scott, holding keys and a duffel bag embroidered with the hospital logo.

“Oh! Stiles, what are you doing here?”

“Um, I… well, I knew Ollie needed to be fed.”

Scott shuts the door while Melissa continues to look discontented, “Who’s Ollie?”

“The cat,” Stiles gestures to the fluffy animal, “(Y/N) would kill me if he went without food for this long.”

“You broke into the house to feed the cat?” Scott smirks, hands in his pockets.

Stiles lifts his arms, “No! The door was unlocked.”

Melissa laughs, “Still strange, Stiles. You still entered without permission.” She walks to the stairs with the duffel bag; Scott makes his way to the dining table.

“What are you guys doing here?” Stiles asks in a low voice.

Scott slumps into a chair, “The Westbrooks need clothes and stuff, so mom volunteered to pack a bag.”

Stiles crinkles his brow, “Did you do something with your hair?”

“Maybe,” he wipes a hand up and catches the gelled back fringe, “I’m trying something new.”

“I didn’t realize you had a forehead,” Stiles smirks.

Scott mumbles a retort. “I thought you were going to camp out at the hospital.”

“I was until my dad decided to drag my ass out,” he grumbles, “But there hasn’t been any news that she’s awake, so…” He plays with the hem of his shirt, feeling a little empty of conversation. “How are you and Allison?”

“Great,” Scott smiles an idiot smile, “Until her dad hunted us down and nearly killed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Stiles grimaces, “After everything that’s just happened?”

Scott shrugs, “I’m still a werewolf, I guess. He let me live, but I have to stay away from Allison.” His smile grows more subtle, eyes on the floor, “At least, I have to pretend to.”

“Great plan, Scott. Let’s remember how this guy hunts and murders the supernatural for a living. He has a literal collection of the best weapons money could buy, with – let me add – special werewolf ammunition that can work around your little healing superpower.”

“Yeah, but I still get to see Allison.”

Stiles slumps a little further down his chair, Oliver snacking on his dinner in the background. “You’re impossible.”

“I could say the same about you,” Scott retorts, “You’re just as hopeless.”

“You know I told her how I feel about her…” Stiles speaks quietly, avoiding his friends gaze.

Scott measures the rhythm of his friends heart, “And?”

“And she got faint…”

“Made her weak at the knees, did you?”

“And she ran off to be attacked by the Alpha.”

“Ouch,” Scott hisses, “No return confession?”

Stiles clears his throat, “There wasn’t time for her to.”

“Then I guess there’s still a chance that she does,” Scott says softly, “It could be the first thing she says when she wakes up.”

Melissa comes down the stairs with a heavy duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries. She huffs at the boys, “You two coming?”

“Back to the hospital?” Stiles asks, standing quickly.

“Yeah, we’re going to drop off the supplies and maybe grab a late dinner.”

“Count me in,” he replies, scratching Ollie behind the ears in goodbye.

~~~

Stiles had been wandering the hospital hallways all night, refusing any sleeping aide from Melissa as she left. She’d be back for her day shift in a couple hours.

In a pathetic attempt to see you, he creeps past the night nurse to stand awkwardly at your window. The blinds are drawn and he wails silently, upset that it’s been so long since he last saw you.

He falls to the ground and slumps against the wall. Past the point of tears, he just melts into the floor. Until he hears a sneaker against the tile.

His eyes fly to the door to see Angela standing there with dark circles under her eyes. “Hello, Stiles.”

He clambers to his feet, rubbing his shaved hair flat against his head, “H-Hi front desk Westbrook.”

She smiles at that, “Have you been here the whole day?” she leans against the door frame as if she were hiding whatever was inside.

“No, my dad made me go home for a nap.”

“That’s good,” she says, “Um… Tom is asleep on the couch, but if you want to see her…”

“Yes, please!” he says entirely too loud.

She shushes him, “Again – her dad is asleep. Let’s try not to wake him; it’s the first sleep he’s gotten since the accident.”

Stiles nods vigorously, straightening his jacket and pulling on his hoodie strings. “Yep, I got you. Roger that.”

She refrains from rolling her eyes, endeared by him much like her daughter was at times. “She hasn’t moved an inch, but if you hold her hand long enough I swear she squeezes back.”

They step into the darkened room, only a lamp in the corner providing some light on the machines at work. You lay stone cold on the hospital bed. Dressed in a white gown and layered beneath a scratchy cotton blanket, you would look asleep if it weren’t for the numerous machines tracking your vitals.

Stiles goes into shock for a second, standing rigid by the door while Angela goes for her usual chair by the couch. She gestures for him to move, afraid speaking would wake her snoring husband.

With shuffling steps, Stiles makes for the chair beside your bed. Many stickers were on your chest, each connected to wires that lead to a machine. A thin yellow tube goes into your nose and is taped at your cheek. A monitor is attached to your index finger and the back of your hand has an IV stuck there.

He can see little stiches beneath your chin where Peter stuck his claws, and he knew your side was heavily bandaged with surgical tape. The right side of your face, the side that fell onto the asphalt as you tumbled out of the trunk, had road rash. Bloody scrapes were at your forehead and on that cheekbone. They were both covered with a shiny ointment.

“You can sit down,” Angela whispers, nodding to the chair, “She won’t bite.”

Stiles gives her a stiff smile, sitting in the chair. It was much more plush than the ones in the waiting room. He scoots closer to your bed and ponders your face. You look peaceful – not at all how you looked right before losing the ability to breathe.

It was making his dry eyes burn. Your lips weren’t purple anymore. They had the soft pink color he saw in his dreams.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he says softly. It put a lump in his throat “I – I’m… god…” He bows his head and finds that the warmth that usually took hold of him when he saw you… it ached and burned in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He reaches for your left hand, closest to him. It was free of wires and tubes, but it had hospital tags around your wrist. Your fingers are cold, and he wraps both his hands around them.

Angela tries to mind her own business, pulling a book from the side table to read. Or at least give her eyes something to look at.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles continues, he holds the mess of hands to his mouth, “I’m sorry for everything.” He tries to compose himself, tired of crying. “Um… don’t worry I fed Oliver before I came over.”

He misses the smile that Angela has on her face.

“And I’m pretty sure he deserves some fancy gourmet fish cake for the trouble,” Stiles deflects, rubbing his thumbs across the back of your hand. “He was worried sick about… about not eating.”

Angela huffs a laugh behind her book.

“That’s why dogs are better, you know. They freak out when their owner is sick. Cats just freak out when they can’t find their next meal.” He tries to swallow past the lump, “I was… I was freaking out there for a second.”

His fingers become light and lazy like they were the night on the preserve when you got drunk. “I felt hopeless again, seeing you like that.” He sniffles and clears his throat, “Which would make it super awesome if you would wake up soon,” he laughs sadly, “Please wake up soon. Please be alright.”

He holds your hand for another half hour, searching for that squeeze that Angela mentioned. Until Tom stirs on the couch and Stiles stands abruptly, suddenly afraid of his intrusion on a family matter.

He waves goodbye to a saddened Angela before returning to his hallway wandering. He walks and walks until the shift changes and the sun begins to rise again. His eyes feel dry and droopy, like he was in need of another emergency nap.

He slumps against the nurses station as Melissa appears in her scrubs, “You hanging in there, kiddo?” She rubs across his shoulders and he groans. “You didn’t sleep last night?”

“I napped all afternoon,” he says into the station counter, “(Y/N) still isn’t awake.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” she sympathizes, “She’s a part of my rounds today. I’ll make sure to give you updates, alright?”

He gives her a silly smile where his face was squashed into the counter, “Thanks, McCall.”

He wanders until he finds the gift shop open. There he buys a foil balloon covered in smiley faces and says, ‘Get well!’ It stays tied to his wrist as he makes his way back to the waiting room by your door.

Getting as comfortable as he could across three hospital chairs, he starts to fall asleep. It only takes five minutes for him to be lightly snoring, chair arms digging into his shoulders and lower back.

He fidgets there, balloon bobbing above him as he fights the stiffness of the chairs. He’s so exhausted that it doesn’t even wake him from the dreams he was diving into. Dreams similar to the summer day at the lake with you.

Ones where he got to hold you and kiss you again.

Melissa checks your chart by the door before sneaking a look at the snoozing boy.

“Oh, just like that. No, no – you first,” he mumbles, “Me first?” he drools in his sleep.

Melissa shakes her head and smiles, returning the chart and being startled by Tom walking out of your room. “Oh, Mr. Westbrook, you scared me.”

“Sorry, Melissa. And it’s Tom, please.” He stretches his arms, looking at the same thing she was moments ago. Stiles is stretched out across the chairs making kissing noises at the thin air. “Has he been here all night?”

“He’s been here all weekend,” Melissa folds her arms.

“That’s… concerning.”

Melissa pats his arm, “He’s one of the good ones.”

“You sure about that?” Tom winces at the dream kissing, “He seems like a load of trouble.”

“Oh, he’s plenty that,” Melissa laughs, “But he’s got a good heart. He cares a lot about your (Y/N).”

Tom folds his arms, “Speaking of which, she was twitching a bit in her sleep just an hour ago. Would you mind checking on her? See if she wakes to some stimulus or something.”

“Of course,” Melissa says, following his lead into your patient room.

Stiles wakes as the custodial service empties a garbage can by his head. Rudely woken at a really good part in his dream, he groggily smacks the balloon tied to his wrist. It floats back to hit him in the face and he falls out of the hospital chairs.

“Oh my god!” a muffled voice yells from your patient room.

Stiles flies to his feet, throat bobbing as he listens for something else. “(Y/N)?” He walks to your windows, blinds open now that the sun was out. His knees wobble at seeing your eyes open and mouth smiling.

He jumps to the door, creaking it open slowly as to not disturb the sudden commotion inside.

“Okay, lets run through basics,” Melissa says, “Cover one eye for me.” She measures your sight, dilating pupils, and your depth perception. “So far so good. Lift both arms for me and smile.” She checks for any signs of one sided weakness, but you pass with flying colors.

“Is she fine?” Angela holds onto her husband, “Is anything wrong?”

“Okay, (Y/N) – I need you to wiggle your toes. Good. And can you feel this?” Melissa checks for any numbness in your extremities. “Perfect. Now can you repeat this for me? Sally sells seashells…”

You lick your lips, “Sally sells seashells.”

“Amazing,” Melissa claps. There wasn’t an immediate speech impediment. “Alright, now tell me your name.”

“(Y/N) Westbrook.”

She nods, “And do you have any pets?”

“I have a gray cat named Oliver.”

“Where were you born?”

“In Palo Alto,” you say, still with confusion in your brow. “What’s going on?”

Melissa holds up her hands, “We’re just checking for any brain injuries. What surgery did you get last summer?”

“I had a device put near my heart,” you point to the 3-inch incision on your chest. “What the hell?” You move your left sleeve to look at the claw marks on your shoulder.

“And where do you go to school?” Melissa asks.

You shake your head, touching the scars, “Um… I go to school at home, I guess. I’m homeschooled.”

The room goes silent.

Melissa tries to maintain the calm, “(Y/N), do you know why you’re in the hospital?”

“I’m assuming because of this,” you point at the claw marks, “Cause I have no idea where they came from.” You scoff and find a hitch in your chest – a pain in your side, “Or maybe there’s another thing by my ribs. That actually hurts a lot.”

“Oh my god, she doesn’t remember,” Angela whispers, terrified.

Tom rubs a hand down her arm, “Just give them a minute.”

“Do you know who these people are?” Melissa points to your parents.

It makes you laugh, “Yeah, that’s my mom and dad.”

“And what about me?”

You lick your lips again, “You’re Melissa McCall. You always help when I’m in the hospital.”

She looks stiff, contemplating the next move. She looks behind her to see Stiles standing frozen at the door, balloon stuck behind him. Melissa grabs him by the sleeve and drags him into your view, “Do you know who this is?”

Stiles gives an awkward wave, balloon bouncing along with his hand. “Hi, (Y/N).”

You squint your eyes, a frown growing, “No, I’m sorry, who are you?” You miss the way the room steels over with fright. “How do you know my name?”

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover @nataliambc @anehkael

[spiderfunkz]

can you make a Peter parker fic where they’re baking together? 😇😇

─── 𐙚 smashing pumpkins

pairings. tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings. fluff, pet names, established relationship, teasing, mentions of insects lolz.

word count. 0,3k

a/n ; i can't cook or bake so i have no clue what i'm doing but i hope you like this little blurb! my requests for peter are open by the way, go ask something <3

"peter, i don't think it's supposed to look like that."

you laugh. peter's hands were tinted orange from scooping and cutting up the pumpkin, making it into pumpkin puree for the pie. he wanted to help, but it seemed like he was the puree in this situation.

'it's puree?" peter shrugged, wiping his hands on his apron. "you left the seeds in it. here," you scoop them up from the bowl. peter disagrees, "well... it smells nice, so, i think it'll be okay.." he smiles, mockingly.

"it does smell nice." — "i'm a professional chef. baker. what can i say?" he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. "ok professional chef, baker. can you make the rest of the pie, pretty please?"

he nods, "yes. absolutely, if you want the kitchen to burn down, yes. absolutely."

you smile. you love baking with peter. you loved the flour fights, the strawberry tinted kisses, and the soft scent of cake and sweets.

oh, and that one time you two almost burnt down the kitchen because you both completely forgot about the brownies in the oven, too busy dancing around to the song in the background.

after a while, a few distractions, surprise kisses, and a little fight with the dough. the pumpkin pie was finally done!

"smells so good, bub." peter takes the hot pie out of the oven.

"bet it tastes as good. we gotta let it cool down a bit." you say, taking off your apron, peter does the same. "can i add sprinkles onto it?" he asks, you nod, "and whipped cream?" you nod, "and chocolate icing?" you kept nodding to everything he was saying.

"alright i'll find the spiders in the backyard."

you furrowed your brows, "what?"

"you nodded.. to me.. asking if i could put insects in it.."

"peter that's disgusting."