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harryslittlefreakk · 3 months ago

Text

recipe for disaster

summary: y/n is a stubborn, clumsy baker and harry is a stubborn, overbearing firefighter

warnings: none!

wordcount: 4k

a/n: hi my friends 💐 this is basically just setting up the story lolll it was meant to be longer but who has the time for that!! stay tuned for part 2 <3

masterlist 🫶🏼

Nothing felt better than a warm shower after a long day. Steam swirled all around you, the hot water pounding away the day’s fatigue - the morning rush, the non-stop hum of the mixers, the relentless work to keep trays filled with gingerbread men and warm cinnamon rolls.

You had always been proud of the bakery. The satisfaction of seeing customers bite into your creations - it was all yours. Every flaky croissant, every gooey cinnamon roll, every crusty loaf bore the unmistakable mark of your hands.

And that’s why, no matter how many times Claire told you to hire some more help, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “You can’t keep this up alone,” she’d said in mid-October, standing in the doorway of the kitchen while you worked. You were wrist-deep in bread dough, kneading away as though the flour had wronged you.

“I’m fine,” you’d replied, the words curt and clipped. “It’s my kitchen. I’ve got it under control.”

Claire didn’t look convinced. She never did. “Christmas is coming, y/n. Orders are already piling up, and it’s not even December. This is too much for one person.”

You waved her off, refusing to look up. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.”

But you hadn’t done it like this before. Back then, the bakery wasn’t so popular. There weren’t stacks of orders for holiday cakes, tins of cookies, and towers of Christmas pies. There wasn’t the constant pressure of phone calls and emails asking if you could squeeze in “just one more order.”

By the time December rolled around, you were drowning.

The days started earlier and ended later, the hours slipping away as you raced to keep up. You woke in darkness, stumbling into the bakery before the sun rose. Your hands ached from kneading, your back throbbed from bending over the ovens, and your head buzzed with the endless list of things to do. And yet, you’d refused to admit you needed help.

“I’m worried about you,” Claire had said one night, her voice soft but firm. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen again, watching as you haphazardly piped frosting onto yet another tray of sugar cookies. Your shoulders were slumped, your apron streaked with berry juice and chocolate.

“I’m fine,” you’d mumbled, though even you didn’t believe it.

“You’re not fine. You’re exhausted. You’re going to make mistakes.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, louder than you meant to. The words echoed in the kitchen, the air growing heavy. Claire didn’t reply. She just shook her head and left you to your chaos.

She was right. You knew she was right. And you knew that she’d snitch to your brother, who’d stop by to ask why you weren’t listening to his wife. Only to be followed by your parents, who’d ask why you weren’t listening to your brother.

They only cared for your well-being. They wanted you to succeed as much as you wanted to succeed. But you didn’t remember a time when the bakery wasn’t your baby. It had been your dream, your refuge, and your pride all wrapped into one - a living, breathing extension of yourself. The idea of sharing that, of letting someone else touch what you had built, felt like carving off a piece of your soul.

You squeezed your eyes shut until the screams of voices and thoughts were tiny whispers in the back of your mind, letting the water cascade over you, enveloping you in its warmth. The sound of the spray drowned out the noise in your head, a momentary reprieve from the chaos of orders, burnt loaves, and your own stubborn pride. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the water, the steam curling around you, and the faint rhythm of your breathing as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Every muscle ached, but the heat soothed it all into blissful numbness. It was pure paradise - at least until a rock came flying through your bathroom window, shattered glass crashing all over your tiles. What the fuck?

You turned the shower off with shaking hands, adrenaline coursing through your body. The cold winter air filled the room quickly, the evening wind whistling through the smashed pane.

You slipped your robe on with a groan, the fleece clinging to your damp skin.

That’s when the sound reached you - the incessant wailing of the smoke alarm from downstairs. Your stomach dropped. The bakery.

You’d sworn to be more switched on, to actually check the ovens before you retreated to your apartment. But the days were long, and your brain was goo by the time you waved the last customers out of the door.

The floors were wet beneath your feet as you slipped and skidded down the stairs, your mind cycling through every possibility of what would await you. A burglar who decided to commit arson? Your entire kitchen alight? The flower store next door burned to the ground, your beloved bakery an unfortunate casualty?

You reached for the light switch tentatively, your eyes landing on a curl of dark smoke seeping from the oven door. The entire bakery was dim, your soft lighting no match for the cloud hanging over the room.

That fucking deafening beeping was doing nothing to calm you down. You grabbed the broom, jabbing at the smoke alarm, and of course, missing the button every time, your hands shaking as the panic turned to adrenaline in your veins. Your free hand flapped wildly under the sensor, desperately trying to just Stop. The. Beeping.

“Hello? Let me in!”

A deep, husky man’s voice. The same man who was also pounding on your front door, his face pressed up against the glass.

If good things came in threes, how many bad things were you supposed to get at one time?

Your priorities might have been skewed, as they usually were, but getting rid of the axe murderer at your door was suddenly the most important thing in the world to you.

You charged towards the door, broom still in hand, throwing it open with a noise not too far from a growl. “It’s really not ideal for you to murder me right now! Come back later,” you shouted over the smoke alarm.

“I’m not- what?”

Okay, the murderer had a hot voice. But he was still a murderer. You pushed the door closed with your shoulder, but he wedged his shoe in the doorway, halting your attempt to shut him out. You glared down at the offending foot, your grip on the broom tightening.

"Look, I'm just trying to help," he said, holding his hands up. "I’m a firefighter. Saw smoke pouring out of your oven.”

“Help with what, exactly?” you shot back, trying to ignore the way his broad shoulders filled the doorway, or how his green eyes sparkled with the thrill of, presumably, rescuing reckless strangers. “Didn’t know firefighters made house calls.”

“Only the off-duty ones with nothing better to do,” he replied, a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. "Now, can I come in and shut that alarm off for you, or are you planning to fight it out with your smoke detector all night?"

Reluctantly, you let go of the door, allowing him to step inside. He wasted no time reaching up to the beeping menace, silencing it with a practiced jab at the button. You couldn’t help but notice the sleeves of his t-shirt tighten around his arms as he reached up, the sliver of tattooed skin poking out from above his belt.

"Thanks," you muttered, crossing your arms as he looked back to you, his eyes sweeping over your chaotic kitchen, over your clearly naked body, and then back to your face, as if assessing the full scene. The corners of his lips quirked up as he turned to the oven, waving a hand at the remaining smoke.

You sighed, letting the last of your defenses fall. “You’re really not going to murder me, are you?”

"Not today," he chuckled, a low, warm sound that filled the small space. Your eyes caught on the way his strong hands moved, sure and gentle as he maneuvered around your kitchen. You leaned against the counter, pretending you weren’t staring at the way his arms flexed under the faded fabric.

He caught you looking, and to your utter embarrassment, he gave a small grin. “So… what exactly was this supposed to be?" he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he stepped closer, holding the charred remains of whatever had been inside.

“Oh shit. Mrs Fuller’s birthday cake,” you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. “I completely forgot I was baking that.” Great. Just another obstacle in the way of your early night.

“Hey, sorry about the window,” he murmured.

“Hm?” you asked, your voice distant, not really processing his words.

“The window,” he repeated, gesturing upward, your gaze following his hand to the ceiling. “Was only trying to get your attention,” he continued, his voice dipping into something apologetic. “Didn’t mean to break it.”

You shook your head, finally dragging your focus back to the mess in front of you. “It’s whatever,” you muttered, keeping your tone neutral, though your chest ached with the effort. “Just another point on my to-do list. Thanks for…” You gestured vaguely at the bakery, your voice trailing off.

“I can come by and fix it,” he offered, his voice tentative, like he wasn’t sure if you’d bite his head off or accept the help.

“I can do it,” you snapped, your words sharper than you intended. The burning behind your eyes grew stronger, and you could feel your control slipping. You needed him to leave, needed the space to let the tears spill over before they choked you entirely.

When you glanced up, you saw the change in his expression. The slight upturn of his lips faltered and turned into a somber frown. He looked at you like he wanted to ask something but thought better of it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, the heat of guilt flushing your face. “I’ve got it covered. Thanks, though.”

For a moment, he stood there, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. He glanced between you and the broken cake, the smoke still lingering above, and something in his eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it, nodding instead.

“Alright,” he said, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” you cut in, desperate now. “It’s fine.”

He hesitated, his brow knitting tighter as if he wanted to say something else, but after a moment, he nodded. "Alright. If you’re sure."

You nodded back, barely looking at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if holding yourself together. The silence between you stretched until, mercifully, he turned and walked away.

The door creaked slightly as it began to close behind him, the faint sound of his trainers scuffing against the floor fading. You thought that was the end of it, but then the footsteps stopped. For a moment, the room held its breath, the silence pressing down like the weight in your chest.

Then, the door eased back open, just enough for him to lean his head inside. His dark eyes met yours, hesitant but determined, like he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake but decided to do it anyway.

“Harry,” he said, his voice soft but clear as it cut through the stillness. He lingered there in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame, his shoulders tense as though bracing for rejection. “That’s my name. Harry.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but not far from it. You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden reappearance, the unexpected vulnerability in the way he said it. He waited, his eyes searching your face for some kind of response.

Your lips curved, just barely, into a weak but genuine smile. “Harry,” you repeated softly, like you were trying the name on for size. Then you added, “I’m…” Your voice faltered for a split second, but you pressed on, offering him your name in return. “Y/n.”

A spark of something warm flickered in his eyes, a hint of relief mingled with curiosity. He nodded once, as if committing it to memory, before straightening up and gripping the edge of the door.

And then he was gone.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the counter. Your knees felt weak, your chest tight, and the dam you’d been holding back began to crack. You stared at the mess around you, the cake you’d worked so hard on reduced to a heap of blackened crumbs, the endless pile of orders still waiting for you, and the tears you’d been fighting finally broke free.

It wasn’t just the window. It wasn’t just the cake. It was everything. The weight of trying to do it all alone, the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin, the constant feeling that no matter how hard you worked, it was never enough.

You slid down to the floor, your back against the counter, letting the sobs come. For a moment, you allowed your emotions to swallow you, the frustration, the helplessness, the crushing loneliness. But even as you cried, part of you knew this couldn’t keep happening. Something had to give.

You pulled out your phone, typing a quick text to Claire. we’ll start looking for help tomorrow. promise.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, slumped against the counter, staring blankly at the mess surrounding you. The tears had stopped at some point, leaving behind a dull ache in your chest and the gritty sensation of salt drying on your cheeks. But soft rapping on the door pulled you out of your misery.

Wiping at your face with unsteady hands, you forced yourself to your feet, every movement feeling heavier than the last. When you opened the door, there he was: Harry, standing in the dim light, his arms full of cardboard, duct tape, and what looked like sheets of plastic.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice raw and quieter than you’d meant it to be.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he nudged his way past you into the bakery, not waiting for permission, and glanced down at the materials in his arms. “You can’t leave the window broken in this cold,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Harry, it’s fine—” you began, stepping toward him, but he cut you off without looking up.

“It’s not fine,” he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute.

You stared at him for a moment, his gaze hard as he looked back at you.

“Come on. Help me with this window,” he murmured, waiting for you to lead the way upstairs. When you didn’t move, he shifted the materials in his arms, freeing up his right hand before reaching out and pulling at your wrist.

It sent a chill straight through you, sharp and unexpected.

You froze for a second, your breath catching in your throat. His touch was fleeting, a playful tug, but it left behind a heat that spread across your skin, unbidden and unwelcome. You pulled your hand back too quickly, clutching it to your side as if it had been burned, though the sensation was far from painful.

He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He kept waiting, his focus unwavering, but you couldn’t say the same.

There was a hum beneath your ribs now, something restless and alive, thrumming just below the surface. Attraction. You recognized it immediately, though you almost wished you didn’t. It didn’t make sense. You barely knew this man. He wasn’t someone you’d invited into your world, not really, and yet here he was - ready to fix your window, trying to fix your life, filling your space, making you feel something you hadn’t expected and didn’t know how to handle.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to push it down, to smother the thought before it took root. It was nothing. A moment. A reaction to being exhausted, overwhelmed, and vulnerable. But when he turned to look at you, his gaze steady and clear, it was all you could do to keep your knees from buckling.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft, and you swore you could feel it reverberate somewhere deep inside you.

“Fine,” you said too quickly, your voice tight and uneven. You cleared your throat, pushing past him to the stairs. “I’ll show you the bathroom, but I need to get started on redoing this cake,” you told him, cocking your head back towards the kitchen.

Harry raised his eyebrows, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “No.”

His hand pressed into your lower back, pushing you closer to the stairs. “I know better than anyone that being tired in the kitchen is a bad idea. When does Mrs. Fuller need her cake?”

“Tomorrow evening,” you mumbled, hesitating as your toes hovered over the first step. Your voice was low, almost apologetic, but the weariness that gripped you made it impossible to summon anything stronger.

“Then you can deal with it tomorrow,” Harry said firmly, cutting off any protest before it could begin. His tone softened just slightly as he added, “After you’ve had a full night’s sleep.”

You turned back to face him, scowling instinctively. You were used to handling things on your own, not being told what to do, no matter how reasonable the suggestion might be. “You’re kind of overbearing, you know that?”

Harry only grinned, his expression as maddeningly charming as ever. “Wouldn’t be doing my duty if I wasn’t.” The hand on your lower back nudged you gently, urging you up the stairs as if you were a stubborn child refusing to go to bed.

You bit down on your lower lip, the indents of your teeth starting to feel like a permanent feature. As much as Harry was overstepping, he was clearly just as stubborn as you were, and it felt good to have someone forcibly taking care of you - not backing off in the hopes that you’d come around to their suggestions.

“In here,” you murmured when you reached the top of the stairs, an icy chill already filling your apartment. “I’m sure you can work out which one it is.”

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Harry slipped past you, your heart almost stopping as you realised for the first time that you were still just in your robe, a deep flush creeping up your cheeks, the scarlet heat of embarrassment burning through you just as Harry’s gaze flicked back toward you. His eyes swept over you briefly, lingering for only a moment at the hem of the robe before he cleared his throat and turned away.

“I’ve got it from here,” he said quietly, his voice steady and measured as he moved toward the window. He nudged a shard of glass away from your bare feet before giving you a pointed look. “Go on.”

You hesitated, torn between retreating to your bedroom and stubbornly insisting on staying. Ultimately, the embarrassment won out. You turned quickly, rushing to your room, your mind racing as that small, insistent voice in the back of your head screamed at you to not pull on your ratty old pajamas.

And yet, despite the voice, that’s exactly what you did. A threadbare cotton t-shirt and a pair of faded sweatpants found their way onto your body as you sat heavily on the edge of the bed, cradling your face in your hands.

There was a man in your bathroom, a man who quite clearly only wanted to help you - the same man you’d practically forcibly removed from the property. The same man that was causing some sort of chemical imbalance within you.

You’d have to grovel if you ever wanted to see him again - as if he’d ever want to see you again. You’d done nothing but snap at him and act like he was inconveniencing you.

Harry had seen you at your worst, your very worst, and you weren’t entirely sure you owed yourself the chance for him to see you at your best.

But you wanted him to.

You shook your head, forced yourself back to your feet and padded toward the bathroom. You stopped in the doorway, stunned, as he worked quickly, fitting cardboard over the shattered glass, layering plastic sheets on top, securing everything with careful strips of tape.

“I could’ve done it,” you muttered after a moment, your voice shaking despite yourself.

He glanced back at you briefly, his strong hands still busy with the repair, a smirk on those taunting lips. “Maybe. But you didn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed quiet, staring at the makeshift patch and the man who had put it together. The tightness in your chest eased slightly, though a storm of inner turmoil was brewing.

“Thanks,” you said finally, the word coming out soft and uneven.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Don’t mention it.” He hesitated, glancing at you with a look that felt entirely too knowing. “You should take a break,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Get some rest, maybe. You look... worn out.”

You huffed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a scoff. “Gee, thanks,” you said, trying to mask the lump rising in your throat.

He flashed you that dimpled grin, straightening up as he placed the last strip of tape on the window.

“That’ll hold for now. But you’ll need to get it sorted properly before the weather turns,” Harry murmured, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

You followed him back downstairs, reiterating that yes, you’d get it sorted. Yes, you’d stay out of the kitchen that night. Yes, you’d double check how to work your alarms. Yes, you’d double check the ovens before you went upstairs. No, you didn’t want your business and home to burn down.

He turned to you when he reached the door, his green eyes laced with sincerity. “Take care of yourself, y/n. Seriously.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind a patched window and an unsettling quiet. But for once, you couldn’t find a reason not to follow the advice given to you. You were exhausted, and suddenly desperate to dream of the firefighter who’d all but swept you off your feet.

thank you so much for reading 🤍

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rhyrhy · 13 days ago

Text

Head of this house

After one too many bickering sessions with Abby about her long hours, you fell asleep while doing laundry. Uh oh

Cw: Smut! Strap on (r! Receiving), soft dom Abby!, traditional housewife views, slight rough sex, (no major petnames! Just a few sprinkled in) added visuals, blah blah blah. Slut activities.

4k words | MDNI- mlist

You lay there, sore and beyond satisfied on your duvet. Your panting had finally slowed. The room only filled with the distant hiss of the master bedroom shower being run by your wife. As your thoughts came back to you, you couldn't help but blush at the flashbacks from just moments ago…

Abby had just walked through the door after a long day at work. Sweat clung to her skin from the hot, grueling job on the site. However, as soon as she got home you didn’t come greet her like usual. oh lord that meant either you were sleeping or still upset by the argument of her work hours.

Heading into the bedroom and seeing you sprawled out on the bed and the bonnet covering half your face just furthered her thoughts. she sighed and leaned over and gently removed the covering off your head. she took a moment to just stare at your peaceful face a small smile forming on her own as her eyes roamed all over you.

her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she looked around the room and noticed the mess of clothes scattered everywhere. Her smile dropped.

she knew you’d been working on laundry a while ago, but for some reason got distracted. now she had to clean up after you, something that usually didn’t happen and she didn’t like it one bit.

she couldn’t help the small flare of irritation in her chest at the sight of it. she shook her head but quickly tried to push the thought aside and instead focus on her wife front of her after missing her... but the messy clothes were just a small reminder that you weren’t the perfect housewife she thought you were. she began tidying it all up, trying to keep the grumble of annoyance from her mouth low as she continued.

A line of colorful language woke you.

“You’re home?” You sleepily sat up realizing you’d lost track of time.

“Mhm, I just got home.” As you sat up, the shirt rode up and she couldn’t help but rake her eyes down your body. her own pants suddenly feeling like too many clothes, as she leaned against the dresser.

“I came in to see you all laid out on the bed, and yet you didn’t come greet me.” she said, her voice a little gruff from the long day.

You felt your stomach twist with guilt. She’d worked all day, and you’d lazily fallen asleep… But this was also just an off day. She’d understand that, right?

“I wasn’t aware you’d be working so late tonight.” half-truth; you couldn't remember if she told you or not.

“I told you that last night. I’ve had to work late these past few days to finish up a project on time. I don’t understand why you get all bent out of shape about it.” She huffed in response, still leaning against the dresser, her toned, arms crossed tightly in front of her.

Oh, here we go. You two never fought really, but when you did? It was over; you never saw her unless the sun was down and the streetlights were on. You tried to move topics but somehow kept ending up in the same spot.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“You just do more overtime than needed. Is all I was saying” this was true; she was a workaholic. Yes, she took care of you, but what’s the point of you never getting to hold her, kiss her, or be near her?

She groaned in annoyance, pushing off the dresser and stalking over to the bed. She stood over you, an eyebrow raised and irritation in her voice.

“You know how important my job is to me. Do you have any idea how much pressure is on me to get this job done on time? And then I come home to find things not done the way they’re supposed to be. Maybe you should be focusing more on keeping yourself busy while I’m out working my ass off.” She hated when you brought that up; true or not, you hit low. She was going to hit lower.

“What are you talking about—Oh lord, I fell asleep! Don’t act like that.” You huffed; no way she was this pissed. You always kept the house together, but today it was being hung over your head. And you didn’t like it one bit. She had dinner on the stove waiting for her for god's sake.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips, fingers brushing her belt. You could feel the room grow hotter as both of you glared daggers. It felt like a standoff.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! I came home to find clothes all over the floor like a damn tornado went through here. I had to pick it all up for you”.

“I was between cleaning and dinner, The house is never a mess. So you have no right to throw this in my face!” You sighed. This truly felt ridiculous. Had she forgotten everything leading up to today?

“You’re damn right I’m going to throw it in your face when I come home and find it a mess. I work my ass off all day to pay the bills; the least you can do is keep the house clean for me when I get home.”

She stepped even closer, standing only a few feet away from you now. She towered over you in a way that said, ‘I dare you to keep talking back.’. You know you should stop; just explain you were having an off day, but her tone was making that hard to do.

She huffed again, her eyes narrowing. She could see the challenge in your expression as you sat there on the bed, shirt bunched up and revealing the smooth planes of your body. She could see it clear as day, and it made the irritation in her chest grow. You were on thin ice, and you willingly kept skating.

“Do you even realize what you’re wearing right now?”

What the fuck was she talking about? It’s a sleep shirt and shorts. Did she not hear that part where you said you were doing laundry? Ugh

But your reply was unknowingly the first strike.

“What? Oh, now you are going to be upset by what I’m wearing’ to bed too?”

It felt like hell itself in the master bedroom. You hated fighting with her; you really did. With her late hours and you spending more time with your family, it felt like a wedge was being pushed between you two. Not to mention the obvious baby fever she’d been having, and yes, she’d be a good coparent but how can she promise that if you don’t see her now?

It was too much, too fast, too heated.

She clenched her jaw, her patience nearing its breaking point. Her eyes were flashing with borderline anger now, her jaw set in a hard line. Her towering a few steps away, you had moved to lean on the doorframe. Honestly, maybe it was better to walk away and take a breather. You two were usually good about that; you just hoped it would reach today.

“Do you even listen to a damn thing I say? You’ve been getting more and more mouthy lately, and I don’t like it. at. all.” Mouthy? You were being a little defensive, yes, but you weren’t trying to push her buttons on purpose. Even if it did get you a little hot to see her like this on occasion.

her hands were balled into fists at her side, itching to reach out and do something about your behavior. She took a breath, trying to calm herself, but the sight of you staring back at her, challenging her, was making it hard to do.

“You need to keep that smart mouth of yours in check, understand?” She raised a hand, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look directly at her. Other hand gripped her hip, a clear sign of bubbling over irritation.

Her grip on your chin got a little tighter, a warning to stay compliant. She looked down at you, her eyes flickering all over your face, and the way your breath was coming out in shallow pants. her own chest was heaving as she stood there, trying to keep a steady hold on the anger and nagging pang of lust that was running through her.

A few moments of silence passed, allowing you both to take a much-needed breath. She began to speak again, but the sound of your own breathing and foot tapping on the floor was all you could hear. She went on and on, Jesus.

“Are you listening to me?

She leaned down, her face now only a few inches away from yours. Her voice was low. her hand moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck instead. She tugged your hair, pulling your head back a little bit, forcing you to look up at her. Waiting for your answer.

“Yes, I’m listening—will you knock that off?” you spat out, interrupted by the hair tug.

“I just don’t understand why you’re acting so damn bratty lately. It’s really starting to get on my nerves—” You felt her hand tense, then ball up a bit more on your scalp.

One thing Abby hated more than you being mouthy was an eye roll following it, and you had just done it while she was talking. She tugged your hair again, just a little bit rougher this time.

“Excuse—Did you just roll your eyes at me?” she said, pure disbelief in her voice. You were really starting to push it. The irritation and anger were only growing, and she was getting more and more tempted to put you in your place right then and there.

That was strike two.

She took another deep breath, her balled grip on your scalp still too tight. Her words were gritted out through her teeth. She wanted you to just apologize and not let it happen again.

“You better remember your place, honey. I’m the head of this house, and I won’t tolerate this kind of attitude.

Attitude. A word she repeated like a prayer, she swore you had the stinkiest attitude she’d ever seen when you fought. It irritated you highly; it felt like she was talking down to you. You weren’t a child; you were her wife, her equal. housewife roll aside.

“I’m only giving you attitude because you’re being ridiculous, Abbigail!” You threw your arms up. No honey, sweetheart, or any other cute name she was used to. Her full name,

A-b-b-i-g-a-l. Her full name.

That’s it. That did it. She went from mildly annoyed to furious in two seconds. The sound of her full first name falling from your lips combined with that stubborn, whiny tone in your voice pushed her over the edge she was hanging over.

She let go of your hair and grabbed your upper arm, standing you up from leaning on the doorway in one swift movement. She stood in front of you, towering over you, her voice low and full of irritation.

“Excuse me? …What did you just call me?”

Ah shit. It slipped out before you could stop yourself; she hated when you used her government. A line you had just crossed, regret starting to pool along with an uncomfortable arousal from how close she was standing. This woman can bench 205 pounds; she wasn’t afraid to do some manhandling if needed. You only ever got the soft side of her, and this was definitely not that. It was best to stand down…but your mouth had other plans.

She grabbed your other arm, her grip tight on your wrists as she stared you down. She was struggling to keep herself in control; the urge to shut you up was starting to become hard to ignore.

“You wanna repeat that?” she asked, her voice louder and more authoritative this time. You were going to answer, and now. She just didn’t know how much she was going to dislike your tone when you did.

“I said. You are being ridiculous, Abigail, because you are.” She was; this was deeper than today. An unspoken conversation about the growing distance between you two. Your own frustrations began to flow out as you continued on.

That was definitely strike three. You were asking for it, and she was going to give it to you.

That did it. The continual rise of your voice and finger pointing. She pushed you backwards, slamming you against the wall with brute force. her body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall.

“Don’t you ever use that tone with me” “have you lost your mind?”

She spit out through clenched teeth, her eyes staring down at you intensely as she held you there. her breathing was labored, her body tense. the way you were pressed against her, your body soft and chest to chest, it was only making things worse. it was taking all her restraint not to throw you over her lap. Rough wasn’t really what she favored most days, but it was seeming like a beautiful idea right about now.

“You need to learn to respect me. You are my wife, and I am yours. I work hard to provide for us, and what do you do? Sit at home all day and then get sassy when I come in tired?”

She cut you off mid-sentence with some half-hearted apology, half whine.

“Unt uh! Save it. I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been acting like this for too damn long, and I’m tired of it.”

Her eyes triangled down to your mouth, her breathing labored as she fought to keep her cool. Your lips were parted, your eyes wide, and the sight of you like that was making her feel dizzy. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her lips were on yours in an instant, her body pressing against you even harder. There was no sweetness or tenderness in this kiss—it was pure, raw need.

You felt your stomach twist. Oh, she was pissed, and you...kind of liked it? No- really. Liked it

She was kissing you with a ferocity that you hadn’t experienced before. Her tongue was in your mouth, exploring every inch, claiming your mouth. Her hands let go of your wrists, snaking down to grip your hips firmly. A soft sigh fell between you two; god, it’s been so long since you two got to hold each other longer than a few minutes before bed.

She broke the kiss, only to take a moment to look at you. Her eyes were dark, filled with an almost feral need. She leaned in, her mouth close to the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been pushing me for so damn long. I think it’s about time I knock you down a few notches.”

And honestly, you needed it. Wanted it, her.

“Now, you’re going to go over to the bed and get in that exact same position you were in when I walked in here, understood?”

Oh, you understood alright; all you wanted to do was leap onto the bed and let her get it all out. You were still irritated by the previous conversation, yes, but you wouldn’t have married her if you didn’t like this side of her.

Her eyes were still fixed on you as she began to strip out of her work clothes, unbuttoning her flannel shirt and discarding it on the floor. her undershirt followed suit, revealing her physique that you loved. She then worked on taking off her jeans, shimmying out of them and kicking them aside.

“You’re going to lay there while I show you who’s in charge, yeah?”

As mad as she was, she was still checking in; railing your brains out was only ever done if wanted and only then. You nodded, returning to your position from before the argument. On your stomach, head propped on your arm.

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to follow suit and undress, but you didn’t have time to wonder long when, without another word, she climbed onto the bed, looming over you.

Her hands were on your body in an instant, exploring every inch. They roamed over your skin, touching and squeezing and gripping. She was being rougher than usual, her touch almost possessive.

Her breath was hot against your neck as she spoke, her body pressed against your back.

“You remember who’s in charge around here, don’t you, hm?” She loved hearing you say it. A small smile when you confirmed that you did.

“Damn straight you do.” She pulled the shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor. Her eyes roamed over your now-exposed body, taking in every inch.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Her hands moved back to your hips, gripping them tightly again, her fingers digging into your skin. Grinding herself on the fat of your ass. Her weight on top of yours was as comfortable as a weighted blanket, a small hum of approval falling out when she began to kiss your bare shoulder.

The feeling of her strong thighs and bare cunt on the thin fabric of your shorts had your breath hitching. You know it’s been too long when small friction like this had her mewing moans into your warmed skin already.

Her hand found its way pulling your hair out of the way, causing you to tilt your head to meet your shoulder. Her chest now completely pressed against the skin of your back, messily kissing her way up to your lips.

She rubs herself against your clothed ass a bit more desperately. “Mm— God... I need this.” She was mostly saying that to herself, but it was nice to hear.

Her mouth leaves wet trails over your soft skin as her hands travel down from your face to the base of your neck. Calloused fingers guiding your head further over as she crashed her lips back into yours. She swiftly bit your lip to gain entrance of your mouth with her tongue, bullying yours, followed by another shared moan.

Eventually, once she pulled back for air, she lifted off your hips just enough to pull your shorts and underwear down, tossing them next to her forgotten work clothes.

Wasting no time, she leaned forward, burying her face between your thighs, her tongue immediately going to work on your pussy. Zigzagging through your folds, her grip tight, harder on your hips and legs spread you open and still as possible.

“Shit, abs,” you choked out, your cheek heavily rested on the plush pillow. Holding on for dear life. Eyes squeezing shut when her middle finger followed along. The pad curling and she pumped it tirelessly.

Her tongue was relentless, working against you in all the ways that had your eyes rolling back, arching and writhing in her grip that was bruising your skin. She was going to show you just what happens when you get too smart with her, too mouthy.

“Thaaattt’s it, baby, let it out for me. Wanna hear you get loud.”

She could hear your breathing getting heavy, your words coming out in soft pants. Babbling out apologies when she would smack an occasional love tap to the fat of your ass. She wasn’t stopping, not until she got you to scream for her.

She didn’t let up on the constant sucking and pressure on your clit. She wanted you to moan and shout her name so loudly she’d have to put a hand over your mouth. She wanted to hear you say you were hers and only hers.

Her tongue against your skin felt nearly sinful; the things she was doing were nearly too much. and she wasn’t stopping anytime soon. not when you were moaning and arching into her. not when you were biting back loud whimpers. She was going to keep going until she’d made her point, made sure you would behave. Her pink muscle filling the room with smacking sounds and your whines for her to not stop.

It sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Her movements were urgent now, her intent clear. She wanted to push you over the edge. your hands bunched at your shared blankets, in a struggled attempt to steady yourself. You didn’t realize how much you missed moments like these until now, back arched and head heavy as your brain fogged. The only thing on it was wanting more, more, god please more.

With a loud cry you bounced your ass backwards as you chased your high. Forcing her finger deeper, god you just wanted more but knew you weren’t in a position to ask so you made due.

Every nerve in your body was on fire, that coil in your lower belly beginning to snap.

A small hiss left her throat feeling you bury her deeper into your cunt. Feeling drunk off your sounds and need. She could feel your body moving against as you tried to keep it under control. "That's right, baby," she murmured into your skin. Curling them inside to hit your spot; causing your head to fall back and moans escape your mouth.

You could barely hear her over yourself but it was enough to have you coating her fingers in your release sooner than you expected, your orgasm washing over you.

Your hips fell flat against the mattress, the tension in your body unraveling all at once. The rustle of her releasing your legs barely registered in your haze, the world around you distant and blurred. Your limbs felt weightless, boneless, a warm numbness spreading from your core outward. Your breath came in slow, uneven waves against the soft white pillow, your cheek molding into the fabric, damp with heat.

Your heartbeat still thundered in your chest, pulsing in your fingertips, your skin alive with the aftershocks that rolled through you in lazy ripples. You heard her silky voice whisper something along with your bedside table's soft click, but you weren’t sure what it was until you were a little spooked by the sudden weight dipping into the mattress next to you.

You went to curl next to her only to be pulled over. You let out a weak chuckle and scooted to straddle her hips. Only to have your eyes snap open at the sudden push of silicone into your still pulsating heat. Causing your hips to buck into the feeling.

“F-Fuck! Abby—Jesus” Followed by a SMACK on your hip, as you shuddered and sunk down onto the toy as far as you could.

“Uh unt, you don’t get to whine right now” “still got a lot of apologizing to do”

One hand gripped your hip to keep you in place, the other slowly rubbing your clit in messy circles. Your skin felt like fire as her hands roamed your body. Abby jerks up, letting the rest of her inches sink inside you. A small groan falling from her lips when the base of her strap adds pressure from your weight striking her clit. The dim light from the bedside lamp glowing softly on her features, the sight alone had you biting your lip.

Her Hairsprayed out on the pillow underneath her, eyes half-lidded as she feels out the lines and dips of your body. You had only been on a top a few times; she wanted you to work for it. Usually she’d fuck you until you were one with the mattress, but the conversation from earlier still lingered in the air. In the hottest way possible.

You didn’t need her to tell you what to do, thighs brushing the skin of her waist as you guided yourself along the veiny length. It felt so deep inside of you that you were practically melting together.

“That’s it, honey, k-keep god—Fuckin' me like you mean it.” she brings her firm grip up to your waist to help you add to the sweet rocking, causing her to tilt her head further back. Your rhythm steadies, the bounce of your hips sending Abby into soft grunts.

Her fingertips left your back, moving back down to your hips to steady herself and guide your rocking faster.

“Yes, juuust like that,” she whispered, shifting underneath so she was a deep as possible. The repetitive sound of the skin of her pelvis meeting yours over and over filled the room to the brim. Her praises mingling with her low moans and your breathy pants.

Hearing you respond, seeing how you looked, feeling your body against hers was sending her brain into overdrive. You looked good, sounded good, and felt even better. She continued moving, her breath coming out in sharp pants.

She let out a little groan at the feeling, her head falling back a bit. She pulled your hair slightly, exposing your neck and back arching further into her view. one hand moving from your hip to your back, nails raking against your skin. She could feel you trembling, and she knew you wouldn’t last much longer, though, she wasn’t far behind either. Feeling heat pool in your lower belly, you lifted your hips higher with each bounce. A slight tingling in your toes as the strap kissed all the right spots of your gushing walls.

She let out a low gasp when you pressed your hands against her chest, the desperation clear as day in the way you sunk down. It only caused her to move a little faster, the sound of the headboard creaking against the wall filling her ears and egging her on. Her hand in your hair pulled a little bit harder this time, the other moving to your hip again to steady herself.

She groaned at the feeling, watching as you tried to move as well, trying to keep the pace. She gripped your hips a bit tighter, her nails digging into your skin a little.

“You look so pretty.” She managed between pants, “You sound even better too, mm—gonna remember this every time you get mouthy with me, yeah?”

All you could do was a head nod, feeling the tight coil in your lower belly snap along with a choked out whimper

Yes you definitely would

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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the0doreslover · 6 months ago

Text

Stuck forever by the... glue? | t.n x fem!reader

summary: you and theodore are quite literally “stuck together”

warnings: a few innuendos

a/n: so i’ve been MIA for a little while but i hope this 4k piece makes up for it 😬😬😬

‘just make it to friday’

These were the five simple words that played in your mind since the beginning of the week.

Maybe it was because your mother had been sending you a letter every day, reinforcing the importance of your success in any exam you are to partake in, or because your professors had seemed to be putting extra pressure on you at the moment, or maybe… just maybe it was because you were simply tired, that every day seemed to be getting harder.

Your friends weren’t much help, it wasn’t their fault, they just couldn’t understand the pressure you had been going through over the past few weeks. You had unintentionally pushed them away.

Friday morning at last.

You had a little while to kill before your first lesson of the day and had decided on sitting in the courtyard.

You were walking towards your usual seat behind the large oak tree when you noticed

a rather peculiar looking sketchbook in its place

You picked it up, and opened the first page, and there in the neatest writing was the words; Property Of Theodore Nott

Great.

You were just admiring the pattern on the front of the book when a hand on your wrist startled you.

Looking up, in all his glory was Theodore Nott.

You didn’t have a chance to fully clock him, when he snatched the book from your hands.

“Did you open the book?” he asked, seeming to be catching his breath

“What?”

“i said did you open the book?” he urged, louder this time.

“No… Nott i didn’t” you answered

“right… well your blouse is undone” he nodded towards your chest.

You gasped slightly pulling your fingers towards the buttons, you felt around for a second until he started laughing “i lied”

“why do you have to be such a dick” you groaned noticing he tried to change the subject away from his sketchbook

“i guess i was born that way” he shrugged, with a slight grin on his face “why do you have to be such a prat?”

“i guess i was born that way” you huffed before walking away from him

Seeing as you had only a few minutes before your lesson, you had decided on going a bit earlier.

Professor Flitwick's classroom was already half-full, the usual chatter filling the air as students settled into their seats.

After what felt like an eternity, Flitwick clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, today we're going to practice some partner work. Pair up and choose the most interesting charm you can think of, the winning pair will be free from the assignment i am giving out later”

You groaned inwardly. Partner work meant having to socialize, something you didn't feel up to after the morning's events. You stayed seated, hoping someone would approach you. Instead, you felt a presence next to your desk. Looking up, you saw Theodore standing there,

"I’ll partner with you” he said taking the seat next to you

You blinked in surprise. Maybe he was trying to sabotage you in revenge of the morning…. but seeing some of the other options for partners, he didn’t seem so bad

"fine"

The two of you moved to an empty corner of the classroom, while you grabbed a study guide to charms.

“We’re not using that” theodore laughed

“well unless you’re secretly a charms dictionary i’m not sure what you think we should use”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a thick grey book, labelled “A masters guide to charms”

“Sorry Nott i didn’t know you were a master” you mocked him bowing your head down

“yeah yeah funny” he rolled his eyes opening the first page to its contents

“how about this one?” you asked pointing to a picture of a beautiful ocean

“no way i don’t really want to drown today”

you glared at his reply

“let’s do this” he hummed

“no way, i’m not turning everything edible”

“boring” he sighed

“lets do this” “we’ll do this”

you both said at the same time pointing to a photo of a man appearing to be stuck to a tree.

After agreeing on the spell and practising it without wands for a little while, You decided you should try it out.

“i have a pencil and a sharpener. Try on them” you said pulling both out your pocket and placing them infront of him

Stepping back you watched theodore perform the spell.

one

two

three

“nothing happened?” you sighed

“i think i can see that myself” he grabbed the pencil and placed it closer to the sharpener

“let’s do it at the same time. That way it might be stronger” you suggested and picked your wand up.

“one” you looked at him to ensure he was doing it correctly

“two” he watched your hands to ensure you had placed your wand at the right point”

“Three!” Just as you both cast your charm, a sudden jolt sent your wands askew. You glanced up in surprise to see Fred and George Weasley barreling past.

"Watch it!" Theodore snapped, but it was too late.

The spell went haywire. You felt a strange pull on your hand and looked down to see your fingers stuck to Theodore's. His eyes widened as he tried to pull away, but your hands were firmly glued together.

"Fred! George!" you called after the twins, who had stopped and were now doubled over with laughter. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, love, it seems we just gave your charm a little nudge," Fred grinned, winking at you.

"we are very familiar with this charm" George added, chuckling.

"So you can fix this?" Theodore demanded, his usual cool demeanor slipping into frustration.

"Afraid not, mate. You'll have to wait it out," Fred said, still laughing. "The charm wears off in a 24 hours."

“Even if we performed it at the same time?” you asked

This seemed to make the twins laugh even harder

“let’s say an estimate of 48 hours then”

As the twins walked away, still laughing, you turned to Theodore. "This is your fault," you accused, trying to free your hand but only managing to make the bond tighter.

"My fault? You're the one who suggested we practice that spell," he shot back, though there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“You said it too!” you argued

“Okay stop pulling! it’s my hand too!” he said

"Well, now what?" you sighed, looking at your joined hands.

“we need to find Hermione"

Theodore sighed "why?"

“because she is literally smarter than you”

Navigating the crowded corridors of Hogwarts with your hand stuck to Theodore's was an exercise in patience.

Students cast curious glances your way, and whispers followed you down the halls. You kept your head down, focusing on getting to the Gryffindor common room as quickly as possible.

As you entered the common room, heads turned, and the chatter died down. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting by the fireplace, deep in conversation. They looked up simultaneously, eyes widening at the sight of you and Theodore hand-in-hand.

"What in Merlin's name?" Ron blurted out, almost dropping the chess piece he was holding.

Hermione stood up, her brows knitting in confusion. "What’s happening?"

You cleared your throat. "We had a bit of a mishap in Charms. Fred and George decided to 'assist' our spell, and now we're stuck like this."

Harry snorted, trying to hide his laughter. "Of course it was Fred and George."

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as Hermione approached, examining your joined hands. "Hmm, let me see," she muttered, pulling out her wand and waving it gently over your hands. "It's a strong charm. They must have amplified it somehow."

"Can you fix it?" you asked, desperation creeping into your voice.

Hermione bit her lip. "It might take a bit of time. This isn't a simple charm to reverse, especially if they boosted its strength. Let's sit down, and I'll see what I can do."

You and Theodore awkwardly made your way to a nearby table, still joined at the hand. Hermione began leafing through her Charms textbook, occasionally glancing up at your hands.

"Are you sure it wasn't intentional?" Harry teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Shut up, Potter," Theodore shot back, but there was no real malice in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face. "Can you please just help us, Hermione?"

"Alright, alright," she said, waving her hand to shush the boys. "I think I found something. It says here that a reversal spell should work, but it needs to be performed perfectly, or it could make things worse."

"Perfectly?" you echoed, feeling a pang of anxiety. "And if it goes wrong?"

"Well, we might end up with more than just your hands stuck together," Hermione admitted. "But don't worry, I've got this."

“Okay i’m ready… let’s do it” you breathed in

“Wait… i can’t do it now, i need some time to practise it. As i said, it could go very wrong of not performed perfectly”

you groaned and fell backwards onto the sofa.

Theodore glanced at the clock on the wall, then at you, his expression shifting to one of mild panic. "I have to cut our despair short. I have Quidditch practice now."

You blinked at him, still processing the absurdity of the situation. "Okay, go then."

He raised your joined hands, giving you a pointed look.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into laughter. Ron clutched his side, gasping for breath. "Good luck at practice, mate!"

Harry smirked. "Maybe you can use the bonding time to strategize."

Theodore rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. "Yeah it’s all fun and jokes now potter, but we have a match against you tomorrow."

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to stifle her giggles. "Alright, you two. I’ll need some time to figure this out. Why don’t you… well, make the best of it?"

You groaned again, feeling the weight of the situation. "Great. Just fantastic."

Theodore tugged gently at your joined hands, pulling you toward the door. "Come on, i don’t have all day."

As you approached the Slytherin locker room, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Theodore seemed to sense your apprehension.

"I need to get changed," he said leading you into the locker room. The room was empty, the rest of the team already on the pitch.

You looked around, feeling incredibly awkward. "Um, how are we going to do this?"

Theodore glanced at his Quidditch uniform hanging on a nearby hook, then back at you. "We'll have to cut the sleeve of my uniform."

You stared at him, unsure if he was serious. "Cut the sleeve? Are you sure?"

He nodded, his expression resigned. "It's the only way. Unless you have a better idea?"

You shook your head, feeling a bit guilty. "No, I guess not. Do you have scissors?"

Theodore rummaged through his locker, producing a pair of small, sharp scissors. He handed them to you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your hands.

"Alright, hold still," you instructed, carefully cutting through the fabric of his shirt sleeve. The sound of the scissors slicing through the material was oddly loud in the quiet locker room.

Theodore watched you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel his gaze burning into you. His breath hitched slightly as you drew closer to his skin, "You're surprisingly good at this," he said

You glanced up at him, surprised. "Really? I feel like I'm ruining your shirt."

He shrugged, "It's just a shirt. Besides, you can sew it back together later, right?"

You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Yeah, I can do that. Don't worry, I'll fix it."

With the sleeve cut, Theodore carefully slid his arm out of the shirt, keeping your joined hands steady. He then reached for his Quidditch uniform

"Now for the hard part," he said, looking at the uniform's sleeve.

You repeated the process, cutting the sleeve of the uniform with as much precision as you could muster. The fabric was tougher, but you managed to make a clean cut. Theodore slipped into the uniform, and you couldn't help but admire how the green and silver suited him. His muscles flexed under the tight fabric, and for a moment, you found it hard to look away.

He smirked teasingly "stop checking me out."

You rolled your eyes, your face flushing. "you’re insufferable… i’m trying to make sure the sleeve fits right," you retorted.

The reality of your situation hit you again as you exited the locker room, your hands still firmly stuck together. Navigating the hallways and the field together was awkward, to say the least.

As you approached the Quidditch pitch, the rest of the Slytherin team was already in mid-practice, flying through the air, tossing Quaffles, and practicing their Beater drills.

The sight of you and Theodore hand-in-hand drew immediate attention.

Draco was the first to approach, a sly grin on his face. "whats happening here?" he laughed, "Nott, I didn't know you needed a babysitter for practice."

Theodore shot his friend a warning look. "Shut up, Draco."

Draco chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “i thought you guys hated each other? when did you make it official?” he laughed louder this time

"You are the only one laughing" theodore said chuckling at him

“i feel sorry for you” draco said towards you “anyway, let’s continue with practise”

You did your best to stay out of the way,

draco had allowed you and theo to simply sit in the stands while someone threw a bludger at him to try and hit.

he clearly didn’t try hard enough as you got hit in your head twice.

A few of the players couldn't resist taking jabs at you and Theodore as they ran past.

"Hey, Nott, maybe she can be our good luck charm!" one of them called out, laughing.

"Or a distraction for the other team!" another added, snickering.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the comments.

“they’re all stupid” theodore would say

Finally, one player took it too far.

"Hey, Nott, why don't you just sleep with her already? Maybe that'll break the spell!"

Theodore stopped dead in his tracks, his face flushing with anger. "That's enough!"

a few members of the team fell silent, taken aback by his outburst. The player who made the remark, Marcus Flint, sneered. "What's the matter, Nott? Can't take a joke?"

Theodore scoffed. "Shut up you tosser, yes, she is a girl, but she didn’t ask to be surrounded by you idiots, so the least you can do is respect her"

You could feel the tension radiating off him, and it was clear that his patience had reached its limit. Flint opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, you stepped forward.

"It’s okay," you said, "We didn't ask for this to happen, but we're dealing with it. So if you're done acting like children, maybe you can focus on your practise."

"Alright, enough," Draco said, his tone firm. "let’s end here today yeah, let’s just hope today was enough to get us our win tomorrow”

As the Quidditch practice ended, the players dispersed, heading towards the locker room.

"I can't go in there," you said, tugging on Theodore's hand to stop him from entering. "I don't want to see anyone...you know, changing."

Theodore paused "Fine, we'll wait out here until they're done."

You both sat on the bench outside the locker room, Silence hung heavily between you, neither of you wanting to break it. Finally, Theodore spoke.

“you should of punched flint, no one would’ve of said anything”

“well, i’m not one to start fights, that would make me reckless” you sighed

Theodore’s smirk widened. “well you did suggest we do this spell” he lifted up your hands “together, that’s pretty reckless.”

“Oh, please,” you retorted, turning to face him. “Like you didn’t push for it too. That ‘I’m a master of charms’ act? Such a joke.”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in slightly. “well you’re always whining about how hard life is. If you’re so tired, maybe you should’ve stayed in bed instead of trying to impress everyone.”

“Impress everyone?” you shot back, your faces inches apart. “Nice try, but your house is all about being superior, right?”

“Well, if we’re talking about superiority,” Theodore said, his breath warm against your face, “maybe you should look at your own house, the loudest bunch of show-offs.”

“Loud?” you challenged, your fingers brushing against his arm. “At least we’re not sneaky and backstabbing. I’d rather be loud than be a two-faced snake.”

Theodore’s eyes flashed. “Better sneaky than a blabbering idiot. At least I don’t go around pretending to be perfect.”

“Perfect?” you scoffed, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. “You think you’re so high and mighty. Well, you’re not.”

“Yeah?” Theodore’s voice dropped to a low murmur as he leaned even closer. “Maybe I’m just tired of you acting like you’ve got it all together.”

“You mean like you’re tired of being a pompous jerk?” you spat, “I’m tired of your attitude.”

Your faces were so close now. Just as it seemed like something might actually happen, Theodore suddenly pulled back.

“Honestly, can’t we just have one conversation without it turning into a drama?” Theodore said, crossing his arms and turning slightly away from you.

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on handling disagreements?” you retorted,

“Well, you’re not exactly making it easy to like you,” Theodore snapped, turning towards you for the tenth time. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a complete—” you began, but your words were cut off as Theodore’s lips almost touched yours again.

you both sat back

“Let’s just get this charm sorted and go our separate ways.”

You nodded, your jaw clenched.

“your blouse is open” he said staring at the pitch

“yeah nice try”

“i’m not joking” he urged

you discreetly looked down to see that your two buttons were, in fact undone.

you slowly dragged your hand towards your top, pulling theodore’s hand with it.

Your fingers failed to do the button with his hand in the way.

“Nott, please flatten your hand” you said lowly

he cleared his throat “if i flatten it… it would be on your chest”

you breathed out and closed your eyes slowly, before flattening his hand yourself.

Theodore shifted, his hand still pressed awkwardly against your chest. His eyes met yours, and for a brief, unsettling moment, the anger seemed to dissolve into something else.

“You’re such a...” Theodore started

“Don’t start,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You make me feel... things I don’t want to deal with.”

After visiting Hermione, who delivered the disappointing news that you and Theodore might be stuck like this for another day, the reality of the situation set in. The idea of spending an entire night with your hands stuck to Theodore's was less than appealing.

After agreeing on it, you both reluctantly made your way to the Astronomy tower. The tension was high, and you could feel every small touch between you—whether it was Theodore adjusting his position or the slight bump of your hands against each other.

“I guess we should figure out where we’re going to sleep,” Theodore said

“Right,” you replied, trying to sound collected despite the discomfort. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Theodore shrugged, glancing around the tower as if searching for an escape route. “We could just sit here until morning?”

You sighed, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up with you. “Fine. Just... let’s try to make this as bearable as possible.”

You both found a quiet corner of the tower and made yourselves as comfortable as you could, given the circumstances.

“So,” Theodore began after a moment of silence, “since we’re stuck together, we might as well talk.”

“Talk?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

“Plenty,” Theodore said with a shrug. “We’ve been arguing nonstop. Maybe it’s time we actually had a proper conversation.”

You considered this for a moment. “Alright, fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s start with why you always act like the world is out to get you,” Theodore said, leaning back against the wall.

You stared at him, taken aback by the question. “What makes you think I act that way?”

“You always seem so stressed and ready to snap,” Theodore explained. “It’s like you’ve got this cloud hanging over you.”

“maybe i do”

A brief silence followed, during which you both seemed to be lost in thought.

“So,” Theodore said, breaking the silence, “what annoys you the most about me”

You laughed slightly. “Your carelessness.”

Theodore chuckled softly. “i care about a lot of things actually”

“yeah? like what”

he stared at you in a comfortable silence, leaving that question unanswered

You smiled faintly

As the evening wore on, you both found it increasingly difficult to ignore the closeness of your situation. The moonlight made even the smallest touches feel more significant.

Eventually, you both fell asleep, leaning against each other for support.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Oh, this is just perfect,” you groaned, pushing yourself up and realizing just how tangled up you were. “We need to get to our dormitories and change. It’s almost time for the Quidditch match.”

You glanced around the tower, feeling the urgency of the situation. Theodore sat up, still a bit dazed, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Then we need to find hermione”

You both maneuvered to stand up, your hands still firmly attached. It was a delicate balance, trying not to trip over each other as you made your way out of the Astronomy Tower.

The corridors of Hogwarts were quieter at this hour, but you still drew curious glances from early-rising students who whispered and pointed as you and Theodore hurried by.

Once you got to your dorm you instructed theo to turn around while you changed.

after you had gotten ready you both sprinted to the locker room and sighed in relief at hermione waiting there you.

You both lifted your hands infront of her ready to be freed

“i can’t perform the spell”

“what?”

“it’s too dangerous, i even consulted with mcgonagall, she said that we will just have to wait it out”

You sighed, feeling frustration “It’s okay, Hermione. Thank you for trying.”

Hermione gave you both a sympathetic smile. “I’ll head to the stands and watch the match. Good luck”

As Hermione walked away, you turned to Theodore, “I’m really sorry about this, Theo. I know how much this match means to you.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “It’s okay. We’ll have to try and manage.”

The tension between you seemed to dissolve slightly as you both stood there

The Quidditch match was about to start, and with the stands starting to fill up, you found yourselves standing closer than you had all day. The space between you seemed to shrink and In a moment of impulsive decision, Theodore leaned in, and before either of you could second-guess, your lips met his.

When the kiss ended, you pulled back slightly, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. You noticed, with a jolt, that Theodore’s hands were now resting comfortably on your waist. The realization hit you, and you looked at him in surprise. “Theo… your hands are on my waist.”

Theodore blinked, confusion crossing his face, before it dawned on him. “Wait—” he started, looking at your hands which were now free.

You both stared at each other, “I guess we really did have to kiss to break the spell,” you joked with a light laugh.

Theodore chuckled and a genuine smile lit up his face. “I suppose so.”

“Well,” Theodore said, “I’d better get changed before the match starts. I’m sure the team’s been waiting for me.”

“yeah” you said, smiling slightly. “good luck.”

he quickly leaned forward to kiss you one last time before fake saluting you with a smile on his face and turning towards the locker room.

“wait theodore”

he turned around

“your buttons undone” you pointed to his trousers

#harry potter #hogwarts #fanfic #x reader #slytherin #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott x you #blaise zabini #hermione granger #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #fluff

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makeupbychio · 6 months ago

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training season // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: Your actual training class sucks, so you asked Logan for his help if he’ll like to train you. He accepted and unexpected feelings were developed. The goal is to make you stronger and one of the best with or without your powers.

Warnings: Cursing, physical fights, injuries due to the fights, mutual romantic and sexual tension, vague mention of smut, Logan feeling unworthy, Storm cameo, just two idiots in love without saying it. Mentions of the Professor, Scott and Jean. Angst but with a fluff happy ending.

Words: 4k.

A/N: First things first, english is not my first language so I’m sorry if there is a mistake but I needed to write about this old man we all love so much. Also, very important to mention that your powers are related to energy and nature manipulation, and also you are a grown woman despite the fact that you take classes in the mansion. Thank you, hope you enjoy <3 Comments, feedback or ideas are welcome!! <3

- - -

From the moment you stepped into the mansion Logan knew you were going to be partners in crime. At first you were so cautious with your words and actions, it was because you never thought that you were going to find a safe place for you as a mutant, but once you saw all of the people that lived there and shared same fears and also joys, people just like you, you started to be your true self. Not just with your personality but also get the chance to get to know more about your powers and how to control it and be stronger.

The first times you talked to Logan were always with the Professor near, he was always trying to convince him to have his own class to teach the kids. All the times that conversation went on it was when Charles needed to talk to you or vice versa in places where Logan always somehow got it the way.

From your spot you saw every time they leave for a mission. And every day you work your ass off to be at their level and be part of the group because you wanted to be useful and contribute something to the x-men and not just live there and take classes.

One time you were walking to your class that Storm was in charge of, due to your ecokinesis powers being related to nature too, when Logan was going in the opposite direction. It was funny because he had such a serious face all the time but with you he always stopped to say hi and ask you how you are. Now or never you thought to yourself.

“Fine, thanks and you?” you asked him, looking up at him, you were grabbing your books close to your chest.

“Good, just going to the kitchen to grab some breakfast” he smiled at you looking at everything you were carrying.

You were so nervous to ask him about this but you saw what he could do, you stuttered and paced anxiously in front of him. “Cool, look I have like ten seconds before I’m late to Storms but I’ve been trying to ask you if you would like to give me a couple of training lessons? I know that you don’t want to have your own class, you made that very clear, trust me but…”

Despite your anxiety, you never break eye contact with him. So you saw how slowly his features changed to a surprise. He never expected that question from you. “Not to be mean, but why is that, princess?” he asked you full of curiosity.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen videos of you fighting and I need to be at that level” you answered him but still he wasn’t stoned because for him it is hard to love his powers sometimes since he’s been always treated as a weapon only. “Also, Scott classes are boring as fuck” you rolled your eyes just by remembering that you have that class before lunch.

Logan laughed at your statement, a cocky grin on his face now. His ego at his best because you were asking for his help instead of Scott. Logan didn’t want to admit that he would do it not just because to rub it in Scott’s face but also because since you arrived he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every time you are around someone of the team he tries to crash the talk just to get to talk to you, he doesn’t know why he does that instead of just talking to you.

“Meet me at the lake after lunch, and we can discuss this better” Logan gives you a wink, you smiled at him with a thank you and rushed to your classroom. Storm was already outside in the hallway waiting for you, watching Logan disappear. She knows him, and she knew what this was all about.

So deals were made that day, and he promised to give you some training lessons with the condition you promised him to always give your 200% to every lesson. You didn’t know how many lessons he was going to offer but when he knocked at your door to go on you never gave him an excuse, sometimes you trained really late when you should be studying or sleeping, you were training with Logan. You were not doing anything illegal but you can sense that maybe the Professor would not like this, or maybe yes.

At first the whole time together was dedicated to just training. You didn’t have a spot, sometimes the lesson was outside, sometimes inside. But after a couple of them, in between you two found time to get to know each other. Logan was amazed by the whole you. About how fast you learn, about your charming but badass personality, about your powers, about you always being so honest and empathetic. So he found himself so mesmerized and in love with you. He kept his promise and with your hard work, lots of hours of study and training sessions the goal was for you to get to control your powers and be one of the strongest.

About two months passed and to get to train you better he had a lot of conversations with Storm in her classroom for him to get to know and understand your power so you could use it for better, also to get to know your limits with it.

“Why are you doing this, Logan?” Storm asked him once he reached her for answers of your powers. She wanted to make sure you were not going to end up with a broken heart. “She’s my best student and once she’s ready I’m going to talk to Charles to include her in the team” she looked at him with a deadly look without blinking to not miss a single thing from his face to reveal the truth.

“That’s exactly why! I want her on the team too!” Logan tried to escape his friend. “You said it yourself, she’s your best student, and with her actual training lessons she was going nowhere, no progress”.

“So since you are so committed to having more people on the team, I’m going to tell Charles you are okay to have your own class” Storm kept testing him. Logan sighed, trying to keep in secret his feelings. “Don’t do this to her if you are still in love with another person…” Storm said, with pleading eyes because during this time she got to know you too and consider you a friend besides her best student. Womanhood at its best.

Logan looked at Storm with a surprised expression at the accusation. He got serious and sat down in front of her, he took the chair and placed it with anger. “Okay you want to know the truth? First, I totally agree with you that she’s the best, I hope that you are talking not just about her grades that she gets in your class, I hope you’re talking about her whole persona because you know what happened? Since you think you know me so well. I don’t care anymore about Jean since a long time ago. You understand? That happened like a century ago, so you know what happened to me?” Logan was unstoppable with his speech now that his friend got him on his nerves, Storm knew this was going to be a monologue without letting her say something. “It happened to me to get to know someone so pure, so smart, so kind, not just incredibly beautiful but someone who really makes me think this world can be fixed for the better and also makes feel every time I’m with her that this is actually a place where I belong to for fuck sake!”. He growls finally pouring his heart out to his friend. He was scared to finally accept his feelings towards you.

Storm didn’t know what to say, she didn’t mean to upset him or to make him remember the awful times he had with Jean. Also, she was speechless because you were just at the entrance of her classroom god knew since when, your figure standing there lost of words too.

You arrived just in time when Logan was giving Storm the answer the mutant was looking for. You were not looking for Logan, you were there outside her classroom because you had to deliver the paper she asked the class the week before. You knocked first but Logan’s words were louder for them to hear you.

Of course after that, your whole relationship changed with Logan. But at that moment you didn’t know what to do, what to say. It crossed your mind that maybe he had feelings for you but when you arrived at the mansion the first thing you knew about Logan was the whole Jean thing, so every time you had a vague thought that maybe he liked you your mind immediately reminds you about his story with Jean. So you tried to keep it professional but with every conversation you had with him you found yourself also falling for him.

Also, during the lessons he never crossed the line with you. NEVER. Even when you hinted him that he could, he never did it. That’s also another reason why you thought he was not into you. So you were confused because he always gives you the brightest smile, told you his darkest secrets and got him calling you all the pretty nicknames, but never took advantage of the situation. Because for the training he had to touch you, to correct your postures, to teach you the attacks, fight against him, etc. But he touched you with a firm and yet soft grip. He was a true gentleman so even when you flirted with him, he never made a move on you.

Logan was also dealing with this confusion, his mind also getting the best of him tricking him every night he went to bed if you were flirting with him or you were just being nice to him. So he wasn’t going to push you until you told him directly about your feelings or what you wanted.

Just two idiots in love without knowing the other one is in love too. Classic.

“Y/N…” Logan said once he noticed you were standing outside Storm’s classroom. Storm felt like shit to push his friend like that. If he only knew you were in love too, but you got scared and ran away.

“Fuck…” Logan murmured to himself. He should have told you how he felt, but time passed within your lessons with him and his mind just assured him you were not into him because of all of the awful things he had done in the past and told you about it. He didn’t want to scare you so he gave you your space. “Well, now I think I don’t have to do this anymore, thank you Storm” Logan sat up from the tiny chair compared to his body, Storm also sat up from her desk wanting to say something to her friend but at this moment it was going to make it worse.

Thanks to the universe, you didn’t have more classes that day so you ran and hid in your room. That night you had training with Logan but after your cowardice you assumed Logan was not going to knock at your door for a lesson. You tortured yourself in bed all day about what to do because at some point you needed to leave your room, you skipped lunch and dinner. Logan still showed up at the casino and hoped to see you, when he didn’t he noted himself clearly to not bother you.

You debate on how to deal with this situation, Logan has a special spot in your heart to ruin everything. If he didn’t see you in that way as you feel for him it’s okay. You hope that at least you could be friends or just future colleagues. You are a grown woman so you can deal with a broken heart, it wouldn’t be the first time. So you changed in your training clothes, maybe for the last time because you also would understand if Logan doesn’t want to do this anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” your roommate screamed at you that maybe someone heard them in the hallway. You told them about what happened earlier, they knew about the training sessions when they were worried about you why you left the room every night till late. “HE LITERALLY TOLD STORM HOW HE FELT FOR YOU, THAT HE LOVES YOU!”.

“No- I- He didn’t say he loves me” you corrected them.

“UGH I CAN’T WITH YOUR STUBBORNNESS SOMETIMES, MAYBE HE DID NOT SAY IT EXPLICITLY BUT HE SAID ALL OF THOSE AMAZING THINGS ABOUT YOU AND HOW YOU MADE HIM FEEL THAT’S LITERALLY LOVE!” they were about to hit you in the face to wake up from whatever delusional dream you were. “Go and fix this, if you really like him he should know”. They couldn’t blame your fear, you’d been through a lot and as a mutant they understand the feeling that you don’t deserve that kind of love because you were different.

After that awakening help from your friend you find the courage and before you chickened out you left your room to head to Logan’s room. It felt like it was so far away, like you were moving in slow motion. Once you arrived, you tried to knock on the door but Logan opened it to leave his room. His features changed immediately into a smile, so happy to see you. “Hi princess, I was about to go to your room to…” he explained.

“Logan, please hear me out. I’m sorry about earlier, I shouldn’t have ran away, I just- I never thought you would see me like that because I don’t think I deserve it, but what I’m trying to say is…” Logan never saw this side of you, nervous around him. Not even when you were also telling him your darkest secrets. He had always seen you so confident about yourself and your skills.

“Sugar, what if we go outside to train and we can discuss this also” Logan knows how to make you feel better. You always loosen up when both of you are training. It was a safe space, maybe it was all of the exercise that makes you feel relaxed or maybe that you both were alone without any pressure.

“Okay, yeah. Great idea, I’ll follow you” all the time you next to him heading outside to your favorite spot, the lake. It was late and the stars were shining bright. It was relaxing to see the water so calm and the warm breeze. The lake was really far away from the rooms, a lot of trees with damages due to the training of other students' powers, including yourself, that’s why the training classes were outside, most of them.

Somehow Logan just started the class like nothing happened earlier. “Okay princess, this one is going to be different. You have to knock me down with your skills and tactics I taught you”. he challenges you, ready for you to make your move. “I’m not going to give you an advantage, so…” he gave you a cocky smile. He was so ready, in another hand you were shitting bricks.

“Logan I don’t think I can do that, I’m- I don’t want to hurt you” you were regretting your decision, the truth is that your mind was full of what happened today that you can not think about anything else, so you were going to lose really fast.

“You can use your powers if you want, I’m not scared of it or of you. If you need to use them, go ahead, remember I heal really fast”. Logan was always encouraging you and celebrating your powers, not just because they are fucking awesome but also to make you feel good and make peace with them.

You’d learn a lot in every class about your powers, the natural energy manipulation you are connected to. You can communicate, influence, manipulate and control nature. Thanks to Logan’s words you feel confident that you can beat him easily by snapping your fingers to control something around him and win the challenge.

You recently learned about magma so you think about hitting with a magma fist, but rapidly he ran to you and knocked you down. “Okay, so this is going to be physical”. You groaned at the sudden pain, he was going to put it hard for you because you needed to learn to fight in case you were not able or stable to use your powers.

He was not going to use his claws, he surpasses you in height and weight but that didn’t stop you. He’s fast but after all of this time he teaches you some of his own tricks so you are now using them against him. This will be the only circumstance he will be throwing hands at you, and he’s still being gentle with you. Due to all the movement you are approaching the lake, so you corner him and with a kick on his ankle he is down.

Logan is trying his best to concentrate, he feels so stupid for being busy thinking how gorgeous you look tonight under the moonlight. So he got distracted easily when you pulled your hair up and next thing he was down on the floor so you took the opportunity to manipulate the ground around him, lifting him where he was laying and throwing him into the lake.

You didn’t punch him too hard so you hope he’s not going to drown. And he didn’t, he quickly surfaces his head. “Good job, princess!” he was so happy, already healing the pain you caused him with the kick. He was so happy all of the training was going so well with you.

“I’m sorry, Lo” you felt bad now looking at him stepping out the lake all wet. He got closer looking for your injuries, in case he accidentally used his claws. He is in front of you, really close looking for your permission to touch your scratches you got in your arm when he knocked you down. You just nod at him. He always asks for your permission even when you've been training for a while now. Every single time.

Unexpectedly, he touched your neck, finding a small scratch. You almost turned into stone at the sudden touch. His cold hand, due to the cold water that was still pouring all over his body, made you shiver. “I’m sorry” he looked at your face, that pretty face.

”Don’t worry, Lo. It was probably the dirt that made that. Not you” you assured him.

“I’m not talking about that.” now with a sad look on his face, almost like regret. “I’m not good at this, maybe because I’m not worthy but I should’ve told you about how I felt, about how YOU make me feel”. His body finally relaxing, feeling his chest like unraveling a really big knot.

You are getting all emotional, you shouldn’t have ran away that morning, you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings making him think that you didn’t reciprocate the love.

His hand is still on your neck, the other one holding your lower back. You ran your hand on his wet hair to put it all back, some of his locks covering his pretty face. You escape a small laugh looking at the new hair style. “What are you talking about? You deserve all of the good and love, I’m sorry for earlier but we are really dumb because I thought about the same about not being worthy of your love and also I thought you still have feelings for, well, you know, the rumors, so that’s why I never told you”. You leaned your head on his hand.

He brushed your tears with his finger, never wanting to see you cry again. “Like I said before, this is the first time I feel this and it feels really good because thanks to you I feel that I belong and have a purpose. I promise you princess if you want, I’ll protect and love you every single day”. His face is close to yours. Tears keep falling but happy tears to finally find someone so kind. You finally close the gap between your faces and kiss him so tenderly, because you couldn’t find any more words after his declaration. His smile is so big while he holds you close to him, never wanting to let go of this moment.

Like a cliche movie, the sky made a sound and rain poured from the dark clouds. Logan was already wet from the lake so he didn’t mind. He only cares about you. You broke the kiss to breathe, you looked deeply into his eyes and found that sparkle he always has when you are around him, but this time more intense. He looked up at the sky smiling, “Did you do this?”, he asked you with an eyebrow raised.

He wasn’t going to believe any of your answers. Because your emotions sometimes take control of your powers, what you actually did is that a lot of tiny flowers bloomed around where you both were standing. “I’m just guilty about this” you pointed at the ground.

“Okay princess, let’s go before you catch a cold” he took your hand to guide you inside the mansion.

Next morning, you showed up at Storm’s class with a wide smile, so she knew that the rain she made last night worked to make the moment more perfect. It was her way to make up for her two friends.

It took you about 5 months when he told you you were ready. It was a non stop thing, some days you trained twice. There were days you didn’t want to attend, because you had a shitty day, because you were feeling under the weather, or you felt insecure and unworthy. Your mind gets the best of you but every time you opened the door when Logan knocked, you felt way better when he greeted you with a smile and big kiss. “Let’s go, princess. Today we need to improve your attacks”. Every night after the lesson you ended up staying at Logan’s room for some reason.

Professor Charles noticed your improvement thanks to the recommendations from Storm and Logan, so he invited you to join the team. The day he asked you, you were so happy that you said yes in a second and ran to find Logan to give the big news. He was outside, fixing his motorcycle, a cigar in his mouth. Once he sensed you, he was greeted with your arms around his neck hugging him, he was so happy when you told him how it went with the Professor.

“Welcome to the team, princess” he kissed you, holding you impossibly closer to his figure. He knows this is important for you and he’ll keep his promise till the end of days to protect you every single moment, especially now that you are going to be out in the field too.

“Thanks, babe! I guess now we should be more cautious about us around the team” you frowned at him. Not wanting to be one of those gross couples in public but for Logan it is really hard to keep his hands off you.

“Fuck them, you’re all mine and they should be grateful I stopped complaining like I used to” his arms hugging your lower back, and his hands mysteriously always end up grabbing your ass. You giggled at his attitude, knowing he’ll fight the team every time they’ll complain. “God, can’t wait to see you in that uniform! You’re going to look even sexier”. He got all excited and you can feel it by being so close to him. It’s going to be hard for him to hold himself if he’s already like this without even happening your first mission as an x-men. “I think the training season is going to come back”.

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hivemuthur · 1 month ago

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The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Reader is hit by a truck which is *university*. So, a lot of studying and a lot of frustrations. And the TA is being a pain in the ass, you know how it is. Some science talk, based on the remnants of my knowledge from uni.

author’s note: Guys, you have showered me with love, so I'm showering you with writing.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Sue was so fucking right. It had only been one week of freedom, and then the workload came crashing down on you. Suddenly, every class had a welcome test attached to it, and you found yourself buried under a mountain of homework—chemical equations to solve and analyse, essays, books to read, lab practice, and lectures to attend. There wasn’t any snowball effect; it all hit at once, and by the time you and Sue returned on the first Monday of the second week, you were carrying enough work to fill two mules, and it would still have been too heavy even for them.

“Your mum is calling,” Sue’s voice pulled you out of a particularly boring passage about physical chemistry in one of your shared workbooks. You would usually put your phones on the cabinet for study time, but the vibration had startled Sue for the third time in ten minutes, so she decided to address it.

“Ugh, can you put her on speaker? I’ll deal with this quickly, and I don’t want to move,” you rolled your eyes, catching Sue’s judgmental glare. She’s your mum!

“Kochanie, finally! I’ve been trying and trying, how are you doing?” Your mum’s voice filled the room with her familiar heavy accent, though she insisted it was improving. Your dad didn’t speak a word of Polish, so Joanna had to switch to English entirely after you left.

“All good, Mum. Lots and lots and lots of studying,” you said, your voice so unamused you barely lifted your eyes from the book, though your gaze was unseeing. You had been staring at the same equation for about half an hour now.

“Have you been practising your affirmations?” Of course, you hadn’t. Silly idea.

“Yes, every day and every time someone pisses me off. How’s Dad?” You decided to deflect as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Dad went to Calais for a retreat, and I’m left alone for the entire week. He’s not allowed a mobile, you see,” Your mum rambled on a little longer, and you let her. You were happy to hear your parents were moving on after losing their only daughter. Even though Joanna insisted she could feel your presence in the house, in the clothes and trinkets you’d left behind, and could sense your moods through an invisible mother-daughter bond you shared. What a load of nonsense.

“Mamusia, I love you, but I have to go. I’m studying with Sue, and we’ve got a test in thirty minutes,” you added a round of loud pecks so she could hear the kisses through the phone speaker. She told you to wear red underwear and get Sue to kick you for good luck.

“Your mum sounds awesome,” Sue laughed under her breath. She tried to study but ended up listening to the entire conversation.

“Eh, she’s something. She’s pretty cool when she’s not suffocating you with love, you know?” You gave Sue a knowing smile, and she understood immediately. “Have you managed to learn anything? My brain is literally fuming.”

Sue groaned as she started packing up her notebooks to head toward the lab class. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I’ll use my last resort—can I borrow some red knickers?” You snickered as Sue shot you a huge mocking grin.

“No, but I can kick you alright, sweet Sue,” you couldn’t help but laugh. You gathered all the papers scattered around you with both hands and shoved them into your bag. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before leaving your dorm room, and Jesus Christ, your youth had already fled. Dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt face, lips chapped—all of it painfully underlined by an ink stain on your t-shirt. Whatever, there was no time to do anything about it.

It was Viktor’s class again. You had slowly grown to dislike them, ever since he and Jayce began to switch every second day, after Jayce got a new girlfriend—beautiful Mel Medarda, a third-year theatre student whom Hale once called a close second contender to rule the planet one day. Second after you, of course.

All of Viktor’s initial friendly sass had dissolved into the mean kind, which he executed each time Heimerdinger’s students were supposed to already know something they didn’t—including you. Thankfully, most of the time, you knew. The times you didn’t, he relished it and squeezed the situation to the maximum, like a sad lemon.

“Alright, take a test from the tray on the teacher’s desk and take your usual seat. And as usual, you can have a calculator and periodic table on your workbench,” Viktor’s instructions boomed through the lab classroom as one by one, students dragged themselves through the door, each one looking more exhausted than the other. “Looking ravishing today, Y/N,” he sent a smirk your way as you passed by him without sparing him so much as a glance and a quiet ‘hi.’

“Bite me, Viktor,” you barked back at him. What the hell was he thinking?

“Gladly, but maybe after class.” Usually, the smug look on his face would get you to scoff; this time, you granted him a faint eye roll as you dragged your feet toward the workbench you shared with Sue. As Viktor strolled through the room, making sure no one had anything illegal on their tables, he snatched your phone from your desk just as you were putting it into your bag.

“No phones,” he slid it into his lab coat pocket with a wink. You whined, about to say something you’d regret, but were immediately cut off by “I said, after class,” coming from behind you as you watched his back, your eyes burning a hole in it.

You solved the test first; you were so angry. As soon as you put it back in the tray, a realisation washed over you, and what you realised was the mistake you’d made in one of the exercises. You wanted to retrieve it and fix it, but Viktor’s hand shooshed you away.

“Come on, Viktor, it was there for less than a second!”

“You put it away, it’s gone for grading. That’s the rule. Also—it’s a learning curve,” he smiled at you sweetly, and you wanted to choke him out.

“Learning curve of what? That you are being a dick?” The last part was barely a whisper, nevertheless, a whisper that was fuming with rage and could cut through steel.

“Patience. And decision-making, which is a process that you clearly haven’t mastered yet,” he said coldly, not even looking you in the eye. This time, you did scoff, and angry steps carried you back to your seat.

The class settled into a more familiar rhythm after the test, the shuffle of papers and the steady hum of Bunsen burners filling the air. Viktor moved around the room, overseeing his students’ chemistry lab exercises with the same detached air he always wore. You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the test—and Viktor's smug little smile as he watched your frustration unfold.

The task at hand was simple enough: a titration experiment to determine the concentration of an unknown solution. Viktor had given you all the instructions, but as you watched the beaker of sodium hydroxide mix with the diluted acid, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something about the instructions didn’t sit right with you.

You glanced over at Sue, who was carefully measuring out the chemicals. You leaned in, whispering so Viktor wouldn’t overhear.

“Sue, I think he messed up the ratios in the instructions. If we follow this, it’s gonna screw everything up. We’ll end up with a totally different result.”

Sue frowned, taking a closer look at the setup. “You sure?”

“I’m certain. The way he wrote it—if we add that much of the sodium hydroxide, the pH is going to overshoot too quickly. It'll neutralise the acid too fast, and we won’t get an accurate reading. If we’re supposed to get a neutralisation point, that change will mess with the whole titration curve.”

Sue was sceptical, but you were adamant. You felt it in your gut. "It’ll be off. Trust me."

Sue nodded reluctantly. "So, what do we do?"

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tapping the edge of the desk as you thought. You pulled up a few formulas on Sue’s phone, glancing back at Viktor to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“If we use less sodium hydroxide, the neutralisation will occur more slowly, and we’ll get a more accurate pH reading. We’re supposed to use a much more diluted solution.”

Sue nodded, though she looked uneasy. “What the hell, let’s try it.”

You adjusted the solution as you suggested, making the necessary changes to the procedure. You proceeded with the experiment, and despite her hesitation, Sue followed your lead. The two of you worked in tandem, the smooth, natural chemistry of your lab partnership taking over. As you neared the end of the titration, it was clear you had achieved the neutralisation point correctly—without overshooting or leaving any room for error.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was still fumbling through their measurements, the air thick with the sounds of Viktor’s quiet reprimands. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, noting the small, almost imperceptible frown on his face as he inspected his students’ work.

When the clock pointed to fifteen minutes away from the class ending, Heimerdinger stepped into the lab, his eyes scanning the results with interest. He walked toward your workbench, eyes lighting up as he reviewed your calculations.

“Well, it seems we have at least one pair who didn’t follow the instructions blindly,” Heimerdinger said, his voice rich with approval. “Good work, you two. You’ve done the experiment correctly. Trusting your instincts—making adjustments based on the data rather than simply following authority—is key in science. After all, we’re here to discover, not just to repeat what’s been done.”

You allowed yourself a smile of satisfaction, while Sue breathed a little easier, glancing at you in admiration.

Viktor’s face, however, was unreadable. He stood at the back of the room, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a learning curve for all of us, even your teacher. Mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes when we challenge authority—question the procedures—that’s when we learn and grow. Science is born from curiosity and defiance. Respect is important, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge when you feel something isn’t right.”

You raised an eyebrow at Viktor, who hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were hard as steel. He wasn’t pleased by Heimerdinger’s praise of your independent thinking.

“That’s how science is made,” Heimerdinger continued, completely oblivious to the tension between his students and the teacher. “By asking ‘what if?’ and exploring the unknown.”

Viktor finally spoke, his voice cool and controlled. “That’s true,” he said, glancing at you. “But there's a fine line between innovation and recklessness. Don’t mistake one for the other.”

You met his gaze, your jaw tight. “I don’t think we did.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the room. Sue nudged you gently, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, at least we didn’t screw up,” she whispered.

You smiled back, but your mind was still racing. You had challenged Viktor’s authority—hadn’t followed his instructions—and it had got you praise from the professor. This couldn’t be good. “Sue, I don’t think I’m getting my phone back,” you whined into your friend's shoulder, who giggled uncontrollably.

You waited for your group to disperse into the library or the cantina before the start of the next lecture, making sure Viktor wouldn’t be able to humiliate you in front of anyone. You took a deep breath and knocked weakly on the door of the assistant’s back office.

“Come in,” Viktor’s voice was as flat and unwelcoming as ever. You braced yourself as you turned the doorknob and stepped inside quietly. Viktor was sitting at one of the tiny desks you were cramped at with Jayce and didn’t even look up. You cleared your throat.

“Yes?” This time, he looked up. God, he looked angry. When he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, he only sighed. “I doubt I can do much for you, Y/N. Given that you know everything already.”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who broke into the lab to prove his point once. Yes, Jayce told me,” you smiled at him sweetly, referring to his second-year incident when he and Jayce breached the lab security at night and conducted an experiment they were forbidden to do by Heimerdinger himself. This got them secure spots for PhD and TA positions.

Seeing that there was absolutely nothing coming from his direction but a blank stare, you asked carefully, “Well… why did you fuck up?”

Viktor sighed again, stood up slowly, and walked toward you. “Some theatre girls got us drunk last night—Mel’s friends. And I messed up the notes. Chemistry is not my major, as you know.” A smirk started to paint his face as he observed your reaction to the mention of drinking with some girls.

Viktor decided to push you further, his smirk widening as he leaned against the desk. “It’s hard to focus when you’re surrounded by Mel’s friends, you know. A lot of distractions. I haven't quite shaken last night off me yet,” he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your heart dropped at his words. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but something inside you shifted—you didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Viktor was deliberately drawing attention to some girls, and it stung more than you cared to acknowledge.

You scolded yourself internally. Stop it. Don’t let him get to you. But it was already too late. You could feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe, or insecurity—but you refused to let it show.

Viktor, sensing your discomfort, didn’t let up. “By the way,” he said, his tone casual, “I took a closer look at your test. You know, given your answers, I understand how you worked out the correct proportions for the exercise. Same mistake you made on the test itself, right?”

Your stomach twisted, and your chest tightened. “So now you’re just going to relish in my defeat, aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice strained.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got far better things to relish in. Just making observations.”

You exhaled sharply, your anger bubbling over. “You know, because you were being such a dick, the thing I actually knew will probably lower my final grade now. Congratulations.”

Viktor’s smirk never faltered. “I wasn’t being a dick,” he said, voice smooth. “I was merely being a meticulous stiff bastard.” He leaned back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You were quite vocal about that, if I recall. Something about me being a ‘pedantic pain in the ass’ when you were drunk.”

Your face flushed, your hand tightening into a fist at your side. That comment struck a nerve you hadn’t even realised was there. Your heart pounded. “Are you seriously so petty, Viktor, that you’re going to take revenge for some drunken slur by messing with my grade?” you snapped, your voice rising. You turned to leave, the weight of your frustration heavy on your chest.

But Viktor’s voice stopped you cold. “Wait,” he said, and for a moment, you thought he was going to apologise. Maybe even admit he’d gone too far.

You glanced over your shoulder, ready to hear some kind of redemption. But then Viktor’s tone shifted again. “You didn’t forget something, did you?”

You froze as he pulled your phone from his pocket and held it out to you, a mischievous gleam in his eye. The sight of your phone in his hand made your heart sink. You really are a bastard, you thought.

With strained composure, you took the phone from him. Your fingers brushed his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. Viktor’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and for the briefest second, you saw something flicker behind his usual cool façade. Something almost… uncertain.

Your stomach fluttered—No. Not now. Don’t let him do this to you.

You forced a tight smile, returning his gaze. “I can play this game too, Viktor,” you said, your voice low and controlled.

Viktor’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, and he leaned back against the desk, watching you with a hint of something deeper in his expression. His eyes softened, but he quickly masked it with another calculated look.

You turned to leave, your mind racing with frustration and another weird emotion you didn’t have the name for. Just before you reached the door, you felt a shift in the air. Viktor’s teasing had crossed a line, and somehow, the distance between you felt less like a joke and more like something real. Why does this matter so much to me?

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Viktor hadn’t just teased you. He’d affected you, and you hated that. As you stepped out of the office, you could feel his gaze on your back, following you, studying your body. You scolded yourself internally for looking like a wreck and made your way to join Sue in the library.

Your friend regarded you with concern as you slid into the chair at the table, books already splayed out in front of her. “Did you get your phone back?”

“Yeah, it was a fight to the death,” you mumbled, sighing heavily as you opened a massive tome of genetics for the next lecture.

“And who died?” Sue asked, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, definitely me this time.” You whined and dropped your head face-flat onto the table. “I don’t understand when this happened. Can you direct me to a point in time when Viktor woke up and chose violence?” you chuckled despite yourself.

“Um… I think it was some time after the party where that cute curly-haired guy with a poetic name clung to you the entire evening. Or—” she smirked—“you calling Viktor a meticulous stiff bastard.”

“Ambrose? I completely forgot about him,” you mused for a second. There had been an Ambrose sometime during your first weeks. He was from the theatre department too, full of big words, slightly obsessive, but overall nice. You never gave him your number, though, deciding it wasn’t meant to be.

“So you think Viktor loves me so much, jealousy rotted his guts?” you laughed a little too loudly, drawing a few irritated ‘shh!’ sounds from nearby students.

“Let’s say it’s my instinct,” Sue replied with a mischievous smile. “And remember, Y/N—trusting your instincts is key in science,” she added in a hushed, exaggerated Heimerdinger impression, causing you to suppress your laugh even further.

***

Viktor stretched in his chair. The last paper to check stared him in the eye, glaring at him almost as intensely as you had that morning. He groaned slightly at the pain in his leg as the door creaked open.

“Hi, partner,” Jayce greeted, shooting him a smile that was a mix of guilt and a plea for forgiveness. He’d left Viktor for an entire day to gallivant around campus with Mel. She had apparently needed strong arms to carry boxes of flyers advertising their winter show.

“Don’t ‘hi, partner’ me, Jayce,” Viktor huffed but smiled faintly under his nose. “How was it?”

“She’s really something, Vik. I can tell you over a beer?” Jayce offered, clearly still buzzing from his all-day hangout with his beautiful, smart, interesting, unique, elegant, new girlfriend.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. One last paper to check.” Viktor groaned slightly as he flipped your paper in front of his friend’s face. Jayce snatched it mid-air and studied it carefully for a minute.

“How come? I thought she was the only one to work around your… notes mishap?” Jayce tread carefully, noticing the frown forming on Viktor’s forehead. He knew exactly how Viktor had messed up the notes—sadly, it was partially his fault as well.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, still staring at the paper. “Yes, indeed, she was. She even tried to fix her answer when she put the test into the box,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t she?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, the motion quick and dismissive. “Because, Jayce, I don’t make exceptions for students who can't follow the rules.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “What did she do to get so deeply under your skin? Seriously, you're not usually like this.” Viktor was only mean and vigilant when he cared—or when he was hurt. That, Jayce knew. He just didn’t know which one it was.

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice. “She’s just full of herself. Thinks she can do whatever she wants because she’s got it all figured out.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Well, if someone’s getting on your nerves that much, it usually means they’re reflecting something about you that you don’t want to see.”

Viktor stared at him blankly, the words almost not registering. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. “When did you start spreading the wisdom of your people around the world, Jayce?”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually. “Mel teaches me how to talk to difficult people now. You know, learning to understand them and not just shut them down immediately.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone sceptical. “Am I the difficult one here?”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Clearly. I mean, you’re willing to fuck up Y/N’s final grade over a sentiment. That’s not exactly… rational behaviour, is it?” He leaned into the desk, hoping for a moment of self-reflection from his friend.

Viktor was silent for a moment, then scoffed, trying to brush off the conversation. “It’s not like that. I’m not just doing it to be petty.”

Jayce leaned in slightly. “So, what did you tell Heimerdinger about the mishap?”

Viktor leaned forward as well, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I told him the truth—both of us fell asleep in the lab, working on our side project. I had to rush to class that morning. No big deal.”

Jayce nodded, processing this. “I’m sure Heimerdinger won’t bat an eyelid if you step up for Y/N, especially since she did well in class. If anything, she deserves some leniency.”

Viktor paused, looking at his friend thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that. Just… don’t think this is something I do for everyone,” he exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But I’ll talk to Heimerdinger.”

Jayce smirked, leaning back in his chair again. “There you go. Maybe Mel’s influence is working on you after all.”

Viktor shot him a look, clearly not amused. But deep down, he couldn't deny there was something about you that unsettled him—and, for some reason, it had started to bother him more than he cared to admit.

“Just keep your wisdom to yourself,” Viktor muttered. “And get out of my office. I still have work to do.”

Jayce chuckled but stood up, winking. “Hey, it’s my office as well! But yeah, I get the point.” As Jayce exited, Viktor stared at the paper before him, his mind occupied by frustration. A meticulous stiff bastard he was indeed.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #the game of teaching body

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lily-fics-11 · 8 months ago

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I Can See You: Chapter 2 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission.

Chapter 2

Ellie’s behavior towards you fluctuates and you aren’t quite sure why. You go to her lacrosse game when you need to learn more about lacrosse, she ends up giving you a private lesson.

Word count: 4k

CW: Profanities, reference to sexual situations and feelings, innuendos, slight intimacy, *Ellie and reader are both 18*

“Under one condition, we keep things professional.”

Ellie, though in need of a few reminders, holds up her end of the bargain. Sure, she is naturally flirtatious but the two of you start to become… friends? She genuinely wants to get to know you and becomes more comfortable being open about her own life.

However, as your friendship continues to grow, you can’t help but want her as more than that. You gave the ultimatum, but it wasn't long before you regretted it. Even though it was the right thing to do.

Seeing Ellie in the hallway goes from inspiring admiration to longing begrudgingly. Pangs of jealousy spike when you see her talking to other girls.

With a little probing, Ellie starts to share her academically oriented interests, and she wants to teach you about them since you’ve taught her so much. You started by asking if there were any sections of a museum that she likes. Turns out that she has an affinity for dinosaurs. “You should watch Jurassic Park with me. I could point out every type of dinosaur for you,” she declared confidentially.

You smile and shake your head. “Ellie, you can’t just ask me on a movie date. Professional, remember?”

She raises her eyebrows in shock but you can see in her eyes that she absolutely intended it that way. “I’m not asking you on a date! I'm trying to educate you on a subject that actually matters.”

“So that’s not just one of your tricks, telling a girl you are going to teach her about dinosaurs so you can impress her? Get her close enough to kiss?” You are frowning, not wanting Ellie to see you as some girl to put her moves on.

She looks a little disgusted. “Do you think girls are impressed by dinosaur facts? That would be a tyrannosaurus wreck.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I would be impressed.”

“You’re nothing like the girls I usually date.”

“Good.”

In an attempt to get Ellie further invested you ask her about her dream job. You expected her to say professional athlete, but she actually wants to be an astronaut.

“I like to go to the planetarium, you should come with me some time,” she offers nonchalantly.

“I’m not so sure about that Ellie, sounds like a date to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve never dated a girl that would want to go to the planetarium.”

You roll your eyes back at her, but also laugh. “Maybe you are dating the wrong kind of girl.”

“Then maybe you are the right…” she stutters, “right about the girls I date.”

Things go on that way over the next few tutoring sessions before there is a shift in Ellie’s behavior. She is suddenly quiet, and even a bit awkward. You wonder if she’s tired of being friendly and doesn’t know how to say it. The weird thing is that you see her looking back at you when you watch her in the hallway. She’s never done that before, and only started after acting differently.

While working on her Spanish homework one day the silence is driving you crazy. You can’t help but say something.

“You have nothing, I don’t know… random, to say?”

“Random?” She questions nervously.

“You haven’t asked ‘donde está la biblioteca’ for no reason. You haven’t answered any of the questions with ‘vamos a la play, a mi me gusta baila.’”

“I guess I’ve just been… feeling things. About you…” she stutters, “what you’ve said. I really could do well if I focused enough. I’m going to college to play lacrosse, but doing something I actually want doesn't need to end there.”

Ellie won’t carry a conversation. Nonetheless, you continue to catch her looking at you, anytime or anywhere you see her. She will force down a smile, look away, and pretend like it didn’t happen. You try to stay in your lane but you end up confronting her.

You stare her down until she makes eye contact, she looks a little startled. “You know I can see you, right?”

Her cheeks go pink. “Well I am sitting across from you. Best seat in the house.” She laughs but it is forced and fake.

You cross your arms. “Not like that. Actually looking at me, here, and in the hallways.”

Ellie’s eyes nervously dart around the room. “I like to be aware of my surroundings, I look at everything.”

That makes your eyes squint and your nose scrunch. “I see you looking at me, which would be whatever, but it started after you stopped talking to me. It doesn’t make any sense!”

Ellie huffs and runs a hand through her hair. “I’ve just got a lot going on. The first game of the season is coming up. I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to… uh, get your help. And when I do work I get nervous because I, uh, know there is a lot of pressure for me to do well. I hope you know that I,” she clears her throat, “appreciate you.”

You unfold your arms and busy your hands with papers on the table. “I’m sorry Ellie, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll leave you alone from now on, it’s none of my business.”

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she mumbles, her green eyes glassy. You’ve never seen her like this and you wonder if anyone ever has.

“I’m here for you Ellie, I’m not going anywhere,” you assure her and she snaps back into reality. She hurriedly gets back to her work, speaking no unnecessary words or making any eye contact for the rest of the period.

The day before the first game of the season your ears perk up when you overhear Ellie’s name in the chatter coming from the table next to you during lunch.

“Anna is upset because Ellie doesn’t flirt with her in class anymore,” one girl shares.

“Ellie as in Ellie Williams?” Another questions.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound like her.”

“I heard that if she doesn’t fix her grades soon she won’t be allowed to play anymore.”

You would like to say your initial thought upon hearing this was being proud of Ellie. However, the first thing that crossed your mind was an embarrassing satisfaction, knowing that she’s giving less attention to other girls. Even if you aren’t receiving that sort of attention in turn

Later that day you meet with Ellie. You aren’t going to say anything flat out, but you are proud of her, and wonder why she hasn’t mentioned anything. Even if things are awkward, you hope she knows that you care.

Ellie is on high alert, which makes sense, the first game of the season is looming over her. Between subjects you casually inquire, “how have things been going in class?”

“Uh, fine I guess,” she mumbles, not looking up.

“Do you think tutoring is, I don’t know, helping you focus?” You question. “Maybe understand things better as they are being taught?”

“Well it is what made me want to stop…” she hesitates to finish the sentence. “Doing things the way I was.”

Your face lights up. “So you are paying more attention?”

Her posture slumps. “I try. But sometimes I think a lot. Get lost in my own head.”

“I understand that it’s easy to get lost in thought, but doing your best to listen to your teachers could make things a lot easier for you.” You do your best to be gentle and encouraging.

A smile starts to creep up on Ellie’s face. “I don’t need to listen to them, I have you. You are way more attrac- more accommodating than any teacher I’ve ever had.”

You giggle a little. “I appreciate the compliment, Ellie, but they are the professionals.”

She purses her lips. “It makes sense why you would have faith in them. They have faith in you. They’ve never believed in me.”

Your face drops hearing her say that. “For whatever it may be worth, I believe in you.”

Ellie’s eyes widen and her freckled cheeks blush. “No one has said that to me about anything other than lacrosse in a long time, except Joel.”

“Who’s Joel?” You ask curiously.

“My dad.” She informs you with a small smile, you can tell she must really care about him by the sparkle in her eyes.

“You call him Joel?”

Ellie runs a hand through her hair. “It’s… complicated.”

That’s not your business and you are happy she’s already shared so much with you. “Well you should listen to Joel, he knows what he’s talking about.”

Ellie goes quiet for the rest of your time together and you don’t push her not to be.

As she is leaving you call for her to wait. She turns towards you and her green eyes are wide and expectant, there is a certain glimmer in them that you haven’t seen before.

“Good luck with your game tomorrow, Ellie.”

On the day of the game you can’t help but stare at Ellie more than usual in her suit and tie. The team always dresses up on game day. She catches you looking and licks her lips with raised eyebrows, clearly pleased with herself, before returning her attention to the friends she is walking with.

Lacrosse seems to be haunting you when your gym teacher announces that it’s the next thing you are going to be covering.

The teacher hardly goes over anything before splitting the class into two teams and throwing everyone into a game. Ellie plays with grace and ease, not even the other lacrosse players can compare. You try to watch what she’s doing, and that’s obviously the only reason you are looking at her, to try and see if you can figure out how this sport works. But that is really hard to do when you are worried about getting hit in the face with a flying ball or swinging stick.

In the locker room after class you hear a few girls giggling and talking about how they can’t wait to see Ellie play this afternoon. It hits you that it would be the perfect opportunity to see how lacrosse is supposed to be played without risking your personal safety. You could study the game, but just the game. Nothing else. At least that’s what you are telling yourself.

After the final bell of the day you hang around school before the game starts, with your friend Nicole. You convinced her to come to the game with you. She doesn’t seem to have any suspicions that you may have ulterior motives for attending. You start reading the chapters needed for one of your classes tomorrow to pass the time.

When you get to the field the bleachers are pretty packed, rivaling the crowd you’ve seen (only on other students' social media stories), at football games.

You and Nicole take a seat far to one side that isn’t too densely packed.

The team takes the field and you spot Ellie immediately, you would recognize that stance anywhere. She is wearing number 11, which happens to be your lucky number, on the opposing team's 30 yard line. You hadn’t planned this, but she is basically in line with where you are sitting. Taking a closer look you see a tattoo on her forearm, which definitely doesn’t have you feeling any type of way.

You recognize Abby Anderson wearing number 7, from her phenomenal physique. Ellie isn’t the only girl on the team you are attracted to. Abby faces off with a tall girl from the other team in the middle of the field. When the referee blows the whistle their two sticks, and the ball, shoot up into the air. Abby jumps higher and secures the ball for her team. She passes it right to Ellie, who makes a quick getaway, and effortlessly scores before 30 seconds has gone by. You don’t really know how this all works, but from the way the crowd roars that must be impressive.

The first half goes by rather quickly. You would like to say you were engrossed by all the action, but it was number 11 that was consuming your thoughts. In your defense a lot of the game centered around her, she scored 3 out of the 4 goals for her team, they are winning 4 - 2, and had a ton of assists.

As the team takes the field for the second half your eyes find Ellie immediately, and you could swear that she was looking back at you. She is too far away to tell for sure, and wearing goggles, making it easy to fall prey to delusion. The game starts but Ellie doesn’t move until the ball is passed to her and it wizzes past her head while she is still facing your direction. She snaps out of being distracted and manages to recover the ball. Did she actually notice you?

“Get it together Williams!” the coach yells at her and that only makes Ellie run faster. She rolls around a defender and scores a goal. That one hiccup didn’t stop Ellie from performing with near perfection the rest of the game. She does, however, glance in your direction every once in a while. But your head must be messing with you, right?

Ellie scores 4 more goals in the second half, leading her team to victory with a final score of 12 - 5.

“You are tutoring her, right?” Nicole asks as you clear out of the stands with the rest of the spectators.

“Who?” You ask, playing dumb and praying she didn’t notice the trance number 11 had you in for the last hour and a half.

“Ellie Williams.”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply, acting as natural as possible.

“She really is as good as everyone says she is, I hope you can help her stay off the bench.”

Nicole doesn’t try to discuss Ellie any further and you thank the universe for its mercy. You part ways after exiting the bleachers because you forgot a textbook in your locker. While making your way back to the school you spot Ellie talking to a ruggedly handsome man. He looks slightly older than you would expect an 18 year old’s father to be, but that must be Joel. You don’t spend too long looking at him, not when Ellie looks so hot now that her goggles are off. Sweat is glistening on her forehead and her short ponytail is tousled with a piece in the front falling across her face. You shake your head to rattle the thoughts of what other activities make her look like that.

When you finally get back to your locker you pull out the textbook and notice that the bookmark you had in it is gone, it must have fallen out. While you can still recall the images on the page you left off on you flip through to find it. Then you get stuck in the hallway even longer when your mom calls you, questioning whether or not you are going to be home for dinner, and what you want to eat.

By the time you make it out to the parking lot there aren’t too many cars left, just those of the lacrosse players who are starting to trickle out of the locker room. You start driving, and as you pass the door Ellie has just stepped out of it. You accidentally make eye contact with her, and she flashes you a devilish grin. In turn you force a smile through your embarrassment and quickly look back ahead of you, praying she didn’t notice how red she has turned your face.

There is a mischievous fire burning in Ellie William’s eyes when she enters the library for her tutoring session the next day, with a confidence she has recently lacked. “I can't believe you came to watch me play, tutor girl.”

You roll your eyes. “I was there to study.”

“Study what? My physique?” Ellie licks her lips, obviously trying to draw your attention there. “I do look pretty good in the uniform. It shows off my muscles, and my tattoo. Plus green really is my color.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to convince her that her charm isn’t working on you, even though it is. “I was studying lacrosse, for gym.”

Ellie’ nose scrunches up, quite adorably. “Why would you need to study lacrosse?”

“We are being graded on participation, but it’s hard to participate when you have no clue what you are doing.”

Her pupils expand instantaneously and her lips part. “You would be a little too powerful if you were able to play sports, you are already so smart.” She turns away and you swear you hear her mumble “especially when you look like that.”

You bite your lip for a moment, almost giving in to the energy that Ellie is projecting. “They don’t offer tutoring for gym class. I figured watching an actual game would be beneficial.”

Something wicked, yet playful, flickers in her striking eyes. “I could tutor you.”

You start to panic, spending more time than necessary with this attractive girl can't mean anything but trouble. “That won’t be necessary,” you rush to say.

“Oh come on, would you turn down the chance to be tutored in physics by Newton?”

“Are you calling yourself the Isaac Newton of lacrosse?”

“That’s just the first analogy I could come up with. It will be so much easier for you if I show you what to do. Since you won’t let me teach you about dinosaurs and space you could at least let me teach you this. You would never want to go on a sports date, so I can help you out and keep things professional.”

“It would be really helpful to have someone show me exactly what to do.”

“My practice ends tomorrow at noon, come at 1, that way no one sees us together.” Ellie passes you her phone with her contacts open so you can add yourself in. “I’ll teach you how to shoot your shot.”

“You know what Williams, I’ll see you then.”

When you get to the field Ellie is alone, waiting for you, looking undeniably sexy. Her legs are casually spread and her elbows rest on the bleacher bench above hers. The sun has kissed her face wondrously, though her cheeks and nose are burnt a little pink. And her hair, messy from playing hard, you wish you were the one making it look like that.

Ellie saunters down to the field with all her things, and the extra lacrosse stick she had said she would bring for you in your brief text message exchange. You reach out for the stick right away, not leaving room for any funny business.

She looks a little taken aback at first, but smiles playfully while hungrily looking you up and down. You can see her try to focus in when she suggests “why don’t we start with you showing me how you hold the stick.”

You try to take an athletic stance, legs bent at the knees, feet shoulder width apart. You at least know that much. You fiddle with the stick a little before taking your final guess at how to grasp it. “Is this correct?” you ask.

Ellie blinks rapidly and one corner of her mouth turns up. “Gotta be honest with you tutor girl, not even close. I have to ask, what were you paying attention to during the game if you didn't no even see how to hold the stick?” She looks you in the eyes, seductively. Like she knows exactly what had your attention.

Your mouth scrunches to one side as you try to find an excuse. “The ball!” you blurt out. “I got distracted following where the ball was.”

Ellie stands with her hands on her hips, chin up in the air, looking way too pleased with herself. “I’m sure. Let me show you how to hold the stick.”

You expect her to show you with her own stick. Instead, Ellie gets recklessly close and puts her hands over yours to reposition them. Your heart rate shoots up and you thank god the long fingers of her veiny hands aren’t too close to where she can feel your pulse booming. Ellie remains in your personal space long enough for you to smell her cologne. It’s pretty strong, like she just sprayed it. The scent attracts you to her more than usual being in an unusual proximity. It's earthy, woodsy, and suits her well. You are distracted by her tattoo when she pulls away, it draws your eyes, and up close you notice that it’s covering a scar.

Ellie clears her throat but doesn’t step away. “Now that you’ve got that, show me how you cradle.”

“Why don’t you just show me how you do it?” Being able to feel the heat radiating off her body on this cool spring day, her warm skin touching yours, it’s a dangerous game. It will only leave you longing for more. However, watching her strong hands and muscular arms in action can give you at least some satisfaction, without too much temptation.

Ellie demonstrates how to cradle the ball before letting you try. You hold the stick and swivel your body.

“Hold on, it’s gotta come from your wrists, not your torso. Ears to nose.” Before you can correct yourself she grabs your shoulders, more tender than you would expect the rough and tough Ellie Williams to be. She could have remained an arms length away, but she is nearly pressed up against you. When she tells you “I’m going to keep your body in place so that you can only move the way I want you to,” you can feel her breath on your neck, creating a ripple of goosebumps.

Your breath hitches and you bite your lip so that you don’t audibly gasp. “Are you going to give it a try?” She snickers after you had taken time to bring back your thoughts from the dirty place she clearly wanted them to go. You can hear the smirk in her voice, she knows exactly what she is doing.

“Yeahhhh,” you grumble before you start. She gives you a few corrections as you practice and eventually you get the hang of it. You step away first and turn to face her.

“I’ve gotta say Williams, I’ve been on dates where I’ve been touched less.”

She raises an eyebrow and scratches her head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

You cross your arms. “Touching my hands, holding my shoulders…”

“Let’s just say it’s easier to cradle you through this. I wouldn’t do it if I had no reason to, professional was the deal. But I’m not going to act like it’s absolutely necessary, or that I don’t enjoy it. But, if you had let me teach you about dinosaurs I wouldn’t have an excuse to do this. Though I wouldn’t complain if you got scared and let me put my arm around you. I want to steal a kiss but I’m not going to.”

“If this is the easiest way to get this done, so be it,” you huff, trying to disguise your excitement.

Ellie goes on to teach you how to throw and catch. Eventually you can do those a few times in a row when tossing the ball back and forth to each other.

When you realize how long the two of you have spent together you tell her “I think this is enough… enough to get me a grade that won’t skew my GPA.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have anything to do until tonight.” Ellie looks at her wrist like she is checking a watch, even though she isn’t wearing one. “I don’t mind taking my time with you.”

Your face is burning, and not from the exercise. “I appreciate that. I’ve got a lot of work to do though. Thank you Ellie, I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Anything for you, tutor girl.”

(Shout out to my sister Nicole for being my lacrosse expert)

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything, @mikellie, @lamolaine

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pnfc · 6 days ago

Text

short conversational fic. in which heinz buys them a pet, and there are no problems ( ~4k words )

EDIT: obligatory ao3 link

It’s like half a year into them dating. Or 194 days into them dating, but who’s counting. Holiday season. They’re out shopping together, which is a joint effort, Heinz distracted by the offerings at every store and gimmick toys too babyish for any kids they know (but not too babyish for Heinz) and whatever side-street restaurants have sprung up by surprise, or are at least new to his memory. Perry is keeping Heinz on task, and footing the bill. Heinz is tall enough to reach a checkout counter. So they make a good team.

They’ve stashed their bags in the truck and are finalizing things at the books and small gifts store when Heinz tells Perry to hold on a minute, while he runs back out to the street. Perry has read through most of the cards for wine moms on the bottom row when Heinz returns with a plastic crate.

“Okay so you know in ‘Lady and the Tramp’ when the guy gets the girl a puppy for Christmas, stuffed in a hatbox?”

An alarming preamble. Perry sets his face.

“Well don’t worry, I didn’t do that, because it’s stupid. Gifting someone a pet dog. Who does that? And wrapping it up in a bow it doesn’t want to wear and everything, so it trips around and falls down the stairs, strangles itself to death, awful. Just a terrible gift idea.” He pauses. “But I got us a kitten!”

Heinz swings the container forward so Perry can see in the barred door. There’s a blanket wrapped around a white lump of fur, which is bristling and softening with each breath. Perry looks up at Heinz with a hollow expression.

I’m so glad you didn’t buy a dog, Perry signs. Heinz is beaming. No.

Heinz blinks, while it registers. “Did you say ‘no’? You’re saying ‘no’?”

I’m saying no.

“No to the . . . kitten? To the sweet little ki— Perry the Platypus, come on,” Heinz pleads, pulling the crate back stably against his legs. “There’s a million little kitties out there who need a home and we have so much room in our place, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. It never worked out for me picking up strays off the street, as you recall, but this guy’s from a shelter, so no little kid’s gonna show up and steal him away. I paid for this. The logistics all check out. It’ll make our house a home!”

No. We don’t need a cat.

Perry leaves it at that, doesn’t bother taking offense to Heinz’s suggestion that their house is not currently a home. He’s being stupid, obviously he is, why call a spade a spade? Heinz furrows his brow at Perry, and sighs at him like he’s being so hopeless.

“Alright. I thought you might be like this — you’re that type of guy, aren’t you, Perry the Platypus? All burly and macho, convinced only a big manly hunting dog could be the animal for you.”

Perry’s mouth is open. Is that how you see me?

“Ok so I’m hyperbolizing but the point is — you’re not a cat person. I know. At least you think you aren’t. But I know how people tick, Perry the Platypus, and trust me: once you let this little ball of cuteness into your heart, you will never want to unclog your arteries.” Heinz points at Perry, who’s got his jacketed arms in a cross. “You’re too soft on the inside. You’ll see.”

That certainly explains how Perry got where he is, with an impulse-driven, acutely toxoplasmotic boyfriend. He presses a hand to his bill bridge, glances sidelong, then starts tugging Heinz away from the crowded card display.

There’s no one in the back corner of the store, with the self-help books, so Perry drops Heinz’s sleeve and gestures at him to set the crate down.

“I thought we could talk it over in the car — or at home?” Heinz says as he straightens up. “Or did you want to look at these before we leave?” He’s skimming over romantic guides advising women to dump their pushy boyfriends. “It’s just they’re all so hacky, I’m not a fan. Plus this store doesn’t carry any of my books — which are hacky, yet practical.” He looks at Perry. “Though none of mine have a ‘Phasing out of subtextual innuendo and into a real relationship’ chapter, yet. That’s in drafts.”

Let’s talk here. Perry hits the brakes mid-sign and wheels on Heinz, with a low growl. Do NOT write about our love life.

“Perry!” he flutes, in a scandalized tone that is difficult to trust. “I would never, in so much detail. I write in broad strokes. Anonymized hypotheticals, that people can relate to. I’m not getting monotreme-specific. . . . Maybe mammal-specific.”

This will be a future conversation. Perry plates it on the heaping table of messy topics in his mind and returns to the one at hand.

We can’t keep the cat. It’s a bad idea.

Heinz huffs, glancing back down at the plastic carrier on the carpet. “Ok, I hate to go here but. Is it because you’re an animal? Does that make it weird to you?” He cocks his head. “Because you know I don’t even think about that. That’s not what you are to me. Like I’m not blind to it, obviously, because you are a platypus. It’s hard to miss that. And I love all the little platypus parts you have, your leathery paws and your big tail and your, your highly efficient lack of ears — it’s all just so characteristically you,” Heinz says, indicating Perry’s form with open hands. “So uniquely Perry the Platypus, not animal-ish. To me. But maybe that’s because I don’t hang out with a lot of other platypuses.”

Heinz kneels by the carrier, while Perry lets his opening question hang unanswered. He hooks fingers into the metal bars — the kitten’s still deep in sleep, its pink nose poking out of a blanket fold.

“Point is you’re not at all like this guy, to me — or to anyone with eyes and a brain. You’re a person, and this guy’s a pet. A real one, not like the one your job forced you to act like, back in the day. This kitty isn’t like you and your secret agent buddies. Like what was it — Kathy? Kelly? The cat one? We’re not gonna push it through military brainwashing, or feed it smart-pills or whatever it is they did to you.”

Perry stares in response, and signs for pill-taking with a shake of his head.

“Oh, they didn’t give you smart-pills? Well they did something to you. And we’re not gonna do whatever OWCA . . .” He trails off, since Perry’s still shaking his head. “What? They didn’t?” Another shake. “Didn’t OWCA stick you guys with a supersoldier serum when you were kids? Or some kind of brain-smartener? The whole ‘Flowers for Algernon’ deal?” Shake.

Heinz is taken aback. He pushes off his knees, and stares down at Perry. “Really? That can’t be right. Perry the Platypus, you’re like.” He pauses, thinking. “Well, I’m not too proud to say, that — for a certain number of metrics of intelligence, and that is bearing in mind that a large number of those metrics exist — you’re smarter than me. By a lot.

“And you have a certain conversational verve and wit about you that I don’t tend to encounter at the zoo, among those chuckleheads.” Heinz laughs, stiff. “I mean come on, you’re not a regular platypus, Perry.”

To which Perry has no ready retort. He just hills his shoulders, palms open. He is and he isn’t. He isn’t, but apparently he is.

Heinz gawps, and sinks himself down to the bookstore carpet. “So like, what, you’re telling me you’re just naturally like this?”

Seems that way.

“And you’re uh. What, like. . . . An animal?”

194 days of officialized dating and this has clicked for him.

“No way.” He leans in closer to Perry’s face, fists propping him forward like a curious ape. “I just never thought — you sure there isn’t some big secret they’re keeping from you? Tell me.”

Perry blinks at Heinz. If there’s a secret, he signs with plodding emphasis. How would I know?

“Right — you’re right, okay.” Heinz slouches in his kneel. “That makes sense. But wow, Perry the Platypus. That is surprising. I mean, I know animals can be smart. God knows the local pigeons outwit me every other morning on my bakery runs. But Momma Ocelot wasn’t exactly reading me Cervantes, growing up.” He rubs fingers through the short pile of the rug. “Then again, she didn’t have a library card. That might’ve had something to do with it.”

She probably couldn’t read, Perry signs, as he sits next to Heinz. I learned from OWCA.

“You had different opportunities,” Heinz says, in slow agreement. “Okay, I can see that. But don’t you think, Perry, there’s something extra-special about you? There is, right? I mean I’ve never connected to anyone,” he says, fumbling, “like you. No people, no ocelots, animals. Ever in my life. What does that say about you?”

Perry tilts his head, and points the question back at Heinz.

“. . . Huh.” Heinz stares at his own hands, dangled on the floor. Perry studies his face as they lapse into silence. Unlike most silences with Heinz, this one is accruing an uneasy edge. Perry fidgets, glances at the pet crate and back. He taps a hand on Heinz’s upper arm.

Hey. Is this a problem? he signs. It’s clear something’s clicking together in a weird way for Heinz, and Perry knows better than to assume the worst, but he still has to state his mind. I’m me. Same as yesterday, Perry signs. Same as always.

Heinz stares across at him, a little chastened, a little pink. “Oh — I know, Perry the Platypus.” He rubs the back of one hand with the other. “It’s just — what are we doing? With this kitten, I mean. What does it mean if he could be like you? If he went through OWCA, or if we . . . taught him the stuff you learned, how to read and everything. Or if we didn’t — what, would he just be a normal cat? Is that a choice we could make?”

Perry gives him a searching expression, hands up.

“That’s all you’ve got for me? You don’t know?”

Quiet again. Thoughts are coming down fast as the outside flurry. Their gestural language is getting good now, quicker than Perry had anticipated, quick to read each other and intuit what’s in the gaps. But despite it all Perry still can’t articulate with ease all the words flowing into his head — they get stuffed up inside, pillowing down too fast. Typing is great, when he can get in the swing of it, and he longs for it at times like this.

But maybe the communication barrier is just as well, when there’s so many words piling up and none of them form an answer.

What can Perry explain? Is he supposed to articulate answers to the questions that have unremittingly cropped up his entire life, in his own mind? Years wondering why he couldn’t click with Agent Pinky, who chewed on couch cushions to soothe an eternally simmering anxiety, intractable doggy jitters that Perry could not fathom and found perpetually annoying — or with Harry, who’d wrap Perry up into lanky hugs that felt like getting shoved down in a brushfield, skunky earthen smells and loud cackles that he had to fight his way back out of every time?

Were they more animal, or was Perry more human? He couldn’t hope to answer that with any confidence. Or was there something more malignant in Perry’s development, some aberration of personality, whatever it was that kept him from gelling and made him not even want to try?

He gets the sense that some unnatural growth did twist up, over the years, in the walled garden he built within himself, behind brick meters of protection. One Heinz had cracked his way through to, after years of persistent battering. And now Heinz is delighting in the fruits of whatever warped, mutant object Perry has become — which felt good, until today, when he thought to question it.

Was it unfair, maybe, for Perry to overstep the boundaries written into his birth, to give Heinz a warped impression of animalkind? Or was it all just delusional egotism on Perry’s part, thinking he’s fundamentally any different from this cat?

Perry stares at the pink plastic of the crate. Melted snow has congealed into drops on its side. He looks at Heinz, who’s sitting with his long arms crossed on his knees, and formulates the thought at the front of his mind right now, knowing it doesn’t help a thing.

I came from a pet store.

Heinz makes a little “oh” with his mouth, and nods. “That’s how your family got you, huh?”

How OWCA distributes their pet-sized agents, yeah.

Heinz joins Perry in looking at the crate, where the kitten’s still sleeping in peace. “What’d they charge for you?”

Perry snorts at that, like it’s a joke, surprised. Heinz isn’t really smiling though, he’s got those soft eyes turned on him.

So he smiles back at Heinz, head tilted. No idea.

“Well,” says Heinz. “This guy cost me $60. And I’d wanna think you’re worth more than that. What kind of a number did OWCA put on you? I’m serious.”

Perry waves a hand in dismissal. Don’t take it too seriously. They’re domestic animals, he signs, they need a home.

“Kinda hard not to take it seriously,” Heinz gruffs, “when it applies to you. I’d like to know exactly how much cold hard cash Francis made pawning off my boyfriend to some grubby little kids, you know? Not to insult your family, Perry. I like them. But like. Definitionally, that’s what they were, at the time.”

Heinz is fussing with the aglets of his bootlaces, chipping away at the plastic.

“D’you think I should ask him to pony it back up? The adoption fee? Not for me, you know, for your family, since they’re the ones who paid it. But mostly for Francis not having it anymore.”

Indignation is all across Heinz’s lined face, as he broods over his boots. Perry feels himself gazing in slack adoration. What an incredibly stupid, petty thing to offer.

He and Heinz have been out long hours shopping, racking up a massive amount of credit — on Perry’s card, on the account that is shared between them, though Heinz’s name isn’t officially attached to it yet. Every other minute it’s been:

Oh, a gardening spade! That’s a good brand, Perry the Platypus, you should get it for the boys, isn’t Ferb studying botany? And God that astrolabe is beautiful — who’d like it more, Linda or Lawrence? And Oh! When did we get a stationery store? Vanessa’s into the analog stuff, with her little jetsetting friends, and she’s got that trip to Europe next year — that is a nice fountain pen, Perry the Platypus, trust me, it’s worth the pricetag. And oh, not a bedazzler kit — didn’t Norm want that? I know, I know, Perry . . . we shouldn’t enable him. But it’s Christmas. Speaking of. That tablecloth set is gorgeous, right? I mean we need seasonal napkin sets, I’ve been saying this. The project of home furnishing never ends, Perry the Platypus. We’re getting it.

Heinz never offers to pay his share, on these shopping trips out. He accepts his receptive place under the hefty bulk of Perry’s bank account. It must’ve been the same way with Charlene. Like after so many sad bachelor years he’s reverted to the natural role of spoiled househusband, a happier state of being.

And Perry gets to enable it, gets to fund his cute little impulses. Which throbs a kind of wild power up his spine, makes him feel towering, despite his 24 inches.

Did Charlene get to feel this way? Perry thinks, as he thinks about marriage. He reaches out to rub Heinz’s knee.

“I kind of regret getting him that cool pencil sharpener now,” he mutters, and Perry has to drag his head back to the topic of Monogram.

Reassuringly: Don’t. He uses pens.

Heinz scoffs. “You could’ve told me.”

It was a vintage sharpener shaped like a cartoon beaver, you stuck the pencil in its mouth. Heinz had been so charmed by it. Perry just grins at him, all “what can you do”.

A soft mewl carries from the plastic box, and Heinz wheels on it immediately. “Aw, little baby . . .”

Through the carrier door Perry sees the white-wicked lump moving, a squint of sleepy blues. Heinz pokes a couple fingers in, his palm too thick to fit between the bars.

“We forgot all about you, sweetie, we were talking about that bad Major Monogram. He’s a mean old man who’s rude to animals, who you will never have to meet — God, can you imagine,” he says with a turn to Perry, dropping his babytalk down to dry derision in an instant. Perry holds back a laugh.

“I guess that’s another factor I didn’t consider, in pet ownership. My proximity to a guy who brainwashes little animals to prop up his own failed military career.” He waggles his fingers, which the kitten is taking notice of. “He wouldn’t try to recruit this guy, would he?”

Doubt it, signs Perry, smiling tight. But we’re not keeping it.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting that by now,” he mumbles. “I wasn’t really thinking this guy could grow up to be like you. I mean, maybe he wouldn’t? But what’s he gonna be in 5 years? Our — our adult live-in roommate? I don’t think we need that, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz says. “I mean we already had Norm.”

Perry restrains himself from throwing a self-help book at Heinz’s head. These things are murder weapons. Instead he scuffs a foot at his boot.

“Maybe we just raise it for a while,” Heinz considers while the kitten attacks his fingers. “To adolescence. Then we swap it, get a new one. Keep a perpetual cycle going of dumb little babies. What do you think, Perry the Platypus?”

Surely he’d survive one book to the face? Instead Perry pulls a reluctant paw off its spine, to sign: I thought you quit evil.

“Oh yeah, I did,” Heinz grins back at him. Dick. “Can’t believe I forgot that. Thanks for the reminder.” His face flags. “Oh — I’m kidding, you get that, right? Don’t look at me like that. This does actually bother me, in case it’s not obvious. I feel like there’s some weird implications here that I don’t wanna think about.”

Another roil of anxiety in Perry’s chest. He gestures: Like?

“Like,” Heinz says, thinking. “Well. Can I just never have a cat? From now on? It’s just that I always liked cats,” he says, looking dolefully at the kitten. “The strays around Drusselstein kept me company, growing up, and the ocelots were like my siblings, even if that didn’t last too long. I always thought taking care of a cat would be paying them back, in a way. Helping out their distant cousins across the sea.

“. . . But Charlene was allergic. So, you know,” he finishes.

And Perry can’t hide that that guts him, that detail. Because Perry wants to be whatever Charlene wasn’t. To know and understand the parts of Heinz that she did not, or would not. To accept what she couldn’t.

But Perry can’t. Not this, not now, so out of the blue, with Heinz not even realizing what he sprung on him.

Perry knows he’s not to blame for the strangeness of the world, its incongruous distribution of mind among its creatures. But he made Heinz aware, by embodying that strangeness. And now they're attached.

And maybe if he hadn’t been . . . If OWCA just sent normal people after the bad guys. Like they used do. Then, well. Then this wouldn’t be an issue.

“Perry.” Heinz’s knuckles push into the sleeve of his coat. “Hey, Perry. The Platypus.”

Heinz is ignoring the kitten, now turned to face Perry, all concern.

“You know this doesn’t actually matter, right?” Heinz’s hand rolls down Perry’s arm, as Perry looks up at his eyes.

“It doesn’t. I mean . . . it’s a lot to think about, that I sort of haven’t before. It’s a weird existential conundrum, right? I mean, speaking of things to write a book about.

“But I’m an adult man. I don’t need to get a kitten today, you know? I won’t even throw a tantrum about it. I just thought — you know, in that stupid way, where I think without thinking — that you’d like it. I thought it would be sweet.

“I mean — look,” Heinz says pointing at the carrier door, through which the kitten is now straining to escape, “he looks like a snowball, and it’s snowing. And he’d look so cute next to you. That’s about as far as I got before I had my wallet out.”

Perry tries to smile up at him. But he has to look away, can’t make the shape with his face, doesn’t know what to say. Heinz rubs a thumb on the back of Perry’s hand.

“We’ll think it through more, in the future. That’s a nice change of pace for me.”

They lapse into a gentler quiet, broken only by the kitten’s high-pitched mewls. Heinz sighs, and glances at Perry.

“You wanna, like. Hold it?”

Their corner of the store remains vacant, while the bustle of holiday shopping continues unabated near the front. At one point an older woman came perusing down the adjacent aisle, and left. That’s the most company they’ve had.

So Perry agrees to let Heinz open up the cage and lift the kitten out, deposit it on the rug. It rolls and bounds around in the angular pen made by Heinz’s splayed legs.

It does look like snow, blue eyes. A pretty little guy. Perry recalls some statistic about deafness in white cats, and for a second wonders if that could be their saving grace, getting Heinz a pet so walled off by its own sensory defects that it could never hope to operate on their level.

That’s a sick line of thought, he realizes with a flash of anger. And it’s nonsense anyway. Like he could allow it, like Heinz could. Like they wouldn’t work extra hard to train it in the animal-adapted form of sign language they’ve been cultivating.

It had opened up new dimensions, to Perry. He thinks Heinz was more excited about it than he was, the first few times Perry’d signed about some noun that wasn’t pointable in the room with them.

The kitten bounces over to Perry and grapples his arm, hugs around it like it’s a playmate. It reaches his shoulder, stretched up on its hindlegs like this. If the cat is deaf, Perry considers, glum, there’s no chance it’ll learn sign in a regular household.

Heinz is looking at him, a bittersweet smile on his face. “Sometimes I forget how small you are,” he says.

Perry grips the kitten under its shoulders to hoist it away from himself. Sure it’s cute, this dumb little thing, with fresh blueberry eyes, staring vacant the way Perry used to train his own to do. If there’s a spark of self-awareness behind this animal’s eyes, Perry can’t see it. He pushes forward, beak to its nose, and issues a gentle krkrkr, tremelo waves down the soft shelf of his bill. The kitten stares, wide eyed, and angles its teetering head forward to press its nose more firmly into Perry, before opening up to jaw on him like a chew toy.

Heinz snorts. Perry looks up again to find him grinning, cross-legged, one knee going at an antsy bounce.

“You’re so cute with him, though,” he says. “I was right about that. You’d . . . you’d be good. With a pet,” he says, voice fading to a softer tone. “With a baby.”

Heinz pauses. “I guess those aren’t the same thing, though.”

Perry sets the kitten back on the carpet, where it topples over its own legs. They aren’t the same thing — but Perry could only treat this animal like one or the other. And he thinks it’s now clear, to him and Heinz both, which one it would have to be.

“I have to admit,” Heinz says, beckoning the kitten back into his hands. “My retirement plan, whenever I used to picture it. Whether I wound up ruling the tristate area or not. Was me lounging back with a good book, in a cozy chair. Big fat kitty on my legs, keeping them warm.”

Perry looks up at Heinz, and nods slowly, mulling this over.

He pokes him in the calf, and signs: That’s good. My retirement plan was getting fat.

Heinz laughs, so sweetly, Perry’s reward. He crunches Perry’s hat down over his eyes, with a heavy hand.

Perry accompanies Heinz back to the vendor, who’s posted up in the window of the florist shop, standing by a square corral of tumbling kittens at play.

“Wife said no, huh?” he says, when Heinz hands the carrier over.

Heinz fake-laughs. Perry’s stationed at his leg, paws in coat, perennially overlooked. “Someone did.”

“Well,” he says, as they get back to the truck. “I’d say this was a pretty successful day, with no major disasters. No monumental life choices made in haste. Wouldn’t you say, Perry the Platypus?”

Perry leans back in the passenger seat, with a glance trunkward at their gift haul. A lazy “ok” hand says enough — they did good.

Heinz grins. “She’s gonna flip, right? I mean, the recording equipment — the weighted keyboard? She’ll be spoiled. You’ve got the gift giving instinct, Perry the Platypus. I’ll give you that.”

Heinz leans over Perry, to buckle him in. “Mine could use some improvement.”

Perry just gives him a silent nahh, smiling up, cheek on hand. Heinz pecks him on the hat. "Shut up, Perry the Platypus." And they depart.

#fic #u can tell im endlessly entertained digging into the weird cartoon animal stuff #also that i started writing this in december and didnt pick it back up til last week...#perryshmirtz

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apocalypse-shuffle · 4 months ago

Text

AMBER FREEMAN | GHOSTFACE (scream 2022)

—

“Sent A Whole World Crying - pt1” (unrequited Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader) and (background Mindy Meeks-Martin x Fem!Reader)

| You accidentally let Amber know that you think she’s Ghostface (through DM’s); she’s not about to let you live through that mistake, obviously…probably.

| NSFW, canon typical violence, psychological trauma, unrequited feelings, angst (TW: general sadism, malicious concern, some taunting, reader-insert is harmed, slight metaphorical smut - some of the descriptors and dialogue I use are suggestive enough that it could be triggering.)

| Listen I’ve seen the analysis of who killed who in the movie, but for the sake of this fic I don’t care. (pic source: scream 2022 + promotional poster)

| Happy Early October!!

| 4k+ words

You:

- Mindy I’m telling you! - She keeps disappearing during the kills and then coming back all twitchy - Why aren’t you answering? You were all for looking into this shit earlier - Mindy! - I know you love Tara and they used to date or whatever but you know I’m right. - She’s probably Ghostface - Come on girl I’m being serious

You’ve been texting Mindy for the last two hours now and she’s still yet to answer you.

You didn’t know if it was because of how much shit you gave her for her insistence on trying to figure out who’d attempted to kill Tara a few nights ago (as if murder accusations were just mere gossip), or because she just hadn’t checked her texts yet, but this was bugging you to much for you to drop.

Hypocritical or not.

At first you’d blown off the signs, but red flags were red flags and eventually if they added up enough they started to look like blood splattered on the walls. Which didn’t help with the way your friend’s particular brand of paranoia was starting to rub off on you.

Now, you’ve managed to work yourself up so much at Amber’s most recent disappearing act that you’d nearly ran home so you could safely text Mindy.

In a circumstance that was beginning to be rarer and rarer for you both you couldn’t be up underneath each other right now so her DM’s would have to suffice.

She was busy with the film club at the moment, but she’d never once begrudged you texting her whenever and after going out with her and her friends last night then stewing over your observations all day you needed to tell somebody what you thought.

You weren’t very close to the group Mindy hung out with — you fucked with your own company just fine — but you and Mindy had become close over your mutual hate of your philosophy class and eventually she’d stumbled through asking you to hang out as a group (still blunt as ever even despite her raging blush) so you’d been with her friends at the bar only because she asked.

Friendship obligations, and all that.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to figure out who would do something so horrible just as much as they did either. It was just that you only truly cared for Mindy and Chad’s sakes.

Or at least as much as most of them wanted to figure this situation out.

Amber talked a big game about caring for Tara’s safety above all else and vetting everyone the smaller teen came into contact with, but after that jerk who got y’all kicked out left Amber had disappeared too. She came back overly excited — weird considering her best friend was almost brutally murdered — and there had been smudges on her shoes. You couldn’t confirm that it was that guy's blood, but you certainly felt like it was. The glint of something thick and wet was pretty hard to miss even on black boots.

Which was why you needed Mindy to answer you. You couldn’t bank on Amber fucking off around the same time the news reported Ghostface killed that man being a happy little coincidence.

Amber was pushy and rude on a good day and on a bad you’d seen her be downright malicious before, tripping someone down the stairs after he’d bumped into her type of malicious.

Plus ever since you started hanging out with Mindy you’ve noticed her staring at you more often, and no matter the contemplative look on Amber’s face whenever you caught her staring, her attention still made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Sighing, you unlock your phone and check your messages again, pacing around your room all the while, before something catches your eye.

That wasn’t Mindy’s handle. It just looked nearly identical.

Shit, no wonder she wasn’t responding.

Jolting to a stop in the middle of the room, you rush to delete the messages.

It’s as you’re deleting the fourth that the green ‘active now’ dot shows up beside the unfamiliar username and then ‘read’ pops up underneath your last three texts.

“Damnit,” you grumble, still deleting the last couple texts. It won’t do much now, but if you were fast enough the person at least won’t be able to show anyone else or prove what you said.

Your stomach flips a little as you see the three dots pop up in the vacant space left behind by your erasing spree.

You freeze.

And then, heart in your stomach, you just react, exiting out of the conversation and going to the person's account and blocking them.

Oh god, you were so fucked. Shit. You really hoped that wouldn't come back to bite you on the ass.

You sit down on your bed with a huff, heart beating so fast it feels like you just ran the mile in gym class again. Dropping your phone on your comforter you shake out your trembling fingers. You suppose that was a sign that maybe you should just keep your opinion to yourself.

You rub your hands down your face.

Yeah, okay. Problem kind of (maybe) avoided for now. You’d just have to hope for the best.

You grunt, “Okay, I need a nap.”

And then you take that nap. As is your right.

─────

You’re jarred from sleep a few hours later by the sound of a continuous series of buzzing, and glare sleep crusted eyes up at your blurred ceiling fan.

Mindy had better not be calling you for some contrite shit again, like helping her beat Chad at whatever late night game they’d decided to occupy their twin insomnia with at — rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look at your phone — eleven pm.

Honestly though, who else would be ballsy enough to start rapid texting you like this in the goddamn middle of the night? The other girl knew you went to sleep around nine on school nights, but Mindy did whatever she—

It feels like your heart stops beating as your Face ID unlocks your phone and you finally read the messages. Ones sent from what looks like a throwaway account with a handle you don’t remotely recognize.

The particular messages, on the other hand, are horribly familiar.

Unknown:

Wide eyed, you can’t do anything but watch as another series of messages are sent.

Unknown:

- you think I’m some bitch faced little girl - well I’ll show you

And just like that you hear the power in the house cut off and watch with stilted breath as the service bar at the top of your screen goes down.

Immediately afterwards a message pops up on your phone to inform you that you’ve lost service even.

Shit.

You blink at your screen for another few seconds, brows furrowing, before whipping your head up to look around your room. Flashes of Tara battered to hell in the hospital and the memory of Sam telling you all about the attempted attack on her in that very place, mere hours after Tara had been checked in, fill your brain to the brim.

Mind feeling stuffed with static you let out a harsh breath through your nose, hand squeezing hard onto your device, and take a glance out the broken blind in your window to clock that there for sure wasn’t a power outage happening anywhere else but at your house.

So someone was definitely fucking with you.

Fuck, you gotta think.

How the killer even got the dm’s you sent if they weren’t Amber wasn’t a question for now, but how you’d get out of this mess certainly was. With your younger sibling down the hall from you, and your parents still out of the house clubbing, there was only one other person you had to worry about.

Now you just had to figure out how to get to them without tipping off whoever the hell else was also in your house.

Hold on.

You never checked who exactly it was you’d been texting before.

Opening Snapchat, you simultaneously tumble as quietly as possible from your bed, only briefly getting caught up by your blanket tangling around your legs.

When you check you see that, yup, it was Amber’s account (who’s handle was now ridiculously similar to Mindy’s and was only saved on your phone in the first place because Mindy had asked you to send her one of your summer assignments from this year to copy).

Goddamnit.

“Why me?” you whisper; but truly, you should’ve made sure you were talking to the right person if you were going to start making fucking murder accusations.

This shit was on you.

Teeth grinding, you stuff your phone into the pocket of your shorts then start crawling around the floor till you can begin prying open your door. Opening it as far as you know it can go before it starts creaking then inching yourself the rest of the way into the hall.

Sure you had a problem if this wasn’t some elaborate prank — which you doubted, but the possibility was always there considering the kind of assholes you went to school with — but you couldn’t jump out of your window and just leave your sibling to die.

It’s when your mission is about halfway accomplished, and you’re nearly to your sibling's room, that you hear a creak.

You freeze alongside it. Breathing with your mouth slightly open to minimize the amount of noise you’re making.

Should you just make a run for their room? Should you duck back into yours? Should you shout their name and hope for the best?

In your periphery a flash of white streaks across the dark abyss that is the rest of your house.

Then, you’re only allowed enough time to start the beginnings of a scream before you’re being thrown into the hallway wall, cutoff exclamation choking in your throat and something blunt and heavy slamming into your forehead before you can catalog anything but the sound of fabric billowing in a rush and the feel of hands grabbing at you.

The shout you let out at the second hit is muffled by a gloved hand slapping over your mouth, the impact stinging your face and making your eyes water.

In that same motion your attacker catches you by the hip, hauling, and combined with the force they barreled into you with that’s all they need to make you trip backwards.

You slam into the wall with an ‘oof,’ but your attacker hardly pauses before using their body to flatten yours against the wall and force your wrists together in front of you.

As you’re blinking the spots from your eyes and trying to make out the person in the darkness a metallic click sounds through the air. And all you can do is flinch as two icy metal bands are cinched around your wrists in quick succession and your vision finally adjusts.

The metal locking together pinches at your skin but there’s so much else going on that you don’t even grimace, too busy trying to find your breath after the sight in front of you stole it.

A face. White, screaming in agony, and floating in the shadow like something straight out of Munch’s worst nightmares.

There’s a Ghostface mask less than a foot away from you.

Real and unavoidable and close enough for the starkness to hurt your eyes against the blanket of night all around you.

In Woodsboro it's a familiar sight, whether on the screen during local stabathons and tv edits at home or in costume shops around any one of the many killing spree anniversaries or Halloween.

Up close as it is to you in this scenario, however, it almost doesn’t feel real.

The mask is tilted in a way that feels like the person behind it is examining you; like a dissection. A hand sprouts from the darkness and shifts it back straight over the person’s face, however, and instantly your worry is no longer an assumption.

If you’d thought before that the tilt felt violating, the full force of Ghostface’s direct gaze actually on you feels heavy enough to strip flesh.

Like acid dripping past your throbbing head, over your face, and down the upper half of your body.

From how crooked the mask was you’d guess that’s what hit you, what’s caused the drowning thump thump pounding through your skull and the stinging sensation traveling across your forehead.

The freak had head butted you.

Slow as you can, you shift your head to the side — hoping there isn’t a streak of blood against the wall left in your wake — just enough to press your temple into the cool wall with a groan.

It’s then Ghostface’s head truly tilts and you get to know what the weight of their curiosity really feels like.

The movement itself is silent, but the click of a tongue and the hand that comes up to press over your forehead is not.

At the first touch of covered fingers to your dark skin your blood practically flash-freezes in your veins.

Gritting your teeth against your possible concussion you make a valiant attempt to meld into the wall, but a hand making itself remembered once more on your hip keeps you from fully running away, and the other reaching for you doesn’t relent.

“You’re so pretty like this, Y/n,” Ghostface’s modulated voice says, deep and smooth, as your assailant pushes on the sore area where you temple meets the wall until you turn to face them again; their tongue wrapping possessively around the call of your name without hesitation. “Submitting for me.”

“Jesus,” you whimper, shaking against the insistent feel of their thumb rubbing against the angry vein showing on your temple. “How do you know my—?”

“—Uh uh,” their overbearing timbre cuts in as they pull themselves closer to you, “keep asking questions like that and you’ll ruin the surprise.”

What fucking surprise? Did this asshole plan on dragging this out all night?

Could you figure a way out of this mess by then?

Biting the inside of your lip, you meet the abyss of a gaze in front of you in spite of the chill it sends down your spine. Try to think past the sensation of spiders crawling through your bloodstream that Ghostface’s generous touch elicits.

You swallow, saliva thick past the budding lump in your throat.

“Can you stop?” you force out.

The killer freezes.

You nearly pass out trying to keep yourself from recoiling or apologizing or both by holding your breath before they finally talk again.

“Why? You don’t want me to be concerned?”

Concerned?!

“I don’t,” you say, lips stiff.

What you wanted was to have this over with, not whatever twisted brand of care this Ghostface operated on.

A beat passes where you think they’ll keep pressing, maybe make a point of knocking you again, but then they…stop. Slim hands retreat from your space entirely and down to the killer’s sides.

You doubt their hands will stay still for long, though, and you haven’t thought up how you’re gonna get around them yet — call for your sibling to go get help, maybe?

You cut your eyes at the ghostly specter, at their height and intense focus on you, and remembering the speed they’d ambushed you with earlier you reconsider.

Risking your sibling’s life over a hunch that you already weren’t confident on wasn’t happening. There was no part of you that believed you’d stand a chance at overpowering this Ghostface long enough for no one but you to get hurt.

Something glints in the corner of your eye and you come out of your head with a start. There’s a knife in the killer’s hand now, twisting and twirling around deft fingers before their gaze swings back to you and the blade swings out to lazily point your way.

“Planning?”

“No.”

They laugh, likely not trusting your answer for a moment.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. We can play a game instead.” They pivot once, angling their body towards the door closest, and your heart skips a beat. “I spy with my little eye something that squeaks and creaks and leads to fresh meat.”

And just in case you managed to miss the killer’s meaning, they use the tip of their knife to point towards your sibling’s closed bedroom door twice in a motion too similar to stabbing for your liking.

“What do you think?” they ask, and take a slow deliberate step to the door right afterwards.

“Don’t!”

Lunging across the space Ghostface has made between you, you grab hold of their wrist with trembling hands and bite the proverbial bullet.

The “Please,” comes falling out your mouth like water, and only a tinge of something sour follows it.

Ghostface doesn’t do so much as twitch when they glance back at you, though, shoulders shaking under the cloak.

“‘Please’,” they repeat, roiling laughter clear even through the distortion, “but I thought you didn’t want my concern?”

“I’ll scream,” you counter, pushing past the sinking in your gut to bring your other hand up to form a double clamp around the killer.

Bottomless perpetually gaping eye cutouts stare back at glistening ebony brown eyes for one breath— four, until you yank.

There is no plan when you rush past them, just the sinking feeling that something was going to have to give soon and the knowledge that you’d be damned if it was the person in the room you're running to.

Your hand is on the doorknob, your sibling’s name on the tip of your tongue, when a sound cracks through the air. Your leg buckles, there’s a pressure at the back of your knee, the heat of another body latches onto your back, a hand claps over your mouth, and then you’re tipping over.

Ghostface brings you down with so little fanfare you’d be embarrassed if you had the wherewithal. Wrestles your flailing ass to the floor right in front of the door and keeps you down with their legs pinning your hips.

It’s not until you hit the floor that everything catches up with you.

Heat like you’ve never known screams from the bend of your knee like a piping kettle, and the wail that scratches its way up your throat when you instinctively try to get away by gaining purchase on the tile with your injured leg leaves you shaking into the floor.

With a chuckle your attacker shushes you, gloved hand made wet from your drool and tears patting against your open mouth.

“Shhh.” They shift back and you whimper at the feel of every millimeter of movement that even that small motion forces your foot to make. “You wouldn’t want your little sibling to hear, would you?”

The voice modulator makes the question sound even more taunting and the deep timber of it curls your toes — the twitch making your left leg burn — coming from so close to your ear.

Gloved fingers run along the serrated edges of the hole in your cracked knee where the knife’s still embedded, circling the pounding back of your leg until shivers rack up your body.

The touch is light.

You want to saw your leg off so you never have to deal with even the memory of the feel of it ever again.

“I’d hate to have to deal with him if he comes to investigate the strange noises, yeah?” they say, pausing right afterwards.

It’s a prompt if you’ve ever heard one. They even lift their hand from your leg.

Mind whirling with thoughts of the blood seeping out the sides of your knee to stain the floors and the agony emitting from the stab wound it takes you a few seconds to answer.

You force your words out past your shaky lips eventually, however. The stuttering agreement tasting like ash on your tongue.

“Good girl,” the modulated voice damn near coos in response, and part of you wishes you’d gotten stabbed through the ears instead.

There’s shuffling from above you, the sounds of fabric slipping over something barely registering over the rushing of blood through your ears.

You’re bleeding—

You’ve been stabbed—

Fuck, your leg is on fire—

Without an ounce of remorse deft fingers press down on where the back of your knees’ been stabbed through again, hand holding tight to the side of your leg, and a whimper falls unbidden past your lips.

Breathy, throaty, feminine laughter sounds right beside your ear as your killer settles over you.

Soft lips brush the shell of your ear and wispy black locks of hair fall into your peripheral.

“I guess it was me after all,” a voice you recognize croons, barren of any modulation.

Holy shit, Mindy had been right.

“A- Amber…?”

Your voice is small where you get it out from between pants for breath, leg throbbing hard enough to cut your focus completely.

Nothing feels real except for the throbbing, not the floor beneath you or the drool running down your chin.

“Mhm,” she giggles, breath ticking the side of your neck and making you shiver. It only takes a second for her to shiver back, breathe against your skin stuttering when she groans and presses down harder on your wound. You mewl and can feel exactly how Amber’s smile spreads. “Aww, just like that, Hun. Now we’re getting to the good part.”

Amber rises up from over you and then relentlessly grabs ahold of your shoulders and has you twist around until your upper body is facing her, and fifty percent of your concentration has to go to keeping your lower body in the opposite direction than the rest of you so you don’t aggravate your knee anymore.

Hair wild and damp with sweat atop her head the smile she gives you is all teeth in the faint moonlight that halos her face.

“Bet you’re reconsidering who you got close to now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying and failing to get enough leverage so you can spit in her face.

At the angle she’s forced you into her weight over your hips was more effective than you’d thought, though. Spitting from where you were would only serve in getting you smacked in the face with your own saliva.

“Gah— fuck! It’s not Mindy’s fault you’re a fucking sociopath,” you say behind clenched teeth.

You wonder if your friend would care if you died. Would Mindy cry when your death was announced? Would she immediately suspect Amber again? Confront her?

You’d been the one to comfort her when the news about Tara had come through before Chad could get to you guys. She’d struggled for a few minutes before a few tears had trickled down her cheeks, tears that she’d wiped away with a personal vengeance until you took one of her hands and wove your fingers together. Mindy had given you this wide look you’d never seen before, hazel eyes lost, before finally letting herself sob curled up to your side with her hand in yours. Did you hold that same amount of space in her mind, though?

In her heart?

Amber clicks her tongue, and instantly you’re reminded that whether Mindy and you could’ve ever been more than friends won’t matter anymore. “Wrong answer, Sweetie,” she says, and without another word rips the knife from your body in one pull.

Just barely you manage to stop the scream you want to let out by clamping down on your lower lip, teeth completely bypassing putting an indent into the skin and instead cutting directly through the plush of it as you buck uncontrollably against Amber.

Chest heaving and with tears sprouting in your eyes and beginning to pool, you watch for her next move and are heartbroken to say you aren’t disappointed.

With a flourish she brings the knife up to your face. You watch it with wide shaky eyes, heart sounding louder than your labored breaths in your ears.

The sharp side of the blade runs feather light down the side of your face, her gaze intent on it. On how the silver contrasts with the little streams of blood it leaves in its wake against your dewy brown skin. On how your lashes flutter anxiously, and the muscles in your face twitch beneath her touch.

“I didn’t mean that,” she says softly. She shifts the blade so that she can splay the flat of it over your mouth and purses her lips, eyes glittering and crazed and a little hurt. “I meant that you should’ve picked me, Sweetheart. I like you. And I like that you were thinking about me so much you figured me out. If you had just picked me I would’ve spared you,” she whispers last, face closer to yours now, before leaning in to press a kiss to the other side of the blade over your quivering lips.

The scent of your own blood makes your stomach roil, but the feel of her breath fanning your skin and the ecstatic expression that takes over her face when she leans away to lick her lips forces a sob from you.

Shuddering, you look up at her, a tear finally breaking free to roll down your face.

There is no one to hold you when you break.

Amber giggles, the flash of her teeth bloody.

“Just let me do it,” she whispers, voice low as she moves to run the warm tip of the knife down your side. “Be good for me, be mine this once, and I won’t go into that room and paint those walls red with your sibling’s blood.”

And so you cooperate; biting down into your forearm as muffled cries and wails tear up your throat. Amber plunges the blade deep, hits organs and cracks through bone with low grunts, and each stab feels like a little more of your soul drifting away.

You jolt, she adjusts her weight to accommodate your pained reaction like it’s practiced. You bite down so hard you break skin, teeth sinking into your body and feeling like masochistic relief that at least this pain was your own doing, she leans over to lick around your teeth with a groan. She gives and you take and you don’t scream out loud.

What a perfect victim you’ve made.

The tears never stop flowing from your eyes. So much salt they begin to burn alongside the bite in your arm that’s steadily mixing with blood and snot, and the entire rest of your body that’s near indistinguishable apart from the pain.

Nothing feels real except for the way Amber rides out your death spasms and the never ending stream of pleas to keep yourself silent that have long since turned into a sequenced tune in your head that you’re already forgetting.

As Amber’s honeyed taunts follow you under you know without debate that you have never known pain so intimate as what she’s brought upon you, and nothing so tender as death’s incoming embrace.

At least your younger sibling would be okay.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I tried posting this yesterday, but it wasn’t showing up under any of the tags so I’m trying again. ❤︎

I missed some shit when editing for sure, but I will come back to catch them later. I also don’t know how I feel about the way this flows, but maybe I just need to not look at it for a bit idk.

So the reader-insert may not have actually died here, but I don’t know for sure just yet. I would like for the second part to be a GF!Mindy x Reader-Insert x Jealous!Amber type deal though.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 2 years ago

Text

Keep Your Eyes Open

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, female anatomy, reader is called she, lots of talk of guns, but no gunplay (I mean, it’s on the table and it’s in her hand, but it’s never explicitly used for the sexual stuff), dirty talk, crush confessions, Leon asks her out then fucks her.

Words: 4K

A/N: This is my first smut in forever. Cheers to Leon S. Kennedy for bringing back that smut inspiration! Inspired by this post! Thanks to @angelltheninth for letting me write it!

“Listen, you know I consider you a friend… but-” Hunnigan starts, eyes filled with concern as she looks over the piece of paper littered with holes. Let’s just say more of my shots ended up in the wall behind the target than the actual target.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been going every day, Ingrid.” My defense is pointless, and we both know that.

“Your firearm recertification is in 3 days. If your accuracy doesn’t get better by then, you won’t be allowed to carry a gun. Do you understand what that means?” She asks as if I haven’t been losing sleep over the issue.

“I know.” It means I’ll be the only agent in this fucking building who isn’t carrying a gun. “I’ll become ‘the girl who can’t carry a gun’ faster than you can say ‘fuck off’.”

A scowl comes from the agent in front of me. “Language,” she reminds. “Maybe you should ask another agent to help?”

“And let the whole building know I’m about 11 shots away from failing my recertification? Pass. I’ll just go practice some more,” I scoff, before turning on my heel to step toward the door.

“Just think about it! I know a lot of agents who aren’t dicks and who are more than willing to help!” She shouts, but I’m not listening anymore. I step out of Ingrid’s office into the cool hallway, shutting the door behind me with an almost silent click. Taking a steadying breath, my feet begin to carry me toward the place I’ve been seeing in my nightmares lately. The shooting range.

“Hey, rookie!” I hear a voice say, halting me in my tracks before I was able to close much distance between me and the stairs. I turn my head toward the voice. Leon Kennedy.

“What’s up, Agent Kennedy?” It feels formal to call him that, but while we’re in this building, it feels wrong to call him by his first name, given he is technically my superior.

“Agent Kennedy? Feels a little formal,” he says with a teasing tone, and I chuckle at him voicing my thoughts.

“Well, we are at work,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. Leon and I have become an unlikely pair of friends. The best agent in practically the entire country and the agent who is about to fail her firearm recertification. ‘Maybe he’d be willing to help me?’ The thought is dismissed as quickly as it appeared. ‘And make him think you’re incompetent? Pass.’

“True. Still feels weird though, Agent.”

“Wow!” I gasp in feigned surprise. “I’m not ‘rookie’ anymore?” A small smile makes its way across his lips as he chuckles.

“You’re definitely still ‘rookie’, just felt like being nice.” His comment is followed by a brief roll of my eyes.

“Okay but seriously? What’s up? I have some stuff I have to do, unfortunately,” I sigh, anxiety filling me again.

“Well, I wanted to see what you were up to.” The smile is still there. Any idiot with eyes can see how attractive Leon is. Bright baby blues, cut jawline, nose that anyone would be lucky to sit on. I have definitely had more than my fair share of daydreams starring the agent in front of me.

“I was headed down to the shooting range. I have my recertification in 3 days.” I pray he’ll opt to find something else to do.

“Oh, that shit’s a cakewalk.” Yeah, for you.

“I really want to practice a bit more. I get nervous before stuff like this.” Admitting this is not an easy feat, my cheeks dusting a light pink in embarrassment.

“Okay,” he says, and for a moment, I think he’ll depart with a ‘good luck’ and a wave. Why the hell would I be so lucky? “I’ll come with. I’ve taken that test a few times so I’ll be able to reassure you that you’ll pass with flying colors.” My eyes widen significantly, and the nerves suddenly take over my tongue.

“N-no!” I stutter, much louder than I intended. His eyebrows furrow over in confusion at the sudden outburst. “I-I just assume you’ve got better things to do.” Smooth.

“Not really. I was hoping to spend some time with you, so it’s no big deal.” Kill me now. He moves toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist to turn me and walk toward the range. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

This is going worse than I could have ever imagined. The target has maybe 3 holes in it and I’ve unloaded a whole clip of 15 shots.

“Well, it’s better than the last clip,” he chuckles, eyes still locked on my practically unscathed piece of paper. The shots didn’t even hit anything vital. I drop my head to the countertop in front of me in defeat.

“I may as well just hand over my gun right now,” I mutter into the hard surface below my forehead. Leon’s hand rests on my back comfortingly before he speaks.

“No, come on. I’ll help you,” he says, bringing the target closer to switch it out for a new one. I turn my head toward him with raised eyebrows, mostly in a ‘how can you possibly fix this?’, my temple resting against the cool surface now. “I noticed a couple of things you can fix that’ll help.” A sigh, forehead back on the counter. Leon pats my back again. “Seriously. Come on.” I rise up again, cheeks red from embarrassment as he pushes the target back to the required distance. Not that I think I’d do any better if it was closer.

“Leon, it’s pointless.”

“No, it’s not. Raise the gun.” I roll my eyes and do as he instructed. “Okay, first off, you’re locking your elbows. Loosen up.” He says, tapping a finger in the crook of my elbow. A chill runs down my spine at the contact. ‘Wow, it’s been too long since I got laid.’ I drop my elbows slightly, noting that it definitely feels awkward.

“This feels weird,” I mutter. Leon smirks.

“I’m sure it does if you’ve been firing with your elbows like that. Loosening them helps with controlling movement caused by the recoil.” He explains, and I’m grateful he’s actually telling me reasons, as it’ll make it easier to remember. “Do you fire with your feet like that?” I glance down at my position, my feet across from each other, shoulder width apart.

“Yeah?” I say, forming it as a question.

“Bring your dominant foot forward. It’ll steady you more,” He says, his tone definitely airing more on the professional side.

“Sir, yes, sir.” The words are mumbled with a light giggle at the end, and a small smile raises the corner of Leon’s lips.

“Okay try firing now.”

I squeeze the trigger slowly, the jolt surprises me which causes my eyes to close for a split second, and to steady myself, I accidentally move my feet back into their original position. The shot lands in the wall. Again. The disappointment on my face must be tangible from a mile away.

“Okay, I think I can fix this actually,” he says, and I sigh in defeat.

“Yeah I’m sure you can, super cop.”

Suddenly, as if the world is working against me, his much larger frame is pressed against my backside. Feeling his chest rise against my back and his hips grazing my ass, I breathe in a quick gasp. Completely enveloped in his scent, hard lines of muscle and heat practically radiating from him, it’s a miracle I don’t melt into a puddle right here on the concrete. His hands find my ear protection, removing the makeshift headphones from my ears, much to my confusion.

“The problem is,” he says, his breath tickling my ear, and I swear he can feel the shiver that runs down my spine, pooling in my panties. “You’re scared of it.”

“W-what?” I stutter, completely affected by his presence.

“You’re scared of the gun. The recoil scares you, and so does the sound of the shot,” he explains, voice barely above a whisper. “I think you’ll find the sound isn’t nearly as loud as you think.” His arms come up, fingers grazing along my skin which causes goosebumps to rise across my arms. He rests his hands right below my elbows, the warmth practically seeping into my bones. “Let me take the recoil. Just focus on keeping your eyes open.” His words send a wave of heat through my spine and I try and fail to not shift against him. His leg shifts forward, forcing my dominant leg into the position he recommended earlier, which presses his hips tighter against me. I almost topple over from the overwhelming sensation of heat from him mixed with his intoxicating scent filling my senses, and for a moment, my vision blurs and I squeeze my eyes shut to clear the sight. Like flipping a switch, his fingers graze my chin, lightly pressing against the edges of my jaw to get my attention.

“Leon, I can’t-”

“I believe I asked you to keep these open, sweetheart.” The agent’s voice is rough in against my ear, and I can feel the vibrations from his words rumble through his chest against my back. It feels like I peel my eyes back open as they beg to remain closed, and I attempt to get my focus on the target in front of me instead of the man behind me. “Now, squeeze the trigger.”

As I do, his hips move forward against me, and I release a gasp. Focusing on keeping my eyes open. The shot rings out, not nearly as loud as I assumed without the ear protection on. Exactly like Leon said. It makes contact with the paper, inches from the paper’s bullseye. My jaw drops at the sight. I actually hit the target.

“Good girl,” he mutters, arms dropping to rest against my waist tenderly. “Told you. You were focusing on it too much.” I feel my arms relax, pointing the barrel of the gun toward the counter as I attempt to turn around to face him, but his frame is like a brick wall.

“Leon,” I begin before another intake of air comes from my chest as Leon’s lips land on the soft skin of my neck. The reaction is immediate, my hips canting back toward him as I set the gun down.

“Nuh uh, baby. Pick that back up and finish unloading the whole clip,” he breathes into the column of my throat. “Want you to get used to this stance so you’re ready for your exam.” The light kisses quickly dissolve into small nips and bites, a moan tearing from my lips as my head lolls back, resting on his shoulder. He stops immediately.

“Leon wait-”

“I told you to finish firing the clip. It’s only 14 more shots. I think you can handle it.” A breath breaks from my chest as I lean forward, arms coming back up into the position Leon had put me in, although his hands remain on my hips this time. The gun goes off again with a bang once, twice, three times, landing in similar spots as the first shot, although they are definitely getting closer to the edge of acceptable. They are hitting the target though. As I squeeze the fourth shot, the man behind me pushes his hips forward again. “Stop thinking, sweetheart.”

“You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could have just asked me to dinner.” The words come out much more breathy than intended, and I feel like I’m waving a neon sign that says ‘I want you to fuck me’. He chuckles lowly against me, his breath tickling my ear once again.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d take that,” he admits.

“But pushing your hips into me isn’t more forward than that?” I tease. Fifth shot. Only 9 more. He shrugs.

“I came up behind you to gauge the reaction before I did that though, didn’t I?”

“And what did my reaction tell you, Agent Kennedy?” My words are much softer now as if talking louder would shatter the mood of the room, which is alight with tension.

“That you want me to fuck you silly.” Sixth shot. “Did I read that right, rookie?”

Seventh shot. I nod gently, trying not to seem eager, despite the fact that my panties are practically ruined by this point, heat gathering in my lower belly and twisting.

“Leon, can we just-” His fingers skim over the waistline of my skirt, just barely dipping below it.

“No. Not until I know you’ll pass that recertification.” He’s gone back to nipping at my neck until he finds that patch of skin where my neck meets my shoulder. A moan leaves my lips unbidden, and I can practically feel his smirk against my skin. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Eighth shot. More than halfway done. His hand drops down further into my skirt until it’s grazing across the damp spot on my panties and I feel more than hear the low groan that he releases. “Fuck, baby.” My arms go lax as his fingers draw a single circle over my clit through the delicate lace before he moves to remove his hand altogether.

“Leon, no,” I protest as he presses his lips against my ear, intentionally using a low rumbling tone.

“Finish. Firing.” The command springs arms back up into position.

Ninth shot. Tenth shot. Eleventh shot.

“Doing so good, baby,” The praise goes straight through me, a wave of arousal leaking through the lace. Hands dropping back down to my clit, Leon pushes my panties to the side easily, swirling a finger through the wetness pooling there before bringing it up to press cruelly against my nerve endings. “Is all this for me, sweetheart?” Twelfth shot. I nod, lips pressed tightly together to muffle the squeaks and sounds attempting to leave my throat from his attention. Thirteenth shot. One more.

As I squeeze the trigger on the final shot, Leon’s fingers press into me harshly, hitting that sweet spongy part inside unintentionally and it causes a jolt in my limbs. The shot hits the wall with a pop. I hear a brief ‘tsk-tsk’ in my ear before he speaks.

“Reload.”

“But I-”

“I said, reload. You’re gonna do all fifteen again.” Dread takes over and I feel tears pool in my eyes in frustration, and Leon coos in my ear at the sight. “Oh, poor baby. You can do this.”

“Leon, please, I can’t. I need-” I gasp, setting down the gun on the counter being careful not to flag either of us. (cause gun safety is a thing).

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” Cocky asshole.

“You.” The word is nothing but a plea.

“Aw, baby. How about I give you what you need, and then you fire off those fifteen shots? That sound like something you can do for me, pretty girl?” I nod eagerly against his shoulder before his hand is between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest to the chilly countertop.

“What about the door?” I ask, breathless and red in the face.

“I locked it when we came in here,” he mumbles as he grips the hem of my skirt and brings it up until he can see the damp lace covering me. Did he plan this? The question surfaces but before it can leave my mouth, my panties hit the floor around my ankles. “Fuck, I wanna taste you,” he whispers, more to himself than anything, but I groan in protest.

“Please just fuck me, Leon,” I practically beg, impatience leaking from my pores at this point.

“I don’t know babe, I’m kinda hungry,” he says, and I don’t need to turn around to know his signature smirk is plastered on his face.

“I will let you later, I promise. I need you right now. Inside.” His chest presses to my back, bringing his mouth close enough to hear him as he speaks.

“Later? You saying you want more than just this?” The clinking of his belt is audible over my heavy breathing because of course, I’m the only one out of breath. I nod. “I wanna hear it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I like you,” I start, arms splayed out flat over the top of the counter, fingers searching for purchase.

“Maybe we should get dinner after this then?” He asks, still smiling. I nod.

“Fucking finally,” I mutter and upon hearing this, Leon laughs. Not a deep chuckle, not a teasing sound, a real laugh. An almost embarrassed laugh. Hands finding my waist and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Took my time with it, didn’t I?” He asks, and I can hear the nerves in his tone. He’s embarrassed. Like, really truly embarrassed.

“Yeah, you sure di-” The words are cut off as he presses the head against my entrance, dipping the tip in for the briefest of seconds before pulling out and repeating the process. It feels like hours of this torture, his teasing thrusts and slight grazes over my clit before he finally, finally, slides in to the hilt, bottoming out in one stroke. We both release groans at the sensation of my walls molding to accommodate his length, twitching, and spasming as I tighten unconsciously.

“Holy shit, pretty girl, I wasn’t expecting you to be this tight,” he growls into my spine, hunched over my frame as he collects himself. When he does, he leans back, hands moving from my hips to grasp my shoulders, bringing my front away from the surface til I’m practically upright, his cock still nestled snuggly in my heat.

“What are you-”

“Now, reload the gun.” His tone sends a wave of slick down around his length, and he rumbles a groan against my collarbone.

“What-”

“I told you that you were gonna fire off those fifteen shots.” My hands shake as I grasp the glock in my hands, reloading and then trying and failing to return to my stance, so I opt to just position my arms correctly. “Good girl.”

My finger in place, I take a deep steadying breath squeezing. Leon pulls his hips back and slams back home as the shot rings out, and I stop a scream from ripping free as my hands fly back to the counter.

“Lee, you can’t just do that.” The words come out as more of a moan than actual words, the syllables slurring together like a girl who’s had one too many drinks.

“Yet you still hit the target,” he says proudly. I look up and notice that there are fifteen holes in the paper. Sixteen total shots were taken and only one missed. Shit if I had known this is how to get good at shooting, I would have asked sooner. “Come on. You got fourteen more, sweetheart.”

The other shots follow the same routine as the first.

Shot.

Thrust.

Praise.

By the time I’m on the last three shots, my whole body feels like it’s on fire, every inch covered in sweat from his punishing thrusts, tears dripping from my eyes.

“You are doing so good, baby. Three more.” He sounds as wrecked as I feel, voice gravelly against my pulse. His hands grip beneath my elbows again, pressing them back into the correct form. “You are so close.”

The bullet hits the paper with an audible pop. His cock slams back into me, tip hitting my cervix hard enough that I’m pretty sure it’ll be bruised. Broken moans fall from my dry lips, mouth feeling akin to sandpaper.

“Good job, baby. Two more.”

“Please just come for me Leon, I can’t anymore,” My arms droop, barely able to hold the weight of the gun that I’ve grown used to by this point.

“Come on, you can do this. It’s just two more shots. You are doing so well,” he reassures before sinking his teeth into my skin, leaving a plethora of bruises and marks across the tender flesh.

“What if I miss?” I ask, anxiety poking through, mind locked on how he stopped last time.

“I won’t stop this time. You’ve more than made up for the shot you missed earlier.” I sigh in relief. Forcing my arms back up, I try to steady myself before Leon’s fingers find my clit and I squeal, completely losing my aim due to the tight circles he’s rubbing. “Take the shot, baby.”

I fire, bullet catching the edge of the bullseye and I feel a swell of pride before Leon presses a deep thrust accompanied by a swirl on my clit, and his name spills from my lips as a plea.

“Please come for me, please.”

“Tell you what, if you get a bullseye, then I’ll cream this little pussy, how’s that sound, baby?” The pace of his fingers doesn’t change, and I can really only nod, mind barely able to remember why we were in here in the first place.

Taking aim. Deep breath. Squeeze.

The bullet lands dead in the middle of the red target. I practically drop the gun from my fingers, relief overtaking my senses.

“Atta girl,” Leon groans, pressing my frame onto the counter as he picks up speed to a fast pace, leaning down to crowd against me. My fingers reach up behind me, bent at the elbows, to cling to his hair that grazes against my temple as my eyes squeeze shut. His name is a broken sound coming from my lips as the coil in my gut tightens with each twirl of his fingers and each pass of his tip against my sweet spot. “Open your eyes when you come for me, rookie.”

Most of his words are just a jumble as the coil snaps and a scream rips from my already sore throat, but I can make out a ‘good girl’ and ‘creaming my cock so good, gorgeous’ here and there through the haze of my orgasm. It takes a few more thrusts before Leon groans and curses, lips pressed to my spine as he spills himself inside my still-spasming hole.

It takes a few moments for us to move again, deep breaths the only audible sound in the silent room. He’s the first to move (him and his damn stamina), sitting up to stand before slowly pulling his length out, watching as his seed trickles out slowly and groaning at the sight. Leon reaches down, pulling my panties back up and adjusting them into place tenderly, mindful of the soreness he had no doubt was blooming. With a small tug and some slight wobbling on my end, Leon helps me into a standing position facing him now, small of my back barely resting against the edge of the counter as his hands hold me steady.

“You alright?” He asks, and I giggle and smile in response, leaning my face forward into his shoulder. He chuckles to himself, pressing a kiss to my hair. “I mean it, you okay?”

“Mhm. I’m good. You owe me dinner though.”

“Of course, need me to carry you?” I nod through a wave of sleepiness.

“Wait,” I say, hands on his chest as he looks at me, blue eyes shining with concern. “Can you kiss me?” I ask, shyness returning full force, and he laughs again. In favor of answering, he leans forward, pressing his lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. His lips are dry, as evidence of our exertion. We pull back from the kiss with dumb smiles decorating our faces, and he pulls my skirt down to cover my panties, planting another quick kiss on my mouth.

“So where do you want to go to eat?”

I step out into the hallway, flat shoes making far less noise than my usual heels. Leon looks at me expectantly.

“So?” I skip up to him, lips finding his as my arms wrap around his broad shoulders. Pulling back, I shoot him a smile before speaking.

“Guess who just passed her firearm recertification with flying colors?” I tease.

“Nice! See? I told you, cakewalk.”

Tags: @house-of-kolchek

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut

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littlemissmiller · 9 months ago

Text

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐢𝐦

Pairing: drug dealer!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: (au) Your last summer before college and Coriolanus is still just as in love with you as the first time he saw you, but all of high school you’ve been taken. Meanwhile Coriolanus isn’t looking forward to college, but at least he can still make money dealing drugs. During the last week of school, he notices how fragile your relationship has become and something makes him think he still may have one last chance with you before the summer is over…

Warning: 21+ (mentions or drugs/ drug use) eventually smut, mentions of masturbation (m and f), mentions of oral (m and f receiving), jealously, slight obsession, possession, toxic relationship, slight stalking

Word count: 4k

A/N: hello all! my first series! soooo i’ve had this idea in mind for a while, but it felt like a summer write/read and i figured since a good amount of y’all are high school age or older this would appeal more and now that the school year is over i figured y’all have more time to read too. also i have another joel fic so that is coming soooon (closely followed by a billy fic) i’m so excited about this one like…i had so much fun writing it and i’m guesssing it’s gonna be like 12 chapters long…idk we shall see :) i hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist | Playlist

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Coriolanus is ready for the summer. He’s so sick of school, even though he excels at it. He barely has to study and usually did his homework last minute and still got all A’s. His grandma had encouraged him to go to college next year, even though school didn’t quite interest him anymore. He thought about joining ROTC once he got to campus, but truthfully, why would he give up his little side deal for some army pricks and a “free” ride to college when business was about to be booming.

In his sophomore year, Coriolanus had taken up dealing drugs. Mainly he stuck to weed or psychedelics like mushrooms or acid, and occasionally ecstasy. He didn’t dare sell hard shit and he always made sure his stuff was clean. He had help. From time to time, his friend, Sejanus, would steal from his mother’s medicine cabinet. Xanax, Valium, whatever Mrs. Plinth’s psychiatrist would prescribe, he would manage to steal a few whenever his mother decided not to take her meds that day. It was a system that worked well for Coriolanus, and a system that he would need to maintain. Which is why he decided to go to college only about an hour away from his town. Being from a small, rural town in Illinois didn’t leave Coriolanus many options except the big public school close to the city. A booming college town, where Coriolanus knew he’d be able to expand his “customers” and still manage to keep up his means of getting the drugs he sold.

Luckily enough for him, Sejanus was attending the same college as Coriolanus. Which meant “visits back home” were opportunities for Coriolanus to stock up on his stash and sell. He would be able to tag along with a homesick Sejanus frequently, or at least that’s what Coriolanus predicts given how nostalgic he has seemed to become in the last couple of months. It’s Sejanus’s new favorite hobby. Recalling old memories and moments from the past. Some of which Coriolanus didn’t even realize how much those mundane moments Sejanus’s brain clinged to. How much he cared about their hometown and especially his family. Coriolanus didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he was going halfway across the country, unlike you.

You were bound for California, had big dreams of becoming a cancer researcher for a children’s hospital, and absolutely over the moon to be going to Stanford. Coriolanus wasn’t as thrilled. He had long desired you, wanted you as his own, but since the first week of freshman year you had been so out of his grasp. Too distracted by someone on the football or basketball team, and by your sophomore year you had gotten with one of those football players, Devon. Coriolanus still saw you around however. You and him had shared every AP science course since sophomore year and you considered Coriolanus to be a school friend. That was all. Yet, all of the science classes you and him had spent together left plenty of room for you to chat about Devon. And for some reason you felt safe to talk to him about whenever he would do something to upset you. But you never left him.

So, Coriolanus had watched you from afar, longing to have you all to himself. As high school went on, you only grew more and more beautiful and Coriolanus would often imagine you laying bare before him on his bed. When he was home, he couldn’t help but jerk himself off to the image of you with your hand on your wet core, playing with your clit in between your fingers. That’s all he could picture as he pumped his length in the shower most nights. One hand against the wall the other stroking himself as he pictures you begging for him to fuck you. Your soft pleas tumbling from your beautiful lips like a prayer.

Why couldn’t he have you? Why did some himbo athlete have to have you when Coriolanus was clearly superior to him. He didn’t blame you though. Devon was popular, which made you popular by default and after being in a relationship for so long, he knew it wasn’t easy to just leave someone like that. If anything he blamed himself for not getting to you first. For not asking you out when he had the chance.

Not thinking you’d be interested, the one time Coriolanus had gotten an opportunity to ask you out was freshman year. It was after biology class right before winter break and Coriolanus wanted to take you to a movie. You were his lab partner that day and it’s all that was on his mind. When just the right moment arose, he first asked if you wanted to meet later that night to finish the lab so they would have less homework over break, but mainly to see if you were free to hang out. Coriolanus was quickly let down when you informed him that you would’ve liked to, but your family was going out of town to visit your grandparents for the holidays.

“I’ll just have to finish it when I get back from break.” You had sighed

And that was the only real time he’d had talked to you still single. What a pity given it was the last week of school now. Exams were nearly over and Coriolanus had told himself to give up on you, but he couldn’t seem to let you go. Even though it was the last week, and graduation was this weekend, he still desired you deeply. More than the day he met you. Coriolanus watched you in AP Literature as the class went over the study guide. You twirled your hair, bored and just as ready for the relaxing summer break as he was. He tried not to gawk, but he couldn’t help it. You looked so god damn precious today. Your green plaid skirt just barely followed the dress code and your white shirt was ruffled around the edges and fit your body nicely. Your black converse high tops dangled above the floor. All he wanted to do was take you into a bathroom stall, bend you over, bunch up your skirt and admire your ass. He bet it was soft and round. He imagined a pair of cotton, white panties under it all, soaked. His cock started to harden in his jeans, so Coriolanus moved in his seat to hide his stirring erection.

The bell rings about ten minutes later and thankfully he’s settled down enough to where his bulge isn’t quite so obvious. He snatches up his book bag and looks up. As the last few students file out, you are asking the teacher a few questions. Coriolanus gets up and heads for the door. As he passed you, you finish your conversation and quickly move to catch up to him.

“Hey!” You shouted

Coriolanus paused at the door, turning his head to look at you

“I know it’s exam week and you are busy, but this physics lab is going to be the death of me.”

Coriolanus couldn’t believe it. Were you about to ask for his help outside of class? You had always been going to him for help with your science classes. Even though you had managed to score higher than him on every exam in science, for some reason physics was killing you. So all semester, you had been asking Coriolanus for help during class, but only during class. You never asked to finish your work with him after school.

“Are you asking for my help?” He smiles

Personally, you don’t want to take away from his time since Coriolanus seemed like the type of man that valued his free time and didn’t like to bother with school outside of school. In addition, his mysterious, stern demeanor was intimidating and you didn’t know if you were bothering him while he was trying to make money. You knew he dealt drugs and frankly, the idea of that scared you too, so much as you need his help and your science classes and in all honesty, you were just afraid to ask him for anything at all.

But Coriolanus always assumed it was because of how protective Devon was. Which was also true. He didn’t like you talking to other guys outside of class, and he was particularly wary of Coriolanus. It was no secret that he was handsome. Coriolanus had built his own reputation as someone who slept around. And as much of a neanderthal as Devon was, he damn well knew that Coriolanus looked at you like you’re his prey.

“Yes” you sighed

“I don’t mind.”

“Really”

“Not at all. I’m free tonight.”

“Thank you so much. You have no idea, I’d seriously be lost without you.”

“Of course!” He chirped

“I appreciate it. Wanna meet up at Panera after school?”

“Sounds good.”

You smiled, waved and walked off

Fuckfuckfuck you said “lost without him.” That felt so personal. And your sweet smile. Why are you so perfect. Your hips sway as you walk away and Coriolanus’s cock starts to get hard again, until he see’s something that makes him want to repulse. Your boyfriend approached you from the other end of the hall. Devon came up to you,hugged you and groped your ass. What an obnoxious ass, can’t he tell you don’t like that kind of attention in school. He gave you a sleazy smile and Coriolanus turned his attention away.

After school, he headed to Panera as instructed and waited for you. You pulled up, your boyfriend dropping you off in his 2016 White Mercedes C-Class. You walk inside and find him sitting in the back.

“Hey. I’m going to order food. Did you get something?” You asked

“Nah I’m not all that hungry.”

“Okay!” You smile and walk to the counter to order.

You came back quickly, sat beside Coriolanus, putting your book bag between them. You pulled out you physics textbook, laptop and the lab. As you explained why you were confused, Coriolanus explained the material to you, but was so tempted again. So tempted by the way your knee peaked at him and when you crossed your legs, letting more of your thigh show, he nearly fell apart. He hated how desperate he was for you. How badly he wanted you. He’d do anything just to hear you instruct him to get on his knees and bury his face in between your thighs.

When your food came, he refocused his attention on your homework. Why couldn’t he control himself? Why was he so drawn to your temptations today? You always looked so beautiful, but Coriolanus felt feral.

“Ugh what am I going to do next year without you in my science classes!” You sighed

There you go again. Making everything sound personal and intimate. Clever as always, Coriolanus replied.

“Well good thing you have my number right?”

“Yeah, but we won’t be in the same class and I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother” he follows up quickly

“You’re always so sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime…” he smiles

Your phone buzzed, it’s Devon. You pick up and he seems annoyed. You tried to calm him down but somehow he figured out that you’re here studying with Coriolanus.

“You’re being ridiculous ok. Let’s just talk when we get back to my house…busy…with what?” You speak in a harsh whisper. “Ok whatever… just come back and drop me back home. Ok please?”

Coriolanus acted like he didn’t notice, but he watched in agony as tears welled up in your eyes. You took a deep breath, close your eyes, and swallowed your sadness along with the last sip of your Cola. Even though he should mind his own business, he couldn’t contain himself. He had to ask if you were ok. Besides, it's not like you don’t already confide in him during class anyways.

“It’s ok. I’ll be good.” You said, your lip quivering

You excuse yourself to refill your drink and Coriolanus packs up his things.

What a fucking insecure dick.

Coriolanus knew that you’re not the type to cheat. If anything Devon would cheat on you in a second. As protective as he was of you, he seemed to have a different set of rules for himself. Coriolanus saw Devon at parties, how’d he flirt with other girls when you weren’t around, or check out the cheerleaders at games. Yet you couldn’t have any real guy friends, and he truly couldn’t stand Coriolanus.

“You sure? I could give you a ride home since he seems…”

“No it’s fine…he’ll be here soon anyways. I appreciate your help.”

Your lip quivers slightly and you hide your face as you pretend to yawn. It’s something you’ve learned to help you to hide your tears and prevent you from falling apart into a big mess. But Coriolanus saw right through it because he had seen it before. He wanted to hold you, tell you to dump Devon and be with him instead. He would kiss you, to show you just how serious he was. He imagined delicately stroking your chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding your face to his and kissing you deeply. He would be slow, tender, his lips simply ghosting over your own. He would still hold you daintily, his breath fanning over your face as he told you how much he loves you.

You look outside, turning away from Coriolanus, stifling your cries as a single tear rolls down your cheek. Coriolanus can’t help it; he has to say something.

“You know if you ever need someone to talk to I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s easier to tell someone you’re not as close with. Because then it’s like you’re speaking into a void and it doesn’t really matter what you say. But at least you got it off your chest.”

You pause for a moment and look back at him. You contemplate the offer and as much as you want to just talk his ear off about all the ways in which your boyfriend sucks, you’re afraid that he’ll just be more upset with you, thinking somehow he’ll find out.

“It’s ok. I’ll just vent to my mom when I get home.”

“You sure?” He asks, trying to hide his desperation

You reach out and touch his forearm gently. Your affections burn on his skin, your fingertips branding him.

“I’m sure. Thanks anyways.”

You release him, giving him a small smile. You feel like you should apologize and he simply smirks in approval, his eyes following your hand as it leaves him. Then your phone buzzes again. It lights up with a text from Devon and Coriolanus glances outside at the parking lot. He sees your boyfriend pull up, park, and exit his vehicle. For a moment he thinks your boyfriend is about to walk in, but he simply pouts against the car like a grumpy toddler.

“Good luck with your other exams. I know you’ll do fine.”

You walk off, quickly gather your things and walk out the door. He watches you leave and his eyes peer out the window. You trot along to Devon’s car innocently, scared like a newborn deer. He stares at you hawkishly, arms crossed. He shoves his body back into the car once you make it onto the other side, starting it up and you disappear behind the door as it closes. Coriolanus hangs his head in frustration and sighs. You didn’t deserve him.

You belong with him. You belong with Coriolanus.

He felt a tinge of unease thinking about it, not wanting to become as possessive and obsessive as Devon, but he really meant it. He felt he would know how to treat you like a queen. Give you lots of nice things or if you needed cash to buy something you wanted, he’d give it to you. Sell more weed and Xanax to get you whatever you want. But if he could have you, hold you, treat you right, and tell you how much he loves you, he felt like you would want it just as much as he did.

When he gets home, Coriolanus heads up to his room. His cousin and grandma were out shopping for their dresses to wear to his graduation. Coriolanus had picked out a nice pair of black slacks, and a white button up. He wasn’t one for ties normally, and given the heat, he didn’t want to feel too constrained. It was hanging up in his closet, facing him as he enters his room, along with his cap and gown. He sits down at his desk, placing his book bag down and getting his laptop out. He decides to check his grades one last time even though he already knows what it will say. He logs on to his school's website.

Coriolanus C. Snow

Student ID: 1008452024

Current Standing: Senior (Academic Honors)

Current GPA: 4.0

Accumulative GPA: 4.3

Spring Semester 2024

AP Physics A

AP Literature A

European History A

AP Calculus A

Political Science A

Latin Studies A

The corners of his mouth slid up into a half smile. He was of course not upset with himself, but knew that school was the only thing he was really good at, but completely hated. He was still going to go to college, just to get a degree of anything and why would he miss out on the opportunity to sell to his target market. Even though he hated school, and was dragging his feet to go to college, Coriolanus had bigger ambitions. He thought that even if it meant four more years of school and lectures, getting a degree might lead him towards a better career. Coriolanus often heard of people getting into politics and getting intern jobs working for Senators and Representatives. It was truly the only thing that appealed to him. Even though he excelled in nearly every course, politics and civics seemed to have taken over his attention more than his other subjects. And his teachers noted how he seemed to have more interest in those classes versus science or math. So he thought that maybe college could offer an opportunity for him to get him to a place of power, which not even he realizes how much he desires that kind of control.

Then his phone vibrates, taking him off guard and away from his thoughts. It’s you. He immediately picks it up. He can sense your emotions through the phone and the immediate sniffle you give him, confirms his suspicions.

“Hey what’s up?”

“Oh I just had a quick question on this lab I realized I left the last question blank. Do you think we could FaceTime real quick?” You ask tentatively

“Sure.”

You transfer the call to FaceTime him and he picks up. He put the phone against the wall and your beautiful face appears. It’s slightly blurry because of the connection, but Coriolanus can still make out your beautiful features although they are covered by your clearly upset face. You had been crying, hard, your eyes slightly red and puffy.

“So what’s up” Coriolanus continues quickly

“Yeah so it's talking about how I’m supposed to connect my parts of the equation to the students equation in the problem but also explain the reasoning for why part b) works with part a) and show mathematical reasoning.”

Coriolanus smiles and begins to break down the problem in the lab and you start to frantically scribble down on your page, occasionally glancing up showing that you understand and are following along. All the while, he’s just as focused on your beautiful, round eyes, as they concentrate on his words. He tries desperately not to picture those same pretty eyes looking up at him, you on your knees, naked and sucking his cock. He knows that your eyes would look just as attractive and engaged by him. He shakes his head to refocus, but he’s hard under his desk. Luckily it’s just a video call, because his bulge is ever so apparent. Once Coriolanus finishes explaining it, you smile and sigh in relief.

“That makes sense. Thanks Coriolanus…”

“See, next semester I can still help you like this, you know.”

“I guess you’re right” you smile back “is that your bed?” You ask, pointing behind him.

“Yeah.” He confirms, turning around to look at it.

“I like the comforter. Your room looks cool by the way” you follow up

His bed sheets are navy blue plaid with red and white stripes in a grid style pattern. He looks around his room and admires his decor. Coriolanus occupies a room on the top floor. It wasn’t quite cramped like an attic, but it was close to the roof. It was cozy, with a slanted wall. The back wall was uncovered brick, with a wood ceiling. Coriolanus had put a few of his favorite band posters up as well as some vinyl covers. He tried to keep things simple with his bed against one wall and his desk against the other. He had a laptop that sat on his desk and a TV that screwed onto the wall above his desk, which he easily fit his PS4 under.

“Maybe you should come see it in person sometime” he suggests, not realizing what he has said.

When he does, he mentally kicks himself for being so forward, and your eyes dart down to the ground in your own room.

You stupid ass.

As he curses himself, you glance back up with a smile

“Hopefully I can see it at your graduation party. Assuming you're having one?” You follow up

“Possibly. I wasn’t sure, but my family wants to throw me one. What about you?” He asks

“Oh yeah I’m sending invitations out to the whole grade. We are having it at our country club, me and Devon. It's kinda a combination party I guess.” You explain

“Oh fun”

“It’s gonna be at the end of June so when you get the invite, let me know. You can text me and I’ll tell my dad.”

“Yeah sure. Well I won’t keep ya any longer.” Coriolanus nods, his lips sporting the most charming smile and you match his expression.

“Ok well, if I don’t see you much at school then I’ll see you this weekend at graduation?” You imply, unsure if he would even bother going since he almost never attended non-mandatory school events.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there for sure”

“Hey just real quick, earlier today with Devon, it’s just he gets a bad temper and makes assumptions”

Coriolanus nods, not wanting to scare you off, but he’s invested in having you tell him what more upsets you.

“I’m sorry, that sounds frustrating.”

“Well I guess you’ve always been there to listen so I just wanna say thanks for all these times. You know it’s funny though we get into these fights and I talk to you and feel better then he goes back to normal, well at least for a while then he gets back into his ways, so I’m just hoping he’ll mature more in college. Stop acting like a toddler sometimes” you smirk

Oh you poor thing, you don’t even realize how bad he truly is. You don’t even realize you're stuck in his toxic cycle. Coriolanus wishes he could swoop in and take you away. Treat you better. Coriolanus gives you a sympathetic smile and continues to show he’s listening to you. After a few silent moments, you say goodbye and hang up. Coriolanus feels like he can breathe again. You overwhelm him to a degree he didn’t even think was possible. Which he feels it between his legs, his cock is still rock hard.

Fuck you get him so worked up it’s unbelievable. He knows he’ll have to handle his member in the shower before dinner, but for now he smiles to himself. Coriolanus leans his chair back, mouth agape as he sighs at the ceiling. Maybe he could have a chance with you after all. He doesn’t want to get too hopeful, but something tells him he might just be able to get his chance with you before the summer ends.

꧁🝮❤︎︎🝮꧂

Next Chapter

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #fan fiction #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tom blyth characters #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #smut #smut fanfiction #hunger games smut

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months ago

Text

Stitches: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel comes into the clinic after getting hurt on the job. A non-canon one shot set in the Lavender universe.

^Gif not representative of reader's appearance, just here for the vibes.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author to be paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender, QZ era

Warnings: Brief description of injury. Angst. Smut (P in V sex). No use of Y/N, Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4k

A/N: Sooooo this one got a little away from me (shocking, I know.) I can't promise all of this collection will be this long but apparently I really missed Joel and Doc. Written for @suzmagine after she requested QZ era Joel and Doc with angst and smut :)

For You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sunday, September 20, 2015

“I’ve got one more for you,” Marta hovered outside the patient room, a file folder in her hands.

You groaned.

“Another one?” You asked. “Shouldn’t we be done for the day by now? Shouldn’t we have been done for the day an hour ago?”

“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” she replied. “I’m the one who’s been pulling double duty all day because Andrew’s out…”

“And I’m the one who’s had twice the patient load because the entire QZ has the flu,” you sighed before you pinched the bridge of your nose. This wasn’t helping either of you. “Alright, just… Please tell me this is the last one.”

“Last one,” she said. “Doors are locked.”

“Speakeasy after this?” You asked, opening the folder.

“I would but Brian and I are going to a friend’s place tonight,” she smiled, almost sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I just need to get a life….” You glanced down at the intake notes. Just stitches and antibiotics, on order from FEDRA. “This looks basic, why don’t you head on out. I can finish up here.”

“Really?” She asked. You just nodded and she squealed a little. “Thank you so much!”

You tried to not be jealous of the fact that she had a life to go home to. In all reality, you shouldn’t be upset about staying late at work. It’s not like you had anything else going on. Once Tommy left the QZ and Andrew and Jess started spending more time just the two of them while she was down for the count because of her pregnancy, you pretty much spent your time not at work at home, doing a lot of nothing.

“I need a hobby,” you muttered to yourself before making your way down to the exam room where your last patient was waiting for you.

You knocked once on the door and gave the patient a moment to answer before you opened it, reviewing the intake notes as you did.

“Hi there,” you said, looking up from the file. “I’m….”

Your voice trailed off. Joel was sitting there, perched on the end of the exam table, his eyes ranging over you.

“Don’t think you need to introduce yourself, Kid,” he said, giving you a wry half smile.

You looked back at the file. In the name field was just J.M. - FEDRA. You frowned and looked back at him.

“FEDRA sent you in?” You set the file down on the counter before going to wash your hands. “Why, did you pick a fight with a guard?”

“No,” he quirked his jaw. “Just some equipment on sewer duty.”

“Lucky you,” you said, pulling your chair up beside the table. You sat down, closer to him than you’d been since you’d been almost blown up before Tommy left the QZ. “Well, I’m sure you’d rather see anybody else but I’m afraid there’s something going around and I’m the only doctor who’s here right now. Since you’re here on FEDRA orders, I can’t really let you leave and come back another time…”

“S’fine,” he cut you off. “It’s not… I don’t mind. That it’s you, I mean.”

“Oh,” you said, a little taken aback. You tried to hide it as you pulled on your gloves. “Well that’s… good. Why don’t take off your shirt, looks like the injury is on your stomach?”

“Yeah,” he said, unbuttoning his top. “They put a bandage on me there but said I’d need stitches and shit to keep it from gettin’ infected.”

“Yeah, I feel like dying from an infection that doesn’t turn people into monsters in this day and age is a bit of a raw deal.”

Joel snorted and shrugged out of the shirt. You saw a bandage, stained with blood, near his belly button. You winced a little, even though you’d seen so much of Joel’s blood at this point you thought you should be used to it. But it never got any easier, knowing he was putting himself at risk, knowing he was in pain.

Blood was a good distraction, though, when you thought about it. Joel without his shirt had always been a weak spot for you. Blood was one way to keep you from focusing on things you shouldn’t. Like the fact that his chest was broad and firm and you knew just what it would be to rest your head against him there and listen to the steady thrum of his heart as you fell asleep.

“I’m going to remove the bandage, OK?” You said, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He just gave you a single nod and you pulled down the bundle of gauze and tape to expose a jagged cut that dipped into the muscle of his abdomen. You hissed a little in sympathetic pain. “What’d you do, Joel?”

“Had to jump to dodge an out of control truck,” he said. “Ended up landin’ on something sharp. Hurt like a bitch but… had worse.”

“Had worse is a damn low bar for you,” you said, gingerly examining the wound. “Good news is, this is even cleaner than I expected. Actually, you’re cleaner than I expected, you don’t smell like you were on sewer duty.”

“Yeah, well, figured patchin’ me up wouldn’t do much if I was covered in shit,” he said, voice beaten down by the misery that was QZ life. It was a tone you knew well. “Showered before I came.”

You nodded slowly.

“I’ll numb you up and get this all closed,” you said, sitting back from him. “Go ahead and lie back for me while I get set up.”

You gathered what you needed and came back to find Joel flat on the table, his hands folded over the base of his chest. The cracked face of the watch glinted in the florescent light and you tried not to think about how his arms looked bare. You hadn’t seen his arms bare in so long.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair back up alongside him and changed gloves.

“Small poke,” you said as you injected the local anesthetic. He grunted but stayed still. You gave it a few minutes to kick in before you gently prodded the wound. “Feel that?”

“No,” he said.

You nodded and set to work, flushing out the wound and aligning his damaged skin to stitch it closed.

“So,” you said after the silence was heavy in the room. “How’ve you been since Tommy left?”

His body tensed a little.

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just a bit quiet around the apartment.”

You nodded slowly, focusing on your stitching.

“I hope you’re not just sitting in there all alone,” you said, half teasing half serious. “Even you need social contact now and then.”

“M’fine.”

There was something in his tone that made you feel like he was not, in fact, fine. As much as you tried to forget, you carried so much of the intimacies of Joel Miller within you. How he looked when his face was relaxed in sleep, how he felt when he held you like you were the only thing he had left in the world, how he sounded when he was in pain. He sounded that way now.

“Are you?” You asked, lifting your eyes from his stomach to look up his body to his face. His head was raised just enough to look back at you.

“Not your damn business what I am or what I’m not,” he snapped, lowering his head back to the exam table. “Leave it.”

“I’m just…” you paused as you finished the last stitch. “I worry about you sometimes is all. I know you don’t have a lot of people, Joel, and…”

“I’m not your fuckin’ problem,” he bit out, sitting up so fast that you shocked back from him. “I don’t need you pokin’ around my life and fuckin’ it up anymore than you already have so just leave it, alright!”

“Alright,” you said quietly, tears pinching at the back of your throat.

“You done sewin’ me shut?” He snapped. You nodded, still trying to resist the urge to cry. “Good.”

He snatched his shirt up and stalked out of the room, not even stopping to put it on.

You took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the place where Joel had just been. You tried not to think about how, for just a few minutes, there had been a quiet intimacy there like there had been with him before. How he felt comfortable and safe beside you, where you could run your fingers over his skin and see where his hair was starting to gray.

You gave yourself a few minutes to calm down before you started cleaning up, trying to focus on getting home so you could curl up in a ball in your bed where you were warm and safe, even if you were alone. You were starting to clear the tray of tools when you realized the syringe of penicillin was still there, shiny and full.

You’d never given him the antibiotics.

“Shit,” you muttered, voice wet.

You set it aside and finished cleaning up before grabbing a bottle of pain killers and an oral course of antibiotics and setting out to Joel’s place.

He answered quickly, all but ripping the door open and looking surprised to find you there when he did.

“What do you want,” he snapped.

“You still need antibiotics,” you said quietly, fighting to not flinch back from him. You held up the small bag with the syringe, bandages and pills inside. “You left before I could give them to you.”

He quirked his jaw but stepped aside, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You set the bag down on the table and started taking off your coat.

“Didn’t say you could fuckin’ stay,” Joel said, voice still sharp.

“I figured you’d want me having full range of motion with my arms when I’m sticking you with a needle,” you said harshly before closing your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to calm down. “I need to get at the wound again so… shirt off.”

He ground his teeth but obeyed, pulling the shirt off. You sat down at the table and got the syringe ready and he stood beside you there and you had the strangest urge to kiss his stomach. You pressed your lips together instead.

“If you didn’t run off this would probably hurt less,” you said. “But the anesthetic might be wearing off already so… small pinch.”

You pressed the syringe into his skin and pushed down on the plunger. He flinched once and that was it.

“Just going to bandage you up,” you said, not waiting for a response.

“Why’d you come here,” Joel asked as you taped the bandage over his damaged skin. You looked up at him, frowning. His eyes were on yours, deep and warm and chocolate brown.

“You needed…”

“Don’t give me that,” he cut you off. “You could have fuckin’ left it, told you enough times that I don’t want shit to do with you now so why are you really here? Not like FEDRA was gonna come and check and make sure I was on their ordered drugs so what is it?”

“Do you really think I’d just let something happen to you?” You asked quietly. “You might not care if I live or die anymore but I care about you. I’m always going to care about you.”

You didn’t wait for.a response. You looked back to his stomach and finished taping the bandage in place before taking the pills out and setting them on table before getting up and pulling your jacket back on.

“Instructions are on the bottles,” you said. “Take all the antibiotics, every last one, I don’t care if you’re feeling well and your cut is magically healed, still take them. Change out the bandages every 24 hours for the first few days, come by the clinic if there’s a lot of blood or discomfort. Pain medication as needed. I’m sure you’ll just sell whatever’s left…”

You grabbed the now empty bag off the table and turned to go to the door but Joel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back around. You frowned, looking at where he was touching you before looking back to him.

“Joel…”

“You really think I don’t care about you?” He asked, voice heated. “You really think I don’t give a shit? Hm?”

You shrank back from him as much as you could while he held you in place, his grip on you tight.

“Joel…” you said again but he cut you off.

“You think I don’t care if you live or die?” It took you a moment to realize that he didn’t sound angry. He sounded… hurt? Offended? Both? “Jesus…”

“You’re hurting me, Joel.”

He scowled but dropped your wrist.

“After everything I’ve done,” he snapped. “After everything we’ve been through, you think I don’t fuckin’ care?”

“Why would I think you care?” You tried to sound mad but you just sounded hurt, your voice quivering. “All you’ve done for years now is tell me how I hurt you, how you wish you’d never met me, how you don’t want to see me again! Even when you’ve done something that you say is for me or because of me you act like your obligated to me in some way but you’re not and I wish you’d just leave me alone! I can’t keep doing this with you, I’m so tired of being your burden, Joel!”

You tried to turn to go but his hands were on you again but on your shoulders this time, his fingers digging into your flesh there. His eyes searched yours for half a moment before he pulled you sharply to him, his hands flying from your shoulders to your face to tilt your head to just the right angle, gripping you tight and desperate, before his lips crashed into your own.

It took you a second to fully understand what was happening but your body responded before your mind. It might have been years since you last kissed Joel but your lips knew his. They conformed to his like the familiar ground they were, giving to the hot press of him as he licked into your mouth.

You moaned and wrapped your arms around his waist, forgetting, for a moment, that he was injured. He hissed in pain and you tried to pull back but his grip on you grew tighter, fingertips pressing into your skull. Your body curved against his and you were suddenly acutely aware that he was shirtless, that you could feel his skin on yours if you could just take your own shirt off, too.

His hold on you eventually loosened and he pulled back from you, the brown of his iris almost entirely swallowed by his pupil now as he panted for breath. His thumbs traced the arch of your cheekbones.

“I care,” he said, voice hungry and low. “I care more about you than about any other person left on this godforsaken planet…”

“Joel…” you were breathless, heat and tension pooling at your core.

“And I’m tired of tryin’ to stay away from you.”

He pulled you back against him, gently that time. His lips were soft on yours, his tongue tracing the seam of you until you opened for him. You could properly taste him now, the mint of his toothpaste and the bitter tang of liquor and the familiar flavor of his skin. You drank it up, needing it like water. His hands left your face, sliding down your body to your waist. He pulled at your shirt, separating from you just enough to pull it up and over your head, taking a moment to look down at your body, an expression of almost reverence on his face as he panted for breath.

Joel tugged you toward him again, his mouth quickly finding yours, as he unhooked your bra. He slid that off your body, too, and cradled you to him.

You moaned into his mouth, you couldn’t help it, as your arms went around his neck. His skin was everywhere, so soft and so warm and just like you remembered. He felt so good against you, like home, and the ache of missing him flared to life inside your chest, sharp and cruel.

Part of you knew you should put a stop to this now, before it went any further. He was only going to push you away again, just like he had after Boston. It was only going to hollow you out and leave you feeling more desperately alone than ever.

But you couldn’t resist him. You’d missed him too much over the years, he was too much a part of you to ever dream of pushing him away. You needed this. You needed him.

You let him guide you toward the couch, his fingers prying at the button of your jeans before pushing those and your underwear down your body, too. You stepped out of them and your shoes together before Joel gently lowered you, completely bared to him, to the rough, aging fabric of the couch. You watched as he stood over you, your eyes wide, as he opened his own pants, freeing his cock and swiping his thumb over his leaking tip before stroking himself in long, slow strokes.

“Tell me you want this,” his voice trembled. “We can stop right now…”

“I need you,” you cut him off with a needy whisper. “Please.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. He shoved his pants and underwear down before he nudged your legs apart and settled between them. He gripped the root of his thick, heavy cock and trailed his tip over your leaking slit, moaning as he did.

“Missed this wet little pussy,” he notched his head at your entrance before thrusting halfway inside you with a short, sharp stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, your back arching and fingers scrambling at the tattered upholstery. “Fuck, still so fuckin’ tight. Gotta be fuckin’ dripping for me or I’d never get inside you…”

He pulled back just a little, his thumb finding your clit and pressing into you there, working you in a slow circle. He thrust back into you, a little further this time.

“You get this soft and hot and wet for anyone else?” He asked, a possessive edge to his voice as his eyes ranged over your naked body. “Or you save that just for me?”

“Just for you,” you didn’t care that you sounded desperate and pathetic. You just needed him inside of you, filling you totally. “It’s all for you, I’ve always been all for you.”

“You all mine, Baby?” He asked, pulling back and thrusting deeper. “This little pussy all mine?”

“Yes,” you rocked your hips up against him but he pressed down on you, holding you in place and making you whimper. “Fuck, please…”

“How about the rest of you?” He asked, his hand leaving your clit as he lowered himself onto you. His skin was on yours, the plush swell of his stomach against you, his chest tight to your own. His hand came up to brush your hair back and cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing over you there. His eyes searched yours and, for the first time in years, you saw the Joel you’d fallen in love with so long ago. The quiet strength of him, the gentle care, the fierce love, the raw and aching whole of him there with nothing holding him back. “Want all of you, want that so much more than your perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

“Joel…”

“Say you’re mine,” he thrust deeper and you keened at the feel of him inside you, so close to having all of him within you where you’d known he belonged from the first time you’d taken him into yourself. “Tell me I’m not gonna lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you breathed. “I promise, you can’t lose me.”

He pulled back a little and you whimpered at the loss.

“Say you’ll let me protect you,” he thrust in, almost to the root this time, and held himself there. Your channel tightened around him.

“Joel,” you were having a hard time remembering how to say anything but his name, that single word the most vital one you’d ever known. “Please…”

“Tell me,” he ground himself against you, his skin on your clit, his cock pressing into your most sensitive places. “Let me take care of you, protect you. Say it.”

“You can protect me,” your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin there. “You can take care of me, I promise…”

“Let me love you,” he pulled back again but it was his words and not how he was moving inside you that made you gasp. “Say it. Tell me I can love you, that it’s safe to love you.”

You reached up and gently traced his hairline before threading your fingers through his curls, your eyes on his.

“I haven’t been the one stopping you from loving me,” you whispered.

“I never stopped,” he rocked himself part way into you again before pulling back. “Always loved you, always. But I need it to be safe, I can’t love you without it destroyin’ me if it’s not. Please, baby. Tell me. Tell me I can love you.”

“You can love me, Joel,” you said softly. “It’s safe. I’m safe.”

He kissed you, his mouth claiming yours and he pressed all the way inside you then, making your back arch and legs go tight around his hips. You moaned against his lips as he held himself deep within you for a moment before pulling back again.

It might have been years but your body knew Joel’s. You knew just how to take him and he knew just how to make you come, his hips grinding down into you when he was fully seated inside of your tight channel, making his cock tease your most tender places while his hips worked your clit. He fucked you deep and hard and greedy, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he wanted to lay claim to all of you.

The tight band of pleasure inside of you wound tighter and tighter until it snapped when he was pressed deep, your walls fluttering over him. He moaned against your lips and fucked you through it, never slowing, never letting up, making it so your orgasm never really subsided. It just rolled into building the next one until he pulled his desperate and needy mouth from yours.

“Not gonna last, Baby,” he ground himself deeper, as if to make his point. “Where -”

“Inside me,” you panted. “I need to feel you, please don’t leave, please, inside me, please…”

He kissed you again, fucking you a little harder and faster, driving the band of pleasure tighter and higher until you felt him press deep and pulse inside you, triggering your next orgasm.

You came with him, your pussy rippling over him as he throbbed, emptying himself into you.

His body went slack for a moment before he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes returning to their normal color. They looked over your face for a moment before locking onto your own and you had a moment of fear that the walls would go up again. That the cold, disconnected Joel who had taken over since he’d come to the QZ would be back. But his eyes stayed soft and open and warm, his large palm still cradling the top of your head.

“Tell me you meant all that,” you whispered even though you were afraid of what the answer was.

“Oh, Baby.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead before trailing his nose over your own. “I meant every word. I promise.”

You smiled, looking into Joel’s eyes and realizing that, even though you were still stuck inside the QZ, you were right where you belonged.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #lavender #smut fic #For You

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sitp-recs · 6 months ago

Note

omg love the water recs you shared!!! what a good idea for how to make a list. what about fics set in gardens or featuring gardening? recs from followers welcome too! thank u livvvyyyyy

I’m so happy that you enjoyed the water-centric recs. And thank you for the excellent prompt! I’ve really enjoyed these, most involve gardening and a couple feature gardens in a special way even if it’s not the focus, so I thought I’d include them too🪴

I Fall On Grass by @tackytigerfic (T, 3k)

Harry loves his garden, and he loves his sons, and he also loves— Well, he definitely feels something for Draco, who is currently distractingly topless under a pear tree. The language of flowers isn't much good when it comes to big declarations, though; Harry needs to find the words to tell Draco just exactly what he's been feeling all these years.

To the Rhythm of the Waves by @tsauergrass (G, 3k)

They found a lot of things together: the cottage, the garden, their lives, each other. Then one day, Harry finds a hammock.

In the Garden After Dark by @the-starryknight (M, 3.5k)

Unspeakables work in teams of three, but when Draco and Harry lost their third, Draco left too. Now he's back, Illusion magic stronger than ever, and Harry is less lonely in his arms.

Harry, Harry, Quite Contrary by @maesterchill (T, 4k)

It's almost Midsummer, and that can only mean one thing! Time for Upper Itchington's annual Tidy Streets contest. Draco Malfoy is supremely confident his street will retain the title. It just takes one contrary neighbour to bollocks things up: a certain Mr Harry Potter.

Garden War by @cibeewastaken (T, 5k)

Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another. What better ways to spend this time than to annoy each other with letters and attempts to prove that their garden is better ?

This Delicious Solitude by Omi_Ohmy (M, 17k)

Draco is sent to investigate Harry’s extraordinary carrots for the Prophet after whispers of cheating rock the world of competitive vegetable cultivation. But how’s he meant to get anywhere when Harry won’t even let him past the garden gate?

A Ghost in the Garden by thistle_verse (E, 27k)

Harry and Draco are thrown together on an investigation into a sinister political movement.

Orbit by HenryMercury (E, 52k)

They don't like each other. They're not friends. There's not even a ceasefire of any sort because they're fighting as much as ever—but there's definitely something different about it. An added layer of self-awareness they don't dare identify, but which colours every Scared, Potter? and Do your worst; each You wouldn't dare and Then prove it.

along each garden wall by @oflights (E, 61k)

Draco has to have a baby (or have one on the way) at the time of his fast-approaching 35th birthday, or he's going to lose his home to his vile cousin. Harry offers to help, but their complex past—even beyond Hogwarts—prompts Draco to set out on a long journey of friendship, kittens, gardens, motorbike rides, and more.

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl1 (E, 77k)

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Dronarry:

Trillium by @wolfpants (E, 13k)

Harry and Draco are shagging. Ron’s got a hunch, and the only way to find out is to volunteer his services alongside Harry’s in the Big Malfoy Manor Cleanup of 2010. What could possibly go wrong?

Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 17k)

Draco's trying to fix the Burrow, Ron's trying to grieve, and Harry... well, just what is Harry actually doing, anyway? A tale of grief, gardening, and ghouls, bad memories, bad puns, and bad flirting, and nudity both accidental and very, very deliberate.

#asks #anon #drarry reclist #gardens & gardening

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reidingandwriting · 3 months ago

Text

1989 (Peter Parker’s Version

Chapter One: Welcome To New York

“Welcome to New York! It’s been waiting for you”

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings/Contains: Gender neutral reader (no pronouns, no use of y/n, no descriptors mentioned in this chapter), mild language, likely some OOC moments but whateverrrr

A/N: Going back to my roots and writing some Peter Parker content! I struggled for ages deciding if I wanted to write for Tom’s Peter or Andrew’s and this is based on Tom’s but trust, Andrew’s Peter Parker will get his time in the spotlight. Also for all my Deadpool & Wolverine people, I PROMISE that next installment will be out soon! I’m at 4k words and not even at the Good Part yet so I hope to have her up by the end of this week 🫶🏻

You were lost. So lost it would’ve been comical if it wasn’t your first day of class at Midtown. You clutched the schedule in your hands, looking at door numbers as you passed them. If 305 was right here, 303 across the hall, where in the hell was 304? You turned to look around the hallway, hoping to see someone who could help you and then you saw him.

Warm brown eyes met yours and you set your shoulders back before you walked over. He looked as anxious as you felt, but you hoped he would be able to help. “Hi! I’m so sorry, but I’m so insanely lost right now and you look really nice. Do you know where 304 is? I found 303 and 305 but I can’t find 304.”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, sorry. Can I see your schedule?” You handed your schedule over to his outstretched hand and tried not to flinch when your fingers brushed his. “We have the same schedule, so you can follow me around today.” A pause. “Only if you want to! But it may be helpful. Having someone you can stick with today.” You watched as his cheeks grew slightly more flushed. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, like he couldn’t help but fidget.

“That would be really nice.” You smiled, hoping you came across as grateful as you felt. He ducked his head but you caught the faintest glimpse of a smile before he looked back at you.

“So, 304 is all the way down the hall. I don’t know why they did that, but.” He shrugged and together, the two of you walked down the hall.

“Thank you,” you trailed off and he introduced himself. Peter Parker, he said. You told Peter your name, feeling yourself smile as he said your name. “I’m glad I found you, Peter.” Nothing else was said as you two walked into class and after a moment of hesitation, you took a seat beside him. A minute later, someone else took a seat on the other side of you. Peter introduced him as Ned, Ned introducing himself as Peter’s best friend, and the three of you made light conversation as you worked on a writing assignment.

“Where did you move from?” Ned asked and you hummed.

“Portland. My mom got a new job at the city hospital, and we moved in a few days ago. Thursday, I think? The days have all blurred together at this point.” You chuckled. Your apartment was a labyrinth of moving boxes, having barely unpacked anything over the weekend. You just barely had all of your school things unpacked before you left for school this morning. “I need to finish unpacking, do some actual exploring. I’ve never been to New York before and now I live here.”

“Trust. Stay with us, you’ll be like a native in no time,” Ned said and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Thanks.” You got through the rest of the day fairly well, even if you felt like a lost puppy trailing behind Peter. You felt lucky to have the same schedule as him, and Ned was pretty cool too. You also met a girl, MJ, who kind of intimidated you in the best way. At the end of the day, you parted ways from Peter and his friends, beginning your own walk home.

Hours later, you sat on your fire escape, sketchbook in your lap until a shadow swung past you. Was that…? There’s no way.

Peter didn’t mean to see you on his patrol. He had perched on a rooftop, watching over the people on the street below, and he felt a pair of eyes on him. Peter looked around as if his head was on a swivel, and then he saw you. You had a sketchbook in your lap, now dressed down in a simple t-shirt and black sweatpants, and you offered him a simple wave before you returned to your drawing. Peter found himself watching you for a few moments, watching your focus return to whatever you were drawing.

Come on, Peter, get a move on, Peter thought before he was off. He just missed you looking up, watching him with a curious gaze.

Every day for the next week, Peter saw you while on his patrol route. And every day he passed you, he couldn’t help but pause for a moment. He’d perch on the rooftop across from yours, taking a minute to just breathe and watch you. You spent a lot of time on the fire escape, he noticed. Some days drawing, some days reading. Always doing something. Today, he watched as you taped a piece of paper to your fire escape and he tilted his head. Your eyes met his (well, where his eyes are under the mask) and you tapped the paper and waved before climbing back through your window. A few moments passed before Peter moved and he swung over to your fire escape, landing quietly as he took the paper.

Peter smiled as he studied the drawing. You had drawn him as Spider-Man, perched on the rooftop he frequented. You colored the sky to resemble the setting sun, and the drawing looked as if it was glowing. Peter looked up into your window, frowning when he didn’t see you. With a soft sigh, Peter swung off to tuck the drawing into a safe place and continue his patrol route. Later that night, you noticed a sticky note stuck to your window that simply read ‘thank you’ with a drawing of Spider-Man’s mask on the bottom. The sticky note now lived on the side of your bookshelf, it being the first and last thing you saw every day.

You had been in the city just shy of a month before you properly met the web slinging hero. You were walking home from the library, and admittedly, you had gotten distracted and now you had no idea where you were. Everything looked somewhat familiar, but it all blended together into vaguely familiar blurs. You had no idea where you were at this point and you had started to panic when a familiar masked hero landed in front of you. You screamed, jumping back a few feet and Spider-Man frantically waved his hands.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I thought you heard me.” Spider-Man sounded as panicked as you felt and you held your hand to your chest as you willed your racing heart to settle down.

“Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man my ass, almost gave me a heart attack,” your sentence ended in a laugh as you composed yourself. “I drew you such a nice picture a few weeks ago and you repay me by scaring me.”

“In my defense, I kind of rely on my stealthiness. Can’t sneak up on bad guys if I’m noisy,” Spider-Man said and you rolled your eyes, the corner of your lips twitching up.

“What can I do for you, Spidey?” You shifted from one foot to the other, studying him. When he was swinging through the air, fighting off muggers or even worse bad guys that you had seen on YouTube, he held an air of confidence. He came up with quips just as fast as he shot webs, blocked hits, and threw punches of his own. Talking to you though? He seemed fidget-y. He rubbed at the back of his neck and rocked up on the balls of his feet before settling back down. And that voice. That voice was familiar.

“Just happened to be in the area, you looked a little lost. I’m near the end of my patrol route for the day, so I thought I’d see if you wanted an escort home.” You obviously couldn’t see his expression, but he sounded sincere- if not a little amused.

“That would be… really nice, actually. I usually know my way home better, but I went to a different library today and I thought I had only lost focus for a second, but.” You gestured around yourself. “No clue where the hell I am.”

“Welcome to New York,” Spider-Man said as he started to walk the opposite you were going. “Come on, you just missed it by a few blocks.” Together, the two of you walked back to your apartment, and you made conversation as you walked. You talked more than he did, understanding there was a lot he couldn’t share with you without risking his identity being revealed. You talked about your homework, a group project you had, and your mom’s hectic work schedule. Spider-Man spoke a little, talking about things he had seen on patrol today, and asking questions where appropriate as you talked. You thought it would feel awkward, talking to the superhero, but it didn’t feel like you were talking to a stranger. It felt as if you were talking to a friend.

Your apartment came into sight soon enough and you were relieved, but also disappointed. You had enjoyed talking to him and you were sad you had to go inside and do physics homework.

“Thanks for walking me home. I’m sure you have more important things to do, so I really appreciate it,” you said and Spider-Man shook his head.

“Like I said, I wrapped up my patrol a little early today. Got some superhero business to attend to.” He saluted and you couldn’t help but laugh. The eyes of his mask squinted and you tilted your head, surprised by how expressive his mask was. “Need a lift to your window?” Spider-Man made little hand motions, resembling how he shot his webs, and you shook your head.

“Maybe next time,” you said and he nodded. “If you’re ever around and have a minute. You know where my fire escape is. Just knock on the window if I’m not already out there. I’m home alone a lot,” you admitted. Your mom was home as often as she could, but as a doctor who worked in the emergency room, she worked odd hours. You were a pro at being alone at this point and you couldn’t fault her for it. Chasing her dream even after having you, it was commendable.

“I’ll be on the lookout for you.” Spider-Man’s head shifted slightly, looking up as if he heard something. “Duty calls. I’ll see you around.” He waved before he shot a web at a nearby building, then he was off. You couldn’t help but stare at where he stood not too long ago, thinking about the interaction you had, before you walked inside your apartment building. Odd.

Peter sat on your couch, working on homework when you scared the absolute shit out of him.

“Can we talk?” It only took three words for his heart to stop and he hoped he didn’t look even half as panicked as he felt.

“Yeah! Yeah. What’s up?” Peter struggled to meet your gaze and you ran your hand through your hair, a nervous habit.

“I’m gonna sound batshit crazy, but it’s been driving me crazy for a while now and I have to ask.” A deep breath. “Are you Spider-Man?”

Many emotions filled Peter at once and he picked panic as the primary emotion to feel. His hands shook and he felt frozen, yet the need to run at the same time. You already knew his secret, what was stopping him from jumping out the window and swinging away? He could probably convince May to let him stay home for a few days, avoid you a little. Instead, Peter let out a shaky breath.

“What- what makes you say that?”

“Your reaction for one. But I noticed some similarities, your behavior mostly and your voice. Come on, Peter, you’ve gotta look into a voice modifier. But what really sold me? Welcome to New York.” Peter thought back on how not even a few days ago, you were talking to him about the almost friendship you had developed with the spider hero.

“Is this normal for people here? Being friendly with superheroes?” Peter had snorted in response and said, “Welcome to New York.” You had paused for the briefest of moments, Peter almost missed it, before you laughed in agreement.

“I think that connected the dots for me,” you finished. “So… are you?”

Seconds, possibly minutes passed, before Peter spoke again. “You know you can’t tell anyone, okay?” You nodded quickly before sitting back into the couch, relaxing against the cushions.

“Thank you.” Peter tilted his head. “For trusting me. I promise, you never have to worry about me saying anything.” The two of you fell into a comfortable silence until you groaned dramatically. “Do you get number nine? Because I keep getting the wrong answer.”

“Come here, let me see.” Peter scooted closer to you and looked at your work. “Right there.” As Peter explained what you were missing, you were grateful nothing felt different between the two of you. As if the conversation never happened. You ordered pizza for dinner later than night before Peter had to go home, and you watched as he swung into the distance, waving him off. Friends with a super hero. Only in New York.

#mcu x reader #mcu #avengers x reader #marvel universe #marvel x reader #avengers fanfic #avengers #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tom holland peter parker #spiderman x you #peter parker x you

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couldawouldashoulda50 · 1 year ago

Text

The Homecoming - Round 1

Overview - William arrives home after the longest road-trip of the 2023/24 season; you both can hardly wait to reconnect.

Pairing: William Nylander x f!reader. (Note- the reader is a globally famous musician/singer/songwriter)

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: 18+ only; pregnancy; smut (oral m & f receiving, intercourse; slight masturbation references); fluff; swearing. Be kind, this is my very first time writing/posting...I may not know what the hell I'm doing...just hope it all makes sense.

A/N - this is part of a William Nylander x reader series that I am working on currently. The following story is based on the present, whereas the WIP series spans the timeframe from when William and the reader meet up to the present day. I’m sorry; I know this might be like reading the ending first, but it’s literally my very first fic post…there was something with this storyline that just flowed so easily. I’ve been anxious to just get it out in the universe so I can get it out of my head...I need to be able concentrate on my actual day job again.

*********************************************************************

You lay in bed, sound asleep; two dogs flank your body, both resting peacefully.

Pablo’s head raises suddenly, followed by Banksy. Each of the dogs leap off of the plush king bed and bolt out of the bedroom as fast as their legs will take them.

You awaken with the sound of William’s voice as he comes through the door at the front entrance of your home, greeting both dogs with loads of love and affection.

“How are my boys? How are you? Were you good for Mama while I was away? Eh? Ooooooh…I missed you guys. I missed your Mama too” William said, half whispering.

Normally you would get up with the dogs and watch the two wriggle and jump up to greet him at the door, smothering him in dog kisses. You would patiently wait your turn and essentially do the same as Pablo and Banksy; you kiss him gently, wrap yourself around him, whispering to him how much you missed him, and how happy you are that he's home. He in turn, would murmur a few things against the sensitive skin behind your ear, mostly naughty things that he’s been wanting to do to you.

But now, being 6 months pregnant, and between the aches in your back and hips and your ever growing tummy, William knew how much harder it’s been for you to get comfortable, especially in bed. He lovingly told you the night before when you spoke that you were to stay put when he arrives home - and no staying awake waiting for him either, he said.

William walks into the overly spacious bedroom with Pablo and Banksy trotting behind him and drops his bags on the couch by the fireplace. As he unbuttons his white dress shirt, he looks over at you and smiles. It always catches you…William has smiled at you a million times over and still, each and every time, your heart expands with absolute adoration for him. “Hi, my love” you say, longingly.

He walks towards the bed, tilting his head to the side to look at your face in the dim light.

“How are you feeling? I forgot to ask you - did this thing help you sleep at all?” William nods his head toward the large body pillow that he brought home for you before he left on his trip.

You break out into a grin. Lately, your hormones have kicked into high gear, with vivid sex images with William being the only thing on your mind. So while the pillow gave you the comfort and support you needed, the firm plush piece that was nestled between your thighs only exasperated your unruly libido. “Hmmm, well…it helped once I actually fell asleep” you said, gliding your hand over the fabric, “but….it’s this thick piece between my legs…all it made me think of is the thick thing between your legs. I feel like a dog in heat…so that part’s been fucking torture.”

William laughs as he continues to undress. He throws his shirt and the rest of his clothing on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, leaving his shorts on. You immediately stare at his package and bite your lip, unintentionally releasing a tiny moan.

“I mean it…I’m not kidding. It’s all I can think about…and William, I’m telling you….the thoughts I have about you are just fucking filthy”.

You pressed your thighs together against said pillow to try to get some relief from the pressure that’s heightening around your core. You really weren’t exaggerating; your hormones are raging and you swear you could fuck him into next week and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Seriously, you have to help me…it’s required as part of your husband/pre-DILF duties”.

“Didn’t you…you know…take care of ‘business’ yourself at all while I was gone?” a wry smirk appeared on his lips. “You could have mentioned what was going on with you when we Facetimed…I could have…y’know - walked you through what I would have done if I was here…” William said coyly.

“Mmmmm…I thought about it - I thought maybe showing you how badly I needed you while you watched me...taking care of business.. that I would get some relief that way” you said, your voice soft with a hint of seduction.

“But I knew the minute I got going, no matter what I used - fingers, toys…whatever - the only thing that would completely satisfy me is a nice hard dick. And not like my Willy’s cock clone that I have to break out when you’re away - I literally only want your dick inside me. God damn, it’s so fucking good…” you smile up at him, gripping the pillow a little harder now. Even just talking about his cock is turning you on.

“So, yeah…”, your eyes trail back down to his shorts, as you nod to his unwrapped gift “there’s that.” You pause; there’s not many things you feel uncomfortable telling William but you’re not quite certain how he’ll react with your next confession. “There’s something else too. Your joy juice - that’s the other thing I’m craving…fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it. On my face, in my mouth….fed to me….”, you blush and giggle a little with your admissions, but you have no filter now as your desire for him was reaching a fever pitch. “This pregnancy has turned me from a respected musician to William Nylander’s personal cum slut”, you said dryly,

William’s mouth drops open a little but a wry smile begins to form on his lips. “Oh really, eh? You’re my personal cum slut?” he laughs. “Well then…what wifey wants, wifey shall get”.

You watch each movement of his muscular body as he crawls up onto the bed, slides under the sheets and duvet, and shifts his body towards you. He lay on his side, his gorgeous face close enough to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Seriously….I missed you so much, William. It felt like you were gone forever. You looked amazing during the games though…as usual”, you said, bringing your hand up to trace his jawline. You think to yourself, ‘God - you are so gone for this man’.

“I missed you too - it was a long fucking trip....all I wanted was you like this, all... day... long,” William smiles and leans in, kissing you gently; his arms circle around you, supporting your body as he pushes the giant pillow out of the way and engulfs you in his embrace. He slides his hand down onto your baby bump, hoping to feel a kick from your unborn son. You scan his face as he does the same to yours; you gently graze his lips, wanting to breathe him in more. It’s not long before there’s a flurry of activity from your tummy, as though the baby wants to show off some tricks for his Dad.

With you in his arms and feeling his baby kick, William’s turquoise eyes are fixed on yours; he smiles widely at the fluttery feeling from the baby’s movements…he finds himself completely mesmerized by you.

He leans in for a deeper kiss. Your hand snakes along his jawline into his thick mane of blonde hair, pulling his mouth to yours. That initial taste of his tongue against yours evokes a long, breathy moan from your mouth. Your hunger for him now borders on animalistic. You’re afraid that your need for him is wound so tightly that once he touches your engorged pussy, he might actually send you into orbit.

Every touch on each other’s body elicits extended drawn out moans that are untamed, as your mouths feast on each other’s taste.

William’s hand slowly slides along the underside of your round stomach, and in no time, his hand dips under the band of your cotton panties. You’ve told him of your desperation already, but when his middle finger reaches the top of your slit, he moans as slides his thick digit into your wet folds. He watches you as you close your eyes and grip his shoulders at the mere grazing of your clit. Your breathing has already become erratic and he has barely even begun working you over.

“Fuck - please…William…..I need you inside of me…please…” you whisper close to his ear.

“I know - soon, min Ӓlskling…here, come up here, I want to see all of you…I’ve missed touching your body”. William gently removes his fingers from underneath your panties.

William kicks back the sheets and props himself up on his one forearm. You sit up on your knees and William helps you slide your panties off. His eyes darken as he glimpses at your exposed pussy; the sheen of wetness that he spread with his finger apparent.

The road trip was long and despite his focus on the ice - which led to a number of stellar performances from him - when he could allow his thoughts to wander, he only thought about you. Although he knows you desperately need a release, he wants to savour every moment of this homecoming too. He planned to take his time with you, he just didn’t expect you to be wound so tightly with your pent up yearning for him.

His hands reached out to caress your pregnant belly again; William is completely infatuated with the way you look. Prior to getting pregnant, your breasts were already one of his favourite features on you but in the past month, they have become even more full and voluptuous. His hands move up from your stomach and they cup each breast. You look down at his shorts which are fully tented now and you can hardly wait to wrap your hand, your mouth, your core, in whatever order, around his thick member.

William raises himself up and begins to kiss your neck, slowly and sensually. His mouth feels so agonizingly good; you whisper how in love you are with him as you run your fingers through his hair. William begins kissing your soft, round breast and with his tongue pointed, he slowly begins to lick your tightened nipple in a circular motion. The intense sensation of his wet tongue and hot breath connecting with your nipple immediately rocks you; your body is so highly sensitive to his touch, everything he does sends a shockwave down to your core. You can’t help but to grab the back of his head with your one hand, fisting his hair in order to keep his mouth latched to your nipple. Seeing your reaction as he continues to lick and suck on one of your tits, he begins to manipulate your other nipple with the fingers of his left hand.

His other hand begins to travel down from your stomach to your pussy, now drenched in your juices. His middle finger toys with your clitoris, and he feels your grip tightening in his hair. He inserts his middle finger deep into your core, and as he gyrates his hand, you cry out to him, grabbing his wrist as your hips begin to writhe around on his hand. He begins to alternate between finger-fucking you and spreading your wetness around your highly sensitive bud.

William withdraws both his mouth from your nipple and his finger from your folds. You whimper at their departure but the sound is muffled by his mouth as he kisses you slowly. You lessen your grip on his hair as your mouths and tongues lightly graze each other. Exhaling deeply and biting your lip yet again, you lean your forehead against his, trying to stabilize your breathing.

With your fingers splayed wide, you run both your hands down his chest. You don’t know how you’ve gotten to be so fortunate to be able to touch this man so intimately.

“Climb on top of me, Y/N…on top of my face” William said in a voice low and gravelly, as he lay on his back. “I wanna make you cum so hard for me”

William knows in once sense that he might be tormenting you a little with not just fucking you into the mattress like he knows you want. It might seem selfish, but he’s been needing you as much as you’ve needed him lately, and he’s looking to draw this out for a little longer to savour every bit of you.

William helps you straddle him. Having your legs opened up, allowing your pussy to connect with William’s muscular torso gives way to the urge to rub and grind your dripping cunt against him. William’s eyes are transfixed on your movements; he’s completely engrossed watching you rock back and forth, while you cradle the underside of your belly for support. You look ethereal, angelic even as your long hair sweeps across his forearms. Your eyes are fluttering shut; waves of desire pulsate through your core. You lean your head back and your long curls fall between his legs and start grazing his member.

William’s hands move around your body, his desire for you on full display.

“Come here…come up here - I need to taste you now, Y/N”.

You lace your fingers with William’s as he helps you move on your knees until your swollen entrance is hovering above his mouth. The initial contact when his pointed tongue licks the entire length of your wetness has you clutching the headboard. ‘You’re in trouble now’ you think to yourself.

William expertly swirls his tongue around your aching nub as he steadies your hip movements with his strong grip to the rhythm he has dictated. He continues to alternate between sucking on your sweet spot and tongue-fucking you, driving you to the edge of insanity with the stimulation. The vibration of each moan from William adds to the intense pleasure that courses through your body. You match his moans with shrieks of delight, quivering whimpers, and his name falling from your lips on a continuous loop.

Suddenly, your head snaps back as your cunt is flushed with heat, and instinctively you clench your inner walls. You can feel your orgasm building like a tidal wave and you slam both hands against the headboard and grip the fabric for dear life.

“Will! Will - Willi-um - I’m…fuck!! Oh my GOD…please! William!” letting out a sharp cry as your voice strains.

William keeps working his magic between your thighs, his hands still in control of your hip movements.

You might end up tearing your upholstered headboard at this rate, your knuckles have turned white from your vice-grip like hold. Your mouth is open but there is no sound, only heavy pants as your hips try to buck wildly against William’s restraint.

Then your orgasm hits, crashing into you like a tidal wave making you cry out for William. You grab a hold of the pillow that William’s head is resting on; your breath is shaking as your body slows its writhing, twitching with your final release.

You lift yourself up so you could scooch down a little further back onto his torso; up until now, your pregnant belly obstructed your view of William’s face while he worked you into delirium.

“Oh my God….William….” you said as you looked down at him. You smooth his tousled hair from his face and using the side of your thumb, you start to gently swipe your lady juice from around his mouth and his dense five o’clock shadow.

His eyes are locked on yours and as he sits up, he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. “See how fucking good you taste?” he said, smirking.

“You are fucking incredible…absolutely amazing, my husband…” you said breathlessly, lips still connected with his.

You remain straddling William and you reach behind to gently touch his fully erect cock. You feign surprise as though you had opened up the best present of your life, letting out a gasp followed by a moan. Your gaze returns to William’s face and in a voice thick with desire, you simply say “Mmmm…my turn…”

You are desperate to quench the insatiable urge to taste his cum. You slide off William’s lap and he lets himself fall back onto the mattress. You start by kissing and running your tongue down his flesh towards his cock. When you reach his treasure trail, you take your time stroking his path with your tongue. You work your way down until his flawless member is directly in front of you; his above average length and supreme girth makes your mouth salivate and pussy throb simultaneously. The head of his dick is coated with pearlized liquid and you waste no time by running your tongue along his tip, dipping your tongue into the hollow spot at the top repeatedly which encourages more precum to leak from the smooth head.

Grunts and groans, followed by your name fall from William’s mouth as you accept the full length of his firm cock toward the back of your throat. Your senses are going wild; the feel of his dick in your mouth, the faint smell of his body wash and cologne, the salty-sweet taste of his seeping arousal. You try to shift your body to find a more comfortable angle as you continue to suck and deep-throat his member. You love giving him head, but the discomfort from leaning over with a baby growing inside of you is creating a lot of pressure around your abdomen and back.

“William - I’m so sorry…I don’t think I can lean over like this…the baby…”

William sits up, a slight look of concern on his face. “Are you ok?? Do you want to stop?”

“NO!! God - no…I just need to find a better position” you said, rubbing your belly.

William leans over the side of the bed reaching for the large pregnancy pillow he bought you. You watch this dream of a man shift the other pillows that have been strewn around on the bed to make room. He’s kneeling as he guides you towards the pillow, his leg muscles showing every contour and his magnificent cock juts out, still rigid from what you were doing to him with your mouth moments ago.

“Let me hear how much you missed my cock fucking you,” William growled as he kissed your mouth.

You crawl over to the pillow, your round ass up in the air, on display for William. You look back at him, flip your hair to the side and smile sweetly as he stares at you, his mouth slightly agape.

You manipulate the pillow so it supports your entire midriff comfortably. Conveniently, it also allows you to arch your back a little more; it’s a clear invitation to William that you want whatever he’s offering from behind. His dick starts to twitch - William knows exactly what you want from him in this position.

Your pussy is already wet, but William’s cock is substantial and needs extra lubrication before he enters you. His fingers deftly caress your clitoris and as you moan his name, and it’s not long before he knows you’re primed and ready for him. He gives you a kiss on one of your ass cheeks and then gives you a little spank. He lines the tip of his dick up to your swollen folds, running it through the wetness that has pooled at your centre. He begins to push his dick into your entrance slowly; his strong grip on your hips helping him slide in.

You moan loudly as his cock stretches your walls; the initial pain quickly gives way to pleasure as your eyes roll into the back of your head. William buries his cock deep into your core and when he’s fully inside of you, he holds you in position for a moment. You clench around his cock and you give into the urge to rotate your hips just to feel his dick move inside of you.

You glance at William over your shoulder as your pent up desire gives way to full desperation for him to fuck you hard. William’s gaze meets yours; a crooked smile starts to form on his face.

William begins with slow movements - he is torturing you in the best possible way right now. He knows the build-up will be more satisfying for you in the long run rather than just pounding your pussy mercilessly straight out of the gate.

“William…oh my god” you whisper breathlessly. “Please….you feel so fucking good…please, I need you to fuck me…” you beg.

You try to satiate your need for him to rail you by rotating and bucking your hips as he presses his cock deeper each time he enters you.

You hear a faint chuckle from William followed by a low moan as he increases his speed.

Your face falls and is now buried in the pillow and your words are muffled as he begins his firm and rhythmic thrusts.

“Oh my God William….oh my god…fucking….please….fuck me…” you wail. As he moves in and out of your cunt, he can feel the hard grip of your walls around his shaft

“Fuuuuck me…you are so fucking tight Y/N…” William grits his teeth as he continues to bury his cock inside of you, thrusts becoming more rapid; the erotic sounds of grunts and moans from both of you collide with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You clutch the sheets as he continues to ride you hard. He grabs the meatier flesh at the top of your ass and continues to pound you, your moans sound more like a siren now…continuous cries reverberate off the walls.

He gathers your hair into his one hand as his other hand moves up and grips your shoulder, allowing him to penetrate you deeper. You feel like you’re descending into insanity, your mind is overwhelmed by pure ecstasy and all you can do is succumb to your body’s state of bliss.

William looks down at you as his fast and powerful thrusts are making your legs start to quiver. He watches as your toned muscles in your arms and back constrict, covered in a light sheen of sweat as he fulfils all of your desires. William growls as he reaches the height of his arousal; his hips move erratically and his fingertips indent your flesh ever further. He looks down and sees your own arousal decorating his cock with opaque streaks as it pools around his base. He grunts at the sight of your slickness and is so close to relief but he wants to make sure you cum first.

“I’m so close, baby - fuck….fuck….you feel so fucking good” William groans.

Your cheeks are blazing hot as your orgasm takes hold of your body. It’s a feeling so intense that your body feels like it’s short-circuiting. “I’m right there - right there….oh my God William!” you shriek, grappling with the mattress from the sheer force of your release. Your thighs try to close together and you buck wildly as your pussy clenches William’s cock so hard that you push him right out of you. William quickly grabs his dick and with a few firm pumps, he unleashes his load onto your ass.

“Holy shit Y/N….” William said after a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

You lie there, body still trembling as the aftershock of such a forceful orgasm travels through your body. You remain in the same position with William still behind you. You shift your head so your forehead is resting on the pillow as your breathing begins to slow.

“Y/N?” William’s voice is soft and low.

“Mmmm-hmm” is all you can muster. He senses you smiling into the pillow.

“You still have that craving? You know…my - what’d you call it….joy juice?

Drawing out the same sound, you respond “Mmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmm” while giving your ass a little wiggle.

You hear William chuckle slightly as he runs two fingers through the streams of his cum on your skin. You manage to find the strength to push yourself back up onto your hands, flipping your matted curls to the side as seductively as possible. He stares at your mouth as you accept his coated middle and ring fingers, your tongue swirling around his digits, making sure you’ve licked every single drop of his cum from his fingers. You hold onto his hand, placing open-mouthed kisses on his palm and then place it on your still hot cheek. He responds by placing gentle kisses along your shoulder-blade and murmurs how much he loves you.

Gingerly, you both begin to move; he comes along to your side and helps guide your body back in between the arms of the pregnancy pillow. He peppers you with kisses and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling. He manages to squeeze in right next to you and as he pulls you into his chest, you exhale deeply. This is your favourite spot in the whole world; wrapped in William’s arms, your face against his broad and beautiful chest.

“You feel better now - you got what you wanted?” William quietly asks, chuckling into your hair.

“I think I’m still cumming, if that’s even possible…so fucking good”, you mumble into his chest.

After a few minutes, William kisses the top of your head and starts to get up out of bed.

“I’ll be back in a second…do you need anything?”

You moan and exaggerate a pout followed by a smile….never wanting to leave the warmth and comfort of his embrace. You smile and shake your head ‘no’ while sliding towards the edge of the bed, holding your belly and trying to look somewhat graceful. William offers both of his hands to help stand you up. You grab William’s white dress shirt from the end of the bed and put it on; his natural smell mixed with his cologne almost makes you weak in the knees.

William pulls you back into him, his hands roaming under his dress shirt as he presses his lips against yours. “You have to let me take a picture of you in this…you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now”.

You smile against his lips. “You can do whatever you want with me when you come back to bed”. Your hands slowly descend to his ass; you gently rub yourself against his member, now cloaked under his shorts.

William groans against your lips and apprehensively breaks from your embrace. He summons for the dogs to come.

“I’m taking the dogs out so we can sleep in a bit tomorrow. Get ready for Round 2” he purrs.

You watch him walk away with the dogs in tow; the view of his muscular stature and his tight round ass as he exits your bedroom has you clenching your thighs, needing him all over again.

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