#nah actually so foul | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

colonelarr0w · 10 months ago

Note

Hiiii i really like reading some angst stuffs so heres my idea loll!

What about reader never felt like they were ever loved romantically and has been quite the loner for a while. So, to have Gojo confess to the reader has reader confused, but quite happy, but will soon find out that its a dare and Gojo only has the end of the year to make reader date him! (Just say the current month is near december loll)

But as time goes by, Gojo starts to actually have feelings for reader and suddenly reader overheard their convo of Gojo with his friends about the dare...

(PLS IM SORRY IF THIS IS TOO SPECIFIC THISIS ONE OF MY FIRST TIMES REQUESTING SMTHHH. BTW YOU CAN CHANGE THE GOJO TO ANYONE ELSE :3AND ALSO YOU CAN CHOOSE WETHER TO HAVE COMFORT OR NAH. AND THANKS FOR GIVING YOUR TIME TO READ THIS HAVE A NICE DAYY)

-🍰

Sypnosis - Gojo was already known to be a heartbreaker, but you didn't stop to think for a second that maybe -- just maybe -- he was trying to break your heart too.

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, Gojo is a MAJOR dick in this one, angst

Word Count - 3.1k

A/N - Hi Anon! (STOP IM CRYING I LOVE EMOJI ANONS SO MUCH) So you made the mistake of giving me an angst prompt while also saying that I could maybe add comfort. I will be doing no such thing. Kisses!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Satoru Gojo was, by every single standard, a lady’s man.

And you, by every single standard, were the complete opposite of every man’s “ideal type”.

How you managed to find yourself in a situation where you told others, “I’m dating Satoru Gojo,” felt like a fever dream constructed by the hardest drug.

The way in which he asked you out was — well — Satoru Gojo. A grand white banner with your name scrawled into it, underneath it the words: Go out with me?

Of course you accepted, though you were thoroughly confused. You had always been an observer from the shadows, not emerging unless it was absolutely necessary.

To have the Satoru Gojo ask you out in front of a gaggle of people was off putting — and certainly not anything that you had expected.

But none of that stopped you from saying yes, which made the snowy-haired male’s smile widen three times in size — if that was even possible.

“C’mon Satoru, it’s an easy 2,500 Yen,” Geto says, a sly smirk curling the corner of his mouth upward as he leans over the back of the couch.

Gojo sighs, jutting out his bottom lip as one of his hands busies itself with running through his hair. It wasn’t a terrible bet — even though the payoff didn’t exactly feel worth it.

“2,500 Yen to ask her out?” Gojo confirms, turning his head and glancing over the rims of his glasses. Geto smirks again, turning his phone and flashing a picture of you at Gojo, just to make sure that he would be asking out the right person.

“2,500 Yen,” Geto nods. Gojo sighs, his body slumping forward dramatically. Geto grins again, watching his best friend crack down — no way was he turning down a bet that he could easily secure.

“Fine, you have a deal,” Gojo holds his hand out, failing to hold back the smirk that curls his mouth upward as Geto slaps his hand against Gojo’s.

The two shake on it, and the bet is made.

But, of course, you were oblivious to all of that. You believed that, for the very first time, someone looked at you in a way that wasn’t strictly platonic. Someone loved you — really, truly loved you.

And what an extravagant partner Gojo was, buying you small trinkets that he believed you would like, taking you to restaurants that you had looked at on the street for a moment too long — he had even forced himself to learn how to ice skate because you mentioned offhandedly that it would be nice to skate with someone.

For the first time in a very long time, you felt connected to someone. Conversations flowed so easily between you both, never forced or uncomfortable. It was as if you had known each other your entire lives.

Gojo knew that it was fake — you thought it was truly real.

< … >

“(Y/N)! There you are!” Gojo calls out with a flashy wave of his arm. Once you’re in reach of him, he latches onto you, nose nuzzling into your hair.

You let out a startled squeak at the force of his body against yours, but immediately loosen up and return his embrace, snuggling as deeply as you can into his arms.

“Satoru!” you laugh out breathlessly, squeezing his shoulders as he lifts you from the ground, easily spinning the both of you in a circle. “You act like you haven’t seen me in years.”

Gojo rolls his eyes dramatically, setting you down but keeping his arms locked around your waist. He gaze meets yours through the darkened lenses of his glasses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Oh god, I know that look,” you mutter teasingly, which earns you an affectionate pinch to your side — one that you swat him away for.

“You wound me,” Gojo sasses back, releasing you only to place a hand flat against his chest as if he had been stabbed. You roll your eyes, laughing breathily at his antics.

“What do you want to do tonight? It’s date night,” you remind him, watching as his face breaks into a bright smile. He reaches for you again, lifting your hand and twirling you around before he tugs you to his chest.

“I was thinking-“ he begins in a sing-song tone. You raise an eyebrow at him, which he quickly leans in to peck. “-we go to the movies, get some cheap froyo, and crash in your dorm.”

You smile at him, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners as you throw your arms around his neck, squeezing him.

“Yes please!”

< … >

“The movies? Froyo? God, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re falling for her,” Geto mocks the motion of throwing up, earning a laugh from the snowy-haired boy that stands next to him.

Gojo rolls his eyes, catching the basketball that Geto throws at his chest. He bounces it once against the ground before taking a shot, smirking as it swishes inaudibly into the basket.

“I want her to at least believe it,” Gojo responds with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. Geto rolls his eyes, biting back the chuckle that rises in his throat. “What? I’m not lying.”

“No, I know you’re not lying,” Geto bends to pick up the abandoned basketball, bouncing it against the ground and taking a shot of his own — which misses.

“So then why the sudden comment?”

“Because of the look in your eyes whenever someone mentions her or whenever you see her,” Geto says plainly, turning to cross his arms at Gojo.

He purses his lips together, eyebrows pinching in confusion as he silently urges Geto to continue. How he looks at you?

Geto sighs through his nose, then lifting his fingers to pinch at its bridge. The basketball is long abandoned now, rolling into the center of the gym and remaining there.

“Every time she calls out to you with that — stupid nickname, you brighten up like a dog who’s seeing his owner,” Geto points out. Gojo can feel the tips of his ears burn red at that — because even he knew that it was true.

“Toru! There you are!” you call out affectionately, crossing the training fields and practically jumping into Gojo’s awaiting arms.

He smiles warmly as your face nestles into the junction between his neck and shoulder, breathing in the familiarity of your scent and holding you close to him.

“That isn’t true,” he murmurs, scratching at the back of his neck. Geto stands still for a moment, staring at Gojo with a look that could easily slaughter an entire town.

“No? How about when she made you lunch that one time?” Geto raises his eyebrow — his eyes visually calling bullshit as Gojo’s cheeks burn the same shade of red as his ears.

“Ta-da!” you smile widely as you present Gojo with the intricately put-together bento box. He takes it from your hands, allowing his fingers to brush against your own for a moment too long — an action that brought a light blush to your cheeks.

He smiles down at the bento you had prepared for him, feeling his heart swell at the idea that someone cared enough about him to sit down and put so much thought into preparing him a lunch. Gojo is quick to then lean in, pecking your cheek and smiling widely at the dark red hue that coats your face.

“That’s…different,” Gojo tries to argue, but Geto is quick to call out his bluff, laughing loudly in his friend’s face and striding towards the center of the gym to retrieve the abandoned basketball. He bends, scooping it into his palms and bouncing it twice against the ground.

“Oh, I’m sure that it is,” Geto rolls his eyes, twisting his body and shooting the basketball — already displaying annoyance when it misses yet again.

Gojo sighs, the puff of air he releases blowing his bangs from his face. He watches as Geto goes to retrieve the basketball, bouncing it once before roughly checking it to Gojo.

“Careful Satoru, I wouldn’t want you to fall for her,” Geto teases, feeling himself smirk as Gojo’s hands catch the basketball. The snowy-haired male rolls his eyes in response, bouncing the ball.

“That won’t happen, trust me,” Gojo bites back, not failing to notice the knowing glint in Geto’s eyes.

“Sure it won’t.”

< … >

Hey! I’m at the theatre, where are you?

READ

Satoru?

READ

I’m just assuming you’re running late, just text me when you’re here!

DELIVERED

Puffing out the air that you held in your cheeks, you stow your phone away into your pocket, eyes silently scanning the front entrance of the theatre. Maybe you missed him? No, there was no tuft of snowy-white hair anywhere in the crowd — surely he was just running late.

You shuffle on your feet, adjusting the small bag that you had brought with you. The interior is stuffed with snacks that both you and Gojo enjoyed — including his favorite from the local convenience store. You smile to yourself, already picturing the wide smile that would cross his face when you presented him with the snacks.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, which you all but dive for with a speed that feels almost inhuman. You stare down at the illuminated screen, heart deflating as you realize it’s only a message from your mother, checking in and asking you how your date with Gojo was going.

Lifting a shaky hand to your eyes, you wipe away the tears that cling to your bottom lash line. You text your mother back, lying to her about the state of the date and pushing your phone back into your pockets. You glance back down at your open purse, blinking back your tears at the sight of the snacks — what a waste.

< … >

“Sato—“

You pause just outside of the classroom doors, resting your palms against the sliding door and peering curiously inside. Your eyebrows pinch together, eyes narrowing as you listen intently to the conversation shared between Gojo and Geto, both of whom seemed to be in the middle of — maybe — arguing with one another.

“How much longer am I keeping this up for?” Gojo all but whines, leaning back in the seat that he was occupying, his feet propped up on the desk as he releases an annoyed huff.

Geto chuckles, rubbing a hand over his face as he sits on the desk directly in front of Gojo, folding his legs over one another and smirking down at his best friend. Gojo sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face as he leans forward, his sunglasses slightly slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“Why? Getting bored?” Geto raises an eyebrow at Gojo, lifting his arms to cross them firmly over his chest. Gojo rolls his eyes yet again, releasing a deepened sigh that only has Geto releasing the chuckle that he had been holding in.

“I’m getting tired,” Gojo mocks a dramatic yawn, throwing his arms into the air and leaning back in his chair. Geto raises an eyebrow at the answer, curious now.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted. I don’t think you understand Suguru, she’s so desperately clingy and just — I can’t keep up with it,” Gojo explains in exasperation, rubbing his hands over his face and digging his fingers into the skin of this temples, rubbing them in slow circles.

You feel your heart crack the more that Gojo speaks — listening quietly as he lists off all of the things that he seemingly hates about you. Your eyes burn with tears, and suddenly every ounce of love that you ever felt for Gojo seep out of you in waves.

Had he felt that way about you the whole time?

“Hey, you were the one that said yes. You could’ve dropped the bet,” Geto shrugs his shoulders, an action that earns him an annoyed kick from Gojo.

“It’s 2,500 Yen. I’m not saying no to that,” Gojo reminds his friend, waving a finger in his face. Geto chuckles breathily, but pauses at an unfamiliar sound — a choked cry. His head whips around in an attempt to locate the source of the sound, feeling his heart drop to the deepest depths of his stomach at the sight of a retreating figure by the classroom's doors.

Gojo follows Geto's wandering gaze, eyebrows knitting together in confusion at the sudden change in his friend's facial expression. "Shit." Is all that Geto says before he moves to the door, peering out of it just in time to see your figure turn the farthest corner of the hallway – then vanishing.

Geto's eyes flicker to meet Gojo's as the latter leans his chin onto Geto's shoulder, staring at the spot that you had just disappeared from.

"What happened?" Gojo inquires curiously, not failing to notice the way that Geto's spine stands as stiff as cardboard. The dark-haired male swallows the lump in his throat – they were both royally fucked.

"We're fucked."

< ... >

"There, there, c'mon (Y/N), don't let this--"

"He lied to me!" You rub your hands roughly over your tear-filled eyes, feeling your chest tighten as you look away from Utahime's concerned gaze. Her eyebrows furrow together in worry, eyes silently taking you in as you curl into yourself.

She would be lying if she said that she wasn't downright pissed at what Gojo had done to you. After listening to your tearful ramble about what you heard, any and all respect that she had for her snowy-haired classmate went completely out of the window.

Not that there was much respect there in the first place.

"So how much of what he said did he actually mean?" Your voice is a broken cry, trembling in a way that has Utahime reaching out to comfortingly lace her fingers with your own.

"I don't know," she whispers in response, not knowing how to help you. You turn your head away from her, sniffing and wiping your nose with the cloth of your sleeve. "I'm sorry (Y/N)."

You shake your head, breath trembling as you grip at your knees. You screw your eyes shut, still seeing his affectionate smile behind your eyelids – you wish that you could forget it completely. You can still feel him too; you can feel his arms wrapped around you and his lips as they press affectionately to your cheek.

You begin to wonder how much effort he actually put into your dates, you begin to wonder if his affectionate touches were genuine, you begin to wonder if it was him writing his text messages out or if it was someone else entirely. Did he ever care about you?

"Hey."

You glance up at Utahime, sniffling quietly as she reaches a hand out, laying her palm against your cheek and thumbing away the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. Her heart breaks at the sight of you – but her heart also yells angrily at the idea that Gojo would toy with you for a measly 2,500 Yen.

She knew that he was an asshole – everyone did. But she didn't think he was that big of an asshole.

"How about me and you go out? I'll even text Mei Mei and Shoko," Utahime offers, smiling again at you. You sniffle, cheeks reddened by your tears. Your eyes are puffy, lashes still wet with tears that take their sweet time in dripping down your face.

"Can we stay in instead?"

Utahime nods, smiling again at you. Her arms extend, wrapping around you and tugging you into her chest, squeezing affectionately at you. You sink into her embrace, face pressed comfortably into her shoulder.

"Yeah, of course we can."

< ... >

"You're such a dick!" Utahime yells in a fit of rage, shoving her hands against Gojo's chest and glaring daggers at him as he stumbles backwards. He stares at her incredulously, eyebrows raised to a point that his forehead is wrinkled five times over.

He hadn't expected this behavior from the usually calm and collected girl – but the way that she had stormed at him screaming her head off told him that he had royally screwed up.

Over his shoulder, Geto watches knowingly. He knows that he'll likely be yelled at too, so in mental preparation, he remains completely silent, not wanting Utahime to turn her rage on him prematurely.

"What is this about?" Gojo asks genuinely, his eyes narrowed in confusion as Utahime angrily takes a step back from him, restraining herself from actively strangling him.

"What is this – so you just have no idea what you did to (Y/N)? God, you're dense!" Utahime all but screams, throwing her hands up in a fit of rage.

Gojo narrows his eyes, then they widen – shit. How the fuck did you find out?

"What do you mean?" He pauses for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What about (Y/N)?"

"Oh, don't act so clueless! You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Utahime jabs a finger at Gojo's chest, her eyes burning with a rage that he had genuinely never seen in her before. She takes a brave step towards him – in return, he takes a step back.

"I don't--"

"Does 2,500 Yen sound familiar to you?" Utahime raises an eyebrow at him. He deadpans, swallowing the growing lump in his throat and feeling his heart sink.

His silence tells her everything that she needs to know. She straightens, shooting a pointed glare to Geto as well – resulting in him looking anywhere but her direction, gaze flickering around wildly.

She turns her attention back to Gojo, looking him up and down with an expression of nothing but pure disgust. He winces at the glint in her eyes – God, he had really screwed up.

"You're both disgusting," Utahime spits venomously, then turning on her heel and promptly striding away from both males. Gojo turns, exchanging a worried yet remorseful glance in Geto's direction. His friend only swallows, they had both royally screwed up.

< ... >

Gojo suffered with the aftermath of you hearing his conversation – you avoided him like he had been infected with some kind of infectious disease. Any room he entered, you exited. Any time he called out your name with a polite wave, you turned your nose up and continued walking.

In a way, you pretended that he simply didn't exist – that the person waving to you or trying to interact with you was nothing but a phantom, one that you ignored as if it was the only thing that you knew how to do.

"(Y/N)! Hey, can we--"

You stride past him, shoulder knocking against his own as you exit the classroom. He stands silently at its center, lowering his hand back to his side – he had wanted to reach out for you, but something inside of him told him to simply leave you be.

And the day that he saw you happily hanging off of Nanami's arm was the day that he realized – loving someone from afar was the worst pain of all.

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo #🍰 anon

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kingkat12 · 2 months ago

Text

all yours (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, phone sex, dark!Roman is back oops, descriptions of sex, foul language, yandere!reader sort of??

summary: why did Letha call?-- actually, the better question is, will Roman let you find out why?

word count: 8,551

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

a/n: hi lovelies!!! to clarify, there are a few mentions of the beautiful actress Romy Schneider, and I will link her HERE for you to get who i'm talking about!! i had a dream where i called Roman Romy and i thought huh where did i get that from, and then i realized it was because i watched a movie with miss Schneider in it, so there you go!! THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! enjoy!<33

I stared at the missed call from Letha, the glow of the screen illuminating my face as I hid beneath my duvet. Frozen in a fetal position, I listened to the sound of my heartbeat as my thumb inched toward her name.

It was late-- too late to be awake, and too early to make a decision. The silence of my bedroom wrapped around me as my brows drew together in conflict, my head buzzing incessantly. It felt wrong to contemplate calling Letha back, especially as the cinnamon flavour of Roman's cigarettes lingered on my tongue. If I focused, I could still feel the push of his lips against my neck, and the pressure of his strong arms against my waist. It all made me shiver-- I wasn't sure what it would mean for my relationship with Roman if I called Letha back. How could I guarantee it wouldn't all blow up in my face?

I groaned, hopefully not loud enough to wake my parents, before I scrolled away from Letha's name. I needed a reminder of why I had thrown my friendship with her away, why I had messed it all up in the first place-- I had to drown out the memory of Letha's laugh somehow.

So, I pressed my phone up against my ear, placing a hand over my heart to feel it thud against my palm while I waited. The beating of my blood quickened when I realized my call was getting answered despite the lateness of the hour;

"Hey, you,"

Oh, I nearly melted at the sound of his voice. "Rome," I echoed, giving into a soft smile.

I heard the shifting of bedsheets in the background; "Miss me already?"

"Yeah..."

"I left, like, two hours ago,"

"So? I can hear you smiling over there,"

Roman's warm chuckle sounded through the other end of the phone, and I imagined him shaking his head. "Say it again,"

It was impossible not to stir-- I couldn't lay still when his voice was so deep and tired. "I miss you," I peeked my head up from the duvet, as it was getting damn warm beneath my covers. "I'm sorry for calling so late, I just... needed to clear my head."

He hummed, stretching; "It's alright, I wasn't sleeping,"

"What were you doing then?"

There was a rather pregnant pause. "... None of your business,"

"Oh?" I propped myself up on my elbows, intrigued. "Roman, are you?--"

"What did you need to clear your head about?"

I realized I wasn't getting anywhere with this, and that I quickly needed to stop thinking about my boyfriend spread out on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, slowly palming himself through the fabric-- no, I needed to get my mind out of the gutter. "We didn't get a lot of time to discuss the fact that Letha called,"

"Okay... Do you plan on calling her back?"

My heart only beat harder against my palm, and I had to swallow hard as I laid back down on the bed; "Would you be mad if I did?" The silence that ensued made my hands clammy-- I ended up wiping them on my duvet as I waited for his answer, holding my breath.

"Maybe?" Roman sighed, and I heard him tossing around in his bed. "I don't know what this feeling is, but... I just know it makes my chest burn. Doesn't feel good."

Something about his cluelessness made me want to grab his pretty face and pepper it with kisses. "Could be anxiety?"

"Nah, I don't have that shit,"

"Oh, Roman, everyone gets a little anxious sometimes!--"

"Stop rolling your eyes, I can hear it,"

Shocked, my heart nearly stopped-- he was right. I had rolled my eyes, and it freaked me out that he knew . "Fine... I won't call her back, then,"

"Alright,"

"You don't have to worry,"

"Alright,"

"Uh, do you have anything else to say other than alright?--"

"No,"

"... Alright," My brows drew together in confusion, wondering why Roman was retreating into his shell of emotional neglect. It was clear to me that the subject of Letha made him deeply uneasy, that he was probably worried she'd need me to break up with him for us to be friends again, but I tried to find comfort in the fact that he was scared to lose me... despite not being able to say that out loud.

Still, Roman always managed to surprise me-- I heard him sigh once more at the other end of the phone, but this time, in a sulky manner. "Could you say it again?"

"Say what?"

"What you said in the car," I could hear the embarrassment in his voice, knowing he didn't usually make requests like these; "That you're mine."

My eyes widened just a smidge, staring up at my ceiling with a bewildered look on my face. The tone of his voice made my stomach flip, wondering why my brain went haywire for the needy sound of his request. I did my best not to squeal and kick my feet like a little girl-- "All yours, Rome,"

A hum; "All mine?"

"All yours," My smile spread wider than ever before, joy blossoming in my chest. "Only yours."

He let out a shaky breath-- "Shit... don't say it like that,"

"Like what?"

"Like that," Roman shifted around in his bed, and I heard him kicking away his duvet. "I was already horny before you called, don't make it worse."

I was afraid my eyes would pop out of my skull as my air caught in my throat. So he had been doing what I thought he'd been doing? "You were the one who asked me to say it," I tried, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my body. This was definitely not going to help me sleep. "Why were you even doing that right now? It's so late!"

Roman only laughed-- "That call from Letha fucking cockblocked me in the car, what do you expect?"

"Christ," I mumbled, shaking my head as I pressed my palm against my forehead. Something about this was too damn thrilling. "So you're still... y'know?"

"Yep,"

"And... you're doing it right now?"

Another laugh ensued, deeper this time."Nah, I'm not that creepy. Just waiting for it to go down now... which is why you can't tell me you're mine with that sexy little voice of yours,"

Gosh, how that took my breath away. And even worse, was the maelstrom of ideas churning in my head about ways to milk this situation-- I really hoped my parents were asleep for this one. "Roman?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm all yours,"

As expected, Roman groaned on the other end of the line. "Is that a green light?" he breathed. "Don't fuck with me right now, my brain doesn't work properly when you're involved."

I hadn't blushed like this in ages-- "I'm here if you want to go for it," Never in a million years did I think I would be having phone sex, especially not with Roman Godfrey. If someone had told me a month ago that this would be happening, I would've fainted on the spot.

Roman's laugh was deep, warm; I pressed the phone against my cheek as my hands trembled in excitement. "Go for it," he echoed, a mocking tone about it. "I'm not doing this shit alone!"

"Oh?"

"Not a fat chance in hell, baby. What are you wearing?"

My brows drew together as I realized what he was up to. Nervous, I lifted my duvet to check. My mind was so clouded by the thrill that I had genuinely forgotten what I was wearing. "Uh... A big t-shirt and my underwear?"

A hum. "What colour?"

"The t-shirt?" I wasn't sure why that mattered.

Another laugh from Roman ensued-- this was probably the moment it dawned on him that I hadn't done this before either. "Fuck it, we'll skip this part," he murmured. "The panties, babe. Take them off."

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, my trembling hands scurrying to take them off. As I laid my head back on my pillow, discarding my underwear somewhere along the bed, I pressed my phone back up to my ear just at the right moment-- I heard Roman's short, ragged breath, presumably resuming his activities. "Ugh, I miss having my mouth on you," he breathed, shifting around. "I've told you how good you taste, right?"

"Yeah, you have," His words made me want to squeal and throw my phone across the room, my brain going haywire. "I don't get it, but I'm not complaining. I like having you between my legs."

"Good. I'm planning to be there quite a lot,"

I squeezed my thighs together-- this was making me aroused a lot quicker than I was willing to admit. Still, I decided to be bold; "Too bad we were interrupted today... Was looking forward to having my mouth on you as well,"

"Right... As if you'd do that in my car on that open street,"

"There was no one there!" I rolled my eyes at the sound of Roman's laugh. "What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to try one day."

"Yeah?" His voice was deeper now, raw-- "You'd want me to teach you how?"

I could only imagine the sight of him now; the way he closed his eyes, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he worked his fingers around his shaft. I nearly lost my breath just thinking about it, and suddenly my mind was throwing me images of how it would be to wrap my mouth around it. How Roman would hold my hair, slowly buck up into my mouth with a soft grunt, telling me how good I was doing, how nice it felt-- I had a hard time snapping out of it. "Would love for you to teach me everything,"

"Fuck, baby," I could hear the shaky motions of his breath, the way it was on the brink of hitching. "Gonna take my time, teach you all I know... Don't you worry."

"You will?"

"You bet," Roman's voice was now barely a whisper against the phone, his words catching in his chest. "Gonna teach you how to take my cock, I know you'll do so well... So, so well, just like everything else you do."

That was it-- I reached between my legs, closing my eyes as I placed my fingers against my clit. It was impossible to stay away now. "You'll take care of me, won't you? Go slow?"

"Of course I will-- hah,"

My breath grew unsteady; "Shit, Rome, you've got me wet in record time," I dipped my fingers a little further down, feeling my arousal pooling between my legs.

"Yeah? Well, I'm damn hard for you," he breathed, a soft, quiet moan following. "Wanna sink into you, feel your tight little pussy around me..."

Had I not been so out of it, I would've called him out for being vulgar. Roman hadn't been this dirty before. My cheeks were downright burning.

"Wanna fuck you so good, you'll never leave. You'll just keep coming back, letting me make you cum over and over..."

I was squirming at this point-- oh, what I would give for Roman to be here with me right now. Have him wrap his arm around me, rub my clit for me, whispering all these dirty things into my ear instead of through the phone. "I won't leave, Rome,"

That seemed to be the most compelling thing I could've said. I could almost hear the way he threw his head back against his pillow, a small, wanton moan escaping his lips; "You're all mine, baby... Only mine, aren't you?"

Who would've thought this was the thing that would break Roman Godfrey?

"All yours,"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I was rather anxious to see Roman the next day at school-- I didn't know how to deal with all the dirty stuff we talked about on the phone last night. How was I supposed to look him in the eyes, knowing he thought about me like that? I wasn't complaining, but it was incredibly foreign.

We hadn't talked much today, other than the usual good morning text, and I dreaded answering the text he sent me right afterward;

romy schneider: did you sleep well?;)

I was aware that it sounded innocent, but it was impossible not to hear Roman's voice while reading it. All breathy, the signature smirk on display, roping me in with one hand on my waist as he whispered it into my ear... No, I couldn't answer it. Just thinking about it made me blush.

I had made it to second period without seeing any members of the Godfrey family, all until I had to cross the campus to get to my next class. There he was, not too far away from the football field, leaning against a lamp post as he lit his cigarette.

Roman hadn't noticed me yet, and a part of me hoped he wouldn't just yet. I wanted to take my time, watch the way his hair fell over his forehead in gentle motions as he lowered his head towards the lighter, the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette, and the way his beautiful green eyes suddenly darted up and landed right on me--

I nearly squeaked, stopping in my tracks as my breath caught in my throat. Even worse, was the cough that choked itself out of me. I hadn't expected him to notice me staring, not when I was this far away. My hands trembled as I tried to pull myself together, catching a glimpse of Roman's classic smirk as his cigarette lay comfortably between his lips. His eyes darkened, a mischievous shimmer in his gaze as he motioned for me to come over.

I was a mess by the time I reached him, and I tried to rub my clammy hands off my shirt in a way that wouldn't give away my stress. Still, I had an inkling he knew, and I only made it worse for myself when I opened my mouth; "Hey, dude,"

Immediately, it felt like my brain was on fire-- what was that? Stupid, stupid!

Roman seemed taken aback by that as well, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Since when do you call me dude?" He stifled a chuckle, taking a long drag of his cigarette; "I know about Romy Schneider, but this is new."

I only called him Romy Schneider to tease him on days he was exceptionally pretty (which could technically be any day), but dude? Now, it was downright obvious how nervous I was. "I-- Okay, just forget I said that," Kicking away a nearby rock, I lowered my gaze, no longer able to meet his. Roman's face was enough to unravel me, especially after what had been said last night.

Still, he laughed, blowing out a simple ring of smoke. "You're nervous,"

"Am not!"

"Fine. Look at me, then,"

Clenching my jaw, I adhered. My lashes fell heavy over my eyes, my lack of sleep stirring in my chest as I scanned my boyfriend; he was so handsome today, so calm. Roman leaned down, now balancing his cigarette between his fingers as he lowered himself to my level, inches away from my face in a rather intimidating manner-- the tension was so thick, I could probably run my fingers through it. "Is someone a little embarrassed?" he cooed, nudging my shoulder. "Not used to me running my mouth like last night?"

I was relieved to know I didn't have to explain why I was so flustered today-- still, I was being painstakingly put on the spot. "You always run your mouth, Rome, that's nothing new,"

"Not like that, though," Roman's eyes were practically sparkling. "It's alright if you can't take it. Just tell me if you can't."

Can't take it? Who did he think he was? There was a burning challenge in his voice, and mixed with my slight offense, it only lead to the following; "I can take it," I huffed, stepping forward. "You think I can't?"

Roman hummed, the corners of his mouth curving up into an evil grin. "Nah, I think you can. You're a quick learner," He pressed a short kiss against my cheek before straightening up, placing his cigarette back between his lips before leaning against the lamp post again. "You can keep up with me, right?" he mumbled in between a drag. "I'm not scaring you back into Letha's arms?"

Roman said it with a sense of humour, but I couldn't help but catch onto the anxiety hiding behind his words. My brows drew together, watching as he finished his cigarette and threw it to the ground, stomping it. I cleared my throat; "I thought we talked about this last night... You're quite hung up on this Letha thing, aren't you?--"

"No,"

That was too quick to be believable. "Rome?--"

"I'm not," As he turned back to me, Roman's eyes narrowed. I had forgotten how quickly his demeanour could change, with the snap of a finger. Suddenly, he was cold. "Stop projecting on me. You're being dramatic."

Huh? There was no way to contain the grimace that followed. My eyes widened, bewildered that he was snapping at me. That truly came out of nowhere. "What?" I breathed. "I'm not projecting-- Why is this setting you off so bad? We don't even know why she called me or what she truly wants!"

Roman groaned; it was clear that he hadn't meant to instigate a fight. Especially not on school grounds. "Jeez, could you lower your voice? People are staring," His cheeks redded a little as he caught the eyes of a few students passing us by, and he lowered his gaze to the ground, cursing under his breath.

I took a quick glance around, snorting as I turned back to him. "Roman, now that you're my boyfriend, I'm comfortable enough to tell you that you can't snap at me like that anymore. Or talk to me like that, for that matter. Ever! Those days are over, do you hear me?"

Roman's eyes widened to the likes of big, shiny plates of china, staring back at me with a look of both anger and horror. His lips drew a straight line and his jaw clenched before he spat pure venom; "Wow... You really know how to make a big deal out of nothing,"

Those words chilled me to the bone. Shellshocked, I took a step back, holding my breath as my eyes drilled into his. Roman's chest rose and fell in slow, long motions, none of us knowing what to say.

It was at this moment that I heard a cheerleader-cry coming from the football field, catching my attention. My gaze went past Roman and to the team that was practicing, doing some sorts of somersaults in the air as they howled the school's motto. And as we stood here with a clear view of the cheerleader team, practically hiding behind this lamp post, something dawned on me-- why had Roman been standing here in the first place? Why this exact place?

He seemed to be catching onto my trail of thoughts, turning to glance at my transfixion. It gave me a moment to lose face, opening and shutting my mouth as I flailed my arms in exasperation. It only got worse when I realized several girls on the team were waving at him, and I recognized one of them to be one of his earlier flings. Was it the one he screwed back in March? Then, it suddenly dawned on me that Roman wasn't turning back to me, his gaze now resting on the waving cheerleaders and their ridiculously short skirts as he nodded to himself in boyish approval--

My heart sank all the way down to my shoes. "Really, Roman? Really?" I didn't expect my voice to be so frail, so upset.

He sensed my tone, finally laying his eyes on me with an irritated look about him. Roman reached up to move his hair out of his forehead, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke; "What is it now? Just appreciating the view,"

"Appreciating... the view?" I was stunned. Stunned. It felt as though he had stabbed me right in the chest-- who the fuck talks like that to their girlfriend? "I'm glad to see you're invested in the relationship I threw everything away for. Thank you for the reminder, Roman, that you're still just a guy."

With a laugh, Roman was back to smiling-- he was giving me a severe case of whiplash. "What? They're waving at me, it's normal to check out who it is! You know I'm not going anywhere, right?"

No, I had to look away. I couldn't think clearly now that he looked so charming again. Why did he have to be so hot and cold? I had hoped we were past this on the spectrum of Roman-ness. It only got worse when he stepped forward, pressing a warm kiss to my temple. "All yours," he whispered against my skin, placing his hand on my cheek as he towered above me. "Let me walk you to class, hm?"

I had to take a deep breath, my eyes closing to relish in the fact that Roman was kissing me so openly in front of everyone, especially in front of the cheerleaders. Still, I knew I had to gather my thoughts-- the discomfort was lingering in my chest, the creeping unease settling in my mind. I didn't want to let this slide.

I strained a smile to mask my inner turmoil as I put my hand over his, getting up on my tippytoes to press a shy kiss to Roman's lips, feeling him sigh against me. It was short, sweet, and like a temporary band-aid. So when I pulled away, it felt like I was ripping it off with all my might-- I didn't want to. I forced myself to speak, clearing my throat; "I'll walk myself to class, thanks,"

I could see it in his eyes that he was taken aback, not expecting that I would turn down his offer. The flicker of confusion streaked across Roman's face like a flash of lightning. "Uh, okay... What subject do you have now?" he tried, an attempt to drag out our time together.

"... I'm gonna be late," I couldn't help myself-- I pressed a kiss to his cheek, wanting to feel him once more. If there was one thing I could find solace in, it was the fact that I could kiss him as often as I wanted to now that we were together. "Please find another place to smoke. You're breaking my heart."

That seemed to land a blow to Roman, whose brows drew together in a look of hurt. I was reminded of his promises to not hurt me, to do his best to keep me happy, and I left him by the lamp post hoping he remembered his words as clearly as I did.

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And I thought my unease wouldn't get worse. As the days flew by, I was positive, hopeful even. However, staring down at the messages Letha sent me this morning, I couldn't help but feel a sense of doom as I waited for Roman's last class to be over.

Several days had passed since the last time I saw Letha at the gas station, where she had tried to apologize to me. Her words of longing, how she insisted that she missed me and never meant for anyone to get hurt, had etched themselves into my mind, unable to be forgotten.

So, I figured it wouldn't do any more harm to read what she had written. I had waited all day to open her messages, after all. It was gnawing on my mind at this point-- My thumb hovered above the message notification, and I held my breath as my eyes grazed the words on the screen;

letha: hey... i didn't expect you to answer my call a few days ago, much less call me back, but i don't want to give up just yet. i want you to know how sorry i am that you were hurt and that i no longer talk to Jasmine, but that you deserve to know the truth after everything you've been put through this past month. i know you and Roman are a couple now, since he told me at dinner... and frankly because the whole school won't shut up about my baby cousin no longer harassing everyone. who would've thought?

letha: you were once mine, and i was yours. i might never fully forgive you for going behind my back, but you were my best friend in the whole world. i'm so tired of acting like i don't miss you. could we please talk?

letha: you need to know the truth about Roman. please.

I should've known this was a bad idea. I should've known. Pressing my phone up against my chest, feeling my heart beat against it, I squeezed my eyes shut as the school bell rang. Several students rushed out of the doors in the hallway, and I knew I had to get myself together before Roman saw me so out of it.

He and I hadn't been properly alone for a while. Although I had missed him and his lips against mine, I was still seething inside about him staring at the cheerleaders and the awful conversation before and after. I was still battling my jealousy regarding the situation; why had he been so snappy, all of a sudden? And why did he feel the need to appreciate the view? Everything about it made me nauseous.

Still, I didn't deny Roman when he caught up with me at lunch earlier today and asked me to wait for him after school. He had been so incessant, so sweet-- I missed my little devil, no matter how insecure he made me.

I got a few odd looks from the people passing me in the hall as I harshly patted my face in an attempt to snap out of my dark spiral of thoughts. Unfortunately, Roman also caught this just as he stepped out of his classroom; "What are you doing?" he asked, grimacing.

Flustered, I watched him throw his backpack over his shoulder, towering over me as I was pressed further against the wall behind me. Despite his look of disapproval, he still looked ridiculously pretty today-- Romy Schneider. His hair was styled in a classic heartbreaker look, the green in his eyes fixating on me as he tried to find a reason for my odd behaviour.

"Nothing," I lied. "Trying not to fall asleep. I've been waiting for your class to be done for, like, an hour."

Roman hummed, leaning down to place a quick kiss on the top of my head. "Thanks for waiting. It's nice to see your face," He placed his free hand on the small of my back, leading us to walk down the hallway. "So... There's a movie going down at the cinema tonight, and I think we should go and make out in the back. Thoughts?"

I held back a sickeningly girly giggle-- my heart fluttered uncontrollably, and it was as though all my anger melted away. "Which movie is it?"

"Not sure. Some Serbian silent film from the sixties,"

"Oh... Right up our alley, then,"

Roman's laugh nearly made me blush. Accompanied by the small squeeze of my waist, I allowed myself to keen against his body, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction.

This was my favourite part of the day. Being paraded down the hall for everyone to see. At this moment, I forgot about my sorrows with Letha, and could suddenly feel the pride blooming in my chest as I got a few jealous, scorching stares from a group of girls passing us by. It only got better when I realized they were cheerleaders-- my eyes followed them, narrowing as a rather evil grin spread across my lips.

That'll show them. I was ready to cut off the heads of the next ones that waved at my boyfriend.

I leaned against Roman's touch, feeling his hand resting at my side. Something told me he was putting up a bit of a show to make up for the incident by the football field a few days ago, and honestly? I liked this. I could live with this.

Roman caught up with my little feeling of victory, snickering to himself as he playfully rolled his eyes; "Getting high?"

"Yeah," I breathed, feeling my cheeks get rosy as he stroked his thumb along my skin, caressing me as we continued down the hall. This was certainly a high-- one I had longed for. In a flash of confidence, I obnoxiously turned my head to watch the seething cheerleaders, flashing them a vicious smile. Bitches.

Roman tsked, the signature smirk forming across his lips. He noticed my glee-- "What do you say we give them a show?" he murmured, his green gaze darting back to me, his burning eyes full of dark agenda.

I didn't have time to protest or agree as Roman grabbed my shoulders, leading my back up against the nearby lockers. Oh, everyone would definitely hate us more now-- but I could only smile up at him and bask in the feeling of mutual thrill.

"Are they still looking?" Roman whispered, biting his lip to contain his excitement.

A quick glance-- "Yeah,"

His eyes practically sparkled. "Good," Suddenly, he snaked one hand around my waist as the other rested against my cheek, his thumb hooked under my jaw to tilt my head up-- It was easier to kiss like that, seeing as he was practically taller than a fucking tree. Roman leaned forward, brushing his lips across mine, feeling the coolness of my breath against his skin, contrasted by the warmth of my quick breath through my nose over his cheek. Then, the soft pillow of his mouth pushed against mine, the pressure so adoring it made my blood heat all the way into my fingertips.

Roman had tried to do similar things in public multiple times before we became official, but I had shut him down every time. Before, it would've terrified me out of my mind to do something so bold; to make such a statement in front of the school that I was his, to show I was so dizzyingly into him that I would let him do this to me in public. But here I was-- craving it.

It was a show of power, and of submission and belonging; Roman's lips were deadly soft, but there was a hint of something more fiery, sincere. My hands quickly tangled into his hair, pulling him closer as I savoured both the moment and the taste of his cinnamon cigarettes on his tongue.

Roman's plush lips were slightly parted, moving a little as though he was whispering a question-- it was so painfully sweet.

Sweet.

And I imagined the sight to be a gut punch to the cheerleaders watching us from down the hall. I wondered whether they had ever seen this side of Roman before, felt this side of Roman, or whether he hadn't bothered to act as though they interested him. Everything about it made me smile-- there was a sinister satisfaction in it.

I sighed against the kiss, a soft smile splayed across my lips as Roman pulled away, gently nudging my nose with his before he straightened up. "Could you stop giving me grief now?" he teased, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Everyone knows we're together. No one's gonna try anything after this, I'm not into the cheerleaders, and I'm dying to roll around in your bed after the movie. Maths always fucking drains me."

Giggling, I reached out for his hand. "Why can't we roll around in your bed, for once? I still haven't been to your place,"

Roman shrugged, intertwining our fingers as he lead me away from the locker. "My mom is crazy, and yours isn't. It's easier that way,"

"Oh?" It struck me that he never actually talked about his parents-- "What do you mean?"

Roman remained quiet as he led me out of the main entrance, and we were now walking hand in hand down to where he had parked his car. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it, that he maybe wasn't ready for it. As I spotted his unease, I wrapped my arms around his, clinging to it-- and I was sure he'd have smiled down at me, had the following not happened.

Our steps came to a halt before I could realize why he froze. I glanced up at Roman, about to ask him why he stopped so abruptly until it became glaringly obvious.

Because there she was, leaning against the bonnet of his car-- Letha. Her nervous gaze flickered between the both of us, breaking out into an anxious laugh as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I thought I would see the two of you here,"

Her perfectly styled blonde hair lay in soft waves over her shoulders, her kind, green eyes piercing me with the softest impact as she searched my face for a reaction other than horror.

I hadn't expected to cling to Roman as hard as I did, but now it felt like I was holding onto him for dear life. My blood ran cold, my whole body freezing over at the sight of her. It was damn awkward meeting her knowing I had ignored all her attempts at reconciliation, and I wanted to crawl up Roman's shirt and hide.

Nonetheless, I planted my feet on the ground and watched as Roman balled his fists, inhaling sharply to contain his disdain; it was clear that he didn't want to see her either. "Letha, I told you not to do this," he said, jaw clenched. "She obviously doesn't want to talk to you."

With small steps, I dared to partly hide my body behind Roman. Free shield, no? This whole meeting had me mortified, wanting the ground to open up and swallow me whole-- I didn't expect my heart to beat so hard, and I prayed it wasn't audible.

Letha cleared her throat, visibly uncomfortable. Her kind exterior started to crack, hardening. "I've just been going insane... I wanted to ask if you've gotten my message?" Her green gaze darted towards me as she asked me the question, and the meeting of our eyes made my grip around Roman tighten. "What message?" he echoed, looking down at me with clear disdain. It felt like his stare was drilling holes into my brain, scanning my inner thoughts to dig out the truth-- I was cornered.

Fuck. "I didn't have time to tell you yet..." This was downright horrifying, and I tried to make myself smaller as I avoided Roman's burning gaze. "She says she just wants to talk, Rome."

Roman groaned, instinctively pulling me further behind him. I was fully sheltered now, and my breath caught in my chest as his next words came out sharper, harsher, as he turned to his cousin; "Letha, she doesn't want to talk to you! What is so hard to understand here?"

Oh, so he was speaking for me now?

Letha groaned, rolling her eyes. "How the fuck am I supposed to know if she's the one avoiding me or if you're telling her to? Come on, Ro!" She stepped away from the car, raising her voice; "Can't you at least step away? She doesn't need you to fucking shield her or speak for her!--"

"You don't know crap about what she needs!" Roman barked, fury burning in his voice. "You threw it all away! Face that you screwed up! And for the first time in my life, I'm needed, and I will shield her as I please!" He glanced back at me, motioning for me to start walking with him to the car.

My breath caught in my throat, not daring to tell him no. Not when he was in this mood, definitely not.

With quick steps, Roman pulled me along with him. "Stop bothering her," he hissed in Letha's face, opening the door to the passenger seat for me. "You've done enough damage. Enough."

I sank into my seat, not meeting Letha's broken gaze as Roman made his way to the driver's seat. I didn't need to see her to know what she looked like right now-- green eyes probably glossed over, her slender arms wrapping around her for comfort.

It only got worse when Letha called my name, her hurt voice making it impossible to avoid her anymore. When I finally turned to her, listening to the sound of the car starting, it almost felt as though I was looking into a mirror. I was sure I looked just like that when Letha abandoned me crying on the bleachers, calling me a whore when I told her about my feelings for Roman before she stormed off. My heart tore into a million pieces, looking into the teary eyes of the girl who used to know me better than anyone else.

Still, did I owe her the kindness of pity? She certainly hadn't shown me any.

I didn't have time to think about it-- Roman quickly drove us out of the school parking lot, groaning as he ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand. I could see that he was still seething, eye twitching as he gripped the steering wheel with a little too much power.

"Such bullshit," Roman cursed-- I hadn't seen him this pissed before. "She has no right to bother you anymore. I fucking told her!"

"She just--" Letha's big, green eyes of sadness haunted me. It made my heart clench, my soul crumble. "She seems really desperate to talk, Rome."

He glanced at me, just for a second, with apparent disdain. "So? I don't get why you're even entertaining the thought of giving her the chance to!" His grip around the wheel only tightened as he turned his gaze back on the road. "But Letha's got quite the nerve to just show up like that... She's begging for you to forgive her so her guilty conscious gets relief, it's damn selfish! It's not about you at all!"

"Why not?" I turned in my seat, feeling my frustration simmer. "Why would it not be about me? Is it so crazy to think she might just want us to be friends again, that I'm someone worth being friends with?"

"That's not-- She doesn't want to be your friend!"

"Then why the hell is she doing all of this?"

"Because Letha obviously doesn't want us to be together, don't be so naive!" Vexed, Roman hit the steering wheel with a loud groan-- it made me jump in my seat. "If you think she's forgiven you for going behind her back, think again! This is her taking revenge on me for all the times I've messed with her friends, okay?"

I didn't want to think about him and Letha's long list of ex-friends; it made me nauseous. I resorted to balling my fists, trying to collect my thoughts. "You didn't even let me hear her out..."

Roman snorted, rolling his eyes as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "You're making it sound like I'm a controlling asshole. May I remind you that you were hiding behind me, holding onto me for dear life?" He turned to me, a sharp look in his green eyes; "And when the fuck were you going to tell me that she texted you?"

Oh... That.

Honestly? I had hoped to get a little more time to think about it. To at least have that opportunity. "I would've told you sooner if you hadn't drooled all over cheerleaders that day," I knew it was a reach, but I didn't know what else to say. As I crossed my arms over my chest, I truly felt how little I had processed that situation. "Appreciating the view, as you said!"

Another groan, along with one more hit against the steering wheel; "They waved at me, it's normal to check who it is when someone waves at you!--"

"I don't give a shit, the thing that matters is that the girl who waved was the one you fucked in March!--"

... Oh no. He didn't need to know that I kept track of that.

"... What?" Roman's angry expression turned confused as his grip loosened around the wheel, quietly trying to process what I had just said.

As soon as those words slipped past my lips, I felt my throat go dry as I pressed my back against the seat. Why would the leather not split apart, swallow me whole, and allow me to avoid the aftermath? I hadn't expected to blurt that out; there was no going back now. "Yeah... And now she's waving at you like she possibly has a chance with you, because maybe you like making her think she still does! How do you think that makes me feel?"

Roman looked like he was two seconds away from ripping the steering wheel off its hinges, eyes wide and burning with fury. "What the fuck are you accusing me of here? And since when have you been keeping up with my sex-life?!"

Sure, I walked right into that one-- I suddenly felt like I had been transported right back into the time I watched Roman from afar. The way I'd watch him throw tater tots at the cheerleaders to catch their attention, the way he'd make me feel small by pulling my hair as he passed me in the halls, and how I had gotten used to the sight of him disappearing upstairs with girls at parties wishing that was me.

It felt like I was that girl again; the one that kept track of everything he did. The one who would compulsively wash my hands if I was introduced to one of his previous flings through Letha. The jealousy, the obsession-- it was all hitting me now. Especially as I turned to watch him, how his lips were angrily pressed shut, confusion visible on his pretty face.

It was too damn overwhelming. I realized my hands were trembling as they reached for the hem of my shirt, anxiously ripping at the seams as always. However, through the storm of feelings coursing through me, I heard Letha's melodious laugh as my memories flooded my mind-- She had been my anchor through it all, despite the fact that she never knew about my feelings for Roman.

No, no, no-- I hated how emotional this made me. "I threw away everything with Letha to be with you, so I'm sorry that I'm paranoid. I don't think you get that she was everything to me. But even despite that, she was my moon and you were... the sun,"

Roman's grip around the steering wheel loosened as his lips parted in uncertainty, brows drawing together as his gaze flickered between me and the road. "You didn't know me back in March," he mumbled, still processing. "That makes no sense--"

"I carved our initials into a tree in March,"

"... Oh,"

My gaze darted back down to my lap, checking out what I had done to my sweater. There were a few loose threads now, that's for sure. I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it, suddenly remembering how I had gotten so lovesick that I drove my keys into a tree during a walk in the park, carving our initials as tears streamed down my cheeks. It had been a horrible March; I couldn't be more happy that it was over.

Roman nodded to himself, chewing invisible gum--

"Okay... Where?"

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I never expected him to see this. Ever.

I leaned against the tree, watching as Roman traced our initials with a shimmer of fixation in his eyes. The green of the park was a dark contrast to the light green of his orbs, the hazel and blue nuances being the only points placing him perfectly in the scenery. Like this, it was as though I was looking at a painting-- the ones painted by depressed Russian artists before the fall of the Tsars. They always knew how to bring beauty into a world that was only cruel to them.

It was specific, sure, but I had to occupy my mind with something as Roman remained quiet. The wait was nerve-wracking.

Ethereal hues of sunlight shone through the thickness of the trees in the full bloom of summer as I kicked at a nearby chestnut. About half an hour had passed since our argument in the car, and another half hour passed before I finally found the tree in a desolate part of the park. I chewed on my bottom lip, anxiously watching Roman's every reaction.

I expected him to be freaked out. To be disgusted, even. How creepy wasn't this?

However, Roman was painstakingly calm. He ran the pads of his fingers over every cut, every bumpy line-- "This is..."

"Yeah, I know," My arms were crossed over my chest, gaze now resting on the grass nearby. "I never thought you'd like me or that I'd betray Letha like that, so I wanted to... materialize my feelings, if that makes sense? Bottle it up somewhere. Pull a Voldemort."

"A what?"

"Like, horcruxes?" Confused, I got the courage to look at him again. "Roman, have you not seen Harry Potter?"

He shrugged-- "Isn't it, like, for kids?"

"... You used to be a kid too, do you remember that?" Oh, the hypocrisy; "You've been harassing me about not having watched The Godfather for ages, but you haven't even seen?-- Oh, fuck it." It was impossible not to laugh, and I gave into a low chuckle as I pressed my crossed arms tighter to my chest. "Anyway. This tree thing is super creepy, I know, so would you rather I showed you the message from Letha instead?"

Roman finally looked at me, a blank expression on his face. Something told me he didn't want to give away his true feelings regarding the matter. Still, he held out his hand, and I promptly gave him my phone.

Roman knew my password-- that was no issue. He didn't have to ask for it, now staring down at the message from Letha.

I pressed my back against the tree as much as I could, wanting to melt into it and disappear just like earlier in the car. Watching the way Roman's brows drew together in confusion, the flash of annoyance that streaked across his eyes-- it didn't help my anxiety that he didn't say anything, wordlessly handing me my phone back.

I held my breath as I tucked it back into my pocket, waiting for him to say something. However, what he said caught me off-guard;

"The tree thing... It's not that creepy," Roman leaned against it, staring down at me with a nonchalance about him, almost as though he hadn't just read Letha's words of betrayal.

It made me uneasy, but I shrugged; something about the beauty of his eyes calmed me down as I gave in to a soft smile. "You don't have to protect my feelings, Rome, I'm very aware--"

"It's not," Stepping away from the tree, he neared me with careful steps. "I know we've talked about this before, but I'm just a little shocked you felt so... strongly about me. Even during a time when I was pulling your hair. It just doesn't make sense that you'd like me at all, even now."

I sent him a defeated look, leaning my head against the wood behind me. "Why is that so shocking?"

Roman now stood in front of me, and he reached out to place his hands on my waist. "I just don't think anyone ever has in this way," he said. "It's so sweet, it almost makes me nauseous."

I giggled-- "I make you nauseous?"

Roman's next words were said with such a stoic tone, I froze to my spot; "You make me sick,"

Dumbfounded, I let my lips part in shock. It was almost as though his green eyes were filled with pity. "What?--"

"Sick to my stomach,"

Suddenly, I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked. Uhm...? The way we were standing, the way I was pressed up against this tree, gave me the biggest deja vu of my lifetime. This was exactly the same situation as when we played seven minutes in heaven, the very thing that had unraveled everything. I was frozen in fear of his next words, holding my breath.

"Knowing you have the compassion to feel this strongly about me, makes me sick," Roman breathed, his hands kneading my waist with strength that nearly made me wince in pain. "That you've fucked up your life to be with me, makes me sick. And that I'm going to have the worst time letting you go if I must, makes me sick." There was an intensity in him that I hadn't properly seen in him before now-- I wasn't sure whether to be scared or turned on. It only got worse when Roman leaned in, his hot breath against my lips making me shiver; "That I'm ready to go to war with Letha, with family, for you, makes me sick. Knowing I'm ready to rip her head off if she takes you from me... Makes. Me. Sick."

A quiet shiver of air left my body, my shaking hands grabbing at his. "Rome, I--"

"I'll be better for you," Roman's green eyes drilled into mine with desperation, his grip around my waist loosening before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. "Whatever Letha says about me, the truth as she called it, I need you to not believe it. I'm asking you to kill me, in a sense."

"What?--"

"I want you to make me so sick that I die in your arms," Roman let out a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against mine as his eyes closed shut. "I think it'd make me feel good. I don't want to be so bitter and angry all the time... and I feel good with you. Really good."

Oh.

My heart swelled as I brought my hands up to cup his face, my thumbs stroking over his cheeks as we stood still. There were leaves rustling in the distance, and a sweltering breeze that passed us briefly, but all in all, it was just Roman and I in this deserted area of the park. I could easily agree that it felt good, that it felt right-- just my pretty boyfriend and me.

I got up on my tippytoes, pulling Roman in for a gentle kiss. It made my heart swell, made the tips of my fingers burn as I felt his cold breath against my cheek when he exhaled through his nose.

It was just us, and I needed it to stay that way. We needed it to stay that way, to work as we needed to.

I couldn't let nostalgia kill this. Not for Letha, not for anything in the world. I wasn't sure what it was that she was dying to tell me, why she felt the need to tell me the truth about him as she claimed-- wasn't this his truest form?

Roman's hands pushed against the small of my back, drawing me in as close as humanly possible. The kiss deepened with every breath, with every pull of the other-- "Choose us," he pleaded, mouthing his words into my lips. "Me and you. Us."

His desperation nearly made me burst into flames, similarly to a phoenix; Roman would've gotten that reference if he had seen Harry Potter. It seemed I might actually have to watch The Godfather for him to do so. Still, I sighed softly into the kiss, my hands going into his hair to tug him closer.

I made my decision then and there-- I wasn't going to answer Letha. I could figure out the truth about Roman on my own, thank you very much.

"Me and you," I breathed. "Us."

(AAAAHHH if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading!!<3333 here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 8, PART 9, and PART 10 if you want to check them out!! THANK YOUUUU!)

(and credits to @august-diehl for the gif!!)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium

@mil88691 @tloughost @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

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restinslices · 1 year ago

Note

okay chat maybe him like getting jealous

Assuming you’re the anon who asked about Spooky

Him this episode >>>>>>>>>>

I've seen posts before about Spooky and people say he'd pull out a gun and start swearing when he's jealous and really show his ass but honestly? I don't think that's accurate

I haven't watched OMB in a hot minute and Netflix is being some hoes rn so forgive me if I'm wrong but wasn't he incredibly patient?

He was patient with Cesar and with Cesar’s friends. I don't recall him ever losing his temper and going insane besides season 4 when he heard people fucking shit up outside

Spooky gives me the silent jealous type. Silent but also petty

Like if you came back to him after talking to a guy he'd say some petty shit like “thought you'd be around him all day”

“That's your man now, right?” “Stop being childish”

You could tell when he's jealous though cause you'd feel him staring at you the whole time

I could also see him clearing his throat loud as hell if you're nearby to both get your attention and introduce him to whoever it is you're talking to

It's gotta be a guy he doesn't know cause realistically what Santo is dumb enough to flirt with you?

I feel like I'm expected to say he'd have this huge outburst but Oscar doesn't give me that vibe. He's pretty patient and I think especially if y'all have been together for an extended amount of time, he'd feel secure enough to know you won't do some foul shit

I feel like someone touching you would cause him to immediately get involved. He'd walk over and physically take their hand off of you while pulling you closer to him or behind him

And let's be real, no one is dumb enough to try shit with him. He's 6’1 and known as the leader of the Santos

But if someone did try him because they're drunk or whatever, I feel that even though he's jealous he'd still put your safety first. His jealousy would go to the back of his mind and he'd try to get you out in case shit gets intense

Another situation he'd step in is if you're visibly uncomfortable. Typically if someone's flirting with you, he knows you can handle it but if you're so obviously uncomfortable then he'd step in and get you away

I feel like if you're dating Oscar your safety would go over everything so while he's still a man and wants to play all big and bad in whoever's face, getting you away is his biggest priority

“Are you jealous?” “Should I be?” “No” then he'd nod or smth

Now let's say you're hanging around a new guy a lot. Would he get jealous? Probably. He's a guy.

This is a different situation ‘cause he's not seeing anything. He can't pull you away. What does he do?

Short answer; nothing. Long answer; he doesn't seem like the type to be so jealous he'd snoop on your phone or follow you because relationships require trust and if you caught him, you'd be upset. I could see him asking questions about the guy and then denying he's jealous ‘cause “I have nothing to be jealous about”

And it's like??? Are you telling me that or telling yourself that?

Over time it'd become obvious he's feeling a certain way. You'd say you're gonna hang out with whoever the guy is and he'd just make a “mmm” sound instead of actually responding

“Something wrong?” “I didn't say anything” “Exactly”. Eventually it'd come out though

And the idea of him flirting with someone else to make you jealous comes up but I don't think that'd happen. He hardly has any relationships besides his gang which means he hardly has any close relationships. He has the kids, who he's like an older brother too (or literally an older brother to) and Mario (and we don't know how much they interact) so I don't see him risking a relationship just to be on petty shit

He'd say smth petty but flirting with someone else just as payback for some shit you can't control? Nah

You could probably calm him down easily just by being near him. Making jokes about him being jealous would help also because it's you acknowledging that you see how he feels without having a sappy ass conversation

I feel like this is so anticlimactic and disappointing but realistically I don't see him flipping his shit. He's 19-25, which could make him a bit immature but 1) he's grown up quickly so I think he can handle his emotions. 2) He has two strikes already. He's not popping his shit and risking life in prison because he was jealous. And 3) he knows you know where home is.

He gets jealous, sure, but all those reasons stacked together makes him act calm, only getting somewhat aggressive if someone is touching you or making you uncomfortable. He’s more petty than anything

Quick story time. So I got away from my abusive dad when I was 13-14, right. I was also obsessed with Spooky. Tell me why my therapist said “I think you love him so much because he’s a strong and scary guy and in your head he’d protect you if your dad came back for you”. The way I almost blocked her-

I’m still seeing her years later😃

#on my block #on my block spooky #On my my block Oscar #omb oscar diaz #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz headcanon #Still love him years later #he’s not dead #he told me himself

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lovemybluebully · 3 months ago

Text

It's For Science

This is just a little something I scrounged together, inspired by a post by @snugglyfluffle 😊

https://www.tumblr.com/snugglyfluffle/761535277842022400/since-logan-has-a-shorter-waist-then-wade-does-do?source=share

Damn, writer's block has been a biiiiiitch. I wrote a lot of this in the later hours of the night after my long workdays so sorry if it's nothing spectacular, or if there's any spelling/grammatical errors.

Wade gets it into his head that maybe not all humans have the same number of rib bones. His logic being that since Logan has a shorter body then he may be an exception. Unfortunately for Logan this is far too ticklish of an experiment for him to bear.

A small bit of ticklish!deadpool at the end too. 😉

Warnings for foul language and other Deadpool-type stuff.

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 4,234

"The skeletal system is comprised of bones that give structure to the body and work with the muscles and joints to provide movement. The human body contains 206 bones….," the certified doctor on the television explained as he gestured to a replica model human skeleton while Wade sat watching on the couch.

"207 if I'm watching Gossip Girl, hehehe. Shit, I already made that joke in the movie. Well it's still true anyhow, am I right?" Wade snorted a laugh as he turned from his position on the couch with his hand up for a high-five, but found his roommate leaned back in the couch with his eyes closed and his hands on his lap.

It had been a nice lazy afternoon for the two of them and Logan had KO'ed quite a few beers as the monotone voice of the television host was making him doze off.

"Pssht! Old man can't stay awake for five minutes," Wade waved him off as he turned back to the tv.

"The ribcage has an important job in providing protection to some of the most vital organs being the lungs and the heart. There are 12 ribs on each side, making 24 in total…"

The merc blinked in curiosity as he sat up tall and now slowly began to feel up each side of his body to count the ribs within, having to dig in pretty thoroughly to get through the muscle.

"Hmm I'm only feeling 20 here….," he rechecked to be sure, finding all the ones leading up to his collarbone.

"The 11th and 12th pair of ribs are called 'floating ribs' because unlike all the others they are not attached to the sternum but are still attached to the backbone….," the doctor went on as he pointed to two pairs of ribs on the back area of the skeleton.

Wade's hands wound around to his lower back and found the missing pairs right where the doctor said they'd be.

"Huh. What do you know, he's right. I mean, duh!" He bopped himself on the forehead, "Of course he's right. He's a fucking doctor. Hey Wolvie, you're missing some interesting stuff here."

"Mmph," Logan only grunted in response, not even hearing what Wade had actually said as he started to drift further into fully passing out.

Wade then had a thought pop into his mind as he looked over at his near-comatose friend. Logan's torso was a lot shorter than his own so he wondered if it was true that all humans had the same number of ribs. The doc hadn't specified if it was possible to have less and Wade's hyper mind needed an answer right away.

"Hmm. I suppose I could just Google it to find out for sure, but nah! I prefer to do my own field study. Plus you all need a fun little fic to read, and I know Logan won't mind if it tickles just a teensy little bit. Commence Operation How-Many-Ribs-Does-A-Wolverine-Have."

He slid over and wiggled his fingers up in the air before placing them on the bottom of Logan's ribcage, pressing in gently to feel the first two ribs as the man immediately jumped and blinked his eyes open in a groggy daze.

"Whatistha….Wade? What-heheh-What're you doin'?" He batted at Wade's hands with very little accuracy from being half-asleep, giggles escaping him as the fingers moved up to the next set of ribs.

"Well if you had stayed awake Peanut, you would have seen this educational program I've been watching about the human body. They say there are 24 ribs in a human, but I was curious if it applied to all body heights. Being that you're a little shorter than me I wanted to see if you had the same," Wade explained his current lunacy as Logan started to wake up a little more though it took him a moment to really process everything that had been said.

"Huh? The fuck are ya-eheheheehee-Ribs? Course I do, dipshihihit. Now stohahahop it," he was unsuccessful in trying to block out Wade's hands as they continued up his sides.

"I sure will. Once I have verified the facts. Though I'm pretty sure this would go a lot quicker if you would just hold still," Wade smirked big time, knowing there was absolutely no way Logan could ever stay still for something like this when his torso was so ridiculously sensitive, "Okay looks like that's number 5…..and oh, there's 6…."

"How abohohout I c-count your teeheeheeheeth after I knohohock 'em outta your fuhuhuhucking head?" Logan chuckled hard, taking a half-hearted and easily dodge-able swing with his fist towards Wade.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, muffin cakes. Come on, this is a fun game. At least smile, would ya?" Wade teased, looking down at his friend while increasing the speed that his fingers wiggled around against his sides.

The X-man's grin had lit up his normally stoic face while he made many attempts to shove Wade's arms away, but those nimble fingers were practically glued to his sides.

"Of ahahahall the stuhuhuhupid-Eeeheheheheheheh! Stahahahap, ya mohohohoron! Thehehehey're all thehehehere!" Logan was giggling uncontrollably and sinking back into the couch cushions, trying to will his body to phase through and escape but there was only so much give that he was allowed.

Truthfully after the relaxing day he'd had and the keg of beer in his belly he found that he wasn't too bothered about Wade waking him up with his dumb experiment.

"How can I be certain? Got any proof? Any reliable witnesses to corroborate your case? Hmm? Perhaps you have an x-ray of your body to show me? A scientific essay conducted by a world renowned researcher? Any of those would be acceptable."

Logan obviously could only shake his head.

"N-Nohohohohoo, buhut I can cuhuhut myself opehehehen and-ahahahahaa-you cahahahan loohoohook for yoursehehehelf!" He released one claw from his hand as Wade gasped in horror and quickly grabbed his wrist to pin it to the couch with his knee.

"Ohhh no you don't. You're crazy if you think I'm gonna allow my precious little badger to cause himself any harm. Besides my method is way less messy. Just wish I knew why you find it to be so funny," he stated, playing dumb as Logan attempted to growl through his giggles, though the intimidation factor was completely lost.

"Yohohohou f-fucking knohow why I'm lahahahahaughin', ya ihihihihidiot!" He retracted the sharp blade back into his body, trying to squirm free, "Now gehehehet outta thehehehere, ohohor ehehehelse!"

The threats were in full effect, but the claws remained sheathed.

Wade recognized that Logan was in a more light-hearted mood than normal, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. If he had woken up with murder on his mind then Wade might have been more inclined to back off sooner. But now that he had the green light it was on!

"Or else what? Doesn't seem like you're trying too hard to stop me," he called his bluff and grinned at how the man weakly pulled at his wrists with his one free hand and was trying to curl up in defense.

He knew Logan would be fighting him a lot harder than this if he was really as disagreeable as he wanted him to think.

Actually, Wolverine had a little secret he was keeping. He would die before admitting it out loud, but there were times he found that he actually enjoyed this. Yes, enjoyed getting tickled within an inch of his life.

Definitely not at first though. And to fully grasp the situation we'll have to rewind the story just a…

"Aw nohohoo bub! Thehehey don't neeheed to hehehear all o' thahahat!"

Wade's heart skipped a beat as he gasped in excitement.

"Oh em gee! Your first fourth wall break! I'm so fucking proud of you!"

Shush, we're doing this.

Anyways Logan couldn't remember ever being tickled before so the day Wade had discovered that he was in fact quite ticklish he did everything in his power to fight him off and avoid it altogether. Wade wouldn't back off though and inevitably got him pinned down, even though it resulted in several stab wounds to his head and torso.

Having been alive for over 200 years Logan was very used to experiencing pain of some of the highest levels physically and mentally, but tickling was something very alien to him. Not surprisingly he struggled with processing the maddening, yet gentle touches.

He didn't like to show any signs of weaknesses, but being tickled completely overwhelmed his heightened senses, especially in the touch department, and it was impossible for him to not react to it. There had been feelings of anger and humiliation at how easily simple fingers were able to render him powerless, and it only got worse once he finally broke into agonized laughter.

Logan hated the feeling of not having control, especially over his own body. Once he had managed to break free, he had been extremely cross with Wade and went into one of his brooding moods for the majority of the day.

After giving him time to cool off, Wade eventually approached him to apologize, and Logan shrugged it off now that his temper had died down. Though he had been working on trying to better himself and he explained to Wade what it had made him feel and why he had reacted so strongly against it.

Wolverine being vulnerable enough to share his feelings with him was one of the only times Wade was ever completely serious and really gave his full attention. Despite getting a kick out of always annoying him Wade never wanted to cause him true stress and it made him feel like a real asshole when Logan ended up apologizing to him too.

Wade promised to never do it to him again but added that he just got carried away due to the fact that he really liked seeing Logan not only smile but laugh especially. Logan had become utterly stupefied by that confession. He thought Wade had only been trying to torment and embarrass him, which was what had really set him off.

He had then taken the next few days to reflect on that. He could definitely empathize with how good it felt to see someone you really cared about experiencing joy. Knowing that Wade's intentions were far from malicious had really put his mind at ease about it, realizing that his pride had gotten the better of him.

And the more he thought back on it it really wasn't that bad.

Which was why Wade's squawk of surprise when Logan tackled him from out of nowhere to attack his sides with tickles gave Logan the same fuzzy feeling he assumed Wade had had. Wade not only was laughing from the tickling, but from relief as well, realizing that he'd been unspokenly forgiven.

He didn't even fight it and just let Logan tickle him to his heart's content until finally the man stopped and grunted that he had hoped he'd "learned his lesson" while giving him a small smirk.

Wade was able to read between the lines and took the chance to pounce him the very next day, and despite some growling threats he received the older mutant didn't seem entirely displeased. Logan had completely let his guard down, which now enabled him to truly experience it in full.

Still, he made Wade work for it before he finally stopped holding in his laughter. The crazy merc then proceeded to make him laugh harder than he could ever remember doing in his past, and he found the brain chemical effects from that to do wonders for his mood.

The funny thing about it to Logan was that even though he was rendered helpless from tickling he realized that he was still 100% safe, and he found that to be a very comforting thought. It was a new experience for him to be in such a close proximity struggle where the end goal wasn't to try to hurt or kill him.

Sure, Wade would use tickling as a form of retaliation a lot of times, but it was all the same to Logan by now. Naturally he wasn't always in the mood for a tickle attack, but these days more often than not he didn't fight it too much and was quite content to let his roommate turn him into a squirming, wheezing wreck.

Of course, for appearances sake, Logan would still curse his head off and threaten the man's life at every turn. Up until the mischievous merc would tickle him to the point he could barely take it and turn that macho attitude into desperate pleas for mercy.

Which brings us back to our current situation.

"Dahahammit! I-I dihihihidn't ahahask for a wahahahaake up cahahahall!"

"No thanks needed! It's totally complimentary in el Casa de Wade. But don't mind me, feel free to go back to sleep. I'm just going to keep counting these ribs here until we get to the bottom of this. Ah, finally we found 7 and 8."

Wade was still acting as if this whole idea was just to count his ribs and hadn't even acknowledged that he was purposely tickling him and realizing that made Logan feel even more giddy as he let out a snort and shook his head.

"Wade c'mooon! Get ohohohoff! Ya-heehehehe-Ya know I'm ticklihihihihish, fucker!" His big-muscled arms were clamped so tightly against his sides, but there was no stopping the determined fingers crawling up his ribs.

"Whaaa? Wolverine? Ticklish? Ha! That's absurd! My guy Logan is way too mean and strong and tough to be affected by something so childish! Oh boy, and I thought I was the king of jokes around here. Now come on, stop messing around and just move your arms out of the way so I can finish this," Wade smirked, loving to tease him about his ticklishness in regard to his hard-core reputation.

"You fuhuhuhucking ahahahasshohohohole!" Logan snorted hard and now fell over to the side as he began scooting along the couch to get away.

"Heheh, where do you think you're going? Stop being so dramatic, Nancy Kerrigan. It's okay to make that joke now, right? 30 years later is fair," he shrugged at the camera, not letting up one bit as he followed along with his squirming prey, "I can feel 9 and 10 now. We're almost halfway there! Oooh! How exciting!"

"Cuhuhut it ohohohout! Heeheheheheheheh! Juhuhust drohop this stuhuhupid ideheeheeheea!"

The higher Wade went the stronger the tickling sensations felt, and Logan was pretty sure he was going to die before the last of his ribs were even reached, though in his mind it honestly wasn't the worst way for him to go.

"🎵 Ohhhh the itsy-bitsy spiders crawled up the waterspout….🎵," Wade effortlessly sing-songed with clawed fingers continuing their torturously slow progress, thoroughly scraping over every rib bone they came across, "🎵 Down came the rain….but couldn't wash the spiders out because they were having too much fun counting all these cute little ribbies. 🎵."

It always made Logan feel silly whenever Wade's teases took on a more juvenile form. He was the tenacious and deadly Wolverine and yet Wade was treating him like he was just some harmless little kid. He was never able to stop the blush from spreading across his face.

"Shuhuhuhuut uhuhuhup! Ohohor you're gohohonna haahahave another fuhuhuhuckin'-Hahahahahahehee-hohohohole t-to breheeheeheeathe outta yohohour fahahahat hehehehead!"

"Wow. We're body shaming now? I'm very sensitive about my fat head, you know. Well have you looked in the mirror lately, mister? Just walking around with those big, sexy arms and your handsomely chiseled jawline, and don't even get me started on all that sculpted beef that you're hiding in disgrace underneath this shirt. Yeah, doesn't feel so good now, does it, you absurdly attractive man? Uh huh….oh….yup, right there we got 11 and 12."

Wade was just so ridiculous sometimes, but when Logan was already caught in a laughing fit the merc's unstoppable blabbering only succeeded in making him laugh even harder. And unfortunately, he was slowly losing his will to carry on with acting tough through this tickle session.

"Fihihihiiine! I'm-heeheehehahahahaha-I'm sorrrrry! I tahahahake it bahahahaack! Just stooohohohoooop!" Logan didn't know how much more he could take of this. Actually, he did know due to having suffered under Wade's fingers for months now, and the answer was a lot.

"Why? I'm just trying to get a count here. 13……14…..It's for science. Hey look, I'm sorry……," Wade pretended to show some remorse before breaking into a huge smirk, "Sorry my wittle Wolvie-polvie is too freakin' ticklish for his own good!"

Logan's back finally met the armrest of the couch, preventing him from going any further as he leaned back over it to try to get away. Though this now had his ribcage fully stretched out as Wade stepped it up and dug his fingers in mercilessly between rib bones, making Logan positively howl in laughter.

"Ahahahahaa! Wade naahahahahahahaho! Pleheheease! Thahahahaat tickles!" He thrashed madly trying to wiggle away, but Wade had him pinned right where he wanted him as he just snickered at the situation.

"I think at this point you know that was part of my plan all along. Hehehe, but we're so close! Think of the prestige we'll get from this scientific breakthrough! Oh! I think I just found 15! Oooh! And could that be 16?! C'mon, buddy! Bear with me now!"

The upper ribs were basically in Logan's armpits that were covered with a more fleshy layer and Wade was really having to probe in there to actually feel the bones beneath.

"Not thehehehere! Noohot thehehehehehehhehehere! Haahahahaheeheeheeheehaa! Mehehehehercyyyyyy! Logan squealed helplessly with his head tilted back and showing off his elongated canine teeth; his face as red as a tomato as tears squeezed out of his tightly shut eyes.

The feral man's t-shirt had ridden up, exposing the lower half of his ripped stomach and Wade was currently in a position where it was at eye level. He smirked as he thought about how crazy Logan got whenever he would blow raspberries into his tummy, and he found the urge to do so was just too strong to resist as he took a deep breath.

"WAAAHahAHaHAhaHAHAAADE!!" Logan screamed with the first oral assault landing directly around his navel, breaking into silent laughter while wheezing desperately for air. Many more blows were delivered to his belly and ribs while the fingers continued tickling in his armpits as Logan summoned up any energy he had left and pushed with all he had in him at Wade's head and shoulders.

Eventually after being slapped and punched in the head so many times, Wade finally allowed himself to be pushed away, taking one last nibble at his hip bone.

"Geez, calm down Hugh, you over actor," he chuckled as he looked down at the man who was currently swallowing all the air he could and gingerly wiping away at tears.

"Okaaahaahay…..Fuckin' Hell……That's it…..for nohohow…..Y-You got me…..good……No more….right?"

"Weeeeeell if you would have just stayed still, we could have had this all over with. But noooooo, you just had to make me lose count," Wade sighed loudly in feigned disappointment, "Looks like I'm gonna have to start aaaallllllll over again."

With a wicked grin he began reaching out towards the still incapacitated man who was now shaking his head frantically as his hands raised in defense.

"N-No Wade. Not again. Stay back. Heehehehe-please. I can't take any more," he couldn't help giggling in anticipation as Wade hovered over him again.

"Hold still now…Don't worry Peanut, we'll get through this together. So that's 1……and 2…….and a coochie coochie coo…," Wade started again on his waist to get at his bottom ribs as Logan was already breaking into squeals.

"20?! Again?! For real?! I've counted three times already!"

Logan was hanging halfway off the couch; his hair sticking out in every direction and his cheeks slicked with tears as he coughed and tried to regain any hint of sanity he had left.

"It's……It's……fine…….Wade…..I'm sure……..they're in……there……somewhere……," he panted weakly, slowly starting to feel his energy revitalize.

"Or maybe you really do only have 20? My theory that you have fewer since you are shorter may be correct!" Wade was getting lost in his thoughts, but then at that moment a voice of reason sounded off.

"And remember, the 11th and 12th pair of ribs are referred to as 'floating ribs' and are only attached at the backbone….," the television was still on and by this point the doctor had gone back around and was summarizing everything he had just talked about.

The light bulb finally went on in Wade's head.

"Oh yeeeeah……forgot about those little buggers," Wade slowly turned to look at his friend whose eyes went wide as he scrambled to get away.

Five seconds later and Wade had Logan pinned on his stomach as his fingers wiggled into his lower back to find the missing rib pairs while Logan cackled wildly and pounded his fists with his feet uselessly kicking at the cushions.

"23…..and 24! Well would you look at that! I guess all humans are the same after all!" Wade declared happily as he finally climbed off of his roommate, signaling the end of his reign of terror, "Whaddya think, Wolvie? Aren't you so glad to have that useful little tidbit of information at your disposal?"

Logan gradually rolled over onto his back and raised an annoyed brow.

"Could've just fuckin' Googled it, bub," he growled, though a smile was still stuck on his face.

"Okay I admit waking you up may not have been the nicest way to go about it, but you know how impatient I am. And be honest, you really don't seem that upset about it," Wade grinned, reaching over to scribble fingers over his now exposed stomach while Logan snorted chuckles and tried to block him out with his knees before rolling away.

"You're lucky I didn't piss my pants, asshole. Drank a shit load of beers right before I fell asleep. I gotta piss like a fucking racehorse now," Logan stumbled to his feet and walked off to use the bathroom.

Wade grinned as he watched him walk away before turning to the audience.

"He's cute, ain't he? And I didn't hear any denial in that, did you? He doesn't know that I heard the author spill his secret earlier. It's nice to know that he actually enjoys it, even if he won't say it. I'm totally good with that."

The sound of Logan groaning in relief echoed down the hallway followed by the toilet flushing several moments later before he walked back out to join Wade on the couch.

"Did you make sure to put the seat back down? Althea won't be happy if she falls in again," he asked as Logan looked at him with a frown.

"That one was on you, shithead. I always remember to. You've lived how many years with this poor lady? I seriously don't know how she's put up with your stupid, inconsiderate ass for so long."

"Exactly the same way you do, sugar tits," Wade grinned and pinched his cheek, receiving an adamantium elbow into his side and grunting as the air was knocked out of him momentarily.

"It's a daily struggle that's for sure. But I owe ya a lot for breaking me out of my destructive cycle, so we'll call it even," Logan had softened his demeanor, knowing he truly owed Wade his gratitude as the other man noted this and took advantage of his guard being down.

"Awww there it is! Right there! I knew you loved me!" Wade squealed as he jumped onto Logan's lap and wrapped his arms around his head in the tightest of hugs.

"Gaah! Wade! Fuckin' dammit! Let go of me!" Logan struggled to pry Wade off of him until he was hit with a moment of inspiration as he latched his fingers onto Wade's unprotected sides to start tickling him with everything he had.

"Aahaahahah! Logan dohohohohooot! Thahahahat's nohohohot fahahahaaair!" Wade yelped with giggles as he quickly tried to escape, but Logan held him firmly in place.

"Fair? Okay, let's be fair. See we learned that all my ribs are there, but seems we've overlooked yours. Think it's best we check that out right away, don't you?" Logan asked with a crooked grin as Wade frantically shook his head while thrashing in his lap, "No? Well ain't that just too damn bad."

Logan dug right in with both strong hands, not even hiding the fact that his mission was to tickle the absolute shit out of his roommate.

"Okaahahahay yohohou cahahan cheheheck! Heheehhehahah! Juhuhust nohoho tihihihickling!"

"Now how do ya expect me to do that? You got an x-ray or some bullshit to show me? A fuckin' thesis paper on the matter? What? Ya don't? Well that fuckin' sucks for you. Looks like we're doing this the old-fashioned way. What number was I on? Oh yeah….1…….1…….1……1 again….."

"Cahahahahaaan't you fuhuhucking cohohount, you neahahahanderthal?!?!"

Logan smirked big time, repeatedly prodding into the same rib over and over.

"Guess not. Numbers apparently aren't my strong suit. Looks like this is gonna take alllll day then."

Wade could only laugh and squeal in response, knowing he had sealed his own doom.

#tickle fic #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #lee!wolverine #lee!logan #ler!deadpool #ler!wade #deadpool tickle #wolverine tickle

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 1 year ago

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Hi I'm back. How are you?

How about... A yandere that has had a bunch of lovers and either killed them because he got bored or broke their heart beyond repair? But them he meets the reader and something changes?

Idk it seems like a fun dea.

Yandere! Male! Player x gn! Barista! Reader

Uh ohz, here is the player 🙄 there's a little twist to the request, meowing! I hope you don't mind. (Another Greek mythos twist. Not as blatant as Hades though. Only a bit of the Greek mythos is grabbed, not all.)

I'll see to it how can we break this little man

ヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)

AND, I AM GOING TO STOP TAKING NEW YANDERE REQUESTS! But, I am going to take asks about the existing yanderes now!

Yandere! Player name: Amor

A resounding slap echoed throughout the bustling cafe, silencing the people talking to each other. The woman, tear stricken and angry, looked at the man in front of her.

"We're over!" She yelled before stomping away from the cafe, leaving the man behind.

The people started to gossip amongst each other, but one particular action by the man stunned them.

He just sat down, took out his phone, and called somebody.

"Hey, fancy meeting tonight? I just know of this nice cafe. Date, my treat."

Shameless, the people thought as he chuckled and ended the call with a lazy smirk, stirring his coffee and sipping it.

Amor. Extremely handsome man. Charming, always knew how to get the ladies.

That's what made him full of shit since being handsome is his only redeeming quality.

He's arrogant, a bastard, selfish, has a pride taller than the Eiffel tower, and a total player.

He juggles women left and right, flavor of the day, who's gonna be my girl for the morning, afternoon, and night?

Why do people flock to this man again?

Ah, because the Gods favor this bitch.

What did he do in his past life that women love this man?

Well, in his past life, he's a boring nerd.

His family loved him dearly, and wanted him to succeed in life.

So, attending academic camps, prestigious schools, goddamn Kumon? He got it all.

Awards, upon awards. He collects them like pokemon.

Did it make him interesting?

No. All he knew is academics, and no outside skill.

He's book smart, not street smart.

Poor guy wasn't even attractive. So, when he finished University in an Ivy League Uni, he's lost. He doesn't have charisma to charm employers, he doesn't have the confidence to do public work...

Well, that, and NASA already hired him.

What? He is not street smart and has a hard time finding a job himself, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have connections.

In short, he's a Nepo baby.

At least he's a genius so NASA made sure to use him thoroughly.

But, he felt... Bored.

He wanted more from this life of his.

He wanted a girlfriend for fuck's sake!

So, by some stupid and desperation he himself never thought of doing, he turned to the old gods.

The old Gods, surprised by a sudden influx of eager and desperation of faith from only one man, decided to entertain them.

"PLEASE! WHEN I DIE, MAKE ME EXTREMELY HANDSOME AND HAVE WOMEN LEFT AND RIGHT!"

Oh... That's not...

He's really superficial....

Did the Gods care though? Nah. He's really entertaining. Awakening old Gods just for... Women?

So they granted his wish.

When he died of old age (unfortunately for him.), He woke up to another wealthy and loving family. But this time, he's the son of a world renowned Kpop idol, and a Miss Universe.

"This is overkill." Amor thought to himself as his mother cradled her. "But damn, ain't I happy!"

Growing up, even as a kid, girls liked him. He felt like on the top of the world. He retained his memory, so he's practically a gifted child. No, perfect child even!

Except that he's actually a foul kid.

He became arrogant, a snob. Someone who viewed himself too highly for people.

But do his parents care?

Eh...

They spoil the kid a lot. And turn a blind eye to his lack in manners.

Again, went to prestigious Universities, to Kumon, academic camps.

Everything was a breeze for him now.

He got a job as a model immediately. He decided to not go down the academic path, but use his parents' connections once more to climb up the showbiz ladder!

He's still a Nepo baby in this life.

Well, again, his handsomeness is almost too good to be true (work of the goddess of beauty), so his model career is skyrocketing in success.

And women.

Countless of them.

He cycles through them like toilet paper. Throwing them away once he's got his fill.

Yet, people don't care.

He somehow built a reputation off of being a player. When people say that "he broke somebody's heart again!"

"Eh, what did you expect from being in a relationship with Amor?" They would say with a shake of their head and a smile.

That's how much the Gods intervened with his life.

Once he sets his eyes on someone, he 100% would get them.

Unless....

"Tsk. Where can I go now..."

Amor paced around the street, turning heads left and right as this man sculpted by the gods had a worried look on his face.

The cafe he frequents closed down, now he needs a new place to take his women to dates to.

He's about to get his phone when a flyer hit him directly on his face. With an irritated glower, he grabbed the flyer.

"ow! What the f... Oh?"

He stopped, seeing the content.

"new cafe open?"

It looks like a generic cafe. But what was interesting was that the cafe is located in an indoor garden. Like a greenhouse.

"This is interesting. Women love flowers, don't they? And a garden of all places!" He laughs, making the gods stir from the sudden new cafe they got.

They all fuzzed, saying that this would be a good place. But, the goddess of Beauty stirred. Saying she got a bad feeling about this.

"relax, nothing will happen."

And when he got inside the cafe, he immediately got shocked by the barista, you.

Has there ever been an ethereal beauty like you? Someone... Someone who rivals even the goddess of beauty herself?!

The goddess stirred again, shackles raised. She never made you, so why are you this attractive?

Then, the goddess whispered on his ear.

It's to make you fall in love with a monster. Someone ugly, a beast... Anything to get your status down! Nobody can be as beautiful as her!

Envy filled the goddess as she gave Amor arrows to hit you with.

Now, assigned with the task of making you fall in love with what the goddess call a 'monster', he sets off to your house in the middle of the night. With the help of the other Gods, he became invisible and flew on to your balcony.

With a creak, your balcony doors opened. Making him shimmy inside through the small crack.

Yet, fate tempted him as the moonlight hit your form. In a vulnerable state, your androgynous beauty is amplified. Your long eyelashes, your skin... Your figure...

Truly, your beauty rivaled the goddess. No, you were more beautiful than her.

His throat dried, eyes glazed over.

Gods, are they tempting him?

It would be a waste for you to fall in love with an ugly guy.

His fingers twitched, trying to grab the arrow.

"OW!"

He seethed, doubling over as he clutched his finger. It got pricked by the arrow.

He somehow forgot a crucial information.

'whoever the first person the pricked sees if the arrows only pricked one, they will fall in love with the first person they sees.'

And, as his eyes irritably looked at you, overwhelming love filled inside him as he gasped in the sudden influx of emotions.

He kneeled down, eyes wide.

He's rigid. All he could see is your form. Lovely and so bright.

And hid eyes softened. A dull light in it as his lips twitched into a lovesick smile.

He was already attracted to you before, and now, pricked by the arrows, he's utterly obsessed with you.

With a twitch of his hand once more, he grabbed the arrow and stabbed himself fully to the thigh.

"GAGH!"

He doubled over, gasping, twitching for air as his heart pulsed through his ears. His eyes frantically finding your sleeping form before letting out a shaky moan from the satisfaction.

It was like a drug. Everytime he sees you, he gets overwhelmed with feelings of affection.

Is this what love is about?

And before he knows it, the arrows are all used up.

It was morbid, seeing this man stabbed with so many arrows.

But his face says otherwise. Like a drugged up man, overdosed on ecstacy, he was in a drooling trance from the addictive feeling of love for you.

The arrow is effective enough by one arrow, and now this?

Well, let's just say...

"I count, right?" He shakily asked the gods. "I'm a monster, somebody who breaks women's heart left and right."

He trembled, standing up.

He walked over to you, legs unsteady as he dropped to his knees once more and planted his lips on your own.

It tasted, you tasted so sweet, divine upon his lips.

He wants more, but he can't risk waking you up.

"Goodbye, my love. See you tomorrow." Amor whispered, grabbing your hand and dragging his nose on your skin and inhaling your scent. Exhaling shakily, he stood up and flew away.

Let's say, the goddess of Beauty was really angry at him.

But her condition, a 'monster', fits him. So, what can she do?

She gritted her teeth and looked at him with hatred, yet complacency.

You're so pretty, it hurts.

"Welcome to the Psyche cafe! How may I help you-- oh hello, sir Amor! The usual?"

Amor slowly nodded, clearing his throat.

"yes. The usual."

It's been weeks since then. And he made sure to make himself a regular in the cafe. He stopped going on dates, and pulled a lot of strings to somehow burry the player accusations. He knows he can't really burry it all.

So he made (threatened) the women he dated to be positive about him.

He wants to fly on your radar, spot on the middle, so bad.

So, with the invisibility power he got from the Gods, he always followed you. Even up to your home.

At first, his heart pounded like crazy. What if he suddenly appeared? Will you be freaked out? Surprised? Will you run away--

No, you can't run away.

Like you can, anyways.

He knew of your favorite food, fashion sense, hell, your taste in men...

He slowly changed himself into the man of your dreams.

Like a persona he integrated into himself, this sudden change shocked the people. But, they welcomed this change.

"Is he in love, that's why he's changing?"

More than that.

He's making himself into the perfect boyfriend for you.

Now, all he needs is you!

"Here's your coffee, sir!" You greeted with a sweet smile that he swore he had to grab his soul from leaving his body. "Enjoy!"

He gently grabbed the coffee and as usual, gave you 200$.

"sir..." You grimaced.

"Please, just accept it." He smiles. "You've always been a pleasant person to talk to, y/n. So, just see it as a generous tip. That I frequently give."

You looked down at the bill and smiled. Warmness spreads through your chest.

"thank you s--"

You looked up, and froze from the look he's giving you.

Deep, crazed...

Obsessed.

You shivered in fear.

Sensing your eyes on him, he coughed loudly, averting his eyes before returning to the man you knew.

Or did you actually know him?

You don't even know anymore.

But hey, he gives huge tips.

"Thanks again for the coffee." Amor smiles, trying to sweep what happened under the rug as he waved at you.

He went to his usual table. Somewhere secluded, yet has a clear view of you surrounded by flowers.

He observes you. Plans on what to do next.

He knew he can't just waltz in and whisk you away. That's barbaric.

But he's not opposed to the idea though...

He smirks.

He can probably pull tons of strings for you to end up in his arms.

He loves you, don't mistake that.

But, a little bit of... Force would be good.

He's an impatient man.

Also, did he mention that he's a selfish asshole?

How about, making your life so miserable. Getting you kicked out of this cafe, your family suddenly getting a huge debt...

Something he knows you can't pay immediately.

And his family would coincidentally sponsor you by giving you a condition of marrying him!

Anything to be with you, really.

Or, just steal another arrow and hit it with you. That's also plausible.

But, the goddess is pissed with him. So that's the last resort.

He sips his coffee and crosses his long legs.

He's favored by the Gods anyways.

His eyes narrowed slightly as you interacted too amicably with your coworker. An obvious blush on the coworker's face as he got too touchy with you.

No, everyone in the cafe is enamoured with you. Your beauty too good for this world.

He gripped the handle of his cup.

But first, let's get rid of potential rivals, yes?

You are only his.

What is there to fear? He has the resources in his hands to make you his.

You didn't know yet, but your fate is already sealed, tied, and shackled to him.

You don't really have a choice.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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himboblaze · 7 months ago

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nah the fact that they didn’t even let mapleshade attend the burial of her own children is FOUL. they took her kits away from her moments after they died without allowing her to say goodbye and then banished her from the territory so she would never see them or their graves again. what the actual fuck was that about

#warrior cats #mapleshade #child death /

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lint-beetle4 · 3 months ago

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Eclipse (ShadowPeach Smut)

For a popular ship, there is a lot of potential with how powerful both of these monkeys are that I haven't seen explored much. I hope you enjoy!

Smut below

Every day and night, the sky would be met by the enticing light of the moon and the sun. Glowing in their powerful aura, they danced together as they watched over their domain. Yet, every few years or so, they would grow lonely, craving more than the occasional dance steps that they would greet by.

During these moments, gentle touches and whispers would greet them, love shining through the penumbra of their embrace.

Macaque was a vicious fighter, agile and cruel. He knew how to throw dirty blows and tricks that would make his opponents stumble. His counterpart, Wukong however, was smart, cheeky, able to have his opponents drive themselves mad in order to land a hit on the sage. Wukong used emotions and his own words to strike while Macaque bared his claws and lashed out with precision. Together, they were unstoppable; against the other, they were at a stalemate.

Macaque panted as him and Wukong sparred, his strength fleeting. Wukong seemed tired too, his fur drenched in sweat. It didn't help that it was a particularly humid summer day, but that wouldn't deter either of the warriors, weather was only an inconvenience never a game-changer. Wukong's staff stood firmly in his grasp, the stone monkey's tail lashing in his excitement.

"What's wrong, Macaque?" The prideful monkey grinned. "Giving up, already?"

Macaque grinned, shaking his head as he charged at Wukong, shadows changing the land before the two as Wukong fell, Macaque's cudgel blocking the king from rising up.

"Nah, I'm just getting started." The shadow demon smirked, looking down at Wukong's fallen form with satisfaction. "It seems I've won though, huh? Do you concede, Wukong? You don't have much of a choice anyways?"

The air was still, Wukong's eyes strong, yielding no signs of surrender. Wukong chuckled lowly, his feet kicking up to off-balance Macaque, the darker monkey quickly retreating as Wukong stood to his feet.

"How about we actually get started then, Macaque. This warm-ups been fun and all, but I want to see your true power."

Macaque grinned toothily, a near snarl as he stood straight, his posture braced for the quick movements Wukong seemed to be itching to fight back. The heat of the sun couldn't match the intense glare of the two monkeys, both eager to win over the other.

It was Sandy's idea, interestingly enough, to have them spar as a form of bonding. While neither was opposed, the two definitely have gotten into quarrels through the mountain as they fought, calls of cheating or foul play. Eventually, they decided that a fair fight is one where the only limit is serious harm to the opponent or the land around them.

Thus, the two exchanged blow after blow, rounds of fighting that seemed to barely drain the other. The sun had lowered further, and Wukong’s clones had thoroughly pinned Macaque to the ground, hot breaths tickling the shadow demon as Macaque panted, nearly heaving to catch his breath.

Macaque groaned against the clones, trying to move his body against the clones. Wukong stepped over to Macaque, a pleased smirk as his hand trailed along Macaque’s face, lifting the angered celestial monkey’s chin to meet his eyes.

“You could give up now, peaches, or we could be here all night? How about it?”

Macaque spat on the ground, sharp teeth bared at Wukong as he growled with piercing eyes towards the sage. “Do your worst, Great Sage, I’m never conceding.”

Wukong lifted an eyebrow, face leaning closer to Macaque’s. “Colors?”

“Red for stop, Yellow for pause, Green to keep going.” Macaque rolled his eyes, his expression softening briefly at Wukong.

Wukong tapped on Macaque’s cheek, smirk returning to him. “Good boy.”

“What’s this all about, Wukong?” Macaque quickly returned to character, weakly struggling against the clones that looked at the monkey underneath them with hungry eyes.

One of Wukong’s clones brushed against Macaque’s tail, trailing the sensitive nerves that connected to it. Macaque shivered underneath its touch, his expression never wavering.

“You’ll lose one way or another, Six-Eared Macaque.” Wukong nearly spat, another clone lifting Macaque slightly, hands groping at Macaque’s chest. “Until I hear those words, I’ll just keep toying with you.”

Macaque glared hardening, a blushing forming on his face as the hands fondled his chest, lightly pinching at his clothed nipples. Macaque sighed, hiding his moans from Wukong’s piercing expression.

“I–I’m not falling to your tricks, Great Sage.”

Wukong smirked, “Have it your way. All you need to do is beg, and I’ll be right here to fill all those needs of yours.”

Macaque whimpered lightly as the hands stroked his stomach, sliding through his clothes and peeling them off slowly. One of the clones had marked Macaque’s neck with deep bite marks, pulsating and radiating with pleasure and pain. Macaque gasped, feeling his outer shift being stripped away and mouths latching onto his chest like hungry cubs.

Wukong’s voice whispered to Macaque, deep and rumbling in Macaque’s sensitive ears.

“Look at you, writhing and squirming against my clones…Color?”

“Green,” Macaque moaned, his body slowly going limp as the various touches along his body overwhelmed him. They pressed hot against his fur, kissing and suckling that trailing through body while Macaque weakly struggled against the arms that held him in place.

One clone was brave enough to go lower, tongue trailing along Macaque’s stomach, pressing kisses and light nips against his hips while avoiding the growing hunger that built in Macaque’s pants. Yet, Wukong merely watched as clones continued to overwhelm the celestial monkey, eyes hungry, nearly devouring the sight of Macaque weak against the sensational torment of Wukong’s clones.

“Mng,” Macaque groaned, mouth covered by a clone fiercely smashing his lips into Macaque’s, moans muffled as drool trailed down Macaque’s face.

“Just one word, Macaque, and I’m all yours.”

Wukong’s voice teased him again, and Macaque pulled away from the clone, glaring at Wukong.

“Fuck. You.”

Wukong huffed, an amused grin on his face. Wukong sat back, pulling out a half-erect cock in front of Macaque’s face. “Have it your way.”

With a simple gesture, the sage’s clones continued further, more aggressively as blood dripped down the various bite marks that littered Macaque’s body. Hands reached down to paw at Macaque’s erection, pants sliding off painfully slow as Macaque’s breath hitched at the cool dusk air hitting his pussy.

“What’re you–” Macaque yelped, feeling a hand lightly stroke against Macaque’s now wet cunt, throbbing and twitching for more sensation as rough skin and light touches sent shivers down Macaque’s spine.

Whispers of the clones filled Macaque’s ears, sour words and bitter chuckles that had Macaque twitching and groaning as he mewed weakly against the single hand that stroked him, teased him with the way it never pressed hard enough nor moved fast enough.

“So weak, like putty in our hands.”

“Getting off to clones? How laughable.”

“Does our touch replicate his so well? Enough for you to start moaning like a whore to a wealthy man?”

Macaque stuttered, breathing heavily against the warm bodies that enveloped him. “I–I’m not–”

“Sure you are,” Wukong’s voice growled in his ear, closer than Macaque had thought. “Just lose yourself, concede and I’ll give everything to you.”

Macaque moaned, eyes shut in the painful ecstasy that flowed through his body.

“Wukong,” Macaque’s voice shook heavily, his breaths ragged as Wukong’s face betrayed no emotion. “Wukong–I–”

“Tell me, Macaque.” Wukong’s voice slid easily through Macaque’s ears, silky and light. “What do you want?”

“I need you.” Macaque answered honestly, his tone begging as Macaque shivered once more, feeling himself getting close despite his craving for more touch–deeper, deeper, Macaque just needed them to go deeper. “I need you to–to breed me. Inside of me–I need you inside of me.”

Wukong’s chuckle sent waves of anticipation through Macaque’s body as footsteps and shuffling sounded around him. A new body pressed against Macaque, breath tickling him as Wukong’s tongue licks the shell of Macaque’s ear, nipping it lightly.

“As you wish,” Wukong’s smirk never left his voice, his member pressing up against Macaque’s pussy. “Color?”

“Wukong, for fuck’s sake–” Macaque yelled, turning back to Wukong while pressing his ass closer to the stone monkey. “Green, just fuck me already!”

Without a second thought, Wukong’s cock entered Macaque, Macaque groaning at the sudden entry, tightening against the member. Wukong didn’t stop for a second, hips thrusting aggressively against Macaque, grinding against him as the clones began to disappear one by one, leaving final bite marks against the panting monkey.

“Fuck–Gah,” Macaque moaned, arms now bracing against the ground as Wukong’s fangs latched onto Macaque’s shoulders. “Mng–Wukong–”

Wukong growled, possessive and controlling. Macaque’s moans grew louder, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as Wukong’s cock buried deep into Macaque’s cunt.

A building warmth filled Macaque’s core as Wukong continued to senselessly pound into Macaque, claws scratching at the darker monkey’s fur as Wukong’s growls and chuffs continued to fill Macaque’s ears. Macaque’s arms were weak, being held up by Wukong as Macaque’s body was practically limp against Wukong.

“Macaque–” Wukong’s voice rasped against Macaque. “I’m–ghh–close.”

Macaque whimpered, feeling the rough pads of Wukong’s fingers rubbing against his clit. “Hnng, Wukong–Fuck–Inside, fill me up–I need your pups in me, Wukong–”

Macaque felt something snap inside of him, hot streams of cum pouring into his burning, raw pussy as his groans were nearly in sync with Wukong’s. Macaque felt Wukong pulsating in him, going flacid as he slowly drew out his dick, spreading Macaque’s cheeks to admire his work. Macaque’s legs gave out, shaking and weak as he slumped against the ground.

“You’ve lost.” Wukong’s voice was hoarse, rough against the darker sky that slowly became night.

Macaque growled, his teeth biting against his lip dangerous as Macaque’s tail thud against the ground. With a weak, quivering voice, Macaque spoke. “Fine, you win, Great Sage. I concede.” Wukong hummed, satisfied and proud of his win. Lifting himself off of Macaque, Wukong helped him up, carrying the exhausted shadow demon back to his hut while brushing off any remaining dust from the both of them.

“How many wins is that for you again? Like 8?” Macaque asked, fixing his scuffed clothes with shadows that tiredly mended his clothing.

Wukong shrugged, walking into his hut as he took out some fruits for him and Macaque to share. “I’m pretty sure we’re almost even though. Last time, you took me out pretty quickly.”

“That’s because you got distracted by one of your subjects borderline harassing me,” Macaque chuckled, laying down still sore from the thorough beating his body had taken. Wukong’s only response was an amused chuckle, sitting by Macaque as Wukong cuddled into him, a slight apology for being rougher than he wanted to be.

#lmk shadowpeach #lego monkie kid shadowpeach #lego monkie kid macaque #six eared macaque #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong x macaque #lego monkie kid sun wukong #sun wukong #writing tag

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fruitbasketball · 5 months ago

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olympics recap 8/11

gold medal game: usa vs. france

what. the. fuck.

holy fuck.

actually no words i am still in shock.

y’all can never say geno don’t train his girls for the moment… gabby williams you did your big one

they got some light skin mfker hitting some crazy 3 as the clock runs down both games huh 😭😭😭

ANYWAY IMMA GO AHEAD AND ACT LIKE THAT FIRST HALF DIDN’T HAPPEN LMAOOOOO

wdym 25 point first half 😃😃😃😃😃 what!

that second half… OH MY GOD LIKE I AM GENUINELY GONNA REMEMBER THIS GAME FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK

nah bc kah locked INNNNN for us down that third quarter stretch. y’all see what that fmvp timing look like now????? okay bet. ICE philly.

a’ja’s shots not falling but she’s the best player in the world rn and she’s going to contribute in other ways - gimme boards, blocks, gimme DOUBLES BABY

that last few seconds; my heart palpitating, fucking hands shaking, palms sweating

gabby fouls kp, she hits one, misses the next, i’m thinking okay - just lock in on D, we got it. GABBY WILLIAMS HITS THE STUPIDEST 3 OF THE TOURNAMENT, I’M LIKE SHITTTTTT SHIT SHIT

then gabby sends kah to the line. one point lead, she makes it 3, back down the stretch, GABBY WILLIAMS FLOATER, BANKS IT IN????? I’M THINKING IT’S A 3, MY HEART IS LITERALLY IN MY THROAT, BUT SHE HOLDS UP A TWO TO HER TEAMMATES BRO HER TOE WAS ON THE LINE

i felt so bad for her omg but

HOOOOOOOOOOOOLY FUCK BRO

lemme get a medal count real quick:

3 for breanna stewart

3 for bg

and that is 6 GOLD MEDALS FOR DIANA TAURASI

GOD BLESS MY DYKES GOD BLESS AMERICA IMMA SEE Y’ALL BACK IN THE W

#wbb #wnba #women’s basketball #uconn wbb #team usa #olympics #paris 2024 #olympics recap by mina #diana taurasi #a’ja wilson #breanna stewart

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diorsluv · 1 year ago

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feather , part 11

“ i got you blocked ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

markestapa

liked by edwards.73, mackie.samo, yourusername, and 49,736 others

markestapa this dumbass decided she’s staying at my house for the winter break 🙄🙄

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername disclaimer i told him not to pick me up but he grabbed me anyways (I DID NOT CONSENT)

→ markestapa for someone always worried about rumors u seem to be perfectly fine LYING TO THE PUBLIC RN

→ yourusername OKAY BUT I’M ACTUALLY TELLING THE TRUTH

edwards.73 dont forget abt me i’m coming tomorrow

→ yourusername we’re gonna have soooo much fun!! (god save me i beg)

→ markestapa WE CAN TAKE YOU TO THE SMALL POND AT THE PARK edwards.73

→ lhughes_06 yo me, jack, quinn and duker are gonna be there in like 3 days

→ mackie.samo i’m already here 💪

username58 i feel so bad, our mini drysdale is gonna be surrounded by all those boys for a whole month

→ yourusername it’s not anything new unfortunately 😔

_alexturcotte seems like you and mark are having a lot of fun!

→ yourusername yup.. (i have to share a bathroom with him, ethan and mackie as soon as everyone else gets here)

→ bookerburke_ ur not like.. uncomfortable with that or anything? yourusername

→ yourusername no i stay over at theirs after parties all the time, i’m used to it don’t worry ❤️ bookerburke_

→ bookerburke_ oh…. ok

username45 STOP THEYRE MY FAVORITE PAIR

jamie.drysdale my mom’s still sad she didn’t wanna come to the bahamas with us

→ markestapa she told my mom 💀💀

→ yourusername IT’S SO EXPENSIVE AND I NEED TO STUDY ANYWAY

→ jamie.drysdale IT’S CALLED A BREAK FOR A REASON DUMMY

username49 if i wasn’t an avid dryshughes shipper then i would totally go for drystapa

→ username8 she has a bf now 😭

→ username90 doesn’t look like it username8

→ username60 I CAN’T username90 THAT’S SO FOUL

yourusername

liked by edwards.73, markestapa, trevorzegras, and 57,929 others

yourusername the one day it didn’t snow!! what a shocker right

view all comments

markestapa guys i drank that green juice today and let me tell you it’s DISGUSTING (it’s actually kinda good)

→ yourusername YOU AND ETHAN DRANK THE WHOLE THING SO I HAD TO MAKE A SECOND ONE 😭

→ markestapa whaaaaaat when did we do that

→ edwards.73 stop falsely accusing us yourusername (can you make more when we have morning practices)

username55 i love nature

dylanduke25 lets go skating tomorrow

→ yourusername ofccc you know it

username70 she’s in her green eraaaa

bookerburke_ lemme take you out when we get back?

→ yourusername maybeee 🤭

→ username85 ah hell nah

→ jamie.drysdale omg let me join!!!!! 😍😍😍

→ yourusername jamie wtf who hacked into ur account

lhughes_06 too bad it was just us two at the park, the scenery was great

→ yourusername frrr

→ username12 is this his way of saying what i think he’s saying

→ jackhughes bro wdym i was there too???

username48 what can she NOT do, she’s so perfect 😔

trevorzegras it’s better in cali come visit

→ yourusername stop trying to coerce me

mackie.samo god he’s going on and on AGAIN

→ markestapa oh so it wasn’t just me he was complaining to??

→ adamfantilli dude he texted me a whole ass paragraph

→ _quinnhughes i could hear him throwing the pillows from the other side of the house

→ dylanduke25 he just won’t stop man

→ lhughes_06 🙄

next chapter notes ) so my wifi was out for half the day and it really set me back and that’s why this is kinda bad.. BUT IT’S FINE WE BOUNCE BACK 💪💪

tags: @aliaology

#luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jamie drysdale #trevor zegras #jack hughes #alex turcotte #cole caufield #ethan edwards #mackie samoskevich #mark estapa #dylan duke #rutger mcgroarty #luca fantilli #adam fantilli

269 notes · View notes

da-rulah · 1 year ago

Text

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: With the whole town coming out to celebrate the Bicentennial, you're back to playing Daddy's good little girl. Still, the lingering hurt from your last encounter with Mary simmers away inside you. But the festivities carry on, and you have to act the part.

All eyes are on you; including Mary's...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of alcohol and drug usage, unwanted advances, jealousy, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill as mentioned in part 2), quickie

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Another big thank you to the wonderful @angellayercake and @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading and workshopping parts of these chapters with me. I adore you endlessly, and cannot thank you enough.

"Mare, c’mon man, that girl is practically undressing you with her eyes!” One of Mary’s friends, Davey – only named as such since his surname was Jones and he did indeed look like a pirate with a kraken for a best friend – slung an arm around Mary’s shoulders where he sat at their usual spot by the bar. Mary almost choked on the sip of beer he was taking, shoving his friend from him with an eye roll and leaning back on the bar.

“Told ya, I’m not into her,” he warned, taking another sip from the bottle neck.

“Why the fuck not? She’s hot as hell...” Davey screwed his nose up in disgust at Mary, shamelessly looking towards the beautiful girl in motorcycle leathers at the end of the bar who only seemed to have eyes for Mary.

“Leave him alone, Davey... You know that ain’t his type!” Forrest – also a nickname, given to him to take the piss out of his talent in track in high school – elbowed Davey in the ribs in jest.

“Nah, Mare only likes that ‘princess pussy’,” laughed Jed – no nickname, that actually was his name.

“Shut the fuck up, Jed,” Mary spat, not bothering to turn his head back to his friends.

To those around him, it was obvious he was sulking. But what wasn’t obvious, was why.

His friends weren’t aware of his second night with you, nor did they know why he had been in such a foul mood the last few days. But Mary’s mind was constantly occupied with re-enactments of the heated exchange on your rooftop.

He flitted between feeling hard done by, like he had done nothing wrong, and digging his heels in, telling himself it was you being the brat and giving him a hard time over nothing. More often than not, he settled on the latter – he was just too damn stubborn to admit any sort of wrongdoing, too quick to be defensive of his actions and opinions as he had to be all of the damn time.

“What, did she ghost you, Mare?” Jed taunted with an exaggerated pout and a puppy dog voice, “the Queen of Shiba didn’t call?”

Mary span on his bar stool, glaring at Jed. “Nah, I told you guys; not interested. Good lay, bit of excitement, but I don’t go back for sloppy seconds.”

And there it was; the male bravado, the toxic masculinity he’d learned as a product of his environment. Frankly, he hated it. He knew what he sounded like to his own ears, and that wasn’t him. But surrounded by the only people in this town to share his interests, he had to fit in. He was so desperate to fit in somewhere.

This Mary wasn’t a reality; this was the stereotype that he was forced to live under to get by. And that was just the problem; Mary, just like you, lived according to how people believed he should live. But even Jed didn’t believe him, his tone monotonous and his face unwavering from the stormy little look that had been perpetually carved into it since that last night with you.

“Listen man, if she stood you up or whatever, she ain’t worth your time anyway. Girls like that are nothin’ but trouble...” Jed leaned against the bar next to Mary, who looked down at him with disgust.

“She didn’t stand me up, you fucking ape. I’m just not a repeat offender,” he shrugged.

“Only ‘cause no girl in their right mind would fuck you twice, Goore,” Forrest teased. He meant nothing true by it, only intending to have a laugh, some banter with his friend over a beer. But it struck a nerve with Mary.

“Fuck you, man,” he growled, slamming his beer on the bar behind him and standing up, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of the bar stool.

“Oh come on, I was joking!” he tried to back-pedal, but Mary had heard enough.

“Whatever, I’m out.” Mary slunk his arms into his jacket as he pushed through his friends crowding around him, past the girl at the end of the bar who, with a sparkle in her eyes, had thought he was finally coming to talk to her – only to be disappointed when he didn’t even look at her – and out into the street where the slight chill of a late-night breeze bit at his skin.

Mary sighed to himself, fishing in his pockets for his pack of smokes and lighter, inhaling a long drag to calm his simmering rage in his chest. As he began to walk, his mind raced ahead, down tangents he hadn’t ventured in quite some time. He’d pushed them down, ignored them and continued the facade for too long, but they were bound to come back eventually – and Forrest may just have triggered that.

Because sure, he hadn’t ever had a long-term relationship of any kind. Flings that lasted a month tops, yes, but nothing substantial, nothing with anything real. Mary was everybody’s dirty little secret, the guy they could never take home to mother and so no one ever did. His reputation preceded him; the angry little metal head punk who got into trouble, started fights, dicked about all the time. Who on earth would want to be with a delinquent?

But that wasn’t him. That was just what people saw when they looked at him.

Perhaps that’s why your dismissal of him cut as deep as it had. When you looked at him, that was all you saw too. He knew he’d never given you any reason to believe he was anything otherwise – he’d screwed you in a bathroom stall and snuck into your bedroom when your parents were downstairs, for fuck’s sake – but part of him always hoped someone might see through that, read between the lines, maybe get to know him a little.

He’d certainly been intrigued by you...

Daddy’s little girl, the apple of his eye, the town sweetheart... How dumb had he been to think a girl like you would ever see him as anything different than the rest of the world. Mary was nothing but a token fuck, a notch on your bedpost. You were experimenting, looking for a thrill in your drab little life; that’s what he told himself. He’d never be more than a dirty little secret to you.

The more he thought about you, the more stupid he felt. It bordered on angry, realising now that while you spewed that bullshit about being put in a box, stereotyped and forced to live what essentially was a lie, you were doing exactly the same thing to him. Oh, you wanted the chance to prove you were more than your reputation?

Well, so did Mary. But you wouldn’t give that to him, so why should he give that to you?

Mary shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked through town, practically deserted at the late hour. He smoked and thought, mind whirring over you. He shouldn’t be stuck on this, but it bothered him. You bothered him.

He thought there was some kind of connection there, if that last encounter was anything to go by. The way you’d held him close to you as he drove his hips into you, the way you gave in to him, trusted him... He thought you might give him a chance to show you there was more to him than just a good lay and a residual bad-boy image from his teenage years. But you gave him no such chance.

Mary scoffed into the night, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he walked himself home. If he was going to wallow in self-pity and loathing, he wanted to do it in the comfort of his tiny little apartment with a cold beer and perhaps a joint.

But most importantly, he wanted to do it alone.

You were dreading tonight, as you dreaded every major event in this town that your perfect little family had to attend or host.

The town’s bicentennial celebrations had been prepared for weeks ahead of today, and now today was the ‘big day’, as your father had been reminding you.

“This town will remember who their mayor was on occasions such as this. It’s important, darling. You must look your best on the ‘big day’!” he had told you. You’d just nodded and smiled along, resorting to default ever since the night Mary had left.

That reputation was so important to him. His political career was his first born, you were simply the second, less significant baby in his life. But, as the good little girl he saw you as, you dressed in the pretty red sundress you’d bought to match the red, white and blue of the occasion, did your simplistic, pretty make up and put on that dazzlingly sweet smile for the biggest event of the celebrations; the Bicentennial Fair.

A couple of the farmers on the outskirts of town had graciously given up some of their land to host the fair, setting up a bandstand stage, fairground rides and games, some food stalls... There was to be a firework display, live music, and of course, a big speech by the reigning Mayor; a speech you would have to be on stage for, paraded as part of Daddy’s little trophy family.

The thought of the town’s eyes on you made you feel sick. You wish no one knew you, that you were invisible. Well, not totally invisible... There was only one set of eyes you wished would see you; truly see you.

“Darling, the car is here. Are you ready?” your father called up the stairs to you, impatience in his tone. You glanced in your mirror, one final fluff of your hair and smack of your glossed lips before you called back.

“Coming, daddy!”

“Ladies and gentlemen! Two centuries ago, a small settlement nestled on this land, and over the years, it has flourished into the vibrant, diverse, and thriving community we proudly call home...”

You had to fight the scoff that threatened to rise in your throat, instead standing beside your mother with your well-practised smile in front of the crowds that flocked to the stage for your father’s opening speech. There was nothing ‘diverse’ about this community that shunned and bullied anything it deemed different.

“As we commemorate this momentous occasion, let us take a moment to acknowledge the resilience and dedication of every individual who has played a role in shaping our town's story. From the pioneers who first set foot on this soil to the generations that have followed, each has left an indelible mark on the tapestry of our shared history!”

While your father droned on about the achievements of the town throughout his lifetime and time in office, your eyes drifted over the crowd gathered at the stage. Near the front, you could see your friends, flirting with some of the college lacrosse boys they’d invited to hang out with you all. If you weren’t here by the demand of your father, you would slither on home the second his speech ended; no part of you wanted to hang out with the fake friends you’d never felt so disconnected from, nor the group of jock boys they were drooling over.

If it were up to you, you’d no longer be friends with these people at all. Throughout school, they had been the ‘right’ people to hang out with, the ones that held up your image and you hung out with based on forced proximity alone, but you’d grown up since high school and college and these people were not your people. They were fickle, shallow and had no depth to them. You wanted interesting people in your life, people with substance, stimulating conversation, even something weird about them.

Like him.

Upon scanning the crowd past your friends, you caught sight of him near the back. He was ignoring the speech, as you’d expect, instead chatting and laughing with his friends, can of beer in hand.

Your practised smile faltered slightly, chest tightening as you replayed how you’d left things with him the last time you’d met.

“Don’t think we’re exactly compatible...” you’d told him. “Now you have no reason to come back.”

You had put a hard stop on whatever was going on that night, and boy, did you regret that. Although only hooking up with him twice, you couldn’t deny the weird feeling of safety he gave you. He didn’t seem as shallow as the abundance of people in your life; he had substance, stories to tell. The first night at the bar, you’d heard a few of them... He had been trying to impress you with stories of band shenanigans or stories of pranks and borderline criminal activity but it was more interesting than hearing your ‘best friend’ Amelie droning on about how she’d let a guy spank her once – the height of excitement in her vanilla little life.

The point was, Mary was interesting. Despite the tales he’d told you and the excitement he brought to your sexual exploits, there was more to him to unpack. You so desperately wanted to know him, even the dark parts of him.

But you'd ruined any chance of that.

You plastered the winning smile back onto your face, squeezing your mother’s hand as you shared a bright smile.

“And so, tonight we celebrate the wonderful town we call our home. Please, enjoy the music, the good food, good company,” you father turned back to you and your mother with a loving smile before turning back, the crowd letting out a resounding ‘awwww’ at the ‘family man’ act, “and the fair! Please join us at 8:00pm for the fireworks!”

The crowd clapped and cheered for him as they were programmed to do; for a moment it reminded you of that stupid movie with the minions screaming for their evil genius who wanted to steal the moon. Their loyalty to him certainly echoed that... But soon they dispersed, taking advantage of the fair, grabbing drinks and food and readying themselves for the fireworks due to start in just 20 minutes.

“Mare, pass your lighter! Mine’s outta juice,” Jed outstretched his hand, and Mary – who had been lighting a cigarette – rolled his eyes, slapping it into his palm.

“You brought sparklers? What are we, fucking 8 years old?” Mary laughed, expelling his first lungful of smoke.

“Since when did we become miserable bastards? Go on...” Jed waved an unlit sparkler in Mary’s face, “you know you wanna...”

Mary snatched it with a smirk, his cigarette flopping between his lips. He held the sparkler up, aligning the end of his cigarette and lighting the sparkler far too close to his face and yet somehow managing to do so smoothly without a burn.

“Pretty...” he said, waving it about.

“En-garde!” Jed shouted, pulling a ridiculous fencing pose and holding his own lit sparkler in Mary’s direction.

“You fuckin’ idiot...” Mary laughed, joining Jed in a battle of sparklers as the first of the fireworks shot into the sky, lighting up the faces of the crowd gathered to watch.

You stood and watched them, loud and beautiful as they coloured the dark sky. Beside you, one of the lacrosse guys was getting a little too close for comfort. He’d slunk an arm around your shoulders, your body language remaining closed off with arms folded over your chest. You think his name was Devon, and he’d been flirting with you since you stepped off the stage.

“Pretty aren’t they, princess? Like you...” he mused, smirking down at you. You just smiled, unwilling to deny him the thought that he stood a chance with you in case it caused a scene. You’d rather all eyes were not on you tonight – at least as much as you could control.

Your gaze wandered though, away from the firework display and over to the other side of the field, where you spotted Mary and his friends, goofing around with sparklers like unsupervised children. The smile on his face infected your own, seeing him enjoying a carefree moment of stupidity. You watched as the group battled each other like kids pretending to be pirates.

“So fucking immature...” Devon scoffed beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders. “Trust that punk and his creepy friends to spoil a classy evening.”

You looked at him with a scowl, already pissed off with his presence but now also by his attitude. “Oh, I don’t know. Looks like they’re having fun, at least,” you defended as you turned back to look at the group of them.

Mary dodged a swipe from Davey, fake-stabbing Jed who stumbled over his feet and dropped to the grass feigning death. He laughed at his friends, taking another drag of his cigarette before he looked up, and his eyes fell on yours...

Time froze. You couldn’t hear the bangs of the fireworks anymore, nor the gasps from the watching crowd. Your stomach dropped along with the smile you’d caught from Mary, your arms tightening to hug yourself and make yourself smaller, cowering from his gaze.

Mary had been worried he’d come across you here tonight... He almost hadn’t come, but he’d been met with resistance when he tried to back out. Now he’d seen you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you... Stood there in a red dress that mocked his memories of that red lingerie you’d worn for him, another guy’s arm around your shoulder. A jock, no less.

It stung him more than he would like to admit. Not just with another guy barely two weeks after he’d last had you, but a guy like that; one clearly better suited to your lifestyle than himself, one you weren’t ashamed to be seen with. The anger he’d been working to diminish stoked into a flame of jealousy, as if you’d committed some kind of betrayal. He wanted so desperately to look away, but while your eyes were on his, he just couldn’t do it...

The fireworks ended, the crowd clapping but the two of you stayed locked onto each other, until Devon squeezed your shoulder, snapping you from your trance.

“We’re gonna go on the waltzers, babe,” he grinned, the premature use of a pet name infuriating you. You’d met the guy a few hours ago, and already he believed he had some moronic claim to call you that? It didn’t feel right, didn’t sound right. You much preferred ‘doll’ anyway...

“O-oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll go...” you stuttered weakly, turning your gaze back to Mary who still stood there, watching as Devon guided you away with a look of disgust on his face, sparkler long since extinguished in his hand.

Mary turned back to his friends, rejoining his group and ignoring you as best he could with so much unsaid between you. Defeated, you allowed yourself to be dragged into an evening you most certainly would not enjoy.

Mary made up every possible excuse in the book to follow you from a distance throughout the evening. At first it had been out of jealousy, yes. He wanted to know what the fuck you saw in a guy like the one constantly finding ways to keep his hands on you. As he watched your interactions from afar, he saw this guy kept inserting himself into your conversations with your friends, finding new ways to come between you and them. His hands had moved from your shoulders, to your upper arm, to your waist and down to your hips, and Mary was practically vibrating with fury.

His friends were none the wiser, still dicking about, going on the rides and playing the fairground games. With every can of beer they consumed, they became less and less aware of Mary’s intentions, to the point where they didn’t notice when he slipped away from the group to follow yours.

The final straw had come when you were playing one of those rigged shooting games. Rows of ducks would pass by with targets on their backs, and you had to shoot them with little pellets in order to win a prize. Your aim wasn’t very good, not that you were really trying. You could give less of a fuck about any of this, only partaking at the miserably whiny complaints from your friends about being ‘no fun’ anymore. Out of five shots, you had missed the first two.

“I got you, babe,” Devon stepped up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and enveloping your hands around the gun, lifting them as he lowered his chin to your shoulder to take aim for you.

“I can do it, thanks,” you tried to tell him, but he just laughed, invading your space as he whispered into your ear.

“C’mon, I’ve never seen a worse shot. Let me help...”

You could feel him pressing against your back, his hips into your ass with the subtlety of a clown with air horns for shoes. Internally, you panicked... Telling him no and being adamant would cause a scene... a scene in a public place around everyone from your town. But you wanted nothing more than you shove him away from you, tell him to go fuck himself with a slap.

Instead, you focussed on the game; the quicker you played, the quicker it was over.

But from Mary’s perspective, his advances looked more than welcome; and it boiled his blood.

Now alone and watching from beside a hot dog cart, Mary’s gaze had followed every tiny little move Devon had made, and seen the smug little smirk on his face when you hadn’t pulled away from him. Oh, how he wanted to smack it from him... But from where he stood, you didn’t exactly look like the ‘damsel in distress’ either. And he was no knight in shining armour...

He felt more like a twat in tin foil, taken in by your wiles and flirtations, hoodwinked into believing for a second a girl like you would be attracted to a guy like him. Maybe that’s why you got so defensive when he asked what you saw in him? Because he’d rumbled your little game. Barbie had just been bored, and he was a new little troll doll to fool around with.

You won, unsurprisingly. You made the last three shots with the unsolicited help of Devon, enough to earn you a small prize of a stuffed plushie resembling a lilac unicorn. You pretended you were excited, jumping about to get Devon off you and squealing with your girlfriends to divert the attention back to the group and not on you anymore. It worked, Devon folding his arms over his abnormally large chest and watching with a smug smile as you celebrated your win.

“Uh, babe, think you forgot to thank the person who helped...” he interrupted, bending at the waist and presenting his cheek, tapping it with a finger. He expected a kiss... Your friends stopped cheering with you, now whispering excitedly at the clear flirtation they saw as a win. You, on the other hand, could barely keep the smile on your face, a sense of dread hanging over you.

Once again, you were forced into a situation that backing out of would have more consequences than not.

And so, hesitantly, you stepped back towards him, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and mumbling a quick “thank you, Devon...”

Mary’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles turning whiter than his face paints and threatening to crack like old leather from the force.

“C’mon, I’ve got another idea...” Devon smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder again. “Let’s see which of you girls is the biggest scaredy-cat...”

He was met with snickers from his friends, and some giggles from yours but ultimately, he got his way, and you were being dragged towards the walk-through House of Horrors to the edge of the fairground, lit up with flashing lights and pumping out organ music and evil laughter sound effects.

Inside was filled with poorly made-up actors, cheap scares, tricks of the eye and dead-ends; exactly what you had expected. Devon let go of you to run ahead, in the hope he might find a hiding spot to jump out and yell ‘boo’ from, as was customary of primates of his low intelligence.

You wandered through the mazes and puzzles slowly, losing the majority of your friends and hearing their screams as animatronics or actors jumped out at them ahead of you. You rolled your eyes, sick to the back teeth of their pathetic overreactions to get the boys to fawn over them.

So, you purposefully headed in a ‘wrong’ direction, through a dizzying array of draped plastic sheets covered in dirt and fake blood, getting lost in them. The strobe lights flickered quickly, making any movement around you appear like stop-motion animation. You struggled to see much of anything at all, brief flashes illuminating the sheets around you. You thought you saw figures passing you, actors trying to scare and disorient you; frankly, it was working. As you pushed sheets out of your face, you span in every direction, losing your way and feeling more and more trapped the deeper into the sheet maze you stumbled.

You were just starting to panic, when a hand wrapped its way around your throat from behind you, long fingers and cold metal circling your neck.

You knew the actors in this place could touch you, but not like this...

The rising panic in you exploded, limbs thrashing against the body behind you and squealing until a second hand slapped itself over your mouth and dragged you back through a flurry of plastic sheets until you were pushed up against a wall, your captor spinning to stand in front of you. You dropped your little unicorn plushie, gripping their wrists tightly like a knee-jerk reaction to being manhandled.

Through the strobing lights, you couldn’t make them out in your panic, but you saw the fake blood first, as the actor leaned into your space and hovered by your ear to whisper into it.

“Enjoying your date, Barbie?”

Your eyes widened, your hands letting go of the wrists the held you and slapping against his arms and chest until he removed the grip on your mouth to allow you to speak. But he still had a hold of you... your neck, just like the last time...

“Mary?!” you whisper shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The panic that had risen inside you subsided, but only slightly. You were still pinned to a wall in a house of horrors by your neck at the hands of someone you believed to be pretty fucking pissed at you after the last time you spoke. Still, an anger rose in you, triggered by the humiliation of allowing him to overpower and scare you like that.

“Ken seems to be enjoying it,” he smirked, biting his lip, eyes watching you with mischief in his irises.

“Not your fucking business, Goore,” you spat, “Get off me!”

Mary backed off immediately, never one to hold you against your will. If you told him not to touch you, he wouldn’t touch you; a rule he lived by. So, his hands dropped to his pockets, and he took half a step back – still enough to keep you backed against the wall, but enough distance you could leave if you really wanted to. So far, though, he noted you made no such move.

“Just find it funny, is all...” he scoffed, kicking his feet against the floor, lights still flickering around you both. You couldn’t get a clear look at him for longer than a split second under these strobes.

“What?” you were getting more aggravated with every word that left his mouth.

“You...” he looked back up at you, his face contorting into one of indignation, an anger that had been simmering away all evening. “Thought you weren’t ‘that kind of girl’. You look real comfortable in that box they’ve put you in, Barbie.”

You wanted to be angry, but instead, hurt flashed through you like a white-hot branding iron had been shoved down your throat.

“You don’t get to judge me on appearances, Mary...”

“Oh, but you do? That seems fair, doll. Sitting up in your ivory fucking tower, looking down at me...” he hissed, slapping a palm to the wall beside your head and leaning over you. In the flashing lights, he looked more menacing than you’d ever seen him... His body was so close to yours, the heat of his anger emanating from him and working its way across you. You could smell cigarettes, leather and beer as his face hovered above you, that cologne from last time missing from his skin.

“I didn’t ask for this, my frie-” Mary didn’t let you finish.

“You looked pretty cosy to me, Barbie.”

“Fuck you...” you spat, defiant and trying to appear as if his words weren’t affecting you, but how could they not? He was doing exactly what you had accused him of, judging you like everybody else. And with him looming over you, so close, so furious, it was hard to think straight at all... Caught between the instinct to slap him and run, or to pull him closer until you could feel all of him again.

Mary threw his head back in almost maniacal laughter, slapping the wall from the hilarity of a joke you seemed to have missed.

“Yep, fuck me. That’s all I'm good for...” he howled, making your brow furrow. What the hell did he mean by that? “I bet you still think about it, huh?” His eyes fell back onto you, running down your features, your neck, your body and back up again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” you denied. And it was denial, because yes, you did. Of course you did... Mary was the first and only guy to pay any attention to the fact you had any needs at all besides his own, the first to make you feel that strange, unwavering safety...

“Sure you do. Those thoughts that linger in that pretty little head of yours... Daddy’s little girl, rebelling against him to fuck the town screw up,” he taunted, leaning down to exaggerate every syllable. “You still think about me, darlin’. I can tell.”

You wanted to protest, to smack him and tell him he was being vile, no better than any other man who laid any kind of claim to you. The only issue was, a part of you had let him claim you. Part of you was his the very first time you let him in. Even now, the blush on your cheeks and the fluttering in your groin were indisputable. You thought of Mary every time you had a moment alone, every time you wanted to talk to someone with a personality, every time you touched yourself since...

You’d driven yourself wild with the desire to have him again, let alone the desire to talk to him, to scream at him or apologise to him or something, anything. But no matter out of hatred, lust, longing or loneliness, he’d been there; a constant figure in your mind.

You squirmed under him, thighs pressing together and body sinking against the wall as you dared to look him in the eye. His gaze felt like that of a predator stalking its prey, made all the more foreboding by the intermittency of light.

“Tell me you don’t want that fucking cocksucker...” he growled. You hesitated, chest rising and falling in anxiety.

“I-I... don’t want... that cocksucker,” you stuttered. You’d forgotten how to breathe, how to blink. Mary. Mary. Mary. That’s all your mind knew.

“Tell me you want me, doll...” Your heart raced in your chest as Mary’s lips hovered above your exposed neck, warm breath fanning over the skin and raising goosebumps that he most certainly noticed.

If you refused to say it, he’d back off. If you truly didn’t want him, he would walk away and never approach you again. And you knew that.

The thought terrified you.

“I... Mary,” you whined, laying your head back against the wall. How badly you wanted to say it, to tell him you wanted him. You did, so much. But that anger lingered in you, that hurt... He only saw you as the Mayor’s Daughter, the princess in her ivory tower – he'd said it himself.

“Say you want me, doll...” His lips had moved to linger above your collarbone. “Please...”

Above the sound effects of the house of horrors – the creaking of doors, the screams and rips of chainsaws, the ghostly cackles and ghoulish taunts – you barely heard him, hardly above a whisper. But the way he begged... If you dared to look down at him, to see the visible pain on his face, it might have broken you. You didn’t know why he sounded so strained, so full of despair, but you were sure you were not meant to have heard that.

“Mary... look at me...” you told him, your hands cupping his cheeks as he took a deep breath in, raising his head. There was a strange vulnerability to him, one that you’d only seen brief flickers of in the past. “I-I want... I want you.”

Mary’s face hardened, a rumble travelling up from his chest, his throat, and ripping from his lips with a snarl; the predator catching its prey.

His body pinned yours to the wall behind you, his lips crushing yours in a frenzied kiss. No longer in the safety of your bedroom, you were forced to resort to desperate measures, unable to take your time with each other tonight. If you wanted each other, here and now, it had to be quick. It had to be quiet.

But neither one of you could deny you needed each other, your bodies both so reactive. Mary’s free hand instinctively found your thigh, lifting it to his hip to press his heavy erection to your core so you could feel how much he needed you. Your muscles tensed at the feeling, your core clenching as if beckoning for him. Your fingernails dug into his hair, pulling him so tightly against your lips that they could bruise.

The hand that kept him balanced against the wall behind your head dropped to push between you both, flattening against your mound beneath the skirt of the sundress you’d chosen tonight. Mary felt the damp stain against his skin and growled into your mouth, his tongue swiping against yours in time with the way his palm ground down into your clit.

With no time to waste, he shoved the fabric to one side, sliding his fingers through your arousal and circling your clit as he bucked his bulge into the back of his hand. He parted his lips from yours, pressing his forehead against your own and groaning quietly as his jaw went slack from the friction in his jeans. You hooked your leg around his hip tighter, pulling him against you to encourage him to push those damn fingers inside you already.

He obliged eagerly, slipping two inside – his rings only adding to the sensation – and curling instantly, meeting minimum resistance. You curled in on yourself, biting your lip to hush the moan that so desperately wanted to slip past. Despite the horror track on repeat around you, you really, really didn’t want to be caught like this... mostly because you didn’t want this to end yet.

Mary worked you open expertly, having learned your body and what made you tick, committing you to memory. With every thrust of his hand and curl of his fingers, your chest barrelled forwards into him, forehead pressing into his as your lips chased his – except neither of you were coherent enough to kiss the other, jaws slack with heavy breaths taking over as your minds clouded with lust.

“M-Mary... oh fuck, please...” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. Mary just nodded dumbly, retracting his fingers and sucking them into his mouth without hesitation, needing to clean them off quickly. He fumbled with his belt and zipper, pushing them down just barely enough to release his weeping cock, so painfully hard his tip glistened a deep red shade.

“I’ve got you, doll...” he muttered, quickly lining himself up with your core and pushing himself inside until his hips lay flat against yours. So much thicker than two of his fingers, the stretch burned a little, both of you moving too fast to take your time with foreplay but you could care less; you needed him now, and you weren’t willing to compromise.

You gripped the lapels of his leather jacket – the very same you’d stolen and given back to him – and held on tight as his hips began rocking against you. Both of his hands fell to your thighs, gripping you so tight you figured he would leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. Fuck, you hoped he would.

With his hips he pinned you to the wall, lifting both thighs to wrap your legs around his waist and drive home over and over again while you held on tight. He buried his head in your neck, kissing, sucking, licking, biting at the skin as he lost himself in you. You felt like you were being mauled by a starving animal, the heat of your bodies and the swell of pleasure in your core only adding to the rabid way in which you let Mary take you. The way you grabbed at each other, held each other as close as possible proved how utterly entranced you were, and it frightened you.

It scared you how much you seemed to need him, like he was the most addictive drug on the face of the earth. It scared you how much you had missed him, like a gaping wound had been left when you’d pushed him away and now that he was here, and he still wanted you, it was finally healing. It scared you to think that it could all disappear again, that if you let your death grip on him go, he would walk away for good.

You couldn’t focus on that right now; you couldn’t focus on much of anything, in fact. All you could do was thread your fingers in Mary’s hair, gritting your teeth to stop the moans and screams that threatened to permeate the sound effects repeating from the speakers around you. Through the flashes of the strobe lights, you could just make out Mary’s expression of pained bliss. His eyes were screwed shut, features etched into a permanent growling expression. He pounded into you mercilessly, finding an angle that had the both of you losing your minds.

“Fucking hell, I can’t... I won’t last, doll...” he warned, out of breath but unwilling to slow his hips. He was too far gone, needing release just as badly as you.

“Don’t care, just... don’t stop!” you whined, pulling him by his hair to kiss him violently again. You just needed him.

Mary wasn’t having it though; he would not be responsible for just his own orgasm tonight. He didn’t follow you in here to take what he wanted from you. Truthfully, he had no idea what had fuelled him to follow you in here except a burning desire to confront you, a force propelling him to get some sort of answers out of you. But the only question he needed answering was ‘do you want me?’ And now he certainly knew that you did.

Securing your legs around his waist, his snuck one of his hands between you and pressed his fingertips to your clit as he fucked into you. In the position you both were, it was awkward and difficult, his fingers pressing to your sensitive clit hard enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain, but it was what you needed, and soon enough, you felt yourself hurtling towards a powerful and uncontrollable orgasm...

“M-Mary!” you cried, trying so damn hard to keep your voice down, “d-don’t go...”

“No, no no no I’m right here. Goin’ nowhere, doll. I’m here,” he assured you. “Come on, finish for me. I got you.”

You let go, crashing your lips back to his if only to muffle your cries, too much pressure to allow your lips to move together at all. Your orgasm hit you violently, limbs spasming and muscles contracting as your mind sparked and short circuited. If Mary hadn’t been holding you up, you’d have slid down the wall to the hardwood floor beneath you, gasping for air.

But Mary wouldn’t let you go, especially not when he was seconds away from climax himself. Your body contracting around him and the clenching of your walls on his cock had him losing any composure he’d mustered. Before he knew what he was doing, he was cumming inside you, filling you so full of his essence.

He pushed his body to lean against yours, propping you both up on the wall as you came down together from the powerful high. The speakers muffled your heavy breaths as you both learned to control them, the flashing lights offering some kind of privacy amongst the plastic sheets that concealed you against the dead end to the maze.

When the fog began to clear, you allowed yourself to look at Mary in front of you, dripping sweat from that spike of hair he called a fringe, his make-up patchy and shining with each flash of light. Unsure of what to do or say now, you opted for awkwardly tracing your fingers over his make-up, avoiding his eyes that watched you intently.

“Are you, um... You okay?” he asked, gently setting your feet on the floor and moving his hands to your waist as he pulled his hips away from yours, leaving you feeling empty. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear that had stuck to your forehead from the humidity of the both of you, before adjusting your panties back to where they should sit, and tucking his softening length back into his jeans.

“Yeah... I’m okay,” you half smiled, awkwardly readjusting your dress and feeling the uncomfortable feeling of Mary leaking from you... “You?”

“Y-yeah, I mean...” He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking down at the floor. “Guess I got carried away.” You reached up to take his wrist from behind his head, entwining your fingers with his instead. He watched you closely, unsure what to say.

“I don't mind,” you smirked, “I’m glad, even. I think... maybe we both needed that.” Mary smiled, avoiding your gaze again and nodding while he fiddled with your fingers between his.

“We should, um... probably get out of here. Before your friends come looking for you, I mean.” He was right, eventually they’d come back for you, thinking you’d got lost in one of the mazes in the house of horrors. You’d rather they didn’t catch you holding hands with Mary Goore; you weren’t willing to try and explain that to them. “You hungry? There’s like, a hot dog cart out there and some taco trucks, maybe if you-”

“I can’t...” you interrupted him, your smile faltering. You couldn’t walk out of here with him. You couldn’t be spotted at the damn bicentennial fair with Mary. Your father was here somewhere, his goons, people from the town... If they saw, it would be bad. It would be so bad. “We can’t, Mary.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over you, Mary’s expression turning to one of hurt, his face paling. He chuckled darkly, letting go of your hand only to run it over his face as he shook his head.

“Wow. Yeah, okay.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“No, no, I get it,” he held his hands up, taking a step back from you. “I wouldn’t wanna be seen with me either.”

“Mary, please-” you stepped towards him, but he took another step back.

“No, y’know what? You’re... you’re unbelievable,” he sneered. “You wanna claim you’re stereotyped, you’re so fuckin’ hard done by? Maybe if you don’t wanna be judged on appearances, you should learn not to do it to other people.”

His face was one of thunder, quickly defensive again. But you saw why now... It took Mary spelling it out for you to see; you were doing to him the very thing you’d accused him of. Your own medicine certainly tasted bitter...

“Mary, I’m sorry, but my father is here!” you tried to protest, only managing to rub salt into the wound. Tears stung at your eyes, the panic that Mary was slipping away again setting in. You didn’t feel lonely with Mary. You could be in a crowd of people who all knew your name, and still feel alone. But not with Mary. Yet he was slipping away again.

“This ain’t fair. You can’t just... pick and choose when it’s acceptable to be around me!” he raised his voice, and you stepped toward him again to shush him, worried someone might hear and find you... Mary saw this as further confirmation you were ashamed to be seen with him, lifting his arms out of your grasp and stepping back another step. “No! I’m tired of being everyone’s dirty little secret.”

Before you could make another move or think of anything to say in your defence, Mary turned and walked through the plastic sheets, swatting them harshly out of the way until he disappeared from your view, leaving you stood alone in the flashing lights and special effects, tears staining your cheeks and a sob caught in your throat.

You were alone again.

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theaudacitytowrite · 11 months ago

Text

Stay Awake! - Part 1

Materlist

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: An attempt at a spooky fic:) This is based on a creepy story my siblings used to tell me when we were little and back then it scared the shit out of me. Whether it really is scary is debatable^^

Time wise it starts a day before Halloween.

Also, since I only started watching SPN (on S4 currently) I'm quite sure this might be a bit off timeline wise. For example I needed an animal for the story but I have no idea when/how long Mircale is around in the series.

warnings: dolls, cursing, implied smut, bad horror (Season 1-esque storyline), Canon? What's that?

Golden divider = new day

black dividers = new setting/some time has passed

word count: 5.891

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower half an hour later and opened the door without suspecting anything bad, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.” you grumbled.

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you. "Shouldn't have let your guard down..."

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning you and Dean woke up early, quickly throwing everything into your bags before you zipped them up and quickly checked out.

The old woman wasn’t too thrilled that you declined her breakfast buffet which consisted of off-colour sausages and weirdly looking eggs. She was appeased when Dean and you at least took a bread roll each before saying your goodbyes and hurrying out of the smelly B&B.

As soon as Baby rounded the corner, you threw out the stale bread rolls in favour of stopping at a drive-in to get a quick breakfast that wouldn’t get stuck in your throat and take you out.

It was around noon when Dean and you finally arrived back at the bunker, and you quickly started to get your bags out of the car and restock the ammunition and the rest of your weapon arsenal. You'd had a lot to get done, unpacking your dirty clothes to get them washed and repacking the bags for the next hunt as soon as possible. This had been all you've been doing lately, hurrying from one case to another without getting a real break.

When you wandered into the bedroom and opened your duffle bag you almost fainted.

“DEAN! What the fuck!?” you screamed enraged.

“What?” Dean looked at you innocently as he entered your shared room.

“Don’t look at me all innocent!” you scolded him, “You know exactly what you did!”

“As much as I want to take the praise for it, …I don’t.” Dean dryly replied, smiling at you tight-lipped.

“Then please enlighten me how else this freakish thing appeared in my bag!” you pointed into your bag in which the doll from the B&B laid neatly on top of your belongings.

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged, “I swear, Y/N. I didn’t put it in there. It must’ve fallen over when we packed. I mean, I didn’t even touch your bag until you gave it to me to put it in the trunk.”

“Sure.” you glare at him, not believing a single word.

“I swear.” he chuckles, trying to get your good grace back by hugging you tightly from behind, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Don’t suck up now.” you giggle.

“But I gotta cheer you up.” he murmured.

“Then be a dear and throw it out. I’m not gonna touch that thing.” you muttered, looking at the doll in disdain.

“Sure thing, my love.” he gave you another peck on your cheek before unravelling his arms from your waist. He picked up the doll, holding it in front of his face. “Bye-bye, Y/N.” he tried to mimic a creepy voice as he walked backwards out of the room.

“You’re such a dork.” you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing to unpack.

It didn’t take long when you heard another shriek resound through the bunker. You quickly hurried to the source of the turmoil, coming to a halt in front of Sam’s room. You were met by Dean who was toppled over in laughter while Sam was sitting on the floor, chest heaving while the doll was sitting on his bed, smiling endearingly as she never ceased to wave.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.” you can’t help but giggle a little.

“I had to, darling.” Dean wipes away a tear he had shed from laughing so hard.

“Did you?!” Sam snarled, scrambling to get back to his feet.

“Oh come on, Sammy. T’was just a joke.” Dean grins triumphantly, shrugging innocently before patting his brother's back teasingly.

“You good, Sam?” you tried so hard to bite back a grin yourself. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“Now that I got the two of you here, we could talk about the agenda of the coming days.” Sam changed the topic, earning a groan from Dean.

“How about you let us come back and settle in first.” Dean huffed annoyed.

“Bobby called me repeatedly already. He needs us down at his house. He got a pressing case for us and told me to come down as soon as you two came back.”

“Can we at least have one more day?” Dean bargained, letting his head fall back, “I still need to wash my clothes, else I’ll have to wear my boxers inside out.”

“Gross.” you grimaced.

“If you wanna take the blame for the delay.” Sam hummed, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll handle that.” Dean scrunched his nose, “Then it’s settled, we’re going for drinks tonight.” Dean proclaimed with a cheeky grin.

“What? What about your laundry?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“What ‘what?’?! Can’t do much while it's in the washer, now can I? Might as well grab a drink then.” Dean smirked smugly. “And I know exactly where we’ll go!” Dean waved a piece of paper around. You swiftly grabbed it from his hand. Sam peeked over your shoulder to get a glance as you read over the flyer.

“ ’Come dressed up - get a free shot’ …?” Sam read out, raising his brow sceptically “Really, Dean?”

“Admit it, you just want to dress up.” you hummed as your eyes drifted from the flyer to Dean. You almost snorted when you saw his eyes sparkle gleefully. He definitely already knew what he’d wear.

“Nonsense.” he protested nonetheless, “I just think a free shot would be neat.”

“Sure, Dean…” Sam shot him an incredulous glance and shook his head.

As you and Dean walked back to your room you could tell that he wanted you to guess what he'd wear. He stared at you expectantly, not watching where he was going.

“Let me guess…” you hummed amused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Cowboy?”

“Cowboy.” he grins giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s your pick?”

“I dunno… I’m not that big on costumes.” you shrugged.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have any costumes.” Dean gasped almost offended, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Welp… I don’t.” you shrugged, "Unless you count our disguises as a costume."

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend…” he tsked and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Suddenly a mischievous grin tugged on the corners of his lips. “I got an idea for the perfect costume though… and we could probably modify some of your clothes for it…”

„If you say sexy nurse, I’ll hit you,” you warn him, shooting him an unamused glare.

“Ok, no sexy nurse then…” he raises his palms in defeat, “But… I’m sure it would suit you perfectly.”

"Of course, you’d think that…“ you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him.

"I‘m being truthful.” he grins, pulling you closer by your waist. “You‘d look irresistible… but then again you look irresistible in everything." Dean purred into your ear.

"Nice try Romeo.“ you push him away gently but firmly, “I will wear something a little less cliché.”

"Was worth the try…" he shrugged, pecking your lips before letting you go to get ready.

The night at the bar was just what you needed. Dean, Sam and you drank together, bellowing to the music in the bar and indulging in old memories.

Around 3 am Dean and you came back completely hammered. Sam had opted to go home with a girl in a devil costume.

As Dean and you barged into the bunker, you were leaning on each other heavily as you giggled together. You barely made it to your bed when you fell onto the mattress. Dean immediately hugged you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as he took a deep breath. He lazily pressed a few kisses along your neck, making you squirm against him, but his lips stopped just as quickly as they had started. Soft snores resounded from him, his warm breath hitting your skin. But you couldn’t bother, you were already drifting off as well when Miracle suddenly started to growl lowly.

“Mira’ shut up.” you slurred annoyed, but Miracle wouldn’t stop. “Miracle!” you groaned, searching for a pillow around you and throwing it into the darkness.

You heard a dull sound and Miracle fell silent. You could hear him sniff around but soon darkness encased you fully as your drunken mind fell asleep.

"Y/N?" Dean called through the bunker hoarsely when he had finally fallen out of bed.

"I'm in the library," you replied, cradling your pounding head between your hands as you sat at the table. Even the smell of your coffee in front of you made you slightly nauseous. You regretted the last three shots from last night.

There was a moment of silence in which you could hear him waddle towards the library.

"Did you put that creepy doll in the kitchen?! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean’s face was still pale as he entered the library in his bathrobe. You weren’t sure if it was from the hangover or the shock. “Was that your revenge for yesterday? I swear I didn’t put it in your bag!

"I didn't.“ you mumbled slurred, not even bothering to look at Dean as your eyes were closed, „I wouldn’t have touched that thing for a lame revenge like that. Probably was Sam.” you shrugged, “He came back like an hour ago… probably wanted to pay you back.”

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, already taking off to Sam’s room. You winced at his loud voice and groaned when you heard the brothers start to bicker.

After an agonizing hangover that lasted till late in the evening, you finally felt good enough to help Dean pack for the next morning when he'd leave with Sam. You felt extra clingy tonight even though you knew that they would probably be back in two or three days.

But as the tradition dictated, Dean and you cuddled in bed together before going to sleep.

"When do you have to leave again tomorrow?" you murmured against Dean’s skin as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We gonna leave at… like 7.30-ish?" Dean hummed, his hand lazily running up and down your spine.

“That early?” you whined to which Dean chuckled. He softly kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around you and holding you close.

“The earlier we leave, the earlier we get back,” he mumbled against your neck.

“And how long will you be gone?” you huffed against him.

“A day, maybe two?” Dean hummed, “So you only have a single night without your handsome and wonderful man.” he grinned against your skin, making you chuckle.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I can probably survive a night without you.” you retorted in feigned annoyance.

“Oh really?” he smirked, starting to tickle your sides.

“Hey! No! Stop!” you started to squirm against him, trying to wriggle away from his attack. Dean grinned triumphantly as he continued to tickle you for a moment before stopping.

“Still think you gonna be fine without me?” he looked at you challengingly.

“More than ever.” you grinned cheekily, biting your lip.

“Don’t be mean now…” Dean murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“Mhm… ok… maybe that’s something I’m gonna miss…” you smiled against his lips.

“Is that so?” Dean smirked smugly, giving you a passionate kiss, “I can remind you of a few more things you gonna miss.” he grinned, swiftly flipping you to lay on the mattress. You yelped in surprise as he towered over you, trailing hungry kisses down your skin, making you gasp in delight.

You groaned softly when you woke up in the middle of the night without seemingly any reason. At first, you thought it was thanks to Dean’s snoring. As you glanced at your alarm clock it was shortly after 3am… again.

It seemed to become a daily occurrence for you to wake up around that time, you just couldn’t understand why. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft shuffling around your bed. You tensed for a moment, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door that you were sure had been closed when Dean and you went to bed.

You rolled your eyes amused at yourself for being scared for a moment when Miracle had probably just pushed open the door to get to his sleeping spot at the foot of your bed.

You nuzzled back into your pillow, closing your eyes to go back to sleep when there suddenly resounded what could only be described as a giggle. Your eyes widened immediately, and your hands tightened on your blanket.

You swallowed hard as you listened into the darkness.

"Dean!" you whispered. No response. You began to shake him slightly, "Dean, wake up!" you whisper-yelled panicked.

"Hmm… what's wrong." Dean groaned sleepily as he began to stir awake.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That giggle!" the fear in your voice was apparent.

"Giggle? Go back to sleep Y/N, your imagination is playing tricks on you."

The floorboards softly creaked making you jump.

"Did you hear that!" you almost shouted.

"Yes, I did. It's just the wood settling, telling you to get some sleep. Nothing more." Dean mumbled, pulling you closer to him before he fell right back to sleep. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, douchebag…" you muttered, pulling your covers up to your nose and staying alert.

Every creak and crack made you scoot even closer to Dean until you were pressed against him completely. You battled with falling asleep as exhaustion seeped into your bones but once the clock struck 6am the bunker fell silent apart from Dean’s snores. Your eyelids became just too heavy to keep open and soon you were fast asleep.

"Outch!" you cried out, clutching your hip. You were still half asleep when you pottered around in the kitchen. When you had turned around your hip crashed into the open standing cutlery drawer, "For god’s sake Dean! How often do I have to tell you to close these damn drawers!" you hissed in pain at Dean who sat on the table, nursing his coffee. He looked up, startled for a moment.

"I wasn't even near that drawer," he replied groggily, his hand rubbing over his cheek.

"Sure." you grumbled, “That seems to be your standard excuse.”

"No, for real! I only got my coffee. Don’t need cutlery for that." he defended himself and held up his cup. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Don't give me that look Y/N!" Dean warned you jokingly, "I swear, I'm telling the truth. Maybe you opened it in your delirium and forgot about it."

"Maybe." you grumbled as you took a spoon out of the drawer and closed it, "But you can't blame me. I slept awful."

"Why? Didn’t I tire you out enough?” Dean smirked into his mug, “You seemed really exhausted when we fell asleep…”

“Sometimes I wanna smack your pretty face…” you sighed, shooting Dean an unamused glare, "I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought that I had heard somebody or something shuffling through the house. There was creaking and giggling the whole night."

"Giggling?" Dean drawled amused, raising a brow at you.

" I know it sounds weird but I know what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe it was just the whistling of the wind or something like that." Dean shrugged dismissively, “Maybe Miracle whined in his sleep."

"Cause I can’t tell the difference between a dog whine and a giggling sound?" you scoffed, “Miracle wasn’t even in our room last night cause of certain activities…”

“Maybe you were making up things in your post-blissful haze.” Dean grinned cheekily, immediately receiving a hit against his shoulder, “Ow!” he chuckled, “Why are you being so mean to me lately?”

“I’m not mean! You’re just a dick at the moment.”

“Am not!” Dean protested amused, rubbing his arm, “You’ve been on my case ever since we returned from our hunt.”

“Because you started the war with the doll!”

“I didn’t do that!” Dean laughed, “But maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy. Your subconsciousness still tries to get over that little scare.”

"I’m a hunter, Dean. Spooky shit is my daily bread, so I doubt that a little doll could scare me into hallucinating sounds at night.” you scoffed, “And it's not like I was dreaming. I was wide awake!"

"So, you wanna tell me some creature scampered through the bunker last night?” Dean looked at you sceptically, “I would’ve heard it as well. I mean, I was right next to you… Wait a minute… is that why you tried to wake me up last night? It feels like we talked about this already."

"Yeah… and you jackass fell right back asleep.” you huffed, “You wouldn’t have heard a fire alarm over your snoring!”

“I don’t snore!” Dean scoffed offended.

“Oh trust me, you do.” you huffed dramatically, “And yes, I know, there wasn't anybody scampering around… I just. I don't know, ok? Something just felt… off."

"It was probably the wood settling over the night. The nights are getting colder now, the wood draws together.” Dean reasoned, gently rubbing your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

"Presumably…" you mumbled unconvinced.

"And the most plausible," Dean added with a shit-eating grin.

"Bite me!" you quipped, glaring at him as you shrugged off his hand.

"You know, only in our bedroom!" he called after you with a cheeky grin as you walked out of the kitchen, flipping him off.

When the boys left the bunker to drive down to Bobby, you left with them through the garage, saying your goodbye to them before heading in the other direction towards the town to get some groceries so you wouldn’t have to get takeout yet again. Sam, Dean, and you had been almost exclusively on the road for the last couple of months, so the pantry looked quite meagre while other chores had piled up around the bunker. You would have to get to them as soon as you came back from grocery shopping and running a few errands as well.

Around noon you finally found yourself back at the bunker, the trunk of your car filled with multiple bags and the dry cleaning you had picked up on your way. Dean and Sam had the bad habit of wearing their suits until they started to reek and would bring almost every suit they owned to the dry cleaning at once. Usually, you refused to bring or pick up the clothes since it was hard to carry the 10+ suits back and forth but you actually had to pick up a coat of your own, so you tried to be a doting girlfriend and friend for once and picked all of the clothes up.

Just as you killed the engine and tried to figure out how you could carry everything inside without having to take too many trips, your phone began to ring.

"Perfect timing, Mister Winchester." you chuckled as you accepted the call.

"Just came home?" his raspy voice resounded from the speakers. He sounded tired.

"Yup, had a busy day already. How’s the trip going? Taking a break?”

"Sammy had to stretch out his freakishly long legs.” Dean hummed and you could hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ in the background.

“But traffic’s ok?”

“So far, it’s been a breeze. We almost passed the halfway mark, we should get to Bobby around 6pm if we’re lucky.” Dean hummed.

“Where are you right now?” you asked curiously, getting out of the car to walk around to the back.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri… I think.”

“How’s it there? Any better than in Kansas?” you tried to keep Dean talking, already missing his voice. You pinned your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you opened the trunk and got the first few bags out of it, walking towards the bunker's main entrance.

“Slightly better weather-wise but I'd much rather be with you right now," Dean murmured into your ear.

"Aw, you're sweet. I'd love that too… then I wouldn't have to carry in all these suits that I picked up at the dry-cleaner's and all these groceries on my own." Dean only snickered on the other end of the line, “We really have to get them cleaned in more reasonable batches instead of every single suit you guys have been wearing till they smell.”

"So, what do you have planned for tonight?" Dean tried to change the subject.

"Not much," you said while fishing for your keys in your coat pocket while balancing the grocery bags on your leg, "Maybe do some of my laundry.”

Dean could hear you unlock the front door and suddenly you screamed and there was a thud.

"Y/N?" Dean asked concerned, his brows furrowing as he listened attentively for any sounds.

"Dean what the heck! Was that necessary?" you panted into the speaker as you picked up your phone from the ground.

"Was what necessary?" he asked confused.

"Don't act so innocent. You have to stop with those pranks!" you laughed, your heart still racing, "You scared the shit out of me. Again. Congratulations!"

"…and with what exactly?" Dean chuckled bemused.

"The doll you sat directly behind the door?"

"Ahh… erm… yeah. Got you!" he forced a laugh. Hadn’t he thrown that weird thing out before they went to the bar 2 days ago? Maybe Miracle had found it in the trash outside and dragged it back inside.

"Ok?" you raised an eyebrow and kicked the doll out of your way, "Moving on. Please remember to tell Cas that he has to come by the next couple of days for the translation of the Enochian we found." you carried the bags towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Dean grumbled.

“Cause Cas only answers your calls…” you hummed amused. Dean sighed exasperated.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will." he groaned.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with the chores. You started a load of your and Dean’s sheets while tidying your shared room, vacuuming, and dusting off every surface. Afterwards, you busied yourself with restocking the pantry and cleaning out the fridge from unidentifiable containers of what arguably had been food at some point in time.

After cooking yourself a late dinner you let yourself fall into a recliner in the Dean cave. Miracle joined you, getting a few bites of your pasta dish as the two of you watched a movie. In the middle of the movie, your phone vibrated, notifying you of a goodnight text from Dean and the info that he and Sam were on their way back to the bunker and should be back around noon. You quickly send back your reply before stashing the phone into the side of the recliner and turning your attention back to the movie.

You didn’t even realise how tired you were until you woke up in the middle of the night to a completely dark room. The TV must’ve shut off a while ago and Miracle was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed as you tried to wake up enough to get up and wander back to your room. That’s when you realised that you had forgotten to put the sheets back onto the bed after you had washed them and put them into the dryer. You groaned and shuffled in the opposite direction to the laundry room. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, hoping you would be able to fall asleep quicker if you didn’t get blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

As you gathered all the sheets out of the dryer you hummed in delight as the scent of freshly washed laundry filled your nose. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep while being encased in this heavenly smell. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when Mircale suddenly started to bark out of nowhere.

“What is it, Miracle?” you called out annoyed. Maybe he was scolding you for not being in your room when he wanted to sleep, “I’ll be there in a sec…”

You were a little confused when his barking turned into growls and snarls.

“Miracle, what’s your deal?” you groaned.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your eyes widening as you froze in the doorway. You swallowed hard and tried to pull yourself together. This probably was just a nightmare. Or as Dean would tell you right now, just the wood settling. Very amused Wood being in a giggly mood…

You felt a chill run down your spine when you heard it again.

The giggling.

“H-hello?” you asked into the darkness, thinking that maybe Dean had already talked to Cas who had come by.

But you never got a response. And usually, Miracle wouldn’t snarl at Cas either, nor would Cas sound like a giggling toddler. So, this was more than odd.

Your stomach felt queasy as you crept up towards your room cautiously. Your heart was dancing tango in your chest. Suddenly you heard pitter-patter grow louder behind you and without another thought you booked it to your room, not even looking back. As soon as you reached your room, Miracle scurried in after you and you slammed the bedroom door close.

You panted as adrenaline shot through and your brain was slowly processing what just had happened. You began chuckling and shook your head amused.

“Miracle, you scared me.” you chuckled slightly relieved and a bit amused that you got scared that easily when a sudden slam against the door made your heart sink again.

You quickly locked the door, backing away immediately and stumbling backwards a few steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You threw the washed sheets onto the bed, your eyes never leaving the door as you searched for Dean’s emergency blade under the bed. Once you had the knife secured in your hand you searched for your phone in desperation. It slowly dawned on you that you had forgotten your phone on the recliner, so you had no chance of calling the boys for support. But then again, they probably couldn’t help you in your situation right now anyway since they were still thousands of miles away from the bunker. All you could do was wait it out until they came back and stand on guard.

At some point during the night, you gathered the courage to slide a chair under the handle of the door before you sat down on your bed again. You didn’t hear anything anymore outside of the door, but you didn’t trust the silence one bit. You invited Miracle into the bed for emotional support. Dean would kill you if he found out that you had let the dog sleep in bed with you, but you didn’t really care right now.

Harsh pounding against the door jerked you awake. You had no idea how late it was or when you had fallen asleep. You almost fell to the ground when you scrambled out of bed.

“Darling? Y/N?! Are you in there?” Dean’s worried voice resounded from the other side of the door, the handle turning frantically as he continued to knock against the door.

You quickly scurried to the door and pulled the chair away before you opened the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You’re back.” you tried to sound enthusiastic, but the grogginess was quite apparent on your face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Dean asked worried, grabbing your shoulders as he inspected you, “What happened? Why did you lock yourself in our room? You look pale.”

“N-nothing.” you stammered sheepishly. You didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened. He probably wouldn’t believe you and tell you that you had probably just imagined it again. Or he’d turn it around and tease you about ‘how much you had missed him’ and that ‘your strong, handsome man was back to protect you from bad dreams again’. And you really didn’t need that right now, especially with the lack of proper sleep.

“Look who we brought,” Sam announced suddenly, making you sigh relieved as the conversation was stirred away from you when Sam stepped aside to reveal Cas tagging along behind him.

“You look awful.” Cas greeted you in his monotone voice.

“Hi, Cas… nice to see you, too.”

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @fuckyoutommie @loz-3 @whorefordean @kayful00595 @drasticemotions @deans-spinster-witch @tweakingin2 @winharry @jackles010378 @marvelfanfn2187a113

Divider by @talesmaniac89

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

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sinsinsininning · 11 months ago

Text

A little bit softer

Chapter 6

Eustass Kid x crewmate!fem!Reader

TW: drinking, gambling, swearing

A/N: this one is really short bc I’m a little run down from life rn. Next one will be a bit spicier

Also I have no idea why I kept Jon around this long, he’s a very generic looking guy, I picture him as the sorta boring hot a lot of people get away with.

—————

The bar is loud.

You slow down on the drinks before departing from Kid, your stool quickly taken up by a pretty lady who draped herself over him. He didn’t bother to shake her off, she’d run off eventually, he was still in a foul mood.

Hip and House were in a booth in the far corner, watching Quincy and Pomp dance to the heavy music. You slip in beside them, leaning against Hip as your lack of sleep and booze caught up with you. House laughs, sharp and high like a fox.

“You look fucked.” She giggles, you swat at her across the table, but the blow was half hearted. Hip pulls you back to lean on her again.

“Maybe you should head home?” She suggests. “It’s not that late, you could catch up on some sleep.”

“Nah, I’m beat but I’m still…” You trail off, tapping your fingers against the table. You didn’t know what it was but it’s like you were wired. Maybe it was the drinks or the bartender’s flirting.

Or Kid calling you pretty. Plenty pretty at that.

You decide it must be the booze and the bartender. House rakes her eyes up and down you, grinning.

“You look antsy, got something on your mind?” She teases.

“Yeah, I’m feeling kinda,” You glance at the bar, hoping to catch sight of Jon. “I think I’m gonna try to fuck the bartender.” You finally announce, Hip spits her drink out, you flinch away from the spray.

“What the fuck?” She shouts, wiping her mouth, eyes wide. House is cackling across from you, worse yet all the noise attracts Quincy and Pomp back to the table. You flush under the attention. “Why the fuck would you fuck him?”

“Wait! Who’s she fucking?” Quincy raises her hand and waves it.

“Yeah, I’m lost.” Pomp chimes in, you smack his arm and try to push him out of the booth.

“The bartender!” Hip shouts.

“Why is it so shocking? He’s hot and he was flirting with me! I just have to ask him and it’ll be fine!” You were drunk, no doubt, because you would never talk about this sober.

No matter how much you flirted and joked, there was always a line of seriousness and you never went over it. Until now.

“You’ve got so many options though!” Hip whines. “Your outta his league.” You shook your head and glare at her.

“That’s what Kid said!” You gesture towards the bar again. “Like am I blind? The guy is hot. You’re all blind.” The group bursts into giggles as House finally stops laughing.

“Wait Kid said what?” She asks, smacking Quincy’s arm to shut her up.

“I said that I thought the bartender was cute and he said I’m too pretty for him, or something like that.” You slur out the words like it was obvious.

“Kid called you pretty?” Hip gasped, you stare at her and nod once, the motion made your head swim. “Oh shit! Pay up bitches!!!” You swing your head around the table as everyone begrudgingly hands over a few Berries to the smiling blonde.

“Wha-What’s happenin’?” You hiccup. House is laughing again and you try to kick her but miss and stub your toe hard. “Fuck!”

“Nothing!” Hip answers quickly. “Sooooo you think the bartenders cute?” She half stands up so she can see him better, he sees her and starts to come over, assuming she wants to order.

“Oh fuck,” Pomp whisper shouts. “We gotta get rid of him.” You nudge him again.

“Why?”

“No reason!” Hip pulls you back to her as Jon arrives at the table, he smiles widely at you and you wave back.

“You guys need another round?” He asks.

“Yes! Another round of beer please!” House shouts, louder than she actually needs to, a nervous smile on her face. Jon glances at you once more.

“What about you, gorgeous? Beer or a refill of your rum and coke?” He’s only focused on you, it makes you flush, the attention is nice.

“Beers fine-”

“She taken!” Quincy shouts, then covers her mouth.

“Oh?”

“No I’m not. What?” You mind is slow to catch up, scrunching your face at her. Jon laughs a little and shifts on his feet.

“She definitely is!” House adds in.

“Yeah? Is it the angry redhead at the counter?” He grins at you.

“Kid? No he’s my-”

“Yup! That’s him!” Pomp is the one who cuts you off this time. Jon keeps grinning at your confused face, like he was in on a joke about you. You frowned harder now.

“That makes sense, he was pretty insistent on paying for your drinks earlier.” He whistled lowly, you can barely hear it. “Surprised he hasn’t decked me yet.”

“Wait he paid for your drinks?” House asks, eyes wide, you nod slowly still confused. “When?”

“Uh earlier?”

“Before or after he called you pretty?”

“Before?”

House and Quincy let out a whoop, high fiving each other. Hip grumbles as she fished out the Berries they’d just given her back out and to their outstretched palms. The pair cheer again and split the cash.

“Well lemme go grab those drinks. Be right back.” Jon says as he’s waking away. You stare after him while your group congratulate each other.

“Why’d you say I’m taken?” You ask the table.

“Well… just to protect you, ya know?” House says.

“You’re drunk and we don’t want him creeping on you.” Hip rubs your back and you glare at her. Sure you’re drunk but not nearly as much as they normally get, you’ve seen all of them run off with someone blitzed out of their mind before. Why’d it be any different for you?

“I wanted to fuck him even when I was sober though.” You say, but the group pretends not to hear you as Jon returns. He places your drink last, giving you one last wink before leaving.

You get up after him, stepping over Pomp who tries to block you, but you push past him. It takes you two steps to catch up with Jon, you grab him arm to twist him around.

“Hey!” You flinch at your own shout, not meaning to be so loud. He’s lost the flirty smirk, his face neutral. “I’m not taken and I- I am interested.”

“You sure?” He asks unconvinced, but his eyes are lit up now. “You’re friends seem pretty sure you’re not.”

“I don’t know why they did that. I’m not with Kid or anyone else.” You state firmly, you don’t really want to ask him to bed outright, but at least you can clarify your status.

“I get it,” He chuckles and you move a little closer to hear him. “They’re looking out for you. But I’m 93% sure they’re rooting for you and the grumpy guy.” He gestures subtly behind you, though you’re anything but as you whip your head to look. Kid is watching with hard eyes, a look he usual reserved for when a fight is about to break out. The pretty lady from earlier is still there, leaning over him.

You laugh when you turn back to him, shaking your head slowly at his behavior. He’s got a hottie for the night, why couldn’t you get your own?

“I don’t know why they’re like this.” You sigh. “But like I said, I’m interested if you are.” That was as outright as you could say it, red cheeks betraying your embarrassment.

“My shift is over at 1. Clear your head and if you’re still around, I’ll come to you.” He offers and you’re a little grateful you have some time to sober up.

“1 o’clock. Gotcha!” You’re grinning back at him now. He nods and turns to go back to work, then pauses to look back at you with a grin.

“Oh and just so you’re aware. I’m pretty sure your friends are betting on your love life.” He throws out then strides off, you almost laugh. Instead you turn back to your group, they’re all watching, tense and ready to pounce.

“Stop betting on me!” You shout as you return, smack each one on the head as you sit.

#one piece #one piece smut #eustass kid #one piece kid #eustass x reader #kid x reader #kid pirates

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directdogman · 11 months ago

Note

Doggo, kind sir, I have a couple of questions for you about the 'original managers' and their DT counterparts (or lack thereof).

To get the one DSAF question(s) out of the way: It was mentioned that Harry fought in Vietnam and joined the managers when he got back, but how did the other managers get into the job? Were all they veterans that decided pizza was the logical next step?

For the DT (aka the important) stuff: Were there ever any plans to include Joe and Everett in DT, as either part of the main game or in potential DLC? (I imagine Scott would have been a no from the start, for obvious reasons.) And what sort of role would they have played if they did appear? (Also, what is the nicest thing that Tango could say about Abel?) Thank you for your time, sir!

DSaF question answer: Nah, the other managers weren't vets. Harry was the youngest of the set, prime drafting age during the Vietnam war. It's part of the reason the other managers were so protective of him and reacted so angrily when they find out that Abel had him phoneified. Most of the other managers had pretty ordinary jobs before ending up on the ground floor of the company, with some kind of expertise in a skill that made them indispensable to the founder.

It's been a long time, but if memory serves, the story I think I finally landed on for Joe was that he was a stockbroker (which is why he had such a foul mouth) before he ended up at Freddy's and floated the founder money to expand the company, and his expertise in finance wound up being so instrumental that he got roped into the company's inner circle, basically transitioning from an accountant on the peripheral of the group to someone the founder relied heavily on. Abel resented this, which sewed the seeds for their mutual antipathy.

His former career is also why Joe was able to somehow keep the company financially solvent for a stupidly long time despite the pile of bodies being churned out each year, between Abel and Harry's tenures as the head of the company, and why the company entered its greatest period of expansion under his leadership. Harry was really just a status-quo guy who emulated what Joe taught him without completely understanding it and signaled the beginning of the end for Freddy's, beginning with a slow decline.

For the DT questions: There is another holdover cameo in the DLC very early on (whose sprites I only finalized last week, actually), but it's a surprise who it is.

And honestly, Tango could probably think of at least a few nice things to say about Abel, such as: "He's managed to keep the funfair in business for years and manages to turn a profit despite its modest revenue flow!!! AND he's a snappy dresser!!! His head is stylish and nostalgic!!! Very classy guy!!!"

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just-some-random-blogger · 11 months ago

Text

Less Dire Situations | 1

Part 2

Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.

Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.

A/N: i have an andrew garfield brainrot and i needed a fic to help me escape, thus this fic. btw its originally posted on ao3

Tagging: @sloanexx @azperja

I groan and slam my head on the table.

"Brava," Peter laughs and claps his hand, a pencil between his grip, "she's done it, folks. All 22 questions." He shifts on his chair and checks his phone for the time, "and it only took 3 hours."

I begrudgingly lift my head and glare at him, "there would still be daylight had you let me cheat."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you don't pay me enough for that."

I raise my brows, "I feel like your reasoning is skewed."

Peter puts his pencil down and crosses his arms. He watches me as I finally close my journal and maths book, gathering my things into my bag. He tidies up his things too, "hey. You genuinely did good though."

"Psh. Gee. Thanks," I throw my pencil case in my pack.

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm serious," he places a hand on my shoulder, "you did good. You understood the concept. I'm proud of you."

He looks genuine when he says this, solemn and earnest even. I can't help but smile back at him, the vexation in my system, shattering into a million pieces. I chuckle and nod, "thank you, Peter."

He smiles.

I make a face, "you're such a dad."

Peter laughs under his breath and gathers his things.

"You ever hear that before?"

"Wow," he says exaggeratedly, "it's almost like you don't call me that every chance you get," he stands as he brings his books in his arms. He points the eraser end of his pencil, "which is such a foul, considering I don't have one."

I cackle. Peter chuckles inwardly, shaking his head as he heads into his bedroom. He mutters breathily, "you're so messed up in the head."

I tidy the rest of my things and fix his two-seater dining table. I then stand and push the chairs under the table, putting my backpack on.

Peter comes out of his bedroom, hand in one pocket, the other adjusting his glasses, "I'll walk you home."

I shake my head, "nah. I'm gonna go get a hotdog."

"That's fine," he heads to his front door and grabs his coat, "my treat," he puts on his coat and looks over his shoulder, "using the money you paid me."

I roll my eyes and chuckle as he opens the door.

"Ladies first," he motions and bows.

"You're such a weirdo," I walk out his apartment.

"True," he closes the door.

We eat hotdogs, heaping with relish, mustard, and ketchup on a bench by the river. It was out of the way from my home, but it was always a welcome detour, in my opinion.

I lick my lips as I look at the massive monument across from us. The Manhattan Bridge; my final stop.

I point as I chew.

Peter looks as he takes a bite of his hotdog. He turns back to me, "Manhattan Bridge."

"My launch pad," I say. I swallow and hold the rest of my hotdog in both hands, "one day, I'll jump."

He stills in his spot. He refrains from eating his hotdog and wonders if he heard right as he watches me continue to eat mine. He shifts and turns to me.

I chomp, and chew, and look back at him.

"What?"

I was never one to repeat myself, so I don't.

"Don't joke like that."

I turn to my hotdog and mutter under my breath, "I'm not joking."

Peter hears this of course but he doesn't doesn't give it away.

I look back at him and stuff hotdog in my face. The worry and concern that radiates off his face eats at me. I regret saying it. Part of me wants to tell him, to seriously tell him I am messed up in the head. I want to tell him the idea of jump off such a pretty bridge that means so much to so many people sounds so... cathartic.

I want to tell him I don't want him to feel concerned or worried. I don't want anyone to feel that way for me, which is precisely why I want to do this.

I don't though, because I know he'll only be more concerned and worried.

I grin at him and nudge him with my elbow, "it'd be a great way to meet the Spoods, huh?"

I cackle to myself as Peter gets recoils.

He doesn't respond to my joke, not in anyway that counted. He straightens up and gives a sigh, "a Spiderman joke?"

I nod.

He shakes his head, "still not funny."

"Oh, come on, grampa. What? You can't take a dark joke?"

"Dark jokes are funny."

"Come on," I raise my arms, "it is. Spiderman has saved so many people from falling before! It's a great idea."

"Listen," he raises a hand, "if you want to meet Spiderman, I hear there's a spot he goes to a lot."

"Pshh," I wave him off, "where's your sense of adventure? Where's the serendipity?"

He shakes his head, looking at the last of his hotdog. He doesn't feel like eating it anymore.

I decide to lighten the mood by pointing at other things and commenting on them. I get a couple chuckles out of him by the time I finish the last of my hotdog. When I turn to him, I recognize how badly I've killed the mood.

He and I stare for a moment. I can only take so much until I decide to look at his hotdog.

I grab it and eat it myself. He watches as I stand and brush the crumbs off my hands. With a mouthful, I say, "you snooze, you lose."

Peter stands and places his hands in his pockets.

He walks me home like he always does, only this time the mood was not so chipper.

When I get to my building, I give him a smile and wave, "thanks for the hotdog, Parker."

We stand in front of the entrance.

"And for walking me," I add.

He nods and smiles, "you're welcome. You should still eat dinner though, particularly vegtables."

I snort and nod, "yes, dad." I head towards the door.

"And hey," he calls out, making me stop.

I look back at him and raise my brows.

Peter presses his lips together, "it was a joke, right? Just a silly, ha-ha joke."

My heart sinks. I smile and lie through my teeth, "of course, Peter."

Peter stares at me. He smiles. He nods, "good."

"Good," I nod back.

"There's still so much Algebra you have to learn."

"Good night, Peter."

He watches me as I go inside. He is deeply unsettled, "night."

It's been 30 minutes since I woke up. Where once was only shadow, at this point, the sunshine was trickling through. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling were no longer glowing.

My alarm goes off. It's now 8 o' clock.

I sit down on my bed and wipe my face. Time to check the news.

I grab my phone and finally end my alarm. I open my news and look at the latest headlines. My eyes are heavy as I scroll through the depressing articles: the war of Israel, the genocide of Palestine, the war crimes in Sudan, the human rights crisis in Afghanistan, the exploitation of Congo, the US missile strikes in Yemen, topped off with local crime and, neighborhood disturbances-- fuck, someone killed a 90-year-old at the K-mart two blocks down?

I chew on my lip as I feel desperation creep up my spine. My fingers are ice cold and my eyes water as I search the tabloids for something-- anything.

But there was nothing.

There was no news on Spiderman.

I throw my phone on the sheets in front of me.

I turn to my calendar on the wall, looking at today's date, encircled with red, just like every day before it.

I stand and grab my red marker, crossing today out, just like every date before it. I look at date tomorrow, fingers tingling with agitation.

Why won't he just come?

I encircle tomorrow's date and decide, fuck it. I toss the marker on my desk. Tomorrow's D-day regardless if Spiderman shows.

I grab my towel and take a cold shower.

The next thing I know, I'm freezing in first period. I exhale on my hands and rub them together as Ms. Vasquez explains today's activity, a study on good vs evil, a sketch that concisely depicts each side, utilizing the combination of techniques we've been discussing for the week.

She says while were drawing, she'll also make rounds to check on our the status of our final output.

By the time she comes to my desk, I'm halfway through my sketch.

Ms. Vasquez looks at my drawing pad and smiles. I look to her, then my work. It was what it was.

She places her tender, veiny hand on my shoulder, "exceptional work, my dear. As always."

I turn to her. I don't know what about 'as always' rubbed me the wrong way. Was it the implicit excellence constantly required of me? Was it the feeling I had nowhere else to go and therefore had to keep outdoing myself? Was it the fact I didn't actually believe I was always exceptional? Was it the fact it felt like it negated all the times I did feel exceptional but people couldn't discern it?

I smile, "thanks, Ms. V."

The middle aged woman purses her lips. She scrutinizes my expression and I get nervous. She motions with her head, "I especially like the rendering you did."

I turn to my drawing.

"There's more visual weight on the good side than the evil, making it look darker."

I release a chuckle and turn back to her.

"There's that smile," Ms. Vasquez said.

"Can't get anything past you," I mutter lowly. I rub my neck uncomfortably.

"That remains to be seen," the woman responds, "do you finally have something to show me for your finals?"

I press my lips into a small smile and examine my current drawing, only to release my pencil and give her a bashful expression. I make nonsensical sounds. She raises her thin brows in concern.

"Come on," she urges, tightening her cardigan around her, "not 1 sketch? Not even a doodle?"

I let out an airy chuckle, "I haven't really been seeing inspiring heroes lately."

I watch as her freckled face contorts, her smile lines turn to frown lines and her forehead curls with worry, "a lot of your classmates are doing their parents, siblings, friends. I've seen a lot of Spiderman sketches too. And Iron Man... And that one trapeze act from Hell's Kitchen."

I snort at the mention.

"You mind me looking at your sketchbook?"

"Sure," I push my open book towards her.

"I mean your personal sketchbook."

I freeze at the mention. I look at her, trying to figure if she was serious or not.

She raises her hands, "artist to artist, I know it's like opening your ribcage, so I won't judge. But teacher to student," she sighs, "I'm honestly concerned about you. You were so excited when I announced A Study on Heroes. I wanna know what's going on with your drawings at least."

Fuck. I rub my thumbs across my fingers and chuckle, "ah. What can I say," I take my backpack and rummage through my things, "burnout."

I hand her my notebook. It was tattered and crusty. It had pages clinging on for dear life and ones that didn't belong there at all.

Ms. Vasquez accepts the object with reverence. I gulp as I watch her open it. If she catches the page where I drafted my suicide notes, she either doesn't notice or doesn't note it. I'm sure as hell she saw my distressed drawings, but she doesn't say a word about that either. She is completely stoic as he works her way back into my work.

My heart nearly leaves me when she turns my book to me, "who's this?"

I look at the primitive sketch. I look at the faceless figure eating a block of something undistinguishable. I don't know how she knew it was someone at all, "that's Peter."

"Peter Matthew? From the other section?"

"No," I shake my head, "just Peter. He's studying bio-chem."

"Ah," she nods, tucking her dark curly hair behind her ear.

I wait for her to explain how she knew the sketch was a person, but she doesn't. She only brings the book back to her chest and continues flicking the pages.

After a while, she shows me again, "what about these?"

I look at the plump man who had a handless raised arm. The paper where his wrist ends was ripped, having been been erased so many times. There are other doodles of him surround that one, scenes of taking orders and making angry faces. I had forgotten about those. My teacher turns the page and I see more of him.

"That's Eddie," I point toward the whiteboard, "he sells-" I swallow the lump on my throat "... doughnuts."

She nods, "why not him?"

I look at my sketchbook as she places it before me.

"I-" I shake my head, "haven't bought doughnuts there in so long. I doubt I should even do him." I close my notebook and shove it back into my bag.

Ms. Vasquez takes a moment before replying, "there's light and dark within all of us. Sometimes acknowledging the darkness is the first step to letting it go, to make room for light."

My nerves begin to tighten when she says this.

She releases a breath, "if he was relevant enough for you to commit more than 5 pages, I'd say he impacted you enough."

Thank goodness she let it go. "... his doughnuts were pretty good."

"Good then," she nods, "find an angle. Think of how he impacted you, say--" she shakes her head in thought, "you eat his doughnuts when you're stressed and after, you feel like life isn't so bad."

I pick up my pencil and nod. I absentmindedly continue shading my current drawing.

I perk when she calls my name. I turn back to her.

"I've been lax on you because I know you're a good student," Ms. Vasquez explains, making my throat constrict. She continues, "and because the finals were still pretty far. But not anymore," she raises a finger, "I need something soon. And I mean within this week soon."

"Yes, Ms. Vasquez."

She nods, "it can be about the doughnut guy, or someone else entirely. Okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles when she walks away and so do I.

The next thing I know, I'm being yanked back to keep my balance.

I whip to my left, barely hearing what Peter had to say against the loud bustle of the street.

When he lets go of me, we stop by the corner of the pavement. He tucks his hands back into his jacket pocket, "you are so out of it."

"Sorry," I make a face then smile, "Ms. Vasquez really chewed me out."

His brows quirk, "she did?"

"Yeah," I look at the passing cars, then the streetlight, "I've been procrastinating the final work for too long. She said even I couldn't shit out a whole final output overnight."

Peter doesn't respond until after we cross the street. He nudges me with the hand buried in his jacket, "what was your final output again?"

"Ah, we're supposed to make a fleshed out character design on a hero of our choosing. They have to have impacted us someway."

He nods. He takes a chance on a joke, "so no Spidey for you."

I chuckle and shake my head, "a lot of people are actually doing Spiderman."

"For real?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

I laugh, looking back to where I was walking, "yeah. It's all about justifying it, you know."

Peter feels fuzzy inside. He chuckles, "he walked my dog once."

I laugh and follow-up, "he beat up my 6th grade bully."

Peter snorts then adjusts his glasses.

At this point, we take a turn and the smell of warm vanilla becomes apparent. It doesn't take long for us to reach Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts.

I stop at the entrance for a moment. Peter looks at me and pulls me back, so not to disrupt the flow of people. Even through it all, the place was busy as ever.

"You okay?" Peter asks me.

I nod as I turn to my feet. I give him a smile and impulsively push the glass doors open, walking into the store even though my chest was tightening.

Peter follows after me, not saying a word. We stand in line. The line was as long as I remember, maybe even longer.

The warmth of the store, which used to be so welcoming and comforting, felt suffocating now. I stare at the checkered floor; the tiles were new. It seems even the walls were freshly painted. I rub my hands together as the line moves.

"Hey," Peter says from behind, patting my shoulder. I look back and turn where he was pointing.

My heart gets nipped at when I see a portrait of Eddie on the wall. It was candid shot, his face was stoic as he fried donuts.

I gulp and look forward.

As I got closer and closer to the front, I turn to Peter and grab his arm. He looks at me with reassurance. He takes the lead when it was our turn.

"Hey Eduardo," Peter says.

"Peter," the man exclaims, "the-" he stops himself when he sees me. I make eye contact with Eduardo and muster up all the guts to smile at him.

He speaks my name with such surprise and fondness, guilt nearly paralyzes me.

"How've you been, Da Vinci?!" the beefy man chuckles with excitement, "it's been so long! We missed you here!"

Peter turns to me with a smile. My chest tightens as I smile back.

"Peter says you're gonna be a big shot animator soon!'

My lip slightly trembles, "nah. I'm barely even graduating."

Eduardo waves his large hands, "oh-ho-ho. Dad was crazy about your drawings. And you know him. He's not crazy about anything but doughnuts."

My smile crumbles at the weight of the conversation.

Eduardo turns to the baked goods before him, his profile on full display, a carbon copy of his father's, then back to us, "whatever you want, Da Vinci, you got it. On the house."

"I- E-Eduardo- it's fine."

"Oh no. I gotta convince you to be a regular again," he smiles. I notice he's got a golden tooth now. Eduardo shakes his head, "what was it? Boston Creme and a Bear Claw?"

I don't nod but he gets the order anyway.

"The regular for me too, Eduardo."

"Yeah, yeah, pay up, Parker."

Peter and I head to the register. There, we are assisted by Lorenzo, who immediately says, "sorry about my older brother."

The soft smile on his angular face soothes me enough that I actually manage to smile back.

"It is so nice to see you again though," Lorenzo says as he rings up our order, "really."

Peter watches as I rub my arm. Lorenzo says the amount due.

Peter turns to Lorenzo, passing a bill as he says, "hey. Last time my ham and cheese was cold."

Lorenzo raises a bushy brow, "tough luck, kid." The lanky man gives Peter his change and Eduardo himself comes to give us our order packed food.

"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," the older of the two brothers says, "make sure to come back; Chico would want to see you."

Peter takes our order. The three men look at me.

My face contorts, "I..." I suck in a breath, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

Lorenzo presses his lips. Eduardo smiles, "thank you. I'm sorry too. We all miss him here. I'm happy you had the courage to come back."

"It was hard to open up again after we closed up," Lorenzo says with a half smile, "but it's what dad would have wanted."

Peter and I eat our warm treats on our way back to campus. The crunch of the dough and the sweetness of the cream made me feel like I wasn't where I was right now. It was enough to make me cry, so I don't think about it too much.

"Are you gonna do it?" Peter asks, "the hero thing?"

I turn to him and shake my head, "I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."

A loud car honk from afar fills the air.

"Maybe you could do it, in memoriam."

I chuckle under my breath.

The thought of coming back to ask for photos from the bereaved family sounds horrifying. I want to argue on this point, but I dismiss the thought altogether. It doesn't matter anyway.

"You know what," I smile at Peter, "when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea."

Peter perks as he takes a bite of his food. He chews and nods, "it is."

I turn back to my doughnut, and speak without a second though, "I hate that he died. I hate that it was him. No one deserves to go out like that."

He doesn't get to respond.

"The police don't even care. No one cares." I shake my head, "not even Spiderman cares anymore."

Peter feels winded. He turns to his ham and cheese. He feels tempted to say 'cut the Spiderman some slack' about as much as he wants to say he was too busy with homework, too busy with Calculus... too busy enjoying tutoring to have time to put on the suit.

"I hate that we have to depend on some masked bozo for justice," I say out of spite.

Peter and I halt at a bend.

He looks at me as I look at the street, littered, polluted, and filthy. Peter thinks there's so much to unpack here.

He zones onto my face, studying the wafting strands of hair, the visible turmoil, and the tormented beauty.

"You know what, Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind what I said. Good for him," I take a bite of my warm food, "I'd bail too. Probably build a web swing for myself and rob the Trump tower."

I laugh when I say this. Peter doesn't.

Peter decided Spiderman did care.

He got in his suit and spent the whole night waiting by the radio on his desk for a scene to help out on, not that he had to wait the whole night for something to happen.

There wasn't anything big, which was a good thing, just a few run away robbers and gang fights needing to be broken up.

It was, what, weeks, a month and a half since he put on the suit? It both felt so long and not long at all. What he knew for sure was that he missed this.

He missed it so much he swung around New York until he couldn't.

And then he missed his morning alarms.

When he finally woke up, he felt incredibly well-rested, a little too well-rested. When he realized he caught up with his sleep, he jolted into a panic and knew he fucked up.

He scrambles for his phone, slapping his hand on his bedside table. He checks his screen and jumps out of bed when he sees it's 2pm. He webs his backpack towards him and leaps out of the window, swinging through after lunch traffic.

He lands on campus, a little winded and sweaty, praying he could still catch what was left of his class that starts at 1:40. He sprints to his building, evading most of the people around. Just as he runs up to the entrance, he passes a woman who startles because of him.

It happens in slow-motion; Peter's spider senses cause him to turn and witness the aftermath just as it played out. She lady was carrying way too much for a person of her size; the heaps of paper in her arms comes crashing down.

His instincts get the best of him and he shoots a web at her water jug before it hits the ground. He makes an abrupt stop and grabs her arm before she loses her balance.

"Woah there," he huffs, keeping the woman upright.

She gasps as her things escape her.

Peter releases her arm and picks up the fallen objects.

She catches her breath and watches as he hands her the papers. He gives a guilty look, "sorry about that."

The middle aged woman knits her thin brows and huffs, "you running late or what?"

Peter chuckles with guilt, holding her water container by its handle, "I'm so late."

She grunts as she carries her papers. He makes a face when she leans back to carry the weight, clearly struggling.

Peter releases a breath and chuckles, "but uh-" he takes the papers back from her, "not too late."

"Oh, you don't-"

"No, ma'am, I insist," he says, "I'm guessing you're heading into the main building?"

"Actually," she slowly takes her water container from him, "I'm heading to my car. It's in the lot outside campus."

"Alright then," he smiles, "lead the way."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I really do need help..."

Peter chuckles, "yep. Yes. It's fine."

She smiles and nods, raising her arm forward.

They walk to her car and when they get there, he places the papers in the front seat.

"Thank you so much," she sighs, clutching her jug in her chest, "what's your college? Maybe I can put in good word to your teacher for getting you late."

Peter laughs, "no, it's fine really. I'm, uh, in bio-chem."

She raises a brow, "you wouldn't happen to be a Peter, would you?"

He's surprised, "woah, I am actually."

The woman chuckles, "what a coincidence."

Peter's heart leaps when she says your name and explains you're in her class, introducing herself as Ms. Vasquez. She says you mentioned him just yesterday, as he was the subject in one of your drawings. As quickly as his heart soars, it crashes when she tells him you had gifted her the water container in her hand.

Ms. Vasquez raises it, flaunting the familiar looking thing, "she's such a sweet girl."

That was your container.

"But you know," she adds, "I'm concerned about her. Has she been acting odd lately?"

Peter gulps, his entire body tenses. He can't speak.

"She hasn't been passing her requirements on time, and normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but she's been my student for 5 semesters, and she's never once been late, let alone missed a submission."

He uncomfortably smiles, "she's... I don't -she's going through some stuff."

Ms. Vasquez' brows furrow but she nods, "well I'm glad to know she has you in her life," she pats his shoulder, "thank you again, Peter."

Peter raises his hand in regard as the woman gets into her car. The moment she drives off, he pulls out his phone and calls you.

Except he doesn't call when he catches the 13 missed calls you've left him. His soul nearly slips out of his body as your 'this could have been a text, Parker,' line plays in his head; you hate calling.

He frantically presses his thumbs on your number. His pulse races as he hears the continuous ringing and did-not-pickup beep.

Fuck his 2pm class.

He looks for you all over campus. He checks almost every room in your building before realizing it was a waste of precious time. He revisits all the areas you've taken him, and visits places you've mentioned once before. He goes through the entire campus, then runs around the entire neighborhood.

He goes to your building but the guard to your dorm won't let him in without you there, even though he knew him well. He climbs up the fire exit but you had your curtains drawn and the windows locked. He tries knocking, then debates on breaking the window down. He decides against it.

He goes to the convenience store, the fast food chain, the café, the thrift shop, the bodega, the pharmacy, the record store, all of which you loved, but doesn't find you. He finds himself busting through the arcade you loathed because of how loud it was and the flower shop you scorned because they over-charged you once.

Nothing.

He finds himself busting into Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts, nearly breaking the glass door down with him.

The brothers turn to door and give a chorus of shocked exclamations.

"Jesucristo, hermano!" Eduardo shouts from the counter.

Lorenzo gasps and clutches his chest, leaning toward the register.

"You good, Pedrito?" Chico asks as he stops cleaning the tables.

Peter feels sweat on his neck and back begin to cling on his shirt. He surveys the unusually vacant establishment, finding only 3 customers present.

Chico wipes down the tables with his thick arms and large fingers, "you want an iced strawberry latte, kid? You looked stressed."

"He's in university," Lorenzo chuckles, going back on his phone, "what do you expect?"

Peter shakes his head and waves his hands, asking if they've, by any chance, seen you.

"Ah, yeah," Chico smiles, "she was just here."

"Wait, what?"

Eduardo grins and steps away from his station, pointing at the wall by Peter's side, "she set those up."

Chico and Peter turn to where Eduardo heads.

Peter surveys the wall that was bare just just yesterday. Where once only a small portrait of the brothers' father adorned the space, now had a framed illustration of Eddie and his kids beside a bulletin board where multiple pages were pinned. Most of them, he recognized, were your doodles of Eddie, ripped out of your sketchbook, the others were notes written with different handwriting.

"She asked if she could something to the wall," Eduardo said, "I thought she was gonna put one drawing of dad. I was shocked when she started ripping at her journal. She said... what did she say Chi-"

"Art keeps the memory of those we love alive," Chico raises a finger.

Lorenzo makes a face, "she literally only said art is meant to be shared."

"That's what she meant," Chico eyes his younger brother.

Lorenzo shakes his head and turns to Peter, "she was actually looking for you too."

His stomach drops, "she was?"

"Yeah," Lorenzo puts his phone down and rummages through the drawer behind him. He pulls out something and reaches out to Peter, "she said to give you this if you come."

Peter dashes forward and receives... a Tawagoshi.

"When she left, I realized she didn't think of why just giving it to you tomorrow," Lorenzo says, crossing his lean arms.

Peter looks at him in a panic, "did she say where she was headed?"

Lorenzo is taken aback by his expression, ".... uh... No? She- she didn't."

Just as Eduardo continues to muse about the new wall decorations and how so many people posted their letters to Eddie, Peter busts out of the place, just as roughly as he came in, causing Eduardo and Chico to yell at him in Spanish.

At this point, Peter is full on Spiderman. He puts on his suit and swings through the city. He's on high alert as he goes through each street.

Part of him wants to take thorough looks through every corner of the neighborhood, but his gut was urging him to speed through the avenue, dead set on a destination.

The sun begins to set on New York when he reaches the Manhattan Bridge. He looks down from the pillars of the structure. As the seconds pass, he feels more and more desperate.

He lies on his back and takes off his mask. He takes his phone out and calls you over and over and over.

He wonders if you already did it. He sits up and stares at the river, eyes watering as he imagines your lifeless body floating up the shoreline. He pulls his mask on, tugging it on his head way harder than need.

He realizes he started to cry when his lenses begins to fog. He tugs his mask on and snaps himself out of it. He battles with himself on what he should do next.

He's already off the other side of the bridge when he feels the urge to swing back. He wrestles with himself, unwilling to waste time, but ultimately he succumbs to that urge and perches himself back atop the pillar.

And then, the worst possible flavor of relief washes through him when he sees you. It's cruel how you don't even think twice when you reach the middle of the bridge.

"NO!" Peter yells as you climb onto the railing.

He swings towards you, using his body as a pendulum to reach you faster.

You're already free falling when Spiderman whips himself towards you.

He catches you.

You let out a grunt as your body cracks at the impact.

Peter has and arm and his legs around you, "what are you doing? What are you doing?!"

You look at him, eyes red and puffy. Your voice is hoarse, "S-pidey?"

#dd:dne #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #spiderman fan fiction #spiderman fanfic #avengers fan fiction #peter parker angst #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fiction #marvel au #peter parker x reader #spiderman angst #andrew garfield fanfic #spiderman andrew garfield #spiderman fic #spiderman au

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