#practicing the face little kids make when they stare at you from car windows

[slushyseals]

[try-set-me-on-fire]

ohhh i want to see pajamas badly!!!

(on ao3 here)

“Buck, can you get the trash?”

There’s a sort of sad dog-huff sound behind him. Eddie turns to the source of it to find Buck, face also kind of sad-dog-like. “Eddie,” he pouts. “I’m in my pajamas.”

Eddie looks down. He is indeed, the Cars (2006) ones Chris picked out for him for his birthday enough years ago that it was still the kid’s favorite movie. There’s an extremely faded Lightning McQueen staring up at Eddie from Buck’s left knee. However: “You take the trash out in your pjs all the time. You’ve taken the trash out in those pants before, Buck, I know you have.”

“That was before I lived here,” he whines, eyes all big and eyebrows all pulled up and together. “The neighbors see me all the time, now.”

Eddie doesn’t point out that they saw him all the time before, too. “I’m also in my pajamas.” Gray sweats, practical. “You’re just a weenie, you know it’s cold out there.”

Buck’s pouty face is suddenly stretched into a thin veneer over a barely contained laugh. “Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

”Asshole,” Eddie does laugh. He puts down the pan he was scrubbing and ties off the trash bag, hauls it towards the back door, slips into the sandals left there for outside chores. “Like you would even be embarrassed, you love Lightning McQueen.”

“Kachow,” Buck says, now all cheerful as he steps to take Eddie’s place at the sink. He cackles as Eddie flips him off before the door closes.

It isn’t even that cold out here, really. Eddie’s phone had said 47° last he glanced at it but he thinks it’s a liar, it’s California, it’s April, he’s in a t-shirt, and it’s a little chilly, sure, but it’s fine. It’s kind of nice, actually, he’d been getting kind of sweaty in the kitchen with the oven on. It smells nice out here — once he’s got the bag in the bin and firmly closed the lid again — like the little spattering of rain they got this morning has washed everything clean. Since he’s outside already he figures he could go get the mail, since Chris went right from school to a big I’ve Moved Back Into Town And Haven’t Seen All My California Friends In A Long Time party — hosted by Travis, because he has a pool, Dad — and wasn’t here to insist they check it as soon as the truck went by. Waiting on an important letter, Mijo? Eddie always teases. I just want to see what we got, Chris shrugs, or laughs, or rolls his eyes in response.

There’s a little breeze going as Eddie walks down to the street, and he shivers a little but still doesn’t mind it. The sun is mostly down but there’s still a little light in the sky, everything an aching sort of blue, and the street lights glow warm up and down the block. There’s a bird still singing, somewhere. In the mail box is a package addressed to Buck — the new carabiner he ordered, Eddie’s pretty sure, after his last one he’d been using since he left Pennsylvania finally exploded into bits when he’d jumped into the hammock he’d hung on it at the beach last week (Eddie had waited to laugh until he was sure he was okay) —some junk mail, something from health insurance, a bill, another bill, and an advertisement for the farmer’s market they go to most often. Eddie bundles it all under his arm and then stands there for a little, looking out at the evening, looking up at the sky. The moon hangs there, and Eddie thinks the world is really kind of beautiful.

Back to the house, gravel crunching and grass sighing beneath his feet. Past the trash bins, which he tosses the junk mail into. To the back door, light spilling through the window, Buck’s off key singing spilling through the wood. Every now and then he passes by the glass and he’s tall and smiling and his hair looks so good curly, he looks so good, he’s one of the things in the world that are beautiful, a part of it, a part of what makes it all beautiful. Eddie opens the door and Buck says “Took you a while, thought you got lost,” and Eddie has walked around this kitchen so many times that he knows it takes exactly two steps to reach him. One, two, and then he can touch him, palms and fingers to jaw, in hair, and he can pull him down just a little, he can kiss him. Quick, soft, just the once.

“Oh,” Buck says, in a voice like some sort of small cartoon mammal. They’re still so close the air of it hits Eddie’s lips and he sort of tastes or smells garlic, Buck must have tried the sauce while Eddie was outside. Cheater, they were supposed to see how it turned out together.

“Was that- is this- okay? Is this okay?” He laughs a little. He sees the way the sound tugs Buck’s mouth into a smile for a moment. “Is-”

“Yeah,” Buck says, he nods and his nose bumps Eddie’s cheek. “Yeah- yeah, Eddie, yeah-” and there are lips on his again, Buck kisses him so firmly, with so much forward momentum, that Eddie takes half a step back before planting his feet, taking Buck’s weight. Easy to do, absolutely familiar. Eddie’s head spins with it, how well he knows Buck’s body, how he doesn’t know it like this at all. How badly he wants to learn. Buck’s big warm arms come up and wrap around him and Eddie can feel his eyebrows frown against his own and then Buck’s pulling back just enough to say “Jesus, Eddie, you’re freezing,” and Eddie tilts his head way back — Buck can hold his weight, too, easy — and laughs.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sisters

Irene Paredes x Teen!Reader

Summary: You and your sister's wife

"You know," You say, voice thick and rough with sleep," My sister will get annoyed if she catches you sleeping in my bed."

"Lucía sent me to get you."

"And you're doing that by getting in bed with me?"

You flutter your eyes open, rolling over until your face to face with your sister in law.

Irene looks down at you, a smile on her face as she reaches out to pinch your cheek.

You squawk at her, swatting her hand away with a little yelp. "Stop it! You're so mean!"

"And you slept past your alarm," Irene reminds you," You need to stop doing that."

"Who are you? My mum?"

Irene grins. "I mean, technically-"

You groan, pulling a pillow over your eyes to block her out.

With your parents failing health and your own dedications at La Masia, they had signed their rights away and transferred your custody to your sister, Lucía.

Irene had put her own name on the paperwork too - something about it running smoother if it was clear it would be a couple taking care of you and not just Lucía.

You feel a poke on your shoulder and you swat blindly at Irene.

"Leave me alone," You say," Why can't you just let me sleep?"

"Because we have training," She replies, continuing to poke you," And you take ages to get ready. You're worse than Mateo."

"Mateo's practically a baby," You say," If he takes long to get ready then it's Lucía's fault."

"What's your excuse then?"

You sit up, shrugging. "It's Lucía's fault. She got me ready as a kid too. She's the reason I take so long."

"Go and get dressed, hermana," Irene says with an eye roll," I'm leaving in ten so if you're not ready by then I'm leaving without you."

"No you won't!" You yell after her.

You don't think she will but you still rush to change just in case.

Irene's stood at the door when you get downstairs, throwing her keys up and down while Lucía bustles around the kitchen with Mateo.

"Kiss your sister goodbye," Irene teases as you scoop up your bag and approach.

You groan. "You're so annoying."

"I don't hear you telling your sister how much you love her."

You make sure to drag your feet all the way over to Lucía, pressing a kiss to her cheek before doing the same with little Mateo.

"Be good at practice," Lucía reminds you," And if Irene gets on your nerves, tell me and I'll keep her in line."

You grin against Lucía's shoulder. "She's not all bad."

"Don't tell her that. She's already got a big head. Don't make it get bigger."

"I'll try."

"Let's go," Irene says, getting a bit impatient and you pull away from your sister.

"You're the one that made me say goodbye."

"Oh? So it's my fault?"

You pretend to think. "Yes. Yes it is."

Irene rolls her eyes fondly as an arm is thrown over your shoulder. "Love you Lucía, love you, Mateo! I promise I won't kill your sister!"

The car ride is an easy one, familiar.

You'd signed your first professional contract with Barcelona in the summer, rising through the ranks of La Masia before taking your place as one of the new centrebacks Barcelona signed for the new season.

"You nervous?" Irene's eyes are on the road as she speaks.

You rolls your eyes and scoff," No."

It's a complete lie and you think Irene knows that because one hand leaves the gearbox to gently rub your shoulder.

It's a little annoying how good she is at doing it while she's driving.

"You're going to do great," She soothes, the same voice she uses when Lucía is anxious and Mateo is crying," It's going to go so well for you. Everyone's friendly and no one is going to make fun of you."

You stare out the window. "You don't know that."

"Tell me if they do." She's gone serious now, pulling into a line of traffic and turning to look at you. "I know you like to solve things yourself but I'm serious. If anyone says anything or they make you uncomfortable, you come and get me."

"I know, Irene," You reply," You've been saying that kind of stuff for years."

She grins at you. "Just making sure you remember. No one is going to be mean to you but just in case."

"You're not going to hover, are you? Because I'll tell Lucía. She says you need to stop that."

"Lucía's not the boss of me."

You both exchange looks before bursting into laughter.

"Yes, she is."

Irene rolls her eyes. "Fine. I won't hover if you tell me if someone's making you uncomfortable. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Good." She looks back the queue in front of her. "Now what do you want from the drive through?

You frown. "Lucía said last night we weren't allowed to get breakfast from the drive through."

Irene winks. "I won't tell if you won't."

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

The honeymoon phase in which Billy, notorious for his temper, somehow never gets mad at Steve, lasts far longer than anyone expected.

He’s very particular about his things, and likes to keep as strict of a schedule as he can — won’t eat dinner an hour early and doesn’t like being over ten minutes late to things — and to top it off, he’s possessive.

Not you can’t talk to anyone that isn’t me possessive, but more like please tell me where you’re going and what you’re doing so I know you didn’t get murdered possessive.

And Steve has the tendency to accidentally break some of Billy’s internalized, largely unspoken rules.

He’ll use something and forget to put it back, and Billy will try to keep his patience in check while Steve attempts to recall where he last saw the item in question. Steve prefers to be fashionably late, or at least use that as an excuse for why they haven’t left for a party until an hour and a half after it’s started.

Sometimes Billy will pregame or, more often than not, pace in front of the door with the keys in his hand. An angry red creeping up his neck.

Steve once went to Robin’s after work to help her move an art project into her mom’s car, and wound up shooting the shit for too long. At nearly the four hour mark, the Camaro pulls up to the curb, and the window rolls down.

He doesn’t lecture Steve, or even get out of the car, he just looks at him. The sunglasses hide his expression enough to make Steve just a little bit more nervous as he trots up to the window and leans down.

Especially when the blond’s jaw is clenched.

“I’m sorry, I’ll uh… I’ll call next time,” he says.

Billy nods once and Steve knocks on the door panel before the car pulls down the street.

It becomes a sort of inside joke, something that the kids and Robin poke fun at him for, that starts to make Steve a bit paranoid.

What will he do to piss Billy off so bad that he finally loses it?

Funnily enough, he starts trying harder to remember. To show up earlier, to call if he decides he isn’t coming straight home.

To not completely rearrange Billy’s hair products in the cabinet when he’s looking for hairspray.

He isn’t perfect but he’s trying.

The night that everyone has been waiting for finally arrives when they’re hosting one evening, and Steve breaks the cassette player.

With Billy’s Mötley Crüe tape stuck inside.

He scrambles to snag the cord from the outlet when it starts to make a whirring sound, an unnatural smell of heat rising from it like it might combust.

When Steve manages to unplug it, he also knocks the whole thing onto the ground with a crash.

The room is engulfed in total silence. Everyone is staring at him when he looks over his shoulder, some completely stunned while others, namely Robin, have huge shit-eating grins on their faces.

Billy comes into the room not a moment later, eyebrows slightly raised as he sips his newly-retrieved beer, eyeing the bits of broken plastic scattered on the floor at Steve’s feet.

The brunet makes a face. Can’t make himself keep looking at his boyfriend when his jaw clenches and his brows pinch together.

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurts. Kneels down to set the player upright, though even just touching it feels like he’s making things worse. “Maybe we can take it to Radio Shack and—“

“It’s busted,” Billy dismisses, voice even. He takes another swig and shakes his head. “Which tape?”

Another heavy beat of silence falls over the room as Steve stands up, wringing his hands together as he processes the question.

“Shout At The Devil,” Steve says.

Billy sighs. Rubs his free hand over his face and turns back into the kitchen, disappearing from the room entirely.

Meanwhile Steve’s heart is practically thundering in his ears.

“He’s gonna rip you a new one,” Robin whispers.

“And it’s gonna be bad,” Max adds.

Steve tenses up when Billy returns with his record player in his arms, shouldering through and setting it down, plugging it in. Then, he produces the very same album on vinyl.

“Sound’s better anyway,” he grumbles. Stands up. Looks at his work with approval before he glances at Steve, at which point he quirks a brow. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

The brunet presses his lips together and shrugs. Hot shame creeping up the back of his neck.

The simple fact that Billy didn’t so much as yell at him when he clearly wants to has Steve feeling… some type of way. Like maybe he isn’t getting what he deserves.

And that alone makes him feel shitty. Makes him feel like he’s forcing his partner to walk in eggshells just to not get mad at him.

“Maybe we should… have different stuff?” Steve suggests timidly. “Like, I could move my things into the other bathroom so we don’t have to share anymore, and stuff like that. I’ll— I can still, y’know, replace the cassette and the player since I—“

“Stevie,” Billy interrupts.

His voice is soft, matching his expression as he steps closer. Reaches out to rub up and down Steve’s arm.

It nearly makes the brunet’s lip wobble.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s this comin’ from? I like sharing with you,” Billy says. “I don’t love when things get broken or misplaced, but that doesn’t mean I want us to live with separate everything.”

Steve manages a nod.

“Okay,” he rasps.

Billy immediately closes in on him, reaching up with his free hand to brush his fingers against his cheek.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Billy coos.

“You didn’t yell at me.”

“I know, that’s why I’m confused.”

Billy chuckles, and Steve bites his lip.

“You never yell at me. You never get mad at me when you’re supposed to, and—“

“Stevie,” Billy whispers. He’s smiling, still lovingly caressing Steve’s cheek. “I’m mad as fuck right now. You wrecked a $200 cassette player beyond repair, of course I’m mad.”

Steve swallows thickly. Furrows his brows.

“Then why are you being so calm?”

“Well, is yelling at you gonna fix it? Or magically make a new one appear for free?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer.” He leans in to press a kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose. “Also ‘cause I love you, and I don’t wanna yell at people I love.”

From the sofa, Max blows a raspberry with her lips.

“You yell at me all the time,” she huffs.

“You aren’t my future husband,” Billy retorts. Steve snickers, and Billy’s smile widens as he pushes a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear. “Besides, when I supposed to get mad at you?”

“Dunno,” Steve says. “Whenever I fuck something up?”

Again, Billy chuckles, and shakes his head.

“Did you get pissed when I broke the vacuum cleaner trying to clean that shag rug we wound up throwing out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Steve shrugs and gestures lamely with his hand.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Whose fault was it, then, if not mine?”

The brunet chews his lip for a moment.

“Well, it was an accident—“

“Ah, see?” Billy muses. “It’s hard to get mad at you for being innocent.” He ropes Steve closer, interlocking his fingers over the small of his back. “If you were doing shit on purpose, or didn’t care, that’d be a different story.”

Steve nods. Drapes his arms around Billy’s neck.

“I’m really sorry about the cassette player,” he says. “I know you saved up for it.”

Lips brush against his, and he can practically taste Billy’s smile.

“It’s okay, pretty boy. I’d rather listen to records with you than cassettes by myself.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he might cry, but then Billy is kissing him again. There’s a collective groan from their spectators, but Steve ignores them in favor of cradling his partner closer.

Because it was never a honeymoon phase to begin with.

[loveinhawkins]

”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

[cheol-e-kat]

heyyyyy kat, this bingo card game is so fun!! im always looking forward to your next post. please can i request something from it too? i would like vehicle sex and oral fixation pretty please 🥺

hihiii ofc you can ^^ also that's sweet - i'm glad you like my fics <3 um i am maybe a little stuck on mingyu x noona but hope this is fun and sorry it took a few days for me to figure this one out

♡ kat

bingo square: vehicle sex + oral fixation

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader | mingyu x noona reader

summary: y/n was heading back to her apartment when mingyu offered her a ride - she didn’t realize her least focused student could actually be fully engrossed with a single activity 

genre: college au, collegestudent!mingyu, teachassistant!reader

word count: 1.8k

rating: 18+, mdni

warnings: below cut

explicit language, smut, age gap, car sex, topping from bottom, penetrative sex, finger sucking, nipple play

she had packed up after another class where maybe a quarter of the students actually paid attention to her - just because she was the ta, which was annoying. she was the one who graded all of their horrendous papers. and then there was maybe her most annoying student, kim mingyu - she rolled her eyes, just thinking about him.

when she walked around the class for the last few weeks, she had noticed that he was literally watching march madness coverage and completely ignoring her lectures. she had gotten annoyed this evening and used her laser pointer on his screen. and just because that didn’t seem to phase him, she had called him out. she grinned as she replayed it in her mind - his half-stuttering bullshit answer that she meticously corrected. she had seen the way he stared daggers at her the rest of the session. but she didn’t care, as long as he maybe paid attention - that was the point.

she walked through the quiet halls and could finally breathe when she exited the building, feeling the cool night air - she caught the sharp scent of ozone, and knew it was going to rain. she groaned, realizing she hadn’t brought her umbrella. she made it just outside of the building when she felt the first few ominous drops. she sighed and pulled the collar of her jacket up closer - she would get soaked, but it could be worse. 

she didn’t initially notice the black car next to her. she was concerned with getting home, not some person who was lost on campus. 

“y/n?” 

she paused, glancing over to the car. the driver had rolled down the window closest to her - she leaned down and tried to control her face as she saw none other than kim mingyu leaning towards the open window, looking at her with a smirk. she rolled her eyes, “come to my office hours if you have an issue, mingyu,” she kept walking. 

but he stayed next to her, “you know it’s starting to rain, right?”

“and?”

“do you want a ride?” his voice was too sweet for her liking, especially since she had pointedly embarrassed him maybe 45 minutes before. 

she shook her head, “no, thanks - have a nice night,” she tried to sound cordial and nothing more.

“come on, y/n, it’s not a big deal - even if you called me out in class,” he almost whispered the last part. 

she tried to smile, “i shouldn’t take rides from students,” she mumbled.

he grinned, “you’re not the professor, y/n, even if you basically do his job for him.”

she could feel rain drops hitting her more persistently - she groaned, “okay, fuck, fine.” she got into his ridiculously nice car and immediately wondered if he were a trust fund kid.

“so where am i taking you?” he asked softly.

she didn’t love the idea of him knowing where she lived, but she gave him her address - well close to her address - it was her friend’s place a few houses down from her own. if anyone egged her friend’s house, she would have a top suspect, she thought wryly. 

she leaned on the arm rest, trying to make it clear that she didn’t want to spend anymore time in his car than was necessary. the problem was when she felt his hand brush her thigh, and she practically jumped. 

“sorry,” he mumbled. she might have believed him if he hadn’t looked so smug about it.

she pursed her lips, “you know, if you bothered to pay attention in class, i wouldn’t have called on you - so if you’re annoyed about something”—

he cut her off, “why would i be annoyed? i wanted your attention, and i got it,” he smiled. 

she flushed, not knowing what to say. 

“you could just say you aren’t interested - i’m in your class, blah, blah, blah,” he offered, his voice low and silky.

she stared out the window not wanting to think about the fact that he was a student - a junior student to her, but just another student for all intents and purposes. like he had said, she wasn’t the professor. 

when he touched her thigh again, she barely noticed until he squeezed her thigh while they waited at a stop light.

she glanced at him, “so what do you want? what do you think is happening right now exactly?”

he glanced at her for a moment, “i’m thinking how much i want to know if you’re wearing a bra today or not.” he said it so smoothly - she looked at him, taking in his profile as he watched the road. she wasn’t unaware of the way some students looked at her. she hadn’t pegged him as one of ‘those’ students. 

she felt his hand slide closer to her groin. she should probably stop him, but in all fairness, she liked how his hand looked on her thigh. she liked that he had thicker fingers - she liked that he had the hands of a man - there was nothing dainty about his fingers. she wondered how they would feel stretching her pussy.  

when they got to her friend’s address, she sighed, “it’s actually further down,” she pointed. 

he laughed softly, “ah - so you were going to hide in the bushes?”

she rolled her eyes, “no, it’s my friend’s place, and i have a spare key,” she responded tartly - as though she would hunker down in the bushes.

he was already pulling into her driveway. it was darker than her friend’s - there was more tree cover from heavy oaks on both sides. 

she didn’t touch the door handle. she was patient, wondering what little fantasy was playing in his mind. 

when he shifted in his seat, “come here,” he whispered. 

she glanced over, seeing the room between him and the steering wheel. it felt distinctly high school. but she wasn’t above that. she shifted to straddle him. he was fast to shove her jacket out of the way, and even faster to shover her thin sweater up to expose her tits to the cooler air of the car. 

she wasn’t prepared for the way he moaned at seeing her, “fuck,” he muttered, “look at you, baby,” he whispered. 

his hands slid over her breasts roughly, squeezing them while he moaned softly. 

“so now you know - no bra,” she whispered, leaning down so her lips were just next to his ear. She leaned back, letting him have the view he wanted so badly.  

he nodded, swallowing hard, as his fingers traced over her nipples - she knew why his eyes suddenly flashed to hers.

“serioulsy,” he whispered before he was suddenly leaning into her and sucking softly at her breast. 

she knew what he had felt, the little tiny piercings she had - she could feel his tongue playing with the tiny metal barbell - she moaned softly, her fingers pulling his short hair gently, loving how warm his mouth was. she moaned when he sucked harder, his tongue alternating between making little circles around her nipple and playing with her piercing. 

it felt like ages before he pulled away from her left breast, groaning, “how the fuck are you single?” he breathed.

she laughed, “it’s not like they’re not magic.”

he shook his head, leaning in to kiss her right breast, “yes, they are,” he whispered against her skin, licking and sucking the nipple he had been neglecting. she felt him pull her hips closer to his. she gulped when she felt how hard he was. 

she bit back a moan when she felt the rough way he was sucking at her skin - she knew he would leave marks. she had the feeling that that was exactly his goal. she found herself pushing him back, pressing her fingers between his lips instead. she blushed watching the way he sucked on her fingers - it was when she made him gag and he didn’t seem to care that she knew she was too far down the path not to fuck him. 

he whimpered when she pulled her fingers away, “want to fuck, baby boy, not just tease each other,” she breathed as leaned over him, her fingers tracing along his cheek. he stared at her, already looking dazed. 

she rolled her hips against him - he moaned softly. she smiled, “do you even want to move?”

he swallowed, “why? i like this view,” he murmured.

“you just want someone else to do the work for you,” she didn’t care that her voice had sharpened. 

he shook his head, “promise i can fuck you from exactly where i am.”

she grinned, “mhmm, i’m sure.”

she wasn’t sure how either really managed to get out of their pants, but she knew she was slick enough to take his cock without prepping. and the slide was absolutely worth it - she arched back against the steering wheel, moaning, not sure that she had ever been stretched so well as she was in that single moment. 

she heard him, “such a good girl, taking all of me like that,” he whispered, kissing her throat. 

and then he shifted her just right so he could fuck up into her. his cock hit every spot she needed him to, and the way he held her hips so tightly - she knew there would be bruises the next day. she let her hands slide under his shirt, feeling his toned stomach, and the way his muscles flexed as he moved his hips. her head lolled to the side - he really was good. so good. she knew she left thin, angry scratch marks across his stomach - she knew he was pulling moan after moan from her.

but it was when he came that she yelped softly, she was already stretched completely and now he was fucking her full of his cum and stroking her clit. apparently, he wouldn’t be satisfied until she came too. 

she quivered from the attention, whining softly, saying his name over and over, and then her orgasm hit her - washing over her like a wave - her eyelids fluttered closed as she felt her body reacting to his. she was shaking, leaning into him, knowing she had come undone for him. 

she felt his hands tracing over her skin, like he was keeping her from floating away. when he tipped her chin back to kiss her, it was surprising to her - how gentle he was. 

it was maybe less surprising that she woke up late the next morning with him in her bed - their limbs tangled after they had spent half the night fucking like animals. 

when she tried to get up, he only pulled her back, “stay with me,” he whispered. he was much more beguiling than she wanted to admit, but she still stayed, happily wrapped in his arms. 

a/n: again, trying to force myself to write a drabble and not go over 1k words skssksksss so 1.8k is perf right?? T-T

♡ kat

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[angelsleepinggurl]

𝙞 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. stepping into your early twenties you move to live on your own. A couple months later you're surprised when family man Miguel O'Hara moves next door. How do you manage to get this sex symbol into your sheets?

wc . 7,625

tags . miguel o hara x reader.miguel o hara x reader smut. all characters are 18+ years old. alternative au. non spiderman au. family man Miguel. dad Miguel. husband Miguel. swearing, cunnilingus, praise kink, blowjobs, phone sex, masturbation, shower sex, squirting. age gap. 18+ mdni!

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : your girl by lana del rey

0:57 ————|——— -2:10

° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

June 21st

You remember it clear as day. June 21st when they moved in. You’d just come back from practice and you were about to head downstairs to check for any mail when you saw it go down. The moving van pulled onto the street, tailed by a red family-sized car. Curiously you peer out of your bedroom window. Out stepped a tan middle-aged woman in a floral sun dress and a woven hat. A girl with her hair in pigtails and a lollipop in her sticky little hands. Then came him.

Him in all his beautiful glory. Him in his staggering height and muscular frame. His hair dark, curly, unruly falls against his well-defined cheekbones and, further highlighting his strong jawline. Just his appearance alone has put you in a trance, you’re glued to your window and you daren’t leave until he disappears from your sight. Even the way in which he moves speaks volumes about the silent authority that he carries.

July 1st

Temperatures rise gradually, and clothes get skimpier, at least yours do. But it’s all part of your plan. With a couple of failed attempts at making cookies, you’d finally nailed it, once your friend did it for you. You arrange them neatly on a plate, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that questions your motives. But you’ve already decided, and there is no turning back now. You let yourself in by opening his front gate, before closing it behind you, walking down the grassy lawn and in front of his door. The soft click of it closing behind you sounds like a finality as if crossing an invisible line.

You can feel your heart in your mouth. Tempering with a family man, you were up to no good, but you can’t help that you wanna have a little fun and see what you can do. A couple knocks on their door and you don’t wait long before the door opens, revealing the little girl and woman previously.

Fuck. Not who you wanted to see.

“Hi.” you greet cheerfully, hiding your disappointment behind a friendly facade. “I’ve noticed you guys have moved in next door, I’m Y/N and I wanted to give you these cookies as a welcome gift.” The woman smiles a warm smile in gratefulness and her child seems to be eagerly staring the plate of goodies down.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate this, It’s so nice to see a friendly face out here.” she chuckles, pulling her child’s head close to her and stroking her dark hair.

You nod, your smile widening as you make small talk, though your mind is still on him. “It’s hard to get these guys to open up, takes a while, but I didn’t want y’all to have a bad impression of the area and I'm sure you’ll all love it here. Especially you.” you say, pointing to the child, who shyly turns away from you.

“Gabriel saluda a la simpática dama.” her mother gently prompts her and the little girl mutters a quiet welcome. For a brief moment, guilt twists in your stomach. This woman, her child—they’re kind and welcoming, and they see you as nothing more than a friendly neighbour. But the guilt is fleeting, replaced by a sense of determination. He’s set, devoted, maybe—but how devoted?

“She’s so precious.” you coo.

Sure, part of you feels bad, the man has a wife and a kid. He’s set and devoted, but you want to test the waters and see how devoted he is. So when they invite you to a barbeque night for the 4th, you seize your chance. Because while part of you knows this might be wrong, another part of you is already imagining what might happen if he looks at you just a little too long, if his smile lingers just a little too much.

The game has begun, and you’re ready to see just how far you can push it.

4th July.

The day tumbles into night dragging along its excitement and heat of the sun-soaked hours before into the darkening, night. Dense smoke from the barbecue rises slowly, curling and rolling into the night sky, wrapping itself around the gathering like a veil. It’s almost as if a hazy filter has been cast over the whole series of event, from the moment you step foot into their garden to the moment he offers you a drink. You can feel it—this strange, heady mix of anticipation and tension His significantly larger hand over the cool glass bottle, mimicking your cold sweat.

You take the drink from him, swinging it to your lips, feeling some of it trickle past your mouth and down your chin. A practised thumb swipes over it as your eyes reunite with his. “Thanks for introducing yourself to my wife. ” he thanks you, breaking the silence between the both of you- finally. “She really appreciates it and she’s glad you pointed out places for our Gabriel to play.” he finishes, eyes pulling away from the distance and back down to you.

“It’s nothing, don’t think anything of it.” now it’s your turn to look off into the distance, soaking in the scenery of others gathered near the table of roasted food. Their laughter mingling with the music that drifts from the speakers filling up the night. You’re unsure of when, but there is an eager flame dancing in a corner, adding a subconscious thrill to this gathering. The couple seem to have invited friends and family members and you start to feel a little out of place, like a fish out of water.

“Didn’t catch you name by the way?” he asks, widening his current stance, flexible in the subconscious hierarchy.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re always welcome here, drop by if you need anything, we’d love seeing your face around.” perhaps it’s pure delusion or mere obsession with fantasy, but the tonality of his voice is hinting towards something. Towards something deeper and secretive than what the world has to know. Before you can thank him for his kind gesture, you’re interrupted by Gabriel running towards her father screaming “Daddy!”, and hugging his leg fondly.

Of course. You remember your place in this scenario. You’re simply their neighbour, nothing more, nothing less. You see it in his eyes as he bends down to pick up his daughter, his expression softening as he sways with her in his arms. He apologises to you, saying he has to leave for a moment. And you're alone again, placing the bottle to your lips once more.

And your heart shifts uncomfortably when the couple stands together to make an announcement, his arm wrapped around her waist comfortably,of course. As if she belongs there, and she does. You see where you stand in this.

10th July

You like to keep yourself busy when you aren’t drowned in school work, practising or doing your

part-time job and you accomplish that by journeys to the club with your friend, never intending to stay long or do anything of an impact, so this night when a new fellow accompanies you back home, you’re left with the tough decision of rejecting his advances.

“I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. “ you explain, leaning against your car, not entertaining his attempts.

“Well I can be quick baby, in and out.” he pleads, his voice slurring slightly as he leans closer, his hand resting on the hood of your car. The stench of alcohol clings to him, and you can tell by the way he’s using your car as a crutch that he’s far too intoxicated to be thinking straight. You sigh inwardly, already knowing this is going nowhere.

“I don’t like sloppy hurried work, I’d want for you to take care with me.” You explain, glancing at your nails bored, waiting for him to tire himself out and head home, so you can head to bed.

“I won’t be sloppy baby, promiseee.” he whines, his voice taking on a childlike quality that makes your skin crawl. The desperation in his tone only solidifies your resolve. This is exactly why you’re drawn to older men—men who know what they want and don’t need to beg or plead for attention. Men like him.

Almost as if on cue, out walks the man, his hair failing in front of his fair, this time much more unkept and messier than usual. Curious eyes observe his frame hidden under the loose-fitting shirt he’s wearing. The sound of the guy next to you complaining and begging again perks his attention and when he lifts his head to peak at the commotion he makes eye contact with you. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that he’s seen you, that he’s aware of your presence even in this awkward situation. your focus is elsewhere now, on the man who just drove away, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing. The night suddenly feels colder, and emptier, as you watch his taillights disappear into the distance.

23rd July

Blue skies overhead and the sun pressing down on you heavily, aggressively biting into your skin. The sun beats down relentlessly, turning your skin warm to the touch and making the air shimmer with heat. Your friends and you have hosted a pool party, to cool off and catch up. So you’re wearing your strappy swimsuit when you realise that your hose won’t turn or budge. You try with all your might but to no avail. No matter how much you twist and pull, the stubborn thing won’t budge. You put your full weight into it, your muscles straining as you give it another try, but it’s no use. The hose refuses to cooperate. Only one thing left to do.

You find yourself in front of your neighbours’ door, this time in a two piece piece swimsuit, that seems to hug you in all the right places, and the colour makes your features pop even more. You spend a couple of quick seconds adjusting the fabric only your body as finalising touches and fixing your hair, before lightly knocking on the door. It doesn’t take long before the door swings open wide, revealing a shirtless Miguel.

Bingo.

His broad chest glistens slightly with a sheen of sweat, and for a moment, you lose your train of thought. You flash a charming smile, “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help with my hose?” you ask, your voice sweet and innocent, leaving the question hanging in the air. You can see the moment he registers your outfit, his eyes widening slightly before they travel slowly over your body, taking in every detail. It takes him a few seconds to pull his gaze back up to your eyes, and when he does, he leans casually against the doorframe, trying to play it cool.

“What hose?” he asks, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“The hose in my backyard,” you explain, your tone light. “I need it to fill up my pool.”

“Your pool huh?” his eyes keep drifting all over, he’s clearly distracted and your plan is set in motion.

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning a bit of helplessness. “I’m having a pool party with my friends, but I can’t seem to get the hose to turn on.” You pout slightly, batting your lashes at him, hoping to nudge him into coming over, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

“I can help you turn it on.”

“Great!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together, a smile on your face. You lead him to your back garden and the short journey there is filled with silence. He makes his way over the knob of the hose, effortlessly twisting it successfully, however, no water comes out.

“Oh no. Is the water broken?” you ask, lightly shaking the hose in hopes of getting a trickle of water to emerge.

“It probably needs a minute.” he explains, staring at the green hose in your hands in anticipation. The two of you wait the minute, patiently waiting for any spurts of water, but nothing.

“I guess, my water system’s broke. I’ll just call the-”

“I can help you. It’ll only take a minute, it may just be a connection issue, no need to ring them up.”

“Really? Thank you.” you gasp, ecstatic. You exaggerate your relief, letting it show in your eyes, hoping to make yourself seem more appealing, more in need of his help. Now, he’s in your territory, your domain, and you’re determined to make the most of it.

He nods and asks you to lead him to your kitchen sink. He crouches down on the ground and opens the cupboards, hands going into the darkness searching for something.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” you ask him casually, but he refuses, saying he’ll be in and out. To your disappointment. But even as he works, you can’t help but notice the little things—the way his brow furrows in concentration, the way his fingers move with precision as he checks the pipes.

Minutes pass, and though you try to make small talk, he remains focused, determined to fix the problem. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he emerges from beneath the sink, wiping his hands on a rag.

“There, that should do it,” he says, standing up and giving you a satisfied grin.

You walk back outside with him, feeling a little defeated, but as he tests the hose one more time, water suddenly gushes out, splashing onto the ground with a force that catches you off guard. You can’t help but laugh in surprise, the sound is bright and genuine.

“Well, I guess I owe you one,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just doing my job as a good neighbor.”

But there’s something in the way he says it, in the lingering look he gives you, that makes you think this might not be the last time you find yourself needing his help.

2nd August

The days stretch on, each one hotter than the last, as the relentless sun beats down from a sky that’s perpetually clear, leaving the air thick with humidity. The heat has sapped the energy out of most people, turning every movement into an effort and leaving them sluggish, sticky, and desperate for relief. Miguel, too, feels the weight of the summer pressing down on him, the heat wrapping around him like a heavy blanket as he decides to spend his afternoon lounging on the chair in front of his house.

He’s settled in with a cold beer, the bottle sweating in his grip as he takes a long, slow sip, savouring the coolness against his lips. The golden sunlight bathes his skin, and for a moment, he lets himself relax, trying to enjoy the simple pleasure of the day. He’s asked his family to give him some space, just an hour or so to himself, away from the noise and the demands of the household. But even as he reclines back, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, he can’t seem to shake the feeling of restlessness that’s creeping in.

The heat is relentless, and the boredom is worse. The occasional car zips by, blasting music that fades as quickly as it comes, leaving him alone with the sound of his own thoughts and the distant hum of cicadas. Irritated, Miguel lifts his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that might alleviate the discomfort. The overstimulation of the day—the brightness, the heat, the monotonous sounds—is getting to him, and he’s on the verge of retreating inside when something catches his eye.

His gaze drifts across the yard, past the sidewalk, and up to the window of the house next door—your window. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you there, your bedroom window wide open, allowing the summer breeze to flow in and caress your skin. You’re standing in the middle of the room, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, and you’re slowly, deliberately, peeling off your clothes. One item at a time.

Miguel’s grip on the beer bottle tightens as he watches, his heart beating a little faster. You’re completely unaware of his gaze, lost in your own world as you remove each piece of clothing with a languid, almost sensual grace. Your movements are slow, unhurried as if you’re savouring the act of shedding the layers, of freeing yourself from the constriction of fabric. Each piece falls to the floor in a soft heap, and with every discarded item, more of your skin is revealed, glowing in the warm light.

He’s hooked, his eyes fixed on you, unable to look away. There’s something hypnotic about the way you move, the way you seem to bask in the sunlight pouring through your window, your eyes closed in what looks like pure bliss. It’s as if you’re performing a private dance, one meant only for yourself, and yet here he is, captivated by every second of it. The way you twirl in front of the mirror, the sunlight catching on the curves of your body, makes his pulse quicken. He watches, entranced, as you take a moment to admire your reflection, your fingers trailing over your own skin, before you disappear from view, leaving him breathless.

For a moment, Miguel just sits there, his body tense, his mind racing. The image of you, so free, so unguarded, is burned into his memory, and he knows it’s something he’ll replay over and over again in his mind. He tries to shake it off, to convince himself that it was nothing, just a fleeting moment—but the truth is, he’s in awe. He can’t believe what he just saw, and yet he can’t let it go.

He refuses to lay back down, to pretend as if nothing happened. His heart is still pounding, his skin tingling with the remnants of the sun’s heat and something else, something far more dangerous. He sits up, wide-eyed, replaying the scene in his mind, letting it linger. There’s no escaping it now. The image of you bathed in sunlight, every movement deliberate and intoxicating, will haunt him. It’s a secret he’ll keep, a memory he’ll revisit again and again, long after the sun has set and the heat of the day has finally faded.

5th August

Adulting means spending heaps of money on things which you’d rather not, like new appliances. You start to wonder where the money goes after, and why so much of it goes too. Today is one of those days. After making a painful dent in your bank account on a new appliance, you finally pull into your driveway, the stifling heat inside your car practically cooking you alive. The summer sun has turned your vehicle into an oven, and as you open the door, a wave of heat rolls out, making the sweltering air outside almost feel cool in comparison.

With a sigh, you climb out, your body already slick with sweat. You circle to the passenger side, pulling open the door to retrieve the heavy cardboard box that holds your new purchase. The weight of it nearly sends you toppling over, and you grimace as you try to get a better grip. The box is bulky and awkward, the edges digging into your arms as you begin the slow, torturous journey to your front door.

Every step feels like a challenge as the heat presses down on you, sweat trickling down your back. You’re already dreading the short walk, and as you glance at the distance between your car and your front door, you can feel the sweat start to gather at your hairline, your muscles straining under the weight. With another heave, you start to shuffle forward, side-stepping to keep the box balanced, your arms already burning from the effort.

Just when you think you might have to drop the box and rest, a familiar gruff voice cuts through the oppressive heat.

“Need some help with that?”

You look up to see Miguel, your neighbour, stepping out of his car. His timing is impeccable as if he appeared just when you were about to collapse under the weight of the box.

“I saw you coming out and thought you might need a little help,” he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes as he takes in your struggle.

You can’t help but tease him a little, despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Why? Don’t you think I can do it on my own?”

He doesn’t seem to catch the playful tone in your voice, instead taking your words at face value. “No, it’s just that you’re bent over double and practically becoming best friends with the ground with how far down you’re crouching.”

“Ouch,” you reply with a mock wince.

“Sorry,” he says, though there’s a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate the help.”

Without another word, Miguel steps forward and effortlessly lifts the box from your hands, making it look as light as a feather. You can’t help but feel a little envious of his strength as he carries it with ease toward your front door. You quickly rush ahead to open the door for him, grateful for the assistance.

“Where do you want this?” he asks as he steps inside, the cool air from the house hitting his face.

“Just on that countertop will do, thanks,” you reply, pointing to the kitchen.

Miguel sets the box down carefully, and before you can even think to ask, he’s already heading back to your car to grab the remaining items. He makes a couple more trips, hauling the heavy boxes as if they weigh nothing, and your mind can’t help but fawn over his effortless strength. There’s something undeniably attractive about the way he moves, the way his muscles flex as he carries each load inside without breaking a sweat.

With the last of the boxes shuffled onto the countertop, Miguel turns to leave, but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

“Hey, would you like something to drink? It’s the least I can do to thank you,” you offer, flashing him a grateful smile.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods, a smile softening his features. “Sure, why not?”

You grab a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Miguel as the two of you make your way outside to the backyard. You find a spot on the steps, settling down side by side as he gulps down the cool drink, clearly appreciating the refreshment after the heavy lifting.

“You old enough to be having this beer?” Miguel asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not mine,” you quickly explain, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “A friend left it over.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your explanation entirely. “How old are you then?”

“Twenty,” you reply, your voice steady, though you can’t help but feel a bit exposed by the question.

“Right,” he says, his tone neutral, but you can sense the wheels turning in his mind.

The age gap between you is significant, but oddly enough, it doesn’t seem to bother him. Not at all. In fact, there’s a certain tension in the air, a silent understanding that something unspoken hangs between you both. The way he looks at you, the way he’s been lingering a little longer than necessary—there’s something there, something neither of you has acknowledged yet, but it’s growing stronger with every passing moment.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and smooth, “you’re pretty resourceful, handling all this on your own. But if you ever need help again... you know where to find me.”

His words linger in the air, heavy with implication, and you feel a shiver run down your spine despite the lingering heat of the day.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, your voice soft, almost a whisper.

Miguel stands, his eyes never leaving yours as he steps away, but there’s a promise in his gaze, something unspoken that leaves you feeling warm and slightly breathless.

10th August

It’s late when he’s in your car round the corner of your street. The outside world is still- void of movement. The only two being existing are the both of you. Concealed under the inky blackness of the night, that its shade has to conceal. It's thrilling, almost like a sparkler on your touch, ready to crackle at any moment. The moonlight basks him nicely, highlighting his masculine and broody features, and capturing his captivating essence. His dark curls run past his deep eyes that call to you from the other side. His lips, which lick themselves with sin, are ready to taint yours too. You’re finding it harder and harder to contain yourself.

The lights of the streets, aligned perfectly, flicker and twinkle before you, igniting your motives even more. Even the distance between the both of you is electrifying, scared that one singular brush of a finger or shared gaze between each other would cause worlds to collide and collapse. His deep chuckle, fills the small car, snapping back into the present moment. It’s like your body has a mind of its own the way your fingers retract when he calls your name. This is dangerous territory. The scene set up for you is seductive and alluring.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks you, his gaze ever so slowly rising from the edge of your car seat into your calling eyes, and he holds it. He freezes time by holding the connection.

“No.” you crack a smirk, your fingers playfully dancing on the centre console, keeping your tone light and flirty, your soft voice barely coming out above a whisper, drawing him in.

“Really? A girl like you doesn’t have one? That’s new.” he replies, looking ahead of him, the curls atop of his head tickling the roof of your car, further highlighting his enormous build.

“A girl like me? What does that mean?” Every sentence shared between the two of you is mere foreplay and the both of you know it. It’s sick. Every syllable spoken is dragged out slowly and stretched by rising smirks.

“You know, a pretty girl.” he’s smiling at your reaction, your failed attempt of muffling the smile spreading across your face and the heat rising through your core to your face.

You’re charmed, “You think I’m a pretty girl?” you ask, a twinkle in your eyes.

“Very.” he responds, the both of you staring at each other’s lips, imaging each other’s flavour and the way you both taste. Not a sound passes through the vehicle, it’s deadly silent, the only sound is the ringing of your own heartbeat in your head, a signal of your misbehaving.

“Well,” you start off, your voice as thick as honey, eyes latched unto his lips. “I’ve never had a older boyfriend before.”

“Oh yeah?” it is slow and reverberating when he says that.

“I bet he would treat me so good, and look after me real well. Don’t you?” you play with your lips between your teeth, biting and tugging playfully.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a younger girl under my care. But I assume, he’d treat you real good. Who ever he may be be.”

You hum, “How good? Tell me.”

“He’d make you feel things you’ve never felt before, make you see things you’ve never seen before, give you the attention you deserve.” his voice is low and grungy, he’s falling into your stick trap and you love it. You fail to realise the distance between the both of you diminishing, faces drawn closer and closer.

“Sounds good to me. Such a shame there isn’t a hunky older man to teach me these new things.” you’re whispering now. “Would you show me, Mr O’Hara?” The temptation. The beginning of his fall. You. Teasing him shamelessly in your car, you're displaying faux innocence, dripping in arousal. The use of the formality, ‘Mr O’Hara’ a name to which you’ve never referred him, flips the switch from within him.

Your lips crash unto his, finally bridging the distance between the both you. The kiss is fiery and hot, when your lips tangle with each other, breathing each other in, from the sheer desperation in the kiss. Sounds of lips smacking fill up the car very quickly, and the taste of faint liquor coats his lips, it's intoxicating and you’re reeling. His hand wastes no time cupping your face, holding you close to him. Finger’s nestle in his curly dark locks and the kiss deepens.

The only time the both of you separate is for air, gasping quickly as you pant for air, resting your forehead on his, and keeping him close by keeping your fingers interlocked in his hair.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathes out, refusing to look up at you, knowing he’ll fall for the trap again.

“I know but you know you want to. It feels so right, doesn’t it?” you’re breathless and your lips have darkened in colour slightly, appearing rosier and more tempting.

“Fuck kid, the things you do to me.” he groans and he dives in again.

17th August

“Ngh- fuck.” you’re crying out as he thrusts into you mercilessly, drilling you deeper and deeper into your sheets. You're writhing and wriggling under his weighted grasp, as he uses one firm hand to pin your wrists above your head. Hair clings to your face, as you’re worked up by the intense pleasure. Back arching off the mattress as one stroke out the other’s seems to hit you just right, causing an involuntary reaction. Miguel is living for this, his eyes trained on your every move and shift, his ears memorising every one of your whimpers and cries. He’s relentless.

“Being such a good girl f’ me y’know that?” he says, his curls in disarray from the strenuous act, clinging to his forehead, his abs glistening in the sheen layering of sweat, from his dedication to making you feel like heaven. “You look so pretty like this princesa. Tan bonita. “

You’re fevershingly rolling and grinding your hips against him, eager and desperate for a sweet release. “Hold on, patience,” he growls, focused on getting you to cream all over him regardless. He can picture it now, your trembling figure spewing out a hot burst of yours and his warm white cum, making a mess of yourself. The thought of it alone nearly sends him over the edge.

“’ M gonna come Miggy.” you mewl out, toes curling from the heightened anticipation. You’re dripping and drenched. It’s absolutely filthy. From the moment you invited them into your home and tolerated the incessant foreplay, you’ve been needy and begging to feel him, to get a piece of him. So the moment when those lace panties came off, the man was met with a glistening, slick cunt, which is now responsible for the soppy sounds filling up the room. The sounds of your arousal. He’d call you a bad girl, for thinking of him so naughtily to get your pussy so needy, but he isn’t as innocent either.

“I know baby, I know, just hold out f’me, kay.”

“Fuuuckk.” tears are running down your cheek when Miguel lifts up of your legs, placing it over his broad shoulders. Your head falls back in pure bliss.

“Looks like we got a dirty mouth on our case. You’re gonna have to open wide for me.” he instructs and like a puppet you obey, opening your mouth more waiting for his thick fingers to invade. You’re slobbering all over the shamelessly, making eye contact with him as he ruts into you. “What a messy girl, is this how you behave when you get fucked, hmm?” his movement and sharper and faster and your body is limp, mind fogged. You forget to respond to him, too dicked dumb to do so.

“I asked you a question, you’re gonna fucking answer, is this how you act when you get fucked? Huh, princess? Like a sloppy slut? Or is it just with me?” you nod lazily in response, still moaning over the fingers in your mouth. Your eyes go wide when you feel yourself tightening, your walls gummy hot walls clamping down on him harder. Miguel removes his fingers from your mouth and his hand from your wrists, freeing them, his hands slipping down to your hips.

You can’t even scream about about your close approach because he can feel it and it's fast coming.

“Wanna come Miggy. Wanna feel so good.”

“Want me to make you feel good? Wanna come.”

“Yes, please,please,please,please.” you’re screaming and chanting ‘please’ as you feel your high incoming, and arch your back even further.

“Cum baby, come all over.” you screw your eyes tight as the knot in your stomach finally breaks and you’re cumming. With a couple of thrusts, Miguel follows soon after, his groans and your moans mixing together in the room. His dick is coated in a creamy white, leaving a ring around his base. You’re twitching as you come down from your high, gasping and trying to catch your breath.

With a soft kiss on your forehead, he congratulates you, “Did so good baby.”

23rd August

Sounds of the conscient stream of water fill up the soundscape of the bathroom, hot water, rushing down your back as you’re pressed against the wall, bent over for Miguel and his thick cock. You’ve got no stable supports, and your fingers are slipping off the wet wall, as you try to grip anything for support. It was a mistake for you to drag him along with you into the shower. What were you thinking? Expecting for him to remain composed upon seeing you all when and soapy, no chance. That’s how you find yourself screaming out his name as he places his large hands on your hips, using them to pummel you.

Beirfely, you turn to look back at him. A man on a mission, focused on your ass jiggling repetitively, it was hypnotizing.

“Go slower, slower.” you plead, dreading cumming early, having all of this fade so fast. But of course, the man refuses to listen to you, instead speeding up. Your words are cut off when he reaches deep, feeling as if he’s brushing against your cervix. You drop your head, your mouth following and you scream silently, thanking the Lord above for this blessing of man. One of his hands runs up your back, his thumb slowly stroking it. Bouncing back on his dick, your hips push back every time he pushes in, making you go dizzy.

“Atta girl, just like that, you eager to come on my dick huh?” he says lowly. You’re biting your lip as you nod, that is all you can think about. Your back arches as he speeds up, clenching down on him, warm walls giving him a tight squeeze, making him drop his head back as he lets out a low guttural groan.

“Fuck you’re sexy. Think you can come for me?” Not much else is aid when after three more strokes you're crying out his name, sounding like a sweet melody in his ears.

24th August

“Nice and slow princess, you sure you can handle it?” you’re gargling around his thick cock as he pushes your head down, forcing you to take him all. Making a mess as your saliva coats and lubes his hard-on. Your eyes are shut tight and your hands are gripping his thighs as he uses your hair to bob your head up and down his length. “There we go, such a pretty girl.” he coos, staring down at you, in awe at your determination and persistence to carry this through. Initially, he would’ve been fine with directing all his attention to you, but you didn’t want to seem like a quitter, you didn’t want to prove to him that you were a kid after all and he wasn’t right for you.

“You like that? Yeah, take it all in baby. Fuck” You feel a familiar heat pool in your panties, slowly dampening them. You fail to notice, that one of your hands has slipped down to soothe the building ache until he chuckles. “Don’t worry baby I haven’t forgotten about you. Gonna take real good care of you real soon.” He leans his head back, feeling his high approaching. His incessant repeating of your praise intertwined with praises of your good work seems to be working you up even more, the ache from before now developing into an urgent and deep throb. You moan, just thinking about it.

“Dirty fuckin girl.” he groans, taking his hands off your head and putting you in charge, his hand instead collecting all your hair. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, turning it to the side occasionally to sensually glide your tongue up his length, maintaining eye contact with him through watery eyes. “Fuck princess.” he groans. “ Want me to cum all over your face princess?” you moan in agreeance, feeling yourself throb in anticipation.

He hisses before pulling out of your mouth at the last minute, helping himself by finishing with a couple of strokes from his own hand. “Open wide baby.” You stick out your tongue ready, and hot spurts of coming land on your face, some coating your awaiting tongue too.

“Fuck you look good like this.”

26th August

You would say that you’re surprised that this man is a master pussy eater, but you’d be lying. He has successfully proven numerous times that he’s simply a sex god. So when your fingers are pulling on his hair for dear life, he isn’t surprised. With every flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit, you’re rolling your hips, getting his nose to nudge against your clit too in the mix. “Can’t go anymore, baby.”

“Why not, just wanna see you cum all over again, you look so perfect when you do it.”

His tongue laps over your sensitive bud again, slurping up and collecting all your juices and you’re crying from the intense pleasure wriggling and writhing again.

“So good.” you groan, leaning your head back and falling into the pleasure, letting it consume you. His hands are grabbing your thighs forcefully whilst his thumb is simultaneously grazing the flesh. He’s passionately making out against your soaked cunt, not minding that you’re dripping unto his chin. He loves it.

“Wait, wait, I’m gonna come, ‘M gonna come, gonna come.” you tell him too late, because when you do, you’re not creaming like you usually do, but instead a clear liquid sprays out. Everywhere.

“Well, you may you didn’t come, but you definitely squirted.”

28th August

“Rub that pretty pussy for me. Just like that.” his voice says through the phone, watching intently as your fingers repetitively circle over your clit, your speed slow and teasing, you bite your lips to suppress your moans, your drenched hole fluttering around nothing. Miguel has finally got himself a free house, but his wife’s suspicions are arising, not towards the two of you, but towards Miguel’s new sneaking out habit and leaving the house more than he usually would. Usually, you would feel bad for the mother, getting neglected by her husband and watching him distance himself from her, leaving the burden of their child unto her, but you were having too much fun with his married man. With the way he fucks you, and holds you and whispers dirty things in your ear- tainting your innocence. Your head is reeling from all this new attention, so you don’t think you’ll stop anytime soon.

“Fuck.” a soft groan comes from his side as he watches you devilishly slip your finger into your warm, desperate cunt. “Did I tell you you could put you’re fingers in, huh?” Miguel on the other end is pumping himself to the sight of you, needy and depraved. No matter how many times he’s been all up in your cunt, or had your gummy walls wrap around him, he can never seem to get enough. There’s something about you that pulls him back, you’re not just some option on the side for him anymore, but now more like a drug, the things you’re doing to him.

“Don’t care.” you giggle softly, pumping your fingers at a faster pace, rolling your head to the side. “I’m horny and you’re not here to do anything about it.”

“Watch it. We’ll see what I’ll do when I get back.”

You arch your back as your fingers finally graze your G spot, causing you to moan out. Your fingers are covered in your slick. “Wish you were here to fuck me, Miguel,” you whine, not knowing the effect this has on him. If he could, he would run out of the house take you right then and there, stuff you full of him and watch as you get fucked dumb by him. You’re teasingly moaning louder than usual to work him up, but your mind can’t help but fill with a picture of him having his way with you, fucking you rough. “ Fuck Miggy, need you right now.” you moan out, your fingers pumping into yourself faster.

“Maybe if you come all of those pretty fingers I might consider it.”

“Mmhg shit, I can come for you, I can come real hard.” you put your other hand to good use, to circle your clit, the feeling immediately increasing my tenfold, now you’re really crying out, head getting clouded by pure lust and the urge to reach your high.” With a few more pumps and circles of your fingers, you release all over your fingers, laying back on your bed to catch a breath as warm cum ooze out of you.

“Come here and show me the mess you’ve made baby.” you don’t hesitate to sit up and grab your phone, angling it to reveal your white fingers. “Put em in your mouth and suck real good.” you follow his command, swirling your tongue around your fingers and sucking them clean, before taking them out of your mouth to show him the finished result. “Atta girl.”

“Look at the mess I made.” you bring your phone to your glistening cunt, absolutely covered in your arousal, your hole still leaking cum from your high, and your puffy clit.

“What a good girl.”

August 31st

The both of you knew this day would come. The last day before you returned back to college, the day where you’d have to say goodbye, but it happened all too soon. You almost wish that something, anything would happen to not have to pull you out of this situation and from the ecstasy you’re feeling. The room has picked up the scent of sex after all the rounds the both of you have endured, fucking for hours on end. The sounds of skin slapping and bed creaking has filled the room with pap, pap, pap’s. Your nails are digging into his back, definitely leaving him marked up with your scratches against his board back and he pummels into you, your body practically clinging unto him as he fuck you into oblivion.

“Gonna miss you, baby, you know that?” he says, placing gentle kisses on your hot forehead, some strands of your hair clinging to your face.

“Gonna miss you too,” you respond, pulling him closer as he reaches deeper and deeper, further and further into you. You place your lips on his neck, passionately sucking on it, with the intent of leaving a mark.

“You naughty, naughty thing, what have I told you about shit like this.” you ignore him anyway. Miguel has always had a problem with being evidenced. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to catch an accidental glimpse of it and start pointing fingers, but as this was a farewell gift, he let the scratching slide. Once successfully leave your mark, you giggle. “We’ll see who’ll be laughing in a second.”

In a second you’re moaning louder. There’s something that he’s doing that's working even better than a couple of thrusts ago, and you don’t know what it is. You thought you were already at 100% with him, but you suppose you truly underestimated him. Now he has you screaming his name, pleading and begging like prayer- music to his ears.

“Oh fuck. oh my fucking God.” One thing Miguel loves about you is how vocal you are, it fuels him, so whenever he hears your pleas to keep going or to stop because it’s too much, he carries right on. You’re high up with the way you’re being fucked, his hips rut into you and soon you’re unable to even scream out loud, all of them turning silent.

“Yeah, who's laughing now.” he chuckles, as you lay back on the bed, gripping the sheets beneath you. He takes his hand to your face, brushing the hair out of it before placing a is on your lips and you’re melting into it. The two of you don’t usually kiss, keeping it strictly to fucking, but this time it’s different, this one is different. Contradictory to his pace, you lips are slow and gentle as he savours your taste and your lips for the last time.

This truly is the end.

SEPTEMBER 1ST

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

count how many times i said fuck. miguel is sooooooooo sexy oh mi god. please give this the love it deserves i acc spent ages writing this.

[anarcoqueer1994]

I need more of Eddie telling the band! Need it! Fix my brusied heart! Fix Steve's bruised heart! Tell me that he's everything! He is everything!!

Part 1 here.

Hope this fixes it <3 I'm going to admit my toxic trait is being angsty and not always being the best at fixing it. But I hope this is good. Thank you for reading!!

"Dude, what was that?" Gareth finally breaks the awkward silence between the 4 of them. They all look at Eddie.

He presses his palms to his eyes until he can see little white dots when he opens them again to stare at his three best friends. He feels like dirt. Actually less than dirt. He cared so much about what they would think of his dating Steve, that not only did hurt his favorite person in the whole world, but he did not even trust his friends enough to give them a chance. He finally lets out a sigh before saying "That was me fucking up. Like royally fucking up.".

"You going to explain, maybe?" Jeff asks, slowly putting the pieces together but confirmation from Eddie would be nice.

"I, um, I mean Steve and I have been seeing each other for the past 6 months, since Spring Break actually." Eddie finally says, holding his breath, waiting for a response.

"You guys have been seeing each other for six months?" Garreth parrots back in disbelief.

"Yea. He's my boyfriend...well he was. I actually don't know now." Eddie says sadly.

"You have been together for like half a year, and you didn't tell us, why?" Caleb asks, confused in why Eddie would hide this.

"I don’t know, man. It's just, in high school we would talk so much shit about people like Steve. And I know Steve better now, so I know how much of a great guy he is but like he is still an ex-jock. And I was worried about, you know." He mumbles.

"You were worried what we would think. Man, what is wrong with you?" Jeff laughs. "Eddie Munson isn't supposed to care what people think, even your loser friends."

'Besides, if you say he's good, we trust you, okay?" Gareth adds. "But I do have a couple of questions."

Eddie can't help but smile at his friends, even though his stomach still hurts thinking about the look on Steve’s face from a few minutes prior. But he indulges Gareth. "Ask away, I guess I owe you guys."

"Does he treat you alright?" Gareth asks simply.

Eddie nods softly. "He treats me better than anyone I've ever been with. He's always so soft and gentle with me. I swear, he looks at me like I'm something special, and I don't know why. Sometimes I don't think I deserve it."

"Do you love him?" Gareth follows up.

"God, more than anything." Eddie says with out hesitatation.

"And do you think he loves you?" He asks simply.

"I know he loves me. He tells me ever day." And not just with his words, but with his actions too. Steve shows Eddie he loves him every day with all the little things does for him.

"Then why are you still sitting down here, dude?" Gareth asks. "You better go and fix this before you lose him." He says it likes its the most obvious thing in the world.

Eddie hurriedly nods. Gareth is right. He has to talk to Steve, like now. He practically jumps up from the table, nearly tripping as does.

As he runs past his friends and up the steps, he looks at the cupcakes Steve had sat down on the small table by the steps. They looked homemade, a little messy but perfect. Steve had piped little silly hearts on them all, and in the center were little frosting dice. He can't help the way it makes his heart skip a beat. Steve was ridiculously romantic, and Eddie loves that.

He continues up the steps, two at a time, hoping Steve and the kids are up there, but they aren't. He frantically makes his way to door, only to see them sitting in Steve’s car through the window, still in the driveway. He's relieved.

As soon as he opens the door, all their eyes shoot up. He can see the look on Steve’s face, obviously trying to hold back tears. Even now, Steve is trying to be strong with the kids. Their eyes though looked like they could kill Eddie, even Dustin. He fucked up badly.

He nervously makes his way over to Steve's open window. When he gets there, Steve doesn't say a word, doesn't even look at him, just stares forward. Eddie tries anyway. "Stevie, can we talk...please? Alone?" He looks at the other 4 in the car.

Steve squeezes the wheel harder. He knows if he talks, he will start crying. And he doesn't want to do that in front of Eddie. Fuck, this hurts so bad. It felt like when Nancy called him and his love bullshit all over again. He is bullshit...he is nothing. Just a washed up ex jock, who is just there when people need him. He doesn't get the happy ending, the true love.

Dustin speaks up "You're an asshole, man. Go away." Not even Mike speaks up to defend him. Who does though, surprises him.

"He's not...." Steve whispers, unable to speak any louder. Steve can't see it, but Eddie sees all the looks of pitty shot at him. Eddie knows Steve shouldn't be defending him, but he is.

"No, Stevie. I am. I am an asshole. And I'm so sorry. Please can we talk?" Eddie begs.

Steve lets out a sigh before turning to the "kids." "Go on. It's fine. Go and clean up your shit so Mrs. Wheeler isn't mad." He tries to say in a straight voice.

They reluctantly get out but still shoot Eddie dirty glances as they head in. Eddie nervously walks to the passenger side and gets in.

"What do you want to talk about?" Steve chokes out, still not looking at him.

"What I said in there wasn't the truth. Steve, baby...I am so sorry. I did not mean it..." He tries pathetically.

Steve's hands are shaking as they stay rested on the steering wheel. He finally turns his head to look at Eddie. "Then why did you say it, Eddie? If you didn't mean it, why did you say it?!" His voices cracks, as a little tear escapes, running down his cheek.

All Eddie wants to do is reach over and wipe it away, but he thinks better of it. "Because I'm an idiot, sweetheart." He replies softly. "I shouldn't have hidden us, but today everyone was ganging up on me, and I got overwhelmed...and it just came out. You are not nothing, baby."

"Come on, Eddie! There had to be some truth to it, or it wouldn't have come out. I am not an idiot." Steve says in his bitchiest voice, his wall going up, trying to protect himself from more hurt.

It feels like a punch to his gut. Eddie really made Steve believe their could be some truth in his words. "Steve....I promise you, I was just being some vain asshole, too worried about my reputation as a cool metalhead." He says, knowing how lame it sounds to say out loud. "How could I, Eddie "the freak" Munson, possibly have ended up with the prettiest boy in school."

"What you said was fucked up, you know..." another tear escaping, but the punch is gone from his words.

"I know...I know. I am so sorry, princess. I'll do anything to make it up to you." Eddie pleads softly.

Steve gives him a sad smile, anger melting away leaving only hurt. "I'm just having a hard time believing that I'm not nothing...I mean, you didn't want to tell your friends. And like, I know I can be a little much sometimes, and overbearing. And I'm sorry if I embarrassed you...."He whispers. He feels like nothing, like bullshit, like trash. He isn't endgame, he's never anyone's endgame.

Hearing Steve Harrington apologize for being embarrassing makes Eddie feel like he is in some alternate dimension, maybe he never left the upside down. But more concerningly, to hear Steve sound so small, broke him. Steve was the bravest, sweetest, bitchiest, protective, hottest person he knew but right now, Steve felt small. And it destroyed him to know he caused this. He caused Steve to feel unimportant...unloved. and he had promised himself that he would never do that to him.

He reaches over and grabs Steve's hand, squeezing softly. "God, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one who was so self centered, that I did the worst thing I have ever done. I hurt you." He moves his other hand to Steve's cheek, and to his relief, Steve leans into, doesn't pull away. "I somehow made the person who is everything to me, feel like nothing. And that just won't do."

"Eds..." Steve whispers.

"Stevie, I promise you, I will spend everyday trying to make it up to you."

"You...you don't have to...." Steve says softly, sadly.

"Yea, I do. Because Steve, you are everything. You are it for me, sweetheart. There is not a single day I will let go by without you knowing that. I will never let anyone, including myself, make you feel like you are nothing." Eddie leans closer, resting his forehead against Steve's.

By this point, tears were freely falling down Steve’s face. But now he's smiling, even laughing a little. "You are such a sap, Eddie." He jokes before leaning in and placing a tiny kiss against Eddie's lips. "And I love you so much."

Eddie feels a million times lighter as he keeps holding Steve. "I love you too, baby. And you are everything...you are everything....you are everything. " He repeats as I to make sure Steve understands how true it is, not leaving any room for doubt in Steve’s head.

Thank you for reading again! Also side note, did not want to drag this out but definitely see the others eating all the cupcakes downstairs, leaving only one and Steve and Eddie share it.

Tag list (you all are so sweat) There are more but the max mentions was 50. I will reboot and add more

@notsopretty-notsopink @pukner @justforthedead89 @lololol-1234 @little-crickett @thing-a-ling @swimmingbirdrunningrock @oldwitcheshat @my-baek-hurts @thequeenrainacorn @derangedhermit @plantzzsandpencilzzs @littlewildflowerkitten @ronance-is-my-wife @xjessicafaithx @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @sofadofax @just-a-tiny-void @whalesharksart @death-thee-nervousqueer @estrellami-1 @starman-jpg @oblivion-void @thequeenauden @thealwithnoname @sapphirecobalt-1 @thelady-mary @silentlycorrectingyourgrammar85 @theluckyalien @cheeseyberg @breealtair @messrs-weasley @heartthingsstuff @paintsplatteredandimperfect @tillystealeaves @pearynice @bela-valdis @beckkthewreck @breadboi66 @th30ra3k3n @0o-queendean-o0 @spideysteveloml @lauras2912 @seths-rogens @lovely-little-lass @envyadams-vs-me @meccaminayah @heartstarstar-blog @weirdandabsurd42 @virginlemontea @stevesbipanic @yulecogs

@sereinpetrichor @kittycat1810

[the-whispers-of-death]

When Grumpy!Reader postpones their lunch date with little to no explanation, John Price is confused. He at first thinks it's because your kid's sick, but then he glances out the window in his house which overlooks your backyard and he sees them playing in your backyard, looking as healthy as can be.

Momentarily, he thinks maybe you don't want to be with him anymore, but he dismisses the train of thought. You'd tell him if that was the case, he knows you would. No, something else is happening, and he doesn't know if he should intervene.

He eventually decides to just leave you alone, giving you some space. Until three hours later, when he hears a car pull up in your driveway next door and hears whoever gets out of the car slams the car door shut. He's still insistent on giving you your space, until he hears yelling.

John immediately heads for the front door and unlocks it, stepping outside and onto his porch to see the commotion. On your stoop is your ex whom John has been told all about, yelling at you for trying to replace their position as co-parent to your child with John.

As if they truly cared about your kid.

John knows well enough that just a week ago, your kid was very sad and disappointed when said ex had postponed the plans they made to see your kid in favor of going to a concert. John remembers going over to your house to help cheer your kid up, taking you both out for a day of fun.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he sees your ex get in your face, despite you being taller than them. He can't take anymore of them yelling at you, so he steps off his porch and heads over the boundary between your two houses.

"Oi, mate! Leave them alone," John calls out, his voice so gruff as he comes over. He walks onto your porch, pushing your ex back as he gets in front of you to be between you and your ex. "Back off, now."

Your ex sneers at him. "Oh, you must be their new partner, huh?" They get in John's face, sneering at you too over John's shoulder before looking back at John. "You can't replace me as a parent, you know that, don't you?"

John is calm and collected as he stares at your ex. "I'm not intending on replacing anyone, mate. But I sure as hell understand why they left you," he grumbles, so much larger than your ex.

"They didn't leave me!" Your ex shouts, offended by the assumption. They sputter, their face flushed with anger. "I left them, because they weren't enough for me."

John usually prides himself on remaining calm, not one to anger easily. But with you, he finds himself so protective. Even if he knows you can protect yourself. He just won't stand for you being disrespected.

"You listen here," he growls, his voice low and threatening as he steps towards your ex. One of his hands has found their way to the collar of your ex's shirt and he uses his grip to make them step away from you, practically pulling your ex to their car. "They are good enough, you just couldn't see it. Good riddance, I say. But you have no ground to stand on here. If their child sees me as more of a parental figure than they do you, it is no one's fault but yours. And I'll be damned if I let you take it out on my partner."

He gets them to their car and lets go of them, glaring at them to open their car door. "Now, it's not my place to tell you to never see your child again. It's up to my partner and their child to make that decision, but you will not be forcing your way into their lives if they don't want you here." He steps closer to your ex as they open their car door. "I better not see you yelling at my partner again, you understand me? Leave."

John waits a while after your ex is gone, ensuring that they have truly left the subdivision. When he's certain the danger is gone, he heads back to your porch and apologizes for stepping in unprompted. He makes it up to you and your child by coming inside (when you ask him to) and he makes your child's favorite meal for dinner, happy to be spending more time with you both.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[brookediamonds]

Can u make a fic based on the taylor swift song “you belong with me” where axel is dating a girl who isnt the best and the reader ends up interfering getting together with axel

you belong with me | Axel Kovačević x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Axel have been friends since childhood, you've had to sit back and watch him date girls that take him for granted. His recent relationship is no different. Only this time, it feels like this break between them could be your chance to change things.

Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: None, angst, fluff

gif is not mine

Axel’s window lights up just past midnight, the soft glow casting a gold square across your bedroom wall. 

You blink at it, lips pressed to your pencil’s eraser, pretending you’re still focused on the calculus homework in front of you.

You know that light means one of two things: he can’t sleep… or they had another fight.

You wish you didn’t know that.

From your desk, you can just make out the shadow of him pacing. You want to knock on your window and wave him over like you used to when you were kids. 

Before her. Before cheer practice and school hallway kisses and the feeling in your chest like maybe you’re the punchline to a joke no one told you.

You look at the framed photo on your shelf. The two of you at age twelve, all teeth and sunburns, holding your first karate tournament medals. His arm around your shoulders like it belonged there.

"You belong with me," you whisper to no one. Just like always.

Morning arrives with the relentless beep of your alarm. You hit snooze twice before dragging yourself out of bed, eyes still drawn to his window. His light is off now. 

Your phone buzzes as you're brushing your teeth.

Axel 🥇: Hey, Becca took my car keys. Long story. Can I get a ride?

You stare at the text, toothbrush hanging from your mouth, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. You type and delete three different responses before settling on casual. Becca was his older sister. 

You: Sure. Leaving in 15.

When you pull into his driveway, he's sitting on the front steps, looking half-asleep but still annoyingly perfect with his tousled hair. 

"Morning, sunshine!" You chirp with a brightness that surprises even you. "Coffee?" You hold up the travel mug you brought for him—black with two sugars, just how he likes it.

He blinks at you, a slow smile spreading across his face as he takes the mug. 

"You're literally saving my life right now," he says, climbing into the passenger seat. His fingers brush yours during the exchange, and you pretend not to notice the small electric current that runs up your arm.

"So what's the story with Becca? She finally had enough of your terrible driving?" You keep your tone light, teasing, as you pull out of the driveway.

Axel groans, taking a long sip of coffee. "She found out I stayed out past curfew again." He rolls his eyes, but there's genuine annoyance there. "She said she's teaching me responsibility or whatever."

You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, gathering courage as you stop at a red light. 

"Why isn't Emma giving you a ride?" you ask, trying to sound casual while studying his profile. "She usually does on Thursdays, right?"

Axel's jaw tightens, and he stares out the window. "We had another fight last night."

"Oh." You keep your eyes fixed on the road as the light turns green, not trusting your face to hide your feelings. "I'm sorry. Was it... serious?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "She's mad because I didn't want to go to her friend's party Friday. Said I never make an effort with her friends." 

"She never makes an effort with my friends either," he mutters, tracing the plastic lid of the coffee cup with his thumb. "I've asked her to hang out with you like a million times, and there's always some excuse."

Your heart gives a little jump at being mentioned, but you quickly shove the feeling down.

The last thing you need right now is to be caught in the middle of their relationship drama. Or worse, to let him see how much you care.

"Hey, did you finish that calc assignment?" you ask, smoothly changing the subject as you turn into the school parking lot. "Because I'm pretty sure I completely bombed problem seven."

Axel seems relieved by the shift in conversation. His shoulders relax as he digs through his backpack.

"Yeah, I did it last night when I couldn't sleep. Want to compare answers before class?"

"My hero," you say, parking in your usual spot. 

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"See, for this one, you have to use the chain rule," he explains, pointing to a particularly messy equation in his open notebook.

His shoulder presses against yours, and you catch the scent of his shampoo, something woodsy and familiar.

You lean closer, pretending to study his work while actually studying the light freckles across his nose. "Yeah, but what about—"

"That's where you went wrong," he interrupts, grinning as he taps your notebook. "You forgot to set up the integral first." 

You're laughing at his terrible explanation when a shadow falls across the notebook. You look up to find Emma standing there, her normally perfect makeup slightly smudged around the eyes. 

Her shoulders are hunched forward, making her seem smaller than her usual confident self.

"Hey," she says quietly, her eyes darting between you and Axel. She's fidgeting with the strap of her designer bag, knuckles white from gripping it too hard.

Axel straightens immediately, his body tensing beside you. The easy laughter from moments ago evaporates like morning dew.

"Emma," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "What's up?"

You begin gathering your papers, preparing for a hasty exit. This isn't your conversation to witness, and the last thing you want is to be caught in the crossfire of their reconciliation.

"Can we talk?" She asks. Emma shifts her weight, waiting for Axel's response. 

His eyes flick to you momentarily, and you catch the silent plea there. He's searching for a reason to stay right where he is.

"I should go," you say quickly, standing up and shouldering your backpack. "I need to stop by my locker before class anyway."

"You don't have to—" Axel starts, but you're already backing away.

"It's fine," you say with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "See you in calc."

As you walk away, you feel Axel's gaze following you, but you don't turn around. 

You've played this part many times before—the understanding friend who knows when to exit stage left. The supporting character in their love story.

Inside the school, you lean against your locker for a moment, closing your eyes. 

"OH MY GOD!" 

Sam's excited shriek snaps you out of your thoughts. She's practically bouncing toward you, waving her phone in the air, her face lit up with pure joy.

"You have to see this!" She thrusts her phone in your face, showing a photo of an elaborate poster covered in fairy lights spelling out "PROM?" with Miguel standing nervously beside it, holding a bouquet of roses.

"He asked me this morning before first period! Can you believe it?" Sam clutches your arm, practically vibrating with excitement. "He had the whole band playing our song and everything. I nearly died!"

"That's super cute, Sam," you say, mustering genuine happiness for your friend despite the hollow feeling spreading in your chest. "He’s such a good boyfriend."

"So," Sam says, linking her arm through yours as you both begin walking down the hallway. "Tory and I were thinking about going dress shopping Thursday after school. You're coming, right?"

You adjust your backpack strap, mind still half-stuck on Axel and Emma outside. "Dress shopping? For prom? Isn't that still a whiles away?"

Sam rolls her eyes dramatically. "That's exactly why we need to go now! All the good dresses will be gone if we wait. Plus, Tory's mom knows the owner of that new boutique downtown and she said we can get a discount if we come this week."

You hesitate, thinking about your pile of homework and the fact that you haven't even been asked to prom yet. 

The thought of watching your friends try on beautiful dresses while you pretend to be excited about a dance you might attend alone makes your stomach twist.

Sam's expression softens as she catches sight of your frown.

"Look, I know it's been rough with you and Axel lately," she says, lowering her voice. "But I think you need this. Just come and try on some pretty dresses with us. Who knows? Maybe it'll take your mind off things."

You sigh, knowing she's right. 

"Okay, fine. But I'm not buying anything unless it's on clearance."

Sam squeals and hugs you. "Yes! It's going to be so much fun! And maybe we can find something that'll make a certain someone finally notice what's right in front of him."

"Sam," you warn, but she's already skipping ahead to class, leaving you trailing behind with a reluctant smile.

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Night falls quickly. You try to focus on your history essay, but your eyes keep drifting to your window. Axel's room is dark. Maybe he's out with Emma. 

You force yourself back to your textbook. The clock reads 10:37 PM when a light suddenly floods through your window. Axel's room.

You glance up, unable to help yourself. The angle is perfect, your desk nestled right against your window, his room clearly visible across the narrow gap between your houses.

Axel is pacing again, his phone pressed to his ear, one hand raking through his hair in that way he does when he's frustrated. 

He stops suddenly, staring at his phone as if it's personally offended him. 

His jaw works, and then he hurls something that looks suspiciously like "fine" before tossing his phone onto the bed.

Suddenly, he freezes. His eyes lock with yours across the space between your houses.

Caught. Your heart stops as heat rushes to your face. You've been caught staring, and there's nowhere to hide.

For a painful moment, you just look at each other, the nighttime quiet making everything feel more intense. 

Then, to your surprise, he doesn't close his curtains or turn away. Instead, he reaches for something behind his desk.

He pulls out a small whiteboard, the same one you two used to communicate with as kids when you were both grounded from your phones. You haven't seen it in years.

Axel uncaps a marker with his teeth and scribbles something quickly. He holds it up to his window:

"ENJOYING THE SHOW?"

Your cheeks burn hotter. You want to dive under your bed and never emerge again.Your heart races as your eyes dart around your desk for something to write back with. 

The essay can wait. You grab your notebook, flip it over to the blank side, and hastily scrawl:

"COULD BE BETTER" in large letters. You hold it up against your window, your lips quirking into a hesitant smile.

Axel reads it and his serious expression cracks. A genuine smile spreads across his face, the first real one you've seen all day. He shakes his head, laughing silently, and you feel something loosen in your chest.

He erases his whiteboard with the sleeve of his shirt and writes again: "WINDOW CHAT LIKE OLD TIMES?"

You nod, and he points to his window latch before disappearing from view. You understand immediately, the signal you've used since you were thirteen.

You push your window open, the cool night air hitting your face as you lean out slightly. Axel does the same from his window, the space between your houses just narrow enough that you can hear each other without shouting.

"Hey," he says, his voice low and rough.

"Hey yourself," you reply, trying to sound casual. "Everything okay over there?"

He lets out a sigh that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. "Not really. Emma and I broke up."

The words hang in the night air between you. Your heart does a complicated little dance—part sympathy, part something else you refuse to name.

"For real this time?" you ask carefully. They've "broken up" at least three times before, only to be back together within days.

Axel nods, leaning his elbows on his windows sill, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Yeah, for real this time. I'm done."

"What happened?" you ask, voice soft against the cricket-filled night. "I thought you guys were working things out this morning."

He makes a frustrated sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "That's what I thought too. But then she started going off about how I don't prioritize her. Said I care more about karate than I do about her."

"That's not fair," you say automatically.

"I know, right?" His eyes meet yours across the gap between your houses. "She missed my tournament this weekend—the regional finals. Do you know what her excuse was? She was getting her nails done with Kaitlyn."

Your mind flashes back to Saturday, you sitting in the bleachers, screaming yourself hoarse as Axel dominated his matches. The pride on his face when he took first place. 

The way he scanned the crowd afterward, his smile faltering just slightly before he spotted you.

"You were there," he says quietly, his eyes suddenly intense. "You're always there."

"Of course I am," you reply, trying to keep your tone light. "Someone has to document your victories for posterity."

"Honestly?" He leans a little further out his window. "I'd rather have you there than her anyway. You actually understand what's happening. You don't just complain about how long it takes or how boring it is."

Your heart skips at his words, but you force yourself to remain calm. Friends. You're just friends.

"Well, I've been watching you flip people since we were ten," you joke. "I'm practically an expert by association."

He smiles, but it's different now—softer, more genuine. 

"So, um," Axel starts, his voice suddenly hesitant. He fiddles with the frame of his window, not quite meeting your eyes. "Sam mentioned you guys were going dress shopping tomorrow."

"Oh," you say, caught off guard by the change in topic. "Yeah, she's dragging me along. Apparently all the good dresses will be gone if we don't go now or something."

"So you're going to prom then?" he asks, and there's something in his tone you can't quite place. 

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant even as your heart beats faster. "I don't think so, actually. I mean, I haven't been asked, and I'm not really feeling the whole third-wheel-to-all-your-coupled-up-friends vibe."

"I wish you would go," Axel says suddenly, his voice soft but clear in the night air. "To prom, I mean."

Your breath catches in your throat. Before you can even process what he's said, let alone form a response, there's a loud bang as his bedroom door flies open.

"Axel!" Becca's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. She appears at his shoulder, already talking a mile a minute. "I need you to cover for me tomorrow night. Mom and Dad think I'm studying at Jared's, but we're actually—" 

She stops abruptly when she notices him leaning out the window. Her eyes dart across to you, and a knowing smile spreads across her face.

"Oh," she realizes, "hey, Y/n!"

"Hi Becca," you say with a small wave. "How's it going?"

Axel's face darkens as he turns to face his sister. 

"Becca, I'm kind of in the middle of something here," he says, his voice tight with irritation.

"Oh, sorry," she says, not sounding sorry at all. "I just need you to cover for me tomorrow. Mom's getting suspicious about all my 'study sessions' with Jared."

You can't help but smile at the way Axel's shoulders tense. His jaw clenches in that familiar way it does when he's trying not to lose his temper.

"Can we talk about this later?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"But I need to know now," Becca insists, leaning against his doorframe with her arms crossed. "It's kind of time-sensitive."

As they begin to bicker you laugh at the scene across from you, standing up from your spot. You shut your window, and close the curtains for the night. 

Were Axel and Emma really over?

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The next few weeks are chaotic and fun, you never realized how much you missed single Axel until you had him back. 

And lately, things have gotten more… flirty. 

You're sitting at your usual lunch table on Tuesday when Axel slides in beside you, his tray clattering against the tabletop. His knee bumps yours under the table, and he doesn't move it away.

"Hey," he says, stealing a fry from your tray with practiced ease. "Missed you in English."

"Doctor's appointment," you explain, nudging your fries closer to him. It's an unspoken arrangement, you always get the large fry knowing he'll eat half of them. "Did I miss anything important?"

"Just Mr. Peterson's dramatic reading of Hamlet. You know how he gets." Axel mimics your English teacher's exaggerated expressions, making you chuckle.

Sam and Tory are deep in conversation about their prom dresses across the table, heads bent together over Tory's phone. 

"So," he says, suddenly focused on arranging his food with unusual precision. "I've been thinking about what we were talking about. Before Becca interrupted."

Your heart skips a beat as you remember that night at the window. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He takes a deep breath, then looks directly at you. "About prom. You never answered if you'd go."

"I told you, I don't really have plans to—"

"What if you went with me?" he blurts out, his ears turning pink at the tips.

You freeze, fork suspended halfway to your mouth. "What?"

"Prom," he says again, voice steadier now. "Would you want to go with me? Like, as my date?"

"Yes!" Sam's voice cuts through your stunned silence, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Absolutely yes!" Tory chimes in immediately, clapping her hands together. "She's been waiting for you to ask forever!"

Your face floods with heat as you stare at your friends in wide-eyed horror. "Guys!" 

Axel is grinning now, his shoulders relaxing as he looks between your friends and back to you. His eyes are bright with something you haven't seen in a long time, maybe ever. Hope.

"So," he says, leaning closer to you, his voice dropping so only you can hear. "Is that a yes from you?"

"Yes," you breathe, unable to contain the smile spreading across your face. "I'm actually really glad I ended up buying that dress a few weeks ago. Sam was right about the good ones disappearing fast."

Axel's eyebrows shoot up. "You already have a dress? So you were planning to go?"

"No," you admit, playing with the straw in your water bottle. "Sam and Tory basically forced me into the boutique. I tried it on just to make them happy, but then..." 

You shrug, suddenly feeling shy. "I kind of loved it, and they convinced me to buy it. Said I'd regret it if I didn't."

"She looks incredible in it," Sam interjects, leaning across the table. "Like, jaw-dropping gorgeous."

"Can confirm," Tory nods solemnly. "Total knockout."

“Check out these pics we took!”

"No, absolutely not," you say, watching in horror as Sam reaches for her phone. "You are not showing him those pictures."

"But we look so cute!" Tory protests, already leaning across the table to help Sam scroll through her camera roll. "Plus, he needs to see what he's signing up for."

"Ah! Found them!" Sam announces triumphantly, turning her phone toward Axel. "Look at our girl!"

You groan, burying your face in your hands as Axel leans in to see the photos. You peek through your fingers to gauge his reaction.

His playful expression shifts as he studies the screen, eyes widening slightly. You watch as he swipes through several images, his jaw actually dropping a little, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

"Wow," he says, voice suddenly deeper than usual. "You look..." 

He trails off, eyes still fixed on the screen before finally looking up at you. The intensity in his gaze makes your stomach flip.

"You're a total knockout," he breathes, and there's something raw and honest in his voice that makes the cafeteria around you seem to fade away. "Like, seriously. I won't be able to take my eyes off you all night."

Sam and Tory exchange triumphant looks across the table, but you barely notice them. All you can focus on is the way Axel is looking at you now, like he's seeing you clearly for the first time.

"That color is perfect on you," he continues, handing the phone back to Sam but keeping his eyes on yours. 

"Blue has always been your color," he says softly, almost to himself.

The bell rings, startling all of you. Students around you scramble to gather their things, but you and Axel remain frozen in place, caught in some invisible current between you.

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Prom night arrives in a flurry of nervousness and excitement. Your mom has spent the last hour helping you into your dress, fussing over every detail while snapping photos "for the album." 

You stand at your bedroom window, where the evening light streams in perfectly for your final hair adjustments. The pins are being stubborn, and you're concentrating on securing that one loose strand when a flicker of movement catches your eye.

Across the narrow gap between your houses, Axel is standing at his window. He's already dressed in his tux, the dark fabric making his shoulders look broader than usual. 

The blue tie that matches your dress is slightly crooked. But it's his expression that makes your breath catch, he's staring at you with such open admiration that your hands freeze mid-motion.

When your eyes meet, a shy smile spreads across his face. He holds up one finger in a "wait" gesture, then disappears from view. 

When he returns, there's something white in his hands, the old whiteboard. 

Your heart skips as he uncaps a marker with his teeth, scribbling something quickly before pressing it against his window pane.

"YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL" 

The words are written in his familiar messy handwriting, larger than necessary, as if he wants to make absolutely sure you can read them. 

There's a small heart drawn in the corner that makes your stomach flutter. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you smile back at him, your hands moving instinctively to smooth down your dress. 

You reach for a notebook on your desk, quickly writing "YOU CLEAN UP NICE TOO" in large letters, holding it up for him to see.

He reads it and grins, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes your heart race. He erases the board quickly and writes again:

"BE THERE IN 5." 

He caps the marker and disappears from the window. Your pulse quickens as you realize he's coming over now, before your parents can ambush you both with a thousand photos and embarrassing stories.

You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your dress and tucking that stubborn strand of hair behind your ear. The doorbell rings exactly four minutes later.

You hurry to answer it before your mom can, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Taking a deep breath, you pull open the front door.

Axel stands on your porch, looking impossibly handsome in his fitted tux. His hair is styled neatly, though that one rebellious strand still falls across his forehead and he fidgets with a small plastic box in his hands. 

His eyes widen when he takes in the full sight of you, his mouth opening and closing without any words coming out.

"Hi," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

"I—wow," he stammers, blinking rapidly as his gaze travels from your face to your dress and back again. "You're... you look..."

You can't help but giggle at his reaction. This is Axel, your confident best friend who never struggles for words, reduced to incoherent stuttering because of you in a dress.

"Thank you," you say, stepping aside to let him in. "You look really handsome too."

He runs a nervous hand through his hair, messing up the careful styling. 

"I, um, I brought you this," he manages, holding up the clear plastic box containing a delicate corsage—white roses with sprigs of baby's breath and blue ribbon that perfectly matches your dress.

"It's perfect," you whisper, staring at the delicate flowers.

"May I?" he asks, carefully removing the corsage from its container.

You nod, extending your wrist. His fingers are warm against your skin as he slides the elastic band over your hand, adjusting it carefully. 

The moment feels impossibly intimate—his head bent close to yours, his breath tickling your bare shoulder.

"Oh, you two look absolutely gorgeous!" Your mom's voice breaks the spell as she appears with her camera already raised. "Stay right there!"

The flash blinds you momentarily as she snaps the first of what will be many, many photos.

"Mom," you groan, blinking away the spots in your vision.

"Just a few more," she insists, waving her hand to position you. "Axel, stand behind her—yes, perfect! Now both of you look at me."

The next thirty minutes are spent taking thousands of photos of you and Axel as you both waited for the limo to arrive with all of your friends. 

You breathe a sigh of relief as you spot the gleaming white stretch limo idling at the curb, its polished surface reflecting the sunset in shades of gold and pink. The door opens, and Sam's head pops out, her curls bouncing as she waves frantically.

Axel takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you both make your escape toward the door. "Thank you for the photos, Mrs. Y/L/N," he says politely, even as he's backing away.

"Wait! One more with the corsage!" your mom calls, but you're already halfway out the door.

"We'll take lots at prom, Mom, I promise!" you call over your shoulder.

The sleek black stretch limo sits gleaming in your driveway, your friend popping their heads out of the sunroof. 

The limo's door swings open, and you're immediately hit with a wave of perfume, loud music, and excited chatter.

"Finally!" Sam exclaims, scooting over to make room. "We thought you guys were going to spend all night taking photos."

You slide in first, Axel following close behind. His hand stays firmly linked with yours as you settle onto the plush leather seats. 

"Well, well, well," Tory drawls, looking between you and Axel with a knowing smirk. "Don't you two clean up nice?"

"Seriously," Miguel agrees, raising his plastic champagne flute. "You guys look like you stepped out of a magazine or something."

“She looks like she stepped out of a magazine,” Axel corrects making you blush. 

While you two haven’t defined your relationship, his comments lately had you thinking that maybe this time things are different. 

It’s been well over an hour since you and your friends have arrived at the hotel the dance is being held at. You took the formal entry pictures along the twinkling lights, making sure to get two copies for you and for Axel. 

Seating was established with your hangout group, luckily there were enough seats for all of your friends. 

The music pulses through the air as you dance with Sam and Tory, laughing as you form a small circle on the dance floor. The three of you twirl and jump to the upbeat song, your dress swirling around your legs.

The DJ's voice cuts through the pounding music. "Alright, everyone, time to slow things down a bit."

The opening notes of a slow ballad fill the room, and the strobe lights fade to a soft blue glow. 

All around you, couples begin pairing up, arms wrapping around each other as the dance floor transforms.

"And that's my cue to get another drink," Tory says, flashing you a smile before disappearing into the crowd.

Sam gives you a quick squeeze. "Miguel's waving me over. You good?"

You nod, already preparing to step off the dance floor, when a gentle tap on your shoulder makes you turn.

Axel stands there, looking almost nervous, his blue tie slightly loosened after hours of dancing, and your heart does a little flip.

"Dance with me?" he asks, holding out his hand. The soft glow of the lights makes his blue eyes look almost silver as they meet yours.

Without hesitation, you place your hand in his. "I'd love to."

He leads you toward the center of the dance floor, and when he turns to face you, something in his expression makes your breath catch. 

His hands find your waist, drawing you closer than you've ever been before. Instinctively, your arms loop around his neck, and suddenly there's barely any space between you.

"This is nice," he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear it over the music. His hands are warm through the fabric of your dress, steady and sure as they hold you.

"Yeah," you manage, trying to focus on anything but how right this feels. "It really is."

"I'm really glad you came with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear it over the music. His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your knees weak. "I'm having the best time."

"Me too," you whisper back, hardly daring to breathe as he pulls you even closer, the space between you disappearing until your bodies are pressed together. 

The soft melody wraps around you as you sway together, the world beyond this moment fading away. You can feel his heartbeat against yours, steady but quick. 

His eyes never leave your face, even as other couples twirl around you.

Axel takes a deep breath, and you feel his chest expand against yours. Something shifts in his expression—a vulnerability you rarely see.

"I want to tell you something," he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

You tilt your head slightly, waiting. His gaze drops for a moment, then returns to yours with newfound intensity.

"Thank you," he says simply, his thumb tracing small circles on your lower back.

You blink, caught off guard. "For what?"

"For always being there for me," he continues, his voice thick with emotion. "Through everything—my tournaments, my family drama, even all that stuff with Emma."

The simple sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. "That what friends are for, right?”

Something flickers across his face—a shadow of disappointment, maybe, or hesitation. For a heartbeat, he looks like he wants to say something more, something important, but the moment passes. 

He only forces a small smile and nods, continuing to dance with you.

Your heart sinks a little at his expression. The warmth that had been building between you seems to cool slightly, though his arms remain firmly around your waist. You wonder if you've said something wrong.

"Axel?" you whisper, trying to recapture his eyes with yours. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he says, but his voice lacks conviction. "Everything's fine."

The music continues, but the magic of the moment has dimmed. You can feel tension in his shoulders now, a subtle stiffness that wasn't there before. 

Still, he leads you through the final measures of the song. As the last notes fade, the spell of intimacy between you breaks.

"I'm going to freshen up," you say, needing a moment to collect yourself. His eyes finally meet yours again, but they're guarded now.

"Sure," he replies with a small nod. "I'll grab us some punch."

You navigate through the crowd toward the bathroom, your mind racing. 

What just happened? 

One moment you were having this perfect dance, and the next, something closed off in him. 

The bathroom is mercifully empty. You lean against the cool marble counter, studying your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks are flushed, your hair slightly tousled from dancing. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

You give yourself one last reassuring smile in the mirror. Whatever tension you felt with Axel on the dance floor, you're determined to clear it up. 

Maybe he was just nervous. Maybe he wanted to say something more. Maybe tonight is finally the night things change between you.

With renewed confidence, you smooth down your dress and head back toward the dance floor. 

The DJ has switched to another upbeat song, and the crowd has thickened again, making it harder to spot Axel. 

You scan the room, looking for his tall frame and that blue tie that matches your dress.

When you finally spot him, your heart drops to your stomach.

He's standing near the refreshment table, but he's not alone. Emma is there, looking stunning in a fitted red dress that hugs every curve. 

Her hand rests on his arm as she leans in close, saying something that makes him nod slowly. 

Their heads are bent together, her voice too low for you to hear what she's saying. Axel looks uncomfortable, but he's not walking away.

Your stomach twists painfully as you watch them. All those perfect moments on the dance floor suddenly feel like a distant dream. 

Of course Emma would show up tonight. Of course she would seek him out, looking like that. And of course Axel would talk to her. They have history, after all. Years of it.

You feel stupid. So incredibly, painfully stupid. What were you thinking? That he would suddenly see you as something more than his reliable best friend?

"Hey, you look like you could use a distraction," a voice says beside you.

You turn to see Jackson from your chemistry class, looking handsome in his tux. "Want to dance?"

His expression is kind, understanding—he must have followed your gaze to Axel and Emma.

"You know what? Sure," you say, forcing a smile. "I'd love to dance."

Jackson's face lights up with surprise and delight. He offers his hand and leads you to the dance floor just as a new song begins, something with a steady beat that's easy to move to. 

"I've been wanting to ask you all night," he admits as you start dancing. "But you've been with Axel the whole time. I didn't want to interrupt."

"Oh," you say, trying to sound casual. "We're just friends."

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but in this moment, it feels true again. Just friends. That's all you've ever been.

Jackson is a good dancer, and he keeps the conversation light and fun. 

He makes you laugh with stories about his disaster of a science project last semester, and for a few minutes, you almost forget about Axel and Emma. 

You're laughing at his impression of your calculus teacher when you feel a presence behind you.

"Mind if I cut in?"

The familiar voice sends a jolt through your system. You turn to find Axel standing there, his expression unreadable, tie now completely loosened around his neck.

"Oh," you say, trying to sound casual despite your racing heart. 

The two boys exchange tense nods. Jackson looks between you and Axel, understanding dawning on his face.

"Sure, man," Jackson says with a good-natured shrug. "She's all yours. Thanks for the dance," he adds to you with a smile.

As Jackson walks away, Axel steps closer, his expression softening. 

"I've been looking for you," he says sweetly, his voice gentle. "Are you okay?"

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard. You'd expected him to be distant after seeing him with Emma, but instead, his eyes are searching yours with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," you say, trying to sound convincing. "Just needed some air."

The DJ's voice cuts through the moment. "Alright, couples, here's another slow one for you..."

The opening notes of a ballad fill the space around you, and without hesitation, Axel's hands find your waist, drawing you close again.

"Dance with me?" he asks, though he's already guiding you into his arms, his hands settling on your waist with a gentle pressure that makes your breath catch.

You allow yourself to be pulled close, your heart a jumbled mess of emotions. Your hands rest lightly on his shoulders as you sway to the music, trying to process everything that's happened in the last hour.

"You disappeared," he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. "I got us punch and you were gone."

You bite your lip, hesitating before speaking. "I saw you with Emma."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Emma? Oh, that wasn't—"

"It's okay," you interrupt, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "If you want to go be with her, I understand. I'll be fine hanging out with the girls for the rest of the night."

Axel blinks at you, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he stops dancing mid-step. "Wait, what?"

"You and Emma," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I saw you two talking and—"

"No," he interrupts, shaking his head firmly. "No, that's not—I don't want to be with Emma." His voice is emphatic, almost desperate. "That's the last thing I want."

You stare at him, confused by the intensity in his eyes. "But I saw you—"

"She came to apologize," he explains quickly. "She wanted to get back together, but I told her no. I told her I'm done with that part of my life."

"Oh," you breathe, relief washing over you.

His hands slide from your waist to cup your face, his touch so gentle it makes your heart skip. There's a desperation in his touch, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

"I'm so tired of making the wrong choice," he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. His thumbs trace gentle patterns on your cheeks as he stares into your eyes with an intensity that steals your breath. "I've been blind for so long, not seeing what was right in front of me this whole time."

Your pulse races as his gaze drops to your lips. Time seems to slow as he leans closer, closing the distance between you.

"It's always been you," he breathes against your lips. 

And then he's kissing you. 

His lips are soft, hesitant at first, as if he's giving you a chance to pull away. But when you respond, your arms tightening around his neck, he deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against him as the world dissolves around you.

You've imagined this kiss a thousand times, but reality is infinitely sweeter. His warmth, his scent, the small sound he makes when you tug him closer—it's all beautifully, overwhelmingly real.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathless. The dance continues around you, but neither of you moves, caught in your own private universe where nothing exists beyond this circle of light, this shared breath between you.

"Wow," you whisper, your fingers still curled around the lapels of his jacket.

Axel's smile is dazzling, his eyes bright with something that looks suspiciously like happiness. 

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he admits, his voice soft with wonder. His forehead rests against yours, a gentle anchor in the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you.

A laugh bubbles up from deep in your chest, light and giddy. 

"You know, I always knew you belonged with me," you say, your voice teasing but eyes sincere. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

His expression softens, his smile growing impossibly wider. 

"Better late than never, right?" he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Much better," you agree, and then he's kissing you again, his lips gentle against yours.

This kiss is different from the first, less desperate, more certain. A promise rather than a question.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

Masterlist

Taglist: @ggrgcribg

(a/n: friends to lovers is one my favs 🥹)

[sinsolstice]

𝒢IRL 𝒟AD ⋆˚࿔ CHAPTER 01

SINGLE FATHER! MIGUEL O'HARA X TEACHER FEM READER. fanfic series.

𝓼ynopsis : miguel comes to his daughter's school to pick her up but seeing you was an unexpected and nice meeting.

𝔀ord 𝓬ount : 3,147

MASTERLIST . NEXT CHAPTER

Miguel remembers why he avoids driving around the city in the late afternoon.

He stares out the front window with a frown and a bored look. One hand grips the steering wheel, while the other props up his arm next to the door, supporting his face. It’s typical Nueva York traffic: cars honking, drivers speeding and flouting traffic regulations, and pedestrians oblivious to their surroundings.

Miguel sighs in frustration. He can’t believe his friend Jess goes through this every weekday afternoon just to pick up the kids. It's taking all his patience not to hit his palm on the wheel and tell the drivers in front of him to move. But Miguel endures the traffic, despite his irritation. Minutes pass like hours, with the cars inching forward. When he checks the time, it’s ten minutes to four in the afternoon. The only thing keeping him sane is reminding himself of the purpose of this entire trip.

Gabriella’s school should be a few buildings away from the traffic.

A smile crosses his face at the thought of her. His daughter. The only person he cares about in the entire universe. His bundle of light and joy. As much as he loves his daughter, Miguel rarely picks Gabriella up from school after three in the afternoon. His job as a geneticist isn't as flexible as it seems. It’s a nine-to-six job, five days a week. Despite the long hours, Miguel makes every effort to spend time with Gabriella either before he goes to work, after work, or on the weekends.

But today, he’s breaking the routine. He’s picking up his little girl from school. And Gabriella doesn’t know he’s coming.

The traffic finally eases. The cars in front of him start to move. Miguel seizes the opportunity to drive forward. He maneuvers steadily through the busy road until he reaches an urban area that’s familiar to him. Miguel continues driving through the streets of Queens until he sees Gabriella’s school and comes to a stop.

Miguel gets out of the car and locks it behind him. When he looks at his watch, it’s already four-thirty, and he's definitely late. He glances at his reflection in the car window. Dressed in casual blue denim jeans, a white shirt under a black leather jacket, and black sunglasses that hide his eyes, he looks like a typical father picking his kid up from school, not like a man who just got off work.

Miguel hasn’t visited Gabriella’s school in a while. The last time he was here was for a parent-teacher conference. As he enters the school building, he’s unfamiliar with the layout. The quiet, peaceful setting is devoid of students or teachers. He didn't expect the main area to be so vast and isn't sure where to go to find his daughter. He decides to wander around, hoping to find his way.

The hallways grow eerily quiet as Miguel walks, feeling he's farther away from where he should be. School buildings have always been like mazes. He doesn't recognize anything familiar. Unsure of his direction, Miguel considers calling his daughter for directions. But he decides against it, wanting to surprise Gabriella when she finishes soccer practice.

Maybe a teacher in one of these classrooms can point him in the right direction. Surely, not all the teachers have gone home for the day.

Miguel looks down the hallway and decides to try the door at the farthest corner on the right. He’s not sure why he chose that door, but he has a feeling someone might be in there who could help him. Or at least, he hopes there will be.

Miguel knocks twice before turning the doorknob. When he opens the door, he pokes his head into the room, seeing that it’s an empty classroom. A frown appears on his face, disappointed. Looks like he'll need to find someone else.

He’s about to close the door and leave when he hears a voice. “Hi, can I help you with anything?”

Miguel still doesn’t see anyone. But when he steps further into the classroom, he spots a woman behind a desk he didn’t notice before. The person turns around, and Miguel finally sees her—sees you.

You seem preoccupied, and he must have interrupted you. The locker behind you is wide open, filled with stacks of papers and boxes. He guesses you were in the middle of organizing when he disturbed you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” you respond, a hint of a smile on your face as you place the box on the desk. Miguel removes his sunglasses out of courtesy, taking a better look at you. You’re wearing a polo shirt and white jeans, casual attire for a staff member. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I…” Miguel’s voice trails off. Judging by your youthful appearance and demeanor, he guesses you are in your twenties, making him a few years older than you. You must be a teacher here. Miguel clears his throat lightly. “Sorry, I think I got myself lost. I’m looking for the sports field. I’m here to pick up my daughter. She has soccer practice today.”

“Oh, right.” You smile apologetically. “Well, you’re a bit far from where you need to be. The field is on the other side of the building.”

That makes sense. No wonder he hasn’t made any progress. He’s gone the wrong way. School buildings are always a maze. “Thank you for your help.” Miguel nods in acknowledgment. “I hope you have a good rest of the afternoon, señorita.”

Miguel is about to leave when you stop him. “I can show you where to go if you’d like,” you offer. “So you won’t get lost again.”

He looks at you, contemplating the offer. You don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you, yet you’re willing to help. He watches you close the cupboard door, lock it, and turn to him. You’re still smiling kindly, waiting for his response. “I’d appreciate it if you could help me out.”

“Sure thing,” you say, grabbing your keys from the desk. They jingle as you grip them. You walk around the desk to approach him. Miguel immediately notices the height difference between you and him—you’re about chest-high to him. “Shall we get going?”

Miguel opens the door wider and gestures for you to lead the way. You step out, and he follows, closing the door behind him. Walking beside you down the hallway, Miguel observes your stride—elegant, confident, and relaxed. He wonders if you might be one of Gabriella’s teachers. There's something about you that piques his interest, an inexplicable feeling of appreciation for every second of your presence.

“So, what’s your daughter’s name?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Maybe I recognize her from one of the classes I teach.”

It takes a moment for Miguel to process your question. “Her name is Gabriella O’Hara,” he says. “She’s in seventh grade. Brown hair, wears a purple backpack, about this tall?” He estimates her height with his hand.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Gabriella’s name. “Oh, Gabi O’Hara! She’s one of my students.” Miguel looks at you, intrigued. “I’m her homeroom teacher this year. She talks about you a lot in class.”

He smiles politely. “Ah, she has?”

“Gabriella often stays behind to help me tidy up when she doesn’t have soccer practice, usually while waiting for Jessica to pick her up,” you explain.

Miguel wants to ask more about his daughter, but you continue speaking. Your confidence and politeness, coupled with a hint of wisdom, make him feel comfortable around you. He’s only just met you, but he feels a sense of ease. Surely, Gabriella must have mentioned you before. Miguel tries to recall anything his daughter might have said about you.

After a moment of silence, you speak again, hesitantly. “I’m sorry if this sounds ignorant or assumptive, but… is Jess Gabriella’s mother?”

“Ah, no. Jessica is a good friend of mine,” Miguel replies. “I often work late and can’t pick Gabi up from school. But today is different.” He explains briefly, feeling reluctant to delve into the complexities of his relationship with Gabriella’s mother. “It’s a surprise. Gabi doesn’t know I’m here today.”

You turn to him with a genuine smile. “I think she’ll be thrilled to see you after practice.” Your smile is sweet and kind, and Miguel thinks it suits you. “Gabi told me a few days ago that you have yet to see the new kicks she’s been practicing. From what I’ve seen, she’s a star player on the girls’ team.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Miguel nods.

You and Miguel continue walking, and when he spots a large door ahead, he hopes it leads to where he can find Gabriella. “The girls’ soccer team is just beyond this door.”

You open the door, revealing the outdoor environment. Fresh air greets him, along with a wide view of the track and soccer field. Students and teachers are scattered around, engaged in various after-school activities. Miguel scans the field, searching for any sign of Gabriella among the groups of girls. His eyes stop on a familiar brown-haired girl in a purple shirt and white shorts. She moves swiftly, kicking the ball until it sails into the goalpost. The girls around her cheer, and a smile spreads across his face.

“Oh, look, there’s Gabi,” you say. “Gabi!”

Gabriella looks around and spots you and Miguel. A wide smile breaks across her face. “Papa!”

“Mija!” Miguel calls back, waving to her. Gabriella rushes over, her excitement evident.

Gabriella calls your name when she sees you, the happiness on her face unwavering. You wave back at the young girl with a cheerful smile and laugh as Gabriella yells across the field, asking if you saw the game. "I sure did!" you respond, still laughing.

Miguel can't help but smile at the scene. He watches as Gabriella joins the rest of the girls for a team huddle with their coach. Her soccer practice should be done in a few minutes. "Do you want to sit on the bench while we wait?" he asks.

"I don't mind," you nod. The two of you approach the benches and take a seat. Miguel sits next to you, his gaze fixed on Gabriella as he admires her from afar. "She's a great kid, isn't she?" he says.

"Definitely," you reply.

Miguel gazes at his little girl and then turns his attention to you, curious about your work life. "So, how long have you been teaching?" he inquires.

"I've been doing this for two and a half years," you explain. "I started as a substitute teacher during the summer when I moved to the States."

Miguel nods, learning something new about you. Your mannerisms and subtle accent suddenly make more sense to him. Your voice is calming, and even though he's known you for less than an hour, he feels at ease. "So, what do you teach?" he asks.

"I mainly teach Biology and Chemistry, though sometimes I also help out with English and reading enrichment," you say. "English isn't my first language, but it's rewarding to help kids build confidence in theirs."

Miguel nods again. He understands the challenge of speaking more than one language. "It's not an easy language to completely master, but you speak it well. Gabriella and I often switch between Mexican Spanish and English, which sometimes turns into Spanglish."

You laugh quietly, and your shoulders shake. "It's often easier to express certain things in your native language, isn't it? Although when I do, I can sound a bit... 'expressive.' Or 'explosive,' as my family puts it."

Miguel chortles. "I always encourage Gabriella to speak more Spanish at home. It's important not to lose your cultural identity."

"I agree," you say. "It's easy to lose yourself in a crowd, but your roots never leave you."

"What made you move to the States, if you don't mind me asking?" Miguel asks, curiosity piqued.

A smile spreads across your face. "I was looking for a sense of adventure and decided to take a leap and move here on my own."

"That takes courage," Miguel says, glancing at you. Your smile remains, and he wonders what prompted your move but holds back from prying too deeply. "How old were you when you moved here?"

"I was nineteen," you reply. "I stayed in Canada for two years, then moved to the States when I was twenty-one. I've been here for three years now."

Miguel notes the age difference between you two. You're only seven years younger than he is, and you moved to a new country at such a young age. His interest in your story grows; what besides adventure led you to such a big move?

You and Miguel sit together in comfortable silence. The sky is bright and blue, the sun warming the field. Miguel's red eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, are fixed on you. He feels unusually relaxed in your presence, a rare feeling for someone he's just met.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to look at him and smile. He's grateful for his sunglasses, as they hide the potential blush creeping up his cheeks.

You turn your attention elsewhere as Gabriella runs towards you both. You're the first to rise, and Miguel follows, smiling at his little girl. "Papa! I can't believe you're here!" she exclaims.

"I wanted to surprise you, mija," Miguel says, lifting Gabriella into the air and kissing her forehead. She wraps her arms around his neck. "You did great today at practice. I'm so proud of you."

"Gracias, Papa." Gabriella kisses his cheek in return. She beams at you, clearly thrilled to see you. "What did you think of my moves, Miss?"

"They were impressive, Gabs," you say, affection evident in your voice. "You're getting better and better. You'll be a star on sports day soon."

"I think it's time for us to head home," Miguel says, noting the approaching sunset. He prefers to be home before dark.

"Can we stop at Wendy's for dinner?" Gabriella asks hopefully.

Miguel considers this. He’s forgotten to prepare dinner and sees this as a perfect excuse for a treat. "We can do that, sweet girl."

He turns to you, "Thank you for your help earlier."

"It was no problem, Mr. O'Hara," you say. "I hope we meet again. It was nice getting to know you."

Miguel nods, ignoring the slight pang in his chest. He makes sure Gabriella has everything before they leave. As they walk away, Gabriella waves enthusiastically at you. "Bye-bye, Miss! See you tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow, Gabi! Enjoy your dinner!" you call back, waving. "See you again sometime, Miguel!"

Miguel waves back and watches as you turn to speak with another teacher before he finally turns away. Gabriella decides to walk on her own, and Miguel puts her down, holding her hand as they head toward the school building. With each step, Miguel finds his thoughts returning to you, wishing he could see you one last time before they go.

He glances back to find you still chatting with the other teacher. You laugh at something, your face lighting up. He watches as you say goodbye and turn away. When you notice him looking, you give him the sweetest smile he's ever seen, even from a distance.

He thinks your smile makes you even more beautiful, especially when directed at him.

"Papa, let's go to Wendy's now!" Gabriella urges.

Miguel looks down at her with a gentle smile. "Alright, princesa. Let's go."

When he looks back, you’re no longer in sight. He leaves the school grounds with his daughter, your smile lingering in his mind.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

As planned, Miguel and Gabriella have dinner at Wendy's. At the moment, Gabriella is indulging herself with a child's Wendy's meal. Seeing his little girl happy brings Miguel immense joy—a natural feeling for a father with his daughter. Despite his busy schedule, he seizes every opportunity to spend time with her. Gabriella is his top priority in life, and he wouldn’t trade these moments with her for anything.

“So, your teacher is nice,” Miguel speaks up. Ever since he met you, you’ve lingered in his thoughts. Your sweetness, kind personality, and the way you interacted with Gabriella earned his trust. Personally, the way you behaved around him was refreshing. There were no ulterior motives or signs that you were trying to establish a relationship with him. As a single father, Miguel's status has gained quite a reputation at Gabriella's school. He appreciates that you were simply a kind soul, great with kids like his daughter. “The one who helped show me where you were at school.”

“Miss [Last Name]?” Gabriella asks, taking two scoops of ice cream and shoving them into her mouth. Miguel learns something new about you—your last name. He thinks about how your first name fits with your surname; it has a nice ring to it. “Oh yeah, she is, isn’t she? And pretty too,” she adds.

Miguel pretends not to notice her last comment, even though he agrees. “How come you never talked about her when I asked you about your day at school?” he asks.

He’s about to take a bite of his food when he notices Gabriella looking at him with one eyebrow raised, giving him a curious look. “What is it, mija?”

“Papa, I have told you about her before. Numerous times,” Gabriella says, placing her arms at her sides, indicating her skepticism. “I told you about how she brought Mr. Oscar to a show-and-tell two weeks ago, and that she likes to bake and brings treats to school for the class to share every month. And my teacher is from England…”

Miguel presses his lips together. He vaguely remembers hearing that story. Gabriella shares so many things with him daily that it’s hard to keep track. But Miguel feels he would have remembered you if Gabriella had mentioned you before. Who could forget someone like you?

Gabriella giggles. “Papa, are you getting old and forgetting stuff now?”

Miguel gives a sheepish smile. He doesn’t consider himself old, but if it keeps his little girl from being suspicious about his interest in you, he’ll accept the indignity. “It seems so, princesa. I apologize for that.”

“It’s okay, Papa. I forget things too sometimes,” Gabriella says, shifting the conversation quickly as children often do. “I really do like Miss [Last Name]. She’s the best teacher ever.”

“Make sure you tell her that tomorrow when you see her, Briella,” Miguel smiles. “I’m sure she would love to hear that you appreciate her.”

“I will!”

Meeting you was unexpected, and if he hadn’t picked Gabriella up from school as planned, he wouldn't have met you earlier. A tiny part of him hopes he will see you again someday, perhaps by chance in the future.

thank you for reading!

[byersbootyshorts]

hear me out

sub!steve , eddie, or jonathan you choose they’re all adorable, but PLS best friend!character thats also kinda pervy and obsessed but not overly? like maybe you wear a short skirt or something else revealing and you notice they’re kinda 😵‍💫 and help them?? change anything you want though ofc

I decided to write this for Jonathan since he's literally the perviest man alive

Heatwave (J.B.)

There's a heatwave in Hawkins so you decide to wear a skirt for a change. Little do you know it's going to drive Jonathan absolutely insane.

Word Count: 2,536

EXPLICIT CONTENT MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: bestfriend!Jonathan, perv!sub!Jonathan, fem!dom!reader, smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, swearing

Leave a request here

Everyday I thank the Duffers for making this man a little perv

Your hair blew around your face as the cold wind beat in the open window of Jonathan’s car. It was the middle of a heatwave in Hawkins and you were feeling its effects. So much so that you had decided to wear a skirt to school that day. Your outfits were usually low effort and extremely casual, but that day you couldn’t bear to wear pants.

So, you decided, since you were wearing a skirt, that you’d make the effort to wear something nicer to school. After throwing clothes all over your room and trying on countless different tops, you’d finally gone with a red and black tennis skirt with fishnets, a black vest top, and a studded belt. Not exactly appropriate for school but you thought you’d get away with it since no one ever noticed you anyway.

But Jonathan noticed. He’d noticed the minute you came out of your house that morning and got into his car. He’d noticed the way the skirt rode up when you sat down. He’d noticed the fishnets clinging to your thighs and how your skin bulged out between each string. He’d noticed…

“Jonathan!” you shouted, practically punching him on the shoulder.

“What?” he said, snapping out of his daze.

“Are you kidding me? You just ran a red light,” you accused him.

“Oh shit, really?” He suddenly realised he’d been thinking about your thighs rather than looking at the road. “Sorry, I was just distracted.”

“Well, focus,” you said, your heart still pounding from Jonathan’s illegal driving. “I’d rather not die today.”

You eventually made it to school with no more near death experiences.

First period math in a boiling hot classroom was not an enjoyable start to your day. Even your teacher was struggling and had resorted to telling you all to do some equations while she fanned herself with a textbook.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you please open that window back there,” the teacher said before you began writing.

You nodded, glad of the suggestion and reached for the window latch. But, of course, it was one of those windows that is literally right at the top of the wall and almost impossible for any average human to reach. You stood on your tip-toes and somehow managed to grab onto the latch and pull it open.

Little did you know that, while you were reaching, your skirt had slid up the back of your leg, revealing most of your thighs. While, the rest of the class had their heads in their books, Jonathan’s eyes were fixed on you. His leg began to bounce rapidly as he started to feel the blood rush to his crotch.

He stared shamefully at your ass, imagining what your thighs would look like perched on top of him with his fingers digging into your skin and your hand around his…

He quickly buried his head in his book when he saw you turn around. He glanced up again, just for a second to find you looking back at him. You smiled at him but you were worried. There was something off about him that day. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was definitely bothering him.

“Are you ok?” you were finally able to ask Jonathan at lunch. You were sitting alone on a wall outside the school building. It was more peaceful than the bustling cafeteria. And there was less chance of getting picked on by the jocks.

“What do you mean?” Jonathan said, looking up from his sandwich. He had his schoolbag on his lap for some reason. You were confused as to why but didn’t question it.

“I mean, you’ve been acting really weird today,” you explained.

“I always act weird,” Jonathan mumbled.

“Ok then, weirder than normal,” you sighed exhaustedly. “J, I’m your best friend. Please tell me.”

You innocently placed your hand on Jonathan’s arm and noticed him grip the bag closer to his body. That made you a little suspicious.

“It’s nothing,” he said defensively.

You were about to question him further when the bell rang. Jonathan practically leapt up and said, “Sorry, I’ll talk to you later,” before speeding off.

You were itching to know what the hell was going on with Jonathan and last period couldn’t come fast enough. He was already sitting at his desk when you walked in. When he saw you enter his eyes immediately averted to look out the window. You sat at the desk in front of him and tried your best not to think about him. You’d give him a proper interrogation in the car.

Your last class was English and, unfortunately, the teacher wanted all the students to read out part of the homework you’d been working on. After hearing countless dull essays from tired students, the teacher finally said, “Y/N, please stand and read the first page of your assignment.”

You did as she commanded and began to recite the start of your essay. If you’d asked Jonathan what it was about, he would’ve been stumped. Because here he was, once again, stuck in class, staring at your ass. And this time, there was no way to hide it.

He cursed you for choosing to sit right in front of him. And he cursed the teacher for making you stand up. He tried to listen to your essay but the words blurred into one as an image formed in his mind. If he wasn’t resting his chin on his hand his mouth would’ve been agape as he pictured himself running his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs as you rode him, softly mumbling his name.

But your weren’t mumbling anymore. You were shouting. “Jonathan!” And you didn’t sound like you. You sounded like an old woman.

“Mr Byers! Pay attention and stand up this instant!” the teacher demanded.

This time his jaw did drop as he realised it was now his turn to read his essay and he’d been zoned out for the past five minutes thinking of you.

You turned around to face him as he got up to speak. His face was bright red. He cleared his throat before beginning to read his essay. You looked up at him from your seat in an attempt to reassure him. While listening to his surprisingly well written essay your eyes dropped for a second. Just a second. But it was long enough to confirm your suspicions.

You lifted your eyes back up to Jonathan’s face, trying to ignore the bulge in his black pants. Thank God he was at the back of the class in a dark corner where hopefully no one else would see. When he sat back down you turned around in your seat again, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

The class sprang out of their seats when, at last, the final bell rang. You and Jonathan left the classroom in silence. As you walked down the busy corridor your mind was racing. You had to address the situation, right? But how? By the time you reached Jonathan’s car you had a plan.

“Give me the keys,” you ordered him, standing in front of the driver side door.

“What? Why?” Jonathan replied, confused.

“We’re going somewhere,” you answered vaguely.

Jonathan gave you a sceptical look but slowly handed over the keys.

There was little conversation as you drove Jonathan where you wanted to go. The closer you got to your destination, the more confused he got.

“Are we going to my house?” he asked.

“Not quite,” you responded.

You parked the car at the edge of the forest that surrounded the Byers’ house and gave Jonathan the nod to get out of the car.

“Oh,” Jonathan sighed in relief when he realised where you were taking him. It was a place you’d discovered a long time ago and now used as a place to hang out. A misshapen tree that bent over to form a perfect little bench. The leaf covered branches of the tree hung down, creating a dome over the bench. It was like your own personal little haven where you and Jonathan would come when you wanted to get away from the bullies of Hawkins.

“Why are we here?” Jonathan questioned you when you reached the tree.

You didn’t say anything until you were both sat on its crusting bark.

“Because we need to talk,” you replied, your expression turning serious as you stared deep into Jonathan’s eyes. He shifted his legs nervously, the close proximity between your face and his causing his pants to swell for the fourth time that day.

“Don’t try to hide it,” you said.

“Hide what?”

“You know what,” you whispered, raising your eyebrow.

Jonathan swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say.

“I assume this is why you’ve been acting weird all day,” you said.

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it,” he said shakily. “I don’t know why this is happening.”

“I do.” You grabbed Jonathan’s hand and placed it on your thigh. “It’s because of this. It’s because you’ve never seen me wear anything other than jeans. It’s because you haven’t been able to stop staring at my ass all day.”

Jonathan let out a quivering breath.

“I didn’t know my best friend was a little pervert,” you smirked.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated.

“No, J, it’s ok,” you assured him. “I’m trying to tell you that I don’t mind. You’re a guy. These things happen.”

“It’s just, you’ve never worn something like that before. I’m s-,”

“If you apologise one more time I’m leaving,” you said, covering Jonathan’s mouth with your hand.

You were silent for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes. Then, you moved your hand down from Jonathan’s lips so you were holding his chin between your finger and thumb. You pulled his face forward, forcing your lips to connect. Jonathan didn’t even flinch when you kissed him. Immediately he melted into your body and begged your mouth to open with his tongue.

But you didn’t grant him access just yet. You pulled your lips away and rested your forehead on his.

“You want some help with this?” you mumbled, placing your hand on his inner thigh.

Jonathan nodded eagerly and started to pull you on top of him.

“Ok, slow down,” you chuckled. You got up from the tree branch and were about to pull off your fishnets when Jonathan stopped you.

“No,” he said quietly, grabbing your hand. “Can you keep them on please?”

“Shit, you really are a little creep, aren’t you?” you smirked.

Jonathan’s face flushed as he fumbled with his belt. He almost sobbed when his dick was finally released from his tight pants.

You got on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, and hovered above his dick.

“You must be so desperate if you’ve been like this all day,” you said, running you hand through his hair. He let out a quiet whimper in response.

“You sure you want me to help you with this?”

“Yes, yes please,” Jonathan whispered, wrapping his hands around your waist.

You pulled your fishnets and underwear to the side. Jonathan let out a loud moan as you guided him inside you.

“Shh, J,” you hushed him. “We may be in the middle of nowhere but sound travels.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan mumbled.

“And what did I say about apologising?”

This time he stayed quiet.

Your thrusts were slow and deep. Jonathan’s fingers dug into your sides as he willed you to pick up your pace.

“Faster, please,” he begged.

So, instead, you stopped. You sat on his dick, taking all of it inside you. Jonathan whined at the lack of movement. You ignored him.

“You know, it’s really misogynistic of you to only find me attractive when you can look up my skirt,” you said, wanting to watch him squirm for just a bit longer.

“I find you attractive all the time,” Jonathan replied, his eyes shut in concentration.

“Well, you’re not getting a boner every day, so obviously you don’t.”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to look at you every fucking day and not get hard,” Jonathan explained. “The only thing that keeps me going is the fact that when I go home I can…”

Jonathan stopped, realising he had revealed too much.

“You can what?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said quietly.

“Jonathan,” you said more sternly, staring daggers into his eyes. “You can what?”

Jonathan started to speak but he was too quiet.

“Speak up or I’m leaving you out here and you can sort out your little situation by yourself.”

That was one thing Jonathan didn’t want, so he raised his voice.

“I have photos of you,” he began. “And I, uh-,”

“Wait, photos? What photos?” you demanded.

“Nothing creepy, I swear.” You couldn’t tell if Jonathan’s face was red with embarrassment or the heat. “It’s photos that you let me take of you for art class last year.”

“Ok,” you said. You could feel him twitching. “And what do you do with these photos?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

He looked up at you with pleading eyes. You felt his breathing get faster.

“You don’t wanna know,” he finally said.

“Oh, I think I do,” you smiled, beginning to roll your hips back and forth again just thinking about it.

Just that slight movement set Jonathan off again. He couldn’t stop the grunts and whimpers escaping his lips. You thought if you couldn’t stop him from making noise, you could at least muffle it.

You pressed your lips against his again, this time allowing your tongues to intertwine.

“Y/N,” Jonathan groaned desperately into your open mouth.

He was practically ripping your shirt with his hands so you started to increase your speed. Now you were kissing him to hold back your own moans, as well as his.

You reached up to grab one of the tree branches behind Jonathan’s head as you started to feel your stomach tighten.

“Do you want to cum, J?” you asked, pulling away from his lips.

“Yes, so bad,” he whined. “Please, can I?”

You nodded and almost immediately you felt Jonathan spill out inside you. He threw his head back and moaned your name louder than before. But you were too tied up in your own high to tell him to be quiet.

When you eventually stopped your movements the two of you were out of breath and sweating. The sun was beating down on you through the trees, wiping any energy you had left.

You climbed off Jonathan’s lap, adjusted your underwear and sat back down on the tree branch. Jonathan’s hands shook violently as he attempted to do up his pants.

You both sat, staring up at the sky, neither one of your daring to speak. Until Jonathan broke the silence.

“Is this going to be really awkward now?” he asked timidly.

“I don’t see why it should be,” you responded, turning to face him.

A small smile spread across Jonathan’s face. “So we’re still good for movie night on Friday then,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, squeezing his leg. “I’ll even wear a skirt if you want.”

[sturniololoco]

Stressed Out

Sturniolo Little Sisiter (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets.

Warnings: Kinda panic attack & some flufffffff

Summary: You get stressed and take it out on your brothers, but they help you out of it.

SLS's POV

You woke up this morning, already feeling like it was gonna be a bad day; and you were right.

To start off, you woke up late, burned your toast, missed the bus, got your big brother mad at you for missing the bus, and then, to top it all off, you had to suffer the car ride to school in silence sitting next to your grumpy brother.

-

Your school day sucked too. Your friend wasn't there today, so you had to sit by yourself in chemistry, with a mean teacher substituting the class. Then, when she finally let you go to the restroom, you found out that you were on your period, meaning you had to go all the way down to the nurse's office to get a tampon/pad, then walk all the way back to the bathroom to use it. When you got back to class, the sub sent you back down the stairs to the office for taking so long in the bathroom.

-

I suppose the only good part of the day was explaining my whole bathroom situation. He just looked at me in shock after I told him my non-sugar-coated bathroom story.

"Why don't I just call your brothers to come pick you up, sounds like you've already had a pretty hard day," he says, averting my eyes and picking up the phone to call my brothers,

-

just when I thought things were looking up, they went straight down.

Nicked walked into the office. I hopped up out of my chair and practically threw my backpack on my back while he signed me out. Once my brother caught my eye, however, I could tell he was not happy with me.

We walked back to the car in silence, and Nick and I hopped in the backseat. Matt began driving, no one talking, no music. silence.

I leaned my face against the car window, bringing my knees up to my chest. I began to feel the emotion stabbing at my eyes and the back of my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

-

We pulled into the driveway and I was quick to get out of the car, unlocking the door with my key. Before my brothers even shut their car doors, I was running up to my room and slamming my door shut.

I crumpled in the middle of my floor, finally letting my emotions out. The bottled-up tears were now pouring down my face as I sobbed into my hand, covering my mouth and trying my best to stay quiet.

That wasn't a problem.

My throat was beginning to close with every sharp inhale I took, trying to get myself together.

This has happened before though. Slowly hoisting myself off the floor, I slugged my way over to my bathroom, ripping the drawer open, and pulling out my inhaler. I then re-crumpled onto the bathroom floor and began to get myself together.

Matt's POV

I was upset, to say the least. After hearing about the phone call Nick got from my sister's school on top of what happened this morning! What on earth has gotten into her. She's never been one to make trouble, she's a good kid, always has been.

"God damn it. Okay lets go." I say, grabbing my keys and going to ick up SLS/N.

Nick ran in to sign her out. I sighed and leaned my head against the window. Chris rubbed my arm sensing something was up.

"Chris, I don't know what to do, this isn't like her," I say. He looks at me and gives me a pitty smile.

"Maybe she's having a rough day. we all have those, right?" He replies, still rubbing a comforting hand up and down my arm.

I then see Nick walk out of the building, followed by my sister, so I go back to acting natural.

SLS's POV

Once my breathing has gone back to normal, I stand up, shake out my hands, and wipe the stray tears off my face.

"you're being ridiculous, get yourself together." I tell myself sternly, looking in the mirror.

-

I walk down the stairs and head to the kitchen to get water to soothe my aching throat. I also grab a quick snack and head to the couch.

I can feel three pairs of eyes staring at me as I sit down on the couch and pretend to watch my phone.

Around five minutes later I felt a hand on my knee. Matt is kneeling in front of me, looking at me with worried eyes.

I immediately feel the tears coming back.

"Talk to me baby, what's making you upset?" he says, so soft you would think he whispering.

The tears are present now.

He gets off the floor and sits up next to me, pulling me to him and hugging me, holding the back of my head. I feel Chris and Nick come and sit with me too.

Once I've managed to get my breathing situated, I tell them what's going on. About how stressed I've been lately, and venting about my horrible day. My brothers listen and comfort me as I talk.

"Aw honey," Nick says, moving some hair out of my face. all of my brothers join in on a hug, and I wish I could stay like this forever.

"I'm sorry we got upset with you and you felt like you couldn't talk to us. But I want you to know that we are always here for you, whenever you need us, we'll be there." Matt says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Thaks you guys," I say wiping at the tears in my eyes.

"of course kiddo, we gotcha," Chris says.

Note: Sorry this was a little long! Let me know if yall liked this and want to see more! xoxo

[girls-alias]

Protection - Dean Winchester

Title: Protection - Dean Winchester Words: 1,134 Relations: Dean Winchester X reader. TW: Violence, swearing.

Prompt:

Dean found out you have an abusive boyfriend and when he sees him he knocks him out.

"Y/n, come down here," Sam called as you entered the bunker, you slowly made your way down the stairs, dreading having to lie to them again. 

"What happened to your face?!" Dean almost shouted once you made it to the bottom of the stairs. The boys were always a little protective, and always had your back but Dean always was a little more intense. The pit in your stomach grew as the lie seeped out of your lips. 

"I slipped in the shower and smacked the side of my face on the tiling, Don't worry, the tiles don't look as good as I do," I chuckled. Sam and Dean seemed to exchange a look but I ignored it. The beats were getting more frequent and dangerous. I knew it wasn't my fault he beat me but there was nothing I could do about it. At this point, I didn't know who I was protecting, my boyfriend or Sam and Dean. I sighed as I took a seat beside Sam, I looked over his laptop at the information on the screen. Sam took the hint and started explaining the hunt he found. I felt Dean staring at me the entire time. An intense stare which made the cuts and bruises sting again. 

"Your tiles have a mean left hook," He commented as Sam and I were talking I just swallowed my pride and carried on talking. 

Once most of the day was gone on research we agreed to go on the hunt tomorrow since it was only half a day's drive. Throughout the day Dean had made comments about my busted lip and bruised cheek but I ignored them and eventually, he stopped. I knew he would bring it up again but as I walked out of the bunker I was thankful to be alone a little. I sat in my car for a few minutes crying with my hands on the steering wheel. I just hate this. I hate lying to them, I hate that the only person I ever asked to love me beats me and hates me. I just wish a lot of things were different in my life. 

I drove off not listening to any music. That was the first sign of me losing the will to live and be happy, music was my happiness but now I prefer silence. I just hope Mason isn't in the beating mood today. I practically prayed that he would be asleep when I got home but as I pulled up I saw the lights on and instant dread filled me. A tear fell as I sighed and climbed out of the car. He must be eager because the front door opened and he watched me walk closer to him. 

"Hey," Dean's voice called from behind me as I climbed the steps. My heart rate is too fast for humanly possible. My mouth instantly dries and my eyes widen as I turn to face him. Oh god! Why?!?! "Y/N, you forgot your hat," He added as he approached me. He held out his black hat smiling at me till I took it. My eyebrows twitched in confusion. I slowly took the hat and Dean turned to my boyfriend. "I'm Dean, Y/N's co-worker," He added holding his hand out. 

"Mason," He replied shaking his hand, "You've been mentioned a lot, nice to finally meet you," He added and my eyes filled with tears. He's going to kill me for this. 

"Well, have a good night, be safe kids," Dean joked making Mason laugh. Mason put his hand on my shoulder as he watched Dean walk back to his car. His grip got harder the further away Dean got. Once Dean was in the car, Mason waved with a smile, keeping a hand on me as Dean drove off. Once out of view Mason practically threw me into the house. He slammed the door behind us. 

"What the fuck was that?!" He screamed. 

"I'm sorry, I forgot my hat, I wasn't thinking," I stumbled trying to get some distance between us but he loomed over me. 

"Obviously," He barked making me flinch. "Look at you, you're so pathetic. Stand up!" He added and I quickly obliged. "You're never going to make me look stupid like that again," He explained through gritted teeth. 

Dean's POV:

I pulled up just given the house, looking through the window at Mason shouting at her. I instantly wanted to run in even for looking at her wrong but I had no proof and I wasn't sure she would admit it, I knew that every cut and bruise was from him. It had been happening for months and I couldn't do anything about it but now I will. I watched intensely until my phone rang. It was Sam so answered it with a sigh. 

"Look, I know you're outside of Y/N's house..." Sam began but I interrupted. 

"You can't talk me out of it," I nonchalantly remarked with a disgusted tone. 

"Wouldn't dream of it, I just wanted you to kick him in the ribs from me," Sam shrugged. I was silent in confusion. 

"Really?" I asked in disbelief. I figured Sam would want to do the right thing. 

"Yeah, give him all the bruises he gave her," Sam added. 

"Will do," I hung up as Mason grew angrier. As soon as he raised his fist I practically ran to the door. I kicked it in with ease as my anger was stronger than the door. Y/N was on the floor clutching her nose watching as Mason's eyes almost popped out of their sockets and I raised my fist. He was instantly on the floor beside her. "Y/N, pack your bag, we're leaving," I stated angrily. She scurried away up the stairs. Mason breathed his anger. 

"Get back here!" He screamed getting up but I blocked his way. 

"You touch her again and I'll-" I started to threaten. 

"What you'll beat me up? I'm not scared of you," Mason interrupted but I smirked. 

"No, I'm beating you up now but if you touch her again I'll kill you," I smirked before punching him again. I was in a raging state and only snapped out when Y/N was pulling him off. She wasn't strong enough but her screams caught me out of my trance. 

"You'll kill him," She warned and I stopped with heavy breath. I stood up straight and kicked him in the ribs. I sighed before leading Y/N out. We said nothing the entire way back to the bunker. 

As soon as the car doors were slammed shut we stood there looking at each other over the car. 

"Thank you," Was all she needed to say with the relieved smile on her face I knew I did the right thing. 

Masterlist

[anamelessfool]

Illustration by Edward Gorey for a John Bellairs story (my favorite childhood author and greatest creative influence)

A Naming (Part 5 of 5)

Rated Teen, Papa Emeritus II’s Son and Family

Tags: Halloween Hijinks, Eldest kid anxiety, Suburban Dad Secondo, Disabled Secondo, Post-retirement life, Magic Rituals, Dark Family Secrets, My AU with Secondo Being Papa from 2001-2008, Note: I have my own timeline of canon events

CW: Underage Drinking, Strong Language

It’s done! Thank you @kissingghouls for the idea. I was thiiiiiis close to naming their cat Mormor in your honor but I’m going to leave the Greatest Ghost OC up to you. I’m on AO3 the samee name with all my other fics but this site gets mad at me when I post links. Check out #anamelessfool Halloween tag for prev chapters. Comments on this post include links to prev chapters. #anamelessfool Halloween start is the beginning of this fic.

We ending on an ominous note because that’s my brand!

November 1 (Saturday)

There were two sounds that woke Paul a little too early for his liking. First, the distinctive urgent ring of the On-Call phone. Then, the roar of the old minivan in the front driveway positioned just outside his window. It was an ugly brown color and had recently hit enough miles to make it halfway to the moon. In its past life it drove kids and tubs of orange slices to soccer practice, but now it was retrofitted with latches to secure a gurney.

“Two hours left to my shift, and I get a hospital pickup call, isn't that the way,” Sandra fussed in the hallway at her husband while she hastily put on her pickup-appropriate clothing and paced. She rapped on Paul’s door. Paul groaned to the wall.

“Get up, be glad I'm not making you come with me,” his mother chided through the door. It wouldn't be the first time. It wasn't the body that disturbed him, it was more the prospect of staring at a brick wall while parked in the service lot for an hour while Sandra did paperwork. The bright side of one of those punishment drives would be no nagging from his mother on the way back; no drama while a guest was in the van, Sandra’s rules.

Paul finally dragged himself up from his bed and met his mother’s frown of disappointment in the hallway. “Honestly Paul, I gotta watch you all the time?” She was adjusting her sensible flats and brushing lint from her practical dress. “I'll be back in a couple hours— dammit will you get that phone, Sike?!”

The house phone in the kitchen rang mid-sentence, injecting the scene with an unpleasant urgency. The car warming up in the driveway, the fact she couldn't find her scarf, and the mopey look from her guilty son added to her irritation. “Just you wait, Mister Leider,” Sandra said stiffly but didn't forget to plant a quick peck on the top of his head before leaving him alone.

Paul heard the gentle murmur of Secondo answering the phone. “Yes. Yes hello. Hm. Interesting.”

He didn't want to move, preferring to stand in the hallway while sleep tugged at him. If he moved he'd catch his father’s eye and whatever interrogation would begin. House arrest, starting now.

Secondo continued. “Yes. I see. Well. Hm.”

If not for a sugar-crash stupor from all the candy his younger siblings would probably be running around the living room right now. It was just him, alone, trying to remind himself that he actually conjured some sort of ghost last night. He wouldn't know exactly until he approached his father. Until he actually faced his crimes.

“I hope we speak again in different circumstances, Marian,” Secondo stated into the phone. “You as well. Goodbye.”

The phone clicked into its cradle and Paul heard the hiss of the glass patio doors slide open as Secondo shifted to the outdoors. Day fifty thousand or whatever of his father’s weather journaling. It would be a good time to finally speak with him. He’d be in a more pensive mood.

Paul bided his time in the kitchen, wringing his hands and composing his apology in his head, his eyes drifting towards the magnets and photos on the fridge, fixating on one in particular. It was the only photo of his uncle that Paul knew about— Terzo, sitting on their couch holding his infant nephew Sam. The man had a haughty expression, his human eye as steely and daring as his Infernal one. Dark black veins radiated from the cursed eye, tracing his neck and slipping under his open shirt collar. The Eye, the same one that his own father had. Secondo’s awful black marks crazed up his spine and down his leg, hidden most of the time. His father's go-to answer for his ailments was a stroke. But Paul knew better.

His family had a dark past, a cursed past. And Paul knew at some point he'd hear the whole truth. But first…

Paul stepped onto the patio. Secondo was standing there staring at the sky as usual but instead of pen in his hand a cigarette dangled from his lips.

Secondo regarded his son with slightly raised eyebrows, a close enough expression to surprise that Paul was going to get. “I'm only having one. Promise.”

“Mom wouldn't like that.”

A small smile changed the shadows across Secondo’s face. “Hm. Now we're both in trouble.”

Paul gave a weak grin back, then began the pain of his apology. “About yesterday—“

“Simple apportation incident,” explained Secondo. “An entity moving items from one place to another.”

“And I…I made that happen…”

“Whatever ritual you were up to failed. But you called it out. Made it see you.” Secondo transferred his cigarette to the other corner of his mouth, blowing a puff into the sky. “They're interested in…large groups of teenagers. All the hormones.”

Paul felt hot behind the ears. “Oh.”

“You were more at risk attracting them being in a playground compared to a cemetery,” Secondo said. “Whatever you did got its attention. And your fear empowered it.”

“I really was afraid,” Paul admitted. “But you helped me. With all that…naming stuff.”

“Simplest magickal exercise. But powerful. There’s a lot of power in a name. The one you have, the ones you bestow on yourself and others.” Secondo paused, taking his time to consider his next words. He gave a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. “I was haunted by entities several times throughout my life. When I turned eighteen. Once I became Papa Elect. When your grandmother died. They were entities that wouldn't let go. That fed on me.”

“Why did they want you?”

“Rage. Confusion. Guilt.” Secondo turned slightly from his smoking to regard his son. “I opened the door to the unknown without an understanding of who I really was. Unknown dipping into the unknown. And the things haunting the shadows fed on that.”

“I'm…sorry. For stealing your things.”

“Be more sorry for letting the weak part of you win,” Secondo replied. He stamped out his cigarette and automatically reached for another, halting for a moment. “I’ll consider ‘Terrorized By A Paranormal Entity’ proper punishment if you only tell your mother about only one of these cigarettes.”

“Uh, sure,” said Paul. His father was subtly nervous last night, but now doubly so. Nervous enough to break his eighteen-month clean streak. Paul felt the hair begin to rise on the back of his neck. “Who was that on the phone?” This strange moment of vulnerability from his father made Paul table his own fears about his stunts last night. And he was even more surprised by how frank Secondo was in his reply.

“Terzo is out. Your grandfather Nihil is Papa now.”

Terzo, leering from the photograph. Paul didn't know much about his uncle but his smug smile in the photo said it all. “When did this happen?”

“Last night. At a performance. He was removed from the stage.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. It's not my place anymore to know.” Smoke curled from his mouth and nose in an imperceptible sigh. “I expect that now you realize why I didn't want that life for you.”

“I'm sorry,” Paul collapsed into his official apology. “I'm sorry I tried to do magic.”

“Magic? Magic isn't the thing to worry about in that place.”

There was shouting from the kitchen. The door slid open once more and their grey cat leapt out, the two younger children running after him. “Jimmy! Jimotheeee!” Yelled Sam. He was barefoot in the grass and jumped over a soccer ball in the yard. The cat darted under the fence. He’d cruise around today and return in the evening.

Eden eyed her father up and down, scowling. “You’re not supposed to do that anymore,” she chided.

“I know,” admitted Secondo. He gestured with his head out towards the yard. “Go kick the ball around with Sam, I’ll make you all breakfast soon.”

Eden threw him a smug smile and leapt onto the lawn. She kicked the ball once, yelled about her foot hurting, then her pain was all but forgotten when Sam expertly stole the ball from her. Back and forth the little ones ran, Paul wishing for a moment he could join them, carefree. But there was too much brewing in his mind. Last night with his friends— were they even friends anymore when Monday came around? And now with the cryptic words of his father.

Secondo reached out his arm, gesturing for Paul to come close. Paul sank into Secondo’s side, his head on his shoulder. Secondo rested his large hand on his son’s head, and the weight of that gesture coupled with the oddly comforting scent of the burning smoke soothed Paul, at least for now. “You do so much for me, son.” Paul felt the words deep in his father’s chest. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s nothing,” said Paul, but Secondo’s words were everything.

“Paul, promise me you’ll look after your siblings,” said Secondo. “Help them. Even when you’re not sure how.”

“Are you going to help uncle Terzo?”

“I don’t know,” replied his father. “But no matter what I swear all of you will be safe. It’s what I’ve done for a decade. And it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

Eden and Sam collapsed onto the grass, laughing, then jumped up to scream about their pajamas getting damp with dew. Their voices were muffled in Paul’s ears as he thought of his father’s words. In his solid arms he felt safe and his father was an honest man for better or worse. Yes, he’d protect them. Even if he didn’t know how. But somehow he sensed he did.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Paul asked, his voice a near whisper.

“Who knows,” said Secondo. He stubbed out his final cigarette and stared at the sky. “But I sense dark clouds rolling in.”

Thank you! Like? Reblog! Check out my AO3 for more!

Happy Halloweekend!

[hearted-anon]

yk how sana write a how skz would wreck changbin thing? can you do one of your own 🥰

How skz would wreck changbin

Words: 3415

Notes: yay

T/w: restraints at seungmin and Jeongin, soft tickles are hyunjin and felix and the rest are rough

Lee: Changbin

Ler(s): Stray Kids

Bangchan:

“Binnie’s annoyed? Hmm?” Chan cooed as he separated himself from the melted pile of Aussie bro, who was too tired to even protest against it anyways. Changbin didn’t reply that little tease, the exhaustion of their long drive having brought his mood down to a negative level, Hyunjin settling for lightly rubbing his knuckles from their intertwined hands; the tallest loved long car rides unfortunately for him.

Chan frowned deeply when he noticed the lack of reply from the younger, watching the scowl that was imprinted on his face while Hyunjin tried to bring his spirits back up. Felix then leapt over to the leader’s ear, whispering a certain plan he had to make the annoyed and tired dwaekki happy again.

The unsuspecting rapper stared off into the blank distance, now what was Lee Know’s car doing that was taking them so long to arrive? Groaning, he was about to lay his head against Hyunjin when hands slipped into his armpits, kneading the already tense muscles firmly. Changbin squealed as cackles began to fall out of his mouth, immediately able to pinpoint whose firm and ruthless hands that was.

“CHAHAHAN! Q-QUHUHUIT IT!” Changbin squealed as the fingers were quick to scribble and scratch all over the sensitive skin of his underarms, shaking his head rapidly in an attempt to dispel the ticklish energy. His back arched, unable to do much in such a vulnerable position, not even able to push the leader away as the entire car seat blocked him. He pulled at his hands, only to be stuck as Hyunjin had his fingers around his, the comforting and frustrating embrace pinning him down effectively.

“Hm..you sure?” Chan taunted, worming his pesky fingers right back up Changbin’s armpits, giggling happily when he got a very shrill squeal of ticklish agony in return. Hyunjin’s heart melted at the sight, feeling slightly evil that he was the one practically restraining poor Changbin, but he could just feel the car’s mood lighten up, and that was enough for him to keep their fingers intertwined; much to the shorter’s dismay.

“YEAHAHAHA! N-NO MOHORE! NO MOREHAHA-!” The boisterous hysterics were cut off as he struggled for air, tears of mirth welling up in his eyes as his neck too began to bloom with a growing blush. The leader slowed his fingers steadily, eventually just rubbing Binnie’s chest in soothing circles while Hyunjin rubbed his back. The rapper melted into a small puddle of residual giggles, twitching every so often.

“Little Changbinnie is happier now~” Chan cooed, just in time as Minho banged on the window gently, smirking when he saw the blank look on Changbin’s face, clearly he knew something was up as the door almost instantly opened. The shorter’s eyes widened when he was met with the cat dad, who wasted no time in carrying him out and into their dorms after a long day out, becoming once again red in the face as the kind gesture; he loved being babied too much to ever ask for it to stop. The rest tagged along behind him, adding to his embarrassment as they pinched his pale red cheeks with soft smiles on their faces.

Little did he know how the rest of the day was about to go…

Lee Know:

Tossing him onto the bed, the cat loomed over the dwaekki menacingly as he flipped the younger over into the soft sheets. A grunt was heard as Changbin’s face hit the fluffy pillows of his bed, another groan when Minho plopped himself onto his knees comfortably. Nothing would’ve prepared him for the shriek he let out when blunt nails ran down the backs of his thighs, the gentle feeling tickling much more than it should’ve.

“Since you teased me at that time for having sensitive thighs, c’mon, tell me, which tickles more?” Minho purred, and it was then that Changbin realised exactly what he was in for; sending a shiver or two down his spine with a heavy breath. The squeal that rang throughout the condo was enough to shatter glasses, one hand grabbing the fat near his behind and kneading into it roughly while the other scribbled ever so gently onto the smooth skin of the back of his thigh.

“AHAHAHA! N-NOHOT THERE NAHAHAT THERE!” Changbin screamed out pleas of mercy faster than lightning as his upper body uselessly flailed around, unable to get the evil bunny off his knees, trapping his legs for endless suffering. Lee Know simply tutted in faux disappointment above him, snickering when the producer pounded his fists on the bed.

“That’s not the right answer…” The older hummed, faking being in deep thought before turning the rapper back over, he didn’t want him to suffocate through all the fun after all. Poor dwaekki had barely any time to breathe before nails yet again scribbled over the pant line of one of his thighs delicately, and the other received a massage-like kneading. The younger absolutely screamed, before howling with laughter as he pushed weakly at the bunny’s hands to no avail, cheeks heating up fairly rapidly.

“PFTTHAHAHAAH! G-GEHEHENTLE- GEHEHEHENTLE!” The producer yelled out in ticklish agony, eyes widening before crinkling into adorable crescents with a pearly white smile spread from ear to ear, ears beginning to get their fair share of blush. Minho smirked at the admission, before gently scribbling all of his nails onto the tops of his thighs ever so tenderly, earning another scream that shook the entire bed. Seeing that maybe the poor guy couldn’t take it anymore, trembling and shaking quietly on the bed with tiny beads of tears in the crevice of his eyes, the bunny let up, not without a tiny raspberry on the stomach to make him squirm helplessly with silent hysterics.

“So cute~ Baby bunny can’t handle it, gentle hm?” Lee Know snickered, pulling the tired rapper into his arms before wiping away at the tears of laughter that were threatening to fall. Despite his giggles dying down with heavy breaths, Changbin found his neck too, was red with flush. It wasn’t fair, how did he know exactly how to make him a mess?

“Ahaha…s-so cruehehehel..” The soft pant came from the little spoon, before quietening down with soft snores, completely worn out by the two hyungs who had torn him down to absolutely pieces without an ounce of mercy, purring when a hand entangled into his scalp and scratched, massaged and threaded through it calmly.

Maybe he was becoming more like his older bunny.,.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin could practically squeal as he walked into the older’s room, black curly hair covering over his eyes with a blanket that was practically falling off his body. His chest rose with every deep breath he took, fingers curled around the pillow tenderly where a missing Minho was supposed to be; lips parted to exhale calmly. The sight made the artist melt, wanting to capture the moment in his heart forever before laying down beside the sleeping bunny, he was so tiny!

“Wake up, binnie ah~” Hyunjin whispered into Changbin’s ear, wrapping long arms around the warm and very much huggable torso; maybe more of indulging in the warmth that followed instead of actually waking the older up. Sensing a presence that had come to encircle him, the dwaekki nuzzled his head into Hyunjin’s chest, making his heart want to explode from the feeling; he was sure he was meant to be older than this man.

“Five more minutes- wahahahait!” The older squeaked when nails skittered along his sides, gently squeezing and pinching up the smooth skin as giggles poured from his mouth. Laughter came out in soft and breathless bursts, Changbin hiccuping whenever Hyunjin would trail towards his stomach, just to pull away; it was too early for this…

“Wait for what? Wait for you to giggle so cutely, hm?” The ferret cooed, basking in the way the dwaekki’s cheeks heated up rapidly from his little compliment. His hands roamed under his shirt, onto Changbin’s stomach where he scratched, poked and kneaded the skin with a soft smile, chin resting atop Binnie’s head like he had found a soft patch of grass to relax it.

“Noho- N-Not cuhuhute!” Changbin hiccuped, squirming like a fish out of water when hands went for his stomach, having put on more weight after the recent ‘promise’ in the skz code with a threat from a certain chick. The well kept nails were driving him absolutely insane, but couldn’t do anything about it in his exhaustion from Minho’s antics.

“Yes cute~ Tell me you’re cute.” Hyunjin demanded, placing his nose underneath the older’s ear before nuzzling and rubbing against it, earning panicked giggles and frequent squeaks. The rapper melted into a puddle of soft laughter, heart swelling at how gentle the dancer was towards him, it just genuinely meant he could never take what he dished out to others.

“I-I’m cuhuhute! P-Plehehease!” The dwaekki whined, taking in deep breaths when the delicate touches came to a stop, squealing loudly when Hyunjin blew into his ear as one last assurance he had gotten what he wanted. His ears to his neck were a deep shade of red, making the ferret crawl over just to coo at the adorable sight through the short breaths he was taking for a break.

Maybe he should fall asleep near Hyunjin more often…

Han Jisung:

“Hyung~ I want attention~” Jisung whined in an exaggerated high pitched voice, tugging on the older’s sleeve while he found the beats to some new tracks they were planning to release soon. Han had been feeling particularly bored that day, having disturbed almost every member in the dorms, having cleaned up his already spotless room and even watched three seasons of anime! Even so, nothing could quell the desperate need to have someone at least pay attention to him.

“Not now, stop bothering me!” Changbin huffed, flinging off the younger’s arm with annoyance. Maybe he had been grumpy because a certain ferret had made his face so red that even now, it still had the cherry but pale red hue to it, but he had no intention of letting it out on the poor quokka. His eyes widened as he was shot off like a pest, whimpering like a kicked puppy before curling up on the couch sullenly.

“Hey, I’m sorry…” The rapper apologised before swirling his chair around to face the pouting ace, pausing the up-tone beats that contrasted the downcast aura that spreaded throughout the studio. Crawling over onto the plush couch, he pulled Jisung up like a fish bait that had been used up, laying the quokka’s head onto his lap. Staring up at the older with glistening eyes, Han immediately jumped at the affection he was craving for, snuggling his head onto the pillow-like thigh.

“S-Stop that!” The younger’s head snapped up at the strain in the dwaekki’s voice, watching his cheeks begin to bloom a pale red. Curiosity grabbing onto him, he rubbed his stubble, where he refused to shave because he liked looking more manly for a change, against the older’s stomach. As expected, another squeal left the dwaekki’s mouth, before his teeth chomped onto his lower lip to prevent laughter from slipping out.

“Oh? I thought you were sorry? Now you’re pushing me away?” Jisung taunted, a knowing smirk on his face as he basked in his hyung’s weakness. What a little brat. Reluctantly, poor Binnie was forced to retract his hands, principals having him in a chokehold to keep to his word of not bothering whatever the mischievous kid was up to on his lap. Grabbing the chubby sides, he squeezed in a gentle rhythm, earning snorts and deep chuckles as Changbin struggled not to push the younger away.

“P-Plehehehease it reheheally tickles!” The rapper begged pleadingly, eyes beginning to crinkle from the giggles he was letting out. Unfortunately, it just caused Han to coo over him even more, compliments flowing from him like a rap beat that he could jam to, effectively reddening the shorter to be a live action tomato.

“Does it really? It really tickles? Then how about this?” The ace pretended to think for a moment, before slipping his head under the tank top and blowing a long raspberry, nuzzling his head into the soft and pudgy skin to rub that rough and very much intense stubble across the skin. The older screamed, immediately failing to stick to his morals as he pushed at the head under his thin tank top; news flash: it didn’t work, and never will.

“STAHAHAHAP! I CAHAHAN’T I CAN’T!” Desperate begging was flung and bounced across the walls of the studio as the dwaekki struggled to keep himself composed, feeling much deja vu; why was he being tickled so much today? His stamina grew weaker with each raspberry, screaming and cackling his head off like he was going to die here.

“Okay, you overdramatic baby.” Jisung snickered while leaving the tummy alone, even though he would’ve much preferred to wreck it till it was a pale pink. But he knew that this was already his fourth wrecking, Changbin’s energy quickly deflating like a balloon much to his both horror and satisfaction.

“Aha…s-so ticklish..” Changbin panted, wiping off his sweat like he had just ran three marathons in a row, chest heaving in and out with soft breaths.

“Cutie, let’s get to practise hyung, don’t wanna be late~!”

Lee Felix:

Practice had gone by in a flash, and before the rapper knew it, he was on the ground, face flat as he tried to even catch his breath; he’d have to beg the entertainment for a break later. A small grunt came from him when a blonde chick laid himself atop the dwaekki, staring up at what he came to know as the Felix species. Very cute but deadly was written all over that angelic face.

“Hyung! Are you tired? Need some water? I can help with a massage~” Changbin barely had a fraction of a second to react before hands were on his back, kneading the knots out in soothing circles. Flattening himself like a pancake, the questions that bombarded him went in one ear and out the other, only groans and twitches of his aching body when Felix hit a sore spot.

“Mmh..s-so good…wahahaha!” All was going great till tiny fingers pinched at his spine, making him arch his back into the wooden floor. He could just feel the members’ eyes on him as he squirmed beneath the brownie boy, the whispered sweet words making him internally curse his group, was this planned or something.

“I know, my massages are great, relax~” Felix boasted, swiping a singular finger quickly up the older’s back to hear a squeak; he was going to bury his grave with Changbin’s laughter one day. Worst of all, the sensations that tingled through his spine felt so good, making him simply lay on the floor like a cat, rumbling with giggles like a purr.

“Lix! P-Plehehehease! Nohohot here!” The shorter tried his best to protest, but when the small fingers wormed his way onto his lower back, tracing circles and soft shapes, he knew he was sold. All thoughts of even trying to fight the Aussie flew out of the window, resorting to giggling freely in front of the members; who watched in awe, Felix simply had magic hands.

“So cute, can’t even fight me hm?” Felix’s breath brushed against Binnie’s ear as he whispered ever so softly, earning a snort from underneath the brownie boy. Once what was the strongest in Stray Kids now was a puddle under the younger, reduced to heaps of giggles and hiccups in front of his members; how embarrassing…

“Our turn now!” Came the sudden shouts of the maknaes in the background, who had frowns practically pasted onto their faces. They had waited and plotted for hours, and Felix could have another time with his dear hyung. Snatching up Changbin like they were worker ants who had found food, they marched off into Jeongin’s room, leaving a tiny Changbin very flustered.

He was so getting it now…

Seungmin and Jeongin:

“We finally have you to ourselves, we have everything planned~” The duo chanted musically, like a ritual as they grabbed and tied Changbin’s hands above his head with a spare sweater from the youngest’s room. He was known for being a hoodie thief anyway. Poor Binnie could only watch with wide eyes and trembling arms as he was being prepared like a feast for the evil vocalists, who were grinning ever so innocently down at him.

“Wahahait wait plehehease!” Changbin felt like he had been begging the entire day by now, but never once was he granted mercy from the fingers of his members that dared to terrorise his poor body, poor, sensitive body. He shrieked in absolute shock when the maknae took his seat happily on his ankles, pulling at the hem of each sock softly. Panicked, he began to babble and beg, before squealing when his shirt was thrown up by the puppy; he was met with silence to his pleads.

“G-Guhuhuys please! I’ll do ahahahnything!” The oldest of the trio babbled, watching Seungmin take a seat on his hips while Jeongin teasingly took off his socks, exposing his bare soles to the cold air of his room. Nervous giggles and pleas fell from his lips as fingers wiggled over his underarms and his feet, filling him with a dreaded anticipation that made his heart pound.

And even when those fingers came down, the duo were quiet as a mouse.

“ARGHAHAHAHA! NO GUHUHUYS!” Came the crying squeal as nails scribbled up and down his arches quickly and delicately, along with another pair of hands kneaded into the hollows of his armpits, reducing him into a bout of hysterical laughter. Seungmin smirked as he stared into his flustered hyung, whereas Jeongin opted for giggling along with him.

“No, what? We’ve been waiting all day for this!” Seungmin chirped enthusiastically, smiling warmly when the bed frame creaked in agony from the sharp tugs.

“Don’t you love your maknaes? You want us to go away?” Jeongin chimed in, turning around for a brief moment to flash the oldest here his signature puppy eyes. Stupid guilt tripping, Binnie thought before falling back into boisterous cackles when the fox’s nails scraped right under his toes, earning another shrill yell of ticklish agony.

“NOHOHO MORE! GUHUHUYS P-PLEASE!” Changbin whined through booming laughter, grateful that it was confined to the room of the youngest. He felt himself vibrating onto the ticklish agony, unable to protect his ever so sensitive underarms from the puppy’s paws, and curling his feet wouldn’t work against the evil fox where they shared a sadistic pleasure for wrecking the big but soft boy.

“One last finale~” With that, the torture stopped for a moment, tears of mirth in the corners of the rapper’s eyes as he wheezed for air, body flinching automatically from the sensations that fried his brain. The vocalists gathered around his tummy, waiting until the blush that was practically imprinted onto his face to pale just a slight bit before blowing as hard as they could on the sides of his stomach, a hand each on his armpits and his thighs.

“OHOHO MY GAHAHA-! G-GUYS!” The words that the rapper spewed were barely coherent anymore, the scream he let out had the members rushing in almost in an instant. When they discovered the poor rapper with his legs and arms trembling from the fingers, stomach quivering in absolute joy and anguish from the laughter that had gone pin drop silent, they tore the vocalists off his bare waist, watching as his entire shirt collar was stained in tears just from two people blowing a singular raspberry.

It felt like a hundred hours in hell anyway to Binnie.

“Cutie~” Chan cooed, snuggling the dwaekki in a big cuddle as the rest untied his arms, settling for a group bundle of hugs for the worn out rapper. Twitching and scarcely clinging onto his consciousness to stay awake, a soft ‘thank you’ came from his mouth, a mere sign instead of an actual voice before he succumbed to his exhaustion, thankful for the absolute happiness he had gained for today; the rest of the members snuggling up to their favourite teddy bear.

Changbin was seen the next day cancelling his schedules for lack of voice and for ‘personal reasons’, refusing to elaborate when he got compliments on the blush he had on for the next few days.