#she would find a shiny in like. one minute | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aurumacadicus · 1 day ago

Text

Pride Pockets 18--All Dressed Up and Bound

Kink belongs at Pride. I will keep writing it until people stop flinching. You can find this fic on ao3 (here). Anyway it's 8K so look out for under the cut.

Natasha stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw Tony. She’d expected him to be getting ready for movie night, slipping into well-worn sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. They hadn’t had a real sit-down with the whole team for several weeks. If it wasn’t Avengers battles keeping from them from meeting up, away missions or business trips had. Just that morning at breakfast, Tony had been chattering on about how he’d finally gotten Bruce onto his and Clint’s side and they’d be able to bully Steve and Thor into watching Escape from New York. He’d been so excited at his victory that he’d about vibrated out of his seat.

Now, though, he was standing half-in the closet, the fingers of his right hand tapping over his chest and the arc reactor. He barely glanced in Natasha’s direction before he very carefully and deliberately took a half step to turn so more of his back was to her. He was still wearing his sleek Tom Ford that he’d put on for a business meeting earlier. He was still wearing his shiny loafers.

Natasha waited a beat, just to see if he’d speak, then said, “We can skip movie night.”

Tony made a sound of genuine distress. “I don’t want to skip movie night.”

She took a careful step toward him. “Do you think you’ll be in any condition for movie night?”

“I—” Tony began, then stopped, ducking his head. He swallowed thickly, then managed to croak out a despondent, “I don’t want to miss it.”

Natasha bent over a little so she could see his face, cataloguing the dismay and resignation in his expression before he could notice and shutter it away. It had been a long time since they’d gotten to have a team movie night. But, she was beginning to realize, it had been a long time since Tony had gotten to relax at her feet, too.

“I’ll put on the lace,” Tony said after another minute, shoulders sagging, and lifted his other hand so he could begin to unbutton his vest and shirt. His hands were trembling. It could have been because it had been so long since he’d gotten to go down. It also could have been disappointment that he was missing out on movie night, though.

Natasha sucked in a deep breath, held it for three seconds, then let it back out slowly as she stood up straight again. She crossed her arms over her chest, considering, as Tony walked over and carefully laid his jacket, vest, and shirt over the back of the nearest chair. “We can… skip the lace,” she offered after a moment.

Tony hesitated for a moment before continuing with his careful undressing, mouth turning down into an uncertain frown. “Do you not like it anymore?”

She’d miscalculated. Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other and uncrossed her arms, so her body language wasn’t as closed off. For good measure, she reached toward her back pocket for her phone. “I love your lace,” she assured him, pulling her phone out so he could watch her flick the lock screen open. “And I love the way the pattern shows up on your skin when I spank you.” She waited until his eyes darted to her phone screen, then swiped over to the movie night group chat, which was already beginning to buzz with food suggestions. She swiped into her emoticons.

To her immense pleasure, she got to watch his eyes dilate as her thumb punched in the ‘rope’ and ‘bunny’ emojis.

“Oh,” Tony said, then cleared his throat and carefully turned his head away, as if she hadn’t just clocked how much he enjoyed the idea just from his eyes. “Well. I mean. I could still. Wear the lace.”

“The lace is for me,” Natasha informed him, voice flat. “If they want to see it, they can come up and watch me spank you.” She pointed at the antique armoire that held all of their toys and implements with her free hand. “Your briefs are nice enough for movie night.”

Tony perked up a little, but only in a way that she would notice. “I can still go?”

Natasha spared one glance at her phone, which was now blowing up with ‘PLEASE!’s, just as she expected it to, before she looked back at him. The corner of her mouth twisted up into a smirk. “I think if I didn’t bring you down, it might start a riot. Pick out a set of ropes while you’re in there,” she added as Tony swiveled toward the armoire and pulled the doors open. She walked over to sit in the chair Tony had set his clothes on, lounging back in it as she watched Tony obediently pull a rack out, fingers dancing over different colors and lengths of rope. “I’m thinking… diamonds.”

Tony’s hand pausing over a length of blue jute was the only indication that he’d heard her. She decided she didn’t need to demand a verbal answer, though. She figured that going through disappointment of missing movie night and then having it put back on the table was a lot to deal with, on top of being allowed to pivot and pick his own ropes and underwear. Normally she picked everything out. But he’d only just gotten comfortable with the fact that she thought he looked good regardless of what he was wearing; he still didn’t quite believe the rest of the team thought the same, so she wanted him to have the choice of what he wore in front of them.

She wished she could show him her phone, so he could see the texts dripping with excitement and wheedling suggestions. It wouldn’t help, though, she knew—it had taken months of her taking care of him when he was at his most vulnerable before Tony had accepted it from her, and she had more hands-on contact. Steve was next on the level of trust, she figured; he was the only one who came up to sit in on their scenes. He was never interested in playing himself, but always left a new sketch of Tony’s bound body or the welts Natasha had left on it as thanks for letting him ‘intrude.’

Still, perhaps she’d show him Clint’s inundation of ‘Me first pleeeeease’s and Bruce using the custom Hulk fist emoji to argue ‘NO ME’ in response. Just as a treat for herself.

Natasha glanced back up when she noticed Tony shimmying his hips. He was finally kicking off his slacks and carefully folding them up. She leaned back in the chair, slinging her arm over the back as she watched him push his briefs down, too. “You changing into different briefs? Not that I mind. I just think the black would make the ropes pop.”

Tony hesitated, looking down at where his briefs had gathered at his ankles. Finally, though, he looked back up at her through his eyelashes, uncertainty back in his expression. “I thought. If you were doing diamonds. Perhaps… the red thong?”

“Yeah?” Natasha tilted her head, eyes raking up and down his body as she considered whether or not she liked the idea. “…I’m not mad about it,” she finally decided, crossing her arms over her chest again and tapping her phone against her chin. “I just worry… When I do the ties, I mean, the rope’s not gonna like. Chafe your balls or anything, right?”

“…No,” Tony choked out after blinking at her for a moment. He turned back to the armoire, shoulders shaking. He managed to haltingly add, “But I’ll put on the briefs. Since you’re concerned about it.”

Natasha scowled. “Are you laughing at me?!”

“You are so intimately acquainted with my body but you still don’t know what is and isn’t gonna chafe my balls,” Tony managed between semi-hysterical giggles.

“I am rescinding permission for movie night!” Natasha exclaimed, but Tony just planted his hands on his knees and laughed harder.

.-.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Clint moaned when Natasha finally stepped off the elevator, holding Tony in her arms like the princess she liked to call him sometimes.

Natasha took a moment to feel endlessly smug. All of the hours she’d spent in the gym so she would be able to carry Tony around (and toss him around, in the bedroom) had led to this. Then she continued on to the loveseat she and Tony usually shared, because she couldn’t hold him that long, and she refused to look weak in front of them when the high of showing off was still pumping victoriously through her. She very carefully set Tony down on his feet, hands lingering on him as he weaved back and forth, trying to find his balance.

Steve’s hands twitched immediately, the same way that he did when he first set up his art supplies in the bedroom when he sat in on their scenes. He wanted to draw Tony on sight; in fact, she would probably be gifted a sketch to share with Tony by the end of the week.

Natasha couldn’t blame him. Tony looked good in most things—best in lace, but ropes were a close second. She’d taken the time to carefully twist a yellow ribbon into the knots at the base of his throat and the three making the diamond pattern on his chest, helping the red rope to bring out the olive of his skin. It had taken a little finagling, but she’d managed to get the ropes just tight enough and placed just so that his pecs gave a nice squish under her hands, and she knew Thor and Clint would like it, too. The matching diamond surrounding the bulge in his briefs added a cohesiveness to the ensemble. She grabbed the knot tied over his pelvis and jerked on it, and Tony wasn’t the only one who whimpered in response, but his, at least, was muffled behind his red ball gag.

“Let’s show them the star of the show,” Natasha cooed, using her grip around the knot to tug him around on stumbling feet so they could show off the back of the ropes around his hips.

“Holy shit,” Thor breathed, and Steve dropped his beer, speechless, as they took in how the ropes lovingly cupped each cheek, like each one was a particularly ripe peach that needed to be bitten into.

Natasha smacked her free hand over Tony’s left cheek, just for good measure, and Clint whimpered again as it jiggled before falling still. “I thought we could watch something a little mindless tonight,” she offered, palming the other cheek and squeezing until… someone whimpered again. It might have been Tony, but she couldn’t be sure. “Tony’s not good for much, and if he misses Escape from New York, he’s going to be sad.”

“We wouldn’t want Tony to be sad,” Thor agreed, but his gaze was more hungry than sympathetic.

Natasha fell back onto the loveseat and reached out to grab the ropes over his hips. Tony made a muffled yelping sound as she tugged, stumbling over both of their feet and pitching forward toward her. She caught him easily, maneuvering him around to ease him down onto his knees between her feet. “No fucking him tonight,” she said once she’d pulled his head to rest on her knee, blinking up at her with bleary eyes. She decided to ignore the groans of complaint she received for her order, carefully carding her fingers through Tony’s hair. “He’s in that weird place where he needs to be down but is also too keyed up not to worry about how he’s pleasing you.”

“Aw,” Steve said, frowning in concern. “I’ll reschedule some of our training plans. I had no idea he was so anxious.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Natasha purred, instead of admitting that she also hadn’t noticed. Tony was like a cat that way, hiding what he needed until he simply couldn’t anymore. She’d just have to be more careful next time. She looked back down at Tony, hands cradling his head so she could tip it back, force him to make eye contact with her. He blinked, slow and syrupy, pupils already blown wide. He was already almost out of it. “You can fondle him through the briefs,” she decided, and Tony let out a shuddering sigh around the ball gag in his mouth. “Draw straws or something. I don’t want a fight when he’s vulnerable.”

She heard them start shuffling around immediately and couldn’t help the corner of her mouth quirking up smugly when she saw Tony’s eyelids flutter. “Hear that, Умница? We’re going to take such good care of you.”

Tony leaned forward to lay his head on her lap, moaning quietly around the gag. Somehow, it sounded almost thankful. She decided to pet his head instead of check in. Even like this, tied up and gagged, he was still incredibly vulnerable. If she drew attention to things that made him embarrassed, he could end the scene early, and she really wanted him to have a night where he didn’t need to think—just to be a good little rope bunny who let his friends take care of him.

“I get him after the first half hour of the movie,” Bruce said, grinning widely as he came to sit beside Natasha on the loveseat. “I’ll sit here so we don’t have to move him until he’s… a little further down.”

Tony mewled a complaint, as if trying to urge them that he didn’t need that. Natasha only acknowledged it by gripping his hair tighter until he whimpered in defeat. It was her job to take care of him, and sometimes that meant ignoring his people pleasing nature, even if it made him feel bad for a minute. He’d be well under by the time it was Bruce’s turn to cuddle him, and then he wouldn’t feel so needy, instead just happily accepting anything that happened to him. She kept his hair in a tight grip for just a bit longer, as a reminder of that, then released it slowly, scratching her nails along his scalp while it was still tingling so she could feel him shiver against her legs.

Natasha spent the first half hour of Mission: Impossible gently massaging Tony’s head, focusing most of her effort at the base of his skull and around his temples. That was where he carried most of his tension, and she wanted him loose and content by the time she passed him over to Bruce.

Tony’s head was lolling between her palms when Bruce finally adjusted himself in the seat next to her, and she carefully tipped his head back to check his face. It was lax, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, and his lips were red and wet around the ball gag spreading them. His throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing, wordlessly asking for something more in his mouth.

“No, Умница,” she told him firmly. “Later, when you’re more lucid.”

Tony obediently tipped his cheek into her palm and sighed quietly as he relaxed against her. He made a sound that might have been a complaint any other time, but mostly just sounded conceding, now. She felt a pang of regret. She should have been keeping a better eye on him. She’d known he hadn’t gotten down recently, that he would eventually need to, and with the way he’d finally admitted defeat and told her that he wouldn’t make it, she’d clearly missed signs, even if Tony did do his best to hide them. He’d probably give her the out of ‘too many villains attacking’ and ‘between battles and board meetings’ and whatever other excuse he could find, but she knew she would need to do better next time.

“My turn?” Bruce offered, as if she might have changed her mind after examining him.

Natasha gave Tony a fond pat on the head. “Your turn,” she agreed, letting go of Tony’s head so she could hook her arms under his and help drag him upright. She slanted him a rueful smile as she swiveled to plop Tony directly into his lap. “Do I need to set a timer on my phone?”

“Clint will know when it’s his turn,” Bruce answered, carefully situating Tony’s legs over his own and then drawing him back to rest against his chest.

Natasha was secretly glad it was Bruce, first, leaning her cheek on her hand and watching carefully for any signs of distress from either of them. She didn’t know all of Bruce’s… proclivities, but she did know that he wasn’t one for exhibitionism. If they were all in the same room, he truly seemed to just like holding Tony, feeling his weight against him. ‘It’s grounding,’ he’d explained once when Natasha had expressed concern that he felt pressured to hold him, and as she watched him tuck his face into Tony’s throat, she figured she understood, at least as much as she needed to—that Tony was basically a weighted blanket, but with the bonus of a steady and calm heartbeat. Like a cat sprawling over his chest and purring, she never said, but knew in her heart was true.

Tony seemed to melt back against Bruce, thighs spreading in the space he was given, eyes drifting shut as he turned and nuzzled against him. Bruce’s hands came to rest on his ribs, thumbs tucking under the lengths of rope there, and Tony shuddered. Bruce was holding him up, Natasha realized as Tony’s breath shuddered in his chest. Bruce was bracing Tony’s torso, so he didn’t have to sit so stiffly with the arc reactor, taking over holding his posture. Tony melted like it was better than sex and massage and being hand-fed altogether, and Bruce murmured something against his throat that made a shiver run through Tony’s body before he fell limp.

Natasha magnanimously decided not to listen in and hear what it was. That was something special from Bruce, just for Tony. She glanced over at Steve, to see if he’d been listening in, but he’d procured one of his sketchbooks while she’d been focused wholly on Tony, and she got the feeling there would be several new sketches by the next day for them to peruse.

“What’s the word on hickeys?” Clint whispered, leaning over the arm of the couch so she could hear him better.

Natasha spared a thought for checking Tony’s calendar, then decided it didn’t matter. If Pepper got mad, she’d send her an apology and a voucher to a spa day. Pepper seemed to soften up pretty quickly when Natasha was the one apologizing. “So long as he doesn’t make any objections, anything goes.”

“Yes!” Clint hissed, pumping his fist, and when Thor sat up a little straighter, clearly having eavesdropped, he gave him an air high-five across the room.

Natasha snorted in amusement, shaking her head, then turned her gaze back on Tony and Bruce. She knew that Bruce would never do anything to hurt him, but she was still feeling a little overprotective because of her missing what were probably several minute cries for help, to be taken down, to stop thinking and be taken care of.

Clint stood just as Tom Cruise decided they were going to infiltrate the CIA, making his way over carefully. Natasha watched with sharp eyes, ears already straining for any sound of distress, just in case. Clint murmured something to Bruce, like ‘you sure?’ or ‘it’s okay,’ and Bruce nodded, turning his head to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. Clint took it as the dismissal it was, carefully wedging an arm under Tony’s knees and behind his back. Tony made a sound of distress, but it was obviously because he was comfortable and didn’t want to be moved, and he didn’t get to make that decision, so Natasha said nothing.

Clint carried Tony back to his seat on the couch with only a smug grin in Natasha’s direction, and she watched as he carefully set Tony on his legs so his knees were thrown over Clint’s thighs, pulling him back to lay over his chest much like Bruce had. He nudged his hand under Tony’s chin, and Tony tipped his head back over his shoulder obediently, eyes fluttering as he tried to decide to melt into it or tense up.

Clint murmured a clear and fond ‘good boy’ before he turned his head and bit down on Tony’s throat, making him jerk and whine against the gag between his teeth. Natasha tensed, but finally, the whine registered as a complaint rather than a desire for Clint to actually stop, so she sat back in her seat again.

Clint wasn’t one to waste time, especially when he had to share, and Natasha bit back a smirk when she watched him spread his knees apart, forcing Tony’s thighs open wide. It did a good job of showing off the diamond of the ropes around his groin, how they met between his cheeks to give them more definition. His hand slipped down, fingers trailing over the ropes reverently, following them down to where they met just below Tony’s balls. Then Clint pressed his hand down, palm rubbing over Tony’s cock, fingers expertly curling back up under his balls so his hips jerked as if to escape.

“Gonna have you humping my hand by the time I gotta pass you off to Thor,” Clint promised over the whines and squeals of complaint escaping Tony’s gag.

Natasha watched Tony’s eyes widen sightlessly, blush beginning to spread from his cheeks down to his throat, as if the idea had never occurred to him. She decided not to say anything, instead cataloguing each sound slipping past the ball gag, each movement as Clint slid an arm around his chest to hold him in place as he started rubbing his cock in earnest. He’d probably come well before it was Thor’s turn; even ignoring the fact that they hadn’t gotten to play lately, they hadn’t had the energy to have sex. She got the feeling that no one would mind, though, eyes darting over as Steve frantically turned the page in his sketchbook to a clean one and then focused back on Tony.

She got the feeling that Tony wouldn’t mind, either, watching as his hips began to shake, as if he was trying to fight the urge to hump into Clint’s grip. He’d lose to his urges eventually. He always did.

Clint trailed his fingers along the rope again, ignoring Tony’s whimper of complaint so he could hook them in the rope and pull, and Tony’s toes curled in response as it tugged the ropes between his cheeks tight. “Shame these ropes make it impossible to rub over your hole,” Clint grumbled, tugging again, then let it drop so he could put his hand back on Tony’s cock. “You’re always a sucker for your hole getting played with.”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged, smirking a little. “I mean. Just because it’s covered doesn’t mean you can’t play with it.” She preened in her seat as everyone turned to look at her, dumbfounded, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “I always think about Tony’s pleasure when he’s in the ropes.”

Clint stared at her, then reached down for the ropes again, tugging them up tight, and Tony let out a muffled keen, eyes rolling back, hips jerking up to try and escape the pressure. “Is there a plug in our pretty bunny?” he asked, not letting up at all, and Tony’s thighs quivered over his knees, hips twitching uselessly as Clint spread his own so he couldn’t get leverage anymore.

Natasha shrugged again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Clint stared at her for a moment longer, then let go of the rope, and Tony fell limp as if he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Since I can’t take it out to fuck him, I guess it doesn’t matter,” he muttered, turning to latch onto Tony’s throat again as he wrapped his fingers around Tony’s cock and began stroking him fast enough that Natasha genuinely feared fabric burn on him.

Tony jerked and whined in Clint’s lap, attempting to blink tears from his eyes and mostly failing as they instead rolled down his red cheeks. Natasha watched him for a moment, concerned, but he wasn’t saying anything that resembled his safe word, and his eyes weren’t blinking an SOS either. She allowed herself to relax. It appeared he was only overwhelmed. Clint had that effect on people. Or, well, he had that effect on Tony. He liked to tout that the circus had taught him more than how to shoot arrows, and no matter how much Tony wheedled or demanded, Clint never explained—only ever promised to show him.

Natasha could almost feel sorry for him, if Tony didn’t bring it upon himself every time.

“Will you move your hand a little to the left,” Steve said, and Natasha watched, astounded, as Clint obliged, twisting his wrist into what was clearly an uncomfortable position.

“What the fuck,” she began, more air than word.

Bruce nudged her, and she looked at him to see his smile had gone wry and amused. “Oh, Steve gives us copies of his sketches if we do him favors. He makes listening to his requests really easy.”

Natasha tipped her head, considering. Steve had never asked her if that was okay, but then, she figured he didn’t really need to. It was his art, even if the subject technically belonged to her.

Tony made a sound, high and reedy, and Natasha turned her gaze back to him just in time to watch Tony throw his head back over Clint’s shoulder. His hips jerked up, pressing his cock more insistently into Clint’s hand, and Clint helpfully tightened his grip around him.

“You really did get him to start humping your hand,” Natasha observed, raising her eyebrows as she watched Tony’s muscles strain, hips rutting forward without shame. “Poor Умница. So needy.” She tipped her head as Tony made another reedy noise, drool beginning to drip out from around his gag, the corners of his lips. She’d have to make sure to get some water into him soon. It would probably be better to take the gag out, anyway. It wasn’t like his begging did much—everyone already knew to ask her permission.

Clint finally reached down with his other hand to tug at the ropes again, and Tony made a choked sound, then keened, hips stuttering as if he didn’t know which way to move, up into Clint’s hand or down against the rope. As quickly as every one of his muscles clenched, though, he sagged, twitching with aftershocks as Clint gave his cock a few more strokes, just for good measure.

Natasha let Clint paw at his softening cock until Tony’s noises turned plaintive, then stood, slanting him a sharp look. “Enough.”

“Fine,” Clint grumbled, sliding his hand up over Tony’s quivering abs. Belatedly, he allowed the rope to slip from his fingers. Tony’s head flopped back over Clint’s shoulder, chest heaving, and Clint wasted no time sucking another hickey into his throat while he had the chance.

“Mouth only now,” Natasha added, pointing at Clint sternly, and waited until she got a reluctant eye roll before she turned to head toward the kitchen. She lingered by the cabinets for a moment, then decided against a snack. She could feed him once he was tucked securely in bed and didn’t have sharp eyes watching him at his most vulnerable. She grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, even though he’d probably only be able to finish one, then grabbed a fistful of napkins from the table as an afterthought. Once properly armed, she returned to the common room.

Clint had licked his way up to Tony’s jaw, where he was leaving a spectacular bruise. Natasha couldn’t help a sigh. Pepper would be less understanding about that one. Maybe she’d make sure a new pair of shoes were waiting for her after the spa treatment.

Natasha grabbed Clint’s hair and tugged, a warning that she wasn’t afraid to wrench his head aside. Luckily, Clint seemed as reluctant to upset Tony as she was, and he pulled his mouth away with sigh. “Keep your hands still,” she warned, dumping the water bottles beside him on the couch so she could cradle Tony’s head between her hands.

“Fine,” Clint agreed easily, placing one hand on Tony’s stomach and the other on the inside of a still-trembling thigh.

Natasha scratched her nails over Tony’s scalp until his breath steadied and his eyes fluttered shut. Once she was certain he was relaxed again, she slid her hands back, fingers tracing the leather of the belts keeping the ball gag in place until they came to the clasp. “Here we go, Умница. Let’s get some water in you.” The gag slipped from Tony’s lips with a slick, wet sound, followed by a long, shuddering breath. Natasha let him take a few deep breaths, dabbing the drool from his trembling mouth as his chest heaved, before she turned and cracked open one of the bottles.

“Is he gonna choke like this?” Clint asked quietly.

“Not if you hold his head up properly,” Natasha scoffed, and Clint rolled his eyes but obediently lifted his hands to cradle either side of Tony’s head. She pressed the backs of her fingers to Tony’s chin, eyes softening. “Умница, open up for me.”

Tony blinked, a slow up-and-down of clumped-together eyelashes that sent two more tears rolling down his cheeks. Then the order registered, and his swollen lips parted. Natasha carefully tipped the water bottle to his mouth, only allowing little sips to pass into it. Tony was so out of it, she sincerely worried he might choke accidentally. Even the coldness from the fridge couldn’t shock him from where he was clearly floating, a perfect little doll for her to use as she saw fit.

Tony twitched his head away uselessly once he’d sipped half the bottle, but Natasha took it as the ‘no more’ he meant it to be, twisting the lid back on easily and setting both bottles on the coffee table. Mission: Impossible was rolling its credits behind her, and she considered whether two hours should be the limit. She had him lean forward so she could check the ropes binding his wrists, but his hands were still warm, and he flexed his fingers when she tapped on them. He even managed to puff out a voiceless ‘please’ against the side of her face, eyes wide and pleading.

Natasha sighed, unable to help the corner of her mouth curving up. “Fine. But we’re going upstairs after Thor gets his turn.” He smiled, wide and mindless, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his lips before she carefully scooped him up out of Clint’s lap. She turned on one heel and took a step towards the other loveseat that Steve and Thor were sharing, then deposited Tony onto Thor’s lap before she could accidentally drop him.

Thor’s hand immediately came up to squeeze one of Tony’s pecs, massaging the flesh slow and considering. Finally, he trapped Tony’s nipple between two fingers and tugged until Tony arched his back and whined. “I want to fuck his thighs,” he said simply as Tony twitched and mewled under his hand.

‘I said no fucking’ was on the tip of Natasha’s tongue, but then she watched Thor’s other hand stroke the soft, pale inside of Tony’s left thigh, and she took a moment to think about it. She’d already informed Tony that she wasn’t letting his holes get used tonight, that she could sit on his face or peg him the next day, and while he’d been disappointed, he understood. But using his thighs as a makeshift fleshlight wasn’t using his holes. And Tony was already sunk into the headspace of ‘pleasure object’ rather than ‘needy sub.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. “And you just happened to bring lube down with you to team movie night?”

“Natasha,” Thor scoffed, but there was an edge of amusement in the twinkle of his eye. “I always have lube. The oil I use on the leather of my hammer has many uses.”

Natasha didn’t choke on the arousal that filled her at his lascivious smirk, but barely. “Fine, but I’m taking him back to the penthouse after,” she repeated gruffly. If she’d had a moment, she probably could have come up with a more biting retort, but sometimes she had to admit that Thor had the upper hand after a thousand years of living.

Steve bolted from his seat beside Thor to sit next to Clint on the couch so he could get a better view, hands shaking as he flipped to a clean sheet of paper. Natasha almost felt sorry for him—his erection looked painful where it was pressing up against the seam of his jeans. Perhaps she’d ask Tony if he wanted Steve to fuck him tomorrow. He’d mentioned that he enjoyed being pegged by her, but sometimes he missed the sensation of cum filling his belly and dripping out of his hole throughout the day.

But that was a question for later, when Tony was lucid and could accept whether or not Steve was comfortable with it. She dropped into the seat Steve had vacated, eyes sharp as she watched Thor grab the flask of oil he used on Mjolnir’s leather handle and pour a healthy amount into his other palm. As he smoothed it over the inside of Tony’s left thigh, his skin began to glisten, almost glowing in the dimmed lights of the living room. Tony let out a quiet huff, tipping his head back against Thor’s shoulder with a quiet moan as he massaged the muscle of his thigh in time with the other hand squeezing his pec. Natasha couldn’t help but feel pleased that her art was being appreciated; she’d had to place the ropes just so to get a little give to his chest with the way the ropes sat around the reactor, and Tony was in just the right headspace that her blasé ‘so they can play with your tits’ had made him blush in arousal instead of shame.

Thor switched hands, rubbing oil onto the inside of Tony’s right thigh as his other hand reached up, massaging his other pec for a moment before very deliberately rubbing his thumb over his nipple. “Would have looked better with clamps,” he said, and Tony shuddered.

Natasha swallowed thickly. She’d thought about it, but she hadn’t wanted to have to take them off and ruin the headspace Tony was in. His chest had been her biggest obstacle to overcome as they learned each other’s limits—parts of it had little to no sensation with the damage that had been done to it by the shrapnel and reactor. Conversely, while he didn’t have a lot of feeling, if she kept his nipples clamped too long, it could make his entire chest hurt for days, and not in a fun ‘I’m reminded of the deliciously kinky sex we had’ way. At this point, fifteen minutes was as long as she dared to leave them, and that would have disrupted Tony with whoever’s lap he sat on. She’d just wanted him to relax, comfortable and warm, without having to worry if he’d have to take muscle relaxers to stop his chest spasming in the coming week.

Thor seemed to notice how uncomfortable she was, because he offered her a kind smile. Somehow, though, his voice still dripped with sex as he added, “Another time, maybe.” He pressed his lips to Tony’s ear. “Are you ready, Anthony?”

Tony’s lips shaped another breathless ‘please,’ rubbing his slick thighs together. Thor lifted him easily so he could shove his sweatpants down, then settled Tony back in his lap. Tony made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and Natasha would bet it was from how casually Thor hefted his weight rather than from feeling Thor’s thick cock pushing up between his thighs.

Natasha spared a glance to the others as Thor gripped Tony’s thighs to keep the grip around his cock tight and began bouncing him on his lap. Bruce was scrolling through movie options, though she’d expected as much; he’d mentioned that ever since he’d gotten the other guy, his libido was thoroughly tanked. It was why no one really argued when he wanted to take his turn first. Clint was watching them with rapt attention, elbows on his knees so he could lean forward without falling off the couch. Steve looked completely overwhelmed, mouth gaping open and his pencil having fallen from his lax fingers. She considered reaching out and closing his mouth for him, but as she looked back at Thor, watching as he bounced Tony easily on his lap, she couldn’t really blame him.

“Can he come again?” Thor murmured, slanting her a considering look.

Natasha hummed, watching as drool began to drip from the corner of Tony’s mouth, eyes half-open and sightless. “Probably not. He was really keyed up when we were changing clothes for movie night. Almost didn’t wanna let him come down.”

“Poor thing,” Thor cooed, and any other time, Tony probably would have bristled at the tone. Instead, he just let out a little hiccup, stomach spasming with the effort of holding himself upright. Thor gamely lifted one hand to his chest, taking his weight and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck when he sighed in relief.

Natasha got up to grab the half-empty water bottle again. Tony was reaching his limit, and she wanted him to finish the bottle at least before she took him back upstairs. It would be easier to do it with Thor cradling him up for her like Clint had. She turned back to them and bit back an offended squawk when she found that in the ten seconds her back had been turned, Thor had apparently fucked himself to completion, cum splattered up against Tony’s belly and across his thighs. Somehow his cock still looked impressive even as it slowly went flaccid between Tony’s trembling thighs. “What the fuck. You didn’t even make a sound.”

Thor blinked at her placidly even as he scratched over Tony’s scalp like he was a particularly needy cat. “Sometimes when you’re being tracked by the enemy, your pleasure has to be quick and quiet.”

“I can’t fucking stand you,” Natasha hissed, because she was not going to think about Thor and some faceless person getting off while their enemies advanced on them without Tony there to howl questions at him. Watching him get worked up was part of the fun, but he also felt incredibly left out when he realized he didn’t know something the others did. While interesting, she now had the task of making sure Tony knew that Thor apparently fucked while enemies chased him, which wasn’t difficult, but she’d have to field questions and his realization that she didn’t chase after answers because he’d been vulnerable.

Well. That was all part of caring for Tony, she figured, sighing.

Tony drank most of the bottle before he started letting the water just run out of his mouth, and at least Natasha got the pleasure of hearing Thor yelp in surprise as it splattered onto his dick still nestled between Tony’s thighs. She put the cap back on the water bottle and tossed it aside. She could get more water in him after he was cleaned up and settled. Carefully, ignoring Thor’s grumbling, she slid her arms under Tony’s knees and just under his shoulder blades and delicately heaved him up into her arms.

“God, that’s so hot,” Clint moaned again, sagging in his seat.

Natasha took a moment to preen, because it was hot that she could pick Tony up, and she worked hard to be able to. Then she turned and headed to the elevator, because she wasn’t going to let them know that it was effort and carefully planned weight distribution that got her this far.

“Do you need any help?” Bruce called after her. He would, sometimes, when Tony was especially floppy and she needed help getting him clean.

Natasha hummed as she stepped into the waiting elevator, glancing down at Tony. His eyes were heavy-lidded and vacant, swollen lips parted to let out soft panting sounds as he worked to center himself and catch his breath. He’d probably be a little too floppy, but he also looked so out of it that she didn’t want too many people looking at him while he was. “No. Not tonight.”

“I’ll bring by breakfast tomorrow,” Steve offered, leaning over the back of the couch, a questioning lilt to his voice as his eyes raked over Tony’s limp form.

‘Breakfast’ usually meant donuts, coffee, and whatever sketches he’d finished for Tony to peruse. Natasha considered this, then offered, “Perhaps brunch,” which meant ‘later, with actual eggs and bacon, or at least a slathered bagel.’

Steve offered her a thumbs up, and the doors slid closed. Natasha turned her attention to Tony, watching him blink and breathe and simply exist in her arms. She took a moment to feel guilty that it had gotten to this point, then quickly brushed it off. Tony wouldn’t want her to feel guilty when he’d been actively hiding his needs, and quite frankly, she couldn’t do her best to help him if she felt bad. She’d just have to be more cognizant of how much downtime he got. The guilt would turn to determination by morning.

Tony whined loudly when she laid him over the arm of the comfy chair in his room, wiggling uselessly, and she gave him a firm pat on the ass, just a hint of sting, to warn him. Once he fell still again, she reached out and nimbly picked the ropes free from around his arms, massaging from elbow to finger tip before she carefully stretched his arms forward, so he was reaching to the other arm rest. Tony whined again, back spasming as the muscles that had been locked in place for the tie finally got relief, relaxing and stretching. She rubbed his shoulders and back briefly, just to get the circulation going again, then hooked her hands under his arms so she could manhandle him into a sitting position.

This was her favorite part, she thought, carefully unwinding lengths of rope from around Tony’s limp body. He always managed to peel his eyes open and watch her hands, even as his body twitched and jerked in relief as it finally got to relax. It was the most vulnerable he ever was, unable to even move without help, having to let her take care of him. Being tied was a choice he made and allowed. At this point, he barely had the strength to blink, and Natasha always made sure she took the best care of him then.

“Look pretty good, all slick and sticky,” Natasha offered before she grabbed the knots over his hips and tugged him down in the seat so she could unwind his lower ropes. Tony barely made a sound, more a burst of air being knocked out of him than actual complaint, so she continued, “Maybe we can try out free use. Just for the team, of course. What do you think? Kneeling at my feet until one of the team comes over and asks me for use of your mouth or ass?”

Tony might a soft groaning sound, but that could have been from her dropping the ropes to the floor and grabbing his briefs to try and pull them down. Pivoting quickly, she pulled a knife from her thigh and simply slit his briefs down the sides, so she could pull the front piece off while the bottom stayed on the seat. She grabbed the pack of cleaning wipes from the table next to the chair and carefully cleaned his sticky groin, then used another handful to clean the oil and Thor’s cum from his lightly-chafed thighs. A shower or bath would probably be easier, but she didn’t want to risk a flashback while he was so far under, so this would have to do until she could coax him into the shower tomorrow by promising a quickie in the bathroom.

“Are you ready for this plug to come out, Умница?” she asked gently, placing her hands firmly on his hips.

Tony blinked at her slowly, a smidge of awareness entering his gaze. She waited patiently. She knew he could easily keep it in for hours longer, especially if he was sleeping, but she didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed. She pressed her thumbs in over his hip bones, hoping to ground him further. If he couldn’t answer, she’d take it out and explain it was for safety reasons tomorrow. If he could answer her, though, she’d feel better about just getting him into bed and feeding him some cheese crackers between sips of water until he fell asleep.

“…In,” Tony managed roughly.

Natasha relaxed a little. It wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for, but Tony knew his limits better than anyone. “Okay,” she answered simply, and then, “I’m moving you to the bed.”

“Mmh,” Tony managed before she carefully pulled him up into her arms again. She stumbled a bit next to the bed, and she cursed herself for not accepting her help, but only for a moment—Tony made no noise of fright, and he blinked up at her placidly as she set him down on the bed a little harder than she meant. “Hi.”

Natasha couldn’t help the wide smile it brought to her lips. “Hi, Умница. You were such a good boy for me.” Tony smiled back wordlessly, and she carefully ran her hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you sure about the plug staying in overnight, Tony?”

Tony blinked at her again, just as sated and quiet as he had before. “Maybe Steve can take it out at ‘brunch.’”

Natasha let out a bark of laughter before she could stop herself. “Ha! Tony,” she rallied sternly. “That’s something to discuss in private first instead of just asking him.”

“We’ll have time,” Tony grumbled, even as he wiggled down upward so his head was on his pillow at the angle he preferred for eating and drinking. “He always takes time to make breakfast in bed for me after nights like this. He hand-squeezes the orange juice.”

“He never gives me hand-squeezed orange juice,” Natasha grumbled, taking a moment to shed her own clothes. She grabbed a box of cheese crackers and a water bottle and walked around to clamber onto the other side of the bed.

Tony opened his mouth, and kept it open until Natasha rolled her eyes and delicately placed a cracker onto his tongue. He chewed carefully and swallowed, then answered, “Maybe if you got worked over by a mean Domme, he’d let you have some.”

“Oh, so I’m mean?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow at him, but kept anything that could be even vaguely considered negative out of her tone.

“Didn’t even let me come twice,” Tony mumbled before she pushed another cracker into his mouth.

Natasha scoffed. “You couldn’t come again tonight if your life depended on it, brat. Eat your fucking cracker.”

“I could,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself, but let her follow the cracker with a sip of water without struggle. “Can I at least use your boobs as pillows?”

“If that’ll make you stop whining like a child,” Natasha answered magnanimously. “Cracker.”

Tony ate another cracker. “You could at least have gotten donuts.”

“I felt like we had powdered sugar in the bed for weeks even after changing the sheets, so no, that’s not happening,” Natasha said. She shoved another cracker in his mouth. “If you’re good and finish this bottle of water, I’ll tell Steve to bring exactly one of your favorite donuts for brunch.”

Tony sighed the sigh of the truly put upon but took a larger sip of water on the next go.

#aurumacadicus writes #pride pockets #kink edition #ironwidow #polyvengers #lemon

18 notes · View notes

julymusings · 7 months ago

Text

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

series masterlist

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances at his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it.

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “Especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged-looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.”

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,” he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back.

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled by the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.”

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door.

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There are voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There are some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on a scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night as a fighter, a crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

#my jason todd domesticity agenda #batman #red hood #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #batfamily #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #robin

3K notes · View notes

scribes-of-valar · 4 months ago

Text

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐴𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑜𝑦

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

A/N: I watched maybe two seasons of this show last year and kind of moved past it. I randomly got a Clark Kent fic on my feed last night and suddenly I have a demon in my brain telling me to write. Anyway, there is a horrendous lack of full fledged, non-smut fics for this man, so, here you go.

Summary: Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

“Have any plans?” You pull your English book from your locker, fingers stilling as you wait for Clark to respond. Silence stretches between you, long enough to make your brows furrow in confusion. Peering around the edge of your locker door with narrowed eyes, you let out a sigh.

You should have seen this coming. As always, Clark is staring at Lana from across the hall, looking like he walked straight out of a sappy romance movie.

She’s close, so close, but entirely out of his reach. She laughs, tucking a perfect, shiny strand of hair behind her ear, completely unaware of the way Clark pines for her. Always pining. Always looking at her like she’s the only girl in the world.

You could gag.

Slamming your locker shut, perhaps harder than necessary, you break Clark out of his trance as he flinches away from the noise. His head snaps toward you, blue eyes narrowed on the irritated scrunch of your face. You smile, forcing the snark out of your expression.

“Did you say something?” His voice is kind, expression open, as though he’s finally ready to listen. But the bell rings, cutting into the moment. You only have a minute to sprint to the other side of school.

“No,” you sigh, forcing the stilted smile to stay on your face, “I gotta go.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offers, falling into step beside you. “That way you can tell me what you actually said,” he teases, giving you that familiar boyish grin that never fails to make you unravel.

You bite your tongue for a moment, mind unraveling as you struggle with telling him the truth or not. This is stupid. He’s Clark, your best friend. Your stupid, oblivious, beautiful best friend. But the way he looks at you, soft and warm as he slows his stride so he can walk together a little longer. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

No. It will definitely still hurt.

“Would you want to do something this weekend?” You rush it all out at once and immediately look away from him, terrified by what you might see on his face.

There’s a beat of silence. Then Clark laughs, light and easy. Your stomach twists and your head shoots up, a disbelieving glare on your face. You’d known it would be unlikely that he’d return your feelings, but laughing seems below him.

“Why’re you being so weird?” He shakes his head, still grinning. “We’ll just do a movie night like always.” He squeezes your shoulder, casual, friendly, a wholly innocent gesture. Nothing more and nothing different. It’s completely platonic to him, as it always is. It takes you a moment to realize that he took what you were saying the wrong way. Or, maybe this is just the gentlest way he knows how to let you down.

“Right,” you struggle to keep your voice even but it doesn’t matter, the dejection slips through your tone. His smile falters slightly and he looks like he wants to say something when the shrill ring of the bell interrupts you both.

“I’ll see you later,” he offers but he sounds uncertain. Most of your plans have fallen through lately. Either because he was busy with Lana or off disappearing somewhere. You’re not sure, but you know the divide is growing larger between you both and you’re getting scared you’re going to lose him.

“Sure,” you give him a flat smile and he hovers beside you for a moment, like he wants to fix this but doesn’t know how.

“You’re going to be late,” you startle slightly and glance over your shoulder. Blake, a boy you share your English class with offers you a shy smile as he hovers by the door, holding it open for you to walk through.

“Thanks,” you walk past them both and into class, not wanting to look at Clark any longer. You miss the sharp look Blake shoots Clark and the way your friend lingers by the door for a minute before rushing off to his own class.

You slide into your seat, lucky to have gotten in before Mrs. Brown, lord knows she would love to make a spectacle of anyone being tardy. Blake follows not far behind you, slipping into the seat beside you as always. He’s nice enough, quiet, unassuming. You’ve never said more than a few words to each other, but right now all of his attention seems to be on you.

He whispers your name and you give him a brief glance and smile, mind still wrapped up in Clark. “Um, I was going to ask,” he stutters over his words for a moment, swallowing thickly before finally meeting your eye. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Yeah,” you answer absentmindedly. “I have plans with Clark,” you tell him shortly as Mrs. Brown walks in. You don’t have time to explain that you’ll probably just end up waiting around your house all weekend. Just to get a brief and incomprehensible explanation of why you were all alone on Monday.

He sinks back in his seat with a sigh just as the teacher begins writing the assignment on the board. You shoot him a slightly concerned look before brushing the interaction off as nothing.

Standing in the line at The Talon has become almost a hobby for you. Not just because Clark drags you here constantly, but because he distracts Lana from actually taking any orders. The wait time seems to triple every time he walks into the shop. You hear people grumbling behind you and finally move toward Clark, breaking the unspoken rule of leaving him and Lana alone.

“There’s a line, Clark,” you sing-song, warning him. The both of them flush, breaking their hushed conversation and shooting you a sheepish look.

“I’m sorry,” Lana apologizes and you wave her off. “Do you want anything?”

You’d been considering getting a muffin, but when you look over and see the lovesick smile Clark is giving her, you find your appetite has disappeared. “Uh, no, I’m good.”

Clark turns toward you with a soft frown and he nearly makes you forget just how much you resent him for dragging you along to see this. “I thought you were hungry.”

You glance back at Lana and find her eyes already on him. God, what’s the point of a breakup if you’re still obsessed with each other? “No, it’s alright.”

You move away from the counter to step outside, expecting him to stay there and continue flirting despite the angry customers behind them. You’re surprised when you hear his voice immediately beside you.

“Hey,” he moves away from the door, a grin on his face. Face wrinkling in confusion, you nod your head in greeting even though you’d just seen him. Your eyes narrow in on the leather of his jacket and your head tilts in confusion. You swear he was wearing a zip up a moment ago. “What’re you doing?” He asks, tone light as he stands beside you closer than he normally would.

“Uh,” you’re tempted to glance over your shoulder and make sure he isn’t still standing in The Talon. “Did you hit your head?” He flushes slightly and you laugh. “Just our usual friday endeavors, you moon over Lana and I hold back the mob of angry customers who just want a coffee.” Laughing to ease some of your own tension, it trails off when you see the smile drop from his face.

His eyes narrow and he glances toward the shop, “Idiot,” he mutters. You shoot him an affronted look and he blanches, quickly correcting himself. “Me, not you.” You want to question him further but he slings an arm over your shoulder and redirects you away from the shop. Mind a blank slate, you feel your brain break slightly at the simple touch.

When you were younger, before Lana, before either of you even knew what crushes were, something like this would mean nothing to you. As it is, though, your friendship seems to have dwindled to nothing but compulsory hangouts and the occasional conversation in the hallway. Something as simple as his arm around you has turned into everything for you.

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

“Movies at your place, like usual,” you remind him. He must have slipped and hit his head on the way out of The Talon. Either that, or he already forgot the plans you made just this morning. Neither would surprise you.

His face screws up and he shakes his head, “God, that’s lame.” You scoff, shooting him an odd look, not bothering to remind him that it was his idea. “I mean what’s he-”

Clark cuts himself off, glancing down at you before letting out a short laugh. “How ‘bout the fair?”

You reach up and press the back of your hand to his forehead. He gives you a bewildered laugh, taking your hand in his and grinning. “What are you doing?”

You lean back slightly, breathless at the awestruck way he’s looking at you. You’ve only ever seen him look at…

Lana, you’ve only ever seen a look like this directed at Lana. But now, those deep blue eyes are pulling you in and you feel helpless to fight them. You swallow hard, blinking while you try to remember what you were even going to say.

“Uh,” licking your lips you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement. “I was seeing if you had a fever. Since when do you want to go out?”

He laces your fingers together and tugs you forward, “Since now.”

Usually, you’re not so quick to look a gift horse in the mouth. Months, you’ve been praying he treats you with even a semblance of care he throws toward Lana. Now, you finally get it and you can’t help the sick tightening feeling in your stomach telling you this is all wrong.

The fair is less crowded than you had expected. Though, it is nearly the last day it’s in town, you suppose everyone’s already had their fill of it. You have been trying to get Clark to come with you for nearly a week, maybe this is why he had waited so long to join you. Some of the rides you actually got all to yourself.

“You know these things are rigged,” you tease, watching as he tries and fails at the bottle toss for the third time. The bored teenage girl behind the booth briefly glances up from her book to glare at you both. You shoot her a sardonic smile and she turns to Clark.

“You can just buy the stuffed animal, ya know?” She drawls.

“That’s cheating-”

“Where’s the fun in that-”

You and Clark share a grin as you speak over each other. The girl pales at your joined voices and returns quickly to her book, muttering something about annoying couples.

Your stomach flutters at the idea of you and Clark as a couple but you push it down. “Alright,” Clark chuckles and holds his arm out for you, “let’s get out of here.”

You slip your arm through his easily, smiling up at him. You’ve long since stopped questioning just how touchy he is. Clearly, he’s in a generous mood tonight and you feel like taking advantage of that as much as possible.

“Where to next?” He asks and your eyes crawl across the fairground, struggling to find something you haven’t already done.

You toss what must be your third lemonade in the closest bin and shoot him a sheepish smile. “I think I’ll need to go to the bathroom before we do any more rides.”

He’s slow to let you go, hand drifting down to hold yours as he steps back. “I’ll wait by the ferris wheel,” he tells you lowly.

Your cheeks flush, eyes widening slightly as you slip away from him. The ferris wheel is notorious among Smallville students as the place to make a move. Everyone knows it’s just couples that ride up in those rickety old cars. Still, Clark is slightly oblivious to stuff like that. You don’t want to get your hopes up just for it to ultimately be nothing more than a friendly outing.

Rushing toward the sad group of Port-a-potties you let out an annoyed sigh when you see the long line awaiting you. Your foot bounces against the dirt impatiently as you peer around the girl in front of you just to see there has to be, at least, ten people before you.

There’s a vibration in your pocket before you hear the shrill ringing of your Nokia. Digging it out of your jeans you answer without checking the contact. “Hello?” The girl in front of you shoots you a dirty look and you take a step back from her.

“Hey, where’re you?” You frown at the sound of Clark’s voice, glancing around like you might be able to spot him in the crowd. You’d told him where you were going, why would he be calling?

“You know where I am,” you tell him, chuckling.

There’s a slight huff on the other end and you frown, he almost sounds disappointed. “What are you talking about? We were supposed to watch movies tonight.”

“Okay, Clark, I’m officially concerned. You’ve been acting weird all day. We’re at the fair,” you say slowly, over-enunciating your words like he’s slow. “You said movies were going to be lame.”

There’s a long pause and he utters your name in a concerningly serious tone. “The person you’re with-”

“Alright, do you mind?” The girl in front of you whips around and snaps at you. Blanching, you lower the phone from your ear and she shoots you an incredibly dirty look.

“Clark, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you whisper into the phone.

“Wait-”

You cut him off, hanging up and shoving your phone in your back pocket. She turns back around and rolls her eyes. It doesn’t take long for your Nokia to start ringing again but you figure you’ll just meet Clark by the ferris wheel like he said.

Low groaning drifts through the noises of the crowd and makes you pause. Tilting your head around the corner of a trailer, the sounds only grow louder. Everything inside you says not to investigate, but the person sounds like they’re genuinely in pain. You can’t just walk away.

“Hey,” you call out softly. “Are you okay?”

There’s no response and you take a hesitant step closer. A scuffed white converse slips from behind the back of the trailer and it looks worryingly similar to Clark’s. “Clark?” You call out, creeping a little further into the dark.

It’s like a cocoon of silence back here, as though the shadows swallow the voices and loud cheering sounds of the games beyond you. “No,” the small voice croaks out. You see a hand in the dirt and they begin dragging themselves forward. You jump back a step, heart picking up as you watch them get to their feet.

This was a stupid idea, walking toward a stranger in the dark. Even in Smallville you couldn’t trust everyone. They finally turn and you let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, Blake, hey.”

He gives you a weak grimace, clutching his stomach like he’s in pain. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying to get a better look.

“Fine, fine,” he stutters out, shifting just enough to keep his face half-hidden in the shadows. Even knowing the person lurking within the shadows, you still feel slightly on edge. Something about the way he moves unsettles you. It’s not as though you know him well, he’s just a classmate. Someone quiet and harmless. Or, you hope he’s harmless, right now there’s something about him that feels wrong.

“Alright, um, if you’re sure,” you take a careful step backward. Your foot’s barely back on the ground when he lunges forward. His hands stretch toward you like he’s about to snatch you into the shadows with him. You’re stuck deciding whether you’re going to scream or bite him when he jerks back like a puppet being yanked on a string.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurts out, breathless. “Clark walked by. He- he told me to tell you he was leaving.”

Your stomach twists with panic. Right now you care more about not getting your throat slit in a dark alley than you do about Clark ditching you. Without a second thought, you turn on your heel and run out from between the trailers. You swear you hear footsteps, quick and light, following your path to the cars.

Sliding into your car, you lock your doors and peel out of the lot. You leave the fair, and whatever just happened, behind, not looking back. The phone in your pocket vibrates again but you ignore it, too freaked out by what just happened to bother answering.

Someone calls your name and you peer around the edge of your locker door, grimacing when you see Blake walking toward you. His brown hair is a mess, like he’s been fussing with it all morning, and his thick glasses, normally perched precariously on his nose, are nowhere to be seen. His normal polished clothes look like they’re three sizes too big and you frown.

“Hey,” you drag the word out, trying to sound polite even if his outburst last night left you feeling incredibly unsettled. “Feeling any better?” You hesitate to meet his eyes, and when you do, your annoyance only deepens.

He’s watching you expectantly, like he’s waiting for something.

“Did you need anything?” You ask, voice trailing off as you close your locker and take two deliberate steps back.

Blake’s brows furrow and he almost looks hurt before his expression smooths over into something startling unreadable. “Um, no, I’m sorry,” his gaze drifts past you. The color drains from his face and you barely have a second to process the oddity of this conversation before he turns on his heel and goes barrelling down the hall.

“Hey,” Clark’s familiar voice cuts through your confusion, and you turn to see him striding toward you. Gone is the easy, playful grin he wore last night. He looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, intent on something. “We need to talk,” he tells you, tone grave.

“I know,” you snipe, not bothering to hide your irritation at just leaving you alone at the fair last night. You aren’t surprised, he’s been doing that for weeks now. What stings is that, for a little while, you had felt like you were actually friends again, only for him to ruin it.

His brow furrows and he glances around the empty hallway with a frown. “Look, we can’t talk here, but-”

The warning bell rings, cutting him off. “Shit,” you mutter, shoving your books into your bag and turning away from Clark. He calls your name but you wave him off. “Later, Clark, I can’t be late again.” He watches you go with a frown, running a hand through his hair before turning toward his own class.

Not even ten minutes later you spot him walking past Mrs. Brown’s room. Though, you swear he was wearing a red shirt not a green one. You could be wrong, it’s not as if you had long to take in his outfit.

You figure he’s just passing by and go back to taking your notes. There’s a light hiss from the door and you frown, looking up to see him hovering in the doorway and waving you forward. You glare toward Mrs. Brown’s back and shake your head. No way, you mouth.

Clark gives you a pleading look, frowning and motioning you forward again. You know that look, you’ve been on the receiving end of it for years now. He’s clearly not going to let go of whatever he was badgering you about this morning.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” You call out, not bothering raising your hand. The old bat’s half-blind, you doubt she’d see it anyway.

She answers without even bothering to turn around and face you. “If you need to use the restroom, you do so before my class,” her shaky voice calls out with a huff.

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, stuffing your books in it as she turns back to the board. There’s no point in arguing with her, she’s never going to give in. You wait until she drops her eraser. The second she bends over to grab it, you’re bolting toward the door. Clark grabs your arm, dragging you behind him.

He makes a break for the end of the hall, blowing past the geometry class he’s meant to be in. He busts through the school doors and leads you quickly through the courtyard. “Clark,” you hiss, trying to hold back a laugh at the stupid grin on his face. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes alight with mischief, “Come on, you can’t tell me you actually want to listen to her rambling on about Shakespeare for an hour.”

You can’t argue with that, but he hasn’t done a jail bust for you in a while. Especially not during one of the few classes he shares with Lana. “No, I didn’t,” you pause as you realize he’s leading you to your car and not his truck. “Am I driving?”

“Truck didn’t start this morning,” he tells you shortly, not bothering with any further explanation. You swear you saw him drive in this morning but you could be wrong. It’s not like he’s the only kid driving his dad’s old busted truck in this town. “I’ll drive, though, you won’t know where we’re going.”

“Ominous,” you snark as he takes your hand in his, directing you toward the passenger door. Gentle hands push you up against the side of the car and he ducks down, leaning into your space. You crane your neck up, flushing slightly at the proximity. Any closer and you could kiss him.

“Well?” He questions softly, lips curling up in a half-smile that makes you want to melt. You blink, forgetting what you were doing before you notice his outstretched, open, palm. Swallowing thickly you take your keys out of your bag and place them in his hand. “Thanks,” he ducks down, soft lips pressed against your cheek before rounding the front of the car.

Your hand drifts toward your cheek, a bewildered smile on your face as you try and regulate your breathing. “What the hell?” You mutter, shaking your head slightly. Turning around, you open the car door and slip into the passenger seat.

Clark greets you with a grin, scooping your hand up in his as he pulls out of the school parking lot. You don’t want to think about the trouble you’re going to be in tomorrow, all you can focus on is how good Clark’s hand feels in yours.

“I’m really starting to feel like I’m getting kidnapped,” you joke, head tilting to look out the window. The golden fields stretch endlessly, rolling past in waves as the car gets further from town. Houses become scarce, replaced by sprawling farmland and grazing cattle. The further you go, the more isolated you feel.

Clark chuckles, but there’s something off about the sound, a slight wheeze, a strain where there wasn’t before. His face crumples and he turns away from you, his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel from his tight grip.

“Are you okay?” You reach instinctively toward him but he jerks his hand back. You gasp, jumping back when you catch a glimpse of his face. It ripples, the skin shifting unnaturally, as if something beneath it is struggling to break free.

“Oh no,” Clark groans, voice strained. His entire body spasms and his hands slip from the wheel. The car lurches violently to the side, tires screeching against the pavement. Panic surges through you, hands bracing against the door as you shout his name.

He curls into himself, muscles seizing, leaving the car veering out of control. The telephone pole ahead rushes toward you, growing larger by the second. You throw yourself forward, grasping at the wheel, desperately trying to steer, but Clark’s foot slams against the gas instead of the brake.

Everything happens too fast. A blur flashes in front of the windshield. Then, a sudden stop. Your body flies forward, arms bracing against the dashboard as your head whips forward and back, pain rattling through your spine.

You whine in discomfort, slowly sitting up and trying to take in your surroundings. The passenger door is ripped open. You flinch, recoiling instinctively and sending a shock of pain down your body. Your breath stutters as someone ducks their head inside, a startling familiar pair of blue eyes find yours.

“Clark?” You whisper, gaze flicking to the seat beside you where Clark still sits, doubled over, his breathing ragged.

The Clark outside the car reaches in and gently pulls you out. Warm, calloused hands skate carefully over your arms and shoulders. He cups the back of your neck, tilting your head up, thumbs gently smoothing over your jaw as he looks you over.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His voice is soft, thick with concern. His eyes briefly leave yours to double check you for any injuries he might have missed.

Your heart pounds. This isn’t possible. You must be concussed. You blink rapidly still struggling to wrap your head around the whole two Clark’s thing when the second one stumbles out of the car.

He steps are uneven as he rounds the fender, his entire body shaking. Your rescuer moves swiftly, placing himself between you and the other Clark. He shields you, broad shoulders tense, protective to a fault. Must be the real one. Right? You rub your aching head and frown.

“What were you going to do with her?” The one in front of you barks the question out, his voice sharp and edged with something dangerous.

“I just,” the other one keels over, cutting himself off with a pained groan and shaking his head. “Wanted to get away,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forcing himself straight again.

“And you had to take her with you?”

“What’s going on?” You jut in, stepping back from both of them. Facing them, you see the same wounded expression reflected on both faces. Whichever is the fake, he’s certainly mastered the puppy dog look.

Your rescuer tries to take a step forward but you throw your hand up, keeping them both at bay until you know what’s going on. He sighs and glances over at his shoulder at the other one. “How long have you been able to do this?”

It's like they start a conversation in the middle and you’re completely lost. “Last year, I never saw a use for it and it was too much of a pain. But then I realized,” he looks at you, face contorting. “You would never go for a guy like me. You couldn’t. You were too wrapped up in him,” he spits the word out with venom, nodding toward the Clark you know has to be the real one.

“You love him and that stupid all-American smile.” He chuckles, but it breaks off into a groan as he doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach. He drops to his knees and moans through clenched teeth, clutching at his face as he folds over. The longer black hair shrinks to a dull brown, broad shoulders slimming as the clothes he wears hang loose on him.

The illusion shatters, “Oh, God, Blake?” You gasp out, taking one step toward him. He shakes his head and you stop as Clark grabs your elbow. You glance up at him but he just shoots you a soft look that has you rooted to the spot.

“I’ve been in love with you since freshman year,” Blake chuckles, still sounding like every word hurts. “If only I figured it out earlier, it’s always going to be him. I never had a chance, did I?” His gaze flickers toward Clark before he collapses to the pavement.

You both go running toward Blake. Pressing your trembling fingers to his neck, you let out a sigh of relief when you feel his faint heartbeat.

“We need to get him to a hospital, fast.” You lean back from Blake, looking around for Clark’s truck, confused when you don’t see it. “Dammit, Clark, where's the truck?”

He flushes, shaking his head, “I didn’t bring it.”

You frown, “What’re you talking about?”

He glances toward Blake, the rise and fall of his chest steadily slowing. When he looks back at you his expression is unreadable, an intensity to it that you’ve never seen before. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always,” you tell him without missing a beat. He gives you a small smile but it lacks the usual warmth.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” You glare at him but he just shakes his head.

“Please,” he looks close to begging and the pulse under your grip is getting weaker. Swallowing down your confusion you close your eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I’ll be back.”

You frown, feeling a rough breeze blow back your hair as your eyes shoot open. But the spot in front of you is empty and the body under your hand has disappeared. Getting to your feet, you spin in one slow circle. There’s nothing out here except golden fields, your totaled car, and you. All alone.

Clark eventually came back for you. His truck rolling into view after being on your own for half an hour. You hadn’t talked to him the whole ride back to town, too shocked by everything that had happened.

He carried the conversation for the both of you, offering a brief explanation that only confused you more. Blake had apparently been one of the meteor freaks, somehow being exposed to it when it had left a crater in your town.

But Clark didn’t tell you how he made it across the highway and to the hospital in under five minutes with no car. He didn’t tell you anything that actually mattered. So, you told him to drop you off at home and you haven’t seen him in a week.

Chloe had called you once during your self-induced isolation, just to tell you that she’d driven by Blake’s house. Apparently the entire place looked like it had been cleaned out. No sign of him or his parents anywhere. You wish you could say you care, but you don’t. You’re almost grateful he’s gone. Not only did he reveal your long held secret infatuation to Clark, he’d clearly had ill intentions as he tried to take you out of town.

Your Nokia nearly buzzes itself off your nightstand as you set your book to the side and look at the all-too familiar contact.

Clarkie

The stupid nickname you’d given him in middle school lights up the small screen and you let out a rough sigh, watching as it rings and rings before finally quieting. The screen goes dark before lighting up once more as his ringtone fills the silence of your room. He doesn’t give up easily, you have to give him that.

You’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face him. Not now that he knows about your feelings for him. There’s no hiding what Blake so plainly laid out for him. You sink into the comforts of the pillows on your bed and wonder if you could just live here forever.

Something knocks against your window and you ignore it as nothing more than a branch from the tree. It’s not much longer before it happens again and you rip your hands off your face and are forced to sit up. Your phone rings once more and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that you know exactly who waits outside your window.

“You can’t hide forever,” comes an annoying cheerful voice from outside. You force yourself off your bed and slink toward your window. Sure enough, Clark waits below it, a boyish grin poised on his face as he looks up at you. As much as you’re avoiding him, it’s plain cruel to just leave him outside.

Reluctantly, you open your window and he’s quick to climb your tree. You back up as he slots his broad frame through and into your room. He lets out a short huff of breath and straightens up, giving you a sheepish smile.

Taking a seat on your bed, you find it a tad difficult to look at him. Clark sucks in a deep breath and grabs your desk chair. He straddles it, resting on the back of it and staring at you until you feel like he’s going to burn holes into the side of your face.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You hum and shrug, tucking a loose wave behind your ear. “I’ve been sick,” you lie, briefly looking up. The intense way he’s looking at you leaves you breathless and you have to take in a slow breath so your heart doesn’t kick up too much.

“I want to tell you something.” Your head shoots up, concern lacing through you at the grave tone of his words. He looks away from you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I want to ask you something first. Is, uh,” he chuckles a little and licks his lips, a nervous tick he’s never been able to kick. “Is all that stuff that Blake said true?”

Your stomach drops, burying your face in your hands, you let out a low groan. “Oh, god,” you suck in a sharp breath, unable to look at him as heat flushes through you.

Lying is always an option. It’s a poor option, but it’s there. Maybe, if you just lied straight through your teeth he would drop it and leave you alone. But you’ve been hiding this for so long, tucked so tightly to your chest, it would be a relief to finally be unburdened of the truth.

“Yes,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him, don’t want to face the truth of his rejection. Clark has been your best friend since you could walk, losing him over this stupid crush would destroy you.

The silence drags on for too long and you feel the anxiety calling its way around you. Warmth envelops your hands and calloused palms draw them away from your face.

You peek one eye open to find Clark kneeling before you, a soft smile on his face. “You better not be laughing at me, Kent.”

A small chuckle slips through his lips and you slap at his shoulder. He catches your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m not, I promise. I wish you’d told me.”

“Why? So I could ruin our friendship faster?” You snark.

“No, so I could do this,” he darts forward, soft lips capturing yours. You freeze up, eyes wide as his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer.

There’s a brief moment of shock where you’re completely frozen. But then you feel the way his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. And you find yourself melting into the feeling of his embrace, eyes closing as you slowly open up to him. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying themselves in the soft waves of his hair.

The kiss itself is gentle, chaste almost. But it warms you from the inside out, makes you feel like you’re going to be nothing but a puddle of goo the longer he holds you. When he pulls back, he drags it out, lips lingering as long as they can.

You’re slow to recover, eyes glazed over as you stare at him. He seems just as shocked, like he hadn’t expected to do that. Of course, you say the first thing that comes to mind instead of just shutting up and enjoying the moment. “What about Lana?” You blurt out, wincing the second it leaves your mouth.

He frowns at you and shrugs, “What about her?”

“You’ve been blowing me off for months for her. We go to her shop every day just so you can stare at her. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly discovered feelings for me. I won’t be your backup, Clark.”

He shakes his head vehemently, looking almost offended by the idea. “What? No. Of course you’re not,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you before sinking back on his heels with a huff. “Look, I wasn’t ditching you for her, I can explain all that,” he pauses and then quickly adds, “later.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and he reaches up, taking your hands in his. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. But the most important thing is that I am completely over Lana.”

“Really?” You question, tone harsh but bordering almost on teasing. “You look at all your friends like that?”

He shakes his head, “No,” he pauses, “just you,” he adds with a cheeky smirk. You roll your eyes and shake your head, looking away from him. “Whatever you thought you saw between us, it was only on her end. I swear, it’s been you for a long time.”

You look away, but he��s not accepting that, tilting your chin to face him once more. “It’s always been you,” he murmurs, voice steady, certain.

Your breath hitches, heart stuttering in your chest. Maybe this is real. Maybe it’s been you that’s been the oblivious idiot.

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then prove it.”

His smile is slow, confident, and this time when he leans in you don’t hesitate to meet him halfway.

2K notes · View notes

rafesangelita · 1 year ago

Text

♡ what was supposed to be a fun evening with sarah, turned into a fun evening with rafe instead..

warnings: best friend’s brother, heavyyy flirting, teasing, tiny game of truth or dare, heavy petting, slight dry humping, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

a/n: mini series masterlist can be found here. all notes and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

wc: 2.7k

[7:13 PM] sarah <3: sorry babes something came up so i won’t be back home till later. i’ll see you!

you stared down at the text, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. so much for watching the sunset on the druthers. you typed a quick response, about to turn around and make your way back home before the front door opened. “you trying to break in, y/n?” rafe gave you a once-over, his eyes lingering on your slightly exposed cleavage. you swallowed, shaking your head. “no, i was just leaving actually.” you smiled softly, your cheeks heating at his intimidating stare.

“why don’t you stay?” he moved over, pushing the door wide open. “i better not, sarah isn’t here—” he stepped out. “she never is, she’s too busy playing poor girl on the other side of the island.” you raised your eyebrows at this. “what do you mean?” you laughed, giving him your full attention. rafe gasped, obviously taunting you at how clueless you were. “she didn’t tell you? she’s seeing some guy named john b and hanging out with all of his friends,” rafe leaned in, “kie included.” he towered over you, the height difference enough to make any girl nervous.

focusing back on his words, you were quick to shut him down. “her and kie haven’t talked in years, that makes no sense? and she’s with topper, why on earth would she be seeing someone else?” without telling me about it, you wanted to add. “beats me.” he shrugged, swinging an arm around your shoulders, walking both of you inside. “what did you two have planned?” he kicked the door shut, leading you to the living room. “uhm, we were gonna watch the sun go down on the druthers.” you put your backpack down, rafe taking a seat in front of you.

“that’s the girliest shit i ever heard.” you rolled your eyes, stepping away from him. “of course you’d say that, your idea of fun includes getting drunk and jumping off rooftops.” rafe threw his head back in laughter. “look at you! if i would’ve known you had a mouth on you, i’d provoke you more.” you couldn’t help laughing along, shaking your head as you looked down at your phone. “well it’s kind of pointless now, the sun sets in like fifteen minutes,” you sighed, “i’m gonna head out now, tell sarah to give me a call?” rafe stopped you just as you were picking up your bag.

“i could take you on the druthers..” you paused, quickly declining. “no, don’t worry about it! me and sarah could always save it for another day.” you waved him off, rafe shooting up from the couch. taking your bag from the floor, you followed rafe outside, who ignored every advance of yours to get your bag back. “rafe! really it’s fine please give me my stuff.” you two walked down the dock, rafe turning around to face you. “sarah isn’t going to uphold any plans with you, just get on the boat.” he stepped on first, extending a hand.

“will you give me my bag if i do?” you watched as rafe tossed it behind him. “yeah, but you’re going to have to get on in order to get it.” you smiled, your heart racing as your eyes danced with his shiny blue ones. you took his hand, jumping onto the boat. rafe held onto you a couple seconds longer before starting it up. you’ve been on the druthers plenty of times before, your favorite spot being on the deck, out looking the water. you two fell into a comfortable silence as rafe guided the boat further out, the wind blowing through your hair.. and a little through your sundress.

you looked up, rafe not moving his eyes from where you sat. a part of you felt like you’d regret this later, but you couldn’t find it in you to care enough. slowly bunching up the fabric of your dress, you shivered as it slipped down your hips, and soon enough down your legs. obviously, you were wearing a bikini underneath, but it didn’t stop rafe from swiping his bottom lip with his tongue. minutes later, rafe stepped down, the boat coasting slowly in the marsh. “i guess this isn’t so bad.” rafe grabbed a beer from inside the deck, taking the cap off with his teeth.

“you want one?” he gestured the bottle towards you, scoffing when you shook your head. “that’s gross, no thanks.” you crossed your arms over your chest, your profound confidence dwindling away with each second he stood next to you. as if sensing how shy you were becoming, he handed you the beer, discarding his shirt, revealing to you his perfect physique. god, this was so wrong. here you were, with your best friends brother, both of you in nothing but flimsy pieces of clothing, watching the sunset. “just take a sip.” he sat down, pulling you next to him. “rafe-” he cut you off, “come on, what can one swig do?” he leaned in, his breath fanning your cheeks.

“come on, for me?” that should’ve been the last possible reason to drink, but you found yourself doing it anyways, immediately clearing your throat of the bitter taste. rafe laughed, taking a drink right after you. maybe it was because your lips were just wrapped around the same rim, but watching rafe drink from the same glass as you made your stomach flip in excitement. drawing your attention away from him, you looked at the sky, the orange and purple hues casting a beautiful glow out on the water. “sarah’s missing out right now.” you heard rafe say. “i know, it’s beautiful out here.” you smiled.

“yeah, it is.” he kept his eyes on you, his fingers coming out to move your hair out of your face. you glanced at him, taking the beer. “i guess we could share it now.” you shrugged. he nodded, his hand settling on your thigh. you don’t know why you felt like a giddy school girl talking to her crush for the first time, because you definitely weren’t, you were just two years younger than rafe. “truth or dare?” rafe leaned in closer now, his breath fanning your neck. going with the safe option as always, rafe shook his head when you muttered ‘truth’.

“you’re boring.” he tilted his head at you as you hit his shoulder playfully. “no, i’m not. there’s just not many dares you can do on a boat.” you laughed. rafe took his time admiring your rather soft features. he liked the natural shape of your cupid’s bow on your lips, he especially liked how flustered you became once you caught him staring. “there’s a lot of things you can do on a boat.” his voice dropped a few octaves, your breath stuttering lightly. rafe wasn’t a stranger, you knew where he was heading with this, but you didn’t want him to stop.

“okay.. dare.” you watched rafe’s eyes light up, your chest swelling with pride. he looked around, “i dare you to show me what you have in your bag.” rafe watched you get up, staring at your ass when you bent down to grab your backpack from the corner. “alright..” you unzipped it slowly, plopping it down on his lap. “charger, toothbrush, hair brush, pajamas, socks-” rafe grabbed something at the bottom, holding them up to you. “and these?” he ran his thumb over the pink lace, a smug grin adorning his lips. “rafe!” you screamed, reaching out to snatch your underwears.

he got up, putting his arm in the air so you couldn’t reach them. jumping while wearing a bikini that barely did anything to support your tits wasn’t the smartest idea, but neither was letting rafe hold your panties. “rafe, seriously!” you laughed, both of you stumbling inside the lower part of the boat. he pushed you softly, enough for you to flop down on the couch with a huff. holding your face in your hands, you sighed in defeat. “this is embarrassing, please give them back.” rafe replied with a quick, ‘alright, alright.’ before making you look up at him. stuffing the lacy material in his pocket, he got closer to you, your face practically lined up with his waistline.

“get them.” rafe’s stared at you intensely as you hesitantly reached into his pocket, your heart pounding at the compromising position. refusing to look straight ahead at his navel, you closed your eyes, pausing when you felt the slight touch of something really hard. rafe hissed, his hand cupping your chin aggressively. “i-i’m sorry!” you attempted to get up, rafe pushing you down before you could go anywhere. “i know you’re not stupid,” he hovered above you, his large arms caging you in. “i didn’t mean to,” you scrambled, trying to get your words out so you didn’t look like such a mess.

“i was just trying to—”

“i wanted you to do that.” rafe ran a finger down your jaw, pecking your chin as you rubbed your thighs together at his revelation. “what?” you looked up at him, doe eyed and flustered. “what?” he mocked your voice, laughing darkly. “do you really think i’m gonna fall for that innocent shit?” rafe shook his head. “what are you talking about?” playing dumb was the last bit of reserve you had left. without warning, he cupped your pussy, making you let out a yelp as he pushed your bottoms to the side to run his fingers between your folds. “this is what i’m talking about.” rafe held up his fingers, your wetness glistening under the soft yellow lighting of the boat.

“you don’t have to be ashamed about it.” you watched as rafe took his fingers into his mouth. “sweet just like i thought.” he licked his lips. “i like this too, can’t you feel what you’re doing to me?” rafe ground his short-clad erection right where you needed him most, both of you moaning at the friction. like an icecream cone in the middle of summer, you felt yourself melting away into nothing as rafe trailed kisses up your neck, finally settling on your lips. you were hesitant, but kissed him back nonetheless, your hands coming up to rest on both sides of his face.

“wait,” you stopped him, “we can’t do this rafe.” the guilt was already eating you alive, what kind of best friend were you?. “says who?” he adjusted himself between your legs, leaning his weight on your lower half. your eyes fluttered shut, your clit pressing against the bulge in his cargo’s. “if this is about sarah, you shouldn’t have to worry about nothing, do you really think she’d care after all this time? she’s focused elsewhere.” he whispered in your ear, stroking your hair as he did so. “don’t worry about her, alright?” you nodded, all self control leaving your body once rafe pulled down the flimsy straps of your top, revealing the prettiest set of tits he’s ever seen.

“fuck,” he sat back on his heels admiring you underneath him, “how come we haven’t done this sooner?” he picked up your leg, landing a kiss on your ankle. fingers working at the strings of your bottoms, you couldn’t help shying away from him now that you were fully naked before him. “getting shy?” you watched with labored breaths as rafe unbuttoned his shorts, swallowing nervously when you saw his cock straining against his boxers. “no,” you whispered, sitting up to kiss him again. your heart beamed when you felt him smile against your lips, both of you moving eagerly as he pulled you onto his lap, dragging your hips against his hard on.

rafe couldn’t believe this was finally happening. one day, you were his sister’s best friend, strictly off limits, and now that sarah pretty much fucked up your friendship, he had you practically writhing with need. “please,” hearing you beg for his cock was rafe’s new favorite song, the urge to fuck you to tears becoming this primal desire. he didn’t care that he didn’t have any condoms, and he liked that you didn’t seem to care either. pulling you against his chest, rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, the other hand guiding himself to your entrance.

“you sure?” he gazed into your eyes, waiting for any kind of hesitation. answering his question, you lowered yourself onto his cock, gasping at the unfamiliar stretch. rafe cursed, both of you staying still for a moment. “you feel so fucking good,” he blinked, looking up at the ceiling as you took hold of his shoulders, leaving kisses on his chest until you clenched around him, a strangled sound leaving his mouth. “please fuck me, rafe.” you whined, your head falling onto his shoulder. with a kiss to your temple, he held you in place, thrusting up into you. you cried out, rafe grunting with every stroke of your soaked pussy.

you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you probably looked right now. with rafe fucking you at an unforgiving pace, you felt like you’d bounce off of him at any moment. “goddamnit, y/n,” he slowed down, his chest falling and rising with each breath, “i don’t think i ever want to stop.” rafe laughed, his tongue circling around your nipple, the added pleasure making you mewl. “l-let me-” you couldn’t get the rest of the words out, instead you got up, pushing rafe down so he was laying flat on the couch. “what are you- fuck!” you sunk onto him once more, riding him as his eyebrows knitted together.

“you’re killing me right now.” his nails dug into your thighs, the pain shooting straight to your core. pushing your weight on his chest, you kept a steady rhythm, looking down at rafe as he watched your cunt swallow him whole. “rafe, i’m close!” you winced, your clit hitting his pubic bone. he flipped you over, pinning your thighs down in order to pound into you even deeper. your eyes rolled back at the sudden pressure you felt, the foreign feeling making you lose your breath.

“wait i have to pee,” you tried to push rafe away but he shushed you, splaying a hand over your lower stomach, “no you don’t.” rafe began rubbing circles on your clit, your orgasm hitting you all at once. your mouth was open but there was no sound coming out, the only indication being the violent shaking of your legs. you reached out for rafe, a scream leaving your lips as he continued his movements, rubbing your clit even faster now. “look down, pretty girl, look at the mess you made.” your vision was blurry but you listened to him nonetheless, his lower half dripping with your juices.

“i’m sorry.” you whimpered, your voice shaky as overstimulation started setting in. rafe leaned down, kissing you harshly, “don’t apologize for that.” he shook his head. “hurts, rafe.” he laced his fingers with yours. “give me one more baby, i’m so close.” your eyes welled up with tears, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. with rafe hitting that soft spot inside you, it didn’t take long before you both came together, his face buried in your neck. you stayed in the same position for what felt like forever, trying to catch your breath.

“you okay?” he kissed your shoulder, running his hand down your side. “yes, i’m alright.” you smiled, both of you wincing as he pulled out. “i don’t think i could move.” you turned around, both of you blinking lazily. “well.. we don’t really have to go anywhere.” he leaned in, kissing you softly. you let him pull you close, his warmth providing you comfort. “no, but,” you looked down, “i need to clean up.” your cheeks flushed. “yeah? so do i.” you were brought back to earlier, embarrassment sinking in. “rafe i never did that before, i told you i was sorry!” you hid your face from him.

“why are you apologizing? that just means i did something right.” he got up, grabbing the long forgotten panties from the pocket of his discarded shorts. “i guess these came in handy, huh?” he walked over to you. “come on, let’s shower. we’ll share another beer and look at the stars afterwards, sound good?” he pulled you up, your legs feeling like jelly. giving him a grin, he looked at you expectedly. “well?” rafe supported you against his large frame.

“that’s the girliest shit i ever heard.” you mocked him from earlier, bursting out into laughter as he dragged you to the small bathroom.

3K notes · View notes

crowdedimagines · 2 months ago

Text

Tailspin - Bradley Bradshaw

summary: summary: Bradley is a single dad and his new neighbor catches his eye. The only thing is, she might have more baggage than what's in the moving truck...

🤭8.7K omg my baby single dad Bradley and neighbor!yn what else could a girl want?Warnings: domestic violence, stalking, use of Y/n

series list

✿

The loud and clunky engine of the moving truck breaks up the usually peaceful houses that sit all in a row this Saturday afternoon in Southport, California. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone once a shiny red sold sign got slapped on the sale sign for the old McCallum property. They knew it would be inevitable that someone new would be joining their neighborhood.

Y/n is trying to find the driveway to the house that she’s only seen in person once. Yesterday as a matter of fact when she made the deposit and signed all the paperwork. She manages to park and make her way around to the back of the truck when she sees a young girl standing at the end of her driveway, still on the sidewalk.

“Hi.” The little girl calls out. She has a piece of chalk in one hand and a bucket with twenty different colors in the other.

“Hi there.” Y/n smiles, she reaches back to swing the lock on the truck and push the large door open to reveal all of her belongings. Thankfully most things look like they made it intact and she didn’t send anything flying around back there.

“Did you just move here?” The young girl asks. She doesn’t move her feet from where they are planted on the sidewalk, but leans in to look at all of the stuff in the truck.

“I did-”

“Did you know I live next door?” The little girl interrupts, taking a few steps closer onto her driveway. She points to the house sitting to the right of where they stand.

“No.” The woman pauses to chuckle, “I did not know that.”

“Did you come all by yourself?” The young girl asks another question and smiles brightly at the woman in front of her.

“Yeah.” The woman continues to smile down at the curious young girl. She sees her golden curls that sit wildly in a ponytail on the top of her head. Most of it is escaping the small pink tie, Y/n can tell she’s spent a fair amount of time today pushing the stray curls back out of her face.

“That’s pretty cool.” The little girl smiles finally, “My daddy would never let me do that.”

“No, probably not.” Y/n squats down next to the girl to be at eye level, “Once you’re an adult though, you can do whatever you want. That’s the fun part.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Her grin grows wider.

“You must be an artist.” Y/n nods to the chalk still in hand.

“Yeah, I am.” The girl attempts to push the loose curls back away from her face, streaking a pale line of pink chalk across her face making Y/n bite back a laugh. “I’m starting the sidewalk because I filled up the driveway.”

“Do your parents know you’re over here?” Y/n asks, looking around to see who the girl could belong to. How far has she strayed to come say hello.

“My dad is in the backyard with my brother, they’re working on a new swing set. ”

“Maybe we should get you back over there-”

“Where did you come from?” The young girl asks yet another question before Y/n can finish her question.

“Sadie!” A voice calls loudly making them both look up. A tall man with a matching set of curls is making his way around the neighboring house up to the front yard. “Bug, what did I say about leaving the yard?”

He holds his hands up outstretched with concern as he makes his way down the driveway to the sidewalk to make his way over to join them.

Truth be told, Bradley had heard the loud vehicle enter the neighborhood and a few minutes later when he looked around and his youngest was out of sight he knew where she was likely exploring.

“I wanted to come over to meet her.” Sadie explains while she looks back up to the woman standing next to them with an amused smile, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” She looks up to Bradley and reaches out a hand out to introduce herself to the man in front of her, “Y/n Y/LN, I just moved in. Or at least I'm about to start the move in.”

She nods to the house behind her and Bradley reaches out to shake her hand.

“Bradley Bradshaw.” His hand is significantly bigger than hers, rough with life from work but still warm.

“Nice to meet you.” She covers her face from the sun for a second so she can look at the tall man in front of her.

“So someone finally decides to tackle the McCallum house.” Bradley smiles, “It’s a beautiful property.”

“Thank you.” She pushes her hands in her back pockets and forces herself to look away and admire the view instead. The beachfront property is close enough to the water that they can hear the waves. “It’s going to be quite the project.”

“You tackling it alone?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Trying to. We’ll see how long until I throw in the towel and hire out. This is my summer project so I’ll be pretty focused on it.”

“Where’d you move from?” He asks, Sadie grows bored with the conversation and plops down on the ground between the two and begins drawing a flower with the same pink chalk in hand. Now that the adults are talking she forgets that she had been the one to ask that question initially.

“Sadie, this isn’t our driveway. You need to ask first.” Bradley gently reminds.

“Sorry-”

“It’s okay, Sadie.” Y/n crouches down next to her again. “Maybe I could get some of your beautiful artwork right here.”

She points to the area they stand in and Sadie quickly goes back to work.

“I’m from New York City actually.” She stands back up to look at him while answering his previous question.

“Wow, that’s a complete change of pace. You do realize Southport is about as quiet as it gets, right? I think we only have five stop lights.” Bradley chuckles.

“We’re less than an hour away from San Diego, so if I never need to get my city fix I can head down there.”

“I know that drive well, I actually moved here to Southport from San Diego. I was a pilot in the Navy and taught at Top Gun down there.”

“Oh wow.” Her face shows how impressed she is, “Are you still in the Navy then?”

“No, actually I got out right after she was born.” He gestures down to the girl seated below, she’s working on a bee now. “I actually run the fire department here in Southport.”

“How often do you see anything crazy in this town?” She asks, trying not to focus too much on how tight his tee shirt is stretching across his biceps.

“I will say there are more cats stuck in trees than fires most days, but I’m okay with that.”

“Good. I’m sure you got your fill of crazy being a pilot.”

Is there a Mrs. Bradshaw? She finds it hard to believe that a man that looks like this could possibly be single, but the way he’s looking at her makes her think otherwise. Is it really possible he’s sleazy enough to flirt with the new neighbor in front of his daughter if he’s married?

“I could tell some stories, that's for sure. In fact-”

“Dad!”

They all pick up their heads to see another member of the family standing in the driveway. The boy must be Sadie’s brother, she had mentioned him earlier. Y/n would guess that he’s around ten and Sadie seems around five years old. He is a total copy and paste of his dad standing in front of her.

“Bud, we’ll be right back over. Why don’t you go ahead and head in and get washed up.” He doesn’t respond to Bradley, but just turns around and takes off for the front door.

“Well I’m Bradley and you’ve already met my daughter who is going to give me grey hair before I can turn forty.” He grins making Y/n laugh. He’s even more delicious up close, and Y/n gives herself a second to picture him as a silver fox. It still works.

“Yeah, she was the welcoming party for the neighborhood. It was very much appreciated.” She reaches down to fistbump the girl making her giggle.

“Yeah, she’s a stray who wanders the neighborhood even though she knows she’s not supposed to.” He scolds, reminding her while she guiltily looks away. “If she ever comes bugging you, feel free to send her in the direction of home!”

“I don’t know, I’ll never turn down free labor.” Y/n jokes, turning back towards the truck to start unloading things.

“Well, if you ever need any help with anything I’m just next door.” His eyes rake down her figure and she can tell he does it without thinking when his eyes widen. Sadie continues her own grin obliviously standing between the two of them.

“Let’s get you washed up Bug.” Bradley hoists her up onto his shoulder and walks in the direction of his own driveway. “It was great to meet you, Y/n. Welcome to Southport.”

“Nice to meet you Y/n.” Sadie echos with giggles from the top of her dads shoulder.

“Bye guys!” She waves and makes her way back to the truck ready to get started on hauling everything inside.

✿

It was early afternoon when she pulled up to the house and it’s dark out by the time she emptied the entire truck. Doing a close walkthrough of everything it’s alarming how much work the house really needs. Most of it is cosmetic, but some things she knows she’ll need more than a Youtube video to accomplish. She doesn’t have a car yet, but Southport is a small enough town she can walk the short distance into town when she needs things. She meets her neighbor on the other side of her house that morning before leaving. Iris is in her seventies and has lived there for the past forty years. She welcomes her onto the porch for some lemonade.

“So what brings you to Southport?” The lady asks, taking in the younger woman.

“I needed a change of scenery and Southport was the perfect little beach town to settle into. I was looking for something a little quieter than New York.” Y/n admits.

“Well, something tells me there’s more to that story, but we can table it for a rainy day. Here in Southport you definitely found quiet.” Iris rocks her chair looking out to the neighborhood, “Although it’s more exciting now that you’re here!”

“I don’t know about that.” She shakes her head, still reeling over the fact she wants more information. Information Y/n doesn’t need to be handing out to her new neighbors, this is her fresh start. “Trust me, you’ll be the talk of the town! I see that you’ve already met Bradley.”

“Yes, his daughter was actually first on the scene for the small town gossip.” Y/n teases.

“Isn’t Bradley something?” Iris wags her eyebrows causing Y/n to roll her eyes, “He’s available.”

“He is?”

Iris nods and explains the story of the boy next door. Five years ago his wife Anna passed away from cancer. She was pregnant with Sadie and barely made it long enough to deliver. After that happened, Bradley moved their family to the quieter town where he felt he could be a single dad. He’s spent the past five years here in Southport and is now the fire chief for SFD. Y/n never would’ve guessed that Sadie had lost her mom with how bubbly she was.

Iris continues to tell her more about the town, the things she should know while they finish their lemonade. Y/n decides to return the empty moving truck and pick up some things at the hardware store so she can get started on some of the projects. She makes laps and laps through the hardware store and becomes well acquainted with Hank who runs it. Hank has had the store for several years and she’s asked nearly a dozen questions and he’s walked her through every single one thoroughly.

The bell chimes as the door swings open to the small shop. She picks up her head only to meet the familiar brown eyes of her neighbor Bradley. Small town indeed.

“Hey neighbor.” He pulls his sunglasses off and puts them on top of his head while walking up to her.

“Hey, how do you feel about a yellow kitchen?” She holds up a paint sample of a bright yellow. The sample shows six shades, but her finger points to a soft butter yellow.

“Your kitchen faces out to the beach, right?” He leans against her shopping cart, looking over her cart and the various things in it. “That’ll be bright with the sun reflecting out on the water.”

“That's kinda the point.” She squints down at the sample still in hand, “I was going for blinding.”

He snorts and looks up to the color again. The one she’s picked is by far the least horrendous of the options, but he’s still not convinced.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to see it to believe it.” He snorts.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ll just have to prove you wrong then.” She pushes her cart away, effectively nudging him with the cart. She makes her way up to the counter to order a gallon of that color and grab a gallon of primer as well. Bradley follows her to the counter and waits while she checks out for everything and Hank starts mixing her order.

“Hey, Hank.” Bradley greets as he steps up to the register.

“Bradley, I got your order in back! Just a second.” Hank leaves to go grab the order and he’s gone for a minute before he comes back with a large package of sidewalk chalk. Y/n grins while still waiting on her paint, but she knows exactly who the chalk is for.

“Here ya go!” Hank hands him the box, “Let me know when we need to order some more and I’ll bring it in.”

“Thanks Hank.” Bradley pays for the chalk before saying goodbye to them, waving to Y/n as he makes his way back out into the blazing California heat. Y/n is waiting for a few minutes for the paint, but Hank gives her extra stir sticks and throws in an edging tool for free to help her out.

“Where’s your car?” Bradley asks, looking around the parking lot that is vacant save for the Bronco he’s sitting in. She looks up from the sidewalk to see her neighbor has waited for her. The Bronco she’s seen in the driveway next door is running, and he’s sitting inside with the window down. His sunglasses are back on his face. She adjusts her grip with a can in each hand and a bag or two of supplies hooked on various fingers. “You need a ride?”

“I’m a big girl. I didn’t have a car in New York, but getting one is part of the summer project.” Her voice light and carrying a hint of humor.

“You’re going to need a car in this town if you’re gonna make it.” Bradley can barely stand it watching the sun beating down on her while she adjusts her grip again. His mother would smack him if she could see him sitting comfortably in the car while she’s beginning to sweat. She just needs to let him give her a ride home. It’s a hot day in Southport and home is at least a mile away. “Even if you city folk are too good for them.”

“Here I was thinking now that I’m out of the city I can have the luxury of a vehicle.” She teases, “But maybe not, you car people sound kinda judgy.”

Bradley laughs out an exhale through his nose. He has to give it to her, she’s got a little bite back which makes her even more intriguing. He would struggle to admit it, but the girl next door is the first person to pique his interest in years. He knew it the second he saw her crouched down next to his daughter with a gorgeous smile. This is something new to him, not something he’s felt at all in the past five years. It’s something Bradley didn’t have the time for. Two kids and a busy job kept him more than entertained, even if it meant going home to a cold bed. He watches her wave her hand as best she can with everything she’s holding before throwing a smile over her shoulder and continuing her walk through the parking lot.

“Let me give you a ride back.” He insists, swinging the door of the Bronco open to get out, he doesn’t want to let her get far. He waited long enough, but his mom seriously would roll over in her grave if he let her walk away. “You’re right on the way and it’s the least I can do for being so judgy. Especially for a neighbor.”

She pauses her steps and turns to see him already walking around the back to open his trunk. He leans against the back while she debates, her grip on the thin metal handle slips a little. The sun beating straight down on them isn’t helping her case. Her hands are sweating and it’s starting to dig in. He shrugs his shoulders, his mustache can’t block the slight smirk he’s maintained this entire interaction.

“Alright, I give. My hand is cramping.” She pivots to make her way back in his direction. Bradley meets her halfway to take the gallon of primer from her and load it with everything else into his trunk. He shuts it and quickly makes his way around to the passenger door to pull it open for her. She smiles and thanks him while climbing into the truck. She takes in her surroundings a bit once he shuts the door, the car smells like him. It’s almost overwhelming. There’s a tear in the leather that she runs a finger along on the bench seat, the vehicle is old but very well loved and maintained. She can see a booster seat in the back before Bradley climbs into the car and backs out of their spot.

Bradley knew the house she had moved into fairly well with it being right next door, he had checked it out when it listed and he was curious. It needed a lot of work. More work needed than the one he settled on next door, but he could argue she had a slightly better view. A larger stretch of beach for the larger house. Both houses back up to the water and sit on a popular stretch of beach for the small town. Houses on the beach needed extra love to stay nice, and with how long it sat on the market it’ll need a lot of it.

“So lots of plans for the house then?” Bradley asks, the windows are down letting in a breeze. The wind is the only other noise other than the radio that is still playing softly.

“This is the start really, I’m taking things as they come. I know renovations can be pretty unpredictable so I’m trying to take it one step at a time.” She admits, “I’m starting with the kitchen and first floor since it needs the most work.”

“You’re experienced in renovating then?” He asks, his eyes peek off the road in front of them to dart to her. He takes in her legs that are on full display in her shorts, her hand rests on the windows ledge wiggling with the breeze.

“Not at all.” She laughs as his eyes go wide, “I’ve barely picked up a screwdriver unless you count putting together Ikea furniture.”

“and you’re tackling that entire house by yourself?”

“You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m quite stubborn when it comes to getting my way-“

“Never would’ve guessed.” He mutters.

“What I mean is-“ she rolls her eyes, “When I set my mind to something I’ll achieve it. I can do this. I’m determined.”

“I actually have no doubt.” His voice is laced with sincerity and it makes her flush warm inside. She doesn’t know why it suddenly matters what her neighbor thinks of her project, but she’s happy someone else thinks she can do it.

“Thank you.”

The rest of the short drive is quiet, but it’s comfortable. Bradley wants the drive to last a little longer, but they approach their street faster than he would like. He backs into her driveway to help her unload everything.

“Thank you, I’m sure I would be sweating my ass off only halfway home by now.” She takes the can of primer from his hand and sets it down on the porch by her front door.

“Happy to.” He grins, taking a step backwards off her steps back onto the sidewalk while still looking up at her, “You’ll find that I can be very helpful.”

“You better watch out, I’ll take you up on it.” Her cheeks dust pink from his blatant flirting, but she’s enjoying the butterflies he’s giving her. It’s been a long time since a man has given her butterflies feeling so high school.

“I’m counting on it.” He nods and continues his walk back to the bronco to move it to his side of the white picket fence. She shakes her head but is unable to wipe the smile from her face even while she carries everything inside. Before she can pull the door shut she hears a voice call her name, she peeks her head out to see Iris is still sitting on her own front porch.

“Well that was awfully nice for him to give you a ride back.” Iris smiles into her lemonade taking a long sip.

“Iris, I’m starting to think you’re the cause for all the small town gossip.” She shakes her head with a smile, “I ran into him at the hardware store and I don’t have a car here yet.”

“Mhm, sure baby.” Iris nods and continues to rock slowly on the porch.

✿

For days Y/n sets off to work on the house and hit the ground running. She realizes in her research she really shouldn’t paint yet since she wants to resurface the cabinets. She learns how to do that, and after several trips to Hank she manages to sand them down, stain them, change her mind, sand them, restain them and fall in love. It took days but she's happy with the results.

She also spent an afternoon in the front yard cleaning it up. She was joined by Sadie who kept her company while covering her driveway in doodles.

“What else can I add?” Sadie asks. Today's theme was ocean so she’s managed to fill a lot of the space already with fish, coral, sharks, and everything else they can both think of.

“How about a sea turtle?” Y/n continues pulling at weeds trying to clean up some from the flower beds.

“Sea turtle!” Sadie shouts, loving the idea.

“Hey, ladies.”

Y/n picks up her head to see Bradley walking out towards them. Over the past week they have interacted a couple times. He had a busy stretch at the station where Y/n really didn’t see him or the Bronco at all for a few days. It was nice however for a couple days not really having to worry about the hot guy next door while being a sweaty mess. So much for that now.

“Hey.” They both call back.

“I’m embarrassed to say she escaped me long enough to have accomplished this much.” He looks over the expanse of driveway covered in pastel scribbles in vague fish shapes.

“Daddy, I think Miss Y/n knows more sharks than you.” Sadie doesn’t pick up her focus from the sea turtle she’s working on.

“No way!”

“Mhm, she knows what a tiger shark is too.”

“Wow-”

“Dad, I’m meeting Tanner at the fishing pier.” His son makes another appearance. In all of her interactions with Sadie and Bradley, he’s still a stranger to her. He doesn’t ever leave the beach or his bedroom according to Sadie.

“Nick, what time do you need to be back?” Bradley asks, turning to watch his son walk down the trail to the beach.

“Seven, Dad.”

“No later-”

“No later than 7:00pm for dinner. I know, Dad.” He continues his walk and Bradley simply shakes his head.

“Ten going on twenty.” Bradley jokes, breaking the tension. Sadie hadn’t even picked her head up so it would seem this isn’t out of the ordinary.

“I don’t even want to picture me talking back to my parents. I’m lucky we made it through my teenage years.” She smiles with a gentle laugh, “What about you? Is this some karmic debt for being a terrible teen?”

Bradley chuckles before diving into a few stories of his high school years and admits he probably gave his mom a few wrinkles before she passed. He also explains he didn’t know his dad long enough for that.

“How’d you haul the mulch here?” Bradley questions, changing the subject. He noticed the yard had been cleaned up, but only just noticed the mulch in the flower beds she had been working on before he came over.

“Iris let me take her car. Apparently she doesn't like driving much anymore.”

“I could’ve taken you.”

“Wanted to be my knight in shining armor again?” She asks with a confident laugh.

“Maybe.” He admits, “So, when do I get to see that yellow kitchen of yours?”

“Wanna see?” She takes off the gardening gloves. Sadie jumps to follow, finally setting down the chalk. Bradley wordlessly follows them both up the steps.

She pulls open the screen door that sits in front of her front door, it squeaks loudly as she pulls it back. Bradley reaches out to push it back and forth a few times.

“Sorry, I know it’s obnoxious.” She nods her head to invite them in anyway.

“Hold on, I can fix that.” He leaves the two girls on the porch briefly and walks over to his garage only coming back with a red toolbox. He opens and closes the door a few times again, looking at the hinges. Y/n shrugs to Sadie while they watch him work some magic with WD-40 and a screwdriver.

“That should do it.” Bradley takes a step back and pulls it back again, this time it’s silent as he moves it open and closed.

“Okay, you’re definitely getting recruited to help now.” Y/n beams and it makes Bradley smile too. He can’t remember the last time he was this happy to see someone else happy. Sure, he was a good person and liked when people were happy, but something was different about being the cause of her grin.

He follows her in and immediately Sadie takes off to explore. Bradley has to admit, it does already look nice in here. He’s sure just having furniture in the space helps from when he first saw it. It’s brighter in each room he walks through though, it would seem she’s primed all the walls, but there's a lack of yellow as he walks through the first floor.

“I haven’t gotten to the yellow quite yet, but it’s not because I’m scared to commit!”

“Yeah right-” Bradley smiles mischievously.

“No no, it just turns out you shouldn’t start with that if you have a lot else to do. I sanded and stained the cabinets though!”

She proudly poses in front of one and Bradley has to admit it looks nice. She hasn’t changed any of the house's character, but she’s refreshing the space.

“Okay, I’m impressed.”

“I would say that now I can start the yellow. In fact-” She grabs the gallon can off the floor and shakes it before cracking it open. Bradley picks Sadie up to rest on his hip and take a peek of the color.

“What do you think of it, Sadie?” Y/n asks, leaning against the counter eyeing the younger girl.

“I like it!” She cheers.

“I do too!” She nods her head to Bradley to prove her point.

“Congrats on having the same preferences as a five year old.” His voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She rolls her eyes and focuses her attention on Sadie, “Would you like to do me the honor of the first bit of paint on the wall?”

It takes a minute to get them set up with paint brushes and rollers. Bradley takes on the higher parts of the walls, working along the entire upper trim. Y/n helps Sadie get set up on a blank wall with a small brush and grabs a roller for herself. It goes fast with the two of them, Sadie also contributing on her wall.

“Can I hire your guys full time?” Y/n asks, taking a full step back to admire their work.

“Can’t afford me, babe.” Bradley teases.

“Yeah, me neither babe.” Sadie mimics her Dad causing everyone to break out in a laugh.

“Okay.” Y/n dramatically backs up into the archway between the kitchen and the living room. “It’s still drying, but what do we think?”

Sadie runs over to stand by her and take in the view as well, she waves over Bradley to do the same. He looks at the two girls standing there and how serious they’re both being. With his arms crossed over his chest he walks over to take in the kitchen and the brand new walls.

The kitchen has a large window that looks out on the deck and beyond to the ocean. The sun is shining bright today, but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t because the room is bright enough on its own. The stain on the cabinets compliment it well and warm up the place.

“I have to admit, it looks good.”

“Right?” Y/n cheers, she breaks out a few goofy dance moves before pulling Sadie around to spin with her.

“You have a lemon kitchen now!” Sadie keeps dancing, letting out a goofy laugh.

“A lemon kitchen?” Y/n’s jaw drops.

“What’s next?” Bradley asks, he paces around looking at everything.

“Pretty soon I’m tackling updating that bathroom,” She points to one down the hall, “I had a wonderful idea to open this up and round it off, but I have no idea how to do that. I don’t know if this is load bearing.”

She reaches up to the large square archway that goes between the kitchen and living room. Bradley reaches up to examine it a little. A rounded arch would look nice, and you would have a better view from the living room.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Sadie announces, Y/n points to the same door down the hall and tells her she’s more than welcomed to use it. She comes back to find Bradley inspecting the arch himself.

“I could help with that. I can’t today because I have to take that one to a dance class in a little bit.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She shakes her head, “That's a big project, helping me paint was already more than enough.”

“What if we make it a date?”

“A date?” She asks, laughing with a bit of shock. There have been flirty conversations when they interact, but she’s surprised he’s so forward.

“Unless you aren’t interested.” Bradley quickly deflects with a nervous laugh, “We haven’t really talked about if we’re both single and-”

“I’m single.” She smirks, it’s fun and so far it’s been rare to see Bradley unsure of anything, “and I’m interested.”

Bradley sighs in relief at her admission. It would make for an awkward couple of weeks living next door to the first woman he’s hit on since his wife passed.

“How about this-” He regains confidence now, “You provide beer and pizza, and I’ll bring over everything we need to do this.”

He points up to the arch and she nods to agree. Sadie comes back out and reminds him her dance class is soon and she still needs to go home to change. Bradley says he can get a babysitter for the next night and it’s a date.

✿

“Slight change of plans.” Y/n opens the door wider for Bradley and the two children standing in front of him. “My normal sitter got the flu so she couldn’t, so my friend Jake promised to help out, but the open problem is he’s also a firefighter and when I’m not there, he needs to be.”

Jake is one of his Navy buddies, Y/n remembers the name. He retired two years ago and made the move up here to the small town where his god daughter lives.

“That's okay.” Her voice light, “Happy you guys could still make it.”

“Nick, have you met Y/n?” Bradley asks.

“Hi.” He barely looks up from the switch in his hands. He couldn’t be less interested.

“Hey, Nick. Nice to meet you.”

Bradley has to nudge him to reciprocate the sentiment. He mutters a ‘yeah whatever’ before they both launch off to the couch while the couple lingers by the door.

“These are for you.” Bradley pulls a bouquet of yellow daisies from behind his back.

“Thank you.” She can’t help but smile widely. The yellow is perfect, and she’s pretty sure she’s unpacked a vase she can use for them. Bradley looks her over, scanning for any hint of irritation at his plus two for the night.

It wasn’t his plan at all, and he’s interested enough he was genuinely scared of scaring her off by doing this. She’s already been so good with Sadie. Deep down he knows that if she had a big reaction to this, she wouldn’t be the one for him. His children are a priority to him, it can’t hurt to know that from day one. She doesn’t seem upset at all.

Bradley heads back outside to get some of his tools needed and Y/n gets Sadie set up with Moana on the TV and Nick focuses on his switch still glued to his hands. She called for a pizza delivery one for them and adding a cheese too for the kids, Bradley didn’t even have to ask.

“So, Navy pilot turned fire chief?” She asks, reaching out for her bottle of beer. They’ve got everything set up and he told her the game plan for how they’ll do everything. She knows things about him, but they don’t know a lot about each other. Y/n has gotten more from Iris about him than himself other than cheeky comments.

“Yeah, I wanted to stay active. It would’ve been a big shift to go from that to a desk job.” He pulls down the piece of drywall he just cut off.

“Trust me, the muscles are appreciated.” She blatantly ogles him, causing him a rare blush.

“Thank you, thank you.” He nods in his spot, “Yeah, I started off volunteering, which turned into working full time, which turned into the old chief retiring last year.”

“Was the stache a requirement for the position?” She teases, he snorts out a laugh.

“No, I had it before, believe it or not.” He grins.

Building out the rounded arch is a little more extensive as a project and she’s glad she’s got Bradley’s help as he walks her through everything they're doing. It takes a few hours, a few different movies for the kids, but eventually they get almost done. The kids are both completely asleep on the couch by now, it’s gotten dark out.

“Okay, I think we need to cut this.” Y/n holds up the last piece of trim “You wanna cut this, please?”

She bats her eyelashes looking up at him, leaning in holding out the board. He’s already taught her how to make the cuts on the saw in his garage. She's on her fourth beer, and he’s on his third. He has to admit, renovating was never a good date idea but he’s pleasantly surprised at how well they work together.

“I can take care of it, but only if you promise to be impressed with my skills.”

“When can I see your other skills?” She teases, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt.

“God, you sure know how to make a project hard.” He sighs, taking a deep breath.

“Hard? I haven’t even gotten started w-” Bradley cuts her off with a single finger pressed to her lip.

“My children are in the next room.” He reminds.

“Oh my god.” She cowers into his chest, hiding from embarrassment causing him to shake around her in a laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m gonna go cut this.” He presses an affectionate kiss to her forehead before heading outside to his garage for the saw. By the time he comes back with everything cut to size her cheeks aren’t on fire anymore. He can see that she cleaned up the area for him to frame it out. He hits it with the nail gun quickly and the job is done.

He sits on her large island with her looking at the work they’ve completed.

“Hell of a job.” She reaches out to cheers her beer with his.

“This has to be one of the most unconventional dates I’ve ever been on.” Bradley admits, “That’s gotta be up there.”

“What? You mean you don't typically bring your whole family on first dates while you’re helping them remodel?”

She leans in to bump her shoulder into his teasing him.

“If my mom could see me now, she’d be kicking my ass.” He laughs with a shake of his head. He breaks his stare on the two kids sleeping on the couch to look over to her, “A lady deserves your full attention on a date.”

“I happened to very much like this date.” She bravely reaches out to connect their hands. His warm and enveloping hers as he runs his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand.

“I wanna go home dad.”

Both their heads snap up to see Nick is very much awake now. His glare focused on their intertwined hands, which Y/n slowly drops.

“Yeah, bud. Why don’t you head home and I’ll be right behind you with the princess there.”

Y/n smiles looking at the tiara on Sadie’s head while Nick makes his way out the front door.

“Ahh, I’m sorry about him.” Bradley sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he gets up from the counter, “He’s just-”

“Ten going on twenty.” Y/n smiles repeating his phrase from last week. Patting his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. I don’t wanna push any boundaries.”

“You aren’t. I can’t even explain how happy you’re making Sadie.” He rests his arms on the counter around where she’s still sitting. It's an intimate position but it’s comfortable, “I think she’s almost as obsessed with you as I am.”

Y/n fights the urge and fails to stop herself from running her fingers through his hair. He sighs in relief and leans in closer.

“I’m kind of obsessed with you too.” She whispers, leaning to brush her lips against his ear.

“You’re something else.” He mutters.

Bradley scoops Sadie up from her spot on the couch while Y/n cleans up the bottles they’ve littered all over her kitchen.

“Have a good night.” He smiles, pausing by the front door.

“You too.” She takes a few steps closer to them to say goodbye and open her front door.

“We do a movie night every Friday night. Do you want to come over tomorrow?” Bradley asks, hoping to continue his trend of seeing her everyday.

“I’ll be there.”

She didn’t let it be known that she was shocked he invited them over for a movie night. Y/n would say she’s gotten to know Bradley pretty well over the last couple of weeks, Sadie almost more so. Nick however has been a different story. Y/n hasn’t crossed the fence over to their house at all so far. Each of their interactions getting stronger than the last.

Bradley gets up early to work a twelve hour shift before coming home at 6 to get the house ready for her to come over and join them. Sadie was thrilled to find out about the special guest for the night.

“Why is she coming?” Nick asks from where he’s glued to the stairs.

“Because I invited her, Nicky.” Bradley makes another lap through the living room picking up miscellaneous toys off the ground. A soft knock on the door has him whipping around to face it.

“Y/n!” Sadie yells and leaps off the couch to open the front door. Bradley walks up to stand behind his daughter and greet Y/n.

“Hi, you guys.” She smiles warmly at the kids. Bradley drinks in the yellow sundress she has on. Her hair is laying down air dried like she recently showered and he’s dreaming of her shampoo already. He opens the door wider so she can come in and he can see that she’s brought something over. “I made cookies too, it feels fitting for a movie night.”

“What kind are they?” Sadie already reaching up to take the container right out of her hands.

“Chocolate chip.”

“Sadie, after dinner.” Bradley warns and she gives him her best pout to give in. She simply shakes her head and she releases her grip. Nick stands up abruptly from the stairs and turns to go up them.

“Nicky, where ya going? We’re about to start something.”

“I’m not watching tonight.” Nick shouts back as he continues going upstairs. Y/n’s face goes pale and she looks at Bradley. She knows that the likely reason is her presence.

“Maybe I should go.” She takes a half step back toward the door.

“No, please don’t go.” Bradley places a hand on her arm holding her there, “Let me just talk with him for a second.”

Bradley takes off up the stairs and Sadie simply pulls Y/n further into the house. They talk about dinner and what movie to watch and by the time they’ve decided something Bradley has convinced him to come back down.

They eat together at the table, Nick is still quiet but Y/n catches him smile a couple times. She doesn’t wanna push it and address him directly, but he does answer a few of her questions about fishing.

Nick ends up picking Transformers for his movie, Y/n learns that that take turns in a rotation each week for who picks the movie. Sadie whines for a minute, but settles into a spot right next to Y/n for the movie. Bradley and Y/n share a grin while they both watch her inch closer and closer before Y/n just extends an arm to let her lean in. By the time the movie is finished its bedtime.

The kids make their way to bed, Bradley reminding them to brush their teeth. Sadie insists that Y/n help her pick out her pajamas. Bradley picks up stray laundry from Nick’s floor, listening to the girls giggle in the other room. Nick is already under the covers, his switch on and pulled up close to his face.

“Is it so bad having her around?” Bradley asks quietly, giving Nick a chance to talk about the woman in the next room. Tonight was the longest stretch she's been with both of the kids, and it wasn't perfect but it was better than any previous interaction.

“I don’t want a new mom.”

Nick doesn’t dare pick up his head to look at his dad.

“No one said anything about her being a new mom. Mom was mom, and that’ll never change. Y/n is kind and she might not be a bad friend to have, buddy.”

Bradley is met with silence.

“Did you know she used to go fishing with her dad?” Nick picks up his head to look at his dad now.

“Really? Why was she asking me how to do stuff then?”

“Hmm, maybe she wanted to connect with you on something. She knows you love fishing. Maybe you can help her get back into it this summer. You’re good at teaching, Nicky.” Bradley reaches out to ruffle his hair up causing them both to laugh.

“Ok Daddy, I’m ready for my bedtime story.”

Y/n is standing in the doorway with his mini me standing next to her. It would seem they settled on the pink striped pajamas. Bradley gives Nick a loud smooch kissing him on the forehead before leaving his room to move to his daughters.

“I’m gonna wait downstairs.”

“Goodnight Y/n!” Sadie reaches out arms to hug her, “Goodnight Sadie.”

She leans her head back towards Nick’s door.

“Goodnight, Nick.” She calls, he responds with a simple ‘night’ but she’ll take anything at this point. Bradley watches her make her way back downstairs and she smiles back at him over her shoulder feeling his eyes on her.

Bradley reads her a story and manages to drag out one long enough for her eyes to be heavy by the end of it. He softly shuts her door and peeks in on Nick before shutting his too. He makes his way downstairs and notices the absence of the person he’s looking for.

He scans the kitchen and living room before he sees the back of her head out on the back patio. He slides open the sliding glass door and she turns to see him, a grin blooming on her face. He joins her on the outdoor couch, kicking up his feet next to hers.

“These past few weeks have been amazing.” Bradley admits, they both lookout towards the water, his arm wrapping around her shoulders to pull her in closer.

“They have been.” She admits, “I have to say, you have been quite the surprise. This is one of the last things I could’ve expected with moving here.”

“You weren’t looking for a relationship?” He asks.

“Not at all.”

His heart stills for a second. They’ve never really had a conversation about what they’re both looking for, but she’s in his life already. In Sadie’s life already too. It's only been a couple weeks, but he's already felt such a strong connection.

“Pleasantly surprised though.” She clarifies.

She pauses to clear her throat and lean back a little to really look at him.

“I need to tell you something.” She admits, her heart is racing with anticipation knowing she can’t go back now. She doesn’t want to have this conversation either, but knows that she needs to with the relationship heading where it is. It’s serious and she can’t let him let her all the way in without knowing why she’s actually here.

“Don’t tell me you just wanna be friends” He jokes.

“No, trust me I could not be just your friend.” She presses a hand to his chest, “I just wanted to talk about how I ended up here.”

“Fresh start, right?” He reaches out to tuck her hair back behind her ear. He’s radiating warmth and it makes her want to lean back in closer and drop the conversation all together.

“Exactly. I needed a fresh start, but I didn’t tell you what it was from.” Y/n takes a breath and Bradley gives her all the time in the world, “I had a relationship with a man named Matt for four years. We were pretty serious, but I ended things when I had to get seventeen stitches and this arm was in a cast for two months.”

Bradley completely stills and his eyes dart between hers while he takes in all the new information.

“Oh, Y/n.” He sighs. She’s got tears in her eyes, but she knows she needs to get through this. Bradley gives her the time to gather her thoughts completely.

“I ended things and got my own apartment in a different burrow. I had to get a temporary restraining order, but he kept waiting outside of my office. He broke into my apartment a month before I moved in next door.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bradley admits. “I was in a total tailspin.” She admits, “So, I took his ass to court and went back and forth for weeks before we reached a settlement. His parents were the ones who arranged a deal and convinced him to leave me alone. In return for dropping the charges I was paid off. It was enough to get away and start a new life.”

He leans over to pull her in close to his chest, her head resting against it. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and lets his hand run down the back of her head a few times before he can really gather his words.

“I’m so proud of you.” His lips murmur into her hair. She can’t help but pick her head up to pull back and look at him.

“Proud?”

“Of course. That’s an impossible situation to be put in and you were able to get yourself away and start a new life. It’s brave to pick up and move away. Change your life.”

“You of all people think I’m brave?” She questions with a grin. “Mr. I literally run into buildings that are on fire and I used to fly planes on impossible missions?”

“I do, which is saying something.” He chuckles, “But seriously. I don’t think you understand how strong you actually are.”

She reaches out so her fingers brush the curls on the back of his neck. She can feel the goosebumps she’s raising as her fingers dust over the back of his neck.

“Y/n.’ He says her name softly, but something tells her it would come out horse if he tried to say it any louder.

Just with that little whisper she tilts her chin up with her eyes locked on his to kiss him. Slow at first, still smiling but tasting the warmth of his lips and the faint salt from the sea clinging to him. She’s sure she tastes like it too, not very sweet.

He loves the salt, it tastes like home. He responds with his hands gripping her waist to pull her onto his lap while deepening the kiss. It’s raw and honest, pulling them into each other and forgetting the whole ocean behind them. The waves and the world fade out for a few minutes while they just focus on each other and what feels good.

They break apart, both needing a full breath of air. His fingers are still holding her dress bunched up at her hips, revealing the white lacy thong she had on underneath.

They don’t speak for a minute still catching their breaths, the sound of waves curling against the beach come back into focus. Her lips are swollen and Bradley is sure he couldn’t be any better off. He reaches out to let his thumb brush against her cheek, she leans into the touch.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

PART TWO!

YOU GUYS! this has been my baby that i have been sitting on for so long, and i have so many ideas where i want to take it i had to split it up.

please let me know if you want more to this series!!! this is heavily inspired by the Safe Haven by Nicolas sparks

#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #top gun maverick #top gun rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #tailspin #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun masterlist

592 notes · View notes

ageingfangirl2 · 2 months ago

Text

Imagine Being Bonten's Receptionist (Bonten x F Reader) - Tokyo Revengers

PART 3: WHO TOOK HER SMILE?

ONE TWO FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

It had become a daily routine for the members of Bonten to come into the office, be greeted with a smile, have a friendly conversation, and have their mail and schedules organised with care and attention. It made the hardened criminals feel a bit more grounded in reality and able to step away from their criminal activities, even briefly.

However, today was different. The whole atmosphere in the office felt off, like something was brewing under the surface, just waiting to snap and engulf everyone in its path. And the person making the atmosphere off was none other than the usual friendly, happy receptionist. Today, you’re quiet, withdrawn, and just mechanically going through the motions.

Mikey might be silent, but he notices instantly. Stops mid-step, eyes locked on you. Doesn’t say a word but lingers a second longer than usual before walking past after taking the few pieces of mail she handed to him. Later that day, you find your favorite drink on your desk. No note. But he was the only one in the building who left that morning to get his mid-morning snack.

Sanzu is shocked and does a doubletake, ‘Whoa. No sunshine today?’ he says with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. When you don’t react, his smile fades just a bit. He circles back later, leans on the counter and says, ‘C’mon, who pissed off our girl?’ It’s half-teasing, half-protective. He doesn't like the silence — it reminds him too much of old ghosts. He pats down his pockets, pulls out a simple coin and places it on your desk. You stare at him dumbfounded, but he says nothing and walks off.

Ran raises an eyebrow when you don’t greet him. ‘Damn. You okay, sweetheart?’ You just handed him his envelope in silence. He walks off, leaving the office even though he’d just arrived, but comes back ten minutes later with some stupid shiny trinket from the gift shop down the street. ‘Looks like something you’d like,’ he mutters, tossing it onto your desk like it means nothing. It means something.

Rindou freezes. You don’t even make eye contact. It messes with his routine more than he thought it would. He stands there awkwardly, almost says something, then just walks away with a tight jaw. Later, he sends a food delivery to the front desk under an alias. You figured out it was him because not many people knew about your allergies and lists of food you didn’t like.

Kakucho is the most emotionally mature of the bunch. Notices immediately, lowers his voice and asks, ‘Rough morning?’ You nod but say nothing. He doesn’t press. But the next time he walks by, he leaves a small wrapped pastry and says, ‘You don’t always have to smile for us. Take a break if you need one.’ This is why sometimes you couldn’t quite believe he was in a dangerous criminal organisation.

Koko notices but pretends not to — at first. His fingers twitch when you don’t say good morning. Around lunch, he casually drops a new pen set on your desk. ‘Saw your old one was running out,’ he says. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but the concern is loud in his silence.

Mochi frowns. ‘Where’s that bubbly attitude today, huh?’ he asks, voice a little too loud. You look up, and he sees your eyes are a little red. ‘Shit,’ he mutters, embarrassed. ‘Uh... don’t let these assholes get to you, alright?’ It’s clumsy, but it’s the most heartfelt thing you’ve heard all day.

Akashi scoffs lightly. ‘What, cat got your tongue today?’ But you don’t even fake a smile, and that shuts him up fast. He walks away, frowning. Later, you find a cup of fancy coffee on your desk with your name spelled perfectly on it. He never says a word about it. But he knew your exact coffee order, right down to how many pumps of syrups you liked.

Each of them hates how much your little greetings meant — until they’re gone. They’ll never admit they care. But they all do, in their own weird, twisted way. But throughout the day, the members take note of you using, eating or drinking their little gifts.

Mikey, he’s walking by, eyes distant as usual, when he sees the half-empty drink on your desk — the one he left you. Your posture’s still tired, but you look a little calmer. He slows for a second, his gaze lingering. Doesn’t say anything, but a flicker of satisfaction crosses his face. He disappears without a word, but the next day, he shows up five minutes earlier — just to catch your smile.

Sanzu spots you fiddling with the little trinket he tossed at you like a joke. You’re turning it over in your hands while quietly answering a phone call. He grins, wide and a little manic, but there’s real warmth in his eyes. ‘So she does like it,’ he mutters to himself, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Doesn’t say anything directly, but he starts leaving weirder, funnier gifts — just to see if you keep them.

Ran catches you slipping the shiny little charm into your pocket like it means something. He was halfway out the door, but seeing that stops him cold. His smirk comes back slowly — less teasing this time. ‘Guess I’m not completely useless,’ he mutters. That night, he casually brings up the idea of getting ‘matching office décor’ like it’s a joke. It’s not.

Rindou sees you eating the takeout he ordered — the specific dish he remembered you mentioning once. You’re sitting a little straighter, even humming again. He watches you from a distance, expression unreadable, then quietly turns back to his laptop. For the rest of the day, he seems oddly relaxed. The next time you forget lunch, her favorite is already on your desk.

Kakucho watches you quietly munching on the pastry he left, looking out the window like you’re trying to shake off a bad thought. He passes by and doesn’t even stop — but you catch the soft nod he gives, like an unspoken you’re okay now. Later, you find a sticky note on a folder he left: Let me know if you need more of those. Or just a moment of peace.

Koko notices you using the new pen set, even organizing your desk with them. You even clicked one thoughtfully while you answered a call. He says nothing, but something shifts in his expression — less guarded, more thoughtful. That afternoon, you get an envelope of high-end stationary with no name attached. You know it’s from him. He pretends not to notice your little thank-you smile.

Akashi walks by and sees yoy sipping the coffee he dropped off — no hesitation, like you trusted it completely. You looked less tense. Less brittle. He pauses, lets out a quiet exhale like he didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath. ‘Guess the old man’s still got a touch,’ he mutters, smirking faintly to himself as he lights a cigarette.

Mochi catches her laughing at something on her phone a few hours later, that moody weight gone from her shoulders. He watches from the hallway, arms crossed, and just nods once. ‘That’s better,’ he murmured. And then yells at one of the guys for breathing too loud — just to cover the fact that he felt something.

It’s all very not-a-big-deal in classic Bonten fashion — no one says what they mean, but the care leaks out anyway.

421 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 3 months ago

Note

reader who gets wet asf really easily with either steddie or just steve 🫣🫣🫣

cw: mdni, slight exhibitionism perhaps, reader is afab

poly!steddie x fem!reader ♡ 633 words

Steve has this mole, just to the left of his chin, which drives you mad for reasons beyond your comprehension. You’ve had dreams about it. You would never say it aloud, but for you it ranks among your boyfriend’s best features. Between that mole, the grungy t-shirt of Eddie’s he’s borrowed, and this dark corner he’s found for the two of you, you’re really, truly hopeless.

You trail your fingertips up his back the way he likes, rooting them in the hair at his nape. Steve’s kisses heat as though he means to reward you for it, and you think distantly that the lip gloss you put on tonight is going to leave incriminating evidence on the both of you.

“Hi there.”

You open your eyes to find a different boyfriend looking rather entertained, having materialized from somewhere else in the party and holding three cups in two hands. Steve detaches from you with a wet sucking sound.

“Hi,” you say, breathless.

“Y’know,” Eddie drawls, “when I volunteered to go get drinks, I didn’t think you were going to pull a disappearing act on me.”

Steve turns around. His arm slides around your back as he leans against the wall alongside you. “You were gone for thirty minutes.”

“There was a very important debate going on about whether Kirk Hammett or Dave Murray was the better guitarist.”

You smile at him. “We would never ask you to skip out on that.”

“Yeah, see” —Eddie thumbs a bit of something—gloss or spit—from the corner of your lips, grinning— “you get it, baby.”

“But,” Steve finishes, “we were bored.”

Eddie’s gaze moves to him. “Oh, I get it. You’d rather make our girl all weak when I’m not around, huh?”

“Hey,” you say, though you take your drink when he passes it to you.

Steve rolls his eyes, rubbing your hip. “She’s fine.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “and why do you say that like I’m the only one who likes kissing?”

Eddie’s eyes, nearly black in the low light, flicker with amusement. “You wanna know why? Hold these.” He passes the two remaining drinks to Steve, who huffs but takes them anyway. “I’ll show you why.”

He backs you up against the corner like Steve had. Your heart jumps when he undoes the button of your jeans with a quick motion.

“Eddie—”

“Shh, relax. No one can see.”

It’s probably true, you know—your corner really is very dark, and with Eddie positioned the way he is he’s blocking you from view—but you still tense as his hand slips down your pants and past the lace lining of your underwear.

He hums smugly as his fingers slide through your slickened folds, middle dipping briefly into your center. Your choke back a whimper.

“Yeah, like I thought.” Eddie grins, bold in the face of your shyness, hand trailing back up you and wiping his fingers on your stomach as he goes. He puts his lips to your cheek. “Too fucking cute.”

“Okay, hey.” Steve gives Eddie’s shoulder a playful push. It’s not much, but Eddie puts a couple inches between you anyway, all too happy with himself. You button your jeans hastily. “Now who’s torturing her?”

“I don’t think anyone would call it torture.”

Steve ignores him, turning to you with a softer smile. He wipes a bit of gloss from below your lip with unearned tenderness. “Sorry,” he says quietly.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say in the same tone.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “don’t be sorry, Stevie. You have shiny shit all over your mouth too, by the way. I’m thinking” —he levels you with a glittering, eager look— “our poor girl just wants us to go home and finish the job. Huh, baby?”

Actually, now, you’re thinking you might just go home and even the score instead.

662 notes · View notes

lexirosewrites · 3 months ago

Text

Day 7: Pack Dynamics

for @stmarchmm

Steve suspects something is wrong the moment he sees Max’s face.

He’s used to her stopping by a couple times a week, but school just let out a few minutes ago and she’s normally at the arcade with the rest of the party on Thursday afternoons.

“Hey, Red, what’cha doing here? Need more quarters? I think Dustin cleared me out last week to beat Will’s score on Donkey Kong, but I can go dig around the couch cushions or—”

Her lip is wobbling before he can finish drying the cup in his hands.

Steve tosses it recklessly back into the sink.

“Steve…” Max whines, the sad cry of a distressed pup making its way out of her throat.

He haphazardly dries his hands on his favorite apron then tosses it on the counter. Max needs him and household chores can wait.

His pups always come first.

“Shhhh, I’m here, pup. I’ve got you,” he purrs.

She’s not much of a toucher, let alone a hugger, but Max melts into his embrace and her face buries into Steve’s chest, subconsciously seeking out his scent for comfort.

Whatever has her so worked up, it’s a good sign. She knows who her pack is and that he’ll take care of her.

Steve continues to softly shush Max as melodically as he can, rocking them both back and forth like he would a fussy baby.

“Maxine… do you mind if we move this elsewhere? I’ve never met a problem I can’t solve from the comfort of my nest and I know we haven’t cuddled in a while.”

She doesn’t answer right away, but she definitely heard him.

A minute later, she nods and pulls away enough to look at his face. Not surprisingly, there are tear tracks down her freckled cheeks.

His heart hurts for her.

“Nest please,” Max agrees hoarsely.

He chirps.

Freeing up his body, he offers a hand for her to hold while they relocate to Steve’s nesting room.

Eddie had insisted on designating it as such just a few months after they started living together.

It mostly has the benefit of keeping the pack out of their personal bedroom.

They love their pack, but one can only be barged in on so many times before locks become necessary and Steve’s nest is a popular hangout spot for the pups.

“Climb in, Red,” he invites, gesturing towards the nest.

Steve had just straightened it up and changed the sheets earlier.

She hesitates for some unknown reason.

He cocks his head to the side, waiting for an explanation as to why she’s not jumping in like she usually does.

Max’s eyes flicker down from his face to his belly.

Ah. Right. That.

“Get in first and then you can help me,” he offers.

She accepts the compromise, settling herself amongst the many fluffy pillows, ultra soft blankets, and scent trinkets.

As soon as she’s comfortable, her hand shoots out towards him. It’s obvious she’s worried about his balance despite her own ongoing problems.

Max is a good kid.

He’s actually become quite skilled at moving about in their home since becoming pregnant, but the pups have their own instincts and they’re primarily to protect Steve and his unborn baby.

He still lets her help him into the nest.

“Thank you,” Steve tells her, even though it truly wasn’t necessary.

She falls right back into his form.

“I’m sorry.”

He glances down where she’s got her head tucked under his arm, unable to look at her face. All he can really see is the top of her shiny copper locks.

“For what, pup? It was just about time for an afternoon nap anyway and you know I love company,” he reassures her.

Eddie isn’t due home from work for at least another hour, but he knows his mate won’t mind if they have an extra place setting at dinner.

If anything, this is another opportunity for them to practice being parents.

They’ve only got a couple months left until it all becomes real.

“What’s going on, honey? Boy problems? Kids at school being jerks? Someone in ‘The Party’ being a jerk? You know I can put them in their place if I need to.”

She snorts. It’s a start.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” Max whispers.

Her hand finds his bump and rests there lightly, gently.

“That’s okay. We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. Is there anything else I can do to help though?”

His own omegan instincts are going a bit crazy not knowing how to make Max well again. She’s his responsibility and so is her happiness.

His pups are truly everything.

They all know he’ll soon have another pup— one related by blood and not just strong pack ties and scent, but they also know Steve is their mother too.

Some of them have moms already, but he is their second one. Someone to cuddle them and love them.

Protect them from the world.

As head alpha of the pack, Eddie has become their honorary father too.

It’s their shared drive as a mated couple to assure their pack is healthy and taken care of. Dysfunctional at times though it may be, their pack is full of so much love.

Steve’s never been happier.

Now if he could figure out how to bubble wrap all of the pups and shield them from all dangers, that would be perfect.

“Just this is good. I… I missed you,” Max confesses.

He gives her a gentle squeeze.

“Missed you too. Been pretty busy around here lately,” he remarks softly.

Her head pops up, curiosity filling her young face.

“Did you and Eddie get the nursery set up yet? I know you bought the paint this weekend and Lucas said—”

She cuts herself off with a sour frown and a bitter scent.

Oh. This is definitely a boy problem. Something with Lucas.

Steve knows their puppy love is messy sometimes. Young love and all that. But they’re generally pretty sweet to one another.

Clearly something happened.

It’s not his place to push. She’ll speak when she’s ready.

“Eddie actually spent three fucking hours trying to put that crib together.”

She laughs. Loudly.

He knew she would find it funny. Steve doesn’t swear around the kids often and Max has a potty mouth worse than most grown alphas.

“That dumbass,” she giggles.

“My dumbass,” he reminds her. “Best man I’ve ever known.”

He’s not even lying or exaggerating. Eddie is a godsend.

Perfect? Never. Loyal, loving, kindhearted, brave, and protective? Beyond Steve’s wildest dreams.

“You’re lucky.”

He is.

“I am. Eddie loves me a lot. He’s gonna be a good dad. If he learns to follow instructions better, he might even be a great one.”

Max hums in agreement. A bit contemplative.

“I think Lucas might be in love with me.”

Okay, so they are gonna talk about it after all.

“He might. Does that scare you?” Steve asks casually. There’s nothing casual about her finally opening up.

Her hand on his belly gets tense, but the touch is still light.

“Maybe… Everyone always leaves.”

Steve forces himself to relax. To not slander the dead or blame the only living blood relative she has left.

“They’d have to pry me away from you, Max. Eddie and I would never leave you of our own free will. We love you too,” he states.

This isn’t about them. But she needs to hear it.

“I know,” she whispers. “And I love you too, mom. I promise I’ll talk to Lucas about it tomorrow.”

His pups will be alright.

“That’s my girl.”

Steve pops an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head.

She purrs. So does he.

Therapeutic pup cuddles are so much better than washing the dishes.

#stmmm25 #stranger things march mating madness #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington & max mayfield #a/b/o #omegaverse #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg

455 notes · View notes

miaoua3 · 11 days ago

Note

hey pretty, could you make a reaction of how the guys would act when their gf is jealous?

sure i can! hope you enjoy this!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

SVT-How Would They React To You Being Jealous?

scoups-smiling gently and thinking to himself “so cute”. gently kisses you before he reassures you by saying “i’m all yours, baby. relax. you are the only one for me.” lowkey gets a bit turned on from seeing you be so territorial over him

jeonghan-teases the living shit out of you, he’s all up in your face being like “oh? what happened to the nonchalance? why so territorial baby? afraid that she’ll steal me away from you?” does it all just so you would get pissed off and kiss him in anger

joshua-immediately tells the other person “im sorry, i can’t talk to you anymore, it is upsetting my partner.” but later on, he has you over his knee, punishing you one spank at the time for even thinking he would ever look at the other person like that oop-

jun-genuinely so confused, just stands there, speechlessly looking at you before he unsurely says “i’m…sorry?” but later on he’s all over you, kissing your neck as he’s whispering against your skin “you know i would never…you are my sunshine, my only one…i wouldn’t even give them a time of my day. not when i have you. never when i have you.”

hoshi-immediately gets serious, softly taking your face in his hands, deep eye contact as he says “no need to be jealous, baby. i only want you. they don’t mean anything to me, not when you are my whole world. i never want you to feel like this ever again, so-tell me what i can do differently” overall a totally different hoshi than what you are used to

wonwoo-smirks a little to himself before he pulls you closer to himself by wrapping an arm around your neck. and then, lowly he whispers “want me to show them who i belong to? want me to fuck you right here in front of her, so she knows that im yours? go on-take it. take what’s yours. show her what’s yours.” so so cocky, gets a boner right there and then. what can he say-he loves when they are crazy

woozi-immediately initiates physical contact, be it hand holding or pulling you to sit on his lap. he hates seeing you unhappy in any shape of form, which is why he would immediately start comforting you, saying “don’t worry, i’m yours. always yours.”

minghao-similar to joshua, he tells the person “my partner isn’t comfortable with me talking to you, excuse me” before he takes your hand, gently kissing the back of it in reassurance, eyes looking at you and telling you “you don’t ever have to worry about me, love. i promise.”

mingyu-finds it so so hot-the way you cross your arms, frown, and say sarcastic things as a defense mechanism. immediately takes you to a bathroom just so he can kiss you silly and grope you-be it ass or tits. literally moans against your mouth as he says “fuck, that was so hot. you jealous baby? want me to fuck you, to show you that im yours?”

dk-looks at you like a kicked puppy, eyes shiny as he questions “what’s wrong? did i…do something to make you feel like this? i would never, you know that right?” takes your hands in his and whispers all the reason why he loves you as he kisses your knuckles

seungkwan-smirks at you, intentionally keeps talking to the person just so you can drag him to the bathroom and kiss him angrily. gets off on seeing you be so territorial and angry, teases you as he kisses you “what’s got you so hot and bothered? wanna mark me, show her that im all yours?”

vernon-immediately stops talking to the person the minute he sees you angrily frowning or refusing to hold his hand, bends down as he rubs your hips slowly just so he can say “are you okay? is there anything i can do to make you feel more comfortable? you know she doesn’t mean anything to me, even if she wants me, i don’t want her. i only want you.”

dino-oblivious to it until you blow up on him. immediately runs after you tightly as he apologises “im sorry, i had no idea you felt this way. i never wanted to hurt you. what can i do to make you feel better?” spends the entire night explaining why you are the only one ever for him, all while gently kissing your whole body

273 notes · View notes

p0orbaby · 5 months ago

Note

Your Turn to Bear the Burden was amazing!

Maybe a part 2 or a blurb with Alexia asking R, "Are you still mad?" And making it up to her by bringing her to one of their daughter's football games and just rubbing it in everyones (shiny hair's) face that they are indeed happily married even with their constant loving bicker

something small that follows on from this

The pitch smells faintly of damp grass and overcooked hot dogs, the kind you find at community sports events, their red plastic wrappers binned but somehow omnipresent in spirit. Alexia holds your hand as you weave through clusters of other parents, her grip firm, almost possessive. You know this isn’t just about Aina’s match. This is about her. About Shiny Hair, who you’ve recently discovered is actually called—of course—Catalina.

You’re here because Alexia asked you to come, her tone as careful as if she were handling a volatile substance. She didn’t have to spell it out. You knew. This wasn’t just a casual Saturday morning family outing. It was an event. A declaration. A parade.

And you’ve made up—well, you’ve reached a state of détente, which is close enough. The argument about Catalina was settled with a lengthy, painstaking conversation at 11:32 p.m. two nights ago, during which Alexia’s “I don’t even like her!” was met with your razor-sharp “Good. Then she’ll be thrilled to know I’ll be coming along to training drop-offs from now on”

“Don’t be weird today,” Alexia mutters under her breath as you approach the sidelines.

“I’m never weird,” you reply, your tone saccharine, squeezing her hand in a way that’s more threatening than reassuring.

The parents’ section is crowded, folding chairs scattered in half-hearted rows, some people standing to get better views of their kids. And there she is—Catalina, of course, already perched in the best spot, laughing at something someone just said. Her hair shines in the morning sun like she’s auditioning for a Pantene ad.

“Did you see? Aina’s already warming up,” Alexia says quickly, drawing your attention back to the pitch, where your daughter is stretching with the kind of seriousness only a six-year-old takes into warm-ups.

“She’s a professional,” you say, watching her. Aina has Alexia’s determination, her unrelenting focus, and probably her taste for grudges, too. You love that about her.

Alexia stands beside you, taller, proud, her other hand shoved in her jacket pocket. She’s wearing that cropped burgundy Nike YOON cardigan she’s kept all these years in an attempt to maintain her youth. Though you have to admit, she looks better than anyone here has the right to look, which you suspect is deliberate.

“You’re staring,” she says, without looking at you.

“You like when I stare at you”

“I do,” she admits, glancing at you briefly, a triumphant smirk tugging at her lips.

The game kicks off, and the next twenty minutes are a chaotic blur of small children running with alarming intensity. Aina, predictably, is everywhere. The ball seems magnetised to her, and you can’t help but feel that Alexia’s genes are showing off today. She scores twice, both times with a little fist pump that makes your chest ache with pride.

Catalina claps politely. Alexia doesn’t. She cheers, loud and clear, her voice slicing through the sideline chatter like a knife. “¡Bien, Aina! ¡Muy bien!” She throws an arm around your waist as she says it, pulling you in close. You’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or Catalina’s, but you let her have it.

At half-time whistle, Alexia makes a point of leaning in to kiss you She keeps it casual, but the timing is far too perfect to be anything but calculated. Catalina looks over. Alexia doesn’t notice—or pretends not to. You, of course, do.

“Subtle,” you say as she hands you a paper cup of coffee she must’ve queued for while you weren’t paying attention. Or burning holes into Shiny Hairs head.

“Why would I be subtle?” Alexia replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re my wife”

Catalina drifts closer during the second half, probably to position herself nearer to the action on the pitch, but you can feel her presence lingering. When Aina scores her third goal, Catalina lets out a low whistle.

“She’s incredible,” Catalina says, beaming at Alexia as if she wasn’t the one who taught your daughter how to feint past a defender.

“She gets it from her mothers,” you say, smiling sweetly. Alexia’s hand finds the small of your back, and you’re almost certain she’s trying not to laugh.

When the game ends, Alexia spends twenty minutes chatting with Aina’s coach, with her arm slung over your shoulders the entire time. It’s less a conversation and more a public exhibition of marital bliss.

In the car, Aina babbles from the backseat about how she’s the best on her team, and Alexia sneaks a glance at you, her expression softer now, almost shy.

“Still mad?” she asks, knowing full well your annoyance with her lasts as long as a sugar cube in water.

You take your time answering, watching the houses blur past the window. “No,” you say eventually, “but next game, I expect you to wear a shirt with my face on it. Maybe one that says, ‘She’s my wife, and she’s always right.’”

“Always right?” she echoes, and you notice a slight lift of her eyebrows under her sunglasses.

“Always,” you reply, deadpan. “That’s non-negotiable”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso x reader

434 notes · View notes

casually-eat-my-soul · 7 months ago

Text

I don’t know why I’m equating stiles to penguins and crows but stiles gives really pretty and super shiny rocks to his favourite people.

Maybe it stemmed from collecting rocks with his mother — “See, Stiles there are stars in the sea”— because they both loved looking at stars together so now they can carry stars around with them. (Stiles buried his best rock with his mother)

Stiles only clued into his feeling about Derek after the third time he had given him a rock.

The first time had been the day after Derek had killed Peter. Stiles knew what it was like to bury a family member. It took him nearly the whole day to find the perfect rock, or else he would have given it over sooner. Stiles awkwardly dropped it in his open palm stammering out broken sentences — “I like rocks- me and my mom - when she - it’s a good rock” — Derek looked very confused and frustrated. (He was thinking about the collection of rocks he had seen on stiles bookshelf when he was a fugitive.)

Stiles tried to defend his rock choice while also trying to explain why he gave it to Derek. It made for a very uncomfortable 4 minutes. Stiles gave up and just told Derek he could keep the rock or throw it away or fucking bury it with Peter. That he wouldn’t care what Derek did with the rock (lie). And with that he stormed away.

Unbeknownst to him, Derek heard the lie and kept the rock. He wasn’t going to at first, and had tried to just drop the rock but his hand wouldn’t uncurl from around the stone. Derek had generally understood that stiles had been trying to comfort him, and this rock was his confusing way of doing that.

He only truly understood after seeing the headstones that read Claudia Stilinski when going to deliver flowers to his families grave.

It was the first piece of kindness he had received since Laura died. So he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

—————

The second time stiles had brought Derek a rock was a week after holding Derek up in the swimming pool. Stiles had tried going down to the lake the day after swimming pool but couldn’t bring himself close to the edge. He had cried for hours after, scared that he’d never be able to get back in the water again. He wouldn’t be able to look for rocks and pretend his mother was still with him. Pretend that she was the one sending him the stars in the “sea”.

So after a week of going back to the lake and trying, he had succeeded in getting about knees deep. While celebrating Stiles stepped on a rock. Well two rocks. He had finished them out of the lake after he was done cursing. Loving how cool the rocks looked he went to make his way home. he had planned on giving the second less shiner rock to Scott so they could match. But he saw Derek on his way home and felt compelled to give it to him instead.

Still wet from the lake stiles walked up to Derek and asked him to hold out his palm. There was far less hesitance, glaring, and arguing than the first time stiles had demanded that.

Without even realizing it, Stiles had given Derek the rock he was going to keep. He was going to ask for it back and switch out the rocks but the look on Derek’s face stopped him. He looked more open and relaxed than stiles had even seen him, more vulnerable. There was a look of wonder in Derek eyes, as he fiddled with the stone.

Stiles no longer cared that about having the less shiny stone. In fact he was completely okay with not having it. When Derek realized stiles was staring with his mouth totally not open, he went right back to a closed expression. Words immediately begin spilling out of stiles mouth, without his permission.

—“ I couldn’t get in the water, after… - the lake, it’s … It’s a good rock, super shiny and it’s got a smooth texture. It’s kinda red like your eyes.” —

He even flipped his own hand and showed Derek his rock. “We’re matching, kinda. Well we were the only two in the water that night” He trailed off again before reiterating that Derek could just throw out the rock but Derek thanks him in the middle.

Derek walks him out of the preserve towards his car and reminded Stiles to be careful as there was still a kanima and argents on the lose.

——

The third time Stiles give Derek a rock is the night of his kidnapping. And technically Erica and Boyd’s. It was also the night he fully joined the hale pack, by protecting Boyd and Erica from hunters. The night he thought he was going to die.

Instead of leaving Erica and Boyd tied up, the hunter dragged them to the woods. They were planning on having a proper hunt. It was only by sheer luck that the three of them got away. Well that and the fact that the hunter were stupid enough to underestimate very desperate and pissed off Stiles. The fact that he had grown up in beacon hills and the hunter hadn’t was an added bonus.

During the fight stiles had tripped and and caught a stone in his hand. He was still holding it when he slammed his jeep through a wall. He only gave it to Derek after everyone else passed out for the night.

Stiles was sitting on a very uncomfortable chair in the train deport. However, that wasn’t enough to stop him from getting lost in his head. Vaguely watching as the rest of the pack slept in a pile. Stiles only came back to himself after Derek sat down beside him. The warmth of the werewolf’s arm around his shoulder allowed him to release the tension his body.

Stiles curled into Derek as sobs shook his body, not caring at pretending to be okay at the current moment. Derek only held him tighter, nearly pulling stiles into his lap.

When stiles had calmed down he grabbed one of Derek’s hand and gave him the rock. He heard a hum of confusion, one that prompted a sudden laugher.

“I thought I was going to die tonight.”

At his confession, Derek went still. Stiles stumbled through explaining what had happened that night. Derek just held him through it. He felt a little insecure when he finished. Over both the story and the ugly rock.

Derek just dropped his face into the crook of stiles neck and breathed out a thank you and that was that.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Stiles didn’t feel need to move. Moreover he didn’t want to. Which was a revelation in of itself. He would pay more attention to the maybe crush in morning, for now he was safe to sleep.

A few weeks later after everything calmed down and the pack is having a movie night, he give a rock to each member if the pack. Derek leaves the room for a second before returning. Later on that evening he goes to grab his sweater from Dereks room. He sees his three little rocks, now four. He absolutely falls in love with Derek in that moment. He didn’t know that Derek kept any of this rocks, but seeing the proof made him really happy.

Lydia makes a joke about stiles being a penguin. Stiles squawked in offense, of both himself and penguins. Claiming that giving rocks as a way of courting someone is perfectly valid. But that he wasn’t a penguin so it doesn’t count. She just gives him a knowing look.

This is what finally clues Derek in. His wolf already knew and was laughing at him.

Derek had wanted to give stiles back a rock when he confessed to him or on their first date or something romantic. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. Instead it happened after an exhausting fight with a troll. Stiles had stormed up to Derek about to lay into him for his self sacrificing tendencies. Derek thought stiles still looked like the most beautiful thing he had even seen. Even covered in gore.

So he plucked one of stiles waving hands out of the air and gave him the stone that had been in his pocket for far to long.

Like a switch of their roles, Stiles stared at the rock in quiet awe for a minute, while Derek stood insecure. Stiles let out a small giggle, quite happily whispered “he got me a rock, you got me a rock!!” And preceded to haul Derek by the shirt and kiss him.

Stiles goes around excitedly telling everyone that derek gave him a rock. He also used it in an argument with dad over their relationship.

They exchanged rocks and well as rings in their wedding. One of their wedding cake toppers were penguins.

Now that I’ve finished writing this all out I’m realizing that this could also be a creature stiles au.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #teen wolf #sterek fandom #stiles collect and gives away shiny rocks #it’s his crow Brain activing #I can find any and all way to make headcannons about stiles and his mom #Derek uses this as excuse to deck stiles in dimonds #but stiles favourite rock is his first kiss rock #they do that tictok thing where they look for rocks with the same colour and the others eyes #Derek loves it when stiles give him rocks #he gets so smug and happy when stiles gives him a new rock #will growl at anyone who makes even the slightest mocking comment about the rocks #derek x stiles

629 notes · View notes

sulkenswan · 1 month ago

Text

SUCKER — CHAPTER ONE, so close to what

fanart by nrmav , edited by me

vampire!dealer!ellie williams x fem!reader

↫ prologue masterlist next ↬

info: your first day goes surprisingly well, despite the unwanted attention, your mind is mostly bothered by the auburn haired girl who cant seem to stand you, despite you doing nothing. you find peace in being alone and decorating, waiting until the day you see her pale face once more, and when you do, she seems to have much more interest in you than before. MOODBOARD + PLAYLIST

cw: mention of eating disorders, underage smoking (r & e are 17, r soon to be 18), men, stalking (e), readers pretty down and empty, trying to fulfill it, shes clumsy, she wears a skirt, bella swan coded but not really, follows the plot of twilight, near death experience, ellie's a dick, still just mainly fleshing out the story, barely edited, Imk if smths missing. men and minors dni.

wc: 8.5k

note: thank you for reading & for your patience i apologise for the rush in advance x

maybe cat’s confidence isn't as comforting as you thought it would be. it seems as if all of her friends have picked up the same, fairly loud habits as her. but she was helpful, guiding you to the office and ensuring you had all the right forms and slips, including a pass you had to get signed at every class.

your first two classes went fine, thankfully. you shared both with cat, and as soon as maths finished and the lunch bell rang, her first move was to invite you to sit with her - an offer you very happily accepted, and an offer that she seemed even more thrilled that you had accepted. not like you were going to complain, surrounding yourself with people meant you didn’t look lonely, and not looking lonely meant you were not going to become a social piranha.

“hey guys! here she is, your shiny new toy,” cat jokes, introducing you to her group while she pulls you out a chair and then herself, placing her tray of cafeteria food in front of her.

you shyly wave a hand and sit down besides cat, your chair making a terrible scratching noise as you pull it back in, wincing at the sound.

everyone's heads are on you. there's four people whom you don't recognise, cat being the only familiar person at the table. thankfully, the one sitting directly in front of you takes the chance to introduce everyone.

“i’m thomas, this is jackson.”

he takes a minute to jab jackson's arm jokingly, who hits him right back smiling, thomas feigning hurt and rubbing his arm, pouting snobbily, trying (and failing) to hold back a smile. jackson has bright blonde hair and some kind of surfer vibe going for him, meanwhile jackson has dark brown hair, wearing a red flannel and skinny jeans.

“ignore them. i’m crystal,” the girl sitting diagonal to you continues.

she looks kind, soft. her blonde hair cascades down her shoulders, fresh blowout styling it perfectly. she has light shimmer on her eyelids, and you want to ask her where she managed to get such pretty pigment from, as well as where you can find a cute dress like that in a place like this.

“and that’s stevie.”

she nods her head beside her towards the final unnamed person. she smiles at you, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. she has dyed red hair that's pin straight, dark lipstick and eyeliner suiting her perfectly, her outfit far more stylish than the others, a dark red shirt with a lace layer overtop paired with a mid length skirt and boots.

“hey, guys. thank you for letting me sit with you,” you kindly express your gratitude, smiling at them, “it's nice to meet you.”

thomas laughs at your formality, leaning forward in his seat to show you have his full attention. “don't be silly. where’d you move from?”

stevie continues looking down at her food, seemingly uninterested in welcoming a new person and it makes you feel bad - you don’t want to mess with their group dynamic. everyone else is paying attention, even if they're eating, eyes wide, looking at you expectantly.

“uh, i just moved here from seattle.”

you can tell you're self-conscious by the way you keep tugging your sleeves over your hands, trying to shield yourself from the attention. it's not only your newfound friends that are looking at you, as people keep turning towards you then murmuring to their friends. you feel like you’re going crazy.

stevie laughs sarcastically, eyes on her food. “why are you so pale then?”

your face falters, “oh, i-”

“stevie,” crystal warns, her tone stern but still somehow friendly. gentle parenting at its finest.

“sorry,” she mumbles, but it doesn't help from your face flushing with embarrassment.

she seemed cool, you wanted to get to know her better but it seemed like she would rather do anything but sit here at a table with you.

crystal sighs, but her attitude switches up quickly to try and welcome you more as best she can, hoping you don’t let the red haired girl make you feel too much like an outsider.

“so, how was seattle? i bet you’re missing the sun, huh.”

the group continues to pile on top of crystal's initial question, “why did you move here? where do you live around? is that your chevy truck out the front? who have you met so far?”

it felt like it went on and on, but thankfully they eventually let up, turning to conversation amongst each other, tom and jack going off to talk to people they hadn’t seen since the holidays started, leaving with a promise of ‘returning home to you’.

her friend group being loud in nature proved to work in your favour pretty well. you didn't have to talk too much, but you still enjoyed their presence and jokes. it gave a good balance to your life and didn't exhaust you, treating you like you had all been friends for years. stevie’s dislike bothered you, but you were sure it was only due to the attention you were being given. you were determined to get rid of it and discover a way to help flip it on her instead. she seemed like she thrived off of attention, you did not.

“there’s nothing new about the newspaper here, just another one about eating disorders,” crystal complains from beside you. her whines about the poorly written newspaper she was reading from over your shoulder that she had just given you making you laugh.

“sup chief heiress!” jackson teases, coming back towards the group and yanking the newspaper from your hands, dragging an empty chair beside yours, stealing cat’s spot.

“chief heiress?” cat blandly says.

“very new perspective, jackson. thank you.” stevie’s sarcasm slices through you, she does not seem to enjoy the attention jackson is giving you, and neither do you. mentally, you put together the pieces. you planned on staying as invisible as possible, but everybody here seems to have made it their personal mission to draw as much attention to you as possible.

“i think it suits her,” thomas runs up, “don't you think?”

he asks you before kissing you on the cheek and yanking jackson’s chair from underneath him, causing the boy to fall and drop as well as the paper as the perpetrator runs away, jack chasing after him while yelling profanities. you shake your head, eyes falling back onto the discoloured table.

“wow. they are all over you, aren't they?” stevie kids, but its clear there’s bitterness lingering behind in her voice, malice. you can tell she’s trying to sus out your non-existent intentions. both crystal and cat eye her.

you sigh, picking the newspaper from the ground, putting it back on the table and standing up from your seat.

“not my type,” you disentangle, hoping it gives some clarity to the girl, and that she’ll pass the message on to the boys. it’ll do for now, but you’ll be sure to clear up the confusion later, having no energy for enemies, especially on your first day. your plan was to breeze through school, but you were really liking your friends, and you hoped it would stay a more permanent thing. only being able to hope that stevie’s resentment would die down as well as the attention, anticipating it already.

you forgot to bring your own lunch, thanks to your haste, so you’re forced to grab a piece of fruit from the cafeteria. it looked like a safe bet as seemingly being the only edible option they provided, especially after taking a quick glance at cat and stevie’s tray. you decide on an apple that looked surprisingly juicy, a deep shade of red making it seem extra appealing to you. you rejoin your friends and slide back into silent conversation with them, taking small chunks out of your apple while you pay attention to their intense talking, chiming in every now and again but not overstepping. thomas and jackson are still nowhere to be seen, but you’re not fussed about it. you hear the cafeteria doors open, automatically turning your head to see who walked in wondering if it could be tom or jack, but you forget all about them and your heart stops once you lay your eyes on three of the most stunning people you’ve ever seen.

the couple catches your attention first, someone lingering behind them. all are unfamiliar to you, and all are fairly pale, almost sickly. they walked as if they owned the place, and it frightened you a little, their confidence sending chills up your body. within the couple, the girl had dark, thick hair pulled up into a bun that framed her face perfectly, a brown jacket, maroon v neck cut t shirt and skinny jeans causing her to look as flattering as possible, her tan like skin adorning freckles wherever you could see them. she looked impossibly kind. meanwhile the guy she was holding hands with had some kind of mullet haircut going for him, an outfit similar to hers thrown on, boots squeaking ever so slightly against the cafeteria floors. they looked incredible together. striking. nonchalant attitude plastered on. the girl behind them, however, had caught your attention too. she had dark skin, amber eyes, and hair pulled back into a ponytail, long braids running down her back with a headband at the forefront. she and the freckled girl appeared to be matching outfits. before you can even process it, you realise they aren’t immune from resisting to look at you either, or maybe they could just feel your eyes, one by one catching your stare. you have to turn your head all the way around to see them properly, yet you don't look away, don't cower in fear, too entranced by the trios magnetic energy they hold even while simply walking and sitting down. but eventually, you lose eye-contact with them as they become engrossed in their own conversation, forgetting about you immediately and unbothered by your presence. it is unbelievably refreshing.

“who are they?” you ask your new friends, cat pausing her eating and following your eyes behind her towards their table on the far side of the cafeteria.

she doesn't pay any mind to your question, going back to her food, you face her, back turned to the trio.

“the millers. the dark haired girl with the boy? that’s dina, and jesse. both really weird, both dating. the other one is riley. they mainly keep to themselves. they moved down here a couple years back, their dad is some sort of doctor slash matchmaker. i’m surprised the other one isn't with them.”

your face contorts into confusion.

“how can they be dating if they’re part of the same family? and the other one?” you question, and just like clockwork, you hear the doors behind you open once again, turning to face it, you see her walking through them.

time seems slow as you watch her walk towards her table. she’s tall, fairly lean, far more pale than the rest. auburn hair cut just above her collarbone, tied into a half up half down. some wispy bits fall from her oddly flattering side part, a silver lip ring and eyebrow piercing taking place on her also freckled face. she was dressed in converse, like you, baggy jeans, a jacket and a deep green shirt.

she seems to be the edgier of the trio, smirking to herself for no reason when passing your table, making her way to join the rest of her family. you can't take your eyes off of her.

“that's ellie miller. total heartthrob. apparently nobody here’s good enough for her. not like i care, you know…” you silently nod your head, indicating you were still following along

stevie clears her throat then continues, “dina and jesse can date since they aren’t technically related, although it's still weird. joel miller adopted the four of them ages ago, apparently after he lost his own daughter.” she continues cats logic, whispering the last part. your simple sentence from before denying attraction for the boys evidently lightening up her perspective on you, thank god.

“huh.” you mumble, taking the final bite of your apple, still turning your head just to stare at the pale girl sitting at the table far across from you, you can really see the appeal for it now. she's busy in conversation with dina, manspreading and leaning back into her seat comfortably, hands tucked into her jacket pockets as if she owns the place, she looks extremely relaxed, and good doing it.

you get lost in thought, blanking out while you stare, the last thing you expected her to do, however, was to suddenly look up and lock eyes with you. panic coursing through you as you look away from her, praying she didn't catch you. only for a moment though, your body instinctively looking back up to see if she’s still staring.

and she is.

a confused, almost lost look having replaced her previously cocky features, leaning upright in her seat ever so slightly, analysing you. but not for long, she pauses for a moment before peeling her eyes away from you, resuming her previous position. warmth floods to your cheeks and you look around and down at your finished apple in shame.

cat, apparently having previously caught your stare, sighs. “seriously, don’t waste your time. i mean it,” disappointment held in her voice.

you shake your head gently, turning around and looking up to face the pale girl once more, hoping to see her facing you once more. she’s not. “wasn't planning on it.”

the bell rings and all of your friends go their separate ways. you shared biology with thomas, who decided to rejoin your table just as the three of you were grabbing your stuff to get to class.

your feet drag as you make your way to the labs, thomas talking to you about his extravagant lunch adventures, but you weren't fully paying attention. when you arrive, he apologized profusely to go sit with another friend of his, saying he wishes it was you but that he had made the mistake of promising them. you don't mind, waving him off with a polite smile and soft eyes to indicate it was alright. everybody else had already taken their place as you enter the class, in their own duos, leaving you little choice. you analyse the room, a fan blowing directly behind you and you can feel your hair move from it. that's when you see her, again, her eyes already on you. you hadn't even noticed her leave the cafeteria before.

but this time, when the papers fly up nearby her thanks to the fan behind you, her hand flies up to her nose while she inhales deeply, shutting her eyelids as if she’s trying to regulate herself. your face twists into confusion, instantaneously feeling self consciousness as you shyly grab your hair to smell. vanilla. nothing new. nothing disgusting to inhale, unless maybe she just really, really hated vanilla. but from the difficulty she’s finding to even breathe, you highly doubt that. she’s staring directly at you now in sheer disgust, breathing in heavily, tense as she could be as if she’s smelt something absolutely rancid ‘cause of you.

lost in thought, you don't notice your teacher talking to you, until you lose eye contact with her and he takes your slip away, signing it then handing it back with a textbook. then, he points straight to her, and that's when you realise she’s the only one without a lab partner.

regardless, you still try to make light of the situation. flashing a faint smile and taking your seat beside her, the stool out to get you as you almost fall backwards the second you try to sit, hurriedly regaining your balance and trying to play it off, dropping your book bag beside you.

she doesn't speak to you, hell she doesn't even look at you directly. her eyes wide as she keeps her head down, eyeing you from the side, hand still covering her nose and mouth.

it only worsens your paranoia, skeptically raising your sleeve to your nose to see if she's being dramatic or not, and again, you only smell like vanilla. you didn't walk through shit on your way to bio, thank god. how come ellie looked at you as if you were dead was unknown, but you still wanted to give her a chance.

you just couldn’t find it in yourself to talk to her. she's made it very clear with her piercing gaze and inability to say hi that she has zero intentions of talking to you, so there was no point to it anyways, and you didn't want to cross a line, especially with her strange gaze at lunch. you opt to pay attention for once. but it's proving to be a challenge when the stools are so uncomfortable, when ellie’s intensely staring at you, hand no longer near her mouth, inhaling deeply, like she wants more. looking at you like she wants more, not paying attention to the teacher. just you.

mr. brown’s mouth is moving, but you’ve blocked him out. ellie seems to be trying her best to make you notice her, to look at her. and its working, proving to be incredibly difficult to not give into temptation and look at the pale girl beside you, and you just about do every second you’re stuck in that classroom.

you distract yourself by counting down the seconds, imagining ellies life outside of school, how you can adjust your routine in the morning to no avail. your mind wandering back to the girl beside you each time.

the clock is ticking but nothing is changing, you think you’ll be stuck in this classroom forever.

somehow, eventually, the bell rings for everybody to go to their next class, but part of you is disappointed. you were enjoying the attention ellie was giving you, even if it set off warning bells in your head. i mean, your friends had even explicitly told you she didn't have eyes for anybody, even stevie. and you certainly are not better than stevie.

you blink and ellie's gone, dashing out of the classroom, old backpack clutched tightly in her right hand, running away from you as if her life depended on it.

you hate it, but deep down you're offended, and a little sad. someone else's opinion has never bothered you this much until now, and you have no idea even why. you convince yourself your friends got into your head about the mysterious girl. you haven't even spoken to her, yet the effect she has on you seems to be an issue, one that you hope doesn’t last.

you don't see ellie for the rest of the day and it disappoints you, that meant you only had biology with her. after a gym class that you surprisingly don't do terribly in, and another lunch break where you once again gained unwanted attention (thankfully, limited from jackson as you started a conversation between him and stevie), you make your way back to the office, marking the end of your first day.

opening one of the double doors, you’re surprised to see her right in front of you, but she does not look happy. posture tight, back straight as she leans over the counter, just like she had in biology.

“there has to be something, anything at the same time as bio that i can switch to, lady. literally, anything.”

“i’m sorry dear, but all of the classes have been filled,” she responds apologetically, holding a hand up to you to signal she’ll be with you in a moment, and you weren’t even sure if ellie could get any more rigid than she could, but her body language surely signals it, proving you wrong. turning around slowly to face you, face angry. it shocks you, but doesn’t scare you, looking directly into her dark eyes.

“i’ll just deal with it then. thank you,” she grunts, taking her backpack off of the floor and storming away from the office, less than an inch away from bumping into you, barely avoiding your touch.

bothered, but honestly more annoyed, you go through a series of emotions in a matter of seconds, trying to make excuses to how she could be so mean to you when she didn't even know you. sadness slowly turning into anger, you wanted to know what made her hate you. not even bothering to go return your slip, a flurry of emotions overtaking your being, leading you too to storm out. telling yourself you’ll confront the tall-girl tomorrow, challenge her even. if she wanted to bite you, you would bite back.

but she didn’t show.

not the next day either, or the day after that. all hope you had of confronting her slowly fading away, as well as your anger by the time the week finished, and you were left to your own devices. you would be lying if you said dismay didn’t consume your being everytime you walked into biology only to find the seat next to yours empty, often finding yourself looking at her siblings during break, you hated it, but she had made an impression on you.

you tried your best not to let it bother you. turning your focus to school and friends, but not much had changed, and you knew it was only a temporary feeling of fulfillment. half the school seemed to have taken an interest in you, asking discreet questions to see who you might have eyes on, telling them the same thing.

“nobody. i'm good on my own.”

and you really weren’t lying when you said that. sure, ellie drew you in and magnified your curiosity by far more than anybody else, but she had issues with you for some unknown reason, and you had no plans of chasing after someone, no matter how badly you wanted to. anybody who had asked you out romantically you were sure to turn down as politely as possible, because they didn't know you.

there was no difference between them and you when it came to ellie. you really didn't understand the appeal when it was about you, and you were certain it was only because you were the first new person in months.

the week finished far slower than you thought it would, each passing day adding more and more weight to your shoulders, the feeling of fulfillment fading away faster until you were alone, and it vanished completely.

weekends gave you freedom, but they also left you with too much time on your hands. you found yourself doing something, anything that would distract you and keep your mind off of the pit that had formed in your stomach.

first, saturday. you had blocked off half the day to complete schoolwork, and the other half to unpack and hang out with your dad. he didn't have the day off, but you made sure to go to the station and hang out at the diner for lunch after you had managed to complete your work in a matter of hours.

he did a good job at keeping your mind occupied, telling you all about what his duties had been involving recently. strange animal attacks being the centre of his occupation currently. all it proved to you was that jackson was boring, but at least your food was delicious, and you did meet some more familiar faces who claimed they last saw you when you couldn’t even form a conscious thought.

when you drove home, saying goodbye to your dad, the first thing you spotted were four brown moving boxes sitting on your porch waiting for you, and you knew what two of them contained. your music. something you felt like you had been missing for years.

you hurriedly moved all the boxes inside, albeit struggling while doing so, especially when trying to get everything up the stairs. but you managed, and you wasted no time, ignoring your panting breath as you ripped open all the boxes, visualising how you wanted this to go.

deciding you would go out to town and buy some new shelves and a stand to hold your record player and vinyls, you call your dad quickly to check what the best place would be, to which he recommended some vintage thrift stores around that were bound to have something similar to what you were looking for. jumping in your truck and peeling out of the driveway, deciding you would get all your furniture first before unpacking further so you didn't have any unnecessary clutter. you had gotten a pretty good feel for the town and had a general idea on where you were going, eventually finding a good spot right in the middle where you could shop, making a stop at the library to print out your resume first, a process that had been tedious, to say the least.

every store you went to, you handed out the piece of paper that had your name in bold letters at the top. you figured it would be a good idea, useful. having something to take up your days while simultaneously getting paid for it, applying mainly in the hopes of getting hired at the record store that very conveniently had a sign in bright bold letters practically screaming at you that they were hiring, and the person whom you handed your resume to had taken a liking in you, especially after seeing that you were the chiefs daughter.

it didn't stop you from having a look at their options, they had much to choose from. paramore, bon iver, and you couldn’t leave without at least one thing from there, you had been saving up and declared it a present for yourself. hoping it would decrease the emptiness within you somehow. deciding on among my swan by mazzy star, it felt only fitting, and you planned on showing your dad the correlation between the pillow and the record. it would kill two birds with one stone. he would think you felt perfectly fine, and you had something new to listen to.

you visited a couple more shops, handing in your resume at every single one, always ensuring to have a wander around, too. you were sure to not overspend tho, buying two new shirts and a skirt with some tights, some more long sleeved stuff as you were running out of outfits, small trinkets from local antique stores that you wanted to support, checking their furniture options each time. each store didn't have quite what you needed, that was until the second to last. a dark wooden shelf catching your eye instantly, it was perfect. the same type of wood as your other furniture, four squares beneath to hold the vinyls flawlessly and the perfect width on top to hold your turntable and speakers.

you bought it without a second thought, the shop attendant helping you load it out into your truck after you drove it up out front their store, them doing most of the work due to you almost dropping it from your inability to see two feet ahead of you. you decided to end your day there, satisfied with the purchases you had made, feeling a little better, you had been productive at the least and that brought some comfort to your overcrowded mind.

it was sunset by the time you arrived back home, your dad already relaxing on the couch before you interrupted his silence and begged if he could help you unload the new, heavy piece of furniture. he accepted without a second thought, bringing it up to your room effortlessly, almost tripping over the mess you had made on your floor of suitcases and boxes.

by the time you had rearranged your furniture, fatigue had overtaken your being. a lack of motivation to continue your newfound career in interior design made you instead decide to call it a night. rushing down the stairs to reheat your leftovers from the diner, eating at the kitchen bar with your father standing in front of you, it was nice to have him genuinely care about your day. this was time you two had reserved to update each other on your days, no matter how boring. telling him how you applied to a few stores and excitedly explaining how you had bought a matching vinyl to the pillow he had gifted. something that made his day a lot better than you thought it would.

washing your dishes and stacking them, you said goodnight to your dad before lazily walking back up towards your room. he calls out a reminder to call your mom and check when you can go down to see abby, you don't pay any mind to it. already having made mental plans to go down on the firefly reserve next weekend. having a quick shower and crashing on your bed, you close your eyes for a couple moments, content with the day.

the pit wasn't so overbearing anymore, you felt okay, not incredible, but good enough to not spiral. hoping to hear back from at least one of the many places you applied to.

you wonder if you would run into ellie in town someday, especially if you started working there.

groaning at yourself, you refuse to let someone like ellie steal all your thoughts, she was probably just having a bad day that didn’t have anything to do with you. i mean it was the first day back, so she was probably missing the liberty of doing whatever she wanted during the day, explaining her sudden absence.

but you were more upset at her for leaving you alone in biology. you suck at biology. and you didn't want to lose all progress you had made with stevie by asking one of the boys to tutor you since they were the only other two who also did it, just in separate classes. stevie, crystal & cat doing chemistry, a science you were somehow worse at, choosing to suffer in silence instead, asking your dad for help that didn't really help when he doubted his skills more than your own.

opening your eyes and peeking outside, you decided now was the perfect time for your typical nightly routine. opening the lace curtains then your window, grabbing the jumper beside you once the cold air hit you immediately, somehow forgetting about the cloudy breeze waiting for you outside despite the countless times you’ve done this now. before bed, or in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep. even when you got home before your dad did.

opening your pack, you come to the realisation you only have six left, you would be out in the next week or so. cat seemed like the type of person who would know who dealt, maybe even stevie, making a mental note to ask them later if they knew anybody.

taking one out, you grab your lighter from its hidden spot beside the pack underneath the pillows. assuming your regular position of your back leaning against the side wall with your legs spread straight across, you put your cigarette in between your lips and purse, cupping your hand to shield it from the wind and effectively lighting it, but burning yourself in the process, sucking in a pained breath and involuntarily dropping the hot object. you moan at the feeling for a moment clutching your finger with your other hand before assessing the damage, nothing terrible. it would fade within a day or so, focusing back on the cigarette and inhaling, content with the relief it gave.

you take the cigarette from your lips pinching it between your index and middle finger, exhaling towards the outside of your room. grabbing your phone, you dial your moms number. you haven't called her since thursday, it completely slipped your mind last night, so you wanted to make the effort to talk to her now.

one ring, then another, then another, and a few more but she doesn't answer. you give up, putting the cig back in your mouth for another inhale and throwing your phone on your bed. looking outside instead.

your heart skips a beat as you swear you see something from the treeline, standing completely still right in direct eyeliner to your house, jumping in your spot and leaning out the window further, seizing the cigarette from your lips once more and blinking a few times. it was probably just your eyes playing tricks on you, as when you open them again, nothing is there.

nobody would be able to get away that quickly, so you dumb your fears down to an illusion, but you're still shaken up from it for an odd reason, calling it an early night.

reversing your steps, and closing your window, making sure to lock it this time just in case, then your blinds and finally your curtains, you settle into bed. the warm glow from both the lamp beside you and the fairy lights granting you comfort as you lull yourself to sleep, plans on decorating at the forefront of your mind.

sunday goes by far quicker than you would like. you woke up fairly late and was focused on laying out your room the way you would like. it was the first time you had complete freedom with somebody who didn't insist on keeping you their baby forever, so you were savoring it. your mom still hadn’t called you back, you weren’t worried, chalking it down to her enjoying the company of her husband. you begin your journey of meticulously moving things around, carefully choosing what would go where and ensuring you were making it as cozy as possible.

your vinyl shelf being the first thing you set up, you put it beside your desk, stealing the spare outlets beside it for your turntable and then attaching your speakers to the record player itself. displaying them neatly on top, deciding some small figurines and crystals could also make home there.

playing the first vinyl you pulled out of your box, that being ‘all we know is falling’ by paramore, you began to arrange and organise the rest of your collection, a process that took longer than you expected it to, a couple hours at most, but you were extremely happy with the result, you still had a few cubes empty, your collection on full display.

the rest of your room thankfully went by pretty easily, it came naturally for you to decorate. cleaning out your desk, not adding too much to it as you knew your constant schoolwork would clutter it enough, your bedside table not as empty as it previously was, a lamp, book & other small trinkets making a home there. your purse lay resting on the floor beside it.

your wardrobe took the longest, the other two boxes, and two suitcases mainly occupying clothes and some miscellaneous sentimental items you wanted to bring along. spending a majority of your day folding and hanging up clothes, far more than you remembered you had. over half being clothes you wouldn't even be able to wear 90% of the year because of the weather, but you were determined to find a way you could style them while staying warm. about half way through the day, cat sent you a message wondering if you wanted to meet up with the rest of them for lunch, and although you were busy unpacking, you thought some food wasn't a bad idea, and neither was strengthening your connection with the rest. hoping to god that they were the cure to the emptiness you had been feeling, pouring all your energy into the group, just for a chance of feeling normal; content.

but they didn't. you were hoping it was just because you haven't spent enough time with them yet, but you couldn’t spend too long with them anyways, emphasizing how you had to get back to complete your unpacking duties, in a hurry to do so before monday rolled around. cat, jackson, crystal & thomas all offering to tag along and help, an offer you had to politely decline. you were good doing it alone, music playing softly in the background. enjoying it much more than you thought you would have. maybe you could call abby when you got back. saying your goodbyes and tripping on your way out of the cafe, recovering and turning back to see if any of them had noticed, they all had.

offering them an awkward smile and wave goodbye, you turned away and allowed your cheeks to burn, rushing home.

by the time you arrived back, however, your dad whisked away your car instantly and had it taken out to get new tires, explaining to you how they would be safer on the slippery roads. you being sure to thank him profusely for the surprise, comfort settling over you as to how you didn't need to be so worried about crossing the rain with your car.

the day was moving by as if the hours were seconds, and you wanted to savour every last one. you had it to yourself. no worries of the outside world or friends, lost in your own room.

you were sure to call abby that night, cigarette pursed between your lips, talking to her about your recent endeavors and how your first day back went, briefly touching on ellie, a name she seemed to know but refused to explain further, suddenly needing to go. it infuriated you. abby was supposed to comfort and maybe distract you, just a little, the discreet flirting she was giving feeling worthless now.

monday came before you knew it, your room fully decorated and cleaned out. you had developed a morning routine over the past week that didn’t leave you running and dying making your ride, calmly making your way down the stairs, hands gripping the porch railing while you calmly walked to your car, not rushing into anything that would inevitably end up with you slipping and falling flat on your ass, climbing in and turning the heater on immediately. you were wearing something more fashionable than usual for once, wanting to feel good about yourself. the new outfit you had bought yourself on the weekend, a babydoll top paired with warm tights and a simple skirt, same worn chucks as always, not bothering to change that up. you felt good.

you drove to school in silence, no radio in your car meant no music at all, giving you time to sit with your own thoughts. you didn’t know where you stood right now. you really liked your friends, but they could be a bit much sometimes, and you preferred something softer. ellie still occupied your thoughts more than you wanted to admit, although you had been distracting yourself as much as you could throughout the few days you did get to yourself, your thoughts constantly wandered back to her. wondering if she would ever come back to school at all, or if she really just couldn't stand to be around you. you doubted she would return anytime soon. your feet move on their own accord out of your truck and through the courtyard to your first class: biology. it was especially rainy and cold, and in an effort to not ruin the work you had gone through, you threw on your thick oversized jacket and mittens, hauling your bookbag hurriedly out of the open weather.

going to your locker first, you tucked away your mittens, collecting your textbook and holding it to your chest, navigating your way to class. you had grown used to the empty seat beside you, not bothering to check and hanging your jacket up on the hanger at the front of class, facing towards your seat only to see-

her.

you certainly were not expecting her to make her reappearance today. she somehow looked even more appealing than before, an oversized button up shirt with a long sleeve navy undershirt and jeans being her simple outfit, same starry freckles, same shoes, same piercings.

your heart stops as your movements stutter, now feeling very out of place and lost, far more than usual in this class. that was usually in academics and paranoia of people thinking you were a loner, now it's because the one girl you feel like you’ve been waiting centuries for to return is right in front of you, looking straight at you. no hand over her mouth, but no smile either, just curiosity.

pride swells in you, then anger. she still was rude to you, not talking, acting like you were disgusting then practically begging to switch classes away from you, but the anger subsided just as quickly as it had previously, and you made your way to your aisle seat beside her. dropping your bag to the side, almost slipping off your chair for the sixth time, and pulling it in.

after weighing your options, you decide not to speak to her unless she takes the opportunity to talk to you first. you didn't want to force her to be friends with you, she's not looking at you but shyly looking at the table in front of her, the complete opposite to last week, as if she's contemplating what to say. you cross your arms and lean on the bench, looking straight ahead.

“hey. i’m sorry i was unable to introduce myself last week. i’m ellie miller, and i know who you are, but i’m guessing you're tired of people telling you.”

there goes your heart again, your brain short-circuits as her velvety rough voice cuts through you, deep. you stumble over your movements, elbow falling off the table, turning your head but not your body to see her face.

“mhm.”

she gives you the faintest of smiles, breathing in deeply. she genuinely seems to be trying, despite the little she’s spoken to you, it's better than the running away.

her green-amber eyes appear to be more welcoming this time, although you could have sworn they were a dark, almost soulless shade of black the last time you saw her.

you want to ask her what her deal was last week but stop yourself, your teacher frantically running up the aisles, explaining what the practical he had planned would consist of. something about onion cells and differentiating different phases, and that whoever finished first would get a golden onion. exactly what you wanted.

she shifts the microscope over to you once mr. brown finishes explaining, “ladies first.”

internally, you freak out. while you're fine with this unit, you still have fear lingering within you that you’ll answer wrong and look stupid in front of ellie, something you really didn’t want to do.

hesitantly, you take a look into the microscope, identifying the onion root to be in a phase of mitosis after a couple seconds.

“mitosis.” you confidently answer to your lab partner.

“do you mind if i check?”

shifting the microscope over to her, you allow her to have a look for herself.

“mitosis.” she agrees, writing it down on the paper in front of her.

you don't intend on intruding, you really don’t, but your curiosity gets the better of you in a matter of moments, not thinking twice when you question her whereabouts before reality catches up to you and you regret it instantly. “you were gone. where’d you go?”

she switches out the plate, looking down, not answering you for a couple moments, murmuring an answer under her breath and writing it down before looking at you. you don't question the answer, trusting her judgment far more than your own. “i’m sorry about that… i had also meant to apologise before. there were some personal things i had to deal with. i hope everything was okay without a lab partner, though?”

a lab partner. you think. sighing dramatically, “it’s fine i guess, this is only my worst subject anyways” you attempt to joke, hoping it will lighten the mood further. she lets out a low chuckle, averting her eyes from the microscope before piercing you with her gaze once more, opening her mouth to respond before shaking her head, looking back into the microscope.

“what?” you frown “do you want me to have a look? you’ve been doing a lot of work.”

“are you sure i can trust you with getting us the golden onion?”

“hey! i'm not that terrible, i got the first one right.”

she smiles, biting her cheek to stop it from widening. even though her head is down you still see it, her pretending to take so long to identify it to not make you feel as silly.

“how have you been liking jackson weather then?”

you stare at the girl in disbelief, “you’re asking me about… the weather? here?”

her face falls as she seems to realise the uselessness of her own words, smiling at herself, not holding it back this time. “yeah, i guess i am.”

you shudder at her, “it's been okay. it's just so cold all the time, i can't help but miss the heat. the sun, at that.”

“it's supposed to be sunny thursday, i think.” she's gliding through the questions with ease, and you do feel terrible for letting her do so much work, but she doesn't seem to mind one bit. asking you more questions, questions that would be impossibly annoying if they came from anybody else, but from her, it's more personal. she’s actively listening and following up. it's a revitalizing change. “but your outfit is nice. did you get it for this weather?”

she noticed.

“yeah, actually. i got it this weekend.” you smile fondly at her, looking down at your outfit timidly. the emptiness within you is no longer as noticeable, it's not overbearing with ellie.

“how come you went into town?”

the rest of class went like that, time flying by as ellie asked you questions upon questions about your life, getting more personal as time went on. you two won the onion, leaving class side by side with it clutched tightly in your hand while you walked to your locker, questions still coming. you honestly didn't know if she would ever run out.

“so you moved here to make your moms life easier? that doesn’t sound fair on you.” she interrogates, voice slightly rougher now while she learns about your reasoning for leaving your home and coming here instead.

you don't answer her query. “you're full of questions, aren’t you?” you flip it back on her, opening your locker as she leans off to the side, head resting on the metal, looking at you.

pausing, she contemplates her next words, you don’t feel another question approaching though, wondering if she was upset at your sudden change, even though you meant it light heartedly. “i’m just trying to figure you out. you’re a very… difficult person for me to read.”

closing your locker, onion shoved inside, you look at her on instinct. her eyes catching you, pulling you in, making you drown within them.

“are your eyes a different colour?” the comfortable nature of the constant chatter you two had been having didn't make you need to second guess your words around her, but you should know better than to let your guard down.

the question seems to catch her off-guard, though. for some unknown reason. you already know you’ve blown it.

“it's… it’s the fluorescents.” she defends, staring at you for a couple moments, opening and closing her mouth to say something else but deciding against it, marching away from you, watching her back while she strides down the hallway you two just came from, a jacket clutched in her left hand.

slowly turning back towards your locker, you flop your head on it, metal clanging while you close your eyes. all the progress you had just made with ellie was lost, the hole in you reappearing.

you had cursed yourself by having biology with the girl first, the rest of the day going by at a snail's pace, the people around you becoming white noise.

when the final school bell rang, you made no effort in being quick to go, you had nowhere to be anyways. but when you got to the carpark and saw ellie already there, eyeing you as she leant against her car, talking to dina. you walked quicker. you didn't appreciate the back and forth she was giving you. the car park was at its peak population, and you were solely focused on going home.

tossing your back onto the hood of your car, you open it up to try and find your car keys, digging around for a couple seconds, and that's when you hear it, car tires screeching, really close to you. whipping your head around just in time to see jackson and his black van sliding around the carpark, out of control. right towards you.

everything moved in slow motion as you realised you were going to die.

die in this school, in front of hundreds of kids, being squashed by an out of control vehicle. there was no saving you, jacksons panicked face in the driver's seat being the only thing you saw as he frantically tried to swing his wheel away from you to no avail.

you closed your eyes hard, bracing for impact, heart palpating out of your chest as you can hear it in your head. but impact never came.

instead, somebody had taken hold of you, knocking you down to the concrete. you opened your eyes, ellie williams looking back at you, clutching your waist and looking down at you.

you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you, emotions overflowing. you were supposed to die, and she was all the way on the other side of the car park, so how could she have possibly gotten here in such a short amount of time? and how did the car not hit you? a strange dent made behind ellie on your car, and in the car ahead of you.

wordlessly, she stands up, away from you. jumping over your truck and away from the crowds that are surrounding you. people yelling over one another, crystal declaring she had an ambulance on the way while cat wildly scanned you, grabbing your face and looking around to see if you were okay, telling people to back up, it didn't help. your mind was far away, nowhere near this reality.

you have no time to bury yourself deeper into your thoughts, being whisked away into the back of an ambulance, truck abandoned in the school parking lot while more questions were being thrown at you, lights in your eyes, temperature reader in your ears, you weren't sure how much more you could handle.

but you had a few questions of your own, all of them having to do with the same person, ellie miller.

taglist, thank you all so much for reading i truly appreciate it beyond words ♡

@daughterofthemoons-stuff @angrybirdsmaster @st0nerlesb0 @cheriedivine

228 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 7 months ago

Text

It's a Love Story - Chapter 2

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Contary to popular belief, (which was pretty much that the shadows had no mind of their own, which they had, thank you very much) the shadows did do other thing than to only listen to Master’s orders.

Of course they listened to Master’s orders.

But they also did…things that Master didn’t know about…and would never need to find out about…

One example in fact was the amount of gold the shadows had squirreled away throughout the centuries. Not for them, but for Master. So that Mater would never need to worry about that again. So that Master would never need to sleep in a dungeon again, like he had as a child. So Master could always have new weapons and could keep himself safe, so that he would have everything he needed.

Gold wasn’t the only thing they had squirrelled away…they had other things stashed away too! Anyhting that made the appearance of being useful one day! Shiny little things, because the shadows liked that…Sadly Master never made the appearance that he would appreciate the diamond necklaces they had hidden away in a little cave, but maybe one day…

Maybe one day Master would take a wife and she would like them.

The shadows had it all figured out. Whoever she turned out to be, they would make sure that she liked them too. They would make themselves useful so that she would like them.

Even when it had never seemed to work before… The shadows had made themselves scarce around The Morrigan and The Seer because they knew that Master liked them. And if Master liked them…well, then the shadows would make sure that Master got what he wanted.

Master wanted so few things after all…

They even found The Morrigan her favourite red lipstick that hadn’t been made in centuries. Not because they liked The Morrigan, but because Master did.

And in return, she treated Master like that.

And The Seer…oh, somehow that was even worse.

Though The Seer wasn’t the only one the Shadows didn’t like because of that. The High Lord was the other one. And him… oh, the shadows would get their revenge.

Master was theirs. Nobody talked to Master like that.

(They just needed to wait for the perfect moment…and the High Lord would regret ever treating their Master like that…)

Master had nearly gotten himself killed just because he had wanted to make The Seer happy…and nobody even seemed to care about that. Not really.

And then Master was working himself to the bone, clearly wanting to forget what happened between him and The Seer…and the Shadows just wanted to fix things, but there was nothing to fix anymore.

At least now…At least now, finally, Master was listening to somebody with his best interests at first.

The Shadows would find Master a wife. The best wife they possibly could. And a home too.

And so, with their new mission in mind, the shadows set off to find the perfect home and the perfect female for their master.

The home was the easier part.

Mostly because they already owned it for a few decades.

It was a picturesque Lake House at one of the mountain seas in Velaris, not far off from the House of Wind. It was beautiful and just a few minutes by foot away from the city center but still private and quiet…and the view was spectacular.

The home itself was warm and cozy, with large windows that let in plenty of sunlight. Master would love it.

It just needed a little…attention. Some furniture…They would need to put the stuff they had filled it with somewhere else but that shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Master would love it. Now they just needed the right female to share it with for Master…

The shadows were going to find Master a wife… They just needed…They just needed to figure out some criteria at first.

Master had said he didn’t care about how she looked…so that didn’t help them to narrow down the pool of possible candidates.

Nobody with a known mate. Nobody in a romantic relationship… regardless of how loose that was. The Shadows were not going to get Master’s heart broken again, thank you very much… Then all the females that preferred females themselves.

That did narrow it down… at least a little bit.

Then the more…obscure character traits.

Nobody that was a workaholic like Master. That was never going to work.

Nobody that needed endless other people around them to be happy…Master would just get overwhelmed and shut down…

Nobody that didn’t seem like they were ready for a long term relationship either…once again, they didn’t want to break Master’s heart again…

The shadows had met really bad people. Criminals and murderers…they had seen the worst the world had to offer …but they were surprised by how many females they threw out too that pool simply because of how they behaved towards other people.

Once they had thought that maybe…maybe one female was an option. Dark blonde hair, green eyes…she had a steady job and she liked going out dancing….by the time she made fun of the limp of a soldier, the shadows wondered if every single person they came across was an asshole. They also wondered if there was anyone out there who truly deserved Master.

But the Shadows refused to give up. They would find the right female for Master, no matter how long it took. They had already acquired a beautiful home for him, and now they were determined to find the perfect mate to share it with...

They could easily suss out anybody they wanted to meet…they could figure out which females were available…The problem was only that…they did find some kind of problem with every female they came across.

The blonde one that made fun of the limp was just one in a very long row of them. There was another one that they thought could have worked…but she got into earhsattering, screaming arguments with seemingly everybody she came across. Master liked his quietness, that wasn’t going to work either…

Another few that didn’t want a serious relationship even when they said they did, which was completely fine but made them useless for the shadows purposes… The Shadows were halfway ready to give up in Velaris and start trying again in another city of the Night Court, when they came across her in a dark back alley.

Across her and probably the dirtiest and ugliest feral cat that the shadows had ever seen.The ugliest cat they had ever seen that she was clearly trying to entice to come home with her.

“H-hey, swe...sweetie,” she whispered, her voice stuttering. She was crouched down o the floor. “Wa—Want to go somewhere war—warmer?”

The cat meowed pitifully and the shadows watched as she wrapped the cat up in the scarf she had worn, not for one moment caring that the cat was goign to ruin it.

The shadows couldn’t help but keep watching, their curiosity piqued. She was clearly not concerned about the dirt or the torn scarf, and she was attempting to bond with this mangy feral cat. This showed a level of compassion and patience that they hadn’t often come across in their search.

She seemed determined to help the cat, and the shadows couldn't help but admire her tenacity.

The cat looked horribly, with matted, dirty fur, two eyes that stared in two different direction and an overbite. Somehow it reminded the Shadows of Master.

Not with the way it looked…more in the way it pitfully stayed quiet and didn’t attack the female, even as she picked it up, wrapped in her scarf and then took it home.

She smiled at the mangly back alley cat with so much adoration that the shadows wondered where it was even coming from. Her face was alight with joy as the cat rubbed her head against her fingertips.

The shadows followed along as she brought the cat to her apartment.

It was tiny. Tiny and absolutely stuffed full with books. So many books. Like somebody had tried to stuff the whole library of the Hose of Wind in this little apartment overlooking the harbour.

She had so many bookcases lining the walls, books in little stacks on her dining table and coffee table…or simply stacked on the floor. It was cozy and cluttered and utterly charming. Her passion for literature spilled out of every corner of her home.

The Shadows couldn’t help but wonder what kin of person would choose to filll their living space with so many books.

Apparently a person that had no problem with spending the better part of an hour bathing the cat in her kitchen sink.

Weren't cats supposed to not to like water?

This one didn't seem to care. This one sat calmly in her sink and attemptsed to bite the stream of water flowing from the faucet...which meant it snuffled and sneezed for the big majority of the bath. She soaped him up twice, muttering a constant stream of reassurances that the cat doesn't seem to actually need, given the cat’s complete lack of distress at being repeatedly soaked.

And still she talked to it, constantly, the stutter omnipresent. She showed a remarkable amount of patience and care as she cleaned and combed the feral cat, gently and painstakingly combing out every single matted strand of hair and making sure the cat was clean and comfortable.

The shadows couldn't help but be slightly taken aback. She seemed completely focused on making sure the cat was happy and healthy, and she didn't even seem to mind that she was making a mess of her kitchen in the process.

She scooped said up in a fluffy towel, rubbing it up and the cat purred, looking at her with two eyes that stared in two different directions. It was still the ugliest cat the shadows had ever seen, but she seemed to utterly adore it.

"You need - need a name," she told the cat seriously. She seemed to take this decision very seriously, as if the cat's name was a reflection of his identity. The cat in question was clearly enjoying the attention, purring contentedly as it was rubbed with a fluffy towel. "I thi-ink you are a boy. How about...Hector," she said finally, as if she had carefully considered many options before settling on this one. "I think it suits you.”

"How about some tu...tuna, Hector?" she asked him seriously. "I'll even give...give you the good crystal."

She couldn’t be serious, could she?

Apparently, she was. She fed the mangy back alley cat from a fancy little crystal dish that she put a tin of tuna into with a flourish, putting out another dish with water right next to it.

She slipped off the apron she had put on, printed with ditsy little florals and sat down next to the cat. Hector happily scarfed down everything she was offering and then came to curl himself up on her lap. “I have a bad track record with males,” she told the cat seriously. “They end up cheating on me with my sister.”

The statement caught the shadows off guard. What?

Despite that admission she she continued to gently stroke the cat in her lap, clearly finding some comfort in his company. "I'll feed you all the tuna I can find, if you keep me company," she told the cat softly. "I could really use some company."

That wasn’t…that wasn’t what the shadows had expected. Bu the Hector purre, the sound rough and growly and she giggled, sounding sweet and incandescently happy.

She wanted companionship. That was clear. And she was also used to beng the second choice, when the males she had been with, had cheated on her with her sister.

They were intrigued.

They kept watching, hiding between her books, that seemed to span every which genre as she got ready for bed.

She took a bath, and they watched as she let down her hair from the thick braided bun it had been kept it, ripples of chocolate brown tresses falling down her back…she was pretty too.

Pretty with dark hair and blue eyes, with lush curves that were swathed into a pair of blue silk pyjamas.

She opened a chest at the end of her wrought iron bed, going through it for a moment and then pulling out a fluffy blanket, into which she wrapped Hector in.

“Here, you..you can have that one,” she said softly, placing the cat at the end of her bed. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And so she went to sleep, curled up between floral sheets, and the cat purring at her feed and the shadows watched.

They stayed.

While she slept, they explored her house, searching for everything that they could learn about her. Searched for a name and her job or her hobbies and…

The answer was found in the desk that was tucked beneath her window in the living room.

Dozens of pages filled with loopy handwriting were covering it. Drafts of her newest novel. A romance novel.

Just a few moments later they found a stack of letters…and then were very confused for a little while, because there were letters addressed to two different females. Skylar Alden…and one Sellyn Drake.

It took them a moment until they realised that both names contained the same letters.

Skylar Alden was Sellyn Drake.

Sellyn Drake, the bestselling romance author. Sellyn Drake, who Lady Death loved to read. Sellyn Drake, whose identity was a secret...

Skylar Alden was Sellyn Drake.

Skylar Alden, who seemed to prefer to be called Sky, signing everything with just these three letter…and who doted on Hector, the ugly cat..She was also Sellyn Drake, Bestselling Romance Novel Author extraordinaire.

And she seemed very much content with keeping that a secret.

But why?

Why did she chose to hide her identity? Was she afraid of the fame that came with success? Or did she prefer to remain anonymous and blend in with the everyday world?

The Shadows were intrigued.

Was this the only secret Sky was hiding?

The Shadows kept an eye her over the following days.

They waited for her to do something that would put her out of the running as Master’s wife. Waited for her to have some kind of flaw that they couldn't deal with...but there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

They closely monitored her every move, and half the time she didn’t even leave her apartment, preferring to stay curled up inside, write her books, and cuddle with Hector, the cat.

For cauldron’s sake…she even knitted the ugly cat a sweater so he wouldn’t get cold because his belly didn’t have any fur after she had removed all these mats!

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that they could find in her life that could even be construed as unkind.

Sky had a bank account that was full thanks to the books she wrote…and all she paid for with it, was her rent, her food, her regular mail orders of more books…She even donated to one of the orphanages in Velaris, for crying outloud!

Sometimes she went down to the fishmonger and bought ridiculously expensive tuna for Hector, who she spoiled rotten.

Though that one trip to the harbour…where the shadows hid in her handbag…well, that one trip explained why she seemed more than content to stay in the privacy of her own home for most of the time.

Her stutter got exponentially worse when she tried to talk to another person, when it wasn’t just herself and the cat that she liked reading her books aloud to...

Especially when the person she tried to talk to was an impatient fishmonger that rolled his eyes at her stutter. The Shadows as Sky’s cheeks turned a ruddy red, embarrassment clouding around her thickly.

The shadows silently bristled.

She acquired her tuna, paid silently and then kept her head down as she headed back home, cheeks still read, while blue, blue eyes filled with tears.

And that…that was just pissing the shadows off.

She hadn’t even been doing anything! She had just stuttered while asking for fish!

It wasn’t like she was doing this on purpose!

One tendril from the Shadows darted out of her bag, waiting until Sky was far enough away that that idiotic fishmonger wouldn’t think she had anything to do with it…

And then they only needed to loose that pesky little screw that kept one of the legs of his table attached…Screw you, Fishmonger. Let that be a lesson to be nicer to other people

Another customer accidentally jostled said table just seconds later and the shadows snickered to themselves as the fish went flying.

The tendril silently returned to Sky’s handbag, as she made her way back home.

Hector got some of the Tuna cut up into small pieces on the good crystal bowl…and Sky gently scratched him behind his ears the whole time.

The Shadows silently wondered if Master would enjoy being scratched behind his ears, as well.

“I’ll ha--have dinner with my family to…tonight. You’ll stay here, al-alright? I’ll be back soon,” she promised the cat.

Hector just purred at her, nuzzling against her hand before the cat began to dig into the tuna as though he would never be fed again.

Her family. Well, the Shadows would totally come along for that…who knew, maybe her family was just as lovely as she was!

They were not in fact as lovely, as she was.

It started with the very first words of her mother who opened the door, Sky juggling her purse and a paper covered tray from a bakery: “Did you bring dessert? It’s not like you should eat any of that.”

Sky paused at her mother's words, the small smile that had graced her face vanishing like water in the sand.

And then it returned, but the difference between her true smile and her fake smile were so... stark.

"Hi-i. I brou… I brought cake," she said, holding out the tray towards her. "Where do you….Whe-ere do…where do-o you want me to…to put it?"

Her voice was shaking. And she was stuttering…stuttering even worse than she had done with that fishmonger.

“Talk properly, Skylar,” her mother admonished her harshly. “Put it in the kitchen.”

Sky gave a small nod, but her eyes were downcast as the Shadows followed her into the house.

The Shadows were...not impressed with Sky's mother. It was clear that her stutter wasn’t something that she could help, but instead was something that came out stronger when she was nervous or anxious or around other people.

Sky set the cake on the counter and glanced towards the dining room. The table was already set, surrounded by other people, that the shadows took in, while hiding in the curtains of the living room:

Sky’s mother was taller than her, blonde and grey eyed. The shadows also got their first glimpse at what probably was her sister. Looking just like her mother, tall and slender…accompanied by a red haired male. And then there was another blonde male, probably a brother…and an older male, who must be her father. At least he shared her dark hair.

“Ah there you are Skylar,” the blonde female greeted her, her voice sickly sweet.

"Hi Claire. Hi-i…ever…everyone," she murmured looking as though she would rather be anywhere but here.

Her eyes briefly flitted to her father. He gave a small nod, but otherwise he looked… indifferent. As though he did not even care.

"We've been waiting for you," her mother said, her voice sharp and curt, "Sit." Sky didn't respond, just moved quickly to the table. She settled down in one of the empty spots, clasping her hands on her lap.

"...Is this what you call fashion?" her sister scoffed.

Sky looked down at her outfit.

As far as the shadows could tell, there was nothing wrong with it. I cream coloured blouse, a blue skirt…It was a rather pretty outfit in the Shadow's opinion. Sky looked beautiful and charming to them.

“Did you gain weight, again?” The red haired male said with a roll of his eyes. “You always had a horrible sweet tooth.”

What.

Since when did that make polite dinner conversation?

Sky didn't respond, even when the shadows could see her hands tightening around each other, looking down as her mother let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ll never find a male like this,” her mother snorted. “Males don’t like it if girls don’t keep up their appearances. The least you could do is try.”

"I'm...sor...re...sorry," the stuttering had gotten worse, Sky practically shrinking into her seat. She was fidgeting, looking as though she wanted to disappear into herself and the Shadows wished that they could just sweep her far away from here.

“How is work?” Her brother asked flatly at that moment. “Still editing your stupid romance novels? I still think you should do something slightly more useful.”

So even they didn’t know.

Sellyn Drake was a secret even from her family. But then, if her family talked to her like that and it was…normal…then the shadows weren’t surprised.

“What else is she supposed to do?” the red haired male asked with a snort. “It’s not like she has any skills.”

Sky flinched, not looking at him. The shadows wondered if that was one of the males that had cheated on her with her sister.

“Oh, come on, Admon. She has some skills,” her sister said at that moment, giving another winning smile. “She can annoy everybody around her with her inability to speak properly.”

Wow.

Sky didn’t even flinch. Sky did nothing.

She just...sat there through all the comments. Sky didn't even try to defend herself.

The whole dinner went by like that. Comment after comment after comment. About her work, about her body, about her clothing, about her stutter… Sky barely had any dinner because every time she picked up her fork with food on it, her mother was shooting her a sharp look. So she left most of the food on her plate and the shadows wanted to bristle.

She maybe wasn’t as thin as her mother or her sister but that didn’t make her any less beautiful or any less deserving of food!

When they weren’t making prickly comments about sky, her older brother Orin and Claire, her sister were only talking about themselves. It was quite useful only because the shadows learned stuff like the fact that Claire and Admon were engaged to be married and that Orin was working at a bank…

But none of that information made it worth for them to treat her like that.

Eventually the dinner finally ended after what felt like an eternity. Sky looking as though she could hardly wait to leave. She rose, and the Shadows quickly into her purse her as she grabbed her purse and her jacket.

"Leaving already?" her mother frowned, standing as well.

"I…It's get…getting…late." Sky said, her eyes not even lifting to look at her mother.

The words were barely out of her mouth before her mother's hand darted out, gripping her jaw tightly and causing the Shadows to let out a warning hiss. Sky winced in pain as her mother forced her to look up.

“At least try to be polite, if you are utterly useless.”

Sky's eyes widened in pain as her lip wobbled. She looked as though she was going to cry, her hands clenching and unclenching as she tried to stay calm. "I'm…sor-r-r-ry." She whispered.

But her mother didn't even release her grip. "Don't talk to me like you are the one being wronged. Look at you. Who would want you like this?"

The Shadows bristled at her mother's words. Everyone would want her like this, they thought angrily. We would want her like this.

Sky swallowed thickly, trying to fight her tears. She was trembling, trembling from head to toe.

"I'm sor-rry. Pl-please. Let me go." She stammered.

Her mother simply sneered, and shoved her backwards, Sky nearly falling as she stumbled. "You'll never amount to anything." She said coldly. "You're nothing more than a disappointment."

Sky looked absolutely mortified at her mother's words, tears starting to fall from her eyes as she looked down at her feet. She looked like a wounded animal, like someone who had given up. And it made the Shadows burn with anger. How could her own family be so cruel to her? Didn't they see how kind she was? Or how…how sweet she was?

Sky took a step backwards, and then she was running, practically fleeing out the door, rushing into the night. She was almost running, her breaths ragged as every gasp she took sounded as though she was trying to smother her sobs.

Finally, she slowed down, but didn't stop walking.

She just kept walking, her head down, tears still falling down from her wide eyes. Finally, she slowed down, but didn't stop walking. She made her way back home, shoulders caved in, looking utterly and completely miserable, as opened her door with her key…and then the damn burst.

And she collapsed right on the floor in her hallway, great, heaving sobs escaping her.

And the shadows just knew one thing with utter certainty: They were going to fix this. They were going to fix this for her and Master.

Even when it was the last fucking thing they did.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #It's a Love Story

658 notes · View notes