#that he isn’t alone and that he might have a chance

[luveline]

can you pls do Sirius and his loser!gf <3 where she’s getting insecure about how cool he is and how much of a loser she is so she stops doing her fun little hobbies and tries to change and he can’t wrap his head around it? luv u 

fem, 2.4k

Shaving the backs of your legs is hard, but you only cut yourself once. More of a rash. It’s fine. And buying new clothes is worse, trying everything on, attempting to make outfits you aren’t brave enough to wear, it’s difficult, but Sirius got you a gift card for your birthday with too much money on it anyways. It’s okay. Doing your makeup like this, following the tutorials and learning how to keep a steady hand, it was frustrating, but it’s done now. 

You turn in the mirror in silence. Small black dress with a reasonable and yet somehow brave skirt. Loafers, leather, shiny and brown. White socks. Baby sleeves, little silver necklace. You look cute, you do, but Sirius sees you everyday. This was all pointless —he knows you’re a loser already. 

He won’t laugh at you, but he’ll raise his brows and whistle or ask what’s gotten into you, because this isn’t normal. You’re not normal. 

“Darling,” he says from somewhere downstairs, and you aren’t ever sure if he’s teasing or if he actually thinks you’re his darling, “are you ready to go? Not that you need to rush, but we might have more chance of getting a table if we leave soon.” 

“Yeah, two seconds!”

“Okay!” There’s a sound of scuffed boots against the wall. “I’m gonna go find Tilly!”

Tilly’s your little white cat. His suggestion, an uncharacteristic expression of worry. I don’t want you to be lonely, he’d said, though you both know you’re always lonely, less so since you met him. You’re a lonely person, and it’s not anyone’s fault, but Sirius acts as though it’s his and he tries his hardest to fix things. Tilly —his name choice, too, the posh bastard— was a year old by the time you got him and has remained very small. A rescue, he refuses to stay inside and yowls like mad if you restrain him, so you let him out in the garden in the daytime. Your house is far from the beaten path, you don’t worry about him often, and besides, he always comes when Sirius calls. 

He barely has to raise his voice for the cat when you hear the tinkle of a jumping bell. “There you are, sweet boy. Yes, hello. You aren’t having anymore ham, it’s your mum’s.” 

That’s nice. 

You gather some bits into a handbag and wrap a jacket around your strange outfit, ready to head downstairs. You’re hoping Sirius won’t have anything to say about what you’re wearing. You might die. 

When you get to the kitchen, Sirius is stroking Tilly’s back as the cat eats a slice of ham from a little saucer on the table. He looks up at your footsteps. Even now, he takes your breath away. It’s a rabid cliche and it couldn’t be more accurate —you choke on your exhale, witness to his good looks in the warm yellow light from the kitchen shade above. Sirius has always been handsome, outspokenly so, and somehow simultaneously there’s an understated quality to him. Perhaps it’s how he’s smiling at you, all warmth and no bravado. Not a lick of performance. You’ll never know why you were the exception, why, that night at the show, surrounded by people far prettier than you are, he’d stopped by your table and said, “Alright?” 

Yes, you’d said back. Thank you. 

You’re welcome. I’m Sirius.

You know now it was unlike him to act so calmly. He must’ve sensed that grand flirting would’ve scared you off. Not that he doesn’t flirt, does he ever stop? But your Sirius often feels like a secret. He only makes sense with you when you’re alone. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, smug in his way. 

“Nothing.” 

“Well,” he says, letting the pause between his words breathe deeply, “you look beautiful. But you have a cut?” 

You turn your knee to show him more clearly, peering down at it unhappily, “Oh, I know, I cut it in the bath, is it noticeable?” 

“It’s fine. Does it hurt?” 

You rub your cheek. “No, not really. I’m ready now, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, why are you sorry?” He rubs Tilly’s little snout and stands. “I feel quite stir crazy today. Do you know what I mean? If we weren’t going out for food I’d probably scream.” 

Sirius cups your cheek. He’s not particularly gentle, but that doesn’t mean he’s throwing you about either, quick and greedy with his touching in a way that’s never made much sense to you. 

He takes your shoulder and ferries you from the house, locks the door, insists on driving. “Tilly’s got the vets on Saturday next, I’ll make sure I’m not doing anything, it’s at five so we’ll go at half four, yeah?” 

“Thank you. For sorting everything out.”

“Well, he’s not really a present if I make you do all that stuff, is it?”

“You don’t have to keep paying for his food, though.” 

“Shut up, not having this conversation again.” He reaches over the gearstick for your thigh. “You look pretty. Don’t let me embarrass you, but this is quite new, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah. I got it with the card you bought me. I hope that’s okay.” 

“Of course it is.” He frowns. You watch his face as he watches the road, melted by the rough of his hand slipping up and down your thigh. His bracelet tickles as he goes, a ten thread embroidery bracelet you’d woven for him when you were still too scared to call him your boyfriend. He takes good care of it. Never showers with it on, so the colours have stayed bright and clean. 

“The makeup is nice, too. You always look nice.” 

“Thank you,” you say, covering his hand with your own. This lessens his frown some, but he’s onto you. Suspicious as he parks the car by the pub. 

Then a blank slate falls over his pretty features. “Hey, you know what? James said there’s been a huge family of ducks in the pond behind the two for one, should we go have a look? Baby ones, too.” 

You grin. “Really?” 

“Green ones and everything.” 

You scramble out of the car. It’s a little brisk for the outfit you’ve made up, just, all the cool girls on the website you’d browsed for information had nice legs that they used to their advantage, nobody was wearing jeans or tights, just skirts. Skirts skirts skirts. And you like skirts, but you would’ve worn a pair of jeans and a hoodie any other day. It’s only dinner at the two for one. 

You and Sirius make your way down from the asphalt to the beaten path, through grass and to the edge of the pond, walking along lain wood chips as the pond opens up and the blue expands nearly further than the eye can see. 

“You’re terribly in your head today,” Sirius says. 

“Sorry, am I?” you ask. 

Not cool. You’re lying about not knowing, but Sirius is kind enough to let it slide. For now. “You are. I was wondering if maybe you aren’t happy in the dress. It really does look lovely, you look lovely. It’s nice that you’re trying something new.” 

“But?” 

He offers his hand to hold. You let him slip his fingers between yours and squeeze. “No buts. It really is nice. You know I like you in your joggers, but it’s nice to dress up.” 

You bite back another useless oh, pulling him toward you as you fall into step. Your arms and your shoulders touch. “Yeah. I don’t look stupid?” 

“You don’t look stupid,” he confirms. 

“I think I feel stupid.” 

“It’s always jarring to try new things. You think everyone can tell, but they can’t.” 

“I want this to be me. Like– like, it’s not that I don’t want to dress like this, I do. I don’t think it’s stupid to want to look dressed up or anything…” 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” 

You falter where the wood chips are turned to long, green grass at the edge of the water. “What?” 

“Why don’t you make your bracelets anymore?” 

“My bracelets?” 

“Yeah, and your keychains. You don’t make them. You haven’t been watching your shows, either. I… was worried you were going a bit topsy-turvy. You’ve always been my…” You stare at him, not sure you recognise this Sirius who can’t seem to put words together. “You’re a quiet girl, yeah? You don’t go out much, but I thought you liked things that way. I was wondering if maybe you’re a bit depressed, sweetheart. What do you think? Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

You shake your head gently. “Maybe a little, just…” 

You cast your eyes to the water. At the other end of the lake, the family of ducks have emerged from by the cattails and the pondweeds, swimming far, far away in a broken V. 

You don’t usually keep things from Sirius. It’s a big part of why you love him —he loves to hear you talk. You can chat for hours about nothing at all and he eats it up, interrupting with jokes and kisses and soft touches behind your ear. But what are you supposed to say to him now? I feel like I’m not enough for you, not cool enough, not charming. “Do you ever think it’s sad that I can’t seem to make any good friends?” you ask through a smile. “I try my best. I’ve joined all those clubs and I talk to people on the internet, but somehow I’ve never really made any.” 

“You do try your best,” he agrees quietly. 

“But you’re, like, the only person I’ve met who properly likes me.” 

“That’s not true. I’m just the only person who’s managed to get to know you, it’s not– it’s not as simple as liking you. James really likes you, but I’m your boyfriend and he’s not. It’s circumstance.” 

You’re tempted to laugh. “I’m uncool. It’s not funny, it’s quite bad, really, that all my hobbies are stupid, that I never learned how to dress, that– I’m so behind everyone. I think it’s quite miraculous that I have a boyfriend in the first place, but you being my boyfriend? It only happens in books.” 

Sirius acts more like himself when you’re done, loosing your hand go to grab you by the face. “That’s all rubbish,” he says, pressing a sympathetic kiss to the space between your eyebrows. He lingers there, forcing you to shut your eyes tightly. “Yeah? That’s rubbish, you know that’s rubbish. You do. You’ve thought about it too much and you’re not feeling the best and you’ve, like, twisted it up. Because you aren’t uncool, and you aren’t stupid, and this doesn’t just happen in books. It happens in real life, that’s why people write about it.” He’s drawn away, frowning in the frame of your parting lashes. “The things you like aren’t stupid, sweetheart, they’re just not all the same as everyone else. It’s okay to be a bit different, it’s not like you’re an alien. There are tons of girls who like to do your crafts and watch those long tv shows and stuff, you don’t think they’re weird, do you?” 

You shake your head. 

“No.” He relaxes his hold on your face, his hands slipping to the curves of your neck. “I quite like you, which you know. I like that you’re a bit different. I like that you’re quiet with people we don’t know, ‘cos you’re not shy with me. You’re just you, my girl.” 

“I know you like me,” you murmur. 

It doesn’t help you like yourself as much as you both might hope, but it’s not anything to shake your head at, either. 

Sirius manoeuvres you in front of him, his face pressed to the side of your head and his arms coming to hold you at your chest, encouraging you to look out at the water. It ripples with the flock of coming ducks. “Shiny heads,” you mumble. 

“They are much prettier,” he says. “Bet all the other ducks think they’re weird.” 

“Shush,” you mumble, wishing he’d say more as he draws a heart into your chest with his thumb. You can feel it despite your layers. 

“Bet they love doing weird duck stuff.” 

“Subtle.” 

“I’m not subtle, and I never will be, and you don’t mind.” 

It’s heavy-handed but effective. You relax into Sirius’ chest and find yourself suddenly eager to come clean completely, to tell him every detail of the worries you’ve worried these last few weeks, but you wonder if there’s a point. It’ll upset him if he knows how deeply your self-disdain runs, and it’s not as though it makes you feel better to confess to it. 

He noses at the soft skin beside your eye. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you?” 

“I don’t know that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

You lean back fully. “Thanks,” you say. Your mouth feels heavy with honey.  

Sirius points at a duck splitting off from the group. “That’s one of the babies. Cute. And friendless for now, but I bet soon–”

You turn in his arms and wrap your own around his neck. “It’s not about friends, Sirius.” 

“I know.” 

He gives you a quick, loving cuddle by the water and pulls apart from you with a twinkle in his eye you recognise and revere. When he spends the evening doting, kissing, and being altogether too touchy, you want to be embarrassed, rejecting his affection because you begged for it with your awkward confession, but you let him be kind to you because you love him, and he loves you, no matter how many ways you might try to change.

He sees you smiling dopily at him over dessert and asks if you’d like to be spoon fed. Won’t get anything on your dress, swear. 

[slozhnos]

i think the most heartbreaking moment in childish things is winn and kara’s conversation at the docks bc like “no, you don’t really need me.” bit hurts me so much every time

[phantom-dc]

Bruce sighed.

He never thought he would die like this. When he started out as Batman he was certain he would meet his end fighting the criminal underworld of Gotham. When he got older and life got stranger, he believed he would die fighting off a threat like Joker or Deathstroke, maybe even Darkseid. Being used as a human sacrifice to the King of the Infinite Realms was not on that list, let alone being a willing sacrifice.

Unfortunately, it had been necessary. An asteroid was on collision course with Earth. The asteroid had a colony of sapient alien life on it, so destroying it was not an option. As the League grew desperate, Constantine revealed a similar incident had happened a few years ago. The King of the Infinite Realms had, along with his subjects, turned the Earth intangible and both the Earth and the Asteroid had survived. Constantine isn’t sure why or how, but there are signs an extremely powerful ghost had merged realities and in the process erased the memories of this event from the entire population of Earth! The only reason Constantine knows about it is because a Demon with time-based powers told him during one of their poker games. Summoning this King was risky, as they had no idea what the King would want in return, but this entity seemed like their best bet. Now Bruce thinks they had been wrong.

Superman pulled Bruce out of his thoughts:

“Bruce, are you sure you want to go through with this? If we work together, we might be able to-”

Bruce cut him off:

“No, Clark. You heard Constantine. If we do not hold up our end of the deal, the Ghost King could simply make his ally, this “Clockwork”, reverse time to before the planet was saved. The Earth and the asteroid will still be destroyed, killing everyone on both. This is the only way.”

Clark looked dejected. He knew his friend was right. The King had turned the entire Earth intangible with one hand! He knew the League couldn’t defeat this foe, not without help. Any being that could help them would demand even more bloodshed in exchange, though. One human life in exchange of saving the entire planet had been a steal, according to the Justice League Dark. Clark looked at Bruce:

“Are you going to put on your cowl? This will be the only chance you have to tell the other Leaguers who you are.”

Bruce looked at his cowl. He had taken of his suit, so that his family had something to bury. But to reveal his identity to anyone other than Clark....

“I will keep it on. Even if I die here, I cannot risk anyone finding out my identity and using it to get to my family. I hope the League understands.”

Bruce is pulled into a hug. As Clark holds him as close as he can without breaking bones Bruce cannot help being filled with regret. He wanted more time with his family and, dare he say, friends. This was not how things were supposed to go. Clark pulls away and seems to want to say something:

“Bruce, I just want you to know, I-”

“WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON, B?”

Suddenly Nightwing enters the room, along with the entire Bat-family. Even Alfred and Oracle, donning masks, are there. They looked confused and scared, which made sense. They had all been summoned to the Watchtower, and when they had seen non-field members there as well they knew something was very wrong. Robin stepped forward, demanding an explanation:

“Father, what is happening? Why did you ask for us here? Explain yourself this instant!”

Red Robin looked ready to fight, staff in hand and in a low stance:

Where is the danger? Who is the enemy? Do you have intel for us? ARE YOU BEING MIND CONTROLLED?

Spoiler yanked at Red Robin’s cowl, pulling him out of his paranoid spiral:

“Easy, Captain Paranoid! Let him speak!”

Red Hood was clearly agitated. It was never a good sign if he was asked to the Watchtower:

“The fuck is going on, old man? Are you dying or something? That’s my stick, not yours!”

Bruce steeled his nerves. This was not going to be an easy conversation. How does one tell their family they are going to die and there is nothing to be done about it? Things had been going well for them, too. Dick and he hadn’t fought as often anymore, Jason had not called him names when he patrolled Crime ally last week, Tim hadn’t done anything that could be considered villainous (that he knew of) and Damian had not stabbed any goons for a month. Truly things had been good. Bruce knew this would mess it all up. He feared Jason would start killing again, or Damian would take out his grief on the criminals or Tim would… Well he had no idea. Last time Bruce disappeared Tim blew up so many LoA bases (he still wasn’t sure whether there had been people inside or not), so it was anyone’s gue-

“Sir, could you please elaborate on why we are here? I’m assuming it has something to do with the reason for this dreadful cold, and perhaps your lack of a shirt?”

Bruce sighed. Alfred always knew how to get through to him. With a heavy heart he told them everything. He would sacrifice himself for the survival of both planets. There was nothing to be done about that, and he asked them to please accept his decision. Naturally everyone was outraged. Amidst the chaos, Orphan asked a question:

“Why you?”

Bruce explained that, according to Constantine, the King had asked for a single sacrifice in return: “To feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed.” It had pointed specifically at Batman, making sure they all knew which one it wanted. There had been no time to negotiate the prize, so he had accepted. After that it had left immediately for Earth, turning it intangible so the asteroid flew through harmlessly and fulfilling its end of the deal. Orphan seemed to think for a bit, before speaking up again:

“We’ll miss you.”

She hugged Batman. The others, realizing there was nothing they could do, at least not before facing the King, joined in as well. Bruce told them how proud he was of everyone. That they were strong and brilliant, and to please protect each other and Gotham in his stead. He thanked Alfred and Oracle for their help over the years and to please continue to support the others with the same strength they used to help him. After a moment they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Wonder Woman had entered the room. With a saddened expression, and a dented doorhandle that showed her tension, she had come to collect her friend.:

“Batman. It’s time.”

Bruce nodded at her. Thanking her, he tried to leave with her, but was stopped by Alfred. After a quick hug, Alfed offered Bruce a cookie from the plate he had brought along:

“Every man deserves a final meal. I’m sorry this was all I have to offer.”

Taking a grateful bite, Bruce allowed himself to indulge in the taste of home.

“Thank you, Alfred. This means more to me then you realize.”

Steeling himself once more, Batman and the others followed Wonder Woman to the main room. It was the largest room in the Watchtower, several stories high with observation platforms, security screens showing cities all over the planet and a teleportation platform. As they approached the room, Batman was surprised by the cold that radiated form the entrance. Opening the door the source of all the cold and grief became visible to the group. Signal had to shield his eyes:

“What the hell!?!”

There it was, the High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms. A giant being, which had been so large they had to move to the observation platform to speak with it. Even then it towered over the heroes. It’s skin impossibly dark, with constellations spotting its tail & torso. The stars converging on its lower arms, making it look like it was wearing glowing white gloves, the same as a strange symbol on his chest that seemed important. The stars on its neck blending seamlessly with its hair, yet leaving its head completely dark aside from a few little spots on its face. The only facial feature they could make out where 2 Lazarus green eyes, focused on the new arrivals. On its hand, a ring with a skull on it that had freaked out the Lanterns. On its head a dark crown covered in patches of frost, and its own Aurora Borealis spreading from it. The room had already been partially covered in frost simply from the King’s aura. Power emanated from it, which had caused several members that had been dead and revived before to kneel on reflex, which was frightening even if they managed to get up on their own again.

Martian Manhunter had tried to peek in the Kings mind, hoping to find a way to convince the King to spare Batman, but he had been unsuccessful. As soon as he tried his knees buckled, and he had been pushed out. Ever since the Ghost King had radiated frustration. Now, as Batman entered wearing only his cowl and some spare pants, that frustration seemed to spike dangerously. Was the King upset he had been left to wait for his offer?

"What the fuck is this? I didn’t ask for a striptease, especially from some old Frootloop!”

“Constantine, what’s wrong? What is it saying?”

Batman was worried. He had not expected more anger from the being when presented with the offering. Looking at Constantine, he saw the magician frantically looking through the pages of his books, desperately looking for a translation.

“Hang on, mate. I’m doing my best here! Ehrm… no, that’s not right… Something about mating? Maybe he likes you, Bats. He also said something about “the absence of clothing” so…

Suddenly he is cut off by a strange sound coming from the Ghost King. It makes a strange motion with its body and its giant maw opens, as more of those sounds escape. It reminds Robin of Alfred the Cat when he has a hairball. However, there is more sound in the Watchtower now. The Red Hood is clutching his stomach as he is doubling down in laughter.

“HAHAHAHA!!! WHAT? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU TRANSLATE THAT BADLY? HOLY SHIT!”

The Ghost King stops making the noises, and it’s eyes snap to Red Hood. It moves it’s head closer to him, casually passing it through the barrier Constantine had put up. Constantine’s swears in surprise, but the King seems not to care as it “speaks” to Red Hood:

"Oh, thank the Acients! Someone who understands Ghost Speak! Can you PLEASE help me and translate for us? This trench coat guy is terrible, and somehow twists everything I say in the worst way!"

Red Hood relaxed, looking up at the Ghost King’s giant head.:

“Sure man, no problem. I’m pretty sure he is using like 3 different dictionaries to get this far. I saw him first translate Ghost to Pixie, Pixie to Gnome and Gnome to Demon before telling us in English! So, what’s up?”

Batman was stunned. The Ghost King actually face palmed. What the heck was going on?

"Of course he is. That explains why it sounds like he is putting this through Google Translate 4 times! These guys summoned me to save the Earth, which, totally cool. Happy to help! But a summons makes it official, which means I need to get an offering. I can’t leave without it or I face a mountain of paperwork from some stupid bureaucratic eyeballs for not following proper procedure. But I can always ask something simple and get it over with. No biggie, right? WRONG.”

Red Hood actually grabs a chair to sit on. Not even in a somewhat respectful way, he is sitting on it backwards, casually leaning on it.

“Oh, boy. How badly did they fuck up? Gotta be big since Batman over there is ready to be eaten?”

The King glares at Constantine, who puts up his bravest “time to out-bollock a Eldritch Demon” face. The King is not impressed:

"Man, I asked, and I quote: “I’d like to eat a regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like that guy would eat!” I wanted it to be clear I didn’t want blood, or corpses or virgins or any of the other horrible things stupid cults try to give me! I just wanted a burger or something! But then Mr. triple dictionary over there somehow turns that into: ‘’I wish to feast on a non-magic, non-meta mortal human that will not resist being consumed, and it must be that one.” I’ll admit I was pointing at one of the non-supers, but that didn’t mean I wanted to eat him! I just wanted to make sure it was normal food, something that doesn’t fight back!”

Red Hood looked confused, asking if the King’s food usually fights back. The King rolls it’s eyes:

"In life, I lived with mad scientist parents who treated lab safety as a suggestion at best and a chore for teens at worst. Put enough samples in the fridge and you get a whole new type of Thanksgiving trauma. Dang, I’m getting even more hungry. I’d love some turkey right now. Could you get them to bring me some food? That way I can have my sacrifice and leave…”

Red Hood stands up. He asks if the King can wait a few more minutes, claiming that after all that frustration he deserved something better. Getting a nod from the Ghost King, the Red Hood suddenly shouted over the platform railing towards the waiting Leaguers:

“FLASH! Get your squad up here, and bring pen & paper! I got a job for y’all!”

Zooming up every member of the Flash family gets a list of things to get and a warning not to tell the Bats what’s on it, or Red Hood will shoot them in the knees. Looking at the lists, they quickly caught on what was going on and promised they wouldn’t tell. This was way too funny! Red Hood does a fake bow to the King, clearly amusing himself.

“Don’t worry, your Hungry-ness! Your sacrifice is being prepared! Anything else we can assist you with?”

The Ghost King seems to tilt its head in amusement. Whatever Hood was doing, it was working, which honestly was the only reason nobody had tackled him to the floor.

"Actually, if you could get that Frootloop to put on a shirt that would be great. He is shivering and honestly, I’m worried he’s going to poke someone’s eye out with a nipple. Why is he shirtless anyway? Please tell me he wasn’t actually trying to seduce me or something, he’s old enough to be my dad! Gross!”

This caused Red Hood to again double over in laughter. Everyone was confused, what could possibly be so funny in this situation? Constantine had frantically tried translating during their conversation, but it had gone too fast for him. He gave up when the King mentioned eyeballs and seduction, accepting he wouldn’t get anywhere like this. Batman however couldn’t resist his need to know everything anymore.

“Hood, report! How are you communicating with the entity?”

Red Hood turns to Batman, walks past him and towards Alfred, grabbing one of the cookies he had brought with him. As he walks back and hands it to the Ghost King, he starts to explain:

“Honestly, not sure. It feels instinctive, like a second mother-tongue. Pretty sure it’s some sort of “dead-guy-language” you learn when you die. Speaking off: Turns out Constantine is a VERY unreliable translator. Spooky here is actually pretty chill! He used you as an example to make sure we knew what he wanted, not to demand you as a sacrifice. He is in fact pretty ticked that you guys tried to feed B to him. Speaking of: Batman? Put a shirt on, for fucks sake. You look like you’re going to freeze your tits off.”

This earned a round of giggles from Green Lantern & Green Arrow. Now that the tension had left the room, other Leaguers also smiled in relief. Besides, it’s always fun to see Batman being the butt of a joke. Sure enough, Batman let out a frustrated sound, that got the rest of the Bats to join in on the fun. They understood that their dad in fact felt rather silly right now, which meant that they had more to gossip about soon. Constantine now was wondering what Hood was up to:

“Mate, I did my best! Sorry for not being fluent in every language in existence. What the hell did you send the Flash to get? The bloke is a scientist and denies magic when it’s right in front of ‘im! What could they possibly get that I couldn’t-”

At that moment, the Flashes zoom out of the Zeta tubes and zoom across the observation deck. After a few moments of red and yellow blurs, the deck is covered with tables filled front to back with food! Picking up a receipt that fell to the floor, Batman realizes this is take-out from all over the world. Seeing a puddle of Lazarus water grow on the floor, he looks up. The Ghost King is actually drooling! Red Hood steps aside and gestures to the feast:

“Welp! There is your sacrifice! One. And I also quote: “regular human meal that doesn’t fight back, like “that guy” would eat!” Well, more of a feast then a meal, but I’m sure a big guy like you can finish it, and you can always take home the rest I guess. Bon Appetit!”

Opening his giant maw, the Ghost King digs in. Well, as much as he can. He actually looks kind of silly eating everything with a tiny fork. Still, judging from the purring sound emanating through the Watchtower it’s to the Kings liking.

"DUDE, THIS IS SO GOOD? I need to know these restaurants! You want a bite for helping me out? You saved me SOOO much annoying paperwork, I was about to bail!”

Picking up a plate of karaage, Red Hood took of his helmet revealing a second mask underneath and dug in as well:

“Don’t mind if I do, this smells fantastic! Oh shit, you should try this stuff, it’s great!”

Red Hood being allowed to partake in the offering so casually caused Constantine to do a double take. He realizes he seriously misjudged this entity. Still, that didn’t explain the horrific stories about him. He would need to do some digging into that, maybe with Hood as a translator. For now he takes a swig of his drink. The world was saved, no one died or lost their Soul and he didn’t make any new enemies he thinks. Plus, Batman felt like an idiot, and that always made the Brit smile.

All in all a good day!

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: enemies to lovers!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

Masterlist

Peter walked into the kitchen in the tower and was immediately greeted by a confetti popper exploding in his face followed by a tender kiss on the forehead from Tony.

“Oh, my. Good morning to me.” Peter smiled at the greeting.

“Damn it, Parker.” Tony groaned. “I thought you were my little girl.”

“Don’t feel bad, daddy. A lot of people confuse Peter for a little girl.” You said as you walked into the kitchen behind Peter. The two of you made eye contact and you gave him an innocent smile while he rolled his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.“ He said sarcastically and then hissed at you like a cat. You gave him a look as you walked over to your dad.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Tony said and pulled you into a long hug.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“Thank you, daddy.” Peter said in a high pitched voice to mock you. You and Tony looked at him and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What I meant to say was, happy birthday. I didn’t know that was today. I mean, I’d been wondering why you looked so old but I assumed it was from your lack of sunscreen use.”

“Nice try. I wear sunscreen everyday.” You replied.

“Really?” He gasped. “Might want to up that SPF a few. You look like a crumbled piece of paper and not in a fun Taylor Swift way.”

“Don’t talk to me about skincare, Rudolf.” You snapped and tapped your nose twice to point out the zit on the tip of Peter nose. He covered it with his hand and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Children, please. No fighting. It stops my moisturizer from sinking in.” Tony sighed and rubbed circles into his skin.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to make sure Peter knew about the giant pimple on his nose in case he was going to see anyone today.” You said as you smiled sweetly at Peter. He discreetly flipped you off by scratching his cheek with his middle finger.

“Any plans for the night, jelly bean?” Tony asked you.

“Nothing crazy. My friends are coming over later for a sleepover.”

“Oh God. Is this gonna be one of those crazy parties where you all get drunk and things get out of hand and you accidentally kill someone and have to dispose of the body together while hijixs ensues?” Peter. whined.

“No, because this isn’t one of the pornos you watch.” You scoffed.

“Pfft. That is not what I watch.” He insisted. “Where would I even find something like that? What would I even type? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Shut up.” You laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. And don’t be hanging around when my friends are here. I already told them you’re a pervert and on the FBI watch list so you don’t have a chance with any of them.”

“I don’t want to date your freakbob friends anyway.” He scoffed. “And to keep it down tonight, will you? I already wake up the birds chirping every morning. I don’t want to hear you birds all night too.”

“I actually came up with a solution for that. What if you killed yourself?” You asked through a smile.

“That’s a great idea. I might give that a whirl today if I’m not busy.” He replied and matched your smile.

“You? Busy?” You laughed. “Please. Busy doing what?”

“Peter and I are gonna be in the lab doing boring stuff with the suits. Adjustments, additions, and what have you.” Tony answered you.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need any help?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that on your birthday, baby girl. Peters got it.” Tony replied, making your smile falter a little.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Peter boasted and gave you a smug look. You glared at him for a moment before looking back at your dad.

“I’ll catch you later for some cake, okay honey bun?” Tony told you before kissing your forehead.

“Okay. Bye. Have fun.” You smiled sadly as he left the room.

“You look greasy, by the way.” Peter said once you were alone.

“Like I care what you think. Even your hairline won’t stay with you.” You scoffed and nodded towards his forehead.

“It’s not actually receding, is it?” He asked and touched his hair.

“Maybe your forehead is just getting bigger.” You shrugged and popped a grape in your mouth from the bowl on the table.

“Bite me.” He replied and stopped touching his hair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You chuckled. “Isn’t that how you got your powers, spider boy?”

“Yup. What do you think would happen if you bite me? Would I be able to a do anything a total bitch can?” He wondered, making you pelt a grape at him. He caught it with ease and popped it into his mouth.

“Watch your mouth before I bring out the peppermint essential oils again.” You warned him.

“You wouldn’t.” He said quietly.

“Try me.” You shrugged. You stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment before Peter gave up.

“You win. Here’s your card. Happy birthday, gaylord.” He said as he handed you a homemade birthday card from his jeans pocket before quickly running out of the room. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled once he was gone and read the card. As annoying as you normally found him, you appreciated that he remembered your birthday. Inside the card was a crude drawing of the two of you fighting next to a drawing of a gift card to Planet Fitness.

Peter strolled into your bedroom around 10 pm when he had grown curious as to why your friends weren’t there yet. It was getting kind of late and you had listed many activities that you had planned to do while Peter begrudgingly listened to you talk earlier in the day. You were still in your room by yourself so he went in and knocked on your door to see what was happening.

“Hey dingus. When are your dumb friends getting here? I need to know when I should jam my ears with scissors.” Peter said as he leaned against your doorway. You were sitting on your bed with your knees draw to your chest and your chin resting on top of them as you stared out the window.

“Do that anyway.” You mumbled and didn’t move from your position.

“I’m going to. I can’t listen to you all yap about when Reputation TV is coming all night. And your friend Stacy’s theories are always way off.” He continued. You still didn’t turn to look at him and his smirk dropped when he heard a sniffle. He frowned and took a step into your room.

“Hello? I knew you were dumb but did you forget how to turn your neck or something?” He said to try to make you laugh. You stayed still and he craned his neck to try to see your face.

“Seriously though, when are they coming?”

“They’re not coming.” You said finally in a horse voice.

“Why? What happened? Did they finally realize you’re an annoying brat whose only redeeming quality is access to daddy’s credit card?” Peter teased in another attempt to make you laugh.

“Something like that.” You mumbled. Peter frowned and finally realized that something was actually wrong. He sat down on your bed and reached his hand out.

“Whats going on? Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Just go away.” You said sadly and wiped tears from your face. Peter shot a web at a tissue box on your dresser and pulled it over.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He said and handed you a tissue. You gave him a skeptical look and he held up one hand in defense while waving the tissue in the other like a white flag. You sighed and took the tissue before wiping your eyes.

“They found out it wasn’t a yacht party or at some fancy restaurant or some elitist club in Tribeca so they all cancelled.“ You said as you nervously ripped the tissue up in your hands.

“They cancelled? Why?”

“Because no one wants to come to my party. They want to come to a Stark Industries party with puppies in the gift bags and acrobats suspended from the ceiling and Avengers walking around like party clowns. Just hanging out with me wasn’t cool enough so they all bailed.” You sniffled and turned back to look out the window. Peter raised his hand to place it on your shoulder but then drew it back. He didn’t know if he was who you’d want to comfort you and he didn’t want to push it.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

“Like you care.” You laughed sadly and held your knees tighter to your chest.

“I do care.” He insisted. “And I’m very sorry this happened to you tonight.”

“No you’re not.” You scoffed. “You’re probably thrilled to see me like this. This is probably the greatest moment of your dumb life.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. You finally whipped around to look at Peter and he saw the pain in your red eyes.

“It’s not? Look at me, Peter. I’m pathetic. I’m alone on my birthday because I wasn’t good enough for anyone to hang out with.” You exclaimed. Peter went quiet as you slowly caught your breath. You teased each other all the time but you’d never actually yelled at him before. You wiped your eyes with the tissue before staring at your hands.

“You were right.” You said quietly. “I am just a spoiled brat who people only like because of my connections. And I’m sure you’re anxiously waiting for me to shut up so you can say “I told you so” and prove to me once again that I’m always wrong.”

You and Peter sat in silence for a minute without looking at each other. Peter felt guilty that you were expecting him to kick you while you were down. You were feeling your own guilt for snapping at him when he was trying to be nice.

“I’m not gonna say that.” He said after a beat.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go away.” You said miserably and turned back to the window. Peter opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he couldn’t find the words. He patted your shoulder twice before getting up and leaving your room. You turned to look at the door once he was gone and felt yourself missing his presence. You turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky through your teary eyes and let time pass.

After a while, you started to smell something. You sniffed the air until you recognized it as the scent of a something burning. Out of sheer curiosity, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and padded into the kitchen. You found Peter in the kitchen with a lace trimmed pink apron tied around his waist and flour smeared on his cheek. You smiled in surprise and leaned against the wall to watch him for a minute. He was humming to himself a song you didn’t recognize while scrapping a burnt black lump of something into the trash can. When he finally turned around, he jumped when he saw you.

“Jesus. You scared me. But I guess I should’ve known the smell of something baking would have your big back running to the kitchen like I hit the bat signal.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, your parents went to a movie since they thought your friends would be here. That means no ones home.” Peter began.

“And?” You asked.

“And so I thought we could fulfill a lifelong fantasy of mine and making sweet love to you on the kitchen counter.” He smiled suavely and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” Your jaw dropped as he drummed his fingertips on the counter.

“I’m joking. I’m clearly baking a bake. Or, I tried. I guess 500 degrees was too hot.” He said and looked at the burnt cake in the trash.

“Yeah, that’s a few hundred above what it should be. But why are you baking? We have a chef for that.”

“Because it’s your birthday you miserable bitch. And everyone deserves a cake baked with love. Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla frosting on your burnt cake?” He asked and held up two cans of frosting. You looked between the two before your eyes settled on him. You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and shook your head.

“I don’t want your pity.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have it so shut up and grab a spatula before I rescind your choice in the matter and funfetti the fuck out of this cake.” He replied and held out a spatula. You stared at it and felt compelled to take it and join him, but you were still throwing yourself a pity party.

“No.”

“No? Look, I’m trying to cheer your dumb ass up so can you please work with me here?” Peter sighed and looked at you. You stared at him for a while before cracking the slightest smile. He noticed the smile and knew he had succeeded in his plan to cheer you up.

“Fine. But I’m not eating that. That’s what Santa puts in the bad kids stockings. We’ll make a new one. But I’m not touching raw eggs.” You told him and grabbed your dad’s matching pink apron from the drawer.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess.” Peter mumbled under his breath. You glared at him through your lashes as you threw some flour and sugar into a bowl. Peter went to put the butter in but you pushed his hand away.

“It can’t be cold butter or it won’t mix properly. It has to be room temperature.” You explained as you filled a measuring cup with water.

“Oh. Let’s pop it in the microwave then.”

“We can’t do that either. Then the hot butter will scramble the eggs. Do you want little egg bits in your cake?” You asked him as you microwaved the cup of water for a minute.

“Maybe just a little.” Peter replied as he watched you put the butter into a small bowl and then place the bowl on top of the microwaved water.

“There. This will soften the butter without making it hot enough to scramble the eggs.” You explained. He looked between your little invention and you for a minute before smiling.

“Wow. That was really smart.” He said genuinely. “Women really do belong in the kitchen.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you set the temperature to the correct heat on the oven. Peter couldn’t help but watch you over his shoulder as you combined the rest of the dry ingredients and expertly cracked an egg in one hand. He rarely got to see you like this, no makeup and in lounge clothes. And he definitely never saw you upset before. He was used to the perfectly groomed and standoffish version of yourself so this change of pace brought him unexpected joy.

“Move over. That’s not how you mix batter. You need to fold it.” You told him and reminded him of the you he knew. You bumped him with your hip and put your hands over his to help him fold the batter.

“Like laundry?” He asked as his cheeks heated up.

“Like you know what laundry is, Pigpen. And no. A different folding. Like this.” You said and helped him mix the batter until it was the desired consistency.

“Oh wow. That worked really well. I usually just go sicko mode until it turns into goop.” He confessed.

“And how does that work out for you?” You asked him.

“Look in the trash and you’ll find out.” Peter replied and eyed the burnt cake in the garbage can. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and kept helping him fold the batter. Everytime he tried to stir the batter, you gently corrected his hands to fold it instead.

“Why don’t you just do it?” He asked when he started getting frustrated with himself.

“Because you won’t learn if I do it.” You replied in a softer tone. Peter went quiet since you were being unexpectedly nice to him. You let the batter sit for minute once you were satisfied and then poured in into a cake pan.

“There. Thats gonna take about 30 minutes to bake and then it needs to cool before we frost it.” You told him as you shut the oven door.

“Oh, so we have 30 minutes? Then circling back to that making love on the counter idea-“

“Shut it.” You warned him. Peter pretended to zipper his lips and throw away the key. You cracked a smile before starting to clean up the kitchen. Peter wordlessly helped you tidy up and you exchanged a soft smile with each other in the silence of the kitchen.

“What was your worst birthday?” You asked after a long beat of silence.

“Are you talking to me?” Peter asked after looking around.

“Peter, we’re the only ones in the room.”

“Sorry. It’s not like you’ve ever asked me a personal question before. It’s usually “are you stupid?” or “can you go away?” or “do you need a tampon cry baby?” He recalled, making you feel bad for always being so mean to him.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” You said quietly. “I sound a lot meaner than I thought I was.”

“I’m mean too.” Peter shrugged.

“You tease me.” You shook your head. “I’m just cruel.”

“I think we are an equal amount of mean to each other. Don’t let it keep you up at night. I’m sure your chronic yeast infections do that enough.” Peter tried to lighten the mood, but you didn’t crack a smile. You seemed faraway in thought and he was curious as to why.

“Do you think I’m hard to be around?” You asked after a minute. Peter was about to crack another joke until he saw the look on your face. He could tell you needed a friend right now and was filled with determination to be one.

“No. I think those girls you called your “friends” are hard to be around.” He said seriously. “I’ve seen you with them. They’re the mean ones. Them bailing tonight has nothing to do with you. They’re a bunch of shallow jerks who only care about the material things in life. They don’t care about having deep connections with people. They only care about deep pockets on people. I know this isn’t the first time they’ve ditched you. And I know you feel alone even when they are here because you’re never fully included. You think no one notices because you tell stories about your charming adventures together but I see it in your eyes. They make you feel like an afterthought. You act tough and pretend it doesn’t bother you but I know that it does. You shouldn’t hang out with them anymore.”

“Then who am I going to hang out with?” You shrugged sadly. “Without them, I don’t have any friends.”

“Sitting alone is better than sitting at a table where you’re the topic of conversation when you get up.” Peter said simply. You stared at him for a moment before your eyes fell to the floor.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” You said quietly. Peter nodded his head in understanding and let a silence fall between the two of for a while. He was going to say that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him, but he didn’t know if you wanted to hear that.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked.

“No.” You said immediately. You made eye contact and you let out a sigh.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked without looking into our eyes. You saw that coming and stared at him to try and get a sense of what was going on in his head. He slowly looked back up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“Do you remember that time the power went out in the city due to that Max guy or whatever and we all lit candles and hung out in the tower?”

“Uh oh.” Peter gulped. “You answered my question with another question. That can’t be good.”

“Shut up. Do you remember or not?” You asked and gently kicked his foot with your foot.

“I remember that.” He told you and held your gaze.

“You were new around here. You had just gotten your powers that year so I didn’t really know you yet. I had gone to look for more candles and found you crying on the floor of the linen closet.

“I remember that.” He nodded. “It was all so overwhelming to be here with the whole team. I had never felt so small.”

“I know. I told you I felt like that too sometimes. And then we stayed up for hours talking about every stupid thing we ever worried about and gave each other advice. I think at one point I gave you advice on how much conditioner to use.” You said as you replayed the night in your memory. You had a look on your face that Peter had never seen on you before. It was natural and relaxed and playful, all things he knew to be the opposite of you. It was so rare that the two of you were getting along and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin in.

“A dime sized amount and not on the roots. I still use that advice.” He chuckled. “You were so nice to me that night. You came in and pretended I wasn’t crying so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. You just sat down with me and started talking ad if we’d always been friends. You quieted all my fears that night. I was initially so embarrassed about it but then I felt a lot better knowing someone had my back no matter how bad I messed up.”

“I always had your back.” You insisted. “Even when I was mean to you. If you were in trouble with my dad, I was always here talking him down and trying to get him to see your side. He sees you through the lense of his child that he doesn’t want hurt but I’ve always seen you as a hero who wants to help. I even got him to give you the suit back when you were 15. And it was my idea to put the warmers in because you told me you’re always cold.”

“Really? You were rooting for me this whole time?” He cracked a smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Always.”

“Then how come you act like…” Peter trailed off in fear of insulting you.

“Like what?” You asked, sounding like you already knew what was coming.

“Like you hate me.” He admitted. You felt your face burn in embarrassment and shook your head.

“I don’t hate you.” You said sheepishly.

“You don’t?” He asked in genuine surprise. You looked at him and he could see the guilt in your eyes even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“No. I don’t. I never did.”

“Then how come we don’t get along anymore?” He asked. He had only gone along with all the teasing since you began it, but he had always wondered why it started.

“One of the things we had talked about that night was how my one regret about being homeschooled was never getting to experience a prom. I told you had dreamed of it since I was a little girl and it broke my heart to know I’d never have one. So then you said…” You trailed off, thinking he’d remember what he told you. His face showed no sign of remembering it but he racked his brain anyway.

“I said what?” He asked, breaking your heart just a little more.

“You promised to take me. To yours.” You told him. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment before he burst out laughing. Your sadness immediately hardened into anger at the sound of him laughing at you.

“Wait, you’ve been pissy towards me for the last few years because I broke a promise I made at 15 years old and didn’t take you to a stupid school dance?” Peter asked through a laugh. You glared at him for his reaction and he immediately stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing too.

“Oh. We’re not laughing?” He asked.

“Why is that funny to you?” You snapped. Peter saw the moment slipping away from him and started to panic.

“Well I was- I was a kid.” He said simply. “I had a huge crush on this girl Liz and we were finally becoming friends so I asked her and she said yes. That was years after I promised you that. I’m sorry but I didn’t remember.”

Peter thought you were going to yell at him and hurl a parade of insults his way, but you just nodded your head and looked down at the ground.

“You’re right. We were just kids. Forget I said anything.” You mumbled and started walking towards the door to leave. Peter knew he had messed up big time and possibly just killed any and all chances of the two of you becoming friends.

“Wait.” He said desperately just as the kitchen timer went off. You stopped walking and watched him haphazardly take the cake out of the oven and throw it in the stove top as he blew on it.

“You should stay. We have to frost it.” He said with a weak smile and an even weaker attempt for you for stay.

“You can’t frost it while it’s hot. It’ll slip right off.” You said without looking at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Well then do you want to talk some more or-“

“I have to go.” You cut him off and swiftly left the kitchen.

You went back to your room to resume the pouting you had started earlier. You felt guilty about walking out on Peter but it had hurt you to know that a promise that had meant a lot to you didn’t even stay in his memory. You stared out the window and sulked as you thought yourself into a deep rut. It didn’t take long for Peter to start making noise in the kitchen, interrupting your thought spiral. You heard things falling out of cabinets followed by Peter swearing. He bumbled around for a while and slowly drove you crazy with all the noise he was making until you couldn’t take it anymore. Just when you were about to text him and tell him the knock it off, you heard the dulcet sounds of “The Dancing Queen” coming from downstairs. You groaned in frustration and got out of bed to go downstairs and see what was happening.

When you got to the living room, Peter was standing there in one of your dad’s suits that hugged him a little too tightly around his muscles. The room looked like it had been decorated by a child with poorly hung streamers, ripped up construction paper to act as confetti, and bunches of webs that Peter had tried to shape into stars and moons. He had dimmed the lights and put a single bowl of chips on the counter, which he proudly stood beside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked him.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a huge smile.

“No.” You said immediately. “Please kill yourself.”

“I will.” He promised. “After one dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. I’m not doing any of this.” You told him and turned to leave. You heard a “pst” right before feeling a web hit your back. Before you knew it, Peter tugged on the web and sent you stumbling back into Peter’s arms. He caught you with ease and winked when you landed in his arms. You rolled your eyes at him but felt a smile tugged at your lips.

“Please? Just one dance? Then I’ll let you go and hate me for the rest of your life.” He pleaded as he stared into your eyes. He looked so desperate that you found yourself nodding before you knew what you were agreeing to. He smiled in excitement and twirled you around before slowly swaying to the beat. You begrudgingly sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck while his stayed in a respectable place on your hips. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept yours on the ceiling.

“You can look at me, you know.” He teased, making you begrudgingly look him in the eyes.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” He smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw a few poorly drawn flowers webbed to a rubber band.

“Your corsage, my lady.” He said as he slipped it onto your wrist.

“This is so stupid.” You laughed but secretly loved the thought he put into everything.

“It’s about to get even more stupid. Wait here.” He asked and quickly ran into the kitchen. He returned with one of Morgan’s plastic tiaras with a big fake gem in the center.

“Every prom needs its queen.” He said as he placed the crown on your head. You made eye contact as he stepped forward to adjust it and you felt your breath catch in your throat from how close he was.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said quietly.

“Yes I did. I owed you a prom experience. I’m sorry I didn’t take you the first time. And I’m sorry for laughing at you. You just caught me off guard. I have spent many nights thinking of all the things I could have done to make you hate me. I genuinely forgot about that promise. I had no idea this entire time that you hated me because of prom.” He said as the two of you started swaying to the music again. You felt a feeling rise up in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t felt for Peter in many years.

“It wasn’t just the prom.” You admitted before you could think about it.

“It wasn’t? What else did I do? Did I hotbox the elevator with you in it or something?” He asked. “I did that to Wanda once and now she’ll show up in my dreams sometimes and make me pee the bed.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said flatly. “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” He wondered.

“It’s stupid. You’ll just laugh again.”

“No I won’t.” He assured you. “Probably. I’ll definitely try really hard not to.

“Come on. Please tell me.” He pleaded and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “You have to tell me now or I’ll become so annoying so quickly. I’ll be worse than those people who try to describe SNL skits to you and keep explaining even when it’s clearly only funny if you’re watching it.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s dumb anyway. Forget I said anything.” You said and hoped he’d drop it.

“It can’t be that dumb if it stood between us all these years. What, did you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed through his question. You went quiet and Peters eyes went wide.

“Oh shit. Did you have a crush on me?” He asked in a soft voice. You looked down at the ground to avoid having to look him in the eyes now that you were caught.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “You were my age and had these cool powers and muscles and unexpected sense of humor. I was homeschooled and had swiped to the end of Tinder. You were my only option.”

“Oh. I see. So you only liked me because I was the only choice?” He said through a laugh but it hurt him. You could sense in his voice that you had just hurt his feelings and for once, that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I mean, not the only choice.” You added. “Cap used to hang around a lot more and he’s not the worst looking. But he’s like 500 so I never really had a chance.”

“Why me, then?” He wondered. You finally looked in to his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Because you were kind.” You admitted. “You didn’t need to take on as much as what you did at such a young age but you refused to do the easy stuff. You used to drive my dad crazy with how for you begged for assignments. You were so determined to get out there and save people, it was almost obnoxious. You were never content getting back stolen bikes. You always wanted to protect people from the big things. Even when you were just a kid. I liked that about you. I still do.”

“Still?” He gulped. “Even now?”

Before you could respond, the slow music that was playing ended and “Munch” started to blast from Peter phone. He scrambled to change the song but the moment had already been ruined.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know who put that on my playlist.” He quickly lied.

“It was you.”

“It was me, yeah.” He admitted and hung his head in shame. You stopped dancing and slowly withdrew your arms from him, making his heart sink.

“This was really sweet. Thank you, Peter.” You said genuinely. “I should probably get to bed now. I just want this day to end.”

“But we haven’t frosted the cake yet. It’s still your birthday. You can’t go to bed without any cake.” He said in a desperate attempt to get you to stay.

“I don’t know. It’s late.”

“Come on. It’ll be fast. That’s one of my powers. Spider can frost cake really fast and so can I.” He said and rushed over to the cake. He held it up and gave you a lopsided smile, convincing you to stay.

“Fine. Let’s make it fast.” You agreed and walked over to him. He smiled at you joining him and got out the frosting. He handed you a spatula and you started to frost the cake.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that if you don’t want.” Peter chuckled and went to take your crown off. You quickly swatted his hand and adjusted your crown.

“Back off. It’s mine.” You said and stepped away from him. He chuckled again and you laughed too.

“I really do appreciate everything you did for me tonight. I hope I can make it up to you one day.” You told him.

“You can make it up to me right now if we clear off this counter top and-“

“No.” You cut him off.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled.

“Really, though. You cheered me up tonight and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“In a way, I’m glad your stupid friends cancelled on you. It gave us an opportunity to spend time together. And this was the least I could do for not taking you to my real prom. Which was total buns, by the way. I missed most of it because I was putting my dates dad in jail.”

“Well I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight.” You laughed softly.

“Me either. I wish I took you to the first one. We could have been friends this whole time if I had just remembered my promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m done moping about it. I’m ready to eat this cake and be friends from now on.”

“I’m ready for that too.” He smiled at you. “Especially the part about us being friends. But also for this cake because it’s kinda giving me a boner from how good it smells.”

“It does smell really good. I can’t even blame your boner. But if that thing even looks at me you’re getting impromptu gender reassignment surgery with this spatula.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled and looked over at you. He didn’t stop looking at you until you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed shyly.

“I can’t believe you ever liked me. And that this whole time, I had no idea. I am so not cool enough for a girl like you to like.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t like I dropped any hints.”

“Maybe not. It just doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t believe it even if you weren’t always mean to me. You reciprocating my feelings was not something I ever thought would happen.”

“Reciprocating? You liked me too?” You asked as your mouth went dry.

“Are you kidding? You’re my mentors insanely hot and totally off limits daughter. Of course I liked you. Not to mention you’re funny, smart, good with a screwdriver and the apparently my biggest supporter. Though you did it in secret. Make no mistake, birthday girl. I had the biggest crush on you for years. Even when you were being mean to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. You had your back to him as you washed your hands but you could feel his eyes on you. You peaked over your shoulder and sure enough, Peter’s eyes were locked on you. You gulped and turned back around when you heard him walking over to you.

“You know, as mean as your insults were, they were always clever. And you always looked good saying them. How could I not fall for you?” He said as he came up behind you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, along with a scent that was just distinctly Peter, making your heart pound in your ears. You turned around and leaned against the counter as you looked into his eyes.

“Well how do you feel now?” You asked with unwavering eye contact.

“I feel like those feelings never left.” He admitted. You had never heard such confidence in his voice and it was just the thing to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Hm. Interesting.” You shrugged and turned back around. It was almost like you could hear the disappointment in the air once you had your back to him again. You decided not to torture him forever and give in to what you both wanted.

“Peter?” You asked and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Clear the countertop.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim would deal with their s/o thinking Damien’s adorable. Like he’s aggressive stray cat that doesn’t scare her kind of adorable? He might have this s/o wrapped around his fingers kind off, but they Don’t let him get away with things. Like Damien having beef with Jason and Tim and s/o does speak up for their boyfriend. Meanwhile, Jason and Tim starts something with Damien and s/o scolds their boyfriend?

Dick:

At first he was thrilled. Elated. The two of his favorite people are getting along with each other. But now?

“These cookies are quite good. Are there more?”

“Of course! Go ahead and help yourself to the whole tray.”

Blankly, he watches the teen grab another one from the third batch you baked this week. The very batch that was meant for him after he had complained how you’d go on a baking spree only when Damian comes over to hang out and not for him. The very batch you just easily handed over because you simply found him adorable. 

With a huff, he walks over and plops himself onto a chair. Grabbing a cookie, he takes a bite and pointedly looks away from you with arms crossed and lips puffed out in a pout. 

“Oh, don’t mind me enjoying MY cookie from MY cookie tray that was supposed to be for ME.” He takes another bite, placing an arm over his chest while further slumping into the chair. 

“You can’t be real.” You mutter under your breath, a hand partially covering your face. 

Damian slowly takes a sip from the glass you gave him, eyes trained on the one Bat he too was close with.  “Is he usually like this?” 

“Yes, when he’s being very much neglected by the person who isn’t giving him enough time and attention.” Down goes another bite of his cookie, knowing full well what expression you’d be wearing. 

“I do though!”

“Well, not enough if I’m getting seconded to my own sibling!” Especially considering when today was supposed to be date night too! He snatches another cookie and chews on it. To think you’d be giving these cookies to Damian and not to him when they’re this good. Unbelievable. 

“Dick.” He doesn’t care if he’s acting like a petulant child, he refuses to look at you. Only to stiffen once you sigh and he starts hearing shuffling noises behind him. 

He was expecting you to come over and stand in front of him, hence his eyes closed when all of a sudden, he’s being hugged from the back while being kissed on the crown of his head. 

“I wouldn’t do this to someone who’s only ‘second’ in my heart, would I?” 

He ignores Damian gags as he presses his face to the crook of your neck, tickling you with his lips. 

“Lucky me that I’m your number one then.”

Later on, after Damian left and he successfully persuades you to bake him a whole batch for him to keep to himself this time, he gets a text telling him to decrease his PDA with you when in front of those younger than him by Bruce. He texts back to his fatherly figure only if the older male finally settles down. 

Jason:

He’s had enough. While you were busy in the kitchen, he quickly grabs Damian by the scruff and proceeds to walk towards the door.

“Unhand me at once, Todd!” 

“Not a chance this time, kiddo.” He smirks, being unfazed by all his pressure points being pressed as the teen, noticing this, resorts to tugging and twisting his wrist. 

This whole week he’s been wanting to have some alone time with you, recharge himself after being gone and away from you for over a month from being on stupid mission Bruce had requested him to do. Problem was, during his absence, you had taken a liking to the evil brat. How, he doesn’t know. From what, he also doesn’t know. What he does know is that it was reciprocated where the brat said over the table during family dinner last week, and Jason quotes, “the one best thing Todd has ever done”.  Unfortunately for him, fortunately to Damian, you weren’t there when he said that or else he could’ve watched how you would’ve defended his “honor”. Either way, it was the worst thing for him to find out when he came back and saw you and him chatting over tea, TEA, of all things.  

“Jason, what are you doing?” Dammit. He was so close! 

He stops in his tracks and slowly turns around. 

“He said that he wanted to go home, so I was helping him walk to the door?” 

“Lies!” He clicks his tongue while the younger points and shoots at him a glare. “He was trying to kick me out!”

Hands on the hips, lips in a straight line - Oh no, he’s familiar with that stance. One second passes, his eyes pleading into yours. Then another. Finally, with a groan, he begrudgingly and slowly lets him down. 

“See? The wasn’t so hard?”

It was hard. Very hard. 

“Agreed. You should learn to be mature like your s/o, Todd.” He scowls, wishing looks could bury a person as Damian flashes a smug grin back at him. 

“Not so fast, Damian.” He turns towards you, confused as to why you’re directing your disappointed frown at him now. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you cheating while playing Smash against Jason.”

Instantly, their expressions swapped, Damian scowling while he snickers and mouths “loser” at him. 

That’s how they ended up getting stuck with washing the dishes after you put them in a ten-minute time out. They nearly get in trouble again with Damian trying to stab him at any given moment while Jason dodges and eggs him over how he can’t properly wash a dish. At least he gets his well deserved time with you once the former leaves, albeit sulking with you not taking his side completely. 

Tim: 

Every single time your back is turned, it’s a battle. From mouthing insults to physical attacks (he’ll argue and die on this hill all of those were one-sidedly from Damian), they’ve long passed the point of no-return and are currently at where there could only be one left standing. Is it ridiculous? Yes. However, he’s willing to put up with the fight if it means to prove his point that you like him more! 

Hell, he doesn’t even know what Damian did to make you dote on him so much. Stray cat? Cute aggressiveness? There’s nothing like that, not even a resemblance of it. Yet, apparently, you can see it with how you tend to get that little demon pet treats for all the animals he’s raising in the manor. 

The fact that it’s mutual makes the whole situation worse. Damian genuinely enjoys your company to where he had asked about your well-being once he somehow found out before him, your boyfriend, that you were sick. Tim has told you multiple times the teen didn’t approach you out of pure intentions, that it was all a trap so he could spite him. You ended up brushing it off, telling him he has such a good relationship with his younger sibling leading him to mourn he was too late and you were brain-washed. 

“Well, I was here first!”

“No, you weren’t Drake! I was here before you!”

“I’m pretty sure I was.”

“Says who? You?”

The two of them continue to squabble over who gets to sit next to you on the two-person sofa while you’re making popcorn for the movie. A decision which was made when the two of them had argued over watching documentaries on endangered animals and playing video games. Also another argument that started from who gets to hang out with you today. Which, he still thinks, he should’ve been chosen since he’s YOUR boyfriend. But, again, that’s just what he thinks. 

“Alright! Popcorn’s ready!” Neither of them hear you, their argument escalating.

“I’m obviously the favorite since I get invited all the time!”

“As if! You do realize I’m the boyfriend here!”

It’s then they pause realizing it’s been quiet the last minute. Too quiet. Eyes like deer in headlights, their eyes went from each other to seeing you standing behind the sofa and munching on popcorn. 

That’s their cue. There were nudges and jabs being made as they got up from the floor but eventually they straightened their clothes and stood with their heads hanging low. And as expected, both of them got scolded like children, you telling Damian the need to use words rather than action while to Tim, he shouldn’t be trying to kick his younger sibling out from the start.

[okwonyo]

DOLLHOUSE 𓂃 彼★ them wearing glasses 𓈒

𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗜𝗢́𝗡 ᪲ 𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉, 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍, 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉.

【 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐈 】 𝑙’ ｡｡ enhypen x fem!rea 13OO established relationship ˊᯅˋ skinship kissing

骚人 ܃ for junicat :0

reblogs⠀⠀ 과 ⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG

usually, you are not a jealous woman. of course it’s not a secret to you how attractive your boyfriend can be. and honestly, you are aware that he might get hit on, whether you are together or not, a lot.

frankly, you can’t really blame them. coming across your boyfriend in the street is a chance in a million and you, too, would try to get his number. that, if you weren’t already dating him.

however it’s kind of mind-boggling that he gets flirted with in sephora, out of all places, by a shop assistant. perhaps, it’s the glasses sitting on his nose that makes him more attractive— and you can only blame yourself for being the one who told him to wear them today.

you watch him avoid any physical contact with the girl until he points at you from afar, signaling that he isn’t alone. he comes back to you rather quickly, and you are to admit that his classes makes you weak in the knees.

“i’m going to tie you down to my bed next time,” you slightly pout when he kisses your cheek.

he is silent for a moment, but a grin drawing itself on his lips rather, “don’t threaten me with good time, doll face.”

JAY

beauty and magnetism lays in his every move. he can do anything, and you will gladly admire his actions for hours on end.

even when he is doing something as simple as being on the phone and getting ready for the day. from the bed he is standing next to, your gaze focuses on him holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder while tying his cravat.

the frames delicately resting on the bridge of his nose makes your heart shiver and the way he knows how it makes you feel, the way he smirks at you as he hums is driving you into a spiral.

there is nothing that you want more than his attention. you don’t wait until the call is over to stand on your knees, getting close enough to slowly remove his glasses. his gaze gets deeper and darker when you put them on.

“wait,” he says to the person on the phone when you start to pull his newly tied cravat. he puts his hands on your waist while you lean back and take you with him. he hangs up after speaking again; “i have something to take care of.”

JAKE

he is always so cute. especially when he wears glasses. not only because they look extremely good on him. but because he gets shy at the slightest compliment coming from you.

the most lovely thing about the current situation, is that you don’t need to say anything to turn him into a full blushing mess. he can hide his face in his hands and groan; “babe, stop,” all he wants. but you won’t listen to him.

“stop what?” feign innocence, fake confusion as you hold into his wrist— but you don’t try to get his face out of his hands just yet. your act isn’t really believable as you are giggling.

“you make me shy,” he mumbles. his ears are a bit pink as he separates one finger from the other to peek. he whines as soon as he sees you looking at him, “stop.”

“look at me, pretty boy,” you tease. he makes a weird song between an annoyed groan and a desperate whine again before looking at you. “you’re cute.”

SUNGHOON

it starts with a simple look from you. a subtle stare, perhaps, that he catches as soon as it starts. then it continues with a smirk, his voice reaching your ears, “do you like what you see?”

it feels like jolting awake, when his words makes you realize that your mouth is agape and that your eyes are way too wide. you find yourself unable to talk for a moment.

your boyfriend isn’t the epitome of patience, especially when he sees the adoration glistening in your eyes. therefore, he barely lets you nod before his lips collapse onto yours.

his glasses press into your skin, as well as into his, when the kiss is exchanged. “wait, princess,” he whispers quickly as he pulls away.

eyes fluttering open, you are met with the vision of him taking off his glasses and yanking them to the side. soon enough, his hands cup your cheeks for a more heated kiss.

SUNOO

you halt in your tracks when you enter the living room. it’s ridiculous, really, how taken aback you can be from seeing your boyfriend in glasses alone.

however, you can’t help it. from the second you saw him narrowing his eyes to read the menu at your first date, you were well aware that he needed glasses. but as far as you saw him, you never saw him in anything other than glasses.

yet, you have never spent the night at his place either. nor showed in his shower. nor used his clothes as pajamas. you guess that there is certainly a start to everything.

“why are you looking at me like that?” his laugh is sincere and fond, his gaze observes you coming closer and sitting next to him on the comfortable couch.

with a teasing smile you hold out three fingers for him to see, “how many fingers do you see right now?”

he tilts his head to the side and your heart flutters when his messy hair follows his motion. “three but there will only be two when i will bite one off.”

JUNGWON

once, you told him that he looked cute in glasses and ever since then, he has not worn anything else than this specific accessories when you see each other.

of course, you are aware of the fact that he is teasing you. he is doing everything to annoy you or get a little bit of your attention. the man knows exactly what he is doing and he is sure that it works.

he pulls you on his laps in a swift mention when you pass by the couch. a pout is formed on his lips as he talks to you, “i wore glasses for you,” he barely starts and you already feel hot inside. “won’t you give me attention?”

there is nothing more frustrating, nothing more irritating than the way he manages to leave you speechless. his gaze, through those big glasses, manages to get a blush creep on your cheeks.

you are wearing an expression between shyness and frustration when you hear his giggles. perhaps because of your grimace, perhaps because of the flushed face, but he kisses you.

RIKI

“what are you doing?” the tall man jumps slightly when you ask. his reaction would be appropriate, given the fact that you appeared from nowhere, if he wasn’t in your role when you were not here.

he slowly turns away from where he was looking at, his reflection on the mirror he is standing in front of follows him. he looks at you with a slight grin on his face and he is already too attractive for you to not almost lose it when you notice the glasses he is wearing.

“your mom let me in,” he says. if you were to be honest, you would admit that you aren’t really listening to what he is saying. “i was waiting for you.”

you step towards him, “what are you wearing?” you ask in lieu of giving him a greeting. the question may be a bit rhetorical, because you know exactly what he is wearing; your glasses.

“oh? it’s you—” he isn’t able to finish his sentence. he doesn’t want to anyway. no, he’d rather let you kiss him breathless.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[helluvapoison]

Possessive

how the overlords would put a claim on you

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Carmilla Carmine ⁎⁺˳✧༚

As much as she loves spending her mornings in bed with you, wishfully thinking she could stay there all day, she can only give you 3 more minutes at best. Being an Overlord and a CEO keeps her rather busy. You’re grown, you can handle yourself (you have to in this world) she’s not keeping tabs on your whereabouts. Carmilla isn’t itching for a fight like these new “up and comers”. Giving you something to protect you when she’s not around simultaneously puts a target on your back. A simple ring with her name inscribed would suffice, satisfying any possessive vices she may or may not have

˚✧₊⁎ Zestial ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Abhorrent is jealousy, driving the younger generations to filth like, ugh, hickeys. Although, on a certain level he does understand. Being in Hell for as long as he has and alone the same amount, he knows all too well the primal need to claim what other’s might steal. One must leave their mark as a warning sign for others. Zestial’s exceptionally charming when he wants something, notably not asking when he presents you with the crisply wrapped gifts. There’s no less than twenty. Boxes upon boxes of accessories and clothes that suit you but hold his color palette, spider and web details to boot. He’s utterly thrilled when you wear them, showering you in compliments and declaring himself the luckiest soul in Hell

˚✧₊⁎ Rosie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Goodness, have you seen how sinners nowadays go about the whole ordeal? What happened to romance!? Call her old fashioned, but Rosie likes a smidge of glamour in her techniques! She’ll walk shoulder to shoulder with you, holding her parasail over the both of you. She’ll accidentally press her painted lips on your cheek and forget, quickly getting swept up into conversation with someone or the other. It’s fine, no one would question her! Not if they wanted to live anyways. Butterflies swarm her stomach when she notices you haven’t wiped her imprint away, a proud smile spreading across her face. It becomes purposeful as the days go on

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

While happy to broadcast newsworthy exploits, sharing his private affairs with the world is out of the question. Of course the appeal of it all isn’t lost on him, he merely doesn’t see the point. Why broaden your horizons of potential dangers by claiming you publicly? To calm that unruly, covetous alien in the pit of his chest? He’s not that selfish! Besides, nothing less than something permanent could truly satisfy him anyhow

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

If he doesn’t have eyes on you, he’s working. Those measley hours apart won’t stop him from reminding all of Hell you still belong to him. He doesn’t trust anyone down here. He’ll convince you it’s for your safety that he tightens the collar around your neck. With a hum of approval, Val’s long and slender fingers twist the tag with his name on it. Heart shaped, of course, he loves you after all!

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Only the insecure need to put a claim on their person. That’s not Vox, no way! You’re never really out of his sights anyways, what with today’s power of technology and all! The need to brand you goes a different route. He wants everyone to know you’re spoken for, pulling you on camera every chance he gets. He wants them to stare in awe and envy but cast their eyes down when you walk by in public. A slight on you would be a slight on him personally and no one messes with The Vees

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Truthfully, there isn’t much she wouldn’t do. You’re all over her Sinstagram and that says it all. Every runway show, every red carpet walk, every paparazzi shot you’re always beside her. Vel dresses you left and right to match her OOTD somehow. She snaps a pic every single day (sometimes more) to show her followers their favorite couple is thriving and stylish as always! The description never fails to scream how your all hers

[nmakii]

strayed from the main idea of this drabble… oops.

sae itoshi, who loves calling his girl ‘amorcita’. that’s fine, and all. it’s romantic, but he likes calling you his princess much more.

princess is more than just a pet name to him though. because to him, you’re truly a princess, graceful and beautiful despite your faults; someone who deserves to be given the world. he’d go to the ends of the earth to find something that doesn’t exist if you asked him to find it.

it’s not much of an exaggeration when you say that he’s down bad.

he is— he’s just very good at hiding it. he doesn’t boast about you loudly in the ways that someone like that devil— shidou— might, but he instead manages to offhandedly relate any conversation topic to you.

oddly enough, the only other time sae’s ever as talkative or passionate about something other than football, is when he’s talking about you.

that additional time where aiku asked shidou why he was making funny faces in the locker room? after that, sae mentioned, “my princess makes weird faces too. when she’s sleeping, her cheek is always pressed up to me, and it leaves a red mark in the morning. and, she can never manage to keep her mouth closed when she’s asleep. once, i was able to feed her while she was asleep.” and he sighed, silently smiling at the funny memory.

in his first interview after going public with you as his girlfriend, he immediately jumped at the opportunity to mention you. he had always thought that these interviews were an unnecessary hassle. he’s a good football player, and he’ll let his work speak for itself. “right! soo… sae, how are you adjusting to your new team?” the interviewer asks. sae thinks for a moment, his lower lip raising in a slight pout as he thinks of how to answer. “…the center forward has incredible dribbling skills, i’ll admit that. but, his shot range and goal chance percentage are awful. the rate at which he can score goals is still lukewarm.” he sighs disappointedly, “the best striker in the world seems to have not had his awakening yet. it’s annoying, but the city isn’t so bad. there’s a french bakery near my apartment that my princess and i like to frequent. she loves those flaky croissants with chocolate in them— pain au chocolat, but i tend to just get their house black coffee.” he’s recalling your typical order as if it’s the back of his hand, and the flow of his speech is much more relaxed than when he had been speaking about his new team.

and at this point, the interviewer is confused. “pardon… your ‘princess’?” he repeats, trying to confirm what he heard. sae nods, “yes, my princess; my girlfriend. she really likes those chocolate croissants. she eats about a fourth of it in just one bite. and when some hot chocolate from the inside burns her on the lip, she complains a bit and asks me to kiss it better. it’s really cheesy on her part, but i guess i don’t mind if it’s for her.” even sae doesn’t know just what he’s saying. he didn’t mean to reveal this much about how he feels. …yet, here he was, going on like a pining gentleman in love, and remembering how the softness of your lips felt against his as the piping hot chocolate pressed and stuck onto his lips as well.

in his eyes, you’re as close to perfection as there ever will be. it didn’t matter whether or not your physical appearance changed, or if you suddenly decided to change your career path— as long as you stayed as who you are, he’d be at your side.

and to be worthy of such a perfect human being; his princess. he has to become a king— a king of the field. one who domineers the field with his spatial awareness alone, and passes to the one who can keep up with his vision; the greatest egoist. that’s who he needs to become in order to earn your love; to become worthy of being the one that gets to love you every day and every night.

but even so, it’d still never be enough for him. you always make him want to push his limits further, and show you just how amazing he is.

sae’s really down bad for his princess.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧・l.m

—there were two things in the world that challenged your intellectual ability one: AP US History and two: lee minho. what are you going to do when he catches you cheating, and grabs your thigh, forcing you to give him the answers too.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・minho x reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・academic rivals to lovers, sexual tension // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.5k // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・thigh touching, squeezing, and kissing, very slight bruising, cheating on tests, slight language, he gets on his knees, this is lowkey freaky, no actually Minho gets on his knees and kisses your thigh.

𝐚/𝐧・guys i'm kinda shy about this bc it was not supposed to be this freaky, but I had this thought like four months ago and it just kind of...unraveled 🙈 idk how I feel about this I like the idea of it but I feel like it flows weird idk might just be a me problem plus I needed to get it out of my drafts so 😗

If you really think about it—it isn't your fault that the curriculum was impossible to learn, the school board was practically begging you to cheat.

Besides, the whole testing system was pointless anyway. You couldn’t accurately quantify knowledge with a few bubbled answers. And if your teacher hadn’t made this test 40% of your grade, you might’ve actually been able to understand. But no— the stress alone had made sure of that.

For a second, you naively convince yourself you actually have a chance. Then you read the first question—and realize you're royally fucked.

It isn’t just one thing; no, the universe spreads a thick layer of icing all over your 'I’m fucked' cake, because not only is the test 100 questions of pure agony, but you’re sitting next to none other than Lee Minho—Yale's wet dream and your life long rival.

He shifts beside you, bubbling in the answers with infuriating ease. It was enraging—how calm he was, how even though his eyes were trained on the paper in front of him, it still felt like he was making calculated moves against you.

You grind your teeth, reading and rereading the questions until you go cross-eyed. It just didn't make sense. Why were there so many dates? Who were all these people? Why couldn't you seem to remember anything? The ink on your thigh screams at you, itching to pull up your skirt and color all the correct answers.

It was stupid, completely idiotic to even consider giving in to the temptation, but you had no other choice. You couldn't fail this test. You steal a glance at Minho, making sure he’s still peacefully, obnoxiously distracted with being perfect, before sliding your skirt up to reveal the answer key you wrote last night. With a deep breath, you fill in the correct answers, stealing paranoid glances at the teacher every other question.

You're almost done. Just a few more. But then—a tingle runs down your spine.

You could practically taste the smirk on his face the minute his gaze lands on your thighs. You stiffen, holding your breath as if that might magically make you disappear. Unfortunately, your efforts are to no avail.

Minho must have been waiting for a moment like this for years—a classic got'ya moment. It was perfect, practically presented to him on a silver platter. You clench your eyelids and except the worst, for him to stand up and announce to the class your humiliating defeat, to strut up to the teacher and flush your entire life away.

And yet, the moment passes by. His gaze never wavers, instead it gets heavier—needier, fire licking up your spine. You can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your cheek as he leans in—so close, too close.

"Is that what I think it is?" That cocky little bend in his lips grows as he watches you fumble to yank the skirt back down, shooting him a nasty side-eye.

"No," you say steadily—almost convincing yourself.

"No?" His voice is low, laced with amusement, but there's something else there, something strained. "Then let me see."

"No." You scoff, pulling your leg away from him. He presses his tongue against his cheek, both frustrated and annoyed.

"So fuckin’ stubborn." His voice drops, and suddenly, the space between you vanishes. His fingers capture your thigh, prying them apart with a hot, deliberate pressure. Your breath hitches—the heat of his palm seeping into your flesh, spreading up, up, up.

You want to gasp, to smack his hand away, and scream bloody murder; but the other part of you, the other small microscopic part of you relishes in his touch—leaving you dizzy and breathless.

His hand never moves, even as he copies the answers down—his fingers a steady pressure against your soft flesh. You hate the way your pulse betrays you, hammering against your ribs like thunder.

You twitch—just enough for him to notice, just enough for him to squeeze hard. You fight not to gasp, your stomach twisting with something you don’t dare name. He doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t have to. You feel it.

Don’t you dare move.

You don't breathe—not until he's already finished the work, releasing your thigh and walking up to the teacher; sliding his test into the professor's hands with an infuriatingly perfect smile. The teacher returns his smile ten times brighter, both pleased and impressed, bowing politely to dismiss him back.

It takes five seconds before your brain catches up with your body, jaw dropping in utter disbelief—Minho was the first one to turn in his test, making him the first to get a perfect score, therefore putting him slightly above your soon-to-be perfect score—which means he beat you.

"What the hell was that?" you spit. Minho doesn’t spare you a glance as he slips back into his seat, swiveling around with a smirk on his face and his tongue in his cheek.

"What, 'that,' are we talking about? My undeniable victory, or how slow this class is?" Minho muses, throwing his feet onto the desk, and tipping his chair back as if the whole scheme was a piece of cake. You were ready to punch him square in his freakishly perfect jaw.

"You are unbelievable—" You don’t get to finish your scornful sentence before the bell rings. The class erupts from their seats, filing to the front. There was so much you wanted to do, but you couldn’t—your hands were tied, tight, painfully behind your back. So instead, you do the only thing you can: turn in that stupid test.

When you get back to your desk, you find Minho leaning against his, a cocky smirk still playing on his pretty pink lips.

"Oh, you're just loving this, aren't you?" you spit venomously, stuffing supplies back into your bag with a little extra vigor. Minho cocks his head, standing up a little straighter. "Loving beating you? Yeah, you could say that."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "You couldn’t have done it without the answers I wrote on my thigh." At the mention of your thigh, Minho’s gaze tilts downward. His entire demeanor transforms—once cocky and proud, now washed away in an instant—something softer taking its place, something you couldn’t quite place.

Gently, disarmingly, Minho brings his palm to your waist, guiding you to sit on one of the desks behind you. "What—" you begin, but he beats you to it, asking, "Did I do this?" Confused, you look down at the mark in question—darkened fingerprints ghosting over your skin where his fingers had pressed a little too hard.

You swallow. "I didn't notice it."

"Does it hurt?" he frowns, gingerly brushing the bruise forming on your thigh. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, almost as if he's actually concerned about your well-being.

"Yeah, kind of," you wince, but you don't move from his soft touch. His lips press into a thin line, the slight furrow of his brows deepening with guilt.

"What, you wanna kiss it, make it feel better?" you joke, a weak attempt to ease the tension. He pauses for a moment, then, in one swift motion, drops to his knees before you.

You gasp, a quick, trembling breath that melts the words in your throat. His eyes stay locked on yours, the weight of his gaze heavy as he inches closer, mouth nearing your thigh. You hold your breath, heart hammering against your ribs. He takes his time—two agonizing seconds stretching into hours. His breath is hot against your skin, before his lips finally brush the bruise, leaving a gentle kiss in its wake.

"There, all better," he says, standing back up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, nonchalantly. He doesn't say another word, simply waltzing out the door like he didn't just leave you a spaghetti noodle, all slippery thoughts and wobbly limbs.

You stand there, jaw in the center of the earth, gripping the edge of the desk so hard it threatened to crack. The class had filed out ages ago, leaving you to regather your thoughts in sweet silence.

You still feel his lips, hot and gentle, against the flesh of your thigh—reliving the moment over and over and over again. You couldn't bear to look at him, weeks into the future, still dizzy and disoriented, struggling to focus with him so close beside you. Minho knew, no matter how much you hated that thought. Minho knew, he saw how your grades started slipping, how slowly your comebacks started getting shorter, sweeter, a little bit more flirtatious.

That was his plan the entire time; because, even on his knees—Minho held all the pieces.

cookie owns this. thank you.

RAAAA its been a hot minute since I've posted something but I hope you liked this (if you did seriously consider reblogging with tags it helps my motivation and self-esteem so so soooo much.

[mostly-imagines]

At Least I’m Not Alone at the Wake

jason todd x fem!reader

aka how jason feels safe even when he feels like he’s dying

warnings: angst w comfort throughout

It took less than thirty seconds for the silence of the night to drift into sounds of shrieks echoing off the buildings along the street. The sharp contrast had you and Jason bolting upright on the couch, ears on alert. It only took a few seconds more of listening for you to realize you’re not hearing shouting—it’s laughter. Maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. 

There’s a beat as you both freeze upon the implication, the unsettling realization dropping in on you. You barely have a moment to process it before Jason’s pushing up from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

“Close the window,” he grumbles.

You blink as you register his words before jumping up to do as told, quickly sliding the frame shut and locking it. He returns soon with an armful of towels in hand, and you stand back as he stuffs a couple along the window sill with rough movements. He goes throughout the apartment, doing the same to the other windows. He rounds back to the living room window, looking down at the street with a heavy look on his face. 

You trust that the towels will do their job in preventing the laughing gas from getting in the apartment, but they’re unable to block out the bellows of hysteria.

He backs away from the window, letting the living room wall hold his weight. You both listen to the harrowing echoes with still bodies. 

You watch him, waiting for a reaction. You don’t mean to, but you know you’re looking at him like he’s a loaded spring. You try not to, you know how much he hates how his family does that to him, but fuck, it’s hard not to worry about him.

When Joker incidents have come up, they’ve usually been something you’re able to ignore or even get ahead of and drive out of the city. But this is raucous and chaotic, clearly enough to shut down the city from the inside. Besides, Jason would be booking it out of here if he thought there was any chance of a clean getaway in this.

But you know he’s got no interest in inserting himself in anything Joker related, especially something so destabilizing.

While you know Jason’s family cares about him, of course they do, but you’ve noticed they sometimes put Gotham’s needs first and his second. So the severity of this attack is concerning for you for two reasons.

“Will they…” you shuffle, “Will they need you?”

He’s quick to answer, voice firm. “No.” A long moment passes before he adds on, quieter, “They won’t want me out there.”

You nod to yourself, trying to relax your body. You being on edge isn’t going to help him.

You watch as his head thumps against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He’s tough—you know he’s tough. He can withstand a hell of a lot more than you’ll probably ever even know. But even for Gotham, this is a lot. And even for someone who hasn’t been through what Jason has, the ringing repetitions of laughter are maddening. You wonder if this is what the Joker hears in his head. You wonder if this is what Jason heard.

The intensity of the laughing increases, more people likely becoming exposed to the gas. You think you can hear it in one of your neighbor’s apartments too.

He thumps his head against the drywall again, hands clenching at his sides. It takes one more forceful thud for you to move over to him, cradling your hand to the side of his head, holding him still. He lets you, though he still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Jay,” you say softly, stroking his hair. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Normally you’d try for a bath to calm him instead but you hope the waterfall from the shower might be enough to drown out the noise.

He takes a second to respond, letting your hand bear the weight of his head. “Yeah.”

His voice is splintered though, and his shoulders droop as he stands up fully. He waits to move until you start to lead him, flinching at every spike of laughter. You reach back and take his hand, giving it two squeezes. He squeezes your hand back but doesn’t loosen his grip.

As you enter the bathroom he wastes no time getting straight to the shower nozzle and turning it on. You press the door shut behind you, sealing out a decent portion of the chaos. You decide against turning the overhead light on, opting instead to let the small pink-shaded lamp provide a warm glow that you can easily maneuver throughout the shadows in. You figure he needs a more tranquil atmosphere than the harsh white light the bathroom ceiling can provide.

You turn to him in time to catch him pulling his shirt up harshly, movements jerked and impatient.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm, “Hey.”

He pauses his actions, eyes on the floor.

You don’t say anything else, but he understands your objection regardless. You remove your touch and he peels his shirt off slower, kinder to himself. 

You wait to make sure he continues this method with the rest of his clothes before you start to remove yours.

The downpour of water on the tiles does it’s intended job in creating your own little sanctum away from the noise. You climb into the shower after him, standing in the stray mist sprays that made their way past him. The bits of water that do manage their way to you are hot—not scalding, but hot enough that you know his chest is going to start getting numb very soon standing in front of the stream like this. 

You trace lines over the muscles of his back, outlining them and every little indent of a scar. When you run out of canvas on his back you move onto his arms, right then left.

It’s not until you trace down his wrist that you realize his head is angled down. You don’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his focus is zeroed in on his scar and you’re not sure how long it's been that way. Too long, in any case.

“Jay,” you say so softly that the water nearly drowns you out. “Will you look at me, please?”

He does turn to you, slowly, but he doesn’t look up.

You hold his face in your hands, nudging him to look up at you. He looks tired, drained. 

You know he has to hear that laughter in a different way than you do. It’s uncomfortable and frightening for you, but for him, it’s layers upon layers of the sound he heard while he was being beaten to death. And even beyond that horrible trauma, the reminder of it brings forth every memory of what happened afterwards, not to mention the heavy baggage you know he feels over being here at all. And you can see it all mulling behind his eyes.

“You know I love you,” you tell him with sincerity. His gaze stays heavy and you can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold the eye contact.

You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, catching his bottom lip slightly. Your next kiss meets his lips fully. You have to push up on your toes a little bit but he does the work of meeting you halfway. It’s a slow, intimate exchange, as fluid and serene as breathing.

“I love all of you,” you murmur against his lips. You let your hands fall to his chest, resting as gently as they can over his pecs. “Everything about you.”

You kiss the top of his Y scar, trailing down soft pecks to where it forks off. You feel his shoulders sag a bit, tension forcing its way out of him. You lean down to continue your kisses down the vertical line marking his abdomen, your hands lightly following in your wake.

He says your name painfully, like he’s begging you to stop. You’ll give him partial reprieve, taking his hands in yours and kissing his scarred knuckles. It’s his instinct to push affection away, you know that, but you also know that he needs it. That’s why he doesn’t stop you now—he knows he needs it—it’s just a lot for him all at once, emotionally. Which is why he gives no warning before he picks you up by your thighs and pulls you close. 

He’s got you a full head higher than him and he uses the difference to hide his face in your neck. Sometimes he feels like that’s the only place he can go. He maneuvers you around so your back is pressed up against the wall as you hold each other tight.

You stay in there like that until the water runs cold, and then some. You have to nudge him a bit into setting you back down then, but he does, letting you collect and wrap the both of you in towels. The second the water turns off you can hear the cackling through the walls. 

As you return to the bedroom, he only bothers to pull on a pair of boxers before collapsing his weight onto the mattress. The lack of layers won’t help him any, but you know why he did it.

He can’t always look after himself the way he should—he disregards his own needs and has trouble even thinking of what could help him. You’ve developed a mind for it though—for him—and you know that being exposed and vulnerable like this isn’t going to help him calm down. He prefers being covered up when he’s stressed, it gives him more security, you think.

You open up the dresser and dig through for his most comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He takes them from you, but he looks remiss at the thought of exerting anymore energy right now, so you help him tug on the clothes, successfully blocking out the now icy air from the AC. 

Once he’s fully clothed he pulls you forward to sit on his lap. You stumble a bit on the way but he compensates by holding you very tight, not giving your body any option to fall. His grip on you tells you that he’s not concerned with you getting dressed too, which you’re perfectly willing to oblige.

You have to force him to let you break away a little bit so you can reach over to the nightstand and grab your phone and earbuds.

“Movie or music?”

He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head once at the end of your sentence. You take that to mean music and open up your playlist on your phone, handing him the headphones.

There’s a harsh spike in the hysterics outside, mixed with what sounds like screams, and it has Jason flinching hard. You think you can see tears welled in his eyes as he fumbles to get the headphones in his ears. He takes the phone from you and picks the first song he sees and turns the volume up, up, up.

You shift yourself around so that you’re laying back against the pillows, giving him room to lay down over your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist with a firm grip. You pull the hood up over his head, but keep your hands woven underneath, threading through his hair. 

His cheek mushes against your bare stomach, and with the way he’s laying, you’re sure the earbuds are digging uncomfortably into his ear. He makes no effort to move in any case. You can hear the song playing word for word, and while the noise exposure concerns you, if there was ever a time to let it go, it would be now.

You’re both wrapped up nicely in the blankets and you can only see the tip of his nose and a few strands of ivory hair strewn past his forehead. Despite all the snug layers, he shakes a bit under your touch.

He falls asleep before the problem outside gets wrapped up, and you turn down the music. Not all the way, just enough that he can rest in peace. 

After a while the giggles die down and aside from a few first responder sirens, things get quiet again. About twenty minutes later, Nightwing ducks in through your window and scares the hell out of you. The interaction does not, however, wake Jason up, which is how you know tonight took a very heavy toll on him.

Even though the lights aren’t on in your bedroom you slide down from the pillows a bit more and let the blanket and Jason drown your chest out from visibility.

Nightwing gives you a silent, if not awkward, wave and scans over Jason. Even in the dark can see the worry in his eyes. He looks back up at you and throws up a questioning thumbs up with a tilt of his head.

You nod and he nods back slowly as he takes one more look at his brother before hopping out the window.

You peer down at Jason and brush his curls back gently. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he turns in his sleep.

reblog things or get out seriously

[nereidprinc3ss]

you’re my best friend

in which spencer reid has to teach your young son how to make friends nicely after a day at the park gone awry

fluff!! warnings/tags: fem!reader, husband!spencer yum, boy dad spencer enters the nereidprinc3ss cinematic universe!!!! yayyy!! but you still have a baby daughter as well, Spencer would 100% give his children old people names I'm sorry, gentle parenting Spencer my beloved a/n: I really miss spring its my favorite season so I found this draft that feels very springy and it makes me very happy also.. the name... like queen... also this is old so its probably not winning a pulitzer

The sun beats down just shy of hot on the sheath of fresh grass where you and Spencer are comforting your crying son—the ground beneath your blanket is a lush, verdant carpet, still cool with springtime rain but not wet. 

All of this pleasantry is lost on your son Oliver. He’s too focused on the scraped knee he sustained when he got pushed over on the wood chips. Marianne, your baby girl, is gurgling happily in her little bassinet next to you. Whoever said raising girls was harder had obviously never met the Reid siblings. Oliver is a drama queen—something you suspect he inherited from his father. 

“See? All better,” your husband is saying, wedding band glinting as gold as the curls that fall to his eyes as he smooths a bandaid over Oli’s wound. Seeing him like this never gets old.

Oli’s crying chokes to a confused halt. 

“It still hurts,” he complains. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. But you shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

“I wanted to be her f-friend,” Oli says, his sweet little bow lips (all Spencer) beginning to pout again. 

Your husband wipes Oliver’s already teary cheeks gently. “I know, but she didn’t know that. Not everybody likes to be pushed, even when you’re playing, because it’s kinda mean, isn’t it?”

“I was not being mean.”

“Do you push all your friends?”

“Sometimes,” Oliver says stormily. Spencer gives him a knowing look. 

“Are you sure you didn’t push her just because she’s a girl?”

Little shoulders raise and drop heavily. Guilty. 

“I know it’s sometimes hard to make friends with girls, but they generally don’t like being pushed. Not anymore than boys do. Maybe even less.”

“Then how do I make friends with them?”

Spencer considers this. 

“Well… how do you usually make friends?”

“I ask if they wanna play.”

“Sounds like you already know how to make friends with girls, then. That’s all you have to do.”

“How did you be friends with mommy?” Oli asks, bunching the blanket in his little hand. You smile to yourself.  

Spencer’s eyes flash up to you for only a second, his lips parted in what only you would recognize to be amusement. 

“I was super nice to her. Me and mommy are really good friends, right?”

Oliver nods dutifully. 

“Do you know why?”

A shake of his little curly head, this time.

“Because when you’re nice to someone, it usually makes them want to be your friend. Not always. But you have a much better chance that way. If I pushed mommy the first time we met, I don’t think we’d be here today.”

Your lips flatten to zip in a laugh. To Oliver, this is a very serious matter. To you, too. It’s important that he grows up to treat people well. 

“Why not?”

Spencer dodges the question smoothly. 

“Why don’t you try going to apologize to her? She might not want to talk to you, and that’s okay. But if you say you’re sorry, maybe you guys can play nicely together.”

This determines the already willful Oliver, who pushes up clumsily before running down the knoll on his short legs and approaching the swing set where his earlier assailant now plays alone. He stops far enough away that he can make a break for it if she gets a fixing to push him again. Smart boy. 

You and Spencer observe the interaction carefully, and while you can’t hear what’s being said, things seem to go well. Soon they’re making their way to the little kid’s playground in tandem. 

“Super nice, huh?”

“I really wanted to be your friend,” Spencer counters, scooting closer to Marianne’s bassinet. “Hi, angel,” he coos, demeanor instantly softening as he strokes her soft cheek. You can’t help smiling. The look in his eyes is truly something to behold. “God, I’m never gonna get over how much she looks like you.”

You preen and try to hide it. “You can’t possibly know that yet. Her skeletal structure is far from fully developed.” 

“Uh oh,” Spencer says to Marianne, offering her a quarter of a strawberry from a Tupperware. “Mommy is starting to sound like me. Is that scary, or what?”

Marianne cackles and burbles and takes the fruit with her little clutching fingers, only missing her mouth the first time she tries to eat it. 

“You’re so good at this,” you murmur thoughtlessly. The moment Oliver was born he’d been a natural. Earlier, even. You saw it in his eyes the second you tearfully told him you were pregnant. He’s a man of many gifts—and that extends to the way he parents. 

His gaze turns to you, still just as soft, but more knowing, on you. It’s comforting, to be known and seen and loved like that. 

“Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Corny,” you tease.

He shuffles on his knees to be closer to you. “Biologically factual.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into him with an arm and presses a firm kiss to your head. 

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you recently?” He murmurs into the quiet dark against your temple, shielded from the spring sun. 

You’re melting in his hold, the way you always do. “Mhm.”

“Good. There’s nobody I’d rather be super nice to.”

You breathe him in—feel the rush of happy chemicals flood your brain.

“What if I pushed you?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he asserts, pulling back and framing your face between his hands. 

“But if I did.”

He regards you with narrowed eyes. 

“Why? Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe.” But you say it too coyly. The corner of his mouth twitches. 

“I’d forgive you,” Spencer murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “But if you want to be my friend, you can just ask, lovely.”

One more quick peck, and he’s situating himself to lay his head in your lap once more. You slide his sunglasses on for him once he’s settled, and he catches your hand, kissing your knuckles. Your lips twist. 

“You make it so hard to want to push you. I need you to be mean.”

He laughs. 

“Too bad. I like being nice to you.”

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 8

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Breeding - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.4k

Summary: Your family’s yearly vacation is here and once again, you’re single. To avoid having your dating life be poked and prodded by your relatives, you decide to turn your best friend for a little help. Everyone already knows him! What’s the worst that could happen if he pretends to be your boyfriend for the week?

—————————————————————————

“It’s going to be a disaster,” you lament, leaning your head back over your couch. Your coffee mug gripped tightly in your hand.

A random movie is playing on your TV, but neither you nor your best friend are paying attention.

“It will not,” Chan chides and nudges your arm with his elbow.

He sips his own drink slowly, watching you throw your arm over your eyes.

“Yes it will! Every year my family goes on this vacation to the mountains, and every year I’m reminded that I’m the only single adult in the family.”

You sigh.

“You’re not the only single one, what about your cousin?”

“He started dating someone about a month after last year’s vacation. They’re still together, so she’s coming on the trip.” Your tone switches to something less dramatic. “She’s lovely, by the way, you’d like her. Very friendly.”

Chan laughs. “So, you’re single and alone there, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s your family. ”

“They make fun of me the whole time! And if I do anything my mom doesn’t like, she’ll go ‘this is why you don’t have a boyfriend, Y/N.’ Ugh!”

“Aren’t there only four ‘older’ cousins?”

“Yes, and I’m the only single one above the age of seventeen. I’m twenty four and I am going to die alone.”

Your arm drops from your eyes and you stare up at the ceiling.

The air in your apartment is warm and comfortable. Candles burn on the table beside you, filling the house with a pleasant warm cinnamon scent.

It was always one of Chan’s favorites.

“How long until the trip?” he asks.

“Next weekend.”

“Not enough time for a dating app, huh?”

You force a laugh. “No. Can you imagine? ‘Coffee was great! You wanna come on a week-long vacation with me and my giant, loud family?’ They would run for the hills.”

“Your family is great and you know it.”

“I know, they’re just… obnoxiously close, that’s all. I love them, don’t get me wrong.” You motion your arms up to the ceiling wildly in an exasperated movement. “But if I need to listen to my aunt nitpick my appearance in passive aggressive ways to ‘help’, I might kill myself.”

Chan takes a long sip of his drink. “They’re not that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “They love you so much, what would you know? Every time I bring you around them I always get tons of questions afterwards about you. I think my cousin is in love with you.”

“Which one?”

“Lily.”

“She’s twelve.”

“Twelve and in love with you.”

Both of you sit in silence for a moment. Chan’s attention slides back to the TV. He’s looking at it, but he’s not absorbing what’s really playing.

Same with you, you’re too busy wrapped up in your thoughts when an idea hits you all of a sudden.

“That’s it!” you yell, sitting up straight. Your voice startles Chan and he almost spills his drink all over your couch.

“What? What’s it?” he asks quickly, checking his pants to make sure nothing spilled.

“You can come with me!”

“You want me to go on your family’s yearly vacation in place of a boyfriend?”

“I want you to come on my family’s yearly vacation as my boyfriend.”

Chan’s head snaps over to you, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. You’re already looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, Chan!” you beg before he has a chance to say no. “Please, please, please!” you repeat over and over again.

Placing your coffee on the table, you crawl closer to him on the couch, begging over and over again.

“They already love you so much! It would be so easy ! Plus, it’s all expenses paid! It’s a free vacation to a lake house in the mountains with your best friend!”

“Felix isn’t going.” Chan teases.

You whine and grab his free hand. “No, me! Your best friend! Pretty please Chan! I’ll owe you big time!”

He stares at you for a long moment, thinking it through in his head. You’re staring at him with big, pleading, sparkly eyes. He’s never been able to say no to that look.

He sucks his teeth, head cocking to the side for a second. The hand in yours twitches and he holds it, like a faux-shake.

“Fine,” he says. “But, you owe me dinner.”

Squealing, you throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He wraps his beverage-free hand around you and hugs you back. “You’re seriously the best, thank you!”

“I know, I know. Now can we please finish the movie?”

——————————————

The trunk to your car slams shut, Chan dusts his hands off and then rests them on his hips.

“You look like a dad,” you tell him while coming up to the car with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“A dad who packed the trunk of your car perfectly.” He eyes the backpack on your shoulder. “That goes in the backseat. I’m not opening the trunk again.”

Giggling, you open the backdoor and toss it in.

“Can you drive?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. “You know how much I hate driving.”

Chan sighs and holds his hand out for the keys.

“You’re the best!” you cheer and toss them to him.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Chan rolls his eyes and ducks into the driver’s side of the car. “Do you have the address?”

You duck inside the car and start typing on your phone. “I should have it in my texts, one sec.”

Scrolling through your phone, you try to find the text that your aunt sent you with the address. Your family has rented the same AirBnb every year since you were fourteen and yet you could never remember the address of the place.

As you’re searching for it, a phone call from your mom comes in.

“Oh, hold on.” You say to Chan and hit the answer button.

“Hey, ma!” you greet into the phone.

“Hey, sweetie! Are you on your way yet?”

“We just got into the car, actually. We’re about to leave.”

“I thought you would’ve left an hour ago.”

“Chan got held up at work, actually. Not his fault.”

At the mention of his name, Chan perks up and looks over at you, listening to the phone call intently.

“Ah, gotcha. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you two finally started dating.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still kinda new,” you lie through your teeth. You look up and make eye contact with Chan. “We only became official about…”

His eyes widen and he looks around panicked. Quickly, he holds up three fingers.

“About three week-”

He moves about wildly.

“Months! Three months ago! Sorry, I’m a little distracted putting all the bags in the car.”

Chan reacts to your lie comically, his chin jutting forward, head cocking to the side. You wave him off silently. Your mother doesn’t seem to clock your panic about the situation.

“I always saw how the two of you looked at each other, it was only a matter of time, really.”

A blush crawls up your neck and turns your ears and cheeks red. Chan looks down at his lap and coughs nervously, a blush of his own making its way onto his skin.

“Anyway, we better get going, mom! You know how talking on the phone while driving is illegal and all.”

“Make Chan drive! He’s the boyfriend.”

“You’re so right… And he should do so without putting up a fuss.”

Chan motions down to himself, as if to say ‘I’m already the one in the driver’s seat’. You wave him off again, trying to focus on your mother’s voice.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you soon, but I expect some questions to be answered when I see you, Y/N!” Her voice is teasing, but it makes your blood run cold.

“Of course, mom. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye, love you!”

You don’t give her a chance to answer you before you hang up.

The silence in the car is so loud, the air is so still.

“So,” you say slowly. “We need to come up with a backstory, huh?”

“It seems so.”

Another bout of silence.

Neither of you are looking at each other, you’re both facing forward, staring out the windshield.

“I’ll uh… find the address.”

“Yeah.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and scroll through your phone. Chan waits a second before starting the car.

——————————————

Chan turned one of the final corners of the trip onto the street.

“Our first date?” he asks.

“Coffee at the cafe by my apartment.”

“Second date?”

“Movies, we saw Barbie. We went out to eat afterwards. A diner.”

“When did we become official?”

“Three months ago. May 6th. You asked me after our third date.”

“And?”

“You kissed me at my door.”

“Good.”

You both pause for a moment.

“How come I can’t be the one that kissed you?” you tease him.

Chan laughs out loud and turns the car into the driveway. “As if you would ever make the first move.”

You look at him incredulously. “I so would! You’re the one who gets too nervous to do anything. I say I kissed you, not the other way around.”

“No way, I kissed you.”

Chan puts the car into park.

“Absolutely not. I kissed you first.” you reply.

“Keep dreaming. I walked you to your door, we stood there and talked for a minute. You went to walk inside, but I stopped you and kissed you.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt.

“No, after we talked, there was an awkward silence and I could see how nervous you were and how you kept looking at my lips. So, I took the first step and kissed you.”

Grabbing the door handle, you wrench it open before Chan could issue a rebuttal again.

He calls your name from inside the car and lets out a loud groan afterwards.

“You can’t have all the firsts, now can you?” you call back, walking around to the trunk.

The front door to the house rips open and two of your little cousins come tearing out of the house with happy smiles.

“Y/N! Y/N!” they both call out, sprinting up to you.

Leaning down, you scoop both of them up into a hug with both arms, giving them an equally excited hello. Both of them hug you tightly.

They’re five and nine years old, girl and boy– the youngest of the cousins.

“Look who else I brought with me,” you giggle and look over at Chan, who was watching you from the side of the car. The door still opened, his arm leaning on the top.

Both of their tiny gazes turn towards him and just like that, you’re forgotten about.

“Chan!” They both cheer and run at him full tilt.

He wraps both of them up in his strong arms and picks them off the ground.

“Hello, you two!” he coos and gives them both kisses on their heads.

Something twinges within your heart seeing him interact with the two of them that way, it goes through you like an arrow. His brown eyes are so warm and sparkly holding your two little cousins close to him.

A genuine, bright smile pulled across his beautiful face.

Chan steps away from the car and puts them on the ground, they both complain. “Come on, I need to help Y/N with the bags. I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I made her carry them all by herself.”

Your heart thuds again. Boyfriend.

The two kids groan and give in, running back into the house, telling everyone of your arrival.

Chan watches them for a moment before turning to look at you with a sheepish smile. You smile back and knock twice on the hood of your car.

“Come on then, boyfriend. These bags won't carry themselves.”

He laughs and grabs the bags from the trunk, arguing with you when you try to lift some of the heavier bags. Well, you weren’t going to argue about carrying something if you didn’t need to.

The cold air conditioned house was a familiar sight when you walked through the front door. One of your aunts was near the entrance when you first came in.

“Y/N, Chan, you’re here! We have you both in the room down here, I hope that’s okay.” she says, pointing to the room down the hall. It’s one of only three bedrooms on the first floor.

“Yeah! That’s totally fine, thank you.”

You smile and walk to the room, dropping your bags down on the bed.

The singular bed in the room.

Chan follows you inside the room with your bags, plopping them down on the floor by the door. You turn to look at him, he’s staring at the bed, most likely thinking the same thing that you are.

He closes the door behind you both.

“I didn’t think about this part.” you say quietly just in case someone was outside the door.

He shrugs. “Just don’t hog the blankets,” he jokes. Chan brushes it off so easily.

What you don’t know is his heart is racing just as much as yours is. His mouth has gone completely dry and he had to gulp down some nerves before jesting with you.

It’s just a bed, right? Both of you can share a bed, no problem. Not at all.

The two of you have fallen asleep on the couch together before. But, it’s not quite the same as sharing a bedroom for the next week.

“I didn’t think you would need any blankets since you’re a human space heater.” You open your one bag and pull out a few smaller things.

“You’re just jealous because you’re cold all the time.” Chan stands on the other side of the bed, plugging his phone charger into the wall.

“I’m not cold all the time.”

“You’re in a sweatshirt and it’s eighty five degrees outside.”

“We had the air conditioning on in the car.”

There’s a few knocks on the bedroom door. “Dinner!”

——————————————

Contrary to what you both originally thought, your family did not grill the two of you interrogation style about your relationship. Instead, you were met with a lot of “It was only a matter of time”.

Each time one of your family members said something along those lines, both you and Chan would grow extremely shy, faces flushing and hearts racing.

Dinner was held in the back room attached to the large kitchen, a long dining table sat in the room, benches full of your family members lined it.

There were so many of you: eight cousins, three aunts, two uncles, two parents, one sister, one brother in law, one grandmother.

This was not the first time Chan had been around your extremely large family, not at all. He’s around you all the time, especially when he can’t go home to Australia for holidays. You always invite him to your family celebrations, and each time he’s more than thrilled to be there.

Everyone was so happy that he was there; part of you thinks they’re happier to see him than you.

Dinner came and went, it was filled with laughter and stories, like it usually is. Your dad and his brothers all teased one another, bringing up stories of being young in the 70’s and 80’s.

“Let’s do a movie night!” One of your younger cousins turns to her older brother. “You’ve been promising me that we would watch Star Wars.”

“You want to watch Star Wars tonight?” he replies.

“Yes, please! Cousins movie night!" She cheers and grabs her plate. “We can set the couches up like last year!”

Chan leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Movie night?”

“There’s a den upstairs with a couple couches, we push them together to make a giant bed and all watch movies at night. Very common L/N Family Activity on vacation.” you answer, leaning closer to him. “The adults usually go to bed and all the cousins watch movies.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Both of you chuckle and smile at one another. His dimples showing. You two seem to be in your own little bubble.

Chan’s leaning so close his body heat is radiating through your clothes. The fabric of his shirt is brushing against your bare arm.

“You’ll find that there’s a certain schedule to each day, breakfast, play down at the lake, lunch, back to the lake, get ready for dinner, eat dinner, movie time.”

“I think I can get used to that.”

“You better.”

A throat clears by you. Your aunt is looking at the two of you with a playful smile. “Are you both going to help clean up or what?”

——————————————

“Dibs on sitting next to Y/N!” One of your little cousins calls out after you all finished pushing the couches together.

“No, I want to sit next to her!” Another yells out.

The youngest runs up and throws his arms around your hips, hugging you close to him. Both arms don’t make it around you all the way.

“No, me!”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. He holds you tighter and it knocks you off balance slightly.

“Come on, hon, you got to sit next to me at dinner, let someone else have a turn.” you coo down to him.

“No!” he pouts and hugs you tighter. You grimace and try to pry his arms off you.

Chan comes out of nowhere and picks your cousin off the ground in one fell swoop. “How about me, huh?” he teases and tickles your cousin with his one free hand.

Your cousin starts giggling like crazy.

“Don’t I get to sit next to my girlfriend?” he jokes and tickles him even more.

The biggest smile stretches over your face, heart warming once more.

Chan drops your cousin onto the couches, he bounces a bit, still laughing.

The tickle torture continues now that both of Chan’s hands are free. Giggles turn into cackles.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t fight the smile on your face and the feeling that stirs in your stomach. Are you ovulating? You have to be. There’s no other explanation for the flutter within your chest.

He just looks so natural like that. The teasing looked adorable.

It wasn’t until one of your older cousins came into the room before your gaze was taken away from Chan.

“Lovesick, eh?” he says in your ear.

“Oh, shut up.” You hit him in the arm.

“I know that look anywhere, Y/N. You can’t fool me.” He laughs and then walks to take his spot on the big couch huddle with his girlfriend.

Chan picks your little cousin up by the ankle and starts dragging him around. Both of their laughter was music to your ears.

“Okay, okay! Move time!” You call out to the two of them. Chan looks over at you immediately with the goofiest grin on his face.

Your little cousin groans.

“Give me my boyfriend back,” you tease and climb onto the couch.

After several minutes of figuring out seating and finding the movie on the TV, everyone was finally settled.

Chan sat directly next to you, his arm on the back of the couch behind you. Both of your legs stretched out in front of you and a shared blanket draped over you both.

The opening title sequence of Star Wars starts playing and silence falls over your cousins for the first time since you got there.

Absent-mindedly, Chan’s fingers lightly brush over the skin of your exposed shoulder from behind you. They trace small shapes lightly.

You can’t even focus on the movie in front of you, Chan’s touch is too distracting.

Your sister and her fiance sat on the other side of you. She leaned over and whispered in your ear about twenty minutes into the movie.

“You can cuddle with your boyfriend, you know.”

A flush crawls up your neck. “Yeah, of course I know that. I just didn’t want to–”

Chan must’ve heard her, his hand closes over your shoulder and brings you closer to him. Your body turns into his, head tucked underneath his chin. His body warmth seeps into you as soon as you press into him.

The cherry on top is when he presses a kiss to the crown of your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. A shockwave of goosebumps ripples through your body.

Thinking you were chilly, Chan wraps his other arm around you and holds you even closer.

Well, if he’s playing the part.

You intertwine your legs with his underneath the blanket. His heart jumps in his chest and he has to fight the urge to press another kiss into your hair.

Chan knew he was pushing his luck with the first one, but it just felt so natural, he couldn’t help himself. Every single time the two of you touch, he instinctually takes it further into a romantic zone.

Previously, he would restrain himself from advancing these moments with you, but now? He doesn’t need to hold himself back. He can let his body react naturally.

The movie continues on, whenever a younger cousin would ask any questions about the movie, one of the older kids would answer.

Whenever Chan was the one to answer, his voice would rumble deep within his chest. The later it got, the raspier it sounded.

Throughout the movie, you both just got more and more tangled up underneath the blanket. You slid an arm around to rest your hand on Chan’s chest; fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt.

Chan melted into your touch so easily.

In all the years you’ve been close friends, you’ve never been this level of a human pretzel while hanging out. He’s relishing every moment of it. Your shared body heat mingling is intoxicating to him.

He’s such a tactile person, physical touch is definitely his love language.

Chan can’t remember a time he was ever this cozy while watching a movie.

One of his hands moves from your shoulder and into your hair, running his fingers through the strands gently.

Every muscle in your body relaxes when he starts scratching at your scalp lightly. His soft exhales puff out on your head. Normally, this would bother you, but instead you find it soothing.

Both of you were fighting against your eyelids towards the end of the movie. The little kids fell asleep about ten minutes before the credits rolled.

Chan squeezes you tighter for a moment before whispering into your hair, “Time for bed.”

Your heart squeezes. “I gotta help get the little ones to bed.”

“I got it,” he answers. “Go wash up and get to bed. I’ll be downstairs in a few.”

Words can’t even describe how much your heart melts at his words.

Pull it together, Y/N. He’s your fake boyfriend for the week, remember? Not your real one.

It’s Chan – Bang Chan. The same guy who held your hair each time you drank yourself sick in college. The guy who camps out at your dining room table to work because he claims the Wi-Fi is better at your apartment.

Nevertheless, you peel yourself off of him, untangling your limbs and sitting up.

“You’re the best,” you say to him with a sleepy smile.

“I know.”

——————————————

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window and the air conditioning unit continuously hums in the room.

A strong arm squeezing tighter around your body is what drags you out of dreamland.

A searingly hot body is pressed flush against the back of yours; legs tangled up, back to chest, soft exhales blowing into your hair lightly.

The haze of sleep still has your mind in its grip. All you know in that moment is that it’s so cozy, so warm, so nice that you can’t help but press your body backwards into that serene clasp.

The arm tightens again and brings you even closer.

A nose nuzzles further into the back of your head.

Chan, it’s Chan behind you.

You should care. You should be prying his arm off your waist and scooting over away from him.

But you don’t want to. It’s too nice.

It’s so peaceful, you’re about to drift back to sleep when the sound of two separate footsteps run towards your bedroom door.

They’re so loud, it rips you from sleep and you tense up, preparing for impact.

Your bedroom door is practically flung open.

Chan jolts against your body at the noise, his eyes snap open, arm tightening around you even more in a protective manner.

He has about two seconds to get his bearings before both cousins leap onto the bed, yelling at you both to wake up.

Chan releases you and turns over onto his back with a deep groan.

You groan and squint your eyes closed, bringing the covers up over your head.

“Noooo…” you moan out.

Chan laughs and grabs one little cousin closely, hugging her close to his chest. “Are you in here to sleep in bed with us? I sure hope so since it’s still soooo early.”

She giggles and tries to fight against his strong arms. “No!” she cackles. “You have to eat breakfast so we can go swimming down at the lake!”

Your other, more calm, cousin squirms underneath the covers and cuddles up to you. Slinging an arm around him, you keep your eyes closed and try to let your mind drift off again.

This is not the first time he’s done this, and it most likely will not be the last. It breaks your heart thinking about the year he feels like he’s too old to do this.

Chan is practically wrestling with your cousin next to you. She squeals when he turns on his side with her encased in his arms.

“Chaaan!” she giggles.

After a few moments, he lets her go and she clambers off the bed.

“Come on, Chan! Come sit next to me at breakfast!” She pulls on his hand closest to the edge of the bed.

He laughs and turns his head to look at you. You’re fast asleep again with your younger cousin asleep in your arms.

Chan’s heart slams against his ribcage and his stomach does a cartwheel.

Your sleeping face is so peaceful, and the way your little cousin has the same hair color as you had the cogs in his mind turning.

What if that was your kid in your arms, not just a cousin?

What if it was his?

His eyes flicker all over your face.

Something stirs in his mind, shooting down his spine. If it wasn’t for your other little cousin yanking on his arm over and over again, probably would’ve watched you for a few more moments, allowing his mind to roam into dangerous territory.

——————————————

“You’re staring.” Your aunt sits next to Chan with a plate full of food.

He’s camped out on the back porch of the cabin. It overlooks the wooden stairs that lead down to the dock hanging over the lake.

You’re lounging out on a floaty, pina colada in your hand– courtesy of him. He had walked it down to you only a few moments ago.

When it was announced that it was lunch time, you told Chan you wanted to work on your tan without worrying about your cousins splashing you every five seconds.

Maybe making you a frozen drink was just an excuse to see your face light up when he brought it to you. Maybe it was an excuse to watch the water droplets slide over your body up close.

Chan clears his throat and tears his eyes off your lazing form. Clearly, he’d been caught staring at your bikini clad form.

She nudges his arm playfully. “Don’t be embarrassed, it would be weirder if you didn’t stare, you know.”

Your family can be so crass sometimes.

Chan laughs and takes a bite of the sandwich on his plate. “It’s just nice to see her relaxing for once.”

“Has she been working herself into the ground again?”

“She never stops.”

Your aunt nods and looks back down at you before taking a bite of her own food. “Also helps that she looks good in that bathing suit.” She pauses. “Damn, your kids will be good looking.”

Chan chokes on his bite of food, his body jerks forward and he slams his fist into his chest to try and get it down.

Your aunt pats him on the back a few times, laughing at his expense.

“What?” She questions with an evil chuckle. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

“We’ve only been together for three months,” he wheezes out, still hitting his chest. The clump of food is sitting in his throat.

“And?”

“It’s too early to think about stuff like that,” he lies through his teeth.

You’re not even his. You’re not. This week will end and you’ll have to go back to just being best friends.

He’ll have to pretend that he wasn’t fake sleeping for the last hour before you woke up just to have his arms around you for a little while longer.

“Please.” Your aunt rolls her eyes and goes back to her food when another family member joins the table.

Chan takes a long swig of water before letting his eyes flicker to you once more. Your free hand hangs down in the water, head tilted back to dip into the cool lake, exposing your long, beautiful neck.

In his swim trunks, his cock twitches and he takes an even bigger drink of water.

——————————————

The torture continues endlessly for the two of you.

It’s the fourth night when it’s just you and Chan left awake.

Rain is pouring against the windows outside, the fireplace is lit, TV playing something in the background.

“I’m never going to get to bed.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have had coffee with dessert,” you tease Chan, nudging his arm.

“Your uncle offered me a cup and I panicked.”

“You don’t even like coffee.”

“I know!” He whined.

You laugh at his expense. “Come on,” you tug on his arm. “You promised you would play pool with me.”

“When did I say that?”

“Literally this morning!”

“Fine, fine.”

He allows you to pull him off the couch with a dorky smile on his face. He loves giving you a hard time for no reason at all.

The pool table sat in the front room, just a few steps away from your bedroom.

Every time the two of you had gone to play pool, other family members would get in the way and pull one of you two in another direction.

Tonight was really the first night you both had to yourselves.

“You break,” you tell him once everything is set up. He nods and lines up his shot. After a second, he hits the cue ball perfectly into the cluster and all the balls scatter along the table, but nothing sinks into the pocket.

“Pity,” you tease him.

“Pity,” he repeats, mocking your tone.

Laughing, you bend over and line up your own shot. From across the table, Chan watches your form bend over, his lip pulling between his teeth mindlessly.

You hit the ball and sink one in.

With a cheer on the quieter side, you look at him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes playfully as you line up another shot.

The game continues just like this for a bit. Both of you going back and forth, missing most shots, but also nailing some good ones.

You’re tied at the end, racing to try and sink the 8-ball before the other person.

Leaning over the table right in front of him, you try and set up your aim.

“Wait,” Chan says quietly before you can pull the pool stick back to take your shot.

He leans down over you, pressing his back into yours, arms coming around you. He guides your aim to hit the cue ball differently.

The entire time, your heart rate is increasing exponentially.

“Just a bit more to the left,” he whispers in your ear. Chills rip down your body and you gulp. His voice sounds so low and sensual.

His hand over yours adjusts with tiny, miniscule movements. He keeps changing the aim a bit to the left, then a bit to the right, like he’s prolonging the contact.

Behind you, his hips are pressed into yours. It’s taking every ounce of willpower and control for him not to get hard in his sweats.

Especially, since in this position, he potentially could–

“Pull back,” he rasps. You follow his instructions immediately. He helps guide the pool stick back, hesitating for a moment. His chest inflates with a deep breath.

He breathes in the smell of your shampoo.

“Shoot,” he exhales.

With his guidance, you both shoot the ball, standing up quickly to watch it bounce off the 8-ball and then sinking into the corner pocket.

You cheer and jump up, turning around to face him directly.

“Take that!”

When you turned to face him, he hadn’t backed away yet. You’re practically nose to nose with Chan. A gasp catches in your throat from his proximity.

And yet, he still doesn’t back away. He continues to stare at you, his eyes dart from yours, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.

“Y/N,” he breathes out.

You swallow nervously and hold his eye contact.

Chan’s jaw clenches once, his hands ball into fists at his sides. Every single ounce of constraint is being tested within his body right now.

Cracks are going up the dam of his self control.

You’re not moving away; why aren’t you moving away from him?

He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips once and that’s all it takes for his mind to snap.

Chan lunges forward, grabbing your face with both of his hands and smashing your lips together. You let out a surprised noise against his mouth, your pool stick clattering to the ground.

Every bit of pent up aggression from the last few days is poured into the first kiss.

His hands aren’t on your face for long. He can’t keep still, sliding them all over your body; into your hair, down your sides, grabbing your hips, he’s everywhere.

“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit.”

Even though he’s apologizing, he can’t stop himself. He can’t stop slotting his lips over yours, devouring your very being.

Chan’s eyebrows are pinched together painfully. He’s pinning your body against the pool table with his hips.

You grab at his shirt and pull him closer.

“Shut up,” you say in between heated kisses.

“But I–”

“Shut up.” Your tongue runs over his bottom lip and his mind whites out. Every rebuttal fell from his mind, through the floor and into the Earth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face even closer to yours as he licks into your mouth. With each turn of your heads, your noses brush against one another.

Chan runs his hands down your body and grabs underneath your thighs, picking you up and placing you on the pool table.

Your legs part and he stands in between them, never leaving your lips once.

As he runs his hands up your legs, he squeezes your bare thighs every few inches. It makes your core clench and body tingle.

Your fingers run up through his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling. Chan moans into your mouth and moves his hands to grab at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

“Chan,” you whisper on his lips. He responds with a grunt. “Need you.”

God.

His hands fly to your legs again, grabbing you by the knees, he yanks your hips forward. Your clothed core comes into direct contact with his erection.

“I can give you exactly what you need, baby.” he nips your lip with his teeth. “I can take good care of you, yeah?”

Trailing his fingers up, he toys with the waistband of your shorts. At the same time, he moves his kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back to give him more access.

“Wanna take these off, babygirl?” he moans when you roll your hips into his.

“Yes, please.” you hiss in response.

Lifting your hips, he grabs the fabric and slides it down your legs, tossing them onto the floor with the forgotten pool stick.

Kisses trail lower and lower down your neck as he lowers to the ground.

Chan pulls away to kneel onto the ground.

His eyes are heated and strong when they meet yours. A dark scarlet color covers his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing into his sleeveless shirt.

Both of his hands grab at your thighs when he looks down at your glistening cunt. You’re absolutely soaking wet by now.

Since the moment he helped you line up your shot, you felt your panties dampening.

Wasting no time, Chan leans forward and runs his tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the top, swirling around your clit and sucking gently.

Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, the other rests on the table behind you to keep your balance.

He repeats the action again, this time with more fervor and you squint your eyes shut, head tossing back from the pleasure that rips down your spine like a zipper.

Chan’s hands tighten around your thighs, eyes staring up at you and studying each reaction closely.

You taste so fucking good. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue greedily scoops up your juices, licking around your clit to feel you grind into his face.

His cock throbs with each moan, each whine that makes it through your fingers held tightly over your mouth.

After one long suck on your clit, Chan dips his tongue inside you, licking at your walls. Your eyes roll back into your head, the hand over your mouth flies down to grip at his hair.

He can’t help but smirk into your folds.

Every single moan is music to his ears.

Slowly, he inches his fingers over and when he moves his tongue up to your clit, he slides a finger into you, immediately curling it up to hit that spongy spot inside you.

“Jesus fuck–!” you cry out as quiet as you can manage.

It doesn’t slip your mind that you’re quite literally in a house full of relatives who could wake up and come into the front room at any moment and see the two of you.

But the fear just adds an extra layer of arousal to you.

“Does that feel good, babygirl?” Chan mutters into your cunt. “Does it feel good to have my fingers inside you?”

He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, those brown eyes studying you like a predator studies prey.

You bite your lip, eyes closed, and nod your head.

Chan adds a second finger and your head tosses back again. He can feel you clench down hard on his fingers when he licks your clit in long, even strokes.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body.

“Chan,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he teases, licking up slowly, the pace of his fingers is equally as slow. But, regardless of the pace, he’s still coaxing you towards the edge of an orgasm. It’s building slowly, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Shit,” you buck your hips into his face when he does one particularly hard thrust.

“Use your words, little girl.” He bites your thigh and then goes back to your folds. You clench around him hard at the name.

How are you supposed to use your words when your voice keeps getting caught in your throat? When every time you think you can open your mouth, a sultry moan tumbles out.

“N-Need you,” you manage to strain out.

A devilish smile pulls at his lips. He begins to thrust faster with his fingers, licking your clit quicker.

“Need me?” He asks in between licks. “You need me?”

Veins are popping in your neck from straining to keep your voice down.

“Yes, fuck!” You hiss out. “ I need you.”

In between his legs, Chan can feel his cock weeping with precum. His mind is so clouded with lust he can barely think straight.

Desperately, he wishes that you didn’t have to keep your voice down. He wants to make you scream.

Faster and faster he thrusts and licks at your soaking cunt, greedily tasting your juices.

Your thighs twitch on either side of his head the closer you get to your orgasm.

“Chan,” you grab his attention by yanking on his hair. He grunts and looks up at you through his lashes, lips still devouring you. “Inside, inside. I need your cock inside me.”

Your words go straight to his dick, he licks at your cunt a few more times before standing to his feet quickly to lock your lips together, fingers still buried inside you.

When you taste your own slick on his tongue, your eyes roll back in your head and you clench around him. Chan smirks into the kiss, curling his fingers up.

He’s relentless. Tongue sliding over yours, moans being eaten up by a greedy mouth while his fingers fuck into you.

With more strength than you thought you had, you pry Chan’s lips off yours by pulling his hair back.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll pin you down and ride you until your cock can’t cum anymore.”

An exhale is punched from his chest. His mind whites out. Chan’s mouth drops open and his fingers stutter within you.

Did you really just say that? That sounds like a fucking dream.

“Babygirl,” he growls darkly. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

Your eyes darken and you pull his hair again. “Fuck me until I can’t walk, Chris.”

Chan rips his fingers out of your cunt, grabs both of your hips and roughly pulls you off the pool table.

He fists a hand in the back of your hair and spins you around, shoving your head down, bending you over completely.

You’re lucky you had half a mind to put your arms out to rest your weight on your elbows.

Using his one foot, he knocks the inside of yours outwards to spread your legs even more.

“Fucking look at that,” he marvels, running his free hand up your ass and kneading a handful. After a second he reels back and brings his hand down with a painful smack.

Your one hand flies to your mouth to cover the squeak that you make.

“Bent over, soaking wet cunt just fucking waiting to take my cock.” His hand tightens in your hair. The other hand rips his sweatpants down to take his cock out. “What a good girl you are.”

Chan can’t remember a time he’s ever been this hard.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you look back at Chan. His eyes are blown out, lip pulled in a sneer as he fists his cock, staring directly at your fluttering walls clench around nothing.

“You wanna fill me up, Channie?”

His eyes snap up to yours with a predator-like stare. His hand stops pumping his own cock, hell, he even stops breathing.

Chan’s jaw clenches, every ounce of self control is being drained. How much more of this can he fucking take before he passes out?

“What?” His voice is so strained and hoarse.

Your eyes narrow and you wiggle your hips tauntingly. “Come on, Chan.”

Chan’s eyes darken. He fists your hair and shoves your face down on the table and slams his cock inside you.

Your mouth stretches open in a silent scream, but you don’t let the noise make it out of your body.

Chan’s eyes roll to the back. You feel so fucking good.

“Holy shit.” He moans out. “Jesus fuck you’re so fighting tight.”

He wastes no time, pulling his cock out to slam back inside you. Your back arches and hips press into his to meet his thrust.

Each sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your legs and into your toes.

Small gasps and whines make their way through your lips.

Chan leans down, yanking your hair back to pick your head up slightly. His face comes down next to yours.

“You like this, yeah?” He whispers harshly. Thrust after thrust slams against your cervix. “You like when it’s rough?”

Closing your eyes tightly, you keep your mouth shut, trying to nod with his hand so tightly wound in the crown of your hair.

“Better be quiet, then. Don’t want someone coming out and seeing you look like a cum hungry, whore.”

Over and over again he fucks into you.

After one harsh thrust, your mouth drops open and before you can moan loudly, Chan’s free hand covers your mouth tightly.

“Feels that good to have my cock inside you, huh? Can’t control that pretty mouth, you’re so fucked out.”

You whine and nod again. Nails digging into the felt of the pool table underneath you.

Hot, white pleasure is coursing through your veins. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life.

Chan leans down more and bites at the side of your neck, lapping at the skin and leaving small marks that will fade by the morning.

“You’re fucking lucky you have to be in a bathing suit in front of your family tomorrow. Otherwise I would leave my fucking mark all over you.” He bites, but doesn’t suck. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Another whine is stopped by his hand.

“I have a better idea, babygirl.” He bites your earlobe, pace slowing down within you. Instead, he thrusts deeper, you can practically feel him within your gut. “I’m going to do exactly what you said, yeah? Fill you up? Make that pussy sloppy with my fucking load.”

Your hips jerk back into his to try and encourage him to pick up the pace. Chan only tightens his hold in your hair.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you, every last fucking drop. Even after I pull out, I’ll stuff you with my fucking fingers so nothing gets wasted.”

Arching your back, you press into him more.

“You want that, huh?” He growls, biting your ear. His pace picks up gradually, each thrust rougher and faster than the last. “You want my seed inside you?”

You nod pathetically.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

His thrusts start growing erratic.

You never expected him to be this talkative during sex. But he hasn’t shut up once.

Another nod accompanied with a whine comes from you. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure.

“Gunna carry my kids, got the fucking perfect hips for it, yeah? You’ll look so fucking hot all pregnant with our kids. Fuck.”

He’s so lost and fucked out, he can’t stop his mouth from running, spewing all his fantasies.

Moving his hand from your mouth, he trails it down to grab at your throat.

“Chan!” You moan out, licking your dry lips.

“Can feel you clenching, babygirl. You gonna cum for me? Gunna cream on my cock? Suck up my cum and hold onto it with this tight fucking pussy?”

“Yes yes yes yes.” You pant over and over again. “Kiss me, kiss me, please”

When you turn your head, your lips smash together.

The coil in your gut is seconds from snapping.

You bite Chan’s lip and pull back.

“Fuck me full, daddy.”

Every muscle in his body tensed and his thrusts turn into something animalistic. The hand in your hair is so tight your scalp is screaming.

“Say it again.”

“Fu-huck,” is all you’re able to manage.

“Say it again.” He barks in your ear. You’re not going to be able sit down tomorrow.

“Daddy.”

A bite to your neck.

“Again.”

“Daddy! Fuck me, daddy!”

“Holy shit.” He whines in your ear. Hearing you say that makes him feel fucking insane. His body is acting on its own.

With a few more thrusts both of you are thrown over the edge at the same time. Your cunt clenching around him so tight, Chan can barely breathe.

His cock spurts and sprays within you, painting your walls white.

Every single sensation feels so good you think you leave for body for a few minutes. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

His entire body is wrapped around yours. Grunts in your ear keep you grounded.

You feel so full.

Chan came inside you so much that it’s leaking out and dripping down the inside of your legs.

He pants heavily into your ear.

Releasing your neck, he lovingly runs his hand down your side, caressing your hip, massaging circles into the bone.

His hand slides around and cups your lower stomach tenderly.

Slowly, he unwinds his hand from your hair, kissing at the roots he’s been relentlessly pulling on. He scratches and rubs at your scalp to ease the ache.

But still, he hasn’t pulled out.

Chan kisses the top of your head and down to your face, kissing the cheek he’s able to reach.

You can’t catch your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispers into your hair.

You hum back to him, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I love you.”

Your heart jumps in your chest, Chan feels you clench around him.

“I love you too.” It falls from your lips so easily, like it’s been sitting there for so long, just waiting to be heard.

Both of your heads turn to kiss one another.

It’s so ungodly sweet for the events that just took place minutes ago.

His lips are so soft and plush, especially from being swollen from your steamy kisses.

Inside you, you can feel his cock twitch. Is he…?

Breathlessly, you pull away from his sweet kiss.

“Are you still hard?” you pant.

Sheepishly, he smiles and ruts into you. A moan catches in your throat.

“Babygirl, I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you. It’s going to take a few times before I’m ready to call it a night.”

[doodlenoodleboi]

Sally face head cannons

Authors note: If you don’t specify I’m gonna pick for you most of the time it’s gonna be headcanons, they tend to be easier and quicker to write.

TW: Not professional, might have misspellings and improper grammar, I just do this for fun. Nsfw, mentions of drugs, stoner Larry, Larry is 2 years older then Sal, some non accurate writing I haven’t watched or played Sally face in years but remember the general plot. Btw when this wrote Sal is 17-19

SFW

◦ Sal doesn’t have the best relationship with his father.

◦ Sal tends to get misgendered a lot to the point he doesn’t even correct people he couldn’t care less anyways and hates unnecessary confrontation.

◦ Sal keeps his glass eye on his bedside table and one nice he actually drunk out of the cup.

◦ Sal isn’t the best at saving money when it comes to video games. He doesn’t spend his money on much In high school besides games for his game boy and other systems.

◦ Sal loves rock music and listens to music whenever he can, he owns an old stereo along with a walk man and mp3 player. (Keep in mind his teen years are in the 90’s)

◦ Along with his hair Sal also ventured in make up in skincare.

◦ Because half of his face being disfigured he tried his best to at least look normal with make up and help it heal better with skincare.

◦ Sal has the worst split ends and uneven layers because he never actually had his hair cut properly he always has done it himself.

◦ Sal is rather geeky when it comes down to it, owning as much technology as he could by in the 90’s.

◦ Sal is most comfortable showing his face to Larry among anyone else almost like a big brother to him of sorts.

◦ Sal gets rather socially awkward when it comes to people liking him so you would have to be in his friend group to have a chance of a relationship or some established connection before hand.

◦ Once you and Sal become friends as he’s comfortable with you expect things like him painting your nails and rocking out to music

◦ If he does later show romantic interest in you before he shows you his face he will be anxious about what you’ll think about him after he shows you.

◦ He’ll even teach you how to play his guitar if you’re interested.

NSFW

F

◦ Sal Is obviously a virgin it’s hard to get close to him let alone take of his mask so you’ll have to have patience to get to this stage.

◦ For-play could be longer then the actual sex for the first time and he might back out from nervousness before you guys can even start.

◦ Sal is not a shy guy maybe introverted but not shy but moments like this make him extremely vulnerable so he’s flustered and embarrassed.

◦ If you find the courage to kiss him he has his mask on he’s whipped. He would be a flustered and embarrassed mess and he might even tell Larry about how exciting it was. You were probably his first kiss as well.

◦ Sal would be around 5 inches 5.5 hard (let’s be realistic here ain’t nobody taking much past that.) Just enough to reach the back of you’re and make you gag.

◦ Sal even if he’s isn’t pornhub but still likes to prep you, after all sex is a rather sacred thing so he tries his best to treat you with care even with his inexperience.

◦ He would probably be a nervous teenager at the back of Spencer’s trying to find lube (that doesn’t get used) and other things trying not to be seen. Covering up this purchases with a rock album or something of equal value.

◦ Sal is big on after care asking you how it was if it wasn’t obvious, he would be nervous after and still not realizing he actually did that.

◦ Sal isn’t big on giving hickeys but he doesn’t mind being especially on his jawline and neck. When talking to his friends he will just say it a bruise or injury just that’s always been there. But it’s almost obvious that it’s not.

◦ Once you’ve done it once he’s nervous to ask for you to do it again so he does enjoy make out session to keep him down.

◦ Sal didn’t heavily masturbate before hand honestly rarely doing it at all until he had sex once and now that’s all he thinks about ever since.

◦ He loves laying kisses against you when doing it but never hickeys as he’s a bit scared of hurting you.

◦ He holds your hands during sex for comfortability.

◦ His favorite positions would probably be missionary and cowgirl he’s a pretty vanilla switch.

◦ Mostly a service top and a shy bottom, it’s not like he’s generally shy he just gets embarrassed seeing you on top but overtime he gets used to it.

Sorry i accidentally deleted the request!

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 | Joel Miller x reader x Eddie Munson

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summary | Joel and you go on patrol and woah—Eddie's coming with?

author's note | uh...hahaha. okay. i had a brief moment the other night, a lapse in judgement if you will and was like...joel would so be annoyed of eddie if they were stuck on patrol together and then we got horny and that's how this came about. this is my early valentines gift to WHOEVER is reading and enjoying this, it was a blast to write. a special thanks to @gracieheartspedro @amanitacowboy &. @chaotic-mystery for supporting my insane and always stupid ideas.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, is this crossfic or crackfic the jury is still out, jackson!joel, eddie munson survives but the cost = apocalypse, threesomes (m/m/f), eddie is an absolute munch, voyeurism, unprotected piv, spitting, ass slaps, slight dom/sub undertones across the board, this is ALL about reader and getting both her men, double creampies, cum feeding, choking, freak nasty at an unhinged level i'm sorry

word count — 5.5k

You were the one who found him.

Eddie.

Alone, hungry, terrified.

Hiding inside an abandoned boathouse for days in a patrol spot that had been neglected for most of the winter. It was only chance that you came alone, usually stuck with Joel who would have scared him off in a matter of seconds.

He’s like a puppy, shrinking impossibly smaller despite his height and lanky figure, hair filthy with a mix of dirt and leaves, weeks spent living savagely in search of his next meal and resting place.

Luckily, Tommy Miller was a soft soul.

One look at Eddie and Tommy didn’t even question it.

Eddie had made his rounds, too. He tried to find a place where he fit - kitchen duty wasn’t great, nor was butchering or helping run the stable.

It isn’t until he throws out the idea of patrolling that Tommy even considers it—it wasn’t something he liked to offer up unless people showed interest.

And even then, it was an adjustment.

A mix of both trust and skill—constant awareness, a willingness to communicate, and the ability to brave whatever challenge or elements you’d face outside the fortified walls of Jackson.

So, that’s where you were.

Eddie has tagged along for your patrol with Joel.

It was two days and one night in the small cabin out west. It wasn’t far from Jackson, either. In fact, it was one of the easier patrols and Joel could easily doze off at his post while you kept yourself busy.

It was easy, calm.

“Is this all you do?” Eddie asks curiously, tearing into his bag of jerky like a rabid dog, the dried meat cracking under the pressure of his teeth, “Just sit?”

It wasn’t the first question he’s asked, nor the last. 

It started with him asking if Joel and Tommy were real brothers before divulging into several questions about life before the infection spread—all mundane and simple, but you have learned so much about Joel in the few years you’ve lived in Jackson.

When he was tired or irritated, happy, when he needed you without the courage to ask, but more importantly—

You could tell when he was annoyed.

You glance over your shoulder and catch the shifty gaze he gives you, biting his tongue for a moment before he nods you over, sitting at the kitchen table whittling away on a chunk of wood to keep himself busy.

Both physically and mentally.

“Shit is a killer,” Eddie adds, “—might have to bring my guitar with me from now on, play some tunes or—“

His voice is drowned out by Joel as he speaks without looking at you, playing your actions off as you were searching through your pack.

“Shut him up,” Joel demands, “now,”

“He’s excited,” You shrug, watching as Eddie stood to explore the cabin, tapping on some old, withering blinds that fell to the floor in an instant, his gaze shooting up at you both and looking immediately sheepish.

“He’s interrupting,” Joel corrects, his head tilting up slightly to look at you as you smirk, biting down on your lip to stifle the laugh in your throat.

Joel was greedy and never shy about it, not with you.

Eddie brings the broken set of blinds over and places it on the table with a smile before pulling the chair back with a loud, ear grating screech against the hardwood and taking a seat with a loud thump.

“Oh, shit—that’s cool,” Eddie notes, pointing lazily at Joel and the soon-to-be figurine tucked away in his meaty palm, met with an eyebrow raise and a quiet noise of acknowledgement before both of their eyes shift to you.

It was similar in intensity, both with entirely different meanings. Joel had you, for months now. One small incident of a shared bed had helped something blossom between each other, though largely unaddressed.

He liked having you around, you liked being around, even if that only meant patrols and the occasional nights Joel would drag you up to his room and have his way.

You don’t question it and neither does he, but Joel was mostly undisturbed until Eddie came along, that all too familiar twinkle in his eye that he caught from many of the younger men around Jackson.

You were like a new toy; fresh and ready to be played with. Although Eddie seemed harmless, he posed a challenge for Joel. Not only because of his growing obsession with you, but because he was a nuisance.

“So, princess,” His feet slam against the table as his boots shake the surface, “what’d you do to keep busy?”

Joel chuckles quietly, a subtle noise that Eddie doesn’t seem to catch, unfortunately you do.

Him. Joel.

Joel keeps you busy. Whether with your mouth or his own.

“Uh, sleep,” You answer lamely, “or nothin’—s’kinda nice to sit with your own thoughts sometimes with how busy Jackson is lately. It’s quiet out here.”

“Dunno ‘bout that,” Joel retorts.

Eddie chuckles unknowingly, “What’s that mean?”

His eyes shift toward you as you shove your hands into the back pockets of your jeans and walk around the table and near him, his fingers dragging along the leather of the jacket he had claimed while sifting through the newest delivery of clothes that had been found during a search.

It was almost identical to his own, save a few tears in the fabric.

“Looks amazing,” Eddie comments, a smile spreading across your face almost instinctively, your heart fluttering with the way his fingers trail against the inside of your palm as he loosely holds your hand, “knew it would.”

Joel watches the exchange with a newfound curiosity.

He’s never been possessive, but seeing you interact with Eddie ignites a strange feeling within him, shifting slightly in his chair to break the moment apart.

“Go on, kid—it’s your turn,” He nods toward Eddie who seems eager to get his first chance at rounding the area, grabbing the shotgun off the table and trampling out the door without question.

As the door shuts, Joel places the items in his hands on the table and scoots back, standing from his chair as quietly walks the expanse of the table before he reaches you, rubbing a finger along the tacky leather of your jacket.

“Princess,” He begins mockingly, “a real charmer, ain’t he?”

You scoff at his tone and push his hand away, quickly met with resistance as his hands cup your face and maneuvers you back against the dining table, clumsily landing against the surface as Joel’s tongue spears between your lips and into your mouth, swallowing up the gasp of surprise that slips out. 

“Are - are you jealous?” You ask through the smothering, wet exchanges of tongue and teeth, spreading your hands out over his broad shoulders before they’re pushing him back, begging for a break. 

“Kid follows you around like a stray,” He tells you, “he’s waiting for a treat—but I think you know that.”

“And if—“ A gentle kiss to the neck, slowly pushing the jacket off your shoulder, “if I do?”

“Careful,” Joel warns, his fingers pushing your shirt off your shoulders before your hands wrap around his thick fingers, pushing him away gently.

“Last I checked, I don’t belong to anyone,” You retorted.

And you’re right—Joel would never force that on you.

You were allowed to have whatever you wanted. Even if it extended beyond him, but for Joel, you were it for him.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever have the courage to admit it, but internally, he’s known it for a while.

“I know a way to keep him quiet,” You begin, tugging weakly at Joel’s belt, still fastened in place and mostly to tease him, his hands spreading out flat against the table to steady himself, “but you aren’t gonna like it.”

Joel could stake his claim now, forbid it.

But, he doesn’t.

There’s a brief glimpse of intrigue that crosses Joel’s features and you catch it, a smile growing on your face.

“Don’t worry, I won’t sneak off,” You assure him, “I know you like to watch.”

Joel’s skin flushes hot at your words, cock swelling behind the layers of fabric that kept him confined.

He’s watched you countless times, under his instructions as you play with yourself, fingers sliding through a slick mess of your own doing, occasionally a mix of his own.

“The kid can barely look at me,” Joel counters, “ya think he’s really gonna do anything with me in the room?”

“I think you severely underestimate me,” You challenge him, “and I really don’t appreciate that,”

“Go on then,” Joel taunts, “that shithead ain’t better than me, we’ll see how well it goes for ya before I have to step in.”

Challenge accepted.

—

When Eddie returns, Joel takes his place.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” Eddie asks randomly as he strips off his own jacket and unties the plaid button down from his waist, leaving him in a thin shirt and ripped jeans, toeing off his boots before he collapses into the couch, spreading his legs as one hikes over the back and his hands fall against his stomach.

“Joel is hard to get along with,” You admit.

“You seem to be doing fine,”

“It takes time,” Among other things.

Stripped down to a similar few layers, you fit between his legs as you sit on your knees, elbow propped against the back of the couch as your fist meets your chin.

“I do like the jacket,” You assure him, watching him fiddle absentmindedly with one of his rings as he smiles at you, the lines near his cheek deepening. 

“Yeah?” Eddie perks up with a surge of confidence.

“Don’t let him get to you,” You nod vaguely toward the front door, “he’s just jealous.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at that, silently begging you to elaborate.

Quietly, you scoot closer and trade his fidgeting hands for your own, playing with his rings.

“He hates the way you look at me,” You admit, spotting the brief recognition across his features before his eyes slowly darken, rising on his elbows as your hand slowly reaches for his shirt, hand sliding out flat against his stomach, “or how I let you touch me.”

“But, we’ve never…”

“I know,” You nod in agreement, “doesn’t mean I don’t want to—I do, I was just…waiting for you to ask.”

The air shifts with your words, watching him slowly raise to his palms as you lean forward, bodies only a few inches away as you climb into his lap, lips brushing against each other briefly.

“M’not—I’ve never—“

“Kissed anyone?”

It was endearing, in a way.

“No, no—‘course I have. Just, never really done much else. I’ve gone down a few times, sucked a couple cocks, but…”

Oh. 

Oh.

”I really shouldn’t be corrupting you on your first patrol,”

Eddie chuckles against your lips, feeling the subtle brush as your hips shift against him, his neck straining as he chases your mouth.

“Fuck it,” Eddie answers flippantly, “Joel’s got it.”

You nod in agreement with a mirrored shrug before Eddie’s kissing you with a sudden eagerness, surprisingly more rough than you’re expecting as his teeth dig into your bottom lip.

He’s smothering in the best way, hands splayed at your hips before they get curious, squeezing at your thighs, legs, finding their way underneath the material of your shirt as his fingers squeeze against the base of your spine. Exploring your mouth curiously until you’re both panting against each other more than kissing, his face squished against your cheek as you rut into him.

“We should move right?” Eddie suggests, “He’s coming back soon.”

“Who cares,” You shrug, leaning back just enough to strip your shirt off and pop the button of your jeans, “besides—maybe he’ll take up my shift for me, you know, if he sees us.”

He wouldn’t, but you still provide reassurance.

And Eddie looks somehow even more adoring as he slips the makeshift hair tie from your wrist and pulls back his own hair, unruly curls and overgrown length, desperately due for a trim.

“Just in case we get messy,” He tells you, watching as you pushed back to strip your jeans off, laying back on the couch before he’s moving between your legs and pulling your pants off the rest of the way, his right hand reaching down the center of his back to yank at his own shirt, discarding it along with the growing pile of clothes.

“I’m counting on it,” You retort, fingers pushing through the front of his hair just before the hastily tied bun as you bring him down slowly, his fingers twisting around the band at your hips, his nose nuzzling into your cunt as he breathes you in, eyelashes fanning over his rosy cheeks.

It’s fresh soap and lavender oils, homegrown and made within the walls of Jackson—he’s become used to the smell. It was like home now, making do with what he had.

He smells of it too with a faint musk of sweat from the spring humidity, silently maneuvering your panties down and off your ankle, tossing them to the floor.

“May I, my lady?” Eddie asks with a smirk, his hot breath fanning over you cunt as you nod frantically, feeling your pussy clench at how close he was, begging for his mouth.

“Oh, please,” You feign distress, a short-lived giggle transforming into a surprised gasp as his tongue spreads through your folds, wide and spearing into you with little hesitation or fumbling hands, surprisingly sure of himself.

Your fingers tighten in Eddie's hair as his tongue explores the divine split between your legs, sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body. He laps at your clit with focused intensity, a strange sight as his eyes are closed and his hands tighten around your thighs, alternating between broad strokes and pinpoint flicks of his tongue that make your legs shake.

“Eddie,” You sigh, feeling two fingers breach your hole, pushing inside of you with ease as the dual sensation of his fingers and tongue blind you to everything, back arching from the couch slightly as he hums against your pussy, acknowledging your call, “fuck—oh, god—I’m gonna—”

His eagerness grows with your words, shaking his face slightly into your cunt as his nose grazes your clit, the already sensitive nub soaking up the attention as your walls squeeze around his fingers, dexterous and rubbing deep inside of you, curling at just the right angle.

“I gotcha, princess,” He assures you, moving away for a brief moment to kiss at the spot where your thigh meets your cunt, grunting at how tight you’re gripping the chuck of his hair twisted in your fist, “if you could see her—” His fingers pulling out as he collects the sweet slick, fingers slowly sliding down your pussy and up before he’s bringing the fingers to his mouth, three fit between his lips, “shoulda known you’d make a mess.”

You can only laugh, a broken sigh as he continues his relentless rubbing of your clit, watching as your hole fluttered around absolutely nothing now, missing his tongue and his fingers, both of you so caught up in the moment that you don’t hear the front door creak open until Joel’s boots are stomping past and Eddie’s first reaction is to pull back, your eyes peeking open to stare down a suppressing satisfaction on Joel’s face as your orgasm whisked away from you. 

Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the scene before him - you splayed out on the couch, legs spread wide, and Eddie between them with slick coating his lips and chin. For a moment, tension crackles in the air as Joel's gaze flicks between you and Eddie, before decidedly landing on you.

Then a slow smirk spreads across Joel's face. "Don't stop on my account," he drawls, leaning casually against the back of the couch with his palms curling over the edge, just within reach. "Looks like you two were havin' quite a time without me."

Eddie hesitates, his hands still gripping your thighs. 

"Go on, boy," Joel encourages, his voice low and rough. "Finish what you started."

With a grunt, Eddie dives back in, redoubling his efforts. His tongue swirls around your clit as two fingers plunge inside you once more. You cry out, hips bucking against his face.

Joel moves closer, almost taunting. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Let us hear those pretty sounds."

You gasp at the intensity of Eddie’s tongue, his fingers slipping out to flatten against your chest, stilling your insistent squirming as you grab his hand out of desperation, a need for an anchor.

Your eyes flutter closed, pressure building as the heat in your belly swirled, feeling a hand fist into your scalp similarly to how you had Eddie, but it was Joel, forcing your eyes open with the tinge of pain it brought as he glances down at Eddie who’s also got his eyes on you, obediently silent despite his current course of action.

Your own eyes are pleading, speaking to Joel silently.

Look, I did what you asked. Praise me.

Eddie doesn’t question it, the dutiful boy he was. 

But, he’s also…sensed things for a while.

Pining away at a person who would never truly be his own, already claimed.

Though, maybe he was wrong.

Joel’s eyes on him, Eddie’s on you—Joel was always watching, careful to keep the young pup in line, but he can’t help admiring your face, a mix of anguish and pleasure as you stared up at Joel.

“Come for us, darlin’,” Joel demands, Eddie’s lips sucking at your clit with his pointed words.

You come with a broken sob, an intense wave of ecstasy washing over as Eddie works you masterfully through your orgasm. Joel's approving growl mingles with your cries of pleasure, working silently at his belt as you work through your frantic breathing, patting Eddie’s head gently at his squeezes comfortingly at your thighs.

He’s working up the courage to say something, anything, but you rise to meet him where he is at his knees, “It’s okay,” You assure him, “Joel’s all show, anyways.”

Not true, but you both share a short laugh.

“He likes to watch,” You admit to Eddie, “don’t you, Joel?”

“S’long as my girl is satisfied,” Joel shrugs, a creeping smirk on his face that always meant he was up to no good, “you satisfied, sweetheart?”

To an extent, sure. But, as Joel strips the leather from the loops in his jeans, he’s almost taunting the idea at you and Eddie who isn’t shy about his strange attraction to the energy you both emit, rubbing his palm over the front of his tight jeans, swallowing audibly. 

“Depends,” You counter, reaching forward while your eyes are locked on Joel, matching Eddie’s hand as you squeeze over the sizable bulge in his jeans, “Eddie, you need Joel to show you the ropes?”

You turn to Eddie then, eyes bright and excited but tentative to his response.

“Uh, ya—yeah,” He agrees, “fuck yeah.”

–

Joel has never been shy, but is quiet about his confidence.

The difference between he and Eddie was stark and obvious, but he could see the kid was genuine. Young, unjaded, still full of life—he knows you’re better suited for Eddie.

But, Joel is also selfish when it comes to you; he could share, within reason.

If you wanted it.

He’s lucky these faded, old couches sit so low otherwise his knees would be punishing him for it.

Eddie’s waiting in the wings, oddly attentive despite the strange dynamic as Joel removes his cock from the confines of his jeans and underwear, lengthy but dominating Eddie in girth without a challenge and he can’t help but look at you, eyes half-lidded and simmering with the remnants of your last orgasm as Joel swiped the head of his cock through your folds, a content hum slipping past your lips.

Joel instinctively spits on your pussy, a sensual action that feels wholly intimate.

It makes Eddie’s mouth water with how pretty you sound, how eager he is to have you make those sounds for him too.

“He wants more,” You note, talking to Joel but your hand reaches for Eddie and spreads out over his thigh, “should I let him fuck me instead?”

“He can’t do it like I do,” Joel smirks and presses the head of his cock inside of you to prove a point, savoring the delicious stretch of him as he pushes his hips forward, nails scratching against the denim of Eddie’s jeans with the motion, your walls squeezing around Joel’s shaft, “she always remembers me, don’ she?”

You gasp with a nod, arching your back as Joel fills you completely. Your hand tightens on Eddie's thigh, and you turn to look at him and instantly see the hunger in his eyes. Joel's hands grip your hips and he starts to move, slow and deliberate at first. Each thrust sends finite sparks of pleasure through your body, helpless to the small moans that escape your lips.

Eddie leans in slightly, mesmerized by your twisted expression of obvious pleasure but also at how Joel’s cock sinks into your cunt with the powerful thrusts as he kneels over your, sinking into the old cushion as your knees hang lazily at his hips, feeling the distant touch of Eddie’s fingers around your ankle, a constant reminder of his presence.

His own erection strains against his jeans, and he shifts uncomfortably, desperate for some relief. Joel isn’t ignoring him either, his hand coming up behind your neck to arch your chin up, exposing your chest to both of the men.

“You want a turn, kid?” Joel grunts, menacingly teasing. He never breaks his rhythm, crows feet deepening around his eyes as his face scrunches up in pleasure, before Eddie can answer Joel speaks again, “gotta earn it—show ‘er some attention.”

Eddie doesn't hesitate. His hands are on you in an instant, cupping your breasts and squeezing. The added stimulation makes you cry out, your body trembling between the two men.

“There ya go,” Joel encourages, “feels good, don’t it?”

You only realize a second too late that he’s talking to you and not Eddie, a sharp slap to your ass as you nod weakly, “Mhm, so good,” You answer softly, earning a chuckle from Joel.

“Forget how cock drunk she gets,” Joel speaks to Eddie who’s as equally mesmerized as Joel.

Joel quickly picks up his pace, thrusting into you harder and faster, the deafening sound of skin slapping against skin drowning out your moans and Joel’s grunts.

“Tell ‘em, darlin’,” Joel demands, “tell Eddie how good I fuck you.”

Your fingers travel higher, curling around his belt as you pull him forward until his knee is pressing into your rib cage, “It’s per—perfect,” You sigh brokenly, eyes fluttering shut as he brushes that deep spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, 

“C’mere and pay attention, ” Joel orders with a growl, nodding his head in a matching motion, “She likes it slow at first, real deep. She’s greedy. You gotta build her up - nice, slow, until she’s beggin’ for it. And trust me, she will.”

Eddie nods dumbly, fingers rising to scratch at his chest as Joel’s thrusts falter, his groans growing longer and deeper, legs shaking with his own impending orgasm.

“Touch me,” You beg up at Eddie, who’s still dumbfounded with his hand on your breast but his eyebrows quirks in question before you’re shaking your head subtly, guiding his hand down to the point where you and Joel are joined, brushing his fingertips over your clit as you nod.

Eddie's fingers circle your sensitive bud hesitant at first, then with more confidence as your breathy moans encourage him. The dual sensations of Joel's thick cock pounding into you and Eddie's skilled fingers on your clit quickly push you to the edge again, gushing over Joel’s cock as his hips falter to a stop and the surge of his orgasm forces a groan from deep within his chest, filling you to the brim with his warm seed. 

“That’s it,” Joel coos, “show Eddie how pretty you look when you come apart on my cock.”

Your orgasm crests as Eddie watches in awe, his fingers continuing their motion over your clit until your hips shake with overstimulation, sobbing weakly as you reach over your head to grip at the couch with the hand that isn’t pinching Eddie’s skin at his waist.

For a moment, there’s silence. Only a mix of your and Joel’s heavy breathing and Eddie’s occasional pant, eyes blown wide with pleasure as Joel stands with a grunt and pulls his jeans and underwear back on, hastily buttoning them before he’s nodding at you.

“Go on,” He says gruffly, “your turn.”

The ache in your cunt is devastating but Joel watches with admiration as the opaque liquid pushes out of your hole as you cunt spasms and you can sense a brief moment of hesitation from Eddie before you finally look at him, a silent moment of understanding.

“Do you want to?” You ask curiously, head rolling to the side as you glance up at him.

“Do I—huh, you’re kidding, right?” Eddie asks with a tone of incredulous disbelief. “Uh, yeah—fuckin’ yeah. I want to.”

You giggle softly, “I’m just checking,” You assure, “I don’t want to pressure you too much.”

Eddie’s eyes darken with desire but still, somehow, maintain his softness.

“There’s no pressure,” He assured, “but if—if you don’t mind I’ve got a couple ideas of my own.”

Oh?

You squeal softly at how Eddie manhandles you into his position of choice, ass held up by his steel grip as your head sinks into the lap of Joel who’s decidedly taken a seat as your head lulls to the side, peering up at him with a playful expression.

He smells like sex and outdoors, a hint of cleanliness from his washed clothes but it was intoxicating, mesmerizing, feeling the ringed hand of Eddie slide up your spine once he’s stripped himself of his remaining clothes without hesitation.

You reach down between your legs to guide him, gasping softly as the head of his cock nudges against your sensitive, swollen folds. Eddie groans at the sensation, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

“Easy,” Joel says instinctively, his eyes stuck on you as he brushes your mused hair away from your face, “remember—slow, she’ll let you know what she wants.”

Eddie nods as he eases inside of you, aided by the prior stretch of Joel, but his length is astounding, nudging deep against your walls before he’s even fully sheathed. His thrusts are fumbling at first, hearing the deep breaths he takes as he adjusts to the intense feeling around his cock, astounded that it has taken him this long to achieve such a thing.

He really shouldn’t beat himself up over, given the end of the world and all, but he can’t believe he’s been missing out on this for so long. 

Eventually he finds a steady rhythm that has you gasping with every thrust, fingers crawling up Joel’s bare chest until you reach his face, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you moan into the denim, drooling over the fabric.

“That’s it,” Joel encourages and Eddie’s eyes are stuck on you, forcing himself to commit the moment to memory, watching how greedily your cunt sucks his cock in, squeezing at the flesh of your ass as he moans pathetically, the sound making your pussy flutter.

And Joel knows he’s still being as equally selfish as earlier, your attention locked on him despite Eddie’s affect on you and there’s tinge of jealousy that strikes Eddie as he watches the exchange, your moans building in intensity before he’s less than carefully maneuvering you upright, towering over you like this with how you sunk into the cushion, his hand traveling up the front of your chest until his fingers squeeze around your neck and tilt your head back until you’re looking directly up at him, pupils blown wide.

You were his in this moment, not Joel’s.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie tells you, lips parting without argument as his thumb drags over your lips, pulling your bottom lip down as your tongue peeks out to lick at his finger with a soft giggle he matches with a toothy grin before he’s accumulating the saliva in his mouth and puckering his lips to spit into your waiting mouth, a long string stretching as it hits your tongue, moaning audibly as you swallow, sealed with a devastating wink from Eddie.

He was giving Joel a run for his money, that much was obvious.

Joel's eyes narrow at the display, a mix of arousal and possessiveness flaring in his chest. 

He won't be outdone that easily. 

With a low growl, he moves to his knees, sandwiching you between the two men as his fingers drift over your clit similar to how Eddie’s had earlier, “Speak up, sweetheart,” He bites, “is he treating you right?”

You nod eagerly, “Faster,” You beg to Eddie, a hand creeping around the back of his neck to fist into his hair that was wild and falling from the tie on his head, an attentive listener as his pace picks up instantly, “fuck—yes, like that!”

Eddie smirks at Joel over your shoulder, clearly enjoying the competition now.

Eddie tightens his grip on your throat slightly as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your body is on fire, caught between the two men and helpless to their greed, seconds away from devouring you whole if you allow it.

Joel’s fingers work your clit in tight circles as he leans into you, nearly chest to chest as his hot breath brushes your ear, “Still ain’t better than me,” He teases, “but he’s got the spirit.”

The gentle brush of his beard and his lips sucking at your neck could make you pass out if you let it and your body trembles, caught between the two men vying for your attention.

Eddie's thrusts grow more erratic as he watches Joel mark your neck beside his fingers, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your head swim.

"Fuck, you feel so good, princess," Eddie groans, his free hand snaking around your stomach, wrapped up in both the men and helpless, "Gonna make you come on my cock while he watches, alright?"

“Uh huh,” You respond airily, a stuttering gasp escaping your lips as Joel’s pace quickens against your clit and matches Eddie’s enthusiastic thrusts, his own moans growing in intensity as his head dips, breathing against the base of your neck as your hand in his hair twists and the other grasps desperately for Joel’s naked shoulder.

“That’s it, darlin’,” Joel purrs decidedly, “Let go for us.”

“I can feel it, princess—s’right there,” Eddie encourages.

Your third orgasm hits you quick, vision whiting out as you clench around Eddie's length. He follows soon after with a strangled moan, hips stuttering as he spills inside you.

The room fills with heavy breathing as you and Eddie come down from your shared high, his grip on your throat loosens, hand sliding down to rest on your collarbone. Joel's fingers slow their movements, drawing out the last tremors of your waning orgasm.

The thought dawns on you as the room stills.

You’re fucking exhausted.

A laugh bubbles from your throat unexpectedly.

“There’s our girl,” Joel chuckles, “ya still with us?”

You nod slowly as Eddie gently maneuvers away from you, the air catching in his throat as he watches this mix of his and Joel’s cum dripping from your cunt, clearing his throat as he hides the smirk on his face. There was a brief look he shares with Joel before Joel’s hand is smoothing over your back, his other hand explorative as he touches between your legs.

“What a goddamn mess,” He notes fondly, swiping up the slick on his fingers before he brings it to your mouth, wordlessly you take the fingers in your mouth and suck, “tell you what—you go on and shower, clean up—the kid and I’ll cover your turn.”

You do have other ideas, but you can sense Joel’s hesitance.

Eddie is a good distance away now, face still flushed as he digs through his bag.

“I thought you couldn’t stand to be alone with him?”

“I’ll put up with it,” Joel admits, “seein’ how much you like him and all.”

“You sure I can’t get you both to join me in the shower?”

Joel hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

“Careful, darlin’—don’t push it,” He warns.

“Do you need any help?” Eddie perks up eventually, a relaxed smile on his face as he grips the fabric of his shirt in his hands.

You shake your head and smile at the subtle rejected puppy dog eyes that flash your way.

“I think you and Joel have a lot to talk about, fortunately.”

And boy, did they ever.

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about the future until suddenly the friends I adored most started relationships and left me in the past as if our friendship never even mattered, like their boyfriend was the most important thing

My sister and I use to be close as kids but when she moved away with our mom and rarely visited me and dad, who she regularly called Charlie, we grew apart leaving me feeling like I lost all my friends and my sister, after a while I grew depressed and I never wanted to leave the house, dad grew concerned and after many absent calls from school he allowed me to start home schooling myself and my grades have never been better

Most nights it was just me and Charlie some days I’d get the courage to go down to the reserve hang out on the beach with Leah, Seth and Jake, sometimes I’d go for hikes in the forest behind the house just to clear my head, but other than that I’d stay in my room listening to music, reading the books dad would bring home for me, and doing school work

That’s how life was for so many years, it was routine and it never bothered me and dad loved having me around, after Bella and mom left he was so broken and with my help, even as a little girl, I pulled him out of that deep dark hole and he became that Charlie that joked around and made me smile

But then dad got the call that Bella was moving back for the rest of highschool since mom would be traveling with Phil for baseball, hopeful that I could reconnect with my sister again

Dad and I picked out a new bed spread for her hoping she’d love it, and he even let me pick out a new book as a thank you for helping him out with getting everything ready for her arrival, after a few days it was time for dad to go pick Bella up from the airport in port angeles, I was a nervous wreck which was crazy I mean she’s my sister why should I be nervous

Finally the familiar sheriff cruiser pulled up in the drive way, I walked out the door with an umbrella quickly shuffling over to Bella to cover her from the rain knowing how she favoured the warm dry weather, complete opposite of me

“Welcome home Bella!” I smiled as we walked back inside as dad got her bags following closely behind

She shook off her coat and placed her little cactus down on the counter

“You’ve grown so much you’re a year younger but you’re already taller than me” she said as she hugged me

“Come on bells we’ll show you your room!” Dad said as he walked up the stairs with her bags

She settled in for the rest of the day until it was supper time, I set out the table and dished up our meal, dads game playing in the background as we ate

“So are you excited for school on Monday?” I asked

“Not really but atleast I’ll have you there”

“What? No im homeschooled remember”

“Well…..” dad drawled out

“Dad what did you do?” My heart was racing now at the implication

“I thought since Bella’s back now it would be good for you to get out there again, you need some experiences honey”

“But you know I have no one there, no one wants to be friends with me we’ve been over this”

“You might make new friends honey, give give it a chance for your old man” I sighed slumping back in my chair trying to wrap my head around having to socialize again

“Atleast you’ll be with me, dad said since your grades are so good you got bumped up a grade and can have some certain classes together, depending on our courses” that settled my anxiety a little

Bella and dad cleaned up from dinner as I sat out on the porch, in desperate need for fresh air to do its magic, only 2 more days and I’ll be back in a school again, who knows maybe some new kids have arrived and aren’t too set in their groups yet

Monday came quickly and I was a ball of nerves, I glanced in the mirror as made sure my hair was just the way I wanted, wearing a casual outfit, simple flared black leggings, a dark rich blue longsleeve with my old worn out dark brown carhartt jacket, quickly spraying my vanilla perfume

I walked down stairs to meet Bella in the kitchen, she grabbed an apple as she picked up her backpack from the table

“Are you ready to go?” She asked

“Almost can I make a tea quickly?” She nodded and I quickly wiped together a chai tea latte, grabbing my lunch from the fridge and meeting her in the truck dad had gotten for us but since I didn’t have my license, seeing as I never needed one before now, she would be driving us

The drive to school was calming, hearing the steady rain fall against the windshield, pulling into the parking lot everyone stared until we got out, I kept my eyes down as Bella led me to the schools main office

“Okay here’s your schedule, we have math together at the end of the day, the bells about to ring so I gotta head to world history are you good to find your way to chemistry?”

“Oh ummm yeah I’ll be fine”

“Okay see you at lunch” she smiled gently before she left down the hall

Looking at my schedule I memorized the room number hoping it wouldn’t be too hard to find, turning the corner I rammed into what felt like a brick wall, dropping my books I look infront of me to see the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen, his eyes a golden amber, hair as dark as night and his skin as pale as snow

“Sorry about that, I haven’t seen you around before” he said soothingly as he handed me the books that had momentarily scattered the floor, not even realizing he had picked them up, too busy oogling him I suppose

“Oh yeah I’m just re-enrolling here again, just trying to find my class” he looked down at my schedule a striking smile adorning his face

“Come this way gorgeous, got the same class” walking along the mostly bare hallways I noticed his gentle glide, I’ve never seen such a…..well such a perfect human, obviously I was way out of my league if I could think he’d ever be interested in me, I mean I’m plain and simple what would he ever see in me, best I stay in my lane, but dad did want me to make friends so that couldn’t hurt….right?

We got to the classroom and the teacher assigned us to sit together, the class went by pretty boring, every now and then I’d take glances at Emmett and I swear he did the same but he was probably just looking at someone else, moments like this made me wish I was a beautiful as my sister, she never had a problem with guys wanting her, they basically drooled over her, even if she never acted on any offers she was still wanted

It felt like I was a living ghost most days, no one noticed me anywhere I’d go, a big reason I wanted to be homeschooled, now I’m thrown back into this miserable place, I’ll bet by lunch time Bella with have a table full of new friends while I sit alone, not even a second glance from anyone

Lunch time rolled around and as I entered the cafeteria I searched for Bella and just as I guessed she was surrounded with bright smiles, excited to get to know her, she glanced my way and I waved hoping she’d wave me over to sit but she just gave a half assed smile and got back to talking with her new friends, I felt my heart rip at that, thinking things would be different this time with her here but I guess I was wrong

I found an empty table near the windows and made myself comfortable for another lonely lunch, I pulled out my bag from my backpack but my appetite was lost and I had no desire to eat so I just pushed my lunch to the side and looked out the window just wanting to go home

{Emmett’s POV}

I couldn’t get her out of my head, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and her blood sings to me, when she bumped into me in the hallway I felt my whole world shift, she didn’t talk much but just being near her felt right

Lunch came, my least favourite part of the day, having to pretend for an hour, I glanced around the cafeteria hoping to catch a glimpse of my mate again, my eyes landed on her sat alone looking glum a few tables down, the others followed my gaze and smiled knowingly

“Who’s she?” Rosalie asked

“I think she’s my mate”

“Her thoughts are overwhelming loud” Edward stated

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously

“She’s not the happiest girl, I can hear how depressed she is, how unwanted she feels”

“I can feel how broken her heart is” Jasper added

This has to be the worst feeling knowing the one I’m suppose to love unconditionally and she is quite perfect in my eyes, has been broken and feels unloved

I got up from the table and made my way to her sliding in the seat across from her, her eyes were so glazed over with sadness she didn’t even realize I sat down

{Normal pov}

“So how’s your first day?” I jumped snapping out of my thoughts noticing Emmett is sat across from me

“Oh sorry I didn’t see you, ummm today has been fine I guess, thanks again for helping me earlier”

“It’s not problem, umm I was wondering maybe if you’re not too busy this weekend if you’d wanna hang out?” My heart raced at this

“Really? You wanna hang out with me?”

“Yeah of course, who would wanna spend time with the most beautiful girl in the school” his smile warmed my heart but quickly faded at a realization

“Is this a prank, because if it is it’s cruel” I said as my bottom lip wobbled

“No what? I would never do something like that I really wanna get to know you, so how about after school on Friday I’ll meet you in the parking lot and we can go do something?”

“Okay……sure id really like that” his face beamed with excitement

“Perfect it’s a date then gorgeous”

This felt surreal there’s no way there wasn’t a catch here, how could someone wanna spend their free time with me, but like Charlie said it doesn’t hurt to try, I just hope this doesn’t break my heart more

Part 2