#they drifted in appearance and attitude over time

[realityhelixcreates]

Artist: shyfluffy(deactivated)

[pucksandpower]

Pretty Woman Moment

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: you have your very own Pretty Woman moment in the glittering shops of Monaco

You take a deep breath of the fresh Monaco air as you walk hand-in-hand with Max down the cobbled streets. He gives your hand a little squeeze and smiles at you. Even after all this time, his smile still makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re both dressed casually — just simple jeans and t-shirts, with caps pulled low over your faces. It’s one of the things you love most about your life here. The two of you can blend in and just be yourselves, without the glare of fame and fortune.

As you pass a small cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts out. Your mouth waters.

“I’m dying for an iced coffee,” you say longingly. “Do you mind if we stop for a quick drink?”

Max chuckles. “Of course, schatje. You stay here and keep browsing. I’ll go grab us something.”

He gives you a peck on the cheek before heading into the cafe. You watch him go, your eyes drifting down to admire his cute butt in those jeans. Yup, you’ve definitely still got it bad for him.

Humming to yourself, you continue down the street, peering in shop windows at the latest fashions.

Up ahead you spot the iconic red awnings of Cartier. On a whim, you decide to browse the opulent jewelry shop.

As soon as you enter the store, you can feel the receptionist’s eyes sweep over you, no doubt taking in your casual outfit. Her gaze lingers on your much-loved sneakers. You pretend not to notice as you begin looking at a display of gem-encrusted watches.

Moments later, a saleswoman approaches you. “May I help you find something?” The saleswoman asks in a frosty tone.

You give her a polite smile. “Just looking, thanks.”

The woman’s eyes flick to your sneakers again, and her lips press together in disapproval. Still, she gives a curt nod and stands stiffly nearby like she is waiting for you to leave.

You feel a flare of annoyance at her judgmental attitude, but brush it off. You don’t have anything to prove to her. You know who you are, sneakers and all.

As you admire a display of delicate tennis bracelets, you feel the saleswoman’s eyes on you. She hovers over your shoulder, as if worried you might steal something. You bite back an amused laugh. If only she knew the size of your jewelry collection back home. Max loves spoiling you with extravagant gifts just because.

You wander towards the case of Panthère de Cartier rings, their tiny emerald eyes glinting up at you. As you lean down to admire them, the saleswoman swoops in.

“I’m afraid those particular pieces are off limits to handle without intent to purchase,” she says crisply.

You straighten up slowly. “Of course. My apologies.”

You turn away, irritation prickling. The other salespeople eye you suspiciously too now. Pretentious snobs, you think.

Just then, the glint of your own diamond tennis bracelet catches your eye — the one Max gave you for your anniversary last year. It’s slipped partially down your wrist unnoticed. You nudge it back into place just as the first saleswoman appears at your elbow.

“Excuse me, but I believe you’re attempting to steal that bracelet,” she hisses.

You gape at her. “What? This is mine, I’ve been wearing it since I came in.”

“Likely story,” she snaps. “Jacques, could you please call security?”

A bulky guard steps forward, eyeing you distrustfully. “Let’s just take a look at that bracelet, miss.”

Mortified anger rises in you. “Absolutely not, I don’t need to prove anything to you,” you say heatedly.

The saleswoman’s expression hardens. “If you make a scene, we’ll be forced to restrain you until the police get here.”

Just then, the door opens and Max strides in, caramel-drizzled iced coffee in hand. His eyes instantly take in the situation. He steps forward, eyes blazing.

“What the hell is going on here?” He demands, voice dangerous. You’ve never seen his racing temper directed at you, though you know it lurks beneath his calm demeanor.

“It’s fine, Max, just a misunderstanding-” you start gently.

He silences you with a look, then turns his glare on the cringing salespeople. When he speaks again, his voice is lethally quiet.

“This is my wife, Y/N, and I suggest you treat her with the utmost respect. She is the most important person in my world.” Though his words are soft, they crack sharply like a whip. “Now apologize. Immediately.”

The saleswoman who accused you blanches paper-white. “M-Mr. Verstappen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-”

Max holds up a hand, cutting off her stammering. His sharp features are carved from stone. “Save it. Your behavior was unacceptable. We’ll be taking our business elsewhere and you can be assured that I will be speaking to corporate.”

But the security guard blocks your path. “Just a moment. I still need to verify this bracelet did not come from our store.” He reaches out towards your wrist.

Quick as a flash, Max grabs the man’s arm, halting him. “Don’t touch her,” Max says in a low, dangerous voice. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the ice in his tone.

The security guard tries to yank his arm away, but Max holds firm. “I suggest you let us leave right now, before I call my lawyer.”

He drops the offending arm as the security guard takes several steps back, then takes your hand gently. “Come, schatje. Let’s get you home.”

Once outside, Max halts and turns you gently to face him. His handsome face is creased with concern.

“Are you okay?” He asks, brushing a lock of hair tenderly from your face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

You lean into his touch, letting it soothe away the sting. “I’m okay now that you’re here. But Max … the way she looked at me, treated me like I was garbage just because of what I was wearing …” You trail off, throat tightening.

Max’s jaw tightens, a storm brewing in his beautiful eyes again. “She had no right to talk down to you that way. No one has the right to make assumptions and treat you like anything less than the amazing woman I know you are.”

Despite everything, you feel yourself smile slightly. No one can make you feel better like Max can but furious tremors in his fingers tell you his wrath still simmers below the surface. You squeeze his hand. “I’m okay, really. Don’t let them ruin our day.”

His expression softens as he looks down at you. “Of course. I just can’t stand to see anyone disrespecting you.” He smiles ruefully. “I may have overreacted.”

You laugh. “Just a bit. But it was gallant of you to come to my defense.” You lean up on tiptoes to kiss him sweetly.

Max wraps you in his arms. “I’ll always protect you, Y/N. I love you.”

“And I love you.” You take his hand again. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I saw the most adorable baby swans in the harbor earlier.”

The tension eases from Max’s shoulders as you stroll together along the glittering marina. You chat and laugh, the unpleasant scene at the jewelry store already forgotten. Because nothing can touch the happiness you’ve found here, in the sun-drenched streets of Monaco, hand-in-hand with the love of your life.

***

The next evening, you and Max stride arm in arm into Cartier, looking every inch the glamorous millionaire couple that you are. You’re dressed in a slinky black gown with diamond earrings while Max cuts a sharp figure in an Armani tuxedo. The salespeople gape as you saunter in, not recognizing you as the girl from yesterday.

You head straight for the saleswoman who accused you of stealing. “Remember me?” You ask breezily.

She flushes, stammering apologies. You silence her with one manicured finger.

“Let’s start fresh, shall we?” You extend a hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“S-Suzanne,” she manages.

“Suzanne, my husband Max and I are looking to make a significant purchase tonight.” You gesture around the lavish store. “You have some beautiful pieces. Why don’t you show us some options?”

“Of course, right this way.” Suzanne leads you to a private viewing room. Hands shaking, she brings out diamond necklaces, tennis bracelets, rings — tens of millions of dollars in jewels laid across velvet.

You and Max pretend to consider each item seriously, before waving it away. “Oh no, that won’t do … this one’s not quite right either …” With each rejection, Suzanne’s smile grows tighter.

Finally you turn to her, feigning disappointment. “Well Suzanne, I’m afraid nothing here has caught my eye. It all seems a bit … subpar.”

She gapes. “S-subpar?”

“Mmhm. I think we’ll try Bulgari next. Their quality is much more superior.” You pause, tapping a finger against your chin thoughtfully.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I realize this just isn’t going to work out between us.” You gesture around the store. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m sure this is a fine jewelry store for some people with lower standards, but for me ...” You trail off, shaking your head sadly.

Suzanne is white-faced, swallowing hard. “Please, give us another chance. I’m certain we can find something to your satisfaction.”

You pretend to consider it. “Well … I suppose we could take another look.”

For the next hour, Suzanne desperately shows you their most elite pieces, diamond necklaces worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. You and Max have a gleeful time trying them on, admiring yourselves, but ultimately waving each one away.

Finally, after rejecting a spectacular €500,000 art deco diamond choker, you say airily, “You know what, Suzanne? I just don’t think Cartier is right for me. It’s been … educational, but I believe Max and I will be going now.”

As you saunter out, Suzanne calls desperately, “Please come again soon!”

You pause, looking back with a dazzling smile. “I would … but you made a big mistake. Big. Huge.”

And linking your arm through Max’s, you sashay into the balmy Monaco night, leaving the frantic saleswoman behind.

[solbaby7]

Heat of the Moment

rhysand x reader

warnings: smut, this is pure selfish indulgence, public masturbation 🫣, possible swearing, mildddd voyeurism (this batboy likes to watch, i’ll die on this hill), drunk swimming, nudity, kinda pervy!rhys if we’re being technical here, had to get it out my drafts sry

summary: When summer in Velaris becomes too hot to handle, you take it upon yourself to go swimming; naked—better hope no one’s watching.

—

Rhysand fucking hated the summer.

Sometimes he found beauty in the suns resplendent display during its rise and fall in the sky. Saw hints of the Mother nestled in the flowers proudly broadcasting their colorful beauty around the house’s perimeter—but that was about as far as his admiration ran.

Mostly due to the fact that Rhys absolutely abhorred the pulsing burn of the sun, its rays boiling ten times hotter when adorning the typical black of Night Court attire. He positively loathed the drifting pollen in the air that stuck to fine fabrics of his tailored suits and the humid breeze that forced an uncomfortable sweat to thicken against his skin.

Two fingers tug at the collar of his dress shirt; one, two, three buttons being yanked undone until a healthy amount of chest is exposed, inky tattoos on full display. “Anything?” Rhysand mentally sends Azriel’s way with more than a little bite in his tone but the shadowsinger doesn’t even flinch.

“It would appear a few of the wards are down.”

Even without physically seeing his brother, Rhys can picture the amused tilt of Azriel’s mouth to accompany his sarcastic tone. “No shit! It’s a hundred godsdamned degrees in this house.”

“Pampered High Lord can’t handle a little heat? Open a window. It’ll be fixed soon.”

Rhysand grumbles, eyes rolling when Azriel’s mental shields are rebuilt and fortified in an instant. He takes his advice though, sluggishly dragging across the room to open the double doors to his office balcony with more attitude than intended; the polished wood clanging against the walls.

It’s not the sound that captures the High Lords attention though.

It’s the female with her toes dipped in the water, back stretched out against the smoother parts of rock that surrounds the lake below. A towel is splayed over heat-kissed stone, a bottle of wine used to hold down one edge while a wicker basket full of chopped fruit and cubed cheeses, cured meats and crispy crackers holds down the other.

He knew he should've looked away when he realizes it was you. He should've turned around and put the image of you out of his mind so he could finish up the debilitating pile of paperwork that remained on his desk. There was so much to do—so many responsibilities to tend to and now with the wards out of place, who knew how long it could take to detect them all and fix it.

But Rhysand just can't tear his eyes off of you and that skimpy little bikini you adorned.

It's awfully dainty, with flimsy little straps and cute bows tied tightly against curvy hips in a pretty pastel purple that pops against sun-kissed skin. You've tied your hair up, a messy bun of a thing plopped at the top of your head with a bright scrunchie but a few stray curls fall free, teasing at the back of your neck and sides of your cheeks when the wind graces you with its presence; ruffling the pages of the book tucked between two fingers.

He lingers there longer than he'd care to admit, memorizing the scrunched furrow of your brow and the precious pout of your mouth. One of your hands falls carelessly to the side, occasionally reaching for a snack or a drink of wine until Rhys decides he's definitely been looming in the doorway an obscene amount of time—enough to almost feel embarrassed and maybe a little creepy when you snap your book closed.

His cheeks go red, already preparing himself for the apology you're sure to demand from him for perving on you from the balcony but when Rhysand looks down, you're still none the wiser to his presence. Though, you have carefully put your literature aside to slowly glance at your surroundings.

Rhysand pauses his retreat, now surveilling as you had, searching for the sign of life that you’d detected but no matter how far he pushes his power through the trees and forestry, over the mountains and the village surrounding it —not a single soul is identified.

You seem to come to this same conclusion and Rhys waits with bated breath as your hands curl behind your back to undo the ties of your top. “Holy gods,” The High Lord's knees physically give out when the heaving plush of your breasts are bared, his weight slumping into the outdoor lounge chair and all but whimpers at the sight of you. Absolutely ethereal, you are; a gift granted from the Mother herself--completely unaware of the beauty you behold and the lengths males would go to have such beauty latched on their arms.

The very thought of another seeing you this way has jealousy churning in Rhys' gut.

A completely different kind of heat swarms his skin as your pretty purple bottoms follow where your top is haphazardly tossed and obscene kinds of filth floods his mind; a million fantasies taking root at once until all the blood needed for his braid to exude proper common sense is rushed below his belt.

Fuck, this was so wrong but that very fact makes his cock swell further. Every nerve in his body burns, and for once Rhysand isn’t brooding about the sweltering heat or the sweat dripping down his back or the disgusting little gnats that flock around the perfectly pruned flora. Not when you're there, not quite within arms reach but plenty close enough for Rhys to make out the outline of your body from under the water.

Thick curls cling to you when you break the surface and Rhysand doesn't even think twice before his fingers are hastily undoing the button of his breeches. Teeth bite into his bottom lip as he palms his hardness through the thin material of his boxers; violet eyes darkening into a lusty aubergine.

It’s effortless, the way you cut through the stream, feet kicking against the gentle current as you bask in the feeling of weightlessness—most likely grateful for the cool calm after waking up with clothes drenched in sweat and hair sticking to your shoulders. A complete juxtaposition to the shiver that rakes down your spine from the surprisingly crisp waters, goosebumps loitering your flesh and nipples pebbling.

Rhysand tracks every move, hypnotized by the way light reflected off the high points of your features, casting sensual shadows over the shape of your hips and the ample ass behind it. Drool damn near drips down his chin when you pull yourself out, every inch of you soaking wet and glistening; womanly curves jiggling enticingly as you plop out to lay on your towel fully intending to work up an even tan.

One hand strokes at his erection, thumb collecting pre-cum and spine sinking into the chair as he feasts on the display you’ve provided. So beautiful, so soft and lovely—oh, but not quite so proper, were you?

Because, the way you trace your fingers down the line between your tits lacks anything but decorum. Legs bend at the knee for stability while you tug at a nipple, your free hand sliding down, down, down until your perfect manicure disappears between your thighs. He's completely stuck; hooked, caught like a fish on a line and you just keep reeling in him closer and closer to his demise and yet he still refuses to fight it.

The throb of his cock is nearly painful, balls swollen and grip lethal when pumping up and down the thick length. Even when his eyes go droopy and his breathing grows labored, he forces his view to remain on you and the slow roll of your hips as two fingers slowly circle around the sensitive bud of your clit.

Rhys swears that he tries to stop but he'd already fallen too far, swept up by the unsteady rise and fall of your chest and the eager spread of toned legs as you build up to that sweet release. Huffy hums of pleasure drifts up into his ears like sweet music and while he wouldn't have considered himself a melomaniac; he could see the obsession forming if it was your voice carrying the melodies.

Velvety skin shifts with each desperate pump, thumb applying pressure just under the defined mushroom head of his prick when Rhys realizes the noises have stopped—your pretty moans and the slick sounds of your pussy no longer drifting his way.

"And here I thought a High Lord was supposed to hold himself with some sort of decorum,” Every muscle in Rhysand’s body locks at the sound of your voice, its cadence much closer than before and entirely too smug when you take in the leaking throb of his erection. Hands seize their stroking and Rhysand can't fucking fathom the fact that he'd allowed his imagination to run so wild—to distract him so intensely that he'd been sloppy enough to get caught.

He hadn't even heard you enter the room. Hadn't detected the familiar itch of one winnowing around his territory. You'd utterly blindsided him, a hot flush billowing into his cheeks, "I was just—“

"Watching me," You swiftly intercede, completely confident before him with your body free of periwinkle restrictions. "Instead of finishing that mountain of paperwork you've been ignoring."

"I got a little distracted." Mischief swells in your eye at the rough tone of his voice and it’s no secret your affect on him. Rhysand’s jaw was clenched tightly with barely contained restraint as he forces himself to focus on the lush green grass or the chirp of the birds wrestling in the trees instead of the soft swell of your belly and the supple curve of your thighs that sits right in his line of sight. “And you’re not exactly making it easy to pay attention to anything but you.”

“Good,” You all put preen under the compliment. "The harder the better." A sharp inhale is sucked through his nose when one knee drops to the free space of his chair. You hover over him, perky tits right in his face as you take your sweet ass time getting comfortable in his lap. It's bold; intrusive even—you plopping the weight of your ass against his thighs as you ease his hand aside and replace it with your own. "All the fun is in the challenge."

And what a challenge it would be taking such a massive cock.

It's really fucking pretty though. Hard to the touch and soft as silk. It pulses in your grasp, twitching when you give an experimental squeeze and Rhysand nearly finishes on the spot when you peer at him through thick lashes. Lust swims in your vision, aroused by the scenes from your book read by the lake and the added eroticism that ensued once realizing you weren't alone--that there was another watching you as you'd undressed. "Fucking filthy thing, you are." Rhys grunts as your thoughts consume him, abdomen contracting involunentarily as he submits to the overwhelming high that comes with your touch.

"Says you," Your wet hair drips a puddle by his shoes, liquid bouncing off polished leather as your hips shamelessly roll, grinding down along the muscular ridges of his thigh through his breeches, pussy clenching around nothing at the delicious friction. “Those expensive tutors forget to teach you that’s it’s not polite to spy on a lady?”

"They did," Never once had it taken Rhysand so long to conjure up a witty remark, "—but it's been a while since I’ve attended my lessons." The warmth from between your legs and the hypnotic bounce of your breasts is enough to turn him dumb. All the overstimulated High Lord can offer up is deep grunts and choppy pants through garbled praises and pleas for more as you have your way with him. You don't even have to bother tugging his pants down all the way, plenty satisfied with only unvieling the goods.

"Sounds like you need a refresher on manners." Consent is granted in the way Rhys’ hands grip at your hips, guiding you up, up, up until your dripping sex hovers over his own and when he and you finally connect—every movement turns desperate.

“Oh fuck,” He chokes out, starving hands feasting at your figure, ravishing every curve and devouring every sound you offer. It had to have something to do with the heat; this all-consuming hunger that burns beneath your skin and just engulfs everything in sight until all sense of rationality and logic had melted to mush.

“Better than your hands, huh?” It takes everything in you to keep your words steady, to keep your thighs sturdy and rhythm in tune as you rock your hips; experimenting with the feeling of such fullness. “Was this what you were thinking about when you were perving on me? How I’d feel wrapped around you? How far I could take you?” Fingers bite into your waist, it’s sure to leave bruises and yet you can’t find it in yourself to give a shit when you’re so preoccupied with sucking up every fucking inch Rhys had to offer. The noises that rumbles through the air is guttural, animalistic; stained with desire and a mind numbing need that triggers that possessive Illyrian blood within him and when his hips shift, feet planting more sturdy against the ground—you know you’re screwed.

Truly, undeniably fucked.

Because with each sharp thrust he offers, your cocky demeanor fades away. “Was thinking about how you’d sound and the noises you’d make for me.” The control shift is palpable even in your state, hazy eyes catching the second a flustered Rhys eases into the role of High Lord, weilder of a great power that he clearly knew how to manipulate. “Can’t say, I’m disappointed.”

[earthsparkwriting]

HOW I MET YOUR SPARK

Drift (Transformer) x F! Reader (Human)

Word Count: 6.3K (yayy)

Warnings: +18!, SMUT, kinda rough sex, kind of 'friends with benefits', Drift has late ejaculation problems, lots of teasing, kinda edgy Drift, dirty talk, vaginal sex, awkward Drift, fluff, sweet

Author's Note: English isn't my first language.

You and Drift were something else.

He used to be hostile and aggressive against people, but after spending so much time with them, his attitude altered. You all spent your time in the junkyard until Optimus Prime returned. He had disappeared to find his creators, which was a big if. You and Drift spent a lot of time together, resulting in connecting with one another.

Before leaving Earth, Optimus Prime ordered Drift to keep watch over you; thus, he had to follow his "sensei''s" instructions regardless of his personal feelings for you. He didn't take the order well. When Optimus gave him instructions about protecting you, you could still see the look of frustration on his face. You had, after all, repeatedly 'betrayed your own people' to rescue Optimus and helped them.

But your friendship with him was a little unusual. Despite your best efforts to cause trouble and irritate him, you gradually changed your attitude and became more playful around him, genuinely lighthearted.

You can still clearly recall the first time you teased him. When you asked Drift, “Why do you sit like that all the time, Drift?,” he seemed taken aback. “Manspreading before me like that all the time? I could assume that you want me to climb up on you and bounce.”

He stopped humming about how humans were the most awful creatures in the galaxy that he had seen eventually. You nearly chuckled when you almost mocked him because he was so easily distracted. Drift stated you needed to learn how to behave appropriately around a samurai mech because you were disrespectful to him, but based on how tense he has been acting lately—as if he was ready to take action— but you chose to continue your attitude, get under his metal.

You didn't know at the time if his kind had... However, you learned about it. Two weeks prior. You teased him that day about riding him and what his fluid was like if he had something between his legs so much that he finally showed you his thing, leaving you in awe.

After revealing his ‘spike’ and opening the panel between his legs, he remarked, almost angrily, “See?” Under the stars, you were far apart from the others, thankfully. You had to sit on top of a rusty car to be in optical level with Drift.

He had stepped back to show his spike to you. Even though he was a bit bashful at first, he appeared quite pleased and confident when you looked at him speechless and he realized you were captivated by his thickness and length. His spike was average, but he was absolutely thick.

Then you pressed your legs together and said, “I didn't know you were hiding such a huge thing between your legs.” You bit your lip recalling how many times you told him that you could ride him if he was being tense and how it would stop him from acting like a jerk.

“Now you know,” said Drift, examining your face intently.

You glanced at his spike and said, “Is it hard or soft?” without wanting him to think you were now being shy and that he had won the little fight. His optics became a little off-balance, clearly stunned by your filthy remarks, just as you were ready to laugh out loud.

“No!”

“What?” You looked at him like a puppy and said, “Drift, I don't understand.”

You could touch him if his face was near enough, but instead you placed your hands on each side of the car you were sitting on and waited for a response while he replaced his spike inside his panel. You let out a sigh. It looked aesthetically pleasing, nice.

“Not...hard,” he said, his optics narrowing. He pondered for a while before a little, cunning smile appeared on his lips. “There's no reason for my spike to get hard.”

You smiled at him again and replied, “Oh, that's a pity.”

Your clit throbbed with excitement as you teased such an enormous and grumpy mech, but you weren't sure whether he was telling you that his spike wasn't getting hard at all was true. His size and terrible appearance were enough to incite wicked thoughts.

Drift stared between your legs, and to your surprise, he became courageous and keen. “Show me your valve.”

“What?”

He responded, “I showed you my spike; now you show me your valve,” as though he could start something at any moment. You would kick him in the balls if he were a human being. But Drift, a mech, was the most grumpy person ever, wanted to see your privates, and his curiosity and lust made your pussy scream with ecstasy.

You shifted slightly. Fortunately, you were wearing a skirt because it's rather hot outside right now. “You want to see my kitty?”

With confusion, he questioned, “What kitty? Your valve. Now.”

“Okay, rusty mech.” You muttered, “Since you're so curious…” gently raising your skirt to try his patience to the limit. He had sharply concentrated his optics between your legs. You couldn't tell if he was interested in your biology or if he was aroused. You changed your plan in order to accurately gauge his reaction before lowering your panties to give him a good show. After spreading your legs and leaning back a bit on the car you were sitting on, you simply used one finger to slip your underwear aside, revealing your pussy to him.

As his optics neared and took a closer look at you, your heart was racing. The tension in the air was so profound that, in spite of your boldness, you were on the verge of breaking. You prayed that no one would interrupt your brief interaction.

You opened your mouth to inquire about his thoughts. You wouldn't be surprised if he didn't like you, given your tiny size. The brief show came to an end when you finally let go of your underwear. You gasped in astonishment as Drift's hefty hand gently touched your underwear without hesitation before he pushed it aside once more before you could react or say anything.

“Is that your valve?” God knows why, Drift asked, half puzzled. He was skilled at posing strange questions at strange times. To avoid ruining the mood, you restrained yourself from giggling.

You wanted to be the cause of that massive mech's spike hardening, but you wouldn't say it out loud. You hoped that he would like you.

“Yes.” When you felt the chill of his metal finger over your inner thighs, your legs jerked with anticipation. He was holding your small underwear tenderly, even though his metal hand was gigantic.

“This is too small,” Drift remarked indifferently. He sounded disappointed and annoyed at the same time.

“Who are you? A valve expert?”

His optics caught you in the act of uttering an impolite remark. With a sudden “You wanna try banging?” he touched your clit

That was how you met his spike two weeks ago. When Drift made such a straightforward suggestion despite your size, you assumed he was only attempting to make you feel timid, as if he could, but he was quite serious. You had no idea that he was capable of shrinking. That was new.

You grinned to yourself as you recalled how uncomfortable you two were, trying not to make noise while Drift was determined to get all of his spike into your pussy like he was battling an enemy. When his spike's crown reached your clit, he was cautious. Since he was still much larger than you, you had whined a lot to try his patience, but he was considerate and did his best not to hurt you. He regained his sour attitude and concentrated just on fucking you after realizing that you were only being a tease. You skipped asking about it that night, even though you were a bit afraid he would get you pregnant or something judging by how much he came.

There was also something else about him.

He was experiencing some difficulties with ejaculation. Actually, a late ejaculation problem.

It took a long time to get him inside of you, which was a little issue even if his spike was quite hard as he fucked you senselessly. Whenever he transformed into his alt mode, you noticed it took him a lot longer than the others, but you were unaware that it was also connected to his ejaculation issue.

Although he was a difficult mech to satisfy, you became more and more desperate and wet for him the more he struggled finishing inside you. You couldn't tell if you were more wet because of the way he moved within you or because he became frustrated when you encouraged him to come already. Most probably second. 

Now you took another look at his optics. Finally, he was back. He and Crosshairs were so busy looking everywhere for a sign from the Decepticons that after that night, you couldn't spend any time together. The sight of Drift caused your clit to physically throb, as if it could sense his presence.

As everyone else shouted erratically and Crosshair urged Bee to start a fight with him, you gave Drift a tender smile. God. You felt pathetic.

Before you got accustomed to Drift's strange personality, you found him kind of goofy for swinging his mega swords like a true samurai. You actually liked him a lot. Really. You've been thinking about him all the time for the previous few weeks, and it was crazy. You hoped he shared the same feelings.

He might want to have sex again, you thought. None of you have brought it up since that night, though. No one knew what Drift and you had done. All right. It seemed strange that you two were acting like teenagers committing crimes.

Since it was now late at night, your heart was pounding with desire.

Drift stood in front of you and gave you a very odd look as you hesitated, “Hey,” clearing your throat.

You sighed when he abruptly transformed without saying a word, which took at least 5 seconds once more. However, when he opened the door and invited you in, you were unable to contain your bright smiles.

Drift only stated, “Come here,” in a firm voice.

Drift didn't care about Hound at the moment when he kind of shouted at him and inquired where the two of you were heading at that hour. He'd had enough of everything.

You confidently stated, “Seems like someone missed me,” wrapping your hands over the steering wheel to establish the physical contact you had been longing for for the past two weeks.

He tightened the belt over your chest as though to say, ‘Me too.’ You were on the verge of bursting with delight and bliss. You were tempted to bite his wheel till it blew up.

You sighed as you rested your head back on the seat and kept your fingers rubbing the Autobot emblem in the center of the steering wheel while he drove. When it came to selecting the ideal alt mode, he had a certain taste. You groaned half-heartedly, “Don't you ever think about changing that alt mode of yours. You're definitely the best.”

Drift paused, with a spark of pride overwhelming him.

“I could transform into any car you would want, just saying.” He wanted you to know that that wasn't the only model that he had the ability to transform into.  Drift liked the way you praised his alt mode. It was a pleasant surprise that you enjoyed it so much, even if it wasn't quite as wonderful as his Cybertronian form.

You smiled at how proud he sounded. You were aware that Autobots become a touch egotistical while discussing their alt modes and functions. Bee was perhaps the most narcissistic of them all; when he was informed "he didn't look good," he became a bit too fierce. Even if they weren't as invested as he was, they were still proud. Drift also enjoyed showing off.

As he sped up, you glanced at the dark road and said, “So, where are you taking me?”

“To Cybertron.” That must be his sense of humor, you assumed.

“Sounds perfect.”

You remained motionless for a moment, perplexed as to why you had driven so far when Drift came to a very quiet halt. Considering the speed at which he drove, it must have been at least thirty minutes. You questioned, puzzled, “Where are we?” and before you could ask another question, Drift began to transform while you were still inside of him

“Uh!” you said, your hands seeking something to grasp as all of his metal moved around you, sending shivers down your spine with a mixture of delight and mild panic. Fortunately, Drift was attentive. You pondered if he found this enjoyable.

You put your palm on your chest and said, “You're going to give me a heart attack one day,” after he eventually transformed. Now you were near his helm, between his enormous, metal palm. In the moonlight, his blue optics glowed wonderfully.

“You're effortlessly excited.” With his palm close against his face, Drift added, “And we haven't done anything yet.” You gripped one of his fingers, afraid of falling.

When he amplified the word ‘yet’ you could already feel naive butterflies in your stomach. You were completely prepared for another... intimacy with him after two weeks of being apart and hardly speaking to one another due to your hectic schedules and rather stressful situation. Since you were both primarily concerned with understanding one another's bodily boundaries and swiftly trying to reach your own pleasure, your first one was a touch hurried and nervous.

The first one wasn't really enough because of your fragility and the fact that his fluid, sharp metal parts and other things occasionally made the fun seem less than pleasurable.

“You're telling me you brought me here to… bang?” you asked directly.

Slowly, Drift's confident smile faded. In spite of his worries, you two really match one another well in terms of enjoying each other's bodies and everything else. Perhaps he should have asked the right questions beforehand, but he had assumed you'd want it too because it's been... some time. The interface had been very appealing to Drift. He was actually unable to quit thinking about it recently.

But he didn't want to offend you. “I should have asked first,” Drift eventually admitted. When it came to the interface, he had no idea how to proceed with things on Earth.

You abruptly stopped when you realized Drift had misunderstood you. “I did not say that I didn't want it. I mean, I really would want that. Our... It was very nice.” It burned your cheeks more the more you attempted to explain yourself. The fact that Drift basically confessed he brought you here to have some fun made it a bizarre situation.

“Yeah?” His deep blue cyber optics looked lovely in the moonlight, and they blinked with surprise, nearly making you moan in despair. You wanted to bite the cords around his neck because of the way they were always moving and the melodic sound they made.

You nodded quickly and continued to hold onto his metal finger. You may estimate if it was a sigh of relief based on the brief rise of the chest plate.

“Good.”

You were staring at the house trailer in front of you after Drift turned around and knelt down. You stepped out from his hand and gave him a confused look. “What's that?”

“Found it.” You stared as though you were unsure whether he had stolen it because it didn't appear to be rusty at all. Your heart immediately melted realizing Drift brought you here to spend time together, even if it was just for fucking. Unlike him, you were easy to impress. As your palm brushed the surface of the house trailer, you smiled to yourself at how much his persona changed and began acting at least a bit more gently.

You didn't look back, but you could hear him slowly shrinking behind you. You walked inside instead. Drift was just behind you. Although it wasn't extremely large, Drift could fit inside. He might get smaller, but his height was still a little large.

“I thought we could spend nice time here.” Drift said. He closed the door. In the corner stood a bed large enough for both of you. Although you were unsure how exactly, you were now very certain that Drift had stolen this. God knows where and from whom exactly. But you didn't want to say anything about it since his bushido pride may splinter at any time.

“All right.” You solely whispered. As he stood in front of you, his optics fixated, unsure of how to initiate, you could tell he was feeling a bit nervous. You enjoyed watching him go through this pain. He looked adorable when he suffered like that.

Drift continued to stare at you, confused as to whether he had said something improper or excessively straightforward. Primus... Human females were a serious and complex problem. He wasn't built for this. Every metal and spark in his body was telling him to act and take what he already needed. But he had the impression that things were not going as he had planned. It was also frustrating because you were difficult to read at the moment.

Drift's digits formed a fist.

“Let's go back,” he stated abruptly.

You reached for his chest plate and moaned, “And why on earth would we do that?” Even though you loved seeing him like this much, your clit was creaming there while he was in such pain. “Plus, it seems like you put so much effort into this.”

Considering that he was still somewhat taller than you, you raised your head and gazed innocently at his optics. However, Drift's careful optics caught you.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” When his servo finally contacted your chin, he nearly groaned. Your entire body trembled instantly.

“I don't even know what you are talking about, Sensei.”

A cunning smirk appeared on his lips as soon as he heard the term. His nerves were being touched by your playful demeanor, and his spike was pulsing with thrill. Drift made you lie on the bed after softly pushing you back to it. You felt your heart racing. “I think you know pretty well.”

“Yeah? Sensei, perhaps I need a lesson.” When he got on top of you, you kept teasing him. You wondered if he was comfortable with a little foreplay at that point or if he simply wanted to sink his spike as soon as possible.

During your first one, you hadn't even shared a proper kiss. A brief moment occurred when he touched your lips, but it ended there. Like you, Drift was more focused on getting what he wanted at the moment. However, one of the reasons was the worrying about other Autobots could interrupting you at any time.

Now it was just you and him, though.

As you began to undress, Drift was observing you with wonder. To get rid of your jeans and everything else more quickly, you pushed him a little back, but he didn't move you at all. He was just examining every single bit of your physique. You felt as though you had never been with him before. There was no need to hurry, and there was more light to look at each other. You could spend as much time studying each other's figures as you like.

This time, you felt a bit awkward as you finally removed everything, including your underwear, but you hoped Drift wouldn't notice your expression. The spike from his panel was the only thing he had to remove. Still, it was unusual, but in a cute manner.

As if to remind you of the disparity in power imbalance, he placed one of his servos on your chest, causing you to tremble and feel the cold metal against your tender flesh. “You feel soft. Very nice. I like it a lot.”

“Uhm, thanks,” you said, smiling shyly at him.

You shifted beneath him and attempted to settle onto the bed as his servos cautiously and slowly stroked your flesh. Your body was swiftly stilled by Drift as though you were disrupting him.

You really wanted to kiss him. Badly.

“May I touch you there?” you asked instead.

That caught him off guard. “Yes!”

Drift tried to sound cool, but he couldn't help but come off as a bit eager. After all, he had been preparing for this for a while, and now he could finally give his spike the treatment that it had been begging for for weeks.

He moved slightly on top of you and exposed his aching spike by opening his panel. On its round crown, prefluid was already visible. Weeks ago, you were unable to view him up close, but you know you take a better look at him now. Regardless of how you had previously taken him, you were unaware of his size.

You felt the silver prefluid on your fingers just when you put your hand around its head. Drift widened your legs and pushed you farther on the bed as a result of your daring behavior. You noticed that at the moment, he wasn't really fond of foreplaying.

As you gazed in wonder at his silver spike, you said, “You look bigger than I remember.”

Drift's denta was on your neck with a quiet snarl when his servos brushed your chin. You moaned with ecstasy as your fingers tightened around his spike in response to his abrupt motion. Because of how sharp his teeth were, you both knew he could potentially harm you, yet you trusted Drift with your life and wanted to make it perfect for him, making him suffer in a sweet way and fall deeply like you.

Drift's sucking ceased as your hand began to pump his spike, and he growled as he withdrew, peering expectantly between your legs.

“Are you wet?” he said, eagerly, gently moving your hand away from his spike and taking himself between his metal fingers.

“I don't know. You wanna check?” you teased him once more.

Drift grinned and, without hesitation, gingerly pressed one of his fingers against your entrance. Both of you groaned at the unexpected touch. You bit your lip as you gazed at his intense optics with a mixture of pleasure and anxiety. His digits were sharp, unlike his spike, and he couldn't possibly finger you. Even if you were soaking, it would still cause harm to your internal organs. Maybe he could do some modifications on himself later on.

This time, you moaned in agony as Drift pressed his sharp digit a little too much. “Drift, wait, wait!”

Drift instantly stopped with a worried expression on his face and removed his finger from your insides. With a pang of guilt, he said, “Primus... I didn't mean to.”

You quickly said, “It's alright,” so as not to ruin the moment. “I guess your spike can do a better job than your digits, huh?” You added to lighten up the situation.

Instead of using words, Drift's lips moved toward your sparkling face before he genuinely placed them on yours. At first, the kiss caused your lips to curl, but then you wrapped your hands around his neck and caressed the strong wires there. It was strange, but pleasant, to feel cords and metal beneath your fingertips rather than soft skin. When your kiss became intense, you pushed your tongue between his lips and wrapped your legs around his thighs, not fearing injury, because the metallic flavor of his lips was just making you want more of him.

Drift was struggling to keep from losing himself when he saw how hungry you were underneath him, so he wanted to push his spike into your valve quickly. But you didn't need to hurry.

Every functional part of his body was heating up due to the softness of your tongue, but Drift knew he needed to use his denta very carefully, so even though he wanted to bite you hard, he let you take the lead and use your tongue however you pleased while his servos touched you and trailed around your body.

You didn't object even though he was applying a bit too much pressure with his fingers on your thigh and ass. It felt nice to be a bit bruised. In fact, you wished Drift would somewhat lose himself for you.

He retreated a little and eventually took himself in hand as you lifted your hips to meet his spike. When he moved on you and positioned himself between your legs properly, your heart was thumping hard in your chest. Drift gave himself a few more pumps before beginning to shove his spike in your entrance, which caused you to groan in pain once again because he was eager and had forgotten how little you were in comparison.

“Frag! Sorry!” He stopped right away and looked at you with an expression of panic.

“Just... take it slow. I guess you're still a big mech.” As you spoke, you continued to lift your hips to express your desire for him to enter.

Drift nodded to you, and when he pressed his spike again, this time extremely gently, his optics took a careful look at your face. You were only able to take its head two weeks before, but now you felt prepared to take him farther.

Drift grunted in response to your little whimpers before pushing forward. Because of his unusual thickness, you groaned out when he inserted his spike a little farther, this time yanking one of the wires on his neck brutally with delight. He nearly opened his spark chamber dangerously as a result of your abrupt action, but he controlled himself. His entire body was moving erratically, which made the procedure more enjoyable and somewhat challenging for him. When you were tugging the most delicate cables on his neck without understanding what it was doing to him, it was difficult to get him to calm down.

When you whimpered again, he paused and said, “You okay?” You were relieved that he was taking his time and allowing you to adjust his size.

“Yes, I am.” With your fingers clenched on the cables around his neck, you moaned. “Just give me a moment.” Your leg was a little sore from the plates and wheels, but you didn't voice any complaints. That was normal. “I feel so full.”

Drift made a noise. You couldn't tell if it was a deep chuckle or something like a sigh. “Not even halfway.”

Of course.

The way you were squeezing his spike with your tight walls wasn't helping him at all, but Drift was allowing you enough time to adjust his size properly. All he wanted to do was speed things up and begin aggressively pounding you.

He asked abruptly, “Are you comfortable on this berth?”

Drift knew he should have taken action because of how uncomfortable you felt during your very first interface and how much you shivered after it. He didn't want you to think poorly of him or feel that you were being used. He was an honorable Autobot. He cared about you.

You nodded quickly to him. “Yeah, it's very comfy.”

Under its chamber, Drift's spark was about to burst. He grumbled, unable to contain his mixed feelings any longer, “Can I frag you now?” If he didn't move quickly, the way your walls were tensing up around his spike was going to drive him insane.

You mumbled as you drew his helm nearer to your face. “Yes, Drift. Fuck me. Please.”

Drift drew back his spike and thrust in ruthlessly before you could complete the sentence, making you bite your lip. He put his servos pressed on the sheets on each side of your head. You were unsure of which of you was groaning more loudly. There were simply too many repressed feelings and desires since you had to remain silent the first time.

“Your valve is so tight, so good!” Drift nearly let out a moan and quickened his movements. The sounds of his moans and obscene slaps on your flesh filled the trailer.

You had only just begun, yet you were already getting closer. He had exceptional strength and weight, though you lifted your hips to keep up with him.

As his helm approached your face, he swallowed your moans for a moment, and he planted a quick but strong kiss on your lips in between his brutal thrusts. Knowing that his neck was extremely sensitive, you tugged the precise cable he liked being touched with harshness. For a brief while, it caused Drift's optics to become unbalanced, and he positioned one of his servos beneath your ass, raising your hips and banging you with greater force.

He let out a nearly indignant moan. “You like teasing me, don't you?”

“I like it so much,” you said. “I like being the reason your spike gets hard.”

Drift's denta followed your neck after you admitted, biting you very gently as though to warn you. “Do you like me fragging you like this?”

You would have giggled if he hadn't been fucking you senselessly and losing control, but Drift's little bites and glossa on your neck were driving you insane. “Yes! Drift, just fuck me more! Harder, please!”

Drift slowed down a little after hearing your request, but he started fucking you more firmly and pushed his spike a bit further even though you were already feeling full. You needed to make him lose control for you, show him how much you liked and craved him. The way he began moaning that sounded almost painful was intense and overwhelming.

You moaned into his audials, “You're so, so good, Drift,” as your hands touched the sharp swords on his back before moving on to every metal object within reach.

Drift gave you quick, hard kisses in return for your praises. Your warm reactions were directly igniting his passion. He was making every effort to keep his systems from overheating and cooling down as he was constantly hammering you, or else he would shut down before filling you. Your back arched as your walls began to spasm violently around his spike. Drift also felt it. Despite how hard his spike was, he didn't feel like overloading anytime soon, even if he wanted you to overload with him.

“Look at me when you overload around my spike,” Seeing that your eyes were going to close as your climax approached, Drift gave you rigid instructions. Your legs were shaking with delight as you wrapped them around his thighs. “Overload. Now!”

Now, his spike was reaching the deepest regions in your pussy and striking your most delicate points. Your body obeyed Drift's commands as soon as he urged you to come, and you let out a loud moan when you reached your pleasure. Your spine was shivered by the powerful orgasm. For a moment, your eyes went unbalanced as you fell apart around Drift's spike so strongly that it caused his optics to become stuck. He proceeded to fuck you senselessly without pausing to consider how oversensitive you were as you kept riding your orgasm.

He appeared to be struggling to overload again, even though you really needed him to get within you. Drift was furiously fucking you, and although you knew his spike was really hard, he couldn't finish. He groaned in frustration. His pride as an Autobot was vulnerable.

He appeared to be in need of your assistance.

“Come on, Drift,” you murmured, drawing his helm closer with touching the most delicate wires on his neck. “What do you need me to do?”

He pressed those cables on your mouth without responding. Your nipples shivered as his chest plates were now on your body. You parted your lips and licked the cable that was firmly pressed on your mouth without teasing him. Then you started sucking him there. At first, the taste of the metal seemed peculiar, but you were too aroused to think. Actually, it tasted quite well.

Drift groaned deeply and almost angrily as he felt your teeth on his wires. Being unable to contain himself any longer, he withdrew. He sensed that he was losing control of his body. His spark chamber began to open when his optics came into contact with your lovely eyes.

Frag, frag, frag! She's no cybertronian, he reminded himself.

Close, close!

Despite his best efforts, his chest started to ache from the battle, and ultimately his spark chamber was exposed. All set to mate. His body was begging him to take a conjunx, but he was aware that you needed a spark in order to complete the procedure. Frag. He needed to simply overload and calm down.

When Drift's chest abruptly opened up, revealing his rounded, large, blue, musical, and magical spark on top of you, your eyes widened in awe. You gasped as you gazed at it in wonder. You were totally captivated. You whispered, “Oh my god,” as he pounded you.

He almost told you to open your spark chamber as well, but he avoided doing so. She isn't a Cybertronian.

Your head was up on the bed when you understood that opening his spark chamber on top of you brought him closer to overloading. Without hesitation, you gave his chamber a solid and sincere kiss. You couldn't resist drawing your body closer to it and stroking it as much as you could since it looked so lovely and enchanted with the little tune inside.

Drift felt your warm, soft lips around his spark, but you had no clue what you were doing. He then drove his throbbing spike into you one final time before filling your insides with his thick fluid and grunting loudly. As Drift pumped his fluid into your valve, his optics and your eyes were locked, and his spike began to vibrate violently. Even if it wasn't the most suitable procedure, he felt as though he had taken you there as his conjunx. But it was sufficient for a half-ceremony the way you kissed him, reached for his spark, and caused his spark chamber to open. Better than nothing.

Drift felt at ease, and it was more than fragging and overloading.

You gave him a little smile, pleased that he had finally filled you properly, continuing to stroke his chamber. His fluid was thick and intense. It was simply too much.

Carefully removing his spike, he gave you a gentle kiss without falling over you. Your mixed fluid ruined the bed.

You asked him, “You okay?” when he stopped kissing you. It's obvious that he had been trying to calm down.

He gave a little chuckle. “I should have been asking you that.”

“I'm more than okay.” You glanced at his spark, which was still observable, and murmured, “That was... incredible.” You were taken aback that he left it wide open. “Never have I witnessed a spark so close to me. This is beautiful in every way.” The little noises within could be heard incessantly. It seemed like a reaction to anything you said.

Once again, Drift's spark reacted to your compliment. It was forcing him to make you overload around his spike until you went offline. He would already if you were a Cybertronian, in fact.

“It's my soul,” he remarked solemnly. After spending so much time on Earth, Drift came to understand that it referred to the soul.

When you answered, “Yeah, I wish I could show you mine too,” your tone was almost regretful. Having such a charming soul to exhibit seemed incredible. You weren't hurt by being different, but... You wanted to show him something beautiful like this as well.

Drift's servo was put on your naked chest after his optics detected the sense of sorrow in your words. His fingers stopped where your heart is. “That sounds very lovely,” Drift finally murmured. His use of the word "lovely" warmed your heart. “It pumps more quickly when I'm around you. It indicates that your Spark is also responsive. You see? Not much of a difference.”

“Where did you get the ability to speak such lovely things?” You whispered, your cheeks flushed, “You're going to melt me here, sensei.” Drift was correct; his words had a greater effect on your heart the more he spoke.

You were momentarily shy when Drift winked at you and inserted his spike into his panel. Then he shifted your bodies. Now you were both lying on the bed and staring at one another. You were being held closer to his still-open spark chamber by his servos. As though he wanted confirmation that he did well, he inquired, “It's better to do it on a berth, right?”

You nodded quickly to him. “Absolutely. I loved it. That's bad if you borrowed it for just tonight,” you responded, unsure whether it would be your last time.

“It's ours now. There's a TV, too, you know. I had the idea that we could watch movies together.” Drift blinked his optics and added, “That junkyard... is too crowded, noisy with baby transformers and all.” He was a little anxious and uneasy, but he wanted you to understand that he wasn't just bringing you here to fragging. He believed it would be fun to watch movies with you because he had watched some fantastic samurai films. It seemed like an enjoyable task. Especially with you.

If he was trying to kill you, he was going to succeed. It hurt how much joy your heart was pounding with. You pondered whether that implied a romantic relationship or something. Cybertron customs were unknown to you. You have to ask Hound, Bee, or Crosshairs about it and find out quickly.

“Of course. That would be fantastic,” you said with a shy smile, making an effort to look cool.

Your chest and his spark chamber were now so near that the sound of your heartbeat and the song emanating from his spark were mingling as Drift's servos around your hips drew you nearer. You believed that you may melt at any time due to the intensity of his deep, blue optics. He was breathtaking. How did he see you, you wondered. You wanted to tell him you liked him a lot.

“You look very beautiful. I like you,” he stated suddenly.

You didn't answer. Instead, you grabbed his helm, and, with a single motion, you were on top of him, kissing him frantically.

*BONUS - CROSSHAIRS

For at least fifteen minutes, Crosshairs was attempting to reach out to Drift. He wondered what that sword-dumb brain had been up to when Hound informed him that you and Drift had departed. An Autobot was not supposed to be out on his own. Optimus had, after all, been gone. Only Primus knows when he will return. But you had to take care of each other till then. Crosshairs kept on driving.

He eventually heard voices as he tried to communicate. Then he halted; his audials were filled with Drift's deep grunts and pitiful, nasty, and meaningless groans. That pathetic idiot may have briefly gone online without noticing, but Crosshairs had already heard.

He was on the verge of throwing up all the liquids in his body.

That fucking moron, worthless imbecile... Crosshairs clutched his denta violently. You were being frgged by him. He had doubts about you two, but now he was very certain. On all the primes, Crosshairs vowed to find a female human for himself as well. He was more powerful, handsome, and better in every way. Even that fragbrained idiot found someone to mate with, have fun while Crosshairs had to do all job. Corsshairs kept driving while thinking about how to find a female human for himself.

Author's Note: Let me know what you think please. Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!! ^^ :****

[lay-z]

tw: self-shipping; emotional boner; premature ejaculation, mild degradation

Johnny gets hard when I listen to him.

As in, paying attention. Listening to his stories, his ramblings, his opinions, his problems. I never once tell him to shut up, he simply notices himself when he's been talking non-stop for more than an hour. I sigh, my eyes start drifting around the room. I'm like a dog making whale eyes and yawning, a cat flicking her tail, flattening her ears.

And then he gives me space until I invite him to continue; asking a question, for a followup, and he obliges happily.

We're just friends at this point, but he stopped having meaningless hookups a while ago. He won't admit it, but he couldn't get hard for the woman the last time he tried having meaningless sex. It shook him to his very core.

He even went to the dick doctor on base, but his dick is fine, which makes it even worse.

And then, one evening, as I'm cooking dinner for us, because he invited himself over again, his chatty voice fizzles out after talking non-stop, no period nor comma, and I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with him, show him that I'm still listening with a social cue.

But Johnny sits at the kitchen table, tattooed forearms resting on the top, spine rigid, breathing shallowly. He's staring at the wall as if seeing a ghost.

"You okay?" I ask, lowering the temperature on the stove to let the pasta sauce cook slowly.

"Mhm, 'course," he answers curtly, and he squirms on the chair, wood creaking under his weight.

I glance down, following the movement of his thick thighs in his jeans as he squeezes them together. My eyebrows draw together, crease now between them, an invisible question mark appearing above my head.

"The hell are you doing? Go pee if you have to. Dinner's not ready yet, anyway." I let out a laugh, because it sounds so stupid. He's a grown ass man. A spec ops soldier.

He lets out a half-snort/half-scoff at that.

"Dinnae 'ave ta take a piss," he retorts, all little too snappishly for my liking, and I almost feel like starting an argument just for shits and giggles.

"Then why did you stop talking? That's a fucking first." I taunt, dropping the wooden spoon on the counter before walking over to him, pushing at his shoulder with my fingertips.

He hisses and grits his teeth, looking like he's in pain. My attitude drops, and my expression softens. Perhaps he's having some sort of silent panic attack?

"Hey "

As I rest my palm on his back, rubbing the taut muscle mass in wide, soothing circles, he shudders and lets out a choked moan. A sound that has my whole being freeze, my hand stilling on his back.

"Keep going, keep going, keep go "

His head tips back, lips parted with a soft groan, and our eyes meet over his shoulder. His bright blue, unnecessarily pretty eyes look hazy, his pupils blown. As I peer down at his crotch, I notice the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. I always had a hunch that he's big.

No man, this cocky and capable, has a small dick.

"Are you a little excited there, Johnny?" I coo at him, palm rubbing over his back again as I lift my other hand to rest on his left shoulder, massaging lightly.

He has the audacity to nod and let out another throaty groan before swallowing audibly.

"Can you come without touching your cock?"

He nods again, his eyelids flutter, and cheeks begin to blush furiously. I've never seen that look on him before, but I enjoy it tremendously.

"Of course, you can, you fucking pervert."

Johnny huffs in what sounds like agitation, but his blush only deepens in colour and I can practically watch his cock twitch and drool in his pants.

I reach up to tug on his short Mohawk, enough to pull his head back further, and he lets out a high-pitched groan before squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Pretend ye didnae hear tha' ah," he pleads, hands balling into fists on the tabletop as I give his short hair another firm tug.

"Aw, I think I won't," I reply, leaning forward to murmur against his temple, lips pressing against his burning skin, "Actually, I think... I'll make sure that sound you made is burned into my brain, so I can use it for later, Johnny. For when I'm playing with my pretty wet pussy all by myself."

"Oh, fuck !" His thighs jerk, knees bumping and rattling the table as he lifts his hips, humping the air with a pathetic cry of pleasure.

I watch the dark stain on his blue jeans become bigger while slumps down in the chair, and I keep rubbing his shoulders while he catches his ragged breath.

Muzzled at last.

I give his back a few gentle pats, pretending I'm fine, even though my heart is racing and my mind along with it. I just made him cum in his pants. Hands-free.

"Wanna talk about it, champ?" I croon, glancing at him over my shoulder as I walk back over to the stove, tending to dinner.

He lifts his hand to flip me off.

[lichenes]

Disco Belgica

You and Joost work in an office in his early days as a musician. Enemies to lovers who?? what??

CW: haterperson and loverboy truly, toxic workplace behaviour

wc: 814

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

You were Joost’s worst nightmare. He was plagued by you everywhere he went. It wasn’t helping that you were so fucking bright and cheerfull to everyone you met, yet when it came to him - he never got the same treatment. “Do you mind?” You said as you waved at him, your eyes and voice full of disdain. “What?” He answered. “You’re staring.” 

It happened more often than he’d like to admit, the constant surveillance made your stomach do flips. Joost has been working in the same office as you for a few months and, apparently, made it his purpose to drive you crazy. “I need you to go through these documents.” You dropped them onto his desk, his blue eyes drifted to your own. “What’s this?” His accent evident, the venom rolling deliciously off of his tongue. 

“Boss told me to give them to you I don’t know what they pertain to Klein.” You were about to turn on your heel and walk away but he called your name. “I didn’t tell you to use my name, did I?” You said making sure to convey as much hate in your tone as you could. “Jesus you’re such a pain in the ass.” You opted against retaliating his stupid remark and went back to your work. 

At the end of the day you were getting up to leave as one of your coworkers approached your desk. “Hey, Klein left this for you.” You looked at what appeared to be a folder with over 2 hours of work. “That motherf- this was supposed to be done by the end of the day! Did he tell you why he didn’t finish it?” You were fuming. “I’m not taking this home, it’s his job left unfinished.” 

Joost was just walking past the reception when you caught up to him and almost tripped him over (it was meant to be a tap on the shoulder). “Jesus, what the fuck?” The folder was shoved into his arms. “Don’t take me for a pushover, Klein. I’m not gonna do your fucking work.” Walking away you caught his face going red. 

God damnit. He hoped it wasn’t visible - although his pale complexion must’ve given it away. Truth be told he just liked fucking with you to rile you up to the point of breaking. Your authoritative side came out just when you were about to snap and he loved it. He did the remaining work in his house but couldn’t quite keep his mind off of you. 

The next day he dropped off the documents at the boss’ office and made a beeline towards the kitchen where you usually resided for the first few hours of the day. “I need to talk to you.” You raised your eyebrow. “No you don’t, save the apology for someone who cares Klein” He rolled his eyes. “Just- please?” You eyes widened when you heard him mutter the word, for the first time since you’ve known him. 

You stood up wordlessly and followed Joost to the desolated part of the office - a corridor mostly used for the cubby holes of the janitors and cleaning supplies. “What the fuck do you want.” He looked increasingly nervous with each passing second. You crossed your arms. “Cut the shit Klein. Come on, spit it out.” He straightened his back and pulled out a small packet of your favourite candies. 

“What is this?” “I just wanted to apologise properly. I don’t hate you and I wish you wouldn’t hate me too.” You were flabbergasted. Your hands fell to your sides. “Cat got you tongue?” He smiled at you for the first time since… ever, you realised. “H-How did you know I liked these?” You were starting to suspect he was stalking you. “It’s not anything bad! I just asked the only guy who you talk to. B-besides me…” His voice faltered a litte when he mentioned Alex.

You took the candies into your hand and quickly thanked him then walked away moved by his sudden change in attitude. 

The next day when you walked up to his desk he actually gave you a smile and you handed him a thank-you card. “I wasn’t sure what to give you so I went with the path of least resistance. It isn’t as thoughtful though…” He read the little annotation you wrote under the pre-written text. He smiled and proceeded to chit-chat the whole time you would spend in the kitchen. 

“So… you and Klein huh?” Said Alex jabbing your side. “It’s nothing like that… we’ve just gotten on better terms.” Your face got hotter. “Yeah, suuuure.” You were packing your things and just about to leave the office when he called your name and when you turned around he gave you a wave and a huge grin. Your heart started to beat faster and that’s when you felt and knew you were in big, big trouble. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

masterlist

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Regretevator hcs with party noob, mozelle, infected and lampert with reader slouched over and have bags under their eyes but insists that they are fine but after talking for a bit reader admits that they havent slept well in a while bc folly keeps giving them bad nightmares?

Could maybe end in them comforting reader and in the end they actually have a good nap in the elevator with them ((angst to fluff my beloved)))

You mentioned wanting Bive added so I'll make sure she's on there!

.......

Party Noob

They're always in the mood to party, of course, but you often seem annoyed by their kazoo constantly going off.

If anything, your attitude towards them is almost comparable to Pest--except you don't say rude things. You're just..quiet and seem tired 24/7.

You always politely turn down Poob's invitations--which makes them sad, although they would never force you to attend any celebration--insisting you were okay.

The bags under your eyes, however, showed otherwise, as they were products of the sleepless nights you've had ever since Folly decided to invade your dreams.

Poob doesn't know this, though, and when you're both alone in the elevator, they finally ask why you never go to their parties, wanting to know what they could do to change your mind.

Then you reveal something surprising:

"It's not you or your parties, Poob. It's....her."

"Her?"

You finally elaborate on Folly and her torment. In the physical world, she knew your fears...and in these past few nightmares she dialed them all up to 11.

Your latest one involved Poob killing you with their horn for daring to show up at their party "uninvited", which horrified the party goer after you finished explaining.

"Wut?! That's not true! You r ALWAYS welcomed to mah parties, friend!! That lady is such a party poober." They frown. "Is that why ur afraid to go to one?"

"Yeah, I'm sorr....wait, you've seen her, too?"

"Yeh! Lotsa times! She always says I'm "special", but...that doesn't sound like a gud thing."

"...haha. No, it's not." You shake your head, finding relief that they could relate to you.

Folly claimed that Poob was repressing a lot of trauma, and their party obsession was just a distraction from something bigger. But obviously you weren't going to believe her.

After that conversation, they're willing to invite you to a chill party at their apartment. There's no crazy loud music. Just TV, video games, sweets, and the company of a friend.

Mozelle

"You don't look so well, dear."

Despite her demonic origins, Mozelle is very concerned for the well-being of her fellow elevator passengers (or at least those who respect her), so she could tell you were far from okay.

You keep insisting that you're tired from exploring so many floors, and for a while she seemed to believe you...

Until one day, she invites you to her castle for tea, and chastises you for lying to a princess.

"It's that abhorrent "dream parasite" that's been giving you nightmares, is it?" She huffs, realizing she was right as your expression changes.

Knowing that she's not gonna hear any more of your excuses, you finally admit that Folly is the reason for your exhaustion.

You try to avoid sleeping for fear of her appearing...and she's well aware of this, as in the physical world she vowed to never let you sleep again.

That terrified you, and Mozelle wanted to throw hands with her SO badly after that.

But instead, she tries working her magic to ensure you got a good night's rest in one of her guest quarter.....with the distant screams of the damned somehow not deterring you from drifting off.

When you awaken, she teleports you to her pet sanctuary, allowing you to help her take care of the odd and cute creatures, and even take another nap with them. 100% nightmare free.

For a "princess of hell", she was certainly acting like a guardian angel.

Unfortunately, she can't protect you 24/7. But if you're both in the elevator, she'll manifest some comfy pillows and blankets just for you (and her, bc she needs her beauty sleep, too!)

Infected

Similarly to you, sleep doesn't come easy for Infected..and it certainly doesn't stick with him for long.

As a gamer, of course, he just doesn't feel like he needs it.

So anytime he saw you come into the elevator, slouched and with dark bags under your eyes, he just assumes you're an "epic gamer" like him who lives by the "sleep is for the weak" mantra.

It's only when you started taking naps in a random corner of the elevator did he express concerns.

"Wh4t h4ppened, bro? G4me t00 hard last night?" He asks. "Trying t0 st4y 0n th4t grind???"

".....no, I was too scared to even leave my bed and go on the computer.."

"0h man, th4t sucks. Why were y0u sc4red? Did the b00geyman visit?"

"......."

"N0 way, did he?? I w4s 0nly kidding-"

"She." You correct, before telling Infected a little about the nightmares Folly has given you these past few days.

But you're sure he's gonna call you crazy or say you're having too much sugar..

However, he can actually relate to some of your bizarre dreams, not realizing you saw the same figure he did.

His virus made him often refuse sleep, but she had some influence in his decision to pull all-nighters, too.

He tried hugging you and while you're adamant about catching his sickness, you accept it for a few moments.

Next time you stop by his floor, he'll let you crash at his apartment to take a nap (but no promises that he's gonna keep quiet while gaming).

Lampert

"Are you getting enough sleep? You don't look too good. And you shouldn't be laying on the elevator floor. It's dirty."

Dude doesn't beat around the bush. He gets right to the point.

You get a little annoyed with his rants about germs so you kinda brush off his concerns and try getting whatever sleep you can (often drifting off while he's rambling)...

Until the one time you jolted awake after Folly made you endure a rather frightening nightmare--and Lampert's the only one in the elevator.

But at this point, he manages to piece things together.

"Oh..is it that annoying dream thing? I haven't seen her ugly face in a while..and I hope I never do again." He huffs. "Sorry you gotta put up with her, [y/n]."

"I've...been managing." You rub your eyes. "I'll admit, you've got guts back-sassing her when she could haunt your dreams at any time."

"Well she's really just pathetic. All that power and she's only interested in dreams? She can't even do anything in the real world. How dumb is that?"

"..it does sound pretty dumb."

"Yeah, she'll move on eventually. She left my bulb when my dreams got too boring for her."

Although that's all the "comfort" Lampert is willing to provide, it's enough for you to realize how ridiculous Folly's fixations on your dreams are.

Next time you're at the ROKEA floor, he'll let you take a nap on one of the couches, but if and only if you promise not to leave any crumbs (or drool) and clean it up before leaving.

Bive

"You see them too, don't you????!!!"

"Wha...?"

"The crimson eyes! What else could I be talking about?" Bive stares at you, the exhaustion on your face being apparent to her.

She's noticed it for a while, in fact, but every time you'd just ignore her wild rants and "conspiracy theories".

Taking naps in the elevator wasn't really an option when she was there, as her staring was uncomfortable and her constant needs to chatter/mumble to herself often kept you awake.

She's offered you coffee in the past, assuming you wanted to stay awake, only to stop after you told her that's the opposite of what you wanted.

After she mentioned "crimson eyes", that's when you realized she was aware of them, too. And aware of her.

When you decide to finally confide in her about your nightmares, Bive shudders and talks about having similar ones, but lately they've stopped...which she hopes is a good thing.

You learn she's terrified of going back to some placed called "The Lab"--likely where she was born--as Folly taunted her about that in the past.

Now you understand her attitude and mannerisms a bit more.

After talking, you feel slightly better, and you try to rest on the elevator floor-

Only for Bive to warn you about the "microscopic dust bunnies who don't like their space being impeded upon".

Will she stop you if you ignore her and fall asleep anyways? No. But she'll make sure nobody disturbs you.

Not that she'll ever tell you she's been keeping guard.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

boothill is many things. a gunslinging outlaw, a ninety percent metal man, someone who’s attitude definitely reflects in his appearance, but most importantly; a nuisance. a thorn in your side. an ear grating bother. he knows this and he takes advantage of it, especially when your hands are tied up with plenty other business. unfortunately, things took a more literal sense.

you had been sipping a glass of something at a table in a small saloon, celebrating a coworkers birthday who you couldn’t even remember the name of but it was an excuse to get out and, besides, they said they’d pay for the first round of drinks so who were you to decline? people had been dancing in front of you and perhaps your chosen activity of observing had gotten too meticulous as you hadn’t noticed the slinking shadow drift past, nimble fingers dropping a pill of god knows what into your drink. the sweet and citrus flavour of the cocktail masking whatever taste could’ve been left as you continued drinking with your head in your hand. as you got to the bottom of the glass, your eyelids felt heavy and thus did you take the cue to get going home. after bidding a couple farewells and good wishes to the birthday person who’s face was a blur, you stepped out into the cold breeze feeling sluggish; as if you’d had ten drinks and not just one. squinting, you steadied your breath before walking, neglecting to notice that same figure sauntering up behind you. it was the smell of gunpowder and musk that alerted you, spinning around faster than you should have and nearly hitting the ground if he hadn’t caught you in time with a half-hearted chuckle. bubbles clouding your vision, you could only internally groan at the smatter of white, black, and red before you were out cold.

coming to, the first thing you noticed were the tight bindings keeping your body uncomfortably still. thick rope wrapped around your torso and wrists, forbidding you from moving even and inch. wherever he had taken you, it was dark and damp with only the sound of your breathing to keep you company up until the telltale ‘click’ of his shoes and the concurrent ‘ting’ of his spurs. a cold metal finger slid across your chin and only then did you notice how blazingly hot you felt all over. you sucked in a breath, waiting for him, boothill, to say something but he uttered no more than a low hum as his fingers drew icy patterns down your neck and chest. a shudder wracked your body and he moved in front of you, his eyes holding some sort of emotion you weren’t quite familiar with on his face; somewhere between his ‘hand it over’ greed and ‘nice shot’ dry praise. he settled between your now untied, when did he do that you wondered, legs with his metal frame pressed firm into you. never before had you considered the intricacies of his body but with him so close and a different kind of pressure against your crotch, you figured he had some sort of… attachment. fear whipping through your chest, it was then you realized what exactly this evenings plans were for him and they were punctuated with his usual tacky speech.

“c’mon, darlin’, let’s play a bit. this cowboys gotta bullet special for ya’.”

[sleepyangelkami]

Hello, I just wanted to say that I loved what you wrote about Dick Grayson, I hope you continue to write more about him, I love him so much.

CALLER ID d.grayson

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3K

DICK GRAYSON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - when dick was on patrol, he got an unexpected message from you. however, no matter how hard you try to brush him off, your boyfriend always seems to know when there's a problem and what to do about it.

 ☆ WARNINGS - mentions of violence, jason's attitude problem, crying, reader has insomnia, petnames, use of 'good girl' (non-sexual), intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

patrol was so slow tonight.

it was times like these where dick dazed off at something he couldn't quite make out, a far away building or even something in the sky. his thoughts drifted to you, his sweet girlfriend that had barely whined when he removed her arms from around him, stating that he just had to get to patrol. however, as soon as he was heading out the door, suited up, you'd rolled over and fell back to sleep.

dick loved everything about you, from your sweet personality down to the way you look in his shirts. and boy, did it take him a lot to be able to leave you alone when you looked so pretty in one of his white shirts.

he hadn't even realised that he'd been swinging his escrima sticks around, literally yawning while waiting for someone or something to come out. he was only itching for a fight. "chill out." came from the snappy jason who was leaning against the wall, a literal book in his hands. "you're gonna take someone's fuckin' eye out with that thing."

"are you reading, little wing?" a smirk quirked on his face even from behind the mask. he couldn't help but find it amusing that while waiting for someone to come along to bash their head into the concrete ground, jason had stopped for a little reading time.

but jason seemed in no mood for any games. "fuck off." it was apparent that he didn't want to be here from the start, grumpy as ever and losing enough sleep as it was but sheesh. dick had to roll his eyes, wondering if his brother should just get a lobotomy or something. he wondered if jason would be happier, less snippy. he wondered if jason would stare at him like a dead corpse walking, though he had to question was that better than the stinking attitude that he used now.

the sound of a ding! from his phone caused him to pull it out.

little love do you know what time you'll be home? read, just now.

dick glanced to the time on his phone, it read three thirty. one problem, you had work at six.

dickie!! i'm not sure darling everything okay? read, just now.

with nervousness seeping into his veins, he watched as your text message bubbles appeared, disappeared, appeared again, disappeared again and finally appeared again.

little love im okay be safe, love you read, just now.

but for dick, that simply wasn't enough.

he glanced to jason who didn't so much as look up from the cream coloured pages.

then, dick glanced out to the open streets of gotham, filled with... nothingness. it was one of those nights where nothing happened and they sat positioned on the rooftop of the tallest building in all of gotham. i mean, nothing had happened all night so surely, jason would be fine on his own, right?

before thinking, dick's fingers were pressing against the screen, typing up your contact and then pressing the phone to his ear. this caught jason's attention however dick merely walked further away so that he wouldn't be able to hear their conversation. although, he didn't seem too interested, rolling his eyes, presumedly of the fact that he was merely jealous that grayson had love and he was stuck reading a romance book, then looking back down at the pages and flicking one over.

it wasn't until the fourth ring that he heard the echo from your side. "hey, baby." he muttered tiredly, just knowing you were there was a kind of relief.

"hi." he heard your voice through the phone but you didn't seem as chirpy as normal. if anything, there was a slight sniffle to your tone, as though you'd been crying.

it didn't take a vigilante to figure that much out. he assumed that was why you'd taken so long to answer, trying to stop yourself from sounding all sniffly. but even if you had, dick still knew you better than anyone else in gotham. "it's late." he spoke, kicking a pebble against the ground. "why're you up?"

then he heard it, those dreadful two words that had you tearing up at the mere thought of it. "can't sleep." and dick knew that it wasn't just the type of 'can't sleep' due to the fact that you were on your phone or too engrossed in a book or tv show. it was the type that screamed at him right in the face.

your insomnia.

dick had found out about your insomnia before you were even officially together. he remembered seeing you all down so much, eyes half lidded as you stared at the glass of water in front of you, looking at it as though it were a science experiment. at first, when you walked in looking like that he assumed it was because you were upset about something. and dick being the respectful gentleman that he was, he chose not to ask about it as he didn't see it fit to be his place. however, when you came rubbing your temple, placing your head on the table he soon realised it was much more than that.

the insomnia you suffered with was enough to bring you to tears, as it was now.

"oh, baby." his tone turned soft, ready to comfort. "have you tried the weighted blanket, hm?" that always seemed to help when he wasn't there to wrap you up.

unfortunately, you only made a displeased sound. "mmh, too warm." where dick was standing, the heavy breeze on his shoulders, he wished it was he that was too warm rather than the cold that enveloped him now.

either way, he still pitied you, cooing softly. "i'll be right there." he spoke through the phone but before you could protest, he was speaking again. "I love you."

he couldn't see you, but he could imagine the soft look coming over your features. "I love you too but―"

"see you soon, m'love."

and you were cut off.

he turned to jason who was still with his back against the wall, stupid book in his hands. "the missus alright?" he spoke boredly, still flicking the page as though he had no actual interest in dick's love life.

but dick knew better than that. as disinterested as he may have liked to look, dick knew he secretly liked you, and that was a fact. jason never liked the girls dick dated, never liked much to do with dick but you, he knew you were good for him. "yes but i have a favour." and by the time he was looking up from the book, dick was already giving him them big begging eyes.

he rolled his eyes, turning over the corner of the page. many believe that turning the corners is destroying them, jason would have to beg to differ, it was loving them. "what is it?"

"patrol is slow tonight."

"it is."

"do me this one favour, little wing, please?"

"say it."

"you really like destroying my pride, don't you?"

"It's a little entertaining, yes."

and so that was how the man had rid himself of the nightly patrol. dick didn't like asking for favours nor did he do it often. perhaps that was why jason had let him off so easily this time. or perhaps it was because he knew that dick would soon owe him the same favour in response. 

whatever the case, dick still found himself jogging down the street, your guys’ shared home on wide display. he couldn’t help but smile at the mere sight of it. thinking about it just made his heart swell, you and him, in your very own home. dick didn’t particularly believe in fairytales but if he did, this was sure to be one of them.

he pushed open the front door, taking in the silence that hung heavy in the house but the various lights that you’d left on, a god awful habit. usually, he’d great you with that funny, playful “honey, i’m home!” holding his jacket and bag out, waiting for you to come running into his arms, wrapping your legs around him and holding onto him as though you would never let him go on patrol again.

sometimes, he wished he could give you that.

it was no surprise that you were innocent to the world. you hadn’t seen nor faced the dangers he had, you hadn’t looked death in the eye like him. and for that, he was glad. your soul was too pretty to get scarred. 

instead of the usual playfulness, he merely mulled his bag over towards the living room door, deciding to leave it there until morning. It was filled with his nightwing costume along with his weapons and so on. but dick didn’t believe in carrying that around you. more often than not, he’d leave it somewhere along the door so that he could hide it in the back of his wardrobe when you were busy.

of course, you knew he was nightwing but that didn’t mean he wanted to toss around that danger around you.

he shuffled the shoes off of his feet, now clad in a grey hoodie along with a black sweatpants. the person he was when he wasn’t dressing as a bird.

he was careful not to make too much noise along the stairs to scare you but enough that you could hear he was home, so you were prepared to face him. “baby?” he called out after making the stairs creak, just so you didn’t fear it was someone else out there and not your beloved boyfriend.

instead of a response, he heard a sniffle coming from the bedroom. 

peeling the door open, he stuck his head inside, fluffy black hair peeking in to see you sat atop the bed, grey sheets surrounding you as you sniffled, pathetically. but it didn’t make dick judgemental, when had dick ever been judgemental towards you? instead, his features turned soft.

“hey, hey.” barely in the door and he was already soothing you, though would he really have it any other way? “wh’s the matter?” though he already knew the matter, however that didn’t stop him from sitting himself on the bed, allowing you to wrap your legs around him, sitting atop his lap.

the temperature of the house and the hot skin of your legs was enough to tell him why you’d been so warm.

instead of responding, you sniffled and cried like the crybaby you were. but that was okay, dick didn’t mind having you as his personal crybaby as long as it was he who was wiping away your tears. 

his nose nudged your cheek, attempting to see your face but you only shoved it further into the crook of his neck, not truthfully wanting to face him though how badly you ached for his comfort. “c’mon, lemme see my pretty girl, hm? wanna see your pretty face.” 

the way his hands felt against your waist and your thighs, soothing the plush skin as if trying to coax you to look at him. and it worked, the tenderness that he used and the way everything seemed so… possible. you finally managed to pull your tear-stained face from the crook of his neck, looking at him with that pretty pout of yours.

and didn’t his heart just melt?

even when you were full of tears with a large pout implanted on your mouth, you were still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. his thumbs were already making a move to soothe your under eyes, wiping away your pretty tears, like diamonds down your cheeks. “there she is, atta girl.” the way he praised you was enough to have your cheeks turning pink, even in your state. 

dick always knew how to fix every problem. 

he was like bob the builder only he was repairing your damaged feelings and little broken heart.

but as much as dick loved taking care of you, his heart did break a little at your tears. your cheeks were passed stained, tears collecting in your under eyes and trickling down your cheeks, softly yet the sniffles still emitted from you. you were his girl, he’d do just about anything to please you and truthfully, seeing you hurt… hurt.

“tell me what i can do.” he whispered against the warm air of the room. he wanted to fix this, he wanted to make sure you slept well but most importantly, he wanted to make sure you didn’t have to cry like this again. “did you take the melatonin?” you nodded your head. “will i make you some tea? run you a bath?” 

you’d been to hundreds of sleep specialists, doctors, so on.

everyone always gave you in around the same ideas. they’d tell you to work out before you went to bed but that was the thing they didn’t understand, it wasn’t because you weren’t physically tired that you couldn’t sleep, you were exhausted. yet it was your mind that couldn’t seem to rest. they’d tell you drink some camomile tea and you’d be on the mend, that was seven years ago.

you sniffled, looking at the one thing that had ever made it easy for you to sleep.

him. 

“jus’ want you.” you mumbled out, thinking you sounded rather selfish. I mean, would anyone disagree? it was unlikely. you’d pulled your boyfriend out of patrol in the middle of the night just so he could help you sleep. you felt downright awful.

but dick? no, his heart was only melting right in front of you, as though you’d just told him that you were adopting a bunny and naming it after him (that’d given you an idea for later). “I’m right here, honey.” he pulled you back towards him again, his hands rubbing up and down your back ever so gently, enough to have you turning to putty at the feeling of his finger tips. 

you sniffled, eventually pulling away and using your arm to wipe your face. “what time is it?” you questioned, now realising that you hadn’t so much as glanced towards a clock in… you weren’t sure how long, you kind of needed a clock to tell those kinds of things. 

his fingers were gently tracing across the softness of your cheek, brushing the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, like they did in those romantic movies. “‘s almost four, m’love.” 

you practically whined at that. “i have work soon.” in approximately two hours. you contemplated not sleeping at all. but you knew that whenever you did that, you surely regretted it sooner rather than later and you’d be taking naps anywhere, through paperwork and in one of those little uncomfortable office chairs.

dick wouldn’t have it. “you’re not going.” he stated briskly to which your brows furrowed. “angel, i’m not leaving you leave the house like this, alright? we both know i make more than enough to support us both until our old age and i know you want to work, that’s okay, but i’m not going to have you breaking your back for minimum wage, got it?” 

slowly, you nodded your head with your teeth wrapping over your bottom lip. “got it.” you mumbled, all flustered.

dick couldn’t help but grin. “good girl.” he then tapped the inside of your thigh. “come on, into bed.” 

and how could you refuse when he spoke to you in that tone that told you whatever he said, goes. whether he was telling you to get outside right now and fly a kite or suggesting bungee jumping in the morning, what did it matter? 

you nodded your head before climbing into the dark grey sheets. you and dick took turns picking the sheets. on his weeks, he’d choose those grey, dark coloured sheets, sometimes black, rarely blues. you always went with pale pink ones or those pretty white ones with little flowers, hearts or so on engraved in it.

you were sure that any pattern on white made your heart just swell.

dick climbed into the bed after you, switching off the lamp light on his way and laying across the comfortable mattress. he helped you move so that your head was positioned on his chest, listening to his lulling breaths and heartbeats, slowly rising and falling as your head moved along with it.

“I dragged you out of patrol.” you mumbled into the dark only moments after the light had been switched off.

dick brushed you off, though he knew that the worry could eat you from the inside and out, like a worm with an apple, rotting it the entire way through, never knowing when to stop. he never blamed you, of course, but sometimes he did curse that beautiful, intricate mind of yours, hoping one day it would decide to treat you a little better. “it was a slow night.” 

you could invision jason all alone, though when you tried to imagine it all you could think of was him either flirting or doing some kind of a ‘dirty talk’ with the enemy, unintentionally of course. everything he said had sort of a flirty tone to it, even with a blood covered face and uttering a death threat, perhaps it was because he’d still somehow manage to slip a petname in. “i’m sor―”

but before you could get the sentence out, his arms were wrapping around your own. “shh, shh.” mumbling as he shook you gently, as though you were a baby. “don’t apologise, princess.” 

you found yourself sighing, snuggling yourself into him as your eyes began to droop, feeling awful heavy, with a yawn, your mouth parted. “you know, i’ve been to so many doctors…” your voice extra low as he could tell the tiredness was taking over your feeble body. “‘n they give me the… worst ideas ever. one of them even told me i should get a treadmill and put it in my room.” he huffed out an airy chuckle. “think i finally found the medicine.” 

his brows furrowed. if you’d had a medicine, how come you weren’t taking it? how come you still lay awake at night when he wasn’t there? “what���s that?” 

poor, oblivious, stupid dick. 

“you.” 

main masterlist/dick's masterlist

[rooshoom]

I did it. I have Spots verbal quirks in the previous post and now you get to have Spots physical quirks and movements with some quotes from when I noticed he does them.

Poses

Terrible casual ‘guy’ poses

The arm lean, the hand on the hip, the tilted head. He is totally faking the confidence.

“I love how many of your there are!”

“It’s the place with the big collider.”

Shoulders / Arms

When he first walks into the store to rob the ATM, he has super tense shoulders. We see a lot of his stress and tension carried more in his upper body than lower body.

Lots of shrugging

Shrinks in on himself by squeezing his arms to his sides

During the flashback when he brought the spider from 42 to 1610 you can really see how much he tries to squeeze in on himself.

Slings his arms, when he throws his portals his arms fly forward very fluidly. Example when he throws the portal at Pav, Gwen and Hobie, he throws it hard enough that his upper body drops once it’s out of his hand.

Hand movements

Fingers first, if you watch the way he reaches into the ATM he doesn’t just casually reach in, he grabs things with his fingers instead of his whole hand or with his palm

Floppy hand / t-rex arm

Conveys tons of emotions through his hands, like when he is shocked he flexes his fingers open. Maybe picked up on this since he can no longer express emotion through his face.

Balled fists but likely out of nerves. Once again seen in the flashback of the spider.

Points with all of his fingers instead of just one. “You made me into this!”

Standing / walking

It seems like he only stands at full height when he’s trying to convince himself to be confident. “I am the Spot.”

Even when he’s actually confident he doesn’t stand at full height. Right before he disappears inside Pav’s collider, which you can tell by his verbal cues that he’s very confident with what he's about to do, he’s still leaned over.

Knees together, once against this man just wants to appear small.

Clumsy. “I need more spots!” Running into walls, dropping things, and twisting around corners.

Would rather stand, crouch, or stand on his knees than sit down. Look at Gwen watch him ramble to himself while building, he doesn’t sit once.

Crouches with his neck more than his back. “You’ll have a villain worth fighting for.”

Head / Face

Head tilts

Leans forward to see with face first, so lucky he has a hole right there to deflect fists because if he didn’t he would be punched in the face so fast.

When he says “wow four on there.” You can see him lean in with his face. Totally why that old lady beat him with a purse.

Literal nose tilted up attitude later in the movie. When he’s in Pav’s universe dropping scientists into portals, he has face tilted up and nodding along with how many holes he creates.

Other

I see him stim with his legs a lot, such as hopping foot to foot. “This is real.”

Just generally very fluid, watch how he falls into the portal when he yells, “I am your nemesis!” He flops into it instead of bracing for impact. He has no sense of self preservation.

He. Cannot. Fight. Watch all of his scenes and look at how loose he is. A slinky of a man.

Look at how he flails. This man would flinch if you threw a pillow at him.

Y’all, I’m absolutely encouraging you to write Spot X Reader with my lists. I’m trying to make this easy as possible, don’t think babygirl just write a bedtime story for the masses we can all peacefully drift off to. Let me spoil you with the time I spent doing this so you don’t have to.

[cozywolvie]

Could you do a fic on helping deadpool relax after a long night of merc work? or something like that lol. I just really love the idea of pampering and taking care of him....like massaging him and helping him to sleep

a/n: hell yesss i love this idea! thank you for requesting<3

-

You watch the front door anxiously, biting your fingernails. It was always nerve wracking waiting for Wade to come home from his mercenary missions. You knew he couldn't die, but you still didn't enjoy when he came home bloodied and battered, sometimes even with limbs missing. You really hoped tonight wasn't that type of night.

You hear the sound of keys jiggling in the doorknob, and you sprint to your feet, awaiting to see the damage this time. The door opens, and Wade enters in his red and black suit. It doesn't seem to be torn to shreds, so that makes you feel a little better.

"Hi baby." You greet. You see the grin he surpasses behind the mask. "Hey baby." You frown at the exhaustion in his voice. You reach up at the hem of his mask, pulling it over his head, making sure to be gentle. You smile at the sight of his face, caressing his cheeks.

"There's that handsome face." You say, intending to make him feel somewhat better, instead he chuckles back a loud laugh, "You sure we are looking at the same thing?" He teases. You laugh at his remark before shaking your head and placing a long kiss to his lips. He sighs in content, pulling you closer into him.

“How about I run you a bath?” You ask him, massaging one of the many knots in his upper shoulders. He moans in gratitude at the action, and looks at you with hooded eyes. "Only if you join me." he winks, and a blush coats your cheeks.

You practically run into the bathroom, and turn the bath on. You wait for the water to warm before clogging the drain. You grab all the bath bombs you can find and dump them into the tub, watching them disintegrate. Wade appears moments later in his stripped robe, taking it off and sighing in content as his body drifts down into the warm water.

You follow close behind on the other side, sinking down and leaning your head on the edge of the tub. “Mhm, this is even better than I could have imagined.” Wade moaned out, nestling deeper into the water. “I’m glad baby.” You smile at him, grabbing his hand that is hidden in the bubbles.

“You’re to good to me, ya’know that?” His tone is suddenly serious, not much like his normal carefree attitude. You look at him, and his face is just as serious as his voice. You smile, “You are more than good to me, Wade.”

He smiles at that, and the both of you sit in silence, bathing in the comfort of the warm water. After the water begins to turn cold, and Wades finger turn to prunes, you both decide it was time to get out.

You dry off and head to bed, slipping on your red pair of silk pajamas that Wade had picked out for you. He wears a red plaid of boxers, shuffling under the covers, smiling in content as his head nestles into the pillow. You do the same, watching as Wades eyes flutter open and closed, going in and out of sleep.

You watch in admiration, your eyes tracing along the features of his face, so calm, soft. It was rare to see him like this, so vulnerable, but you loved every second of it. You rub his cheek, tracing along his cheekbone and jaw.

“I love you.” He whispers out to you, half asleep. You grin, “I love you, Wade.” And just like that, Wades soft snoring is heard, and you fall asleep soon after, in the arms of the man you love.

[brainrotbabe24]

Okay HELLOOO so i wanna request Thorins company with a reader who is very feminine and pretty and stuff, but simultaneously very bossy, assertive, dominant and likes telling people what to do and stuff?? If that makes sense lol

Have a good day/night!!!

HI!! This was such a fun one to write! I'm not sure if it answers the questions correctly, but I just got lost in the sauce with this one and went crazy, lol 💖😂

Balin: Balin admires your assertiveness. He finds it very fitting for you to be in command with your no-bullshit, bossy attitude. Balin would regularly turn to you for support, and he always trusted your honest opinions. He saw you as his advisor when he advises Thorin. Plus, your appearance only adds to your ability to persuade others…who could say no to those beautiful eyes. To him, you are a double threat—both in personality and looks—who can command respect and loyalty from anyone.

Dwalin: Dwalin is in love. The moment you started leading the group and demanding respect, he was captivated. Not to mention, your looks took his breath away. He loves a dominant, commanding presence who can lead a group, demand attention, and know their way around a weapon. *wink wink* Dwalin will always have your back, just as you have his. To him, you are an incredibly capable person.

Óin: Oin is glad you can handle yourself. The second you joined the group, he feared you might need constant protection, but you quickly proved him wrong. You instantly became an influential part of the group, guiding Thorin's decisions, earning the trust and respect of the group, and even outshining some of the most seasoned warriors. Your presence reassured Óin that you were vital to their mission.

Glóin: Link Oin, Gloin had doubts but was quickly shut up when he saw you fight. Your skills…your knowledge… your command. You dominated the battlefield, earning his respect. Even with blood splattered all over you, you were still gorgeous. Since then, Glóin has been ready to drop everything and listen to you, knowing you are someone worth following.

Bifur: Bifur is inspired by your assertive personality. You don't address the group broadly; instead, you call out each person, demand perfection, and engage in personal, intimate conversations. You look at each one of them as their own person. He likes that you take charge while ensuring everyone is seen and valued. You inspire him and make his heart soar whenever you call out his name with a wink.

Bofur: Bofur is lost in your beauty. He can barely focus on what you say when his mind drifts to how soft your lips look when bossing around the group. How your brow furrows when something isn't up to your standards. How you let your guard down just a little when someone compliments you. His mouth goes dry, and his knees are weak whenever he's near you, lost in admiration. Sadly, your commands are lost to him.

Bombur: Bombur is scared of you. You are one wickley, intimidating person. Your commanding presence and fiery attitude make him cautious not to cross your path. However, he can't help but steal glances, admiring how the sunlight dances on your skin.  Although he is scared, he starts to think he might have misunderstood you. Maybe there is more to you than a bossy attitude—he might even start looking up to you. 

Ori: Ori finds your personality and appearance to be a sick joke. How could someone some sweet, so tender, so feminine bark such harsh orders? He is caught between feeling like he must listen to you and listening to his brother, Dori, who seems to contradict everything you say. Ori is lost but knows that all he wants is to follow you, even if it means going against his brother's wishes.

Dori: Dori is confused and conflicted about you. He feels like he should dislike you and how you boss people around, especially his brothers. But at the same time, he can't help but admire you and how you can control situations, get his brothers to listen, and cooperate. It's a love-hate relationship for Dori, as he both resents and respects your ability to lead.

Nori: Nori grumbles whenever he hears your commanding voice directing the company. He hates being told what to do. He hates how your face will twist into a smirk when he jokes with you, and you already have a comeback set up.  He hates your soft smile, and he hates that he loves hearing you say his name. But he especially hates it when he finds himself obeying your commands without hesitation. Hate is a strong word for Nori…he just hates how you make him feel. Yet he could never fully hate you—not when you look like a perfect creation of Aulë, as beautiful as Yavanna herself.

Thorin: It's complicated. Thorin constantly feels like he is competing with you, as if you're planning to undermine him at any moment. He glares, snarls, and pushes past you, rejecting your demands. Yet, there is one thing he is a complete bumbling idiot about—your laugh. The way you laugh is dangerous. It's infectious, bold, and handsome, and it takes his breath away. Despite all the tension and jealousy, when you laugh, Thorin feels safe, and all his competitive instincts vanish.

Fíli: "Yes, mommy!" Fili is utterly devoted to you. Your commanding orders make his heart race, and your beauty leaves him blushing. He often finds himself staring, and when your eyes lock, he waits eagerly for your sass —he craves it. Fili would do anything for you. He would get on his knees for you, worship you, even die for you.

Kíli: Kili can be a bit of a brat when it comes to your authority. He laughs at the way you hold yourself, demanding respect and directing the group to do things. Pfft. He practically hates it, wanting to prove that he's your equal. But when you snap back at him and grab his shirt, he finds himself caving. "I'm not listening to you," he might say, but the moment you respond with, "I'll make you listen, Kíli," he's putty in your hands.

Bilbo: Biblo is a little ass. The first time he met you, he thought you were a perfect copy of Thorin. Both of you are beautiful, alluring yet domineering and controlling. He rolls his eyes at your bossy attitude. But over time, Bilbo starts to realize how utterly wrong he is. He sees you as protective, loving, and a material figure for the group. His initial distaste and sass fades, and he soon comes to see you as his rock. He needs that when all seems to go to hell during the journey. 

Gandalf: Gandalf trusts you completely. He knows that with you around, the group is in good hands, which is why he leaves so much in the movies. Your skills and wit speak for themselves. You're quick to take charge in high-intensity situations, yet your feminine side allows for more compassionate, loving care. Gandalf wouldn't have come to you for help on this important quest unless he trusted you to keep the dwarves in line.

[babybluewoso]

Second chances in extra time (alessia russo x williamson!reader)

(note: for the sake of this story please just pretend Alessia didn't signed up with man u)

The chill of the autumn morning lingered in the air as Y/N Williamson stepped onto the training pitch at London Colney. The familiar sights and sounds of the Arsenal Women’s training ground greeted her like an old friend, but today, there was an unfamiliar tension hanging over her.

It had been years since Y/N had last seen Alessia Russo, but the memories of their time together were still as vivid as ever. They had grown up together, two football-loving kids in a small town, inseparable in every way. Y/N had been taller, stronger even then, but Alessia had always been the fierce, determined one. They balanced each other out perfectly. And somewhere along the line, between endless matches in the park and stolen moments under the stars, they had fallen in love.

But then Alessia had been offered a scholarship to play football in the United States, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that neither of them could ignore. They had tried to make it work, promising each other that distance wouldn’t change anything, but reality had other plans. The calls became less frequent, the texts shorter, and eventually, they had drifted apart. The breakup had been mutual, but the pain was anything but.

Y/N had stayed in England, following in her sister Leah’s footsteps to play for Arsenal. She had grown stronger, taller, and more skilled, but with each passing year, she had also become more reserved. The bubbly, carefree girl she had once been was now a quiet, introspective woman. She had learned to keep her emotions close, sharing her deepest thoughts only with her sister.

Leah had been her rock through everything, always there to support her, even when it meant holding her hand through the pain of losing Alessia. And now, after all these years, Alessia Russo was back, having signed with Arsenal. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and dread at the thought of seeing her again.

But when the day finally came, and Y/N saw Alessia for the first time on the pitch, it wasn’t the reunion she had imagined. Alessia was still as beautiful as ever, with her piercing blue eyes and golden hair, but there was a hardness to her now, a coldness in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.

“Look who it is,” Alessia said as she approached Y/N, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “The famous Williamson sister. I see you’ve bulked up a bit.”

Y/N’s heart sank at the harsh tone. She had expected awkwardness, maybe even a little tension, but not outright hostility. She forced a smile, hoping to defuse the situation. “It’s good to see you again, Less.”

Alessia’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, but she didn’t let it show. She had always been good at hiding her emotions, at pretending that nothing could hurt her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, looking down at the ground. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Whatever,” Alessia muttered, brushing past her without another word.

Y/N watched her walk away, her chest tight with a mix of sadness and confusion. She didn’t understand why Alessia was acting this way. She had hoped that time would have healed the wounds between them, that they could at least be civil, but it seemed that Alessia was still holding onto the pain of their past.

------------

As the weeks went by, Alessia’s attitude toward Y/N didn’t improve. In fact, it seemed to get worse with each passing day. Every time Y/N tried to talk to her, Alessia would respond with a snide comment or a dismissive remark. She would criticize Y/N’s performance on the pitch, belittle her efforts, and make cutting remarks about her appearance. It was like Alessia was determined to push Y/N away, to make her feel as worthless as possible.

And it was working. Y/N, who was usually so strong, found herself retreating further and further into her shell. She stopped trying to engage with Alessia, opting instead to stay quiet and avoid her whenever possible. She focused on her training, throwing herself into every drill, every exercise, hoping to drown out the pain with physical exertion.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of loss that gnawed at her heart. She missed the Alessia she had once known—the girl who had loved her fiercely and unapologetically. The girl who had made her feel like she was enough, just as she was. But that Alessia was gone, replaced by someone who seemed to hate her.

Leah noticed the change in her sister almost immediately. She had always been protective of Y/N, and seeing her so withdrawn, so defeated, broke her heart. Leah knew that something needed to be done, but she wasn’t sure how to fix the situation. She couldn’t force Alessia to be kind, and she couldn’t make Y/N stand up for herself if she didn’t want to.

But Leah wasn’t one to give up easily. She had always been a leader, on and off the pitch, and she was determined to find a way to help her sister. She started talking to the other players, those who had been around long enough to see the change in Y/N, and together, they came up with a plan.

---------------

One evening after training, Leah gathered a small group of players in the locker room—Beth Mead, Kim Little, Vivianne Miedema, and Katie McCabe. They were the core of the team, the ones who had seen Y/N grow into the player she was today, and they all cared deeply for her.

“Alright, we need to talk,” Leah began, her voice serious. “It’s about Y/N and Alessia.”

Beth nodded, leaning back against the bench. “Yeah, I’ve noticed the tension between them. It’s like walking on eggshells whenever they’re in the same room.”

“Exactly,” Leah agreed. “And Y/N isn’t handling it well. She’s pulling away, and that’s not like her. She’s always been so open, so loving, but now… I don’t know. She’s just not herself.”

“She’s hurting,” Kim said softly. “And it’s clear that Alessia is the cause of it. But why? What happened between them?”

Leah sighed, running a hand through her hair. “They were together, a long time ago, before Alessia went to the States. They were childhood sweethearts, but the distance… it tore them apart. And now, I think Alessia is still in love with Y/N, but she’s angry. Angry that she still cares, angry that Y/N is here, and maybe even angry that Y/N has moved on—or at least, she thinks she has.”

“So what do we do?” Vivianne asked, crossing her arms. “We can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Y/N deserves better.”

Leah smiled, her eyes glinting with determination. “We’re going to bring them back together. We’re going to remind Alessia why she fell in love with Y/N in the first place, and show Y/N that Alessia’s anger isn’t really about her—it’s about the love she’s trying to deny.”

The others nodded in agreement, their minds already working on the details of the plan. It wouldn’t be easy, but they were determined to help Y/N and Alessia find their way back to each other. They had both suffered enough, and it was time for them to heal.

------------

The first step of the plan was simple: get Y/N and Alessia alone together, away from the pitch, away from the team, and in an environment where they couldn’t avoid talking to each other. Leah suggested a team bonding night at the pub, something they hadn’t done in a while. It was the perfect excuse to get everyone together, and with a little nudging, she convinced Y/N and Alessia to come along.

The pub was cozy, with low lighting and warm wooden furnishings. The team gathered around a large table, drinks in hand, and for a while, the atmosphere was light and cheerful. Y/N sat at one end of the table, nursing her drink and trying her best to stay engaged in the conversation, but her eyes kept drifting toward Alessia, who was sitting at the other end, looking just as uncomfortable.

Leah watched them both carefully, waiting for the right moment. When the conversation lulled, she leaned forward, catching Alessia’s eye. “Hey, Less, why don’t you and Y/N go grab another round for us? I think we’re running low.”

Alessia’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise with a cool nod. “Sure,” she said, standing up and glancing at Y/N. “You coming?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, but she nodded and stood up as well. “Yeah, okay.”

They walked to the bar together in silence, the tension between them almost palpable. Y/N could feel Alessia’s eyes on her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, unsure of what to say. She hated this—hated the awkwardness, the distance, the way Alessia made her feel like she was walking on eggshells.

As they reached the bar, Y/N cleared her throat, finally gathering the courage to speak. “Alessia, I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you. I never wanted things to be like this between us.”

Alessia didn’t respond right away. She stared at the bartender as he poured their drinks, her jaw clenched tightly. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and laced with bitterness. “You didn’t do anything, Y/N. That’s the problem.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the harshness of her words. “What do you mean?”

Alessia let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You didn’t fight for me. When I left, you just… let me go. Like I didn’t matter.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the accusation, and she swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. Y/N’s throat tightened, a lump of guilt rising as Alessia’s words settled in. “I… I didn’t know what to do, Less. You had this amazing opportunity, and I thought—” She struggled to find her voice, every word feeling like a fragile confession. “I thought letting you go was the right thing.”

Alessia’s eyes flashed with anger as she spun to face Y/N. “The right thing? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me? Leaving everything behind, leaving you behind? You didn’t even try to stop me. You just stood there, like I didn’t mean anything to you.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped at the accusation, and for the first time, she felt the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, refusing to let Alessia see her cry. “That’s not true, Alessia. You meant everything to me. You still do. I thought… I thought I was being selfless by not holding you back.”

Alessia’s gaze softened, just for a moment, but the anger quickly returned, a shield against the pain. “You should’ve fought for me,” she repeated, her voice breaking just enough to reveal the hurt underneath. “But you didn’t.”

Y/N stood there, frozen, feeling the weight of her past decisions crushing down on her. She had always been strong, always held herself together, but Alessia’s words cut deeper than anything she’d ever felt on the pitch. She had failed her—not by letting her go, but by not realizing how much Alessia had needed her to fight.

“I didn’t know how to,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I was scared of losing you… scared of making the wrong choice. I thought you wanted to be free, and I didn’t want to be the reason you couldn’t follow your dreams.”

Alessia’s eyes softened again, but this time, she didn’t pull back. Instead, she looked at Y/N for a long moment, the anger slowly draining from her expression. “I wanted you to come with me, Y/N. I would’ve given up everything to stay with you if you had asked. But you never did.”

Y/N’s heart shattered at the revelation, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek before she could stop it. “I didn’t know, Less. I didn’t know you felt that way. I was stupid, and I was scared, and I thought you were better off without me.”

Alessia sighed, the frustration finally ebbing away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. “I wasn’t better off without you. I’ve spent years trying to forget about you, but I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried.”

Y/N looked down at her hands, her chest aching with regret. “I never stopped thinking about you either. Not once.”

The silence between them was heavy, but this time, it wasn’t filled with anger or resentment. It was filled with the weight of everything they hadn’t said, of all the time they had lost. Y/N wanted to reach out, to take Alessia’s hand, but she didn’t know if she had the right anymore.

But Alessia was the one who made the first move. She sighed and, for the first time since they’d been reunited, the edge in her voice softened. “Y/N… it’s not all your fault. We both made mistakes.”

Y/N looked up, her heart pounding. “Does that mean…?”

Alessia glanced at her, something unspoken hanging in the air between them. “I don’t know what it means. But maybe… we don’t have to keep hurting each other.”

Y/N’s breath caught. This was the first glimmer of hope she’d felt in weeks. “I don’t want to hurt you, Less. I never did.”

Alessia gave her a small, tired smile. “I know.”

The bartender slid their drinks across the counter, and Alessia picked them up. As she handed one to Y/N, her fingers brushed against Y/N’s, sending a jolt of electricity through her. For a moment, their eyes met, and Y/N saw something there that she hadn’t seen in a long time: the flicker of the girl she used to know, the one who had loved her.

They returned to the table in silence, but this time, the tension between them was different. It wasn’t the suffocating weight of anger and regret—it was something softer, something that felt like the first step toward healing.

-------------------

Over the next few days, Y/N and Alessia didn’t talk much, but the harsh comments and cold stares stopped. Alessia seemed to be struggling with her own emotions, and Y/N gave her the space she needed. But Leah, ever the protective sister, wasn’t content to let things linger in awkward silence.

“We’re making progress,” Leah said, gathering the core group again in the locker room after practice. “But we need to do more. They’re clearly not going to talk unless we push them together.”

Katie McCabe grinned, leaning back in her seat. “Well, we’re a team. We can get creative. Maybe they need a little… forced bonding time.”

Beth raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we lock them in a room together until they sort things out?”

Katie shrugged. “Not a bad idea, is it?”

Leah laughed. “Let’s not go that far. But I do think we need to create a situation where they can’t just avoid each other.”

“Like what?” Vivianne asked.

“Like a team dinner, maybe,” Leah suggested. “Somewhere casual, low pressure. We can make sure they’re sitting next to each other. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll come up with something more drastic.”

The group nodded in agreement, their eyes twinkling with mischief. It wasn’t often that they got to play matchmaker, and they were determined to see it through.

That weekend, the team gathered at a cozy Italian restaurant in central London, the kind of place with candlelit tables and soft music in the background. Leah had made the seating arrangements, ensuring that Y/N and Alessia were placed right next to each other.

Y/N felt her heart rate spike as she took her seat beside Alessia, but Alessia didn’t seem as tense as before. In fact, she even managed a small smile when their eyes met. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give Y/N a flicker of hope.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed easily around the table. The team laughed, joked, and shared stories, and slowly, Y/N felt the tension between her and Alessia begin to melt away. At one point, Alessia leaned over and whispered something about one of the other players, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the sound surprising even herself.

For the first time in a long time, it felt easy. Natural. Like maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

After dinner, as the team spilled out onto the street, Leah nudged Y/N gently. “Walk Alessia home,” she whispered.

Y/N hesitated, but Leah gave her a reassuring smile. “Go on. It’s time.”

Y/N swallowed her nerves and turned to Alessia. “Hey, do you want some company on the way home?”

Alessia looked surprised for a moment, but then she nodded. “Sure. I’d like that.”

They walked in comfortable silence through the quiet London streets, the cool night air brushing against their skin. Y/N’s heart raced with every step, but she didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t until they reached Alessia’s building that she finally spoke.

“I’ve missed you,” Y/N blurted out before she could stop herself.

Alessia paused, her keys in hand, and looked up at Y/N. Her expression softened, and for a moment, Y/N saw the girl she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“I’ve missed you too,” Alessia admitted quietly.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Y/N took a step closer, her heart pounding in her chest. “Do you think… we could try again?”

Alessia’s eyes searched Y/N’s face for a long moment, as if weighing her options. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Yeah. I think we can.”

And with that, the distance between them melted away. Y/N stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Alessia, pulling her close. It felt like coming home.

--------------

From that moment on, things between Y/N and Alessia began to heal. The bitterness and anger faded, replaced by the love that had always been there, buried beneath the hurt. They took things slow, rebuilding the trust they had lost, but it wasn’t long before they were back to where they had once been—laughing, teasing, and loving each other with the same intensity as before.

And this time, Y/N wasn’t going to let Alessia go. Not again.

The rest of the team watched their relationship blossom with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that they had played a small part in bringing them back together. Leah, in particular, was overjoyed to see her sister happy again, and she made sure to remind Y/N every chance she got that family—and love—was worth fighting for.

And so, as the seasons changed and the matches came and went, Y/N and Alessia faced every challenge together. They were stronger, not just as teammates, but as partners, and they knew that whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Because this time, they weren’t letting go.

[owls-blog]

💟Lewd Eddie Munson Headcanons💟

!!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!!

Virgin!Eddie x Slightly Older F!Reader

word count : 1898

warnings : smutty, mention of drugs, mention of peeing, mention of F! x F! kiss, just a little bit of fluff

a/n : I haven't written any kind of fanfiction for the last 10 years. Also that's the first time I wrote something so huge in english that isn't a scietific paper. So, if somethings sounds odd to you, just let me know.

!!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!! WARNING !!! NSFW !!!

I warned you!

The poor boy is a virgin and has never been kissed. So, at this point he's pretty messed up.

Eddie masturbates a lot, like A LOT. Every fucking day for a few times. Don't try to convince me otherwise, cause if a guy is so much into his guitar, then his balls are aching 24/7 from the amount of semen in them.

His mind is aching too, but from the amount of naughty thoughts about you. Eddie hasn’t been able to get you out of his head since the first time you two met, when you came to his spot to buy some weed. He probably wouldn't get into you in the first place, if it wasn't for your curvy ass in those tight jeans and your braless nipples in that t-shirt. You were kinda rude to him that day. You called him "kid" and had a very annoyed look on your face.

Later that same day, as Eddie thought about the interaction between him and you, he found himself horny. And the more he thought about you, the more your tough attitude combined with your big ass made him hard. In the evening he found himself so achingly hard that he couldn’t drift off. The only choice he had was simply to jerk off to his brief memories of you. And when he did, he came as fast and as hard as he had ever come before. His cum soaked his sheets and mattress so deeply that these stains are nearly impossible to remove.

A few days later, he stumbled upon you at school. You were chatting with Ms Hatcher, the young music teacher, in the hallway. At first, he thought that you were a new student, but as he was walking past you, he overheard you and Ms Hatcher were talking about the good old times at Hawkins High School. Unexpectedly even for himself, he found the fact that you were older than him really hot. He had to lock himself in the most distant bathroom stall to calm down. He thought he just needed to catch his breath. But he couldn't concentrate on anything but the thought of you taking advantage of him. His cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans. He had to find his release and he prayed that you wouldn't be there when he left the bathroom.

He never considered himself as an ass guy before meeting you. But here he's, drooling over your hips and thighs.

Every time he sees you around town, he tries not to look at you, because as soon as he sees you, he gets hard and can't stop drilling you (or maybe your ass) with his eyes. The hardest times came when you came back to the spot again after a few weeks. You were in a much better mood and your previous rudeness actually appeared to be your boldness. He was anxious trying to hide his growing erection. So, when his eyes met yours, he felt himself very embarrassed. He thought you saw him crystal clear, and it sent shivers down his spine. Luckily for him, you were just casually chit chatting and had no idea just how horny he was for you. You noticed his Hellfire club's t-shirt and mentioned how glad you were that more kids are into D&D now compared to when you were in school. Eddie was thrilled that you were into D&D too. That's probably why the two of you somehow became weed buddies and started occasionally hanging out together.

At first, Eddie finds himself more relaxed around you. He likes how easygoing and straightforward you are. You’re fine with laughing at yourself and telling stupid jokes, like fart jokes. You tease him in jest and he adores it. You make him feel himself better. You are the real buddy, THE guy. He doesn't have to pretend around you because you're okay with the shit in his head. But every time he hangs out with you, he's more into you. And he's scared as fuck that you'll find out about it eventually.

He used to think he would never feel like that about anyone, but here he's. Eddie can't help himself, that's how much he's obsessed with you. You're not simply a hot chic anymore, you're smart, fun and beautiful, and still extremely hot.

He’s kinda getting used to being hard all the time around you.

Actually, you drive him crazy as fuck. You make him do questionable things. He knew you were classmates with Ms Hatcher because you told him. He was really curious about what you looked like when you were in high school, so he sneaked into the school library to look through the yearbooks. He spent several hours there, but damn he found photos of you. He almost choked on his saliva when he saw the photo of you in a ruffled dark dress with open shoulders, your hair was long and wavy. You looked different back then, even kinda silly, but he still found you incredibly attractive. He couldn't figure out why he hadn’t paid any attention to you when you were in high school. He tried unsuccessfully to recall any past memories of you as a student at the Hawkins school, until he stumbled upon the photo of the teenage you, the teenage Ms Hatcher and your other friend together. Then he fucking remembered. Hawkins Middle School talent show, three of you were in charge of the sound equipment and were sort of the school's sound engineers. You were the older girl with the extremely annoyed face who carelessly tossed him his guitar as she set it up for his performance. That was the same face you had the first time you came to his spot to buy weed. He also vaguely remembered that you're in some kind of band. He flipped the photo over and saw the chaotic writing "straight A funk girlz". He shamefully stole your prom photo from the library and has kept it on his nightstand ever since.

After some time, he finally noticed that you have a pierced earlobe. He asked you about it, and a just few moments later he hated himself so much for that. You told him that you'd like to get a helix in your other ear and maybe even to pierce your nipples just for fun. He almost lost it when you mentioned it. That night he masturbated a few times in a row, imagining himself sucking on your pierced nipples.

Eddies has a loud mouth. He moans a lot when he touches himself. He has to turn on his stereo to cover his whimpering and groaning as he masturbates to your prom photo.

Eddie realizes he's a goner when he decides to make a mixtape of the songs he listens to when he pleases himself and thinks of you. The mixtape contains bunch of metal and, of course, some rock and funk songs that remind him of you.

Eddie is so ashamed of himself as fuck. Every time he jerks off to you, he feels an immense amount of guilt. At that moment he heavily blushes and scolds himself for falling so hard for you.

However, the real ultimate embarrassment he experienced was during one of your pot-smoking sessions. The two of you were high as hell, and you were telling him stories about your school days. Your stoned mind brought up memories of your first kiss because you found it hilarious. You told Eddie that Ms Hatcher, whom you knew as Jessie, had stolen your first kiss, and that hers had been with your other close friend Barb, and that Barb's first kiss had been with some guy from camp she attended that summer. Eddie was so high that it took him a full minute to realize that you, Ms Hatcher, and Barb, who was indeed the third girl in the photo he saw, had shared a kiss with each other. He didn't need any further details because he immediately came in his pants.

Eddie thinks about you all the time. Whatever he's doing at the moment he's thinking about you. These thoughts are dirty, like very dirty. Sometimes he gets so caught up in these thoughts that he can't think straight at all. He has already imagined you in every possible way like ever. He has imagined fucking with you in his bed at his place, while pinning you to the wall of his room, in the front and back seat of his van, at his spot in the forest, in the abandoned warehouse where he smokes weed, in the locker room at school, on the table set up for a D&D session, under the Skull Rock, in the bathroom at the Hideout.

He imagined how you’d smell and taste, what sounds you’d make under and on top of him, or how he’d be balls deep inside of you and you’d be screaming his name, just his name.

He'd like you to be his girl, to see you on your knees choking on his thick cock, but he knows in the reality he'd rather be YOUR boy. If only he could be on his knees with his tongue between your legs.

About his van, by the way. Another time the two of you got high and decided to take a drive to Lover's Lake. You asked him to stop by because you desperately needed to take a piss. Barely out of the van, you started taking your pants off halfway to the nearest bush. The intrusive thoughts about you hit Eddie again, when you got out of the van. He daydreamed about fucking you in the front seat of the van. He really hoped you would come back and simply stick your tongue deep down into his throat.

The image of you riding him until he nearly passes out is his the most favorite one. He imagined how you slowly sinking down on him and the thickness of his cock stretching you out. Eddie is the average length, but he’s a really thick boy, so taking him isn't an easy task. He would fill you full of cum because when he comes he cums a lot. His cum would drip from your cunt down the inside of your luscious thighs.

He wants to squeeze your ass, to bite your thighs, to cover your neck with hickeys, to nibble your nipples, to whisper dirty things in your ear, to devour your lips, to thrust into you deep his balls. At the same time, he wants you to kiss him as gently as possible. Like, you cup his jaw, stroke his face with your fingers, and then your plump lips land on his own and your tongue carefully begins to explore his mouth. He wants to feel your warm embrace around him and your soothing voice telling him you love him. He wants to have you around him at night, right in his bed, just him and you cuddling together as if the world around doesn't exist at all.

But you are the coolest girl in Hawkins according to him. And he is just him, Eddie The Freak Munson.

: : : : : : : EDDIE MUNSON'S MIXTAPE : : : : : : :

[cornyforjk]

Drive you crazy | Day 9 | jjk

⤷ SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language

taglist: @tatamicc @jwnghyuns @nono13bnd @hagridshaircare @tatzzz-25 @suashifts @kyuuppi @bananaminnie-blog @rispwr @spideyjimin

A/note: SOOO the series is finally nearing the end, day 10 will be the last day of the story. But my inbox is always open so incase yall want drabbles. Anw, hope you guys enjoyy.

___________________♡__________________

Jungkook

The tension on the racetrack was palpable as we revved our engines, ready for the practice race. It was a friendly competition, but the desire to win was burning in each of us, especially Y/n and me as we prepared to compete side by side.

The roar of our engines filled the air as the race began. We pushed our cars to their limits, skillfully navigating the twists and turns of the track. It was a close race, and for a while, it seemed like any of us could take the lead.

But then, out of nowhere, a smooth, yellow-gold car cut between Y/n and me, beating us to the finish line. We were all shocked by the sudden appearance of this new player who had effortlessly outpaced us.

As we came to a stop and climbed out of our cars, the stranger removed his helmet with a smirk on his face. His features were striking, with gorgeous blonde hair that seemed to glisten in the sunlight and piercing green eyes that complemented his olive skin perfectly. Namjoon, always the diplomat, stepped forward and extended his hand. "Impressive driving," he said. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Namjoon, and these are my teammates."

The stranger took Namjoon's hand and shook it with a confident grin. "Locke," he introduced himself, his voice oozing charm. "It was a good race, wasn't it?"

Locke didn't waste a moment before turning his attention to Y/n. He waddled over to her, his movements exuding an almost magnetic confidence. With a theatrical flourish, he took Y/n's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, and she abruptly pulled her hand back, her cheeks flushed. "I think I heard your introduction earlier," she said curtly, clearly unimpressed by Locke's theatrics.

After another exhilarating round of racing, we all gathered at the pit area, where stretch chairs had been set up. The adrenaline was still coursing through our veins as we grabbed bottles of beer, ready to relax and unwind after the intense competition. However, our plans were interrupted when we saw Locke already seated there, a confident smile on his face.

He greeted us warmly, complimenting our racing skills and raising his bottle in a toast to the racers. His gaze, however, lingered on Y/n, and he locked eyes with her, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips.

"Ah, Y/n," Locke began, his voice smooth as silk. "You are truly extraordinary for a younger female racer. I haven't seen someone drift with such grace and precision in a long time."

Y/n's cheeks flushed with a mixture of surprise and delight at the compliment. She smiled and moved to sit next to Locke, engaging in conversation with him. Their easy camaraderie made me feel strangely uncomfortable, and not in a good way.

I watched them from a distance, unable to shake the nagging feeling that something had shifted. Locke's presence had injected an element of rivalry into our group. and the way he had captivated Y/n's attention didn't sit well with me.

As the evening went on, I couldn't help but wonder about Locke's intentions and whether he had a genuine interest in racing or if he was simply trying to get closer to Y/n. The unease I felt was a stark contrast to the camaraderie we had all shared just a day ago.

As I sat there with my teammates, sipping my beer, I couldn't shake the feeling that our time in France had taken an unexpected turn, and I had no idea where this new twist in our journey would lead us.

Summoning the courage to face Y/n after days of awkwardness, I finally made my way to her hotel room. As I approached her door, I could hear soft chuckles coming from within. My heart raced, but I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. Just as I was about to knock, the voices of my friends, Jimin and Taehyung, echoed in the hallway. They were nudging me to talk to Y/n, encouraging me to clear the air between us. Their support brought a small smile to my face, and I nodded to them before finally knocking on Y/n's door.

The door opened with surprise, and I prepared to speak, but my words caught in my throat when I saw Locke standing behind Y/n. His presence there was unexpected, and my heart sank.

"Jungkook?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with surprise.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady myself. "I...I came to talk," I managed to say.

Y/n shifted on her feet, her eyes filled with tension. She bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at Locke, who sneered and placed his hand on her shoulder, thinking I wouldn't notice. My smile faltered, but I pressed on, "Is now a good time?"

Y/n hesitated, her gaze darting between Locke and me. "No, Jungkook, it's not."

Behind her, Locke's smirk grew, and he leaned in closer to her. My blood boiled, but I managed to maintain my composure. "Alright," I said, feeling defeated. "I'll come back later."

As I turned to leave, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. I heard Locke's condescending tone as he spoke about me, calling me a weak douche. Anger boiled up inside me, but I forced myself to keep walking.

"I don't know what you see in him, Y/n." Locke snarls

"Your opinion of my friends stands in the garbage Locke...I think it's too late, you should go." I hear a feeble voice and smile in victory as Y/n defends me and throws that mop face out of her room.

The knob rattles, hint of blond walking out of her room.

However, my anger got the best of me, and I couldn't let Locke's insults slide. I hid in the shadows, watching as Locke made his way down the hallway. When he was about to turn the corner, I lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar and delivering a punch to his face.

Locke stumbled back, surprised by my sudden attack. I growled at him, my voice low and threatening, "This 'weak douche' can do a lot of things you'd not want to see. Stay in your lane and away from my girl."

Locke sneered, his face bruised but defiant. "Watch me, Jeon," he shot back before walking away, leaving me seething with anger and frustration.

The battle for Y/n's attention had taken an intense turn, and I couldn't help but wonder where this rivalry would lead us all.

___________________♡__________________

Y/N

Early in the morning, we all gathered for breakfast in the hotel's dining area. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a delicious spread of breakfast items. I couldn't help but notice the tension in the room, and it seemed that I wasn't the only one.

As I made my way to the table, I noticed Jungkook sitting slightly apart from the rest of the group. He seemed distant, lost in his thoughts, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Our recent interactions had been strained, and it was clear that he was still affected by what had transpired between us.

Across from him, Locke sat with a cocky look on his face, a stark contrast to Jungkook's somber demeanor. Locke had managed to insert himself into our group with ease, and his presence had thrown a wrench into our dynamics.

Jimin, sitting next to Hoseok, elbowed him discreetly and whispered something that I couldn't quite catch.

However, I had a feeling it had something to do with Jungkook. Jimin had always been the peacemaker among us, and it seemed like he was planning to talk to Jungkook after the meal.

I couldn't help but overhear their hushed conversation, and although I felt a pang of guilt for the way I had been avoiding Jungkook, I pushed those feelings aside. It was easier to pretend that everything was fine than to confront the awkwardness between us.

As I took a sip of my coffee, I noticed something that caught my attention. Locke had a bruise on his face, a fading mark from the altercation with Jungkook the previous night. I couldn't help but ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Locke," I said, trying to sound casual, "what happened to your face?"

Locke's expression darkened, and he shot a brief, irritated glance in Jungkook's direction before answering, "Oh, just a bad fall. Nothing serious."

I couldn't shake the feeling that Locke was hiding something, but I decided not to press the matter further.

Instead, I turned my attention back to my plate, stabbing my scrambled eggs with my fork.

The day was still bright and sunny as we all piled onto the bus for our trip to one of the most beautiful beaches in France. The excitement in the air was tangible, and the beach promised a much-needed break from the tension that had been simmering among us.

As I made my way onto the bus, I couldn't help but notice an empty seat next to Locke. It seemed like fate had a sense of humor, but before I could even consider taking the seat, Hoseok, always the quick one, dove into action.

He practically lunged toward the empty seat, a playful wince on his face as he looked at me.

"Give someone else a chance to sit next to this hot chica," he quipped, wrapping a friendly arm around Locke's shoulder.

Locke's face twisted into a pleading expression, but Hoseok's charm was hard to resist. I couldn't help but giggle at their antics as I continued down the aisle, looking for another available seat.

Further back on the bus, I spotted a tired-looking Jungkook. He had his eyes closed, earphones in, and his head rested against the window. It seemed like the perfect place for me to sit, a quiet corner where I could gather my thoughts and relax.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Hoseok, who was still engaged in playful banter with Locke. As the bus's engine roared to life, there was a sudden jolt, and I stumbled forward, finding myself accidentally thrown onto Jungkook's seat.

My heart raced as I quickly pulled back, blushing with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Jungkook removed one earphone and opened his eyes, his gaze meeting mine. He seemed just as surprised as I was by the sudden collision. His lips curled into a small smile, and he removed the other earphone.

"No problem," he replied, his voice soft and reassuring. "Plenty of space here."

I nodded gratefully and took a seat next to him, finally feeling a sense of relief. The tension that had hung between us seemed to dissipate in that moment, replaced by a newfound sense of relief.

As the bus rolled smoothly along the winding roads, I noticed Jungkook removing both his earphones and turning his attention towards me. The awkward air between us seemed to dissipate as he started a conversation.

"Gosh, I forgot to give my key to Natalie," he began, his facepalming gesture drawing a giggle from me. "How will she remove those huge boxes of wheels from my room?"

"Don't worry," I reassured him with a smile, "she has spare keys in case 'someone locks themselves in." I playfully nudged my head toward Taehyung and Jimin, who couldn't help but giggle.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help but ask, "What are you listening to?"

Jungkook's eyes lit up as he spoke, "I'm trying to find mistakes in my composing."

I was surprised. I had always seen Jungkook as a broody, masculine guy, but this delicate and creative side of him intrigued me. I asked if I could listen to what he was working on.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment but then brought one of the earplugs toward my ear, gently brushing away a strand of hair to get it in place. He plugged it in, sitting back with a nervous smile.

Closing my eyes, I lost myself in the melody and lyrics of the song. When it came to an end, I couldn't help but sing along in delight. The song had touched something inside me, and I felt an instant connection to it.

Jungkook finally asked, "How is it?"

I couldn't stop praising him, my words pouring out in admiration. "It's amazing! 'Paper Hearts' is my favorite, and your voice is unbelievably good. Can I listen to more?"

Jungkook's shy smile, his bunny teeth peeking through, made my heart skip a beat. He hesitated for a moment but then shared the earphone with me. We both slowly drifted to sleep, our heads resting on each other's shoulders as the bus continued its journey.

When the bus finally came to a stop at our destination, the quiet chatter and fussing over us woke us up. Hoseok even clicked a picture of us, fawning over the moment.

Yoongi elbowed him, teasingly "Hyung, are you crying?"

"Shut up, this looks beautiful," Hobi says, faking a tear.

Suddenly, Locke appeared and tugged me awake. I reluctantly woke up, my groggy state making it hard to process what was happening. Locke gave a strained smile as he looked at gave a strained smile as he looked at me, pulling me out of the bus, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as we left the warmth and comfort of the bus behind, running from a moment that had felt special and intimate.

The moment we arrived at the beach, the salty sea breeze hit us, filling the air with the familiar scent of the ocean. Excitement bubbled within all of us as we dropped our bags and began to change into our swimwear, eager to dive into the cool waters.

I couldn't help but notice the playful antics of Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung as they carried Taehyung toward the water, their laughter ringing out as if they were offering him as a sacrifice to the water gods. On the other side, Yoongi and Jin were lying on their beach towels, with sunscreen adorning their faces like warriors preparing for battle.

Locke, who had seemed somewhat distant on the bus, underwent a transformation as soon as he stepped onto the beach. With a confident smirk, he shed his shirt, revealing a well-toned physique that turned a few heads, including mine.

He turned to me with a cheeky grin, his eyes sparkling. "Care to join me in the water, Y/n?"

I smiled but shook my head. "I'm a bit exhausted from the trip. I think I'll just relax and catch some sun for now."

I pulled off my shirt, revealing a sunset-coloured swimsuit that seemed to catch the attention of not one but two pairs of eyes-Jungkook's and Locke's. Their reactions were quite different, though.

Locke, ever the flirty guy, couldn't resist complimenting my body as he headed toward the water. "Looking good, Y/n. Enjoy your tan," he called over his shoulder before diving into the waves.

As the sun began to dip into the sea, casting a chilly breeze over the beach, everyone wrapped themselves in towels and headed toward a nearby beach house. The day had been filled with fun and laughter, but there was no sign of Jungkook anywhere, and it left me feeling increasingly worried.

I recalled how I had unintentionally ditched him on the bus and hadn't spoken to him since. Feeling like a jerk, I decided to make amends and went to the nearby restaurant where we had all planned to have dinner. Arriving early, I spotted Jungkook sitting alone at a corner table, a candle left unburned in the middle.

"Waiting for a date?" I asked him, attempting a light-hearted tone.

Jungkook shook his head, his expression unreadable. "No."

Feeling a bit awkward, I asked, "Mind if I sit with you?" Only to see jungkook's expressions relaxing which I took as a green signal to sit infront of him.

___________________♡___________________

Day8 | Day10

Dm me or send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[stevesgother]

Strange - S.H

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 2.1k

Contains - angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of addiction, mentions of childhood trauma, exes to lovers, second chance romance

AN - Part 2 of 'Little Red Lighthouse' ! for the sake of not having to use “y/n” bc i hate it, reader goes by Lizzy. Use your imagination idk

'Isn't it strange/how people can change/from strangers to friends/friends into lovers/and strangers again.' - 'Strange' by Celeste

There was a biting chill to the air as you sat shoulder to shoulder on a rock overlooking the lake with your best friend. The shadow from the towering lighthouse did nothing to help your lack of warmth, but the heat radiating off Steve’s body beside you almost made up for it. In his hands he held a worn piece of notebook paper adorned with his signature scratchy handwriting, slightly crumpled from hours of reading and rereading; frustration bleeding between the inky blue lines.

“I don’t even know why I'm bothering with this shit,” he sighs, “dad thinks college is a waste of time anyway,” he gives the paper one last squeeze in his fist before chucking it into the water.

“Steve!--” you practically shriek, “what’d you do that for?!”

“Cause’ Liz, we both know I’m not getting accepted anywhere worth going to,” he says with finality, like he’s already made up his mind despite it only being January, “and you’re gonna go somewhere fancy schmancy like Feinburg while I rot here,”

“Well certainly with that attitude you will,” he shoots you a deadpan look from where his head is propped in his hands. “Stop worrying about what your parents want, Steve. What do you want?”

“Right now I want to get off this boulder. It’s fuckin’ freezing out here,” the end of his sentence is muffled by his cupped hands around his mouth, huffing into them in an attempt to bring some warmth back into his numbing fingertips.

“I’m perfect, actually.” you feign self-assuredness just to tease him. He knows you’re cold too, the tip of your nose is bright red and frozen to the touch, giving you away.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yeah” you chirp, “I am,”

“Oh, okay,” just then he slides what could've been an icicle but really was just a frigid hand up your shirt and presses it firmly to the small of your balmy back, earning a squeal from you.

“Asshole!” you shove him away playfully and he removes his hand, deciding for once, to spare you. 

You spend the rest of the night bundled under layers of quilts, watching movies your mother rented from Family Video that afternoon as snow falls from the pale sky in big, fat flakes. At some point during the second film, you feel yourself curl into his lap where he’s seated on your sofa, fighting and losing a battle with sleep. Just before slumber overtakes you, you note the feeling of his hand tracing soothing circles over your spine. The arm that isn’t holding you against his torso snakes around to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear, selfishly so he can steal an unobstructed view of your peaceful expression.

He almost enjoys being with you more when you’re sleeping. Not because he doesn’t adore listening to your winding tangents or your infectious laughter, but because you can’t see him unabashedly staring at you when your eyes have drifted shut like they are now. It’s as if the world has stopped spinning on its axis and time has halted just for him. His own personal sleeping beauty. You looked like the rest of his life.

Memories have a mortifying way of appearing gold in hindsight; nostalgia like a knife that’s gutted him, leaving him emptier than he was before. Now, whenever the air gets older, Steve is reminded of how your presence used to feel.

–

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Stepping into his orbit for the first time in all these years, the love you still have for him beats inside your chest like a second heart. You long to reach out and touch him, to weave your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and nuzzle your face into the tender skin of his neck, to cry how sorry you are and ask “How could you let me leave you?’--

“You look well,” the low register of his voice shakes you from your spiral and you remember with a sharp pang of guilt just how long it's been since you heard him speak. You feel like he’s taller now than when you left, even though he hit his last growth spurt during the last summer you spent together. A soft dusting of hair that wasn’t there before graces his upper lip. That cheeky, boyish charm you always loved had suddenly morphed into something more gruff. It made your stomach churn.

“Thanks, I don’t–” you cut yourself off with a soft shake of your head, “Thanks, Steve. You do too,”

He gives a meek shrug as he glances down at himself. There was simultaneously so much and yet nothing at all to say, and the silence was suffocating.

“How long are you in town for?” he asks, hoping the answer is indefinitely but knowing it won’t be.

“For a week, then I have to go back to the city,” you struggle to ignore the subtle disappointment that flashes across his features. “I was offered an internship in graphic design. It starts next month.” You say with a tight lipped smile. You wished you wanted that, but now that you were home, all you wanted was to stand under Steve’s gaze like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“That’s wonderful, Lizzy. I’m really happy for you.” Of course he was happy for you. If this was what you wanted, Steve was thrilled for you. But in all the 15 years you’d been inseparable, he’d never once seen you take an interest in graphic design. Maybe it was because your father was an architect. Your mother, an artist. To not follow in their footsteps, Steve knew, would make you feel like you failed them. It doesn’t change the way he can see your expression faltering when you utter even a word about your future career.

“You– what about you? Are you working for your dad?” 

“No, actually, I took over for Hopper. At the station.”

This time, Steve’s blessed with your real smile. A genuine one. You never wanted the alternative for Steve. Being constantly surrounded by corporate goons, taking over the family business just to be miserable and burnt out in less than a decade. The boy never could make up his mind about what it was that he really wanted to do, but he knew it wasn’t that. The trouble was, Steve only ever felt like he belonged somewhere when he was anywhere with you.

A gentle hand to his bicep sends him reeling, and it’s all he can do not grab you by your shoulders and pull you into his chest with as much force as he can muster. But the moment is gone as soon as it arrives, and you’re being whisked away by some other friend who’s vying for your attention. Absently he wonders if he left, would people miss him the way they seemed to have missed you? He supposes it’s best not to dwell.

–

When you arrive home later, the house is empty with a note from your parents stuck to the fridge claiming they’re out tonight. You’re grateful for the reprieve from socialization as you pad your way upstairs and down the hall towards your childhood bedroom.

It looks almost identical to when you left it, with the exception of a spare unrecognizable object here or there. Things your parents must have picked up for you at some point with the hopes of being able to give it to you the next time you visited home, but never could. Your mother had made your bed neatly, adorned with all the stuffed animals and bedding from your youth. Everywhere you turned, there were mementos of your lifelong friendship with Steve. Greyscale photo booth pictures, old movie stubs and the dried remnants of the corsage he gave you for prom. It was a memorial; a cemetery of your life together.

When you finally managed to lie down, all you did was toss and turn until the analog clock tick tick ticking on your wall informed you it was one A.M. In your sleep deprived haze you absentmindedly sat up and reached for the baby blue corded phone resting on your nightstand. It was only when you brought the phone to your ear and heard the droning dial tone that you realized what you were doing, and set the phone back in its cradle. Your fingers ached to press the digits to the only number you knew by heart: Steve Harrington.

–

You weren’t sure why your mom kept renewing her Cosmopolitan subscription for you, since you hardly took interest in the issues, but she did nonetheless. Tonight, struggling to find something more productive to do, your curiosity got the better of you as you mindlessly flipped through the pages with freshly manicured nails. It was a Friday, and the prospect of sleeping in tomorrow delighted you. You were in no hurry to get to bed. 

Just then you heard the shrill ringing of the new phone your parents got you to keep in your bedroom for your birthday. You knew it had to be at least twelve o’clock in the morning. Only one person would be calling you at this hour.

“Hello?”

“Hey, can I– can I come over?” Steve's voice was hushed and trembling. Muffled yelling could be heard in the background over his unsteady breathing.

“Steve? Yeah, ‘course, I'll unlock my window,” you pause, “everything okay?”

“Yeah just– I’ll be there in ten,” and with that you heard the receiver click back into its place on the wall.

Magazine having been discarded on the floor next to your bed, you sat at your desk, knee bouncing rapidly as you waited for Steve to climb through your window like he had dozens of times before. At sixteen, you’d be caught dead having a boy in your room at this hour, even if it was just Steve.

You hear a soft tap tap tap on the glass, signifying his arrival. In a rush, you hurry over to your window to help him in. When he regains his balance with both feet on your carpeted floor, you’re finally able to get a good look at him. He’s bleary eyed and his nose is chapped raw, like he’d been rubbing at it continuously for hours. 

“Hey,” you say softly with a gentle hand to his forearm, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” You feel guilty pressing him on the matter immediately, but you can count on one hand the amount of times you've seen Steve genuinely distressed. Last Halloween when Nancy Wheeler had proclaimed that he and their whole relationship was ‘bullshit’ had been the last time.

“Mom and dad were fighting. I guess– I guess he found these pills she’s been taking? I don’t know,” he looks dejected as he fidgets with the hem of his sweater, “Jus’ couldn’t listen to it anymore.”

Your eyes round into saucers when you looked to him, concern gracing your features. It was always something with the Harringtons. If they weren’t screaming at each other, they were screaming at Steve. Catherine had substance abuse issues, John was violent. Broken dishes and holes punched in drywall were becoming the norm. All Steve wanted was a way out; an escape. You gave that to him. Always.

Without another word, you propped yourself up on your tiny twin bed and motioned with open arms for him to come lie with you. He accepted the invitation instantly, sinking down into the mattress with you. His head rested on your chest, just above your rapidly beating heart. A heart that beat for him alone. You silently prayed he knew that.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and softly petting his hair, you felt two distinct drops of tears land on the silky satin of your pajama shirt. You attempted not to make a scene, with the knowledge of how difficult it was for him to be vulnerable. Instead, you simply continued your ministrations on the back of his head and held him a little tighter.

“It’s okay, Stevie,” you whispered against the crown of his head, “You’re safe now. We’re gonna get out of here someday, y'know? I promise.”

He nodded bleakly in acknowledgment against your sternum as his tears fell a little quicker and a little harder. “Okay,” he whimpered. The sound nearly tore you in two.

You’d never intended on breaking that promise. Not really.

–

Against your better judgement, you reached for your phone a second time and dialed his number for the first time in five years. You hoped he didn’t get a new landline.

His voice was gravely and thick with grogginess when he picked up after six torturous rings, “Hello?”

“Meet me tomorrow. DiBella’s. Ten o’clock.”

You slammed the phone back into the receiver before you had time to regret it.

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