#this sucks bc I was really hoping I’d be able to hold my own here to see if I really need a QPP to survive when I move out…

[aiizaph]

I always think I have my anxiety under control. That I’ve learned how to cope with it.

No I haven’t 🙃

[stvharrngton]

Hi! So context for the request… I started new job at the end of last year and generally I love it but the past two months have been incredibly stressful and then last week we were understaffed, had an internal review and I was left to do the job of three people and not a single supervisor has thanked me for holding down the fort that day AND making lunch AND cleaning it up. And I’m feeling very under appreciated, like to the point where I feel like im no good at my job or even liked. So to the ask, how would steve handle a significant other who is feeling this way and is shutting down about it? I’d be really grateful if you could right something around this bc I just need my comfort character to hold me rn ….

hi my love! i’m so sorry to hear that about your job that sucks so much :( i really hope you enjoy this and it makes you feel a lil better 💝

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none really, burnt out!reader, soft comfort boyfie steeb

taglist: @dukesmebby @saturnband @sweetbabygirlsworld

The sound of the front door of your apartment slamming back against its hinges disturbed Steve from his busy task at the stove. The wooden spoon almost clattering back into the pan with a clang, his eyebrows pinched together as he peered over his shoulder at you.

Steve was concerned. You were never one for slamming doors or loud noises so when he turned round to face you, your slumped shoulders and the defeated look on your face said it all.

Ringing his hands on a dish towel he made his way over to you, comforting palms placed on your forearms as Steve bent at his knees to get a better look at you.

“Everything okay, baby?” He asked, voice all soft and quiet, barely above a whisper.

You could only respond with a half-hearted shrug, sad eyes not able to meet Steve’s warm, inviting one’s. You wanted nothing more than for this day to end, another shitty day at work to top it all off.

Steve’s hands moved to your face then, fingers tucking a stray strand behind your ear, his thumb stroking across your cheek. He chewed on his bottom lip as he watched your eyes grow teary.

“Hey,” Steve cooed, “hey, what’s wrong, huh? You can tell me. Is it work?”

Steve had a feeling, a sinking suspicion you’d had yet another bad day at your job, another day of doing more than they pay you for, another day of not being thanked. He wished you would just leave, find somewhere you’d be appreciated more but Steve knew it wasn’t that simple.

There was no convincing you, he knew that, so Steve would let you rant. He would let you get all your anger out, he’d give you his shoulder to cry on, rub your back and stroke your hair until your sobs turned into sniffles.

Sometimes you didn’t want to talk, your mind too foggy and your eyes too heavy. A night spent in Steve’s arms on your couch, limbs tangled whilst his lips pressed soft kisses against your hairline, the movie on the TV simply serving as background noise outside your bubble.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“You wanna talk about it, sweetheart?” Steve had since pulled you into his chest, the dinner he was prepping long forgotten about. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders in a bone crushing hug.

You shook your head against the material of your boyfriend’s polo, the fabric scratching against your already hot cheek. The tears you’d be holding in were now threatening to spill over your lashes, dampening Steve’s t-shirt.

“Okay,” he whispered, his head now resting against your own as you both stood wrapped around one another in your kitchen, “can you tell me what you need? Can you do that for me, baby?”

He knew he had to tread lightly here, gently trying to coax a response from you in this state but his need for you to understand that he was there for you no matter what was immense. In whichever way you needed, it didn’t matter to Steve. All that mattered in these moments was how he could make you feel a tiny bit better.

So you nodded timidly, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling over. A quiet sniffle heard from your nose muffled by Steve’s chest.

“Okay,” you squeaked out, “can we shower? And then just get into bed?” Chin resting against his firm chest now, you blinked up at your boyfriend with big, wet doe eyes. A look that Steve could never say no to.

Steve let his lips rest against your temple before bringing them to your forehead. A final squeeze to your shoulders as he spoke,

“A shower and cuddles in bed coming right up,” Steve uttered with a light tone and a soft smile tugging at his lips, “anything for my girl.”

The mirror began to steam up as the water warmed, Steve not letting you move an inch as he undressed you and showered you in sweet kisses all over your skin. He couldn’t help let the gentle smirk that graced his features when you asked him to step inside with you.

Hot water cascaded down your bodies as the tension of the day left your shoulders, the heavy burden slowly being lifted. Steve’s hands wandered your body as your head rested against his chest, eyes closed, just letting the water and your boyfriend soothe you.

You washed each other’s hair, the artificial scent of strawberries filling your noses, a chuckle bouncing off the glass as Steve grinned at the content noises escaping your lips as he massaged your scalp.

“That feel good, baby?” he asked with a swift peck to your cheek, a toothy grin on his face as a soft smile threatened to tug at your lips.

Hair and bodies washed, Steve held you in the shower a little longer. His hand rubbing up and down your naked back soothingly, a kiss pressed to your hairline before he switched the water off, mumbling something about how he doesn’t want you both to turn into prunes.

You were wrapped up in a fluffy towel before you could complain about the chill, favourite pyjamas in hand as Steve fluffed the towel around your shoulders.

“Let’s get you into bed, pretty girl, come on.” Steve urged before swooping you up in his strong arms, laying you down on the soft sheets. You immediately curled into his side the moment he pulled the comforter over you.

You let him wrap your arms around you tightly, his head resting against yours as he drew soft shapes lightly on your arm. You heard Steve sigh quietly as his eyes scanned the ceiling whilst he thought through what he was going to say.

“You know you can talk when you’re ready, honey,” Steve began, his fingers continued softly against your arm, “but you know you can just leave that shitty job, right?”

An exhale pushed its way past your nostrils, not in discontent but it was just difficult. You loved your job, you did but it was just tough going lately. You were burnt out and feeling under-appreciated and yeah, it was taking its toll on you.

Steve knew this, of course he did, but he just wanted to look after you, to make sure you were happy.

“How ‘bout you come work at Family Video with me and Robin?” He asked, a grin toying at his lips, “Come on, it’d be a breeze and we’d get to spend all day, every day together. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

A playful smile crept its way onto your features, one that Steve couldn’t see in the dark of his room but one he could feel. Steve let his fingers wander to your ribs, pads threatening to dig into your soft skin.

“Plus, Keith would love having a smokin’ hot girl like you around the place.”

You smacked his shoulder as you scoffed, “Steve, you are not pimping me out to your creepy boss so you can get an easy ride.”

Steve laughed loudly, a sound that rumbled in his stomach up to his chest, “‘M joking, baby. I wouldn’t do that to you. But you know I’m here for you, right? Whatever my girl needs, whenever she needs it.”

You sighed into his chest, a small content noise that filled out the room. Steve pulled you in impossibly closer, as if to offer more reassurance.

“Forever and always?” You asked, voice quiet.

“Forever and always.” Steve replied with a kiss to your forehead before you fell asleep in his arms.

[nicegaai]

im attempting my fic reread today. im announcing this bc i will be liveblogging to keep my morale up, NOT THAT anyone cares but i personally need this, like ill only commit to do the thing if theres an imaginary audience holding me accountable. & i like to have fun :3

anyway. captains log, its a beautiful sunny july weekend. i just finished my morning coffee, and, i am dreading this so much. i dont like rereading my own writing but i shall get over it. ok here we go.

Þetta Reddast vagueblogged directors commentary edition

Ch 1:

*opens fic and starts convulsing immediately* god i wish i smoked weed rn. i cannot chill out ever for the life of me

My Mission For Today Is: to remember what plot threads I’ve left hanging so I can resolve this story properly. And also try n remember where the flow is going. I have the end plotted out, I just am a little lost … it’s been a while :-(

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

Abrupt beginning!!!! I’m not mad because I have . I HAD. Almost no writing experience when I started this. it isn’t ideal but I refuse to be one of those fanfic writers that starts rewriting early chapters without finishing the last ones. Ive never seen one of those types actually finish a longfic. …I’d already rather yap than actually read LMAO AHH

Oh this is worse than I remember. thats cool that s great ok alright *coughs up blood*

"20 somethings" WOW I really did not know where I was going with this when I started huh

LKJSDLKSJDLGKGDJSLDGJK ??? Who authorized this. Who let me cook. What the hell

I could write this better now. I could edit this into something beautiful. <- devil on my shoulder

FORGOT I WAS MAKING RICE BRB

"generously offered nothing to the exchange." wait STOPPPP. I’m so funny

GRAMMAR ERROR DETECTED why is there two periods. I’ll be coming back to fix that …………………. :-(((

Fuck. This is a lot. Marge Simpson Hiding Her Face dot Png

Oh this is stupid this is gayyy this is fukcinnn . Who fucking did t his. What was wrong with me,. This is so good actually. what was i ONNNN. 

Im gonna throw up and I don’t know if thats like/. A complimentary thing or if im just cringing that hard . Im feeling emotions. I love my OTPs..OT3~5? I love them so so much

Ok as much as im like “eww bad writing” this is .. dare I say, rly good in places. Not to suck my own dick but maybe all hope isnt lost and imposter syndrome is an illusion

Grammar mistake #2. Goddddddd. they should ban me from the archive for this

EMILLLLL EMIL EMIL EMIL HIIIIII BABYYYY EMILLL I LOVE UUUU AWWHUUGHH everyone clap for my bewoved baby bruvver right FUCKING now

Urghhh gritting my teeth… Im fully expecting the flow of events to start not making any gd sense. There’s no way this came together the way I hoped in my head and .... For real I was never able to read this all the way thru. this is my first time, lol. and it was all disjointed on the authorial end to say the least. Im scared T-T

Jlxjvklsdkjfsjlkdkjlsjklkljzsdkjlgaskljdgjklasljkgdljkasljkdgjklasjlkdgljkaskljdgjakl?????????? 

Im not liking the ratio of dialogue to whatever the other stuff is. scene-setting I guess. prose maybe. i could have dragged this out way longer... By which I mean made it a more satisfying read. But WHATEVER !!!! 

TIMO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIMOOOOOOOOOO NUMERO UNOOOO DO MUNDOOOOOO I really need to utilize him more. As soon as I finish this fic I need to write a Timo POV spinoff where he gets cancelled on furry twitter for proshipping in real life

Hmmmm chapter ending didn’t hit as hard in practice as it did in drafts. Oh well. God damn that was a lot to happen in one chapter LMAOO???

OH SHIT MY RICE IS STILL COOKING —— 

[wri0thesley]

Okay but hear me out, gojo teaching his girl how to properly touch herself bc she can't make herself cum and has been edging herself unintentionally and gojo helps out with his long fingers ��

instruction - gojo x fem!reader (2k)

you might be having trouble, but gojo doesn’t mind playing sensei to you. 

warnings: nsfw/minors dni! oral sex, assisted masturbation, fingering. afab reader with fem pronouns

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

The first time that Gojo gives you an orgasm, it’s using his tongue. His head is buried between your thighs, soft noises of praise coming out of his mouth interspersed with the flutter of his kisses on your inner thighs and the downright filthy sound of his mouth dragging through your slick. His tongue toys with your clit, swirling it and sucking it, circling it before he returns back to flicking the tip over it with mountingly quicker and harder motions. Your hands are knit in his hair, and as you feel the ball of pressure inside of you finally split into a thousand tiny pieces, you tug on the silver-pale strands in your grip and wail into the ceiling. He guides you through the aftershocks with slower, deeper laps of his tongue across your cunt before he lazily pulls himself up onto his elbows, looking at you with those big blue eyes, galaxies swirling with them.

“You were so noisy, doll,” he murmurs. “I know I’m good with my tongue, but hell - if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that seems like the first time you’ve ever got to cum--” 

You feel yourself squirm, embarrassment flooding your thoughts. It’s not like you haven’t tried! But something in you always seems to stop you coming, and you’ve spent too many nights frustratedly falling asleep with your thighs a mess after being unable to bring yourself any kind of relief.

You can’t really hide anything from Satoru Gojo, though. 

The look on your face tells him all that he needs to know - that flustered, half-guilty expression, your bitten lips darkened from the dig of your teeth. His own expression softens indescribably, those long fingers sliding up your damp thighs as he coos, all pity; “Oh, baby girl . . . We can’t have that, can we?”

He coaxes you, words coated in sugar, eyes gentle, to show him how you’ve been touching yourself. Before you know what’s happening, he’s taking your hand and pulling it down to rest over where you’re still slick with your own arousal and Gojo’s saliva. You’re still adorably sensitive, flinching at the pads of your fingers over your tender clit, so Gojo gently tugs on your wrist.

“Try circling it,” he murmurs. “You’ll hurt yourself if you go all in with the stimulation--”. You do your best to follow his orders for a few minutes, until the sensitivity wears off a bit. And then, he’s kneeling between your thighs and pushing your knees up a little so he has a better view of how exactly you’re rubbing at your petal-soft folds, how you’ve been treating yourself up until now. “Show me exactly how you’ve done it before,” he breathes, the crystalline sapphires of his eyes set on the space between your legs like he’s a patron at an art gallery. “Lemme see why you haven’t gotten to come, baby.”

You do your best. It’s the same as it always is, though - you rub at your clit with inexperienced, clumsy fingers. Heat seems to build up inside you, but you never manage to get it to go further than that build up. Even when you use your other hand to thrust two of your fingers inside, it feels like you’re reaching for something that isn’t quite there. It’s so annoying. You’ve read guides on how to do this, watched porn videos in the hope it’ll help you with your block - but nothing seems to work. And now, you’re being watched by your boyfriend, and you can’t help but be hot and embarrassed . . . and kind of turned on. The way that he’s looking at you. The concern knitting his usually smooth brow.

Gojo watches you, pensive, as you feel tears of frustration bubble up in the corners of your eyes. You move your hands away from your cunt, curling them into fists and giving the bed beneath you an exasperated thump. 

(Gojo’s eyebrows raise as he sees you removing the stimulation entirely. You poor little thing. No wonder you haven’t managed it.) 

“I-I can’t get it to go further,” you say, agitated. “I-it gets to a point, and then it just seems to stop! It builds up and it builds up but it just stays there!”

Gojo shifts closer to you. His hands rest on your thighs. “You know what I think?” He asks you, his voice very low. His cock has been hard in his pants since the moment he got you on his bed, never mind the orgasm he gave you with his tongue - but it’s a damn right tragedy you’ve never been able to make yourself come, and (much as he doesn’t want to admit it) being Gojo’s girlfriend can be a lonely life. He’s away on missions so often, and he loves to tease, and he knows that you’ll have his cock on the mind forever once you’ve had it for the first time. So it’s better for both of you if you learn exactly what you’re doing. “I think y’just haven’t had the right teacher yet. And . . . you’re in luck,” he flashes you one of those patented Satoru Gojo grins, half-unhinged and half-handsome. “Because I’m right here and willin’ to take some time out of my busy schedule to teach you all about the human body--!”

“Don’t put it like that,” you say, weakly, as he reaches between your thighs and pulls the lips of your cunt apart. He looks back at your sex; the swollen clit, the hole begging to be filled, the absolute mess you’ve both made with tongues and fingers and your earlier orgasm. 

“You always stop before it goes further, right? Because you get bored and frustrated?” He clicks his tongue, shaking your head in mock scolding, as you squirm. “Baby girl, you gotta have temerity. You’ve been edging yourself ever since you figured out how to jack off.” His thumb swipes down through the slit as he lets go of his thumb’s hold. “Play with your clit for me. C’mon.”

The way he meets your eyes tells you that this is an order, and Gojo when he slips into the mode of a commander is not a man to be messed with. You hesitantly slide your fingers back between your legs to gently circle your swollen clit, your touch incredibly gentle. Gojo’s pretty mouth tilts into a smile. “Use your other hand to play with your chest,” he says. “I’d ask you to use it for something else, but . . .” The smile widens, showing a hint of white teeth. “I think I’m much better placed to do that.”

You are about to ask him what he means when his hand brushes over yours and then a fingertip gently pushes into the pulsing ring of your entrance. His fingers are slender - it does not hurt for him to push them in, but you are still robbed of your breath by the sensation of it plunging slowly into your silky depths. He gives one or two cursory pumps, before withdrawing his finger entirely so he can add a second beside it.

This one is more of a stretch, but it is a stretch in the best possible way. You use the hand not playing with your clit to squeeze the weight of your breast, your breath hitching. Thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple, teasing it to a stiff peak, as Gojo finds a slow rhythm to pump his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s deeper, right?” He rasps. “Feels better? Like places you’ve never been able to reach before?” He crooks his fingers just so and magic seems to spark, a spot on your inner walls your own shorter fingers have never managed to gain ground on. Your thighs tremble and you gasp out his name. “I thought so.” He swallows. You look up at him through the fan of your eyelashes and you see the lust in his eyes is palpable. He catches your gaze and holds it, unafraid. 

“I want you to be rougher with yourself,” he growls, low. “Press a little harder--”

The hand not currently fucking two digits into you takes hold of your wrist, pushing you to put more pressure on your clit. Fuck. The sensation of his hand guiding your wrist’s movements, in tandem with the fact that his fingers have not yet stopped hitting that special spot with every single thrust . . . You can feel the ball tightening, pulling in on itself, like a hundred knots in the same piece of thread. 

“If you didn’t have me,” Gojo rasps, and the sound of his voice gritty and dark sends a jolt of pleasure throughout you, “You’d be stopping now. You’d think you weren’t gonna get anywhere. But . . . you will, doll-- you’ve just gotta push past it--” He takes his hand away from your wrist, but you continue the pace and the pressure that he chose for you.

You whimper out his name, the hand playing with your chest squeezing hard (if you have bruised fingerprints on the soft curve of your breast tomorrow, Gojo will laugh gently at them and press on them a little meanly before he soothes you all over with kisses). 

“You gonna promise me you’ll do that when you’re alone, yeah?” Gojo asks. He’s sounding a little breathless. Your eyes manage to focus long enough to see that he’s rubbing himself through his underwear, an impressive bulge pressing against the expensive fabric. He sees you looking and gives another feral grin that seems to echo through you. “D-don’t worry, we’ll take care’a that after your lesson--”

“I promise,” you breathe, as he curls his fingers just right against that spot and your own fingers reach fever pitch. You don’t know if you’re promising to do it the way that he taught you, or if you’re promising that you’ll take care of his cock, or if you’re promising something else to him entirely - your life, your love, your very being - but you do know that the knotted threads inside of you snap all at once as Gojo’s fingertips reach so deep, so good, so perfectly inside of you.

Your channel clenches and constricts, spasming around the digits buried in it to the knuckles. Heat washes over you with a feeling of peace, different to when he’d used his tongue on you and yet similar. Gojo is practically purring as he watches you and feels you, a gush of slick coating his fingers even as he guides you over the crest of your orgasm.

“Good girl,” Gojo’s murmuring, as your breathing (when did you start panting?) evens out. “Oh, so good for me, doll . . .” His fingers come out of you with a wet pop and he brings them to his mouth, tongue flickering out teasingly to taste you. “So sweet for me, too . . .” He sighs, his eyes closing for a moment as he enjoys the lingering flavour. When those eyes open again, they’re lit with hunger.

“Well,” he says. “whaddya say? Think you can come like that next time you touch yourself?” He raises his eyebrows, a playful grin on his face. “Think y’can come at all?”

You nod fervently, and win a chuckle from Gojo. He shifts on the bed, pushing the underwear he’s still wearing down to his thighs to reveal the thick jut of his cock. You’re breathless at the sight of it, already needy despite the fact your second orgasm of the night was scant minutes ago. 

“I want a video of it,” he tells you. “Next time you touch yourself. I want a video of you and I want you t’say my name as you do it. But for now . . .” He gently taps the wet (so, so, wet - ruddy and flushed and dripping with his pre-come) head of his cock against your thigh. “I think we’ve got some other business to attend to, yeah?”

[pascalpanic]

Sweet Talk (Din Djarin x afab!Reader)

Summary: Din can’t hold back anymore, and decides to start flirting with you. Too bad he’s awful at it.

W/C: 3.5K

Warnings: lots of flirting, lots of innuendos, SMUT 18+, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it, kiddos), fingering, squirting, cream pie... language? yeah uh there’s a lot. Reader is afab but no pronouns or gendered pet names are used. lots of dirty talk.

A/N: AAAAAAAA this was a request for @notabotiswear!! I hope you guys all like it, this is my first Din smut and I was rlly nervous bc uh Din smut is obviously something big in this fandom and I wasn’t sure if I’d characterize it properly. but here we are!

You don’t know what Din looks like under his helmet, but you think he must be smirking. There’s no way the man wouldn’t be, not with the words he just said to you.

You’ve been travelling with Din and his little green son for a while now. You’d brought everything good to the beskar man’s life the moment you met. You made him eat more, drink more water. The presence of another human on the ship encouraged Din to bathe more and to keep the ship tidier. All in all, things had massively improved when you entered Din Djarin’s life.

One specific perk brought relief: you were extremely in touch with The Force. So was the tiny little green bean. From you, Din had finally learned his son’s name. He didn’t really like the way Grogu rolled off the tongue, however, so he generally stuck to calling him what he had before. Your ability to communicate with Grogu made things like bedtime and baths much easier, and everything went smoother.

Yes, you were a Force user. Ever since you were a child, you’d had a special sensitivity to that force that flowed all around you. Even though Din was not aware of The Force, nor was he able to use it or speak with it, the energy of The Force made the man practically glow. You understood why Grogu liked him so much. The man radiated it, warm energy that seemed unnatural for a bounty hunter. Once you got to know him, it all made sense. His aura was indescribable, really, but it was fitting. He was a good man at his core. He was kind and even funny sometimes.

Let’s return to the present: Din Djarin just pulled a cheesy pickup line on you, and it made you stare at him with an expression of sheer confusion, even though you could feel your cheeks warm from his words. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” You ask, placing your hands on your hips.

He looks up at you and cocks his head to the side. “I said that I may not be able to feel the Force, but I wish I could feel you.”

Your mouth hangs open, trying to press down a giggle that rises in your throat. “Din, what the fuck?” You finally laugh, grinning. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard. No wonder you’re single,” you shake your head. “Where is this coming from?”

Din’s last reserve has broken. He’s been planning this for days, planning the way he’d finally tell you everything he thinks. “Just… I wasn’t listening to you at all. Was looking at your face. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He asks you, the black T-visor staring you down.

You frown as you see your own reflection in the shining beskar. “I wish I could say the same about you,” you tease and tap your fingers on the metal helmet he wears. “What do you look like under there? Can you tell me?”

“Why, so you can make fun of it?” Din rolls his eyes.

“No, so I can finally put a face to the man I think about at night,” you tease, leaning in closer. It’s instinctual, like you’re leaning in so he can kiss you. He obviously can’t, not with that damn helmet on his head that you know isn’t coming off any time soon.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Oh come on,” you smirk at him. “Two can play at that game, Din. What do you look like?” You ask, tracing your fingers across the indents of his helmet and down to his neck. “Can I see your skin?” You ask in a low, quiet voice.

Din nods. You pull the neck of his clothing down to reveal a patch of gorgeous, caramelly skin. “Oh,” you mumble before you can stop yourself. “I bet you have brown eyes, don’t you? With brown hair too, since your skin is this dark. Am I right?”

His breath is heavy now. “Yeah,” he rasps out through the modulator. You press a soft kiss to his skin, feeling how warm and soft it is.

A shiver runs through his body, making the skin prick up beneath your lips. “Oh. So you meant it when you were flirting,” you giggle, sitting back upright and looking at him. “Well, you’re gonna have to win me over the hard way, Mando. Flirting is how people usually do it, I’ve heard,” you tease and pat his helmet as you stand and make your way out of the cockpit.

His aura has changed. It radiates further, sucks in more energy and pushes more out, all at a quicker speed. If it had a color, it would be a deep pink. “You want me too, don’t you, cyare?” Din asks, voice low and husky.

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself, Din,” you laugh and make your way over to your little green child to wake him from his nap.

“Grogu,” you sing softly, and the little thing stirs beneath his absurd amount of blankets. Those big eyes blink open and he makes a little grunt of effort. “I know, baby boy. So sleepy,” you coo and lift him from his cradle. He cuddles into your chest contentedly. “Good morning, snugglebug,” you mumble and press a kiss to his head.

Your back is to the ladder, but you can hear Din climbing down. His feet hit the floor. “I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he tells you. His voice is even deeper, raspier than the modulator makes it sound. “That body… you don’t know what you’ve unleashed by saying tha-”

You turn, holding Grogu in your arms. Din’s demeanor shifts. “Oh. Uh, hi buddy. Can he understand me?” he asks. He knows sometimes the child can, but not always. Not when he uses different words.

You shake your head, reading the baby’s energy. He’s too sleepy to comprehend anything. “No, he can’t. But really, is that so?” You ask, popping a hip and resting a hand on it.

Din nods. “I’ve always loved the color of your eyes. Have I mentioned that?” You shake your head. “Really, they’re so beautiful.”

That makes you genuinely smile up at him. “Din,” you coo and place a hand on one of the indents of his helmet. “Is there a way you can remove the helmet and I can’t see it that’s legal with The Creed? Like, if my eyes were closed, could you do it?”

He nods. “Yes. As long as you don’t see my face.”

You smile a little. “Good to know,” you nod and walk away, the baby in your arms.

-

The day continues like that, the two of you trading compliments and pick up lines, shamelessly flirting around the Crest. You cook dinner and Din comments that it smells nearly as good as you. Din fixes something mechanical and you comment that those fingers would feel really good somewhere else.

There’s a palpable tension between the two of you for the rest of the night. You and Din dance around each other, sneaking touches of the other’s arm or hand or back. He compliments you and you flirt right back.

When Grogu finally yawns, it’s like the Maker themself sent it. Din hurriedly puts the baby to bed, and finds you in the cockpit after, sitting in his chair. The pilot’s chair. “Din,” you sing-song to grab his attention.

“What?”

You look at him with purpose for a second, then close your eyes. Sitting up a little. Referring to what you said earlier- Din can remove his helmet if you can’t see his face. He can kiss you. You can touch his face, feel him. “I promise they’ll stay closed,” you tell him.

You can hear him breathe through the modulator of his helmet for a moment, then there’s a soft sound of the helmet being removed. Finally, there’s a clank of the helmet being set on the floor. When it’s just your little family of three on the ship, Din omits the full beskar regalia. Nevertheless, you can hear the soft noise of his knees hitting the floor. In front of you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks.

His real voice is like a song. It’s nowhere near as low, though it’s still a bit deep, a bit raspy. It’s beautiful, so quintessentially Din, and you nod with a small smile. “That’s why they’re closed, stupid,” you tease.

One of Din’s calloused hands finds the side of your face. He pulls it down a little, for his kneeling height, and kisses you. Slowly. His lips are warm and soft, surprisingly soft, against your own. You break away from him for a second, your eyes still squeezed tightly shut as if you may accidentally open them. “Can I touch your head?” You ask.

In response, Din takes your hands and puts them on either side of his face. It allows you to feel the stubble beneath your fingertips, the warm skin. “You have a beard,” you giggle softly.

“All the better if my face is between your legs, right?” He chuckles. It’s just so fucking perfect and real, the way his laugh sounds without the helmet. As much as you’re enjoying the sound, the words that his voice formulates make you gasp a little and shudder. “You want that?” He asks you, lips finding your neck and kissing it slowly.

“Goddamn,” you mumble. “No, Din, I wanna fuck you tonight. Can we? Will you keep your helmet off if I promise not to look?” You ask, voice desperate. You clutch the back of his head, digging your fingers into the thick hair there- it’s wavy, you can tell. “Maker, I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

Din makes a little noise of affirmation into your neck. “Yeah,” he nods. “Even better, just wait,” he says, pulling away and putting the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You do, seeing just your reflection in his helmet. “Where do you want me, baby?” You murmur to him, a hand on the side of his helmet.

Baby. No one has ever called Din that before. He’s heard it a million times, in crowded cantinas, between lovers. Between two people who cared for each other. You two cared for each other, he supposes. Obviously, or you wouldn’t be in this situation. The thought of the word makes Din pause for a moment.

“Hello? Din, what’s in there?” you tease and rap on the helmet with a fist.

You can’t see it but he’s absolutely beaming beneath his helmet, overjoyed. “Where do you want me? In the bunk? In the chair?”

You lean in and smirk, your eyes reflected in the black visor. “Where have you dreamed of having me most?” You whisper, and you swear you can see the beskar-clad man shudder.

“My bunk. Get undressed and lie down for me,” he tells you, already climbing down from the cockpit and motioning with his head for you to follow. You nod excitedly and climb down after him.

Din is looking for something, though you’re unsure of exactly what. You remove your top and pants, and start to move to remove your breastband before two large hands find your bare sides.

Din has returned, and he turns you around. He looks down at you with a long and thin strip of dark fabric in his hand, and you shudder. “Is that what I think it is?” You ask, hands finding the sides of his breastplate.

As you start unlatching his armor, Din nods. “You can undress me, then I’ll put it on and remove my helmet,” he tells you.

You smile a little as you start removing his beskar, tossing it to the side onto a discarded cape. It still makes a soft clunk, but it’s not enough to wake Grogu, thank the Maker. Once the metal is gone, your hands run over his flight suit, allowing you to feel the strong muscles beneath them.

“Din,” you murmur, unzipping the front. It exposes his bare chest, his tan skin with dark hair across it. He’s muscular, of course; as a bounty hunter must be. His arms are just as strong as you push the sleeves off of his shoulders, then push the waist down.

He doesn’t wear underwear. Of course he doesn’t, it would be impractical you suppose, but it exposes Din’s surprisingly large dick. You bite your lip as you look down at it, at how hard and needy it already is. You give it a slow stroke and Din groans. “Alright mesh’la. Let’s get that off of you,” he says and lifts your arms, pulling off the breastband.

After that, he shoves your underwear down and you step out of them, kicking them to the side. “Fuck,” he grunts at how beautiful you look, naked before him. Din pushes you back until your ass meets the end of his bunk and he lifts you to sit on the edge.

He spreads your legs and stands between them, his cock pressing against your dripping folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet, and it’s for me?” He chuckles with hardly any air in his lungs.

“Of course I am. So fucking sexy,” you murmur as you let your face fall forward into his chest, kissing at the skin and working a mark into his pec. You pull away and sit back, giving him a little room. “Okay, put it on me. Please. I just wanna kiss you,” you admit, closing your eyes preemptively.

He nods and wraps the cloth around your eyes, using his deft fingers to knot it behind your head. It’s snug, but not too tight. “You do this often?” You tease, resting your hands on his wrists.

He shakes his head. “Never have. Always kept the helmet on. You’re just…” he pauses as he removes his helmet, “something special,” he sighs, finally kissing you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him tight against you, wrapping your legs around his waist as well. “Din… should’ve said something sooner. Would’ve done anything for you,” you sigh as his lips find your jaw and then your neck, slowly tracing his tongue across your collarbone.

He makes a little grunt. “Sorry,” he chuckles. “Let me make it up to you,” he mumbles as he cups your face and kisses you again, his tongue running along the seam of your lips. “Can I do this, baby? Will you let me fuck you?”

The word again. Baby. It slipped from Din’s lips this time, before he could stop himself. He really really likes you, so much so that he can hardly contain it. He’s never been one for names in bed, degrading or praising, but he’s never going to stop calling you his, his baby.

You whine softly and break the kiss. “Please, Din. Fuck me, wreck me,” you nod before reaching out to where you find his face.

While you trace the stubble of his jaw, one of Din’s thick fingers slips into your folds. He shudders at how wet you are, tracing a finger up and down through the wet skin. “Mm, fuck,” he groans softly as the pad of his middle finger masterfully finds your clit. He rubs small circles into it, causing your head to fall forward into his shoulder.

“Please, please,” you whine, your walls clenching around nothing. “Fuck me already, baby,” you plead with Din, gripping his hips now.

“Relax, cyare,” he murmurs and kisses your neck. With the helmet on, he rarely gets to experience anything pleasurable with his mouth. Your skin is so soft and warm beneath his lips, his tongue, and he just has to bite at it. Din nibbles at your earlobe, feeling himself grow harder. “Let me take my time with you.”

“I’ve waited so long for you, Din. Please don’t make me wait,” you beg, slowly stroking his cock. A bead of precum forms on the tip and you swirl it around the head with the pad of your thumb.

Din can’t hold back anymore. He pushes your hand away and lines himself up to you with the free hand, two fingers circling your clit now. “You ready for me?” He groans.

“Yes, just fuck me,” you whimper and grab both sides of his head, pulling him to kiss you. It’s deep and hot and it grows sloppy as Din pushes into you, splitting you open on his deliciously thick cock. “Fuck,” you cry out at the sensation.

“You think you feel good?” He shivers and barely breathes out. “Feel so fuckin’ good around me, so hot and wet,” he shudders.

Din’s still standing, and he has more leverage as he thrusts all the way in, then pulls nearly all the way out. “Lay back,” he orders you, and you comply.

His second thrust is even deeper than the first as he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to already hit the deep spot inside of you. You whine and he smirks. “There we go. Good job, baby, keep making those noises for me,” he insists as he starts thrusting in and out of you.

He’s fucking good at this. It’s no surprise really, the way he knows your body masterfully. It’s almost as if you’re using The Force to guide him, but he’s just that fucking skilled. His tip drags against that sweet spot against you with every thrust, and Din pulls your hips to his with one hard thrust.

It’s so hot, the sound of Din’s skin slapping into yours, the way the skin of his thigh drags against yours. “Fuck,” you cry out as he presses his fingers a little harder against your clit, making the circles he draws slower and more deliberate.

“Knew you’d sound so good,” he grunts. “Knew you’d love it when I’m fucking you. When I get to take you like this. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you nod frantically. “I wish I could see you.”

“I know, cyare,” Din assures, even though his voice is breathless and strained. “Come on, baby, you feel so close, don’t you? I can feel it, the way your walls are getting tighter around me. You gonna be good and cum on me? I think you can.”

His words are just as arousing as his actions. “I will, please, I can feel it, just keep going and don’t stop,” you whimper. You take one of his hands, lacing his fingers through yours.

Din smiles at the gesture. It’s soft, intimate. He likes it as much as he loves the way you call him baby. “That’s my good baby,” he nods and pulls your hips a little off of the bunk, so that anything that spills from you will collect on the metal floor instead of the mattress.

It grows and grows in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel it. It’s coming and it’s coming hard. “Din, Din please,” you whine, one leg wrapping tight around his hip. “Fuck, I’m gonna,” your voice barely manages out before it washes over you, the feeling flowing through your body like a high in your veins. “Din,” you cry out as you cum, toes curling from the intensity. It spills from you, all over Din’s cock, dripping onto the floor.

“Oh, good job, cyare, fuckin’ Maker, you feel so good,” he groans. “I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I cum in you?” He asks, still checking up on you.

You nod. “Please, please baby,” you groan and squeeze the hand you’re holding tight. “Need to feel it.”

He nods too, though you can’t see it. “Okay, okay, I-“ a strangled cry comes from deep within his throat as he finally lets go, his cum pushing deep inside of you. “Fuck,” he murmurs, interjected by shouts of your name.

The both of you come down later, panting and covered in sweat. Din pulls out and a little bit of his cum drips from you, joining your own release on the floor. It’s so fucking hot that Din nearly cums again. “Stay right there,” he tells you, gently stroking your hip. “Don’t take the blindfold off.”

He comes back a few moments later with a damp rag, cleaning you up before cleaning up the mess the two of you made on the floor. He puts it with the laundry then climbs into the bed next to you, cuddling into your side. “Fuck, Din,” you giggle and press a kiss to whatever skin is in front of your face- his jaw. “You’re good at that.”

“Just felt so good,” he chuckles too. “You’re fantastic. I like it when you call me baby,” he admits.

You grin. “Then I’ll have to call you it all the time, baby,” you chuckle and kiss his lips softly. “Din?”

“Yes, ner k’arta?”

“Can we sleep like this?” You ask. “I promise I won’t look at your face or sneak anything, I mean it.”

Din chuckles quietly. “Of course we can. I trust you.”

You give a happy little noise and cuddle into his warm body, his strong arms surrounding you. “I like this. You’re so cuddly,” you admit with a small laugh.

“We can do this anytime you like,” he laughs too, kissing your forehead. “Whenever, wherever. If it’s with you, I’ll do anything.”

-

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

[kookiesjoonies]

first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done. 

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

Drunken sleepovers with your best friend were your favorite. You were lying on the floor of Jungkook’s living room, the world’s thinnest blanket underneath you to act as a barrier between your back and the hard surface of the floor. 

He laid to your left, nursing a bottle of cheap beer while you sipped red wine from your glass. When the two of you were buzzed, the urge to play drinking games always hit hard. You were thankful he seemed to enjoy them as much as you did, because you were always able to be your genuine, goofy self around him without fear of being judged. 

Tonight’s game of choice was never have I ever— a classic, one that you wish you’d played more. Hearing all of Jungkook’s embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears, big belly laughs that caused you to wheeze. 

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing you to tilt your head to look over at him, “never have I ever told someone they were a good kisser and didn’t mean it.” 

You watched as your friend brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig, insinuating that he had, in fact, done just that. 

When you didn’t drink from your wine glass, his eyebrow cocked and he stared down at you in disbelief. 

“Come on, Y/n. Sure you have!” 

You shrugged, giving him a quick shake of your head. 

“Nope.” Your answer was simple— too simple, which left Jungkook even more intrigued than he was to begin with. 

He didn’t believe you, not by a long shot. But he should’ve. Seeing as how you’d never even kissed anyone, let alone lied about whether they were a good kisser. 

Being in your twenties and having never been on a real date, or held anyone’s hand (other than your friends’, but of course, that was different), or had your first kiss wasn’t exactly the coolest thing. 

You’d wanted to experience such things, but no one that had come into your life so far had been worthy enough. 

Except for one person— the man that was currently staring at you with his round, beautiful doe eyes. You wanted to kick your own ass for thinking of Jungkook in such a way. He was your best friend, nothing more. And you weren’t about to ruin all of that and everything that the two of you had because of your feelings.

“So, what? Everyone that you’ve ever kissed has been exceptional?” His tone let you know that he thought you were full of shit. 

“Kind of have to be kissed in order to confirm or deny that.” You mumbled, voice barely even audible. 

The wine was making you brave, it seemed. You weren’t drunk enough to not realize what you’d said, but you weren’t sober enough to care. 

Jungkook noticeably choked on his beer he’d been drinking, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at the liquid gathering on the corners of his mouth. 

“What did you just say?” 

You sighed, sitting up and leaning your back to rest against the bottom of the sofa behind you. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kook.” 

“Uhm, yeah it is!” He exclaimed, and your eyes rolled in response. 

“No, it isn’t.” You snapped back, wishing the conversation was done and over with already. 

“Can I ask why you’ve never been kissed? I mean— has the opportunity never presented itself, or have you just been waiting for the right person or something?” 

He wasn’t going to let it go, it seemed. So, you twirled around the red liquid in your cup, staring down at it to avoid eye contact with your best friend. Though, you could feel his chocolate eyes burning into you, and you were sure if you glanced over at him he’d be staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but I just… I don’t know? I don’t want just anyone to kiss me. I want it to mean something, to be from someone special.” 

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, and you were internally cursing yourself. 

“Plus,” you said, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, “I don’t even know how to kiss, so, I’ve always been nervous.” 

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook’s voice was filling your ears again. 

“I’ll teach you.” 

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and you were sure the shock was apparent all over your features. Jungkook, however, seemed oddly calm. 

“Uhm, thank you? But we’re best friends, it could make things weird—“ 

He cut you off with a shake of his head, “Nope, our friendship is solid. A little kiss isn’t going to ruin it.” 

You worried at your lower lip, pondering the thought and weighing out the pros and cons. 

You’d always dreamed about what his lips would feel like against yours, you were sure he’d be a skilled kisser. The thought of his hands being in your hair while your mouths moved together in heated passion, or better yet, his hands on your ass— yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. 

Or maybe it was the worst idea. Either way, you were about to find out. 

“Okay.” You nodded, setting your nearly empty glass to the side. 

“Really?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Yeah, but I’d hurry before I change my mind.” 

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been hoping and praying that one day this day would come, and now that it finally had, he was determined to give you the best damn kiss of your life. 

And it made it even better knowing that he was going to be the first person to ever touch your lips with their own. Maybe he wanted to be the first and the only. No, he definitely wanted to be the first and the only. 

“Come here.” He patted his lap, and you quickly caught on. 

Maybe straddling your best friend should’ve felt awkward, but this didn’t. This felt… right.

His large hands found their way onto the sides of your face, effectively cupping your cheeks. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to hear how loudly your heart was thumping against your chest. 

“Is this okay?” You whispered, referring to the way your arms were resting atop his shoulders. 

He nodded, flashing you that gorgeous bunny-like smile of his. Suddenly, you felt a sense of calm. All of your nerves were now replaced with adrenaline and excitement. It was amazing how quickly he was able to calm you down just with one toothy grin. 

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” he assured you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, “just follow my lead, yeah?” 

“Yes, sir.” You teased, and he chuckled. 

His eyes fell shut, and so did yours. Before you knew it, and before your brain could completely process what was happening, you were kissing Jeon Jungkook. 

Fireworks went off all around you, and you could no longer hear the whirring of the AC, or the sound of the television. All you could hear were his lips smacking against yours, and the way his breath hitched as your fingers pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His lips moved slowly, allowing you to get used to the whole process. He was gentle, and you were thankful for that. 

You could savor his taste for the rest of your life, you were sure of it. He tasted heavily of beer mixed with the fried rice you’d shared for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination, but it was Jungkook, so none of it mattered. You didn’t want to taste anything, or anyone else, for as long as you lived. 

His tongue ran along your lower lip, and you didn’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him. His tongue slid easily inside, twisting and curling around yours as he explored every last crevice— memorizing what seemed to get a reaction out of you. 

One particular move of his wet muscle against yours had you keening and moaning into his mouth, and you quickly broke the kiss, bringing your hands up and over your mouth. 

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, Kook, I—“ 

“Sorry for what?” He was out of breath, and his pupils were blown out. 

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the way you’d been tugging at it mindlessly, and his mouth was covered in your red lipstick. He’d never looked hotter, and you were suddenly very aware of the arousal pooling in between your thighs. 

“For— for making that noise, I’m—“ 

His fingers pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and his voice was soothing as he spoke. 

“Why are you sorry? That was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

His words shocked you, “But we’re best friends! I shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be—“ 

For the third time in a matter of minutes, he was cutting off your rambling. 

“Friends don’t kiss like that, Y/n.” 

“So, are you saying you don’t… want to be friends anymore?” 

You feared his answer, ready to run away in a fit of tears if he confirmed your scariest thoughts. You couldn’t lose him, not like this. 

“No, I don’t want to be friends,” your eyes began to well up, but he was quick to stop your tears from flowing with his next words, “I want to be more than that. I want to kiss you all the time, take you out on dates, among other things… whenever you’re ready for that. There’s no pressure here, because even if you don’t want this, I’m not going anywhere.” 

There he goes with that damn calming smile again, the one that caused your heart to stop, yet was its very reason for beating all the same. 

“I’d like that.” You grinned, shuffling your weight above him slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable. 

When he groaned and tossed his head back, you were sure you’d hurt him. But before you could offer him your string of apologies, his hands were falling to your hips to hold you in place. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, “do that again. Please.” 

You arched a perfectly filled in brow, “What, this?”

Your hips rolled in a similar way that they’d done before, this time with more aim and purpose. And the man below you was making the most sinful, most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard. 

His length was hardening underneath you, and your eyes enlarged at the recollection. This definitely wasn’t doing your already seeping pussy any favors. 

“I understand if you don’t want to jump into anything sexual right now,” he breathed, heavy and uneven, “but if you don’t, you’re going to have to get off of me because all I want to do right now is grind into you until you’re cumming in your clothes.” 

“How did we go from being best friends an hour ago, to doing this?” You couldn’t stop the giggle that made its way through your lips, your hips pushing down and rolling into his once more— letting him know that you had no intentions of stopping. 

“I don’t know— Jesus!,” he bit down on his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on your hips and guided their movements, “but I’m so goddamn glad you’re on top of me right now.” 

“Me too.” You were quick to agree, hands bracing on his shoulders to hold yourself up. 

Both of you were gasping now, reveling in the feeling of your sexes grinding against one another. Every graze of his cock against your clothed clit sent fire through your veins, and your vision was beginning to black out. 

You had no idea dry humping could feel this damn good. But you were sure that it had a lot to do with the way Jungkook looked underneath you. 

He was completely wrecked and fucked out already, offering you slews of curses and praises every time you came down on his dick just right. 

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad,” you were bouncing against his length with fervor, no intentions of slowing down or stopping until you both reached your highs, “can’t wait to see that pretty little pussy, fill you up with my cum and mark you as mine.” 

You moaned at the thought, his filthy words moving you further and further to your desired state of euphoria. 

One of his hands gripped tightly on your ass, while the other rested over your clothed core. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission. He knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone before, and he wasn’t about to try and make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with. 

“Go ahead,” you gasped, barely having time to register what he was doing until his fingers were circling over your clit. 

You were very thankful that you’d decided to wear cloth pajama shorts, and thin ones at that. He could feel everything— and so could you. Your hips bucked up and into his hand as you rode his cock, begging for him to make you cum.

“You’re so fucking soaked, babe. It’s leaking through your shorts.” He smirked at the sight, gathering up a bit of the dampness on the tips of his fingers. 

The way he inserted the two digits into his mouth had you crying out, nearly on the verge of tears from the sight alone. 

“Wanna taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded. 

He collected more of your wetness onto his fingertips, and you made a show of sucking on them lewdly once they entered into your mouth. 

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” 

As if to prove his point, you used your own fingers to reach into your panties, gathering your arousal straight from the source. 

His was practically salivating, eyes begging for you to let him clean your fingers off with his tongue. 

As if reading his mind, you nodded. And he wasted no time before suckling your fingertips into his mouth. He moaned around them, savoring your sweet taste. He wished like hell he could pin you down and clean you up with his tongue, but he knew you weren’t ready for that, and he was respectful. 

Still, he was determined to make you cum. He wanted desperately to see what you looked like when you came undone. 

“No more games.” He growled, his hands returning to your hips to hold you steady above him. 

He fucked up against you, the outline of his cock hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves each time. 

Soon, you were crying out and squirming— a poor attempt at trying to get away. 

“F-fuck! Oh, my god!” you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled, or the way your thighs began to shake, “Kook! Holy shit, I’m gonna—“ 

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm washed over you and you came harder than you ever had before in your life. Your body felt hot, and every single one of your limbs were shaking. The only thing you were able to say or remember was Jungkook’s name, chanting it like a prayer as you slowly came back down to earth. 

“That was fucking beautiful,” He was quick to compliment you, staring down at the apparent dark spot on your light pink shorts, “just wanna clean that all up, then do it all over again.” 

Your face was flushed, and you weren’t sure whether it was from the mind blowing orgasm you’d just had or his words. You couldn’t be bothered to care, your body falling limp against his as he held your delicate frame close to him. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You huffed, and you felt the rumble of Jungkook’s chest as he chuckled. 

“So, you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” His hand caressed your back, and your eyes fell shut at the soothing feeling. 

“Mhm.” You were dozing off, barely aware of what he’d said at all. 

He just simply smiled at you, pressing his lips to kiss the top of your head. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to sleep.” 

You nodded as he stood up from the floor, cradling you in his arms. 

“Good idea.” You mumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. 

He carried you down the short hallway to his master bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. You were already nearly asleep as he laid you down on the right side of his bed. 

Jungkook kissed at your temple before making his way over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers for you to change into. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, carrying a damp cloth in his hand when he returned. 

You smiled at him, eyes half open. 

“This feels like a dream.” 

The weight of the mattress shifted as he sat down beside you, holding out the fresh change of undergarments and the towel for you. 

“Tell me about it.” He grinned, turning his head away from you to give you some privacy as you changed out of your soiled shorts. 

You were thankful for that— for how respectful he was. 

As you pulled your shorts down along with your panties, a realization hit you and your eyes widened. 

“Kook!” you shrieked, startling the man, “you didn’t cum!” 

He barked out a laugh at your outburst. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you were quick to prove him wrong. 

“I know, it’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not!” You insisted, quickly wiping your thighs clean and pulling on the plaid boxers he’d given you. 

“Babe, I promise, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you, I wanted to make you feel good.” 

Your lower lip pushed out and into a pout, your hands reaching forward to grab his face so that you could make him look at you. 

“But, I wanted to make you cum.” 

He hissed at your words, willing his cock not to rise. He knew you were tired, and there’d be plenty of time for you to get him off later. 

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We can fool around tomorrow if you want to.” 

You sighed, a tiny frown present on your face now. 

“Can I just… give you a hand job, or something?” 

You didn’t miss the way he groaned at your words, or the way his eyes quickly screwed shut. 

“If you want to, you can. But don’t feel like you have to, I promise, it’s okay.”

“I want to,” you didn’t hesitate in replying, “but I’ve never done it before, so…” 

Before you knew it, he was moving to lie down beside you on the other side of the bed. He was already sporting a tent in his athletic shorts, which had you nearly drooling. Based on the outline, he was sure to be huge. You prayed that you were right. 

Jungkook looked relaxed, large eyes staring up at you and waiting for you to make a move. He flashed you an encouraging smile, his hands resting behind his head. 

“Go ahead, do whatever you want. No need for you to be shy, it’s just me.” 

Just him. 

If anything, those words did little to calm your nerves. You’d only ever dreamed about being in similar predicaments with your best friend. And now that it was real and happening, you were petrified that you’d do something wrong and send him running in the opposite direction. 

Taking a mental deep breath, you sat up in the bed and crossed your legs as you turned your body to sit right beside his lower half. 

You reached a shaky hand forward, brushing your fingertips over the outline of his rock hard length. As your fingertips danced and teased over his covered cock, Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat. 

Carefully studying his face to watch his reactions, you pulled his shorts down and he lifted his hips to help you out. 

The tight, grey briefs he was wearing left little to the imagination. You could see every ridge and curve of his thick length, and drool was collecting on the corners of your mouth as you admired it. 

“Like what you see?” His voice was teasing, and he wiggled his hips. 

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his actions. 

Yeah, it was just Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person you trusted and loved most in this world. It was okay. This was okay. 

With your newfound confidence, you tugged his underwear down, his impressive dick springing free in the process. 

You moaned quietly at the sight. 

Sure, you were a virgin and didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were positive he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen— and would ever see in your life. The head was perfectly pink and already dripping with precum, long veins running from base to tip. You couldn’t wait for the day it would be buried inside of you, and your cunt clenched around nothing at the thought alone. 

Your hand instinctively found itself wrapped around his length as best it could, fingers unable to connect to your palm due to his size. Jungkook let out a breathy sigh at the sudden contact, his eyes glued to the way your hand began to do a few test pumps. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back, “just like that. A little faster.” 

With his guidance, you did as he suggested and picked up the speed of your hand. You watched the way his face contorted, the way his eyes screwed shut and pulled together as you ran your thumb over his slit, collecting the moisture leaking from it to use as makeshift lube. 

Deciding to take a risk, you collect a bit of saliva in your mouth before allowing it to drip down and onto his cock. 

“Hoooooly fuck, that’s hot.” You smirked at Jungkook’s praise and approval, working your hand up and down his shaft at a quicker and easier pace now thanks to the slick your spit had created. 

The faster your hand pumped, the harder it became for Jungkook to properly breathe. He was panting, curses and praises of your name leaving his lips every so often. 

You brought your free hand up to work at his balls, rolling and caressing them in a way that seemed to drive the man halfway to insanity. 

“Fuck, you sure this is your first time doing this?” He breathed out the words, his arm falling to rest over his eyes as he attempted to keep himself composed. 

“Swear.” You responded, eyes glued to the way his bottom lip was now rested between his teeth. 

One final twist of your palm had him reeling, gripping at the sheets underneath him with one hand— his other coming to wrap around your wrist as you continued to work him toward his end. 

He was moaning shamelessly, not the least bit shy in letting you know how amazing you were making him feel. Maybe it was the way you were fondling him, or maybe it was the fact that it was you giving him the best hand job he was sure he’d ever had. 

He decided it was probably a combination of both as his hips thrust up wildly, effectively fucking his dick into your grasp. The way his cock seemed to twitch let you know he was close, and you brought your hand up and then back down as fast as you could. 

He came with a loud moan of your name, his sperm coating his lower stomach and your hand all at the same time. You watched in awe as he lost himself, pride settling in as you realized that you were the one responsible for his orgasm. 

As Jungkook’s body slowly stopped writhing, you removed your hand from his member. You waited for him to make eye contact with you again before you dipped your fingertips into the cum on the back of your other hand and brought them up and into your mouth. 

“Goddamn.” He groaned, marveling at your erotic behavior. 

You effectively cleaned his seed from your fingers, swallowing it and showing him your tongue along with your empty mouth. 

“That was amazing.” His compliments sent butterflies straight to your stomach, and he was pulling your mouth down to crash on his before you could respond. 

“I love you.” You were mumbling the words against his lips before you even realized what you were saying. 

You were panicking instantly, kicking your own ass for blurting it out. Sure, you’d said you loved each other before, but not like this. 

The feeling of Jungkook grinning against your mouth is what calmed you, and you matched his smile with one of your own. 

His forehead rested against yours as he pulled away, and the two of you let out a sigh of content. 

“I love you too, you know.” His hand caressed your lower back as he spoke, your thumb running over his cheek. 

“I was hoping.” You giggled, and he simply shook his head at you. 

This was it, you thought. 

You never wanted to kiss anyone else, or do anything remotely sexual with anyone else. He was going to be your first everything, you were sure of it. And you hoped that he’d be your last.

© kookiesjoonies 2020.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

[static-fanatic-1]

I just went through you r blong and it's?? So amazing??? Like omg I wass literally screaming when I read all that glorious stuff, you're doing god's work here love💕 but I would like to know what Kikyo, Illumi, Milluki, Kurapika, Pakunoda, Chrollo and Silva + Shigaraki, Overhaul, Monoma, Chronostasis, Setsuno, Tamaki, Endeavor, Shinsou and Aizawa do for winter and/or Christmas/other religious holidays activities with their darling? Bc I'm ready to sell my vital organs for it ;_;

Thanks you <3

Also, Christmas wit da bois is an amazing idea. (I’ll be doing normal Winter stuff and some religious holidays.)

Kikyo/Illumi/Milluki/Silva:

Since they are a family, I will combine them (and to make this large post a bit shorter and easier haha).

Anyway, they celebrate Christmas more for the gifts and to spoil their kids. You better expect a large, family gathering for the entire two weeks of Christmas and New Years. It doesn’t really matter, you will be forced to celebrate Christmas with them. I mean you are part of the family.

Think of it as a resort holiday, you are treated like a queen/king and anything you want will go. Well, other than freedom of course. Still, you receive many gifts that are beyond your price tag, and the gifts you give them are more decorative to be honest. You don’t have as much money to spend as them, so you decided to make all of your gifts because you hoped the thought would be enough. They might not look the best, but each Zoldyck will treasure it to the end of their days.

They will try to incorporate any traditions as long as they are family oriented, they aren’t monsters. And even if you have other holidays you celebrate, you will still celebrate Christmas with them. With that being said, they will be kind enough to celebrate your own holidays, it will be a smaller scaled thing though.

Kurapika:

He finds it to be a bonding moment, and he doesn’t get enough of those for obvious reasons. He will go above and beyond to please you, simply to get back on your good side a bit.

Cocoa, apple cider, blankets, decorations, traditions, ANYTHING is on. He wants you to relax and feel at home around him. Despite his extremely controlling attitude, he wants you to love him. Sadly he prioritizes your absolute safety over your mental health.

But it’s sweet for the most part, he actually seems to act normal, he doesn’t seem as if he is going to snap and try to force you into anything. But yes, he might try to get things to be hot and heavy, you being relaxed is too perfect of an oppertunity to waste. He still has a clan to rebuild.

Pakunoda:

I wrote chrollo’s before Paku’s, so it’s kinda the same. She will be more active in putting things together and getting into the festivities. She will get really close, using the excuse that she’s cold just to cuddle with you.

Christmas sex? Yeah, probably. She’ll take care of everything, you could sit back and watch her do everything. But it’s more fun together right?

Everyone is invited, so expect the rest of the Troupe and their darlings!

Chrollo:

He doesn’t mind, he’s pretty accommodating too! He’s honestly the most okay with anything. I would think the people of Meteor City look forward to Christmas, there isn’t a lot but people who really care for one another take the time to chill with each other.

With you around, they have a really big excuse to go all out! Chrollo will sit back and relax, having you and the rest of the Troupe decorate and get presents. He will help of course if you ask, but he will mostly be on the side lines.

Anything else is a-okay too! He doesn’t care as long as you are happy, and the Troupe can join in the festivities.

Shigiraki:

Christmas is something he does know! But he knows nothing of any other holiday to be honest. All for One gave him a few gifts in his life time, not much but enough for Shigiraki to develope the concept of Christmas. I mean when he was a kid he loved Christmas with his family. It was one of the happiest times back then.

So he genuinely had a love hate relationship with the holiday. You will ah e to take initiative on this one. Giving a gift, starting decorations, making hot coco or something. Anything to get the ball rolling and he would begrudgingly comply.

Secretly, he is excited to join the holiday festivities with you. Specifically with you, anyone else and they would be dust. He is okay with learning new holiday traditions too, like why do you guys light candles for a holiday? Well oh tell him with a smile and help him light one on fire. He almost burns the whole hideout down. You’ll have to watch him.

Endeavor:

He celebrates Christmas, but he’s more of a grinch. He celebrates it with his kids and wife, just because it’s something families do. Though throughout his life he never found it more than a obligation.

When you come along, he’s on the path of becoming a better person, so he will definantly try harder. One Christmas with all the fun stuff with you, and another one for his family. He kinda lets you take the lead, of course if you really want something you will have to do some sexual trades. Can’t let you get too comfortable right?

Moreover, if you are on good terms with his immediate family, you could probably add more cheer to the holiday. Also if you celebrate another holiday then don’t worry, he’ll accommodate to be nicer.

Overhaul:

Who cares about winter, it’s cold and you are more likely to get sick because of it. Your immune system will be more likely to be compromised so you better expect him to helicopter a bit more.

Warm teas, heavy blankets, vitamins, and supplaments are to be expected. Nothing sugary either, maybe a bit of medical honey in your tea but not much.

Christmas isn’t something he celebrates, but he will make a slight exception if you are good. If you act like a suck up, he’ll be nice and maybe get you Christmas gift. Maybe even a small Christmas tree for moral. I wouldn’t expect too much though.

Chronostasis:

He like winter, he doesn’t know why exactly, but he does. I can easily see him getting into the activities of December. Like the ballets and Christmas lights and other festive things that make you leave your house. Headcannon that he might be a decent ice skater too. He simply enjoys the activities more than the actual holidays.

He won’t mind helping decorate or getting gifts or any other holiday traditions. Actually, if they are fun traditions without much competitive fire, he’ll probably want to do them more.

Although I don’t see him liking the warm ness of cuddling and all that, I can see him enjoying the slight chill in the air. Supportive of any holiday you celebrate, might even try to make more traditions too.

Monoma:

He likes Christmas and the holidays, it’s the perfect time to get the best gifts for his little darling. Oddly enough he loves getting small gifts for you, it makes him feel prideful knowing you like what he got you, so he loves Christmas is general.

As for winter, he likes it! It’s an excuse to get you under the covers and warm you up. That can be taken both ways if ya’ know what I’m saying.

I think he would prefer warm drinks like tea and apple cider over hot chocolate, but hell totally make some for you. Any decorations are also game, just expect some teasing for the childish stuffed animal you keep on the fireplace mantle.

Setstuno:

He is kinda clueless in the sense he just doesn’t know where to start. Like he knows about the basics of holiday traditions, but he doesn’t know if you do those traditions. He’ll be pretty laid back when you get excited about it though. This clingy man will simply sit back and watch the entire time.

Winter isn’t his favorite, but he doesn’t mind being able to hold you close so you won’t be cold. He is very possessive considering what happened to his last lover. He will be perfectly fine with helping with easy things, but when it comes to the more taxing things, he’ll let you take the reins.

He’ll try to buy you a present he thinks you’ll like, but he won’t get too fancy. After all he really just wants to hold you close and soak in your warmth.

Tamaki:

Nervous boy feels most comfortable in winter, at least in his home where he has you to cuddle, bake, and hold. He loves the warmth found in a home, and he will encourage any baking you want to do. It just leaves him with a warm feeling inside when he can bake cookies and brownies with you by his side.

Although he’s all hands on deck when the holidays come along, he’s still nervous about it. He’ll ask questions and make sure everything works how it’s supposed to because he doesn’t want to mess something up for you. Might accidentally go a bit overboard with gifts or other traditional activities.

He just wants to please you though, a real sweetheart when it comes down to it.

Shinsou:

I think Shinsou likes winter because it means spring is on its way. I can see him being a spring loving boy because of all the kittens and flowers blooming. Winter is good though, might be his second favorite season. He loves the blankets and the hot cocoa and the baked goods and the holiday cheer. Especially the gift giving, he likes seeing you happy when he gives you a gift.

He probably won’t be too enthusiastic about any holiday stuff, but he will sure support it and help with anything you need. Need a Christiana’s tree because you can’t have a Christmas without it? You better bet he’ll get it right away.

He loves watching you get excited about the holidays, everything in the house just seems a bit more cheerful because of you. He will wrap you in blankets and jackets and hold you closely in his arms. You also better bet anything you do he will be there to help you. He might not be the most into the holidays, but he surely loves getting ready for the holidays with you.

Aizawa:

Winter is not his favorite season, but I’d say it’s probably second place. He doesn’t do too much, as he simply doesn’t want to put in that much effort in something so minuscule. But, he defiantly encourages his Darling if they want to decorate or bake or something wintery.

Christmas also isn’t really a big thing for him, as he doesn’t usually buy presents for other people. Of course, his Darling is another story. Unlike most people, he buys a few presents for you because you are his special kitten.

He will also help decorate or bake small things if you want to. Hot chocolate is a must, he has a special, bitter hot chocolate just for himself that he loves. You have your sweet beverage and he has his bitter one. Just don’t forget the marshmallows.

Warm cuddles is a blessing to him. When it’s cold he grabs blankets and wraps you up like a baby is a swadle just to hold you close to him. As for other holidays, he will respect them and whatever stuff come with them. Like Hanukkah and the candles for each night. Just don’t expect anything too crazy, he just wants a comfortable holiday evening with you.

Happy Holidays sweethearts!!! I hope you have an amazing whatever you celebrate and if you celebrate nothing, than have a wonderful day!

[hangovercurse]

Stay With You

You get the call after Rook’s accident and go to the hospital to take care of him.

Requests: “ Could you maybe write another Rook story about where you get the call after his accident that he’s in the hospital and just always staying there with him and when his dad shows up he sees you leaning on the bed sleeping holding Rooks hand or something and he knows you’ll take care of him? I just really love Rook “ “ I was wondering if you know what happened to rook and if you could write something cute like taking care of him after being worried at first about him. I had a mental breakdown when we got the news I'm hoping he gets well soon “

JP “Rook” Cappelletty X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of the accident (violence, broken bones, etc.), angst

A/N: I have been following every update from Rook and his Dad bc I have been so worried. It looks like he’s finally able to go home tonight but I’m still going out of my mind. I tried my best to do what happened justice (without being too depressing) and ended up needing a part 2. I had to reread what happened like 30 times so y’all better enjoy this just for my heartbreak alone. 

Word Count: 3409

part ii

You were always scared when you got a phone call from an unknown number when Rook was out for the night. You’d gotten calls from the police station and hospital more than once, so you’d learn to expect trouble when your phone rang.

But this was not what you were expecting.

“Excuse me, is this Y/N Y/L/N, the emergency contact for JP Cappelletty?” A female’s voice rang out through the line. You rolled your eyes.

“This is her, what did he do this time?” You smiled, figuring he’d gotten hurt doing something stupid and just needed stiches.

She cleared her throat, “Mr. Cappelletty has been involved in a serious accident. He’s currently at Southern California Hospital awaiting treatment.”

You felt like your entire body stopped working. Your throat closed up and you started shaking. A normal phone call wouldn’t use the words “serious accident,” they would just say he’d been admitted for “minor treatment.”

“Can I come see him?” You barely got the words out, mind spinning in a million directions. The lady on the end of the phone gave you an affirmation and you thanked her, hanging up quickly and packing a small bag for you and Rook. You threw some of his clothes in, some hygiene supplies for you both, and anything else you could think he’d want. You texted your boss a quick explanation and asked for the next few days off before grabbing your keys, wallet, mask, and Rook’s insurance cards, and heading out the door.

You drove to the hospital, calling Colson on your way, on speaker, of course. “Whaddup?”

“Rook is in the hospital.” You rushed out, still in a bit of a panicked mode.

You could hear his breathing pause before he continued, “it’s probably nothing, you know Rook. He probably just punched a guy or something stupid.”

You had tried to convince yourself of that, but something felt wrong about it. “I know, but the hospital said he was in a serious accident.” You emphasized the word “serious.” “Maybe I’m overreacting but I have this really bad feeling right now.”

Colson’s voice held more worry after your statement, too. “Okay. Just get there and figure out what’s going on and then call me. What hospital is he at?”

“Southern California.”

“That’s like 10 minutes away from me. If it is serious, just call me back and I can be there.” His voice was much calmer than yours, which you were thankful for.”

“Okay.”

“And Y/N,” He paused, “try to stay calm. If it is bad, he’s gonna need you to take care of him.”

You took in a deep breath, trying to slow your heartrate. “Yeah, yeah okay. Thanks.”

“Let me know what’s going on.”

“I will. Thank you, Kells.” You hung up the phone, pulling into the hospital parking garage and turning your car off. You sat in the dark for a few moments, gathering your thoughts, before heading towards the hospital. When you reached the front desk, you gave them Rook’s name and waited as they read your temperature from the touchless thermometer. You had to stop yourself from groaning as she started reading the Covid questionnaire, answering no to every question.

The lady gave you directions to his room, telling you they’ll take your ID once you get up to the fourth floor. Your hands were shaking as you rode the elevator up, and you tried to calm yourself down before you saw your boyfriend. Colson was right, you worrying wouldn’t do anything but make him nervous.

You gave your ID to the security guard on the fourth floor, impatiently waiting for him to print out your visitor’s sticker. Once you had put it on, you walked down the hallway, counting the room numbers to find his. Once you reached the door, you took a deep breath, unsure what you would find beyond it.

You opened it slowly, a sigh of relief when you saw him sitting on the bed, an ice pack pressed against his face. “Babe!” His face lit up when he saw you. He tried to lean forward on his own, but his grimace told you that it hurt him too much.

You smiled, setting the bag in your hands on the floor and adjusting the bed so he didn’t have to lean. “What happened?” You whispered, taking in his state, and pulling down your mask. He had a small bruise under his left eye and there were wires and tubes running up his left arm. His right arm was wrapped in layers of hospital bandage.

He frowned at you, left hand reaching for your hand and motioned you to sit down beside him, so you did, gently.  You wanted to hold his hand, but you were worried it would hurt him more, so you settled to rubbing his thigh gently. “I was walking around in the hills, and then these two guys came out of fucking nowhere. They jumped me and my friend and took a bunch of our shit. I punched one of them but the other one ran to his car and said he had a gun.” Your eyes went wide. “He didn’t have a gun, but he did have a car. And he literally came full speed at me and his partner.”

You tried to stay calm, but his recount of the night made you want to wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him in your house forever. “That sounds so scary, love.” You whispered, your free hand reaching out and stroking his right cheek. He leaned his head into your touch, a small smile on his face. “Did anyone see anything? Or does anyone know who they were?”

He shook his head lightly, “the guy in the car got away, but the other dude got hit too. Pretty sure he’s in this hospital. The cops came in and asked about it earlier, but I’d never seen those guys before.”

You nodded, leaning in, and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m very glad you’re okay.” You moved the ice pack from his face, observing the purple mark on his face. You may not know how to take care of broken bones, but you’d been with Rook through more than a few bruises and busted lips. You peppered kisses over the skin lightly, making him smile, which was the best thing you could do at the moment.

“The doctors are supposed to come back in soon. They did some X-Rays earlier to figure out exactly what’s broken, but my hand is definitely fucked up, and my legs.” He raised his right arm, showing you the cuts that ran along it. You frowned. “They said I’ll probably need surgery, which sucks.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Your voice was soft. You reached your hand to move his braids out of his face, something you’d gotten in the habit of doing quite often.

He shrugged, “I’m fine with it, you’re the one who has to take care of me afterwards.” You smiled and shook your head teasingly.

“I do that anyways, loser.” You chuckled, before a thought popped into your head. “Should I call your dad? I told Colson but I didn’t think to call your dad.”

He shook his head lightly, “Once they told me they’d called you I texted him. He said he’d be here in an hour or so.” You nodded, moving to sit in the chair beside the hospital bed so you could be at eye level with your boyfriend instead of leaning down uncomfortably. “What did Kells say?”

You chuckled, “he said you’d probably just gotten in a fight or did something stupid.” Rook pouted dramatically. “I told him we’d let him know what was going on later and he could come to the hospital if you were up for it.”

He smiled at you as you leaned your head onto the bed, near his abdomen, and looked up at him. He reached to rest his hand on top of yours, even though you could tell it hurt him to do so. You sat in silence for a few moments until you heard a small knock on the door. “Come in.” Rook called, and you sat up, putting on your mask and turning to see who was coming in.

A woman in her early 40s walked in, followed by two younger men. “Hello again, Mr. Cappelletty. I’ve got the results from your scans.” She spoke as the other two placed X-Ray films onto a small lightboard in the room. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.” She said as she noticed you.

“Oh, it’s okay Dr. Tambi, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” He smiled, looking towards you. You smiled kindly at the doctor. “She can stay, right?” He asked, his hand curling around yours lightly, you could feel the motion straining him and you flipped your hand around, holding his in yours lightly. You hoped it would hurt him less.

Dr. Tambi gave a nod and flashed you a smile, “of course.” She turned back to the films, pointing at the first one. “This is your left hand. If you look at this part right here, you can see where your second metacarpal fractured at the bottom near the carpal.” She raised her right hand, pointing to the bottom of her pointer finger near the knuckle. “So, we’re going to need to do a minor surgery to fix that up a little bit.” Rook nodded and you ran your hand up and down his arm gently. “Your right hand got off a bit easier,” she pointed to the next X-Ray. “No surgery, we’re gonna put it in a cast for a little while just in case but it might be off before you even leave the hospital.” You could feel him relax under your touch at that.

“But then your legs,” she pointed to the next images, “are a bit more complicated. I would imagine they took a brunt of the hit, correct?” She asked. He nodded again and you bit your lip, trying not to cringe at the image of your boyfriend being hit by a car. “The lower portion of your right tibia shattered into 3 pieces.” She pointed to the bone fragments in the X-ray, and this time a shiver physically went through your body. “So, we’ll need to do surgery to fix that up, too. And your left ankle has a hairline fracture that won’t need surgery, but you will have to stay off of it for a while.”

You looked at Rook, taking in the clench of his jaw. He was trying to look tough, but you could see through him, you always could. You knew he wouldn’t ask, so you did. “How long will they take to heal?”

He turned towards you, a soft smile on his face. You two worked so well because you balanced him out. Whenever he would almost get into a fight at a bar, you would be the rational one to pull him away. When you got too stressed out or uptight, he knew just how to get you to relax. When he was too nervous to think straight, you were there to ask all the right questions. You took care of each other, and you could read him like an open book.

“The left hand won’t need to stay in a cast for very long if the surgery goes well, but the left leg might be in a boot for 6 to 8 weeks, and the right leg will probably be a little bit longer, closer to 8 to 12 weeks.” Rook took in a deep breath, and the hand on his arm squeezed lightly, subtly telling him that you were there for him, and he would be okay. “Once we get the surgeries out of the way we can talk more about the treatment plan going forward, so try not to worry about it too much.” She smiled.

One of the men stepped forward, “I’m Dr. Stenson, I’ll be the anesthesiologist working with you.” Rook nodded towards the man, who continued to go over what Rook could and couldn’t do before the surgery. “How often do you drink or smoke?” He asked, and you let out a small chuckle.

Rook shoved you lightly, a small smile on his face. “Often.” He said, and you tried not to laugh.

“And what do you smoke?” He asked.

You mumbled under your breath, “what doesn’t he smoke is the better question.” Rook heard you, sending you a glare and you giggled quietly.

“Weed and cigarettes.” He said, trying to hide laughter as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. The man nodded and soon after the doctors left, leaving you and Rook alone again. “You’re so mean to me sometimes.” He pouted.

You laughed, “If it wasn’t so easy to make fun of you, I wouldn’t be so mean.”

“I got hit by a car, you have to be nice to me.” He whined and you rolled your eyes jokingly. “That’s a law.” He stated.

“Oh, is it?” You smiled, leaning forward, and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I guess I can be a little nice to you. For now.”

Rook’s expression turned serious, his eyes gazing into yours. “I’m kind of freaking out right now.” He whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not gonna be able to play for at least 8 weeks. What if I forget how to? Or what if they get into surgery and find out that it’s worse than they thought and I can never play again?”

You sighed, knowing these thoughts had been festering in him since the accident. You brought your hand up to his face, your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek. “Babe listen to me. You are the best drummer I know; you’ve been drumming for what, your entire life? You’re not gonna forget how to drum from 8 weeks off. And even if they get in there and find out its worse than they thought, which they won’t, we’ll figure it out. Everything is gonna be okay. They’ve seen worse fractures than these, trust me, they know what they’re doing.”

He nodded, letting out air through his nose. “But what if I could never drum again? I dropped out of high school. I’ve literally never done anything else except drum. I wouldn’t have money, I wouldn’t have friends because they would be touring all the time, I would lose everything.”

“You’d have me.” You whispered, “You would have me, and your dad, and all the people who really matter, even if they go on tour.”

“You would stay with me even if I was broke?” He sounded so small, so scared, and yet so amazed that you would even hint at the idea.

You frowned, confusion on your face. “I would stay with you if we were living on the streets and eating out of trash cans. But we wouldn’t be, because I also have a job and you’re going to be able to drum in no time.”

You simultaneously loved and hated this side of Rook. He never showed anyone how insecure he could be, and he was so insecure sometimes. You hated seeing him so sad. But you loved it, because you were one of the only people who did see it, because he trusted you enough to let you.

You guys had been friends for years and started dating 3 years ago after he kissed you, completely sober, in the studio while he thought the other guys were taking a break (they were really spying on you two the whole time). In those three years you’d come to know just about everything about each other. You trusted him with every piece of you, and he trusted you. You’d moved in together 2 years ago, and now everyone seemed to be waiting for a ring.

You didn’t mind waiting, you didn’t need to get married to know that Rook loved you or to know that you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. It was clear in the way you looked at each other that there would never be anyone else for either of you.

“I love you.” He mumbled, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I love you too.” You pressed another slow kiss to his soft lips. He closed his eyes as you did so, relaxing into it. You realized how tired he must be. “Why don’t you take a nap, J?” You whispered, and he mumbled a sound of protest, but you could already see him struggling against his sleepiness. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You ran your free hand over his forehead, his braids having fallen into his face again, before adjusting his bed so he was laying down more.

It only took you 15 minutes before you fell asleep, your head resting against his stomach and hand still in his.

A little while later, Johnny rushed in the room, worry on his face until he saw the two of you. He smiled, taking a quick picture that he would definitely be showing on your wedding day. You got a good one, son. He thought to himself, feeling a sense of his pride that JP had finally found someone as good as you who would put up with his shit.

He took the seat on the wall opposite of the hospital bed. You came to consciousness 20 minutes later, finding the older man and smiling. “Hi Mr. Cappelletty.” You whispered, not wanting to wake Rook up.

“Hey, darlin’. How’s he doing?”

You looked up at your boyfriend, a soft smile on your face as you took in his peaceful features. “He’s doing good, a little freaked out, I think, but he’s good.” The man nodded, and you continued. “They’re doing surgery on his hand tomorrow and then on his leg a few days from now.”

“Damn. Did he tell you what happened? All I got was a very vague text.”

You nodded, the smile falling. “I guess these guys jumped him while he was out and one of them got in a car and hit him.” Your breathing got heavy thinking about it and you could see Johnny’s eyes widen.

He took in a deep breath, processing what you told him. “Jesus, I just thought he’d got his ass kicked at some bar.”

“So did Colson.” You let out a short laugh, your heart not in it. Your hand moved up to run over his arm again. “He’s scared he’s not gonna be able to drum again.” You whispered, tears coming to your eyes as you took in Rook’s sleeping state. For the first time since you’d gotten the call you allowed your emotions to hit you fully, thoughts of how much worse it could’ve been and how scared he must’ve felt floating through your mind.

Johnny could hear the slight crack in your voice, and he walked over to where you were sitting, pulling you into his stomach. “He’ll be okay.” He whispered, “I raised a strong kid.”

You nodded, trying to hide your sniffles. “I know, I just- I can’t stop thinking about how much worse it could’ve been. If he-.” You bit your lip, not wanting to voice the thought out loud. “I can’t lose him.” Your voice was weak, and you weren’t even sure that the words came out.

Johnny pulled you closer, “I know, sweetheart. But you have to remember that he’s okay, it wasn’t worse.” You nodded. “You’re allowed to want him to stay inside for the next few months out of fear, that’s natural. You just gotta remember how lucky we are.”

You wiped your eyes gently, smiling up at the father of your soulmate. “Thank you.” You whispered.

He nodded, “He needs to remember how lucky he is to have you. There’re not many people who would stick around with him for 3 years. Not people like you.”

You smiled softly, looking at Rook with fondness in your eyes, “I’m lucky to have him, too.”

Johnny patted your shoulder, going back to where he was sitting. You grabbed a spare pillow from the table next to you and propped it on the bed , slightly on Rook’s lap. You laid your head on it, making sure Rook’s hand was in a comfortable position in your own, and drifted off to sleep.

[yamalegacy]

can you do nsfw headcanons with mt lady please?

can i? can i do n/sfw hcs for one of my favourite characters? of fucking course i am! and i will happily do so bc i'm big time horned monster for lil miss mt lady! and well, since i didn't know where to start, in true super extra french fashion, went overboard and finished the n/sfw alphabet for her 💛

i’d already done a, d, l, m, t, y but i added them to this post so that i can have a full alphabet in one post!

cw: mentions of dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, threesomes, dry humping, finger sucking and slight oral fixation probably, mentions of so many things tbh. yū is a brat. also, pubic hair and stretch marks? idk man

⚠️ MDNI not so casual reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

A — AFTERCARE ( what are they like after sex? )

she is a bottom through and through and a pillow princess, so get ready to have to take care of her because she gets even lazier than usual after a good fuck. she can get whiny and demanding, asking for a bath or tea or both, but you’ll always be rewarded with cuddles and kisses. if she doesn’t fall asleep, that is.

B — BODY PART ( which body part do they like the most? )

big time ass and thighs girl right here. she enjoys a handful (or two handfuls, you know), girl loves a shapely ass that feels nice in her hands. she can’t keep her hands off of a nice ass.

C — CUM ( any headcanon about cum )

she complains a lot about basically all things cum related at first lbr, not to the point of complaining about going down on you (well, depending on how much you come, really...). it’ll take a while for y�� to accept to kiss you after you eat her out, but you’ll catch her moaning at the taste of her own arousal more than once. and well. maybe sucking on your fingers after you fucked her turns her on a whole fucking lot. don’t expect her to admit it out loud tho.

D — DREAMS ( do they have sex dreams? what kind? how do they react? )

fairly regular kinky dreamland visitor. yū hates her sex dreams though. she always wakes up just when things are getting good, so she wakes up wet, needy and desperate every time. if you aren’t sleeping together that night, she’ll send you messages to complain, or even call you, hoping for a quickie over the phone. if you’re in her bed, she won’t care what time it is, she’ll wake you up and demand that you make her come. if you ignore her and go back to sleep, be ready to deal with a grumpy pro hero all day long (poor kamui woods has heard her complain about it way too many times and wishes he could forget everything she’s told him, especially that one time she dreamed about a threesome with you and him).

E — EXPERIENCE ( how much experience do they have? )

a lot less than you’d expect her to. yū is still young and she’s been extremely busy trying to become a pro hero so she hasn’t had that much time to experiment. she’s had a few partners, but it’s mostly been vanilla experiences for her.

F — FAVORITE POSITION ( what is their favorite sex position? )

she likes when things are close and personal, so missionary is always good with her, honestly. she loves being able to see your face and kiss you when you fuck her. yū also enjoys being bent over your lap, so that you can fuck her with your fingers and pull at her hair — learn how to multi-task, my friend, and she’ll be putty in your hands.

G — GRAB ( where do they like to have their hands on you the most? )

ass ass ass. thighs. ass. there’s very few things that yū loves more than a good ass and she will never stop touching it when it’s within her reach. when she is acting jealous or possessive, she tends to grab you by the wrists. if she’s still feeling possessive when you get home, she will crawl on top of you and keep her fingers wrapped around your wrists for a while, and then intertwine your fingers. yū has a habit of squeezing, it’s a way for her to make sure that you’re there, with her, that you aren’t going to go away.

H — HOT & BOTHERED ( what are they like when turned on? )

oh boy. is she a wild one! no matter what, she will be needy, but it might manifest in two very different ways. 1) she’ll give you the cold shoulder and pretend that she totally isn’t horny and desperate, she’s stubborn like that, but she sucks at hiding those things from you; she always presses her thighs together, that’s her biggest tell 2) she’ll just outright initiate intimacy, kiss your neck, straddle your lap and grind on your thigh.

I — INTIMACY ( how caring are they during/after sex? )

yū isn’t exactly the most gentle of lovers in general, even outside of your sex life. she is good with gentle touches, like caressing you, touching your hair, but when it comes to sex... little miss pillow princess expects you to take care of her. and she can be pretty demanding about it. but her habit of holding your hands is one of the ways she shows she cares.

J — JACK OFF ( any masturbation headcanon )

when adrenaline sets down after a day at work, yū needs the release more than anything, it’s also a really good way for her to relieve some stress. being a pro hero isn’t easy every day after all! she tends to want to make it quick because she doesn’t have all that much patience, which is exactly why she avoids penetration when touching herself; she’s all about rubbing her clit and vibrators — and she knows how to make it rough and quick.

K — KINK ( favorites? which ones do they keep secret? )

(semi) public sex, edging, overstimulation and multiple orgasms. dominance and any display of dominance that might be associated with a dom/sub dynamic, really. yū is a sub and it shows. she’ll complain about orgasm control because she’s not getting the release she needs, but it’s one of her favorite things. she has a bit of an oral fixation, bit of an obsession with sucking your fingers and licking them clean after you’ve fucked her, but she... well, she doesn’t want to admit it tho. it’s not that much of a secret since it’s become extremely obvious to you. on the other hand, she wouldn’t mind trying some roleplay/petplay and a bit more of degradation, but she sure af would mind saying it out-loud.

L — LOCATION ( what is their favorite place to have sex? )

being the pillow princess that she is, yū will always favor a comfortable bed over anything else, but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t enjoy sex in other places. the two of you have become well acquainted with the couch at her agency (which has led to some awkward situations when you realized too late that you weren’t actually alone in the building).

M — MOTIVATION ( what turns them on? )

extremely sensitive and painfully easy to turn on. you barely have to try to turn her on most of the time, really. run your fingers on her inner thighs, grab her by the waist, whisper in her ear about what you want to do to her and she’ll be ready to go. yū will complain a lot if you do it in public, but that’s only because it gets her turned on in record time! hearing your voice, your praises, spurs her on better than anything else.

N — NOPE ( any turn offs or hard limits? )

she is a bit claustrophobic and her quirk makes it dangerous for her to feel trapped, which is why you have a safeword. she doesn’t like being handcuffed or tied down unless she knows she has an easy way out. she likes when you sit on her face, but not for too long, for the same reasons.

O — ORAL ( do they like giving or receiving? a preference? )

yū is an oral enthusiast, of course. she prefers receiving (she isn’t a pillow princess for no reason), but she enjoys pleasing you and being good for you, so there’s not a doubt she enjoys going down on you.

P — PACE ( fast or slow? )

her impatience makes it harder for her to enjoy slow at times. she wants it hard and fast (partly because it’s much easier than dealing with feelings). and well, when you take it slow and edge her... she is so sensitive that she’s come without permission on accident more than once because she just can’t control it. fast is easier because then she knows you just expect her to come.

Q — QUICKIE ( are they up for a quickie? )

always. all the time. never not up for a quickie.

R — ROMANCE ( do they like romantic gestures to set the mood? )

while she likes the idea on paper, the whole concept of taking the time to enjoy the moment, have nice scented candles and a warm bath, and she might put some effort into it when she has days off tbh. but it’s mt lady we’re talking about, you should know better than to expect all that romance fantasy! yū still knows how to surprise you from time to time.

S — STAMINA ( how long can they last? )

yū is a pro hero. she has years of training behind her and regularly works up to stay in shape, so she definitely has the stamina to go several rounds! but depending on how tiring her day has been. honestly, she might not make it to a first orgasm one some days, but those are rare occasions.

T — TALK ( what is their dirty talk like? )

yū isn’t necessarily the best with words; she’s all for kisses and touches. but if you’re touching her the right way, she’ll tell you how good you are. she won’t hesitate to tell you that she’s all yours and that she’s wet just for you.

U — UNFAIR ( how much do they tease? )

this woman. she knows your weaknesses, she knows what turns you on, what makes you want her the most. she likes to provoke more than to really tease; she wears the outfits that you love the most on her, the cute bras that push her tits up just right, the pretty sets of lingerie that she’s bought to look nice for you. if she’s feeling mean, she’ll swat your hands away when you try to touch her, but honestly, it won’t last long because. well. once again, yū is extremely impatient and there’s no much that can be done about it.

V — VOLUME ( how loud are they? )

makes a lot of noises but isn’t super loud in general. moans and whines, a lot of them. she makes the prettiest noises, honestly.

W — WILD CARD

you can't tell me that with her quirk she doesn't have stretch marks. she kinda hates them and is glad that her hero costume hides them, but seriously, just take a minute to kiss them and run your fingers over them. funnily enough, while she hates her own stretch marks, she could spend hours appreciating yours.

X — X-RAY ( any headcanon about their bodies and grooming habits )

yū takes really good care of herself and her body — she doesn’t like to shave everything off when it comes to her pubic hair, she keeps it clean and trimmed tho. she has very nice ethics when it comes to her appearance. shaves, no waxing, she hates the idea of having to go to a salon and have a stranger touch her, even if it’s their job.

Y — YEARNING ( how desperate do they tend to be? )

mt. lady is queen of yearning. she’s also queen of pretending that she doesn’t miss you all the time. if work takes over her life for a few days and she can’t see you for a while, you can expect her to just be glued to you the second she sees you again. she’ll be extra needy and probably want to ride your thigh. she wouldn’t be able to let you go. and yet she’ll try (and fail) to pretend like she didn’t miss you and wasn’t desperate to feel you again.

Z — ZZZZ… ( how quickly do they fall asleep? )

well... it’s happened a few times that she fell asleep embarrassingly quickly after an orgasm... let’s say you’ve stopped counting how many times she’s fallen asleep with your fingers in her mouth.

[elliesguitarstrings]

Silence (Part 5)

Masterlist//Series Masterlist

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way… at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: Last part!! I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it :) I may or may not do an epilogue to this but we’ll see bc I have a lot of other stuff I want to work on.

Warnings: language, angst with a happy ending

~~~~~~~~

You lay on your bed, contemplating how in the world you’re ever going to manage ignoring Peter on patrol. Truthfully, you know you won’t be able to avoid him, but you want to go as long as possible without talking to him, which will be nearly impossible since it’s just going to be the two of you. Why couldn’t you just go with Nat, or Wanda, or like… anyone else?

Then the dreaded moment comes when your dad calls you downstairs to suit up for patrol. You rush down to the lab before Peter gets there, slipping into the suit you’ve been working on for the past few months. It’s nothing special, just your average stealth suit with a little bit of tech incorporated, but it’s yours. And now you can finally wear it for something other than basic training.

You admire your suit in the mirror, excited to put it to good use. In the reflection, you see Peter walk into the lab, already suited up in everything but his mask. Presumably he already knew you were joining him on patrol, but he still looks surprised to see you nonetheless.

Luckily, before he has the chance to say anything to you, your dad steps in.

“Great, you’re both here! Pete, you know the drill. Station at a tall building, look for bad guys, be back my midnight.”

Peter nods, “Yes sir. Same as always!”

God, what a suck up.

Your dad turns to you, “Y/N, follow Peter’s lead. He’ll brief you on the basics of patrolling and what to expect. Tonight’s a quiet night, but still watch out for trouble. And please, for the love of god, behave yourself.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, dad, got it.”

“Alrighty then kids, get to work. See you later.”

You follow Peter out, trailing behind him at quite a distance so you don’t have to talk to him.

Peter starts lecturing you about the basics of patrol (which you already know) as you walk out onto the roof of the compound, getting ready to head to Queens. He offers to swing you there, but you cross your arms and shake your head, still keeping your silent streak. Thankfully, you had installed jet thrusters into your suit, and while they aren’t very strong, they are enough to get you through the short trip to Queens.

As you fly through the city, you contemplate just going off on your own, away from Peter. But you decide that the lecture from your dad when you come back wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

You loosely follow Peter and land on a tall apartment building in the middle of the city. He sits on the edge of the roof, looking out over the city, motioning for you to come sit next to him. Instead, however, you swiftly turn your back and sit on the opposite side. Luckily, he takes the hint and doesn’t come to you, and the two of you sit in silence for a while, with both of you surveying each side of the city.

It’s not until about thirty minutes in that something finally happens. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a man in a black hood sneaking into a dark alley. You know if you say anything to Peter, he would want to come with you, so you slip down the building as quietly as possible, going to see for yourself what’s going on.

At first it looks like an average drug deal, something you could easily stop in no time. But then, you see one of the three hooded men pull a glowing weapon out of his duffel bag, something you recognize as alien tech. You try to sneak further around the corner to get a better look at the weapon, but you make the mistake of not looking down and you step on stick, the crack audibly heard by all three of the men in the alley.

You try to turn and run, but it’s too late. They already have you cornered, each of them equipped with one of the alien weapons, so you prepare to fight.

One of the men slowly inches towards you, weapon in hand.

“Well well well, if it isn’t little Miss. Y/N Stark. Daddy finally let you join the team huh?”

You don’t answer him and reach for the gun in your holster, but stop when you feel another gun pressed to the back of your head.

The man speaks again, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you sweetie. One shot of any of these weapons would kill you in an instant, so I’d do what we say.”

“What do you want from me?” you ask, trying your best to hide the fear in your voice, while also trying to devise an escape plan from this unfortunate situation.

“We’ve been looking for you for a long, long time Miss. Stark. We have questions about your dad and his little gadgets, and you have answers. And you’re going to give them to us, whether you like it or not.”

You decide that it’s now or never, so you take action.

“No.” you state, and swiftly kick the man behind you in the stomach, dodging the blast of his weapon as he shoots it towards you. He’s too hurt to try to shoot again, so you steal the weapon from his hands and hit him across the face, successfully knocking him out.

Unfortunately, you fail to pay attention to the two other men advancing behind you. Before you can even process it, the weapon is knocked out of your hand and you are pinned to the ground, with the smaller man holding your shoulders and the larger one restraining you with his knee. You writhe and struggle to try and loosen their grip, but they are too strong.

“So, you wanna play hard, huh little girl?” the larger of the two men drove his knee further into your abdomen, making you cry out in pain.

The other man speaks up, “Since you won’t cooperate, we’re just gonna have to make you,” he motions to his partner, “get the needle.”

Your eyes widen as the larger man pulls out a giant tranquilizer needle, still keeping you down with his knee. Both of the men tighten their hold on you, trying to restrict your movement. Still, you kick and writhe as much as possible, keeping the man from stabbing you.

“STOP FUCKING MOVING” the smaller man screams, following with a hard blow to your face, drawing blood from your nose and cheek.

At this point, you are helpless, accepting your fate as the needle inches closer to your neck.

“Not so fast!”

Peter.

The needle is snatched out of the masked man’s hand, catching him off guard and making him loosen his grip enough for you to swiftly knee him in the groin. Peter catches the needle and uses it to stab the smaller man in the neck, immediately knocking him unconscious. The man who you had previously knocked out starts to stir again, so Peter runs to fight him while you still struggle with the larger man.

Although the masked criminal is much larger and stronger than you, you are able to use his own strength against him, throwing him to the floor (you learned that from Nat). Establishing control over him, you repeatedly punch him in the face until he is successfully knocked out. Once you are sure the man is fully unconscious, you glance at Peter, who is already webbing up the other two criminals.

You motion for him to web up the man you just knocked out, and you call your dad to explain the situation.

“Good job Y/N, we’ve been looking for those guys for a while now, so not bad for your first patrol. I’m sending agents to come pick the three criminals and bring them to the compound for interrogation, so just wait there with Peter until they show up.”

“Got it dad, thanks,” you say, still breathing heavily from your fight.

“Proud of you kid.”

He ends the call and you smile to yourself, happy that you made your dad proud on your first day as a part of the team.

And then Peter ruins it.

“You’re welcome,” he says flatly.

With all the adrenaline flowing through your veins making your blood boil, you decide to finally break your silent streak.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, would you look at that. She speaks!” he comments sarcastically.

You roll your eyes, “What am I supposed to be thanking you for, exactly?”

“Uh, for just saving your ass out there. Or maybe you didn’t notice that you were about to get tranqued in the neck and kidnapped by some of the city’s most wanted criminals.”

“Oh please, I could have handled myself just fine.”

To be honest, you know you wouldn’t have been able to handle yourself, and deep down you are grateful for Peter coming and saving you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Come on Y/N, we both know that you would have been fucked if I hadn’t come to help.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you Peter.”

“Yeah, okay. Go back to giving me the silent treatment. That’s what got us into this mess anyways.”

“I’m sorry what? How the fuck is this my fault?” your voice is rising increasingly in anger.

“If you had just stopped ignoring me for one fucking second and didn’t sneak off on your own, we could have handled this so much easier!” his voice rises as well.

“Why does it even matter anymore Peter? We took them down anyways, who cares how it happened?”

“Because you’re ignoring me Y/N! And I have no fucking idea why!”

Oh, so he wants to go there.

“Don’t play the innocent card here, you know exactly what you did.”

“Please, enlighten me, because I have no clue what the hell you’re talking about.”

“YOU’RE SHUTTING ME OUT PARKER!”

“I’M SHUTTING YOU OUT? YOU HAVEN’T SPOKEN TO ME IN THREE FUCKING DAYS! YOU’RE THE ONE SHUTTING ME OUT! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS Y/N?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU OKAY!”

Oh fuck, you just messed up. You didn’t mean to say it, but your mind kept wandering back to your conversation with Nat earlier and it just… slipped out.

Peter stares at you in bewilderment.

“What did you say?” his voice becomes noticeably softer.

Fuck it.

“I love you Peter. I’ve loved you since the first day I fucking saw you when you walked into the compound and we watched A New Hope on my bed and I fell asleep on your shoulder but I know you only see me as a friend and you like MJ and I just ruined our friendship but I-“

Peter cuts you off by pulling you into him and pressing his lips onto yours. After a few seconds he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours and taking your hands in his.

“I don’t like MJ, I like you. Fuck it, you know what, you already said it so why don’t I, I love you. I’ve always seen you as more than a friend but I never thought you felt the same way.”

So many emotions are flowing through your head, trying to process what the fuck just happened. The main one, however, is just plain confusion.

“But then- then why have you been avoiding me for MJ?”

“Is this about our friendiversary thing?”

You nod your head, still trying to get an answer out of Peter as to why he was being such a dick.

“Look Y/N, I know this sounds stupid, but I- I was avoiding you because when you woke me up and told me about our one-year friendiversary, it reminded me that we were just friends, so I got weird. It wasn’t just you that remembered it, I did too. And I was actually planning on telling you how I felt about you, but then I got scared and bailed. And then I invited Ned and MJ to come with us because I didn’t think I would be able to handle myself if it was just me and you. I’m so sorry Y/N, it was such a shitty thing for me to do and I hate myself for it-”

This time it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss, still holding on to his hands.

“I forgive you Peter. And also, I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment for three days,” you laugh.

Peter starts laughing with you, “We’re both such idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. We totally are.”

Both of you are still giggling as you kiss for a third time, this one more passionate. He wraps his arms around your waist and you move yours around his neck, drawing him as close as humanly possible. You deepen the kiss, the both of you completely getting lost in each other, and in this moment, its like you and Peter are the only two people on Earth.

You pull away from Peter only to rest for a moment and catch your breath.

“I love you Peter,” you smile.

“I love you too Y/N, so much.”

~~~~~~~~

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Series: @t-hollanderr  @allycat449-blog @haley-talks-too-much

[stevesharrlngtons]

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader 

summary: after letha’s death; peter’s departure; shelley’s disappearance; and a brutal fight with subsequent break up with roman; you escape to the empire state for college and a fresh start. though, after thinking you have been given the space to move on with your life, your father’s unexpected death sends you back to hemlock grove. there, you are forced to confront the reason for your pained departure.

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

a/n: this is a long bitch, with a possible part two (?) if this is enjoyed by you all! (: i hope the length of this makes up for it taking so long lol. also prob ooc roman bc i love him just being soft 

please if you read this and like it, know that feedback is greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!! also im bad at editing 

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT. 

No option offered sounded particularly tasty. You had come in search of egg salad sandwich, a surprising delicacy from the Hemlock Grove Grocery Deli that you had been craving since your departure months ago. It felt like comfort food, a way to make being back in town bearable. 

But the stockboys seemed to be sending you a message: there was no good reason to be back in town, and no sandwich was going to remedy your pain. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You flinched at the sound of your name as sweat prickled the back of your neck. The last fucking thing you wanted was to be recognized the second you got back into town. Being forced to interact with any of the waspy bitches or rednecks that attended your high school, especially now, seemed like a personal affront punishable with only your meanest of glares and most backhanded of compliments. 

But, who you found had called your name was not only a surprise, but a pleasant one. Not a bitch or mouth breather in sight. 

“Peter?” Your eyebrows perked up as you said his name, no doubt unable to hide your complete shock at his sudden appearance. 

“In the flesh.” He smiled. That same boyish smile that he always gave especially when you needed to see it. 

Your body worked on it’s own violation as you shot yourself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thankfully returned the gesture, gripping the fabric of your dress in his fingers to keep you close. Peter pressed his nose to your temple and you buried yourself deep into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until a voice cleared behind you that the two of you pulled apart. 

“Excuse me,” A man holding a wire basket interpreted, seeming less than pleased to have been forced to witness your reunion. 

“Sure, after you, sir.” Peter said, theatrically waving the man past. 

“Stupid fucker, couldn’t even go through another aisle.” He watched the man leave with a scowl.

“Shut up about inconiquestional people and tell me what the hell you’re doing back in town!” You said with a wide smile while slapping his chest playfully. 

“I think that’s a better question suited for me to you, don’t you think? Last I heard you fucked off to N-Y-C.” Peter said, leaning against the display of sandwiches. 

“Yeah? And who told you that?” 

“Destiny.” 

You smirked and rested your shoulder against the display, “She’s got a big mouth.” 

“Big mouth? Who cares if she does! New York is a big deal. NYU, even bigger.” 

You roll your eyes at the compliment. 

“Hey, no, I’m serious! You always were the scholar out of us. Fucking valedictorian while Roman and I barely managed C’s.” He continued. 

At the mention of Roman, you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes breaking from Peter’s only long enough for him to see your pain at his name. 

“You still haven't answered my question, you know?” You said, trying to seamlessly change the subject, fiddling with the ends of your hair to keep your hands busy. 

“Yeah, well, it isn’t a happy answer.” 

“Enlighten me anyway.” 

Peter gives a heaving sigh, a signature of his, “Lynda got pinched for some shit and was transferred out here... I followed.” 

Your heart sank. Lynda had always been exponentially kind and understanding. To you, Shelley and even Roman. 

“Shit, Peter. I’m so sorry. How’re you holding up?” You placed a comforting hand on his forearm. 

“As well as I can given the circumstances. I’m staying with D, so at least that’s good.” He gives a forced smile. 

“I’m glad you’re with family at a time like this.” You drop your hand and slouch against the display, matching his relaxed posture. 

There was a brief pause between the two of you, before Peter spoke again. 

“Usually, when one party enlightens the other, they are obligated to do the same.” He leans in ever so slightly to emphasize his point. 

“That is usually the deal, yes.” 

“So?”

“My dad croaked a few days ago. Heart attack.” 

“Holy shit, (Y/N/N),” Peter interrupted, face falling into a concerned frown. 

“No, no. It’s fine. He was a piece of shit,” You shrug. 

“Still, he was your dad.” 

“Yeah, he was my dad who hit me and my mom and loved booze more than either of us.” 

“He still was your dad, (Y/N).” He reiterated. 

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be all fucking weepy about the whole thing.” You say, grabbing a turkey and swiss from the display and pushing off to walk toward the register. 

“No one said you had to be,” Peter appealed as he followed behind you, “But don’t let everything get all clogged up in there.” 

He motioned to his chest and you roll your eyes, setting your sandwich on the conveyor belt for the cashier. 

“I promise you, the moment he is six feet under I will let all my emotions out. Mainly rejoice and relief.” You sent Peter a smile as your sandwich rang up. 

“Four forty, even.”

You reach into your purse, but Peter beats you to it. He hands the cashier a crumpled up five dollar bill. 

You give him a glare, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did. It’s gonna be my lunch too.” He snatched the sandwich from the bagging area and saunters to the exit, leaving you to gather the nickels and dimes. 

Parked in a gravel parking lot looking over the lake, you and Peter sat in the cab of his tow truck. Both eating a half of the mediocre turkey and swiss while sharing a warm cherry Coke from the center console in silence. After a brief session of catch up on your lives over the past few months, you were both happy enough to just sit quietly in each other's company. Simply enjoying the comfort of being in the presence of someone you love. 

“You ever hear from him?” Peter spoke up, mouth full of bread and slimy meat. 

“Who?” You at least have the decency to cover your mouth as you spoke. 

“You know who. Don’t make me say his name, you got all squirly last time.” 

You sighed as you finish chewing the food in your mouth, savoring what you could of the cheap flavors as you avoided Peter’s gaze. Once you swallowed, you took a long gulp from the Coke can before answering. 

“No. He’s been out of my life since that night. Really prefer to keep it that way, too.” You replied clippedly, not wanting to talk about him any more than necessary. 

Peter belows a raspberry in response. 

You looked over to glare at him, “What?” 

“I just find that hard to believe.”

“That I don’t want to see the man who broke my heart?” You snap. 

“No, that Roman has been able to keep his distance from you.” 

“I thought we weren’t saying his name.” You abruptly look away and out the windshield once more. 

“Apologies.”

“You don’t have to sound so sincere about it.” You scoff. 

“What happened between you two, anyway? Before I left I could practically hear wedding bells.” 

“Destiny didn’t tell you?” You press your lips together firmly, hoping Destiny had just made up a lie on your behalf to tell her cousin. 

“All she said was that you and Roman supposedly got into this huge fight and you left a few days after. Nothing more, nothing less.” He explained. 

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.” 

“Then what happened?” 

You sigh deeply, reclining against the headrest and wrapping your arms around your middle for some misplaced search for security. 

“It happened a few days after you skipped town. It was his birthday…” 

Music echoed around you as you placed gentle kisses along the expanse of Roman’s neck. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, collecting grease and pomade on your fingertips and under your nails as you did. He had an arm securing you tightly to his side, the other had been holding you too, but he had retrieved it to light a cigarette. 

After the traumatic week you two had undergone, you didn’t fight Roman much when he insisted all he wanted to do for his eighteenth birthday was drink, watch a movie and have you sleep over. You were happy he at least let you buy him a cupcake to commemorate the day, but wouldn’t see to any more festivities. He told you that now more than ever wasn’t a time to be merry. You didn’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to celebrate him today. 

So, you let him share his birthday cupcake with you in the bottom of an empty swimming pool and hold you in an uncomfortable lounge chair for as long as he wanted. Fortunately, this was as calm as you’d seen him in days and you hoped that continued; at least until midnight. 

Roman lulled his head on top of yours and placed his hand on your hip, making sure every part of you that could be touching was. 

The sound of a door opening resounded in the distance and the distinct tap of heels on tile followed. You felt Roman deflate next to you as you both recognized who the sound belonged to. 

In sauntered Olivia, in a beautiful floor length gown with a sparkler in hand, painting patterns in the dark with the fire illuminating her wicked smile. 

“Happy Birthday, my darling.” She chimed, looking down at the both of you. 

You and Roman both shifted under her unwelcome gaze, neither responding. You turned further into Roman’s neck and you felt his fingers press harder into the flesh of your hip. 

“It can’t be a party with just the two of you, can it?” Olivia said, dropping the sparkler to lay by her side. 

“Well, three’s a crowd. So if you’ll excuse us.” Roman waved his hand that held his cigarette dismissively.

“One is the loneliest number, but two can be just as bad.” Olivia replied in a musical lit. 

Again, neither of you respond. You busy yourself fiddling with the collar of Roman’s tank top.

“(Y/N), darling, you do look beautiful tonight.” She turns her attention to you after the silence she received. Something Olivia knew Roman disapproved of her doing. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.” You reply politely, glancing at her briefly before going back to Roman’s shirt. 

“Is that the dress Roman bought you some time back? I remember hearing you tell Shelley about it over dinner.” Olivia continued. 

“What is it that you want, again?” Roman snapped, making you flinch at his volume increase. 

“I have a surprise for you. In the attic.” She gestured using what’s left of the dying sparkler at the ceiling. 

“Can’t it wait?” Roman said, wholly disinterested. 

“No, it cannot, Roman. It is your birthday surprise and I would like to give it to you now.” Her voice became more stern by the word. 

Roman moves to look at you and you do the same. His eyes are inviting you to a conversation Olivia isn’t privy too. An almost psychic communication you’ve had together since the day you first met. 

Do we go with her? Or wait her out until she leaves? 

Just see what she wants. Once she’s shown you we can get back to doing whatever you want. 

Roman pursed his lips before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.” 

He got up from the chair before offering you his hand to help you up. 

Olivia watched as you both climb the ladder out of the empty pool and onto the landing. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Roman gave his mother a firm glare. 

He placed a hand on the small of your back and started for the door when Olivia stopped him. 

“I’m afraid, this gift is for Godfrey eyes only.” She looked at you with weakly masked distaste. 

You felt Roman’s fingers once again probe into your skin, “She is a Godfrey.” 

“Not in name or blood.”

“But she will be so it doesn’t matter.” Roman retorted, harshly. 

This wasn’t the first time he had alluded to your future together, and at the time, you didn’t think it would be the last. 

“Well, she isn��t yet, is she? When she is, then she will be welcome to engage in all Godfrey birthday present exchanges.” Olivia sneered.

“There is nothing you could show me that she can’t-” You placed a gentle hand on Roman’s chest before he could continue. 

This fight certainly wasn’t worth it. Especially not over a fucking birthday present. 

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in your room.” You offered. 

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Roman spat. 

“(Y/N) can go home and see you tomorrow. This gift needs much explanation and discussion.” 

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!” 

“Ro, it’s OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile up at him. 

You didn’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever, but never with Olivia. 

“I’ll see you later tonight.” Roman stressed.

“Tomorrow would be-” 

“Let’s just call it a see-you-soon, then?” You cut off Olivia, never taking your eyes off Roman. 

He just tightens his jaw, so tight you’re afraid he might crack a filling. But he nods. 

“Fine. I’ll call you.” He says. And he says it with such sincerity that you know without a doubt he will, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses your forehead and you kiss his cheek, not overly keen on giving him the proper goodbye kiss you wanted to infront of Olivia. As you walk away, you spare Olivia a last glance and the look on her smug face is one so self satisfied it made your stomach churn. 

Roman never called you that night, or even the next morning. The calls you gave him were left unanswered; texts and voicemails the same. 

You would have called Peter, Shelley or Letha to see if they’d heard from Roman at a time like this, but all were depressingly dead ends. 

Under the circumstances that you left under the night before, you took it upon yourself to drive to the Godfrey residence and find out what the hell was going on yourself. You didn’t trust Olivia as far as you could throw her, and you didn’t put any heinous act past her. 

Your worry beat out any common sense you had to stay away and wait for Roman to come to you. 

When you arrived and knocked on the door, several times to be exact, it seemed no one was home. Though, both cars were in the driveway and you knew neither Roman or Olivia would take a cab anywhere. With balled fists you slammed against the wood of the door, kicking your foot against it as well for good measure. You had been in your knocking rhythm so long, when the door finally opened you stumbled forward. 

You caught yourself on the knob and looked up to see who answered. 

Roman stood above you with expressionless features and down turned lips. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Don’t ‘what’ me! ‘What’ you! You never called and you haven’t been answering.” You said, straightening yourself out. 

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Roman scoffed and turned his back to walk down the hallway. 

Your face screwed up in confusion as you stepped over the threshold into the mansion and slammed the door, then followed him through the house. 

“Excuse me? What is up with you?” You exclaimed. 

Roman had stopped in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator while trying his best to seem unbothered with tense shoulders. 

“Nothing is up. I just didn’t want to call you.” He spoke into the crisper drawer. 

“Since when?” 

“Since now.” 

“What the fuck did Olivia show you? Must have been really messed up for you to be acting like this.” You let a humorless laugh through your nose. 

“Or maybe I was just happy to be rid of you and now that you’re back, I am pissed.” He slammed the door to the fridge, its contents rattling inside. 

Your surprised expression hadn’t wavered as Roman glared at you, his eyes dull and unfamiliar. 

“Ok, so, yesterday you’re talking about marrying me, and today I am some parasite you’re happy to be rid of? Is that right?” You took a step toward him. 

“I was never going to marry you, you delusional whore.” His first real hit, chipping away at your weak armour. The armour he had weakened himself with his love and care for years. 

“If I’m whore, I’d hate to know what that makes you.” You spat. 

“It makes me the fucking billionaire who mistakenly kept around some boring girl with a mediocre cunt.” His second hit. 

“Wow. You’re right, Roman. I am a whore, but I must be an idiot too! To stay with such a man who calls my pussy mediocre when he can’t even fuck me right.” You provoked. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Yeah? Why don’t you? Because for as long as I can remember I’ve been faking my orgasms just to get your pathetic little prick out of me. Is that why you cry after Roman? Because you know about that weak excuse of a dick between your legs?” 

You were being cruel and frankly, spinning lies. But he was hurting you and you wanted to hurt him back. 

“No, I cry thinking about all the other guys you let between your legs. Maybe that’s why daddy hits you, huh? Hoping that one day he hits you hard enough to rattle that whore brain so hard it kills you? So he won’t have to live with the shame? Or maybe he hopes if he hits you enough you’ll finally drop to your knees and show him that head everyone in town talks about.” The last hit, and the one that broke you. 

You close the last few steps between you and strike him as hard as you can muster across the face, cranking Roman’s head to the side with the impact. The slap rings loudly through the room, so do your sniffles. 

“How can you be so cruel? How could you ever say that to me?” You scream through tears. 

“Just speaking the truth.” Roman said smoothly, his head still rotated. 

“What is going on with you? What happened last night?” 

“I came to my senses, that’s what happened. I realized that I was sick of wasting all my time on a miserable little bitch when I could be out fucking real women.” He says through gritted teeth, “Real women who don’t need so much tedious validation from me.” 

“Are you done?” You snapped, your throat thick with tears. 

“With you. Yes.” 

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Malicious words spun in your head, ready to fire off your tongue and tear him apart, but you knew you would never be able to get them out in one piece. You would stutter and sob and shake and it would give Roman even more satisfaction at seeing you crumble. So, you turned on your heel as fast as you could, holding your hand over your mouth to silence your cries and fled the Godfrey home. 

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick. 

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod. 

“So, that was it?” 

“That was it. I was there barely five minutes when it was all said and done… then I went home, cried my stupid eyes out and packed my shit. It was always the plan for me to do online courses and stay here with him, but, y’know, things changed... So, I left.” 

“I know that feeling.” Peter says, giving the river a thousand mile stare. 

“I know you do. Let’s not forget you abandoned me, too.” You said, far more harshly than intended. The topic of the break up having brought old wounds to the surface. 

A pained expression crossed his face, “(Y/N)... Fuck, I’m sorry. I am. I just… after Letha,” 

“You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I snapped. I forgave you the minute you left, for the most part, anyway.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh and look over at him, “If I had been in your shoes I would have hightailed it the second I could have.” 

He offers you a sad smile, “But you needed me, and I left.” 

“It’s really OK. Because you’re here now. And it all worked out.” 

“New York that good, then?” 

“Better than good. I’m alone and broke-.” 

“And that’s better than good?” He chuckles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m learning and figuring things out on my own. I’m finding things that make me happy without having to worry about anything else. It’s just nice.” You smile as you speak. 

“That makes me happy. Man, it really does. All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I thought I had left you with the silver you had left of it.” Peter says, resting his temple to the head rest. 

“You did what you had too and so did I. I’m sure Roman did too, in his own twisted way,” You reply, “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. I am purley looking forward to the future from now on.” 

Peter dropped you off at home after hours of milling around the streets of Hemlock Grove in his truck. You kept asking if he had to go back to work, but he would dismiss your concern each time. Telling you that he was spending time with you and he’d worry about towing later. As much as you knew you should pressure him to take you home, you were happy for the company, especially when that company was Peter. 

His reappearance in your life was unexpected, but wholly accepted and appreciated. You didn’t know the next time you’d be able to see him again, so you were going to enjoy his companionship while you had it. 

Hopping out of the truck and brushing residual crumbs from the turkey sandwich from your dress, you shut the door. The window rolled down and Peter leaned over the console to look at you.   

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it. 

“Never again.” 

“If you have time, come by Destiny’s before you head back up north. I know she’d love to have dinner.” He proposes and your smile widens. 

“I’d love that, I’ll keep you posted.” You start to back up toward your front door. 

“And let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I know losing someone is tough.” His smile falls slightly as the funeral is mentioned again. 

You knew Peter was worried about you and he had good intentions, but he didn’t know your father like you did. You were going to this thing for appearances and to make your grandmother happy, if you had had a choice you would have rather stayed at school. 

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.” 

You wave him off and you watch as he double takes to look at you until he is out of sight, only then did you enter your house. 

The house isn’t much and it wasn’t the home you grew up in. When your mother finally left your father, she promptly moved you both into a smaller place on the west side of Hemlock Grove that was better suited for your new family dynamic. 

It was a dated burgundy one story, with bland beige carpets and no overhead lighting in the bedrooms, but with two bathrooms. That was helpful down the line when your mother began dating again and her multiple suitors would stay for weeks at a time. You never wanted to be alone with any of them, so that meant crossing the boundary into her room to use the en suite was always out of the question. 

Your bedroom was somewhere you always found solace and comfort, even now it felt more like home than anywhere in the world. It had a small excuse of a bay window that looked out over a small and shallow creek. One of your mother’s more involved boyfriends had built you a window bench years before underneath it, upholstered in red velvet. You had run your fingers over the soft fabric so many times, certain places were now rubbed raw and threadbear. 

Roman used to sit on your bed while you sat on the bench, reading to him from a litany of novels, some for pleasure and some for assignments. He’d look at you and tell you the light from the window haloed you like an angel. You’d tell him he was just talking out of his ass to get you to stop reading and fool around. Then Roman would smirk and shrug, like he wasn’t sure who was more right. His memory seemed to be etched into every detail of your bedroom, unfortunately. 

There was the small heart he had carved into your headboard with an unclicked pen, your initials carved around it. There was your small Ikea vanity, that was stained with nail polish from the time Roman insisted he could do your nails better than you could. There was your closet, just big enough to hold you both inside; where you would steal kisses when you first started to sneak him into your room at night. There was the faded paint on the wall in the shape of a rectangle, where a picture frame of you and Roman at your first homecoming together had once been. There was your fucking duvet cover, that you and Roman would hide underneath on bright mornings. Where he’d hold you and kiss you softly, whispering sweet affections until the muggy air between you became thick and he’d push your noses up over the edge of the blanket to take in giggling gulps of breath. 

Roman Godfrey had left painful reminders of himself everywhere. There were too many for you to erase fully. His memory was like a Hydra, repress a recollection of his and two more would pop into your mind in its place.

Now, all the bench held your small suitcase that you had packed early this morning for your short trip down to Pennsylvania. Just some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a black cocktail dress and a few textbooks. Just because your father died didn’t mean your school work would lighten because of it. 

While it wasn’t very late, you had been up early to catch your train and hadn’t expected to be out all day with Peter. You excused your premature exhaustion and decided it was best to take a shower, have a snack and then go to bed. Tomorrow was to no doubt try your nerves, so a full night's rest was likely your best option. 

After your shower, you slipped into a pair of pajamas and went down the hall to see if your mother had left you any suitable food. She was still on vacation with her current boyfriend and wouldn’t be able to make it back until Monday, a full day after you were set to leave. So, all you could hope was that there was something edible left in the pantry. 

Tussling your damp hair in your hands, you padded through the kitchen to try and make something with the odds and ends your mother had in stock. 

As you settled on a half eaten bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, there was a knock at the door. Your mother’s car was missing from the driveway and anyone who would drop by unannounced knew she was out of town. Assuming it was a solicitor or a package delivery, you ignored it and continued on with your pre-bed snack. But the knocking didn’t let up. 

Begrudgingly, you made your way to the door in the hopes of shooing off whoever was bothering you. Though, when you opened it, you debated simply closing the door like it nothing had happened. To just shut the door tight and pretend that you hadn’t seen who was standing on your doorstep. All six feet four inches of him. 

With his back to you and a large bouquet of roses in hand, Roman glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He looked about as startled as you felt when he laid eyes on you. 

“(Y/N).” He blurted out, his body swiveling like an owl to face the same direction as his head. 

“Roman.” You gave him a forced smile, cursing that you had lost your opportunity to run and hide.

“I, uh, well, wow. I, these are for your mother,” Roman whipped out the bouquet from behind him, “I heard about your dad. I just wanted to see how she was holding up. I know they aren’t close or anything, but y’know, it’s still the father of her child.” 

You took the flowers from him carefully, making sure to avoid where his fingers lay on the stems. 

“She’s not here, but thanks. I’ll make sure to let her know you stopped by.” You continued your kind facade before moving to shut the door. 

But Roman was quicker as he placed a large hand on the wood to keep it ajar. 

“I’m sorry for you too, you know? I know how it feels to lose a father. So, I’m sorry.” He said, like he was trying to keep you in his company as long as possible. 

“Wish my dad would have eaten a bullet when I was a kid. You got lucky.” You joke, once more trying to shut the door. 

And Roman continued to keep it open. 

“Well, I know things ended… bad- But! I’m still here if you need me. For anything. Have all the preparations been taken care of?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my grandma and grandpa took care of it. Nothing to worry about. But thanks, Roman.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his mouth puckered, the way he always did when he had a million things to say and no idea how to say them. 

You began to notice his attire as he loomed over you, with no seeming intention of leaving you or your front stoop alone. 

He wore a thick winter coat over a black three piece suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was parted on the right and smoothed down with gel. It certainly wasn’t your favorite look on him, but your input hardly mattered anymore. He wore Oxford dress shoes that were spotless and without a crease. You realized just then that he must have come right from The White Tower to bring the flowers to your mother, and these were his work clothes. These were the clothes and fifty dollar haircut of a fresh faced CEO.

You had known that he was set to secede the throne of Godfrey Industries once he turned eighteen, but you never gave it much thought after you moved to New York. The Roman who haunted your dreams and took residence in your thoughts was always your Roman. The boy who wanted to smoke and dance and kiss and laugh. Not a business tycoon out for blood. 

“I didn’t know you would be in town. I would have stopped by.” He said, finally finding words to give him a reason to stay. 

“You already have.” 

“I know, but I would have made it more deliberate. More to see you and not to just give my condolences to you mother.” Roman explained, his hand still on the door. 

You snort, “Yeah, well I don’t know why you’re giving her flowers anyway. She doesn’t like you. Not after I told her everything.” 

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know that.” He laughs uncomfortably, finally taking a step away and relieving your door of his hostage. 

“Well, it was nice of you to come by. I’ll see you around, Roman.” It was clear from your tone that this incommodious conversation was over. 

Though, Roman still was outwardly ignoring your brusque attitude, “Could I come in? I would love to catch up for a moment? For old times sake?” 

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea.” 

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He bargained

You watched him for a long moment, debating on what to do. On one hand, you craved his presence. You craved him after just one sighting and wanted him to come in, to talk, to listen, to heal. Because like you said to Peter in the car earlier, you did believe that Roman had done what he had for a reason, it was just no doubt a fucked up and selfish one. You couldn’t hate him forever, you didn’t want to. It would destroy you before it did any good. 

On the other, all you could do was hear his voice echoing in your mind, explaining his disgust for you. 

But, you wanted to look to the future. You wanted to free yourself of the burden of grudges and hatred. You wanted to forgive Roman, the best you could, and leave him and his faults to fester in the past while you moved on with your life. 

So, you pushed the door open wider with the tips of your fingers and walked back to the kitchen, while Roman eagerly followed. 

“I’ll have to find every vase in the house for these,” You quietly joked.

“I could buy a big vase to hold them tomorrow and send it over if you’d like?” He was following closer than you would have liked as you searched the cabinets for vases and empty jars. 

“No, it’s alright. I think I’ll like how eclectic they’ll look in mismatched glasses.” You said, “And then I could put them all around the house. It’ll be a nice surprise for my mom when she gets home.” 

You undid the thick satin ribbon holding the bouquet together and found a pair of scissors to cut off the ends.

“Want me to fill these with water?” Roman asked, nodding to the empty vases.

“If you don’t mind.” 

Roman nodded, shedding his wool jacket and blazer, depositing it on a chair. Then, rounding the island to stand next to you to begin filling each receptacle from the sink. 

He was closer to you now than he had been in months. You could smell his woody cologne that clung to his skin, mixed with cigarette smoke and the night air. He must have been driving with the top down. You hated that only his scent could send your heart into somersaults and make your hands quiver with need. All you could think about with him in such a proximity was looking up into his green eyes and him looking down into your (Y/E/C) ones. Looking down at you with that stupid fucking smirk. Then with that smirk, Roman would place a hand on your cheek and gently press it to your lips and you would be in heaven. 

Anything Roman did to you was heaven. 

Expect when he was hurting you. Which you had to remind yourself, he very much did. 

“So, where’s your mom?” Roman asked, placing a mason jar next to faux crystal vase.

“In Florida with her new boyfriend.” You commented. 

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.” 

“You know if he’s any good?” 

“Nah, just that she was seeing someone. I keep an ear to the ground to make sure she’s doing alright.” Another glass filled. 

“You don’t have to do that, Roman.” You paused cutting stems for a moment to glance up at him. 

He was already looking at you. 

“I know. I want to. It’s the least I can do.”     

You hold eye contact for a few beats, Roman’s eyes boring into yours in that hyponic way that always left you weak in the knees. 

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” And you both went back to your tasks at hand. 

It was obvious that you were more than willing to work in silence, and it was clear that Roman wasn’t. 

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts. 

“Good. I really like it.” 

“Enjoying your studies?” 

“Very much.” 

“And the city? Is it treating you alright?” 

“Yes, I think after I graduate I’ll stay for a while.” 

Roman only hums in reply. Like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well.” 

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as the sound of water and sheers fill the room. 

Roman is chewing his cheek and bobbing his head, and you know he won’t let up his chatter anytime soon. 

“I’ve been working at The Tower. I took over a few months ago.” He says, eyes darting to you like he was looking for praise. 

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?” 

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers. 

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap. 

“Not really.” 

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate. 

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself. 

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence. 

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him. 

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?” 

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.” 

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs. 

“Not really your business.” You counter. 

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice. 

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.” 

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you. 

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips. 

“Ask you what?” 

“If I’m seeing anyone.” 

“I don’t care, Roman.” 

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer. 

“How would you define it?” 

“Different from you.” 

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.” 

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired. 

Roman doesn’t answer. 

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.” 

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…” 

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else. 

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder. 

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten. 

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts. 

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow. 

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells. 

“So it is option C.” You replied. 

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?” 

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers. 

“I already concluded that.” 

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms. 

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back. 

“Then why?” 

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.” 

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth. 

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection. 

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.” 

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.” 

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly. 

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you. 

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that. 

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut. 

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips. 

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart. 

“Tell me why you hurt me first.” 

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment. 

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose. 

“I’ve got time.” 

“It’s not pretty.” 

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him. 

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust. 

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).” Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin. 

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.” 

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod. 

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?” 

“Stop making jokes.” He growled. 

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him. 

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?” 

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-” 

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks. 

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.” 

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked. 

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. 

“Stop, Roman...” 

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes. 

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.” 

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul. 

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly. 

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable. 

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months. 

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.  

“What time is the funeral?” He asked. 

“10 AM.” You replied. 

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him. 

“I’ll be there.” 

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.” 

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.” 

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche. 

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.” 

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway. 

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now. 

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night. 

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong. 

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it. 

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become. 

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back. 

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips. 

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you. 

It was over. 

Then why were you so sad? 

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him. 

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come. 

Because he cared. 

Because he loved you. 

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest. 

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.” 

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you. 

“I needed you and you knew and you came.” 

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.” 

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you. 

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you. 

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company. 

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone. 

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug. 

“It’s OK. You have time.” 

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown. 

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm. 

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.” 

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek. 

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch. 

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?” 

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?” 

“Wherever you are.” 

You smile, “Then take me there.” 

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.   

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you. 

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…” 

“You hate it.” 

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly. 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” 

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a  victorian novel.” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.” 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?” 

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia. 

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject. 

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room. 

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back. 

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.  

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch. 

“Vodka cranberry?” 

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.” 

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.” 

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out. 

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one. 

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.” 

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.” 

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world. 

“Me too.” 

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions. 

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?” 

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night. 

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night. 

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself. 

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled. 

“That was a really good night.” You said. 

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.” 

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his. 

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of. 

“No, it really isn’t.” 

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished. 

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you. 

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you. 

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes. 

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down. 

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible. 

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you. 

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.” 

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them. 

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath. 

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.” 

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin. 

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.” 

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty. 

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son. 

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb. 

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart. 

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat. 

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time. 

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.” 

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend. 

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke. 

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth. 

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman. 

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?” 

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room. 

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent. 

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks. 

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father. 

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.” 

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he? 

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb. 

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities. 

“What?” 

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.” 

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.     

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you. 

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back. 

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.” 

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully. 

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips. 

It was the first time you realized you loved him. 

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road. 

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I forgive you.” You really did. 

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest. 

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It’s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.” 

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before. 

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one. 

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours. 

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper. 

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had. 

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door. 

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin. 

“My baby,” He said to your skin. 

“My girl,” He groaned. 

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” 

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive. 

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop. 

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss. 

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.” 

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with. 

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.” 

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you. 

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.” 

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you. 

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront. 

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.” 

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow. 

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies. 

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily. 

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued. 

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.” 

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger. 

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak. 

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!” 

“Roman,” You sigh. 

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.” 

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you. 

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear. 

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him. 

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well. 

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers. 

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.” 

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off. 

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,” 

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.” 

“Baby,” You choke out. 

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return. 

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states. 

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly. 

“Roman, just-” 

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?” 

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t. 

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact. 

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” 

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze. 

“I love the city…” 

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal. 

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands. 

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.” 

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears. 

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again. 

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements. 

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said: 

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio P.8

masterlist (read parts 1-7 here!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no ma’am this was spawned in the pits of my hell brain

summary: y/n’s family takes on a particularly mysterious exchange student, draco malfoy. fyi: this is NOT a non magic AU--draco is still a wizard

warnings: swearing, college admissions (ew), vague mentions of a car accident

a/n: hey...ahahahaha yeah so when i disappeared from the writing scene i was actually sitting on this chapter because i wanted to finish the entire scene up until draco came back home, but i haven’t quite figured out how everything is going to work in the middle of this story bc we’re getting into the thick of it. things are only going to get more and more wild and while i have the ending already written (oopsies), there’s still a lot to cover between december and august. i promise you it’ll be worth it tho--thanks so much for waiting!

word count: 2.5k

no music recs because i wrote this in november and i don’t remember ANYTHING!

tags tags tags (message me if you’d like to be tagged!) @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan

Y/N froze as she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

In any other situation, she would have fibbed, the lies rolling off her tongue and falling into a neat pile.

But this wasn’t just any situation. 

“Drac--uh, Draco,” she began, rather lamely. She wondered if he could see what she had been doing and then immediately stopped that train of thought--of course he could, she was sitting there crouched with his letters all over the floor next to her.

Y/N had never seen him look so terrible--his eyes were saucers and his fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“What’s up?” she asked. Maybe I got really lucky and he hasn’t noticed yet.

His mouth opened and closed a few times as he seemed to agonize over what to say. 

“Give me those letters back,” he finally said. “And come into my room. We need to talk.”

She scrambled to get everything back into the satchel--honestly, how had all those fit into such a tiny bag?--and tossed it into his hand. He refused to make eye contact and instead yanked her into his room, shutting the door before closing the blinds.

“Uh...what’s going o--”

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “You know what you read.”

She withered under his gaze, all of a sudden trained on her with a heat that could melt through iron. 

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he said tying up the satchel and tossing it into a drawer. “You’re going to sit right there and tell me everything that you know. And no lying. I can always tell.”

Something about the weight of his words told her that the last part wasn’t hyperbole. “O--okay. Um, I know that you’re kind of strange, and I know that your family definitely isn’t into politics because unless you’ve changed your name I haven’t been able to find shit on your family...I know that you’re here for some kind of punishment, or at least that’s what the letter said, and that wherever you’re from believes in, uh, magic, or something…”

Y/N had never been so scared of Draco as she was right then. He stood looming over her, his eyes calculating and cold. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Uh--how did you--”

“Is there anything else you want to know? Ask now or forever hold your peace. I promise I’ll take care of this.”

Y/N blinked. “What? What do you mean take care…”

“Don’t...just don’t ask that right now.” Draco’s demeanor made a switch from intimidating to exhausted. His previous towering presence looked more mournful than anything. 

“Ok,” said Y/N, willing to take something else over nothing. “So...why are you here? Where are you actually from? What happened to your dad?”

Draco drew in a few slow breaths. “My family’s name is Malfoy. I never lied to you about that. We’re from England, like you think. But we’re not really from the same world as you.”

He looked at her, gauging her reaction. When nothing came, he continued. “I’m...magic, as you would probably say. Like, wizards and witches and shit. Like the stuff all of you here celebrate for Halloween. Just more real.”

“You’re off your rocker is what you are,” said Y/N. “Magic isn’t real.”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Draco replied, his tone wearing down. “Not to you. It’s very real to me.”

“Were you in a cult or something because that’s absolute batshit cra--”

“Oh my fucking God can you just listen,” he said in one long-winded breath. “Thank you. Not that it matters that much if you actually believe me and I’m not allowed to show you any magic--they almost sent me back home for spelling my hair neat that one time in the car with you--but you should believe. Did you really think you were just sick after Homecoming? Like, did you think that was the common cold or something?”

“Well…” Y/N trailed off as realization dawned on her.

“I don’t know how you got into that store, but it was magic. Whatever object you picked up did something to you. You would’ve died from muggle care--the only possible treatment was extracting whatever magic had somehow gotten inside you.”

“So you were the person in my dream.”

“Yes. Anyways. So back in England, my family got wrapped up in some...dark business with a very evil wizard. I had to do some things that I’d rather not get into, and those things were serious offenses in the eyes of the Ministry--which is like your government. I was sent here as a punishment instead of something more severe.”

Y/N snorted. “Assuming all of this is true, why did you get sent to America? Normally exchange students see trips to the US as a kind of vacation...but I do understand the part of Ohio being used as a punishment.”

His face was void of amusement. 

“I wasn’t sent here because Ohio is boring,” he said. “I was sent here to be forced to assimilate into muggle society--”

“Muggle?”

“People who aren’t magic. Anyways, that was the punishment. Having to live with and associate with muggles, far enough away from home that I faced no threat of vigilantism and couldn’t escape.”

“Oh.” Y/N deflated into her seat as it all began to hit her. So that was why Draco was so disgusted with her. There was a reason why some gut feeling told her that he would never see her like....that.

“Anyways, for the less exciting part.” Draco turned to rifle around the jewelry box they’d kept in the guest room. “It’s crucial to the safety of my people that you don’t know about us. Muggles get scared, and sometimes they hurt us. They nearly wiped us out a few generations ago.” 

He turned around, wielding a small wooden cube that glimmered in the light. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I have to do this. If they know you know, they’ll send me away.”

“Do...what?” She stared up at him as he approached, holding the square out in his palms. “Draco, what’s going--”

“I told you I’d take care of it,” he said, his tone pleading. “I’m going to make you forget.”

~

Y/N eyes flickered open. It was chilly in her room--one look confirmed the fact that her window was wide open--but she had a thick blanket pulled over her. As she shed the last pulses of drowsiness, one thought bubbled to the surface: 

That fucker.

She sat up, threw the blankets off her bed, and started towards the guest room.

“Hey,” she said, yanking the door open and standing in front of a very surprised Draco. “Nice try. Are we actually gonna talk this through, or are you gonna put me to sleep again?” 

“Wha-”

“I remember everything, dipshit. Especially the part where you didn’t let me say my piece before you knocked me out.”

“I-”

“Try and steal my memories again and it’s on sight, Draco.” Y/N sucked in a deep breath and finally slumped down onto his bed. “You were saying?”

“How did you...er...you’re not supposed to remember me,” he said. “Do you have any magic blood in your family? Do you know?”

“Look around. If we had magic blood we wouldn’t be living in Ohio.”

“I’m not joking around.” He joined her and laid back. Y/N tried to not make a mental note of how a few strands of his hair brushed up against her cheek for a second. He smelled of peppermint and pine. “There’s no reason why that shouldn’t have worked. You definitely aren’t magic--I can feel it, no offense--and that Obliviation cube was explicitly created to work on muggles and wipe specific memories of magic.”

“I guess I’m just better.”

“Not funny. I’m definitely going to get sent to some random village in...I don’t know, Siberia for this. And your whole family will be obliviated. The whole point of me telling you was so I could get you to understand why I had to wipe your memory.”

“That’s horribly disrespectful, you know. Not even asking for my consent before doing such a thing? Try again.”

“I will,” he said, sitting up and grabbing the cube again. 

Y/N sprung up and scooted away. “Wait! Wait! That was a joke! Can’t we just talk this through? I’m a really good liar.”

“Lying doesn’t matter in front of the Ministry. They have their ways.”

“And what’s the Ministry going to do?” she asked. “Because, right now, it looks like I know about your secret and they’re not knocking down my door yet. Are they seriously going to break into my own home and perform some kind of lie detector test on me out of the blue? Are they really gonna cause a scene like that? No? I didn’t think so.”

Draco looked even paler than usual as he examined her from the other side of the bed, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “I hope you’re grasping the severity of this. This isn't a fun little joke. This is the difference between my community living or dying.”

“I get that. But if I say I’m not going to tell anyone, then how is your community at risk?”

“You can’t promise me that.”

“Draco.” Her tone was strong enough to make him snap his head up and meet her eyes. “You saved my life. I’ve lived with you for almost 3 months. Trust me when I say I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Swear on my life.”

The silence was tangible between the two as he stood there staring.

“You have to trust me,” said Y/N. “Please.”

Draco met her eyes again, a type of helplessness written so deeply into the etches of his face that he nearly looked like a different person than the proud, posh British boy that was usually him. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She let out a sigh of relief as he put the cube back into the drawer. 

“Don’t get too comfortable, though,” he told her. “Once I figure out how to fix this, I won’t need to trust you anymore.”

“You’ve been trusting me with your life since the moment you got into a car with me for the first time. Do you have any idea how many teenagers crash on the freeway? I don’t get why this is so different.”

He scowled. “I think it’s very obviously different.”

“I can pull up the stats for you real quick if you want. Just so you can grasp the severity of the situation that you’re minimizing right now.”

“Damn it, Y/N, you don’t understand!” Draco slammed his hands on the dresser, the wood making a loud smack sound as it connected with his palms. She jumped. “All my life I’ve been...You just don’t understand.”

“You have no other option, Draco,” said Y/N. 

“I...I know.”

~

The next few weeks were profoundly uncomfortable. If it wasn’t just for the fact that there had been a burglar turned home invader turned...whatever on the loose, Y/N was now dealing with the fact that her world as she knew it was turning upside down.

Draco was magic. He was different, and while this at first had been difficult for Y/N to believe, she began to realize just how much sense it made. The way the most ordinary of daily objects confused him...his discomfort with using the internet...his distaste for all of the people he met…either he was raised under a legitimate rock or he was telling the truth....

And perhaps the most conclusive revelation regarded his stance on his feelings towards her. After that night at Sylvia’s, Y/N had begun to think that there might be something there, or at least that something there might’ve been possible.

Now she knew that it wasn’t. And she had to be okay with that.

Draco was for the most part normal apart from the fact that his wariness around her was obvious. She could feel him keeping a close eye on her in the halls when she spoke with her friends. Sometimes he’d even level a look in her direction, a clear demand written all over his face: Not a word. You promised.

Evening teas stopped entirely. Draco ate in his room for breakfast and seldom said anything on the rides to and from school, and, to be entirely honest, it helped. She could feel her hopeless crush become weaker as the month of November wore on. Her giddy excitement towards a possible love interest was directed to the nervous dwellings on her UChicago application. 

Results were out on December 3rd, and she was absolutely buzzing. Fuck weird blond boys that came into her life and told her of an entire mystical and magical world out there--the gothic, hallowed architecture of UChicago was waiting for her. 

“Honey, it’s almost 5!” 

“I know.”

Y/N sat, cross legged on her bed, as she looked at the email she’d received moments ago from UChicago. In 3 minutes, the portal would open up. And her fate would be decided.

“Don’t open it yet, your father and I are coming!” Mrs. Y/L/N yelled from the kitchen. 

She smiled--for once, her father had managed to take a night off of work to be there for her. The only person missing in their home was Draco, and she supposed that he didn’t count anymore. At least not in the classic way. 

5:00pm.

“Hold on, hold on.” Her father’s voice carried down the hall, paired with the sound of feet thumping up the stairs.

Her parents appeared in the doorway, rushing to her and peeking over her shoulder.

“Are you ready to open it?” Mrs. Y/L/N asked, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Uh...yes.” Her stomach flipped as she pressed her mouse over the blue hyperlink, directing the screen to show a login page. She wasn’t quite sure what it would look like--perhaps her decision would be right there when she logged in--but despite her racing thoughts, she input her portal information, pressed enter, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Dead silence.

“Honey.”

Her mother’s voice was strife with...some kind of emotion, whatever it was. Y/N dared to pry her eyelids open just a pinch, giving her just enough vision to read out the clear “CONGRATULATIONS” spanning the entirety of her page.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!”

The euphoria that followed was indescribable. Her father’s arms, encircling her shoulders in a way he hadn’t done since she was a child, her mother’s professions of how proud she was...incredible.

The only thing sullying it was a Draco shaped figure looming in the doorway once the hysteria died down.

“What happened?”

“I got into UChicago!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. 

He simply stared at her, his gaze cool and uninterested. Y/N felt all the joy drain from her face. “I hate to butt in, but I have some news too. I’ll be traveling back home for the holidays.”

“Oh.” Irritation was written clear as day across Mrs. Y/L/N’s face. “When will you be leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

final a/n: heyyyyyy everyone let me know what you thought. what do you guys think will happen next chapter? how do you think this is going to end overall? ik this is a draco x reader but do you guys think that draco still has a ways to go before he can have feelings for y/n? or does he already have them? im inch rested please lmk your thoughts

also my endless apologies to ohioans i did not mean to add the slander in there ik that plenty of you are lovely people <3 cancel me if you wish 

[lotusjwy]

“Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.” jiang cheng and wwx - @gremlinmetawin

hello hello again, so! i decided that this prompt fit.. very well with the last xicheng on (which i will link in the notes, bc i’ve heard links break tags? in case u haven’t read it yet), and so this is a continuation of that 😬  and i was 100% meant to finish this earlier today, but i ended up being out of the house until like 9pm OOPS, but i finished it and here it is! also gonna tag u so u see @gremlinmetawin 💜

Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes in confusion as he watched Jiang Cheng stalk away from the Hanshi, very obviously distressed. Well. Obvious to anyone who had grown up with Jiang Cheng. It was uncommon for Jiang Cheng to leave Lan Xichen’s company in anything less than a good mood, yet here he was storming away as if he couldn’t escape fast enough. 

Suddenly, a thought popped into his head. A thought of his Lan Zhan walking into the Jingshi with pain in his eyes, pain that even with all the embraces and kisses in the world, Wei Wuxian hadn’t been able to fix. A pain that was caused by his love’s own brother, because it would seem that the events of Guanyin Temple had affected him more severely than they had originally thought. 

He tended to be uniquely cold in these moods, knowing exactly how to stab someone exactly where it would hurt the most. He’d once told Wei Wuxian that he was the cause of the fall of the Jiang Sect, which was something he’d never told even Lan Zhan.

Everyone residing at Cloud Recesses knew to avoid the Hanshi on mornings they didn’t hear a flute sound from the dwelling. However, Jiang Cheng didn’t reside in Cloud Recesses. He didn’t know of this unspoken law of the land; how could he have known? Of course, he hadn’t known, and thus Lan Xichen must have said something that had severely hurt the other.

Quickly turning to Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian tugged on the other’s robes to get his attention. “Did Xichen-ge play the flute this morning?” Wuxian wasn’t awake at the time Lan Xichen usually played, he rarely was awake that early, relying on Lan Zhan to tell him when he should avoid the elder.

Lan Wangji thought about the question for a moment, before shaking his head. “He did not. If you wish to see him, you should go tomorrow, instead.” He was unwilling to let his husband go through the ordeal of his brother in one of his moods again. He still didn’t know what his brother had said, but it had haunted Wei Ying for weeks afterwards.

“That’s not why. Didn’t you see what I did?!” Wei Wuxian was growing frustrated at the situation, his eyes frantically searching after where he had seen Jiang Cheng stalk off towards, realising that he was no longer there. Without waiting for the other to respond, he continued, “someone let Jiang Cheng go see him, fuck.”

Lan Wangji actually hadn’t seen Jiang Wanyin, but he wasn’t about to question his husbands’ words. However, he didn’t exactly see what the problem was, and voiced as much, “I’m sure xiongzhang would have said nothing that Jiang Wanyin hasn’t heard about himself before. Would he not be fine?”

Wei Wuxian rounded on his husband and glared him for his words, “Lan Zhan, we are going to have a serious talk about this later. But for now, I have to go find my idiot brother who’s probably about to shut himself away from everyone he cares about, again.” Without listening for another word from his husband, Wuxian quickly sped off – ensuring not to run lest he piss off Lan Qiren again.

He made his way through Cloud Recesses, realising that Jiang Cheng would have wanted to leave, immediately. He was hoping that instead of flying back to Yunmeng he’d stay in Caiyi for the day. If he had gone to Caiyi, Wuxian could catch up with, Yunmeng, however, would take a lot more time.

It would seem that he wouldn’t have to worry about either journey, as he had found Jiang Cheng, who was stood frozen not too far from the gates to Cloud Recesses. As Wuxian quickly made his way towards the other, he heard not so hushed whispers coming from the various Lan disciples surrounding them.

“Sect Leader Jiang just got here and he’s already leaving in a fit? You’d think years of being a sect leader would have calmed this infamous tempter.”

“He’s always so angry, it’s no wonder he has no wife.”

“Wife? It’s no wonder all of his disciples are terrified of doing him wrong.”

“Have you heard how many times he threatens to dismember and maim Sect Leader Jin?”

“He used to torture demonic cultivators in the past, so what difference would it make? He killed his own brother after all.”

It seemed that the gossiping would never end, each comment growing worse than the last, Jiang Cheng’s fists clenching even tighter with each spoken word, his entire body beginning to shake. Wei Wuxian had had enough of people belittling his brother.  

“If I recall correctly, and trust me, I do, gossiping is forbidden in Cloud Recesses. Scatter before I stop being nice and get Hanguang-jun to hand out your punishments.” Wuxian watched with a cold expression on his face, as the disciples scattered off into various directions, faces flushed with the shock of having been caught.

He approached Jiang Cheng as one would approach an injured, wild animal. With caution. “Jiang Cheng? Are you okay?” When he got no response, he sighed and moved closer to the other, gently placing a hand on the other’s arm. “A-Cheng? Shidi?”

“Who the fuck are you calling shidi?” Jiang Cheng’s voice was rough, as if he was holding back from either crying or screaming, he couldn’t tell yet.

Giving his brother a grin, Wei Wuxian wrapped an arm lightly across the Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, “he speaks!”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t.” He let out a pained sigh and turned to look off into the distance, not wanting to face his brother right now.

Fuck, Xichen-ge had definitely said something bad to him. “No! Speaking is good, speaking is wanted! In fact, let’s go down to Caiyi, have some Emperor’s Smile and have a nice long talk.”

“I’m not great company right now.” He risked a glance at the other, his eyes slightly narrowed, “you just want me to pay for your drinks, don’t you?”

“Hmm? Really? You’re no more different than usual, I’d say. But you’re right, I do, so let’s go!” Wei Wuxian let out a laugh, smiling as he spoke, dragging Jiang Cheng down the path.

Somehow, they had found themselves in the corner of a tavern in Caiyi. Once they had been served, Wei Wuxian turned to his brother tapping lightly on the table to catch his attention, knowing that he needed to say this now rather than later. He couldn’t let Jiang Cheng be stuck in his head for much longer.

“Don’t listen to them, Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian situated himself directly in front of his brother, making sure the other could see how serious his words were, “don’t you ever listen to them!”

“What are you talking about?”

“What those disciples said, earlier. They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. They don’t know you.” He hesitated for a second, before letting out a sigh, “As well as whatever Zewu-jun said to you when you visited him today. Whatever he said, it wasn’t true.”

Jiang Cheng froze, “how did you know I saw him today?” Had he been that obvious? Could everyone tell what Lan Xichen had said to him?

With a shrug, he responded. “I saw you leaving the Hanshi.”

“How do you know he said anything?”

“He- uh. I don’t know how much I’m really allowed to say, so I’ll only say my own observations?” He waited for Jiang Cheng to nod, before continuing, “ever since Guanyin Temple he… hasn’t been okay. Sometimes, and It really is very rare, he gets into these foul moods, where he picks at our biggest insecurities to get us to leave. We should have warned you; someone should have warned you. I’m so sorry.”

Wei Wuxian had said ‘us’, that means that Lan Xichen had said something horrible to him as well. Jiang Cheng was curious what Lan Xichen had to say about his brother’s husband, and so he asked, “what did he say to you?”

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment, before letting out a sigh. He couldn’t get Jiang Cheng to talk, if he himself was unwilling. “That I’m the reason yo- our sect burnt to the ground. He told me that if I had minded my own business that the Yunmeng Jiang Sect would have survived, and all those disciples, your parents,  would still be alive to this day.” His voice barely above a whisper, the words still piercing through his heard.

Jiang Cheng froze and sucked in a sharp breath. The man really was ruthlessly cruel, wasn’t he? Why did Jiang Cheng get vilified for his angry disposition, yet Lan Xichen was getting away with saying such horrendous things?

Not willing to speak anymore on the issue, as it had passed, and Wei Wuxian had already made his peace with Lan Xichen over it. They were here to talk about Jiang Cheng, not him. “I shared, now it’s your turn. What did he say to you?”

“What didn’t he say? His words more or less mirrored everything those disciples was saying. That I’m a cruel man, who should have shut myself off from the cultivation world.” He took a shaky breath, willing himself to not break down right here. Once he had calmed down a little, he continued to speak, “that all I do is torture innocent people, who I should have given a chance. That there’s a reason I’ve been alone all these years and it’s not just because my entire fucking family died.”

“He’s wrong,” Wei Wuxian had never been more confident than in the fact that his brother was a good man. How many of Jiang Cheng’s insecurities did Lan Xichen have to bring up? Why couldn’t he be done with just one?

Jiang Cheng let out a short, humourless laugh, “is he?”

Grabbing his brother’s hands, Wei Wuxian looked at Jiang Cheng desperately, “yes. Jiang Cheng, please tell me you don’t believe him.” He searched Jiang Cheng’s eyes, shocked as he realised just why the other’s words had hurt as much as they did.

“Who am I to disagree with the great Zewu-jun?” He turned his face away from Wei Wuxian’s, not liking the look on the other’s face, knowing that he had figured it out.

“You have feelings for him.” It was as if a pin had dropped, silence falling upon them for a few moments, as both took in Wuxian’s words.

With a heavy sigh, Jiang Cheng pulled his hands away from Wei Wuxian’s, placing them on his lap, to play with his clarity bell, hoping to find some peace. “I did. Now I’m unsure. This… has taught me some things, I suppose.” He didn’t know if he could try to pursue anything with someone who had dragged his every insecurity through the mud as if it were nothing. Who had brushed him off as if he were nothing.

Wei Wuxian looked at his brother sorrowfully, wishing that he could make it better, that he could take back the words Lan Xichen had said to him. “A-Cheng…”

“It is what it is, Wei Wuxian. It’s not as if my personality is a secret to the world.”

“But it is. Everyone thinks you’re this hateful person, but you love so fucking much, Jiang Cheng. Anybody unwilling to learn that about you isn’t worthy of your love.” He would die on this fucking hill if he had to, Jiang Cheng was and always would be the most loving of the three of them, both in what he gave and needed, yet never seemed to receive.

“Wei Wuxian…” Jiang Cheng looked at Wei Wuxian with confusion in his eyes, unwilling to believe that the other had this opinion of him. Surely after everything that had happened, even his brother wouldn’t believe he was capable of love.

“No! I refuse to let you or anyone else badmouth you. That’s my job and Jin Ling’s fucking job, that’s it. That’s all that’s allowed. No one else.” He would spend the rest of his life making sure Jiang Cheng knew that he was loved, and he knew Jin Ling would, as well.

“Alright, alright, I’ll… try not to let it get to me. Can we fucking eat now?” He had had enough of talking about himself, about his feelings, he wanted to pretend that the first half of this day hadn’t happened.

Pursing his lips, Wei Wuxian surveyed the other, before giving him a nod, “fine, but say the word, and I’ll yell at Zewu-jun for you.” He could always start this conversation another time, when Jiang Cheng was less likely to walk away from him and just fly off because he had gotten overwhelmed again.

Jiang Cheng snorted a laugh in response, choosing to take a bite of chicken,  knowing he didn’t require any other form of response.

[ephemeralstark]

The Targets We Paint

Summary:  “Do you really think walking into Stark Industries with a handcuffed kid is a good idea?” Peter asked, “because the second you get in there, someone will alert the emergency services, you won’t get far.” 

 “You’re wrong,” and even though Peter knew he wasn’t, the complete lack of concern in the man’s voice was causing him mild anxiety. “

Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” the man asked, not remaining silent for long, “we’ll see who’s worrying about calling the cops when I’m threatening to blow your brains all over their pristine white floors.”

 Peter swallowed, hard, “shows how prepared you are,” he said with false bravado, “the floors in the main atrium are black marble.” 

-

 Peter knew being Spider-Man put a target on him, but it was a risk he was willing to take for the safety of the citizens of Queens. He just never considered how dangerous it could be to be Peter Parker.

AN: whumptober day 4: prompt - collapsed building. TW for bombs, guns, violence, proceed with caution. Sorry the prompt only appears at the end whoops and this is going to be 3 parts not 2 bc i suck 

Part 2 of 3

To Peter’s horrified surprised the man who was holding him started to laugh, and not a fake sarcastic laugh, but a full-bellied, shoulder shaking guffaw that made the gun against Peter’s temple shake, he could hear the bullets inside tremble. There was no more innocent hope that the weapon hadn't been loaded. 

“Everyone says you’re smart, and you really are, aren’t you?” the man asked. 

“Is this all an elaborate plan to test my intelligence?” Mr. Stark asked and Peter’s eyes jumped to his feet as he watched him slide a foot forward on the marble, trying to inch his way closer without being detected, “because I have to admit there are easier ways to go about that than holding my intern hostage. I’m a show-off, you just had to challenge me to an IQ test or something.” 

“Is this the part where you ask me to let him go?” the man asked idly, his tone so conversational as he ignored Mr. Stark that it sent shivers down Peter’s spine as his Spidey-Sense warned him that he wouldn't be walking out of this situation unscathed.

But what could he do? The man was holding the gun so tightly to his head that if he tried anything, there was a good chance he would be dead before he could so much as turn around.

“Why would I ask that?” Mr. Stark asked him. 

“Don't you care for his life?” the man asked. 

“I mean I’d rather you didn't kill him in front of all of these people,” Mr. Stark said with a small shrug, “and I have to admit that I’ve grown rather fond of his inane rambling, but you don't seem to care about that.”

“Beg me to release him,” the man said. 

“Is that what this is about?” Mr. Stark asked, inching closer once more. “Is this all just a power trip for you?” 

Peter felt the man holding him tense, “a power trip?” he asked, and it was obvious that he was unhappy about the phrasing. 

“Well, you’re walking into my building with my intern at gunpoint as you demand to speak with me, and the moment I turn up you want to hear me beg?”  Mr. Stark said, “I have to admit, it seems a little power trippy.”

“This isn't a power trip,” oh, the man was speaking through gritted teeth now, Mr. Stark was definitely hitting a nerve somewhere. 

“Come on, wait, what’s your name? Is it Dave? You look like a Dave, we’re all going to call you Dave now, right kid?” Mr. Stark said. 

“Uh, he’s holding a gun to my head I don't think I want to do that,” Peter mumbled. 

“Come on, Kid, Dave knows there are at least five guns trained on him by now, if he does anything, he’ll be dead before he hits the ground,” Mr. Stark told him as though that was meant to be reassuring. 

“Maybe I don’t care about making it out alive,” Dave said, but Peter could feel his sudden tension that contradicted his words. 

“Oh, you do though,” Mr. Stark said, “otherwise that bomb would have been set off the moment I arrived in this atrium, you wouldn't be bothering to try and appear more powerful than me, you would have done it instantly and it would be attached to you rather than a device in your pocket.” 

“Stop… talking… about… power!” Dave said slowly through gritted teeth, the volume rising with each word that slipped out.

“You’re a little touchy on that aren’t you?” Mr. Stark asked.

“You keep trying to undermine me,” Dave snapped, “but who’s the one with a hostage right now?” 

“Oh, big deal, you kidnapped a fifteen-year-old, and a pretty lanky, dorky one,” Mr. Stark said, “pretty sure Peter has never done a sport in his life.” 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said with an offended sniff, “I’m being held as a hostage, are you really going to do me the dirty right now?” 

“Kid, come on, I had to pick you up last week because you tried to climb the rope and fell and somehow missed the mat?” Mr. Stark said, “like come on, that mat is huge, how did you miss? And how the hell did you fall?” 

“I was showing off,” Peter lied - he had actually intentionally fallen so that people wouldn't be suspicious that Peter Parker could suddenly climb the rope, it wasn't his fault that he was stupid and misjudged the fall.

“Why would you pick him up if he’s just your intern?” Dave asked suspiciously. 

“Come on, Dave, keep up,” Mr. Stark said, rolling his eyes, he was now close enough that Peter could smell his cologne, “I told you, the inane babbling grows on you, if you zone him out enough it's like there’s a toddler yapping away.” 

“A toddler?” Peter asked. 

“My name isn't Dave.”

“What is it then?” Peter asked, “because I’m kinda calling you Dave in my head now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

Dave was pissed.

Peter’s Spidey-Senses screamed at him a nano-second before he felt something hard crack against the back of his skull and a dizzy wave overtook him as he fell forward, Mr. Stark caught him just before he hit the ground, which Peter was grateful for as with his hands still cuffed behind his back he would have landed with his face hitting the marble and no way to try and prevent this.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered to Mr. Stark, “I didn't react quick enough, he had the cuffs on before I could think.” 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Mr. Stark replied quietly and he helped the cuffed boy back to his feet, and Peter didn't miss the look of horror as his mentor froze and stared at his own hands that were now tainted with the blood of the kid before him, “you're bleeding?” 

“The cuffs have spikes inside,” Peter said quietly. 

“They wh-”

“Enough waffling,” Dave said with a tone of impatience, “tell your men to put their weapons down otherwise I’ll release.” 

Peter’s gaze instantly fell on Dave’s hand that was holding the wired contraption that looked a lot like what he’d expect a bomb to look like, and then in the other hand was a button and judging from the way his thumb was tensed, he was pressing down which meant… oh. 

“Mr. Stark, if he releases that…” 

“I know, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, Peter saw a muscle in his jaw twitch, “alright, just be careful with that thing.”

“Tell them,” Dave said. 

“Right, guys, you heard him,” Mr. Stark announced, “fall back.”

By that point Peter could hear the law enforcement officers outside discussion tactics and planning to make contact, little did they know that it was pointless, Dave was heading towards his endgame and it was growing more and more clear that this wasn't about money. 

“If you ignite that bomb, you’re going to die,” Mr. Stark said, “is that really what you want?” 

“I don't care,” Dave said, “you destroyed me, Stark, you ruined everything, and now… I’m willing to put my life on the line to get my revenge.” 

“Look, this is getting old,” Mr. Stark said, trying to push Peter behind him, not that Peter would allow that, “we’ve already established that you don't want to die, so spill the truth, did you work here?” 

“No,” the man scoffed, “I would never have demeaned myself in that way.” 

“First: rude, and second, then why are you so pissed off?” 

“Do you remember the new theory that Oscorp Industries released?” Dave asked. 

Mr. Stark scoffed and let out a laugh, “of course this is related to Oscorp, and yes, I do. It was flawed and there was no way to prove it without inhumane human trials that would have risked lives and had a high rate of fatalities.” 

“That was my theory,” Dave shouted, “I was queued up for a promotion, I was going to get the funding to prove it true, and then you made a statement to the press about it and they were suddenly watching us.” 

“So you’re mad you were going to be held accountable?” Mr. Stark asked, “sounds like I did all the participants a favour, really.”

“You-” Dave broke off, visibly shaking with fury, “you don't get to say that, you don't get to-” 

“You need to calm down,” Mr. Stark told him. 

That was apparently the worst thing Mr. Stark, or anyone could have said because Dave was instantly furious. He threw everything he was holding against the ground and Peter was able to see the instantly look of terrified regret on his face that told him enough to act. 

Without the use of his hands, he was limited on what he was able to do, so he used his shoulder and rammed Mr. Stark to the ground with it, the older man was taken aback with the shock of the action and fell easily, just in time for Peter to cover his body with his own as a blast radiated from behind. 

It was hot, Peter thought before his attention turned to the trembling ground and he wondered whether they were unlucky enough to be having an earthquake at the same time. He would have considered it further, and perhaps he would have realised that the building was crumbling around him, but he was hit by something solid and the darkness dragged him under so that he was blissfully unaware of anything further. 

Tag List: @joyful-soul-collector @thatavengersbitch @spidey-reids-2003 @clover-roseee @thespydersargon @iron-loyalty @ormbunkar @justme--emily @pookiethefrickinbunn @pillowspace @akalovelymaybe

[veliseraptor]

I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way but I think I have a withdrawal for your Loki stuff,,,, I know you’re into other fandom right now and gosh I feel bad for even sending this bc my intention is not to make you feel bad or to rush you, I just want to ask, could I pretty please get a little snippet for whatever Loki fic you have in process? No ass kissing but I haven’t seen anyone write him better than you do and I miss you and your Loki fic. Again I hope this doesn’t sound like I rush you

It’s okay, anon! I mean, I feel guilty but that’s not your fault, that is my fault for the ways in which I feel obligated toward people in fandom and I’m. Trying to not do that and just focus on what Brings Me Joy and whatnot. But I’m truly flattered by the sentiment and also sorry that you’re missing it. 

But I’ve got plenty of Loki fic floating around here that I can share with you, so here, have a long snippet that’ll hopefully give you a little bit of ease in this time of me being thoroughly sucked into another fandom.

this being the first three scenes of the fic the first steps stumbling forward, sometimes known as “100 pages of ostensibly Steve/Loki fic and not only no kissing, but also Loki is still solely referring to Steve by his last name only.”

A ship full of Aesir landing on Midgard’s northern hemisphere was, apparently, “a humanitarian crisis.” From what Loki gathered, that meant mostly a great many arguments ensuing about who was going to deal with them, which really seemed to be about if anyone was going to.

Loki almost wanted to see what would happen if someone tried to tell Thor they had to leave. At least so far, though, no one actually had. Perhaps they recognized that there was no one on their planet with the means to actually enforce that decree. At least not for certain.

Not that their entire reception was hostile. Almost as soon as the situation became clear humans began arriving, some simply to gawk but others seemingly with intent to help. Crews of camera-people and reporters swarmed - mostly around Thor, but others like flies around the miserable remnants of Asgard’s people.

Loki, for his part, kept his distance from them. Eventually he supposed someone might mention his name, but until then he planned to avoid that particular difficulty.

He did go to spy on Thor’s meeting with Stark, who had arrived with much fanfare, stepping out of his suit with a too-wide grin and turning to wave before turning to Thor and promptly doing a double-take.

“Buddy,” he said. “What happened to your hair? Also your eye-”

A small smile played around the corner of Thor’s mouth. “That’s a long story.” He glanced past Stark like he was looking for someone else. “You’re alone?”

Stark’s expression did something tight and complicated. “Long story.” He glanced over his shoulder at the snapping cameras. “Can we go somewhere else? Talk in private?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “This way.” He gestured Stark toward the makeshift headquarters they’d set up back inside the ship, and he walked inside fiddling with the bracelets on his wrists. Loki slipped in after Thor and took up a position in the corner of the room to listen.

The moment the door closed the last of Stark’s bravado fell away and he turned to Thor looking exhausted. “As good as it is to see you, and as much as I’m - really sorry about--” He gestured awkwardly at their surroundings, “--I gotta tell you that you have the worst timing.” He walked over to the table and sat down. “Where’ve you been? Caught some selfies of you on Instagram the other week - in New York, and you didn’t come say hi - but you still had two eyes at that point.”

One of Thor’s hands rose briefly, still self-consciously, to touch his eye-patch. “Yes,” he said. “I was on Earth. Briefly. As I said, it is a long story. Why do I have poor timing?”

Stark rubbed his eyes. “So, uh, right now? There’s this thing called the ‘Sokovia Accords.’ Basically the idea is to make sure superhumans are, uh, supervised.” Thor’s expression remained impassive. Stark glanced away. “So, see, then you show up with a whole...whole bunch of homeless superhumans, superaliens, and everyone’s not quite sure how you fit into this, what kind of compliance they should be demanding...it’s a whole thing. Secretary Ross - you’ll meet him, he’s awful - he says that Asgard should be under US protection because you were an Avenger and the Avengers were a US team, sort of-”

“‘Were’?” Thor said, just as Loki was thinking it, but he thought he’d already figured it out.

“Yeah,” Stark said after a beat. “There was a bit of a falling out. The point is...you and your people are a problem with a capital ‘P’, as far as the governments on Earth are concerned. And I swear to god I heard something about you bringing the Hulk with you too, which is just - hang on, you’re not serious.”

Loki had gathered enough from this conversation, so as much as he wanted to see Stark’s expression he slipped out. He felt Thor glance toward the door opening, but Stark was too busy making incoherent noises that were either excitement, horror, or both, to notice.

**

Thor came and found him paring slices out of a small and slightly sour apple. The taste wasn’t pleasant, but at least it was fruit.

“You were eavesdropping,” Thor said, not quite an accusation. Loki gave him a quick, wry smile.

“And?”

Thor sighed, but he didn’t actually seem upset. After a moment he sat down next to Loki. “What did you think?”

“I think,” Loki said, “that your friends have done a better job of tearing themselves apart than I ever could have.” Thor gave him a hard look and Loki raised his eyebrows. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Loki,” Thor said chidingly. Loki shrugged.

“I think it doesn’t change much,” he said. “Midgard’s governments were never going to be happy. They still can’t do very much about it.”

“It also means they won’t help. Or are reluctant to help.”

“True.” Loki glanced down at the half eaten apple in his hands. “Not quite the welcome you expected, hm? Almost makes you wish someone had already conquered this planet.”

Thor’s jaw tightened. “Our people are suffering, Loki.”

Loki held up his hands. “I wasn’t being flippant. Or, I was, but not because I miss the gravity of our situation.” He sighed. “You are just going to have to convince them of our good intentions. While maintaining our independence from the kind of control Stark was describing, as I doubt that would end well.”

“Simple enough,” Thor said.

“And I,” Loki said, “will continue to stay out of the way. If you are now a possible threat…”

Thor rubbed his remaining eye. “Tony thinks that they will ask that the Hulk be turned over.”

Loki barked a laugh. “I’d like to see someone tell Hulk that. From a distance.” Thor’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Is Stark planning to try?”

“No,” Thor said, sounding faintly puzzled. “I asked if he wanted to speak to the Hulk, but he refused. I have no idea why.”

“He’s ashamed of something,” Loki said promptly. “I’d really like to know what. Though not enough to actually pursue it.” Thor frowned at him again. “What?”

Thor shook his head and then pushed himself to his feet. “I have another meeting with this ‘World Security Council’,” he said. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Loki said. “Perhaps you should remind them that you’ve saved their planet...how many times is it, now? It’s always possible someone will remember to show some proper gratitude.” He pared another slice off the apple and popped it in his mouth. “If not, you could always set a few nearby trees on fire.”

Thor frowned. “I’m not going to threaten them into submission.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted.”

Thor gave him an exasperated look and left. Loki eyed the rest of the unappetizing apple and almost threw it away, only to remember that their food stores were pitifully limited and largely reliant on the relief crews.

Waste not, he thought wearily, and ate the rest of it. It was almost a pity he’d had a solid three years of soft living to get used to luxury again. He’d lost all the good lessons of the three before that.

By the looks of things, he’d have plenty of time to get them back.

You could always leave, whispered a faint voice, not for the first time. There’s a whole universe to wander.

But if he walked away now, Loki didn’t think he’d ever be able to come back. He’d made his decision, for better or for worse. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had a whole lot of options for other places to go where he wouldn’t be risking his neck just by showing his face. Which...was the case here, too.

Loki made a face at the core he was holding and bit it in half hard enough that his teeth clicked together.

**

The trouble with having to avoid any and all public appearances was that it severely limited what Loki could actually do. He was skulking about like a thief, confined to administrative tasks behind the scenes.

A not insignificant part of him resented it. He wasn’t proud, but there it was: he had always hated feeling invisible, and now more than ever. He’d gotten too used to the spotlight, just as he’d gotten too used to comfortable living. He should have known neither would last.

He reminded himself it was his own fault. That did not particularly help.

Valkyrie seemed to be having the opposite problem. Asgard’s people were in awe of her. The humans were even more impressed. She, meanwhile, appeared to be trying to avoid both.

This meant they spent a fair amount of time together, since her green best friend was a bit of an attention-getter. (Thor had tried to get him to stay out of sight, but it hadn’t gotten him very far. Still, based on Stark’s reaction, someone was suppressing that bit of news. He had to wonder who.)

“You look cheerful,” Loki said when he found her in - surprise, surprise - the ship’s bar. It was empty, but she seemed to find it comforting just the same. She scowled at him.

“Some Midgardian reporter wants an interview. An interview.”

“Are they going to shoot photos of you? Ask about your fashion sense?”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “Is that what they do?” She paused. “How do you know anything about Midgardian news?”

Loki shrugged. “I stole some magazines from one of our generous volunteers. They’re appalling. I don’t recommend them.”

Valkyrie shook her head and stared at the empty bar. “You’re lucky,” she said. “No one’s trying to talk to you.”

Loki barked a laugh. “Yes,” he said, a little bitterly. “Lucky.”

“You are,” Valkyrie said. “If they were trying to talk to you they’d probably be trying to kill you. Right?”

Loki gave her a flat stare. “Thank you for that.”

She shrugged. “Just saying. You should be ready for that to change at some point. Someone’s going to start talking about Prince Loki and then you’re going to have some problems.”

Loki knew that was probably true. He’d thought about it a few times - he was almost surprised it hadn’t come up. Thus far the limited contact between most of the Aesir and any reporters - Thor had been careful about limiting access to their camp - and Thor’s explicit request to the Asgardians that they were to keep Loki’s name off their tongues had spared him, but that wasn’t likely to last forever. At that point...there would be some difficult decisions to make.

Some bleak part of him wondered what Thor would choose to do if Midgard’s authorities asked for his head.

“Thor’s not going to let them kill you,” Valkyrie said, apparently guessing his thoughts.

“Mm,” Loki said. “Even if it is me or Asgard’s safety here?”

“Thor doesn’t like ultimatums. He really wouldn’t like that one.” She leaned back. “I get all the fretting about that. ‘Oh, Valkyrie, what am I going to do about Loki? We can’t keep him secret forever!’”

Loki had to snort at her imitation, but he didn’t know how to explain to her that he was too aware of the fact that Thor had reached the end of his rope with him, the feeling that he was still walking a narrow bridge above a chasm and there was nothing to catch him if (when) he fell.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Valkyrie said.

“Have you left any alcohol in a five mile radius?” Loki asked caustically. She smiled a little toothily.

“I said you could use some,” she said. “Not that I had any.”

“Helpful.”

The toothy smile faded. “Make you a deal,” she said. “You come up with a way that I can avoid all these people who want me to be a hero, and I’ll threaten anyone who comes after your head with Dragonfang. Sound good?”

Loki gave her a crooked half smile. “I think I can figure something out.”

[generallybarzy]

your baby, she’s mine

mat barzal x reader

summary: Your parents aren't thrilled about your relationship with Mathew. You don't care what they think, but Mat takes their criticism so hard it creates a little break in your relationship, and he just really wants a redo. (This is mostly based on single by the neighborhood but I also added some 5sos Lover of Mine in there bcs ive been listening to it for like 4 hours straight) warnings: swearing?, age gap (18-22, not super big).  word count: ~2,650 ish

It had been 10 days now since the incident with your parents. 

It had been a week now since Mat started avoiding you.

You had been so amazing to hang out with, to go out with, to laugh with, to fall asleep, and wake up with. He really, really, really liked you. He knew he did. So why did he let a little bit of criticism be the thing that tore your relationship apart?

The two of you had only been dating for two months, but you had been pining after him for a long time, ever since your close friend- a girlfriend of one of his teammates- introduced you. You became friends really fast, which was good, but it also came with months of pining after him and having to see countless girls flirt with him and knowing about his hookups with them every now and then. So when you finally got over yourself and all but begged him to stop, he broke down to you and confessed that you’d been the only one on his mind for months. The emotions were hard to control, finally knowing that you liked him back- god, it was so good. He wanted to keep you forever, wrap himself up in your warmth and your joy, protect you, love you. It was crazy, unlike anything he'd felt before. But he was still caught off guard when he came over to visit you one day and was greeted by the disapproving faces of your parents who had come to make sure she was adjusting well to living on her own and who, as he soon realized, had no idea their precious baby girl was dating anybody.

He knew something was wrong the moment you opened the door. “Hey, baby. Thought I’d swing by before the game for some-” You shook your head, signaling him to stop and opened the door further to reveal who he assumed were your parents standing behind you with questioning looks on their faces. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Mat, these are my parents. And, uh, this is Mat. We're dating" he saw them exchange a look and your father scowled a bit.

“Mat? The same Mat who kept breaking your heart for months?” Ouch. His heart dropped to the fucking floor. Shit, he already had a bad reputation with them, but honestly, he couldn’t blame you for complaining about his past habits. They’d probably heard you cry over him a lot.

Fine. He had thought to himself. Didn't expect to meet the parents today, but I’m sure I can still get on their good side. That hopeful thought was gone a minute later when the interrogation began. Your parents seemed to have a problem with everything about him. Okay, yes. Maybe he had met you at a post-game party, but that didn’t mean you were only a starstruck fan. No, he wasn’t just hooking up with you for fun! Okay, he might be four years older than you but that’s really not that big a difference- you’re an adult, not a baby.

Okay, he’d admit that he had gotten a little bit defensive to your parents when they lowkey accused him of taking advantage of a young fan who was just idolizing him. That was a fucked up thing to say. “She’s not a child. She’s not your baby, she’s my baby.” He was grumbling under his breath but everyone heard. And oh boy did it start something. 

Your parents- especially your father- wouldn’t stop, no matter how much you begged them. You were so young, you had your whole life ahead of you, they argued. You could be out on the dating scene meeting the perfect man to marry one day, not hooking up with the man who had hurt you for months and taken your focus away from furthering your education. “If I know anything about professional athletes,” Your father said, pointing an accusing finger at Mat, “They don’t want serious relationships this young, just quick hookups, and you should be able to see that by now!” By the end of the night, Mat had sunk down into his seat, quiet and red-faced, holding back everything he wanted to say. It wasn’t him at all, and you hated seeing him so defeated. The day ended with him leaving for a game, sad and quiet, and you practically kicked your parents out, quickly texting Mat and begging him to come back.

You had apologized profusely for their actions, but still, every day after that was tiring. He would barely text back, he didn’t come back over after the game that night and you knew he needed cuddles after a rough loss. He didn’t come over after practice the next day, and it wasn’t long before you received a text from him. All it said was: “I think your parents are right. I’m sorry baby”. 

And, no matter how many questions you sent, that was the last you’d heard from him in the past week. 

Mathew hadn’t stopped thinking about you all week. He missed you, but what your father had said was still gnawing away in the back of his mind. You were still young, you could be bettering yourself, he shouldn't be distracting you. He had broken your heart. You could do so, so much better than him. But he was suffering without you, and his teammates could tell. 

After another long, tiring practice, Mat wasn’t looking forward to going home alone and spending the rest of the day thinking about you, so he was happy when Tito offered a distraction by taking him out to eat someplace that he claimed had the best food. He’d been a little confused at how much his friend was hyping the place up, and even more confused when they arrived at a cute little cafe. After entering, it didn’t take long for Mat’s eyes to spot you, sitting all alone in the corner, sipping on a drink and scrolling through your phone, looking just as tired as him, if not worse.

No. No, no, no. It's such a bad idea to be near you. As much as it hurt him, it was for the best that he should stay away and keep himself out of your life, and being alone with you was the last thing he needed right now.

But, shit, it felt so good to see you again.

“What the hell.” He turned to glare at his friend. "I can't-"

“You need to talk to her. You’ve been so mopey and sad and you sucked at practice today and we all know it’s because of her.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Seriously, you’re dumb to ignore her. Like really stupid. Fix it.” Mat cast another glance in your direction, making sure you didn’t notice him yet.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? Because her parents don’t like you? You know that’s not a big deal.” 

“Yeah, it is. Because they’re right. I’ve hurt her and she deserves a lot more than me.”  Tito just laughed and shook his head. 

“And you don’t think you’re hurting her now by ignoring her? Go talk to her. She misses you. And I know you miss her too.” Before Mat could argue or leave the cafe, Tito looked over in your direction and waved. “Hey, (Y/N)!” You looked up to smile at your friend and wave back, eyes going sad when you saw Mat standing almost awkwardly behind him. Giving his friend a slap on the back and a nudge in your direction, Tito left, leaving Mat to finally talk to you. 

He looked so sad, you noticed, as he hesitantly approached your booth. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a soft hoodie, one that you often used to steal from him when you had a bad day, and his hair looked just as soft as always but a little bit messier. As he slid into your booth across from you, and you could finally see him up close, the way the week apart had taken its toll on him, how tired he looked, as if he hadn’t been getting sleep at night. How his eyes, which usually only held joy around you, were sad and dull as if all the life had been drained out of him. “Hey.”

“It’s been a while, Mat.” You still hadn’t smiled at him since he sat down, but he knew he couldn’t blame you. You sat in silence for a few uncomfortable moments, something uncommon for the two of you. He hated it so much. He didn’t want to feel this wrong when he was with you, so wrong that he couldn’t even meet your gaze. He fucked it up so bad. “You wanna tell me why you went from being practically attached to me to avoiding me completely?”

He sighed and looked up at you softly. “I’m sorry.” 

“That doesn’t fix it.” Your voice was soft, delicate, sounding like it was about to break, but the way your eyebrows were furrowed up let Mat know that you were upset with him. 

“I know.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, either. You don’t have to listen to my parents, you know. We care about each other, that’s all that matters.”

“Baby-” He paused, not knowing if he should’ve called you that or not. It didn’t feel like he should, but it felt so, so good. “(Y/N), I know I shouldn’t have let them get to me so much but… as much as it hurts... they are right.”

“Right about what? The part where they said you're just hooking up with me for fun? The way they said I'm still a baby and I can’t make choices for myself yet?”

“No, no!”  He held his hands up to calm you, wanting so badly to take your hand in his, but again not knowing if it would be appropriate to do so. “Listen. I’ve…” He dropped his hands flat onto the table, giving up any hope of getting to touch you. “They were right about how I hurt you. I broke your heart already. Over and over. I fucked us up already.” His voice was cracking, and even though you knew he wouldn’t let himself cry, especially here, you could tell he wanted to.

“Mat…”

“You’re fucking beautiful, (Y/N). You could get anybody you want. Anybody. You’re young and hot and pursuing a career, and I can’t hold you back from that. You should be dating someone that can be there for you all the time. I’m always busy, and I always end up hurting you. I do care avout you, a lot, but you deserve a lot better than I could ever give you.”

“No, shut the hell up!” Mat looked up. startled. He’d honestly never seen you angry before. “Mathew, there’s nobody better than you. There’s nobody else I want. And you’re not holding me back.” You reached over to take his hand in yours and immediately, Mat responded by lacing your fingers together, thankful to finally feel your touch after a week of separation. You continued, voice softer this time. “Mat, I don’t care that you’ve hurt me in the past. It’s in the past, and it was unintentional. I’m not upset over that. I love you, ya know?” Finally, for the first time in a week, a true, honest smile stretched across Mat’s face, lighting up your heart and making you feel butterflies as if it was the first time again.

“I love you too, baby.” You stood from your booth and slid in next to him, letting him press a kiss against your cheek, keeping it short and sweet in public. 

“Mat, the only thing I’m upset about is how you ignored me for a week.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. This past week has been the biggest mistake of my life. Not being able to see you, touch you, even hear you say my name... I'm so sorry, and I swear I’m never going to let you go again because in the past few months, being with you is the only thing I got right. I’m so sorry. I never want to let you go again.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his waist, tucking yourself into his side. “Are we good?”

“We’re good, Mat. So good.” He held you against him, just taking the moment to enjoy the fact that he finally had you back in his arms. God, he was never going to let you go. 

“I still want a second chance at meeting your parents, though.”

You laughed a bit at his persistence. “Are you sure? Last time wasn’t so great.”

“I’m sure I can get on their good side. And if not, oh well.”

“Alright then. Woo them with that Barzal magic. I know you can do it.”

Next weekend, you called your parents back to visit, not telling them that Mat was going to be there. Mat came extra early, dressed nice but not too formal, in contrast to the fact that he had been in all sweats at their last meeting, with his hair styled nicely. It made your heart flutter, seeing the lengths he was going to to get your parent’s approval, even if it really meant nothing in the end. He smiled and shook their hands when they arrived, even though they obviously weren’t too thrilled. He helped set the table for dinner and offered some stories that made your mom smile. By the time dinner was over and he offered to wash the dishes for you, it was obvious your mom trusted him. “No, Mat I think my mom and I need some time to talk. Why don’t you go watch tv with my dad.” You smiled sympathetically, knowing it was really your dad Mat was trying to win over now.

So he took a deep breath and went to the small living room of your apartment where your dad was flipping through the channels on the TV. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna say my stuff, then.” Mat stood beside the TV, nervous as your father’s eyes shot up to look at him. “I know you’re still unsure about (Y/N) dating me, and for good reasons. I know she’s young and you're worried about her in the big city, but she’s an adult, and she can make choices for herself, and she loves me. I love her, too.” Your dad sighed and muted the TV, sitting up and turning his full attention towards Mat. He looked him over, obviously trying to gauge something about him.

“Do you know how often my daughter used to call us, crying that her best friend ignored her calls and blew off their plans to hook up with some random girl?”

Your father’s words felt like knives through his heart. It hurt knowing how much you cared for him even before he knew it, but he continued. “Trust me, I know I’ve hurt her, broken her heart, and I’ve apologized to her so many times, so now I’m going to apologize to you. I’m sorry for ever making her go through all the heartbreak. I seriously never meant to hurt her. I never meant to hurt your baby and I swear I’ll never do anything to hurt her ever again. You can trust me to keep her safe out here. So will you let your baby be mine?” There was silence for a few long moments before Mat sighed. Well, that was all he could do. “Alright, I’m done with the speech, but I’m just gonna say that no matter how you feel about it, I’m still going to love her.” He was about to leave the room before he heard the man let out a small, amused laugh.

“You seem like a good guy. Mathew.” Mat bit back a smile, waiting to hear how he would continue. Your dad sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry for judging you too early. You’re fine.” Mat finally let out his smile. He did it! Your dad was okay with him! You’re fine. You’re fine. The words kept ringing in his ears. “Just know that if you ever hurt her again, I don’t care how much of an all-star you are...” He gave him a pointed look, but Mat had nothing to worry about.

“That’ll never happen, sir.” He added 'sir' just for good measure, wanting to stay on you family's good side. He caught your smiling gaze from the other side of the room, feeling his heart fluttering in his chest at just the sight of you washing the dishes and smiling up at him. “Trust me. I’ll be here for a long time.”