#too late now <- has not hit reblog yet

[s0lar-ch3ri]

hes amazing, in love with the lil bear stuff and ear

A lil’ Chip from an aggie board done with some friends tonight :D

[23victoria]

vibes

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cussing, unwanted touching, bestfriends to lovers

authors note: i listened to vibes by chase atlantic when i wrote this last night really quickly cause i’m so behind on requests. so i’m so sorry if it’s shit! not prof read so sorry for any mistakes, also wrote this on my laptop and not my phone so i think grammarly made auto corrections, sorry about that, any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

wanna be apart of my taglist?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

The night's buzz is almost overwhelming as you step into the club, the electric energy in the air matching the high spirits of everyone around you. Max had just secured yet another victory and the entire crew decided a night out was the perfect way to celebrate. You’ve known Max for years since you started working as a commentator and interviewer for F1. The two of you clicked instantly, forming a close friendship that grew stronger with time.

But despite the late nights spent together, the countless inside jokes, and the deep conversations shared after long race weekends, there’s always been something unspoken between you. You’ve watched Max go through a relationship, and break up, and now, for some time, he’s been single. It’s been even harder lately to ignore the feelings you’ve harbored for him, but fear of ruining your friendship keeps you silent.

The music pulses through the room, and laughter fills the air as you weave through the crowd with Max by your side. He’s in high spirits tonight, smiling and laughing with everyone, and you can’t help but feel a warmth spread through you seeing him like this. His happiness is contagious, and for a moment, you let go of your reservations and join in the fun.

The music pounds through the speakers, the bass reverberating in your chest as you dance with your friends, lost in the carefree atmosphere of the night. You’re trying to immerse yourself in the moment, to let loose and enjoy the celebration, but something keeps pulling you out of it. You can feel eyes on you, and it’s making your skin crawl. Every time you glance around, you see him—the guy who’s been hovering near you for most of the night, his gaze too intense, too invasive.

You try to shake it off, telling yourself to focus on having fun. After all, you’re here to celebrate Max’s victory, and you don’t want anything to spoil the night. But then, out of nowhere, you feel it—his hand on your waist. It’s like a bucket of cold water has been poured over you, the chill of his touch instantly snapping you out of the moment. You tense up, your body going rigid as alarm bells start ringing in your mind.

You immediately step away, trying to put some distance between you and him, but he’s persistent. He follows, his hand still on you, tightening his grip as he leans in closer. The smell of alcohol on his breath hits you, making you recoil.

“Please, stop touching me,” you say, your voice firm but polite, hoping he’ll get the message and back off. For a moment, it seems like he does—his hand drops from your waist, and he takes a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. You force a smile, relieved that it’s over, and try to get back into the groove of the music, but the unease lingers.

Five minutes pass, and you start to relax again, laughing with your friends as you dance, the earlier tension beginning to fade. But just as you’re starting to enjoy yourself again, you feel it—his hand, creeping back onto your waist. This time, it’s more insistent, more possessive, as he tries to slide it lower, fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of your dress.

Your blood runs cold. Panic surges through you as you try to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.

Before you can react, a familiar presence looms over you, and suddenly, the guy is yanked away from you with a force that sends him stumbling back. Max is there, his usually calm and collected demeanor replaced with a fierce, protective anger. He grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close until their faces are just inches apart.

“What the fuck are you doing? Huh?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Max’s voice is sharp, a dangerous edge to it that you rarely hear. His blue eyes blaze with fury as he stares the guy down, every inch of him radiating anger. “Didn’t she tell you to stop? So why the fuck are you touching my girl?! 

The words hang in the air, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His girl. Max just called you his girl. The realization hits you like a freight train, but there’s no time to dwell on it as the bouncer arrives, having noticed the commotion. 

The guy stammers out a half-hearted apology, but Max isn’t having any of it. He pushes him away, standing protectively in front of you. The other drivers, who had been enjoying themselves a moment ago, are now watching intently, ready to back Max up if needed. But the bouncer is already there, having noticed the commotion.

“Get this piece of shit out of here,” Max orders, his voice leaving no room for argument. The bouncer doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the guy and dragging him towards the exit. You can’t help but feel a mix of relief and embarrassment as everyone’s eyes turn back to you. The adrenaline from the confrontation has left you shaken, and all you want to do is get out of there.

“I think…I think I’m going to head home,” you say, your voice a little shaky. The rest of the group immediately offers to leave as well, but you shake your head. “No, you guys stay. Have fun. I just need to get some rest.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Max says, his tone leaving no room for argument. You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to ruin his night, but he cuts you off. “Y/N, I’m taking you home. End of discussion.”

You know better than to argue when he’s in this mood, so you simply nod, letting him lead you out of the club. The car ride is silent, the tension thick between you. You keep replaying the events of the night in your head, trying to make sense of Max’s reaction. The way he called you “his girl” to the guy has your mind spinning, but you don’t dare bring it up, unsure of what it means—or maybe too scared to hope.

When you finally reach your apartment, you hesitate before getting out of the car. “Do you…do you want to come up?” you ask, your voice almost timid. Max looks at you for a moment before nodding.

“Sure.”

Once inside, you head to your room to change into something more comfortable, grateful for a moment to gather your thoughts. Meanwhile, Max busies himself in the kitchen. When you return, you find him making a sandwich, a small, amused smile on his face when he notices you watching.

“I figured you might be hungry,” he says, sliding the plate towards you as you sit at the counter. The two of you eat in silence, the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid hanging in the air.

It’s you who finally breaks the silence. “Max…about tonight…”

He looks up at you, his expression unreadable. “What about it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what’s been on your mind since the moment he stepped in to protect you. “You called me ‘your girl’ back there. Why?”

Max’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you see something in them—something deep, something vulnerable. He sets down his sandwich and leans across the counter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Because…because that’s what you are to me,” he admits, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve always been my girl, Y/N. I just…I never had the guts to say it. I was afraid of messing things up between us, but seeing that guy…seeing him touch you, I just…I couldn’t stand it.”

His words leave you speechless, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy washing over you. You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long, but you never thought you actually would.

“Max…are you saying…?” you trail off, too afraid to finish the sentence, too scared to hope that this could actually be happening.

He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time. I just…I didn’t want to lose you by telling you.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your heart racing in your chest. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face, and you squeeze his hand.**

“I love you too, Max,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve loved you for so long, but I was too scared to say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his face breaking into a wide, relieved smile. “God, we’re such idiots,” he laughs, moving around the counter to pull you into his arms. “All this time, and we’ve both been too afraid to say anything.”

You laugh too, the sound filled with a mix of relief and happiness. “Yeah, we are,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “But at least we finally figured it out.”

Max pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “And now that we have,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with emotion, “we have all the time in the world.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with love for this man who’s been your best friend for so long, and now, finally, something more. “Yeah, we do,” you agree softly before leaning up to press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, both of you savoring the moment that’s been a long time coming. But soon, it deepens, the pent-up emotions from years of unspoken feelings pouring out. Max’s hands cup your face as he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go, and you melt into him, feeling like you’re finally where you’re meant to be.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, and you can’t help but laugh again, the joy bubbling up inside you. “We really are idiots,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “How did it take us this long?”

Max chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m just glad we finally got here.”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him again, and this time, the kiss is filled with promise—a promise of a future together, of all the moments you’ll share now that the truth is out. And as you pull him closer, feeling his arms wrap around you, you know that this is just the beginning.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @magixpracticality @eoduuung @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @demyackerman @oledoledoffen @acesbakery @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld

�� 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[kaleldobrev]

Please Don't Leave

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean's lucky to have you in his life and honestly doesn't know what he would ever do without you

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Fluff, Vulnerable/Angry Dean

Authors Note: The gif makes me sad | This might seem a little non canon but at the same time I honestly feel like Dean would react this way (fight me if you want, but I said what I said) | I just love this man so fucking much | Dream/Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean didn’t have a lot of consistencies in his life, but you were one of them. Out of everyone he had known in his life, you were one of the only people that had remained with him through all the heartbreak, all of the death, all of the blood, sweat, and tears that this life had. You had been through it all with him: Sam going to Stanford and leaving him behind, his fathers death, him selling his soul, the year that Sam went to Hell, the year the two of you were in Purgatory, the few months he was a demon, his bloodlust fueled by the Mark, him being possessed by Michael. He had an endless list of things that the two of you had been through together, things that would cause any normal or rational person to throw in the towel; but not you. “You can’t get rid of me Dean Winchester, not even if you kill me yourself.” You had joked. And that was something that he had almost done – and on several occasions too. And yet, you never left him. “I guess I’m just stupid.” You said. “Or maybe the sex me and you have is just that good.”

The sex he had with you, now that was something. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced; and he has had quite a lot of sex during his lifetime (not that he bragged about it of course). When the two of you initially met, it was only supposed to be a working relationship, a friends with benefits sort of deal. But eventually it turned into more. He wasn’t sure where him or you had gotten your wires crossed but they did; and it turned into you and him always finding each other at the end of the night regardless of the different men and women that had hit on both of you at the bar you two were at.

The sex used to be quick, usually done in either a drunken haze or after a tough hunt. But it eventually turned into something that either one of you would initiate through soft touches: a kiss on the forehead, a simple hand hold, or cuddling into each other. Once, in the middle of sex, he wasn’t sure why he had said it but he did. He kind of just blurted it out. “I love you.” Now that was something he never thought he’d ever say during sex before. But here you were beneath him, staring up at him with those doe eyes of yours that you frequently had during sex and said, “I love you too.” It was something he didn’t expect.

Dean didn’t know what he could or would possibly do if you weren’t in his life; and that was something he didn’t want to think about. But it was something that has been an unavoidable thought as of late. Waking up to you was one of the worst but best things after a nightmare of losing you. He would wake up in a panic, his heart racing, sweating; afraid that you were gone for good this time. But without fail, every single time you would be right there next to him. Either sound asleep or awake enough to tell him, “It’s okay, I’m right here.” He would always reply the same way. “Just…please don’t leave.” It was a simple yet complicated sentence. “I’m not going to. I’d never leave you.” Those words that you always uttered back should have been comforting to him, but it was just an empty promise – even though he knows that’s how you never intended it to sound. In your heart you loved him deeply, and he knew that. He knew that you’d never leave him; the two of you have been through everything together. But when it came to this life, it was hard to make and keep promises like that.

“Dean, I just can’t do this anymore I’m sorry.” Your words had cut into him like a knife. Like he’d been shot hundreds of times. The torture he received from Hell combined with the loss of his mother was child’s play compared to what he was currently feeling. He just started blankly at the two duffel bags at your feet as you stood in the doorway of the room the two of you shared. Well, formally shared that is. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, your question snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“There’s nothing to say.” Of course there were hundreds, no thousands of things that he had wanted to say to you, but he knew that he couldn’t say any of it. As much as he wanted to beg for you to stay, he wasn’t going to make you stay. Once you made up your mind that was it; there was no convincing you.

You looked at him with a confused expression. “You don’t even want to know why I’m leaving?” You asked, and Dean simply shook his head. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to keep his voice even, to make you believe that he was okay. But he could tell that you knew he wasn’t (you knew him long enough to know when he was or wasn’t okay).

“Dean.” You said, your voice sounding more heartbroken than his.

“It’s alright. You don’t…you don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, taking a seat on the bed you two once shared.

“I feel like you deserve an explanation. We were together for almost twenty years Dean.” You sat down next to him on the bed. He had just wanted to push you away or wrap you in his arms. Two completely differently reactions, but that’s the way he felt. “Dean.” You touched his shoulder and he flinched, you quickly removed your hand. “I love you, and I know you know that but –”

“Please just…stop talking. I really don’t want to hear what you have to say.” His voice was more hurt now, and he could feel himself trying not to say or do anything that he was going to regret. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want you to have to see that, despite seeing him do it so many times before. “Just, leave if you’re going to leave.” You didn’t move, simply just staring at him. “Go!” He snapped, and that’s when you got up.

You walked over to your bags, slinging one over your shoulder and holding the other one in your hands. “Goodbye Dean.” You said, before walking out of the room. For a while he heard the sound of your boots down the hall, but they suddenly became faint, almost inaudible. The Bunker door opened and closed again. You were gone. Gone for good this time.

“You said you’d never fucking leave.” He whispered to himself. “Said you’d never fucking leave me.” He pounded the bed with his fist. “You fucking lied!” He got up from the bed and he felt himself start to lose control; no longer in control of the emotions that had been building up when he had started watching you pack up your bags.

Dean woke up abruptly, sitting up. He was panicked, his heart racing. His breaths were heavy, his chest moving up and down. He rubbed his face, trying to fully wake himself up. There was no way he would be getting back to sleep for a while; not after that nightmare. “Y/N -” he began to say as he looked over to his right side; your side of the bed. You were gone. “Sweetheart?” He asked, his hand reached out and touched the emptiness next to him: it was cold.

He looked up at the door to the bedroom which was slightly ajar. The only light in the room came seeping in from the hallway. He didn’t remember having the door open, the door was always shut whenever the two of you slept. Despite how safe the Bunker was, sleeping with the door closed added an extra layer of safety, not just for him, but for you as well.

A shadow appeared, blocking some of the light. He reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, slightly gripping his gun that he always kept there. Before he could fully wrap his hand around the weapon you squeaked inside the room and shut the door again quietly. A huge amount of relief washed over him in that moment as he let go of the gun and closed the drawer. “Dean?” You questioned, upon hearing the drawer close. “Baby are you okay?” You asked, walking to sit on his side of the bed. He looked at you as you placed a hand on his cheek. Your eyes full of worry.

“You were…” his eyes flickered to your side of the bed that had been empty when he woke up before looking back at you again. “You were gone. When I woke up you…”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You reassured him, your voice calm.

“Where did you go?” He asked tiredly.

“The bathroom. I really, really needed to pee.” You said, Dean chuckled a little at your comment. “You know I wouldn’t willingly leave you right?” You reassured him again. You felt him nod in your hand.

“I know.” His voice sounding just a hint sad. “I uh, I feel stupid for freaking out.” The sentence was a whisper.

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about Dean.” Another reassurance. Dean had every right to react the way he did; he had lost so much, even before you had met him. You had been with him through everything. Witnessed so much loss and endured just as much. “Was it a nightmare?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was the…the one where you break up with me.” You hated that one just as much as he did.

“I’m never going to break up with you. I love you too damn much.” You said, giving him a smile. You crawled into bed next to him getting underneath the covers. “Come here.” You held out your arms for him, and without hesitation he went into them. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your chest; your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your fingers started playing with his hair, gently massaging his head.

The two of you sat there in silence, both of you with your eyes closed. You weren’t sleeping, but you were unsure if he was. Even if he wasn’t, his breathing was starting to get more even, he was starting to calm down. Hearing the sound of your heartbeat always calmed him down. “Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes my love?” You asked, opening your eyes.

He looked up at you briefly, tiredly. “I know I don’t tell you enough but…I’m really lucky to have you in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kissed your neck, as that was one of the only spots he could currently reach.

“I’m lucky to have you in my life too.” You responded, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

“And Sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Thank you…thank you for not leaving me.” His voice sounding a little pained. The sound of this sentence had broken your heart a bit. Leaving Dean was never an option for you, no matter what had happened between the two of you. Being with him wasn’t easy, but you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him on the top of the head again, and you could feel his smile.

That night, Dean didn’t have another nightmare, but he did dream. He had one of his favorite dreams; one that always gave him a sense of calmness and normalcy. The two of you would be just lying in bed together watching some random horror movie on tv. It was something that the two of you have done hundreds, no, thousands of times, so there would be no reason why it would be his so called favorite dream. What made it his favorite though was purely based on one small detail, a detail that made it known to him that it was in fact a dream: wedding rings would be on both of your fingers.

Someday maybe, he thought.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you'd like to be on a tag list, just message me!

[itsfairly]

A Little Tense // Nanami Kento x f!reader

word count: 3.1k

cw: f!reader, female anatomy, explicit language at the beginning, smut (very brief), fluff, established relationship, reader unable to hit the big O, nanami being a gentleman and setting the standard, petnames (sweetheart, good girl, love, angel) self-indulgent, not proofread.

summary: when having sex with your love leaves you more tense than relaxed, nanami decides to ease that tension in a different and much innocent way.

notes: tmi, you can guess about what. lets hope my motivation to write stays because i keep getting too many ideas and not enough energy.

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

You were wet, practically dripping onto the sheets with every thrust. The sounds of skin slapping every time his hips met yours filled the room, along with the wet squelches from your cunt as it relished the feeling of being completely full. Sex with Nanami was always amazing. He knew where and how to touch, when to make you wait and beg for him, and when to give in to you and spoil you completely so that every time your legs wrapped around his waist like this you could feel how your body tensed beyond its limits only to make said tension disappear soon after.

Tonight, you two have been at it for a while. Feeling his hands roam your body with his tongue lazily popped in and out of your pussy and your legs hooked on his shoulders one moment, and the next bouncing on his lap as the air was punched out of your lungs and earning sweet nothings from Nanami. You're not sure how long it has been and neither of you cared when your moans mixed together in sweet synchrony and each position felt better than the next as his attention shifted to different parts of your body—tongue swirling circles around your perked nipples with a satisfied hum as he looked up at you, hands squeezing your waist to guide your pace met with an "easy there, sweetheart," lips finding your neck to press the sweetest kisses followed by a quick playful bite, fingers rubbing over your folds but not going in just yet. His attention was entirely on you and how to wash your body over with pleasure no matter how long it took.

He was doing everything right, not just with his body, but also his voice. The sounds that left his lips were already heavenly, grunting as your body met his with every thrust and moaning every time you squeezed around him, but his words were just as good.

Good girl, keep moaning for me.

I can't wait, I want to feel you around me.

Fuck, need to make you feel good, love. I'll spend all night to make you feel good.

Despite your body being aroused like never before, your mind didn't seem to follow.

It was by no means Nanami's fault. He was following along what you both knew of your body. Trailing kisses on your neck and being extra attentive when he reached your soft spot by biting it gently, licking over the spot, and nibbling on it; keeping just the right angle of his hips against yours so that you could feel his curve hitting your G-spot, and of course, being ever so kind to moan and grunt loud enough for your ears to catch knowing the effect his voice has on you. But lately, your body and your mind didn't seem to connect. Even if the mood was just perfect, the dimmed light illuminating your bedroom and the way your bodies moved caused the bed to gently rock, no matter what position or move from him, it didn't seem to be doing it for you now. At least not to the point of orgasm.

You didn't know it was wrong and it was making you more frustrated and tense, the opposite of what you wanted right now. You have tried many positions for one night and neither of them has brought you past the edge, making you more impatient in a way that wasn't even from how good you felt—it was from how awful it felt being so close to the edge but not quite there yet, over and over again.

Soon, your thoughts take you away from the current moment, stuck trying to figure out what was being so difficult right now, and Nanami picks up on that. Deciding that enough was enough, his hips press against yours one more time and tries to catch his breath as he looks down on you.

"We should stop."

You snap out of your thoughts with his voice, breathy and raspy, from what you assume was exhaustion. You don't blame him, after all, he's been focusing on coming up with whatever would make you feel as good as you were making him feel, all those efforts amounting to practically nothing and making you feel guilty when his voice sounds firm in his decision.

"No," you placed your hands on his arms, looking up at him with a frown, easily read as frustration. Just not at him. "Kento, I can-"

"I don't enjoy it if you don't. I'm not going to continue just for me," he says sternly as he cuts you off, his eyes looking at you warmly as he breathes heavily. He wouldn't be selfish like that.

Yet, the way his words came out made it easy for you to put more guilt on yourself, feeling like you were depriving him of an obvious need his body craved. "I can't just let you not get off just because I can't, especially when we've been going at it for a while."

"Hey, it's okay," he says softly, shifting his weight to his arm and bringing his other hand to your cheek to caress it. "You don't have to feel like you need to compensate me. These things happen and you would've done the same for me, why can't I do it for you?"

You sigh, throwing your head down on the mattress. You felt awful. Even if he was trying to assure you that it was no problem to stop, you didn't like the fact that one, you couldn't get yourself to orgasm no matter how much you tried to concentrate, and two, that prevented him from orgasm. He was very patient this whole time and it felt like your body and mind weren't cooperating.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out, that frustrated frown still present on your face.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart."

"It feels like it. It's not like it didn't feel good, it's just..." God, it felt so embarrassing to express this. You felt the center of her chest heat up, mentally beating yourself up as a tear or two filled your eyes. Why on Earth were you crying just because you couldn't cum? "...fuck, I couldn't get there, Kento."

Nanami softened at your frustration, slowly pulling out and laying down on the bed next to you. His hand stayed on your cheek, thumb carefully wiping under your eyes. He could see how being pent up and edged over and over again against your will was making your frustration grow, which in turn prevented you from releasing any kind of tension. It was a weird cycle—you wanted to cum but couldn't, making your body more and more pent-up and tense, which made you frustrated, and then it was back to step one.

Nanami stays quiet, none of the words in his head sounded right. He worried that anything he would say would just upset you further and make you feel embarrassed or insecure about your body. Instead, he brings you closer to him, his arms carefully pulling you towards his bare chest to then caress his hands down your back. You needed comfort, ease your mind off things. Your tears told him the severity of your feelings at the moment, every single one valid in his eyes and understanding your frustration. What was supposed to be an explosion of euphoria turned into a cocktail of emotions directed towards yourself, it wasn't fair to you and it hurt him to see you like this in this situation.

You sighed, nuzzling your head against his arms as you looked away from his eyes. You could feel your eyebrows knitted together, but you couldn't feel how your jaw tensed as you gritted your teeth against each other or the way you were closing yourself off by taking as little space as possible. It felt stupid, trying to find the reason why your body just wasn't feeling like feeling pleasure, circling back to your cycle, your mood, if you were stressed, anything that would explain what was going on. But as much as you wrecked your mind over it, no answer felt right and it made things more frustrated. No answers meant no way to solve things.

Taking in these little sighs, Nanami knew you needed to relieve this tension some other way. So he reverts back to the small things.

"Get on your stomach, love." He said softly, slipping his arm from beneath your head as he lifted himself to kneel on the bed.

"We already tried that, Kento." You answered in a mumble.

"Not for that, I want to help you another way."

You looked up at him from your side, meeting his patient eyes as he waited for you to do as he asked. To be honest, you just wanted to get back into your clothes and call it a day, hoping that your body would get over whatever it was going through by the next time you two got horny. But then again, he didn't seem to be overthinking or mad about the situation like you were and was pushing aside the fact that his body was just starting to soften, immediately shutting down any possibility for sex tonight for good. You didn't know what he was planning, so with a raise of an eyebrow, you turned on the bed to lay on your stomach as your elbows propped you up to look back at him intrigued.

Without skipping a beat, his hands find your shoulders, fingers pressing against that tender spot close to your neck and rubbing in circles. It was tense, to no one's surprise, making him sigh and making you groan quietly. His fingers slowly slide outwards against your skin, sometimes changing circular motions to knead your muscles up and down.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to be doing this considering he already went above and beyond before to help you orgasm, but you already knew he would just brush it off and continue. Besides, it felt nice. Your body was sore, pent-up, and you were frustrated. A massage didn't sound too bad, even better when he was being really gentle with his hands and applying just the right pressure.

"Does that feel good?" He asked softly, his head turning to you when you groan.

You hum with a nod, letting your arms rest completely on the bed and using them as a pillow, letting Nanami pamper you a bit. You know he said you didn't need to make it up to him in any way, and though he was right, you wanted to. He was doing too much for the little you did.

But he didn't see it that way.

"You know, sex isn't the only way I want to make love to you." He started, his hands sliding down your sides until he reached your lower back, using his thumbs to rub over in circles. "And I don't want sex to be the only way we get intimate and release some tension."

"I love how you look at me with those pretty eyes, begging me for more and moaning my name with my hands all over you. But I also love seeing you feel confident, comfortable, and loved. How you relax whenever we are together, how you seek me just because you feel like it, how we bounce off each other even if it means keeping me on my toes...that's why I can't enjoy it if you don't. Because it doesn't feel like you are here with me—and I want to be with you whenever I can. So if sex isn't enjoyable, I will just show you my love in other ways."

Nanami chuckles, hands still rubbing at your waist and hips as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. You turned your head to the side, still resting it on top of your arms, to reveal how vulnerable his words hit you. He made it sound as if pleasure came second when having sex, making you feel a bit silly for not thinking about it in that way and preoccupying yourself with your climax first. Not that he would blame you for that, of course, since he also prioritized your pleasure first out of love for you. Still, it did take some guilt off your shoulders, both figuratively and literally now that he worked through some knots, knowing that his earlier words came out of a caring place rather than a pity one. It was stupid to ever think he would ever intentionally try to make you feel guilty over something you had no control over, and it made you feel a bit better about your sudden condition.

"Thank you, love." You breathed out, placing a hand on this knee and rubbing your thumb over it. Words weren't being your friends right now with everything you were feeling even if things were starting to clear up, but you still wanted to show him how much it meant for him to say and do so much at a moment's notice. It might be small, but you hoped it was enough.

Your small touch was met with a hum, his eyes looking down at your hand on him briefly before smiling down at you. He was glad to see that familiar look in your eyes, the one which you look back at him when his feelings dawned on you once more after God knows how many times he has seen it before. Seeing you soften up and seek him in the most subtle ways that, in his eyes, were the ones that showed your feelings the best. He was seeing you feel loved, just like he wanted you to feel right now.

"Back, please." He instructed gently, hands rubbing up your hips to the sides of your breasts. A quick and innocent touch before you actually turned.

You smiled softly, lifting your head from your arms and using your elbow to roll on your back like he asked. Though it was starting to feel a bit cold, you didn't really feel like putting back some clothes on. You still wanted to feel his hands directly on your skin, especially now that your legs were feeling sore after how tensed they were a couple of minutes ago.

As if he read your mind, he took one of your legs, placing it on his shoulder before giving your ankle a soft kiss. He hummed, his hands kneading down your legs starting with your calf. Thumbs worked through your muscles, earning a soft groan from you as you looked up at him. There was something sensual from the moment, unsurprising considering the two of you decided to remain bare to each other and your leg stretched out to rest on his shoulder, but also with how slow and thorough he was being.

Rather than the usual sudden and unraveling pleasure from an orgasm, this kind of touch felt like a crescendo. His hands touched your skin and applied pressure in the places he felt you tense, getting closer and closer to the most intimate parts of you but not letting things escalate further than a simple massage. It was calm and delicate, taking time to build up before he even pressed against you. It wasn't overwhelming, it didn't dumb you down or force your thoughts out of you, it nourished them by redirecting them into how your body felt. As Nanami lowered your leg to the mattress to raise the other and work his way up to your calf, it was as if you could feel the parts rather than just the whole of your body, aware of each tension and knot that had built up over time and surrounding to his rhythmic and soothing strokes. Pressure came and left like waves at the shore, feeling the way your body slowly relaxed and brought the relief you were seeking.

Nanami wasn't looking to break you down with pleasure tonight. He was looking to build you up until you felt greater than the sum of the parts, parts he loved each and immensely.

"You're being really quiet, am I making you fall asleep?" Nanami chuckled, bringing his hands down to your things where they met your hips before caressing them up to the soles of your feet.

"Would you stop if I did fall asleep?" You teased, raising yourself up with your elbows as you grinned at him.

"Not unless you asked me to."

You giggled, feeling all that clutter in your mind leave with each minute, focusing on his hands and occasionally kisses he left over your skin. You relaxed your body further, releasing the tension you unconsciously held on other parts of your body as you noticed them.

You took the opportunity to look at his face, admiring his attention to you and how much he has done already for you on this night alone. He didn't complain once tonight. Not when you asked for a different position, not when he stopped, not when this night turned into something different. Instead, he was caring and selfless, looking out for you and doing it because he wanted to—no, insisted on making you feel good some other way. He was so...

"You're perfect," you breathed out, your thoughts escaping your mind before you could react. But when you do, you bring your leg down from his shoulder and sit up, bringing a hand to his cheek and caressing it. "I love how you love me."

Nanami softened at your words, a bit taken back at your sudden affection but he wouldn't have it any other way. Keeping his eyes on you, he wasn't able to say his own thoughts before you continued yours.

"I love you, Kento. You made me feel better about tonight."

Nanami hummed, brushing away the strands of hair that covered your beautiful face. There she was, his angel. All pampered, taken care of, and present. There you were. He kissed your hairline, pressing his lips a bit more before he pulled away.

"And I will make sure I keep doing that. I can't have my love feeling all tense, not even a little bit."

He smiled at you, running his hands down your arms pulling you closer and planting a kiss behind your ear, "I love loving you, I love how you love me, and above all, I absolutely adore you."

Your heart swelled, bringing this warmth all over your body from your chest. A warmth that felt intimate, but didn't make you feel aroused. It made you feel cozy, confident, loved. You wouldn't trade that.

As you take his hands off your arms and into yours, squeezing them tightly as you pepper his face with kisses, Nanami chuckles and allows you to focus on him for a moment like he has on you. Maybe he would have to massage you more often if it meant feeling your lips on every inch of his face, a much special massage if you ask him.

[webslingingslasher]

banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?” 

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.” 

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?” 

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?” 

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.” 

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid. 

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.” 

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.” 

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes. 

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?” 

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?” 

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.” 

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello. 

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard. 

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year. 

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own. 

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside. 

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’ 

‘Give me five minutes.’ 

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs. 

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting. 

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed. 

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it. 

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively.  “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.” 

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?” 

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.” 

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?” 

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.” 

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries. 

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.” 

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.” 

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.” 

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.” 

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.” 

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.” 

“So this was all for nothing?” 

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.” 

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.” 

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs. 

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture. 

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie. 

“Then introduce yourself.” 

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent. 

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out. 

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this. 

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.” 

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out. 

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears. 

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text. 

‘friend?’ 

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions. 

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash. 

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time. 

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left. 

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders. 

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?” 

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ. 

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing. 

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-” 

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.” 

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?” 

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.” 

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.” 

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring. 

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend. 

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious. 

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy. 

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.” 

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?” 

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.” 

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?” 

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.” 

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.” 

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.” 

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.” 

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed. 

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.” 

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours. 

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too. 

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?” 

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.” 

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged. 

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.” 

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.” 

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition. 

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny. 

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch. 

“She’s difficult and entitled.” 

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul. 

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained. 

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?” 

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back. 

“It’s so soft.” 

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?” 

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious. 

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting. 

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight. 

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion. 

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him. 

“Peter, hi!” 

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.” 

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?” 

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.” 

“I know how to hug.” 

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.” 

“No.” 

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too. 

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.” 

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear. 

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.” 

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin. 

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.” 

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink. 

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.” 

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second. 

“Which album?” 

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?” 

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.  

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?” 

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.” 

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked. 

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back. 

“Who’s that?” 

You point at yourself, “me.” 

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch. 

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.” 

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown. 

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.” 

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone. 

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.” 

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away. 

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time. 

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?” 

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand. 

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.” 

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other. 

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for. 

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.” 

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.” 

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.” 

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up. 

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body. 

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.” 

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning. 

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.” 

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs. 

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section. 

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care. 

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.” 

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach. 

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his. 

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though. 

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?” 

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.” 

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself. 

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!” 

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit. 

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move. 

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.” 

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?” 

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!” 

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.” 

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.” 

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.” 

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.” 

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second. 

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.” 

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.” 

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.” 

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter. 

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.” 

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch. 

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity. 

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work. 

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.” 

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger. 

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.” 

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now. 

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.” 

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.” 

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.” 

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?” 

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more. 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them. 

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?” 

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy. 

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.” 

“You act like one.” 

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’  You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug. 

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.” 

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him. 

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to. 

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell. 

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish. 

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more. 

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later. 

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky. 

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?” 

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter. 

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in. 

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket. 

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!” 

The good one? 

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute. 

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.” 

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort. 

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.” 

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad. 

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky. 

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored. 

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.” 

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.” 

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall. 

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him. 

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?” 

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do. 

CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

 Prince next, “Sam Mason.”  

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?” 

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.” 

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck. 

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you. 

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it. 

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color. 

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space. 

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it. 

“Right,” one step closer. 

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you. 

“And then?” 

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation. 

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself. 

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.” 

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening. 

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-” 

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip. 

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time. 

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him. 

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that? 

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading. 

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same? 

“Parker, you out here?” 

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker. 

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you. 

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.” 

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing? 

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.” 

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened. 

Just so you could keep it to yourself. 

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream. 

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball. 

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up. 

“Cheers, Parker.” 

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling. 

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor. 

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges. 

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest. 

“I bid Isaac Barns.” 

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality. 

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again. 

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first. 

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking. 

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you. 

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now. 

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch. 

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you. 

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research. 

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter. 

‘big brother season.’ 

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless. 

[natti-ice]

James Potter Blurb.

Pairing: James potter x reader

Warnings: the slightest suspense

Based on the line “How did I manage to get you?”

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

You were sat against a large oak on a big blanket spread across a grassy field. You watched your boyfriend from afar, you two had stumbled upon this field a few weeks ago and thought it would be the perfect date spot.

Further down the field there were was very tall grass, James being the explorer he is went to see what kind of things he might find. You always loved watching him in his element, watching him fulfill his curiosity.

James had gone very far out to the point he was just a blur in your vision. The sun would be setting soon and James hadn’t come back yet. You made yourself busy by reading the small book you had brought with you.

You didn’t know the exact time but it had been awhile since you last saw James. It was now dark and you knew you should head home soon. You put your book down and stood walking out from under the tree.

You looked around trying to see if you could find him but it had already gotten too dark.

“James!” You yelled out

No response

You called his name again, and once more. Still nothing.

Panic has slightly started to set in, you know that James could handle himself but you still didn’t like him being alone in the middle of nowhere. You started to walk down the field in the direction he went. Still calling out his name and not hearing anything back, when you got down to the tall grass you could hear rustling.

Something was close.

“James?” You called out once more

“Yes, love?” James said from behind you startling you

“Jesus James don’t do that!” You said turning around lightly hitting him on the chest

“I’m sorry darling, I got lost picking these flowers for you” he apologized handing you a small bouquet of white daisies

“Thank you, they’re beautiful” you smiled accepting his apology “we should probably head back before it gets to late” you suggested

“Yeah you’re right” he agreed grabbing your free hand interlacing your fingers together. You two walk back through the field to grab your belongings.

“You scares me half to death, I thought you got taken or something” you said to him

He stopped in his tracks, you didn’t know why until you looked over at him. He was already looking at you, the pale moon light lit his face just enough for you to see that cheesy smile of his

“What?” You questioned

“How did I manage to get you?” He asked gently

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you care for me, you’re the sweetest person I’ve met, not to mention gorgeous. I am beyond lucky to have you in my life” It was the most genuine thing you ever heard him say

You leaned forward, pecking his cheek with a kiss.

“I’m lucky to have you too” you smiled “now let’s get out of here before something pops out”

The two of you gathered the rest of your things and made it back to the car without being taken. I guess you could say it was a good date.

Tags: @thebiggestnaturaldisaster

Join a tag list!

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 2)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 5.6k

Part 2 / ? (Ongoing Series) (AO3)

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50). Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. POV Switching. Series contains Angst and lots of Smut (to avoid chapter specific spoilers you can expect things such as but not limited to Unprotected PiV, Cream Pies, Oral, Masturbation, Dom!Joel, Subby reader, Pining, Infidelity) 

A/N: In case you are just jumping in, you can read Part 1 here. Part 2 is more smut heavy! I aim to have Part 3 out much sooner as time allows!

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

Comments / Reblogs are so incredibly appreciated and give me the motivation to write 🧡

Without further ado... for your reading pleasure.

It’s late on Saturday morning and you have a pot of coffee brewing while you shower. You stand in the stream of hot water far longer than you need to. Your thoughts shrouded by your evening with Joel Miller. How rough but passionate his touch was. How he made you get on your knees for him. How he tasted and how badly you wanted… needed  more of him. Your hands trace over tender spots where he held onto you and you relish the memory. 

He tested your obedience and you followed his orders. You hope it turned him on as much as it did you. You liked surrendering yourself to him. Despite his roughness you felt safe with him. You couldn’t explain it yet but you could feel that his burly facade was hiding something softer. 

You finally step out onto the cool tile and dry off in front of the mirror. You pat your hair down with your towel and when the steam starts to dissipate you catch how happy you look. An old you that you have not recognized for a long, long time. 

You smile to yourself and resolve to put Joel out of your mind for now or nothing would be getting done today. 

The coffee helps wake you up enough to plan out your morning. There is a light coating of fresh snow and the sky looks gray and ominous. A big storm is expected to hit overnight so you head into town to pick up some food and provisions. You make a quick stop at Grind when you see Marlene’s car parked in front.

There are a few customers and you are surprised to see Marlene working. By her expression, she wasn’t too pleased to be there.

“Hey!” You greet her as you approach the counter. “You got stuck working today?”

“Yeah, someone called out.” she rolled her eyes. “Don’t feel too bad for me, it’s your turn next.” she jokes. A teenager is busy checking out a customer and another is making a latte. Marlene steps away for a moment to chat with you.

“So…” she prods. “How did it go?” You fail to hide your smile and thoughts of Joel overtake you once again. 

“It went… great.” 

“When can I meet him?” 

You laugh nervously at her question.

“Lets not jump ahead. Right now it’s just something… casual.” 

She is skeptical of your reply and stares at you for a moment, trying to will more out of you, but you don’t give in. 

“Ok. Whatever you say.” She rolls her eyes again. “I have to get back to work, but you are going to have to tell me sooner or later.” She points at you and furrows her brow. 

“Yeah, Yeah.” You joke. “See you Monday!”

You leave the shop and cross the street to the grocery store. The place is mobbed and the shelves wiped out of the most in demand items. You grab a few things and chat with your mom who calls you to check in. Rather, to tell you all about her excursions and gossip about people you have never even met. You don’t mind and just tell her things are going well, you like your job and let her ramble on, not really listening. Mindless chatter in your ears while you shop. 

She does catch you off guard when she mentions hearing about the storm and “Joel will plow for us if we ask him to” casually. Your ears perk at the mention of his name but you act cool and collected. You don’t like the way she volunteers his services so nonchalantly. It strikes a nerve in you and reminds you of how she always insinuates you are incapable of being responsible. It makes you feel defensive for Joel, too. Her disregard for his time further illustrating how self centered she is. This was one of the factors that pushed you away for so many years. 

“Your father will call him later—” 

Absolutely not. You interrupt her sternly mid-sentence. 

“Mom. I will take care of it.” The last thing you want is your parents harassing Joel or trying to control you from across the country. This was a string you needed to make clear was not going to be attached to your current living arrangement.

“I have things under control.” 

“Oh… ok then.” Her tone is short and then she is off talking about her beach plans again. This goes on for another 10 minutes and by now you are in the checkout line. You say your goodbyes and calculate another week or two before you have to do that all over again. 

You hadn’t really considered the snow aftermath but you had a shovel and your car would be good enough to get out of your driveway… probably. You were not going to bother Joel regardless. 

The call puts you in a bad mood as you drive home. The spitting snow reminds you of the impending storm. The cheerful start of the day is gone and replaced with a heavy feeling.

You drive past Joel’s house and wonder if he is home and what he is doing. Wonder if you should call him. Wonder why he has not reached out to you either. You don’t want to be that girl. It’s not like you and him are anything. You shouldn’t be expecting anything from him. However, you still feel a faint sting of disappointment. Maybe he had his fun and that was it. Self doubt poisons your mind but you try to swallow it back. 

The rest of the day you spend eating junk food and watching movies on Netflix. You fall asleep on the couch early in the night before forcing yourself into bed. The wind and snow has ramped up and your power flickers. 

You pull your comforter tightly over you and take one last look at your phone but you already know there is nothing from Joel. 

Saturday Night (Joel POV)

Joel sits up in his loft on his worn out couch, strumming his guitar. He takes a sip of his whiskey, neat, and poorly mouths the words to his song. 

He plays a few more riffs but feels distracted and unfocused. All attempts to keep busy have been ineffective today. He spent the afternoon preparing his truck and stacking firewood. Once that work was done he had nothing but free time.

The truth is, you have been on his mind. It was hard not to think about you. He had only explored the tip of the iceberg with you and wanted more. He knew it wasn’t right to pursue you for a magnitude of reasons, but the desire was not waning. He felt things with you that he had not felt in a long time. Feelings he was afraid to give in to.      

Joel replaces the guitar in his hands with his phone and hovers your name in the recent contacts.  This isn’t the first time today he has almost called you. 

What are you doing, stupid. He thinks to himself. 

He shuts down the moment of weakness and locks his phone. He knocks back the last of his whiskey and heads downstairs. He turns on his TV to the local news and listens to them fuss over the storm. He knew tomorrow would be a busy one for him with his side hustle as the plow guy many locals depended on. Just another thing to keep him busy. 

He goes to take a shower before calling it an early night.

The shower is hot and comforting and in no time his mind is wandering back to you. He thought about your brief evening together and how intriguing you were. How bold you were. How tight you were when he was fingering you and how needy you sounded.  

He puts a fist against the shower wall to brace himself and hangs his head low so his shoulders block the bulk of the water. He uses his free hand to wrap around his semi-hard cock. He remembers your playful hold on him and gently strokes himself. It doesn’t take very long to get hard as he relives that moment in his mind. His strokes get harder and faster and he wishes he was fucking into you and not his own hand.

He groans as he comes and watches his spend drip down the shower walls and into the drain. His few moments of bliss quickly fade away. He balls his fist in frustration at his unfulfilling release. He needs more. He needs you. 

Your Sunday morning begins with anything but peace and calm. You are startled awake by the grinding sound of heavy metal dragging across pavement. You look outside your bedroom window and see the snow has blanketed everything and there are still a few lingering flurries dancing in the sky. The trees are struggling with bent over branches coated in ice and snow. 

Leaving your warm and cozy blanket fortress is the last thing you want to do. You lazily grab a hoodie to pull over your oversized shirt you slept in and your pajama shorts and make your way to the front of the house. The floor is cold on your feet but the air is warm. You cranked the thermostat before bed, making you feel rebellious in the moment but it seemed silly and wasteful now.

You look out the front window that faces the driveway. There you see Joel Miller in his truck, plow attached, barreling towards you and crashing into a snowbank he started building up. He looked so serious and professional backing up his truck with an arm stretched across his seat as he looked over his shoulder. He was so focused he was not aware you were watching him and his scowl at work. 

It doesn’t take long before that familiar ache between your legs returns. The longing to let Joel have his way with you. A desire that is getting harder and harder to ignore.

The realization that you look like you just woke up from bed hits and you scramble to the bathroom to run a comb through your hair and brush your teeth. You can hear the drag of the plow continue as you finish up and then rush to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The stove clock reads 7:32am. Way too fucking early for a Sunday morning.

You hear his truck door slam and the sound of crunchy snow under his boots. He is walking with a heavy foot and grabs the shovel leaning by your door.

Joel is shoveling your walkway, weaving a modest path for you to get from your house to your driveway without trudging through the snow. You can hear him grunt as he tosses the heavy snow out of the way. What would have taken you probably an hour takes him just a few minutes. 

He plunges the shovel into a snowbank when he reaches the end of the path and leans on it to catch his breath. He looks exhausted and rightfully so. You want to comfort him in whatever way you can. At least offer him some respite to show your appreciation. As much as you hate to admit it, you would have been totally fucked if you had to tackle your driveway with your inadequate self. Joel saves the day, again.

You crack open the front door and call out to Joel, reluctantly interrupting his moment of peace. 

“Hey!” 

He slowly turns in your direction when he hears your voice. His eyes scrunch as he makes out your figure hanging out the door. He gives a lazy wave of acknowledgment. 

“Come inside and warm up? I made coffee.” 

He picks up the shovel to return it and makes his way towards you. 

“Yeah, ok. Just for a minute” He follows you inside.

Joel closes the door hard behind him and scuffs his boots on the mat to get off any snow. He brushes his hand quickly over the top of his head to knock off any lingering snow and unbuttons his jacket. He empties his pockets and puts his wallet and phone on the end table. He saunters over to you as you hand him a fresh cup of coffee, black. 

“Thanks.” He manages a smile. He returns to the living room and groans as he lowers himself to the couch. He recklessly sips his piping hot beverage and seems immune to the searing heat and delighted to have it.  He rests his mug on the table and leans back and closes his eyes. His hand comes up to his brow as he pinches his thumb and finger together across his eyes.   

You lean against the doorway between the rooms and sip your coffee. You notice how tired and worn he looks. His damp hair is shiny. His heat is melting the last few snowflakes and making him look messy and wet. His jacket is open and disheveled and his flannel undershirt is haphazardly draping on him as he slouches back. 

Despite all that he is still as handsome as ever and you like seeing him this way. Vulnerable in this out-of-character state. 

“Tired.” He grunts with his eyes closed and it snaps you out of your thoughts. “Been a long morning.” 

You take a few steps towards him to close the gap.

“I’m too old for this.” He sneers as he looks at you with lazy, heavy lids.

“You didn’t have to worry about me, you know…” Your voice trails off as you wonder if he was there on his own volition. You can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“Did… did my dad call you?” 

“No.” he answers firmly with a suspicion in his tone, almost sounding offended. 

“Good. I mean, thank you. That was really nice of you to come over.” You pause and smile at him. You feel guilty, but also have never had someone so capable looking out for you before.  

“I was going to shovel it.” 

He raises his brow at the ridiculous claim.

“No you weren’t. Wouldn’t have let you if I saw ya out there.”

“Well.. Thank you.” 

“S’nothing. I don’t mind… having an excuse to see ya.” His brows raise and wrinkle in the middle. He has a softened expression as he looks into your eyes. 

Your heart skips a beat and is heavy in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it beating. Having an excuse to see you. You replay it in your mind. He wants to see you. You feel stupid for getting carried away thinking otherwise.    

You put your coffee down next to his and casually walk around to the back of the couch. There is a force compelling you to comfort him. Encourage him to relax. That fluttering feeling in your stomach surges. Joel Miller is exhausted on your couch and isn’t going to be putting up much of a fight if you fuss over him and you want to fuss over him. 

You stand behind him and reach your arms down and spread them slowly from his shoulders down to his sides. He lets out a tiny moan as you circle his taut muscles. You pinch and massage them as you go. You lean forward and bring your mouth just behind his ear. 

“You don’t need an excuse to see me.” It comes out softly and seductive. You can feel his body tense under your words. 

You rake your hands back up to his shoulders and curl your fingers under his open jacket. He halfway cooperates as you tug the jacket off his shoulders and pull it away from him. It's wet and heavy and most of the snow has melted into it by now. You toss it on the back of the couch and return to his shoulders. Your hands massage him and you can feel his muscles tight and knotted under your grasp. His head tilts back into the couch as he lets you tenderly work him.

“Feels good. Really good.” He says in a low, almost inaudible tone. His exhaustion has let his body surrender to you and he isn’t fighting to be in control. 

You lean forward again and plant your mouth on his jawline with a sensual kiss. His damp whiskers prickle your cheek as you drag it against him and go to his ear.

“Let me take care of you.”

He makes a deep, throaty sound in response. 

His flannel is damp and hot and he looks so uncomfortable and stuffy now that he has been inside a while. You slide one of your hands down to his chest and unbutton his shirt. You are halfway down and he reaches his arm up and curls his fingers behind your neck, pulling you down to his mouth. You can feel the shift in the room, like you woke a sleeping bear. 

“Come here.” He uses his free hand to tap his lap and loosens his grip on you.

You walk around to the front of the couch and stand in front of Joel. His legs are spread and he is still lazily slouched back but he motions for you to join him. His half unbuttoned shirt teases you with his thermal undershirt peeking out, still hiding his bare skin. At least you are getting closer.   

You step towards him and move to straddle him on the couch. You have a leg on each side and he puts a hand on each hip under your baggy sweatshirt. 

His hold is tender but makes you melt when you feel the wingspan his fingers have on you. His thumbs brush over your hip bones and trace down to the soft skin just above the crease of your thigh as he casually dips them along your waistband. His touch sends sparks through your skin. 

He lazily stares you down with a narrow gaze over his nose, still resting his head back. 

“Keep going.” He closes his eyes as your focus goes back to finish unbuttoning his shirt.   

As you get close to his jeans you can feel him hardening and straining against the zipper.

You pop open the button and carefully unzip him. His cock springs loose in his boxer shorts. It teases you behind the cloth barrier and you reach for his waistband so you can grab a hold of him. His fingers dig into your sides and he pushes you back slightly to make you stop. He fights through the laziness and is now fully alert. 

“You want my cock?” He grits through his teeth.  “Think it’ll fit in your pretty pussy?” He drags one of his hands to your center and grabs you through the fabric. He smirks as he can feel you are wet and damp through your thin sleep shorts. His fingers sneak into the leg hole of your shorts and he teases your clit through your cotton underwear. You clench remembering the stretch from his thick fingers deep inside you just the other night.

“Yes–” your words catch in your throat as he pushes your underwear aside and thumbs over your folds. He barely touches you and opts to tease you instead, deliberately feathering over your swollen clit. You reach down to grab the wrist of his occupied hand and grind into his fingers. Your body craves the friction. 

“Fuck me, Joel.” 

His eyes darken and with a devilish smirk he takes his hand back and watches as you slide off him to take off your clothes. He looks at your body with a sleazy ferocity. If any other guy looked at you that way you would have slapped him, but not Joel Miller. You want his attention and you like the way it makes you feel when he is eyeing you like a starving wolf.

You pull off your hoodie and shirt and toss them to the piles of clothes building up on the floor. You stand in front of him completely naked. Exposed.  Joel brings out a side of you that makes you feel confident and bold. The way he looks at you with intrigue and desire encourages you. You take a brief moment to tease him back and drag your hands over your breasts and one continues down to your cunt. 

Joel stirs in his seat. He is so easy to rile up. He pulls off his flannel and kicks off his boots. His thermal long sleeve remains hugging his body in all the right places. He arches forward as his hand grabs his thermal from the back and pulls it off over his head. It makes a prickly, staticy sound as it brushes over his hair. He tosses it to the ground and for the first time you can fully take in his body without so many layers hiding him. 

His broad shoulders and chest taper down to a narrowed waist. His body is rugged and defined. For an older man his physique had been well maintained thanks to his lifestyle. His tanned skin and his messy, dark hair with silver streaks sends tingles through you. You have never been so physically drawn into someone before on a level that almost felt primal. 

His eyes sweep your body up and down as he drags his thumb along the side of his mouth and rakes his fingers through his scruff on his chin. He bites his lip while he drinks you in. 

“Damn, baby.”  He curls his thumbs inside the band of his jeans and tugs them down along with his boxers. He kicks them off his legs and reaches towards you, wrapping around the back of your thigh and beckons you to return to him. 

“Come ‘ere”

Your eyes gape as you take in his sheer size. It is intimidating but makes you ache with desire. 

You are back in his lap straddling him with little coercion needed. You stretch an arm behind you to hold yourself up and the other touches yourself. This position lets him take all of you in; bare, exposed and wanting. Wet and needy for him. 

His hand reaches for his throbbing cock. He palms himself with a few labored strokes. He is already beading precome at the tip. You feel a pang of jealousy and wish it was your body wrapped around him. He catches the hungry way you are looking at him. You catch how much he likes it. 

“You wanna ride this cock?” He brushes the tip against your opening and you let out a whimper in response and lurch forward. You brace yourself on his forearm and your other hand pushes against his chest to keep yourself upright. His skin is firm as you grip into him. His body hot and radiating like a furnace.    

“Haven’t gotten you off my mind since Friday.” He confesses. “Thinking about how tight my cock would fit in you.” He teases you with the tip again. Your whimper grows into a needy moan making him harder. Making him want you that much more. 

He crudely spits into his hand and rubs it along his shaft and then he notches it at your entrance. You can feel your body begging to be filled with him and you’ve been wet since you woke up to him in your driveway. You’ve lost count how many times you imagined Joel fucking you. He puts his hands back on your hips with a rough grip and you move your hands to his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself onto him. He helps keep you steady. 

“Joel! Fuck–” You moan. His thick cock sears your skin as it stretches you. He is slowly splitting you open inch by inch and you have never felt more full. He lets you control the pace for now, with pained restraint. He searches your eyes to make sure it isn’t too much. He knows he is a lot to take but the slowness is making him go insane. 

Joel lets out a grunt as he gets closer to bottoming out inside you. Your walls clench around him and the sweet pain from the stretch subsides as your body adjusts to his size. You slowly ride him up and down until you have him fully sheathed inside you. Your body is so full you don’t even have room to form complete thoughts. You can only focus on his burning hot heat inside you, tearing you open. Every moment before this pales in comparison.

“Fuck. So tight.” he snarls. His grip on you tightens as he pulls your body up and then thrusts into you, hard. He keeps the pace slow but more forceful than you were. He tries to be gentle but you can feel his patience slipping away.

One hand drags to his biceps where sweat is glistening. As he lifts you his muscles flex and contract he makes it seem so effortless to maneuver your smaller frame. Everything about Joel is big and strong and rigid. The epitome of masculinity.

Each thrust up into you makes you dizzy. You can feel yourself on the verge of orgasm, cock drunk and blissed-out. His heavy breathing and hitches in his voice send you over the edge as he pounds up into you. You ride the wave as he fucks you through it. Your arms entangle in each other and your bodies slap together, sweaty and panting. Your incoherent words and moans heighten with each thrust.

He makes you feel alive and pleasured in a way that you have never felt before. It is intoxicating. 

As you start to come down from the high you feel him getting close to his own release but he is still reserved and careful with you. Through gritted teeth he tries to keep his pace steady and builds you back up, never quite letting you recover.  

“Joel, Don’t… don’t hold back.” You manage to get out of your lips. You stare into him with hooded eyes and can only imagine how fucked out you look. He brings one of his hands up to the side of your face and strokes his thumb tenderly across your cheekbone.

“Ok, baby.” 

He leans into you and in a sweeping motion he twists and lays you back into the adjacent couch cushion. It is more of an oversized loveseat and not very ideal. He barely loses contact with your body as he positions himself above you. You can feel his weighty cock press into you and pin you in place as he leans forward, crowding you in the cramped confines of the couch.  

His mouth is on yours; rough and messy. He bites at your lip as he pulls away and reigns in his focus. Your legs clamp around his sides and your arms hold onto his neck. Your fingers snake into his hair and you grab hold of him. He slides his hands down your sides so he can hold you close as he resumes fucking into you. 

With this leverage, he somehow hits you deeper than before. His cock kisses the deepest parts of you again and again. Your sides bruise as he grips you harder. All his gentle inhibitions have been replaced with raw, unhinged furor. 

His pace quickens as you can feel him coming undone inside you. He is in a frenzy fucking you hard and deep and his grunts get louder. The heavy feel of him dragging out of you and shoving back with such force has you crying out his name along with a steady stream of expletives. 

You are so close but you beg your body to hold on, you don’t want the feeling to end. You want to live in this moment forever being trapped under Joel and being filled with his cock. You moan out his name as the second orgasm explodes through your body.  

“Fuck, baby..” his body quivers as he tries to hold out long enough for you to peak. 

He suddenly sits up and groans as he drags completely out of you. You whimper at the loss of him inside you and his wet, leaking cock slaps onto your belly. He strokes himself once with a heavy fist and grunts as hot ropes of cum spurt onto you. You relish being branded in his release. It coats your stomach and drips messily onto your cunt. You revel in the last fleeting moments of your orgasm being shared with Joel’s.   

He languidly strokes himself a few more times until he is empty. His chest rises and falls quickly as he breathes shallowly. His muscles weaken as the high from his climax rolls through him. 

He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. The sticky mess spreads between your bellies as his body pushes into you. It's lewd and you love it. You love how filthy Joel makes you feel. All you can smell is sweat and sex and Joel.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and then sits back to catch his breath. Your bodies untangle and he goes back to his original spot on the couch. You stay laying back lazily with a leg draped casually over Joel and the other bent at the knee. You still need a moment for your legs to be in any condition to work properly. 

One of his hands rests on your thigh and he grazes it with comforting drags of his fingers. He doesn’t say anything but the gentle contact from him is welcome. The connection you share now is so contrasting to when he was railing you. It is a side of Joel that feels like a privilege granted to you.

The calm is interrupted by a vibration of his phone. Joel reluctantly picks it up to look at the screen and groans with disappointment. He answers it but doesn’t stop rubbing you gently while he conducts his business. 

“Fred, I’ll be there in 20.” 

You can’t make out the other end entirely but you can detect a man's voice. He doesn’t sound happy.

“Yeah, I’m running behind. Your house is next.” Joel tries to placate him. More chatter and you start to feel bad for holding him up. 

You move off of Joel and make your way towards the bathroom to wipe up the mess on your belly and grab your silky bathrobe off the door.  

“Ok, Fred. Be there soon.” You hear him hang up and toss his phone down with a grumble. He turns in your direction as he stands up to pull on his jeans. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta’ go.” His tone is solemn now. You pop out of the bathroom and catch him using his undershirt to wipe up his mess. It’s gross but you like seeing him being comfortable being a typical, nasty man in your presence. Points for being resourceful.

“I heard. Didn’t mean to hold you up.” 

He glares at you and smirks as you make your way back to him. 

“Didn’t mind one bit.” He takes a few steps towards you to meet you halfway and kisses you on the top of your head while he wraps his arms around you. He breathes you in with his embrace and it feels so perfect being wrapped up by Joel. A final moment before it all ends and he pushes away from you, reluctantly. 

“And s’not a big deal. Snow aint going anywhere.” He says as he puts his flannel on, sans the thermal, and starts to button back up. 

His messy hair is mostly dry now and even more unruly with wild curls. You feel that fire inside you building again. It’s insatiable. You don’t want him to go. 

He laces up his boots and gathers his things. 

“Ok. I’m gonna hop in the shower.” 

“Ok, baby.” You exchange a final look and go your separate ways. You feel his eyes on you as you return to the bathroom. 

When you go back to the living room he is gone. All that remains is his dirty shirt and an empty coffee cup. 

Sunday Night (Joel POV)

After a few more hours of plowing Joel returns home. 

He takes a shower just long enough to wash the sweat and stink of exhaust from his body.

He pours himself a whiskey and collapses on the couch to relax. 

His body is weary, but his mind is still firing. It has not stopped. He has to face the reality that he is falling for you, whether or not he should be. 

He pulls out his phone and stares at it blankly. Hesitating. He scrolls through his contacts until he finds the one that he has been avoiding. He knocks back his drink and sends the text.

Joel: Tess. We need to talk.

Onward to Part 3!

Thank you to @magpiepills for beta-ing 🧡

Love to my ladies that mean everything @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @for-a-longlongtime @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen 🧡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 50

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: getting close.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hate the smell of hospitals. It clings in your nose even after you leave. You can taste it. It dries out the mouth. It stains like the blinding lights against the sterile walls. Your vision is washed out in the hangover of your outing. 

The doctor took your blood. He asked questions too but you didn’t answer them. Ann did. Even if you had tried, you wouldn’t have gotten a word in. 

You left with another appointment scheduled and an endless list of rules. No caffeine, no lunch meat, no hot baths, only sleep on your side... Your body is a prison. It always has been but now, it’s like solitary confinement. Dark and isolating. You can’t see the way out. 

You sit in the back of the car, staring at the seat in front of you. Like a child. She didn’t stop you from sitting back there but you can’t sit beside her. Maybe she prefers it too. Her touch has always said more than her words. She despises you. 

The colours of the city blur. Pallid and dull with the late dregs of winter. You hug yourself and a new tide of nausea overwhelms you as you touch your stomach. You try not to. It’s a reminder. You’re not showing yet, not there, but in other ways. You can feel it even if you can’t see it. 

Ann sighs as she rolls slowly down the suburban street. You recognise the brick house. You rarely see the outside of it. She hits the button below the rear view mirror and the garage door opens. You know what they do. They don’t let you out of the car outside, only in the garage. They’re hiding you. 

As she pulls in, you slump against the door. She unlocks the doors and clicks the button on her belt. You unhook your own seat belt and follow her at a delay. It’s easier to just do everything she wants. 

She hums as she stands, “oof, I’m sore,” she complains, “will you get the door.” 

You nod and go to the button mounted on the wall. Before you can hit it, a grizzly voice wafts through the frigid air, blowing in with the wind under the open garage door. Your hand lingers before the close button but doesn’t hit it. 

A man ducks to see through, “hi, excuse me,” he says as he raises a hand above him to grip the metal, “I’m looking to deliver a package...” 

“Oh, a package?” Ann echoes, “I’m not expecting anything.” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s for... Dr. Steve Kemp?” He shifts the flat box under his arm to read it. “It’s pretty cold out here. Think you can take it off my hands?” 

“Why, of course,” she strides along the length of the car, “I’m his wife.” 

The man nods as she approaches and his grey blue eyes wander over to you. His dark stubble refines the angle of his jaw as a tuque covers his hair. You squint. He’s familiar but you don’t know how. He stares for a moment then hands over the package, “just sign here.” 

He takes out his phone and presents it to her. She drags her finger over the screen then pulls back to examine the box, “thank you, sir. Bit late for a delivery.” 

“Got backed up with the ice up on the freeway. Everyone’s taking the back roads today.” 

“Ah, makes sense,” she says, “well, you have a good day.” 

“You as well, ma’am.” 

He backs up and marches off without another look or word in your direction. She looks down at the box and rolls her eyes. She backs up.  

“Close the door. It’s freezing.” 

You tap the button and the door descends with the thrum of the motor above. You wait for her to go inside first before you follow. You hear the kids and Steve’s low timbre. You wonder why the courier didn’t knock on the front door. Maybe he did but couldn’t be heard. The TV is blaring as the kids giggle and holler. 

“Steve,” Ann calls out as you leave your shoes on the mat, “you got a delivery.” 

He doesn’t answer. She keeps on down the hall and drops the package on the side table against the wall. She stops to peer into the front room. 

“Honey,” she says curtly, “package.” 

“Alright,” he says, slightly agitated as he helps Harper build blocks into a castle. “Thanks. Any idea what it is?” 

“I don’t know. Looked like more of those magazines. Aren’t those supposed to go to your office?” 

“Could be an old subscription,” he shrugs. You stand back in the shadows but he finds you, “how’d it go?” 

“Fine. She’s on track. She’ll have a scan next week,” she sniffs. “You made a mess in here.” 

“The kids are bored. It’s too cold to go outside,” he grumbles. 

“As long as I’m not the one cleaning it up,” she tuts. 

“Love you too, honey,” Steve says dryly.  

“Got enough to worry about with the baby...” she mutters, “I’m thinking of sending out a card as an announcement.” 

“Ann, really? No one cares about a third kid,” he chuckles. 

“I care,” she snips. “Aren’t you excited?” 

“Of course I am. I just don’t see why it needs to be a whole broadcast.” 

You shrink away from their argument as the children give pause at their parents’ tones. They might be young but there’s an obvious tension there. You don’t dare interrupt. 

“It’s a big deal,” she growls. “It’s almost dinner time. Did you take out the chicken like I asked?” 

“I promised the kids pizza. Figured we’d order.” 

“Pizza? It’s so expensive these day--” 

A knock cuts her off and she winces. She huffs and shakes her head. “Busy day.” 

“Could be Jeff. He borrowed my drill.” 

“Tell him to keep it,” she ignores the door and struts back down the hall. “You never use it anyway.” 

You flatten yourself against the wall to let her pass. You stare up the stairs, wondering if you should just go and hide. When they need you, they’ll find you. 

“Get the door, will ya, sweetie?” Steve says. 

You hesitate. That’s all you are these days. A thing to be used. You’re not a person to them. Just a means to an end. You nod. 

You go down the hall to the door. You’re nervous. You don’t like strangers. You’ve had enough of them for the day. All those nurses poking and prodding and preening over that thing inside of you. 

Just get it over with. You make yourself open the door. 

Before you can say a word, you’re name whispers with the wind. You’re seized and pulled into a hug. You barely catch a glimpse before the woman has you in her arms. You can smell her. She always smells of cinnamon. 

“You’re alive,” she says. “Oh my god, you’re alive.” 

“Huh?” You wriggle in confusion, “Amber?” 

“I’ve been...” she loosens her hold but keeps her hands on your arms. “I’ve been looking for you. All these months. I’ve been...” her eyes gleam with tears. “I’ve been so afraid.” 

You’re frozen by more than the chill creeping in around her. Something cracks. Like a toothpick between your fingers, you feel it. All those weeks of hiding behind a wall, of telling yourself not to feel, to just get through it. It’s more than her being there, it’s the care and gentleness in her touch. That’s different. 

She lets you go and holds you at arm’s length, “hey, bub, what’s... you okay? Come on, let’s go home.” 

You blink at her. You look around at your eyes burn with a glimmer of tears, “what?” 

“Home, bubba. Please.” 

“Why?” You breathe. 

“Why? Because...” her voice trails off as you sense a shadow behind you. 

You turn as Steve stands in the doorway, his hands on his childrens’ shoulders. His eyes narrow and his jaw squares, “kids, go find your mother.” 

“Daddy?” Avery says. 

He hushes her and nudges them both down the hall. They run up the stairs and he turns to face you. And Amber. You don’t like the way he looks at her. 

“Ah, took you long enough,” he steps up next to her. “Right, dove? She really took her time. Almost like she doesn’t care at all.” 

You look between them, a sinking sensation rising in your chest. “What?” 

You can’t understand any of it. That wall is slowly crumbling. The only protection you have from any of this. The only thing keeping you from destroying yourself. 

“As if you do, doctor!” Amber snaps.  

He snorts, “as far as I have it, I’m the only one who ever tried to help you find her. Thanksgiving wasn’t that long ago, was it? You can’t blame me for your lack of follow up--” 

“Bullshit,” Amber snarls, her tone and words frightening you. “I’ve been searching for months. I’ve been tearing my hair out and you’ve had her all this time. Do you understand what that man’s been doing? He just sits outside my house and--” She throws her hands up, “you’re just like him.” 

“I’m helping this poor woman escape years of abuse and neglect. Neglect of her mental wellbeing, narcissistic abuse, using her to prop yourself up--” 

“I never—she's my sister. I take care of her.” 

“You do, Amber? So where have you been?” Steve chuckles. 

She lunges forward but doesn’t reach Steve as he steps back and she’s caught from behind. Another man stands behind her, his arm hooked around her middle as he restrains her. It’s him, the delivery man. You recognise him now. He was on her Insta. 

“Amb, please, calm down,” he holds onto her, “shhh, come on. Everyone, let’s be calm.” 

His voice alone puts his words into effect. You feel calm. He slowly releases Amber and squeezes her sleeve. He looks between you and Steve.  

Steve grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, “I should call the police. You’re disturbing my family--” 

“She’s my family,” Amber growls. “Bub, please, come home.” 

“This doesn’t have to be hostile,” the other man says. “We came here to bring her sister home. That’s all.” 

“She is home--” 

“Ask her,” Amber cries out. “Look at her. I know she wants to come home. Right, bubba? Ask her. Ask. Her.” Amber’s close to tears as she begs, “please. Listen to her. Why does no one listen to her?” 

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. She’s right. No one listens, not if you don’t say what they want. No one but her. Your sister. The only person you ever had. The one who kept you behind her when your mother was having one of her fits, the one who told you to lock the door when the screaming got loud, the one who held you even when it hurt too much to be touched. 

The one who loves you.  

“Home. I want to go home,” you say and try to push past Steve. He turns and holds you, an arm across your chest. “No, home. With her. Amber--” 

You reach for her but he keeps you from getting to her. Amber extends her arm as you wriggle against the restraint. You stomp your feet and thrash. 

“This isn’t my home!” You holler. “This isn’t--” You’re breathless and dizzy. “Amber, help! Amber!” 

“Let her go, man,” the other man says. He’s taller than Steve. He steps up, filling the doorway. 

“Curtis,” Amber whines. 

“She’s not fit. She’s manic. Having an episode. You don’t understand. She’s in treatment. I’m a doctor--” 

“She says she wants to go.” That man, Curtis, grits through his teeth. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Ann snarls sourly as she comes down the stairs, “there are children in this house.” 

“Shouldn’t be,” Curtis sneers. “The meaning is simple. We came for her, we’re not leaving without her.” 

“And who the fuck are you, pal?” Steve puts himself between you and the door. Ann latches onto your wrist and tugs you back. 

“Let her go!” Amber cries out. 

You twist your wrist free as the room tilts and spins around you. Your head bobbles as you look around at the hazy figures. You back up and turn, racing away from the chaos. You hear your sister wail and that man she’s with snarls. There’s footsteps and a clamour. A mess all around. 

You hurl yourself upwards and stumble over the top step. You’re not thinking, just doing. You burst into the guest room and tear open the drawer in the nightstand. You grab your sweater and your journal and a few random pieces of clothing. You bundle it all up and charge back out. 

“Fuck off of her!” Curtis barks. 

“She’s trespassing,” Steve snarls. 

“Oh, stop it! Stop it!” Ann shrieks, “would you stress a pregnant woman like this? Oh my, oh my!” 

You barrel back down the stairs and stop at the bottom. You look at Ann as she touches her stomach. You curl your lip and the realisation startles on you. Locking you up in the room, not letting you out front, keeping you inside all day long... 

“What is all that?” She turns on you. “You’re not going anywhere.” 

“Come on, bub,” Amber shouts as Ann grabs your ear. “Let her go, you bitch!” 

Steve slips in his socks as he tries to hold her back. He flies back as Curtis throws him into the wall and stomps forward. Ann cries out and cowers away as the sting of her pinch throbs in the shell of your ear. 

“Shoes,” Curtis snarls, “go get em.” 

You look down as he glances at your feet. He turns back and grabs Steve by the back of his sweater and drags him away from Amber. He spins him by the shoulder and pins him to the wall. He snaps his fingers. 

“Amb, help her find her shoes.” 

Amber squeezes by and Ann moves toward you. Your sister puts her arm across you and steps up to the other woman. 

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your pretty hair out,” Amber lurches as if she might actually do it. Ann shies away with a screech. 

“Please, please, don’t hurt me,” she keeps her hand on her stomach, “you wouldn’t hurt a pregnant woman.” 

You shrink away and scuttle down the hall to the mat by the garage. You bend down the back of your sneakers as you step into them. You come back as Ann sobs. 

“Oh, please, we were only helping her,” she rocks against the wall. “Please, don’t hurt my husband. Steve, baby, are you okay?” 

“Fucking take her,” Steve shoves Curtis off of him as he kicks his foot into the wall. “She’s broken anyway. Can’t fix that.” 

Curtis staggers a single step and tilts his head dangerously. His hand balls to a fist. “That’s fucked up, doctor.” 

“Curt,” Amber puts her arm around your shoulders and ushers you forward, “let’s just go.” 

“Yeah, fucking run like you do from everything, Dove. Isn’t that how it goes?” Steve snarls. 

You stop beside him and waver. Amber stops too. You look at her and nod. You pull away and she lets you go. You face Steve with watery eyes. 

“You’re evil. I hate you.” You say. “You don’t deserve those children. Or mine.” 

His eyes flare and he stands straight. Curtis looms and you turn away. You walk forward and Amber follows. You don’t look back. You can’t. You’re going home. 

[bangaveragewhitewine]

I'm yours, all yours

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, established relationship) 

October 1991

It’s been over two months since you kissed Eddie Munson in the back alley of the dive bar you both work in. You had barely stopped kissing him ever since.

An autumn afternoon together shows you a little bit more of the man you’re falling in love with.

Word Count: 6.2K

Content / Warnings: Contains the main food groups - fluff, smut & hurt+comfort. Reader has some self doubt / anxious thoughts. This is 18+ - if you are not 18+ hit the back button and read something else. Oral (m receiving, minor f receiving), p-in-v sex. Feeeeelings. Eddie & Reader are mid twenties. Reader written as AFAB using fem pronouns.

This is best enjoyed after reading their origin story crazy-mad for you (part of the Happy Hours series)

Author’s note: I’m planning to follow CMFY with some one-shots from throughout Eddie & Bartender’s relationship. I have some loose ideas but this one came from a deleted scene I couldn’t squeeze into the main fic so reworked it! Beta’ed by @specialagentmonkey (theee best)  Thank you for the love on CMFY! Reading your replies and reblogs and tags made my shitty wee brighter. Hope you enjoy this cosy peek and have a gorgeous day 🖤

It’s been over two months since you kissed Eddie Munson in the back alley of the dive bar you both work in. You had barely stopped kissing him ever since. Every moment your lips aren’t on each other is like a thousand paper-cuts to Eddie’s heart (so soft inside the facade of Mean Metalhead he has curated for himself). He makes you want to write his name next to yours in pink gel pen, framed with sparkly little hearts. 

Two months and counting with Eddie and you learn something new about him every day; he loves tattoos but needles make his stomach twist, he meets his friend Steve once a month for a dude-date breakfast (but sees as much as he can of him and his other friends when their schedules line up), he sings with his band but needs at least five drinks before karaoke.

When you ask questions, when you're curious, he tells his long and meandering stories with wandering tangents which tell you so much about the man you’re falling in love with. He opens up to you, tells you things very few people know - about his mom, how he ended up with his Uncle Wayne. It hasn’t been long, but you already can’t wait to meet him.

Two whole months (closer to three really) and you’re sure you don’t want to ever have a single day without Eddie in your life, and your bed. And yet you still haven’t asked the question that has been on your mind since before you two ever got together. 

It’s October now; Autumn is here and the city has turned chilly. Sweltering summer nights are no longer and you and Eddie have been spending afternoons and late nights when you’re not working watching your favourite horror films. When he had told you how much he loved Halloween - just as much as you, if not a wee bit more - you knew Eddie Munson was the one. 

It’s Friday, late afternoon and you had reluctantly spent the night in your own apartment. The shame radiating from the mountain of laundry in the corner of your room had become too powerful to ignore and so you had forgone a night of being held and loved-on to tackle it and the other life-admin you had been ignoring. Eddie had suggested staying at your place, but you knew he would distract you too much with his kisses and touches (which he doled out generously whenever you were near). 

You had missed your boyfriend terribly, almost like a missing limb or a gorgeous big parasite (affectionate) that you had grown more than fond of. Eddie had the night off work but still drove you to and from the bar, even stayed for a drink until Frank shooed him away for trying to distract you. You had missed him so much that you had kept him on the phone to talk a little longer when he got home before saying goodnight and promising you would see him before your shift together tomorrow. You had spent nights apart before, days and nights when you or Eddie had clashing schedules but you felt his absence more than ever today. 

Your laundry and errands had never been completed with such efficiency as when you had the motivation of seeing Eddie as soon as they were ticked off your to-do list. 

You arrived at his door and buzzed the intercom for his apartment, laden down with an overnight bag (over-weekend really) and Tupperware containers full of homemade soup and lasagna for before your shift at Jackie’s. Your cheeks are warm and you can feel heat prickling under your arms alongside the swelling of anticipation in your chest. Eddie buzzes you in and comes to meet you, a big grin on his face for his girl.

His hair is up in a messy bun, held in place by a black velvet scrunchie you insisted was his now. He looks cosy in sweats, a tank top and his red and black flannel which you know to be softer than soft. Eddie hadn’t even bothered with shoes, braving the stairs in his socks so that he could see you sooner. You match his smile when you catch sight of him; cosy Eddie is far from the leather-jacketed bouncer you had got to know.

When he sees how many bags you’re carrying, he rushes to lighten your load (doesn’t even skid on the tiles). 

“You walked here with all that?! I could’a picked you up!” he said, shouldering your overnight bag before blessing you with a kiss. 

“It’s like two blocks, not a marathon.” You roll your eyes at him but pout for another kiss anyway as he rings for the elevator. 

Eddie will never refuse you a kiss. He pecks little smooches to your smile as it grows wider. “I missed you last night.”

“I missed you too.” You nudge his cheek with your nose, pecking at it like a little bird as the lift arrives; you step in ahead of him, pressing the button for the third floor with your now free hand. 

He asks if you slept okay (not as well without him, but you don’t say that) and tells you about the bag of free bagels he scored as a thank you from the man who ran the deli a few doors down. The guy’s hand-truck had lost a wheel while he was taking in a delivery that morning and Eddie helped him out, fixed the wheel too. He knew how much you loved the bagels from there and it felt fateful that his reward was a bag of your favourite everything bagels.

“Neighbourhood hero,” you sing, following him into his one-bedroom flat. “Is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Trigonometry. French. Um… skateboarding!” he lists, as he drops your bag inside his bedroom door. “I fucking suck at skateboarding.”

The thought of Eddie on a skateboard makes you smile - definitely a little meanly, what a dork - but you store that one for later. 

The bag of Tupperware barely makes it to the kitchen counter before Eddie’s arms are around you,  pulling you back against his chest. His nose presses into the base of your neck, huffing hot breaths against your sweet-smelling skin before kissing up his well-worn path. 

“I really missed you,” he murmurs, hips nudging forward against your jean-clad behind for emphasis. 

“Missed me or missed getting your dick sucked?” you ask, turning your head to look at him. 

“Both. Mainly you.” His grin is impish as you turn to loop your arms around his neck, backed right up to the wiped-clean Formica. You let him lift you onto the counter so that he can stand between your spread knees. 

“I missed you and your dick, so we’re even. And we have the whole weekend together to get reacquainted, huh?” You twist a loose curl around your finger, tugging to watch it spring and coil.

Eddie feels like a swooning maiden when he’s the centre of your attention like this, being flirted with. He loves it and he knows he’s in love with you. He had fallen first, long before you had even realised your banter at work was more than just that. 

His fingers creep up your thighs, the silver glinting at you as you place your focus on making up for a night apart as you make out in his little kitchen. 

Eddie smells shower-fresh, clean with a hint of spice, and the curls at the base of his neck are still a little damp. He shivers, giggling against your mouth when you run your finger down his spine. “Your nails are tickly,” he says with a pretend scowl. 

You know he loves your nails on his back; when they’re digging in like claws to leave him littered with red scratches, and when they’re tickling up and down in soothing strokes as he’s falling asleep. 

He takes your hand and brings it around to see the fresh coat of deep red on your nails. “You painted them!” he says, his nose scrunches cutely when you poke it. 

“I did. The black was getting chipped and gross.” You brought the black polish anyway in case he wanted to try it out again, thrown somewhere in your make-up bag. 

Eddie rests his chin on your chest; your breasts have become his favourite place to lay his head, closely followed by the squishy pillow of your thigh (there’s a third-place tie between your tummy and your butt). You dot kisses to his forehead beneath the shaggy bangs, trailing up into his hair when he presses his face against your soft sweater.

“Eddie?”  “Hmm.” His voice is muffled.  “You hungry?”

His head turns so you can hear him more clearly, “Hungry for you.” 

Hopeful mischief twinkles in his hot-chocolate eyes when he peers up at you. 

“Horndog.” “Yes?”  “Gross boy.” “Unh, yes. Say more dirty things to me, baby.”

He has a look of hammed-up ecstasy on his face, scrunched brow and bitten lip. Even though you know he’s pretending, it makes the horny cavewoman part of your brain think about his face when he is actually deep inside you or desperate for your touch - it makes your tummy feel like lava. One night apart makes you realise just how bad you’ve got it for him. You shove at his head and Eddie leans back with a throaty giggle before squeezing your hips again. 

To balance out your playful push and satiate the need building in your gut, you pull him in for a kiss - open-mouthed with the dirty slide of tongue that sounds loud in your ears. Your legs wrap around him, arms tighten. 

“Carry me?” “Bed?” “Sofa, bed. Wherever.”  “Potato, tomato.” “Eddie.” 

He sweeps you off the counter - you’re still surprised and impressed at his strength until you remember him lifting the barrels and kegs at work. You reward him with distracting kisses as he carries you to the soft brown couch and smile up at him when he lays you down gently. He forgets about gentle as he removes his shirt and pounces on you, resuming your dirty kisses from the kitchen. 

Merlot-red nails push the hem of Eddie’s tank top up his pale back, slipping beneath to pull him tighter to you between your thighs. You can already feel him growing hard; you nip at his lower lip and kiss away the sting. 

“Sit up for a sec.” You tap his side but Eddie needs to kiss you just a little bit more before he can pull himself away. 

“Where you goin’?” he asks, a little breathless. Blown-black pupils eat up the brown warmth with his voracious want; he watches as you sit up on your knees and pull your cosy sweater off, then the white vest beneath, leaving you in your creamy silk bra and blue jeans. 

“Pretty,” Eddie whispers, his fingers brushing the little bow between your breasts. He was in awe of your little collection of bras, the matching underwear too. He even loved you in the cotton comfy pants that hugged just right when your cramps ached. 

“Sit back against that end. And take your pants off, handsome.” You smile when he stares at you, “Do you need help?” 

Eddie barely shakes his head as he wriggles out of his sweatpants and sits where you told him to. You balance each other out, taking turns to take the lead. You’re still learning, and despite Eddie’s non-academic tendencies, he’s studious and dedicated to learning what you like, where and how to touch you. You’re his favourite subject and he’s yours too.

You smile and knee-walk across the chasm between you, situating yourself between his legs to take his face in your hands and kiss him. He makes a small joyful noise when you begin to kiss down to his jaw and nuzzle at the dusting of stubble. 

“Smell good,” you murmur, teasing delicate skin with your teeth before bestowing him sucking a wet kiss, enough to leave just a hint of a bruise there. It makes Eddie groan quietly, a desperate little noise at the back of his throat. He’s louder when you slip your fingers down his chest and into the waistband of his black boxers - they have little skulls on them. 

“Cute,” you run your thumb over the elastic at the top as your knuckles brush his cock. Almost an echo of Eddie’s assessment of your bra moments ago. 

Hips push up, almost like an electric shock. There’s a tiny noise that you just about hear, deep back in his throat, a quiet grunt as Eddie covers your hand and shows you what he needs. His pretty lashes flutter as you look at each other, sparking fire in your gut again. You smile and move your hand away, halting his protest by pulling the black cotton down his thighs to drop them on the floor. 

You can feel saliva pooling under your tongue when you see him - you really did miss him, all of him, while you were apart. He’s thick and a few centimetres over average length; a nice dick (rare and wonderful) and he knows what to do with it to leave you brainless and whimpering. Eddie gets one more kiss before you make yourself comfy, lying on your tummy between his legs. Little kisses are peppered on his hairy thighs, over the black and shadow of ink, before you take him in your hand, then your mouth. 

Eddie is in awe of how pretty you look like this, how your lashes kiss your cheekbones and the stretch of your lips (he goes a little crazy if you’re wearing lipstick too, really gets him going). His breath comes hard through his nose as you tongue the head of him, press against the thick vein before taking as much as you can into your mouth. 

“Shit,” he growls, feeling your nails on his thigh as you begin to bob your head steadily. His hips and thighs tense and spread a little wider, needy, as he keeps himself in check. Your other hand holds the base of him, what you haven’t yet tried to fit into that pretty mouth. 

“Look at my girl, so gorgeous,” he murmurs, smiling when your lashes flutter. His girl. “So pretty.” 

You hum affirmative, taking more in when his head tips back to show off his pale throat and the little mark you left behind. His jaw tenses, twitches and you begin the slow bob of your head again. You look up past your lashes, watching his brow crease when you take him all the way. 

“Shit shit shit,” his voice is a breathy growl that bleeds into a louder moan when he sees you looking up at him - his devil woman. “You’re going to kill me someday with that mouth, huh?” he says. The shake in his voice betrays him as he tries to act a little smooth, a little more together as you’re taking him apart. 

You bob your head, imitating a nod, and bring your hand down to squeeze and roll his neglected balls for good measure. That makes him howl and he covers his face with his arm while you let that playful hand take over so you can catch your breath. 

“Y’okay?” you ask, resting your cheek against his thigh as you move your hand a little faster. 

“Mhmm, peachy,” he replies, eyes a little wild. You love the pink blush on his usually pale cheeks, love knowing that he’s like this because of you. 

Eddie strokes your cheek as you take the head of him back between your lips, a tender little caress of his thumb that makes you close your eyes and lean in. You feel hot and slick between your legs, push your hips to the sofa cushion just a little to temper the ache. 

He catches the little motion and his jaw drops a little - it clears his head just a little, zeroing in on you through his haze of arousal. “Oh my girl feelin’ needy too?” he asks, thumb pushing gently against your cheek.

You move your mouth off of him and nod, turning your head to kiss his palm. “Told’ju I missed you.” 

Eddie’s grin can’t be contained. “C’mere then.” His hands run over your back, coaxing you into his lap. 

Once you have rid yourself of your jeans and underwear you take up your throne on Eddie’s thighs. Your appetite for each other meant that he had started storing condoms in practically every room - there's a fresh box on the coffee table, bought that morning after he saw how low the reserves were. 

Your arms wind around his neck, pressing yourself against Eddie as he kisses you again. Fingers drift between your legs, feeling just how slick you are for him - a combination of missing him and seeing the effect of your mouth on his face. You feel his smile against your mouth as you seek a deeper dirtier kiss, sucking that plump lower lip between your own. 

One guitar-string scarred finger is joined by a second, rubbing slow firm circles that make you moan into his mouth. They press inside and his thumb takes up that slow wet rub, pulling more little needy noises from your lips as you take him back into your hand.

Hands and wrists cramp easily at this angle and you take a moment to pull back, biting your kiss-bruised lip before turning around on your hands and knees to present yourself to Eddie. Peeking over your shoulder with a cheeky smile, you see how his eyes blaze before grabbing for the box of Durex. You hide your grin against your arm when you hear him swearing at the plastic wrapping, calling the box ‘a fuckin’ shitbag’ when his nails struggled for purchase against it. There’s a tiny ‘yes!’ when he finally breaks in and you laugh quietly at you listen to the familiar tear-open of foil. 

On his knees, he bends to kiss the rounds of your ass, then dips lower to taste you just once. “Fuckin’ so sweet,” he murmurs, wishing he had the willpower to not follow his dick that afternoon and dive into you instead - but there’s always later. 

You gasp-giggle at the feeling of his tongue and rock back when you see him line himself up. “Please?” Your lips push into a playful pout, “Show me how much you missed me?” You love winding him up like this.

One side of his mouth curves up as he holds your hip, rubs the head against you to play you at your own game before pushing all the way in. Your jaw drops open, feeling full as Eddie rocks his hips minutely. You can feel him pushed right up against you inside and out, his thighs against the back of yours before he begins a deep dragging thrust.

“Shit, you feel good,” he murmurs, stroking your hip lovingly. “That’s it, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You nod, hating that you can’t see him despite how good this angle is for you both. “Eddie,” you whimper, feeling yourself flutter around him.

“Yeah, that’s who’s making you feel good, sweet thing. I’ve got you.” He squeezes your hip, the silver of his rings biting into the doughy softness as he watches his length disappear inside you over and over as he begins to get quicker and harder with his thrusts. 

Your eyes nearly roll back as he pounds into you, fingers gripping the arm of the couch - it’s about the only thing keeping you up as Eddie fucks you and runs his mouth. It feels so good you can barely speak. 

“That’s my girl. Going all cock-dumb on me?” he asks, squeezing the meat of your ass a little harder, watching it jiggle and bounce with his thrusts. “I’ll make you feel good like this every day if you let me. S’what you deserve, getting fucked like you need, huh?” 

Your answering moan is spurred on not only by his words but the graze of his length on your g-spot. “Eddie, god! Yes, right there,” your voice is a babble, the words running into each other ‘yesrigh’there’ as it becomes the only thing you can say. 

The pulsing gush around him, hot wet heat, makes Eddie moan with you. “I know, baby. I know.” His back teeth press together as he holds on, the cord of pleasure pulled tight in his pelvis. The slapping pounding sound fills the room but he can only hear you, almost crying with pleasure. 

“Close,” you murmur, slumped forward a little more. The angle arches your back, pulls Eddie deeper. Your groan is shaky, broken with want. 

“Me too, baby. Got me so wound up,” he murmurs. “Can you touch yourself for me?” He watches your hand move back between your legs, feels the graze of your fingers as you bring yourself closer, small tight circles that sync up with his punishingly good pace. 

“Fuck! Eddie,” you whimper, feeling the inferno in your belly burn bright and hot as you see stars, tears springing as you come hard. 

“Shit shit, that’s my girl. Oh yeah, fuck,” he grinds out,  continuing his thrusts as your body shakes with pleasure. Eddie folds over you, wrapping his arms around you to bring you back into his lap like a rag doll. He can’t bear to not be as close to you as humanly possible as he nears his own orgasm, mouth pressed to your neck to kiss and pant against it as he hammers into you. 

His fingers trail down, finding a quick rhythm that brings you to a shock of a second climax, shorter but no less intense than the first. You feel boneless, yet manage to pull his hand away when it becomes too much, holding his arm around your middle as the other curls up and loops around his neck. Your lips find their way to Eddie’s jaw, pressing wet kisses there. Your eyes are heavy, and yet you see the moment he falls apart. 

His eyes close, face creasing in beautiful blissful agony as he comes holding you in his lap, your name on his tongue. 

Your chest feels heavy, breath synced up as your fingers stroke up against his scalp, past the flyaways. He kisses you messily, so slow and without the same hurry he had mere moments ago. 

Your noses brush against each other’s warm cheeks, lazy smiles pressing kisses as hands smooth and caress wherever is in reach. You feel fuzzy around the edges, warm all over with Eddie plastered to your back. You would both gladly overheat to stay like this a bit longer. Eddie’s lean arms are the only thing holding you together right now, grounded syrupy-sweet kisses that bond the broken bits back into place. 

“Wanna see my girl,” he murmurs after a few moments mouthing at your shoulder, “Easy, babe.” Eddie’s hands on your waist help you to move from his lap, unsheathing him from your body. He wraps the condom in a tissue before lying back, inviting you into his arms with grabby hands.

You bring the blanket from the back of the sofa with you when you lie against his chest, sharing love-drunk kisses as you bask in the glow of each other. 

It’s bright-cold outside the steamed-up windows; the afternoon sun lights the room. His neighbours will surely hate you, but when Eddie strokes his tongue against yours you forget to care.

You brush his sweaty bangs away and press a kiss to the centre of his forehead before resting your head against his chest, tucked under his chin as his hand finds yours. He kisses your knuckles and smiles down at you. 

“Y’okay?” he checks, rosy-cheeked bright-eyed and deliriously happy. Sometimes he feels the need to pinch himself when he realises the woman he had been pining for is now his girlfriend. One time you had been lying together smoking and watching a rerun of Twin Peaks and he had actually asked you to pinch him - his nipple had ached for the rest of the night but at least he knew it was all real. And you had kissed it better. 

Now you smile lazily up at him, real and cosy in his arms. “Never better,” you promise. Your nose scrunches when he kisses it and calls you his little bunny to make you laugh. 

Eddie lights a cigarette and holds it to your lips when you’re too comfy to move. It brings you both back to the real world, back from the plain of absolute bliss. It’s quiet, neither feeling the need to fill the comfortable silence until your curiosity gets the better of you. 

“Where’d you get them?” you ask, lifting your joined hands to finally speak the question you have been meaning to ask. Your fingers slot between Eddie’s, palm to palm, as you admire the silver.

“Been kinda building a little collection since school. Thrift shops mainly.” Eddie shrugs one shoulder; he’s careful not to jostle you too much as you lie against his chest. He pauses to catch a fallen eyelash on your cheek, holding it out to you to blow away. You smile a little and lift your head to wish for a thousand more afternoons like this. 

“I have two nice ones; my friends pooled together for a graduation present for me, and the other one, this one,” Eddie shows you his right middle finger, a harmless flip-off to show you the black enamel heart with wings that he always wears. It’s smaller, less outrightly demonic than the others. The rest of his rings are swapped out, usually a lucky dip into a little dish on his bedside table, but this one stays on. “Bought this one for myself when the band went on tour. Something to remember, y’know?” 

You had heard about Corroded Coffin’s big opportunity last year, playing a few dates as an opening act for a bigger metal band. Your thumb runs over the warm metal as he begins to speak again.

“It was the last day of tour and I was so fuckin’ tired. We were kinda convinced that we were going to be discovered or something, and the crowds really liked us but… it didn’t happen how we had planned.”  

You expect to hear sadness in his voice but there is none. Maybe a hint of resignation that their dream hadn’t become reality.

“Me and Gareth had a fight on the last morning, both of us were hungover as fuck and antsy because it was all going to be over in a few hours. So I stormed off to get breakfast and clear my head, or get more fucked up.” Eddie’s little smile doesn’t meet his eyes; they look a little bit more glossy than usual. “It was my Mom’s birthday and I felt like shit. I would say I found this little jeweller-silversmith place but I think it found me.”

You squeeze Eddie tighter, feeling like he’s letting you see a whole new part of him. A beautiful little sentimental part that houses and holds dear the other woman he loved and the little boy he was when he lost her.

“It was way more money than I should have spent on something so small, but it felt right I couldn’t leave it behind y’know? I went in and it was right there.” His eyes sparkle as he remembers that feeling of all-over calm he felt that day in the little shop. “Went back and apologised to Gare and we played the last show, definitely our best one.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his mouth, “That’s a sweet story, Ed. Thank you for telling me.” Your voice is a whisper against his pillowy lips; you kiss those lips again and feel the silver against your cheek as Eddie kisses you back. Your chest feels like it could burst and there’s an annoying pressure at the back of your eyes. 

“You’re gonna laugh at me but..” Eddie rolls his eyes and leans his head back against the arm of the sofa. He figures out his words before speaking again. “It’s like, everything happened for a reason - we didn’t get a big break but we’re all happy. Gareth got into art school, Jeff moved out of his Mom’s place and… I met you.”

Silence. 

His honesty winds you, it hits you so hard in the chest that you can barely fathom the flurry of feelings like wings battering your chest from the inside. Your lower lip wobbles. Eddie is dead serious too; you know he’s not saying it to be playful. He has so much love in his battered heart and it oozes from him.

Eddie was expecting you to scoff or roll your eyes, call him ‘soft boy’ or something. Maybe a very small part of him thought you might brush him off (he didn’t let himself dwell on that bit). He certainly wasn’t expecting the teary look in your eyes. 

“Shit, baby.” He thumbs your cheek and pouts back at you, pressing the sweetest kiss to your lips; so sweet and slow like the maple syrup you have been adding to your coffees now that it’s Fall. “I mean it. If things went differently, if I didn’t come back, I wouldn’t have met the sexy new bartender, huh?”

You smile, laugh a little wetly and try to blame the post-sex rush for being weepy. “I guess I’m a little bit glad you came back to be annoying. Super selfish of me.” 

You can’t help but think that there might be some parallel universe where you’re still shaking cocktails in Jackie’s but Eddie’s on stage opening for Metallica, Corroded Coffin at the top of the charts. With that thought comes a deep-sinking feeling that maybe someday you might not be enough and he will want that rockstar life; groupies, supermodels, a pretty blonde actress on his arm.... Not you. 

Eddie kisses you again and pulls you close, cocooning the pair of you in the blanket. You find his hand to kiss the black enamel heart before resting your head, cheek to chest. 

You have never felt so in love, nor have you felt so scared. Eddie feels lighter now that he has said out loud the thought about fate that has been rattling around his skull for too long. He feels your arms wrapping tighter around him, like he might disappear. 

He presses his smiling lips fiercely to the crown of your head. “What’s goin’ on in here, huh? I can hear that big brain thinkin’ up a storm.” He thinks over everything he said; was he coming on too strong?

“I just really really like you, Ed,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. Telling him that felt so easy; maybe if you weren’t being sucked into an internal doom spiral you could play it up and roll your eyes, pretend it was icky to like him.

“Yeah? I really really like you too.” Your admission makes his heart sing; Eddie tries to temper his smile but can’t. He won’t pretend he’s not head over heels for you, he’d give you a vital organ if you needed it - hell, his heart was already yours. 

He cups your cheek again, coaxing you to look at him. “What else? You’re like… a scared little bunny right now.” He concentrates all his love into how he’s holding you as if it could be transferred like magic from his fingertips. 

“I just...” 

He doesn’t force you to go on when you hide your face in his chest, feeling so stupid for being emotional. Your eyes burn, and he wishes he could be whatever you need right now. He’s not used to seeing his bossy flirty girl so unsure of herself; it makes him love you a little more. He looks up at the ceiling and squeezes your body gently.

“Hey. You don’t have to say anything, just listen okay? I’m serious about you, about... Everything I feel for you.” His voice shakes minutely but he takes a moment, stroking your back to centre himself. “I’m not going to up and leave someday to be a rockstar without you. I need you. Okay? You’re my girl. Best thing that’s happened to me in so so long.” Eddie presses a fiercely loving kiss to your head. “I’m yours, all yours.” 

A tiny shaky sob escapes your throat, leaving you embarrassed. “I’m your girl,” you nod, looking up to see Eddie’s sentimental smile, his wet brown eyes. Your voice is thin and wobbly, like a broken pencil. “I’m so fuckin’ happy with you, Eddie.” 

Neither of you says it, but ‘I love you’ is woven into your confessions, binding you together as you share that moment on Eddie’s squishy, comfy sofa. 

You tilt your head to exchange teary-wet kisses, wobbly smiles on your lips as you begin to feel calmer.

“My baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t bottle shit up, okay? Doesn’t help.” He cups your face, wiping the last stray tears from your cheeks and presses kisses there as a balm. 

“I know. I feel stupid for getting upset, it’s like so early for us..” You look down at his chest, trace the black ink you can reach before looking at his pretty face. You know it’s so early, so why get ahead of yourself when Eddie’s already made you a promise? You take a breath, close your eyes and focus on what you really want, “When can I come to see Corroded Coffin play?” 

Eddie grins, laughs a little throaty. They had taken a little break after tour, played a few bars in the Spring to make sure they didn’t rust up. With Gareth settled back in college, they were ready to get back into it. 

“We’re trying to get a gig for the end of the month. Andy knows a guy putting on a night close to Halloween. Jeff’s the organised one though, I’ll check with him tonight.” He kisses your head and smiles. “I gotta get you a shirt, huh?”

“Mhm, yes please. I heard the lead singer is so hot,” you say, smiling a little when he makes a happy noise deep in his throat. “Might throw my bra on stage if he’s as good as they say…” The thought of seeing your man on stage - your man - makes your tummy flutter. 

“Yeah? Shit, lucky guy.”  

You look up at Eddie and move yourself to rest your forehead against his. “The luckiest. I’m the luckiest girl though.” You mean it too, sealing it with a kiss. 

Eddie cups the back of your head, pressing the loveliest kisses to your mouth. “Lucky fuckers,” he murmurs. You trade kisses back and forth, chasing lazy happy smiles for ‘just one more?’ until you need to move.

“Can I shower? Feel sweaty.” Your time together before work is already ticking away, though you’ve made excellent use of it so far. 

“Can I come watch? I mean wash your back?” he asks, walking his fingers down your spine with a coy little smile. 

“You just want to see soapy boobs,” you tut, looping your arms around his neck as he sits up, taking you with him. 

“What guy doesn’t want to see soapy boobs?” he asks, incredulous at the thought. 

You kiss the corner of his mouth, humming in agreement, “You still got that disposable camera?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide - you half expect his heart to beat out of his chest, eyes on stalks like a babbling cartoon. “Yes ma’am.” 

He dumps you off his lap onto the sofa to root for the camera in his room. The sound of his sweary search carry down the hall as you laugh up at the ceiling.

You love him. You absolutely love Eddie Munson. He’s very easy to love. 

Later, when you’re showered clean (a process which required getting just a little bit dirty again with Eddie worshipping you on his knees in the shower) and full-bellied after the dinner you had brought, you and Eddie get ready for work side-by-side in his room. 

You’re putting mascara on in his mirror, humming to Queen despite Eddie’s protests, when you hear him call your name. 

“Mhm?” 

Eddie’s dressed in a black Henley and some jeans - his leather boots and jacket to go on next. You see the glint of silver around his neck as he nods for you to join him on the bed. 

“Help me pick what rings to wear?” he asks, voice soft and tentative. 

Your heart skips and you nod, crossing the gap to perch on his lap as you pick three more for him to wear - an upside-down cross, a very mean-looking skull, a silver signet ring with ‘EM’ engraved (the gift from his friends for graduation). 

He lets you choose where they go and watches as you slip them onto his long fingers. “Perfect,” he murmurs, linking your hands together. 

“Pretty damn perfect,” you agree, kissing the back of his hand so he will show you that bright and beaming grin. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. And Eddie? He already can’t wait to put a ring on your finger. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[elissanatok]

-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

part 3

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angsty , shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

the air in the dining hall had been suffocating you. you could see the smug look in the eyes of your oldest uncle. he used to look at you differently and you had questioned before if it were his feelings for you that changed, or he himself. and if Aegon changed that much, did the others do too? 

you had been late, much to your mothers dismay. your uncle Daemon had not expected anything else. he always knew the days when it was time for a nightmare. maybe that was because he cared so much, or maybe because he liked to know all of the people surrounding him. you had forgotten your jewelry too, making your neck and shoulders bare. your deep red dress contrasted with the one of heleana who was sitting next to your brother. 

you deeply regretted arriving late - because at the end of the table, to your left, sat the one eyed prince. his gaze burned holes into your skull and except from the smile you send him when you arrived you did not dare to look in his direction again, too afraid he would look at you the same way he did when you arrived. 

you had hoped things would be different and he still held the same love for you he had when you were children. but this was different. 

having you avoid his gaze angered him even more than the pig placed in front of him. he could not care for that damn pig because he already felt disgusted of himself. he thought your feelings for him could not change, you could not change, but there you were avoiding his gaze like never before. Now that you were of age, you would probably want a good looking man, a kind one too. hearing his mother ask about the lord in the north made him choke on his wine, and made you finally look at him. 

your lavender eyes looked at him with concern, the line between your eyebrows deepening. “Are you alright prince aemond?”, you asked quiet and kindly. he nodded, humming as an answer, which definitely did not satisfy you. you wanted to hear his voice. he realized when you looked down at your lap, biting your lip embarrassed and playing with your fingers. but still, he did not know what to say.

His mother eyed him and the pig warily. She truly did not wish for something bad to occur, but she could literally feel the anger radiating of her youngest son. She tried changing the topic “But he has not made a proposal yet? Has he?”, but failed miserably.

Aemond felt lucerys smirk before he saw it. Not only could he now laugh at his dumb pig but at the obvious distress he felt over the possible marriage of his princess.

You shook your head no while chewing your dinner slowly. You did not wish to move to the north, to leave your family behind and be lady of house Winterfell. You just wanted to stay here. With him.

And after Heleana made her toast about marriage life and “he mostly ignores you”, it sounded like a death trap to her.

Aemonds abrupt standing up and hitting the table made you flinch. You could see it in his eyes. He truly did change and when he openend his mouth to make his horrible speech, you could feel it in every bone.

Although he did not take your name in his mouth, you could clearly hear the insult he threw at your siblings and you.

While everybody stood up, Aegon pushing lucerys head on the table and Aemond throwing Jace to the ground, you looked down at your lap. Tears that dropped down your cheeks pathetically were wiped away by your sleeves. This was not what you hoped for when they told you of your return but it was exactly what you feared.

Daemon saw it first, calling out your name to check on you and pulling the attention of the rest of your family towards you. You shook your head at him, while you tried to come up with anything helpful to say but found nothing that would make this situation better - so you left.

You did not see Aemonds smug smile fall because you did not turn around to look at him again.

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @leahjean @bellaisasleep @tempt-ress @let-love-bleeds-red @millies0bsimp @alysmondstuff @chimmysoftpaws @justsumtuffstuff @havlindzk @partypoison-00-blog @zillahvathek @oureternalbond @aemondssiut @minttea07 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @pastelorangeskies @bellstwd @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @trikigirl271 @florxdexcerezo @eddiesbitch83 @maviee @melllinaa @zgzgzh @shiny-trashs-blog @bcon24 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @deliazeedork @ilovemydinoboi

I’m not continuing the tag list Sorry guys :(

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Mint

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: Your joy was forever gone, your clothes, your warmth against him as he slept, the voice that sucked him in as soon as he saw you in that fucking dive--

Suddenly, his mouth was pressed against something warm, and soft, and minty, and real.

“Joel,” you whispered into his mouth before kissing him again, and again, and again. Your warm, perfect hands framed his face as you did, but he wasn’t strong enough to meet your face with his own. “Come back to me. Come on baby, talk to me.”

You weren’t gone. You were right here, warm-blooded, healthy, and his. 

Warnings: Major death talk, a woman gets torn apart by clickers, Joel has a panic attack, kissing, slight allusion to sex at the end, this is pretty self-indulgent.

A/N: So, Episode 3, am I right?

1.5k

Pedro Masterlist

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be very appreciated <3

Joel Miller had done worse things than drag a screaming man by his pantleg back into Jackson, but he would soon discover he had few things quite as haunting.

The man wiggled in his grip--screaming and digging his nails and mouth into the muddy, icy gravel--as Joel made his way back into the small town.

“Take me back,” the man howled, throat clogged with flem and grief, “take me back to her. I can’t leave her.”

Joel kept on hauling. 

“Joel,” the man was weeping now, sobbing through his beard. “Take me back to my wife. Please, my wife Joel, my wife.”

The man knew what he was doing, using that word. 

That word. 

That word cut through Joel like a hot knife, gliding along the insides of his belly and up his throat. Tha man’s wife was long gone, likely torn to pieces by the infected that had nearly gotten the man in Joel’s own hand, but Joel didn’t let him go. He didn’t let him jump down there with her. 

Why didn’t he? 

The man was silent for a few moments, his sobs the only proof he hadn’t slit his own throat, before his weeps became the sobs of grief that Joel was all too familiar with. The sobs that indicated yes, that did just happen, and I have no idea what the fuck to do from here.

“Please let me go,” the man finally whispered, and Joel dropped his leather-covered foot without hesitation. They had made it to the center of Jackson by that point--meaning a sizeable crowd was beginning to form around them, which Joel absolutely loved--and with one final look back at the defeated and lost man, Joel kept his march forward. 

Forward to you. 

It was barely noon--Joel was always better at the morning watch shifts than you--which meant you had to have been freshly showered and making yourself a late breakfast. Whenever you took shifts at night you always took the liberty to sleep in plenty in the morning, which gave Joel the opportunity to admire the woman who had him wrapped around her finger--literally and metaphorically. He could still taste the mint of your prized chapstick on his lips. You had kissed him particularly hard that morning, hard enough for him to fidget with his matching band more than usual. The weight of it was there when he left you, when the woman fell, and when the man jumped for her. 

Estelle was her name, a beautiful name for a very not-beautiful time, yet a beautiful soul. Her screams pierced the air as soon as she slipped, silenced when she hit the ground, and ignited again as she was torn into. 

Joel being the survivor he was acted on instinct alone when it happened, catching the man from the air as he jumped to join her in her fate, and proceeded to tow the decaying, lamented man back home. 

The fear in Estelle’s eyes before her feet went out from under her, the rawness of her screams, and the acceptance of her final whimpers didn’t become yours in his brain until right then, his steps towards his home. The man’s cries to join her didn’t become his own until he had to close his eyes at the view of you in the window of your wooden home, taking a mammoth-sized book off of the shelves he had crafted for you.

“Joel,” you had said in reaction. “It’s just...it’s just a random Tuesday.”

He made his way over to you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know.”

He entered your shared home, stomping the snow off his boots on the welcome mat to let you know it was him as always, and breathed in the perfect scent that was your fresh-brewed coffee.

When had he started crying?

“Joel,” you said, still facing away from him and towards your shelf, “you’re early. Very early. I’m guessing things either went really well, or really--”

You cut yourself off when you turned to him, likely noticing the single stream of a tear etching its way down his left cheek, and his breath escaped from him at the sight of you. Your form shaped by your favorite pair of jeans, hair laid just how you liked it, and your favorite shirt fresh from the washer. His favorite vision of you, the happy one. The comfortable one. The “I’m-in-love-and-clean-and-fed-in-a-world-where-I-should-be-neither” look. The truest form of his wife.

His wife.

Take me back to my wife. Please, my wife Joel, my wife.

He couldn’t feel his legs.

“Joel,” he heard you say from somewhere far away. Surely that wasn’t you in front of him, guiding him to his feet, leading him to the sofa, squatting to your knees to look into his eyes, breathing into his face that perfect hint of mint. You were torn, fractured, snapped, shredded, devoured at the bottom of that fucking ledge. He was laying in the middle of the square, waiting for his organs to shut down from the cold. Waiting to join you. 

He could see it so clearly--he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough. One more person he failed, one more gaping hole in his chest with no bullet to match. Except this time, you weren’t just another person, you were his everything. Everything. He shouldn’t have let himself fall. He never thought he’d have a wife, and maybe he was never supposed to. 

Your joy was forever gone, your clothes, your warmth against him as he slept, the voice that sucked him in as soon as he saw you in that fucking dive--

Suddenly, his mouth was pressed against something warm, and soft, and minty, and real.

“Joel,” you whispered into his mouth before kissing him again, and again, and again. Your warm, perfect hands framed his face as you did, but he wasn’t strong enough to meet your face with his own. “Come back to me. Come on baby, talk to me.”

You weren’t gone. You were right here, warm-blooded, healthy, and his. 

He exhaled a puff of relief, like reality did its best to punch him in the stomach so hard he couldn’t even respond, before saying, “I would bet on really bad.”

You laughed joyously before wrapping your arms around him so hard the breath he had just gathered escaped him once more, and more tears spilled from his eyes when he tucked his face into your neck. He must have been leaking them the entire time. 

You held him closely, intimately. It was a hug only lovers could mold themselves into. You exhaled in relief before suddenly pulling away and shoving him so hard he fell against the back of the couch.

“Darlin’, what--”

“What the hell was that, Joel Miller,” you yelled. “You come home hours earlier than you’re supposed to, stare at me like I’m a fucking ghost, and collapse! I thought you were having a goddamn stroke or something, Christ.”

“Y/N, I--”

“You better fuckin’ explain,” you state sternly, “and quickly because Jesus Christ.”

He just stared at you, at that passion that always simmered underneath you finally boiling over, before smiling bigger than he had all day. 

You scoffed before squatting down to meet his eyes straight on once more. “Explain. Now.”

He leaned forward, finally tracing the face he knew better than any other with hands rougher than it ever deserved, and spoke. Your eyes softened as he talked, tracing his features as they did, and your soft, lovely fingertips kept his eyes looking into yours the entire time. 

“Once I came in here, I--” he began, clearing his throat as the emotion and panic struggled from the restraint he had planted on them, “--I only saw you falling, and me being dragged here. I realized how imminent that is. I could taste it.”

You swallowed, your own eyes beginning to mist, and brought your forehead to his. 

“I’ve lost people,” he whispered, “so many people, and I’ve gotten back up. If I lose you, I...I won’t be able to. I’m going to go down, and I’m going to stay there. I can’t live in this world without you in it, Y/N.”

You swallowed harshly as tears escaped your own eyes. Your hands remained framing his face, rubbing his jaw and cheekbones with your fingertips, before you pressed your lips to his once more. It was that combination of the warmth and wet of your lips, the taste of your minty breath mixed with the unique taste of you, as well as the breaths from your nose that proved to him yes, you were here, you were real. 

“My Joel,” you whispered against his lips, “you haven’t lost me. I’m right here.”

You bring his right palm to your left breast, right above your heartbeat, where he both heard and felt that familiar tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump.

“I’m right here.”

His misted eyes met your own, full of nothing but complete raw adoration, before you stood and tucked his face into your stomach, letting him fall apart.

He fell apart in your arms, weeping while clutched to your clothing, and once he was done, you covered his mouth with your lips, and put all the pieces of your husband back together.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not present/not working. If you’d like to be added or I’ve made a mistake, feel free to ask!)

@leahkenobi @aninnai i​ @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon

[dandelions-143]

This Love

Part 2 of Who’s Gonna Hold You Like Me? Nofuckinbody!

Likes and Reblogs are highly appreciated

You can find Part 1 here

Other works: Masterlist

Pairing: Idol Changbin x f!reader

Warnings: cussing, heartbreak, smut, oral (f receiving) fingering, squirting, eludes to curvy/plus size f!reader. let me know if I forgot anything. The warnings are minimal.

Summary: Changbin has realized his feelings for you but, is it too late? Can you forgive him? Or has your relationship been torn apart too much… is it irreparable? Keep reading to find out

It had been nearly a month since the incident at the beach. Changbin didn’t contact you at first. For an entire week after your fight he left you alone. Which hurt incredibly. How could he not want to speak to you.. yes, you told him not to contact you but, wouldn’t he feel the need to try? It hurt you even more but, it also made your resolve more firm.

He now knew what you wanted and needed from him so he could either step up and fix this or leave you alone completely. Just when you slowly felt like you would be fine without him that’s when changbin decided to begin calling and texting you.

You didn’t answer but you read every text and listened to every message he sent. His soft words made you cry more often than not. But calling and texting meant nothing.. you needed more. You needed actions, talk was cheap to you.

“Fuck.” Changbin muttered under his breath as another one of his phone calls was sent to voicemail. This time he didn’t leave a message.. he was on the verge of begging you to talk to him but he still had too much pride for that. Chan came around the workout bench Changbin was currently sitting on and lightly clapped him on the back. “You good, bro?” Changbin had not been his usual bubbly self lately. He did his job and did it well, that was not affected but, when the cameras were off Changbin was just a ghost of who he had been.

The stocky man ran his fingers through his already messy black hair. “Yeah, just can’t get ahold of a friend.” He put his phone up and laid back on the bench to resume his workout. Chan stood over him to spot him. “You know you can talk to me. Whatever it is I got your back.” Changbin finished and slowly sat up, his head hung low.

He wanted to tell Chan but he had kept you a secret for so long. He looked over at Chan, a pained look on his face. “I really fucked up, Chan.” Admitting it out loud hit him harder than he thought it would. He felt his eyes stinging as the tears began to well up, threatening to spill over.

He had not cried over you yet, keeping it in and keeping it to himself had taken a toll. Not having you there had slowly began to kill him, that’s what it felt like to him. He let out a rushed, shaky breath as he opened his mouth to speak but the tears would barely let him. His words were choked, and broken. “I- I think I lost her.. I lost her.” And that’s when he began to sob uncontrollably. Chan instantly went to his friend and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tight. “Come on, let’s go back home and you can tell me what the hell happened.”

Back at their dorm Chan sat Changbin down on their couch and he let his best friend tell him everything. He told him about the sneaking out to meet you, he told him about the parties and the drinking. He told Chan how he had began to feel things for you the closer you two got but he was never the best partner and he was scared he would ruin you if he took things further than just kissing you. Obviously he was very wrong.. the emotional toll he had put on you did more damage than he thought.

Chan listened to him intently and even at the mentions of Changbin breaking some of the companies rules he decided not to scold him for it, he needed Chan, his friend not his leader right now. Changbin physically felt ill because he knew it was over and he knew it was all his fault. “What am I going to do.. I didn’t think it would hurt this much.” He ran a hand over his face to wipe away the tears. “I knew I would miss her but, I don’t get attached like this. Not when it comes to romantic feelings.”

That’s when Chan sat back and began to smile a little bit. He wasn’t saying anything just smirking. Changbin looked up at him expecting his best friend to be in thought, maybe trying to come up with a way to help him, but the idiot was smiling. “What! You think this is funny? Man, my fucking heart physically hurts!” Chan just chuckled and shook his head, “I find it funny that you didn’t even realize you had fallen in love.” He said it so easily, like it was a normal thing. Changbin, in love? Never.

“What are you saying? I don’t fall in love. That’s not what I do.” Changbin was growing annoyed. He wanted to know how to get his friend back. Chan just stood up to move and sit on the coffee table so that he was directly in front of Changbin. “Listen, from what you’re telling me you wanted to spend all the time with her as you could. Secret meetings nearly every day, you took her everywhere you went, you let her meet some of your friends. Except for us.” Chan gave him a stern look. Changbin just looked down at his hands. “You wanted to touch and kiss her and probably more which scared you because these physical feelings also came with emotional feelings so you decided to push her away instead of trying to sort your own feelings out.” Chan took a deep breath, “and now that she is gone you can’t stand it. It’s like your mind and your body are having withdrawals from her.” He put a strong hand on Changbins shoulder and gave him a little shake. “You’re in love and if I’m correct with how she handled your rejection, she’s in love too.. or she was.”

Changbin began to rub his temples, his head was spinning, was Chan right? Was he in love with you? He had never felt this way before. He needed time to process this before he made an attempt to see you.

You were sitting at your favorite coffee shop, an iced americano at your side and you were typing away on your laptop as you sat in the early morning sun. It was the first day in over a month where you felt like being outside. You wanted to be around people again. Changbin was still constantly on your mind. Even more now that he had stopped trying to contact you. You were always wondering what he was doing, where he was, if he had moved on so quickly.. if he missed you at all now.

Your neck was getting a little stiff by how long you had been sitting in that position. You couldn’t really focus on your work so you clicked over to your search engine to bring up instagram. You had decided to stop checking social media for any signs of him but, as your thoughts drifted to him you felt the need to just see what he had been up to lately. Changbin posted most things on instagram so you knew you would find something there.

Scrolling through his profile you saw a few new posts and he looked… he looked as handsome as ever. Your heart squeezed tightly. Missing him was the worst feeling you had ever felt. You let out a loud sigh, one that seemed to deflate your entire body. You slumped in your chair as you kept scrolling, your chin now resting in your palm.

“Is that your boyfriend? He’s pretty cute.” A very familiar voice startled you, causing you to knock over your coffee. You turned your head to see who it was, even though you would know that voice anywhere. As you turned your eyes locked with deep brown ones, a sweet smirk on soft lips, dark hair in its natural messy state. You knew if you stood up just then your knees would buckle beneath you.

“What are you doing here?” Those were the words that left your mouth but, what you really wanted to say was that you missed him and to give him a hug. Changbin licked his lips and hesitated for a moment trying to find his words. “I, uhh, wanted to.. no, I needed to speak to you.” He took a step closer to you, placing a hand on yours. “I missed you so much, if we could go somewhere more private and talk about what happened?”

His dark eyes were pleading and you could see a pain on his face that you had never seen before. You slowly moved your hand out of his grasp and then stood. His eyes followed your movements, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he took those eyes off of you. “Fine.. but make it quick. We can go back to my place.”

Nothing had changed since the last time Changbin had the privilege of being in your apartment. The space was small yet very homey with soft lighting and little green plants you had placed around in various corners and ledges. You had pictures of your family and friends along with small pieces of art you had collected since she was a teen. As he settled on the couch Changbin couldn’t help but remember the first time he had kissed you.

In that very spot he sat, flashes of heated touches, eager kisses, and the feel of your soft body pressed to his. He took a deep breath and let it out to shake the thoughts from his mind and to calm his nerves. He watched as you sat at the opposite end of the couch and turned to look at him, waiting.

Changbin cleared his throat before setting his eyes on yours. He wanted you to know just how sorry he was for how he treated you. “Y/n, I fucking miss you. I miss your laughter, the way you can’t hold back when you’re in a heated discussion, the little face you make when you’re concentrating really hard.” He couldn’t help but smile softly at that thought. “I know I fucked up… I was messing everything up even before we had that fight.” He kept his eyes on yours even when you faltered and looked down, he knew you were trying to hold back your tears, he could tell by the way your bottom lip quivered and your eyes were glassy with moisture.

It pained him deeply to see you like this and to know he was the cause of it. Changbing reached over and put his hand on yours, wrapping his fingers around your small hand and moving a bit closer to you. “I hate that it took this to make me realize what I was doing to you. I’m so sorry and I hope eventually you can forgive me.” That’s when he brought your fingers to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to them. You pulled your hand away when he did that, “No, Changbin you can’t do things like that… touch me that way.. kiss me that way. I understand you’re sorry but, we can’t go back to being friends. I can’t go back to whatever we were.” That’s when your tears began to flow.

Salty tears came in rushed rivulets down your soft pink cheeks. Changbin was not about to allow you to push him away this time. He had so much more to tell you. He moved even closer to, gently wiping away your tears with his hands softly on either side of your face. “You’re right, we can’t go back to what we were.” You looked at him in confusion and shock. You were not expecting him to agree with you. Before you could say anything Changbin took your lips with his. Kissing you softly, slowly.. almost like he was afraid you would break if he wasn’t careful with you.

Your tears were still flowing, coating both your lips and his as he kissed you, your breaths mingling, his strong hands moving to tangle in your hair. You eventually pulled away, out of breath and a bit shocked at what had just happened. “Changbin-“ You started but he stopped you by blurting out, “We can’t be what we were because I want more. I want your friendship and your love.. I want you.. all of you.” You looked at him as if he had two heads. You were floored, staring at him for a bit too long.. long enough to make him a bit uncomfortable.

“Y/n, say something.. please.” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, he was looking at you almost pleadingly. After your initial shock wore off you finally gave in to all of your feelings and emotions for this man. You threw your arms around his neck, nearly sitting on his lap. Connecting your lips to his in response to everything he had said. The kiss this time was still slow but much more sensual. His tongue swiped over your lips asking for entrance. You didn’t hesitate to let him in.

Changbins hands were all over you, like he was memorizing every curve you hand. Soon you were both tugging at each other’s clothes. You pulled his shirt over his head, your hands instantly sliding over his hard chest and down his abs to tug at the waste band of his dark blue jeans. His kisses had become needy and rushed. You whimpered into his lips as his hands cupped and kneaded your ass, pulling you even closer to him. You could feel his stiff cock through the layers of fabric between you both, causing the wetness between her legs to pool and make your panties stick to you uncomfortably.

That’s when he picked you up effortlessly, his hands still holding you by her plump ass. His mind was reeling as he placed you gently on the bed. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he had you back, you were allowing him to see you in your most vulnerable state. Something even though he denied it in the past he only dreamed of seeing in person. Changbin began to remove your clothes piece by piece. He wanted to take it as slow as possible so he could take all of you in. Once you were lying there completely naked, he made sure to step back and just admire how beautiful you were.

His eyes took in the full swell of your perky breasts, the budding dark nipples hard and ready for him to suck and play with. He bit his lip at the sight of your soft stomach and the round curve of your hips, the slight stretch marks there. He wanted to kiss them, to touch and caress your thick thighs. “Spread yourself for me, baby. I want to see all of you.” You did as he asked, spreading your thighs wide for him and then to his shock you reached down and spread your lips for him. Allowing him to see just how wet you really were, your pink folds on display just for him.

Changbin kept his eyes on your pussy as he let out a guttural groan and he sank to his knees. “Fucking hell, Y/n.. such a pretty little pussy.” He watched as you ran your fingers through your slick pussy for him and he was mesmerized. He looked up at you, both of your eyes meeting in a silent question. “I’m all yours.. do whatever you want..just please.. do something, I need it.. I need you.” You pleaded in a soft husky voice, your body was buzzing with a deep need for him to touch you.. to fuck you.

He moved closer to your wet cunt. Placing kisses over and around the soft mound. Worshiping every single inch of your sex, he finally gave you exactly what you wanted. Changbin slowly licked up the wetness that had collected between your folds causing a sharp intake of breath from your parted lips, making your back arch for him and he loved it. “Oh, god.. Changbin.” You moaned his name, moving your hands down your body to tug on his thick hair. He watched your beautiful face, parted lips call out his name over and over again as he licked from your tight little hole to her swollen pink clit.

Slipping a finger inside of you as he sucked and played with your little bud, making you roll your hips for him. You were a complete and utter mess just for him, that’s when he put another finger inside of you, stretching you. He wanted you ready for him, all stretched out and finger fucked real good for him. “Cum around my fingers, baby. I want to feel you cum before I fuck you.” He spoke against your clit, his voice causing your pussy to vibrate with his voice and that nearly drove you into a frenzy.

You were writhing in pleasure for him, bucking your hips as he slid his fingers in and out of your slick hole, making the most delicious sounds of slick skin against slick skin. “Changbin.. please.. don’t stop, I’m cumming!” You moaned loudly, filling your bedroom with the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. Changbin felt you clench around his fingers just as your thighs began to shake, feeling the rush of your cum around his fingers. It drenched him and you, dripping down his hand and forearm, making a little mess on your bedsheets. “Fuck babe, you cum so good for me.” He was on the verge of coming undone just at the sight of you.

He pulled his fingers out and dropped his pants along with his boxers to the floor. Changbin wasted no time ripping the condom open he had been carrying in his wallet. He always kept one on him but he never thought he would be using it with you. Slipping it on his thick shaft he climbed over you, sliding his hands up her body, massaging and squeezing your soft flesh and loving every second of it. As he leaned down to suck and nip at your hard nipples he took his free hand and rubbed his hard, pulsating cock over your throbbing clit and through your drenched folds.

Changbin raised his head to move his lips up, kissing and sucking at the heated flesh of your neck then up to your jaw and finally your lips. He kissed you hard and slow. Making sure you could feel just how much you meant to him in that kiss. The kiss must have sent the message loud and clear to you because you opened your eyes that were heavy lidded with lust and met his loving gaze. You both kept your eyes glued to one another’s as Changbin slowly slid his now painfully erect cock inside your tight little hole. You both gasped at the same time in complete ecsatsy, Your hands began to grip and tug at Changbins body.

Running over his hard muscles feeling them move fluidly beneath his smooth skin. He began to move his hips, trying to keep a slow steady pace but, fuck did he want to bury himself deep inside of your warm pussy over and over again. Both of your body’s moved in unison.. as one. Changbin thrusting strongly into you, You lifting your hips just in the right way to meet his thrusts. “Mmm, baby you feel so fucking good… so tight.. I could fuck you forever.” He moaned your name when he felt you clench around his pulsing cock.

His movements became more erratic and rushed as he felt his own orgasm coming to a head. Sweat covered both your bodies making your skin slide easily over one another. You were so close to your own orgasm, the heat burning inside your lower stomach making you cry out for him to make you cum. “Please, Changbin… cum with me .. make me cum, oh fuck!”

That is all it took for him to reach his limit, he was pounding into you now, you both were chasing that high your bodies needed. Just when You couldn’t take it anymore you felt your orgasm unfold. Your body shaking, nails dragging deep scratches down Changbins back as you came hard. Clenching tight around his cock, your cum squirting and gushing around him, coating both of your thighs making the slapping of his skin against yours even louder.

Once he felt your orgasm clench and hold him in place he allowed himself to succumb to his own orgasm. His muscles tensed and shook around your body as you lay beneath him, the weight of him between your legs the most comforting thing you had ever felt. His thrusts became sloppy and his limbs shook with exertion, “I love you.. I love you..” Changbin repeated, his moans soft and sweet in your ear. As you both came down from your high he slowly rolled over, pulling out of you.

The bed was a mess and so were the both of you. Covered in sweat and each other’s cum. Once your heavy breathing slowed down he finally looked over at you. His dark chocolate eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration. You were a magnificent sight, hair a mess and tangled, body slick with a mixture of his sweat and yours, lips swollen from his kisses. You eyes met his and all he could do was reach over and grab your hand like he had earlier and kissed each and every one of them. “I love you, Changbin.. I always have.” You mumbled and rolled over to leave a lingering kiss on his lips.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

The moment it became unbearable

PAIRING | Fiancé!Bucky Barnes x Fiancée!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.4K

SUMMARY | Your anxiety has been getting worse the last few weeks and you've reached your breaking point. When your emotions are at the point you're having a panic attack, Bucky is called away from his mission to help you get through this, just like he'd done so many times before.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Lots of angst, reader is going through a pretty severe episode of anxiety, mentions of blood/bloody knuckles, mentions of a panic attack, Bucky being the best fiancé ever, and lots of cuddles and fluff in the end.

A/N | This is a very self indulging fic because my anxiety is getting pretty severe, so I just need to write my problems away. I understand it completely if this fic is not for you and you choose not to read this, there is plenty of other work that might be more suited to what you're looking for! 💜

A/N 2.0 | I want to thank @suzipanini for giving me the idea to write this fic, and for always listening to my complaining whenever I need to do so. You're an absolute angel sent from heaven and I love you! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You had been feeling like something was wrong for a while, but you just couldn't quite place your finger on the problem. Some days you started to eat a whole lot more, overstuffing yourself even, other days you barely ate anything and were content with a few small snacks. Some days you're the light of everyone's life, other days your mood has turned so sour everyone stays as far away from you as possible. And to make everything even worse, Bucky is on a long undercover mission which means he can barely talk to you if he can at all.

Your physical appearance is also starting to get worrisome, your nails have been bitten to the point that they're bleeding yet you continue to bite them, and there's nothing left of the beautiful manicure you had done not even a week ago. Your anxiety is eating away at you from the inside out, and now you're starting to return the favor to your body by starting your bad nailbiting habit again. All the while all you can think about is how bad your anxiety is getting, and the one person you want to tell more than anyone is not here. And he's not going to be here for another few weeks if not months.

The feeling of impending doom is creeping up more and more, and you're trying to get some of it out of your system by going to the gym, and that seems to work. However, it seems to work a little too well because you're starting to overdo it, your knuckles are completely raw and bloody from how much you've been hitting the punching bags lately. Anything to keep the voice inside your head from telling you everything is going to be doomed. That you're doomed. And it works for quite a while until Steve starts to notice something is wrong.

You were bandaging your knuckles in the locker room attached to the gym in the Compound when Steve happened to walk in. He was getting ready for his workout when he heard you hiss at the feeling of the bandages getting taken off your wounds, and he immediately walked over to see what was going on. ''Y/N?'' he said but you didn't hear him. You were so much in your head you didn't hear anything, you didn't see anything other than your hands and the blood on them, you didn't notice anything other than the constant voice in your head telling you will never be good enough.

It wasn't until Steve walked around you that you even noticed he was there, and you got so scared you accidentally jumped and fell backward off the bench you were sitting on. ''Fuck!'' you yelled as your head hit the floor behind you as you fell with a loud thud. ''I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like that!'' Steve quickly apologizes but all you can think about is getting away. Away from Steve, away from where you fell, away from the Compound even. Away to the one person who could pull you out of this spiral. But he is still away on the undercover mission, and won't be back for weeks, if not months.

''P-please, leave me alone,'' you say as you start crying softly. You don't mean for Steve to leave you alone, no. You want the voices inside your head to leave you alone, for the anxiety to leave you be and let you live your life. ''No, no, no, leave me alone! Please, leave me alone!'' you say, covering your ears as you're spiraling into a panic attack. ''Y/N, please listen to me,'' Steve says but you shake your head because you can't do this anymore. ''No, GO AWAY!" you yell at him, but he doesn't. Instead, he softly picks you up despite you trashing in his hold to let you go.

''Let me go! Put me down and let me go! They need to stop! Please tell them to stop!'' you say as your panic is completely taking over and you don't know what's real and what's not. The voices in your head are winning, and you realize you're fighting a losing battle. What you didn't realize, however, is that Steve has called Bucky back from his mission already, and he will arrive soon. After explaining what's going on Bucky gave instructions to Steve about how to handle your episode, which he is doing. And the person you need most is coming home to you. Not in a few weeks or even months, but he will be home in less than an hour.

When you and Steve arrive at your bedroom, he puts you down on the bed where he just holds you in his arms, soothing you by rubbing your back and whispering sweet things to you, despite you not hearing him. It may not be Bucky who is soothing you right now, but he is also doing a damn good job of soothing you. Your crying and panic haven't stopped, but suddenly you feel a shift again, and you feel a different pair of strong arms holding you as you're sitting down on the bed again. These arms are so different in fact, they don't even feel the same compared to each other. Bucky's home. You're back with the person you need more than anything.

For the first time in what feels like forever you dare to open your eyes, and you're looking into the eyes you've been so desperately longing for all this time. The eyes that seem to calm your mind down without saying a single word. ''Hi pretty girl,'' he says, but you don't hear him yet. All you can hear is the anxiety in your head telling you how he's just doing this out of pity, but you know deep inside he isn't. You knew he loves you, and he does this to make you feel better. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, followed by a kiss on each of your cheeks.

It calms you down, and you finally take your hands away from your ears, wanting to hear his voice. ''Y-you're home…'' you croak out, your voice barely there to say it, but he hears it. ''I am, doll. And I'm sorry you had to go through this without me by your side,'' he says and he lifts one of his hands to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb softly over it and you're calming down enough for the voices to disappear. ''I love you, so much. And I can't tell you how much I can't wait to marry you,'' he says, which earns him a small smile. The smile he loves so much.

''Love you too,'' you whisper and you lean forward for a kiss. It's soft, slow, and gentle, everything and more you need out of it right now. It isn't rushed, it isn't heated, it's perfection. Bucky is by your side again, and the world seems to be just a little brighter. ''Shall we go take a shower together? Or did you maybe want to take a bath?'' he asks, even though he already knows the answer. He likes giving you a choice, and between these two you will always choose a bath. ''Bath,'' you say and he nods. He gets off the bed with you in his arms and runs the bath while you're sitting on the counter.

''Alright, let's get you out of these clothes and bandages,'' he says and suddenly your cheeks get heated at the thought that Bucky will now know what you've done to yourself when he was gone. He slips you out of your clothes and out of his tactical gear before pulling the bandages off of your hands, and revealing the damage there. He doesn't say anything, instead just placing soft kisses on the affected areas to notify you it's okay. You're going to be okay. The two of you get into the bath together and you're sitting with his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around you and your head resting on his shoulder.

The voices have completely disappeared, and you're feeling like your old self again. All you needed was Bucky, and now that he's back you're okay again. ''I can't wait to marry you either,'' you suddenly say, thinking back to what he said not too long ago. ''You'll be the best husband I could ever wish for,'' you tell him and he lets out a soft laugh. ''And you'll be the best wife I could ever wish for,'' he says as he captures your lips in another kiss. ''I love you, doll. More than I've ever loved anyone,'' he says and with that, you sink back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder and his cheek resting against your hair. Finally, you're complete again.

[dearestxiao]

the color blue: neon [part 2] | yandere xiao x reader, yandere venti x reader

synopsis: the days until you finally meet your penpal has been ticking by so quickly, but with a new tutor, a clingy roommate, and a professor who seems to only want the worst for you, it's hard to keep track of time. WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT, yandere characters, creepy xiao is creepy (lots of potentially uncomfortable thoughts from his perspective), heavily implied stalking, possessiveness, manipulation, dub-con touching, student-teacher dynamic, age gap (reader is 21+ and zhongli is 27+, feel free to adjust as need be). let me know if I need to add anything! reader is gender neutral.

wc: 10.7k

author notes: I wanted to first say thank you for the wait, and I hope that everybody is able to enjoy the changes and edits I’ve made to the story. I also wanted to say thank you to the mutuals who had helped me create the original version of the story. it has been a long time since then, and I’m not entirely sure if they’re still active (OTZ), so I’m not sure if they would still like to be tagged but I am forever grateful to them. this is the last exposition heavy chapter, as well as my last read edit/re-upload of a chapter, so the next few chapters will be much meatier with new content!!! again, thank you so much for the wait. love you all! as always, reblogs are very appreciated if enjoyed and if possible!

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ [part 1]

dark content. minors do not interact. do not repost/link.

from xiao's room, there's a perfect view of the town a bit away from campus that greets him everytime he steps inside. it's a gorgeous sight, which is something he could admit, even though he didn’t choose the place himself, one anyone would be grateful for. the town is bright and bustling even still, and it’s only now starting to dim down. it’s getting late into the night, with flashy lights and beautiful architecture and homey buildings, and so many people, people, people.

there are still families on an outing, and cute couples going on dates. shop owners sweeping around their store. he can see as the everyday salaryman walks back home, accompanying the students on their own way home from classes; he can see so many lives being lived from his isolated little tower.

and yet, on nights like these, no matter how enchanting the view, xiao usually prefers to keep his blinds tightly shutー out of sight, out of mind. jealousy is a vile thing, isn't it? it's nasty, tainting your view of the world, of the things you love. after the first few weeks after xiao had moved in, the view quickly lost the charm it once had. because at the end of the day, to him, the view only serves as a cruel reminder of just how alone xiao is and always has been.

it dangles around a painful reminder of the things xiao can never have. it's so close, yet so far out of reach.

but despite his usual bitterness, xiao doesn’t bother closing the blinds tonight, because tonight, he has hope, hope that he could one day be like the many walks of life he sees everyday from his apartment window. hope that he’ll have something worth wondering about.

xiao sits himself on his bed, the second biggest source of comfort in his life right now. for some reason, he feels awfully nervous. he knows why, but he can’t help but wish that awful feeling away. for a split second, he can’t help but wish he was as confident and fearless as... no. he won’t think like that, not right now, at least. he shakes away the thought. butterflies jitter all up and around his stomach as his shaky hands picks up his phone and dials numbers, your numbers. the digits are already memorized by heart.

he tries to calm his nerves as he presses the phone up to his ear after hitting the call button, nails digging into the pajamas he changed into when he got home. he thickly swallows, waiting as patiently as he can, like usual.

ring. rinnng. rinnnnnggg. 

it doesn't take too long for you to pick up.

"hello?" he finally hears.

it's only one word (and a pretty basic one at that), but xiao can already hear the soft underlying shyness of your voice. his mouth naturally opens a little agape. you've always been nervous around those you weren't close to. your voice sends him into a state of bliss, so much so his brain is too foggy to reply until you coo out another hello, questioning if anyone is there on the other line due to the silence.

he almost has to force himself to speak "It's… xiao," he blinks, not even saying hello back, "from professor zhongli's class," xiao almost slips up by saying the name you know him much better by. “you… we spoke on the train. I don’t know if you remember,” he manages to stutter out.

you had seemed pretty out of it when you two talked earlier that very same day. you must’ve been so exhausted to have fallen asleep like that, right next to him. he’s still replaying the site of it over and over, the way you were struggling so hard to stay awake, head bobbing back and forth. it was probably embarrassing for you, but it was a pleasant sight for him. the soft puff of your cheeks and the furrow of your brows, the shallowness of your breath and how relaxed you looked. it made him feel like a creep, staring at you in that state, such an intimate state, a vulnerable state. 

it’s why he had held back as long as he could before finally tapping you awake, wanting to bask in the precious sight for longer.

he snaps back to finally finish his explanation, “…you gave me your number earlier today," he says it less as a reminder to you, but instead as a reminder to himself. he bites his lip, waiting for you to respond, wishing he could see what you looked like right now.

in the meantime, he remembers how your eyes had begrudgingly opened back up at the feeling of him touching you. he remembers the warmth of your body that felt like it could melt his finger tips from the heat. he wishes he could see and feel both much more often, but xiao is patient. lord, is he patient.

he remembers how embarrassed you looked as you sat up in your seat, trying to reorient yourself. “sorry, what did you say?” you finally had spoken after getting settled. you must’ve been too frazzled to hear him the first time. he cleared his throat before he repeated himself, this time a little louder, a little less shy than the first time around.

“I asked which stop you get off at.” you looked at him with eyes big with confusion. he hoped, desperately (he’s always so desperate), that he hadn’t made you feel anything negative.

he made sure to explain the question in hopes that it made you feel more comfortable and not as confused. “…I can wake you up before you get there, if you’d like.”

despite his wants, he needed to make sure you were safe, and were able to actually get home. if he didn’t ‘protect’ you, who would? definitely not that roommate of yours.

to his (would be short-lived) disappointment you had shaken your head. “no, it’s fine. I really shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.” you had paused for a short second before saying, “thank you, though, xiao.” he doesn’t like to remember how he almost shivered at the sound of his name coming from your lips, nor how he had to turn his head as he nodded because he could feel heat creep up it. 

"oh, yes, xiao! sorry, I wasn't expecting you to call so soon. what can I do for you?"

“you asked on the train if I could tutor you. I wanted to set something up.”

it’s true, even if xiao can’t believe it himself. he knew this day would come, but didn’t expect it to be this soon. after several minutes of silence between you two, (or at least as silent as it could be on a train), you had turned to him, as if remembering something, getting his attention before you asked him something.

“sorry if this is coming out of nowhere. I was wondering if…” you took a breath, and xiao had almost sworn you were bordering scared as you finished your question. “I was wondering if you could possibly tutor me for zhonglis class? I don’t know if you’d be able to, but I spoke to him earlier today, and he recommended asking you for help.”

and of course he had said yes, to your surprise. he remembers thinking, silently, that maybe the universe was rewarding him for being so patient, and he had to keep his cool the best he could. 

now here he is, actually setting something up. “would tomorrow with you?”

"yes!," you let out a nervous little laugh at your uncontrollable excitement. xiao can just picture the smile you have on your face, all shy and awkward and cute. "that would work great, I think. I really wasn't expecting you to set something up so quickly. I'm grateful though."

xiao would make the tutoring session today during the dead of night if he could. of course he would set something up so quickly.

you don't need to know that, though.

xiao hums at your words. "we… we can have our first session at my place, if you're comfortable with that." he realizes he might be coming off too strong, so he adds, "but we can have it somewhere else too." he hopes you agree to the first suggestion though.

"t-that'd be great, yeah. whatever works for you, works for me."

"I'll text you the address and the time, then… and we can discuss more sessions or a schedule and stuff further.”

"that sounds good. thank you so much again." you repeat, and he can hear the relief in your voice. it should be him thanking you, really. 

"of course. goodnight."

“goodnight!” you repeat before you both hang up. a wave of bliss strikes his body.

but he isn’t going to sleep, not yet, atleast. Instead, he’s going to stay up all night, right in front of his window, thinking of all the possible lives he’s about to live.

he’ll make sure to thank zhongli for that in the morning.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

[name]: I don't think you understand how nervous I am right now

[name]: my hands are shaking and everything

alatus: why? is something wrong?

[name]: you know how I told you how I wasn't doing the greatest in one of my courses?

alatus: of course. did something happen?

[name]: the most intimidating guy I've ever met in my life is my tutor now

[name]: and I have no idea how this first session is gonna go

alatus: I think you’ll be fine. you shouldn’t worry yourself

alatus: you should let me know how everything goes.

ーーー☆

xiao's home is, to put it simply, unique.

you were left awestruck as soon as you stepped into the small but gorgeous studio apartment, shocked by both the feeling of jealousy creeping up your spine and the thought of how someone could possibly afford such an apartment, especially as a college student. no matter how xiao manages to afford his place, though, his home daunts over you. 

there's a large window that lines the wall his bed and desk are propped up against and you can't help but imagine just how xiao would look as he looked out of it and at the bustling city. the glass is frosted and wet from the pitter pattering rain that seems to persist in the cool weather of october. it's a little messy, books scattered about here and there and takeout bags littering the table, and the amount of lighting in this room seems to be as minimal (and as cold) as can be, but it's nothing too bad at all. nothing that you could complain about, at least. 

there's so many things inside his house, so many things your eyes are drawn to, like his big bookcase and comfy bed and his expensive computer setup, and yet it feels so... lonely. devoid of life, even. maybe it's the look of the gloomy black walls and the fact that the only lighting xiao has is a tall floor lamp and the light that comes through his window, but you've never seen such a full home feel so empty. no plants except for one little succulent that's looking worse for wear, no photos of friends or family, no bright colors, no pets to breathe life into the place, no companion to help make this house a home. nothing.

you're suddenly grateful you have such a lively roommate.

it's been a few minutes since xiao had let you in, greeting you in his comfy hoodie and baggy pants, hair put up into a messy bun, before attending to something on his computer (an important email you think, or at least something along those likes, something urgent), telling you to sit wherever you'd like and that he'll be with you shortly. you had nodded while leaving your shoes at the door, asking him if his bed would be a seat he's okay with you being on, garnering a hum in response from him.

"...I'll sit here then, since it'll be close to you and stuff," you murmur, admittedly a bit more nervous and unconfident sounding than you'd like. you plop yourself onto xiao's bed, placing your bag at your feet in front of the bed for easy access. xiao takes what's meant to be a quick glance at you, but he's unable to look away.

he knows it's creepy to say, especially when you're just sitting down so innocently, but the sight is better than what he's fantasized about. he's thought of you so many times in his bed, cuddling with him and running your hands through his hair and letting him press kisses into your face and collar bones. he's thought about waking you up with breakfast and how you'd smile and thank him even if he can't cook very well, but he's willing to learn a couple recipes for you. he's thought about laying there with you after a long day, letting you ramble as he listened like he does as alatus. he's thought about how he'd great you once he comes home like you probably do with venti, watching your form as he wait on his bed for him.

and, most of all, he's thought about the way you'd cry and sob and call him a monster once the day that you find out that his bed is now yours and that this apartment is now your home, trapped forever with him, finally comes.

one day you'll be here permanently, he's sure of it. baby steps first, though.

xiao doesn't realize that in the midst of his thinking, he's been absolutely staring you down, and considering that xiao has a naturally viscous (bitchy) looking resting face, you can't help but squirm under his gaze. "xiao? I can... move, if you'd like."

"no, I just..." he clears his throat before looking back at the work in front of him. "sorry, I zoned out for a second. you can stay there if it feels comfortable. whatever you want." the words come out as a sort of awkward, almost inaudible mumble.

is this supposed to be as awkward and tense feeling as it is?

you nod at his words, albeit a little hesitant, further settling into the soft plush of his bed. your brain is still convinced that he might want you to move, but you decide to just stay where you are. you reach down from your seat, pulling out everything you would need from your bag, waiting patiently for any instructions. the soft clicking of xiao's keyboard and the sound of rain hitting against the window fill the otherwise silent room, and honestly, given the atmosphere and the way xiao's room is so dark and cozy and how warm and inviting his bed is, you're tempted to fall asleep.

xiao's presence, though nerve-wracking, makes you feel at home. it feels familiar. you wouldn't mind falling asleep near him again.

but today's (sadly) not the day for resting. xiao finishes whatever he's working on, closing out of the tab and turning his chair to face your spot on the bed. he brushes a piece of his hair back and out of the way, uncovering the eyebrow piercing the bothersome piece had previously hid. his eyes look dead, tired dark circles laying underneath, and yet he still forces himself to speak, like a zombie who simply refuses to just give up and die.

"did you have anything specific in mind that you want to go over?"

you take a second to think, humming in response. zhongli never truly specified what you needed to brush up upon, only that the last few assignments weren't up to his standards, whatever that means. "I don't know. maybe everything from the last few weeks? I'm not so sure."

he too lets out a soft little hum as he thinks for a moment. he's never tutored before, and he's pretty sure he doesn't even have the qualifications to actually be of any sort of help. he makes it up as he goes.

“on the back of your textbook, there's a study guide that covers all the chapters inside." he gently motions for you to give him the book sitting on your lap, flipping to the page before handing it back to you. "I want you to do the questions of the study guide that cover the chapters we've already read in class. then I'll... assess you from there, and we can come up with a plan.”

it seems like a lot of work, and that's because it is. the longer you spend here (the more he can milk this session for everything it's worth), the better.

you nod, moving to get to work immediately, putting your full effort into the task at hand. you both work silently, xiao clicking at his keys alongside the noise of you flipping through the pages of your textbook and jotting answers down. the noises compliment one another well, creating a lingering sense of peace and calm in the air. you find yourself getting stuck on one or two of the questions, but… surprisingly breezing through the rest, and after a while of working, you gently speak his name, alerting him that you've finished. he’s quick to take your work, starting his inspection of it. 

your hands can’t help but get a little clammy as you watch as he reads through your answers, analyzing each and every single written word. in the meantime, you’re doing a little analysis of your own, trying to distract your mind from feeling any more nervous than you realistically should. 

your eyes flick from his messy hair, to the beauty mark almost right in the middle of his forehead, then to the soft dusting of red eyeshadow under his eyes. you look at how he runs a finger against the words on the page, too, almost subconsciously, and though you can’t really tell from this angle what he’s doing, you think he’s more so tracing the letters you’ve written than using it as a means to follow along. he almost looks entranced. you don’t know what to expect from xiao, can’t even guess what he’s thinking, and the furrowed eyebrows on his face definitely don’t make you feel any better. 

you sit there, idley, awkwardly, fidgeting for what seemed like more than just a few minutes, before xiao finally speaks up. 

you can barely hear him as he speaks, his words hushed and muffled. "you... need a lot of brushing up on the content, and your answers… lack good explanations and reasoning." he hands you back your work, sending you an almost sympathetic look. "I can see why zhongli believes you need help,” he adds.

it's a lie, of course, but you don't need to know that, not when zhongli had so delicately laid down the groundwork for all of this to happen in the first place. most of your answers were just fine as is, at least from what he lightly skimmed through.

still, he can't help but feel guilty when that look of embarrassment washes over your face.

for some reason you feel yourself get overwhelmed with emotion. you thought that maybe, just maybe, zhongli was simply just messing with you, as was notorious with the man and his teaching methods. but there's a stark sense of embarrassment that comes from xiao reaffirming what zhongli had said, an embarrassment so strong it sends your entire body ablaze with heat. 

you can't help but awkwardly shift in your seat as you nod along to his words despite the way your head almost feels too heavy to lift, avoiding eye contact lest he sees you so embarrassed over something so... silly, a miniscule problem at best, something fixable with a bit of elbow grease and time, and yet it means way more than it should to you.

you've worked so hard in this class already. why aren't you improving?

he doesn’t let you really catch your breath before he speaks again. "I think we'll need a couple more sessions than we discussed earlier," he mumbles, again, as though too ashamed to speak up, flipping through his own textbook, face in his hand as he thinks. "I want to make sure we can get as much content covered as possible before the end of the semester and catch you back up, since you seem to be..." xiao takes a quick glance at you, and for a moment, just a split second, he sees you, sees inside of you, sees every little thing you've been keeping bottled up, your fear. he looks away, breath hitching out of complete and utter guilt. he forces himself to continue though.

"...behind," he finishes, the single word said notably softer than the rest of the sentence.

xiao forces himself to swallow down his guilt. truly, he feels terrible about lying about this, because you clearly seem to be doing just fine on you own and lord knows how much stress this entire ordeal is causing you, but what's the use of being presented and blessed by the gods themselves with such an amazing opportunity if his sinning hands can't take it out of greed? xiao hates it, but he's always been more of a taker than a giver, taking all he can from people and leaving nothing left of them.

the simple pure utter bliss at the thought of spending hours and hours with you, in his room, alone, intimately and in person instead of just being with you through a phone screen, extinguishes any guilt he could possibly feel.

you, on the other hand, do allow yourself to feel guilt, though it's a feeling that has much more innocent roots than what xiao feels. it's a feeling that pokes and stabs at you as you fumble for words to say. you're a much better person than xiao is in that regard. you can't help but to feel ashamed, ashamed that you were doing so terrible at a course that goes directly into your major that you would have to force xiaoー a man renowned for being a lonerー who surely would rather spend his free time by himself and not tutoring someone so out of your realm and element as you are.

maybe it's not too late after all to consider switching majors, you think.

"you seriously don't have to do that, I don't want to take more time from you than I'm already taking. honestly, I think I'm a bit of a lost cause at this point if I can't even do the simpler questions."

the truth is, not even xiao knows how scared you are. fear and dread soars through your body at the thought of ending up in the same spot you were in last year.

xiao lets out a sigh through his nose at your words, a noise that does nothing other than make you feel worse, especially when you can't read his emotions and tell what's going on in that labyrinth of a brain he has. maybe he's realized that you're not worth spending his time. maybe you really are a loss cause. maybe you really should change your major. maybe you should call it quits and drop out. maybe you should move countries, marry a rich doctor or a lawyer and spend the rest of your days as a glorified housespー

xiao doesn't let you finish your thoughts (plans), instead getting up from his chair slowly. "let's take a break." he says, and while you feel a break is a little undeserved after you haven't done much studying, you nod, thinking it might be best to just relax before jumping back into things. "taking things slowly is the better way to do things," you nod, although the words just barely register themselves in your head. you're surprisingly vulnerable with him.

"I'm... going to step out for a moment to get some air. I'll give you some time for yourself to think." you nod, giving him a small and meek thank you, genuinely so utterly grateful for all the time xiao has given you. you can't help yourself from bothering him just once more before he leaves, though.

"xiao?" you don't look up at him, eyes fixated on your answers and what must've been so wrong with them. you hear him hum, beckoning you to continue.

“do you think I'll be able to pass?”

"of course you will," he answers, and it's the first truth he's said all day.

"of course," he mumbles, this time lower, a reminder to himself of how you'd be completely fine on your own, and that he should never, ever take this opportunity for granted.

he makes a promise to himself that he won't.

----- NEW TEXT MESSAGE -----☆

zhongli: hello, [name]. xiao informed me earlier today that you two will be conducting your first study session today. I'm glad you spoke to him about tutoring like I had advised you to. how are things going?

[name]: it's going fine, he mostly just reaffirmed what you already told me though. but he's been really kind about it all, I'm grateful that he agreed to help me out.

zhongli: I see. I hope that he could give you a new perspective on things and aid you in your weak spots. xiao is an amazing student in his own right, and I'm sure that together, you two will make an amazing team. I'm glad you two are getting along.

zhongli: I'd like to give you a little heads up for a future assignment, but there will be a project upcoming where I'll be sure to partner you two up. I'm sure you two will impress me on what you come up with.

zhongli: I believe in you, [name], and I expect good things coming forward.

zhongli: I'm sure that xiao is grateful as well.

[name]: thank you.

[name]: I hope to meet your standards as best as I can.

-----☆

the apartment is even quieter than it was before without xiao.

it's lonely, too.

in a way, you used this little moment to yourself as a justification and way to figure out just what exactly is the enigma that is xiao. now that you're by yourself, you find yourself looking around at his walls, glancing over at one of the two of his cork boards that seems to have a bunch of what looks to be memorabilia of all sorts, stuff like old music concert tickets of local bands you've never heard of, polaroids with some familiar places and even some of his friends, post-it note scribbles of different tasks he has to get done, among other things.

you visualize yourself looking at the corkboard as though it's those ones in those crime movies, where you're using red yarn to connect the pieces of a story together, figuring out with all the clues you have at your disposal who xiao is.

there's other things, too. posters lining the wall and a singular cat shaped plushie on his bed, a wilted bouquet of flowers in a vase on his kitchen countertop meant for decoration, various little knick knacks on his desk, but the part of his room that catches your eye most, though, is his large, expansive bookshelf filled (a little messily) with a variety of different things, almost all of it stuff you actually recognize.

you’re halfway through looking around before you hear the door open back up again. you instinctually freeze, as of you’re a kid who’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. you shift your head, locking eyes with him as he steps back inside. to your surprise, he doesn’t look upset, not even annoyed, just intrigued as he watches you awkwardly shuffle away a little from the bookshelves.

you try to apologize with hast. “sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I swear, I was just–“

xiaos quick to interject as he walks right past you over to sit, this time on his bed instead of at his desk. “it’s fine. I don’t mind. you don’t have to apologize.” he crosses his arms once he’s situated in his seat. “do whatever you’d like.” he adds in an attempt to comfort you.

it sounds sarcastic, but you somehow can tell that it’s not. you nod, taking it as (hoping that it’s) permission to keep going. your eyes move over to the other corkboard near the bookshelves, hoping that you’re not stepping over any boundaries by doing so. this board is filled more with many different photos pinned up onto it. there’s all sorts of sites and places, things like concerts or shops or restaurants or nature– the list goes on– with a rare one or two photos with him actually in it. even rarer seemed to be other people that didn’t look like strangers in the background.

you subconsciously speak a thought aloud. “you seem to go out a lot. to really cool places, too.”

the only thing he really says in response is, “all of those aren’t recent.”

you hum in response, eyebrows furrowing a little as you nod in understanding. “oh, I see.” xiao takes it as an opportunity to ask you something even though he knows the answer already. “what about you? do you go out a lot?”

the question takes you a little aback. “I haven’t gotten out a lot recently either.” you try to think about all you’ve done recently, before realizing there’s nothing much to think about at all. you add, in truth, “…you’re honestly the first person I’ve spent time with in a while that wasn’t my roommate, but I don’t think that really counts.”

he cocks his head to the side at that answer, golden eyes staring at you (almost straight through your soul), intrigued. “why haven’t you spent time with anyone else?

a soft pang hits your heart as you think about the reason. the breakup. despite how much time has gone by, you’re still tender about the topic, and would rather not think about everything it’s caused as a result. would rather not think about him, either.

you let out a nervous laugh. “that’s a long story, I guess.” 

xiao seems dissatisfied with that answer. he’s never responded so quickly, without hesitating before.

“I have time.”

you send a look of slight confusion his way. “I thought we were going to study some more today?”

“right…” xiao let’s a lot of dead air slip in whenever he speaks, pausing and hanging onto words as if he’s doing mental calculations to figure out what the right thing to say next. “…in the future, then.”

you nod as your eye continues it’s adventure through the board before another photo catches your attention fully. it’s a pretty photo of a bunch of people standing near the docks, holding up and letting go of lanterns. it looks like, judging from the date scribbled on the bottom of the photo and the contents of the photo itself, the annual lantern rite from a few years back. you remember that day, almost vividly, too. that was your first year at the school. you and venti had gone together that year. it was magical. it seems like xiao really was never too far from you. seriously, you’re surprised you two haven’t talked sooner.

you can’t help but smile as you reminisce on that day. “I remember this exact lantern rite. there was so many people, and the lanterns were so beautiful. they always are.”

you turn around to face him, again. “how long has it been since you’ve gone to the harbor? if I lived as close as you do, I think I’d go to the harbor whenever I have time.”

it takes awhile for xiao to respond, not because he’s thinking of an answer, but because he’s transfixed on your expression right now. you seem so happy that it naturally just pulls on his heart strings. he’s glad you still remember that particular lantern rite, even though he knows you’ve gone to more since then. xiao remembers that day visibly too, but probably (definitely) not for the same you do. he wonders if you remember that part of it deep inside.

“um… since the day of that photo, probably.”

you’re a little taken aback from that answer. xiao lives on the outskirts of the harbor. how could he have not gone back in years? everything you learn about xiao makes you more and more curious as to who he is. “really?” you can’t help but ask. he can’t help but shrug.

you speak without even thinking twice once more. “would you want to go again sometime then?” your eyes dart away from his face. you can’t help but look away before you finish the question, unable to look him in the eye as you clarify, “with me, I mean.” you stumble out the words more confidently than you exprcted. 

he lets out a sigh. “there’s nothing I want from there…” it’s the truth. he hasn’t been very fond of the harbor for what has felt like centuries, especially not the memories he’s tethered to. he can’t help but to regret the accidental roughness of his words, though, when he looks up to see a flash of embarrassment paint across your face. it feels like he picked the wrong answer, but he wants to say the right one, desperately. xiao has never been great at talking, but he’s trying, for you. “but if you’d like… I’d like to go with you.”

you try to hide the way your heart picks up the pace a little at his words. “let’s go soon, then. I can tell you about myself, and you can tell me about you, too.”

he nods, and for a split second you think you’ve gone insane, because you swear, swear, that for a few seconds, the corner of xiao’s lips curve softly into a smile. a smile! smiling at the thought of you two ‘hanging out’ in the future! for all the times you’ve seen xiao, you can maybe only count on one hand how many times you’ve seen him smile. 

“you want to learn about me?” he asks, earnestly, shocked, and it definitely wasn’t a question you were expecting.

“yeah, I mean I've always seen you around. I think we've even been in the same classes before this year, too, and now I’m getting tutored by you  and I still know pretty much nothing about you.” you pause before adding on, “I’d love to learn more. I hope that’s not weird, or anything.”

he shakes his head, the ghost of a smile still etched onto his lips. and if you looked closely (which luckily for him, you weren’t), you’d see the faint dust of blush decorating his cheeks, too. “I don’t have much to tell you, but… that sounds good.”

he feels embarrassed at the fact he can’t control how warm his cheeks feel and how he can’t help but crack a smile at you. he clears his throat, trying to reset himself, suddenly ready to move on, going back to his desk. 

“let’s keep working, I want to make the most out of the time we have together.” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. you mentally brace yourself for another study session with him.

it’s gonna be a long night.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

ven: where have you been?

ven: haven’t seen you all day……….. ):

ven: my flower, the house is so empty without you……….. ))):

ven: are you with somebody? you never tell me these things anymore.

ven: talk to me soon, please.

ーーー ☆

it's late into the night when you're awakened rudely with a few desperate knocks against your bedroom door.

you can't help but groan as you stir awake, upset to be forced out of your dream state, although that irritation is soon replaced with guilt once you realize just why you were being awakened with such urgency in the first place. after whining out a loud, 'come in,' you peak your eyes open to see your best friend standing in your doorway, tears staining his face so much that they're visible even in the darkness.

shit. it's been so long since you've seen venti like this. you thought all of that was over ages ago.

"can I sleep with you tonight?" his voice is shakey yet gentle, filled with fear and something that you can only label as... need, as if he needs you more than he ever has. just his voice alone, paired with the way he looks so in the doorway while he's shivering and fiddling with his pajamas, hair looking almost as distraught as he's feeling, is enough to have you too stunned to speak.

"please?" he adds on when you don't reply immediately.

you nod, scooting over to make room for him as he slowly trudges to your bed like he's done many times before. he's quick to settle in under the covers with you, laying against the plush pillow underneath him. you move closer to him as though it's instinct, an action done out of retained muscle memory from the many nights you've spent doing this exact thing. your eyes, though half lidded and heavy, trace over his face over and over again, noting how his eyes look back at you and you can't help but think that venti is such an expressive person. even if he's so silent right now, his eyes are cloudy and storming, speaking a thousand words with the thunder that rings out within them.

he looks like he's trying to think of what to say, but he doesn't need to say a single thing. you already know why he's here.

his face is contorted in a way that almost showcases utter agony, and it hurts, hurts to see your best friend suffering, especially when the best you can do is guide your hand softly against the smooth the skin of his cheek and brushing away any tears in pity. if nothing else, you truly do hope that, at the very least, your presence can help.

“do you maybe want to talk about it?” you run your hand through his soft, pretty dyed blue locks that seem to almost glow in the moonlight, feeling the light moisture of his skin from his sweat. you’ve forgotten just how easy it always has been to brush your hand through his locks. your voice is gentle and low as if not to startle him, as if not to shatter him more than he already is. “you know you don’t have to, but you can always talk to me if you need to.”

“no, it’s okay... I just want to be with you right now.” his voice is meek as he chooses his words carefully as though they're meticulously chosen to pull at your heartstrings (they do), and he sounds like he’s on the brink of tears once more.

“is it the same dream as before?” you ask, remembering how many nights you've spent with venti just like this when he began getting frequent ‘nightmares’ awhile back, nightmares that till this day you don't know the contents of.

he nods, although hesitantly, as though it’s some sort of secret. and in a way, it is.

he could never, ever, ever tell you that you’re the cause of all of his nightmares after all.

“are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? you look really upset. you've never told me what makes you like this.”

“no, I just want to… I just want to stay like this for a while.”

“okay, ven,” you whisper, soft and quiet, as if your voice could shatter him whole. you pause, thinking of what to say, before you decide that you won’t prode any further, instead bidding him a goodnight. “I love you, venti. get some rest.”

for the first time in maybe months, venti doesn’t tell you he loves you back.

instead he burrows himself as deep as humanly possible, as if being torn away from you would kill him, just like the way his dreams pulled and tugged ruthlessly at his heart strings, shoving images of you with your new 'tutor' down his throat, like they had with him months and months ago.

how cruel is it that he's forced to see you being ripped away from him both in real life and in his dreams?

-----☆

you're half asleep when you feel him mumble into your skin.

"I miss you. I miss this." he whispers, but you can barely hear him. he misses the way you feel, how comforting you smell, how his hands connect with your body like they're puzzle pieces. he misses having all your attention on him like this, so quick to coo and ask if he's okay. everything’s changed from how it used to be.

"what?"

you feel venti's hands slip under your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your back as he slowly trails his hands up and down, basking in the way that you feel. "I miss you, cecilia. especially today." his voice isn't shakey anymore. instead it's much more fluid, as though he never had the night terrors that brought him into your room to begin with. you can't help but frown at his words even in your sleepy state.

"venti..." you mumble out, feeling his hands start to dig themselves into your skin. his grip on your waist is tightー not enough for it to hurt, but just enough that it keeps you from pushing him away if you really wanted to, trapping and suffocating you, bordering the lines of sucking the air out of your lungs.

part of you wishes he wouldn't keep things so bottled up from you, because clearly, your constant 'absence' in his life is hurting him more than you'll ever be able to understand, but the more selfish part of you is shamefully grateful that he is. you love venti, but for a man who constantly champions for freedom, he's always been so dead set on taking away yours.

you know deep down that if you gave venti an inch, he'd take a mile, and you don't have many miles left to give. you could spend twenty-four hours of a day with venti and he would still want you to somehow spend twenty-five on him. as much as you love ventiー truly, you love him more than anything else in the worldー, you know it'd be better if you didn't indulge him as much as you want him to. lord knows how quick venti would be to turn you into a hollow, empty shell of yourself by taking every second you have all for himself if he could.

besides, this whole thing will blow over eventually after the party, right?

right?

"I know that I've already whined and complained about it, but god, I miss you. you were gone for so long today with someone I don't even know… seeing you occasionally here and there isn't enough for me. I..." venti somehow manages to pull his body even closer to you, your chest and his chest plush against each other, so close that you can feel the way it rises as he breathes slowly. "I know I'm selfish, but I need you."

he says the word 'need' as if he'd die without you.

you don't think this is a conversation you two should be having when you're so... out of it, exhausted.

"venti, can we talk about this in the morning?"

his grip slowly loosens. "...okay." he says the word slowly and hesitantly, as if he's a child saying a cuss word for the first time, as if agreeing to put his feelings aside until you're in a much more lucid and conscious state is a sin. "I'm... I'm sorry for bothering you and being so clingy and... I just..." venti swallows thickly. "goodnight," venti mumbles, choosing not to finish his thought.

your eyebrows furrow, something about this whole conversation feeling off to you. never in a million years would venti have been so... upfront, apart from the day he invited you to the party. it's like venti's slowly unraveling like a string, just one little tug away from snapping.

it wouldn't be the first time venti's snapped on you though. you need to mend things and shut off the ticking time bomb before things blow up in your face again, like when you...

like when you...

ugh. you'll think about all of this later when you're actually well-rested and capable of forming cohesive thoughts. you softly mumble out a goodnight to venti as well, praying that the storm will blow off soon enough.

it doesn't, though. the winds only get stronger and louder.

ーーー☆

venti wasn't in your room by the time you woke up. infact, he wasn't in the apartment at all. not in his room, not in the kitchen or in the bathroom getting ready, nowhere. he didn't even leave a text telling you where he went.

you guess that venti needs time to think after last night, and you decide that it's probably for the best.

you'll see him again later anyways.

ーーー☆

it's cold out today, october's chill punishing you for wearing too light of a sweater for the weather, but the freezing temperature of the classroom during today's lecture isn't the cause of the way you squirm in your seat out of discomfort. no, you have professor zhongli to take credit for that.

you're convinced that zhongli gets a kick out of giving you borderline heart attacks.

honestly, that isn't exactly far from the truth. there's something about the way your eyes flicker in complete, utter fear just by him saying, "[name], may you please see me after class? there's something I'd like to discuss with you," that sends shivers down his spine, as egregious as that may sound. it's a shameful feeling for a professor to have, but at least he has much more innocent intentions this time as opposed to the last time he's asked you to stay behind.

the request was given to you right at the start of class (which you were actually on time to, thank god) before he began with his lecture. and once again, you couldn't help but think about just what exactly zhongli wanted to discuss with you throughout the entire lecture, almost too busy coming up with theories to focus. all you can think is, did you do something wrong again? was the assignment you turned in last night bad? all that studying you did with xiao couldn’t have been for nothing, right? you're going to fail the semester at this rate.

you wish zhongli was more dead set on helping you pass like last year than assuring that you failed.

you can’t help but call back to that time. you had been much worse off back then. you were visibly behind everyone else, but it hadn't started that way. so much was happening back then. and that breakup, oh that fucking break up, really made focusing on your school work beyond difficult. you truly did put up a fight, tried to make sure you stayed afloat, and it did work at first. but your responsibilities drowned you completely, and you never really learned how to swim.

it was a rough semester, and one of your classes had been taught by the very same man taking great pleasure in ruining you today. your one saving grace? once again, the very same man, who had seemed to take enough pity onto you that he took matters into his own hands to make sure you did well.

you stood out back then, not because you shone bright, but because you didn't shine at all.

zhongli wanted to light that fire back in you that you had at the start of the year. and he had.

zhongli had took you under his wing, struck you with passion and drive, made you fall in love all over again with the topic you were studying through his ramblings and stories and sheer utter knowledge; he revitalized you, filled a hole. he had kept you after class and in his office on weekends, making time to make sure that you succeeded and through his gentle nurturing that was the hot to his own cold. you had succeeded, to your surprise. and he had looked after you ever since.

it was silly for you to believe that he would grace you with the same mercy this course.

but things are different now. so much more different. you were grateful back then for him striving to push you to do better, but now it's overwhelming. back then, his standards were achievableー finish your assignments on time as often as you could, study a little when you can, at least attempt to attend every class you had. it was doable. but now, now you're almost convinced he wants you to become borderline perfectー no, perfect is an understatement. he wants you to be better than perfect.

perfect, and vulnerable.

back then it felt as though he was trying to help you but now, the back of your mind can't help but tell you that he's always been helping himself, benefiting himself, not you.

it was at the start of this school year that you let yourself fall right into the dragon's lair.

either way, maybe it's the fact that your mind was so occupied, or maybe time simply just decided to speed up, but the class flew by in no time. you had practically tuned out all of zhongli's ramblings and teachings today. you watched zhongli dismiss the class, staying seated despite the way everyone else shuffled out of the door as quickly as possible. once again, it was just you and zhongli in the empty room.

fuck.

zhongli walks to the front of your desk, running a hand through his hair before letting out a long sigh, and you never knew how such a little harmless action could strike so much fear into your heart. could you just combust already? you're not at all ready for whatever zhongli has to say.

"what a long class we had today, hm? I hope I didn't bore you too much. you looked particularly distracted." zhongli says, smiling gently at you as he attempts to brighten the gloomy mood you're clearly in. "luckily, though, I've been excited to talk to you all class. you truly were my saving grace today."

is this some kind of sick joke? you were kidding when you thought zhongli must get pleasure out of your failure, but you might actually be right.

gross.

"don't worry, though, I didn't keep you after class just to complain. I'll get to the point, since I know you hate pointless chatter."

"I know it's far too early to say this, but I'm proud of you, [name]."

that caring nature still shines through, the strict professor he's supposed to be eroded and washed away by time itself.

your eyebrows furrow. "what?" you can’t help but let the word slip out of your mouth in the midst of your confusion.

"the assignment you gave in last night, truly one of your best works this semester. you never fail to amaze me with how fast you manage to make a turnaround when you put your mind to it, [name]."

the assignment? the one you worked on last night at the last second despite having over a week to do it after studying with xiao that you had to keep your eyes pried open to complete? the one xiao had borderline picked apart a dozen times as though trying to break you down even more? that assignment?

what?

"but I... what? if it was any good, it's likely only because xiao was there to help me." you mumble, unsure of your words.

"so? are you really diminishing your accomplishments just because you got a little aid?" zhongli plants a hand on your cheek like he has a dozen times in the past before guiding your face to look up at him. "or are you trying to say that it was xiao who had done your assignment, not you?"

"o-of course he didn't, but-" zhongli is quick to shush you, pressing a gloved thumb against your lips with a soft smile.

"shh. you did well, and that's final. I hope this pattern continues. you know I want nothing but the best for you after seeing what you can achieve." his gloved hand caresses your cheek and you're convinced he can feel the heat your face is producing out of embarrassment even through the layer of fabric. "my little star, you're doing well again." he adds quietly, so quietly that you can just barely make it out, though the nickname is far less shocking than the praise that your brain is still trying to make sense of.

"before I let you go, I just wanted to reiterate that should you ever need my assistance with anythingー and I mean anything at all, whether it's related to your academics or notー know that I am and always will be here."

"I... thank you." it's the only words you can come up with as zhongli leaves you alone with your thoughts. "thank you," you repeat, speaking the words much more quietly. in a hushed whisper.

in the back of your mind, you realize that you should be thinking about how odd it is for zhongli to suddenly be so sugary sweet, how he's touched you so much more intimately than a professor should, how his little nickname for you is weird at best, and yet all you can think about is how he's proud of you.

for some reason, that's all that really matters to you in the moment. you can think about... all that other stuff, later.

ーーー☆

it's almost pitch dark out by the time you finally get home. 

"I'm home!" you shout out as soon as you step through the front door, voice a little breathy after having to climb up a few flights of stairs to get up to your apartment, alerting venti that you've arrived in a way akin to how married couples do. you're quick to lock the door behind you, stripping yourself of your shoes that feel more like weights before placing them in the shoe rack near the door and putting your heavy bag down next to venti's violin case, deciding you'll bother with getting whatever you need out of there when you feel like it. you wince a little at the cold tiles of the floor underneath your feet.

maybe one day you'll move into a place with an actual heater, you think.

"I'll be there in just a second!" venti's voice rings out from what you assume is the bathroom down the hall, likely showering given the pitter-pattering sound of running water. you nod, as though responding to him despite the fact he can't see you, flicking on the light switch to the kitchen as you do so. the kitchen table immediately grabs your attention with how different it looks compared to how you left it this morning. two orange pumpkins sit at the center, and alongside it lays an unopened package of carving tools and another package of tea lights, a brown bag filled with what looks to be some house decor and knick knacks (venti truly does love trying to make your run-down apartment as much of a true home as possible), and a bag of groceries yet to be put away.

you sit down at the medium sized wooden table, allowing yourself to rest and bask in the day as you look through everything infront of you. it's been awhile since you've just sat in silence and thought, and even longer since you let yourself really live in this home without just heading straight to your room. your nails drill against the table, pushing one of the two pumpkins closer to you with a soft hum. you trace a finger against it, imaginging what'd you want to carve on it and how it'd glow after you put a candle inside.

this year you should do something new, get a little more fancier with the design that you have in the previous years that you craved a pumpkin. maybe you and venti will carve matching jack-o-laterns this year. you can't help but smile at the thought.

"they're cute, aren't they?"

you tense up when you feel a hand on your shoulder, but you instantly relax when you turn your head to see venti. you guess you were so lost in thought you hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom. you drink in his presence, giving him a glance over out of instinct. the smell of his apple-cinnamon bodywash assault your senses in an oddly comforting way, a scent that makes you feel right at home. he's in a pair pajamas and cute bunny slippers, and his hair is clipped up in a pretty half up, half down ponytail. the blue dyed tips of his hair are losing their signature color (which is odd, considering that despite his inherit laziness, venti's always been one to make sure those tips stay bright blue at all costs) and his skin looks a little damp.

a gummy smile paints his face, and he has a bit of a playful glint in his eye, but he looks notably tired, and a sense of worry pings at your heart at the sight. you were the roommate notorious for having bags under your eyes afterall, not him, so to see him look so exhausted, especially when venti's always been one for getting his 'beauty sleep,' tells you that venti internally isn't feeling his best. it sounds shallow, judging someone's mental health based on their appearance, but you know venti like the back of your hand, and you know that something's wrong.

even moreso, you know exactly what that wrong thing is, given last night's conversation.

"I got them at the grocery store today. thought it might be fun to carve them together before they go bad. that is, if you want to grace me with your undivided time and attention, of course." venti pretends he's joking, but you know deep down he means the sentiment of wanting you to give him your time for once, and you honestly feel awful at his words. nonetheless, you suck it up, smiling up at him. it's a genuine smile.

"why wouldn't I? it is tradition after all. I'm going to make mine extra scary this year."

venti laughs at your words, his heart internally flutter at the thought of how determined your face would look as you try to create the spookiest jack-o-latern he's ever seen. he leans down, pressing a soft, platonic peck to your forehead, finally giving you a welcome home.

"you're home later than usual again, everything go okay?"

you can't help but notice that venti is acting as if he had never said what he said last night, though the air between you is still awkward and tense, and his face does little to hide the fact that deep down, he's still quelling on the things he spoke about. nonetheless, you decide that that conversation is to be had when venti wants it to happen, knowing full well from years of being his best friend that venti prefers keeping a lighter mood at all costs, so you leave things at that until he's ready to speak about it again.

"yeah, I just thought that I'd try to get some work done while I could at campus," you answer, watching as he nods slowly at your words. you can tell he's fighting back the urge to interrogate you, to ask you if you were with anybody and if you really needed to stay at campus, and anything else he can use as a way to rationalize the fact that he's so clingy. he looks around the room, thinking about what else he could say to make sure the conversation doesn't end prematurely.

"oh! I ordered some takeout a bit before you came home. it's still hot, if you want to eat."

you nod, thanking him, and you can tell he's trying to read you, to figure out just how exactly he can stay with you longer without him bringing up anything you two talked about last night. he stands there, presence lingering as though he has something to say, and yet he chooses not to say whatever's on his mind, instead preferring to pick up the unopened bottle of dandelion wine on the nearby kitchen counter.

"you seem all set. I'll get going now, then. I have an urgent date with a bottle of wine that I can't miss for the world." venti moves quickly to leave as though trying to make sure you don't see through to him, turning his back to you without another word, but he doesn't get too far before he's freezing up at your words.

"you're not gonna stay and chat?" you say instinctively, a little surprised by the fact he was so quick to come and go today. you don't know what it is about today, but the thought of venti forcing himself to go when he clearly doesn't want to pains you. maybe it was last night's conversation, or maybe it's how venti radiates warmth that fights against the biting cold that nips at your skin, or maybe you just miss venti, but you want him here with you.

venti turns around slowly, his voice low as he speaks. "oh..." he starts off, "I thought you would've wanted to eat alone like all the other nights," you almost let out a wince at his words. how long has it really been since you last simply hung out with venti? "do you... want me to stay?" you let out a gentle hum.

"I want you here tonight. I want to talk to you."

"about what?"

you think about everything you'd want to tell venti, and you realize that that's exactly it; you want to tell him everything and anything you can. you want to tell him about your new tutor who turned out to be a lot less scary than you were expecting him to be, or that new coffee shop a friend had told you about that opened up near by that you'd love to tell him about, or how zhongli was actually kind to you today. but you also want venti to tell you everything too, about any escapades he's had recently while drunk or new songs he's written, or even how his classes are going and if he's thinking of going to any other parties soon.

you realize that, as much as you'd hate to admit it to yourself, you miss just being with venti a lot too.

"everything," you finally reply after thinking, grinning up at his hesitant form.

"everything? really? this isn't a ploy to tell me horrific news or to try to get out of going to that party, is it?"

"no, I promise. I'm honestly a bit offended you'd think I'd ever be so cruel as to try to get out of going to such an amazing party," you joke.

venti playfully rolls his eyes at your words, but he can't help the smile that creeps up his face. his smile is bright like a star, warm enough for a planet to survive off of, eyelids crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he puts the bottle in his hand down befofe he pulls up one of the kitchen chairs, the legs screeching against the floor so that he's sitting infront of you. he leans in close to you as though you were about to tell him the greatest story known to man. you can't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. venti's smile, his real and genuine smile, gives you a feeling like no other. it makes you feel whole, like none of your problems neither exist nor matter and that everything in this world is perfect.

"okay then, dove, tell me everything."

ーーー NEW TEXT MESSAGE ーーー☆

alatus: can you believe it's almost sunday already?

[name]: holy shit, time is going by so fast

[name]: I'm so excited to meet you in person

alatus: I'm excited too.

[name]: I can't believe I've known you for over a year and I'm only going to get to see your face now

[name]: I swear, if you're just some creep...

alatus: I promise I'm not.

alatus: well, maybe.

[name]: ha ha, very funny.

[name]: but seriously, it honestly feels like I've known you for forever.

alatus: maybe you have and you just never noticed

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 7

This fic has me by the throat a lil bit. Though it was never my intention to write the chapter to be this big 😅 it kinda did what it wanted.

Summary: Things seemingly were beginning to go well for you. Of course, you should have known it was only a matter of time before things went horribly, horribly wrong.

CW: Multiple injures, blood loss, panic attacks, abuse, irresponsible injury treatment, cursing

Word Count: 7111 words!

Wanna help support me? Come follow me here!

Reblogs and comments appreciated!

Taglist: @onewiththebeanbag

@starrlo0ver

First: Here

Last: Here

Next: Here

It was only a matter of time until things spiraled out of control.

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised.

Given that you were a Belmont, you knew your luck could only go so far, especially with how you had been cruising what little good luck you had left until now.

In hindsight, you really should have put forth an effort to further anticipate this.

After all, it was only a matter of time before you were heavily injured by your ‘family.’

Things had briefly gotten admittedly better, before things took a turn for the worst.

It had been too good to be true. You relaxed too much. Let yourself get too comfortable.

A little over a week before this had happened, your family had seemingly backed off. Something that you had admittedly been relieved about at the time.

They gave you space, well, about the same amount of space before you started sneaking away even more to see Dracula’s statue.

Jason had no longer been up your ass complaining and trying to instigate a fight.

That itself had been a huge weight off your shoulders. Your step brothers you could handle, but your step father? He had quickly grown into a short fuse over the years, and had especially been reactive as of late.

With Jason backing down, your brothers seemed to follow his lead.

Seth had taken to lingering in the background when you were around. Ever present, watching you, but never saying anything.

His gaze unnerved you, but hey, it was better than talking to him most of the time.

Mark meanwhile had barely been around the house. When you did see him, he seemed pissed off. Angry, just like his father.

He especially seemed mad at you, but would storm off before he would yell.

That had you concerned at first, and you worried you would have to watch your back for him instead.

Nothing ever came from any of them. Just the usual shit from about a year ago. Avoiding you, still making you clean, and having you take dirty jobs.

You could live with that.

Even if it was still poor treatment, it was better than whatever had originally pissed your step father off bad enough to hit you outside of training.

With them not all constantly down your throat, you were beginning to feel a lot better too.

Sure, you still weren’t getting as much rest as you’d like, but now you were at least able to rest.

With the lack of immediate stress, and some actual sleep, you actually were beginning to feel a little better.

By the end of the week, you’d dare even say you had felt somewhat good. It was a wonder what a lack of migraines and puking your guts out could do for your health and overall well being!

You had even taken a trip back to your cabin to check up on Dracula at the end of the week. With each bout of sickness, it had been harder to head over there without issue.

But when you were feeling better, you left with no hassle. Not even a peep from your step family when you left in the evening!

That should have been another warning.

They always have something to say if they catch you ‘sneaking’ out. If not a snide comment, it’s usually yelling and screaming as they followed you to your car.

The visit itself had been uneventful, but you had brought some snacks, and happily talked on about how you were feeling better for once.

You knew better than to tempt fate like that, yet you still did it, too happy and in bliss.

It had even felt like you were welcome. The Castle hadn’t felt intimidating in a long time. It felt, dare you say, somewhat welcoming.

Or that was just your hope and delusions talking.

Dracula hadn’t moved at all, though you did notice his eyes still changed positions on occasion, still solidifying he was somewhat aware of you.

You had left that visit happy, and feeling a bit lighter.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

The few days afterward were similar to the last, and you didn’t suspect a thing. You only became wary whenever Mark would get upset, but like before, he would turn and leave you alone.

It wasn’t until an average Monday afternoon that things turned sour.

You had been writing in your journal, noting your visits with Dracula inside it in code. It had become a pastime for you when you arrived home, and figured detailing your visits wouldn’t hurt if you needed them in the future.

As you had been writing, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps walking up stairs and towards your room.

Quickly, you hid your journal, and pulled out another to pretend to write in.

Moments later, your door opened, with not even a knock.

Jason stood there, an odd look on his face. It almost seemed… gleeful.

That unsettled you, but you kept your face blank.

“Get your things. We need you for a training session.” He said, though you knew it was an order.

One of the few things you couldn’t talk your way out of in this house.

“Alright. I’ll be there in a minute.” You said with a sigh, closing your mock journal.

Jason didn’t waste another moment, and turned and left, not even closing your door behind him.

Jerk.

You made sure you had your whip with you, and changed into some comfortable gear to dodge in. It’s not like they’d let you actually attack them, anyway.

Quickly, you then headed to your family’s training area, drrad an annoyance in your stomach.

That wasn’t unusual. You never enjoyed training with them, with how aggressive and temperamental they could occasionally be.

Not to mention, this was just an excuse to use you as a punching bag to take their anger out on.

With how temperamental Mark had been lately, you had a feeling you would be leaving this ‘training session’ with a few more bruises than normal.

It started as normal. Your step brothers were allowed to choose whatever weapon they wanted, same with your step father.

Any weapon, except for your whip.

Anytime they asked (read: demanded) to use your whip, that was the one line you never let them cross.

Even in the past, when they physically threatened you, tried to take it forcefully, and tried to intimidate you by threatening to evict you, you held firm.

The Belmont family whip would stay in the family. It’s not like they could awaken and use its power properly anyways.

…Not without killing themselves in the process, at least. The whip was very picky, apparently.

Since you had your whip, they often argued you didn’t need any other weapon. That was the downside of keeping it on you around them.

“If you were so great at fighting, you wouldn’t need them anyway, right?” They’d always say.

It wasn’t too different this time, though you just decided not to bother asking for a chance to use something else.

Best to skip the ‘formalities’, after all.

As usual, Jason instructed you where he wanted you to stand, and that your step brothers and himself would be practicing weapons they weren’t the best with.

“Better to practice with a live target, right?” Seth had spoken, grabbing an old battle ax.

The look on his face made you shudder.

Those words, and the weird look made your gut churn.

You didn’t like that, not one bit.

Glancing to the side, Mark stared at you with a steely gaze. That iron hot anger simmered behind his eyes, and you felt yourself beginning to sweat.

He was silent, and alarm bells were ringing in your head.

Mark was always the loud one of the two brothers. His silence spoke volumes.

Him also holding a spear with murderous intent didn’t help.

Jason was in front of you across the room, as if to act as a referee. You knew damn well it was only for show. He only stopped the fights if you fought back, just to yell at you for daring to ‘attack his precious sons.’

He also would join in if he really felt like it. If he ever was in a foul mood, or felt you weren’t taking enough aggression, he’d try and sneak into the fight. Something he only started doing after your mother had passed away.

If he had tried that shit when she was alive, even if she was ill, she would have torn him to pieces.

Stars, you missed her.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to settle your nerves.

Jason was staring at you, a focused look on his face. You gripped your whip tightly, your stomach beginning to churn.

Something was wrong.

Every instinct that had been drilled inside you was screaming at you to run.

You weren’t the hunter here. This didn’t feel like it was going to be a regular training session.

You were now the prey.

In an instant, Mark sprang into action, and threw his spear at you with alarming accuracy. You let out a yell of surprise as you jumped back, the weapon narrowly missing you by a few inches.

Jason hadn’t even given the okay. That had been an attempt on your life, you were sure of it.

You didn’t have much time to think on that, with Seth running up to you with a yell, swinging the ax at your neck.

The weapon came down at a vertical angle, and you hissed as you dodged to the side.

“What the fuck is your problem!? If that had hit me, I-“ you yelled, though let out a curse mid sentence when you spotted Mark out of the corner of your eye, trying to stab at your mid section.

Your free hand came up just in time, and you managed to parry the spear, sending it to the left.

Seth was in front of you again, and you panicked. With Mark behind you to your left, you had very little room to dodge the ax once again headed your way.

Before Seth could bring down the ax, you pushed forward, taking him by surprise as you got in his personal space.

With no room for him to swing, you ducked under his arm, trying to get away and put some distance between you and them.

Before you could run, you felt a hand at your back, grabbing your shirt, and tugging. With a yell, Mark threw you backwards behind them both, and the force knocked you to the floor.

You didn’t have time to even acknowledge the air being knocked from your lungs as you quickly rolled to the side. Where you were just a second prior, Seth’s ax was lodged into the ground with a worrying thunk.

As Seth tried to tug the ax from the ground, you saw Mark running at you, fully intending to gut you with his spear.

Swiftly, you kicked his legs out from under him, rolled backwards, and landed onto your feet.

Mark fell to the ground, landing on his lower back with a groan. A curse followed as his spear tumbled out of his hand, and part of the handle landed on his face as he struggled to grab it.

Shaking from the adrenaline and slight panic, you looked between the two siblings, bewildered.

Sure, they loved beating the shit out of you, or trying to during the ‘mandatory’ training sessions Jason would throw at you. But this?

They were trying to kill you.

Every attack had been an attempt to end your life, not just break a bone or two and cover you in bruises.

“Just what the fuck your problem!? It’s not training if you’re genuinely teaming up to kill me you asshats! Jason, this is going too far, even for-“

You paused as you panted. Jason was not where he was moments prior.

“…-you?”

In a split second, it was as if time slowed down. Your instincts once again screamed at you to move.

Without thinking, you dived to the right. Your body felt like lead, but your mind moved at a thousand miles an hour.

You felt it before you saw it.

A sharp, striking pain erupted in your left side. You could feel it practically burn your nerves alive as the pain slowly spread.

Landing with a roll, you let out a pained yell as time seemed to finally catch up with your senses.

You gripped your side, and looked where the pain was, and your shirt was quickly growing soaked with red.

Blood.

There was a tear in your shirt, though you couldn’t properly see the wound from how you sat.

However, you certainly felt the pain, and could see the blood both dripping down onto your pants. Your shirt was quickly becoming soaked with red, and you were instantly concerned with how bad the wound must be to be bleeding that quickly.

With a hiss, you cupped the wound, wincing as you tried to stop the blood flow.

You turned to look behind you, and you grimaced when you saw Jason holding a bloody hunting knife.

“Motherfucker, did you just-“ you cursed, and Jason simply clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“You’re getting rusty. That should have been easy for you to dodge.” Is all he said, and your eyes narrowed.

He lazily swung the knife in his hands, as if admiring it.

“You fought back against Mark, so I figured you needed a challenge. It seems I was right, if I was able to hit you.”

A grin grew on his face, and you felt dread build up in your chest as Seth and Mark began to close in on you, both having recovered from earlier.

“After all, without a challenge, how can you ever hope to improve?”

Shakily, you stood up.

Gripping your whip with one hand, and holding your side with the other, you glared at the three.

“This is nuts! You really think critically injuring me is going to help me improve?” You spat, your mind swimming as pain filled your senses.

Your step father gave you a disgusted look, as if you were nothing but the scum on the bottom of his boots.

To him, you most definitely were.

You let out a yelp when Seth’s ax swung down at you, and you stumbled back.

Twisting to the side with a grunt of pain, you narrowly dodged another wound in your side from Mark. However, you cursed when you felt the edge of the spear cut your right arm.

“Who said it was just you needing to improve.” Mark spoke, and pulled his spear back to stab you again. Seth dashed at you at the same time, trying to take you off guard.

Bobbing and weaving, you barely managed to avoid both weapons. Though your eyes widened when you felt a bit of air next to your ear from behind you as you ducked.

Jason, the fucker, had aimed for your damn head.

You licked your lips as you struggled to figure out what to do.

They weren’t the best fighters on their own. Deep down, you think they all knew this as well.

It’s one reason you always got the icky jobs. They were never tough enough to handle them alone.

But together? They were annoying, and an actual threat since they were actually trying to kill you.

Sure, they were disguising this as training, but you knew they were aiming for that ‘lucky’ hit to put you out of commission at best.

If you were to die? Well, you were from a family of hunters. Accidents happen, after all. It unfortunately wouldn’t be the first time a hunter died from an accident in training.

You had to do something, figure out a plan. This wasn’t good.

Your mind was growing a bit foggy. Moving was beginning to get harder too, not just from the pain. The blood loss was beginning to slow you down.

Jason was right, much to your dismay and disgust.

In a way, you had let this happen. You weren’t paying enough attention, and you might end up gravely paying for it.

Letting your guard down and thinking this would be regular training was your biggest mistake.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be your last.

You moved to back away, and gasped in pain when one of them kicked you in the back, sending you toppling forward.

“Still not fighting back, just as I had taught ya.” You heard your step father practically gloat from above you as you struggled to push up.

“At least you’re able to listen to some rules. Not a complete idiot who doesn’t know how to listen to an order.”

The wind was then knocked from your lungs as a shoe slammed onto your back, and you crumpled to the floor.

Your hands clenched into fists, and you felt hot tears welling up in your eyes.

Pathetic.

How could you let this happen?

You could level armies with just a whip. Destroy packs of demons with a knife. You trained to defeat Dracula, of all people. Your family had even praised your prowess, confident you’d be able to do so should the need arise.

Yet you let these three clowns get a lucky hit, and had you falling like a flimsy house of cards.

Granted, they had never gone this far before. You should have seen it coming.

You got lazy. Compliant. Relaxed.

How could you let it get to his? Were you really still that afraid of fighting back?

Did the fear of losing everything really hold you this far back?

“Oh look at that. They’re crying! When was the last time they’d done that?” One of them laughed above you. You were so out of sorts, you weren’t sure you could tell who it was.

One of them scoffed.

A moment later, you felt a sharp pain to your ribs, and you let out a cry of pain and surprise.

The kick had enough force to flip you over, and you cursed. They had hit you right in the wound.

You cracked your eye open, and immediately regretted it as the handle of Seth’s ax came down at your head.

It missed your eye, but the brunt force was enough to turn your vision white regardless with hot, blinding pain.

“Holy fuck-“ you cursed, curling in on yourself and trying to grab your temple.

“Shut up.”

A scream was then ripped from your throat when you felt searing pain in your leg.

This wasn’t training anymore. This was torture.

“Hmph. Look at them. How pitiful.” Seth, you think, spoke up.

One of them chuckled.

“What a disappointment. Such a disgrace doesn’t deserve the Belmont name.” Jason scoffed, and he bent down to your level.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him reaching for your whip.

Your ears rang, and for a brief moment, you suddenly had a moment of clarity.

A growl ripped from your throat, and Jason let out a squawk of surprise when you suddenly reached out, and tossed him over your body.

Faintly, you heard his body harshly hit the floor at your side.

Mark and Seth were briefly taken off guard, and you took the opportunity to shakily stand to your feet.

“Don’t ever say that to me again. You may have taken our family name, but you three will never be Belmonts.” You snarled, holding your whip close as you struggled to stay standing.

Mark’s face twisted into fury while Seth had rushed to his father’s side. Jason had seemingly landed on his face, and was now cupping his nose as blood dripped down his chin.

You hoped he broke his nose or fucked up his jaw.

Mark raised his spear, and was about to rush you again.

Before he could, you felt the dam break.

Gripping your whip, you lashed out, and a loud crack echoes across the room, followed by a hollow clutter against the floor.

The spear had been masterfully ripped from his grasp by your whip, and was now innocently rolling across the ground.

All three of them froze.

It had been years since you raised your whip against any of them. The last time being when your mother was alive, and you were allowed to fight back during training.

The silent fury was evident in your eyes and posture. Despite your injuries, you were still standing, and ready to fight once more.

And you were pissed.

No one talked. No one moved. Their eyes flickered between yourself, and the whip in your hand.

Unknowst to you, the weapon was glowing a soft purple. All three of them could feel a rage from the whip, one that was completely different from the rage coming from you.

The temperature seemed to drop, and the three of them suddenly struggled to breathe properly. It was as if they were suffocating from how heavy the air had become.

So this was the power of a Belmont.

You hadn’t even done anything, but all three felt the immense pressure, the immense power you wielded. The immense potential you had, even after the injuries they had inflicted onto you was untold.

They were no match for you, they knew this.

Growling, you cracked your whip again, making all three flinch.

“That is enough.” You spoke, your voice echoing in the chamber.

“I’m going to leave this place to recover, regardless of your consequences. You will not stop me. If you try to attack me when my back is turned, I won’t hold back.”

Your words were cold and icy, and they could sense the frustration and fury you were holding back.

Slowly, you turned towards the exit, and began to limp to the door.

However, you momentarily paused before opening it.

“I’ll be back eventually. I recommend we pretend this didn’t happen, for both our sakes, understand?” You said, your voice even, but your rage still ever present.

The three looked at eachother, though you missed the frustrated, annoyed looks on their faces. Despite this, they did not speak.

Nor did you give them the chance to.

You opened the door, and slammed it behind you, limping up the stairs and through the house to your room.

It wasn’t until you reached your bed that you finally collapsed.

Gasping for air, you groaned as you felt the pain rip through your body.

You lost so much blood. The wounds they gave you weren’t life threatening on their own, but left unattended, and being forced to move with them had cost you.

Gripping the side of the bed, you lifted yourself up slightly, and opened your bedside drawer. Feeling around inside, you let out a sigh of relief.

…Only to groan is frustration when the potion bottle you pulled out was almost empty.

Right. Up until this last week, you had been sipping on these to help with bruises and your bouts of illness.

All that was left was about an inch of liquid in the bottle.

Not enough to fix any severe damage, but enough to hopefully slow down the bleeding.

Without hesitation, you downed the little bit left in the bottle, and proceeded to crawl towards your bathroom.

You could at least feel the wounds trying to stitch itself together, and your head didn’t hurt as much.

This is what you get for not stocking up. Instead, you had decided to go visit Dracula again, when you really should have contacted one of the alchemists you did business with.

Lesson learned, you supposed.

With a grunt, you clambered over to your desk, and pulled out a first aid kit. With practiced precision, you began to dress your wounds.

It was sloppy and rough, but it was better than leaving them open. Anything to slow or stop the bleeding, and avoid instant infection.

You could clean them up later when you got away from here. Anywhere from here.

Though you already knew where you would be going. You didn’t even have to ask yourself such a question.

When your wounds were eventually wrapped, you put a small bag together of anything you needed, and began limping back down the stairs.

You grimaced at the blood stains on the wood. You'd let them deal with it, knowing they’d care too much about the house to just leave it be.

Wouldn’t have even been an issue if they had not decided to torture you. It was their problem now.

You ended up passing them briefly on your way to the car. Your hand was still on your whip, and they gave you a wide berth as you passed them.

It pleased you to see your step father with a bandage around his nose. Fucker.

Still, that didn’t stop the glares he sent your way, or how Mark seemed to twitch in his seat in the kitchen as you passed by.

Was it bad you almost wanted him to attack you again so you could hurt him?

You decided no, it wasn’t. You’d process those feelings later when you weren’t still in possible danger and injured.

When you reached your car, you tossed your things into the back, and hit the gas as soon as the engine was on.

There was no time to waste. You wanted out. You had to get out. Had to leave.

It wasn’t until you were out of town did you notice how badly you were shaking, and how much blood was on your hands.

Your own blood.

A heavy sigh passed through your lips, and you continued driving.

The silence in your car was heavy. Your mind felt like it was racing, yet felt eerily calm at the same time.

It wasn’t until an hour into the drive that you finally pulled over, and got sick on the grass at the side of the road.

This wasn’t the same as when you were ill. This was some sort of physical response to the stress.

The last time this happened had been after your mother’s funeral, though that had been years ago.

Still, as you sat in the grass with a bottle of water, redressing your wounds as you nursed a migraine, you couldn’t help but feel your world was crumbling.

Your step family… they had finally done it. They hurt you. Intentionally. You know for a fact some of those attacks had the intent to kill.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks as you sat there, dwelling on it.

If you hadn’t fought back, finally giving in, who knows how far they would have gone when you had been a broken mess on the floor.

The fact your step father had even reached for your whip proved what it had all been about. He wanted everything. Having the house, the money, and the artifacts wasn’t enough.

He wanted to be a Belmont. He wanted your family’s legacy. The power, the notoriety, everything.

You refused to break.

Of course, you knew you couldn’t stay away forever. You’d have to go back eventually. There was no way in hell you were leaving the house to them without pitching a fit at least.

Wiping tears from your eyes, you heaved a sigh.

Everything sucked so much right now.

All you really wanted was to be in the cabin, or the castle. Run away and hide from this mess.

You would for a time, at least.

Lick your wounds before returning to what had become your own personal hell. You at least counted yourself lucky you had somewhere to go in the first place.

It took longer than you’d like to get back on your feet, but you had to keep moving. It was dangerous to camp out on the side of the road as injured as you were.

So you finished up, trying to avoid looking at your wounds as much as possible while still messily patching them up.

The less you acknowledged this at the moment, the better.

So you got back in your car, and continued to drive.

You could at least admit you felt a little better after crying a bit, but you had a sinking feeling this shit was gonna do some hardcore psychic damage to your mental health once you started processing it.

That could wait until later. Right now, your body was still tense.

It was strange. Your body couldn’t relax. Your body was still in fight or flight mode, and you could only wonder if it was the shock.

It took a while longer to reach the cabin. Longer than you would have liked, but it still somehow felt like a blur. You briefly wondered if you were losing your sense of time from the trauma.

“At least its working in my favor…” you couldn’t help but mumble as you dragged your bags into the house, uncaringly dropping them on your couch.

It wasn’t like you had anything too delicate anyway.

You ended up sitting on your bed, staring at your lap as you attempted to relax.

Even after hours of mindless driving, your heart still hammered in your chest, and your body shook.

The searing aches and pain from your wounds didn’t help either.

In fact, they kinda made you just wanna crawl into bed and die.

Heaving another sigh, you put your face in your hands, wincing when you felt the wound on your head.

“Man… I probably have a concussion too. Probably should not have driven, but…”

The words went unspoken, but even in this state, you weren’t going to take any chances of being followed. Physically or otherwise.

“What should I even…” you began to mumble, but stopped.

You didn’t know what you should do, but you knew what you wanted to do.

Realistically, you should just stay here. Redress your wounds (again), and eat, and take a long nap.

But you couldn’t. No way would you be able to rest in the semi manic state you were in.

No matter how many deep breaths you took, you still shook. Your heart still pounded in your ears. It was too hard to think. To focus.

“How pathetic…” you mumbled as you stood up, stumbling at the firey pain erupting from your calf.

“I’ve fought scarier monsters, obtained worse wounds, and walked it all off fine. Get beat up a little bit though by those… scum, and suddenly I can’t do anything right?”

You could probably go hours beating yourself up over this.

But you wouldn’t. Not right now.

Despite being at your cabin, your sanctuary, you did not feel at peace.

But you knew where you could calm down.

Was it a bad idea? Oh absolutely it was.

That wasn’t going to stop you, though. At this point, you could care less about what might happen.

“If anything, I’d rather Dracula kill me than my own step monsters.” You grumbled as you stumbled through the living area, searching for a specific bag. Grabbing it, you were out the door in moments.

Besides, it’s not like Dracula hadn’t seen you at a few lows already. What was one more?

If he still thought lowly about you, he’d at least get a kick out of it.

You pushed out the door of the cabin, your mind still feeling as if a thousand wasps were buzzing inside your skull.

So many thoughts, but it was hard to truly think about any of them. They were like water flowing through your fingers, and you didn’t care enough to cup your hands to try and catch them.

It was a bit of a walk, and it was arguably incredibly stupid to push yourself even more just to get to Dracula’s castle, but you were determined.

Also incredibly stubborn.

The walk wasn’t as easy as you had hoped it would be. Time didn’t pass as quickly as it did in the car, though the fact you were actually moving your body around instead of driving may have a bit to do with it.

You were in a painful daze every step of the way. Tremors or pain shot through your body with each miniscule movement.

But you didn’t relent.

It took a bit longer to arrive, but you couldn’t deny the wave of relief you felt when you passed the clearing to the lake.

The familiar, dark, looming castle was still there, surrounded by a vortex of storm clouds.

It was a sight that brought you an intense feeling of comfort and familiarity.

When had this cursed castle begin to feel closer to home than your own family house?

The thought was fleeting in your mind, the only thing you really cared to think of was getting inside, and getting past the obscene amount of stairs.

“How the hell did my ancestors get around this shit… Dracula, the lucky bastard, can teleport. How did anyone else get around?”

You were really regretting deciding to come here injured. Your legs were screaming at you, and you were drenched in sweat.

It was only a matter of time before your body forcefully shut down so you’d rest.

You at least wanted to be in the main tower when you inevitably passed out for a few days.

Despite everything you should have thought, it was the only place that felt safe. The only place you could pass out in peace.

Something a year ago you would have scoffed at, yet here you are.

You were sure you must have looked like a hot mess when you pulled the throne room’s doors open with your good arm.

No doubt you still had blood on you, and your wounds were still badly wrapped. Your face probably looked just as rough if the tender spot above your temple was any indication.

It was strange.

You could have sworn the energy in the castle shifted the moment you walked through the throne room door.

From the usual, comforting feeling you had grown accustomed to, the energy suddenly felt… off.

Vile? Angry? Suffocating? Hot?

But… you didn’t feel unwelcome, despite how the feeling around you made your stomach churn.

Slowly, you stepped forward, your limp becoming much more apparent now that you were here. You could relax a little.

“Hey, I’m back.” You spoke, albeit a bit weakly.

The air seemed to tighten, and you felt a bit hot.

“I know, I know. I look like shit. I feel like it too…” you spoke, your voice softening to a murmur the closer you got.

When you were a few feet away from the statue, you sighed, and dropped your bag.

Nothing had changed since last time, it seemed. Dracula’s hand was still outstretched towards where you had fallen asleep that one time.

“Ugh…” you mumbled, and finally sat down. Gripping your head gently, you opened your bag, and grabbed a water bottle.

Taking a swig, you grimaced.

“Bleh… tastes awful. Is water supposed to taste that bad…?” You mumbled, looking over the bottle, unaware of the growing distress from the other person in the room.

Your face scrunched up as you took another sip.

“Ugh. Tastes sorta like metal. Did this get left out?” You hummed as you forced yourself to drink more. You’d need the water after everything that happened, after all.

You sat there in silence for a while, contemplating what to do. What to say.

“Today was rough.” You spoke, your voice cracking.

Now that you were somewhat safe, you could feel the familiar heavy feeling sinking in your chest.

Pain. Anguish. An unexplainable sickly feeling…

That's not to mention the absurd physical pain you felt. Your injuries were screaming at you at this point.

It was probably some of the worst pain you had felt in years.

You finished your water bottle, and tossed it back into your bag with a wince.

Just turning your body hurt.

“Aw, fuck-“ you then hissed, feeling your wound on your side pull open again.

It had only been a matter of time. You had poorly treated it before leaving your family home. That, and all the walking to get here?

Yeah, your wounds reopening wasn’t a surprise.

“Son of a bitch…” you mumbled through grit teeth, and pulled the bag closer.

You may not have any potions stocked, but you at least remembered to stuff some medical supplies in this bag for when you got here.

It took a moment, but you finally found the gauze and some medicine. You hissed as you got to work.

“What a mess…” you groaned out as you started on your injury on your side.

Maybe bringing an extra shirt would have been smart. Fuck.

Still, you pushed the messy garment away, and cursed when you began to undo the bindings for the wound.

Just as you thought, the wound had reopened.

It could be worse, but it certainly didn’t look pretty. You had to clean this up, and fast.

You reached over for a bottle of antibacterial cream, only to start cursing when it slipped from your hands after picking it up.

The small plastic jar rolled on its side across the floor, until it bumped against the statue, innocently slowing to a stop at its feet.

Head hanging low for a moment, you contemplated how bad the damage would be if you just left it.

“Damn it…” you mumbled, and slowly stood to your feet.

Gripping the wound on your side, you took a few steps forward, before gripping your head.

You were so exhausted. No doubt you were dehydrated, and your body was trying to shut down to try and rest.

Standing up and trying to walk, even if it wasn’t fast, was enough to give you a headrush. It also made you suddenly feel incredibly dizzy and nauseous.

Your vision blurred, and your feet stumbled, causing you to trip over yourself.

A string of colorful curses left your mouth as you fell forward, desperately trying to catch yourself.

One of your hands flew forward, and you let out a small ‘ack!’ when your hands landed on Dracula’s statue.

You fumbled as you tried to catch yourself, your bloody hands landing on his outstretched arm as you attempted to avoid hitting the floor.

“Fuck me…” you gasped as you attempted to avoid heaving up the water you had previously drank, leaning loosely against the stone arm.

“What a-“ you began to mumble, but froze when you heard the distinct sound of stone grinding against stone.

“-…pain?” You weakly spoke, eyes widening as your head snapped back to the statue you were leaning against.

Your heartbeat thud in your ears, and you felt like you were about to choke for entirely different reasons than before.

Dracula was moving.

His head shook, and stone dust fell around him…

…And his head snapped to look at you.

“Oh sh-“

Before the words were even out of your mouth, it was as if the castle itself took a deep breath, and then there was an explosion of power that followed.

A scream was immediately ripped from your throat as you were thrown backwards, sliding on your back against the floor past your bag.

You were dazed from being thrown, but you could faintly feel the air grow thick with energy, and the very castle beneath you shook.

It was almost too much. You felt like you were going to be sick.

Almost as fast as it began, the castle’s tremors slowed to a stop, and you finally could catch your breath.

Only to choke when you attempted to sit up.

Torches on the wall began to light up with flames, one by one, and the air began to clear from all the dust in the air.

And in the center of the room, an all too familiar figure slowly stood to their feet.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

Dracula.

Panic began to well in your heart, and you were shaking all over again.

You were frozen. You could not move.

Dracula turned, and you felt like you were punched in the gut.

That same beautiful face you had grown accustomed to, was now full of color, and striking red eyes met your own.

Dracula was back.

You were going to die.

It wasn’t so much a thought, but rather a feeling. You knew in your current state, you were unmatched.

The silence was deafening. His gaze never left your form.

Pure, stone cold rage was on his face.

His ruby colored eyes, however, were scathing hot. Hot in a way that made you think of the fiery pits of hell itself.

The air was suffocating.

Dracula took a step towards you. Then another. And another.

Each step echoed loudly in the chamber, like a thunderclap in the eye of a storm.

Every step he took, you felt your heart attempt to jump out of your throat.

It felt slow, and so fast. Time was frozen, yet moving faster than you could understand.

Dracula grew closer and closer, and you felt yourself beginning to hyperventilate.

You weren’t ready. Of all times for this to happen, you weren’t ready.

Eventually he was right in front of you, and you found yourself frozen. All your muscles refused to move. Fear gripped your heart tight with a vengeance.

Dracula was tall. He easily loomed over you as you sat on the floor, and you had to crane your neck just to see his face properly.

This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to kill you.

You waited in bated breath for him to mock you, or at least to strike you down where you laid.

He did neither.

In fact, you nearly jumped when he began to lower himself, crouching down to your level.

He was so close… less than a foot away.

Then, he reached forward.

At first, you flinched as his hand reached for your face, and he hesitated. That nearly brought you out of your stupor. Why would he hesitate?

But then, instead of lashing out, his giant hand ever so gently reached forward, and carefully cupped your face.

Your breathing hitched, and you froze.

The action was so out of place from what you were expecting, it caused you to stop panicking from disbelief.

Dracula’s hand was tender and cool against your fevered flesh. He seemed to be looking over your wounds, which were now beginning to sting all over again.

He was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t help but grow confused, though your heart still hammered painfully in your chest.

Finally, after a brief, tense moment, he spoke.

“Who did this to you?”

[dailyreverie]

Ooooh 58 definitely has Steve Harrington vibes 👀

I’m so excited to see what you do with it Jul!🥰

Morning kisses

A/N: Did someone said sleepy kisses with Steve? (yes, I did). Also this is an excuse to use that gif becasue damn (let's ignore it is S1 douchebag Steve though this is our sweet boyfriend Steve)

#58: playful kisses, such as, ‘‘i’m not going to kiss you.’‘ ‘‘why?’‘ ‘‘because if i do, i don’t think we’re getting out of bed today’‘

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 570

cw: sharing a bed, implicit sexy times with Steve.

The tiny apartment you shared with Steve was still lacking a few things. You still needed a fridge, your couch was already there meaning it was not the best… But your bedroom, with the sun warming it up every morning as you woke up tangled in his arms, and the sunrays hitting against the wall and bouncing over to your bed warming up the already cozy atmosphere you created in your sleep, your bedroom was your favorite spot to be at.

You know it has to be Steve’s too, because ever since you moved in you can see he sleeps better than he did before. Always so untroubled, his face relaxed and even playing with a little smile. He’s warm when you scoot closer to him, so homey, so naturally and unquestionable yours.

It is hard to stop yourself from not reaching up to him then, when you see him so peaceful and calm. Your lips carefully reach his cheek to place a couple of kisses on his warm skin, moving upwards to his cheekbone, then his temple and hair, waking him up slowly.

“Just a few more minutes.” Steve groans, but contrary to what he’s saying, the arm that huggs your waist tightens his grip to pull you closer to him, your cue to keep doing what you were previously at.

“No, you have to wake up, it’s late already,” you complain in between a couple of kisses placed on his cheek. “And I’m bored.” You move a few centimiters down now, finding his poutted lips to place a soft kiss on them. “And I’m hungry.”

“I see why you woke me up now.” He chuckled, still not opening his eyes yet tickling your side faintly with the tips of his fingers.

Steve smiles at your quiet giggling, finally opening his eyes to turn to look at you. You stay like that, smiling at each other in a quiet, mutual agreement to take in that little moment. “Can I have my good morning kiss now?” You ask after a few seconds.

Steve’s eyes scan your face: disheveled hair all over the pillow, eyelids still heavy, naturally glowing skin; Steve wasn’t used to sharing the morning with anyone, usually waking up to an empty house all by himself, but now that you are part of them he is ready to have that view for the rest of his mornings. “No.” It takes him a beat but he answers your question, making your eyebrows furrow.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I kiss you, we are never getting out of this bed again.” With a swift movement he is suddenly on top of you, supporting himself on his forearms framing your face. His wild curls fall downwards, almost hitting your face, and that’s the perfect excuse you have to push them back and rest your hands on the base of his head. Ever so slowly, he dips down and brushes his nose to yours. “And you said you were hungry.”

“I’m not that hungry actually.” Steve laughs, a full belly laugh that ends with his lips at last on yours. Soft and loving, Steve kisses you as if the morning lasted forever, without a rush in the world.

“Good, ‘cause I’m keeping you in here for a while, sweetheart.” You melt under him, exactly what he wanted you to do, but you are more than happy to spend your morning just like that.

******************************

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!