#was forced to stay home for the next two weeks it was so boring

[pha55ed]

War is Over || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: the 2024 is finally over, which means they get to come home and finally relax with you

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

Skiing sounded terrifying for you. The risk of injury, the freezing cold, not being to control your movements, all of it seemed so scary. But Carlos peer-pressured you into it, which you couldn't be more grateful for. Although he's already experienced, almost at a pro's level, he still waited for you and taught you everything he knew.

There was no embarrassment in it either. He was so gentle and understanding when teaching you, always holding your hand, tucking your hair back into your cap, and cleaning your visor. It was hours filled with giggling at your mistakes and Carlo's poorly worded explanations.

But in the end, you managed to get the hang of it slightly, only doing small ramps and gliding around. He's never been prouder. He starts filming you like a facebook mom and he WILL 100% post it on his story.

Charles Leclerc | 16

Being so busy with driving makes him unable to do what he really loves, which is piano. So once it's Christmas time, he has get back his skills. But even though piano is usually played solo, he always tries to add you into it.

Either by letting you sit right next to him and sing the lyrics. Or letting you play the right-hand notes while he does the left-hand notes. He's very passionate about his music, always going into long rants about the musical choices he made and his biggest inspirations.

You can't help but just admire his nerdy-ness. It's so fun to hear the calming piano and his long rants, which helps you sleep. Which he doesn't even get mad at, instead he just drapes a blanket over you and continues playing.

Lando Norris | 04

Winter isn't something Lando wants to experience often. Of course, he loves to go snowboarding or watching the snow fall, but his comfort comes from the sun. So when the season ends, he's instantly telling you to pack your bags and prepare for an Australian "winter".

Which is perfect, since that's Oscar's hometown. So now you're stuck in Australia with your dumb ahh boyfriend and Lily's not-as-dumb-boyfriend. But you don't mind, it's great to get a bunch of double date time, discuss the grid drama, and more. Lily is basically your sister, you're almost more excited to see her than you are to see Lando.

But of course, he'll go back home to London with you so you can meet his family and have the true winter experience. He'll play in the snow, make an unbelievably disproportionate snowman, and possibly,,, just maybe,,, make a drawing in the snow with pee...

Oscar Piastri | 81

Christmas time means it's time for him to be his real self: a professional bed-rotter. Going out is so tiring for him, and he's sick of it. So prepare for weeks on end of just staying indoors, cuddling, ordering take out, and debating over movies.

Even though you're staying indoors mostly, it's never boring with him. Mainly because he has awful movie opinions. For example, he watched "Home Alone" with you, only to root for the kidnappers to take Kevin... Or when he was rooting for Voldemort to kill Harry just to thicken the plot.

Truly awful ideas, but you love debating them and hearing his logic behind it. Despite being drama free on the grid, he can't help but love the drama on screen. So, once you're done with every Christmas movie: it's time for Love is Blind, Love Island, and more shitty TV shows with even more shitty opinions.

Max Verstappen | 01

Racing was fun for Max, of course it is. But so is just staying home and being able to be a normal person. He really enjoys having time to himself just to think and enjoy the peace and quiet before he's forced to be back into a world filled with cameras, mics, and more.

So you two just do domestic tasks. Like grocery shopping, picking Christmas gifts, cooking together, and more. It's simple, but he loves it to death. There's been so many times throughout the season where he just wanted to call in sick so he could do something chill with you.

The only con is that he's an awful cook... And awful for grocery shopping... And he's not up to date with the kids,,, and picks the most awful gifts...

But thank god you're there to help! You'll be there to laugh at his stupid mistakes and help him do better, which he loves.

Oliver Bearman | 87

Family is one of the most important things to Ollie. He's who he is because of his family, so be prepared to be with his family almost every single week. Although it was scary at first, his family greeted you with open arms.

His sister loves you and gets to be girly with you. You go shopping with her and talk about the gossip at her school. His brother and you both team up to bully Ollie and prank him. His mom is so sweet and always treats you like her own daughter, giving you the best dinners and gifts. And his dad is so caring towards you, being more protective of you than Ollie.

It makes Ollie start to feel like HE'S the in-law instead of you. But he never complains, instead he's so grateful to have you. He couldn't ask for anyone better.

Paul Aron | 17 <3

You know those dumbass shirts at Walmart that say "Eat, Game, Sleep, Repeat"? That's the exact moto Paul lives by, but except it's training instead of gaming. Which means he's never had the chance to be able to fully relax. Even during summer vacation, he would sneak away to go to the gym or even fucking sneak a hand-grip onto the plane. This man is ADDICTED.

So you help him calm down, which is very needed. You take him to do all the fun stuff that he should be doing. But you know he's very concerned for losing his abs and muscles, so you make sure to make it a physical activity.

This means going to ice rinks, walking for miles in winter-themed towns, and even trying most aggressive ice sports. Things like skiing, snowboarding, and even hockey. Although you're not good at all of them, Paul is there to help.

Despite him just starting these sports too, he's already a pro at it. So now it's a time filled with giggles and laughs as you try all of these new activities together.

Pepe Marti | 21

It's well known by everyone that Pepe is one of the very few drivers in university. So this winter break is used by him to not only study, but also catch up with friends. You and him get to experience and cozy winter, filled with cuddling, procrastinating on homework, and hanging out with friends.

You hangout with not only his university but of course, the trio. Christian and Sebastian are so fun to hang around with and they're super sweet to you. It's as if they're your brothers who annoy the shit out of and Pepe.

100% Chris is the oldest sibling, Pepe is a middle child, and Sebs is the annoying youngest. You guys all mess around by playing stupid games, screaming karaoke, riding carts in Target, and more. Just a true college experience with the nicest people ever.

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

[flkwh0re]

Caught

Pairings: Stepsis! Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of age gap (Legal), Getting caught??, Oral (W Receiving), Strap-on usage (R Receiving), Bondage (Nat being tied), Overstimulation (R Receiving), whatever it would be called bc Nat was forced to watch while being tied up 😭

Word count: 1.4k

Authors Note: All tho I haven’t reached 900 followers yet I wanna go on and put this out, enjoy!! 😭

The days of summer break were coming to an end, it was close to time for you to return back to your college dorm after spending the last few weeks with your family. You came home unexpectedly one day to surprise your mom and step father. To your surprise your step sister, Wanda, had the exact idea.

Wanda and you never got along, probably considering you never had much time to connect before she was off to college later followed by you. Wanda wasn't much older than you, but the age gap was enough to cause conflict when she came around while you still stayed with your parents.

During the few years you were both in high school, her friend Natasha and her would torment you during that time. You always figured it was normal rivalry, but Wanda held a much deeper secret. Even after high school Natasha stayed super close with Wanda, the two would always be together. Including those visits Wanda made.

Natasha always had a softer side for you. She often pitied you during Wanda's torments, asking the girl to be gentler on you which Wanda would combat with a teasing manner.

"Hey." Called out by Nat's soft tone as she crept into your room. "Oh hey Nat, why aren't you with Wanda?" She leaned against the back of your door once she closed it, "She's asleep, and I'm bored."

You sat upright, patting the space next to you inviting the older woman to come sit with you on your bed. After a comfortable silence Nat spoke out, "How's college been treating you? I missed you last summer, isn't this your second year?" You nod, "Yea, and it's been fine. Nothing interesting but you know."

Nat and you spend a good while talking with each other, really enjoying each other's company then her mannerisms change. "You've really grown a lot, since you've graduated you know. Two years isn't much but, you're really pretty." Nat's words cause a blush to creep on your cheeks, you hope the soft light of your lamp doesn't amplify it.

"It's rude to ignore compliments sweetheart." She says with a smug little smile, letting out a giggle which you return. She scoots closer to you and before you know it her lips are on yours.

The two of you share a heated moment, your lips passionately latching onto one another. Natasha's hands roam along your body, groping at your curves and pulling your body closer to hers. What you hadn't noticed was during your intimate moment with Nat, Wanda had snuck in.

"Ahem." She said loud enough to finally catch your attention. "What is going on here?" She said in a condescending tone. Natasha tried to quickly shut down what Wanda had just witnessed but she paid no mind to her friend's pleas.

"Y/n, wanna tell me why my best friend is here swapping spit with you?" You were confused about her tone, you'd assumed she'd sound more mad if she was. She almost sounded like she enjoyed it.

"We were just caught up in the moment, it's late, we're tired and we were having a conversation and we just.. kissed." Wanda chuckled, as if she was enjoying this. You and Natasha had been sharing worried looks during this whole very weird interaction.

"Oh you two are so pretty when you lie!" Wanda strutted over to the bed, the short skimpy shorts she wore made you feel hot. "Oh what will I do with you two." She paused. "I know, Nat come here." Natasha stood and made her way to Wanda. To your shared surprise she let her to the chair that sat in the corner of your room, and tied the woman's hands together.

"Wanda, what are you doing?" The older woman asked. "You'll see, be patient." Wanda made her way back to where you sat, "Now I want you to be my good girl and do exactly as I say, got it?" Your head shook in an eager nod of approval. "So desperate."

Her lips pressed against yours, her tongue slipped past your lips quickly and danced along with yours. Wanda's pretty moans filled your ears, along with Natasha's whines as she desperately wanted to be with the two of you.

"I want you to eat me out, if you make me cum to my satisfaction I'll reward you. Mkay?" You nod, "That won't do, I need your words baby." Wanda reprimanded. "Y-yes ma'am." Wanda chuckled, "I like that, now get on your knees."

You instantly dropped to your knees, Wanda made a show of her stripping out of her arousal soaked shorts which she tossed onto Natasha's lap. You made no waste of time by diving straight into pleasing Wanda.

Her hands tugged on your hair, and pushed your face closer to her core. Your tongue worked like magic on her clit like your life depended on it, like it was what you were made to do. "Fuck baby! You're being such a good girl, making me feel so good.. oh god!"

Natasha continued to squirm in her seat, itching to be able to touch you. "Please Wanda, untie my hands." Though for poor Natasha, Wanda was only able to focus on the assault your tongue was causing on her. Loud moans and praises slip past her lips, pushing you into a state where you only want to be there to please her.

"Fuck pretty girl, I'm gonna cum! Can you make me cum? Please be a good girl and make me cum." Before you knew it Wanda was cuming, her hand tightly gripping your hair tugging slightly.

"Did I do good?" You asked hesitantly, "So good baby, get on the bed." You did as she said and watched her rummage around your room, until she came across the strap you had stored away. You were unsure of how she knew where you had that stored, but you didn't question her fearing you may end up in Natasha's place.

"I want you to ride me, ride me till I have to take control." She demanded. Your already soaked pussy from your session with Nat didn't require any effort from Wanda, so she quickly got your settling down on her strap.

Your hands propped themselves on her chest, trying your best to hold yourself up. "Go on, move your hips baby." With her request you began to bounce on the woman's strap, taking a moment to adjust. Soon enough you had a steady pace, as so did the subtle movements of Wanda's hips.

Her hands ran across your body, groping at your tits. "Fuck you're so perfect, I can't believe I've waited this long." She groaned out, eyes scanning all up and down your body.

"P-please I can't keep myself up anymore." You whined as you struggled to keep your arms from going limp. "Keep going pretty girl, you're doing so good." Wanda praised, but she knew she'd have to take over soon. Your hip movement became sloppy, even Nat grew worried.

Wanda eventually took over and flipped you to your stomach, propping up your knees for easier access. She slipped her strap back into you, thrusting the silicone toy into you at a brutal pace. Your whines filled the air, the only noise you were even able to get out.

"Fuck baby, you look so pretty like this. All fucked out over me, so ruined because of me." Wanda teased, as her hand came firmly down on your ass also eliciting a whine from you.

Natasha's empathetic side came out for you in the moment, watching as Wanda used your body. "Wanda be gentle!" Which Wanda dismissed, as her pace quickened. "Fuck you're so hot, you can't even think about anything but me. Did I fuck Nat out of your mind, hm?" Wanda said clearly to get a reaction out of Nat.

"Wans.. 'm gon- cum." Your barely eligible words made the older girl laugh, "Beg pretty girl, beg me to cum." More whines came from you before you mustered up the ability to make out a coherent sentence. "Wands, please! L-let me cum, 'm gonna cum I can't hold it pl-please."

"Go on, cum pretty girl." With her demand you did, and you came hard. “Good girl, you did so good.” Wanda placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, slowly removing the strap from you as to not hurt you. She scooped you up and readjusted your body under the covers, then placed a soft kiss on your tired face.

“Wanda please undo me.” Natasha finally said, breaking the silence. Wanda laughed, “Who said I was done with you?”

MASTERLIST

[strawberry-cowmilk]

silly things I think the brothers have done

not proof read, also I did all of the things on these lists so it's kinda like the brothers as things I have done hehe ( I couldn't come up with some stuff for some of them so forgive me for some brothers having shorter or more boring lists)

alternative title: the brothers as real things I have done (I swear I'm not that insane)

-----

lucifer

use whatever the devildom version of red bull is as an 'emergency tool' to quickly stop being tired only when he really needs to (don't do this)

accidentally sent a formal important email to somebody completely unrelated because it was 3am and he wasn't sharp (poor person had no idea what he was talking about) (this still haunts me)

one time when he was at a farm a peacock kept following him and kept opening its feathers to him no matter how many times he walked away

mammon

always buys something one of his brothers or mc will like in a store when he sees it for them

bought expensive perfume and quit his job two seconds afterwards

made the mistake of online shopping while being drunk and then cried over a mini bag and bought it because it would be cute for his future child

accidentally almost burnt down a school chemistry lab because he put a plastic tube over the fire (the teacher warned him not to do that) (everything was fine the tube was just a little on fire it only had like salt water in it)

leviathan

met his favorite artist and accidentally dropped his bags right before the picture in front of said artist (the artist tried to help him but he said nono its okay while fixing the mess) (he dropped the bag 1 second after asking if it was okay to put it down) (this still haunts me I'm so sorry to the artist for having to see me fight a bag)

messed up karaoke one time when he was home alone and destroyed his voice for the next week

attended a vocaloid concert

satan

accidentally made somebody believe he has a child because he calls a cat his baby or his son and forgot to specify he's talking about a cat

saw a cat meow and paw at somebody he didn't know's front door and he felt bad for it so he rang the doorbell and asked the guy who lives there 'is this your cat?' but the cat already went inside (luckily it was his cat or else that would have been super awkward)

cut his own hair once out of protest because somebody kept forcing him to cut it (they never forced him to do anything with his hair again so it worked) (I was like 11 years old when I did this)

asmodeus

wore platform heels while hiking because he refused to wear hiking shoes (those were the only shoes he brought to the vacation too) (there was no room to bring more because he already overpacked)

when somebody was being rude for no reason over his fashion choices he accidentally said 'not my problem you're allergic to slaying' out loud (I said this to my mom I almost died)

packed a full suitcase and a big tote bag for a one night hotel stay (the suitcase had an extra bag in it too)

sent his profs emails telling them he's sick so he can go to his beauty salons (this happened more than once)

beelzebub

traveled to a different city to buy a lot of a specific type of food and then came back

sometimes has to function as an alarm clock for one of his brothers (belphie) because its impossible to wake him up

stays home with his brothers when they're sick so they don't have to be alone

tried to make an oven pizza in the microwave with his brothers because the oven was not working (don't try this) (it turned out literally wet by the way)

belphegor

planned a way to skip certain class times every day without getting in trouble to sleep more

woke up from a nap extremely disoriented and asked someone what his name is

I'm so sorry I tried to come up with more things for him but I can't its been a week of thinking

[adoregojo]

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

[finnsbubblegum]

You Fell First But He Fell Harder (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: Grocery shopping with Joel and Sarah went wrong as you came across his ex-wife.

Words count: 1k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 4 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm beyond happy that many of you liked it so I hope you enjoy the next parts. Stay tuned and love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

You and Joel’s playing house was getting real. From three dinners a week to five dinners a week to seven dinners a week. Every night you spent with Joel and Sarah. You even ran errands for him and Sarah like buying diapers, baby stuff and groceries. But today, he offered to go grocery shopping with you. 

“Got the list?” Joel asked as he put Sarah to sit on the shopping cart.

“Let’s get the baby stuff first. We need baby food, diapers..” You read the list written on the piece of paper in your hand.

“Okay.” Joel pushed the shopping cart beside you.

“This one?” Joel grabbed a baby diaper from the cabinet.

“Yep, that one.” You nodded and Joel put it in the shopping cart. 

*Sarah babbled*

“You’re bored, huh?” You caressed her head.

“Apples or bananas?” You showed two different baby food to Sarah. 

“Bananas.” Joel answered while he was looking at some stuff at the cabinet.

“I’m not asking you. I’m asking Sarah.” You scoffed.

“Oh..She gets to choose her food?” Joel looked at you and raised his eyebrows.

“Freedom of speech.” You smirked.

“You’re funny.” Joel scoffed and shook his head.

Sarah babbled and her hand moved to the banana flavored baby food. 

“Bananas it is.” You put the baby food inside the shopping cart.

“I think she has your taste.” You bumped Joel’s arm.

“That’s my girl.” Joel kissed his baby daughter’s head.

“Okay, let’s get some veggies! Choo Choo!” You pushed the shopping cart a bit fast and Sarah giggled.

Joel followed you from behind and laughed at your actions. For a moment, he wished you were the one whom he married and had a baby with. He was blessed to have you and see you making his baby happy. He smiled and imagined it. Until he saw Sarah’s mom, he put a frown on his face and sighed. You looked at him as he stopped.

“What is it?” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s her.” 

You looked in front of you and saw someone approaching the three of you. It was a woman and a man. The woman looked familiar.

“Hi, Joel.” The woman waved her hand awkwardly.

“Hi.” Joel answered coldly.

“Hi, babygirl.” She walked to get closer to Sarah.

Joel dragged back the shopping cart protectively so she couldn’t go closer. 

“Joel, I’m sorry.” She apologized.

“I see you’re happy now.” He looked at the man beside her.

She sighed. You just stayed quiet. This wasn’t your business to meddle in.

“I guess you’re happy too.” She looked at you. 

“Did you get the papers I sent you?” The woman asked Joel. 

Joel scoffed. You saw him clenched his fist holding the shopping cart. So you put your hand on top of his and stroked his hand with your thumb while your other hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Let’s go, honey.” You stroked his shoulder.

“I guess I’ll see you in court.” Joel said goodbye to Sarah’s mom.

“See you in court, Joel.” They parted ways.

Then, the three of you went home. Joel was quiet the whole way home and you didn’t ask him a thing. You understood they were talking about divorce papers. And you knew it made him angry. 

“Thank you for today.” He thanked you while parking his car in the driveway.

“Anytime. We had a pact, remember?” You smiled.

“I guess it works? We’re even now.” He forced a smile and frowned again.

Joel moved the groceries from the car to his house and you carried Sarah inside. Before you walked out the door to go home, you remembered Sarah hadn’t pooped yet. It had been 45 minutes since her last feed and you remembered this baby massage thing you read.

“I forgot something.” You stopped half way.

“What?” Joel closed the door.

“Sarah hasn’t pooped.” You walked back to her room.

“That’s a problem?” Joel asked.

“Yeah. I learned about this baby massage to help them fart. Can I try?” You asked Joel for permission.

“Of course. You’re the master.” He let you.

You laid Sarah on the bed and let her get a comfortable position. Before you started, you took a deep breath in and out. You started with a slow and gentle massage of her tummy, you could feel it was full of gas. You massaged her little tummy again up and down with a gentle press.

*baby farted*

“Oh! Good girl!” You praised her as you giggled.

Joel's eyes widened. He was amazed at you. He wondered how you knew about this trick. You were not even her mom but you did a lot of research. Joel adored you. 

After a few rubs on the tummy, you pumped her legs back and forth and she let out a cute fart again and again. The last one was loud but really cute. 

*baby farted*

“That was a good one, baby.” You laughed.

Joel tried not to laugh but he couldn’t hold it. He finally burst into laughter as he heard his baby farted a big one. He laughed so hard holding his stomach. His jaw probably hurt from laughing too hard.

“You laughed.” You were relieved looking at Joel finally getting his happy face back.

“I’m proud of you, sweet girl. You just made your daddy laugh.” You snuggled your face to her tummy and shook your head.

“I’ve been thinking of ways to get your smile back. Mission accomplished.” You crossed your arms to your chest and put on a proud face.

"You-" Joel wanted to say something but he stopped.

“Thank you.” Joel smiled and looked at you. 

His heart beat faster and he felt butterflies when he heard you said that. You didn’t only care about his daughter but you also cared about him. He suddenly saw sparkles around you and he blinked again to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. You were always beautiful in his eyes. But tonight, you were even more beautiful. He realized he just fell in love with the woman in front of him. His neighbor. You. Yes, Joel Miller was falling in love with you.

To be continued...

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @param8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE (CH 2) | Michael x Reader

so when i was writing this, my editor Insisted i use a grilled cheese gif for this chapter. you'll see why... i hope you enjoy though LMAO

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago."

WARNING: graphic depiction of deaths, animal violence

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"Has anyone ever shown you kindness?" Your voice had Michael opening his eyes, blinking as he looked up at you slowly, your hands tangled in his wet, sudsy hair. He was sprawled out on the porcelain bathtub while you washed his hair, the room dim and sleepy and smelling of lavender soap. He had no qualms letting his legs and arms rest upon the rim to have extra room. You’d since become accustomed to him, no longer flushing at his nakedness, so washing the blood off his skin didn’t bother you.

You’d since bought black washcloths and a black towel for Michael so your father wouldn’t get suspicious about any bloodstains. Lounge clothes - some sweatpants and a t-shirt finally in his actual size - sat folded on the counter beside the sink, his navy blue jumpsuit in a pile on the cool, linoleum floor.

For the past few weeks, you two established a routine of sorts. Michael would get hurt or hungry and come visit you. Sometimes he'd watch you sleep but he'd usually be gone by morning. With your dad's presence in the house very touch and go, it was hard for Michael to stay for any extended period of time. Sometimes he watched you from a distance whenever you'd go in the garden but that was the extent of it.

You knew it wasn't normal for him to care about another person so you did your best to make it easy for him. No more lunging at armed police officers for you, you'd lamented to him in a joking manner. You hadn't been able to see his face but you got the impression he'd glared at you.

You'd also taken to touching him more, getting him to reassociate touch with compassion. It wasn't easy to undo years of trauma but you did little things here and there. Brushing his hands with your own, touching his arm when you wanted attention, small things. He was building a tolerance to it, you could tell. Washing his hair now was the most you'd touched him beyond patching him up after run-ins with the police.

But progress was progress.

Today, he hadn't come home bloody but he had come to you for something. He'd shown up at the backdoor, made a beeline for the bathroom, and you'd gotten the message. Bathing him had also become pretty regular, though you still recalled the first few times where it'd ended with him shaking from how overwhelmed he was by your touch.

Now, though, his gaze bore into you, staring up at you like a big lazy cat. Like a lion too content to strike. Your hands had stilled, still poised to scrub at his scalp. He needed a haircut, you noted to yourself.

"Besides me," you clarified as you resumed scrubbing in slow circles. "You don't… You're-" You huffed, trying to find the words. "I feel like people didn't care for you like you needed them to. If that makes sense." 

Were you anyone else, you don't doubt he'd kill you for saying that. Instead, he just glared at you, pretty hazel eyes narrowed to slits. In anger or confusion, you couldn't tell.

That was yet another development. He'd been taking his mask off of his own accord now, even when he didn't have a reason to. The first time he'd done it had been because his hair was too long and sat uncomfortable in the mask, tickling against his ears and neck. You offered to cut it and, while it took some reassurance and thought on his part, you'd come home one day to him sitting on your bed. Scissors in one hand and mask in the other, clutching it like a child would to a security blanket. He hadn't been shaking or looking up at you with fearful eyes but his jaw had been clenched hard as he white knuckled the accursed mask. A wordless question you'd answered with nimble fingers and gentle tugging on his curls.

Having something so sharp close to his vulnerable neck hadn't been his idea of a good time regardless if it was his idea or not. He'd gotten up half a dozen times during the haircut to stand in the corner to come down from what was probably overstimulation. You were patient with him though.

You'd gotten better at reading him. He'd gotten better at leaving you clues.

In the present, he sat up and slid his legs back into the water. Wet hair slipped from between your fingers as he turned to properly stare at you. Michael was interesting to you still. You could tell he was curious about you too. He stared at you often, like when you watered your plants, washed his clothes, or made food in the kitchen. You felt his eyes on you constantly no matter what.

"What?" You asked with a small sigh, staring back at him with the same intensity.

Michael gave you a slow blink, similar to the ones Mayhem gave you as a show of trust. "Don't gimme that," you teased, smirking at him and motioning for him to sit back down. "I just- I always feel bad thinking about it, in retrospect. I mean, you grew up in an asylum alone. Didn't it-"

He interrupted you by sliding a wet hand around your throat, holding you still as though to physically stop your ramblings. Not squeezing, just holding. You got the message there: let it go. He lay back down and you resumed washing his hair, unbothered by that exchange.

Things like that were normal with him. It had freaked you out at first when he'd wrapped his hand harshly around your throat and pinned you in a doorway. But you'd slowly begun to understand him. He didn't have a way to communicate that wasn't through violence or knives.

Or hospital rooms under scrutiny, you reminded yourself with a grimace. You masked it behind a soft tune you hummed, resuming washing his hair.

Once he was cleaned and dressed, jumpsuit in the wash, you ventured back downstairs to make dinner and feed Mayhem. Michael trailed after you, hair dripping dark spots along his shoulders where it was still damp. He didn't like the hair dryer very much and only tolerated you using it to get his hair comfortably damp. No more.

“You’re probably due for another haircut by the way,” you said as you opened the fridge. Mayhem was immediately rubbing up on Michael’s leg, meowing insistently.

He looked down at her, standing comfortably in the doorway to the kitchen. You glanced over your shoulder to look at him and felt struck with the knowledge that, if it weren't for his injured eye breaking the illusion, it almost felt like you just had a boyfriend over. Your face warmed up at the thought and you snapped your head back around to stare into the white, chilled expanse of the fridge. "Umm… anything specific you want tonight?"

When you looked back over at him, you jumped in surprise when he was barely a few inches from you. Jesus, you thought to yourself. You didn't think you'd ever get used to how quiet he moved sometimes.

Michael tilted his head as he stared at the fridge with you. "I need to go shopping soon, huh?"

He didn't say anything but you could almost hear his nod.

You liked how expressive he'd gotten as the two of you began to trust each other. Little things like that made the whole thing feel domestic somehow. 

"Well, hope you like grilled cheese." You snagged the almost-empty package of sliced cheese and dangled it tantalizingly. "I'll go shopping tomorrow, promise. If you want anything in particular, let me know." You said as you grabbed the bread from the cabinet. Before he could say - or, technically, not say - you spun on your heel. "Besides pumpkin pie."

He nodded once and you smirked.

Domestic, your brain said again in an almost mocking tone. You swallowed and tried to focus on the sandwiches and not the way Michael stared at you. You began buttering the bread as the pan warmed up and tried to not envision life being like this forever: painfully domestic and sweet with Haddonfield's best known serial killer in soft lounge clothes you'd bought him, curled up on the couch eating an early lunch together after you'd washed his hair.

The sound of the front door rattling open was out of place and terrifying. Never in your life had you felt as though the ground would swallow you as your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. You spun to face Michael and quickly assessed your options.

There were two doorways that led out of the kitchen - one that faced the living room and another that led into the hallway to the stairs. There was a dividing wall between the two doorways. Meaning if you could get Michael into the hallway, he'd be out of sight for at least the briefest few seconds it took your dad to walk towards you.

"Upstairs, now!" You whisper-yelled, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him towards the hallway. "Stay quiet, he'll go away soon."

Hopefully, you thought to yourself. Hopefully he will.

"You're home early." You called to him as you took your spot at the stove again, spreading butter on bread and placing them in the pan.

Your dad sounded exhausted, shrugging off his outer coat and tossing it atop the back of the couch before slumping in his chair. "I decided to come home early. It's been an exhausting week. But Myers seems to be taking a break from killing these past few days."

You couldn't help but frown. Not killing? Sure you'd noticed less blood on his clothes but surely he'd stopped altogether. So close to Halloween too…

"Cool, I was, uh, making lunch." You called out over the pan sizzling. "You want some?"

The telltale creaks of the wooden floor had your hair standing up on end. It wasn't like normal sneaking around when you had a boyfriend, this was Michael Myers you were hiding. Right under his nose. Even if your dad didn't immediately go for his gun when he saw him, you were still a liar. And an accomplice to his crimes.

"Grilled cheese, huh?" He smiled for the first time since he'd taken on the case. "Want some help? I can-" The sound of his phone ringing cut him off, making him grimace. "I'll take this outside," he sighed as he went back out the door. You sighed with relief and looked towards the doorway to the stairs.

Michael stood there, mask on, gripping a knife tight in his hand. You had no idea where he'd gotten it, since your knives were accounted for.

You tried to seem reassuring. "He's probably going to get called back into work, it's okay." Even though you'd gotten used to it, you still swallowed when you saw the glint of the knife in the dim lighting of the doorway. "He, um, he said you haven't been killing lately?" 

Michael was eerily still. Just staring at you.

"Is everything…okay?" It felt a bit weird asking when he was going to kill someone again. Like it was just a casual hobby of his. "Just let me know, alright?"

He just stared at you. His walls were back up, you could tell, so you tried to not take it personally.

When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago." His gun was out, alarming you. "Have you… have you seen anything?"

"No." You swallowed around your lie, quickly turning the stove off, lunch forgotten. "No, it's been quiet. I was out in my garden, mostly."

He didn't seem convinced though. "She said he was circling around the house before coming inside."

At that, he froze. He held a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You wanted to roll your eyes at how comical this was but you also couldn't afford to break character. Scared young child of the police detective, home alone with a killer in this house. 

"Where's your cat?" He whispered, glancing up at the ceiling as though expecting to hear footsteps.

Glancing around, you tried to play up your alarm. "I don't know!" You whisper-yelled. "Do you think he's-?"

"Dead, then." Your dad's bluntness made you flinch. "Myers usually kills the pets first. Keeps 'em from sounding an alarm." He didn't even try to look sympathetic as he crept towards the stairs. You followed after him as he crept silently from room to room, pushing the door open slightly before scanning the room with his gun out. It made you anxious and you kept periodically glancing towards your bedroom, dreading the impending inspection. First the hall closet, then his bedroom, then the bathrooms, and finally: your bedroom.

You felt sweat drip down your temple as he pushed open the door. Everything felt tense, suffocating you as you chewed anxiously on the nail of your thumb.

He swung open the closet door and fired at the first sign of movement.

Mayhem yowled, a sharp, piercing sound, then darted past your legs as he took off down the hall. "MAYHEM!" You shrieked in horror, watching blood trail behind him faster than you could catch him. You ignored your dad's stammered apologies and took off after your cat.

The blood trail went down the stairs and out through the back door, which had been left cracked open to let Mayhem come and go as he pleased. Now he was gone. Your heart sank as you ran outside, crying for Mayhem to come back. In the tall, mud-riddled forest it was hard to see any kind of blood trail or spot your all black cat. Minutes ticked by with no response and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself as you bawled.

He was your little kitty. And now he was gone.

"Sweetheart, I- I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was there." Your dad tried to explain as he watched you from the doorway. "It- It'll come back, I'm sure."

"You SHOT him!" You rounded on him almost instantly, storming up to meet him and relishing in the way he backed up in fear of your anger. "You SHOT him and now he might DIE out there!" While you didn't consider yourself an angry nor violent person, it felt vindicating to shove him and watch him stumble back. "You don't even CARE!"

"No, I don't!" He shouted, trying to scare you back. "It's just a cat! What if Myers had been there, huh?"

You felt hysteric. "I don't care about that! Fuck, dad, I care about my CAT!"

Suddenly, he'd grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you into the nearby wall, his voice hissing like a viper when he spoke. "I don't give a shit about your fucking cat. I am stressed enough as it is and I am focused on finding Michael fucking Myers, not your shitty little cat. Let. It. Go."

The sign of movement in the shadows behind him made you smile.

Michael grabbed your dad by the back of his shirt and yanked him back harshly, letting him fall to the kitchen floor. He stood there, knife tight in his fist as he stood over the whimpering man who scrambled for his gun. 

You watched with an empty expression as Michael kicked the gun aside, skittering on the tiled floor and out of reach. "Grab it!" He hissed at you. Michael tilted his head down at him but he tried to not be intimidated. "Grab my gun, just-"

Reality began to settle in as shock wore off. Your ears were still ringing from the gunshots and you could smell the charred butter coming off the stove. "Michael." Your mouth moved but you didn't feel like your words were yours. "I'm okay."

A heavy boot thudded against your dad's chest and you watched him scramble to try and understand. The dark pits of the mask's eye holes bore into you, almost searching for permission.

"You've been hiding him." Your dad gasped in horror. "You've been hiding the man I've been hunting. Right. Under. My fucking nose!" He roared, struggling to get out from under Michael, only ending up grabbed like a scruffed kitten in his attempts to lunge at you. "How long!? How long has he been hiding here?!"

You didn't feel like answering. So you didn't.

He didn't like that though. "What have you two been doing? What, do you nurse him back to health under my fucking roof every night? Is that why you've been buying first aid shit?"

None of this felt real to you in any substantial way. It felt like a movie almost, a sick indie film about a serial killer you'd grown attached to finally snapping and slaughtering your family because you'd finally given him the chance to get close. You watched Michael press the tip of his knife to your dad's sternum and could almost see the anger and hatred rolling off the masked man in waves.

After all, you'd given him a hard line of not hurting Mayhem. And your dad just broke that rule.

You backed up against the fridge and slid to the floor, watching with a distant expression as Michael wrestled the man to the floor. "Yeah." You said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I clean him. Bandage him. He protects me." A wet laugh left your throat at the absurdity of it all. "We're partners."

No point in hiding it anymore.

"M-maybe I should call Loomis, s-see if I can get you two joint rooms in the fucking asylum-!" The man below Michael yelled out, his words muffling as Michael jabbed the knife into him. Wet squelching sounds that became almost monotonous as hot red sprays erupted from the holes in his neck. Puddles of red seeped beneath the man's body and Michael seemed to relish in the thrill.

"You killed my cat," you mumbled bitterly to the corpse of the man you once called dad.

And you watched as the body ran cold with Michael's anger. He stood up, towering over you as he tracked bloody footprints as he approached you. "Hi." You said absently, giving him a small smile. "You'll have to kill our neighbor. No witnesses."

He tilted his head curiously and you just let your head fall between your knees. You didn't want to talk about this anymore than you had to. "Just- Just get rid of the body, okay? I'll clean up."

Had you looked up, you would have seen his nod.

The stench of bleach burned your nose and made your eyes water as you scrubbed at the now blood-free kitchen floor. You'd opened the windows to air out the smell but it still felt like it was suffocating. But there was no evidence anymore, thank god.

You didn't ask Michael what he'd done with the bodies. You'd kept your head down when he'd lifted it up and carried it with him out the back door and you were content not knowing. It would only serve to upset you.

Clutching the rim of the sink, you let out a long, pained sigh. Things were going to change now. Your father and Mayhem's blood was all gone, the knives would be disinfected, and Michael's jumpsuit would go through the wash again. No evidence any of this had even happened.

Logically, you knew this should upset you. It did, only in the sense that the wet plunging sounds of the knife echoed in your mind. But you couldn't feel anything beyond anger that he'd shot Mayhem. That he didn't care about you, only his work. It infuriated you to think about how little your life would change with him gone. The house was bought and paid for, you knew everything he owned would be left to you, and life would continue on.

He didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. You repeated this mantra over and over to yourself as you heard the back door open.

Michael stood there, his hands and suit stained with blood. Flecks of dark red stained the white mask in harsh streaks that made you want to hurl. "How, um, how did it go?" You tried giving him a smile but fell short. He approached you and you did your best to hide your flinch when he took your wrist. Red stained your skin and you heard the sickening stabbing again. "Sorry," you mumbled, "I should have done something to- to try to make him leave, or-"

Michael cut you off with a harsh tug on your arm. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes behind the mask, your own wide in confusion. He just stared you down, only gripping you tighter when you tried to pull away.

His silent question felt loud in the little kitchen, even if he said nothing. "I'm… I'll be okay." But you weren't sure if you were telling that to him or yourself. "It was inevitable. I- I just didn't think it would be so soon. But, um, I knew I was… I knew I was going to be sticking with you. Partners, right?"

You didn't wait for any type of response, gesturing to his jumpsuit. "Lets, um, get you into clean clothes, yeah?"

Michael didn't budge.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he lifted his hand towards your face, dragging a bloody finger down your cheek and marveled at the way it stained your skin. A red to match his own,

And as quickly as he came, he left. His footfalls were heavy as he went up to the bathroom and left you floundering in the kitchen. You broke from your trance only when you heard the shower running. Swallowing, you followed his trail upstairs to collect his bloody clothes. You could only hope the blood was fresh enough to come out easy.

When you passed by Mayhem's food dish, you winced at the memory of your cat's blood streaked across the house. You filled his bowls and set them outside, hoping the prospect of dinner would entice him home. 

It was the best you could do, really…

The cops came two days later. When no one on the force had seen or heard from him in a few days, they'd come by to check. It wasn't hard to play up your distress. The five stages of grief had hit you harder than expected. On the first day, you'd just yelled at Michael, slamming your fists into his chest as he watched you curiously. You'd wondered to yourself after sobbing over breakfast how he'd felt after his sister died. You'd only ever heard stories but you wanted to ask him.

"We found him off a backroad down the way with an older woman in the car," the officer interviewing you asked. "Do you have any idea what that was about?"

You swallowed and shook your head. "He, um, he mentioned he got a call from Gladys. That, uh, Myers was outside her house so- so he told me he was going to take her to a hotel and then go back to work." Your voice trembled as you spoke. "H-he'd been working so much, I-" 

The officer gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry, kid." 

Michael was easily named the killer so you weren't even considered a suspect. What they didn't know was that he was taking this opportunity while the police were busy to kill again, letting out his frustrations that had been building up. 

He hadn't left you alone since your dad had died. Always hovering in doorways or your wrist if you were close enough. You knew Michael well enough at this point to know he didn't necessarily feel bad for what he did. But he was certainly capable of fearing your reaction. You could easily turn him in now, all wound up emotions like a ticking time bomb.

But you didn't. You were partners. A pact now sealed in your father's blood

Once the police left, you wanted to get out of the house. It all felt too suffocating. You just needed a moment without Michael's eyes on you, if such a thing existed. So you'd gotten dressed into proper clothes and went into town. You knew the whole town would be looking at you so you tried to keep yourself presentable while still looking a wreck.

Which wasn't hard, after everything that happened.

News reports of your dad's false crime scene would be all over the news in a day. All over the televisions, newspapers, and your dad's police buddies would be sharing stories in bars over drinks. You felt sick at the knowledge that he'd had a life outside you and your little bubble of fake domesticity with a serial killer.

It all felt like a huge reality check that left you stumbling like a drunk on the curbside.

You snapped back to your body as you stared emptily at some crummy greeting cards in the little general store. You'd been walking the aisles with no clear goal in mind and many of the other patrons simply let you pass with pitiful smiles that made your skin crawl. "I should've looked at the fridge…" You mumbled to no one.

"Hey." A soft voice interrupted your train of thought and you gave a glance over your shoulder. Laurie Strode, dressed in all black like she was attending a funeral. Maybe she was - a funeral for the town. You knew the paranoia of Michael stalking her never really went away and you felt a little bad for her. A part of you wished you could reassure her.

“Oh, um, hi.” You stuttered inelegantly. “What- um-“

“I’m sorry,” she gave you a sorrowful look. You were getting pretty sick of those. “I heard about your dad… Michael is ruthless.”

You swallowed around a lump building in your throat. “Y-yeah. I hope, um, you’re doing okay too.” You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren’t sure if it came out like a grimace.

Laurie just laughed, no joy behind her tight smile. “I’ll survive. Always do.”

You said your polite goodbyes and you left her, now even more uneasy. It was jarring to be reminded that life existed outside your little house in the forest, that Michael's actions had consequences that spread far beyond just you.

It made you wonder if Michael’s intentions were what you thought they were. He’d never leave Haddonfield. Not willingly. He’d continue killing with or without you in his life.

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

Your dad's funeral was mostly uneventful. A few of his work friends came to console you but you denied their company when you went to the cemetery. Your dad had told you many times when you were young that, when he died, he wanted to be poured into water used to help grow flowers on your late mothers grave. It had struck you as odd then but now you understood.

Guilt still ate at you. He'd probably haunt you if he didn't get to be reunited with your mom in some way, so you'd bought some daisies - her favorite, according to him - and brought them with his ashes and a bottle of water. Haddonfield's graveyard was nothing spectacular, just rows and rows of headstones. Some newer with fresh flowers and photos, some older and covered in moss and dirt. The forgotten ones always made your heart clench.

You pointedly kept your head down when you passed Judith Myers' grave. Her parents had a joint headstone beside her, a spot they'd reserved for themselves a year after she'd died. According to stories, they'd believed Michael deserved nothing but cremation. No tombstone, no funeral, just death in silence.

The fate of the Myers family had been a horrible story. Even after their son was shipped off to Smith's Grove, the family still received harsh criticisms for what they'd done. While Michael's actions were certainly the focus, some people still believed the parents had some sway in it or had influenced his behavior. He'd only been a little boy, after all. A possibly mentally ill, neglected child whose parents had, allegedly, favored Judith to the point Michael acted out.

A car crash killed them, according to the news. You weren't sure. The timings had been too close and their funerals had been closed caskets. But you'd been too young to really care about that sort of thing. Now, though, you were curious. It felt like you'd get answers somehow if you knew. Regardless, Michael was left without guardianship and became a ward of the state, locked away in a hospital for fifteen years. At first, the town didn't know what to think of him. The poor, unstable boy who now had no one waiting for him if he ever got out. Many villainized him, of course, but some wanted to see him make a full recovery. They saw a traumatized child who needed help.

It was only after Michael broke out of Smith’s Grove and killed again that public opinion on him changed.

You pushed those thoughts away and focused on kneeling before your mothers grave. Your fingers were still damp from the wet earth you'd pulled out as you'd dug a little hole for the flowers all on autopilot. The little flowers looked nice, spots of white and yellow against mucky browns and greens. This wasn't that different from gardening, you thought to yourself as you added the water into the jar of your father's ashes. Not that different at all.

It felt a bit weird. But it was his wish. After everything you'd done, the least you could do was honor that. Besides, you didn’t really think you could cope with having the jar of his ashes in the house you’d let him die in. So you poured the water over the flowers, dirt under your nails as you showered them graciously.

You'd never made a habit of talking to your mom's grave. Your dad did it a few times and you'd seen people doing it before but there was just no appeal to you. Talking to air felt weird and you weren't exactly going to start now. You'd never known your mom, she didn't need to hear your stories.

She’d died when you were young so it wasn't like you knew her. The concept of a mother meant more to you than who she specifically did. When you were growing up, sometimes you'd feel a longing absence that she wasn't there but the woman buried beneath your feet still meant nothing to you. A stranger whose photos lined the walls of your dad's bedroom - photos you would probably store in the attic. Like you'd never really known them. A part of your dad died with your mom anyways so the symbolism felt right.

He’d always go on and on about how much you looked like her, how similar you two were, that sort of crap. Now, staring at her headstone, you wondered what she’d think of you.

The feeling of eyes on you has become commonplace for you now. An is-ness rather than a concern. So you didn't even bother lifting your head. Just slumped forward, cross-legged, and picking at the dirt under your nails, flicking it at the daisies. "Do you ever miss them?" You asked aloud. You knew Michael was close enough to hear, especially since you were alone. "Your parents, I mean. I doubt you miss your sister too much. I mean, I heard what you did with her headstone when you killed those high schoolers." The bitterness in your tone was not missed but it didn't feel right to put words in his mouth.

"I'm still trying to decide how I feel." You sighed, poking at soft petals. "I never knew my mother so I can't miss her. She wasn't part of my life, only her ghost was. But I don't know how I feel about my dad dying. It always felt like I was competing with her for his affection. He loved her so much and could barely spare me a passing glance…" You swallowed and your throat clicked. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd have been happier if I had died and she'd lived.

If Michael Myers had to be the one to hear your confessions, at least you knew he wouldn't tell anyone.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled. "It's weird. I haven't decided if I hate him for that yet. If I hate him at all, even." When you looked up, Michael was staring down at you, face hidden behind the mask. You almost envied his ability to simply hide his feelings away. You'd never been able to avoid wearing your heart on your sleeve. "Do you ever think about if your parents wished it had been you instead of Judith?"

The silence felt suffocating and you broke into a helpless sob. The kind of crying that you did when no one was around and it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. Michael sat down beside you in the dirt, silent companionship through your tears.

He didn't say anything. But he didn't have to.

[scremogirl]

★♑︎☆彡𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎✪𝐍!☆♏︎★

Haikyuu boys when they have a crush on you (Ushijima, Kyotani, Iwazumi, Aone, Bokuto)

Bokuto

There was probably a handful of ways Bokuto could have first noticed you. A; been friends before he even realized his feelings. B; been one of the managers on the volleyball team. Or, C; being a classmate mate of his, a deskmate maybe.

Regardless of how he meets you, he knows you're the one for him. Always greets you with his signature smile and a giant hug.

He always asks you to come to his games and practices; regardless if you are the manager or not. He wants to make you feel included, sharing the thing he loves the most with you. Or just wants to show off and see your face when he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow.

Would show up at your house randomly when you didn't come to school. You didn't answer his texts or calls so he figured something must be wrong. Your parents love him so much that they just let him in.

“Hey, hey, hey! I was wondering why you weren't at school today. Your mom told me you were sick so I brought over some soup and snacks to make you feel better!” you sit up from your bed in absolute bewilderment. You look and feel like shit and here he is telling you how bored he was today without you.

“Oh!” he suddenly gasps, perking up. He walks over to his backpack and pulls out a folder. It's the Trig notes from today, his handwriting is big and sloppy, but it’s the thought that counts.

He hands it to you with his chest puffed out in pride, Man…he really does look like an owl. Cute.

When he's made bad plays and gets into one of his moods, Akashi will call you over. Complaining about how he won’t talk to anyone and just sits under the bleachers hunched over. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he turns around. When he sees you he instantly becomes better, asking *begging* you to stay. That you're his good luck charm and is surely to make all his spikes if you are here to cheer him on.

Will also *beg* ask you to wear his number to games. Will look into the crowd, locking eyes with you followed by a big thumbs up.

Aone

It was a busy day this evening; seeing as it was a couple weeks before Christmas. Meaning, that the trains were packed and full of people. You missed the bus you would usually take on your way home. It was getting dark out and you wouldn’t dare wait for the next bus to show.

You dashed your way to the nearby train station panting and out of breath. You made it just in time to catch one too. Hoping on you see that every place was full. Except for one.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity you scooted your way through the crowd and sat down. It was silent besides the usual businessmen making calls and children playing games on their parents' phones. After a while, you felt eyes on you. Craning your neck up to an almost uncomfortable degree you lock eyes with someone. He was wearing your school uniform. Oh, you know him! He was the middle blocker for your school's volleyball team.

You shot him a sweet smile and a tiny wave. His eyes widened and a blush crept on his pale face. It looked as if he was about to wave back but just then the bell signaling your stop rang. Ever since then, he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

Would leave candies and heartfelt notes on your desk and in your locker

Would try to catch a glimpse of you on his way to the train station, sitting at your bus stop.

Futakuchi notices all of his friend’s strange behavior and forces him to come to talk to you. And that's how you two became friends.

Didn't talk much but was always such a great listener, remembering the smallest things about you. Such as the classes you were struggling in; offering to tutor you and give notes. Keeping rubber bands on his writs just in case (sorry if you have short hair/ are bald 😅). Would even skip practice to walk you to the bus, always wanting to make sure you're safe.

I LOVE HIM SM; people need to write for him more 🙄

Iwaizumi

Very straight forward with his affections towards you.

It’ll take him a while to come to terms with the way he feels about you but when he does he’s not trying to hide it.

The rest of his friends would tease him about it but he’ll just brush it off because there’s no reason for him to be embarrassed about the way he feels.

Like Aone, he will walk you home everyday no matter how late it is or what he has to do. Will buy you all the snacks you want from the vending machine. Will make sure you're doing your best physically and mentally. Would force you to drink water and eat a balanced meal when he notices any signs of fatigue or famine.

Will convince you to go on morning runs with him before school. This one you're not so sure about but after all he does for you, you thought you could thug it out.

“Come on (Y/n), you can do this just a little ways to go,” he says, jogging backwards to try and stay at the same pace as you. At this point you're huffing and puffing for air bent over. He lays you on your back before going ahead of you. He looks back at you with a smirk and this mischievous glint in his eyes before speaking.

“If you finish this run maybe I’ll treat you to more than just breakfast,” throwing a cheeky wink behind his shoulder before jogging off again. You’ve never ran that fast in your life. Maybe if you're a little slick wit it, you can convince him to carry you back home.

Kyotani

A little rough around the edges to say the least.

Surprisingly, unlike his upper upperclassmen, he actually realizes his feelings pretty quickly. Noting the *not so* subtle changes in his behavior when he’s around you compared to everyone else.

He’s never been intune with his emotions, so it’ll take a while for him to make a move.

In my opinion I don’t think he’s the “mean to you because he likes you” type; he’ll most likely just avoid you if he doesn’t know you like that or just keep his feelings to himself if you’re already his friend.

Another anonymous secret admirer. Would leave food, water bottles, keychains, stuffed toys, and things he knows you like laying around for you to find.

Will try and discretely spend time with you. Wouldn’t outright say he wants to and will get all blushy and confrontational if you tease him about it.

“Hey,” you here a deep voice call out to you, already knowing who it is, you turn around with a big smile.

“Hey, Kenny! what’s up?” He makes eye contact with you for what seems like a split second before turning away with pink dusting his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I-uh… there’s… there’s this new movie coming out next Saturday. You said you hadn’t been to the theaters in a while… so, I bought tickets,” he explains, pulling out two tickets from his back pocket, still not looking at you.He shoves one in your direction before talking again.

You just stare at him with wide eyes and slightly parted mouth. He turns around after not getting an answer but as he opens his mouth to say something you fly into his arms.

“Thank you, Ken, really,”

“Ye-yea, don’t mention it”

Would treat you to ramen after you’ve done really well on a test. You have a go to spot, a little mom and pop shop. He’s been going there ever since he was little, so it means a lot to him and is a big sign of his love for you bringing you there. The owners always ask when you two would get together.

You’d just laugh it off while he blushes and stutters about how you guys are just friends. Though the owners can see the disappointment in his eyes at his own words.

Loves having late night convos with you, either at a park or on the phone. Just like how intimate it feels.

Seriously cares about you and tries to tone down his “mad dog” persona. Is aware of how abrasive he can be and doesn’t wanna scare you off. All in all, he embraces the state of vulnerability he can be in with you.

Ushijima

I absolutely hate when people paint him out to be some sort of blunt, unemotional, proper guy.

He’s not dumb. He knows the signs when someone has a crush. Sure he can be a little blunt in the way he expresses his emotions but that’s just because he feels there’s no reason to lie about how he feels. He’s not a robot.

Wouldn’t just come up to you and say he had a crush on you. He knows that’ll throw you a little off guard; he wants to make sure you like him too.

Not much of a talker, but knows how to make conversation. Would purposely start one because he knows you’ll end up getting off topic and start ranting. He loves the sound of your voice and the passion in your face when you talk.

Another one who invites you to games and practices. Would try to convince *demand* you to become the manager of his team.

“But, I don’t know anything about it besides the things you’ve told me,” you try to explain yourself with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter. Coach and I will give you a run down of everything if you need it. I wouldn’t mind explaining it to you,” he seems so confident in the fact that you’ll say yes. Tilting his head up a little higher, broad shoulders shifting back slightly, standing tall.

“Are you sure? I just don’t wanna be a burden to you or the rest of the team if I can’t get up to speed-,”

“You could never be,” he cuts you off

“Everyone wants you there… I want you there. So please, consider it”.

GUESS WHOS THE NEW MANGER!🤪

A little worried that a relationship would cut into his time with volleyball. His indifference would cause him to be distant for a while, which leads to you thinking he led you on. The more you think about it though, you know Ushijima isn’t the type to do that so he either lost feelings, or something’s wrong. You know it’s the latter but you can’t help overthinking it.

Would come up to you with a rose one day before you left school. Looks you in your eyes before apologizing about how he’s been acting. All he wants is you to reassure him that his career path won’t get in the way of you two.

Hope y’all enjoyed; let me know if you wanna part two but with different characters or in a different fandom (make sure to look at my ML). Bye guys!

-Love, Sos❤️

[astrasng]

thinking about..

bf!sumin who points out outfits in different shop-windows as you two walk beside each other, hand in hand, laughing and giggling about his crazy outfit ideas as he goes on and on.

bf!sumin whose first is always you. he wakes up and you're the first thing on his mind, he sends you his SUSUTD pics first, he buys you food first as he's done with work and can finally go home to you.

bf!sumin who makes you different kind of clothes, drawing little details about you and your relationship, so whenever you wear them, he's the only thing on your mind. :)

bf!sumin who would call you on a random day just so he can hear your voice and paint it down however he imagines it. because he knows you so well,he paints down your mood of the day, practically drowning in feelings as he tries to make it accurately.

bf!sumin who takes secret photos of you with his camera. you swear everytime you're in his room, there's a new photo printed out of you in a frame, sometimes a picture of the two of you holding hands or walking down a beach.

bf!sumin who lets you put temporary hello kitty tattoos on him. you're bored and see his back not blocked by his shirt? you stick bunch of different pink tattoos on his skin, him groaning when you force him to stay put as you work the paper on his back. sometimes even decorating his arms with the leftover tattoos.

bf!sumin who loves going to museums with you, showing you his perspective of things and art. walking around while semi-audibly explaining to you why he adores some works in the gallery.

NSFW

bf!sumin is the type who buys you any kind of lingerie you want. he even suprises you with them, sometimes buying all kinds of toys just to go with something:)

bf!sumin is an ass man. the man can't take his eyes off of your backside whenever you ride him in reversed, enjoying that he has access to gather your hair in one of his hands as the other grips your cheek harsly.

bf!sumin is the type who lures you into spreading your legs infront of a mirror in your room after being a brat, making you touch yourself as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. darling, you think you deserve all of me after this behavior? think again~ kissing your skin oh so lovely as he enjoys the sound of your cries.

as i mentioned, bf!sumin is the type whose first is always you. he waits, even restrains himself from the pleasure just so he can make sure you're the one who's cumming first. feeling you tigthen around his cock as he moans into your shoulder out of relief, letting himself cum on the spot right then and there.

bf!sumin is the type who eventually fucks you infront of that mirror, putting one of your legs on the dresser next to you so he can dive into you deeper. in the mirror you can see his hands sliding around your shoulders and neck, softly griping on you so he can rut back into you again and again.

bf!sumin who make outs with you in a dressing room next to the dance studio, quieting your whines and cries with his hand and mouth when he lowers himself on his knees and dives into your sopping cunt, making you immediately arch your back and beg for more.

bf!sumin at the end of the day, is the type whose favorite is when you're both lazyly making sweet love to one to another after a long week of not seeing each other.

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[hxltic]

Hello! I have a request!

Could you do something where Kenma isn't really giving the female reader any attention because he's busy streaming so the reader sneaks under his desk where the viewer's can't see her and she pleasures him until he eventually cums down her throat?

:) I un-ironically love writing bjs

The shared house was silent anytime after 5 o’clock. Kuroo had just left— his afternoon business management classes calling him in, and Bokuto’s practice overcrowded his schedule to the point where he went twice a day with some gym sessions in between. That leaves you alone with Kenma in your 4 bedroom home off campus that was supposedly his father’s apology gift.

The bills are mainly kept satisfied with Kenma’s profit as his streaming allows you all to live as you do. Of course, there was a sense of independency by your own jobs regardless. There has probably been twice where everyone was in the living room at once, but it’s like there’s a tacit agreement each of you have your own goals.

You can’t be mad at the man for being busy when his job supports his friends and himself.

Kenma has been your friend, now boyfriend, for the longest out of all of them, next in line being Kuroo. Kenma took computer engineering and coding related classes, despite having already perfected building PC’s just out of pure experience. The work is hard. You’ve seen it.

You’ve witnessed him stress first hand about a single error in a strenuous, long line of codes—and you ask him why he doesn’t stop doing it if it bothers him to the extent it does. His determination has grown for activities he enjoys over the years; 12 year old him would have quit.

Kenma’s way to deal with stress is isolation. The entire day he’s been crammed in his room, and with being the only other person in the house majority of the time, you bring it upon yourself to feed him. He gets focused and forgets to eat.

The reminder has you clicking your Ipad off from whatever distraction show you had playing. It was so boring most of the days, Netflix couldn’t even fulfill you. You toss the covers off yourself, then bounce downstairs into the kitchen.

It was so quiet that your feet patting against the floor filled the air. To cure the ennui you felt, you’d take the time to have fun with this culinary experience.

By the time there was fluffy white flour messily coating the kitchen and dishes stacked like game cards in the sink, your dish was plated for two. Maybe you’d keep him some company?

Careful not to fall up the stairs, you prod at his door in attempt to knock with one hand. Somehow you turn the knob successfully.

The fan cuts through the air, every click of Kenma’s pen accompanied with a glance to the paper beside him. He won’t even look up at the waitress bearing goods.

“Hi Ken,” you grab his attention but his slim eyes only dart up at the smell of cuisine. “Have you eaten?”

You know the answer. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when he shakes his head the usual strands that follow aren’t there. You place the plate on his desk, next to the two cans of some energy drink and a diet Dr. Pepper.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly. There was a hint of edge to the sound, like he hadn’t used his voice all day.

“Mhmm.”

You turn on your heels to his bed, then sit criss cross as it squeaks and dips. “Do you mind if I just stay in here? It gets lonely in the house.”

To be honest, you forget he’s there sometimes.

“I’m kinda busy,” he replies. He loves you, and your presence, but he just knows he won’t be able to focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

The pout you flaunt deepens, “You’ve been stuck in here for almost a week now! Come out; I miss you Ken.”

He refrains himself from turning to look at you because he knows when he weighs his options, you’ll always come out on top. The chances of you getting picked multiply with your pout.

“Soon, I just need to finish this.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t even have a valid response for that, so he forces the spoon into his mouth. You’re actually a great cook, but since you all eat so much takeout, nobody’s at the dinner table at the same time to enjoy it.

You huff and negotiate to just sit in silence, as long as you’re in his presence. As long as you know he’s there.

This only lasts about fifteen minutes before you’re whining for him again. You completely understand the heavy load of schoolwork, and that it has to get done, but he genuinely has been at it for so long it cannot be healthy.

“I’m done,” he announces coincidentally, his soft fingers coming up to brush a tendril of hair back as he gathers his things on the desk into a neat pile.

Your head perks up like a puppy at attention. He arises from his chair after closing the laptop, pulling his rubber band from the hair connected at his nape as he steps towards you laying on his bed. You giggle in expectancy when he smiles gingerly at you, reaches his arms forward around your feet to plant his hands on the duvet, then crawls up your body. The hair tie wraps around his wrist to join all the other colorful bracelets and bands.

He makes you swoon by just giving you attention.

His hands grew into proportion as he aged, so now they were relatively large. Large enough to connect at your hips as he kisses his way up.

Stomach, chest, then an abundance on your chin and around your face, just for his thumb and index finger to hold your cheeks in position for his softer, slower kiss right on your lips.

You wrap your arms around him like he’d just disintegrate any second. You can feel his body slump, leaving you with most of his weight to carry and his head withdrawing from the kiss to between your breasts. With one hand massaging the round muscle, Kenma was in his element.

Black with barely-there blonde crowds your vision. His soft skin felt warm as you two lay intertwined in the still house, and if you were to fall asleep it would greatly help that Kenma never keeps the big light on. He moans in satisfactory below you.

You lift your hand to rest over his face, the bigger part of your thumb gliding gently over his cheek.

“I love you,” he mutters.

“I love you too Ken.”

After a while of Kenma following your heartbeat and breathing, you would’ve guessed he was asleep. He clarifies he isn’t when he groans lowly.

“I have to get up.”

The words rest tensely in the air, and maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him, he’ll lay there and forget about it.

He attempts to raise himself from you, politely grabbing your hand and locking your fingers when he comes to a hover above. His pink lips come to the corner of yours as you blink open your eyes.

Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to be with you, here, resting—but he hasn’t streamed in a solid week because of school. You were completely his priority though, so he would make sure to give you equal attention as his stream.

He finds the little willpower to come off you and the bed. He was genuinely hoping you’d stay there and sleep peacefully, that way he’ll come back to join you and it will feel like he never left.

He flips a blanket over your body before he strolls to his setup usually beaming with bright lights. He takes a seat, making sure to turn the brightness down of everything, refraining from playing music, and ultimately deciding not to turn on any light not connected to his PC anyway.

As much as you hate that he’s not cuddled up next to you right now, you love the fact that he’s a steamer overall because he looks so damn hot doing it. Especially the way his muscles on his forearm flex as he quickly types or plays. His hair that’s usually up is down, because he isn’t wearing his mic.

Or like the way every now and then he’ll pop a piece of gum in his mouth and manspread in his gaming chair to shoot a quick message or check his feed. Or like the way he’s so attent, making call-outs, or whenever he gets angry his brows furrow the slightest bit and his face displays whatever he’s actually thinking. You find it hilarious when his eyes roll.

At some point, he hears you come up behind him into view, and his head relaxes into your two hands sliding up his neck to his jaw. You crouch into the screen and the chat immediately multiples. It’s too quick to read them all. Knowing his viewers, Kenma takes the responsibility of closing it with the click of a button, so fast that it seems he never even did it.

“Cracked, 130,” he calls.

You stood there for a moment to watch him play. He and his team beat the level, game, you don’t know, but he releases his focus from the screen and mindlessly cracks his knuckles.

A donation comes in that’s read aloud. Kenma tenses, but you’re excited to hear it.

“jump1nnit donates $70. ‘girl to girl, is it big?’”

Kenma’s head drops back in your hands, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. Where were his mods?

All you were thinking about was how much Kenma was actually earning. 70 dollars in a single donation? How many of these does he get a day? How much more do people pay that’s over 70 when you aren’t here?

You shake these questions away. You knew he was famous. This was not new information; his fans see you sometimes in the background, and they adore you. It’s why your instagram has so many followers and people saying outrageous things in your comments. Ken begs you not to check them.

You find it amusing honestly. God knows what he’s being sent despite his DM’s or what they’re saying in his chats. You know there’s girls all over the world after him, but he doesn’t entertain them, so you don’t either. You trust him completely.

Brought back to reality, you look down at Kenma.

He starts, “Are you-“

To rile up the scene, you nod at the monitor with a mischievous smirk on your face. You bend and kiss his forehead.

“Can I sit right here?” You ask quickly, already pulling up his desk stool because he has no reason to say no. He takes your momentary absence to mute the computer.

“Yeah. yeah, Definitely.”

The blonde’s tone is a little off, but you chalk it up to what just happened. He was just surprised you’d actually respond. He ignores them so he doesn’t get demonetized.

So you sit next to him on your phone playing games, or watching him, or laying on his shoulder. It made it a little difficult for him to play with the last one, but he doesn’t mind. He places a kiss to your forehead, matching earlier actions, and the way you two looked at each other after will definitely reel in some fan edits.

You return to gaming on your phone until you drop it. It tumbles down and under the PC, into the jungle of wires below.

At least with everything included in the setup, that’s what you expect to see, but they’re all neatly accounted for. The seat moves back against the carpet to accommodate for your body, the space you’ve created to retrieve the device. The problem is, you and Kenma occupy this space. You won’t fit.

Kenma heard your phone drop, so he had an idea why you’re down there. He even chuckled a little. Once you pick up the phone, you use his thigh as leverage to turn yourself around, causing him to flinch, and immediately an idea pops into your head.

You could stay down here.

You press the heart of your palm into him once more, the same reaction procreating ideas like a lightbulb.

His voice from above makes another callout.

The lightness of your fingertips glide across his thigh and up to his waist, slipping past the barrier of the thin shirt he’s wearing. Kenma is not ticklish, but his abdomen turns concave to your touch.

By now he has concluded what is happening, or going to happen, and just the thought has him hardening in front of you. Of course it’s something he’s thought about. He hasn’t asked because it feels unnatural—like you would only do it because he suggested it.

His poker face remains stone cold, but the rest gives him away. With every touch you only got closer. You trail your whole hand up the shirt, running this one along the dips of his pale skin, while the other goes back and forth along his thigh. Inwards, then back out. Your phone was long forgotten.

You run the length of your fingers over his center sneakily before meeting both hands in the middle and fiddling with his waistband. He shivers, but continues to play.

He hadn’t been purposely edging himself, and he definitely knows that you would help him whenever he asked, but with all the schoolwork piled on top of him, it never crossed his mind. It was now though, and sensitivity was at its highest.

“No, why would you do that; that’s stupid,” Kenma replies to what you assume is a donation. The technological voice isn’t there anymore for you to hear.

The tips of your nails dive past every ounce of clothing settled at his hips.

He shifts in his seat, whether to allow you to pull the band down just enough or to calm his nerves, you don’t know, but the opportunity was right in front of your face. Literally.

You don’t even do anything but hold his length before you start the up and down motions. It’s enough to turn him on more, having him grow in your hand. You can’t imagine the faces he’s making while his viewers’ minds were already polluted.

“Keep going, push,” he exclaims. Voice still soft, but with some sense of urgency.

He was not speaking to you, but you listen anyway, and do as he says. Maybe you could play a game: see how long it takes before he realizes you’re taking orders.

With this, you stroke him a little faster, then run your fleshy thumb over his tip. It began dripping, a single bud threatening to fall. After swiping it away, you disperse what little you could, then wrap your plush lips around his head.

He wasn’t expecting it right after your slow pace.

“Ugh, fuck- third party.”

The groan he emitted was covered quickly by a call, as if that’s what “frustrated” him.

You pop off as quickly as you came, spread your saliva, and now slide your enclosed hand down his cock steadily. Silky smooth, it took no energy to glide along him. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his thigh through the cotton.

“Down, he’s under and one shot.”

You jerk him off as his breathing barely picks up, occasionally coming down to wet him some more, but you see a significant difference when your hand consistently twists just the tip. You’d swirl your tongue around the reddening, most sensitive part of him before dropping even farther to take his balls in your mouth.

You tug and pull harmlessly.

“Hmm...”

Despite what was going on, the streamer was clever with how he hid it.

He asks, “Hey, what do y’all want to hear?”

The viewers were astonished they were being asked; Kenma has previously told them he likes his music and would play whatever he felt like hearing. He did a stream for song recommendations and half of it was him hating on their music and the other half was his viewers attempting to find songs he would like.

Regardless, he unmuted the sound on his computer and turned on the playlist, only slightly louder than usual.

You took this opportunity to actually wrap your lips around his cock, not having to worry about the sounds. You start on the slower side but it didn’t take long to get comfortable. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you jerked off.

His abdomen showcased whatever his face wouldn’t, stuttering every now and then with his hips correcting their position. You brought the wet hand to his balls once more, and attempted to fit all of him down your throat. There was a deep sigh above you.

You closed your eyes and went again, trying to go deeper. You didn’t gag, but your throat made sounds that was enough implication of what was going on. That’s okay though. Some random band one of his mods recommended was playing.

Once more, you tried to go deeper, actually sputtering this time, but once you got past the uncomfortableness of it all, you could go the same depth over and over. You did, breathing through your nose. He could hear your throat, but chat couldn’t. If they could, they would be saying something.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s on me,” he huffs, “I’m gonna twist around to cover.”

You remove yourself, partially to breathe, and take two hands to twist on top of each other in opposite directions. His belly button caves in with some more muscles, pure evidence of his pleasure.

This was the second he knew what you were doing. What game you were playing.

If you wanted to play, he could too.

“Where is she?” he reads chat calmly. “I think she’s downstairs eating.”

Was it calm enough—you’re not sure, because he was fidgeting excessively in the leaning chair.

The double entendre has you giggling silently. With a deep breath, you’re back down on him again. It’s not long until you sputter.

“Do you want me to tell her to come back up?” You hear him spit out quickly.

You do as he says, but not without the price of your fingers doubling speed at his head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Hold on.”

With quickness, he mutes and turns his camera off.

He was sweating and physically overwhelmed. Pushing back on his heels, his chair rolls from under the table with you following, finally in his sight. He could already imagine how you looked.

Red lips. Glowing face. Glossy eyes, smiling and happy. You were ethereal. Your hands are working him, but now with his cock down your throat too? Oh my god.

He held a soft touch at your cheek and caressed your face with his thumb. Picking up speed, you smile.

The other hand of his would do the same, brushing a loose stand of hair behind your ear. Faster.

“Just like that,” he breathes.

“Mhmm?” you deepthroat him.

His head drops back involuntarily. His mouth does the same. The heavy breaths that he was holding from the stream let loose.

One last look at your flushed features and-

He groans heavily, adam’s apple bobbing and cock tightening. Skin usually pale but red with desire, he stills.

You close your eyes. It was so fulfilling with your throat stretched and his hands on either side of your plush face.

Warmth seeps past your tongue and down the cavern. It causes you to choke but Kenma definitely doesn’t mind. His sounds flow into your ears, plus some faint praise as he soon begins to release from his high.

You couldn’t taste anything as you slowly raise yourself from him, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and pink, but the taste just barely started to form once it caught your tongue on the way down. You swallow anyway—it wasn’t bad.

You use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes and breathe freely. You lay your cheek on the driest part of his pants, even though you’ll have to get up. You just aren’t ready to see the red wilts on your knees.

“You are amazing,” Kenma catches his breath. He looks back down with his eyes glossed over and tired, but he still runs his finger over your wet lip. You softly kiss it.

. .

“Are you getting back on?” You climb into his fluffy bed, throwing the covers back.

Kenma shakes his head and follows after you in a fresh new set. He grabs the covers and returns them over you both, pushing his hair back and holding you close.

©️ hxltic

[samfkiszka]

Paper Bag: Chapter Three

Vampire!Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Hunger Hurts, and I want him so bad, oh, it kills...

★・・・・・・★

Forced to move back to your father's hometown the summer before your first year at college, you had resided yourself to the fact that the next few months were going to suck.

But that was before you were reacquainted with Danny next door. And before you got a brand new job at a dusty old bookstore run by an eccentric old woman. And before Jake walked into said bookstore, poised to turn your entire world upside down.

Warnings (for this chapter): SMUT!! 18+ ONLY! Oral (female receiving), fingering, Jake being a slut, you know how it is. Cursing. Cheesy writing. Allusions to him biting you (it doesn’t actually happen though). Seriously NSFW, MINORS DNI.

Word count: 5,782

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Masterlist

taglist form if you're interested <3

★・・・・・・★

Several days had passed with no word from Jake or Danny. Danny had stayed true to his word. He wasn’t going to protect you anymore. He stopped walking you to and from work everyday, and despite your anger towards him you missed your nightly chats. You also missed the safety you had felt walking beside him as the sun began to set. Besides that, work grew boring without Jake’s usual visit. How you had managed to fuck everything up in one night was truly beyond you. In less than twenty-four hours you had pushed away the only two people that even remotely cared about you in town. It didn’t matter what Jake was now; it was clear to you that he too had no interest in seeing you anymore. 

You turned even more irritable as days without word from Jake, or Danny, went by. Even Mrs. Palmer noticed their absences from the bookstore. Most likely because she noticed your sour mood. And much like your mood, the weather grew increasingly worse as the days passed. You spent more than one night wringing out damp clothes after making it back home and combing through tangled, soaked hair. 

You fell into a routine. Wake up. Go to work alone. Work a boring shift. Walk home in the rain, alone. Wake up. Go to work alone. Work a boring shift. Walk home, soaked by a torrential downpour, alone. No Danny. No Jake. And it continued like this for much longer than you wanted it to. 

Even your father noticed Danny’s absence, although he seemed moderately pleased that he wouldn’t have to deal with the overly cheery intruder. He didn’t mention Jake, but you were sure he was simply glad to not have to discuss boys any longer. 

Two weeks went by before he finally came back into the store. It took you by surprise– he didn’t quite look like himself. His eyes sported deep purple blooms underneath them, he cheeks seemed more sunken than usual, and his skin was nearly an entire shade paler— if that was possible. Despite all this, he still looked entirely too beautiful for your liking. The anger you had been harboring over his disappearance faded momentarily. Much like your inability to be afraid of him, it seemed to be just as difficult to be angry at him. And it was nice to see him again. It was as if he had never left, as if that night had happened only yesterday. 

But you had to keep up a front. There was no way you’d let him get away with this now. 

You kept your attention on the book you had been reading to pass the time, trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of his eyes bearing down onto you. His boots clicked against the linoleum floors as he slowly made his way to the front desk.

“I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. It’s unfair of me to disappear without warning like that. Please forgive me.” 

You glance up at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. He looked truly sorry, and the begging tone in his voice only pushed you closer to forgiving him. It’s not like you could stay mad at him for very long. 

“Say something. Please,” he begged. 

“Can you at least tell me where you went?” 

He glanced down, wincing. That was enough of an answer for you. Above anything, you were tired of people refusing to give you answers.

“But, I know you know. At least a little bit of the truth. Will… will you let me explain? Please?” He rushed out. 

You nod, wondering if somehow your bullshit theories from before were true. As the week had passed you had realized how absolutely laughable Jake being a vampire was. A rash moment of very idiotic thinking. That’s what you chalked it up to. A bout of temporary insanity that Danny fed into out of jealousy. What he had to be jealous of, you had no clue. But Jake’s words from the last time you had seen him seemed to ring true. 

Jake stood in the corner, eyes towards the floor as you quickly closed up and bid Mrs. Palmer a swift goodbye. 

He followed behind you quietly as you locked up the store and turned to face him, hands on your hips in an attempt to seem more stern than you really were. 

“Speak.” 

“Where do you want me to start?” He looked utterly defeated as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“What are you?” You asked, as if it was that simple.  

“You know what I am.” 

You scoff, “No. You’re not getting away with this dancing around the subject stuff. Tell me everything.” 

“I’m-” he hesitated, staring at the pavement as he fought the urge to be vague, “I’m a vampire.” 

“Do you- do you eat… people?” You cringe as you ask, feeling even stupider with each passing moment. 

“No. My brother’s and I… only animals,” he clarified. 

“How old are you?” 

“Twenty.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Sixty-eight. I’m really not that old-” 

“How?” 

He glanced around nervously at the darkening sky, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his car– you hadn’t noticed that you were standing right next to where he had parked on the side of the street. 

“Let’s talk about this in here.” 

You nod, sliding into the warm leather seats with a huff. He started driving the opposite direction from your house, but as long as you were getting much needed answers you didn’t mind where he took you. 

“I was… a promising musician,” he chuckled as he began, “I know it sounds stupid, but I was young. I wanted to do something, to be someone. All I was interested in was music. My parents, they wanted me to go off to school. I had dreams, and they had their own, but once they realized how serious I was they supported me. I played in shitty, sketchy dive bars… with my brothers actually. We wanted to be as big as The Beatles, bigger even. Sam played the bass, Josh sang, and I played the guitar. We rotated a few drummers, but never really found our fit. It felt right, being on stage. I mean, I was scared shitless. Half the time I played with my back facing the crowd because I was so terrified,” He chuckled, a wistful looking glazeing over his features.

“I fell in with a bad crowd, I guess. I didn’t notice how different they were from other bands I had met. I didn’t pay attention to the fact that every instinct in my body screamed at me to get away from them. One night, Josh and I got into a huge fight. He found out I was planning on going to Nashville without them. It was selfish, stupid of me to even think about leaving. I was… I wanted to make it. Like, really make it. And this band I had met, they told me this was where I needed to go. So, Josh stormed off, taking Sammy with him. I decided to get wasted. To drown my sorrows, I guess. Ended up in a dark alley behind the bar, nearly bleeding out. Josh told  my family I had gone to Nashville. They had no idea. Who would? 

“I woke up alone. The other band, the one who had changed me, they were gone. I had no idea what I was. All I knew is it felt like there was a monster inside of me. I knew I couldn’t go home, not like that. So, I watched from a distance. I watched my mother and father mourn me, under the assumption that I ran away. I watch my brothers go on without me, harboring some resentment towards me for leaving. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted nothing more than to go to them, to tell them I never would have actually left them. I loved them– I still do. 

“Josh and I were twins. We were… close. He was my best friend. I suppose he still is. Despite being perpetually older than me, he’ll always be my twin. I couldn’t live without him. I wasn’t really living, per se, but it would never be a life without him. I was lonely and bored. It was a moment of weakness, and I’ll regret it forever. But, I turned him. I couldn’t bear the thought of outliving him. I never knew life without him. He never blamed me. He’s always been too forgiving for his own good. 

“And Sam, my baby brother. I never wanted to turn him. Josh and I wanted to protect him. To allow him to live his life as a human, the life he always planned. Despite losing both of us, he seemed to be happy. Lonely, but happy. He thought Josh ran away to find me. He would have eventually, at least. But Sam… he wasn’t miserable like I had been without Josh. I believed he was capable of making it on his own. But… our parents died just a year after I turned Josh, leaving Sam completely alone. We couldn’t watch him live like that, live thinking we had just left him to suffer alone. Not when we could do something. He stopped playing music. He never ended up studying science the way he planned. It seemed like he was giving up. We gave him a second chance at life. I turned to him too. Josh couldn’t do it.” 

“We knew immediately how hard it was going to be to keep Sam in control. Newborn Vampires are tricky. It’s hard– denying your primal instincts. It was easier with Josh. And when I woke up… well, I hated myself so badly I refused to give in to any sort of pleasure. In addition to this, I now had the added burden of reading everyone else's thoughts.” 

“What?” 

“Oh,” he chuckled again, tearing his eyes from the road to glance at you quickly, “yeah. That part. That’s the part they don’t tell you. Sometimes when people are changed their abilities from when they were human become… amplified. I’ve always been very good at reading people, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he explained. 

It all began to make sense. How he was able to answer questions you hadn't asked, how he was always one step ahead of you, how he knew things about you that you had never told him before. You shuddered at the thought of him reading every thought you’ve ever had about him… especially the more sinful ones. The smirk that blessed his perfect lips was not lost on you. 

All you could do was laugh. Hysterically. Hard enough that you had to grip the dashboard to stabilize yourself. Tears pushed past your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You didn’t miss the occasional look of worry Jake passed you while you attempted to calm down. 

“What about your brothers?” You asked in between gasps of air. “Do- do they have powers like you?” 

“They can’t read minds, although I’m sure Josh wishes he could. Sam is very good at controlling emotions. He always had a very good sense of feeling what other people felt. And Josh… Well, Josh can see the future to an extent. On top of the other stuff. When he came to it was a lot easier to control him– he was assaulted by visions of the future. He knew he would have the willpower to avoid killing anyone.” 

“Okay,” you huff, “Read minds. Control emotions. See the future. Other stuff.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m drawn to you in a way I’ve never been drawn to any other human. Or any vampire for that matter.” He slides the car into park. You had been so attuned to his storytelling that you hadn’t noticed him circle around the entire town, finally making it back to your house. “I have developed a sense of self control throughout the years. I don’t find the idea of killing other people appealing, no matter what Danny or anyone else believes. Sure, it’d be safer for you to run from me. You deserve someone who will grow and change with you. Someone who’s heart races at the sight of you. But… I told you before. I can’t stay away from you. If you told me to leave, if you wanted me to go away right now, I would.” 

You remain silent, searching your brain for the right words to say.

“Are you scared?” He asked, worry lacing his voice.

“I’m not scared of you. I never have been. I really like you Jake. I know physically you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, but even when I thought you were human I felt… well I’m sure you know how I felt.” 

“I actually… Well, I really don’t have the best grasp of your thoughts. I can read them, but they’re muddled. I have to focus. It’s like you can actually push me out. No one else has been able to do that. Sometimes I catch you off guard, and I get really clear glimpses. Other times, I just catch the feeling.” 

Your racing heart steadied at this admission. So, he hadn’t really heard the worst of it. 

“Do you at least feel enlightened now?” He asked. 

“I guess. My entire world view has been turned upside down, but sure, enlightened.” 

“Any more questions?” 

“Why didn’t you kiss me the other night?” 

Whatever he had expected you to ask, it wasn’t that. He stammered for a moment, stumbling over his words. 

“I wanted to, God, I’ve never wanted someone more than I want you. But, I’m… scared,” his voice cracked and he felt so utterly human in that moment, “I’ve never been so close to anyone, not like this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You lean across the center console, inching your face closer to his. 

“You do realize how stupid you are? I may be able to resist hurting you from a distance, but when you’re this close-” 

“Just kiss me Jake. I trust you. Please.” Now it was your turn to sound desperate. 

His hand gently cupped your cheek, the cool marble feeling comforting the burning blush that painted your face. 

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to touch you like this. From the moment I met you, all I could think about was this.” 

“Then do it.” 

He slowly pulled you close to him, his lips brushing yours slightly. 

“Our first kiss isn’t going to be in my car,” He whispered, just low enough so that you could barely hear him. He pulled back, a shit eating grin spread across his face. 

You groan, opening your own door and stomping out of the car, ignoring his taunting calls until he quickly caught up to you. He pulled you into his body, his arms enveloping you smoothly. 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t kiss you tonight.” 

Rain was starting to drizzle down, as it had every night before. It picked up just as soon as it started, falling down heavily around the two of you. A drop rolled down his perfect nose, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him to kiss you, to hold you like this forever, to- 

His lips crashed against yours, his wet hair sticking to your face. You grasped at his soaked shirt, ignoring the disgusting, wet, squelching noise it made. The whimper that sounded from him was much more interesting anyway. His body pressed against yours, your clothes sticking together as you moved against him. Your mouth parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Warmth spread across your chest, your heart pounding fervently against his still one. The woodsy scent of whatever cologne he always wore made you dizzy. All of him made you dizzy. You could tell from the sheer desperation in the way he kissed you that he wanted this– no, he needed this– more than you did. Your head was swimming as he pulled back, allowing you to gulp down quick, sharp breaths. 

“Holy fuck,” was all you could manage to get out as his golden eyes bore into yours. 

“I want to see you again. I’m not going to leave you like that anymore. I can’t,” somehow you were able to make out his lilting whisper against the downpour. 

You may have hated the rain before, but fuck were you thankful for it now. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

You nod, unable to speak. You hoped the ear splitting grin that breaking your face was enough for him. He leads you to your door, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead before leaving, his car peeling out towards the flooding streets. 

Your fingers brushed over your lips, the ghost of your kiss still lingering as you watched him leave. You ignore the painful feeling of being watched, pretending like you don’t see Danny’s curtains pull closed in a flash out of the corner of your eye. The rain didn’t matter. Danny didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered right now. His scent, his taste, the feel of his body crashing against yours— that’s what mattered. That’s all you could think about as you all but float into your room. You welcome the warm shower, the dry clothes you had laid out even before leaving the house that morning, the comfort of your bed. It felt right. It felt more than right, it felt perfect. 

There wasn’t even a drop of worry about the next day. 

You didn’t dream last night— at least you can’t remember what you dreamed of when you woke up. All you could recall was the beautiful sense of calm you felt. It may have been the first good night of sleep you had since moving to town. For once the anxiety about Danny, the worries about Jake, they were gone. Nothing seemed to matter as much anymore. Nothing but your intense need to see Jake again, the pulling urge to feel his lips against yours once more. 

Your father was out of the house once more for a work related emergency, at least that’s what the note he stuck on the fridge said. His absence was welcome. You didn’t need him questioning you about Jake anymore, at least not right now. Not until you had wrapped your own head around it. Besides, you had enough to deal with today. 

It was too much to spend another day agonizing over what clothes Jake was going to see you in; you felt that if he had already seen the deepest parts of your mind then it really didn’t matter if he saw you in a much loved t-shirt. You weren’t even sure when he would arrive. All he had given you last night was the quick promise that he’d be here. Oddly enough, the strange pulling feeling you had whenever he was around grew increasingly stronger when a sharp knock at your door tore you away from the breakfast you had been shoveling down. 

You struggled with the door once again, cursing it as you swung it open to reveal the man who had been consuming your every waking moment since he stepped into your life. He looked significantly better than last night, the dark circles under his eye fading to a paler pink. His lips quirked up in a coy smile as he took you in, swinging an arm around you and pulling you in for a swooping hug. 

“Sorry, I know I didn’t tell you a time. I just missed you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck. This didn’t seem like the same man that had been so keen on staying away from you. 

“It was only a little while,” you laugh. 

“Maybe for you. I don’t sleep.” 

He pulls back, grinning as he watches you walk back through the doorway.

“Do you need to be invited in or is that another myth?” 

“A myth. I just like staring at you.” 

You feel heat rush towards your cheeks as you turn around quickly to avoid his gaze. He followed suit, easily shutting the door you so often fought with. 

“So what’s on the docket today?” He asked, leaning against your fridge as you hurried to clean up breakfast. 

“I was going to ask you the same.” 

“I was hoping I could question you the same way you questioned me yesterday,” he propositioned.

“Ask me what?”  You were utterly taken about. What could you have to tell him that was nearly as interesting as what he told you the night before?  On top of the new knowledge that he could read your mind– no matter how muddled– what could he possibly want to know? 

“It’s hard not being able to get a clear read. There are plenty of things I need to know. Your deepest, darkest secrets for instance. Like… What’s your favorite color?” 

You mumble out the same color you had always considered your favorite– although now you were sure your favorite color was the same rich amber as his eyes. 

“Favorite movie?” 

“The Princess Bride.” 

He grinned widely, settling into one of the worn seats adjacent yours, “Of course. I knew you had good taste. Favorite food?” 

“I’m not sure. It changes from day to day.” 

“Hm,” he tilted his head while he thought, “what’s the best birthday present you’ve ever gotten?” 

This one stumped you. You had never really been one to celebrate yourself, birthday or not. 

“You’ve never had a birthday party?” Jake seemed genuinely astonished as he poked and prodded through your thoughts. 

“I guess not. I don’t really like the attention. My dad would just give me money and tell me to buy whatever I wanted. Not all of us have nearly seventy attempts to get it right.” You shrug. 

This seemed to really bother him. More than it should, at least that’s what you thought. 

“When is your birthday?” 

You gave him the date, scowling as you said it. “Seriously, how many questions do you have?” 

“Only a couple more. Favorite book?” 

You prattled off a list of favorites, not being able to pick only one. His features softened as he took you in, commenting once again that you had good taste. 

“What about music? What are you into?” 

You had been waiting for this one, so you straightened up expectantly as soon as he asked. “Classic rock. Old stuff. Well… not old to you. Hendrix, John Lee Hooker, Zeppelin. The Beatles. Queen,” you listed, taking a breath as you continued, “Janis Joplin, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd-” 

“Okay,” he cut you off, “I guess you have great music taste too.” 

“I try. Shoot me your next question rockstar, I’m ready.” You stared him down, a daring smile on your face. 

“I only have one more.” He leaned closer, the woodsy scent that accompanied him invading your senses. He was so suffocating you couldn’t even respond. You knew he noticed your racing heart, the quickening of your breath. What more could he have to ask?

 “Can I kiss you again?” 

It was his turn to catch you by surprise. Still, you nod curtly, biting your lip nervously as he got even closer. His fingers traced your jawline softly before his hand reached up to cup the back of your head, gently coaxing you forward. His lips met yours in a much softer manner than they had the night before, slowly working in time with the beat of your heart. Your hands slowly snaked their way into his hair, tangling up his otherwise perfect brown locks. You tugged involuntarily, feeling entirely lost in the movements of his lips. It was like you forgot how to breathe, forgot everything around you except for him. His lips were just as cold as the rest of his body, just as cold as the night before, and yet you didn’t mind. He pulled you impossibly closer, so much so that you were nearly sitting on top of him, squished together in the shoddy wooden chair. It felt like hours passed like this, and the increasing discomfort of your current position meant nothing as his hands explored your body, dropping lower and lower. A familiar fire sparked in your belly, the same feeling you felt when you watched his fingers flick through pages of old books. 

He pulled back, and you whined at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Not close enough,” he groaned. 

“Upstairs?” you manage to pant out. 

He pulls you into him, moving up the creaky stairs at speeds you never thought you'd be able to move. The door to your room swung open with a crack, and you didn’t even have time to worry about the splintered wood before he threw you on the bed. You stared up at him through heavily lidded eyes, taking him in his entirety. 

“Need you, so fucking bad,” he mumbled as he was on top of you again, pressing wet kisses into the side of your neck, “You have no idea how long I’ve thought of this.” 

Words didn’t matter. All you could do was focus on getting a full breath in. In his presence, when he was like this, everything felt ten times more difficult than normal.

“I could bite you, right now. No one would even know. You’ve made it impossibly easy for me,” he continued teasingly, staring at the exposed side of your neck. 

Your heart skipped a beat, maybe even several. But not out of fear– no, you found yourself wanting him to. To give in, to bite you, to do it. Some disgusting, depraved part of you wanted to satisfy him in ways you would never be able to. 

“God, you’re filthy. I don’t need to read your thoughts to know what you're thinking about.” 

You didn’t need words. He had enough for the both of you. 

“Take this off,” he commanded, tugging at the bottom of your shirt. You obliged, but you weren’t going to expose yourself even more without some form of recompensation. 

“You too.” It felt childish, the way you begged him. Nevertheless, he gave you what you wanted, discarding his shirt quickly. You reached down to fumble with his belt buckle, but he swatted your hand away with a tsk. 

“Not today, angel.” 

You sulked at his refusal, but he barely gave you a second to dwell on it. He leaned in once more, pressing a chaste kiss on your swollen lips with a grin. 

“Don’t pout. This is for you,” he chastised, pushing you down gently until you were laying on your propped up pillows. His hand ran along the edge of your shorts, pulling at them slightly. “May I?” He whispered, and all you could do was nod. He frowned at your refusal to speak before starting again, “Need to hear you say it.” 

“Please-” you were surprised to hear your voice sounding cracked and dry, but you kept going, “Touch me, Jake. Anything. Need you so bad.” 

At any other moment you would have been ashamed at how pathetically desperate you sounded. But Jake looked at you with so much adoration that you could not find yourself to care. 

“Of course, angel. How can I say no to you?” 

The coolness of his skin sent shivers up your spine as he pulled your shorts down at an agonizingly slow pace. You wanted to rush him, to plead him to go faster, but the look in his eyes told you to bite your tongue. 

“All this for me?” He smirked when he saw that you had completely soaked through your underwear. He seemed genuinely shocked for a moment. How could a man who had access to your mind, no matter how muddled, doubt your feelings for him? 

“Only for you. You drive me insane, Jake,” you whispered, suddenly embarrassed at being this physically exposed to him. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but you still blushed at his words. 

His hand ghosted over your clothed clit, the temperature difference making you feel dizzy. He continued his tantalizing pace, barely touching you where you needed him most as he leaned down to pepper your face and neck with kisses. 

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped in between his movements. 

“You-” was all that you could manage. But it was no longer enough for him. You could tell from the gentle frown that ghosted over his features that he wanted more from you. “Your mouth, your hands, anything,” you pleaded. 

He worked his way down your body, pressing open mouth kisses over your chest. You sucked in a breath of shock when he suddenly brought his mouth to your exposed nipple. This was such a stark difference from the man who was wary of even kissing you the night before. Your hands flew to his hair again, tugging so roughly that he whimpered into your skin. You knew you couldn’t cause him pain, but the sensation must be nice enough without it. 

He continued his assault on your skin down your stomach, and you admired the soft pink blooms he left in his wake. They were sure to turn purple later, but you didn’t care. They were proof that this was real, that he was real. 

He reached the band of your underwear, staring at you for quick confirmation before tearing them off of you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed out, staring at you so intensely that you wanted to shy away. But you couldn’t– he was holding your legs so tightly that you were sure there would be fingerprint shaped bruises painting your thighs later. You know he didn’t mean to be so rough. He already looked at you like you were made of glass. He was so lost in his own lust that he forgot just how breakable you were. 

He pressed more kisses into your thigh, losing his early composure and tormenting pace in his excitement. Your hips lifted up slightly to meet his face, begging for any sort of friction as he got just close enough to give you what you wanted so badly. 

Please. Please. Anything. Please. Jake, please. You chanted like a prayer in your mind, hoping that he got the drift. 

Without warning he pressed a kiss to your clit, and all you could do was gasp his name. His eyes never left yours, staring up at you lovingly as he began to lap at you like a man starved. He seemed to melt against the heat of your cunt, becoming more frenzied as you whimpered nothing but his name. 

He was all encompassing. He was all you could think about. 

“Jesus, fuck, that feels so good.” You tugged at his hair as he continued, pressing his face even deeper against you.

He whined at your praise, and the vibration nearly overwhelmed you. 

“Holy fuck, Jake,” you coaxed him on, squeezing your thighs around his head so tightly you worried for his safety for a moment– before remembering you had nothing to worry about. 

One of his hands relinquished its grip on your thigh as he slid two fingers down to your entrance. You felt dizzy at the thought of him inside of you, and suddenly it was all you wanted. As if your thoughts were clearer than ever, he slowly pushed his way in without an ounce of begging from you. He started slowly, the added pressure from his tongue on your clit making you feel intoxicated. It wasn’t long before you were seeing nothing but stars. You squeezed your eyes shut, no longer able to keep them open, despite how badly you wished to keep looking at Jake. 

The fire in your stomach had spread all over your body at this point. You could tell you were close. Jake must have been able to as well– of course he could. He once again knew what you needed without you having to ask. He sped his movements up, maintaining his rhythmic pace. The wet noises he was making, paired with your near constant string of praise, were almost musical together. It was almost too overwhelming. His movements were nearly animalistic as he acted like you were the last meal he would ever eat. 

Time seemed to slow as you reached your peak, screaming his name so loudly you were sure everyone in a ten mile radius heard you. You felt like you had left your body– it took a second for your vision to come back, and for the ringing in your ears to fade. 

He pulled back after a moment, panting. You could tell that he enjoyed putting on a show– you knew he had no need to breathe. His face was covered in a mixture of… well you and his own spit. He brought his fingers to his mouth, making yet another show of cleaning them off. His eyes were dark as he pulled them out with a lewd pop, grinning almost drunkenly at the way you stared at him.

You lay there gulping in sweet air, Jake-scented air, like you would never breathe again. He flopped down unceremoniously next to you, crossing his hands over his chest triumphantly. 

“How-“

“You know, I did know how to… have fun before I was turned.” 

“I thought… I thought you were scared of getting too close.” you huffed, struggling to breathe right. 

“A lot can change in a night.” 

Whatever that meant. 

“At least I get to taste you this way,” he joked, earning a slap on the chest from you. Again, not that you couldn’t hurt him. 

You felt like you were never going to fall back into your body. He made you feel disgustingly stupid, intoxicated by nothing but him. Unfortunately, much like always, he didn’t give you time to adjust before he popped up with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Complication. I have to go. I’ll see you later. Maybe you can meet my brothers,” he promised, pressing his lips to your forehead before rushing to open your window. 

“How are you going to get home?” You asked, vaguely remembering his lack of a car from earlier. 

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about that,” he mumbled, nodding towards the door. You didn’t wonder what he meant for long when the front door opened with a groan, tearing you away from him. You glanced back for a moment, and he was gone. The only sign that he had ever even been here was the ache that spread through your entire body. 

No matter how much he gave you, he always left you wanting more. 

★・・・・・・★

tags: @spark-my-nature @edgingthedarkness @emojakekiszka @slut4lando @ascendingtothestarsasone @writingcold @notsostrangerthing (some of the tags didn’t work. if you want to be added, please feel free to inbox me if the form isn’t working)

[r0ttenhearts]

Friends?

Scaramouche x Best friend! Reader

angst, no comfort, insults

a bright, summer afternoon. the blazing heat outside of the cooled windows as the cicadas hummed in the unforgiving warm air. but there you were, sitting on scaramouches bed next to him, tapping away at your handheld game as you talked to him. you two had been friends since the start of the previous school year. your sweet smiles and kind gestures moved him, or you hoped they did, as he spoke with you the most in class until it turned to after school study sessions, and eventually just hanging out at each others homes when school was over.

as cruel as scaramouche could be, you found yourself falling for him. the rare smiles he’d give you, or his kind words that were few and far between. it meant more to you than you expected. you figured you were cracking through his tough shell, as he didn’t seem to mind spending time together over the break. or so you thought.

“haypasia is back in town. i thought i’d go see her so i don’t think you can come over for awhile.”

oh right. haypasia. the very bane of your existence. it seemed like every time she was around, scara would leave you to be forgotten. a second thought. sure she knew scara for longer, but did she really know him like you did? no, of course she didn’t, because she was never around. but you were. scaramouche would complain to you about her obsessive antics, how annoying she was and how bothersome she could be, only for him to defend her if you got upset with him about spending too much time together.

“oh.. when will you go see her?” you ask quietly, your voice cracking as you feel that oh so familiar lump in your throat. scaramouche glances at you from above his screen, scoffing and a look of disbelief on his face. “seriously y/n? you’re still so upset about her? what’s your deal?”

you shake your head as you put down your game. your hair covering your face as you don’t face him. you can’t. if you do you’ll break, and you know it. “i just.. i wish you wouldn’t go away for days at a time when she’s around.. you’re my best friend you know? and it hurts to realize that you pick someone over me, someone that doesn’t even stay.” you confess, your hands starting to shake as you can feel his eyes bore into your shaking form.

you can hear him scoff beside you as he sits up, “best friends? we’re friends. actually, we’re hardly even friends because i barely even like you.

you dont shut the fuck up you never do.

you make up lies in your head cause you think i like you but you delusional-ly believe i wouldn’t ever talk to other people and god forbid it be a girl.

oh and you're gonna switch it around saying the reverse about how id care when we all know damn well you could get beat in an alleyway and the most you'd get out of me is a "sorry to hear that.”

he gives you the meanest glare as you stand up from his bed as he shoves you against his bedroom door. fat tears roll down your cheeks as he grips your chin, forcing you to look into his dulled, purple eyes.

“no, tell me im wrong. tell me i dont know what im talking about. god youre so fucking stupid.”

he spits as he lets go of your chin, opening the door as you stumble out. he slams his door shut as you stand there in tears. you loved him? you loved him after he told you how he doesn’t care for you? how pathetic could you be. how could you care so deeply for someone that wouldn’t ever look at you, not even in a friendly way?

with his words ringing through your head, you gather your belongings as you leave his home. your game left forgotten on his bed, wishing to never return or face him again.

————————-

a/n: based on a very real argument with my best friend. a little self indulgent but this was a comfort post. thanks for reading!

part II:

[fxchild]

The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter nine: Make you stay.

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

Miles pov

I think it's been one- no. Two weeks, since Y/n had that.. encounter? It's not like we had sex or anything but I definitely didn't expect to make out on her bed until Flora came banging on her door complaining about a nightmare, while Y/n forced me to hide under her damn bed on the cold floor for half an hour while she made sure Flora went to sleep and didn't bother us again. I was kinda glad we got interrupted if I'm being honest. Even though Y/n pounced on me like a lion to a gazelle, she seemed pretty nervous whenever I kissed her too hard or if I touched her leg. Believe it or not things have been even more awkward than before when we were constantly nipping at each other and now I'm starting to miss the fighting more than the dry tension in the room.

Anyways, I've got about fourteen days to make things less awkward and for her to stay with us for the summer. I heard her talking on the phone a few days back, thinking about taking up a different job in California. Her teacher recommended it or some shit, get into a better college. She's not going to Harvard I know that for sure.

Something that's been pissing me off is that Quint has been messing with her head so now she sleeps with the door off and the lamp lights on. I asked him to lay off but it's not doing much. I've been trying to sneak in to make sure he's not fucking with her in her sleep or anything. She's only sixteen like me after all, he shouldn't be messing with kids our age, especially the ones I want to stay.

Uhm, another thing is that I've been out of it for a day or two. Like my throat is pretty dry and I've had a wicked headache. I swear to god if I wake up tomorrow with a cold I'm gonna be pissed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your pov

It's been about two weeks since Miles and I had that half-assed hookup. Ever since then it's been so awkward. We can't even speak to each other now for more than two sentences before getting freaked out and forgetting what we were talking about. I mean, it's easier to focus on Flora and her work, but at the same time it's boring without being able to pick a fight with Miles. I miss our back and forth bickering because at least it kept us talking and occupied. I have fifteen days before I go back home for the summer, I really wanted to stay but I've gotten more job offerings in new places and I want to go out and explore. Plus, spending the summer in some creepy ass house, with a boy who can't even be in the same room as me for five minutes doesn't seem like the ideal summer. I feel bad for leaving Flora, and I guess Miles because they are all alone with Ms. Grose, who is lucky if she can live another four years. But I need to put myself first, that's what's important. I just wish Miles would talk to me before I leave, because even though we snap at each other, he's been growing on me. I'm not saying I like his stuck up asshole personality but I see how he is with Flora and I sometimes wish he could be able to open up to me like that.

This morning I woke up to the sound of projectile vomiting. I figured it was coming from Flora's room since she ate a lot of chocolate last night. I ran to her room to check on her to find her still asleep in her bed. Then I realized that the puking and groaning was coming from Miles room. I debated on leaving him there to take care of himself since he thinks he's grown and can take care of himself but then I remembered the time I was drunk. The way he drove me home at 2am and stayed outside my door all night in case I felt sick again. I walked into his room and knocked on his closed bathroom door.

"Miles, it's just me. I'm gonna come in okay?" I say as I hear him groan and spit into the toilet. I open the door to see his face almost glued to the toilet bowl, gasping and throwing up. I sit next to him and rub his back, grabbing a few sheets of toilet paper so he can wipe his mouth when he's done. "Get it all out, that's it.." I whisper to him as he continues to gag.

When he finishes he grabs the toilet paper from my hand and wipes his mouth, flushing the toilet. I let him sit on the floor with his back pressed against the wall for a moment as I grab a washcloth, drenching it in cold water. I put it on the back of his neck as he tries to stand up. He walks over to me where I'm putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and handing it to him.

"Make sure to brush your tongue too." I put the cap back on his toothpaste. "I'm gonna get you a new shirt, there's a little bit of puke on it." I point to the spot on his shirt. I walk out of his room and open his closet, looking for an old shirt in the piles on the floor. Miles walks back into the room and curls up on his mattress with his washcloth in his hands. I didn't even realize he came back into the room until he spoke up and groaned.

"Jesus it's fucking freezing in here.." I turned around to see him shirtless, breathing heavily and laying down. I grab a random green shirt and walk over to his mattress.

"No Miles, sit up you have to let your stomach settle for a bit." I prop his pillows against the wall and help him sit up a bit. I let him put his new shirt on and pulled the covers up to his waist. I felt his forehead and winced at his temperature. "Miles, you're really hot." I sighed and bit my bottom lip trying to think of how to take care of him.

He let out a chuckle and wrapped a hand over his stomach. "I'm hot? Thanks.." I frown at him since this isn't something to be joking about. "Not funny." I say with pursed lips and put the washcloth on his forehead.

"I'm gonna go to the store to get you some medicine. Flora used it the last time she was sick. Do you want me to pick you up something?" I put my hands on my hips and waited for his response.

He sat there for a second to think, "Am I even allowed to eat anything? Like I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to eat when you're sick." He tilted his head, squinting his eyes.

"You're allowed to eat Miles but only if you feel up for it. I can pick you up some grits, or popsicles? Do you sound up for that when you get your appetite back?" I rub the back of my neck, giving him a sympathetic look.

"I'm not hungry..I-I don't care okay? I'll be fine by tomorrow." He shakes his head and waves his hand in the air.

"Okay, well I'm still going to the store because I'm not putting up with your whining later. I'll be back in an hour okay?" I shrug and ruffle his hair lightly before trying to smack my hands away.

I brush my teeth, grab my keys and put on some slippers. I head out to the car to start for the store.

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

Miles pov

She couldn't have taken any fucking longer to get back from the store could she? I'm sitting in my bed, trying my best for an hour to hold my stomach until she comes back but it's getting too painful. I ran to the bathroom throwing up nothing but stomach acid. I was panting and almost crying from the pain, it felt like my stomach was twisting. Y/n hears me gagging and rushes into the bathroom to rub my back and hold back my hair. When I'm done, there's tears in my eyes from the pain and she gives me this stupid sad look like she feels sorry for me or some dumb shit. I sit on my bathroom counter as she hands me my toothbrush again. She opens up a small can of Gingerale and puts it on my nightstand.

"You don't have to drink it now, but if your stomach feels funny again try some. It works trust me." She smiles and feels my forehead again to see if my fever had gone down a little. I sit there under the covers with my head against the wall as Y/n sits at the end of my mattress reading a book.

"What's that?" I say weakly, motioning to the book. I catch her attention and she smiles. "A book?" She giggles trying to be funny or something.

"Yeah, no shit." I chuckle and she gives me an unamused look. So apparently I'm not allowed to be funny anymore I guess. "What's it about?"

"It's about a prince trying to find his princess through a dream. It's really cute." She gets up to sit next to me on the mattress, showing me the blurb.

"Oh.. fantasy?" I mutter out as a question.

"Yeah, I like fantasy. You don't?" She tilts her head to look at me, tabbing her book before closing it. I shrug, "I mean, it's not bad but I just can't ever get into it."

"Well maybe that's because you haven't read a good one." She smirks, and for a second I feel like we aren't talking about books. I shook my head and stayed silent for a few minutes.

"You know, I usually get sick in the summer." I give her a side glance. I lied, I never get sick. This was the first time in probably a year and a half I've gotten sick. "I mean, who's gonna get me a cold washcloth and rub my back when I'm throwing up?" I smirk at her slightly.

"Ms. Grose?" She jokes and I roll my eyes.

"Be serious Y/n. She's so old I think she's gonna kick the bucket any day now. And when she does that, who's gonna help me take care of Flora? I don't have any parents you know." I sit up more and turn to face her, putting my hands in my lap.

She sighs and turns to face me. "Who said I was leaving?" She gives me a confused look.

"Y/n I heard you on the phone. I mean California seems nice, but is that what you really want?" I give her a dead eyed look and raise a brow.

She studies my face letting out a deep breath, "Miles, you don't even like having me around. We fight all the time, why do you want me around?" She shakes her head and leans back a little bit.

"Come on, Flora will miss you. She'll be upset that you aren't coming back. I mean she really loves you, fuck, she wants you to be her mother! She needs you, Y/n- I-I need you okay? I can't even take care of myself while I'm sick and you expect me to take care of myself, a whole property and a little girl? I mean, jesus, what do I have to do to make you stay?" I spurt out quickly, motioning my hands everywhere with dramatic tones.

She smiles for a moment and grabs my hand, "You just did." She gives me a sincere look, like we finally came to an agreement. I let out a relieved sigh I didn't even know I was holding and she giggled. "Why do we fight so much? Everything would be so much easier if we just listened to each other, you know?" She asks even though she sounds like she already knows her own reason.

"I think you know why I do it.." I look at my red candles I caught her staring at one day in particular when she first came into my room.

She looked at the candles then back at my eyes. "Because you don't know how to treat people?" She barely whispered out. She looked into my eyes for a moment before speaking once more. "I only pick fights with you cause I think you're kinda cute." She admits, leaning back again.

I raise a brow, "You think I'm cute?" I chuckle and she let's go of my hand, she's trying to bite back a smile.

"Yeah, you're cute. So what?" She smirks and we stare at each other. I think we were both waiting for one of us to do something, anything. But no one moved or spoke. After a moment of my silence she got up and put the covers back over my waist. "You should get some rest, it's not good to stay up when you're delirious." She gave me a dejected look and turned off my lamp.

"I'm not delirious." I grab her wrist gently and assure her.

"You're sick, Miles." She gives me a stern tone, and eyes me down to let go of her wrist.

"I know what I'm saying, Y/n." I gulp and give her the smallest smile I could muster and let go of her wrist, laying back into the pillows. She slides a hand on my forehead and it goes into my curls. She kissed my forehead and walked to the door.

"Get some sleep, call me if you need anything okay?" She gave me a sad smile and walked out of the room.

Now she was just confusing me because did she just reject me without either of us talking about dating? I don't think I asked her out but I think I wanted to. I want to I really do, but how the hell am I supposed to do that when she can't take me seriously? I better get over this damn sickness soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi hi! It's fxchild back again with another chapter! Sorry if this is bad I had to rewrite it THREE times because it kept god damn deleting. This took me 2 hours and 15 minutes to write (I timed it yes) so hopefully you enjoyed it. Plsplspls if you did not see my other post to put some requests in because this will be one of the last chapters until Mr. Fairchild finishes his story. I literally do not care what you ask me to write as long as it's not acc insane. If my requests don't work PLEASE dm me I will answer because no one texts me like ever ! Anyways, I love you guys so so much 💕 thank you for continuing to motivate me to write.

-fxchild

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hii, just want to say your work is incredible. I’m particularly in love with this one: https://www.tumblr.com/spoilmesweetieforficssake/720596884449869824/hiii-i-have-to-say-that-i-love-your-work-i-was

Can you make a part 2? I’d love to see Mel with the baby!

I can indeed make part 2 (although this is technically part 3? Part two was here) This has actually been a long time coming, but seeing your lovely message prompted me to push this one out (terrible pun intended).

Sorry this has taken so long (and that I've been a bit MIA) but life, injury and feeling sucky rather got in the way.

Anyway, enough boring real life. I hope you enjoy!

*~*

“Ava, you know how when I went on leave I was gonna have to call you one day and say I need you to arrange cover for Melissa?  Well, today is that day.”

“It’s happening?”

You hold the phone away from your ear at her shriek.  “Yeah,” you breathe, taking a deep breath.  “It’s happening.”

*

One call down, your next call is to Barb.

“Hey, Barb,” you say, trying to sound as light and airy as you can.  “How’s things?”

If Barb hears your sharp intake of breath as another contraction hits she’s tactful enough not to mention it.

“Could you do me a huge favour?  I need you to go and be with Melissa.  There’s something I need to tell her.”

You can practically hear the smile in her voice as she replies.  “Can you give me a few minutes to get to her?”

You try to breathe your way through the contraction, the guidance your midwife had given you and all you’d read all but forgotten in the moment.  “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you while I find her?  Or would you prefer I not hear you curse your way through this contraction?”

*

Melissa answers her phone on the first ring.  You had promised not to call unless it was important.  You knew from how quickfire her responses to your messages, however, that her phone was always to hand.  Barb may have also let slip that since you had gone on maternity leave the device barely left her hand while she was apart from you.

“Hey.  Hi.  What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”

You can’t help but smile at the quickfire questions.  At the care in her voice.  “Mel, I need you to come home.  It’s time.”

“It’s time?” she repeats, and you can hear her voice waver.  “It’s happening?  It’s really happening?”

You grip the edge of the work surface as another contraction hits with one hand, holding the phone away from your mouth with the other so Melissa can’t hear the change in your breathing as you push down the urge to scream.  “Feels that way!” you manage, letting out a long, slow breath as the moment passes.  “Barb is going to drive so you can stay on the phone.”

The red head looks up to see the kindergarten teacher in the doorway to her classroom. 

“Ready to be a mom?”

*

Melissa was out the car before Barb even had the chance to stop, barrelling out into the driveway and bursting into the house. 

You yelped at the sound of the front door bursting open, even though you’d stayed on the phone with Melissa as she fretted in the passenger seat while her friend drove.  The red head comes to a halt in in front of you, her eyes darting over your face. 

Grabbing her hands as another contraction hits, you try your best to breathe through it. 

“How long in between, sweetheart?” asks Barb with a gentle hand on your back. 

Letting out a long, slow breath, you open your eyes and force a smile at Melissa, who looks terrified as she stands before you.  “Five or six minutes,” you manage. 

“Okay,” breathes the Kindergarten teacher.  “Do you have a bag packed?”

You nod.  “Mel’s had one packed in both cards for weeks.”

“Well you weren’t packing one!” shouts the red head. 

You smile at the outburst.  “And she’s taken them out and washed and repacked them every week,” you add.  You’d told her it was entirely unnecessary, but she’d done it anyway, always making sure to keep a sweater of hers at the top of the bags for you. 

“Wait, every five or six minutes?” asks Melissa, your words finally registering.  “How long has this been happening?”

Ducking your head, you admit you’d felt a but of movement that morning.  “I didn’t want to call and panic you until I knew it was time?”

“You’ve been here all day dealing with this and you didn’t say anything?” hisses Melissa, glaring at you. 

Barb reached over to cover Melissa hand with her own where she gripped you tightly.  “And she’s been dealing with it very well.  Now, are we ready to go?”

Just as she had driven Melissa from the school, it’s Barb who drives you both to the hospital.  The red head sits with you in the back.  You grip her hands, trying not to squeeze too tightly as your contractions continue, seemingly increasing in severity.  You try your best to keep your reactions to a minimum so as not to panic Melissa, earning you a look of sympathy from Barb in the rearview mirror.

At the hospital the red head rushes off to grab a wheelchair.  You can walk, but you don’t make any moves to stop her.  Barb takes your hand as she sees another contraction coming, and with the red head out of earshot you allow yourself a muted scream.  Unfortunately, however, Melissa was quicker than you anticipated and hears the end of it.

“What happened?” she asks, her eyes flitting over your face. 

“Contractions hurt like a bitch,” Barb informs her. 

*

There’s a little bit of confusion when you turn up on the maternity ward, the staff struggling to figure out the dynamic between the three of you.  When the midwife who was at your last check-up appears, however, she’s quick to make a beeline for you. 

“Ah, the three musketeers!” she grins.  “It’s time then?”

You offer her the best smile you can as you grit your teeth through another contraction.

“Contractions are around five minutes apart” offers Barb.

“Time indeed!” chuckles the midwife.  “Come on then, let’s find you a room and introduce this little one to the world.”

Barb offers you a squeeze to your shoulder.  “You’ll do great,” she smiles, before turning to Melissa.  “And so will you.”

The red head is nervous as she’s ever been, worried for you and for the little life that’s about to entirely change hers.  She offers Barb a nod before following you as you’re wheeled into a side room. 

“Now, why don’t we get you a chair?”

“What?  Surely she gets a bed?” asks Melissa.  You were about to have a baby, surely a bed was the least they could give you? 

The midwife chuckles.  “I meant you.”

The red head’s cheeks flush a darker shade than her hair and she’s about to give a snarky reply when you reach for her hand.  She helps you up out of your wheelchair and onto the bed. 

“Last offer on that chair,” smirks the midwife, earning her a glare from the red head.  “Hey, it’s just a suggestion, because if you hit the deck you’re gonna be down there a while.  I’m gonna have my hands full here.”

You don’t have time to be amused before another contraction hits, causing you to grip Melissa’s hand tightly.  She leans into you, leaning her head against yours as you try to breathe through it. 

“You got this,” she says quietly.  “You’re doing so well.”

The small word of praise bring tears to your eyes, screwed tightly shut as they are. 

Melissa looks up at the midwife.  “She’s totally got this, but surely she gets drugs too?”

*

Barb looked up as the midwife approached.  Though technically not family, she was part of your Abbott family and had been allowed to wait in the family room. 

“Thought you might like to know there’s a new addition to the musketeers,” smiles the midwife. 

“Is everyone okay?”  She’d spent her time in the family room praying for you, the baby and for Melissa.  The red head had been as terrified as she’d ever seen her, not even trying to hide it.

“Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Following the midwife, Barb was led to your room.  She stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, smiling at the sight before her.  You were reclining in the bed, a warm, gentle smile on your lips as you looked over to where Melissa cradled a precious bundle in her arms.  The red head, meanwhile, looked down at the child in her arms with so much love, her fingers gentle as she adjusted the tiny hat on the baby’s head. 

“She’s a she,” whispered Melissa as she caught sight of her friend hovering in the doorway, tears sparkling in her eyes.  The sex of the baby was something they had all been aware of, but somehow it was a fresh new miracle to see the tiny baby in the flesh, all pink skin and perfect features. 

Barb smiled at her friend, looking to you for permission before entering the room and moving to look over her friend’s shoulder at the delicately wrapped bundle.  “She’s perfect.”  She looks over at you, a wide smile on her lips.  “You did good.”

You continue to look lovingly at the red head holding your daughter, the whole scene better than any dream you could have come up with.  “Yeah, I did.”

*

“How’s everyone doing?”

You look up at the midwife’s words.  “Still struggling to believe this is all actually real.”

“Oh it’s real,” chuckles the woman.  “Just wait till the diapers and night feeds.  Then it’ll feel all too real.  Now I know it’s early, but technically it is visiting time.  If you’re up to it there’s a few people here who I think might like to meet this little lady?”

*

You hope you’ve not forever turned into someone who cries at everything and nothing, but no one seems to mind as tears gather in your eyes as the rest of your little Abbott family files in through the door, each bearing thoughtful little gifts.  Even Ava had been tactful, bringing a bottle of alcohol free bubbly to celebrate the occasion.

Not unexpectedly, everyone was desperate to hold your daughter.  You weren’t sure if it was the drugs or just sheer pride, but you were happy to let them, excited at their excitement over seeing your baby. 

Melissa, however, was rather more reserved.  She wasn’t keen to be handing over the precious little being in her arms over to just anyone.  A hand on her thigh where she sat in the chair by your bed, however, and a slightly raised eyebrow has her rolling her eyes and finally allowing someone else to hold the baby.

You watch with a fond smile as she follows your daughter as she is passed between the members of your little family, reminding each of them to be gentle and showing them how to hold her just right, the same way the nurse had shown her only hours before.  Everyone takes it in the nature it’s intended, even Barb, who accepts the red head’s instructions as though she hasn’t raised two of her own.  There’s also the not so gentle threat that if they drop her she’ll wheel them to the morgue herself that is so Melissa it makes your heart clench. 

*

As nice as it was to see everyone, you’re glad when Barb finally steps into teacher mode and rounds them all up and says it’s time to go.  They all make sure to make a final fuss of your daughter before leaving.

And then it’s just you, Melissa and your daughter.  Not just your Abbott family, but the little family you’ve built.  The woman you love and the unexpected baby you were terrified of having only months before.  That same baby who is sleeping soundly in your arms after her first successful feed. 

The red head is curled next to you on the small hospital bed, both of you just about fitting, her arm curled beneath yours where you cradle the little life you’ve brought into the world.

“You know,” you smile, looking up at her.  “I didn’t think I could love you more, but today, when I got to see Mama Bear Schemmenti?  It made me realise not just how lucky I am to have you, but how lucky she is to have you.”

She smiles back at you, tears glittering in her eyes.  “When you called me today to say it was time…I’ve never been so scared.  Before we left the school, Barb asked if I was ready to be a mom.  I don’t think I’d realised before, but…”

You worry for a moment at the hesitation.

“I mean…is that…would you let…can I?”

You tilt your head, just managing to reach her lips and press a gentle kiss there.  “Melissa, there is no ‘letting’ you do anything.  To me, she’s ours.  I know we didn’t exactly do this the conventional way, but like you said before, it’s not perfect, but it’s real.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” she smiles softly.  “Feels pretty perfect to me.”

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Mine For The Taking: Part 3

MobAU - Colter Stevens x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst, Violence and Mob related content, Swearing, Alcohol and Drug mentions, Probably a lot of inaccuracies and lack of proof reading sorrrryyyyyy

- Part 2 Here -

—————————

18+ Only

—————————

- 6 Years Earlier -




“I honestly can’t thank you enough.” You sighed in relief as you’d finally walked through the front door and unclipped Tank from his leash.




Tank ran off to his bed and began chewing on a toy, happy with his chaotic walk.




Colter smiled and let out a chuckle as he leaned against the open door frame, a gust of cool air wafting through the room, “There’s no way I was letting you get dragged home, at least not on your own.”




You grinned as you turned to face him, he looked much more handsome in the day light, his eyes practically glowing in the dim light of your homes entry way.




“Did you want to stay for a tea or coffee?” You blurred out, and you turned to busy yourself with some post on the side, suddenly shy and feeling hot under his stare. You had tried so hard to maintain eye contact, but his eyes bore so deep into yours you had to pull away for the fear he could read your very thoughts.




He rubbed the back of his head and smiled softly, “I would love to… but I have to be somewhere.”




You felt deflated, but forced a smile as you turned to face him and nodded, “No problem, thank you for saving me today.”




Colter smiled once more and turned to leave, and you let out a quiet sigh as you let your smile drop.




Suddenly he turned back around, and it almost startled you, and you forced yourself to straighten up from your defeated slump.




“Maybe… maybe another time though? I’d… like to maybe take you out to dinner.”




Your heart skipped a beat and you felt butterflies erupt inside you, your skin began to buzz, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from grinning like an idiot.




You pretended to consider it for a moment, and eventually nodded. “Okay. Yeah I’d like that.”




You had no idea that that would be the start of the absolutely whirlwind that was your relationship with Colter.




———————————




- Present Day -




Since the incident at the bakery, you couldn’t get Joe to return your calls or texts. It had been a week and as you sat in your usual spot at in the warm, cosy shop surrounded by nothing but cheerful smiles of blissful patrons, you were filled with nothing but dread as the minutes ticked by, and you wondered if Joe would show.




Every stranger that walked through the door had your head whipping up in anticipation, only to let out a defeated sigh of disappointment when you realised it wasn’t Joe.




You’d finished your second anxious cup of coffee and were about to call it a day, but as you stood to leave you felt a soft tap on your shoulder.




You turned and grinned.




“Joe.” You sighed in relief at the sight of your friend, but this was quickly replaced with guilt as you noticed the two black eyes no doubt caused by his broken nose, as he pulled his sunglasses down.




You wanted to cry but instead clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your whimper, “I’m so sorry. I should have told you.” You whispered when you eventually managed to.




You reached a hand out to touch his arm sympathetically, but Joe pulled back as if you were trying to burn him with a hot iron.




Joe looked hesitantly at you, like he shouldn’t even be near you. You couldn’t help the hurt look on your face at first, but you quickly straightened up and reminded yourself it wasn’t his fault.




Joe sighed and shook his head sadly, “I… I just wanted to come and say goodbye in person.” He said, his eyes not quite reaching yours.




“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows creased together in confusion, “You’re not meant to finish your project until next June.”




Suddenly Joe made eye contact, but he looked angry. His bloodshot eyes felt almost accusatory. “They came to my apartment, Y/N. They kicked down my door. I should never have gotten involved with you. I never would have if I knew what I do now.”




You flinched, this revelation made you feel like you’d just been kicked in the chest, you felt so guilty but you also felt hurt.




“I… I’m sorry.” You struggled to say the words, you wanted to scream and sob at the same time. You were so angry at Colter, and so hurt by Joe. “But why did you come and say goodbye if all of that is true?”




Joe sighed, “Because I did get involved and I got attached. You’re the only friend I have here, I couldn’t go without saying goodbye, and God knows how much I’m risking just by being here.”




You nodded, you understood Colter had eyes everywhere, the last thing you wanted was Joe getting hurt again because of you.




Suddenly Joe pulled you into a hug, and you felt taken aback, startled almost.




“Thanks for being there for me these last few weeks, I really am gonna miss you. Maybe I’ll see you in another life.” He drawled, before letting go and swiftly leaving the bakery.




You stood there for a while in shock, unable to comprehend how Colter could do this to you.




If he really loved you as much as he claimed to, why was he doing this?




Suddenly you realised all the eyes in the room were on you and hushes voices gossiped about the commotion you always seemed to cause, heat pooled in your cheeks and anger began to bubble.




You snatched up your bag and stormed out of the bakery.




The entire drive had you replaying the incident with Colter in your head, and the look on poor Joe’s face, and you were just getting more and more angry.




You parked the car outside the all-too-familiar home that you called yours for over 5 years and sat behind the wheel for a moment. You tried to calm yourself, breathing through the tremors and gripping the steering wheel, but it was no use and the fury was now uncontrollable.




You got out of the car and stormed up the long, winding path to the front door of the manor, where your fist slammed angrily against the cold wood.




You could hear the echoes of your knocking on the inside, followed by footsteps against the hardwood floors you’d spent countless hours picking out years ago.




The door flew open and Colter stood, surprised, and shirtless in front of you. He was sweaty, panting, his hair wild, and you knew he’d been hitting his punching bag as he so often did when he was upset.




You scowled at him, how dare he be upset, he had no right.




You slammed both hands down on his bare chest as you pushed your way inside.




“How DARE you?!” You screamed, your hands now curled into fists against his broad chest.




Colters hands moved up to curl around your wrist, holding your hands in place. “What?” He asked, exasperated. This only pissed you off more.




You scoffed, “What? What? What do you mean, ‘what?’?!”




“I mean why are you so fucking pissed off?!” He raised his voice slightly to match yours.




“I’m beyond pissed off at this point, Colt! You had no fucking right to do that to Joe! This is MY life, my friend, do you have any idea how hard it is to make friends in a town that is terrified of you?” You were now gritting your teeth, Colter had never seen you like this before and a pang of guilt shot through him.


But he was not going to show it, “I don’t care, Y/N. He was after you, and you’re mine. I know for a fact you still love me, so don’t think for a second I’m gonna let anyone take you from me.” His voice was loud, stern, and he towered over you.




“Have you ever stopped to think that if you keep going the way you’re going I may eventually fall out of love with you, Colt?” You tried to pull your hands from his grip, and although he was gentle, your hands weren’t moving.




“No because I know you, Y/N, and I know our love. That isn’t something that just goes away, no matter how unhappy you are with what I do!” He shook your hands slightly with frustration, his eyes now pleading for you to admit what he knew to be true.




You took a small step back as you looked into his steely blue eyes, “You smug bastard. You really do think so highly of yourself.” You breathed out in exasperation.




“All you’re doing is delaying the inevitable, and I am fucking miserable without you. You and I both know you’re coming come at some point, please just save us both the pain and come home now.” His voice had softened considerably now, and he finally released your hands which fell limply to your side. You knew he was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it yet. You had told yourself you would at least try to get over him.




“No… this time you don’t get what you want.” You said softly, deflated, the anger now simmering away to sadness.




You turned and walked out the door, wondering how you would ever get over this man who had an iron grip over you.




You got halfway down the drive when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and spin you around.




The next thing you knew, Colters arms were around your waist and his lips were planted on yours. You gasped softly, at the familiarity, but also how different it felt to all those times before.




You melted against him for a second, your hands resting on his still sweaty chest, and allowed yourself just a moment of bliss before you pushed away and shook your head.




“Just… leave me alone.”




Without looking back you walked to your car, got in and drove out of the estate you once called home.




As you drove you looked back in the rear view mirror, at Colter as he watched you leave.




Something deep inside you told you that you were making a huge mistake, but you were too stubborn to listen to it.




——————————




- 6 Years Earlier -




You buzzed with anticipation and nerves as you finished getting ready for your date with Colter.




The weather was dreadful, and torrential rains uncommon for that time of year had flooded the cold, dark streets outside, but you were determined to make it to town for your date no matter what.




You smoothed out your brand new dress and checked yourself in the mirror for the 10th time.




You looked perfect, but you felt so nervous that you had to check again before you eventually made it to the front door.




You gave Tank a fuss as you left and were suddenly overcome with guilt for leaving him on his own for the first time, however this was luckily short lived as he happily curled up on the couch and went straight to sleep.




You sighed as you stepped out onto the front porch and opened your umbrella, your cab had just pulled up but the short distance between your home and the sidewalk was sure to drench you unless you had some sort of cover.




“Evening ma’am.” The older gentleman answered as you climbed in and shook off your umbrella before rolling it back up. “You off on a date?”




You smiled, “Yeah, is it that obvious?”




The gentleman smiled, “Not overly, but you do seem nervous.”




You made small talk all the way into town and paid the driver, getting your umbrella ready before you opened the door.




“Have a good night ma’am, you be safe now.” He said as you climbed out of the cab and back out into the bad weather.




You thanked the driver and walked down a side street towards the restaurant.




As you approached you noticed Colter standing outside. He wore a slightly unbuttoned white shirt and blue jeans, his short hair speckled with rain drops and obviously getting very wet without an umbrella as he waited for you, soggy flowers wilting under the pressure of the heavy droplets.




You laughed in surprise as you walked up to him. “What are you doing?” You gasped.




A huge grin spread across his face as he noticed you approaching him, “Waiting for you.”




As you got closer you noticed how his clean pressed white shirt stuck to him, his toned chest on display as the material turned translucent.




You pulled your eyes away, “Why didn’t you wait inside?” Your mouth slightly agape in shock. “You must be freezing!”




Colter, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the cold, and couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “You look… incredibly beautiful.” He breathed, ignoring your question.




You felt yourself blush, but you needed to maintain your composure even though he made you feel like melting right in front of him. You stepped forward so that Colter was under the protection of your umbrella.




“Here, before you get completely drenched.” You smiled up at him. Too late, you realised, but you liked standing this close to him.




You tried not to actually touch him, teetering on the absolute outer edge of the umbrellas protection.




“Well… I don’t think we can go in there while you’re…damp.” you gestured at the fancy restaurant and then at Colter. “I think I know a place we can go and dry off for a while.”




Colter nodded and bit the inside of his cheek, “Lead the way.” He chuckled.




You lead Colter down another dark little side street and through a courtyard, where a soft cosy light lit up the cobblestone from a window that beckoned you, the smell of basil and tomatoes compelling you to follow. It was a tiny Italian restaurant that you had frequented over the years, nothing fancy but the food was some of the best you’d ever had.




You looked up at Colter to explain why you’d picked this place, but you were surprised to see that he was already staring longingly down at you. “What?” You asked in surprise.




Colter shook his head, and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, “Nothing, it’s just… every time I think I have you figured out, you go and do something that makes me realise I probably never will.”




“What do you mean?” You chuckled, shivering slightly under his touch.




“Most girls would insist on the fancy dinner, the nice restaurant, they wouldn’t adopt the biggest, bounciest dog from the shelter, or go out to a club they hated just to make their sister happy, they’d probably be put off that I didn’t think to bring an umbrella-“ you cut him off by grabbing his hand with your free one as you stood in front of the little restaurant.




“Let’s get one thing straight, if you’re going to date me you will realise pretty quickly that the only thing I give a damn about is whether or not you’re a good person, I don’t need fancy… I need real.”




Colter grinned and nodded, “So we’re dating then, huh?”




You rolled your eyes playfully, “Hmm… barely.” You joked.




He took your other hand and gently removed the umbrella from your grip, the heavy rain quickly drenching you as you gasped at the feeling and began to laugh. Colter threw the umbrella onto the cobblestone, and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling you into him.




“What are you doing?” You asked, your heart thudding violently against your rib cage.




“I’m making us even.” He gestured with a nod to your wet hair.




You breathed out a nervous laugh as Colter bent down and pressed his lips against yours, and you felt like the air was sucked from your lungs.




His lips were gentle, but the kiss was purposeful and eager. His hand came up to cup your jaw and you sighed into him, giving yourself into the feeling.




Eventually you pulled away, the raindrops trickling down your back causing you to shiver.




Colter smiled adoringly down at you, “How about we get inside?”




————————————

- Part 4 Here -

[asahicore]

cold brew - sjh

part 3 of the coffee mini-series // prompts 22 and 61 of the 100 kisses list (surprising your lover from behind, smacking a kiss on their cheek + smiling in-between kisses)

pairing. boyfriend!junghwan x fem!reader

synopsis. On a hot summer day, you and your boyfriend make a bet as to whether more iced americanos or more cold brews will sell, and Junghwan already knows what he wants if he wins.

genre. summer au, coffee shop au, just fluff and kisses

word count. 1.3k

a/n. the way i wrote in the previous part that i wouldn't take three months again to post the next part of this mini-series and then ended up taking a year and two months... you guys love me <3 as always thank u to @zreamy for her impeccable beta-reading services, hope u all enjoy and pls lmk ur thoughts!!!!!

summer.

The thing about working at a café in a student city during the summer is that it can get excruciatingly slow. 

Many locals and tourists still come to get their caffeine fix, but long gone are the students who spend hours taking advantage of the free wifi and free pot coffee refills. There’s less orders to prepare, less tables to tend to, so outside of rush hours, if you haven’t brought anything to entertain yourself with, you’ll be bored half to death. Fortunately, your manager Yeonjun isn’t the “there’s always something to do” type, so he’s more than happy to let you read a book or mindlessly play Solitaire on your phone if everything else is in order.

Today is the hottest day of summer so far. Fortunately, it’s your day off. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, isn’t so lucky.

If it were any of your other colleagues, you would’ve happily stayed home, fan on highest setting, napping in front of a rerun of The Office. But Junghwan isn’t just any colleague, and so you force yourself off of your couch and head to your workplace.

The café is unsurprisingly empty when you get there - so empty, in fact, that even your boyfriend is not behind the counter, although he’s the only one working this shift. You sneak to the back in hopes of finding him there, and indeed, he’s in the storeroom, restocking shelves. Always the responsible worker - he could easily be slacking off, but he’s decided to be productive and do something everyone else, Yeonjun included, has been putting off for the past week.

You take a few seconds to admire him like this with his back to you, the muscles of his broad shoulders shifting under his black t-shirt, his long strands of hair tickling his nape; you can feel their softness in your hands just by looking at them. The sight of him almost makes you release a dreamy sigh, but an idea pops up in your head.

You stealthily make your way to him, and, making sure he’s not holding anything fragile, wrap your arms around his middle and smack a firm kiss on his cheek. He’s startled but immediately relaxes when he sees it’s just you. With a relieved smile on his face, he places his hands on your waist and bends down to trap your lips in a delicate kiss. 

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you right now.”

“You mean filling jars with Peruvian beans isn’t an enthralling activity?”

Junghwan sighs and looks at the coffee jars like they’re responsible for all the sorrow in the world. “I thought if I did this, Yeonjun might give me a bonus, and then I could take you out on a nice date.”

Your heart skips a beat. Your boyfriend is the sweetest, stupidest boy you know. “Junghwan, that’s…”

“Super romantic? Thoughtful? Makes me an amazing boyfriend?”

“I love you, but-”

“That’s great news, because I love you, too.”

You give him a look. “But,” you continue, “as well-intentioned as Yeonjun is, he’ll look at the shelves and assume an elf came during the night. If you want a bonus, just steal 100 bucks from the counter. He probably won’t notice.”

He gazes down at you like you’ve just declared your utmost affection for him and not told him to steal from your employer. “You’re so smart, you know that?” 

You giggle and plant another kiss on his lips. “Course I do. Now get back to work, or I'll report you for improper behavior.”

“But it’s so boring,” he whines. “Look, there’s so little to do, I started counting how many iced americanos and how many cold brews were being sold just to see which one was more popular.”

You frown. “Hwan, we sell way more iced americanos,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“I don’t know, my research is saying they’re toe-to-toe.”

A smile appears on your lips as you step away from him. “Alright, let’s make a bet then.”

“A bet?” Junghwan echoes, his lips mirroring yours.

“Mh-hm. I say more iced americanos will sell, you say cold brews will, whoever loses has to grant the other a wish.”

His grin widens. “Deal.”

“Deal.” As you shake hands on it, he pulls you in and presses his lips to your forehead.

“I’ll get back to work then,” he whispers against your hair.

There’s only two hours until the café closes, and it’s empty enough for you to sit at a table and sip on an iced americano - which Junghwan hadn’t agreed to count in the tally - and read until his shift ended. You squint your eyes at him every time a customer comes in and orders a cold brew, but you’re kind enough to let him sit with you whenever he has nothing to do.

You help him with some of the closing duties, like counting tips and restocking everything for the morning shifters, although you leave him to do the mopping and wiping of surfaces.

You’re sitting on the counter, dangling your legs as you wait for him to announce the results. He takes his sweet time, cleaning the coffee machine like he’s never seen the thing before, pretending to muse about who will win when he already knows the outcome. “I hope I can trust you enough not to have rigged this contest,” you say, and he shrugs playfully.

When he’s all done, he fishes the sheet of paper on which he’s counted the orders out of his pocket and ceremoniously clears his throat. “And here are the results…” he says, drumming his fingers on the counter as you shimmy your shoulders to the rhythm. “twenty-eight iced americanos, and thirty-three cold brews.” You gasp, but before you’ve even had the time to complain, he adds, “Which means you have to grant me a wish.”

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. What do you want?”

From the smile growing on his lips, you know he’s up to no good. “I want a kiss.”

You glare at him lightheartedly, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling at his words. “That’s something you can get anytime.”

Inching closer towards you until he’s standing between your knees, palms splayed on the counter on each side of you, he says, “Yeah, but it’s the only thing I want right now.”

All your pretend defenses crumble the moment his lips touch yours. In these past few months, it’s become a familiar feeling, but you can never get enough of it. Especially now that you know each other better, your lips move against each other’s expertly, every tilt of your head and change in pace always in perfect sync. It’s one of those moments where you feel like you understand each other completely, like there’s no one better suited to kiss you or him than each other. This knowledge makes you giddy, makes you wrap your arms tighter around him as you smile into the kiss.

He detaches his lips from you just long enough to say, “What are you smiling about?”

“You.”

You try to fall back into the kiss, but both of you are smiling too wide, and you can’t stop giggling between each press of your lips against each other’s, not even bothering to stop when you knock your teeth. Even when you’re laughing more than you’re actually kissing, you don’t pull away, both lingering in this bubble where only the two of you exist.

Later, as you walk back to your place hand-in-hand, he asks you what your wish would’ve been if you had won. “I would’ve forbidden you from making me watch one of the Shrek movies for a month,” you reply, making him laugh.

“Well, it’s a good thing I won,” he says, bringing you closer to him by the shoulder and planting a kiss at the top of your head. “Because I really wanted to watch Shrek tonight.”

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[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 2

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert fall into a routine of your Friday Physics meetings with the never skipped dinner after. But as the tension grows stronger, the meetings suddenly cease to be about Physics with a newfound realization; and sudden change Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: N/A Notes: GOD, HE LOOKS SO HOT THERE!!! Anyways! Not even twenty-four hours later. I know, I'm very unwell and couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for all the love and support so much! The next part should be coming out very soon. And let me say, it may or may not get spicy *insert evil cackling*. I am also working on a new and refined masterlist! It'll be linked here, along with a taglist if you are interested.

Masterlist | Taglist

The image of you and Robert formed, and your Friday afternoon meetings with him soon became a little routine between the two of you. However, this barrier created a bond and broke through the force of physics into something else. 

You would always arrive ten minutes before, and Robert certainly noticed this. He enrolled you in watering his flowers outside, which you had no issue doing. Robert insisted on paying you ten dollars, which you felt guilty for taking. Every Friday, when you walk down Shasta Road, the flowers are more giant in bloom, full and radiant in their muted colors. Robert had even put a tiny vase of pomegranate flowers on his desk. In one of your meetings, he confessed that he didn’t know such a plant was growing in his garden. You told him now he had pomegranates to make with his meals. After each session, Robert gave you a pomegranate to go home with. Like him, they were hard to resist. 

The first hour of your meeting would be about physics, but the length of an hour began to shorten down to thirty minutes, forty-five minutes sometimes. You could sense that Robert wanted to get out of Physics much as you on your late Friday afternoons together. 

And then Robert would ask that same old question of wanting to stay for dinner. He’d preface it with the meal he was making, which was starting to fall into the pattern of recipes you recommended. 

And without fail, you would always say yes, lacking hesitation. 

In the first set of meetings, Robert would cook. He’d ask you to go into his living room to turn on one of the records. You’d ask what record, and he answered with any since he would like what you would put on. In the third week of meetings, Robert stopped directing you to his record player, as you soon could locate the record in the middle of his bookshelf. 

Simeusolty putting on a Prokofiev’s Cinderella Record, Summer Fairy began to play low. The intricate and angular melodies to powerful and dramatic orchestration played as you ran your fingers across the bookshelf, observing the elective collection of books Robert had collected. Running your fingers against the thin pages, you looked down at his coach. Two pillows were propped up, and you could see his coffee table in the light. A copy of Sentimental Education rested beside the ashtray of many burnt-out cigarette buds. Robert was in the same chapter as you were. 

Most of the time, you would get bored sitting at the island table as Robert smoked, cut, and cooked. All you would do is drink his Martinis, which you hated before but now loved.  Without asking, you simply started to help Robert with the cooking. Robert never protested against this. 

As the two of you cooked, your conversations ranged in topic and vulnerability. 

Robert asked about your family life and hobbies. You told him you had family in New York City but spent a lot of time hiking in Europe or the Southeastern United States being outdoors. Your mother was much older than your father, but it was never an issue. You were the youngest of three much older siblings, two of whom were your step-siblings. You were into reading and art outside the classroom but absolutely loved the outdoors. Some things you didn't even share with Hatomi, you ended up sharing with Robert. 

Robert also shared parts of his life; in each part, you two learned that you were somewhat similar, as Robert would say, “kindred souls” who have found each other. Robert was also from New York City, but like you, wanted to escape the East and came out West for a change and its natural beauty. He also enjoyed the outdoors, a found horseback rider. In his youth, he was an avid rock collector and even told you that when he applied for a club, they asked him to come to be a keynote speaker. It fits his character. 

One night, as you cut vegetables and Robert sauteed the chicken, he blatantly asked if you have a boyfriend. 

You turn to him, and instead of being flustered and embarrassed, you deadpan and say no, before asking if he has a wife. 

“Had,” Robert corrected. 

Robert had been married to a woman named Kitty, whom Robert said was similar, yet harsher than you. They had divorced three years back, and two had two children together who were three years apart, Peter and Toni. Kitty had moved out to Pittsburgh with their two children but would visit with them every month. Robert did not seem sad by the divorce, saying they still cared for each other but no longer loved one another. 

The two of you remained silent until dinner was ready that night. 

Your meetings further continued with no issue after that conversation.

 It was like any other Friday night meeting. You closed your Physics notebook as Robert got up to prepare dinner, which would be chicken with pomegranate seeds, asparagus, and mashed potatoes which you taught him to cook. You got up and snuck beside Robert, taking pomegranate seeds and putting them in between your lips. 

He looked over and smiled, shaking his head. He mumbled something under his breath in which you missed. 

“Robert, you must stop asking if I will stay for dinner,” You casually teased, bringing another seed to your lips. You moved the bubbly and wet seed around your lips, adding a glossy red color to the center of your lips, “Especially when you know the answer.” 

Your playful words hung in the air, accompanied by a faint smile that danced at the corners of your mouth. The atmosphere was light, and the tension between you and Robert was more of an enjoyable banter than anything serious. The act of painting your lips with the seed was oddly captivating, a unique blend of sensuality and playfulness that added to the moment.

On the other hand, Robert appeared slightly flustered but still managed a sheepish grin. "Well then, why do you always stay, y/n?”

You chuckled softly, savoring the gentle rhythm of your exchange. "Maybe it's your irresistible cooking that keeps me coming back, or perhaps it's the charm and wit of the company."

In mock astonishment, Robert feigned a dramatic sigh, his hand on his chest. "Ah, so you're saying it's not my dashing good looks that have you hooked?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, a mock expression of disbelief on your face. "Oh yes, Robert, your dashing good looks are definitely a bonus. But it's the entire package that keeps me intrigued."

The two of you shared a lighthearted laugh, the energy between you bubbling with a mix of familiarity and affection. Clearly, this banter was a delightful ritual you both enjoyed, a way to express your fondness for each other without saying it outright.

Robert leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I might have to keep asking about dinner just to hear your flattering reasons."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Well, if that's your plan, then I'll just have to keep giving you reasons, won't I?"

The playful challenge hung in the air, the unspoken understanding between you both weaving a tapestry of shared moments and shared jokes. As the evening continued, the seed on your lips became a symbol of this unique connection, a touch of color that spoke volumes about the newfound chemistry you shared with Robert.

After finishing dinner and cleanup, Robert invited you to his living space. From what you have seen in his house, the living room was by far the biggest. The room smelt like oakwood with its Mahogany shelves of aged books and artifacts from Europe. Prokofiev’s Cinderella plays slowly as Robert and you rest on the couch, only a few inches apart. 

In a quiet moment that exudes an air of undeniable allure, Robert reaches into his pants pocket to fetch another box of cigarettes. His fingers move with a graceful confidence, effortlessly withdrawing a sleek pack of cigarettes. The soft glow of ambient light plays upon his lean features, enhancing the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle smirk that graces his lips.

As he taps the pack against the palm of his hand, a sense of anticipation seems to envelop the surroundings. The action is as deliberate as it is captivating, every movement purposeful and measured. With a smooth and calculated gesture, he slides a cigarette from its sanctuary within the pack, drawing attention to the meticulous attention to detail that defines his every action.

Bringing the slender cylinder to his lips, his eyes remain fixed on the horizon, an enigmatic gaze that hints at depths of both experience and mystery. His fingers deftly produce a matchbox, which, when opened, reveals a single matchstick ready for ignition. The flame is brought to life with a flick of his thumb, illuminating his features momentarily and casting an enchanting glint in his eyes.

The first inhalation is a languid dance between his lips and the cigarette, an intimate connection that only accentuates his innate allure. A plume of smoke curls gracefully from his lips, an ethereal veil that frames his visage like a work of art. The atmosphere seems to pulse with his intoxicating energy as if drawn into the magnetic pull of this captivating moment.

As he exhales, the tendrils of smoke disperse into the air, a testament to his ability to command the space around him and the elements that entwine with his presence. The remaining smoke dances and swirls in the air, mimicking the invisible threads of attraction that weave between observer and observed.

You watch the smoke dance across the dark room in its dark and light hues. Robert sees you in admiration of the smoke (and him, but that’s a secret you keep to yourself) and pulls a stick out, holding it out in front of you. There’s no need to respond verbally; you let him put the cigarette between your lips. 

Robert’s fingers, capable and elegant, hold the cigarette with a reverence that speaks of his attentiveness to the details that matter. The slender cylinder is presented not as a mere object but as a gesture of connection, a bridge between the worlds of conversation and quiet contemplation.

He raises the matchbox, its lid flipping open with a soft whisper of anticipation ember at the tip of the match glows with an ephemeral beauty, casting a warm radiance that highlights the contours of his hands and the contours of your cheek.

Drawing the match to the cigarette, the flame bends obediently to his command, transferring its life to the waiting tobacco. As the cigarette ignites, its end glowing with an ember-like intensity, Robert's eyes meet yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment.

Robert brings the cigarette to your lips with a tender elegance, his fingers barely grazing your cheek in a caress that sets the heart aflutter. The touch is fleeting but leaves a lingering impression, a sensation of connection that transcends the physical realm. The smoke dances gracefully from the lit end, curling into the atmosphere like a wisp of shared conversation.

The gesture encapsulates more than a simple offering; it encapsulates his genuine nature and ability to infuse even the most ordinary moments with a touch of extraordinary intimacy. In this ephemeral exchange, the barley touch of Robert’s fingers against your cheek lingers like an echo, a reminder of the subtle and beautiful connections forged through the simplest gestures.

You fall back and take a drag into the cigarette, exhaling the smoke. It was your first time with a cigarette, so you inhaled too much smoke and coughed slightly. 

Robert looks back at you, and like a sly predator watching its prey, he too leans back. You can feel the weight of the pillow sink back. Your mouth nearly drops the cigarette as you look over, goosebumps now appearing over your legs. Shifting in your position, you don’t move farther away. Oppenheimer’s another atom bond, in which you feel connected, despite your differences. 

Hearing your mother’s and older sister's voice ridiculing dating a man who could be one of your brother’s ages, you take another drag and exhale smoke as the nicotine soothes your anxiety. 

“I understand now why people smoke.”

You can feel Oppenheimer’s intense stare, not that it bothers you at all. 

 There’s a small silence for a few minutes. The two of you bask in the setting sun, watching the smoke play against the hues of the sun. You swear you feel your eyes get heavy, both from the buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine of the cigarette. 

The couch feels lighter as you feel Robert get up and walk over to the bookcase. Admiration mingles with a sense of awe as you watch your professor navigate the rows of tomes. His movements are measured and deliberate as he selects a book that promises to unfurl a tapestry of thoughts and ideas. The act itself is a testament to his insatiable thirst for knowledge, a quality that you have deemed extremely handsome to the tall and slender man. 

He walks in front of you and flips through the pages, putting the book down in your lap. 

You put your cigarette in the ashtray and hold the book to examine it, “Les Fleurs Del Mal.” 

“One of my recommendations to you,” Robert responded as he sat back on the couch. The room suddenly got hotter as he felt closer than he did before, “It’s scattered poetry. You can skim, but I don’t recommend it unless you want to enjoy it.”

Your speculation proved to be true when Robert pointed to a page in the book, feeling his thigh scrap against yours. Butterflies danced in your stomach as your cheeks got that burning sensation again. 

“These are some of my favorites,” Robert pointed, his finger gracing the page, “That I want you to read.” 

Halting your breath, you look at him, and he’s looking right at you. More like right into you. Robert's eyes are like an ocean; they're truly the bluest you have seen. They hold a depth that draws you in, in which you find yourself lost, embraced by an intimate connection that speaks volumes without a single word.

“Read?” You almost stutter, “to myself?”

“Outloud, dear.” Robert’s smooth voice politely commands. 

Suddenly, your limbs feel both hot and weak. Robert leans in closer, taking another drag of his cigarette. His gaze does not once leave you. 

You put one hand on the page and the other on the soft pillow as your fingers soften the material. Clearing your throat, you look at the first poem and take in a deep breath to contain a noise of ecstasy and pleasure. 

I know your heart, which overflows With outworn loves long cast aside, Still like a furnace flames and glows, And you within your breast enclose A damned soul's unbending pride;

But till your dreams without release

Reflect the leaping flames of hell;

Till in a nightmare without cease

You dream of poison to bring peace, And love cold steel and powder well;

And tremble at each opened door, And feel for every man distrust, And shudder at the striking hour - Till then you have not felt the power Of Irresistible Disgust.

My queen, my slave, whose love is fear, When you awaken shuddering, Until that awful hour be here,

You cannot say at midnight drear :

"I am your equal, O my King!"

Robert only responds by turning the page to the following poem, A Carcass. In the corner of your eye, his hand rests on the couch, only an inch away from yours. Before looking back at the page, you uncurl your fist, lying all of your finger against the couch, less than an inch away from Robert’s. 

Recall to mind the sight we saw, my soul,

That soft, sweet summer day:

Upon a bed of flints a carrion foul,

Just as we turn'd the way,

Its legs erected, wanton-like, in air,

Burning and sweating pest,

In unconcern'd and cynic sort laid bare

To view its noisome breast.

The sun lit up the rottenness with gold, To bake it well inclined,

And give great Nature back a hundredfold

All she together join'd.

The sky regarded as the carcass proud

Oped flower-like to the day;

So strong the odour, on the grass you vow'd You thought to faint away.

Robert’s index finger is now hooking onto your smaller pinkie. You relax your hand as his hand covers yours, his touch gentle and alluring. You don’t know much you’ll be able to read in a controlled state. Robert turns to the next poem as his hand covers yours, his thumb stroking the top of your hand. 

“My personal favorite,” He murmurs—Love’s Lighting. 

Gulping, you proceed to read, slowly breaking down. 

Last night as I lay awake in bed A flash of you came into my head And into my heart, and straightway fled.

It passed from the chamber suddenly,

Leaving no trace to know it by

But a tightened breast and a wet, glad eye.

Like a moonray soft it came and went,

Which glimmers through where the cloud-wrack's

rent,

Hovers a moment and then is spent;

Or a bee against a window-pane,

Which taps but once and never again, Some autumn day, before the rain.

For one brief moment I felt it stealing Along the verge of thought and feeling

As though some great vague thing revealing,

As though for that moment sad and sweet

My soul was out in the infinite, And Life and Death were as one to it.

You close the book and look at Robert, catching his eyes before looking at your intertwined hands. His hand covers yours, his fingers laced within yours. He gently squeezes your hand, propelling you to move closer to him, which you do. 

“Your eyes,” You murmur as Robert brings you closer to him, your faces an inch apart, “There blue. But there’s something in them. There’s a spark, an explosion. There’s a burning desire, surrounded by the never-ending sea.” 

Robert is just as enchanted as you are. He brings his free hand to your cheek, stroking your smooth skin like you are a fragile China doll. 

“If there is a god, he spent more time on you,” Robert confessed, moving to the back of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

“Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen. Can you let me kiss you?” 

Your hand moves to Robert’s cheek, and he leans into your touch. 

"If there is a god, he spent more time on you," Robert confessed, his voice a warm breath against your skin as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

"Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen," he murmured, his gaze locked onto your lips with a mixture of desire and reverence. His thumb brushed your lower lip in a gentle, teasing caress. "Can you let me kiss you?"

Your heart fluttered in response, your chest rising and falling with each anticipatory breath. Your fingers moved to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble against your palm as you leaned in, your lips drawing closer to his. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the soft, charged atmosphere between you.

His lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It had been your first, so you let him overtake as you enjoyed. It was a dance of sensations, a slow exploration of desire and affection. The touch was gentle, as if he was savoring every moment, every nuance of the connection that formed between your lips. His mouth moved against yours with delicate precision, a symphony of longing and intimacy that left you breathless.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the possessiveness in the way he held you, his fingers threading through your hair, anchoring you closer. His hand, which held yours found the small of your back, a reassuring pressure that drew you impossibly nearer. 

Time lost meaning as your lips moved together, a rhythm that spoke of shared longing and a connection beyond the physical. It was a kiss that whispered promises of intimacy and trust, an unspoken understanding that bound you together in that stolen moment of tenderness and desire.

As Robert kissed and held you, you loved the sensation of being adored. The romance between you, too, however, was forbidden. He was thirty, and you were a teenager, albeit legal, but recently, a little girl. But you couldn’t resist, and he couldn’t control his desire. After all, Life and Death were as one to it.