#we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn

[wyrm-town]

“I can grant you that… but in return I’d like ownership of your body.”

Mori stared at the tall shadow in front of them blankly.

“I mean yeah! Sounds all good to me.”

The demon’s shrouded face warped to expose a vicious grin. It outstretched its hand to finalize the agreement. Mori took it without hesitation.

The creature lunged at Mori, it’s already vaguely defined form shifting like a cloud of black smoke. It seemed to fill every pore in their skin before fully absorbing itself into them. Not a moment later Mori’s body started to move without their control. The demon inspected its new hands, turning them over and back, then over again.

Anyone, even if they were not conscious at the time, would surely notice a demon possessing their body, and that’s exactly what Will did. He awoke from the slumber all the headmates in his system found themselves in when they weren’t fronting. As he approached the front he noticed a presence he didn’t recognize, but he felt the secondhand emotions of triumph and a sort of malicious giddiness.

“Mori, is there a new headmate or something? Who is that?”

Mori felt a flush of anxiety; the kind you feel when you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to. They were pulled into the headspace, as was the demon, where Will was standing with a concerned expression on his face.

“It’s a, uh, demon, Will! I, uhm, summoned a demon! I made a deal with it, too! So yeah, uh, a new headmate. Let’s call it that.”

Will sighed. He could see Mori’s memories, they sure weren’t lying! Of course the most unbelievable part of this situation was that demons existed in real life. It was entirely in character for Mori to have confidently summoned and dealt with a demon. He could hardly bring himself to feel surprised at all.

“What is this? Am I not the first to have made this kind of deal with you? This man appears to be completely human! What’s going on?” The demons voice was immediately noticeable as nonhuman, and yet what exactly made it sound so off was unidentifiable.

“Okay! So…”

Mori cringed at the awkward situation they had put themself in. They always liked to cause problems and never liked to live with them.

“We are a system! Which is to say we’re multiple people living in the same body. Eh… Welcome to your new home? You’re part of the family now!”

Will pressed his hands into his face, pushing up his glasses as he did.

The demon stood in shock for a moment, the realization of its mistake slowly hitting it.

“So you don’t own this body?”

Mori put on their most sweet, lovely, adorable little smile.

“Nooooo… But! I do have the power of friendship and community, and now you do too!

Suddenly, Will stepped forward, outstretching his hand to the demon, with a friendly but exasperated expression.

“Hi, my name is Will, and this is my worst enemy, Mori.” He gestured to his best friend. “Here in our headspace you can kill someone and they’ll painlessly respawn, so feel free take your anger out on Mori!”

“Oh my god! You are so dramatic!” Mori snapped playfully.

The demon accepted Wills handshake, but did not take up the offer of murder.

“No, I guess my fault. I mean after all, they always say never to make a deal with a human.”

Submitted Prompt #166

[character A] makes a deal with a supernatural entity, giving up their ownership over their body.

only after the deal has been made does the supernatural entity realise that [character A] is a member of a system, and as such isnt actually the sole owner of the body. leaving the supernatural entity now trapped in a body they dont fully own.

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[munson-blurbs]

I don’t know if you do Steve or(I have mostly seen your Eddie work which I love by the way)Eddie

but I’m let you choose but ex reader and (Steve or Eddie) angst to fluffy smut at the end and maybe they saw each other at the bar or something and those feelings turn into sweet ole fluffy smut 🫡 ( PFT I don’t know if that make sense) 😭💀

Eddie exes-to-lovers? I'm in.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, fingering, angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, the fluffiest smut I've ever written

WC: 3.2k

Divider credit to @saradika-graphics

You hated Eddie Munson. 

You hated the way he sloppily cut the sleeves of his Hellfire shirt in an obvious attempt to show off his tattoos. 

You hated the way he couldn’t keep a secret, always forgetting that they were supposed to be secrets in the first place. That’s how he’d spoiled your surprise birthday party. 

You hated the way he constantly sabotaged his own success. One would think he’d take you up on your offer to do homework together after his first failed senior year; instead, he’d practiced guitar riffs while you pored over your algebra textbook. Needless to say, he didn’t pass that year, either. 

You hated Eddie Munson and everything about him. 

And right now, you particularly hated the way he sat across the bar, talking to another girl and occasionally taking a sip of his drink. 

That used to be you, your fingers laced with his while he told you stories you’d heard one hundred times before. He’d bring your hand to his lips and kiss it, his lips curving into a smile before they even touched your skin. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine. Never gonna let you go, y’know that? You’re stuck with me forever.”

That ‘forever’ ended four years ago, when you went off to college and he needed to stay behind to finish high school. Cracks began showing as early as application season, the fracture complete once you decided to go to Northwestern without even considering Hawkins Community. 

“I don’t understand why you’d wanna go to that big, fancy school anyway. It’ll just be a bunch of rich preps and douchey frat guys guzzling beers through their assholes.”

You refrained from reminding him that he and Jeff had almost tried that same feat, and probably would have if you didn’t intervene. 

“Babe, it’s an amazing school. And I’ll be home on holidays and you can visit whenever you want.”

Even as you’d said it, you knew it wasn’t enough for him. It was a pulled thread in your tight-knit relationship, one that unraveled it throughout the summer. And just one week into your first semester, Eddie had uttered those dreaded words into the phone. 

“I don’t think this long-distance thing is gonna work out.”

That was that. The end of you and Eddie. 

Now, in that dimly lit bar, you tore your gaze from him and his date. Your drink shook in your trembling hand as you lifted it to your lips. 

Robin clocked your uneasiness, her eyes flicking over to where you’d been looking. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, shaking her head. She glanced at you with nothing but sympathy. “You wanna get outta here?”

You gave your friend a grateful smile, but ultimately declined. “We just got our drinks.” You gestured to her barely-sipped rum and Coke. “We can go once we’re done.”

The two of you forged ahead with a conversation, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at Eddie and his date. Maybe it was the vodka making you more emotional, but tears pricked at your lash line when you saw him lean in and kiss her. 

“A-Actually, maybe we should leave.” You were only halfway done with your drink, but the thought of staying and continuing to watch him had you ready to hurl it all up. 

Robin nodded, grabbing her purse and closing out the tab. When she turned back to you, she froze. 

“What?”

“He’s looking at you.”

And dammit if your heart didn’t flip-flop. You did your best to ignore it, ignore the spark of hope it gave you. 

“He’s…” Your words caught in your throat. “C’mon, let’s just go.”

You couldn’t sleep that night. The image of Eddie holding someone else’s hand flashed through your mind every time you closed your eyes. And the way he’d leaned in to kiss her, like he’d done it one thousand times before—it gnawed at you from the inside out. 

Tears slid down your cheeks and seeped into your pillowcase. You would have gone to the ends of the Earth to make that relationship work, while Eddie threw in the towel after just one week. You’d called him up in the dorm’s common room, expecting to talk to him about your day. 

Instead, you’d gotten dumped via phone call. 

You gave up on falling asleep around 4:30 AM. Padding into the kitchen, you brewed yourself a cup of coffee and poured it into your favorite mug. Steam tickled your nose as you took a sip, savoring the cocoa notes and the bitterness you craved that morning. Last night’s events came rushing back as soon as the caffeine hit your bloodstream. Eddie. The girl. The way he looked at her…did he ever look at you that way? It was bizarre seeing it from a different perspective.

The morning air was already humid, summer’s heat seemingly always unrelenting. You stretched out your legs on the steps of your front stoop, letting your muscles unclench as you breathed in a new day. 

It was just you, a smattering of chirping birds, and…a car rumbling down the street?

Hawkins was not a busy enough town for people to be driving down your sleepy street at this hour, and it wasn’t garbage day.

From around the corner came a familiar van. Your heart lurched in your chest when it came to a stop in front of your house. No. There was no way. Someone else in town must have the same exact van as him…with the same exact dent in the driver’s side door from when he’d opened it into a tree…

You scrambled to your feet, coffee sloshing over the side of the mug and onto the cement below you. 

“Hey, wait!” Eddie called out from his open window. He was dressed in a flannel and jeans, no doubt borrowed from his uncle. Killing the ignition, he hustled over to you before you could get through the door. “I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

Eddie shook his head and blew out a breath. “Look, I just…I wanted to tell you this at the bar, but you ran off–”

“So you came to my house?” You rolled your eyes. “Not creepy at all.”

He ran a hand through his curls. It was then that you noticed the missing rings, the skin slightly paler where they normally wrapped around his fingers. He tracked your gaze and looked at you with a bashful smile.

“Can’t wear them at the plant. I gotta tie my hair back, too.” He slid a ponytail holder off of his wrist and pulled back his frizzy mane, scrunching up his nose. “Always gives me a headache, though.”

You felt your guard slipping with each word he spoke. “It’s probably just too tight.” Without thinking, you gently tugged the rubber band farther from his scalp. “Better?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft. Tender. Everything you remembered it to be back when things were good. “Please…can we talk?”

Despite your lingering heartbreak–or perhaps because of it–you nodded.

Eddie’s shoulders sagged in premature relief; the difficult part still laid ahead of him. “I didn’t sleep last night. I couldn’t sleep last night. Not after seeing you.” When his hand brushed against yours, you instinctively pulled away.

“No.” You held your ground as best as you could. “No, Eddie. You don’t get to touch me anymore. Especially not when you were the one with another woman.”

“Technically, so were you.” The joke fell flat, and he cleared his throat. “All right, fine. It was a second date with someone I met last week at the Hideout. Not someone I’m committed to.”

“Right. Because if you were committed to her, you’d just break up with her on the phone.”

Eddie reeled back, your retort a sucker-punch right to his gut. He took a few seconds to collect his thoughts before speaking again. “You don’t understand how hard it was for me,” he finally said, “to know you were far away, surrounded by a bunch of smart guys, while I was in my sixth year of high school.”

“I didn’t care about that—”

“But I did!” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “God, I could just picture the conversations you’d have with your new friends: ‘Eddie? He doesn’t go here; he’s still in high school. No, he’s not younger than me. He’s actually a year older. He’s just an idiot.’”

A huff escaped your lips. “I’d never say that!” Did he actually think you’d even consider it?

“But you could’ve!” He scraped a tooth against his lower lip. “It would’ve been the truth!”

“Except you’re not an idiot,” you protested. “And throwing yourself a pity party isn’t going to make me feel bad for you.”

You downed what remained of your coffee, now only lukewarm. 

“No, I know. I know.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and shut his eyes. “This is coming out all wrong. Please, can we just go inside?”

No. The answer sat right on your tongue. And yet you found yourself opening the door and letting him in. 

Eddie sat down on the couch, making sure to leave enough space for you. He sighed when you remained standing, but began speaking again nevertheless.

“I’ve thought about you every goddamn day. And I know that’s not enough,” he rushed to add before you could say it yourself, “but I need you to know that I have. I wanted to call you a million times, but I always talked myself out of it. Figured it would just make you angrier.”

“You could’ve at least apologized.” You didn’t bother hiding the hurt in your voice; that façade had long since passed.

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” When he looked at you, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I’m sorry I let my insecurities ruin everything. I’m sorry I broke your heart. I’m sorry that I never got to see your dorm room, or meet your new friends, or watch you walk that stage at graduation. I…”

Eddie was fully sobbing on your sofa, wiping his cheeks with calloused palms. “And I’m sorry that I still love you. I’m sorry that I can’t seem to let you go.”

He’d laid it all on the table for you, not hiding a single card in his hand. His gaze was raw with vulnerability; it seared into the hardened ice encasing your heart. 

“When I saw you at the bar last night…when I saw you looking at me…” Eddie let out a huff of air. “Maybe I was just getting my hopes up, but it felt like a part of you might still love me, too.”

And as that realization unraveled, as it unfurled like a flower finally blooming after winter’s frost, you found yourself nodding in agreement. 

All at once, Eddie stood in front of you. “Please say it,” he whispered, delicately cupping your face in his hands. “I need to hear you say it. Only if you mean it.”

“I still love you.” Your nose grazed his. “I don’t want to, but I do.”

“You don’t want to because I broke your heart?” When you answered in the affirmative, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “What if I promise that I’ll never break your heart again? What if I promise that it’s always been you?”

Your voice was soft, barely audible, when you told him, “Prove it.”

Eddie’s lips found yours, a magnetic pull that hadn’t weakened in the nearly four years you’d spent apart. “Course I’ll prove it,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Spend the rest of my goddamn life proving it.”

His hands slid up underneath your shirt, a ratty old tee reserved strictly for bedtime. There was no time to worry about it being the least sexy article of clothing you had; before you knew it, Eddie tugged it over your head and tossed it aside. He whimpered as he grabbed your breast, circling the nipple with his thumb. 

You’d only gotten two of his flannel buttons undone when you stopped. “Eddie, wait—don’t you have to go to work?”

Eddie laughed, his breath tickling your neck over the spot he’d been kissing. “I’ll just have to be late. Got something…more important to attend to.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, the two of you peeling off each other’s clothes until they lay in a heap on the floor. And then there was just you and Eddie, touching everywhere you could. 

“Baby.” The word was slurred, given the fact that his tongue was currently occupied with your nipples, your skin shining where his saliva remained. “Baby…fuck, I missed you.”

He was painfully hard, the tip of his cock flush against his tummy and leaking pre-cum. You wrapped your hand around the shaft, pumping him in a painfully slow rhythm. 

“Oh—ah!” Eddie hissed, steadying himself at your sudden touch. “F-Fuck, I—y-you can’t…too sensitive.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Already?”

Eddie nodded sheepishly. “You know how much I thought about this? Every time I…y’know…I imagined it was you.”

Just the mental picture of Eddie laying back in his bed, tugging on his cock while moaning your name, had you dragging him to the couch. No time to go all the way to the bedroom. 

The moment Eddie climbed on top of you as you lay on the cushions, his fingers drifted down to where you needed him most. His middle finger, then his ring finger, slid inside you with practiced precision. Picking up right where you’d left off. 

You clenched around him, your body greedy for more as his fingers moved in and out, in and out. 

“Eddie…” Just that one word was an effort; every brain cell focused only on the pleasure building between your thighs. “Eddie…Eddie…please…”

He nodded, his tongue darting out and swiping over his lower lip. “I remembered how much you love my fingers.”

It was true; his fingers were nothing less than magic. He swore it was because he played guitar, and maybe that was part of it, but the real reason was because he had you memorized. Knew exactly where to curl his fingers, exactly how to stroke your sweet spot until your legs were shaking. 

“You’re…you’re drenched.” He wasn’t cocky; he was awestruck. Absolutely shocked that you were so needy for him, that you’d missed his touch as much as he’d missed yours. “Gonna take care of you, baby, okay?”

You inhaled a staggered breath and melted into the couch. Eddie held total and complete control over you, and it surprisingly didn’t scare you in the least. 

The last thread of restraint snapped, your orgasm hitting you in waves. You cried out Eddie’s name. It was him bringing you to a new level of ecstasy. It was him giving you everything you could ever want. 

His movements slowed to let you float down from the high. His fingers were slick with your arousal, and he popped them in his mouth with a content sigh. 

“Tastes so sweet.”

God, you needed him. Needed him to fill you entirely. Needed him to clear your mind of any thought besides how good he made you feel. Needed him to hold you down and take whatever he desired. 

Your gaze dropped down to his erection. Eddie followed your eyes, then looked back at you. 

“D-Do you…?” He trailed off before composing himself. “I mean, is it okay if I—”

“Yes.” There was no other possible answer. There was nothing else you could possibly want besides that connection, that intimacy, with the man you could never stop loving. “Please.”

Eddie obliged without hesitation. He angled himself with your entrance, pushing into you so slowly that it teetered on agonizing. You knew it would feel good; it always had, even that first awkward time together. But this was something else entirely.

It was as though a missing puzzle piece clicked into place, unlocking everything you had stowed away over the last four years without him. Tears lazily flowed down your cheeks, but before you had time to be embarrassed, Eddie kissed them away.

“S’okay,” he murmured, continuing to thrust into you with utmost care. “You’re okay, baby.”

You managed a smile as you navigated the influx of emotions. You were okay. You were with Eddie again, safe in his arms, his touch both electrifying and soothing.

All that was left to do was sink into it. 

You accepted his love, wrapping yourself in it and savoring every morsel. One of your hands found his cheek, your thumb grazing over the hint of stubble he missed when shaving. His kisses were oxygen itself, breathing life into every cell in your body. Everything was Eddie. Everything was okay again.

And then you started to giggle. It was discreet at first, but then it bubbled over until your smile was too wide to ignore. Eddie couldn’t even kiss you without his lips touching your teeth. 

“Babe?” He cocked his head, examining you as laughter floated out of you. 

“Sorry.” Another peal of laughter. “I’m…I’m just so happy.”

Eddie grinned, ducking to kiss your neck. “Me, too. Me fucking too, baby.”

There was the ebb and flow, the give and take, the push and pull. You and Eddie, working in tandem to bring the other to their climax. 

Your orgasm blossomed deep within you. You dug your fingernails into Eddie’s back and wrapped your legs around his to draw him closer. 

“Ed-Eddie, I’m…” Your hips raised to meet his, filling in where your words failed. 

Eddie nodded and gently kissed your lips. “I know, sweet girl. Just let go for me.”

And so you did. With a cry of his name, you came. You let yourself unravel right there on the couch, and before long, he was joining you. 

“Baby, baby, baby.” He let out a groan as he spilled into you, giving you every last drop. His chest rose and fell as he withdrew and caught his breath, though he kept his hands on you the whole time. Like you might disappear if he let go. 

You reached up to smooth back a lock of his hair. You needed to look into his eyes, no obstructions, when you asked him the question weighing heavily on your heart. 

“Where do we go from here?”

Eddie flinched, clearly not expecting such a candid remark right after sex. He shook off his shock and replaced it with a smirk. 

“I say we shower off first.” His nose brushed yours and he kissed you once again. “And then I’d like to take you to breakfast once the diner opens. I think we have a lot to catch up on.”

You gazed up at him, taking in the chest muscles that had filled out with the addition of manual labor.

 A shower and a breakfast date. It was a plan—maybe not like the ones you made, where every moment was perfectly laid out. And it was more than Eddie’s usual fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants demeanor. It was somewhere in the middle. A new equilibrium. 

“That sounds perfect.”

--

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 4.8k words

fic masterlist previous part pt four next part

violence + mentions of blood and injuries (this is quite visual ha); angry + kinda ‘blood lust’ miguel; someone gets electrocuted, reader kinda does (small amount—I’ll be honest I don’t know how getting electrocuted exactly works, so for the purpose of the story ignore if the way it happens isn’t realistic, thank you!) — when you’re left alone in the tech room, many spiders out on missions, something unexpected happens. when miguel finds out his face falls and his claws twitch in anger. after the incident, you find miguel walking down the hall, calling to him he asks you questions, and you offer your help with something.

It was silent. For what felt like too long. Besides the tap of your fingers on the keyboard—which had begun to slow.

Usually you’d hear distant conversations or the sound of web shooting, but instead only silence greeted you. Unease began to make your body turn, your chair spinning with you.

You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid. You were alone in the office. Which wasn’t anything strange, but it meant that your growing paranoia festered a little stronger.

You edged closer to the door, finally hearing what sounds to be rumbling. Low and too vague for you to decipher. Your hand reaches out to the door handle, but just as your fingers brush the smooth metal, you’re forced back.

Your body flies, coming to a bruising hit on your hip, making you hiss in pain. But you’re quick to get up, rushing to a clear wall, and away from the explosion. You breathe heavy as you slump against it, your ears slightly ringing, while your gaze stays blurry against the random scraps of metal and dust.

You look to the communal intercom, quickly rushing towards it. Someone or something that isn’t supposed to be here is. You have to warn the spider-people who are out on missions.

But where are the others?

Just as you reach the com, the sound of quick scuffling boots can be heard to your left. You snatch up the intercom, slipping under your desk, tucking your feet into the dark just as multiple pairs of unwelcome boots come into view.

Your shrink further into yourself. You couldn’t speak in warning to the spider variants or these guys would hear you. Your eyes narrow on the bottom of their legs. All black, but so far appearing humanised rather then some large monster. An anomaly?—you think to yourself—multiple?

You clutch the intercom mic tighter, your finger grazing the on button. And that’s when they begin to speak.

“Get the tech.” A gruff voice says. “Now! We can’t waste our time!”

You can hear more scuffling of boots as the sound of unplugging, or more so ripping follows.

“Boss, they’ll be back.” One of them said. You try to get a good look at them, but your movements will cause too much attention, so you grind your teeth and listen harder.

“If you pick up that damn monitor we might have a chance to get out quick enough.” What you assume to be the gruff voice of ‘boss’ says.

“Who even made you in charge?” One grumbles out.

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Not all of them, though.” One adds. You try again to peak out. You manage to scale the bodies of three, all in black, with…masks. Damn it. They looked worn out—handmade.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.” Boss agitatedly says.

And as if luck is still on your back-burner, your foot slips, only a fraction, but enough to knock a piece of stray metal across the floor.

“What was that?” One of the masked men asks.

The silence now following sounds threatening. You place your hand over your mouth, to quieten your breathing, as the scuffs of boots draws closer.

;;

“Ben!” Exclaimed Miguel, just as static breaks through his ear. He hisses, not expecting it, as he holds the earpiece, brows furrowed. Then the static grows clearer.

“Get the tech. Now! We can’t waste our time!”

“Boss, they’ll be back.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as he listens, confused at first. When he looks to the other spider-people they’re are all holding their own earpieces, trying to comprehend what they’re listening to.

“Who even made you in charge?”

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asks. She appears by him, tapping away at screens.

“It appears to be coming from a communal intercom.” She says.

“At HQ?” He asks, already flexing his claws. “Which one.”

“I’m just finding out. The connection is muffled.” More tapping.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.”

The voices still infiltrate Miguel’s ear. “Lyla.” He sounds impatient. “Which one?”

Then she stops tapping. “Y/n y/l/n’s.”

Miguel freezes, looking at Lyla as if she would be one to crack a joke. Then he hears the knock of something metal through his ear piece, followed by a ‘“What was that?”’. He can now hear your heavy breathes, slightly muffled, as heavy boots hit the floor.

Then all sound is gone.

He doesn’t wait for anyone, pressing his wristband to open the portal to HQ. But Jess stops him. “Miguel, think about this. What if it’s them?”

Miguel glances at her, shrugging her grip off his arm, as he taps at his wristband again, the portal opening up. His expression is downcast, one could easily say terrifying.

“Miguel! You have to think this through.” Jess persists. “We have spider-men and woman back at HQ—”

“Who are clearly too distracted to do anything.” Miguel grunts out, webbing towards the portal. But Ben intercepts this time.

“She’s right, Miguel. Don’t worry about the tech, we can get it back, or even get new ones—“

“The tech?” Miguel actually sounds in disbelief. “You think I’m fucking worried about the tech?!” His red eyes gleam, and Ben gulps.

“Then what are you worried about, Miguel?” Jess asks, exasperated. “Because I don’t see anything else that needs urgent attention. The tech is the main—“

“¿Tú no? The tech is the last of my worries, Jess.” Miguel interrupts. But this time he isn’t yelling. This time it’s toned down, and somehow that makes him appear much, much scarier.

“Miguel.” Jess tries to calm him down, not understanding what he could find more worrying. Data had been saved on that tech, important data. She places one hand on his wrist, but he immediately shrugs her off, glaring.

“Get out of my way.” He snarls. She doesn’t move, crossing her arms. “The reason why you aren’t hurt against that wall is because you earned my respect. That’s slipping, Jess.”

“Miguel you’re frantic.” She says.

“Call it what you want. I’m getting to HQ.” He webs past her, and Jess finally has the mind to let him go. Though she still stands there worried, and confused about what could have made Miguel so urgent to get to the scene.

;;

You tighten your hold on the intercom, now switching to use it as a possible weapon, as the boots near. You prepare yourself by silent deep breaths and a focused gaze.

The boots stop in front of you, pausing for only a moment. Then the desk is being flung to the side. You choke a gasp, managing to slam the intercom down into the guys shin, the harsh metal side bruising and buckling his leg.

He exclaims in pain as you scramble to your feet. You can finally see the detail on the three mens’ outfits. A dark green weaved into the fabric. Then you see the claws for hands, and all three of their masks turned to you. Shit.

“Who are you guys?” You manage to get out, as you reach behind you for a keyboard.

One looks at the other before looking back at you. “Were you here the whole time?”

You say nothing, edging closer to the exit. It’s silent from them for a moment then “…kill her.” The gruff voice of ‘boss’ says. And they’re quick.

You try to rush away but one yanks you back by your hair. You angrily swing around and knock the metal keyboard across one of their heads. Some of the pieces shatter against his mask.

But then one is grabbing your neck, pushing you against the wall. “Sorry—boss says no tattle tales.” The guy tightens his hold, and your hands scramble against his in an effort to intake air.

There’s a moment where your vision blurs. But there’s also a moment where his knee shifts letting your leg harshly kick out. You’re glad to find him humanised in his pants as he doubles over.

You rush away from the wall, heaving. One of the masked men is already trying to grab you and as his clawed hand wraps around your arm, he’s pulled back, a shining orange web yanking him straight into a monitor, his head smashing against glass.

The speed makes his claws cut across your flesh but your adrenaline is far too prominent for you to care. You notice the other guy stalking towards you, making you swiftly gaze around at your environment, Weapon. Weapon. Weapon. You stop on a machine, wires poking out, sparking with electricity. Holding a certain point you pull two out, ripping the electric wires, before stabbing them into his stomach, the electric current making his body shake and twitch.

You soon have to let go as they grow unbearably hot, leaving scolding burns on your fingertips and palms. That’s when you notice the owner of the orange web. Miguel has ruined the guy he originally threw into a monitor, his body now a bloody pulp.

You have to quickly look away to the second guy who had obviously gotten up from your kick and landed straight into Miguel’s palm. Miguel is retracting his claws from the masked man’s body, blood tainting the tips of his fingers, as he breaths harshly but somehow still controlled.

Miguel looks to the guy knocked out in front of you, still occasionally twitching from the strong current of electricity. You feel light headed, placing your hands on your knees as you try to slow your breathing.

But then you feel a hand. And not a friendly one as the masked man passes on some of the electricity moving through his body into your thigh. You scream, the half electrocuted guy—his hair frizzed and slightly cinched—stumbling to a stance, just as you fall to the floor.

Then you hear a crash and a curdling scream—not from you.

Miguel inserts his claws into the guys neck, practically ripping his throat out, as the guy chokes on his own blood. The blood sprays across Miguel’s face, leaving slight speckles as he rips the rest of the man with his teeth, letting him drop to the floor.

It was animalistic in way, as his tongue licked his fangs, his breathing now harsher—angrier.

But then he sees you drifting from consciousness on the floor.

Miguel doesn’t know what breathing is, or the meaning of the word slow, as he reaches your side in a millisecond, his hand coming to grab your face between his fingers—maybe a little harshly but his entire being was still on overdrive.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks as he slightly shakes your head. “Y/l/n.” He hisses. “Wake up.“

He’s gentle now, realising that you’re a human and not some villain he needs to hurt, as he checks your pulse not wanting his claws to cut you. “Y/n!” He finally exclaims, as you get roused awake.

Your leg feels painfully numb, as your eyes flutter open. A thin layer of tears is making your eyes sparkle as you finally meet Miguel’s gaze. You try to slow your breathing, shutting your eyes to reassess.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks. “No, no. Open them.”

You do, though they stay hooded. “I’m just…tired. No need to sound so harsh—shit.” The lasting electricity still spasms up your leg, as the hold of Miguel’s hand makes the tears fall.

You begin to shake your head, partially trying to get out of his hold. “Stop.” You say.

“Stop what?” Miguel instantly replies, his gaze shooting to your thigh.

“Just—“ you breathe. Then Miguel finds the deep scratch mark on your arm, his hand grabbing it as his eyes dart. “It’s fine. Just a cut.”

“Y/n, you just got attacked. You’re a weak human, don’t try to sound so tough.”

“You’re not helping.” You hiss, tilting your head back as you try to keep the tears in, not wanting them to fall. “And that was kind of mean.” You mutter the last part just for the sake of it. Using your pain induced state as an excuse to blurt out your annoyed feelings with Miguel.

Miguel grabs your chin, trying to pull your gaze back to his, but you resist, keeping it tilted away. “Stop.” You say again.

“No.” He answers, successfully pulling your chin back, and holding it there. “Why aren’t you looking me?”

Your eyes are darting around, before you choose to close them. “Y/n.” Miguel is stern, but underlying that he sounds almost desperate—almost.

You can feel him move closer to you and you place your hand out to stop him, your palm ending up against his chest. “Can you not—“

“What—not help you?” He asks harshly.

“Can you look away.” You say, finally opening your eyes. “Please.”

“Why?” Miguel isn’t budging, staying close to you. He’s already dialled in medical on his wristwatch.

“Jeezus Christ, Miguel! I don’t like fucking crying in front of people. It’s a weird thing I can’t get rid of. I hate it. It makes me feel embarrassed—“

“Embarrassed?” Miguel interrupts.

“Yes. Embarrassed.” You hiss harshly. You couldn’t find your filter, your tone far more aggressive then usual with the throbbing pain in your arm and the spasm of your thigh.

“Well, that stupid.” He says.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s not going away. So if you could just look away and let me…I dunno…recompose myself.”

“Recompose yourself?”

“Yes! Stop repeating what I’m saying!” You exclaim, only to follow with a groan of pain as you try to sit up.

Miguel knows your mind is frazzled and your body is reactive. He pushes you back down, grabbing your cheeks again.

“You got partially electrocuted and cut—deep, I’d think you’re a psychopath If you didn’t cry.” Miguel says, his volume dropped to one almost soothing—almost.

“Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” You mutter.

“Wow…I’ve never seen you this annoyed before.”

You narrow your eyes on him. His hand that was gingerly inspecting your thigh had slipped over your waist, partially caging you in.

You try again to sit up. But Miguel yet again, keeps you pressed to the floor. “O’hara.”

He leans closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “Stop moving.”

“I’m fine.”

“No your not.” He easily answers, which earns him a half hearted scoff. “You know I think I prefer you trying to suck up instead.”

You meet his gaze glaring. “I have not been sucking up, I just like—“

“This job. Yeah I’ve heard you.” He interrupts.

He can hear commotion behind him, but the voices of rushing spider-people makes his shoulders relax. The medical have arrived, and as you notice the new people you quickly wipe your cheeks, brushing against Miguel’s hand, as you get up.

Miguel finally let’s you, by slipping his arm around the back of your waist. You try to swat it away—any physical touch usually induces the waterworks you desperately wanted to keep at bay—but he tightens his hold, resulting in your side being flush against him.

The medical spiders inspect your bruised body. “It’s her thigh and upper arm…” Miguel begins telling the spiders. Then he grabs your hands holding your palms out. “And hands.” The burnt marks look raw, and you hiss as Miguel had to slightly stretch the skin to show.

He immediately lets go upon hearing the sound of pain. “Thanks Miguel, we’ll take it from here.” A medical spider says, already at your side checking your cut.

Miguel narrows his eyes on the spider variant, watching as you bite your lip as they inspect your wound. He sighs, finally getting up and letting your waist go. At the sudden shift your hand flies out to his leg, or more specifically his thigh.

Your quick, tight grip has Miguel stopping. You change your position, not having realised how much you were using Miguel as physical support, before you’re quickly taking your hand away and coughing.

You give him a brief nod. “Thanks for the help.”

Miguel scoffs. “Help? I did a bit more than help.”

You’re praying to get some anaesthetic soon so that your pain won’t make you loose your job. You press your lips together harshly. “Of course. You did spectacular.” You say.

The sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He eyes you once more before he’s walking out the exit.

You sat there, finally taking a proper breath. You don’t know why you were holding it for so long. …maybe you did have a clue. The image of Miguel ripping the guys neck out, blood staining his face is still fresh in your mind.

You’ll be honest, it scared you. He kind of scared you. But not in way you’d think he’d hurt you, just one that made him seem unpredictable. I mean what happened just then, with his touching and softer tone was something completely unforeseen.

If someone told you he would be do that today you’d actually laugh. Miguel was unpredictable and intimidating in general, sure, but what seemed to scare you more was the way he looked when his eyes shone with blood lust. His eye colour seemed fitting now.

You also happened to be scared of the way the sight made you feel. Something that settled far too low in your stomach.

;;

Miguel went straight to the lobby where a spider variant he kept high up in the ranks resided. “You. Get up. Now.”

The spider variant immediately stood, as he nervously followed Miguel to his office. The orange tech screens were the main thing lighting the place.

And as Spider-Man took a breath he lost it as soon as Miguel slowly turned to him. Blood still stained his skin and claws and suit, and the spider-man felt the urge to run.

“Where were you today?” Miguel asked, leaning back against a table and crossing his arms almost too casually.

“I was…here, Miguel.” He said steeling his spine. He knew where this was going.

“Were you?” Miguel asked, his eyes trained on the spider.

Spider man gulped. “I’m really sorry, Miguel. I didn’t hear any sort of explosion. I didn’t get any awareness. Which…shouldn’t happen.”

“You know what ‘shouldn’t happen’?” Miguel asks, now twirling an empty glass on the table. “Spider men and woman shouldn’t only rely on that “tingle thing”.”

The spider hangs his head lower in apology. “Someone could have died today.” Miguel continued. “And you would have what—been too busy playing poker?”

The spider variant winces at his words. Miguel knew of his addiction, always using his free time to gamble.

“Do you get that?” Miguel asks.

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Sadly that’s not gonna cut it.” Miguel says, making spider man look up. “I left you in charge while I was gone. You failed miserably.”

“Miguel. I didn’t mean to only rely on my usual awareness, it’s a force of habit. That’s never happened before. I can always sense when danger is close.”

“But you didn’t.” Miguel says. “There’s someone in medical right now who got injured—badly. And she was all alone.” Miguel has stood up, stalking towards him.

“Now for personal reasons I may find her annoying.” He quickly mutters out. “But that certainly doesn’t mean you can let her die. Do you hear me?”

Spider man quickly nods. “Of course. This’ll never happen again.”

“No it won’t.” Miguel turns away, and the finality in his voice makes spider man’s eyes widen.

“Miguel—“

“Go home.” Miguel cuts in, stepping up to his screens. Anger still seeped from every pore.

;;

You woke up, feeling a dull ache in your body, but for the most part you felt alright. Better, a lot better. You swing your feet off the medical bed, realising that the lights were out.

Your feet hit the cold floor, before you quietly step towards the exit door.

Making it out to the hallway you were grateful you were already on the high level, no need for a long travel up the stairs.

You needed to rest. Alone. Not surrounded my medical items. You slowly headed to your room, but stop upon seeing a familiar body walking away.

“O’hara.” You say, making the figure freeze.

You quicken your steps, reaching him. He turns and you have to stop the intake of breathe at the reminded visual of the now dried blood.

“You didn’t want a shower?” You joked, forcing a chuckle.

Miguel just scans your body, narrowing his eyes, his expression is it’s typical, solemn and moody. “You should get back to bed.”

“I was actually heading to my room. But I just wanted to…thank you.” You say, finally making Miguel meet your gaze.

“You really did help me back there.” You spare him a small smile and a nod. Then your gaze gets caught back up in the blood stains, as you gulp.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Miguel suddenly asks.

You look up. “Mm?”

“The reason I’m covered in blood.”

“Oh.” You say. “It was…quite impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” Miguel says making your brows furrow. He steps a fraction closer. “You didn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

Another step. “You thought I looked animalistic. Scary.”

You dart your gaze down to his slowly moving feet before quickly looking back up. You shake your head. And in return Miguel nods.

“You think I’m scary.” Everything he’s saying is statements. He knows, but you keep shaking your head.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.” He says, much, much closer now. “You’re terrible at it.”

You stop the shake of your head, blinking a few times. “O’hara—“

“Just be honest.”

“I am.” You say, straightening your spine. And as your eyes dart you notice a deep cut running across his thigh. The dried blood, his.

You step closer. “Why didn’t you get that checked out?”

He glances down at his wound. “It’s fine.”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t act like your above it all, including pain, and infection.” Your blatancy makes Miguel raise a brow.

You pause for a moment, mulling over potential decisions in your head. Then before it could get later and before you could back down you speak. “Follow me. Let me help.”

Miguel stares at you. “It’s fine—“ he goes to monotonously repeat.

You just grab his wrist, pulling him towards your room. Miguel grabs your wrist in turn, preparing to pull your hand off.

“Hey. You made me go to your room, now I’m just returning the favour.” You say.

Miguel stares at you, scoffing. You let go of his wrist, knowing you don’t have the strength to pull him. “If you’re scared I don’t know what I’m doing, then know that I studied to be a nurse before I found out about…all this.”

“Why?” Miguel asks. “Why help?” He elaborates.

“I just told you.” You say, beginning to head to your room. “I feel weird if I’ve seen your room when you haven’t yet seen mine.”

“That’s not a good reason at all.”

“But your walking my way aren’t you?”

Miguel hadn’t realised that he’d moved to your door without the permission of his mind. He curses under his breath as your scent floods his senses, your room making it ten times worse. This is the last thing he needed.

But you’re already shutting the door and ushering him further in. “You can um…” you look around. “You can just sit on the bed.”

No—Miguel thought. God, no. But you were already getting out an older looking kit from under textbooks—your stuff having been brought to you from your universe.

He slowly sits, trying not to get one bit comfortable. You reach his side placing the kit on the bed, as you drop to your knees.

Miguel’s breathing stops at the visual. You’re directly by his thigh…kneeling. No, no.

Miguel clicks his jaw, looking away. He looks back down, to see your hand is midway from touching his cut thigh. “Why are you doing this?” He can’t fathom why you would actually want to help him.

You sigh. “I just feel kinda bad.”

“Bad?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“For any particular reason?” Miguel pushes.

“No.” You sarcastically scoff. “You’re just generally a person everyone feels bad for.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as you chuckle. He shifts on your bed. “Stop doing that.”

Your hand stops by his cut, thinking it’s the touching of his wound, when in actual fact it was the way your ‘chuckle’ had sent a strange vibration through him to somewhere he desperately didn’t want you to notice. He was right. This was a terrible idea.

Then you’re touching him. Delicate and gentle, as you pull away his ripped suit. You begin to dab what looks to be an alcohol cloth onto his wound, and in response Miguel snarls, his grip tightening around your sheets.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

“Dios.” He mutters, closing his eyes a moment. “Stop being nice.”

You look up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never heard someone say that. Usually it’s ‘stop being mean’.”

His face is tight as you continue to clean his cut. “Someone said that to you?”

You pause. “No actually. But I just mean in general. And I’m not being ‘nice’ to you. I’m returning a favour.”

“Ah.” He hums, before all his muscles tense. “Can you hurry up.”

“You’ve never let anyone touch you up before, have you?” Catching onto the fact that he’s clearly cleaned his past wounds himself.

Miguel glares at you. “So, you can stop.” He reaches to take the cloth from you, but you lean away resting your hand on his knee for support.

“You can just sit on the bed.” Miguel grits out. He couldn’t watch you being on your knees for him any longer. Not unless he’d do something he’d end up regretting.

“That’s okay, it’s an easier angle here.”

God. You had to stop. ‘Easier angel’? Yeah, Miguel definitely wasn’t thinking about you cleaning his cut. He runs his hand through his hair.

You quickly reach out grabbing his wrist. He looks at you, expectantly. “You have uh…blood on your fingertips…claws.”

Miguel darts his gaze across your face. “And you’re worried about it getting my…hair dirty?”

You shrug. “Well, now you’re making me sound stupid.”

“I don’t need to do that.” He quips, and you shoot him a glare. “But um…” he drifts off, as you look up at him, now waiting expectantly.

“Did you find me…scary, or whatever?” He asks, and surprisingly there’s a hint of…vulnerability hidden in his tone? No—you think to yourself—that can’t be right. “Before. With the anomalies.”

You dab a fraction harder, making Miguel hiss a groan. You ignore the way it vibrates through your body. You shake your head.

“Why do you keep lying?” He asks.

You sigh. “I just—“

“Just?” Miguel seemed to really want to get an answer out of you. He shifts closer. And when you don’t answer, continuing to focus on his wound, he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to meet his gaze. You gulp, his large hand nearly reaching to wrap around your neck.

“Do I scare you?”

Your chest picks up a quicker beat. He leans closer, pulling you towards him, your chest hitting his leg. “Do I—“

“Yes. Alright.” You quickly say. “A little bit…yes.”

His grip tightens around your chin a fraction. “Because of what you saw?”

“And the way you talk to people.” You mutter out. Why were saying this? This isn’t something you say to your boss.

You hadn’t noticed at first but one of his claws had begun to brush back and forth against the skin of your jaw, his eyes not leaving yours. You were utterly frozen. And there’s a moment that you just catch where his gaze darts down to your lips, his breath feeling extremely close.

But then he’s leaning away, his jaw clenching as he looks to the door. “Are you done?”

You quickly look down to his cut, rushing to get out a bandage. “Uh, almost.” Your entire body was buzzing.

While you stayed focused on finishing him up, Miguel’s gaze went back to staring at you. He almost gave in—almost. He wouldn’t, though.

You were scared of him. He knew you were somewhat so, but now hearing you say it confirmed that you’d never see him how he had gradually started seeing you. He had to stop. Now, before he dove in far too deep.

He couldn’t let himself go any deeper. Because at this rate he’d certainly drown, and if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be from some silly little crush.

okay, I’m sorry, I lied. there is nothing sexual in here. but I didn’t think adding anything like that yet would work. since a lot of you guys asked for a slow burn

again, I hope this is up to a good standard for you guys to continue reading. I wanted to add something a little different then the usual Spanish lesson then Miguel’s end of the deal. I needed some action of some sort.

and ofc, part five will come soon x love you all MWAH

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3

[cameronspecial]

how about we go a lil angsty? the reader hadn’t yet told him about her being pregnant bcs she remembers Drew once said he doesnt know if he wants to be a dad and so she tried to bring the topic up with hypothetical questions and his answers not exactly the thing she wanted to hear so she went all silent and pulled herself away and stuff.

I dont wanna give it away, so please you decide the ending..either they communicate and Dad!Rafe rise or…

I Want This

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Abortions and Miscommunication

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Well… She doesn’t know what she expected the results to be, but this is definitely an answer. Y/N doesn’t even think she can focus on the opinion she has of this situation because all she can think about is Drew’s.

———

“Awww, Babe, look at this pic of Lils that Mac sent me,” he gushed, holding his phone up to his fiancée. She looked up from her laptop, “So cute. Ugh, I miss them so much. I mean look at those little baby rolls. I just want to cuddle the cutie.” He smiled and brought her head under the crook of his neck. “I know. We have to visit them soon. I’m so glad I have a niece. It means I can be the fun uncle forever and never have to be a dad,” he mindlessly thought out loud, going back to scrolling on his phone. This caused her to freeze; they never talked about having kids, but he was so good with them that she assumed he would want them. She should’ve asked him about it because she wanted them. She didn’t though. Kids were important to her and so was Drew. She wasn’t ready to cause a rift in their relationship because of something small. 

———

Staring at the positive pregnancy test, she has to figure out a way to gauge how he would feel about it before actually telling him the truth. Once she knows how he feels, it will help her decide how she wants to feel about it seeing that if they are on the opposite page, then she would have to make a difficult decision. She shoves the positive tests into the box and hides them in her makeup drawer. He never goes looking there. She exits the bathroom, lets out a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen to start getting lunch ready. Drew is coming home from filming in Morocco later today. The music blasting through the speakers makes her unaware of the new presence in the house. He smiles at the dancing silhouette cutting potatoes. His hand drops over her eyes and she sets the knife down with a grin. Her arms wrap around her neck to bring him down towards her. This allows her to pepper his face with kisses. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” she notices, turning the music off. His hand rests on her hip, “I was, but I was offered an early flight and I couldn’t say no to seeing my girl early. I missed you and I love you.” She sinks into his hold. “I missed and love you too.”

The couple spend the next half an hour cooking together before settling themselves at the dining room table. Since they talked to each other throughout cooking, silence falls over them. A chime comes from his phone and he checks it to see a text from his sister. “Mac is planning on coming down with Lils and my mom soon. They can stay in the guest room, right?” Drew confirms, reading over the text again. She nods, “Yeah, I’ll get it ready over the weekend and buy one of those travelling crib things for Lils. It is going to be fun to have a baby around the house. The guest room would make a nice baby room in the future. It has nice big windows and the closet is the perfect size.” The chuckle that comes out of his mouth drops her stomach into a furnace. 

“What’s so funny?” she questions. He shrugs, “Not the babysitting part. They could both use a break and I will never say no to spending time with my niece. It’s just the thought of having to turn the guest room into a baby room is funny.” 

“Oh, why?”

“I don’t know. It’s a guest room. I mean where would our family stay when they come over?” 

“Yeah, where would they stay?”

She should probably ask if he meant he can’t imagine the room as a baby room right now or if it was a forever thought; however, she is scared of the answer she is going to get so she shuts down the conversation. They sit in a new tension-filled silence that he pretends he can’t feel. 

———

After lunch, Y/N retreats to the backyard to swing in the hammock. This tells him that she needs some space and he knows she is upset when she is still outside at eleven p.m. The friction of the patio door sliding against each other makes her turn to him. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, waiting for him to say something. He places the plate of pasta he made for dinner onto the side table beside the hammock. “I found the pregnancy tests,” he states, bringing one of the patio chairs close to her. She freezes and sits up. Her legs swing over the fabric to face him, “How?” “Maddie helped me pick out clay pot Moroccan lipstick for you and I wanted to surprise you with it. I was going to hide it in your drawer…” he explains, eyes falling to his fingers and trailing off at the end. Her head moves up and down. Her thoughts are moving around her head a thousand miles a second. He is going to break up with her. He is going to make her have an abortion. Or worse. He is going to make her choose between the baby or him on the spot. 

He grows nervous when she doesn’t say anything and his suspicions are confirmed. He understands why she is unsure about talking to him about this. The way he has spoken about having a baby in the past could’ve given her the wrong idea. He hesitantly reaches to place a hand on hers and does it when she doesn’t shy away. “I want you to know that the decision about what we do with the baby is up to you and I will be at your side during the whole process,” he assures. Her confusion causes tears to crop up in her eyes, “You don’t want the baby though. I know that, so if you are going to break up with me because I do, then just do it. But making me have to choose is kinda cruel.” His heart squeezes, hating that his words aren’t coming out as he means them to be. His head shakes like crazy and he sits beside her. He brings her head against his chest, “Babe, I don’t want to break up with you. I want to have this baby with you too.”

“You want the baby? Then how come you don’t think the guest room would be a good baby room?”

“Because my office would be a better one. The windows aren’t too big so it won’t wake the baby up in the morning and the closet there is even bigger, so when they get older they can have as many clothes as their heart desires.”

“Okay, you are right… What about when you said you want to be an uncle forever and never be a dad?”

“Honestly, I never really thought I would want to be a dad. I was content with being an uncle, but, Babe, when I found that pregnancy test, all I could think about was how happy I was to be bringing a child into the world with the most amazing woman in the world and I couldn’t wait to raise them with you.”

She leans back and rests a warm palm on his cheeks, trying to hold back her tears. “So you want to have this baby?” she verifies. He kisses the tears away, “I want this, Babe. I promise. We are going to do this. Together.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[rafeslittleangel]

One night only...right?

In which you and Natasha are on a mission and lose all communication from Shield, forcing you to stay at a motel.

Warnings: Smut, tribbing, fingering, edging, mommy kink, oral f receiving, slight mentions of injury

Words: 2.6k

18+ mdni

"All clear" 

Nat whispers, pressing the earpiece to hear your response. 

"They're heading your way, Romanoff. I see thermal signatures of three." You mumble, looking at the small screen attached to your sleeve. "Stay on comms. I'll come in when you need me to."

Natasha smirks, her eyes flitting to the entrance of the room, waiting for the incoming. Rubbing her lips together, almost hungrily, she mutters...

"I'd like to make you come in other ways sweetheart."

You blush furiously, so glad Natasha couldn't see you right now. Before you could even respond, you heard the voice of the one and only Nick Fury, who was sitting back at base, guiding you through the mission. Your mission was to take down agents from a small organization that had recently popped out of nowhere, following the Hydra framework and belief that SHIELD and the Avengers knew all too well. They were on a mission to recover important information from an old hydra facility. Your job was to get your hands on it first.

"Focus on the mission, Romanoff; you can go back to your y/n fantasies later."

Fury's voice rings in your ears, bringing you back to reality. 

"Oh, I'm sure she wasn't, uh, fantasizing about me. Just an offhand comment, right?" You whispered unsurely, laughing nervously.

"Oh angel, I was doing much more than just fantasizing."

Normally you would blush and laugh it off, completely oblivious (maybe a little aware) of Natasha's advances, but you saw a flickering movement on your screen that made you squint, zooming in on the building schematics.

"Nat on your right, you have incoming through entrance four. I count 2, one armed, one strapped."

You widened your eyes, making sure you were looking at the signatures properly.

"Strapped to a bomb vest, Natasha, do not engage!" You yelled into the mouthpiece frantically, sprinting towards the room she was in. You neared entrance four, kicking down the other guy while you gingerly approached the human bomb, threatening to blow at any second.

"Romanoff, we need to evacuate. Where are you!?" You utter desperately, watching as the bomb vest turns red hot and the man dressed in it grins maniacally.

"Right behind you," Natasha knocks out a man who had gone unnoticed and was right behind you, peering at his figure on the ground. You hadn't even realized that someone was behind, let alone someone who was probably planning to blow you up. Natasha wraps her arm around your waist urgently, looking at the live bomb.

"Run"

You both sped across the hallways, her protective hold on your body tightening with every turn. You didn't slow down as you ran out of the facility, not looking back once.

"GET DOWN!"

Natasha screamed, pushing you to the ground and covering your body with hers. You heard a loud reverberation that echoed for so long that it felt like hours.

A few more minutes passed before she let up. You rolled around on your back, looking up at her tiredly to see a shit-eating grin on her face.

"This is not how I imagined we'd be when we laid down together for the first time."

At this, you giggled, looking away. She offered you a hand, and you took it, your hair bouncing as you got up.

You reached to tap your earpiece, wanting to let Fury know you're both safe. You pressed it, only to hear static. You took it out and groaned to see that it was broken. You looked toward Natasha to see her having the same luck. The vibrations from the explosion and the frantic escape must have damaged it. You sighed and looked around.

"Where's our ride? Do we go back to base?"

Natasha looks at you guiltily. "Well..." You widen your eyes, shooting her a wary glance.

"Nat...."

"I was supposed to call for the quintjet through comms. We have no forms of communication left to call Fury."

"Wh-UGH what about the bike?"

She looks around, examining every nook and corner of the destroyed facility and the grounds around it. "It blew up". You groaned, looking away from her, dread filling your heart. You had never been stranded before. You were a young avenger, comparatively new one. You bit your lip and surveyed the ground underneath you.

Natasha looks at you sympathetically. "We can't go back y/n. This just got way more serious than it should be. We need that intel, whoever it's with. And we need to find out why they would blow up their own facility. What were they hiding in here?" She thought out loud. "We'll have to camp out here for a few. Even if we had a means of transportation or communication, we would have to stay to figure this out."

You nod reluctantly. Friend or not, Natasha was still your senior. You looked into the pitch black sky. "Where do we start?"

She lets out a laugh, looking you over. "I might be tough on you hon, but I'm not a monster. We're gonna get some rest, recuperate and prepare, starting with stitching that ugly cut up."

Natasha brings her hand to your cheek, a borderline concerned look on her face. You tensed up. You hadn't even realized you were hurt.

She gently traced the pad of her thumb below the lacerated skin, her eyebrows pinched together. You observe her face, which was practically glowing, even in the darkness of the night. She blinked, as if put out of a trance when she notices you staring. She withdraws her hand, almost hesitantly (you notice) and cleare her throat.

"Uh...l-let's go look for a motel to spend the night at huh?" You caught a glance of the faint blush that spread on her cheeks, right before she turned away, walking quickly. You stood there, dumbfounded.

Natasha fucking Romanoff was...nervous?

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Wait for me!" You rushed behind Natasha, who was practically speed walking by now.

_______________________________________________

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped up in a towel. You'd just gotten out of the shower, the gash on your cheek pulsing. You winced, letting out a few yelps of pain as you a attempted to put a measly bandaid on it. You hear three loud knocks an you jump, your knuckle hitting the cut.

"Fuck!" You screamed. Hearing the noise, Natasha barged in, gun in her hand.

"Are you okay?" She asked, eyes suddenly fixated on the towel hugging your body.

"I was until you knocked on the door, making me hit my cheek!" You huffed out, annoyed. Natasha chuckled and put her gun down.

"I just wanted to ask if you need help sweetheart. And apparently, you do.." She peered at the bandaid on your face. "You don't put bandaids on cuts like that sweetheart."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, then at Nat, suddenly feeling so stupid as you look down at the first aid kit in your hands.

"I-I didn't have anything else..."

Natasha smiles, caressing your side gently. "You'll need stitches princess." She takes out her own first aid kit, finding the sterilized needle and thread she kept.

"Will you get on the counter for me sweetheart?"

Natasha was taller than you, so it made sense for you to sit on the counter so that she could stitch you up more easily. You felt your cheeks get hot at her choice of words but get on the counter anyway, clutching your towel as it ridea up your legs.

She starts working on the cheek carefully and gently, inserting herself between your legs. You screw your eyes shut at the pain, needing something to hold on to as you grip her thigh, digging your nails into her flesh. She let out words of appreciation, hating to see you in pain.

"Almost done princess, just hang on..."

She whispers, doing the last stitch, finally cutting up the thread to look at you.

"All done sweetheart, you can open your eyes now."

You let go of a breath you didnt realize you were holding, as you turn to look in the mirror, inspecting your cheek. You look at Nat in the mirror, who was already looking at you. You felt your throat go dry as you looked into her eyes.

"T-thank you..." You stuttered out, looking back at her. She smiled and put the things back in the first aid kid, not moving away as her thigh rested dangerously close to your almost exposed pussy. You felt Natasha's gaze burn into you as she traced your inner thighs with her fingers.

"Can I kiss you?"

She whispered, lips inches away from yours. You nodded slowly, lost in her eyes. She didn't waste a second to crash her lips onto yours, hands funding your lower back. You let go of the towel loosely wrapping your torso, the fuzzy cloth dropping to reveal your body as you kept your hands on her neck to pull her closer.

Natasha stops, eyes relishing every nook and corner of your naked body as she looks you up and down.

"Sweetheart..." She whisper, completely entranced, bringing her thumb to stroke your soft nipple, playing with it until it becomes a small hard nub. A rush of euphoria hits you and you whimper, your hands finding her waist.

She looks up at your face and smiles, delighted to see your head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. She brings her mouth to your other nipple, licking and sucking it harshly, dragging a real, loud moan out of your throat.

Natasha pressed herself closer to your core, your legs involuntarily wrapping around her waist. She picks you up, carrying you out of the bathroom and to the medium-sized bed, which was the best that the run-down roadside motel you were at could offer. She gently placed you on the matress, looking at you hungrily as she spread your legs. She knelt down, her thumb reaching your clit, gauging you for a reaction. You bit your lip, whimpering and looking down at her as she pressed her thumb on the bundle of nerves, bringing her teeth down to graze the sensitive bud.

You were soaked by now, squirming and begging for some kind of friction as Natasha carelessly traced her fingers on the work of art between your legs.

"M-Mommy please!"

You whimpered out, bucking your hips towarda her fingers. All movement stopped as she looked up at you, a mocking pout on her lips.

"Please what sweetheart? Use your pretty words angel, can't get everything by begging and whining can you?"

You moaned, your hand reaching down to rub your clit. "Need you s-so bad." Natasha shoves your hand away from your clit, delivering a slap to your pussy. You cry out, your hole tightening around nothing.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" She asks, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

"Answer me." She brought her hand down on your pussy again, smirking as you hiss in pain.

"I-I'm sorry-" You mumble, closing your eyea and biring your lip. Natasha lights taps your cheek, gesturing for you to look at her.

"Sorry what?"

"I'm sorry m-mommy!" You choke out as Nat plays with your clit. She smiles and takes your pretty bud in between her lips, sucking on it while forcing your legs open, even as you struggle to close them from the sensations. You gasp when her tongue enters your wet hole, eagerly lapping up your juices.

You thrust your pelvis into her face, causing her to hold you down as she aggressively licks your pussy like it was her last meal. Your hands reach to her scalp, stroking and pulling her red hair as the knot in your abdomen threatens to unravel.

You moan with pleasure, eyes falling shut when you shudder, so wo close-

"Fuck!" You cry out, tortured swollen pussy pulsing as Nat looks up at you, your arousal dripping down her chin.

"No...no why'd you stop!?" You sniffle, tears in your eyes.

Natasha licks her lips, bringing her face down to kiss your neck, biting and sucking so hard it left a large purple mark. You gasped, nails digging into her hips.

"Well you haven't been the best girl for mommy... didn't think you deserved a release." She whispers, rolling both your nipples betwen her fingers. You shudder with pleasure running down your torso.

"I'll be better...I-I promise I'll be better...Please Na-mommy!" Your best, puppy dog, princess face was on, playing at Natasha's heartstrings but she was not that easy. She settled onto the bed, gesturing for you to come towards her.

"C'mere sweetheart..." She whispered, arms out as you crawled towards her. She takes off her shirt and jeans, left in a red lingerie that could make anyone salivate at the sight. She scooped you up, laying you down in front of her. She spread your legs, blowing air to your core, watching as more arousal leaks through your hole.

"Aw sweetheart... baby's eager isn't she?" She whiapered out, eyes fixated to your insanely wet swollen cunt. You nodded and whimpered, nails digging into the matress of the bed.

She teased you, slowly sliding in one finger as she looks at your pretty face, whines falling out of your mouth. She keeps the finger inside, unmoving, looking at your eyes shut at just one.

"My princess can take another can't she?"

You nod eagerly, thrusting your bottom further down the finger. Natasha puts her hand on your jaw, pressing harshly.

"Didn't I ask you to use your words sweetheart?" She whisper, threatening to pull out the first. You babble, trying to find your speech.

"Another one m-ma please..." You bite your lip, anxious for friction.

Nat joins her index finger with her middle finger, finally starting to move them, thrusting them into you. She curled her fingers inside, grazing the squelchy, spongy spot inside that made you moan and shut your eyes.

She was breathing heavily, touching herself over the thin material of the panties, seeing your little hole get so stretched by just two fingers. Without warning, she slid another one in, making you gasp and hold her wrist.

She slapped your hand away, thrusting her fingers harder, pulling down her own, soaked through underwear. She felt your pussy clench around her fingers and she withdrawed them completely, leaving you clenching around nothing. You cried out, having yet aanother orgasm ripped away from you. The desperation was short lasting however, as Natasha pulled you to her lap, thrusting her bud onto yours, placing your wet and slippery pussy on hers.

She moaned loudly, her grip on your ass tightening as she made you grind into her pussy. You squealed as she flipped you over, rolling her hips into yours, rubbing herself on you without a break. Squelching noises filled the room as your slick coated pussy caressed against hers, your orgasm threatening to burst for the third time that night.

"Come on princess, I know you're close, gonna cum for me huh? Gonne show me who made you feel this well?"

With that, you reached your climax, your pussy pouring out everything it had, Nat's hands supporting your convulsing body as she herself let go, feeling her orgasm. You blacked out for what it felt like was seconds, but when you woke up, you saw that Natasha had already cleaned you up, her shirt on your torso. She stroked your hair, sitting beside you.

She kissed your cheek, seeing you wake up and smiled. You rubbed your eyes.

"W-what happened?" You whispered, snuggling closer into her chest. She laughed and pulled you closer.

"You squirted sweetheart. What a pretty sight it was too..." She whispered, drawing patterns on your thighs.

"Go to sleep angel, you've had a long day."

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 4 (Formerly Be Quiet)

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

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Series summary: As the only human teacher at the mutant school, you're nervous. When you meet Logan, you have a past he doesn't know, and you know nothing of his. Circumstances say he needs to stay away from you, but one day he can't help himself and forces you down, getting you pregnant. Through the past and present, we learn how you and Logan's relationship grew, and we learn the consequences of what he's done.

Chapter summary: Past. Logan tries to help break you out. Present. Remy offers Logan his words

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

2.2 words

AN: Not a super eventful chapter, but I feel sometimes it's nice to have a breather, lot us get to know our characters, digest it all, you know?

Past

“I dunno, Logan…” You are nervous entering the mall, walking close to Logan. People give you a wide birth when you’re with him, and you have no idea why. You’ve noticed it at the school too. Sometimes people go out of their way to avoid you and Logan in halls, and it baffles you. Logan is the sweetest, nicest man you know, except for Remy of course. That’s why you were even here in the mall, walking past a Victoria's secret store that made you blush. Logan complimented a dress you wore, and proceeded to say you have a lot of nice dresses, you tell him that all you have are dresses. After giving a whole bit about your family and husband believing pants were for men only, Logan insisted on taking you to the mall and buying you your first pair.

Yes, you left the church, yes you disassociated from IBLP, but letting go of everything was not as simple as people thought it was. You still believed in God, and you didn’t think your husband had the right to do what he did to you, but what about the in between? Still, Logan wanted to spend time with you. You were okay with that.

“C’mon. It’s just a pair of jeans.” He guides you into a JC Penny. “Do you know your size?” You shake your head. “That’s fine. Jeans can be a shit show anyway. Different stores just kinda make up their own shit.”

“No? I got jeans plenty for my brothers, it’s pretty standard.” But you hear Logan chuckle.

“For men, yeah, women no. Different story. Here.” He hands you a pair. “Start here.”

You hated it. Stalling, you talk to him where he stands outside the room. “How do you know so much about women's clothing?” You can hear him laugh again.

“I’ve been around a time or two, baby doll.”

You were sure he had. 200 years, he’d problem been stuck with on more than one shopping trip. But you had a problem. Logan had given you skinny jeans, and it was… bad.

“You good in there? Too small?”

That wasn’t the problem. The jeans fit the way they were intended too, hugging every bit of your skin and showing off the shape. This was too much. The voice of your mother rang in your ear, you were being vein, showing off your body, inviting men to-

“Can I try something else?” You’re voice cracked at the end before you could stop it.

He was suddenly right at the door. “You alright there Dolly?”

A steadying breath. He was doing something nice for you, be a big girl about it. Your dad doesn’t get to control you anymore. 

“Can I maybe try something… baggier? It’s just….”

“It’s a lot just starting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

After a minute, he’s handing you jeans under the door. These ones were better, but the fact it wasn’t a skirt… it felt wrong. It felt bad.

“Yeah, these are better.”

“Can I see?”

You supposed you had to. Logan drove you out here, was buying the jeans, had been so kind to you lately… you owed him, didn’t you?

Slowly, you open the door. Logan had a little smile on his face, eyes looking down at your legs and you wanted to throw up. You didn’t want to be perceived like this. It’s crazy, you know he knows you have legs, so what’s the big deal? Logan certainly doesn’t care, most people don’t care… why do you?

“You look- hey, what’s going on?”

Only then do you realize the tears burning in your eyes.

“Shit,” You quickly try to get it together, to not make a scene, to be better and just be fucking normal, but then he reaches for you, and you can’t help give into him

*

He wasn’t sure if hugging you was a good idea. He knew you were stiff with touch, even Remy had commented to him you are avoidant, and you spent most of your free time with him, although Remy insists it’s just as friends. Still, you looked so… upset. He couldn’t bare it, he couldn’t stand the thought of such sweet girl being so sad. 

Hugging you, he asks about it. “Is it the jeans?” He feels you nod against his chest. “It was too soon, wasn’t it?”

You nod again. 

Of course, he should have known. Logan wasn’t a fucking idiot. He’d lived in the world long before women regularly wore pants, he’d been alive and watching the news when things like these fringe religious groups rose up even if he didn’t pay much attention. Still, you left. You left your husband, which is an brave choice to make when you were raised the way you were. Did you believe these things still? Had he pushed you too far?

If you were still married, and hadn’t gotten divorced… did you even want one? Marriage after a divorce to many religions was adultery… There was so much about you he didn’t know, so many questions he wasn’t sure he was going to get the answer too… he thought he was content with this just being your friend, but now that he held you in his arms….

Logan knew it wasn’t the right time. He knew you were upset. He’d control himself, he could… But then you pulled away, looking up at him with those big wet eyes and he was cooked. You looked so needy, so sad, so vulnerable… he wanted to protect you, to destroy everyone that made such a precious thing so anxious that putting on jeans made her cry. He’d get his vengeance.

But first, he needed you.

When he kissed you, there was a moment where it was okay, where the memories of pasts pains faded around the LED lights and electricity thrummed through the metal inside his body because you leaned into him, you kissed him, back. You kissed him and everything was right and good and beautiful and the world smelled like strawberry shampoo.

And then you stumbled away. And then you looked scared. And then you shut the dressing room door, locking him out.

And it took 20 minutes to coax you out again, not a single word was spoken on the ride home.

After

“You need to go to the doctor, Dolly.”

But you tried to ignore him, You were running late to teach, and you weren’t letting Logan get in the way more than he had. You were still telling yourself you could get an abortion, that Remy would probably take you. He’d ask questions but when you say you don’t wanna talk about it, he’d let it go. 

Logan, on the other hand, was following you like a lost puppy. It was becoming insufferable and terrifying all at once. Logan had the power, that if he wanted to rape you again he could take you anywhere, any time. He could end your pregnancy and knock you up all over again, he could end your life in seconds. But that’s not why you couldn’t look him in the eye.

You hated him, but you hated that you missed him.

You missed the way he’d eat lunch with you, the way he’d been helping you disentangle your beliefs. After the mall incident, he’d taken it slower. There were many long nights when both of you were too torn up over your nightmares that you just sat up and talked, talked, talked. Logan had seen a lot of religious movements come and go and shift, and although he was not religious himself he had done as he’d always done. Obsesserved. 

Logan made for a good person to work through things. He didn’t tell you what to believe; he had no skin in that game. Instead, he occasionally gave perspective, but mostly it was questions.

‘Do you feel good when you do that?’

‘Do you think he said that because he believed it, or because he wanted to control you.’

‘Was your mom just as brainwashed? Was she the problem?’

All this helped you move through things more and more. He made you fall in love, quickly at first that day you met him, and then slowly all over again as you got to know him.

And then he destroyed all the trusted you’ve built up.

You hated that you still wished you could talk like you used to. You hated that you got wet. You hated that you missed him walking you to your room. You hated that while he touched you, you were close to coming and you wanted it. You hated that you missed the smell of his cigar and leather and bike fumes. 

You hated that, after he was done betraying you, in the disgust you felt and sickness that wracked your body all you wanted was to be held, so you let him. You rested your head on his chest. You pushed your body back into his. You let him whisper the words in your ear as you cried from his own actions.

Comforting you and breaking your all at once.

“I know how you feel about doctors-”

You whirl around to face him outside your classroom door. It was decorated in a rainbow main from linking lines o paper together, the background of construction paper panting a picture of green fields. It’d taken you and Remy and Logan a few hours on a Saturday to get it done.  “You don’t know a thing, Logan!” You whisper shout, trying to look calm for the remaining students scrambling to class. 

His voice was irritatingly calm. “I do, Dolly, I know why you don’t like hospitals and don’t trust doctors-”

“But you don’t!” A little louder, and someone looks at you. You lower your voice, glaring at him. “You can’t possibly understand. Just because I told you, doesn’t mean you get it. It wasn’t you that got beat, it wasn’t you that lost the one thing you wanted more than anything, and it wasn’t you that was betrayed by everyone who is supposed to love or protect you, Logan. You can never understand what happened and you can never understand what you did to me. So please, pl-e-ase-” Your voice breaks hard, and you’re forced to hunch over as you clutch at your heart in pain. “Just leave me alone!”

When all he did was blink at you, sad eyes and mouth slightly open, you took your opportunity and joined your class, attempting to brush off the pain as you apologize for being late.

*

“I don’t know how you managed to fuck this up, but it can be unfucked.” Remy’s accent echoed in the halls as the last door shuts. 

Logan rolled his eyes. “You following her?”

“No more than you, cher.”

Ignoring him, Logan begins walking. As much as he wanted to follow you into the classroom, make a scene, beg for forgiveness or force your mouth to his or whatever the fuck it took for you to realize you and him were meant for each other, that it was inevitable, he wouldn’t. You loved your job, you loved those snot nosed kids, and he wouldn’t do that to you. What he needed to do was find a way for you to go to a hospital. Logan understood the pain there, how badly you’d been failed the last time you were there, but he couldn’t let that affect the baby growing inside you. You wanted this child and so did he, and if something went wrong again you’d never forgive yourself

Unfortunetly for Logan, Remy was following him.

“Got a crush on me or something?”

Ever gleeful, Remy quips back, “Not particularly, but I’d be an idiot to say no if you are offering.”

“I’m not.”

“Logan.” His voice is more series this time. “Logan!”

He turns around, impatient face at his… what is Remy? Not a friend, but not not a friend? “Just say what you wanna say, cajun, for sucks sake.”

Remy’s face softened. “She loves you, Logan. I might be biased because I’ve been pushing her to you since day one, but she does. I’m not gonna ask what this is about… but she’s sweet. She’s forgiving. She believes in eternal salvation and forgiveness and the God of second chances, and all the sweeter sides of the shit she grew up in. She’ll forgive you too, just keep trying. Little things like flowers, her favorite foods, things that show you know her, they go a long way.”

There was a pause of silence as Logan took in Remy’s words. He should be more concerned that Remy was this aware. He told charles he’d stay away from you… and yet, here he was. Still, it was Remy, your best friend. If anyone knew anything, it was him, and clearly he didn’t know everything.

“Why do you care?”

“You make each other happy, cher.” He said honestly. “And I like seeing both of you happy. Right now, she isn’t happy. I want to fix that.”

Logan could fix that. He could make you happy. He could make you happier than you ever thought… he just needed a second chance.

As you can see, I decided to change the name!!!! I thought Our Gentle Sins fit way better, a call to the hozier song take me to church which heads the playlist!

As always, if you have songs you think match the vibes, lmk and ill add to the playlist!!

Thank you for allll your support!!!! You are all v wonderful

Please stay safe if you are in the hurricanes path, and remember as you watch the destruction, project 2025 wants to cut aid funding. Consider making a donation to aid groups, and remember that during the next US election.

Let me know your thoughts on the story below!!!

Comments mean the world!

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[earthchica]

ungodly hour

joel miller x black! reader

summary: you get pregnant by your ex-boyfriend, joel miller.

warning: angst, heartbreak, age gap, break up, language, nicknames, first person pov.

__ series masterlist

first person's pov

When I was new to the Jackson community, I bumped into Joel Miller, who seemed tough and solitary.

One day, I accidentally spilled my coffee on his shirt outside the stables, and he appeared slightly irritated.

Despite my repeated apologies, Joel reassured me there was no need to worry.

Being restless, I offered to make it up to him by preparing dinner. He agreed, possibly influenced by Ellie's teasing about his secret crush.

Gradually, Joel and I developed a friendship, taking turns cooking dinner and getting to know each other better.

Over time, Joel and I nurtured a friendship, sharing cooking duties and deepening our bond.

What started as a friendship evolved into something deeper, but a year later, our relationship hit a rough patch.

Experiencing a common phase in relationships, it seemed like all the warmth had vanished, leaving me puzzled.

Joel's behavior grew distant and aloof, focusing solely on his patrol duties, Ellie, Tommy, and his family.

Whenever I tried to address his behavior, he would often spark a disagreement, claiming I was nagging and needed to relax.

Moreover, each time I requested a kiss, he would hurriedly peck me and that left me...

Feeling confused and torn, my heart ached, and I began to doubt myself.

Questions swirled in my mind:

Am I not good enough for him anymore?

Am I not attractive to him anymore?

Am I-

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, followed by the sound of his boots.

I stood up from my seat and waited for him in the narrow hallway, taking a breath.

There stood Joel, donning a black jacket, blue button-up shirt, and jeans.

He casually removed his jacket and hung it up before acknowledging me with a nod, then briskly headed towards the living room.

Curiously, I trailed behind and inquired, "Where were you, Joel?"

"I was out," he replied, walking towards the bedroom.

"Out where?"

"Darling, can I get in without being fucking interrogated?" he sighs while settling on the bed and removing his boots.

"I'm not interrogating you, Joel just asking where you've been. Ellie told me you went out" I responded, raising my voice slightly.

"I said I was out. Can't you take my word for it?" he retorted, placing his boots aside and meeting my gaze.

"No, Joel, it's not enough. I'm exhausted from this situation. I'm tired of feeling mistreated," I expressed tearfully.

"You've grown distant and cold, and I don't understand why. I've had enough," I added, tears welling up in my eyes.

"So are you suggesting that we should end things?" Joel inquired, and I simply nodded in agreement.

"Darling, I apologize… I'm just going through something at the moment. It's not personal," he said with a frown.

"It feels personal with the way you're treating me. If something is bothering you, Joel, please talk to me. I'm here for you, I love you, but please don't push me away," I expressed, as I took hold of his hand and gently caressed his cheek with my other hand.

Joel lowered his head, ran his fingers through his hair, then took a deep breath and uttered words I never expected to hear from him.

"I think we should end this. You deserve so much better than me, Darling. I don't want to cause you any more pain."

Feeling my heart sink, I was caught off guard.

"What?" I stammered, getting up from the bed. He rose as well and approached me.

"So, this is how it's going to end. You're not even willing to try and work through this?" I questioned, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Joel, did you ever love me?" I inquired, but he remained silent, his guilt apparent as he looked down.

"I suppose you never did, did you?" I asked tearfully. He gazed back at me, his expression softening.

"Darling, I do. I love you so much. I just need time to figure things out," he insisted, caressing my cheek with his hand.

"I love you too, Joel. And you know what? If this is your decision, then so be it. However, I won't be staying here," I stated as I walked away, heading upstairs to pack a bag of clothes.

Joel followed me, observing as I packed; he remained rooted to his spot until I gathered all my belongings.

"Wait, you don't have to go. You can stay," he pleaded, leaving me puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Joel, you're not expecting me to stay here after tonight, are you?" I inquired, hoisting the bag onto my shoulder.

"I was, but that would be selfish of me. Um… where will you go?" he asked, worried evident as he rubbed the back of his neck.

It was perplexing how he cared after breaking up with me just moments ago. I shot him a cold glance, waiting for him to step aside.

Although he attempted to speak, no words emerged, and he eventually moved out of my path.

Tears streamed down my face as I walked away from Joel and the home we had once shared.

It has been a month since then, and Joel has been keeping an eye on me, being protective from afar.

Despite my efforts to move forward, the situation has been incredibly tough, and I longed for it to end. However, with Ellie's support, I am gradually overcoming it.

Upon sharing the incident between Joel and me with Ellie, she was furious, and I could tell she was about to confront Joel.

She has been checking in on me regularly, and one day, she proposed that I join the upcoming gathering party.

As much as I wanted to go I had to decline because, in the past couple of weeks, I haven't been feeling well.

I've been vomiting, getting major headaches, and having weird cravings. This only gives me one idea of what I might be.

"No, I can't. No," I said, shaking my head not wanting to believe I was, and then I thought about it for a second.

The only time I remember me and Joel having sex was after an argument and that was weeks before we broke up.

"Shit!" I screamed, quickly getting up and putting my boots on. I grabbed my keys before heading over to Tommy and Maria's House.

-

I informed Maria about the situation, and to my surprise, Ellie was also present to listen. Together, they accompanied me to the clinic to check if I was pregnant.

"It seems like you're eight weeks pregnant!" Charles mentioned with a sympathetic expression, sensing my lack of enthusiasm about the pregnancy.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed as tears welled up. Maria embraced me while Ellie comforted me by rubbing my back.

The pregnancy was confirmed, and it was hard to digest. I knew I shouldn't feel this way, but how could I not?

I never imagined having my first child in this way, especially in a post-apocalyptic world filled with clickers and malicious people.

Maria handed me some tissues while Charles, the doctor, shared advice for a healthy pregnancy.

"Okay,_____. I'd like to see you back in a few weeks, all right?" Charles said with a reassuring smile as I nodded.

Back at Tommy's & Maria's House, I couldn't stop pacing the living room, filled with questions.

"So, what should I do?" Ellie sighed and responded, ", I understand this news is shocking, but you have to tell Joel"

"As much as I am disappointed with how Joel treated you, I agree with Ellie. You need to inform him; he deserves to know!"

"Yeah, I know. I just don't know how he'll react," I said, lowering myself onto the couch and covering my face with my hands.

"If it helps, I'll accompany you," Ellie offered, placing her hand on my shoulders, but I declined with a shake of my head.

"No, I can handle this, Ellie. Thank you, though," I replied with a faint smile. Despite my reluctance, it was necessary.

Regardless of whether Joel and I were together or not, I didn't conceive this baby alone.

I needed Joel to decide whether to be a part of our child's life because it was no longer about me; it was about what was best for the baby.

[amywritesthings]

Love your fic love, it's the best one I've ever read. Could you do something from Levi pov when he started realising he liked Reader and he felt about that?

first of all, thank you for such lovely words! i'm so happy you like it. second of all, i can certainly write you a levi pov where he had his 'oh shit do i like her?' moment xo

all at once. / levi ackerman x f!reader

word count: 900 warnings: language, levi pov set in the silver underground universe

( read on ao3 here )

Furlan had a funny saying about the people he fell head over heels for.

It happens slowly, he once told Levi.

The two of them were sitting around their newly-bought two-bedroom apartment, comically vacant and egregiously filthy.

With his long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, Furlan chose to sink his palms into the dust to tattoo his fingerprints. 

To say he was there.

(I was here. I am here.)

Levi chose a more civilized position — sitting backwards on one of the only two chairs they had in this place, his sleeved forearms folded over each other on its curved back. He peered down at his friend with the utmost curiosity, head hung under a curtain of black fringe.

“The hell’s this question coming from?” Levi grunted as he shifted his shoe on the floor.

Fucking disgusting; he wasn’t going to sleep tonight if the entire apartment ended up being this damn dirty. 

“What do you mean?” Furlan asked. "Which topic?"

“The topic of this,” Levi clarified, “and why you’re so interested in who I may be looking at on the streets."

"What, we can't gossip?"

The way Levi's brow quirked said otherwise. Furlan sighed.

"We're roommates now."

"So?"

"So?"

"I don’t think I asked who you're interested in, Church.”

“No, you didn’t,” Furlan hummed happily with a dopey smile on his face. “But now that we have this place with two whole bedrooms to ourselves, we have the luxury of inviting people over. Think about it: two young and handsome bachelors, ready to take on the—”

“Wait, invite people over?” Levi interrupted, brow rising. “This isn’t a community house. It's headquarters.”

“No, I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah! But like I said, think about it: now that we’re taking names and carving our own legacies down here, I’m sure plenty of people will think we’re great. Maybe we'll even get some kinda group of admirers for our efforts.”

“Doubtful.”

“Aw, c’mon, Levi,” Furlan pouted. “Don’t you like anyone? There’s that one guy with the tattoos over on second street.”

“No.”

“Or the dark-haired girl who always seems to give you a discount on soups.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Furlan blinked.

The black-haired boy felt his temper — and embarrassment — rising.

“Because I wouldn’t know what the fuck it feels like to like someone like… that.”

Levi grit the truth between his teeth, hating the honesty that came with this ridiculous conversation. 

The Underground City doesn't quite offer anything real. Down here love was transactional. There wasn't room for emotional error.

He saw what it did to his mother.

He saw how it molded whatever the fuck he’d call Kenny.

Bottom line was that feelings weren’t good.

And then there was Furlan, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well, when you realize there's something about someone, it's slow,” the ash-blonde boy suggested, nodding with encouragement. “From my understanding, liking a guy, girl, person, whatever — it happens slowly, then all at once.”

“How’s it slow?”

Furlan smiled, knocking his feet side to side against the wooden floorboards.

“Probably because the people you actually like are kinda in the background until they aren’t anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Levi echoed. "You're supposed to be attracted to them first."

"That definitely helps, but that's like... lust or whatever," Furlan challenged. "I'm talking about liking someone. Wanting to hold hands or be with them so you can listen to them talk all the time and never get bored of what they're saying."

Levi scoffed, turning his chin sharply to the right as he considered.

Slow, then all at once.

Except it was never slow.

It would’ve been really fucking helpful if it had been.

You’d been ready to rip his throat open all those years ago.

No one had ever gotten the jump on him the way you had. No one would ever come close.

Maybe watching your fights after Kenny dropped him for reasons unsaid had been the slowest part about this. Watching your sweat-streaked face as you caught your breath in the midst of folding someone double your size like it was nothing. Listening to your voice in the alleyway when you spoke to that witch of a woman. Conjuring up an excuse to talk to you, to see if you even remembered—

It’d been all at once from the very beginning.

Someone as fleeting as a ghost had haunted his once dreamless sleep.

Hell, you still did.

“Sounds like you got someone in mind.”

His gray eyes darted back to Furlan, instantly on the defensive.

The other boy sported a goofy smirk. Levi scowled.

He could tell him.

He could ask if the way his throat closed up whenever he so much as considered uttering her name was a sign that he was head over heels.

That sometimes it wasn’t slow, but as fast as a blow to the damn head.

That sometimes liking a stranger felt more powerful than anything he'd ever known.

“Nah,” Levi lied, surging from his seat to stand at full height. “Only thing I’m interested in is cleaning this piece of shit up. I’m not sleeping on cobwebs tonight, so get up, grab a broom, and help.”

James.

Maybe one day he’d face it; liking someone.

Really, genuinely, devastatingly wanting someone.

But he couldn’t afford it.

(Maybe one day.)

[bookshelfdreams]

There were two great posts about Izzy yesterday, and I would like to expand on and add my 2 ct to the things said in them a little. One, by @celluloidbroomcloset (with additions by several others), about how Izzy immediately falls back into old patterns of manipulative behaviour after his supposed redemption in 02x07, only this time with Stede as the focus of said behaviours instead of Ed. The other, by @batsarebetterthanpeople, about how Izzy's behaviour in 02x06 and onward is more akin to the development a homophobe coming around to a queer loved one, than an arc of queer self-discovery.

Izzy's story isn't about himself. I think this is the first, fundamental mistake people make when engaging with it. He's not a protagonist; he doesn't exist in the story for his own sake. So when ofmd asks "How to reform a toxic person? What does it look like and is it even possible?", the starting point isn't one of empathy with Izzy.

It's one of empathy with Ed. ofmd is asking these questions not because it wants to understand Izzy better. What it wants to explore is the possibility of Ed having the relationship with Izzy Ed wants. Whether Izzy can be brought around to understanding Ed's wants and needs, whether he can understand the hurt he caused him.

This is a fundamentally different approach to how these stories are usually told. Usually, we start out with the unspoken assumption that the toxic person is well-intentioned, good at heart, and whatever pain they caused our protagonist is more akin to a misunderstanding than deliberate harm. Yes, they may have have caused hurt, but if you just see things from their perspective, you'll understand that they only had your best interest in mind, and that will enable you to forgive them.

Obviously this can't not veer off into victim blaming. "The abuser had a good reason for what they did, and therefore, it's your own fault. Or at the very least not theirs."

ofmd fundamentally rejects this. It is very careful to never let the bullies and abusers have a valid point. Abusers are abusive because they get something out of it. To truly reform an abuser, they would have to be willing to build a life for themselves that is a lot less comfortable. Where they have to consider other's feelings, communicate and compromise, meet other people on equal footing, instead of putting themselves in a position of authority. It means letting go of patterns of behaviour that they have so far been quite successful with*.

And Izzy - tries. He is interesting because part of him clearly wants to leave the toxicity behind. He gets to see what positive relationships, human connection, being part of a community look like; he's offered an outstretched hand, and, after biting it a few times, tentatively starts to take it.

But he can't quite get there. The temptation to fall back into what he knows is too strong. celluloidbroomcloset's post linked above talks mainly about 02x07, so I'm not gonna repeat all that, but I'm going to add two little scenes from 02x06 that further cement this. In the beginning of the episode, Izzy finds Ed as he's standing on deck, watching the sea, and the conversation that plays out is a clear mirror to, almost repeat of the Frankfurter clouds scene from 01x04. Ed tries to share an observation with Izzy in an attempt to reach out to him ("Something's wrong. Feels like a storm's coming but I can't see it."), which Izzy, of course, immediately dismisses ("Or maybe you're just a mopey twat and there is no fucking storm").

The second scene is, when Izzy is the only one discouraging Ed from following Stede to his cabin after he kills Ned Lowe. Discouraging support, discouraging connection and emotional honesty; Izzy will continue to try to isolate Stede.

Now, I do not think this, or the things happening in 02x07, are put in there deliberately to show that Izzy has ulterior motives. Rather, they are an illustration of how deep these maladaptive patterns of behaviour go. Izzy isn't able to fully admit to himself the extend of the harm he caused and this is what prevents him from truly changing his behaviour - even when he has just experienced the benefits of a loving, supportive community!

All of this is the explanation to the answer the show gives to our starting question: Is it possible for Ed to have the relationship with Izzy that Ed wants? And the answer is: No. Just because growth is possible, doesn't mean it is enough. Doesn't mean anyone's entitled to forgiveness. Sometimes, the only compassionate thing to do, is to take yourself permanently out of the other person's life.

But Izzy did learn, and he did grow. It's just that the purpose of said growth wasn't to heal him; it was to enable him to understand the hurt he caused to Ed. That doesn't have to mean people like Izzy can never be reformed, it just means that this isn't a story about the reformation of a toxic person. It's the story of leaving this toxicity behind.

And this is why Izzy's heartfelt apology followed by his immediate death is a positive ending. It represents the conviction that no relationship is so broken it can't be mended, but also the assurance that no relationship is so important it can't be ended.

Ed gets to hear the things he needs to hear most - I am sorry, I was wrong, you didn't deserve this - and then Izzy disappears from his life, and with him, all the toxicity he represents.

They can part on good terms, but part they must. So Ed can go into the rest of his life, unburdened.

*read Lundy Bancroft's "Why does he do that", seriously. The whole thing is on archive.org.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 3

The second of the posts compiling all my snippets from the ask game. I'll try and get another out later today, but it might be tomorrow for the rest.

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3, Tumblr

Chapter 2: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

“Five months ago, he disappeared. I’d already started college, so I wasn’t home. But Sam and Tucker reached out and the three of us began searching. It… It took three weeks to find him. And another week to get him out. In that time… What we found… It wasn’t pretty. The guys in white—” Jazz cut herself off. That day would forever be branded into her memory and featured in far too many nightmares.

Todd made an encouraging noise, but didn’t interrupt.

Jazz took a steadying breath and forced herself to continue. “It wasn’t easy breaking in. And even harder breaking out. Danny was hurt and the agents were chasing us. We had on masks, but they knew who we were. We managed to cause some chaos, though. Released all the ghosts they had prisoner to mess up their scanners. Send them running in every direction.

“It was almost enough. We all got out of the building. But they’d figured out our path and were waiting for us. Sam, Tucker, and I managed to hold them back. Sending Danny ahead alone with the go bag we’d prepared him. He was supposed to either get back to Amity and cross the portal into the Infinite Realms or run north to meet up with the other Dani.”

“But he didn’t make it,” said Todd. A statement rather than a question.

“We don’t know. He never made it to Dani. And due to the breakout, the guys in white placed the town on high alert. There’s checks for everyone entering or leaving the town. If you’re suspected of pro-ghost sentiment, you’ll be brought in for questioning. Ghost shields are everywhere. Sam’s parents withdrew her from school because they didn’t trust her to follow the new rules.” She gave a watery laugh. “They were probably right. Then Tucker was offered a scholarship for a tech school in California. I was escorted back to Boston. Only time I went back was for his funeral.”

Todd nodded. “And they’re in your phones and computers so you can’t talk to each other.”

Jazz smiled wryly. “Yep. Tucker could’ve, probably has, developed something. A messaging program or whatever. But without being able to meet up with us to download it to our devices—” she shrugged “—we’ve no way to get it.”

“Okay, so we’ll start there. Restoring contact should be fairly easy if you all want it—”

“We do!”

“But I’m also worried about your safety. What will happen to you after you ditched your guard today?”

Jazz shrugged. “They’ll bring me in for questioning. Probably make me miss a quiz or something important for school to make it extra inconvenient.”

“What will the questioning entail?”

Jazz bit her lip and shrugged. “Before? Sitting me in an uncomfortable metal chair in an interrogation room like you might see on TV and keeping me there for… oh, up to twenty-four hours? Whenever my parents would find out and barge in yelling at them about how ‘No Fenton would support a ghost!’ or whatever. Now? I don’t know.”

“Do you think they’ll hurt you?” asked Todd. He was frowning. “After your brother, it sounds like they are capable of it.”

Jazz held out her hands. “Depends on if they know I’m liminal or not. I’m not as bad as you are. And especially no where near Danny’s level. I don’t think they’ve been able to detect it yet. But if they have their instruments that close and me captive for that long? I… I don’t know.”

Todd nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of. Look, they don’t know where we are right now and don’t have the means to find us at the moment. I can get you out of here. To a safe house in Gotham or Metropolis or, hell, anywhere you want. And we can reach out to Red Robin, see how things are going with your friend Tucker. Maybe extract him as well.”

Jazz’s mouth fell open. They could… get away? For good? To a Justice League level safe house? She burst into tears.

She might be able to see her friends again soon.

Todd moved so he was sitting next to her. Hesitantly, he put a hand on her shoulder. “So I take it you want to do that?”

Jazz nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

Jazz sniffed. “I just—It’ll make it easier to find Danny. If we’re together. If we have to go somewhere.” She shook her head. “God, I’m going to sound like such a bitch. I love Danny. If it’s what we have to do to get him back, yes. Absolutely. But… It’s just… My degree. If I disappear halfway through the year for who-knows-how-long? I’ve been working to get into Harvard since I was ten years old. Since long before Danny had his accident.” She scrubbed at her eyes. “God, I’m such a bitch. My brother needs me. And if I go back, I’ll probably be detained long enough it’ll impact my grades anyway. And that’s if the Guys in White don’t just lock me up indefinitely.”

“You’re not a bitch,” said Todd, voice filled with some emotion she couldn’t put a name to. “Like you said, this has been your dream for practically half your life. But I think we can help you with that.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “How?”

Todd grinned. “I doubt your school would be able to complain or hold it against you if I had Kori—Starfire—tell them that you were needed for an urgent Titans mission. That you helped save the lives of countless people. Way I see it, they’d have to forgive your abandoned classes and allow you to retake them.” He hummed and looked up. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we could find a Justice League fund to pay for at least one semester of classes for you. Probably more. To make up for the money lost on this one.”

Jazz’s mouth fell open. “You’d do that? For me?”

“And your brother and sister and friends. It’s kinda what we do.”

Jazz nodded. “Yes, please. If you can do that, I’ll go with zero hesitation. I’d have given it all up for Danny, of course. But we’d both… not regret it. But he’d feel guilty he forced me to give up my degree and I’d always be a little resentful I had to. Not towards him, never towards him, but the Guys in White and Vlad and my parents.”

“Great. I’m going to call Arsenal and Starfire. I need one of them to get my car anyway. Left it parked back near our meeting place and I don’t think we should be going back anywhere near there if we can avoid it.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll reach out to Red Robin, see what happened when he went to meet up with your friend Tucker out in San Francisco. See if they’re up for an extraction as well. If I gave you a phone, would you be able to reach out to Dani-with-an-I?” He grimaced. “Do you have any other way to differentiate them?”

Jazz chuckled wetly. “Nope. Dani-with-an-I refuses to change her name. Says it’s her name and she’s not going to change it just because someone else had it first. And Danny-with-a-y hates going by Daniel or Dan. When they’re together, they drive us crazy with it.”

Todd grumbled something under his breath. “Fine, whatever. Just, do you have a way to contact her?”

Jazz nodded. “We’ve been too scared to, but if you can get me something with an internet connection, I can contact her and have her meet us somewhere.”

“Easy. I’ll have Arsenal bring us something that you can have to yourself rather than relying on borrowing our phones or computers.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, but thanks.”

Todd shrugged and stood. “I wasn’t going to just ignore you after seeing those messages. Now, try and get some sleep. It’ll be a few hours before my friends can get here.”

-----

And that brings us to the end of Chapter 2!

Hope you enjoy. We've got the beginnings of a plan set up.

Check out the subscription post if you want notifications when I update!

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie's palms were sweating like crazy. There used to be moments when he was gratetul for this less obvious sign of nervousness, but at times like this it was bloody inconvenient. The chalk dust clung to his fingertips as he worked on his summoning circle under the archmage's watchful eye, an eye that was waiting for a single mistake that would warrant another disqualification. A third one in the last three years.

It was all bullshit as his best friends Nancy and Chrissy had told him. They both were younger and had the same skill. Sure, Nancy's intellect was through the roof and Chrissy studied with a rigid motivation of someone who wanted to leave their stifling family behind, but Eddie wasn't bad at all. Hell, he grasped the intricacies of magic almost naturally and in another world, he would have been praised, supported by all his peers and professors.

Yeah, right. That would be a world where he wasn't a filthy commoner.

Sure, magic didn't choose blood or status or a full set of silver cutlery in one's mouth, but oh did the upper class love to pretend. "We have magic in our bloodline," they lied through their teeth. And so when a kid of a petty thief showed magic potential surpassing the one of their coddled kids, they were aghast. They scoffed at his long unruly hair, at his cheap dark clothes, at the extra shifts his uncle had to take to keep him in the academy. They tried to get rid of him so many times, unfair test questions, discriminatory behavior, bullying...Eddie saw it all and guess what, he didn't care. As his wise uncle told him "they see you as a cockroach, boy. So become one. Show them how persistent you can be, make them wish they let you graduate."

Eddie adored his uncle, if that wasn't clear. That man was hard working and smart. If the world was worth anything, he would have been an alchemist, with his precise mind and nimble hands. But since world was shit and unfair, he was just a helper for one, although a great and kind one, Scott Clarke. Eddie was happy for his uncle, for the companionship he found in Scott, but there was inherent bitterness in him that wouldn't leave.

See, the issue with Eddie was - he had no clear goal, no illuminated path in his future. He wanted to explore magic, see what it had to offer. Where others had a clear destination, like Nancy with her passion for magical channels of communication or Chrissy and her focus on healing magic and diagnostics, Eddie was...untethered. He wanted to do anything and everything and he worried that this would be his downfall this time too. Because that's exactly what the whole summoning ritual hinged on.

Eddie wiped his hands on his pants, earning a disapproving scoff from the archmage. "Magic demands grace and dignity," that's what the asshole always said before elegantly wiping his mouth with a napkin or drying his sweaty brow with a white handkerchief. Eddie wanted to kick him in the shin and see how elegant he looked toppling over.

Just a few more chalk lines, no use in delaying the inevitable. This was the final exam of the senior year, but also a crucial skill that Eddie simply had to master. Because each mage needed a companion from the other side, that was the law. It didn't matter if you summoned a fae, a zephyr, a demon or even a wailing ghost of your grandma who decided to stay in the world beyond instead of moving on, you needed a companion to help with channeling of magic, amplifying it. Some mages kept the same companions for decades, other went through a series of brief companionships to find what they needed.

If Eddie only knew what he needed. That's what he was supposed to do - enter the circle, open a gate to the other world and project his ambitions, his desires. Which were, as usual, all over the place.

"I'm ready," he told the archmage as he stood up and dusted off his hands, creating more white smears on his pants.

The older man just rolled his eyes. He seemed to be in his fifties, with thick hair and just one or two strands of grey. But who knew, magic didn't really make aging normal. "I will believe it when I see it, Mr. Munson. You have yet to surprise me."

Eddie bit back a scorching remark and cracked his fingers, getting ready. He forced on a wide smile and waved at his friends who had, as expected, aced the exam. Nancy was chatting with her companion, a storm elemental (her name was Robin, as he would learn later, and she could speak so fast only Nancy was able to understand). Chrissy stood next to a tall dryad, Barbara, and gave Eddie a thumbs up, beaming at him. "You got this!" she mouthed at him and, with a brief whisper, made Barbara join in a very awkward cheer.

"Okay, here I go," muttered Eddie and entered the circle. His fingertips sparkled as he touched the prepared runes, activating them. He had one brief moment to take it all in, the scowl on the archmage's face, Nancy's quiet and confident smile and Chrissy's radiance, before the runes rose in a circle around him and obscured everything.

He blinked at the swirling colors around him, whispered voices. "Hello?" he called out, hearing the echo of his own voice. "My name is Eddie...um. I mean, Edward Munson and I am searching for a companion."

The voices sounded closer, but not close enough. He hadn't offered anything yet, so he wasn't too discouraged. "Um. I am looking for someone who would like to explore the world of magic with me. The possibilities it has and who is maybe looking to find themselves too..."

His voice trailed off. He sounded silly even to himself, not to mention to the creatures, spirits and demons in the realm. But just as he was about to quickly make up a goal, just to attract someone, he heard whispering in his ear. It sounded both melodic and dissonant, single and split. "You're intriguing. Intriguing enough to consider your offer. Say, Eddie. You seem open to everything, but...is there something that you really, really want? A desire you have? Something a companion could help you accomplish?"

Had Eddie been someone with a milder temperament, he would have explained how he hoped his success would open the door for more people like him, to change how elitist magic was. But he wasn't that, he was Eddie and he didn't feel like starting his first companionship with a lie.

"I want to succeed so much that the archmage will lose all of that fucking powdered hair," he grinned into the swirling void. "I want him to look at me, the first trash commoner mage, and know that despite being way more powerful and influential and whatever else, he couldn't get that scrawny kid to quit, no matter how many times he unfairly failed me. I want to make him feel like he's sucking on a lemon whenever he sees me. I want to become a living proof that he was wrong."

There was laughter in his ears and this time he realized - it wasn't one voice but two. One seductive and feminine, the other amused and slightly bitchy, belonging to a man.

"Well, Eddie," whispered the woman and Eddie shivered from her warm breath.

The man leaned in too, into his other ear. "We can help you with that."

And just like that, the magical void dissolved and two warm hands found their way into his.

Eddie emerged into the great hall to a series of gasps, cheers and curses. Chrissy was jumping up and down on her toes, clapping. Nancy seemed to be stuck between shock and serious amusement. And the archmage...well. That was something else.

But Eddie had manners so instead of reacting to any of them, he turned towads his companions. Two beings at once wasn't exactly common and Eddie had to understand who exactly he invited into his life.

He didn't have to recall much of his lectures on the other world to realize that his companions were demons. And not just any type, no. He gulped as he offered his hand again. "Thank you for answering my call. As I said before, I'm Eddie. Human, obviously."

The female demon was almost as tall as him, but unlike him she was gorgeous. Her thick brown hair fell to her strong shoulders in gentle waves and her amber eyes sparkled with mischief. She had moles and beauty marks all over her beautiful face. "Pleasure to join you, Eddie. Stevie, a succubus." She winked at him and shook his hand. "Obviously," she whispered.

She nudged him to the male demon, eerily similar to her, but where she was seductive he was snarky. Which...was doing equal things to Eddie's insides. Not only. "Steve," he said and squeezed his hand with a deliciously calloused hand. "Not a succubus, obviously, but an incubus. Pleasure indeed."

Eddie felt a bit manic. The wide smile on his face was starting to hurt but he couldn't bring himself to care and when Stevie used her tail to examine the chains on his belt, he wondered if the butterflies in his stomach weren't actually a stomach infection. "Uh...sorry if that's a stupid question, but are you...are you twins?"

He expected a scoff or a simple yes, but the look that Stevie and Steve exchanged wasn't clear at all. He wondered if he might have offended them, but Steve ended up throwing his arm around Eddie's shoulders and pulled him close. Yep, definitely a stomach bug because the butterflies were off the charts. "That's a bit complicated. We'll explain in a bit, but now..." The bitchy smirk on Steve's face was everything and as he whispered into Eddie's ear, Eddie couldn't help but snort. This was pure gold.

Standing between his companions and wrapping each arm around their waists, Eddie smiled at the archmage, pale and looking like he was ready to vomit all over his summoning circle.

"So, archmage Harrington," drawled Eddie and Stevie snickered next to him, "have I finally managed to surprise you?"

As Steve and Stevie raised their hands and, in a single voice, said sweetly "hi dad!", Eddie felt like his goal of giving the old pompous fart a heart attack was just within reach.

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 6

This was not how it was supposed to go!

Eliza Clare didn't consider herself a monster. She hadn't set out to make Roman suffer more than was necessary. For all his faults, he was still her son, after all. This wasn't about indulging some kind of sadistic urge, it was about survival.

It had to be Roman. The Nameless One demanded a sacrifice in exchange for its continued favor, and it wouldn't be a sacrifice if it meant nothing.

It was him, or her.

Roman wasn't supposed to be conscious for the ritual binding, but then he had decided to rebel, challenge her - even going as far as hitting her!

If Eliza Clare abhorred anything, it was rudeness.

It was his fault, really, for making her angry.

At any rate, it was far too late for second thoughts.

All that remained was the final invocation.

Lowering herself to her knees before the ritual circle, Eliza began chanting in the infernal language of the Hellish Planes, which left her tongue bleeding and her throat raw, as if she'd swallowed a handful of glass shards.

Suddenly, Roman's nostrils stung with the stench of sulphur and blood, and for a moment he forgot even about the agony searing into his back. Fresh tears began streaming down his face, blurring his vision.

Something was crawling its way out of the fire and smoke which billowed from the bloody sigil on the floor.

Something unspeakable.

The thing - the demon - stomped forth on cloven hooves, sniffing the air, bloody drool dripping from its fanged maw. Its amethyst eyes glowed cruelly as they fastened upon Roman.

The sigil carved into his back drew the monster to him as surely as a magnet would draw an iron pin.

"So, thisssss is your offering, witch...looks tender, yes, yesss. Its fear-stink is delicioussss. I shall enjoy myself with thisssss one."

The monster's voice rumbled strangely in its throat, coming out in gurgles and hisses through a mouth unaccustomed to human speech.

Roman was beyond terror. When the thing's putrid breath touched his skin, he was sure his sanity would snap and unravel like sand spilling through broken glass.

"I am glad you are satisfied," said Eliza, trying to maintain her composure in the face of her patron. She had never seen the Nameless One in its true form, having always communicated via projection.

"What of our deal, then?"

"You get a hundred of your yearssss, witch."

"A hundred?! That is not the deal we agreed on!"

"You will agree to a new deal; or I take you both right now."

"Mom? Mommy?! Help me, please!!"

Roman's voice was high-pitched and hysterical as the thing's paw closed in around his neck like a vice, its talons digging into his skin.

Roman began to hyperventilate. He discovered that he was not beyond fear after all.

Eliza turned away, sickened.

There were some things even she couldn't stomach.

She had hoped the Nameless One would rip Roman's soul out quickly and be gone, but it seemed it wanted to play with its food, make it last.

And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

The Nameless One is based on @bayoubashsims's fantastic Mothman!

[phantoms-lair]

80

Danny Phantom x Video Game

"Condor you will be assigned a partner for this mission. Code name Potoo. He's from another agency, he'll meet you in Spain." To be honest, he was expecting someone like Krauser. What he wasn't expecting was... "Condor to Roost. That is a child." "Come again, Condor?" "Code Name Potoo is literally a child." There was no visuals on over the ear pieces, but he could imagine Hunnigan's pursed lips. "Our other branch indicated the despite his appearance, Codename Potoo wasn't a child." Our other branch was trying to get out of some shit. Because that was a child. "I don't supposed they'd be willing to offer said agents files?" "They're...classified beyond our clearance?" Hunnnigan sounded puzzled, as well she should be. They were a mission to rescue the President's daughter. Nothing should be beyond their clearance. "I think a closer look is due at our other agency. Condor out." Leon took another look at the black haired teenager who was glaring at him. Mostly looking at the shape not quite hidden under his turtleneck. Leon's money was on some kind of control collar or bomb to ensure complicity. Mission one, save Ashley. Mission two, save Codename Potoo

~

Leon had been a cop for all of one day. And maybe it was egotistical, but he felt he'd been a better cop in that one day than those two were in their entire career. They didn't question the boy on the investigation. They didn't notice the collar he was wearing. They seemed very unconcerned that people had been disappeared here lately. And when one didn't come back in a timely manner from his pee break, he'd sent Leon and the kid. If it was just Leon he'd hoped it was because they HAD noticed things were wrong and this was all contrived to separate Leon and the kid so they could make sure he was okay. But no, they were just lazy. Any attempt at communication with the kid had been met with glares and Leon wasn't entirely sure he could talk. But he couldn't blame him. Look what the government had done to him, why would he trust one of it's agents?

But the further they got into the woods, the worse a feeling he had. This place felt wrong in way he couldn't put into words. He wasn't sure if he felt better or worse wen they found the house. Leon called out several times, but didn't get an answer. He apologized when they found the old man who lived there, but the kid tensed. And good instincts as he noticed the missing officers bloody id on the ground. The old man might have taken him by surprise if the kid hadn't throw a bowl off the table surprising him. Leon leapt to his feet with a spin kick that knocked the man into a wall, his neck hitting at an odd angle. The kids hands flew to his mouth. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Leon felt no regrets about killing a man who'd come after him with an ax, but doing so in front of kid was a different matter. No matter what that kid may have been forced to see prior. "It looks like one of our guides is hurt an might need medical attention. I'm going to look for him, okay?" The kid nodded, pale but still in the game. A scream lead them to the basement. Leon took lead on the search and couldn't help but draw his gun when they found him. It was the one bad habit he hadn't been able to break from Raccoon City. No matter how much it had been drilled into him that when he saw a bloody corpse that the corpse itself was not a threat, that's where his gun automatically trained. Thankfully the corpse stayed where it was. He had to get the kid out of there. "We need to stay quiet." Leon instructed. "Let's get back to the car and report this. The kid nodded, all signs of defiance gone. They moved back to the stairs, only to have the man form earlier be blocking their path. Broken neck and all. "Not again," Leon griped, earning a confused look from the kid. Still, it wasn't hard to put the dead man down again, and grab the kid to head for the car. Their path was interrupted though, by a door smashing open ,and two men leaving the previously locked off area and right down their escape route. Okay, new plan. Gesturing to be quiet, he headed down the hall towards the new area. He had to look back a few times to make sure the kid was following him, he moved so quietly. his stealth skill must have been why he was put on the mission. Sadly the new area didn't have an exit, so they went up the stairs to a small room. Leon quietly locked the door behind them. "If anyone tries to get in, barricade the door with that bookshelf." The kid nodded. Leon looked around and a small planning area caught his eye. On it were pictures of Ashley and a map of Valdelobos, with a lake marked. "Condor to Roost. I've found evidence that our target, Baby Eagle, is in the village." "Our intel was correct." Hunnigan sounded pleased. "Continue your search and I'll find what I can about the area." "Anything on the other agency." "Need to know only," Hunnigan said with an amount of frustration that mean like him, she apparently didn't need to know. "Right, Condor out." Leon shut off his comm right as there was a thud of an ax against the door. The kid was good to his instruction and slammed the bookcase down, far more easily than Leon thought he would. "We need to get out of here." Leon explained. "Follow me." He kicked out the window and dove through it. He turned to catch the kid only to find him landing by his side. He pulled them out of sight before the attackers could finish breaking down the door and see where they went. "Kid, is it going to hurt you if I take that collar off?" The kid recoiled, eyes full of fear. "I won't if it will hurt you," Leon assured. "But...I knew this girl named Sherry. She'd be about your age now. She was infected with a deadly virus and received a cure. The government wanted to take her, to make her into a weapon. And the only way they'd agree to leave her alone was if someone else took her place. Me." The kids eyes widened. "I wouldn't let them do that to Sherry. And if there's anything I can do to get you out of here, I will."

He could see hope and fear warring in his eyes until finally the kid pulled his turtleneck down, careful not to touch the medical monstrosity around his neck. Leon gulped at the sheer amount of trust he was being shown. The metal sent what felt like small shocks through his fingers as he worked on it. But the mechanism wasn't complicated and soon gave a satisfying 'clunk' as the lock unlatched.

The kid grabbed the collar flung it away as far as he could. Leon couldn't help but wince as his flesh hissed upon touching it. What had seemed like a minor irritant to him seemed to be caustic to the kid. The boy gasped for breath and made the first vocal sound Leon had ever heard him make. A sob. He collapsed to his knees and Leon caught him, holding him gently and telling him it would be okay, he's free, the government will never touch him again. The moment was broken by a cry of "¡Agarradlo!" "I'll hold them off." Leon said. "You get back to the car. Tell the officer there we were attacked and his partner is dead. When he goes to get back up flee." He lined up his shot but was interrupted by a blast of green whizzing past him and hitting the villager in the face. "I don't have to take orders anymore." The kid said shakily. "And...I want to help that girl." "This is going to be really dangerous, kid." Leon warned, trying to be nonchalant about the glowing green fire in the kids hands and eyes.. "Believe me. It's a step up from the experiments." The kid said dryly. "They were planning to torture and experiment on me till there was nothing left. They just thought using the control collar to force me on this mission would get them more funding. And my name's not kid. It's Danny." "Okay Danny. If you want to bail at any point, I'll get you out of here." "No need, I can escape just fine on my own - once Ashley's safe."

He didn't exactly plan on taking Danny's word for it, but the green fire definitely upped his survivability odds. Hopefully together they could save Ashely too.

[andvys]

We’ll burn the sky | E.M.

Warnings: none yet, this is just the teaser!

Pairings: rockstar!Eddie Munson x rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: Eddie left his life in Hawkins behind to live the one he always dreamed about but there is a missing piece in his life and in his almost perfect band; you.

Author's note: Daisy Jones & the six inspired me to band au fic, so here we are. I hope you guys will like this! Also shoutout to @littledemondani thank you for helping me choose the title and for letting me rant about my ideas, you’re amazing

-

“They don’t want us.” 

“What?!” 

“They don’t want us! They don’t even want to record the album!” 

After months of pouring tears, blood and sweat into this album, their record label suddenly decided that the songs aren't good enough, that the band isn't good enough, that Eddie isn't good enough.

“We worked our asses off– what do you mean they don’t want us?!” Jeff cries, throwing his hands up as he follows Eddie, who almost ran into an old man on the sidewalk, quickly apologizing to him before he keeps on walking. 

“They said that we’re not good enough!” Eddie mumbles in annoyance, “told me to come back when we got something better to offer.”

“Not good enough? Sam loved our songs!” Gareth says as he looks at Eddie in confusion. 

“He did but apparently something is missing, the label refuses to record the album,” Eddie sighs as he halts in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips, he looks up at the blue sky and lets out a long sigh, “they said some.. some freshness is missing, whatever that is supposed to mean. Told me that there’s enough bands like ours out there already. They want something different, something new. It's too 'old fashioned'.”

Gareth stares at his best friend, shaking his head, he plops down on a bench, running his hand through his messy hair, “freshness?” he mumbles, furrowing his brows. 

Eddie clenches his jaw as he thinks of his conversation with their producer. 

‘You’re good, amazing even, your voice is great but there’s a missing piece.’

“Missing piece,” Eddie huffs, shaking his head, “he said that there’s a missing piece.” 

Jeffs stares at him, “like.. like what?” 

Eddie shrugs as the doubt begins to creep in. They all left their life in Hawkins behind, dropped everything to come out here to Los Angeles with the goal of becoming big, everyone laughed at them, told them that it would never work out, that their dreams are ridiculous but things went well, for a while. 

All four of them worked hard, they worked extra hours, saved up enough for money for them to last out here for a few months. Eddie wrote the song texts and they put all their blood and sweat into each song, hours and hours of rehearsals paid off and after a long search for a producer who was willing to work with them, they found Sam, who instantly took a liking to the boys, he gave them a chance, arranged some gigs for them before they were finally given the chance to make the album but suddenly, something is missing and they aren’t good enough anymore. 

“I don’t know, I think nothing is missing,” Gareth mumbles, “the band is perfect as it is.” 

Eddie sighs, “I don’t know.. maybe there is something missing,” he mumbles, eyes falling on the bar across the street, “I need a drink.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

-

They knock back one drink after the other, listening to the awful karaoke performances and making fun of all the singing drunk people, a distraction is what they all needed after the stressful past months and who knows, maybe they’ll find inspiration here, though Eddie doubts it. 

As entertaining as it is, Eddie can’t concentrate on it for too long. His mind goes back to the conversation with Sam. If he refuses to make the album then they can pack their things and go back home to Hawkins, pick up where they left off. Eddie would work at the garage again, Gareth and Jeff would try to get back into the community college there, Johnny would work with his dad again, they would give up their dreams and go back into a town they wanted to leave behind. 

Sure, Eddie has Wayne, all his friends and girlfriend there but Hawkins is a part of his past, something he doesn’t even want to go back to, not even for his loved ones. He is fine to go back for holidays or birthdays but that’s all. 

This is what he wants, he wants the band, he wants the concerts, the tours, the life he always dreamed of. 

But what choice does he have if the album won’t even get a chance? 

Fear fills him, anxiety takes hold of him and his hope begins to dwindle.

The music stops and only the loud chatter in the bar fills the room for a moment. Eddie stares down at his drink, ignoring the laughter of his friends. 

He downs the rest of his drink, running his hand through his messy curls, he leans back and turns to look at the stage to find a young girl reaching for the microphone. After all the old drunk men, the girl is the first female to sing tonight. He can’t see her face yet but he recognizes the band shirt, he has a similar one lying in his closet, somewhere. Clad in a short leather skirt and chunky boots, she already looks like she belongs on a stage but he doesn’t have much faith in her voice, after all, karaoke bars are just for drunk people who want to have fun, right? 

“Damn,” Gareth whistles, “she’s hot,” he says, staring at the girl. 

Jeff and Johnny chuckle but agree with him nonetheless. 

“Look at her, man,” he says to Eddie, who only shakes his head, “totally your type.” 

“I have a girlfriend,” Eddie mumbles, glaring at his friend. 

Gareth rolls his eyes, “whatever,” he mumbles, not even hiding his distaste for his best friend’s girlfriend. He never liked her and he never will. 

The One I Love by R.E.M starts playing and Eddie’s friends immediately start to bop their heads to the music. Staring at the girl with curious looks on their faces. Eddie chuckles at them, shaking his head. 

The smile falls from his lips and his eyes widen a little, both the lyrics and your voice catch his attention. He looks away from the awestruck expressions of his friends and turns to look at the singing girl, you. His breath hitches in his throat when he looks at you, truly looks at you. 

Your eyes are closed and you hold the mic tightly in one hand as you sing with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard, it’s soft yet husky and low; it’s just perfect. You look like you’re in your own little world, like only you exist. 

A girl in front of the stage whistles and you crack a smile as you open your eyes to look at her and the other girls around her who are no doubt your friends. 

Eddie’s heart makes a weird jump in his chest when you look his way as you sing. Eddie can’t help but stare at you, he is in awe. The way you sing, the way you hold yourself, the way your voice seems to get prettier and prettier to him.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you, you sing as though it’s the only thing you are meant to do, like this stage is meant for you and the people are here just for you. You own the stage, you own the heart of all the people watching you, you stole it with just your voice. 

“Holy shit,” Jeff mumbles, he stares at the way you move your body as you sing, “she’s a hot piece of ass.”

Eddie gives him a disapproving look but then his eyes widen when he looks back at you. 

Piece. A missing piece. 

This is the missing piece. 

Your voice. 

Eddie blinks as Sam’s words echo in his mind. 

He looks back at you, watching your performance in awe. He is impressed by the way you look and sound like a professional, like you are already a famous singer and how you seem to capture everyone’s attention in this room. 

Your performance is effortless, there is not a single pretentious thing about you, you are just a natural. You are a star, born to be one.

The people in this bar cheer for you, whistling and clapping even as you get off the stage and your friends embrace you. 

“You’re a star, baby!” one of your friends yells with a slur in her voice as she smacks her lips against your cheek. 

“Damn, I wanna kiss her too,” Jeff mumbles as he watches you with dreamy eyes. 

A smile tugs at Eddie’s lips as he stares at you, you blush and giggle as one of the drunk performers from before pretends to ask for an autograph. You wave him off with a chuckle before you make your way towards the bar. 

“That was one hell of a performance,” Gareth says with an impressed look on his face. 

“Yeah,” Jeff mumbles, “do you think that she’s maybe.. I don’t know, a singer already? We’re in L.A. after all, there’s plenty of singers we don’t know.” 

Johnny shrugs, “I don’t know–” he stops, raising his brows as he watches Eddie get up and walk away from his friends, “but we’re about to find out.” 

Gareth and Jeff follow his gaze to see him walking towards you. 

You smile at the bartender, thanking him after he takes your order. Your heart is still pounding in your chest from your little performance. It took you a lot of courage to sing in front of such a crowd, your friends did a good job at convincing you and cheering you on. You were nervous and anxious but the moment the music started and you began to sing, you forgot everything and everyone around you. 

You lean against the counter, smoothing down your skirt a little and brushing through your messy hair when someone comes up next to you. 

“Hi.” 

You raise your head and you feel as though you have been punched in your stomach, your breath is stolen away and goosebumps arise on your skin as you lock eyes with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you have ever seen in your life. 

He grins, showing off his pearly whites. He stretches his arm out, offering you his hand to shake, “I’m Eddie.” 

A small smile appears on your face, you take his hand, ignoring the way his touch seems to make your heart flutter in your chest. You tilt your head, squinting your eyes as you stare at him. You have seen him before, not up close but.. Oh! 

“Eddie,” you smile, “from Corroded Coffin, right?” 

His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up, “you know my band?” he asks, still not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes,” you say, licking your lips as you stare at the tattoos on his arm, “you played at the twilight zone last weekend, I was there with my friends. You’re good,” you smile, “amazing even.” 

Eddie blushes, smiling at your words, “thank you!” 

“You’re welcome,” you chuckle as you see the flushed cheeks. 

He finally pulls his hand back, laughing awkwardly, “uh so, I think you’re amazing, your voice is pretty– pretty fucking good!” 

You smile at him as you look into his pretty eyes, “you think so?” 

“Yeah, I totally think so,” he grins, “that’s uh– that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him but he can’t help but check you out. It isn’t just your voice that caught his attention it’s also– No, Eddie. Don’t go there, don’t go there. He looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath. 

“Do you do that for a living or something?” he asks, “I mean, singing.” 

You shake your head, “no..” you mumble.

He nods, trying not to stare at your lips as he looks back at you, “would you like to do that for a living?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks into your eyes, noticing the pretty color; his favorite color as he just realized.

You furrow your brows and shrug, “I mean, I would love to. I-I grew up with music. I sing and play bass."

Eddie raises his brows, “you play bass?” 

“Mhm.” 

Wow. 

Not only are you an excellent singer, you also play one of his favorite instruments.

“That’s.. that’s amazing!” 

You chuckle. Your eyes trail down to his hands, eying the many rings on his fingers. 

“So uh– you know, my band might be missing a member,” Eddie says as he takes a step closer to you, leaning his elbow against the counter, “and you are really talented so…” 

Normally, Eddie wouldn’t make an offer like that, he was content with the band and he wasn’t interested in having any new band members— especially another singer but he is desperate and his chances of becoming a rockstar are getting smaller every day but something tells him that you and your voice are the key to success— hopefully.

You blink in surprise, “you’re looking for another band member?” 

He shrugs, sighing, “we weren’t looking but apparently something about our music is not good enough and the label is about to drop us. We need something new.. something that might make our music better— don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good already but apparently not everyone thinks so.”

A smirk appears on your face, “oh, so… you want me to save your band?” 

He rolls his eyes playfully, giving you a coy smile, “I guess?” 

“Aren’t you a heavy metal band?” you ask, skeptically, “I do rock music, not heavy metal.” 

“I mean, we lean more towards rock right now, so..” he says, shrugging.

You raise your brows, crossing your arms over your chest, you shrug, “I don’t know, what am I gonna be? A background singer?” you ask, “background bass player? I’m not interested in being in your shadow.” 

“No…. we just need another singer.” 

“The lead singer wants another singer?” you ask in confusion, “who would want that?” you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I want that,” he shrugs, “I play guitar and I sing so I have no problem with sharing the spotlight.” 

“Really?” you laugh, “you don’t mind sharing the spotlight, why is that so hard to believe?” 

He chuckles, “listen Sweetheart, I would never ever make an offer like this to just anyone but I’m really desperate here, I really want to make this album and I’m willing to add another singer to the mix, your voice is fucking beautiful and something tells me that you could.. make things better so… are you interested in joining the best band in the world?” 

The smile on your face gives him the answer he was hoping for. And just like that, his confidence is back.

This isn’t over yet, not for him and not for the band.

Corroded Coffin is gonna go big and Eddie’s dreams will come true, he just knows it, he can see it, in your eyes.

-

[chlorinecake]

Love On A Leash | 심재윤 𓇢𓆸

summary • You offer to dog-sit Jake’s energetic pet border collie as a means to get closer to him. But how will he react when he finds out you forgot to feed her while he was gone?

pairing • next door neighbor!jake x reader • word count • 3.6k genre next door neighbor au, fluff • warnings language, jake and reader have a minor argument, suggestive themes, kissing

YOU FELT LIKE cursing your mother for making you do this.

It was currently 7am as you stood outside your next door neighbor’s front porch with a basket of assorted muffins in hand. The gesture was supposed to be a housewarming gift on behalf of your 'humble community,' your mother tasking you with delivering the treats while she got ready for work although she was already running late.

Your dilemma had nothing to do with her act of kindness, but everything to do with the very moment your dangerously lovesick eyes landed on your new neighbor, Sim Jake.

It goes without saying that he was good-looking, and attractive guys were no more to you than kryptonite is to superman; a crippling weakness. You were already whipped for Jake as is, creating a file filled with all of the things you either learned or observed about him over the past two weeks.

You hadn't even been standing at his porch for 15 seconds before your feet struggled to stay put, tempted to abandon ship and just tell your mom that no one was home.

Maybe he won't even answer, you tried comforting yourself.

What kind of a 20 year old guy would be up this early, anyways?

The door knob twisted as a muffled yawn met your ears, the door creaking open to reveal none other than Jake himself.

He was dressed in his pajamas, sporting a severe case of bedhead that he somehow pulled off.

“Hello?” He said with a groggy yet friendly accent.

“Hi! I’m your next door neighbor's daughter, ____. Here's a welcoming gift from our family to yours,” you forced a smile, handing him the basket.

“Wow, this is really sweet of you guys,” he thanked with a toothy smile, but you stood awkwardly.

“My name is Jake, by the way," he said while giving you a handshake, trying to break the tense physical barrier.

"Glad we could finally meet," you returned, "My mom talks about your family all the time. All good things, of course."

“Yeah, apparently she and my dad knew each other in high school… but now I’m curious. How much do you know?”

“Well, I know you’re from Brisbane and recently moved here for college! Oh, and you’re a huge dog lover, especially of golden retriever’s, like the one you have? Hmm, aren’t you an athlete? I think I’ve seen you in a tracksuit befo-”

“Those are all things about me, silly, not my family,” he giggled, running a hand through his locks.

Buzz.

Jake set the basket down on the table behind him, reaching in his pocket to analyze whatever just popped up on his phone screen. You wondered if he had a girlfr-

"Hm," he hummed, taking a step back into his house.

"I should get going now. Thanks again for the gift! I hope to see you around more often.”

“Well, its not like we can really avoid each other, anyways,” you said, drawing his attention to the brief distance between your two houses.

He blushed at the realization, "Give me a break, ____, I’m not usually up this early. And for the record, Layla’s a border collie!" He exclaimed before closing the door.

Updated Mental Note: (1) Jake’s dad knew your mom in high school, (2) Jake isn’t a morning person, (3) Jake’s dog is a border collie [confirmed].

Surprisingly, that interaction wasn't nearly as painful as you expected it to be.

Jake was chill.

Attractive, yes, but somehow, you survived. Trailing back from his porch to your house, you walked inside to find your mother fastening a pair of heels around her ankles before standing up to meet you. “How do I look? Is my hair okay? Wait, tell me, what did they say about the muffins?”

“You look great, mom! And their son answered, but he said he really appreciated it.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Alright, sweetie! Duty calls! I’ll see you at dinner!”

“See ya,” you waved before closing the door.

JAKE’S DAD HAD started giving him a hard time concerning the dog. After summer, Jake was busy most of the time with soccer practice and school, and so with two working parents, it was hard to keep up with Layla’s random outbursts.

“You either find someone to watch her or she’s going to the pound!” His dad scowled while picking up a few pillows that Layla chewed holes into. “She’s been with us for years, and even now after the move, Dad! We can’t just give her up for acting like a dog! She’s getting used to this change, too,” Jake argued back while sweeping up a pile of kibble she knocked over.

“I hear what you’re saying, but make sure you consider what I’ve said. I’m not sure how much longer your mother and I can take this.”

A few minutes after their conversation, Jake decided to go and play catch with Layla in the front yard.

“Come here girl, come here! Stop? Sit? Good doggy,” he praised, ruffling the fur on her back before giving her a treat. You were walking home from the bus stop when Jake pointed to one of the tennis balls Layla forget to fetch which you ended up tripping over, the books you were carrying now joining you on the pavement.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay!?” Jake said running over to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you spoke for your physical being as emotionally, you were an embarrassed wreck.

He helped you gather your textbooks and journals, “You’ll probably wanna put these in here.” He smiled, handing you the bag he used to carry Layla’s outdoor toys.

“No really, it’s alright, Jake. I should’ve brought my backpack with me.”

“No, I insist. Think if it as payment for the muffins,” he encouraged, neatly putting the books in the bag before tying it closed. Layla was busy bouncing around the two of you, trying to get Jake’s attention. A glint of playfulness sparkled in his eyes.

“Wanna try throwing the ball?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. Last time I tried something like that, I ended up having to replace a few things I could hardly afford.” Jake laughed at your honesty, taking your hand in his before closing your fingers around the ball. “Just give it a shot. Prove me wrong,” he winked.

You looked down bashfully, giving in while warming up your shoulders, “You might wanna stand back a bit unless you like getting hit in the balls.”

He giggled again, walking back a few steps, “You’re being too hard on yourself, silly! Just throw it!”

Taking a deep breath, you launched the tennis ball an impressive distance away from you, the excited cream dog chasing after it. “Holy shit! You’ve got the arm of a pro, ____!” Jake exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“Now, when she comes back, you give her this treat.” “With my hand?” “Of course! Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”

In a matter of seconds, Layla was already running back to you, dropping the drool-covered ball from her mouth before eating the dog biscuits from your hand, the texture of her tongue tickling your palm. “Good girl,” Jake chirped as he met you and Layla on the ground.

“How’d you come up with her name?”

“Layla? Hmm. I’ve never had someone ask me that before,” he admitted, moving to sit crisscross applesauce. “Let’s see… when I was a kid, my inspiration was pretty corny.”

“Corny can be cute sometimes,” you smiled.

“Well, when my family adopted her, she didn’t have a name yet. One of my favorite songs back then was Eric Clapton’s “Layla,” so I figured that’s what she’d be called.”

“Aww! That’s adorable!”

“You probably think everything I do is adorable.”

It was like a cat caught your tongue, leaving you speechless at his comment.

“Kidding,” he smiled, nudging your shoulder before a sad look waved over his features.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “It’s my dad. He wants me to get rid of Layla.”

“But why? Isn’t she like family to you?”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he thinks she’s only become a burden now that I’m not around as much,” he frowned, watching Layla chase herself around a tree. “The pound’s not a place for a dog like Layla.”

You sat in thought, thinking of ways to comfort Jake that didn’t involve touching him. Then it hit you.

“I can dog-sit her for you.”

His eyes widened in shock at your offer, resembling a cute puppy, “You'd seriously do that for me? Do you have experience?”

“Obviously,” you scoffed dishonestly, “look how comfortable we are with each other. I’m a natural at this.”

“Wow, I really appreciate this. I’ll pay you fifteen dollars per hour starting tomorrow from 11am to 3pm, and then-“

“Jake, I don’t want your money," you giggled, not even realizing that your hand rested on his exposed thigh, "I just wanna help.”

He smiled, “Okay, then. But if you ever feel like backing out, don't hesitate to let me know! Trust me, I won't be disappointed, Layla can be a handful.”

“Gotchya,” you replied, tossing another tennis ball for his dog to fetch, “How should I contact you?”

“Uhhh, I’ll just give you my phone number. Do you have a pen with you?”

“Yeah, right here,” you said, handing him the pen from your pocket.

Jake wrote his number on your wrist. “Perfect,” he chirped, rubbing a thumb over the writings.

“I’ll text you my schedule and everything once I hear from you again, see you around, neighbor!”

“See you!” You returned, both of you going back to your respective houses, the bliss of each other still fresh on your faces.

TO YOUR LUCK, your first day as a dog-sitter was going swimmingly well so far. Jake outlined a simple list of things for you to follow while he was away, tasks ranging from dog-walks to bathroom breaks making up most of the next few hours of your day.

Before Jake left, all you could remember was him saying something about a bag of dog food either in the fridge or pantry, but you were too distracted by the grey sweatpants he wore to successfully pay attention. So, you improvised by intuition.

What would I eat if I was a dog, you asked yourself, searching for any cooked proteins in Jake's fridge, only to find a pack of bacon bits.

Hmm, this could work.

Layla was waiting for her meal patiently by her empty feeding bowl as you moved to explore the pantry, pulling out a few marshmallows and graham crackers to add to the mix. Pouring the contents into her bowl, you gave her a few head scratches before she dove in, munching up every last bite.

"Looks like I've created a culinary masterpiece," you smiled, "I'll call it "____'s Canine Trail Mix," approved by the likes of Sim Layla and many more."

JAKE SHOWED UP about twenty minutes later, greeting you before asking about Layla.

"Everything went great," you beamed, taking him to the couch she laid tiredly on.

“What’s wrong with her? Did she just wake up from a nap?”

“I don't know, I just got out of the bathroom.”

“Did you walk her?”

“Of course, for two hours like you said.”

“Hmm. Did she play with her toys at all?”

“A little bit, but she didn’t seem interested after eating."

“Maybe you gave her too much food. How many scoops of kibble did she get?”

“What?" You asked, initially confused at the mentioning of kibble until you remembered what Jake was trying to tell you before he left: Layla gets 2 scoops of kibble for lunch with a few sausages from the fridge.

“How much food did you give Layla?” He repeated.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed her.”

His jaw dropped, “You’re joking.”

"Well, I did feed her, but I forgot about the kibble. I gave her a bowl of bacon bits, graham crackers, and marshmallows instead."

Jake paced back and forth, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "What kind of a person with 'dog experience' decides to feed them marshmallows of all things? A whole ass bowl full?”

"I'm not following," you admitted timidly.

"Connect the dots, would ya?" He spat, trying to control his breathing.

"How was I supposed to know dogs can’t eat marshmallows?"

"Dog's don't eat common human foods, ____, that’s a no-brainer! I thought you said you had experience with this kind of thing," he frowned, meeting Layla on the couch to comfort her aching state.

You kept your distance from him, "I lied to you, Jake. I’m an amateur when it comes to this stuff."

He scoffed disappointedly, "Why would you lie about something like that, ____?"

"I- I just…I wanted to help you! You seemed really upset about the whole thing with your dad and I- it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

"Well, for future reference, lying never helps."

You swallowed the dryness that grew in your throat, "I’m really sorry, Jake. Is there anything that I can do to help? Maybe get her some medicine?"

"No, ____, you’ve done enough already. I’ll see you around."

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you simply grabbed your things and walked towards the door, the sounds of Layla's guttural wrenching making you cringe in shame and disgust.

Updated mental note: (1) Dogs can’t eat marshmallows, (2) Lying never fixes situations, (3) Jake probably hates you now [pending confirmation]

IT WAS A few days after the dog-sitting situation when you were studying on your front lawn, completely mesmerized by the view of Jake as he worked out in his garage. You felt guilty for ogling after everything that happened, but you couldn't fight your hormonally induced urges.

He was pushing out his third set of bench presses, fluffy brown hair framing his cheekbones. He screwed his eyes shut from the intensity, biting his lower lip as he tried to push through the resistance of his fatigue arms.

He glanced over quickly as sweat started to drip in his eyes. You stared back at him like a deer in the headlights at the realization that you’d been caught peeking. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, struggling to handle the weight. “__-____?!” He stuttered your name breathlessly, losing his grip. “JAKE!”

You ran faster than your legs have ever carried you, adrenaline kicking in as you slid the left weight off of the rod, jumping onto his lap to avoid the iron disc from smashing your foot. “Ugh,” he groaned in relief as you reached to slide the other weight off, unintentionally pressing yourself into him.

That sound might replay in your mind forever.

Gripping the rod in your hand, you looked down to see both your own and Jake’s veiny hands holding onto the pole for dear life. Then you looked down, realizing that you were sitting straight on his bulge.

“Oh my God, sorry!” You yelped, leaping off of his sweaty frame. He giggled at your apology, feeling embarrassed himself but for different reasons.

“It’s alright, ____, you probably just saved my life there,” he said, now sitting up on the bench. He gave you a look before continuing. “Why were you stalking me?”

“Me? I-“

“I’m not upset, or anything. Did you wanna tell me something?”

“No, I was just… I didn’t mean to-"

Layla's barking from inside the house cut you off mid sentence. You were just now noticing the pink paint stains on his shirt, a few drops decorating the private area of his sweatpants.

Similarly to a puppy, Jake forgot all about what you were just talking about, getting up to fix the equipment. “You’re really fast, y’know? What other secret athletic talents do you have?”

You smiled awkwardly, “Well, if you ever tried tickling me, I might become a professional kickboxer.”

Jake laughed at your joke like he always did. You swore that if he blessed your ears with his beautiful laugh one more time, you might explode.

“Maybe you should spot me sometime,” he said, fastening the ring weight back on the rod.

Your eyes fell to the paint stains on his paints. “I’m sorry?”

“Spot me. Like when I’m weightlifting. You seem pretty keen to watching out for me, anyways.”

You could feel heat rushing through every part of your body. “Of course, anything for a neighbor,” you smiled, trying to redirect his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

Layla barked even louder this time, Jake sighing before heading to his garage door. For some reason you followed him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m washing white clothes, so if you have anything light colored on, throw it in the machine,” Jake’s mom yelled from the kitchen at the sound of him entering the house.

“Alright,” he called back, taking off his sweaty white t-shirt and tossing it into the washer. He reached over to press a few buttons on the machine, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement. He trailed from the washroom, you still following closely behind.

“It’s a maze in here,” you said, marveling at how big his house was.

“I feel the same way sometimes,” he giggled, taking your hand in his to guide you. 

You just remembered that he came in here to look for Layla, so you listened out, trying to help him find her.

“Oh,” you said, stopping Jake in his tracks as you pointed to a four legged shadow running around underneath a closed door, “she’s right here.”

He turned, “What? How’d she get in my bedroom?” Jake walked towards the door, twisting the handle to reveal Layla chasing her tail in a circle.

“You’re so silly, Layla,” he smiled, running a hand through her thick blonde fur. “She’s doing such much better now,” you commented, meeting Jake and his dog on the floor.

“Yeah, she was totally fine after getting that stuff out of her system. Don't worry, though, she told me she forgives you," he smiled.

"And what about you?"

"Of course, ____. I don't think I could over hold a grudge against you."

Layla hopped on your lap, licking at your hands. You would’ve been grossed out if it wasn’t Jake’s dog. Her tongue tickled your palms as she panted in excitement, “I wish I had this much energy on a daily basis,” you beamed, Jake returning a grin himself.

“I think she just really likes you,” he replied. “With all of those kisses, you must taste pretty nice.”

“Maybe you’ll have to try sometime,” you said, not even realizing how suggestive your comment was. Jake grabbed a random tennis ball from the floor before tossing it out of the room, “Go fetch,” he ordered, Layla chasing after the ball.

A sparkle twinkled in his eye before he lead your face towards his by your chin. He noticed that you looked nervous, but decided to take his chances and kiss you anyway, all of your nerves melting away at the softness of his lips. You felt his hand grip at the side of your neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Kicking your foot, you closed the door slightly, falling on your back for him to take the lead. His lips broke from yours with a pop as your cold hands snuck around his bare waist. He hummed at the feeling, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

His breath was so hot against your skin, sweet sounds escaping your mouth from all the action. That’s when you two heard Layla trailing back to his room, returning to the positions you were sat in before Layla left. She barged through the door, slobbery tennis ball between her jaws as she dropped before Jake. “Good girl,” he cheered, fluffing at her fur.

You felt the aftermath of your kiss like a wave, exhausting yet refreshing.

You felt Jake.

His kiss was like water, crashing and roaring, yet emotional and gentle. You couldn’t tell, but he still felt a wave that hit him, too.

He felt you.

Your hands modest and shy, yet your lips eager and passionate. 

Layla barked for what sounded like her loudest one thus far. “I’ve gotta go walk Layla,” Jake said, sounding happy yet simultaneously like he’d rather be doing something else. Fastening a leash around Layla's collar, he trailed out of his room. You reached on his dresser and grabbed a shirt for him to wear on his way out.

His mom was no longer in the kitchen, but you decided to be polite anyways. “Bye, Mrs. Sim!” You could hear her returning the salutation from some part of the maze-like house, making your heart feel warm. Jake walked through garage and stopped at the driveway, having locked all the doors before exiting the house.

“Thanks for stopping by, ____,” he smiled, flashing you a look so intense, you might fall over. “Anytime,” you returned, handing him the shirt you’d been carrying. You don’t know when it happened, but you didn’t feel awkward in front of his shirtless frame anymore. “Aww,” he giggled, “I didn’t even realize I was still shirtless.”

He was so puppy-like that you couldn't help but adore him. Layla starting running, Jake loosing grip of her leash while distracted by you. “Layla!” He called after her before running to catch up himself.

“I gotta go now. Bye, ____!” He yelled as he ran after his excited dog. “Bye, Jake,” you called out while waving, even though he didn’t see you.

You walked back to your house, talking your shoes off at the front door before heading upstairs to your bedroom. You knew you didn’t wanna leave Jake's side yet, but you had other things to work on at home in the meantime.

Things like sharing with your diary that you and Sim Jake just kissed.

𐂯‎ This piece was created to mark TODAY, my official first month on as a Tumblr creator!!!! Thank you all so much for reading this piece! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it :3

𐂯 Feel free to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

𐂯‎ Taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @yngwife @sussyjake @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @stinkoscope @03sunoos @4imhry @rickysblkgf