#you can't pretend to take the high road

[larrylimericks]

18Oct22

You’ll stop traffic with this vinaigrette: No need for sense, shame or regret, Whisk some lies with disgrace, Narcissism to taste— “I won’t feed the drama” ... and yet.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗗𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗛 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗢𝗦

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N faces the terrifying experience of having four wisdom teeth removed. With her boyfriend, Matt, and his brothers by her side, Y/N goes through moments of anxiety, laughter, and confusion under the influence of anesthesia.

WARNING: Mentions of blood, pain, surgery, dentist, anesthesia.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The sun shone high in the sky as Y/N and Matt got into the car, ready to face the journey to the dentist's office.

"You're going to be okay, honey." Matt said as he arranged himself in the driver's seat, casting a quick glance of genuine concern in his girlfriend's direction, who spent the entire morning glued to himself, exposing her fear into emotions and complaints.

Y/N smiled small, buckling her seatbelt and moving her body above the upholstered so she found a comfortable position, trying to shake off the bad thoughts about the surgery.

"I hope so, but I can't promise I won't put on a little show in there." The girl joked, trying to relax the atmosphere, resting her hands on her thighs so that her slightly sweaty palms were in contact with the fabric of her jeans.

"I doubt you're the worst patient they've ever seen." The boy laughed as he started the car, turning his head to his right and sending her a wink.

Nick and Chris quickly settled into the middle seats of the car, each of them with a reassuring smile on their face. Nick held the camera firmly in his hands, lowering his gaze to the screen and changing a few settings.

They were like brothers to Y/N, and their presence there was comforting for her.

“Ready for the adventure, Y/N?” Chris asked with a mischievous smile, rubbing the palm of his hands before leaning his body forward and placing his upper body on the car console so that he could see the girl's reaction more closely, placing his right hand on the back of her seat to stabilize himself.

A loud curse from Nick was heard, the boy complaining that Chris was blocking the camera's view before forcefully pulling him back against his own seat.

"If by adventurous you mean a terrifying one, then yes." The girl sighed, ignoring their bickering while pretending to be excited before closing her eyes tightly, pressing the bridge of her nose with the index finger and thumb of her right hand, trying to relieve some of the tension there.

During the first few minutes of the trip, Y/N tried to remain calm, but anxiety began to seep into her chest, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. She looked at the clock on the car dashboard and saw that there were still twenty minutes until they arrived at the office, even though it seemed like they had already been inside the car for hours.

"Matt, I changed my mind. Can we go home?" Y/N interrupted Chris's yapping from the backseat, her voice trembling slightly as her hands balled into fists above her thighs, a result of her nervousness.

Matt glanced at her quickly before returning his attention to the road ahead, taking his right hand off the steering wheel briefly and moving it towards his girl, reaching blindly for her own, intertwining their fingers and giving hers a firm and comforting squeeze.

"You're kidding, right? We're already halfway there, my love. Look, it's going to be okay. I promise." The brunette murmured gently, trying to calm her nerves as he kept his attention on the road, frowning slightly in concentration.

"I know, it's just... I hate dentists so much, and I don't know if I want to take anesthesia." The girl admitted, shrugging her shoulders as she forced a small smile, squeezing Matt's hand back.

"Don't worry, girl, we'll be in the room with you the entire time." Nick said from the backseat, his voice sounding comforting, interrupting whatever negative thoughts Y/N's mind was creating at that moment, earning a weak nod in response.

The minutes dragged by slowly as the car made its way down the road. Y/N tried to distract herself by looking out the window, but the sight of buildings and businesses quickly passing by only increased her agitation.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do with your wisdom teeth after they're removed?" Chris asked suddenly, interrupting the tense silence as he kept his eyes fixed on the scenery outside the vehicle.

Y/N blinked, surprised by the sudden question.

"Well, I thought I'd ask the doctor to keep them for me. Maybe I could make a necklace-" The girl interrupted her own sentence, widening her eyes and turning her torso to her left side abruptly, gripping the side of her own seat with her right hand so that she could look at the back and the driver's seat at the same time. "No, wait, I can put it under my pillow, right?" The volume of her voice rose quickly, sudden excitement dripping into her words.

"Pillow? Why would-"

"For the tooth fairy, obviously! I'm going to remove four wisdom teeth. Do you know how much money I could make from that? I don't, but I know it's a lot!" She rambled, breaking into a big smile as her eyes went from Matt to Nick and Chris and back again.

"It's 40 dollars, Y/N." Nick responded in an amused tone, turning to Chris and letting out a silent laugh. The youngest shrugged, leaning over the space between one seat and another and taking the camera from Nick's hands.

"They can't give your teeth back, honey. When they take them out, your teeth turn to dust." Matt said as if he was speaking to a child, a hidden smile growing on his face as he kept his eyes straight ahead, raising them momentarily to the rearview mirror and casting an amused glance at Nick, who was already looking back at him, knowing he was joking.

"No! Babe, don't say that. Are you serious?" Y/N screamed, her eyes widening comically before tears began to well up in her eyes, shining against the sunlight, her mouth forming an involuntary pout.

"Oh no, don't cry. If you cry, I'll cry, too." Nick noticed her tearful expression, closing his eyes tightly and bringing the palm of his hands to his own, rubbing his blue orbs harshly, trying to shake off his own emotions.

"Oh no, Nick, don't you dare cry-" Chris's voice was interrupted by a loud sob coming from Y/N, which tore from her throat, tears escaping her eyes without permission.

Her ears quickly caught the loud laughter of Matt and Chris, and Nick's sniffles, while her boyfriend squeezed her hand tightly, trying to convey support and reassurance even though he was laughing at her sensitive state.

As they got closer to the office, Y/N's heart started to beat faster. She felt a mixture of fear and excitement bubbling inside her and knew that soon she would be facing the inevitable.

"I think I'm having a panic attack." The girl murmured, her voice muffled by the crying she had minutes before as her nose sniffled repeatedly.

"No, you're not." Matt said amused, rolling his eyes playfully before squeezing Y/N's hand one last time, slowly releasing it and taking his back to the wheel so that he could concentrate on entering the building's parking lot, parking the car in one of the free spaces closest to the main entrance.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as she exited the vehicle with the help of her boyfriend. She knew she had a long road ahead, but with Matt and the triplets by her side, she felt like she could face the situation she had put off for so many weeks. And so, with one last sigh, she entered the office.

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Y/N was already in the dental chair, nervously looking up at the white ceiling as the doctor prepared everything around her. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as her hands sweated nervously. Matt caressed her right shoulder firmly and carefully, conveying the silent support she needed so much at that moment.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Matt asked, tilting his head down so he could look better at her.

"Of course I am." She responded, swallowing hard, trying to force a smile while focusing her eyes on his, though her voice betrayed her anxiety.

Nick and Chris were a little further away, on her right side and close to the large wall of windows, their expressions a mixture of concern and unsuccessful attempts to hide their laughter. The fact that Nick knew what the feeling and procedure was like made him more amused by her present and future state.

As the doctor began moving equipment, Y/N watched curiously. She extended her right arm, allowing one of the nurses to attach the blood pressure and heart rate monitor to the correct location, feeling a shiver run down her spine. This was getting very real very fast.

"I feel like an astronaut about to take off." Y/N teased, biting her bottom lip lightly, trying to ease the tension out of herself.

"Well, at least there's no zero gravity to deal with." Nick chuckled softly, zooming the camera to the surrounding equipment before looking at the girl, offering her a reassuring smile.

Chris let out a laugh at his response, it echoing through the office and bringing a bit of lightness to the tense environment.

"I hate that sound. It reminds me of Grey's Anatomy, exactly when a patient is about to die." The girl said suddenly, pointing with her chin at the machine where the sounds of her heart were coming from.

"Hey, don't say that." Matt warned amid laughter, shaking his head while still caressing her shoulder, squeezing the area gently to relieve her muscle tension.

As the doctor began to prepare the IV, Y/N felt a wave of panic pass through her body. She looked at the thin tube with wide eyes and an expression of horror, watching him take off the cover and connect the wire to the syringe with the anesthesia.

"Matt." She muttered in a shaky voice, her lips trembling again as she clenched her right hand into a fist, accidentally letting the heart rate meter slip out.

"Hey, pretty girl, I'm right here. I won't leave your side, I promise. When you wake up, we can get ice cream from that ice cream shop you love, huh?" Matt curved his spine slightly so that his face was close to hers, holding her chin with his free hand and pulling it towards him, looking deep into his girl's eyes.

Chris quickly moved forward, taking her best friend's right hand gently and arranging the meter back into its correct place.

The doctor finished preparing the IV and approached Y/N with it, extending the girl's left arm gently and cleaning the injection site. Y/N forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on the blue ones she loved, Matt quickly acting to cover the exposed side of her head with the palm of his free hand, creating a covering over her eyes.

The girl her breath as the doctor inserted the needle into her vein, feeling it enter centimeter by centimeter, but to her surprise, it didn't hurt as much as she expected.

"It's not that bad." The girl murmured seconds after feeling the needle not moving anymore, feeling a little relieved, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to keep the tears away.

"See? You're doing so good, my love. My brave girl." Matt smiled big, tilting his face forward and kissing her forehead gently.

As the anesthesia began to take effect, Y/N felt a tingling sensation spread throughout her body. She blinked a few times, trying to get used to the strange sensation and regain her vision, which was becoming slightly blurred.

"When did the ceiling start dancing?" Y/N asked, interrupting what Nick was reporting to the camera, her eyes fixed on the ceiling that seemed to be moving erratically.

Matt laughed softly, his hand - still on his girlfriend's shoulder - shook slightly from the action, being followed by Chris and Nick, their laughter filling the office.

"I think the anesthesia is taking effect." Chris watched in amusement, crossing his arms and approaching, his voice sounding a little distant to the girl's ears.

Y/N laughed, feeling lighter than ever, blinking slowly.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'm really enjoying it." She said groggily, her voice sounding sleepy as she gave in to the anesthesia.

"Baby-" Matt began, his speech being interrupted by his own laughter, his index and thumb fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief. "What's your word, love?"

But the answer didn't come, his girlfriend having given herself over to a deep anesthesia-induced sleep.

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Y/N blinked her eyes slowly, trying to focus her vision as the haze of sleep began to dissipate. She felt groggy and disoriented, but a sense of relief washed over her body when she understood that the surgery was over. She blinked a few times, trying to take in her surroundings.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you feeling?” Nick asked in a calm tone, leaning closer to her with a gentle smile, giving space for the camera in Chris' hands to capture the moment.

Y/N turned her head towards him, blinking slowly, her mind still clouded trying to assimilate that it was Nick there with her.

"As if I'd been run over by an elephant." She murmured, her voice sounding strangely loud to her own ears, shaking her head from side to side as fast as she could, trying to stay conscious.

Matt entered the room again, having gone away for some minutes to talk to the doctor about post-surgical care, his serious face lighting up when he noticed Y/N already awake.

"Look who's back! Are you okay, sweetheart?" The boy asked, extending out his hand and reaching for hers, holding it tenderly and firmly, stroking the back of her palm with his thumb.

"I-" As soon as Y/N opened her mouth to speak, one of the gauze that sealed the right side of her mouth above her gums escaped her lips. Her eyes instantly widened, a loud sound of surprise echoing through the room. "Oh no, my tongue fell out."

"Your-" Chris began, his own laughter interrupting his sentence.

Matt turned to the camera, laughing loudly as he closed his eyes tightly, keeping his hand on his girlfriend's shoulder, trying to hide his own reaction from her.

"That's not your tongue, baby." The brunette said while still laughing, shaking his head.

"It is! They made my tongue fall out and removed my cheeks." The girl fumed, rolling her eyes nervously as she tried to cross her arms, the loud alarm sound echoing from the heart rate meter machine abruptly interrupting her action.

"Y/N, you can't take out the meter." Nick warned in a firm tone, arranging the small equipment back on her finger with his free hand.

"I'm sweating, I need to take this off. It's making me overheat." The girl spoke again, ignoring the demanding tone Nick was using, waving her arm with the IV in the air, silently indicating that she was talking about her hoodie.

"But you love wearing hoodie, pretty." Matt murmured, frowning as he leaned over her upper body, lowering her arm gently.

"Not this one! I like yours. Mine is a piece of shit." Y/N exclaimed as if it was obvious, rolling her eyes again.

The sound of Nick's loud laughter echoed off the walls of the small room, as Matt stared at her in disbelief, widening his eyes and taking them from his girl to the camera and back again.

"Here, baby." The boy sighted, taking his hand off Y/N's shoulder momentarily so that he could pull his own hoodie up, passing the piece over his arms before arranging it on the correct side, leaving his own upper body covered only by a white t-shirt. "You can have mine."

Matt stretched the hoodie over Y/N's upper body, keeping it over her own hoodie, knowing he wouldn't be able to take it off due to the IV.

"Thank you, kind sir." Y/N genuinely thanked him, opening a big and childlike smile. "Oh no, take this one off and put yours on me, Matty." She spoke again seconds later after noticing that her boyfriend's hoodie was just resting on her body.

“No way, Y/N, you have the IV.” Chris answered for Matt, briefly pointing to his best friend's left arm.

"What... Wow, what is this? Am I a toy or something?" The girl's tone came out louder than expected, her eyes widening comically as she raised her arm again, seeming to remember just at that moment the small thread that connected the needle to the anesthesia.

"It's the IV, my love. It's harmless, I promise. Does it hurt?" Matt explains gently, leaning into her slightly and squeezing her shoulder gently, drawing her attention back to him.

"No... Are they gonna fix my tongue?" Y/N returned to the first subject in a matter of seconds, lowering her gaze and focusing on the piece of blood red gauze above, now, Matt's hoodie.

"That's not your tongue, Y/N. It's just gauze. Put it back." Nick spoke this time, zooming in on the camera to catch his best friend's next reaction.

"I can't do it. There's an electrical wire connected to me." The girl remembered, rolling her eyes and raising her IV-covered arm, focusing her eyes there for a few seconds.

"Then ask your boyfriend."

"I have a boyfriend?!" Y/N turned her face towards the triplets abruptly, her eyes filling with tears within seconds as her lips trembled comically, even though she herself had been calling Matt "baby" this entire time.

"Of course you do, sweet girl. I'm right here. Remember? I'm your boyfriend, Matt." Matt quickly responded, his tone coming out as gentle as never before. He crouched on the floor, resting on his bent knees so that he was at eye level with her, giving her a genuine smile.

"Oh my God, that's awesome! You're so pretty. How did I manage to win you?" Y/N asked excitedly, raising her right hand and bringing it to her supposed boyfriend's face, cupping his right cheek lightly, feeling the skin heat up beneath her fingers.

A sound of surprise escaped Matt's lips as the heart rate monitor preacher almost stabbed into his eye, a low chuckle following soon after.

"You didn't have to win me, I was the one that had to win you, babe." The boy declared, leaning closer to her and sealing the tip of her nose for long seconds, pulling away in time to see her close her eyes and wrinkle her nose cutely. "We'll go home soon, okay? I love you, sweetheart. You were so brave."

"You love me?" Y/N exclaimed again, the tears that had been in her eyes until that moment finally spilling over and rolling down her cheeks, leaving a wet, red trail behind, her skin reacting instantly to the intense emotions.

"I do, my love. I love you very much."

Nick and Chris watched the scene with eyes full of amusement, the camera capturing every second of the couple's interaction and the muffled laughs that the two emitted behind the lens.

"So, are you comfortable on that "chair"?" Chris asked suddenly, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Y/N snapped her head towards the youngest, opening her mouth slightly and processing his question for a few seconds.

"Yeah." The girl nodded slowly, removing her right hand from Matt's face and feeling the upholstery of the chair beneath her.

"Is it better than my gaming chair?" Nick asked then, smiling behind the camera, briefly remembering the times his best friend found refuge in his room and the two spent hours talking while she sat comfortably in his gaming chair.

"Do you have a chair?" She asked with wide eyes, tilting her head up to see Nick better, slightly pushing Matt to the side with her free hand, earning a laugh from Chris when he saw his brother almost fall completely onto the cold floor.

"Yeah, you have one, too! And so does Matt."

"I have a chair? For myself?" Her lips formed an involuntary pout, her eyes filling with tears again, the previous ones having stopped flowing only seconds before, her emotions acting on their own.

"Of course you do, baby! You study on it and play video games on my computer on it, too." Matt stated, nodding quickly as he returned to his previous position. "Now, do you remember who I am?"

Y/N turned her gaze back to Matt again, her orbs traveling over every detail of his face, her lower lip trembling slightly as her heart clenched tightly inside her chest. He was so beautiful.

"My baby, my baby-" A sob interrupted her speech, tears escaping her eyes like waterfalls. "You're my baby. I love you s-so much. You're- You're so p-pretty!"

"Yeah, sweet girl! Well done, I'm your baby, and I love you way more." The brunette replied in a bashful tone, pouting as he watched her cry like a little kid over something so simple, his own eyes welling with tears.

"You two are unbelievable." Chris shook his head, crossing his arms and looking into the camera lens with a look of "do you believe this?"

"Matty." The girl called again a few seconds later, ignoring the youngest of the triplets, closing her eyes tightly to wipe away the tears stuck in her eyelashes, her nose sniffling repeatedly. She took a deep breath and sticked her swollen tongue out of her mouth, trying to lick the tears that rested on her upper lip, even without feeling absolutely anything in the region. "I think my mouth is on its period..."

"Oh my God, baby, what?"

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[alltoowelltom]

driving lessons

lando norris x reader

a/n: just wanted to get back into writing and i've gotten super into F1 the last few months

"Alright, y'ready to start?" Lando asks from the passenger seat. 

You hum, running a hand over the gear shift. 

"Yeah. Let's get this shit over with."

Lando chuckles at that, rolling his eyes. It's weird for him, turning his head the other way to look at you in the driver's seat of his McLaren. He usually hates to give up control, especially when driving is involved. 

"You might start to really like it once you get confident." He suggests. "Might even put me out of a job if I'm not careful."

You double check in the rearview mirror one more time. It's a crisp, early morning on a quiet residential street that Lando picked for you to practice your driving in. He's determined for you to pass your upcoming drivers' test and finally get a license. When he'd approached you about teaching you to drive a few weeks ago you'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. 

"I'm sorry if I ask you to drive me around too often," you'd apologised immediately. "You can always say no, I don't mind getting an Uber or catching the train."

"Nah, it's not that, lovie," he'd corrected you, pulling your body closer on the couch and resting his curly head atop of yours. "I like being useful to you and driving you places. I just worry about you when I'm away, there's always so many creeps on public transport. I just want you to be safe."

Your heart had squeezed at his words. Maybe he was right, maybe it was time to finally learn to drive?

"You're all clear." he informed you, twisting around to double check the road behind you. "Just take off the handbrake, put the car into drive and pull into the road, okay?" 

You do as he says, switching on your indicator before pulling out. 

"Oh yeah," he laughs his famously high pitched laugh. "Definitely indicate too, good idea."

"I'm better at this than you already." you laugh. 

You continue to drive along the narrow streets, slowing down to let a stray cat scamper across the road. Lando seems to grow impatient at the pace, motioning for you to speed up a bit, please. 

“I didn’t know this car could go so slowly.” he says, rolling his eyes. “Gonna have to have a word with McLaren about it.”

He directs you to an intersection and you blink at the sight of so many cars whizzing past. 

"Lan, help me," you turn to him with wide eyes. 

"You're fine, love." He grins. "Wait for your gap and then merge the way they're going."

"But they're going so fast." You say. "What if I time it wrong and fuck up your car? This is not the ideal car for someone who can't actually drive."

"This is a great car." he defends. 

"The doors open up instead of out." you deadpan. "This car is out of my league."

He shrugs as he stretches out in his seat, the picture of relaxation. 

"I've added you onto my insurance as a learner driver," he says casually, almost yawning. "It'll be fine." 

You ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his statement and follow his instructions, carefully merging in behind another car. Lando cheers, placing his big hand on your thigh and lightly tracing his fingertips along your inner leg. 

"Stop that!" you shriek, slapping his hand away.

"Huh?" he blinks at you in confusion. "I'm being a loving boyfriend? I love when you have your hand on my leg while I drive, I thought you'd like it too?" he splutters. 

You take one hand off the wheel and bring it to your mouth to hide your laughter. 

"No," you say, cheeks tinged with a pink blush. "I physically can't concentrate on the road when you're touching me. Like I cannot think about anything else but you."

It's Lando's turn to blush now and he turns his face towards his window to hide it, pretending to be oh so invested in the stores you drive past. He knows the effect you have on each other, but it gives him butterflies to be reminded of how you see him. You've only been together a few months and he gets overwhelmed at how quickly you can turn him from a confident, sometimes even cocky guy to a pile of pink mush and hearts in seconds. 

"Right," he blows a puff of air out his cheeks. "You're doing great at this. Maybe we can get you driving the Jolly next?"

thank you for reading! feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[msgexymunson]

Treasure

Description: watching the latest Mad Max film has you discovering something new about Eddie and his kinks 

A/N: just a smutty blurb I came up with when I watched that film last night! Ignore the timeline, just pretend Fury Road came out in the 80s. Please reblog if you like my work, I'll love you forever, promise.

Warnings: AFAB reader, NSFW, minors DNI, subby Eddie, breeding kink, p in v unprotected sex (reader on b/c) 

2k words

Masterlist 

The new Mad Max film blares its opening titles, echoing off of the tinny walls of the trailer. The lights are all off; darkness had fallen outside some time ago, so the only light came from the flickering blue glare of the TV. 

There was barely enough room to sit side by side on the narrow bed, so you sat between Eddie's spread legs, your back flush with his chest, cuddled in a swaddling embrace. You'd only been seeing each other for a couple of months, but the comfort of having his arms around you in such a natural way made you feel safe. 

"I've been looking forward to watching this, took a lot not to watch it before you came around." He admits, hand reaching up to stroke your face briefly. 

"Well, aren't I lucky." 

"Damn straight." 

You laugh, grabbing his hand and wrapping it back around your torso, settling down to watch the movie. 

Losing yourself in the film, you focus on the characters, the chases, the struggles. Then you notice Eddie's hand has drifted to your thigh. Your eyes roll upwards, he's usually handsy with you when you're trying to watch TV so this is not surprising. What is surprising is the nature of his movements. They seem compulsive, thumb rubbing back and forth as if he's not aware he's doing it. Staring at his hand, you see it's trembling slightly. 

You cup his hand with yours and he stops immediately. 

"You alright there baby? Are the girls that hot?" You quip, amusement in your voice. 

"Oh, no, not at all!" He shakes his head, a few strands grazing your cheek. "They're pretty, sure, not a patch on you." He responds, kissing your temple. The reply is so forthright and honest, like everything else he says to you. It's definitely the truth. Honestly, you wouldn't even be jealous if it was the girls that got him worked up. You know he's yours.

Settling back down, you continue watching, but curiosity is chewing on your brain. It's fuelled even further by a very familiar bulge that's now digging into the small of your back. 

It's only when you hear the character on screen saying 'his treasures, his prize breeders' and Eddie's hand grips your thigh hard, that you put two and two together. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but the damage is done. 

You tilt your head back a little so you can take in his profile. For once, Eddie looks nervous. His cheeks are flushed, eyes as wide as a bush baby, nibbling on his lip neurotically. He's never looked so flustered. 

The devil on your shoulder is whispering an idea in your brain that you can't ignore. Seeing him so worked up is doing something to you, blood travelling in between your legs. 

Softly, so he barely notices at first, you run your hands up and down his thighs. Gentle caresses, back and forth, until you feel him hum in his chest, melting slightly. He's relaxing beneath you. Your nails join in, dragging across the soft fabric of his sweatpants. 

"Eddie, am I your treasure?" You ask sweetly, voice as innocent as you can muster. 

"Of- of course, baby." He responds, a quiver in his voice, tensing up again at your words. 

"Is that what you want? For me to be your treasure?" You ask, pressing your back against him harder, beginning to gently grind on his bulge. 

"Wha-what do you m-mean?"

He staggers it out, his usual cadence gone. It's high pitched, almost whiny. This is going well out of your usual territory; it wasn't uncommon for Eddie to be pulling whimpers out of you, not the other way around.

You have to say it, to take the leap. 

Leaning to whisper right in his ear, you decide to just come out with it. 

"Do you want to breed me Eddie?" 

His eyes widen even further, mouth falling open. You continue to grind against him, your hands tracing higher up his thighs. 

"Is that it baby? You wanna fuck me raw, fill me up?" 

The noise he makes is alien to you. It's high, quivering and desperate. His breathing has quickened, hands coming to rest shakily on yours. 

Pulling them off you gently, you reach for the remote and pause the movie. Then, you swivel around so you can straddle him, throbbing heat pressed against his rock hard length. 

"Eddie, answer me." You say quietly, but firmly. His hands rest on your hips, anxiously rubbing the skin under your shirt. His shirt, the old one you'd stolen weeks ago. 

"I- I, erm, yeah, I mean, fuck" He stutters, losing control as you massage his length with each roll of your hips, only your panties and his sweats in the way of absolute pleasure. 

You grasp his chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing his gaze to meet yours. 

"Eddie. Words." 

"I mean, yeah." His voice is smaller than you've ever heard. Then, it all rushes out of his mouth in a jumble. 

"But I, I don't mean I want to like, have kids right now or something it's just-" 

"You like the fantasy." 

He nods so hard and fast it's almost comical. The puppy dog look he's giving you is so soft and you don't want to hurt his feelings, so you swallow your laugh. 

"You know, I was gonna mention earlier…" you start as you run a hand through the front of his hair, nails dragging on his scalp slightly, his eyes rolling back at the gesture.

"What sweetheart?" He all but whispers, his head rolling in tandem with your ministrations. 

"I'm on the pill now." 

His eyes snap back open, bugging out of his head almost. A laugh escapes then, you can't help it. It's a girlish giggle, which turns into a dirty smirk. 

Grinding against him harder, hand coming to rest on his chest, a moan sounds low inside you, echoing from deep within. The friction is good, making you wet, but it's not enough. 

You need him. Now. 

"So, you wanna fill me up? You can cum inside me, as many times as you want." 

"You'll let me?" He looks shocked.

"Oh please, sweets, please." 

His grip on your hips is harder now, fingers tight on your flesh. 

He all but sulks when you climb off him, pouting his bottom lip like a child. It's not for long though, as you shimmy out of your panties, discarding them somewhere on the floor. You pull his sweats off and away swiftly, to join the mire of mess on his carpet. 

Hovering back over him, you circle the tip of his leaking cock. It's teasing, you know, but he looks so flustered and sweaty and desperate. 

"Can I take this off?" He asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt, "please?" 

The question takes you back. You're not used to being in control, the thrill of it tingles through your nerves. You pull the top off very slowly, finally releasing your breasts. Eddie groans in his throat at the sight. 

As you sink down on him, you press your mouth on his, collecting his moans in your throat. Your pussy swallows him up, sucking him in greedily. You do the same with your tongue, fervently licking into him, heating up your mouth, your skin, your cunt. 

The room is soon filled with the sound of your slapping skin, your nails leaving red crescents into his shoulders. 

"Fuck, you feel so amazing. Go- go a bit slower, please." You comply, rocking into him, his swollen length jotting against your g spot with each pass. 

Leaning towards him, you let your lips brush against his ear, hot breath fanning against the shell of it. 

"This what you wanted baby, hmm? To feel everything…" Letting the word linger, you push against him harder, fingers winding into his hair. 

"Yeah, oh yes- fuck" 

"Yeah? You wanna cum inside me? Stuff me full of your cum? You want little Munsons running around the place, hmm?" 

He whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. 

You pull on the lock of hair you've twisted in your grip, making his noises even more strangled. 

"Baby, oh my God, please, can I get on top?" 

"Of course, your treasure will do anything for you" you smirk. 

"Fuck!" 

He pushes you down then, flipping you onto the mattress as he fucks into you intensely, hand coming to your clit to rub tight circles. Even in his state he still wants you to come first. 

The coil in your stomach that has been tightening slowly speeds up at his touch, warming through your body, tingles reaching right to your fingers and toes. The heat is outstanding, buzzing between you both. Your insides are fluttering as you dig heels into his bare ass, forcing him as close as he can get, needing more, more. 

"Please come, Jesus Christ, I need it, I need it. Come so I can, please!" 

Its babble, spewing from his lips in urgent bubbles of sound. The subby neediness of it is what pushes you over that edge, clenching hard around his thick member, squeezing him to within an inch of his life. You scream out your release, throaty and rough, gripping his biceps tightly. 

"Oh my God sweets, fuck!" 

The feeling must be just as intense for him. You push him further, knowing he wants it. 

"Eddie, please cum inside me, I need your cum, I wanna feel it, fuckin' breed me Eddie." 

That was it, that pushed him over the edge; the word 'breed'. He releases deep inside, crying out your name so loudly you're sure the neighbours are going to complain. He's throbbing inside, still coming, and coming. Finally, it stops and he goes limp, slipping out of you. You accept his weight, holding him to you closely. 

A cold, wet feeling on your chest takes you by surprise. Looking down you see that Eddie is crying. Not hard, just little, hiccupping sobs that make your heart swell. 

"Shh, it's OK baby, it's OK." Attempting to placate him, your fingers run through his hair trying to soothe him. 

The whimpering stops and he looks at you, eyes almost shameful. 

"I'm so sorry that was pathetic, honestly-" 

"Baby, I ain't judging." Flashing him a soft smile. 

"I just never came that hard. Ever." 

Your chest swells with pride but you jolt as you feel his fingers on your soaking heat. 

"Baby what are you doing?" 

"Keeping my cum inside you." 

Giggles explode out of you, slapping his arm. He doesn't stop, fingers hard against your cunt.

"That was really fucking hot. I should let you take charge more often." 

"Let me? Seems I took charge all on my own." 

"And I thank you for it." He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. 

He hesitates, fingers still harsh on your cunt. 

"Did you mean it?" 

"Mean what?" You stare down at him, confused. 

His voice drops down an octave, eyes flashing menace. 

"That I can cum in you, as much as I want?" 

Biting your lip, you nod. 

"Fill me up Eddie." 

"Fuuuck" He huffs, biting down on the soft skin of your breast, "give me five minutes and I'm gonna rock your world." 

Giggles are replaced by moans when he shoves two fingers inside your soaking cunt. 

Seems you've unlocked a new kink of his. You smile, happy to be his treasure. 

Taglist (I'm just tagging some likely candidates ;)

@munson-blurbs @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @emsgoodthinkin @names-were-taken @joejoequinnquinn @zestychili @lunatictardis @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @corrodedcoffincumslut @unfocused81 @liminalpebble @truffleshuffle12 @bookshelf-dust

[zapreportsblog]

Baby Come Back

➥ summary: miles misses his girl even though he won’t admit to to himself or anyone else, but when he sees her starting to move on without him, naw that settles it. It’s time to win his baby girl back

➥ a/n: this was inspired by @laaailuh fic “I Miss You”

The tension in the air was palpable as Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, and his girlfriend (y/n) stood face to face in his small apartment. Their voices were raised, and emotions ran high, as they found themselves entangled in a heated argument.

"I can't do this anymore, Miles!" (y/n) exclaimed, her eyes filled with frustration and hurt. "You've been distant, shutting me out, and taking your anger out on me. It's not fair!"

Miles clenched his fists, trying to find the right words to express the turmoil inside him. "I know I've been a mess since my dad died," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But I'm trying to deal with it in my own way."

(y/n) took a step back, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. "I understand that you're going through a lot, but you can't just push me away and expect me to stick around," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I need to be with someone who can share their pain with me, not shut me out."

Miles felt a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he had been unfair to (y/n). He loved her deeply, but the darkness of his grief had consumed him, making it difficult for him to see beyond his own pain.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I need you, (y/n). Please, don't leave."

(y/n)'s eyes welled up with tears, torn between her love for Miles and the toll his emotional distance was taking on her. "I love you too, Miles, but I can't keep being hurt like this," she said, her voice choked with sadness. "You need to confront your grief and find a way to heal, for both of us."

As the words hung in the air, the weight of their unresolved issues seemed to crush them both. (y/n) turned away, unable to bear the pain in Miles' eyes, while he struggled to find the strength to let her go.

In the following days, the silence between them grew heavy and suffocating. They tried to carry on with their lives separately, but their hearts longed for the comfort and love they once shared.

One evening, as the sun set over the city, (y/n) made her decision. She couldn't keep waiting for Miles to heal on his own. She knew that it was time to face the truth and let go, even if it broke her heart.

She went to Miles' apartment, her footsteps echoing with each heavy step. The door opened, and Miles stood before her, his eyes red and swollen, a reflection of the pain he carried.

"I can't keep pretending that everything is okay," (y/n) said softly, her voice wavering. "I need to put myself first, and that means letting go."

Tears streamed down Miles' cheeks as he nodded, his heart aching with the weight of their decision. "I don't want to lose you, but I know I've been pushing you away," he said, his voice choked with regret. "I'm so sorry for hurting you."

They stood there, facing each other, knowing that their love wasn't enough to mend the broken pieces of their hearts. Their bond had been strong, but the weight of grief had shattered it.

With one last embrace, (y/n) turned away, her heart breaking as she walked away from the man she loved. The tears flowed freely as she left behind the life they once shared, but she knew that it was the right decision for both of them.

In the days that followed, the void left by their breakup was a constant reminder of the love they had lost. Miles faced his grief head-on, seeking counseling and support from friends and family, determined to find a way to heal.

And though they had parted ways, the memories of their love lingered in the corners of their hearts. The road ahead was uncertain, but they both knew that their journey towards healing had only just begun.

•••

In the days that followed the breakup, Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, became even more withdrawn and closed off. The pain of losing (y/n) weighed heavily on his heart, and he found solace in isolating himself from his friends and emotions. He had always been good at hiding his feelings behind the mask of the prowler, but now it seemed like he was hiding from himself too.

At school, Miles tried to maintain a façade of indifference, a mask that he wore to shield himself from the questions and concerns of his friends. As he walked through the halls, he could feel the worried glances of his classmates, but he pretended not to notice.

During lunchtime, others approached him cautiously, their concern evident in their expressions. "Hey, Miles, are you doing okay?" Stu asked, his voice soft and caring.

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to deflect their worries. "Yeah, I'm good," he replied with a forced smile. "It just didn't work out with (y/n), you know? It's whatever."

Stu exchanged a concerned glance with Anthony, realizing that Miles was trying to hide his pain. "You sure, man? We're here for you if you need to talk," he said gently.

Miles nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to share the turmoil inside him. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine," he insisted, avoiding eye contact with his friends. "I've got other stuff to focus on."

Just then the bell rang signaling that it was time for class.

As Miles sat in his classroom, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions, he couldn't help but notice that (y/n) was just a few seats ahead of him. His heart clenched as he saw someone pass her a note discreetly.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the exchange. He could feel a pang of jealousy stirring within him, a reminder of the connection they once shared.

Trying to focus on the lesson, he fought the urge to look again. But as the minutes ticked by, his mind kept wandering back to the note. He couldn't shake the feeling of being left out, of no longer being a part of her life.

When the class finally ended, Miles gathered his belongings, but his feet felt heavy as he made his way towards the exit. He knew he should be moving on, but seeing (y/n) with someone else reminded him of what he had lost.

As he walked past her, he couldn't help but glance in her direction. Their eyes met briefly, and a mix of emotions washed over him. He wanted to say something, to reach out to her, but his pride held him back.

In the bustling school hallway, Miles mustered the courage to call out to (y/n) as she was making her way to her next class. "Hey, (y/n)!" he said, his voice a mix of nervousness and hope.

She turned around, surprised to see him, but she managed a polite smile. "Hey, Miles. What's up?" she asked, her guard up, unsure of what he wanted to talk about.

"I was wondering if we could meet up after school," he said, his eyes earnest. "There's something I really need to talk to you about."

(y/n) hesitated, her heart still guarded, but she knew that avoiding the conversation wouldn't resolve anything. "Miles, I don't think there's a need for us to talk," she replied, her voice measured. "It's all been said, hasn't it?"

Miles took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words he wanted to say. "Please, cariño" he implored, "I just need a chance to explain and apologize. There's so much I want to say, and I can't keep pretending like everything's okay."

Her resolve softened as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. With a small sigh, she relented. "Okay, fine," she said, "but just this once, and only because I think we both deserve some closure."

•••

After school, they met at a nearby park, finding a quiet bench to sit on. The air between them was tense, but there was an unspoken understanding that they needed to have this conversation.

Miles began, his words slow and heartfelt. "I'm sorry,cariño, for shutting you out and being distant," he said, his voice tinged with remorse. "I've been dealing with so much since my dad's passing, and I didn't know how to handle it. But that's not an excuse for treating you the way I did."

She listened attentively, the wall around her heart slowly starting to crumble. "I know it was hard for you," she said softly, "but it was hard for me too. I felt like you pushed me away, and it hurt."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Miles replied, his gaze downcast. "I never meant to hurt you, (y/n). I just... I didn't know how to handle my emotions, and I thought if I pushed you away, it would protect you from my pain."

Her heart softened as she saw the vulnerability in his eyes. "You don't have to protect me, Miles," she said gently. "I wanted to be there for you, to help you through your grief."

He reached out and took her hand, his grip gentle yet pleading. "I wish I had let you in," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I wish I had talked to you about everything, instead of shutting you out."

Silence settled between them, the weight of their emotions palpable. (y/n) finally spoke, her voice tinged with sadness. "I miss you too, mi amor," she admitted, her eyes welling up with tears. "I miss us, but I don't know if we can go back to how things were."

Miles nodded, understanding the complexity of their situation. "I don't expect things to go back to normal right away," he said. "I just hope that we can find a way to move forward, even if it's not together."

Her heart ached, torn between the love she still felt for him and the uncertainty of their future. "I need time to heal too," she said softly. "But I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

And so, beneath the setting sun, they started to open up to each other, their words filled with both pain and hope. As they talked, they realized that they needed to be honest about their feelings, even if it meant facing the difficult truths they had been avoiding.

Their conversation was raw and emotional, but it was a start. A start towards healing, towards understanding, and towards finding closure. Whether their paths would converge again or lead in different directions, they both knew that they had grown from their experiences and that they would always cherish the love they once shared.

[j-jinxee]

[ ⟡​ ] — PULL OVER,,

NSFW under the cut! ⊹ Sim Jaeyun x Reader

✦ [warnings – head (receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, cumming inside, swearing]

─────

Being Jake's passenger princess was the best job ever. One of his hands resting on your thigh while the other controls the vehicle, and all you had to was your sit there and look pretty, occasionally telling him which way to go. Your eyes mostly landed on him throughout these drives, much more interested in his gorgeous side profile than the road ahead. His beautifully sculpted hands gliding across the wheel, taking good care of you, keeping you safe. Snapping you out of your thoughts, you noticed his hand almost stuttering, becoming as stiff as a board. Jake felt the urgent need to get closer to you, to take you right this second, but the road ahead prevented him from doing so. Hearing his breathing get heavier, you pretended not to notice. However, you were slightly concerned when Jake took a wrong turn, did he do that on purpose?. You were meant to head onto the freeway, instead you're headed out to a more secluded, rural area. Was he really that lost in thought? You actually couldn't tell if he just made a honest mistake, or if he was thinking with his dick. You'd soon find out, it was the latter.

'Jake?' you said quietly.

Before you knew it, both of you were cramped in the back seat, Jake's face buried in your cunt. 'mm-mmh!' You squirmed, your hands tugging at his hair to steady yourself. Jake ended up going halfway up a curb and not even turning the car off, so desperate to feel you. He rushed to climb into the back seat, and you followed, how could you say no to this pleading boy? He looked like a lost puppy, so needy for you all the time. Practically drooling at the sight of you, he ripped your tights at the crotch, along with your underwear. You'd gotten used to Jake's animalistic traits when he got like this, the first couple times he ripped your clothes you were worried they were gone for good, but he'd always buy you new pairs of whatever he destroyed.

'mm-m fuck!' You cried louder than ever, as you were finally in a place where no one could hear you. Jake's tongue felt so fucking good when he sucked your clit, he somehow never needed his fingers to bring you to the edge, his tongue knew everything you needed. He pulled away right before you reached your high, of course he can't have you cumming already. Moving upwards to connect his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He removed his jacket and shirt, only disconnecting your lips to pull it over his head. His hands new exactly where to go, gliding down your body and haulting at your hips. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, reaching down to stroke him through the fabric. His desperation was contagious, making you all hot and needy for him aswell, rubbing your already stimulated clit on his clothed bulge. Not long after, Jake was frantically unbuckling his belt, pulling down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his aching member. Fuck he looked so good like this, all drunk and desperate for you, his hair messy yet still framing his face perfectly, and the cute little whines he let out when you so much as grazed him. 'm sorry baby, I just needed you- right now' he panted though your lips.

'Awh, pretty boy couldn't wait till we got home? So desperate' you teased.

'fuckkk- don't call me that' your voice hypnotised him, intoxicating him with every octave.

His cock glided up and down your folds, threatening to split you open at any second. He stroked himself a few times before gently slapping his length on your clit, only making more of your slick leak down to the car seat below. Your already very stimulated bud now had a pretty coat of Jake's pre all over it, glistening in his eyes.

Jake didn't even glance back down before he slowly pushed himself deep into your folds. Loving the sight of your pupils dilating as you felt his tip kiss your cervix.

'fuckkkk' you whined as he bottomed you out instantly, his usually strong eye contact immediately faltered. His eyes rolling back and his posture falling forward. Adding the sensation of his hot breath on your neck followed by his whiny little moans right at your ear, you were experiencing nothing short of pure ecstasy.

He looked up from the gorgeous sight to be met with one even more so, your eyes. He adored making eye contact while he buried himself in you, practically imprinting his shape into your walls. It didn't matter how rough or how gentle he'd be going, his eyes would always find their way back to yours.

It's like he was programmed to pleasure you, the way the smallest touches made your body feel like it was on fire. The way his cock filled you so well, the way his tip kissed your cervix so delicately until you'd come undone for him over and over and over again. As much as you weren't in the mood like he was, you thanked his weak will for taking you like this in the middle of nowhere, you could never let out moans like this in your shared apartment. Your mixed noises only made it more erotic, sounding so incredibly pornographic you barely recognised your own voice.

'Fuckk baby 'm– 'm gonna cum already ah!'

His rough strokes always hit so fucking deep, even just thinking about it would have you hot and bothered any day. You felt a twitch inside you before thick ropes of his hot, white seed painted your walls so delicately. You tensed, sucking him in even more if that was possible. The warm, filling sensation tipped you over the edge, just like it always did. Jaeyun's words became almost ineligible, his pussy drunk mind all foggy from his release. His words were pure sin, all of it so shameless, and you fucking adored it.

'ffuck baby so fucking good for me, ah! mm fuck you feel so good. Feel me? Feel my cum so fucking deep- a-ah!'

His lips laced your neck, threatening to mark you as he made his way back to sitting upright. Catching his breath, it was truly your favourite part. His hair messy and damp, face highlighted by the dim light glistening off his sweat, abs tensed as he still remained inside you. You felt so full, and warm, wishing you could stay like this forever.

This was however, Jake's least favourite part. He hated seeing his cum leak out of you, inevitably it was impossible to keep it all in, but god dammit Jaeyun will try. Pulling out at a stupidly slow pace, quickly replacing his cock with his fingers at the first sight of the white syrup. 'Let's try n leave it for a bit, right baby?'

Fuck, he was so cute. As much as you both knew it wasn't possible, and it was no where near the right time, you knew he dreamt about you having his children. Didn't matter the circumstance, he'd subtly fill his fantasy in someway everytime you had sex, and it was adorable. 'Ok baby' you smiled.

─────

Do I like this? No it's shit,, has it been in my drafts for about 5 months? Yeah,, I just want it gone so take it lmao ( ´-ω-) I'll write smt better for Jake soon cuz my god I love this man sm ok bye.

[luveline]

hi jade! would you be open to doing a hurt/comfort Eddie fix where the readers dealing with some personal stuff at home and starts distancing herself from him, they fight about it but makeup after a couple of days or something and it's a fluffy happy ending? love your writing and hope your doing well xx

hey!!! tysm for ur request tw unspecified family drama ♡♡♡ fem!reader

You've thought about nothing besides your fight with Eddie for days now.

Arguments can feel so transient. One second you're golden, the next you've argued, and ten minutes later you can't remember half of what you said or what Eddie said, and you're listening to him drive away with shaky hands.

The shaking comes and goes. It's a fucking gnawing anxiety. As if things weren't bad enough, now your boyfriend's mad at you (for good reason) and it's the only thing you can think about.

"Why won't you talk to me?" he'd asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't do that. Don't pretend there's nothing wrong."

Eddie's good at that, slicing down to the core of the problem without dawdling. You are pretending nothing is wrong, because you don't want to think about everything that's wrong, or even admit to it, not with Eddie. It's all messy and stupid and you shouldn't feel so much shame about the things you can't control, but you do.

The phone on your nightstand starts to ring. You lift your teary face off of a damp pillow and squint at it.

"Listen," Eddie says as soon as you pick up, no time for greetings, "I just wanna see you, okay? No more fighting, I promise."

You blink in surprise. The already high emotion, the snap of relief. Tears well in your eyes and you sound full of them as you say, "Okay."

"Aw, baby," he says under his breath. "Can I come over?"

You tilt your head and listens for the noise downstairs. "Can I come to you?" you ask.

"Of course you can... Uh-" There's a lot of sound from the other line. "Don't cry, sweetheart, okay? I'll come and pick you up, how's that? Please don't cry."

His sweetness and his not wanting you to cry is exactly what makes it unmanageable. You stifle a gasp with the back of your hand and close your eyes, feeling silly for reacting so strongly. You've really missed him. Really needed him.

"Are you- I'm gonna come and get you," he repeats, sounding not quite frantic but definitely worried.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. We'll talk about it."

You hang up and get dressed into something that doesn't look like it's been cried in for two days straight. You wait until you see his headlights from the bedroom window and slink out of the house on pins, heart spinning like a top as you approach his van.

It's dark. Your breath forms a cloud in front of you, and you hesitate with your fingers curled around the door handle.

Don't cry, you think.

You bite your tongue and pull open the door. Eddie's already looking at you with a careful smile.

"Hey," he says, offering his hand to help you up the short step as he always does. You take it not because you've ever needed it, but because you really want to hold his hand, and you don't let go once the doors closed. Eddie makes no effort to take it back.

You look down at his hand in yours. You know it well. The thickness and length of each finger, the single ring on his middle finger, the teeny tiny mole on his marriage finger.

"Can I give you a kiss?" His voice is rougher than usual, low.

You nod but still can't look at him — if you look at him you'll definitely cry. Your chest races in wait for him to lean across the gap and kiss you. It's a relief when he does, his lips warm and insistent. One kiss, a second.

"I'm keeping this," he says, pulling your hand toward his thigh.

You laugh quietly. He squeezes your hand in response and starts back on the road.

"I'm sorry for..." He cringes. "For getting so angry with you."

"It's okay."

"Is it? I've been thinking about it for hours and it just doesn't feel like you to stop talking to me. And I got so angry I pushed you back into a corner, and it didn't fix anything and it just made me miss you."

"You didn't push me into a corner," you say.

He turns the wheel in one hand, the other tight but never, ever cruel where it stays squeezing your own.

"I was quick to jump at you. I hate that. I don't want to be like that."

"Everybody fights," you murmur, trying to rub at the back of his hand. He has such a secure grip that's its difficult, but you try.

"I feel like an asshole, okay? Let me apologise, please." The first sentence said with self-deprecating bravado, the second with genuine remorse.

"You were right, though. I haven't been talking to you. It's just- there's just stuff, Eddie, that's all, and I didn't want you to know. It's," — a lazy tear runs down your cheek and you bring your shoulder up to wipe it — "my stupid- stupid family." You stop abruptly, embarrassed by how much you've said and the upset way you've said it.

"I want to know, though."

There's a really long gap. You and Eddie are good at this, at communicating, at knowing when there's as much need for love as there is for conversation. But you're also both flawed. Eddie's insecure, and he doesn't like feeling vulnerable. It makes sense that he'd assume your pulling away was something to do with him. In a way, it was. And you're embarrassed and quick to hide how you feel, so afraid of leaning on him for support that you end up looking as though you don't trust him.

And obviously there's the lingering anger of a fight, of wanting to be right. You wish there wasn't. How much easier would it feel on your heart to decide Eddie was entirely to blame, that he'd misread the signs and made a big deal out of nothing?

It would be easy. But. It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be love.

"Love you," you murmur, worried he won't say it back.

He pulls your hand up quick to his lips and kisses your knuckles. "I love you."

Which, despite everything, is what heals the rift. There's obviously more talking to be done. You need to tell Eddie about what's going on, and you will.

"Wanna table it?" he asks.

"Yes," you say tearfully, your relief palpable.

"Only for tonight."

"Yeah. Please."

His headlights splash across tarmac and up the brick side of Benny's diner. He's quiet as he puts the van in park, loosening his grip on your hand to push down the handbrake.

"Here," he says, pulling a sleeve over his palm, "gotta wipe those cute cheeks," — you laugh because it's awful — "or all the guys'll think I'm treating you wrong." He wipes your cheeks tenderly, lip pulled between his teeth for a short second. "Guess maybe I have been."

"No, you haven't," you say softly.

Your eyes close as he cleans up under your lashline with his thumbnail. You can't bear to open them as he takes your newly cleaned face into both hands, warm palms and the thick of his rings against your cool cheeks.

He kisses the tip of your nose.

"Dork," you say.

There's no way to describe it other than fondness in his hands, his fingers as they move slowly downward. He cradles your face from the jawline, thumbs pushing quarter circles.

"Open your eyes," he demands in a funny voice.

You open your eyes. Bloodshot, achey. Glad to see him. He's really pretty, handsome, everything. Brown eyes big and wide in the dark, pupils and irises merged into one.

"Let me get some food into you." He frowns some more, then takes on a light, almost blasé expression. "Heard Benny's got a new milkshake machine. Won't let me get you one, will you?"

"Do I really have a choice?" you ask. As soon as you smile Eddie pins it in place, beaming beaming beaming. He's like the sun.

"Sure you do. You can choose the flavour."

You lean heavily into one of his hands. Whether you can stomach it or not, if Eddie wants to buy you a milkshake, how can you deny him?

[misshoneyimhome]

What think about a smut where Willy he finds out that you faked an orgasm so he gives you an experience that you won’t forget?

#slutforwilliamnylander

Oh babe! You can't just spring something like this on me - there were loads of possibilities here 🙈 And naturally, I couldn't quite make up my mind on how to approach it, so I opted for a more straightforward route - but there were countless potential outcomes here 😜

Willy would of course never let you off the hook for faking it - need I say more? - but we all know that reaching the peak isn't always a walk in the park, even for the most skilled 😉

So, having said that, I hope you find it enjoyable 🤍

Tropes & warnings; established relationship; Smut 18+; unprotected sex, cum inside, oral stimulation (f receiving), fingering, tying up, sex toy (vibrator), overstimulation, more unprotected sex (p in v), more cum inside;

Word count; 4.8K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

➼｡ﾟ

Fake it till you make it I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️💦

You knew you were taking a risk as soon as you did it. You had never done it before. But tonight, just wasn’t your night, and you ended up faking an orgasm while being intimate with your boyfriend, William Nylander.

William was always amazing in bed - on the sofa, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the car – the list went on, but no matter where you were, he always made sure you reached climax. At least once, and preferably twice or more.

Just not tonight. Maybe you were too stressed out about work, or maybe your body and mind just weren’t in sync. But whatever the reason, you just couldn’t get there. Even though he felt so good inside you, moving at different paces as he listened to your moans, even hitting your G-spot with the tip of his cock, it still didn’t do it.

You even tried suggesting switching things up a bit – carefully not mentioning that you weren’t close – and as William took you from behind in doggy style, usually the perfect position to make you both moan loudly and climax together, it seemed that William was the only one about to come.

And at this point, you had given up on your own orgasm. If this position, with the intensity of William’s thrusts, didn’t do it for you, nothing would. So, instead, you did what you never thought you’d do with him inside you; you faked your moans louder, consciously clenched your walls around his member as a signal of your fake pending orgasm. And then, as you heard his deep groan, mixed with the words, “Fuck yes baby, I’m about to come,” you also pretended to climax.

Even after he had shot his load into your depth, you kept up the act by pretending to gasp for air as you came down from your fake high. Yet, when William then held you close as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

_

Your sex life with William had always been described with words like amazing, mind-blowing, incredible, and overwhelming. Occasionally, you even had light physical challenges after an intense night with your boyfriend – especially when he’d returned from a road trip, and you were both longing for each other’s touch. But it was always worth it.

From the very beginning, he had had a knack for navigating your body, finding the erogenous zones, and stimulating you just right. He was the first man you’d been with who took the time to find your sensitive spots and simply enjoyed your moans and small squirms when he did something just right. Whether he used his fingers, his mouth, both, or his cock, William always found ways to make you moan his name loudly, mixed with cries of pleasure as your juices covered him. And usually, he’d never be in doubt whether you’d come or not.

Of course, there were times of trial and error with positions, angles, and timing. You were both rather creative and adventurous in exploring each other and finding new ways to stimulate one another, though it wasn’t always without small challenges. Figuring out how to bend the legs without it hurting too much, avoiding gagging too hard, tying something just right – loads of things had happened over time. However, most of the time, you both managed to reach climax. Only a few times had William not been able to come, but that had just been because he was too tired after an intense match or training. And instead, he’d just focused on how many times he could make you come.

So, it was nothing but a mystery to you why you hadn’t been able to reach your high. And what surprised you even more was that William hadn’t noticed you’d been faking it. Though you never really liked the sound of your own moans, you were sure they sounded different when you faked them. Yet, it seemed your little act had convinced him.

It’s not that it hadn’t felt good. In fact, it had felt just as amazing as per usual. You could sort of feel the orgasm building up, so maybe your moans weren’t completely fake. However, you just couldn’t push yourself over the edge into that blissful state of mind. So, you settled for simple, nice stimulation, while William managed to fuck his way to his own climax.

In a way, you wanted to tell William, as you knew communication was key to incredible sex with a partner. However, you feared he might be too disappointed or even annoyed with you for not saying anything in the moment. And with his focus on the end of the regular season, you decided to live and let go. You convinced yourself it was just a one-off and perhaps it was better to ignore it and move on so you could enjoy the next time you and William were intimate.

Yet, that evening didn’t quite start the way it usually did.

_

What seemed like a regular Saturday game day against the Detroit Red Wings quickly turned into something much more sexual. While William was still completely unaware of your little act a few nights ago, you were chatting with your best friend about how to handle it.

And unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had just returned from his morning skate in order to rest before the match. So, while you were in the kitchen, chatting away as you made pancakes for his return, he simply stopped his movements.

“I swear, it has never happened before,” you said, looking at the delicious pancake you were preparing. “I just had to fake it… I know it wasn’t the best thing to do… yeah, I know, but Willy was giving his all, and it did feel so good… I know he’s got these moves that just make me ugh… they’re so good… I know, and I still couldn’t get a fucking orgasm… I know… hmm, yeah… but I don’t want to tell him with the last few games coming up… hmm, yeah… I don’t know, it’s not like he’s bad in bed or anything… it was just one time – I’m sure it won’t happen again, right? … Yeah, maybe, I’ve been quite stressed about work… alright… yes, we’ll chat soon.” You hung up and let out a soft sigh as you prepared the next pancake.

What you didn’t know was that William had heard every bit of your conversation as he stood in the entryway. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt and instead ended up accidentally eavesdropping. But it didn’t take much to connect the dots: you’d faked an orgasm while having sex with him.

And naturally, he couldn’t accept that.

_

Being good in bed was something William knew he was. It wasn’t something he’d brag about, except maybe occasionally to the boys when they were chatting about girls, but he just knew he was skilled when it came to the female body.

If not, then all the girls he’d been with had been great at faking it. Including you. And to say he’d been with several women might be a bit of an understatement. Not that William necessarily used to hook up with a new girl every week, but before you came along, he had a handful of female names in his contact list that he’d bring over when he needed it.

But then he met you. Someone who caught him completely off guard, even though he didn’t think he’d be up for dating.

You simply came into his life without a warning, and almost immediately, he was intrigued by you. It started as nothing but a simple one-night stand, where you got a pretty good taste of who William Nylander was. But then the one time became two times, and then your name was added to the existing contact list.

To put it in short, you were a great match for him. You showed up when he wanted and gave him the space he needed. It was simple and uncomplicated. However, as weeks turned into months, things just kept progressing, and William suddenly found himself wanting to see you more than the other girls on his list. You were the first one he’d call or text, and to his surprise, he’d feel disappointed when you weren’t available, having to settle for someone else instead.

This though, wasn’t something he’d really experienced before. With you, he simply felt a different connection. It wasn’t just sex between the two of you; it was so much more. You would laugh, talk, and cuddle. Quickies turned into longer sessions where you’d explore different positions and angles, maybe even toys if you felt like it. Late-night sex became late-night talks, and the moments when you’d grab your things and leave turned into you staying the night and showering at his place before heading off to work in the morning.

It was simple enough.

However, with William’s demanding career and schedule, and trying to manage your own work-life balance, you knew you couldn’t keep going like this. Though you liked William more than anyone you’d ever liked before, you knew this casual thing wouldn’t work out in the long run.

So, you gave him a choice—something you initially weren’t too keen on doing but felt was necessary. You told him either you’d keep it to only sex and nothing more, or you’d date and explore the idea of being exclusive.

William, of course, didn’t like the idea of having to choose, but he understood your position. And being a typical guy in his mid to late twenties, his first choice was to keep it just sex so he could focus on hockey. And surprisingly enough, this arrangement worked out alright – well, at least for a few weeks.

As is common in friends-with-benefits scenarios, William realised he didn’t like the idea of you starting to see someone else. And the mere thought of not having you available if he let you go made him swiftly change his mind, so he agreed to make it exclusive.

And this turned out to be one of the best choices he’d ever made. The shift from friends with benefits to romantic lovers felt almost natural and went a lot smoother than you’d expected. So soon after, you made it official to your friends and families (who weren’t really that surprised), as well as on his social media account—which, for you, was a huge step.

_

But when William heard your little confession to your friend, he decided to act as cool as possible about it—because naturally, you shouldn’t get the chance to be prepared for what he suddenly had in store for you.

Instead, he used the element of surprise to his advantage and greeted you with a simple kiss as he entered the condo and found you in the kitchen, his hands resting on your hips as his lips found the crook of your neck as you’d finished your call.

“Well, hello there, mister,” you chuckled lightly, flipping over the pancake.

“Mmm, smells so good, baby—you’re spoiling me,” William mumbled into your neck, his hands still tightly on your hips.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Of course, you deserve nothing less.”

“Yeah, because you faked it the other night…” William thought, yet he kept that to himself.

“Can’t wait, babe,” he instead simply said, before placing a kiss on the back of your head and making his way to the fridge to grab his favourite toppings.

You then flashed him a great smile, thinking everything was good and that he was just tired after his morning training. And so, you finished the last couple of pancakes before joining him at the dining table.

Yet, as the two of you enjoyed the deliciousness, you couldn’t help but sense something was off when William didn’t talk much. Usually, he’d praise you a lot more for making him pancakes without him asking for it. And though he knew you could have just made them as a gesture before the playoffs, he seemed to sense that you did it out of guilt.

And he wasn’t completely wrong. Even though you didn’t realise he was onto you, you made an effort to put him in a good mood before tonight's game by playing your best cards. But William had something else on his mind. He felt like you had deceived him, and he couldn’t just head off to the game tonight without making sure you had learned your lesson.

So, after you both finished the pancakes and tidied the table, you would have expected him to go for his usual afternoon nap, yet, to your great surprise, he simply walked slowly towards you as you stood by the dining table.

"What’s up, Willy?" You asked with curiosity as his grin widened. But he didn’t reply. Instead, he gently lifted you to sit on the table, and hooked two fingers under the hem of your comfy shorts as well as knickers, before tucking them down as he knelt before you.

Helping him by lifting yourself a little, you couldn’t help but smile as you anticipated what he was about to do. William was certainly skilled in the art of oral pleasure, and you never missed an opportunity to let him indulge in your core. And given that this particular scenario before a match wasn’t entirely uncommon, you simply relaxed into his movements, leaning back on the table as he positioned himself before you, lifting your legs over his shoulders while he kissed his way up your inner thighs.

Soft moans escaped your lips as he drew closer and closer to your most sensitive area. And as soon as his expert mouth made contact with your delicate flesh, you couldn’t help but let out a louder moan, tilting your head back and closing your eyes, while running your hand through his hair.

"Oh yes, Willy!" you moaned breathlessly, feeling arousal starting to pulse through your body and mind.

You could almost sense William smirking against your throbbing centre as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping your hips in place as they occasionally lifted upwards in response to his ministrations.

It was sheer bliss as he sucked and licked your core, his tongue alternating between flicking your sensitive clit and delving into your entrance. He simply showed no restraint.

William’s aim was solely to make you squirm under his touch, to elicit louder and louder moans as he drove you closer to orgasm. And he could already sense it when your thighs pressed against him, your fingers tugging at his hair, your heels digging into his back, and your breath becoming rapid.

But as you quickly neared climax, he abruptly stopped and withdrew from your warmth.

"What—?" you panted, swiftly opening your eyes to find a thoroughly satisfied boyfriend before you. "Willy?" you asked, still bewildered by his sudden halt.

But William's plan had worked perfectly. And with a giant smirk, he slowly hovered over you, coming intensely close to your ear so you could feel his hot breath and smell your own juices on his glistening lips and beard.

"Not so fun to be teased, huh?" he chuckled darkly, pulling back gently to meet your gaze. His pupils dilated, his grin wide and almost devilish as he growled deeply. "Yeah, I know about your little act the other night... You think you can fake it with me? Hmm, I think I'll have to teach you a lesson and make sure it never happens again."

You were left utterly baffled, in disbelief. You knew William possessed a dominant character, especially in the bedroom, but you had never heard him growl like that. And never before had he denied you an orgasm in such a manner. He had skilfully brought you to the brink of climax faster than ever before, only to leave you hanging, without release, and simply strutted off to his match.

"That motherf-..." you muttered under your breath, still lying on the table while William busied himself getting ready for the arena.

Normally, he wouldn’t be in such a rush to leave, as he was usually the last to arrive. But today was entirely different, and a giant smirk was plastered across his handsome face as he left you high and dry – well, more accurately, almost high and definitely wet.

_

The match against the Red Wings didn’t end well for the Leafs, unfortunately. Despite all the players giving their all, the result was a disappointing 5-4 victory for Detroit.

And with the intense match, packed with power plays, penalties, hits, and more, you assumed William had long forgotten about the little encounter the two of you had before he left for tonight’s game. Even you had nearly forgotten about it as you felt the rush of adrenaline while watching from the side-line.

However, to your surprise, the loss only seemed to fuel William's inner fire even more. And as he quickly whisked you away from the hallway, almost interrupting your conversation with Sanna, he grabbed your hand and led you to the car park.

"Willy, slow down," you tried to say as you hurried to keep up with his pace. But your boyfriend had no intention of slowing down. And as you sat in the car, ready to head home, he simply gave you a dark, stern look while biting his lower lip.

"You don’t get to tell me what to do, baby... I'll be the one to tell you."

His words were simple, yet his voice dripped with raw desire and pure lust. It was a side of him you hadn’t truly experienced before, only catching glimpses of it after an intense night. But tonight, it seemed like you were getting the full show. And you couldn’t help but feel your arousal building at the mere thought of what he might do to you.

However, you shouldn’t get too excited just yet. William had already started the game by teasing you earlier, and you sensed he was still up to no good. So, as he navigated through the streets of Toronto, you tried to control your breathing and relax as much as possible.

You were nothing but curious to find out more about his plan, and fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long. As soon as you entered the lift taking you to one of the high floors, William pinned your hands above your head, pressing you against the wall as his lips crashed onto yours.

His tongue forcefully pressed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you immediately obliged, letting his tongue explore yours. It was already incredibly hot and steamy, and you hadn’t even reached the apartment yet.

And as soon as you reached the floor, William left you breathless, before he dragged you to the front door of the condo, where he simply threw you over his shoulder, giving your arse a quick, hard slap before he carried you to the bedroom, where he tossed you onto the mattress.

“So, you think you can fake an orgasm?” he chuckled darkly, untying his tie with a smirk spreading across his face.

Though you couldn’t help but smile a little, gazing up at him with pressed lips, you shook your head. Leaning back on your arms for support, your eyes followed his every move as he undressed down to his boxers, still grinning before he knelt onto the bed.

“So, you didn’t fake it?” he inquired with a cocked brow as he crawled closer, his movements naturally spreading your legs. Then leaning over your body, placing an arm on each side, he gently forced you to lie down on your back.

And this time, you nodded. “I did…” you admitted in a light whisper, trying your best to suppress a smile.

“Hmm,” William merely groaned. “I guess we’ll have to make up for it then.”

You knew William wasn't exactly Christian Grey, or any other extreme dom. For the two of you, it was usually more about fun and play rather than something serious and structured. And though he had a naturally dominant character, you were equals in bed, often smiling and giggling as you pleased each other.

So, when he said he wanted to teach you a lesson, you knew it was more of a playful tease than an actual reprimand.

“Stay still,” he then simply commanded before crawling back, leaning down to reach for his tie. Of course, you complied, curious to see what he had in mind. And as he then came back and placed your hands above your head, doing his best to tie the fabric around your wrists and connect them to the headboard, you felt an exciting sensation coursing through you.

“Be a good girl for me.”

His commands were simple, and you knew better than to misbehave. Instead, you wanted to play along to ensure both of you felt pleased. And as you remain in position, William slowly began to undress you, removing your jeans, socks, and then your bottoms, leaving you in just your jersey, proudly displaying his last name and number – which he seemed to enjoy a little too much.

With your core fully exposed to him, you couldn’t help but let out a light gasp as you felt the cool air brush against your sensitive area. Especially when William carefully ran his larger hands over your thighs, spreading your legs wider to give him the perfect view of your cunt.

“Mmm, yes… and it’s all mine,” he muttered under his breath as he slowly let his fingers draw closer, gently sliding them between your folds, feeling your wetness.

“Oh Willy…” you moaned softly as he brushed over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

“You like that, baby?”

Of course, you did. William was incredibly skilled at pleasuring you, and he knew it. So, you simply nodded, keeping your hands in place as your eyes followed his movements and you bit your lip. “Mmm, yes…” a soft whimper escaped you. It was almost embarrassing how needy you sounded, but you couldn’t help it. William had you completely under his control, and your body was his to use.

As he then pressed a finger against your entrance, you let out another soft moan.

“So wet already? We haven’t even started,” William chuckled as he easily slid his middle finger inside you, feeling how wet you were for him as he gently massaged your inner walls.

“Mmm yes… just for you,” you moaned, feeling the pleasure slowly building within you as he curled his finger at just the right angle.

“That’s it, baby... all for me,” he growled once more, adding another finger and stretching you a little further as he pumped his digits in and out. “Is this what you want? Will this make you come?”

His questions were somewhat rhetorical, but you couldn’t help but nod in response. Meanwhile, the wet sounds of his fingers working inside you only spurred him on further. William knew your body well, and this was definitely a good sign.

So, curling his fingers at just the right angle to find that particularly sensitive spot, he increased his speed and force, fingering you with the sole mission of pushing you closer to orgasm.

And he was succeeding. With your hands tied firmly above your head, you couldn’t help but let the pleasure consume you, surrendering to his touch as you closed your eyes and allowed your mind to drift freely, embracing the approaching climax and the euphoria that followed.

“Yes, Willy… yes…”

And just like that, you let out a louder moan as he pushed you over the edge into a blissful high. Bucking your hips upwards, arching your back, and tilting your head backwards as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, you surrendered to the ecstasy.

Reaching the peak was nothing short of amazing, yet as you slowly calmed from the high and opened your eyes, you were met with a thoroughly satisfied William before you.

“Was that good?” he chuckled, prompting another nod from you. “Well, then I guess we’ll have to do it again then.”

You understood William’s mission. Since you’d faked one orgasm, he was determined to see how many more he could elicit from you. And this was just the beginning of many more to come.

The next one came from something entirely different: namely a vibrator. Though William wasn’t usually one to incorporate toys into your intimacy, tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to change that.

“So, you couldn’t come from me fucking you, huh? But maybe you could with this?” he said as he knelt between your legs once more, bringing the buzzing toy closer to your heat. And quickly a cry of pleasure escaped your lips as the vibrating sensation made contact with your sensitive flesh.

“Oh yes…” you moaned louder this time, your legs almost trembling as he dragged the toy against your folds and clit, bringing you even closer to your second climax by every movement. And with your hands tucking on the fabric above your head, you couldn’t do anything but let him play with you.

However, as much as William enjoyed your whimpers and cries beneath him, he found even greater pleasure in hearing you moan out his name when you reached your peak. So, he didn’t delay in allowing you to reach your orgasm. And seeing the wetness he was creating between your legs, the sheets completely soaked from your juices, filled him with satisfaction.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” he breathed deeply before leaning down to forcefully capture your lips, stealing away all your breath as he kept the toy against your heat.

But it became too overwhelming. And upon reaching your third orgasm quickly after, you let out another soft cry. “Please, Willy…” you pleaded in a whisper. “I want you…”

And that was all the encouragement he needed to toss the vibrator across the room, swiftly removing his last piece of clothing and freeing his incredibly hard and throbbing cock.

Then moving into the missionary position once more, he leaned in close to your ear. “You want me?” he growled once again, his member pressing against your core as the tip teasingly brushed against you.

“Yes, Willy… please... fuck me.”

And your words spurred him to thrust himself entirely into your depths with one forceful movement, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Fuck!” you almost screamed as he hit the deepest parts inside you.

But that only drove William wilder. Feeling his own urgent need for release, he swiftly picked up the pace, pounding into you with vigorous motions, stimulating your walls with each movement.

“Shit, yes, baby,” he moaned in sync with you, your breaths mixing in the close distance as he thrusted mercilessly.

It was almost too much for you to handle. Your arms above you felt sore, and your lower body was close to going numb from the intensity. However, your mind was completely immersed in a euphoric haze as William brought you to your fourth and probably most intense orgasm.

You couldn’t even warn him about it. However, he knew by the way your eyes remained closed, your head sinking into the mattress, your breaths becoming incoherent, and your muscles tightening around him. And this time, William was sure it wasn’t fake.

Mixed with beads of sweat on your skins, caused by the intense activity, he could almost feel himself being soaked by your essence as he continued to pound into you. And with your loud moans echoing through the room, coupled with the sound of skin colliding, William then pushed himself closer to his own release. With a deep grunt, he finally reached his much-desired climax, releasing strings of cum deep inside you.

The air felt thick and heavy as you both gasped for breath, slowly coming down from the pleasure-induced high and regaining strength in your bodies. With slow and gentle movements, William managed to untie your hands from the knot.

He wanted to hold you close, and you wanted the same. However, with the heat radiating from both of you, you simply rested next to each other, turning your heads to share wide smiles.

“So,” William breathed, turning his body to lean on his arm and elbow. “Just to make sure... this wasn’t fake, was it?”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, turning to face him with a cocky grin. “Hmm... I’m not sure,” you teased, prompting William's signature laughter.

“Well, in that case,” he smirked once again, positioning himself on top of you and causing you to roll onto your back. “Maybe we should do it again... just to be sure.”

You knew he was teasing, yet the devilish glint in his eye had you doubting. And with your body already sore and overstimulated, you knew what the sensible answer should be. However, as the playful banter between you two was a never-ending game, you couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Maybe we should.”

Did you immediately regret it? Perhaps. But did you end up experiencing two more intense orgasms? Yes, indeed you did.

[goldfades]

𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 / 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ─ JH⁸⁶

TRACK 18 ─── IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | almost a year ago, your whole was shattered by the one person you'd never thought would hurt you. and now you were back in the city where it all started with one simple mission ─ get him back.

─ word count | 2.5k

─ warnings | oof where do i begin, angst? obviously second-chance romance, slightly suggestive, mention of drinking/getting tipsy, jack being a cocky ass, slightly fluffy? idk just a lot of word vomit but yeah!

─ taglist |

─ ev's notes | yaya! first ttpd celly fic is out!! hoorayyeeee!!! also i've been listening to this album like on fucking repeat since friday and holy shit, this is probably my third fav now (sorry speak now). i also literally can't choose a fav but according to my music app, i've listened to so high school 72 times since it came out!!!!!!!!

YOU SWORE YOU'D NEVER COME back to New Jersey ─ but, here you were.

How you ended up here, tipsy and alone in this bar? You're not exactly sure. What you do know is that the night started in your childhood home with your parent's very expensive bottle of wine. And now you were here, in downtown Jersey in one of your old high school dresses that fits a little tighter than it did almost 5 years ago.

Your lips were stained red as you ordered another glass of Blueberry Gin & Tonic. You didn't know when you had started drinking Gin & Tonic but a lot had changed in the last couple of months. You didn't even know who you really were anymore, it was blurry.

And you could blame all of that on your high-school sweetheart ─ the person you'd thought you'd spend the rest of your life with. Key word: thought, as in past-tense.

As you swirled the ice in your glass, memories flooded back like a tidal wave crashing against the shore of your mind. The late-night drives down highway roads, the whispered promises of forever, and the way your heart used to skip a beat at the sight of his smile. But somewhere along the way, those promises faded into echoes, and the smiles became almost bitter memories.

It all came crashing down a few months ago. The pain was like a dagger through your heart, leaving you gasping for air in a world suddenly devoid of color. You lost the one person in your life who made you, you. You had to relearn who you really were without him.

And in the aftermath, you tried to pick up the pieces of your shattered and almost confusing life, but the wounds were too deep, the scars too raw. So you ran, running from the memories that now haunted you, seeking solace in the anonymity of far-away cities and unfamiliar faces.

But no matter how far you ran, you couldn't outrun the ghosts of your past. They followed you like shadows, lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike.

And tonight was no different.

When your eyes locked with his familiar blue ones, a particular ghost of your past appeared. And you didn't miss the way you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw his now grown-out hair (you'd never let him grow it out when you were together) and his soft stubble that you always made him shave. But it suited him, he looked more mature.

But you weren't surprised, it almost seemed like fate. Almost. If it weren't for the fact that you knew, in the back of your mind, he always liked spending his Saturdays playing pool with his friends, in this exact bar. You pretended like you hadn't planned this entire thing.

And so you feigned ignorance, pretending as if you hadn't noticed him at all. You kept gazing at him, taking him in. You felt the anger rise in your body as your nose flared, beginning to think sober up again. You took another swig of your drink and turned away from him, you could practically hear the wheels turning inside his head as he analyzed you right back.

A few moments pass and as you predicted, you felt a tap on your shoulder. "Y/N?"

You met his gaze and it felt so much different from the last time he'd looked at you. He looked... surprised? Is that even the right word? You felt his eyes scan you up and down, the tight dress fitting you perfectly in his mind.

You, too, had changed since the last time he'd saw you. Your hair was slightly shorter and more put together, you looked healthier and more mature. Less like a teenager and more like an adult now, but that's just how aging works, right? Not only did your looks change, but the way you carried yourself.

God, you were sexy. Jack always knew you were beautiful, it was undeniable. But after not seeing you for months now, you looked like a dream ─ a hauntingly beautiful vision that stirred something deep within him. He couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way you carried yourself, with a newfound confidence and poise that spoke of strength.

He was at a loss of words. But it was Jack, of course he didn't let it show. He plastered on his award-winning smirk and let his gaze fall back on to your face. "I didn't know you were back in Jersey, you shoulda texted."

Your face contorted into surprise. Was he really trying to pretend like nothing happened? Oh, two can play that game. "I was just visiting family." Your red lips turned into a tipsy smile. "But you're right, I should've texted. How have you been?"

"Awesome. Is this seat taken?" Jack didn't wait for an answer, he just pulled out a chair and sat down. He glanced down at your drink, the smirk still very much evident in face.

God, how much you wanted to just smash his face in. But you swallowed the anger with your drink, letting him study you for a few more moments.

"Since when do you drink?" His tone was amused as he watched you swallow the liquid so effortlessly, like it was water.

Since you left, you wanted to shout. "Not until recently."

You watched as he leaned back in his chair, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "And what brought about this newfound appreciation for alcohol?" He asked, his tone still but the underlying curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Life." you said simply, your voice barely above a whisper. "Life has a funny way of changing things."

He nodded, as if he understood, but you could see the doubt flickering behind his eyes. He didn't know the half of it, didn't know the pain and the heartache you had endured in his absence. And part of you wanted to keep it that way, wanted to shield him from the truth of how much he had hurt you.

But another part of you, a smaller part buried deep within all the hurt and bitterness, wanted him to know. Wanted him to see the scars he had left on your soul, to feel the weight of the words left unsaid between you. But not to burden him, to somehow reverse all the pain he'd caused you.

"So, what have you been up to?" you asked, deflecting the conversation away from yourself. "Anything exciting?" By anything, you really meant anyone.

You saw the way Jack's smirk faltered as he shook his head. "Nope, nothin' new." But he knew that you knew the real answer.

Two months, it took him two months to move on from a 4 year relationship. "Really?" you asked, your voice laced with skepticism. "No new hobbies, no new friends, no new... interests?"

Jack chuckled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer to you, his gaze locking with yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "Well, I might have picked up a few new hobbies," he admitted, his voice low. "But nothing as exciting as running into you here, that's for sure."

Despite yourself, you felt a small, genuine smile tug at the corners of your lips at his charming response. He had always had a way with words, a charisma that could disarm even the most guarded of hearts.

"There she is," his voice was soft as he watched the curves of your lips turn upward. "I missed that."

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, a mixture of nostalgia and longing swirling within you like a whirlpool. Despite everything that had happened between you, there was still a part of you that missed the comfort of his presence, the familiarity of his smile.

"Well, don't let it get to your head," you teased, although the playful tone of your voice couldn't mask the vulnerability lurking beneath the surface. "I wouldn't want you thinking you can charm your way out of everything."

"I'm not trying to, trust me. I can't help it." Jack smirked as he shrugged. "And for the record, I did miss it. I don't remember the last time I've seen your genuine smile."

Your smile faltered as your stomach squeezed in anxiety. The last couple of months of your relationship was spent only arguing, and the smiles had become a rarity, buried beneath layers of resentment and hurt. You swallowed hard, the memories of those final days weighing heavy on your heart like a rock.

"Yeah, well, it's been a while," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to push aside the memories threatening to overwhelm you. "A lot has changed since then."

"I can tell," his eyes scanned your body and you felt your heart jump. He wet his lips as his blue eyes met yours again, a grin playing on his lips. "I remember this dress. You wore it at my draft party, I remember."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, memories of that night flooding back with a rush of emotions. You remembered the excitement in the air, the pride shining in his family's eyes as he celebrated the culmination of years of hard work and dedication.

"Yeah, I remember," you said softly, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "It feels like so long ago."

Jack nodded, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reached across the table to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I never forgot that night," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Or how beautiful you looked in this dress."

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt like the air was knocked out of you at his words. Goddamn him, his smooth-talk, and that damned cologne that made you feel high off of him. "Shut up," was all you could muster as Jack chuckled.

"Let's go take a walk."

And like always, Jack didn't wait for an answer. He just grabbed your hand and began walking toward the exit. Your mind raced as Jack's touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. And despite your inner turmoil and the warning bells ringing in your head, there was a part of you that couldn't resist the pull of his charm, the familiarity of his touch.

You hated how he still had this effect on you and how confident he was, he always made decisions for you. You're not sure if it's really a bad thing, because how can something so bad feel so insanely good?

"Okay," you said softly more to yourself than him, your voice barely above a whisper. You allowed him to lead you away from the dimly lit bar and out into the cool night air.

As you walked side by side, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension, you couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu wash over you. It was like stepping back in time, back to a simpler era when the world was young and full of promise.

Jack pulled you into his chest as you walked, his arm wrapping protectively around your shoulders as you leaned into him, seeking solace in his familiar warmth.

Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, a part of you still longed for the comfort of his embrace, for the reassurance of his presence by your side.

"The dress still fits you so well," Jack finally spoke up. You could feel practically hear the grin on his face as you rolled your eyes, a smile tugging on your lips.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing I haven't outgrown it," you replied, your voice light and teasing as you leaned into his embrace subconsciously.

Jack chuckled, his arm tightening around you. "You'd look in a garbage bag, princess. You can never outgrow anything."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Jack." You quipped.

"It's gotten me this fair, huh?" Jack's tone was amused as you felt yourself roll your eyes at his cockiness. He let out a laugh as he squeezed your arms, the way he knew you liked.

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face but instead, you just shook your head at his teasing. He still knew you so well, even after so long. As much as you wanted to resist his charm, there was a small part of you that couldn't help but be swept away by it. Jack had always had a way of getting under your skin, of finding the cracks in your armor and worming his way into your heart.

"You're insufferable," you said, though the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed the fondness you couldn't quite suppress.

Jack chuckled, his laughter warm and infectious as he leaned in closer to press a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"But you love me anyway," he said, his voice soft as he met your gaze with a knowing smile.

You couldn't deny the truth of his words, no matter how much you wanted to. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, a part of you still loved him ─ had always loved him. Would you always love him?

You gazed back at him, his grin even bigger as his hand squeezed your arms again. The more you stared, the more you slipped back right where he wanted. Fuck, you were back.

Your hands came up to touch his soft stubble, one of the many new things about him. Something you never thought you'd like, you swore his clean-face was your favorite but he proved you wrong.

"You like it?" Jack asked, his voice low and husky as he watched you trace your fingers along his stubbled jawline. There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the power he still held over you.

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze, your fingers lingering against his stubble. "It suits you. You look... different, but in a good way."

A smile tugged at the corners of Jack's lips, his eyes sparkling with gratitude as he reached up to gently cup your cheek in his hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Thank you," he said, his voice warm with sincerity. "I'm glad you think so."

You smiled genuinely, the anger slowly dissipating as you looked into the eyes of the man you'd once loved, wholeheartedly. His face may have changed but his gaze was still the same, the same blue eyes you'd been drawn to from the beginning.

"Let's head back to the car, yeah?" His voice came out hoarse and low, you could hear practically hear the need in his voice. And again, you let him lead you back to his car and eventually, to his home.

Your lips curved into a smirk, you'd had gotten exactly what you'd sought out to do. You'd gotten him back, but who ever doubted you?

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[cloudshuffle]

what do u think of yan!ayato... is he on the forgiving or ruthless side??? 3some with thoma...? what if thoma was a yan too omg... drooling ehe - 💚 anon

these two together are a menace i fear.

ayato is the pretends-to-be-nice type and thoma has to pretend to be mean. even though we all know he isn't.

ayato is the most gracious gentleman on a date, offering his arm for you to hold, carrying you over mud puddles so your shoes don't get dirty... and then there thoma is struggling along behind both of you holding all your things (ayato bought them.)

it's no secret that thoma is the only male presence ayato can stand any more, especially when you're around. glares, scowls, the whole shazam, ayato does not care that he has a reputation to upkeep, leaving thoma to sooth bruised egos and repair whatever damage he can in ayato's wake.

thoma's a natural at being sweet - well, because he is. despite his overt grace, ayato's high standing and extravagant gestures are more off-putting than anything. he's more intense than he realises. so you gravitate towards thoma, finding a breather in his easygoing smiles, making ayato's company more bearable.

but all roads lead to rome, as they say. no matter which one you end up choosing, you'll still find yourself locked up eventually within the kamisato compound, with movement limited to a measly few rooms. thoma comes by often to take care of you, and ayato's gifts come by when he can't, but a gilded birdcage is still a birdcage nonetheless.

[recklessfiction]

Keep an Eye Out As You Travel West

You see a church, you just keep on walking. Most are abandoned anyhow, nothing left in 'em but the hollowed out husks of their priests. The rest have been filled by now; old pretenders, zealots, and self proclaimed prophets snatching up any man fool enough to worship. And that's if you're lucky. There are older things, other things that have curled up amidst the altars of the Lord like worms in dirt. If you're wanting to do any worshiping, best do it out under the sky.

There're things that roam the dust, figures of men with eyes deader than any corpse and smiles as bright and pretty as a lady's. They come around sometimes, always trying to pawn off some bizarre thing; elaborate crowns made of rusted nails, gold lockets with strange portraits inside, letters that can't be read without getting a deep pounding in your head, and keys rusted with so much blood it'd be a wonder if they turned anything at all. Now, I've seen what comes for folks who trade with them and I'll tell you this. Wherever they got their goods, it sure as shit wasn't from here.

You'll be hearing now about the "Oil Baptisms," I'm sure. Black sea water dredged up from some abyss, thicker than any water I've ever seen and you can smell it long a mile away. They say it gives people "the sight" but of what I can't say. All I know is that once you start smelling that briny shit on the wind, the screaming don't start long after.

Be careful what deals you make out here. There're plenty of strange folk who would be more than glad to work you down to the bone and long after, too. Work is work, crops need harvesting, graves need digging, meat needs carving, and idols need worshiping. Watch your words and read your contracts, else you might just be stuck washing the feet of the righteous until doomsday.

Best stay indoors once night comes, that's when a lot of the "families" start movin' out. They take to the roads, long lines of them, a parade of the ugliest sons of bitches you've ever seen. In the daylight, their skin never fits quite right and stinks to high heaven but once the sun dips past the trees, they start taking it off. They move from place to place, sloughing off their decayed flesh and stealing new off any traveler they come across. Lock your doors and put out your lights before they coming knocking on your door, asking sweetly, "Do you have anything I could wear?"

I am of the opinion that the woods ought not be traversed by folk who ain't been called there. Keep to the roads and towns, there's enough foul mess there if it's strangeness you're looking for. But what's in the woods has always been in the woods and if you pass the treeline with no business being there, well. The woods will give you business.

While a useful tool, a gun won't save you from drowning in the bathtub of a family of fanatic prognosticators, or from having your skin torn clean off by the night sky. Keep your ears up for any kind of protection you can get and learn to speak well because a lot of smart talk can get you out of a whole mess of trouble.

Keep on moving, friend. If you're looking to survive this trek, don't stop for anything, not even to bury the dead or feed the starving. It ain't worth what'll catch you, cause there's always things waiting for a fella to slow down so's they can get their claws in faster, deeper. You wanna be stuck here, in the fields and the dirt, under the big sky while hymns are burned into your skull? No?

Then keep on moving.

[starsstuddedsky]

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 

“And why am I here?” 

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 

“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 

“No comment.” 

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 

“I have self-control.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 

“Of what?” 

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.” 

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say. 

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 

“Always.” 

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 

His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 

“I'll stay strong.” 

“What if I want a kitten?” 

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 

“Sucker.” 

“Only for you.” 

thank you for reading <3

[fallinginvictus]

I may be a day or two early for wip wednesday but I absolutely need to know what happens next in ur time loop fic of Andrew

WIP Wednesday Andrew and Aaron Time Loop AU [part 2/4]

Part 1

on ao3 I would tag this as "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" so if you need to know more because you think there might be something that could trigger you, let me know and I'll let you know

He feels frantic as he drives on now familiar roads, his thoughts swirling in his brain and bouncing inside his skulls, unable to tell where one begins and the other ends, unable to make sense of the nightmare that he has found himself trapped in. Cars race past him as his thoughts race in his brain, images of Aaron's cold and pale body flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinks, the coldness of his brother's hand and the stillness of his chest something that will never stop haunting him for as long as he lives.

“What? Is something wrong?” Aaron asks as soon as he picks up the phone, worry clear in his tired voice.

Andrew's breaths get lost in his lungs, unable to find their way out. 

Aaron is alive. 

Aaron is alive again.

“Andrew?”

“I'm going to stay with you for a while,” is everything that he manages to say, his voice quieter than he intends it to be, his hands squeezing the steering wheel until they turn white.

“What? Why? Did something happen?” Aaron asks and Andrew wants to scream at him. 

“No,” he says. “I'm already on my way.”

“Andrew,” Aaron sighs. “For how long? Don't you have games and practice?”

“I hurt my wrist so I can't play for two weeks.”

“You can't stay with me. I have plans.”

“What plans?” he asks, wondering how many times Aaron has lied to them before, how many other times has he pretended to be busy while his only plan was that of getting high.

“With my friends.”

“You don't have friends. I'll be there in a few hours. Bye.”

He doesn't give Aaron any time to reply, any time to protest, before hanging up, Aaron's voice making his head spin, his blood boil. 

He wants to hug his brother, he wants to feel his chest move, his heart beat, his blood flowing through his veins. He wants to touch Aaron's skin and feel nothing but warmth. He wants to look him in the eyes and see them shine. 

He wants his brother to never be dead again.

♤♤

He sits outside of Aaron's locked door, the clock inside of his head ticking and ticking, each second that passes feeling like a lifetime spent in hell, wondering if the call is going to come anyways, wondering if Aaron is already dead. More than once he wants to drive back to the hospital where Aaron died, where Aaron will die. More than once he takes his phone out of his pocket and dials Aaron's number without ever calling him.

It's ten minutes past three in the afternoon when Andrew's phone rings where it's sitting on the floor by his side. Andrew's breath gets caught in his throat, his whole body tensing at the sound until his every muscle aches and screams, begging to be released, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

But when his eyes finally find the courage to look down at the bright screen by his side, it is Aaron's name that meets his eyes and not the hospital's number (a number that had now been printed inside of Andrew's brain and that he would never be able to forget.)

“What,” he says flatly as soon as he picks up the phone, his muscles still tense, his heart still racing.

“Are you really waiting for me?” Aaron asks in a tentative tone that Andrew can't decipher. Finally Andrew starts to relax, Aaron's quiet voice like sweet honey washing over him.

He hums in reply.

“I'm- I'm almost there. Wait for me,” Aaron says as the words rush out of his mouth and stumble all over each other.

“I've been waiting for almost two hours so you better be quick,” Andrew replies, unable to deny to himself just how much he longs to finally see his brother alive. 

Andrew had long since learnt to keep his emotions trapped inside of his ribcage. Some would oftentimes run away from him, slip through the cracks, escape from their perfectly built prison: in the morning with Neil's peaceful face resting by his side, the brighg sun shining on him, his hair messy, his face puffy, a soft smile on his lips; in the night with Neil's flushed body under his, his warm hands gently placed on his shoulders, his soft moans filling the quiet room.

But it had been a long time since his emotions had come crashing against his chest, threatening to split his ribcage open, uncovering his most safely guarded secrets. He had forgotten how much it hurt, how raw and vulnerable it made him feel.

“Hey,” Aaron says breathlessly, breaking the silence and coming to stand in front of a motionless Andrew.

Andrew just stares at him blankly, taking notice of every single thing that is Aaron, of every aspect of him, every detail. Aaron looks tired, Andrew notices, his skin is pale, ink spilled under his bloodshot eyes but his pupils are normal, he looks rail-thin, his collar bones heavily pronounced. 

Andrew says nothing as his brain reminds him of the list of “Common Physical Signs of Drug Usage” that he had read once on the library's computer when he was fifteen.

“You ambush me like this and you are not even going to say hi?” Aaron asks as he opens the door, but there is no strength in his voice, no malice in his words.

“Hi,” he says as he walks inside the now familiar house, his eyes falling back on the family picture displayed in the living room.

“Give me a second,” Aaron says before running inside his room and closing the door behind himself, probably trying to tidy up the mess that Andrew had already seen.

He sits on the couch, unable to come up with a plan of action, with a strategy. He had already asked Aaron before if he had relapsed and Aaron had denied it. Would he ever tell Andrew the truth if he asked? 

“So,” Aaron says as he walks out of his room with a black trash bag. Andrew just looks at him. “Are you going to tell me why you decided to crash at my house for who knows how long?”

“Am I not allowed to want to spend some time with my dearest brother?” he asks with a sweet and ostensibly fake smile on his lips, trying not to think just how much truth was actually hidden in those words.

Aaron scoffs at him, “Sure, because you totally just wanted to spend some time with me,” he says and something in his voice makes Andrew pause. He just stares at him, his brows furrowed, trying to figure out something that he knows is standing right in front of him and yet he cannot seem to be able grasp.

There's a tense silence for a few seconds as Andrew just stares at his brother, at the way air fills his lungs, as the way his chest moves.

“Fine,” Aaron breaks first. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, as if he's dealing with a troublesome kid. “Fine. You don't have to tell me now. Just- Are you okay? It's nothing bad, right?”

Andrew is taken aback by the concern in his voice before anger fills his vision. No nothing too bad, he wants to say. My own fucking brother died. No biggie.

“No, nothing too bad,” he says between clenched teeth.

♤♤

They spend the rest of the afternoon playing on Aaron's old PS2, the same one that he has owned longer than Andrew has known him. It was quiet and comfortable and Andrew could tell there was something else going on inside of his brother's mind, something that was clouding his brain, making his moves sloppy, his attention fragmented.

“Do you feel like you are going to relapse?” Andrew asks. “Don't lie to me.”

“Where does that even coming from? Fuck-” Aarons scoffs as he misses a jumps and falls down a cliff.

“Do you?”

“No? Not more than usual,” he says distractedly, his whole attention on the game in front of him. 

You used today and you died, Andrew almost says. Stop fucking lying.

“If you feel like using again, just tell me,” is all that comes out of his mouth, his eyes landing on Aaron's focused face. “Promise.”

“Sure,” Aaron says, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.

“Promise,” he repeats loudly.

“I- I promise,” Aaron says, his eyes finally meeting Andrew's.

Andrew knows it won't be enough. Aaron had lied before and he would have no qualms in lying again, in breaking a promise. But he found it difficult to worry when Aaron was sitting right by his side, their shoulders brushing against each other, Aaron's warmth washing over him.

It's 7 pm when Andrew silently gets up from the couch and heads towards the kitchen with the intention of preparing them dinner.

“What the fuck Aaron.”

“What?” Aaron says from the living room, the sound of the game almost drowning his quiet voice.

“Why the fuck is you fridge completely empty?”

“Oh,” Aaron says, turning off the game.

Andrew waits for a second, then two, expecting to receive an actual reply from his brother but getting only silence in return.

“We can go grocery shopping tomorrow,” Andrew says, sitting back down on the couch, his hand grazing Aaron's shoulder. “Let's just order take out for today.”

Aaron nods as Andrew takes his phone out of his pocket to order take-out but notices a couple of unread messages from Neil.

To: 0 Neil:

I'm going to stay with Aaron for a while

From: 0 Neil:

is everything okay?

To: 0 Neil:

I'm here to figure it out

Dinner is quiet, just like the rest of the afternoon had been quiet. Aaron's gaze never leaves his food, his eyes unfocused, his mind full of thoughts that Andrew isn't able to read. 

If only he could jump inside of Aaron's head and search through his brain, Andrew thinks, maybe then he would find the answers he's looking for, maybe then he would find the right questions.

He used to think of Aaron as someone easy to read, his goals and ambitions prosaic. He always thought he knew what Aaron wanted, what he longed for. Every action Aaron took and every comment he made used to be something Andrew could decipher and understand. And yet, now that he's standing in front of him, he wonders if he ever really knew Aaron at all, if this whole time he had been reading Aaron's signals all wrong.

“Why don't you have any friends?” he asks, his eyes scanning Aaron's face for a reaction, for a sign.

Aaron's pauses for a second, his eyes focused on his food, “Of course I have friends,” he says, his eyes meeting Andrew's. “Why would you think that I don't have any friends?”

Aaron's face doesn't betray him, his eyes seem truthful and his voice doesn't shake. If Andrew hadn't known better, he would've believed him, he would've fallen for his lie. How many times, he wonders, has Aaron lied straight to his face? How many times has he tricked Andrew before?

I can tell when you're lying to me, he used to tell Aaron. Now he wonders if he ever really could.

“Don't lie to me,” Andrew says, his voice cold, his gaze unforgiving.

“I'm not-”

“Don't lie to me,” he says again, his gaze just a little softer.

“How would you even know,” Aaron muebles as he puts more food in his mouth with his brows furrowed and an uncharacteristic pout on his lips.

In the past, Andrew would've pushed. In the past, Aaron would've been colder. 

“What's going on with you,” the words leave Andrew's mouth without his permission.

“I just-” Aaron says before shaking his head, something that Andrew can't read flashing in his eyes. “I'm tired. I'm going to bed now.”

Andrew can't do anything but watch as Aaron retreats back to his room and closes the door behind himself with a soft click. He sighs as he drops his head on the couch and stares at the white ceiling feeling lost and confused. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do. 

He doesn't know how to save Aaron from himself.

♧♧

The first week passes quickly, Aaron spending most of his days at the hospital and his evenings locked in his room studying while Andrew is left alone with his own thoughts and fears, images of his dead brother spinning like a carousel inside of his brain. 

Every night he wakes up from nightmares, his body numb and damp with sweat, Aaron's cold body flashing behind his eyes. 

Every night, he sofly opens Aaron's bedroom door and stares at his brother as he sleeps, at the way his chest rises and falls, at his pink skin and slightly flushed cheeks.

He's alive, he tells himself, over and over again. And yet he can still remember when Aaron hadn't been alive.

♧♧

“We should do things together,” Andrew tells Aaron one morning while he's still lying on the couch after having spent a whole night googling “How to make sure your brother doesn't relapse again”. 

“What?”

“Make a list of things that you want to do and we'll do them.”

“Why?” Aaron asks, walking out of the kitchen.

“You don't want to?” Andrew replies, tilting his head.

“You always have a reason for things.”

“If you don't want to-”

“I do,” Aaron interrupts him, his eyes wide.

“Then make the list and give it to me when you get home this evening.”

“I just don’t- Fine,” Aaron says with a sigh as he heads for the door. He stops there for a second, his hand on the handle and his bag over his shoulder. 

“What,” Andrew says as he takes his phone from the coffee table.

Aaron just furrows his brows and shakes his head, “Bye,” is all that comes out of his mouth before leaving the apartment.

Androw looks at the closed door, his heart racing like it does every time Aaron leaves his sight. He can feel little ants crawling under his skin and he knows that's where they'll stay until he'll see Aaron, alive and breathing, again.

♤♤

That evening Aaron comes back later than usual. Fourteen minutes later, to be exact.

Andrew is pacing the length of the living room when he hears the jingle of Aaron's keys as he pushes them in the lock. A few seconds later, Aaron walks inside the house and throws his coat on the hanger as if nothing is wrong.

“You're late,” Andrew says between gritted teeth as he stalks towards Aaron.

“What?” Aaron asks in confusion and bends down to untie his shoes.

“If you come home late you have to text and let me know.”

“I'm not even that late, just a few minutes and-”

“Fourteen.”

“What?”

“Not a few minutes. Fourteen minutes.”

Aaron sighs as he stands back up, confusion written all over his face. 

Fourteen minutes of Andrew picturing Aaron's cold body in a back alley, on a white hospital bed, in a closet, in the middle of an empty street. 

Fourteen minutes of Andrew picturing Aaron's vacant eyes staring at the sky, his pale skin tinted blue with death, his chest unmoving, his heart still.

Fourteen minutes of Andrew recalling Aaron's cold fingers in his hand, his icy forehead under his lips.

Fourteen minutes of waiting for his phone to ring, for the Doctor’s voice to inform him that his brother had died.

“I'm sorry,” Aaron says but it comes out as a question.

“Whatever,” Andrew replies before leaving a confused Aaron at the door and locking himself in the bathroom.

“Tell me something,” he says on the phone, his arms tightly wrapped around his legs as he sits in the corner between the sink and the wall.

He doesn't listen as Neil talks about his day, about practice, about anything and everything that comes to his mind. He lets Neil's calm and soothing voice wash over him, until it seeps into his brain, into his bones. Until breathing doesn't hurt anymore and the ants have left his body.

“Why won't you tell me what's wrong?” Neil asks on the other line, his voice full of worry.

“Aaron,” he says, his brother's name burning his lips as it leaves his mouth.

“Is he sick?”

“I just need to make sure he doesn't do something stupid and accidentally kills himself in the process.”

“You think he's going to?”

“I know he is.”

“Alright,” Neil says with a sigh. “But you have to promise me something.”

Andrew humms.

“Don't hurt yourself while trying to help him.”

Andrew stays silent for a second. There is nothing that he wouldn't be willing to do if it means saving Aaron from his fate, “I can't promise that.”

“Andrew-”

“He's my brother, Neil.”

“Does he even want to be? He just left you and Nicky and never looked back. Why would you put your mental well being at risk after all of your hard work for someone who wouldn't do the same for you?”

“That's not how it works.”

“What?” Neil asks.

“This is not a deal or a transaction. I'm helping him because I don't want him to be dead, not because I want him to do the same for me, not because I want him to give me something back,” he takes a deep breath and shakes his head even if Neil can't see him. “I just don't want him to be dead.”

“Fine just- just be careful and call me when you need to.”

“I will.”

A knock on the door interrupts Neil in the middle of a sentence, “I made dinner,” Aaron's soft voice comes from the other side when Ansrew doesn't reply. 

“I have to go,” he says.

“Call me,” Neil replies before hanging up.

They eat dinner quietly on the couch, the sound of Aaron chewing something crunchy loud in the silent room.

"If you still want I have the list” Aaron says with downcast eyes.

“Then get it,” he replies after another long silence.

Andrew watches as Aaron rushes towards his bedroom, his bowl hastily placed on the coffee table.

Why are you so different, he wants to ask but doesn't.

“Here,” Aaron says a few seconds later as he hands him a wrinkled piece of lined paper, Aaron's elegant handwriting filling the page.

Andrew just nods at the paper and places it on the sofa by his side.

“You're not going to look at it?”

“I'm eating,” Andrew replies.

Aaron nods, his lower lip trapped between his teeth, a dot of blood staining his skin.

“Stop that and eat,” Andrew says, tapping Aaron's chin with his finger.

For a second it looks like Aaron is going to say something but before anything can come spilling out of his mouth, Aaron shakes his head and goes back to his dinner.

♧♧

“We're going for a picnic,” he tells Aaron on Wednesday, a week and a day after Aaron's death.

“What?” Aaron asks as he looks away from the open book on his lap.

“It's in your list, isn't it?” 

“I mean, yeah but-”

“You have an hour to get ready. Chop chop.”

The sun is high in the sky by the time they reach the park. It's still a little cold outside, the air a little chilly, the sun a little weak.

“This is so nice,” Aaron says as he fiddles with the hem of the table cloth that Andrew had placed on the ground. There is a smile that Aaron is trying to hide on lips and it makes the ants under Andrew's skin disappear for a second.

“I always saw families having picnics when I was in primary school,” he tells Andrew as he bites the tuna, mayo and lettuce sandwich they had bought at the café near that park. “It would be better if Nicky were here too.”

Andrew just hums in reply.

“What's your favourite sandwich?” Aaron asks, trying to fill the silence.

“Probably-”

“Wait,” Aaron interrupts him. “I'll try to guess.”

Andrew looks at him a little puzzled as Aaron furrows his brows, a look of deep concentration painted on his face.

“I've got it,” he says after a few seconds, a crumb of white bread falling from the corner of his mouth. “Pulled pork with BBQ sauce.”

Andrew just nods.

“Now you,” Aaron says as he takes another bite from his sandwich.

“Me what?”

“Guess my favourite,” Aaron says, sounding a little too excited, his smile too bright.

“It's not that hard to guess. It's the same as mine. It's what we always got from highschool to college.”

“Mine is meatballs,” Aaron says quietly as he takes another bite of his sandwich.

“Since when?” Andrew asks. It had been years since the two of them had last eaten a sandwich together. Andrew can't help but to wonder what more he missed in Aaron's life.

“Since I was seven and a guy from school gave me a piece of his because I didn't have anything to eat,” Aaron says calmly without looking at Andrew. “I hate BBQ sauce.”

“But we always for pulled pork and BBQ,” Andrew says. It was their favourite, they would always eat it together for dinner after school.

Aaron just shrugs, “It was your favourite,” he says.

“But you-” Andrew begins but is interrupted by a ball landing on his leg.

“I'm so sorry,” a kid shouts as he runs towards them with his brother behind him. “We are so sorry. It was an accident.”

“It's fine, no one got hurt,” Aaron says, picking up the red ball and giving it back to the kid. “Just be more careful next time.”

“Oh my god it's clones,” the smaller child says while hiding behind his brother. “Like in star wars.”

“It's twins you idiot,” the older brother reprimands him as they run away. 

♧♧

When Aaron gets back home on Thursday's evening at 9:45, he looks tired and upset. His shoulders are hunched, his movements slow, his eyes never once lift from the floor.

“What's wrong?” Andrew asks from where he's sitting on the couch.

“Just a bad day at work,” Aaron replies, his voice so low Andrew has to strain to hear him.

“Come,” he says, patting the couch.

“I just want to-”

“Come,” Andrew says again.

Aaron trudges towards the couch and Andrew can see a little tremor in his hands. He looks for signs of drug use but comes up empty.

“Speak,” he says as soon as Aaron is sitting on the couch by his side, his chin resting on his knees as he hugs his legs to his chest, his dirty shoes on the couch.

Aaron opens his mouth but no words leave his lips, just a shaky breath.

“It's okay,” he says as he watches the tremble in Aaron's lips. “Take a deep breath.”

Aaron shakes his head, his eyes wet, “I told his brother it was going to be fine but I-” a dry sob breaks Aaron’s sentence right in the middle. “It was just a little kid and it wasn't even- it really wasn't-”

“It's okay, Aaron,” he says even if he knows it's not.

“And his brother was just there alone and I told him- Andrew I told him that it would- that it would be fine,” there are tears running down his reddened cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” Andrew asks and waits for Aaron to nod his permission before taking Aaron's hand into his own. “You did what you could.”

Aaron closes his eyes for a second, “Can you-” he shakes his head.

“Can I what?”

“Nothing. It was silly.”

“Tell me,” Andrew says. “I'll decide if it's silly.”

A pause and then, “Can you sleep in my bed tonight?”

There is a longer pause, silence fills the room as Andrew thinks it over.

“I told you it was silly,” Aaron says, his eyes now open. “Forget about it.”

Andrew stays quiet for another second, “We can,” he says.

He waits for Aaron's breathing to go back to normal, for the tears to stop flowing down his cheeks, for the tremor in his hands to subside, and then he helps his brother back on his feet and towards his room. Aaron's legs are still shaky, his hold on Andrew's hand tight.

“I'll go wash up,” Aaron says, taking his pyjamas from where he had thrown it that morning and heading for the bathroom.

Andrew sits on the side of Aaron's bed as he waits, scanning the room. He finds it to be more tidy than it had been when Aaron had died, but still disorganised and messy.

“Why is it so messy?” he asks when Aaron walks back into the room. “You always used to keep everything tidy and in perfect order.”

“I just-” Aaron shakes his head and lets the sentence die. Andrew looks at him.

“Come on then,” he pulls down the covers and lies under them. He had missed sleeping in a real bed.

“You don't have to,” Aaron says standing in front of the bed.

“I know,” Ansrew replies. “It's my choice. Just don't touch me.”

“I won't,” his brother reassures him before climbing on the bed.

They lie in silence for a while, Andrew on his back, Aaron on his side, his eyes trained on Andrew.

“You're staring at me,” he says as he looks at Aaron from the corner of his eye.

“When I was a kid,” Aaron whispers as if he were sharing a secret. “I always wanted a brother to share everything with.”

Andrew hums in reply.

“I wanted to build a fort with covers and cushions that only me and my brother could enter. Our secret place where we would always be safe and never lonely.”

Andrew turns on his side and looks at his brother in the quiet dark.

“Goodnight Aaron,” he says, placing his hand on top of Aaron's.

“Goodnight Andrew.”

♧♧

“We are going to the market,” he tells Aaron Friday morning as soon as Aaron leaves his room

“I need to be at the hospital at 1 pm,” Aaron replies.

Andrew nods, “We're leaving in an hour.”

Andrew had never been to a farmers market before nor had he ever wanted to go to a farmers market.

“This is so fun,” Aaron is saying as Andrew tries to dodge the crowd of people that is flowing around him. “Look.”

Andrew isn't sure what Aaron is pointing at, nor does he care that much. The crowd is overwhelming, people constantly bumping into him and touching his body.

They walk around for a while, Aaron pointing to flowers and plants, fruits and vegetables as if he were in a museum instead of a street market.

“Did you know that to make just one pound of honey it takes 2 million flowers?” Aaron asks as they walk past a stand of honey. “Do you like honey?”

“What?” Andrew asks, distracted by a woman who bumped into him.

“You like sweets, so I was wondering if you like honey.”

“I don't know. Never tried.”

“Oh then I should totally buy you some. Come on,” Aaron says walking towards the honey vendor.

“Do you like honey?” Andrew asks as they wait for their turn.

“It's not really something you can eat spoonfuls of or you'll get sick, but I like it.”

They sit on a bench away from the crowd as soon as they buy the honey.

“Here, taste,” Aaron says, scooping some honey on the wooden spoon the vendor had given them.

Honey is sticky and sweet and it makes Andrew's throat burn a little because of the overwhelming sweetness.

“You don't like it?” Aaron asks with a little frown on his face.

Andrew shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Aaron mutters while closing the honey lid.

“What are you apologising for?”

“I thought you would have liked it,” Aaron shrugs.

Andrew just stares at him confused, his face blank.

“It's whatever,” Aaron says as he gets back up on his feet. “We should go home.”

Andrew watches as Aaron throws the jar of honey in the first street bin they find while they head towards Andrew's car.

♧♧

“Neil's playing today,” Aaron says on Sunday as Andrew is cooking dinner.

“Yeah,” Andrew replies because he noticed Aaron hates not receiving a reply.

“Do you want to watch the game?” he asks but then immediately turns on the TV without waiting for Andrew's reply.

When he goes into the living room with their dinner (Aaron's favourite italian pasta), the game has already started and Aaron is comfortably sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, a fluffy blue blanket around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Aaron says with a smile, taking one of the plates from Andrew's outstretched hand and placing it on his legs. “It just started so you didn't miss much.”

It surprises Andrew how much Aaron talks during the game, how much he notices about the players and their plays, how much he knows about Andrew's team.

“Yeah, he's been doing that the whole season. He really needs to work on that.”

“You've been keeping up with the championship?” Andrew asks.

“Not really, I just watch the games where you, Kevin or Matt play.”

Andrew purses his lips as a mix of emotions explode in his chest. He wants to dig deeper, to ask why. Aaron never showed up for the foxes reunions at Wymack’s place, he cut all contact with everyone, he never once showed any interest in anyone, any will to be their friend. 

Andrew wonders when had Aaron stopped making sense. He wonders if Aaron had ever made sense in the first place at all or if Andrew had made up a version of his brother in his head that had never once been real.

They spend the rest of the evening watching the game, a little smile on Aaron's lips as his hands flail around when he tries to explain sometimes to Andrew.

Could it have always been this easy? He wonders. Did Aaron have to die twice for them to finally spend time together like normal people?

Maybe, Andrew thinks, maybe everything can be fixed.

♧♧

“We are going to the zoo,” he tells Aaron on Monday morning while Aaron is still lying in his bed.

“What?” he asks, his voice low and full of sleep.

“Get ready, we're leaving in an hour.”

Andrew hates the zoo. It's boring and uninteresting. He doesn't care about where any of the animals came from nor from what they had been saved. It's cold and cloudy and the tips of his fingers are frozen. But the zoo was on Aaron's list and it seems to be working perfectly as a distraction: Aaron keeps speed-walking from one enclosure to the next, reading out facts that he seems to find interesting and cool. 

“And this one was saved after hunters shot him down and he lost his ability to fly,” Aaron says after three long and excruciating hours of walking around the zoo surrounded by screaming children and annoying adults. “Isn't that so heartwarming?”

“Heartwarming?” he asks, focusing on the sad little bird sitting in the middle of a huge green field.

“Someone found him when he was just about to die and decided that he was worthy of being saved. They took care of him and gave him a new home.”

“He's a bird who can't fly. Alone in a huge field. It would've been more merciful to just let him die. What kind of life is this?” 

He can feel Aaron's gaze on him as he looks at the bird but when he turns towards him, Aaron's eyes are back on the bird. He doesn't look excited anymore, his gaze soft and sad, something that Andrew can't decipher in his expression.

“It's almost lunch time,” Aaron says, looking away from the bird. “We should go home.”

♧♧

“Next time you are the one who has to visit,” Andrew says on Tuesday morning as he packs his bag. “We should also invite Nicky,” he adds.

“Sure,” Aaron says but there is something strange behind his eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, just- I'm just very very tired,” Aaron says, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You are not feeling like you're going to relapse, right?” Andrew asks, staring right into Aaron's eyes.

“What? No. No I don't,” Aaron replies, his eyebrows knitted together. 

“Promise.”

“I promise,” Aaron says lightly.

“This is very serious Aaron. Promise me you won't touch any type of drug for any reason.”

“Andrew. I promise I won't touch any type of drug. Unless I'm administering it to a patient. Good?”

“Good.”

“Can I- Nothing,” Aaron says with a shake of his head.

“Tell me.”

“It's silly. Forget about it.”

“I'll decide if it's silly,” Andrew says.

“Can I hug you goodbye?”

Andrew is silent for a second. He can't remember ever hugging Aaron in his life. Not once.

“Yes,” he says.

Aaron moves slowly towards him, as if walking towards an easily spooked animal, afraid that I'll run away. When he's finally standing in front of Andrew, he carefully lifts his arms and places them around Andrew's neck, his cheek resting on his brother's shoulder. Andrew can feel Aaron’s warm breaths on his neck, his brother's heartbeat pounding on his body where their chests are touching. 

Aaron is alive. His brother is still alive.

He tightens his hold around Aaron's waist. He had never hugged his brother before, he thinks again. In two other lives Aaron had died without ever getting to hug his brother. 

Andrew could've gone his whole life without ever getting to share something as trivial and mundane as a hug between brothers.

♧♧

It's Tuesday, the twenty-second of May at six in the afternoon when Andrew's phone rings, the soft voice of a doctor on the other side, the words coming out of her mouth venomous and wrong, lies that Andrew can't comprehend, can't accept.

“That's impossible,” he says getting up from his couch. “Aaron promised he wouldn't touch any drugs. He promised me.”

Aaron promised. He had promised.

“Drugs?” the Doctor asks. “I'm really sorry for the misunderstanding Mr. Minyard but Doctor Minyard's cause of death isn't drug related.”

“What? He didn't overdose?”

“No, Sir. Your brother he- he I'm so sorry. He jumped off a bridge. I'm so sorry.”

Aaron had always claimed that he didn't feel like he was going to relapse. Why hadn't Andrew believed him.

He had been asking the wrong question the whole time. He had tried to solve the wrong problem.

Can I hug you goodbye? Aaron had asked a few hours ago.

Yes, Andrew had replied.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

what do you think the chains favorite breakfast foods are (if they eat breakfast)

I WAS HALFWAY THROUGH ANSWERING THIS AND MY PHONE DIED AND DELETED EVERYTHING I HAD WRITTEN, DEATH AND SORROW AND DESPAIR.

Okay I'm good now.

ANYWAYS, I split you ask into two sections: first, their favorite food ever if they can get their hands on it, the second what they like to eat on the road. And then a final unhinged rant at the bottom about the one thing about teenage boys/young men and their food that I'll never understand: Bacon.

Legend--I have a feeling that he likes sweets. Specifically, waffles with whipped cream and berries. They're a little burnt, but Ravio made them for him, so he'll pretend he doesn't notice (and grows to like them better that way). On the road, he'll go for coffee/tea (he's not picky) if one of the others make it, or nothing at all.

Hyrule--does he have a favorite breakfast food? Food isn't very stable where he comes from--Legend and Wild would spoil him so much in regard of expanding his palate. But I imagine that something like a fried mixture of beef/sausage, vegetables, and a starch (perhaps an even poorer version of an already poor person food Shepherd's Pie, perhaps? it could be a breakfast food) would be a sort of filling, tasty, and easy to procure/make/preserve food that he'd like. On that note, I would say something simple, easy to get and preserve, and hardy would be his go to breakfast on the road--maybe meat jerky.

Wild--Also a sweets person. Fruit cake, cinnamon rolls, frosted cupcakes, basically all the little delicacies he could get at a dumb party 100 years ago, he ain't picky, it's for breakfast and it's fueling a day long sugar high. On the road he, unlike the other Links, can be pretty creative with his breakfasts, and he likes his spice as well. So, I think he'd like Meaty rice balls.

Four--direct this question to someone else please. He has four voices in his head fighting to answer right now, and none of them agree. I surely dont know if he doesn't.

Time--Pancakes and farm-fresh scrambled eggs and toast with jam. Malon makes it for him. What can I say. On the road he is a habitual coffee drinker, he wouldn't be functioning in the mornings without it. But he'll also take a poached egg if he has the time (heh).

Warrior--unlike Time who is a habitual coffee drinker, he is a coffee connoisseur. He likes the breakfasts they serve at the castle--a lot of meats and fruits, expensive, and on top of it all, well plated. Not to say that he can't eat simply--he was in a war, mind you--just that he prefers not to. On the road, he strikes me as the kind that would drink those tasteless quick oats (y'know you just add water, shake and go?) and also be very vocal about much time (heh) it's saving him (being none). I don't know what the Hyrule equivalent of those are.

Twilight--our favorite country boy. I think he likes a true southern breakfast. Ham and pan-fried potatoes and eggs over-easy, with a side of cheesy grits and sausage biscuits and gravy like Uli used to make for him (I HC this man has a black hole of a stomach, out of all the Links). On the road he'll inhale a boiled egg or two (salted and peppered if he's feeling fancy) that Wild made for him. I also head canon that Twilight likes tea with an intensity. And not only sweet tea, but like, ALL of the teas. He gets obsessive. I literally have in my detail/subplot tracking documents for BDOR the following entry underneath chapter 8--Tea: "Twilight’s cure to Wild’s voice is tea. His cure to life’s woes is tea."

Wind--whatever his grandma is making, probably with seafood involved. I've had a crab-spinach-egg casserole for breakfast before, it was good, so I'll give him that. On the road, I can see him packing a lot of bread and some meat (dried fish if he can get it).

Sky--This guy honestly has me stumped. Do those on Skyloft eat Loftwing eggs, or are they considered taboo? They have a lot of pumpkins around--do they incorporate them into their meals?@needfantasticstories you know a lot of Skyward Sword lore, bequeath me your wisdom. Anyways on the road he's a meat and bread person like Wind. Practical.

Now, for my rant about young men and their food quirks:

Bacon. Bacon, as I have witnessed, drives the most reasonable of men insane.

I just a few things to say about this. I have younger brothers, and I born witness to many male sleepover parties. I--as the resident nasty fe-male XD--have been (forced) to cook for them in the mornings. Set a pile of bacon in front of them (or really any meat, but I have found that bacon has the strongest affect) and they turn into WOLVES. They start to crowd around and stare as soon as they begin to smell it (which hey, give me space in the kitchen, please!), snatch it up before the grease even cools, and then retreat into their separate corners of the living room/kitchen and scarf it down, all while avoiding eye contact and projecting just how much they don't care about the bacon they're eating (perhaps so one of the others don't take notice and try to steal it). There's an odd little ritual/rules to the thing, too: for example, it's frowned upon to take more than three or four pieces at a time, there has to be enough for everyone, obviously; but if you finish a second and third serving before some poor sod stumbles in and gets himself a piece--why that is acceptable, even encouraged. But at all times, you could feel them watching each other, judging whether each person had taken acceptable amounts. 6 at once, I have determined, is veritably considered too much, as I have watched an entire group of mid-late teenage boys chase another through the house and outside for this crime of greed. Another thing was the presence of literally any other edible food. If there was anything else--eggs, fruit, even something like a few slices of unbuttered toast or coffee or juice sitting out, this reaction was largely tempered--even if none of the boys took the other foods, they would take a meager one or two pieces of bacon and be satisfied, perhaps reassured that other food was present and their hope of a filling breakfast was not in vain. Most, at that point they would restrain themselves from eating anything (other than their bacon tax) and wait so that everyone could eat together. But the mad scramble that occurs when there is bacon and only bacon in the kitchen (even if other things are cooking, nearly done, and visible to them) is otherworldly.

I never saw it with anything else, not eggs, not fruit, not even sausage or any other breakfast food. And it must be noted that I was exempt from their little ritual of judgement--perhaps as the only woman, or perhaps as the cook, I was allowed to take as much bacon as I liked from the pile, once the initial wave had attacked and retreated with their bounty (and the strips of bacon had cooled enough that mortal human hands such as my own could pick them up). And while they behaved like beasts, I was always very politely thanked for making breakfast once it was over and the frenzy had abated.

Anyways, your ask got me thinking about Malon making a pile of bacon for the boys, activating the beforehand undiscovered "PANIC! BACON!" mode in their brains, and just being utterly confused as they turn into animals. Just the boys descend, and then a few shouts of "Thanks, Malon!" drift in on the wind as they scatter like racoons with treasure, leaving an empty plate spinning behind them.

[discodeviant]

for my dear friend @pmrcvictim who very humbly mentioned something about a gas station clerk and a thief, and, well...

consider billy pulling up to a gas station in the middle of nowhere for cigs and with less than a dollar in his pocket because he got screwed out of a deal that left him dry and fucking infuriated. hates to rob the place; knows he’ll probably get away with it because guys who work in these dumps are either out back having a smoke themselves or asleep behind the counter with a dirty mag on their lap. so he pulls up, parks, looks inside. lights are on. clerk’s awake and too handsome for a shithole like this.

“evening,” he says. he’s young and slender, tall even though he’s sitting down. watches billy as he nods in greeting before wandering around, pretending not to know where to find what he’s looking for. he feels eyes on him like he never has before, knows the guy’s looking and wishes he wasn’t. so he loiters for a while longer, grabs a can of red bull, some jerky, a pack of gum, and returns them all to their shelves.

“you gonna buy something or just stand around and look good?” the clerk asks, and billy pauses, then turns on his heel. maybe he can work this guy.

so he walks to the register and leans against the counter, eyes the smokes lined behind the clerk. “well, i’ve got seventy-three cents and a half-empty tank, so... what's my best bet?" head low, eyes high, he's an expert in his craft.

"someone's a pessimist, i see."

billy shrugs. "you know how it is."

"guess so." they pause. the clerk leans back and drums his fingers. billy pretends not to be bothered. "steve."

he's caught off guard for a moment, not having thought his plan through this far. "billy," he says back, holding a hand out for steve to shake, but steve just holds it. rubs his thumb along billy's rough and raised tendons, keeps his eyes focused on billy's.

"you live around here?" he asks; billy pulls away, lays his palm flat on the counter top as his gaze falls to steve's lips.

"nah."

"need gas?"

"not tonight. i'll make it."

"mhm."

so steve swivels around and reaches for a box of marlboro reds to sit upright in front of billy with a thump, pretending the plastic doesn't still crinkle under his finger. billy falters.

"i'm a good guesser." steve pushes the pack a little closer. "on me."

"you sure?" billy asks and gets a nod in return. "thanks." but when he tries to take it, steve pulls it back, unwraps the plastic, takes out a cig and sticks it between his lips.

"you know, if, uh..." he reaches into his pocket for a bic lighter and cups a hand to give himself the first drag of fruity nicotine. leans in close again, holds the safe end to billy's lips; he takes it. smoke seeps from steve's teeth. "if you need someone to fill your tank..." he blows the rest to the side, never breaking eye contact even when billy can't help but dart from one flat mole to the next and back again. "come find me, yeah?"

billy nods and lets him slip the box into his jacket pocket, pretending his hands aren't shaking as he stands back straight. "yeah."

"you have a good night," steve says, and billy waves back with the smoke between his fingers.

in the car, he pretends that was the plan all along, but he can't fool himself. not now. so he stops trying and pulls over a ways down the road to jerk off in the front seat before sleeping in the back. his skin burns, he's thankful for the breeze, and maybe--maybe--he won't wake up from this dream.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

(Not a request dw)

re: A Little One that can speak Cybertronian. + Sticky/Climbing armor

I can see Drift's Little One pretending to only know so much of the language, and how to speak it. Just so they don't give away their sentience prematurely, and raise the (Already way too high) difficulty of a future escape attempt. They don't know that Drift would be horrified at the notion of keeping a sentient creature like a pet, to the point of bringing them back to Earth, and releasing them. So they've gotta be careful, and not reveal themselves. You know, in case them being sentient make him more possessive somehow.

And they are, for the most point, until they catch somebody talking shit about Drift. (Do they wanna be here? No. Do they hate Drift? Also, no. Not even with the collar on either, though they loathe the damn thing.) They don't really know where the anger is coming from, but hearing somebody speak of him that way just sets them off in the worst way possible. That's when they climb up onto Drift's shoulder, and yell "Get over here and say that to his face, Motherfragger!!" (Approximately) To the shock, and awe of everyone around, because they thought that Drift's minicon had a damaged vocalizer. (And well, they probably wouldn't be too far off considering that humans probably can't make certain sounds required to speak Cybertronian.)

"Oops. Ah shoot, he knows. Uh. Chirp? Squeak?? I learned that from somebody, but don't know what it means??" If the shit-talker has the ball-bearings to repeat what they said to Drift's face, then his Little One is gonna have to apologize for starting an argument later, but if not. Then they're straight onto the first phase of Drift figuring out that they're sentient. (Which is gonna turn out better than they thought, but be kinda unnerving for the time being.)

-Not a Request Anon

YES! This is a great idea! I can imagine Drift’s jaw dropping with the realization of knowing that Oh my god, my human can TALK. Though it would take him time to realize that his little one is fully sapient, it’s the opening to the long road of him realizing he’s made big, big mistake of assuming you are just a cute pet.