#Course someone almost hit me with their car on the way home despite me having right of way

[tumblingxelian]

Its been a hot, rough day, but something legit nice happened at the shops. 

My wallet ended up spilling my change all over the floor and given my social anxiety and stress I was starting to get really frantic and my well practiced masks were falling apart. 

Then out of nowhere no less than four people all of whom were busy doing other things just jumped in and started helping me pick up the money. 

There was a joke along the lines of “Finders keepers” and “You’ll need these to pay the bills” as they gave the money back so I just laughed and agreed. 

Its a small things, but it actually managed to completely offset my brewing stress meltdown and leave me in a much better and more relived mood. 

Sometimes people are just nice. 

#Course someone almost hit me with their car on the way home despite me having right of way #But you win some you lose some #Me #my posf #Personal

[tripleyeeet]

NOTHING COMPARES TO YOU (4)

SUMMARY: After deciding to follow Peter, you find yourself in the company of another spider.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,507

WARNINGS: Angst, enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a dissociate behaviours, MIGUEL O'FUCKING'HARA (yes he gets his own warning this mother fucker gave me so much grief while writing this!!!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HAVE A GOOD DAY :)

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

-

You’re barely given a chance to blink before you’re thrown to the ground, feeling everything rush around you. As you land, all fours hitting the hard surface below, your gut immediately churns, threatening to spill out onto the pavement as you attempt to steady yourself. Throughout your head all you can feel is movement. Everything whizzes across the expanse of existence, continuously flowing even though your eyes are firmly shut. The twitching of your limbs and fingers makes you grip the rubble as it happens, causing you to let out a sickened groan at the heat that envelopes your skin. 

The air is warmer here. Sticking to your skin in patches that make you squirm with discomfort as you try your best to look around. Opening your eyes, you notice then how blurry your vision is. How throughout the journey it’s become a mess of colours and shapes that slowly reflect against each other. 

Everything’s distorted —lopsided almost— as you begin to notice the vast amount of buildings around and how taller they are than the ones back home. Above you, they curve in ways you didn’t think were possible, their structures curling in angles that have you squinting in confusion; shuffling to stand at the same moment something rips across your skin, pulling you in every direction at once.

Without warning your muscles and bones feel like they’re being detached. Each limb shakes with violent intent as it’s separated, making you cry out as they’re quickly shoved back together. Under your breath you swear as the pain continues to pulsate, taking a moment to let out a winded breath as you brace your knees and fully stand. 

You’ve never felt this kind of pain before. The stretching of your entire body all at once. Simultaneously it feels like the longest and shortest second of your life.

Obviously, it’s a side effect. An unfortunate limitation you’re almost certain you’ll experience again until you get home. It was bound to happen considering all the unknown factors. 

Swallowing hard, you twist your neck around to try and ease the sudden tightness, feeling the kinks slowly fade away as you take a look around. 

Below you, the streets are busier than the ones back home, filled to the brim with bodies and cars that weave around each other endlessly. Focusing further, it’s apparent that there’s not a space unused on the ground below. Everything is where it’s meant to be despite the chaotic appearance and if you’re honest staring at it all for too long makes you dizzy. 

“Of course he’d portal himself onto someone’s fucking roof,” you mumble, taking a step away to rub your eyes in frustration, knowing there’s no way in hell you’re going to get down without arousing suspicion.

You can already imagine the outcome. You’ll walk over to the rooftop entrance and pull open the door and some security guard will be standing on the other side, frowning at you as he pulls the handcuffs out of his back pocket, telling you it’s illegal to trespass. Awkwardly, you’ll smile and try to come up with some dumb excuse, something stupid like oh, my god this is so weird, I actually live here at which point he’ll roll his eyes and cuff you because this probably isn’t even an apartment building in the first place!

You want to scream at yourself for being so stupid. For thinking that jumping through a fucking portal would lead you exactly where you need to go. It’s so obvious that it wouldn’t. Considering the potentials, there’s no way that would’ve happened in a million years. There’s so many variables stacked against you. Too much unforeseen testing and data to make such a dangerous, last-ditch effort worth it. 

If only you’d thought of that as you stood in the comfort of your own house —a house you most likely will never see the light of day again thanks to your endless stupidity. With Peter nowhere to be seen, you’ll most likely be stuck in this universe for the rest of your life. You’ll have to come up with a new plan —a new life. Maybe turn to a life of crime and learn how to pickpocket or something to pay for the bare necessities. 

Yeah, that’ll work! You’ll become a petty thief, stealing watches and wallets and all the usual easy-access things that tourists tend to forget about. At night you’ll wander the streets in search of victims a little too drunk for their own good —play the part of the terrified girl all alone until you’re able to strike and—

“Oi!” 

You scream, loudly, clutching your chest with tight hands as your body separates again. 

“What ya’ doing ‘ere?”

Blinking through the pain, you’re met with a sudden sense of acceptance, knowing that you’re done. That the jig is up and most likely you’re going to be thrown into some high-facility mental institution where people who think they’ve travelled dimensions go.

“Hello? Are you even listening?” 

Nervously, you turn to see another spider person, one who’s tall and lanky and covered in a suit you’ve never seen before. Like Peter’s it’s got the same red and blue elements, but scattered beneath ripped jeans and a leather vest covered in pins and patches.

“Hi, sorry, I um —please don’t kill me.”

Your voice is annoyingly small sounding. Barely above a whisper as you hold out your hands, signalling that you’re safe. That you mean absolutely no harm regardless of what this guy may think. 

“Kill you? You serious? Is that what I look like to you?”

Opening your mouth to respond, you’re quickly interrupted by a scoff.

“I’m not gonna’ kill you, mate. Spider-Men don’t do that.” 

“I know.”

It’s a statement that comes out quicker than anticipated, falling out of your open mouth in a mess of syllables that causes the Spider-Man in front of you to take a step forward and cock his head. 

“You know many spider people?” he asks, a newfound curiosity taking over.

Slowly, you nod, trying to make out how things are going to go based on his reaction. Unfortunately though, thanks to the mask you can’t see his face so it makes the effort difficult, leaving you to debate whether or not to go further into detail. 

Because really, this guy could be evil, right? Anyone from any universe could be an anomaly and you wouldn’t know because Peter and Miguel refuse to tell you what an anomaly really is. Honestly, it could be anything from a person to a dog and you wouldn’t know the wiser, making this interaction that much harder to gauge. 

“You a friend of one or something?”

Again, you nod but fail to give any details, watching the way he lets out a low sigh and begins to look around. 

He doesn’t look threatening. Despite the spikes riddled throughout his suit he seems almost soft —caring in a way that has you wanting to trust him. He’s a spider person after all which means he has to be good. Or at least, have a little bit of goodness in him, right?

“Who are you?” 

As he turns to face you, you can tell immediately then that he’s harmless. Another Spider-Man just like your brother with a little more rough edges. You can tell because he’s got that familiar feeling of warmth in the way he stares at you through the mask. It’s emotionless given the lack of features but underneath, the way cranes his neck to truly look like he’s listening, tells you all you need to know. 

“Who are you?” he repeats almost jokingly, placing both hands on his hips. 

Forcing back a grin you shake your head. “I asked you first.”

“Yeah, well, I asked second so fess up.” 

Without even thinking you do, telling him all about your brother and your extremely stupid idea to jump in after him. How all you wanted were a couple of answers before your mind decided to stop working entirely, leaving your brainless body to do the rest of the work. Somehow it all just tumbles out of you, the details of your ongoing curiosity falling onto the ground in front of you, causing him to nod his head, waiting for you to finish. 

When you do, there’s a silence that splits you apart. A moment of nothingness before each limb peels away from your torso. As it happens, you watch him reach out, each palm moving to encapsulate your shoulders and steady the symptoms. 

Beneath his mask you can hear him breathing in and out, attempting to get you to match the rhythm as you stand there. Breathing in, you try to follow him, holding each inhale and exhale for a couple of seconds as you settle back into a space of comfort. 

“Shit, we need to get you to HQ.” 

“HQ?”

He nods and steps back, moving his arm to reveal the same watch Peter has. 

You want the cry the second you see it, realizing that you’ve officially been saved. That no longer will you have to rot in this hellhole of a dimension filled with endless traffic and weird curving buildings that somehow seem to defy the laws of physics. Instead, you’ll have an actual guide to help. A saving grace in the form of this weirdly, punky spider.

“Hey, uh… will Miguel be there?”

He’s fiddling with the watch when you ask, pressing buttons and turning dials until he isn’t. When he stops it’s like the world has done so as well, making you swallow hard and look away, realizing it was most definitely a mistake to bring him up.

“How d’you know Miguel?”

“He, uh, saved my brother once,” you tell him, knowing that the more honesty you offer the more likely you’ll get what you want. “Dropped him off at my apartment in the middle of the night with some others.” 

“Who?”

“Gwen and Peter —old Peter.” 

“Peter B?”

You shrug, unsure. You only talked to him for a couple of seconds, enough to hear his voice and to see his face. You didn’t find out any other details. 

“I don’t know if he’ll be there. He got called out —he’s ‘ere somewhere dealing with something.”

“He’ll be back later though?”

“Probably.” 

There’s a suspicion in his voice that wasn’t there before. A building interest that has you mentally cursing because you shouldn’t be doing this. Meddling was what got you here in the first place. Thinking that you were invincible to a world that isn’t yours is how you ended up on the roof. 

You shouldn’t press further than necessary. You should just drop whatever this desire is and go home. Maybe if you do this Spider-Man will be kind enough to keep this whole debacle a secret. 

Except, you’ve come so far. The answers are close —locked away in the confines of a body that will most likely never crack, but they’re there. On the other side of another portal. One way or another, Miguel will be there. Standing in front of you with daggers for eyes and forehead lines. His hands will be on his hips and frustration will be pouring out of him but he’ll be there. All flesh and bone and covered in an armour you won’t be able to crack. 

And that’s enough, you tell yourself. Enough to get you to keep going. Enough to set you back on the track of ignorant selfishness because despite how separate you are, just that small possibility is reason enough to get you to follow this new ally through the portal. To ignore the nagging voice inside your head telling you how you should separate yourself from this. 

Because sure, you and Miguel are different. Two people so far apart on the spectrum of understanding that you can barely see each other across the divide, but it doesn’t matter. You have to talk to him. To convince him to see things from your perspective.

-

His name is Hobie Brown and he’s from Camden, London, Earth-138. 

In his world, he’s known as Spider-Punk —an obvious choice considering his appearance. He’s been his universe’s Spider-Man for a couple of years now, fighting the corruption that unfolds while simultaneously playing in a band, and he’s against most, if not all governments. 

As he tells you this, you have to force yourself to pay attention. To stare at his now unmasked face that’s grinning as you try your best not to freak out at everything unfolding around you because, in almost every corner of your sightline, a new spider person takes up space. Suited bodies of all shapes and sizes lining your vision, sending you into a panic as you hold either side of your head in shock. 

“Oh, my god, there’s so many.” 

“Cool, innit? It’s like comic con, ‘cept less capitalist.” 

Your entire body feels like jelly, mostly from the portal ride over. Like the last one, it made you glitch uncontrollably, your frame shifting in and out for a good second before Hobie helped push you back together. Using that same breathing technique, it worked but somehow felt a whole lot worse. The pain becoming so intense you keeled over onto the ground, drawing enough attention to last a lifetime. 

“Is she alright?” 

“She’s glitching quite a bit.”

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?”

Quickly, it became too much. An overwhelming conversation of voices sounding just like Peter’s. You imagined underneath their suits they looked just like him. Doppelgängers who were all well aware of the other but knew nothing of you. It messed with your brain, making your chest swell with discomfort as Hobie took the reins, telling everyone that you were fine —that you just needed a day pass.

Now walking alongside Hobie you can’t stop glancing at it, the bright purple bracelet staring back at you. For something so flimsy it doesn’t make much sense that it’d be able to just stop the cells in your body from jumbling out of place. Touching it gently, it feels more like a festival wristband than anything else, leaving you with more questions you’ll inevitably have to ask Miguel once you find him. 

“You good, mate?”

You have to force yourself to nod as you walk further across the corridor, scanning all the different hallways strewn about the building. Like the previous universe, all the structures seem to defy science. Everyone walks upside down and right side up with such casualty it makes you feel a bit sick, prompting you to look back at Hobie with an uneasy expression.

“This place makes me dizzy.” 

“Yeah?”

“Does every room look like this?”

“Nah. Most rooms are flat, perfect for people like you. I promise.”

He smiles and without much thought you do the same, continuing your journey until you’re pushing through a large set of doors. Behind it, a cafeteria sits, housing the bodies of even more spider people, all of them haphazardly strewn about in their own little groups.

“This place is insane.” 

“It’s ‘ight. Bit much.”

You’re inclined to agree but probably for a different reason. For him, it’s probably a spacial thing. The structure of everything is extremely overwhelming —claustrophobic in the way that everywhere you look there’s something going on.

“How many of you are there?”

He shrugs, continuing through the room until you’re near the edge of the kitchen, causing Hobie to glance around before bringing a finger to his lips and darting through the doors, leaving you alone again, standing on the edge of a space not meant for you. 

Or at least, this version of you. Thinking about it, you’re almost certain there’s one of you that’s wandering the halls going about their day like any other. They’ve probably just come back from some sort of super, important mission. Maybe they’re on their way to some sort of med bay to get cleaned up or an office space to report back their findings. 

Whatever it is, you imagine it’s more important than you standing around, gaping at all the familiar-looking masks, wondering what kind of faces sit underneath. 

“Sorry. Had to just…“

Now at your side again, Hobie produces a small baggie from the pocket of his vest, handing it to you as he starts walking, assuming you’ll follow. When you do, he nods toward the item in your hand, prompting you to look inside. 

“An empanada?” 

You give him a weird look, unsure how to proceed. Are empanadas special here? Are they like this super delicious untold secret? Or is there some sort of cultural significance behind them? Do spider people offer them up to guests or something?

“If you’re gonna even attempt to talk to Miguel you’re gonna need an offering.” 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Man’s a tosser.” 

Not even you can deny that. Every moment spent with the man felt more like a chore. An endless shift at one of the worst jobs of your life. Just imagining the sound of his low, worn-out voice still sends your mind into a frenzied rage, remembering the only things that came out of his mouth were either unnecessarily rude and sarcastic comments or straight-up growls. 

Even now as you continue to walk, trying your best not to stare at everyone that passes by, you can still hear that tone of his, clear as day. “I know you don’t think I know you, but I do. Trust me.” 

Secretly, you wish he was lying. It’d make the rejection you’ll most likely experience that much easier. If he was lying to you you could probably look past it —pretend like such an intimate conversation never happened and move on. Instead of sticking around you could get Hobie to take you home and go straight to bed without another thought. Attempt to lie to Peter about your interdimensional field trip and never think of him of any of this madness again. 

Unfortunately, though, you know he’s not. He does know you. In ways you’re not sure you’ll ever understand, he knows the private details of your life like the way Ben used to make you bacon breakfast sandwiches out of cheese bagels near the bakery down the street. The way he’d stuff it full of the crispiest bacon and hash brown patties coated in mayo and cheese. 

More than likely he knows about Aunt May’s record collection. All the old 45s stacked in dusty milk crates underneath the china cabinet in the dining room. He probably knows how cherished they are amongst the entire household. How Peter and you constantly fight about who’s going to inherit them when she dies even though you both know you’ll just end up sharing.

The more you think about it the more you realize he probably knows everything about you but refuses to admit it. How you go to work every day wishing that things were different. That despite loving your job, your mind often wanders to other things —projects you’ve always wanted to pursue but never had the time to. 

Still walking and staring at all the doppelgängers, you wonder if any of yours have felt the same way you do. Were they also bored of dealing with Oscorp’s bullshit day in and day out? Did they do anything about it? Quit, maybe? Transfer departments or work towards a promotion? 

If they have, you hope they’re happy. Or at least, happier than you. Not that the bar is all that high. You haven’t been necessarily happy in a while. Which is another thing you’re certain Miguel knows, based on the way he stared right through you before he left, speaking of a rage he claimed to understand. 

As much as you’d like to deny it, you’re almost certain he does. He holds himself with the same irritation that you do. Constantly on edge and ready to pounce. Every word that’s said feels like an attack unless obviously stated and with either of you it’s hard to tell with the constant lines of defence.

“We can wait here for ‘em if you want.” 

You must’ve zoned out on the way here because suddenly you’re standing in what looks like an office. A very futuristic one with wrap-around desks and way too many monitors. Glancing around, it feels simultaneously corporate and homey. The lights are dimmer than your standard workspace, the glow of each computer bouncing off the walls but everything’s sleeker —streamlined, you imagine someone saying. 

“What is this place?” 

“Control room, I think. Honestly couldn’t tell ya’ I don’t come here much.”

“No?”

Both of you gravitate towards a set of chairs near the front, plopping down with a sigh that makes Hobie sort of smile and kick his feet up. “Nah. No time. Got too much shit at home.” 

“Anomalies?”

His smile turns into a smirk. “What you know ‘bout them, eh?”

“Not a lot, honestly. Pete talks about them sometimes. Says they resemble villains he’s fought back home but that’s about it.”

“Hm.”

It’s strange how open he is about all this. How willing he is to ask you questions regardless of whether or not you have the answer. Already it’s a step above everyone else, leaving you a bit confused and somehow wary, watching him from the corner of your eye.

“Are you allowed to be talking to me about this?”

Snorting, he throws his hands behind the back of his office chair and begins tapping on the leather. “Nah, but rules are meant to be broken, right?”

“Right.”

“I hate rules.”

“Makes sense.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You open your mouth to respond —to apologize— but he immediately cuts you off with a laugh. “Kidding.”

“Jerk.” 

“You want my help or not?”

“Yes, please,” you reply, almost too quickly, watching his lips press together, a sense of fondness filling his features. 

The conversation lulls then; another silence fills the room, making you lean back and sigh. It might be hours until Miguel and Peter come back. Days even, depending on how the timing works in different dimensions and already you’re ready to call it, feeling the exhaustion begin to take over. 

“Do you think they’ll be long?”

“Nah.”

“They usually wrap things up pretty quick?”

“If they can.” 

It’s not the exact answer you’re looking for but you accept it anyway, nodding your head with an awkward smile, trying your best to remain cool and calm like Hobie somehow manages despite obviously breaking the rules. 

“You know you can, uh, go if you want. You don’t have to wait with me if it means you’ll get in trouble.” 

His eyebrow pops up almost immediately, the edge of his lip following suit. “You serious?”

You look at him confused. “Yes?"

This time he laughs. “And leave you here with all the fun?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” 

He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, staring at you with mischievous eyes that make you somewhat question whether or not there’s something else beneath the chill exterior. Something familiar you can’t quite place. Sure, he’s no Miguel or Peter —he’s his own kind of Spider-Man— but still, you can’t help but compare them all, studying him underneath what little light reflects throughout the room. 

Without even thinking, you find yourself trying to pick apart the similarities within the vast amount of differences. For example, he’s got the same ability to deflect that Peter has. The way he speaks is so relaxed, but underneath it all, you can tell that he’s hiding something —shielding whatever it is beneath that peaceful demeanour. In the short time you’ve spoken, you can determine he’s smooth-talked his fair share of people. Deterred them from asking the right questions by providing the most perfect response and it throws you. 

The more you learn about other universes the more it bends your perception of everything around you. Back home there are moments you find when everything feels controlled. You’ll be standing on the sidewalk, listening to music waiting to cross and suddenly your mind will tailspin out of order, remembering that you’re just a copy of a thousand different you’s walking down the street listening to the exact same song. As you walk, you become the endless loop of infinite bodies stepping left then right, repeating until you’re across the street and snapping out of it, forcing yourself to breathe and change the song. 

Since discovering the other side of Peter’s existence you’ve found it hard not to compare yourself to these faceless copies. Whenever you’re at work you’re constantly thinking about whether or not other you has managed to finish their projects. Are their successes far greater than yours? Are they less? Specifically, where on the scale do you fall? If it’s high do the people in their universe appreciate them more because of it? 

You wonder if Peter feels this way —same with Hobie now that you’re sitting next to him, watching the way he calmly closes his eyes and drifts into a space of half-consciousness while you continue to have yet another crisis.

“Is it weird having a doppelgänger?”

It feels like an insensitive question to ask but because you’re already an overly wound-up bundle of nerves it just sort of comes out, prompting Hobie to open one eye. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Have you met one of yours?”

Fully engaged, Hobie drops his feet from the desk in front of him and twirls in his chair toward you. “A few, yeah.”

“Was it weird?”

“Meeting ‘em?”

You nod.

“I guess. First few times were a bit off. Felt weird staring back at my own face with no mirror but after a while you sort of get used to it.” 

“I think it’d stress me out too much.”

“How d’ya mean?”

At first, you’re not sure how to explain it. At least, how to without sounding extremely insecure, knowing that it’d be the comparisons that’d make it hard. The never-ending wonder of who’s better than the other would definitely prove to be too much, and everything you did or didn’t at any given moment would be taken in for questioning later. 

“One of me is enough,” you say, forcing out a laugh that has Hobie frowning and you swallowing hard, knowing that you’re being stupid because, at the end of the day, you’re you, right? Sure, the you’s in other universes are also you but there’s a difference. A hidden line of genetic code that disproves any similarity you might have. At any given moment there’s an endless amount of possibilities of what you could be doing. While you’re sleeping one of you could be working or eating or walking —no one’s timeline is exact. If it was there’d be a whole lot more of you sitting around Hobie, watching as he reaches out to tap your arm and nod towards the entrance.

“Hey Lyla, I thought we talked about the whole interrupting my thought process when I’m trying to think thing.” 

His voice is different. More upbeat than when you last heard it just hours ago. Beneath his mask there’s a warmness to it, radiating through the room until it hits your face and somehow provides the opposite effect. 

It causes you to freeze in place, pausing all movement as he blindly continues his conversation with Lyla, both of them arguing back and forth until Hobie lets out a snort and he’s staring at you. 

Oh, my god. 

You’re pretty sure he wants to murder you. Even through the fabric covering his face, you can see his lips curl up as he growls, revealing those pointed canines that suddenly make you want to book it to the nearest exit without so much as a second thought. 

Staring wide-eyed, you can see his brow-line twitch just before his mask disappears, disintegrating into a mere memory you wish would stay because then you wouldn’t have to see the disappointment coating his face. 

“Should I even ask how this happened or should I assume it was you?”

He’s staring at you but definitely talking to Hobie who raises his hands innocently and smiles, slowly moving to stand. “All I did was pick her up in 149, mate.” 

“149? What the hell were you doing in 149?” Miguel’s eyes dart between the two of you, his voice loud and angry and—

“Following you!”

You’re not sure what comes over you. Maybe it’s the stress of the day or the fact that it’s impossible for you to back down when it comes to Miguel, but suddenly you’re standing —moving out from behind the desk to take the space in front of him. 

“I thought I told you to drop it!” 

“Drop what, Miguel?”

“This!” He motions between you, his palm moving back and forth to signify that he means the two of you. That what happened earlier was nothing but a slip of the tongue, meant to be ignored. 

A part of you wishes you could do that. But standing here, you know you couldn’t even if you tried because the dam of ignorance has already been broken beyond repair and the waves are coming in, drowning you as you look him in the eye and see the face of man so desperate to speak. 

“Why do we have to drop it?” 

You may not have the kind of intuition that Peter has —that every spider person most likely possesses— but you can see as clear as day that Miguel’s a liar. That even as he looks at you with such disdainful rage, there’s a longing in there. Tucked behind his harsh and reddened retinas, there’s a sliver of thirst. A craving of something too big for him to hide behind a false anger that has him breathing so heavily you find yourself blinking at the oncoming air. 

“Why can’t you tell me?” 

It’s embarrassing standing there, being met with only silence as Hobie watches from the sidelines. When you hatched this half-ass plan you never expected to end up getting this far, assuming that when you stepped through the portal Peter would’ve apprehended you. If you’re honest, you expected to be put back where you came from, never to see this side again —never to see Miguel again. 

In your mind, it was the most plausible outcome. The end of a chapter you saw coming from a mile away. Miguel wasn’t meant to last forever. Your strange, yet semi-frequent get-togethers were merely a placeholder for something else and you were never meant to know why. 

“I can’t—“

No, you need to know why. Why he decided to show up that first night. Why, instead of coming here, he chose to seek your aid despite there obviously being better options. 

“I didn’t jump through a fucking portal for nothing, Miguel.” 

“She’s right, y’know.” 

Both of you turn to glare at Hobie who just smiles and waves, taking his leave.

You hate to admit it but once he’s gone it’s like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders. As if, now that he’s gone, you can truly be yourself in the way that you are when only Miguel’s around. 

Because you’re different with him, you realize. Better, even. With him, you’re the version of yourself you wish you could show the world. Instead of bitter and jaded you just feel confident —more sure of yourself and the things you want. 

It sounds stupid but when he’s around it’s like you understand yourself a bit better. Even through the constant bickering, there’s a fondness there you’ve never noticed. A likeness even. 

“How do you know all that stuff about me?”

“Niña—“

“Is it cause you know me? In your universe are we friends or something?”

“If you could just—“

“Or did you just read it off some file? Cause if you did I won’t be mad I just want—“

You’re not sure how it happens. One second you’re yelling —begging for whatever answer he refuses to give— and the next you're sharing the same air, feeling his lips suck the breath right out of your lungs. 

At first, they’re rough, tightly pressed against your own and completely still, making you cautious of your movements as you feel a hand move to grip your wrist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re flush against his chest, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. 

Before you can though, his hands slip up to cup your face, pulling you backward in a mess of hot air and short breaths that have you looking at him confused. 

“Can you do something for me?” 

“No.”

Your response is said with pure impulse but quickly ignored in the form of a scoff and an eye roll that suddenly has your heart pounding. 

“When it’s offered, take the Alchemex job.” 

You have no idea what that means or how it applies to this situation you find yourself in. All you know is that it’s the last statement you hear before he presses a kiss to your forehead and pushes you backwards, your body falling into that familiar buzz of warm-toned light.

-

TAGGING:@fandxmslxt69 @buckysblondie @leucoratia @avatricu @rexxesgirl @hoe4fiction @erissco @dil3mma @ashjbu @mfrnchsk @sanjisluvbot @deputy-videogamer @arloballs @fictional-character-whore @busy-buzzing @twincesskorisoka @iyyom @beantokki (if you'd like to be added fill out this form, also if you've filled out this form and don't see your name check your settings because it won't let me tag you!)

#who are you when nobody's watching? #miguel o'hara fan fic #miguel o'hara series #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst #summer writes

[munsonownsmyass]

Matthias Helvar x reader

Notes: I got tagged in this post and well... It inspired me. Thanks for the inspo @theradioactivespidergwen 😆🩷

It's just a silly little something. Unbeta'ed, unedited. First thing I've written in months. Enjoy 🤣

Warnings: None, really. Unless you don't like werewolves... Or women who like werewolves. Some fluff, a boy too big for his furry body, a little spice.

Words: under 1k

With a heavy sigh, you turn the car off and stare into the darkness. Already so dark. You loved this time of year, sure, but not getting home until it was already dark could be so depressing. The only real light was the moonlight, bathing your small cabin in a pale glow.

Grabbing all your stuff, you get out of the car, slowly making your way to the front door. You really couldn’t wait to just relax. Maybe take a hot bath? Wash the day off. Have a nice dinner. But walking in, you realize that’s not going to happen.

Right in front of you, crouching so he doesn’t hit the ceiling, is your boyfriend. Correction, the furrier version of your boyfriend. It dawns on you that it’s a full moon tonight.

“Matthias, what have I told you about shifting indoors?” You sigh as you take the coat off. The big wolf turns, knocking over a lamp with his tail. “Matthias!”

“Sorry.” The voice still throws you off sometimes, so much deeper and gritty compared to his normal warm and smooth voice. You didn’t mind it, though.

It’s almost comical watching this huge mass of a wolf lean down to pick up the lamp, trying to maneuver his claws delicately on the shade, trying to get it back on. Matthias was a big guy even in his human form, but as a wolf? Big. Intimidating. Hot, honestly.

You take pity on him and walk over, taking the lamp from him. As you do, you feel his eyes on you. That’s when you hear it. A soft thud thud thud. Looking around his side, you see his tail wagging, hitting the couch with every swing.

“Someone’s happy.” You say, unable to stop smiling yourself.

“Happy because you’re here.” He says, his tone soft as his paw comes to rest on your cheek. Leaning down, his nose nudges at your other cheek, inhaling your scent before placing a soft lick on your neck. So far, Matthias has barely touched you in his wolf form, fearing he couldn’t control himself around you. That he’d end up hurting you. The touches had been fleeting, barely there. Yet, every time, it would set you on fire.

You knew he could tell. How he could hear your heart speed up, your pulse quickening. The swallow, strained breathing followed by a tiny gasp at the roughness of his tongue on your delicate skin. The scent of your arousal in the air.

His paw gently falls from your face as he steps away, his eyes averting yours. He can’t hide his desire for you either, despite his best efforts. The giant paws do a poor job covering his erection and he looks away ashamed. Instead of telling him again that he has no need to feel embarrassed, you walk to the kitchen with your groceries to give him some space.

“I bought us some nice steaks. Big one for you, of course.” You look over your shoulder with a wink before pulling more stuff out of the bag. “And waffles for the dessert.”

You turn around to look at him, seeing a wide smile on his face. Even though he’s 7 feet tall, broader than any man and covered in dark fur, his smile always makes you think of a Golden Retriever puppy. You’re pretty sure Matthias is the only werewolf pulling of looking this cute.

Just as you’re about to say some more, a loud thud fills the air. His wagging tail has brushed one of your books off the coffee table. When he moves to pick it up, he almost knocks a plant over. You don’t even have it in you to get mad, seeing how adorable he is, holding the book to his chest in one hand and balancing the plant in the other.

“No more shifting in the house.” He agrees, putting the stuff back as you make your way around the kitchen counter to him.

“Well… there is one room where you can’t really knock anything over.” You softly, your tone flirty as you run your fingers through the soft fur on his chest. He’s probably going to say no. He’s done so every other time. But maybe… today could be your lucky day.

“But… Min hajefetla, I-”

“You won’t hurt me.” The plea in your voice clear as one hand slowly makes its way down his abs, feeling every ridge of his hard body. Wrapping your hand around his sheath, you look into his eyes. “Please.”

With a snarl, he pick you up in his arms, making his way down the hall to the bedroom. When his eyes find yours, they’re dark with desire, his tongue coming out to lick his snout. “If you end up bruised, remember you asked for this, min trassel.”

Tagging: @e-dubbc11 @mindidjarin @itwasthereaminuteago @hlkwrites @pedrito-friskito @mattmurdocksscars @murdock-and-the-sea

#werewolf matthias helvar #matthias helvar #matthias helvar fanfiction #matthias helvar x reader #monster boyfriend

[samwilsonsupremacy]

going to a fancy restaurant with the outsiders gang headcanons ( gn reader included)

a/n: i LOVE the outsiders, & a scenario like this has been swirling around in my head ever since i first read the book!! if u like this, feel free to give any requests for more!! ( also i literally cannot spell restaurant so if i forgot to autocorrect it once thats my bad LMAO )

this lowkey also turned out to be super long so sorry lol

:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*

it had been a long day for everyone.

soda & steve were just comin’ home from the dx, darry came home from work, dally had been at buck’s and two-bit, johnny, pony, and you were just home from school.

usually someone made dinner. usually it was you and pony, sometimes it was soda and steve (and those nights, dinner was usually burnt or raw).

but today, dally had an idea. anytime he gets a glint in those light blue eyes, you know something’s gonna happen, and everybody’s gonna have to go along with it.

and today is no different.

his lips curl up into a smirk as he takes a drag of his cigarette, and darry just raises his brows, ‘cuz he knows something’s about to happen.

“  we should go to dinner.  “

okay, not as crazy as everyone was thinking.

“  at the fanciest restaurant in town.  “

now there’s dallas winston.

it’s not like it was a crazy thought. the gang did deserve something special, more so than the chocolate cake you and pony always made.

you all looked to darry for approval, of course.

a simple nod meant it was a go !!

however, the fanciest restaurant was all the way on the other side of town.

too far to walk, even for all of you, who usually walked everywhere.

“ i can drive. “

good ol’ two-bit with his trusty (albeit nearly ALWAYS broken down) car.

and when two bit smirks, it’s arguably more terrifying than dally.

but, nevertheless, it’s decided. you’re going to the restaurant, no matter what.

so everybody hops in the car.

well, more like shoves each other in the car.

dally wanted to drive. two-bit said no way. darry beat them both to the driver’s seat, so he’s the driver.

everyone is secretly glad, because dally really sucks at driving & two-bit always jokes around and swerves and then almost hits something.

that’s pretty much why his car is always broken down.

so you’re sitting in the middle of the backseat. soda and steve are on your right side, and pony and johnny are on your left. dally’s in the passenger’s seat.

two-bit is in the trunk.

it’s one of those cars where the trunk is open to the rest of the car, so he won’t suffocate.

he originally wanted to ride on top of the car, but darry dragged him down.

darry’s a pretty good driver. despite the commotion.

dally constantly turning the radio up, soda and steve shovin’ each other against the window, two-bit shouting random words in everyone’s ear just to make them jump.

you’re pretty quiet, and so are pony and johnny. they’re smoking out the window.

darry has to pull over and do a “if y’all don’t shut your mouths soon, i will turn this car around !!!!! “

but at that point you’re so close to said restaurant that it doesn’t even matter.

anyways, as soon as you park there, it’s obvious that you’re all out of place.

like REALLY out of place.

sure, it might be kind of funny, but it feels like you’re gearin’ up to be embarrassed.

but you know who doesn’t care about being embarassed?

two-bit mathews.

so he goes in, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, charges right up to the host & asks for a table.

two-bit being two-bit, of COURSE he uses a fake british accent.

“  excuse me, sir, could you be a good lad and squeeze me in for a little table ? i have... seventy people in my party.  “

a blink from the host. a blank stare.

“ hahaha! just joking, of course. i have eight little lads who are right hungry!! “

the host’s brow furrows.

“ no.  “

well, it’s not like it was unexpected.

everyone looks to dally, ‘cause it was his idea in the first place.

“ alright. your loss. “

and then he just walks out.

now THIS is strange.

dallas winston doesn’t usually just walk away from something like that.

however, as you’re all walking to the car, he pulls you aside, that old glint in his eyes once again.

“  lookit this.  “

out of his jacket pocket comes what must be at least twenty spoons, and three plates.

“  what in the.... dally, how’d you get that ? “ you asked, because it didn’t look like he left the group at all while two-bit was horsing around.

“ don’t ask, don’t tell, half-pint. “ is all you get in response, and with a wink, dally has sprinted up to the front of the group.

:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*

hope you enjoyed! again, feel free to request scenarios! (no nsfw, ofc) i rly love writing headcanons lmao <33

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy #sodapop #sodapop curtis #darry #darry curtis #steve #steve randle #two bit mathews #keith mathews #headcanons #dally #dally winston #dallas winston #johnny cade #johnny #this was rly long i have more but i had to shorten it lmao #requests open #the outsiders headcanons

[xxchthonicreaturexx]

~The Plan~

"If I asked you to kiss me in this room full of people, would you do it?"

Curly x reader

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

You weren't usually the type to party by lately you had been trying to come out of your shell. Maybe if you explored outside your comfort zone you wouldn't be stuck pining after an unrequited love.

You had been friends with Angela for nearly two years now. You had met in school, and though you seemed like unlikely buddies it seemed you two had a good connection going. One thing led to another and you two were almost always attached to the hips. Being friends with Angela Shepard though had it's ups and downs.

Sure, having the protection of a whole gang was nice, but you didn't need it. You weren't a fighter. You avoided conflict actually, but it was nice to know that Angela had them all keep an eye out for you anyways. As your best friend though, she knew more then you wanted her to. It started a while ago, when exactly, you don't remember. It was late, it was rainy, and there was nothing but fog and the sound of drunk greasers and socs alike racing their cars down the empty streets. You were trying to head home despite how dark it was but Angela insisted that her brother, Curly, accompanied you on your walk.

In hindsight you weren't sure if you wanted to thank Angela for giving you and him alone time to kick off your relentless stress of falling for him or to, you weren't sure, kick her in the shin? Despite the fact she made him walk with you that one night, how was she to know you'd fall for her own brother? It wasn't her fault, no, and you couldn't blame your best friend. In fact, you weren't planning on ever telling her in fear that it would ruin your relationship if she knew, but when she found out from your not so subtle staring and red cheeks, she was ecstatic.

Someone she adored liked her brother? And on top of that, that person was a good influence? It was almost too good to be true for the female Shepard. And with a sea of squeals and her begging for details, she got to work. You didn't ask her to, no, but the brunette insisted on helping. You only hoped that you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in the process.

So here you were, awkwardly standing around at a party with a glass in your hands. You had never drank before, but with enough coaxing from Angela, and the fact that she made you look absolutely amazing tonight, you decided to at least take a few drinks. For her and her plan...

Alright, so maybe you were trying to make yourself tipsy enough to blame it on alcohol if it went wrong.

Angela had some work to do of her own though. Leaving you to slowly drink your beverage in the corner she set off through the sea of people to find her brother. Of course, he was right at home amongst the other hoods, partying, drinking, even throwing in some gambling with the pool table.

With a tap to his shoulder though, he raised an eyebrow as his seemingly sober sister approached, pulling him down to whisper in his ear. His dark blue eyes had flicked from her over to the crowd within moments, staring off in thought before a smirk broke onto his face. A few nods later he shouted to his buddies that he'd be back, yet only a couple heard him.

Minutes had passed and you weren't sure how to feel. Nervous? Anxious? Overwhelmed? There was no way this would work. Curly would laugh in your face and then it'd be nothing but awkward. Sometimes you felt as if he flirted with you just to tease or to joke around, perhaps he never actually flirted with you. Maybe he never meant a single thing he had said and just needed to fluster you to make him feel better. That was it, wasn't it? You were so obviously fallen for him that he used you as an ego booster.

As a wave of fear and perhaps nausea passed you decided to down the rest of your drink, feeling the warmth spread after it hit your tongue. Where had Angela even gone? She was away for a while now and you were starting to wonder if something happened.

Just as your eyes glossed over the people though, standing in your tippy toes to see a hand slid across your waist. Flinching back, you snapped your head to the culprit.

"Curls?! You scared the shit outta me!" You told him, a hand to your chest.

"Hah, you're so adorable when you're scared." He commented, his hand gracing your jaw as he teasingly looked down at you. "What the hell are you doing here, doll?"

"Angela." You mentioned as he leaned closer to hear you over all the noise. Luckily the corner you were in was just empty enough that you didn't have to yell everything. "She uh, well, she really wanted me to come with so..."

As you trailed off you noticed Curly nod his head slightly, his tongue brushing across his teeth under his lips.

"Yeah, she told me that you were looking for me. Said you had something to say." He mentioned with a cocky little brow raise. Taking a sip from his own alcohol, he gave a small hum before nodding to you. "That true?"

Your stomach lurched, your mouth snapping closed, your lips pursing together as you thought. It was an awkward pause and even worse due to your lack of looking in his direction.

"Um, well...yeah, I suppose that was the plan." You mumbled the last part, unsure if he even heard you.

"Well, go on. I don't have all night, babydoll." He spoke, but the way he said it made you blush slightly. He was teasing you yet again just to get a rise out of you.

"Look...Curly." you spoke before sighing, deciding to be bold and take his own glass right from his hand and down that one too. Your dumbass was sure to have a nasty hangover tomorrow.

"Hey, what the hell, Y/n?" Curly growled slightly, but his eye raise wasn't that of a pissed of variety. It was of a mixture of annoyance and amusement if anything.

"Curly, if I asked you to kiss me in this room full of people, would you do it?" You looked up at him, eyes searching his for something. Anything, hell even disgust just as long as you knew how he felt.

The pause was painful, that was for sure, but Curly needed a second. Yeah, he was a dirty egotistical flirt, but Curly wasn't the type to just willy nilly kiss someone in front of everyone. He wasn't as big on PDA as some others in his gang. Giving a sigh though, he knew you needed answer, so, preparing himself for a second his hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he bent down, lips connecting with yours.

And like that there was silence. You didn't hear anymore of the drunken hollers and laughs. You just closed your eyes and focused on the moment before it was gone, Curly pulling away and looking down at your blushing face.

"C'mon. I'll walk you home, you're going to have a hell of a time in the mornin'." He spoke softly, looking out to the people one last time before rolling his eyes, his sister and a few other gang members smirking and giving him kissy faces. He definitely wouldn't hear the end of that for a long while.

#curly shepard #angela shepard #the outsiders #that was then this is now #x reader #drabble #this suuuucks #random ass idea

[hollandorks]

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter four

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: God, I love this fic. I’ve already written almost 60k words for it. The bad news is that those words are all in the middle, and technically there’s a huge gap between this chapter and most of what I’ve written...oops? But don’t worry, the hyperfixation is still going strong! 

Series Masterlist

word count: 4304

But Matt had no idea that, a handful of hours later, Grace would come face to face with Daredevil.

Grace was having a good day despite the phone call with her mother, so of course it was only a matter of time before things came crashing down. 

It was her fault, she supposed in a brief moment of clarity, for not taking the taxi all the way back to Ryan and Jess’s. She hadn’t wanted anything to lead back to Hell’s Kitchen. She knew that Dean’s influence reached far, and she wouldn’t put it past him to have someone monitoring taxi companies. So even though she had paid in cash, she’d had the cab driver stop just outside of the neighborhood so she could walk the rest of the way. 

But she’d also stayed too late in the bookstore, her bag now weighed down with five battered paperbacks, and night had thoroughly fallen in the city by the time she had decided to head back. 

That was her fault too–she already was trying to spend as little bit of time as possible in her car at night. So she’d stayed out later than she should have and, well…

Well, now she was being cornered by three men. 

The first man had catcalled her from the stoop of a building. She’d casually crossed to the other side of the street, just in case. Then the second man appeared from the shadows. One followed her on each side of the road, hemming her in, cutting off escape. 

She cursed quietly to herself and took the next turn. She’d go around if she had to, take the long way home. 

That was when the third man had stepped out, right in front of her, pretending to bump into her while the other two caught up. 

As soon as she realized what was happening, she darted into an alley. And of course her luck had continued to worsen–it was a dead end. Her heart kicked into high gear as she realized she was thoroughly trapped. She still had the knife, but it was buried at the bottom of her bag along with her keys and anything else that could be used as a weapon. She didn’t have time to dig it out, though she shoved her hand inside her bag anyways and started to feel around. 

Grace was accustomed to fear, but only when it came to Dean. She’d never known when the violence was coming with him. It had always come unexpectedly. 

Knowing it was coming was so much worse, she decided. 

Especially because she had a feeling that they weren’t just going to hit her. 

“Think you can just ignore me?” the first man, the one who had catcalled her, said as he prowled closer. He was shorter than the others but much more muscular. She saw a thick scar on one side of his neck. 

“I don’t have any cash,” she said softly, proud of how steady her voice was. 

“She thinks we want her money,” the man said over his shoulder to the two others. They all laughed. 

Grace thought she was about to be sick. Maybe that’d be a good distraction, she thought distantly. Throwing up on their feet. Maybe it’d even put them off enough to stop them from getting what they wanted. 

She refused to think the word. 

She gripped her bag more tightly and watched as they slowly got closer and closer. Her heart was in her throat. 

“Come on, baby, let’s have a little fun,” said a second man, taller and thinner than the one closest to her. His eyes were half-closed. He licked his lips. Grace shuddered at the sight. 

“I don’t really feel like having fun,” she said but the words came out strangled. 

The first man lunged. Her head cracked back against the bricks. Pain exploded behind her eyes. 

Fight, she told herself, making herself remember all of the classes she’d taken for a situation like this. Fight back! 

Because she was used to pain. Used to maneuvering with fuzzy vision. Used to working around what hurt. 

The man popped a couple of buttons on her work shirt. Finally, her mind caught up and she swung her fist. It connected with the man’s jaw with a sharp, satisfying crack. She hit him again before he could recover. Her knuckles split and pain lanced up her arm, but it was worth it. 

It felt good to be the one throwing punches for once. It felt good to fight back. 

The man cursed and swung clumsily. Grace ducked under his arm and tried to run, but the other two men grabbed her and hauled her back. 

She screamed, long and loud. It tore out of her throat and burned on the way out but there was no way anyone passing by couldn’t have heard it. 

“Shut up,” one of the men snapped. He slapped her across the face so hard she tasted blood. Two of them held her by her upper arms. She struggled with all of her might, vision darkening at the edges, her feet lifting off the ground as she fought against them. 

There was a muffled thump, so quiet she barely heard it, but it was enough to change the entire atmosphere in the alley. Everything went still and quiet. 

“Oh fuck,” one of the men breathed. They released her so suddenly that she fell right on her ass on the concrete. 

Grace scrambled to her feet.

There, at the end of the alley and wreathed in yellow light from the streetlights beyond, was a man. 

Not a man. 

A devil. 

The three men who had seconds before been trying to hurt her were now backing away. All three of them had their hands raised as if in surrender. 

They were scared shitless of whoever or whatever was at the end of the alley. 

He was dressed in dark red. As he tilted his head, Grace saw the two small horns adoring the mask that covered most of his face. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” one of the men said. They were still backing up, putting Grace between them and the devil. But there was no way out–not for them, and not for her, either. 

“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” the devil said. His voice was a low growl, all gravel and smoke and rough edges that screamed danger. Grace shuffled back a step, twice as afraid as she had been minutes before. At least she had known what to expect with the three men. They had wanted violence and she had understood that perfectly. This man or creature or whatever he was was utterly unknown, foreign and all the more fearsome because of it. 

“We’re just–having some fun,” said another of her attackers. His voice was pitched high with pure fear. 

The devil started stalking slowly towards them, a predator toying with its prey. 

Run! Grace’s instincts screamed. But there was nowhere to run. The alley was a dead end. The only way out was past this dangerous man with the devil’s countenance. Every line of him was dangerous. 

They were all trapped. 

The devil struck. 

Grace couldn’t help the scream of terror that erupted. She threw herself down, arms over her head, cowering away from this man who looked like he could and would kill her. 

But the blow never came. Instead she heard muffled grunts, cracks of bone, the sounds of a fight happening right behind her. 

Grace used the distraction to make a run for it. One of her attackers went sailing past her. He thumped against the side of a dumpster and slid down, unconscious, maybe even dead. She couldn’t tell the difference. 

Another of the men–the short, muscular one who’d ripped her shirt–went running past. He shoved her out of the way as he went, knocking her to her knees. They barked with pain as she scraped them on the asphalt. 

There was a blur of red, Grace rolling out of the way at the last second, and then the devil was hauling the man backwards by his collar. 

Grace heaved herself up from the ground. She darted back the other way but tripped over something on the ground. She managed to catch herself in time before she went sprawling to the ground again. It was the tall, skinny one who had licked his lips. He was unconscious, splayed out on the ground, a trail of blood trickling across his face. 

Was he dead, too? 

The devil was holding the first man by the scruff of his neck when Grace turned around. 

“Did they hurt you?” he said in that low, rough voice. The sound of it was like sandpaper on her skin. She shivered at the sensation. Her breaths came in short, panicked gasps. 

Her attacker was shaking his head but the devil’s grip was unrelenting. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” Grace whispered. Her whole body trembled with fear. She was starting to think that maybe she shouldn’t have ever come to Hell’s Kitchen. It seemed like there were much, much worse things on the streets than Dean Bennett. 

“I only hurt bad people,” the devil said. He sounded almost…offended. “Did these men hurt you?” 

Grace took a breath to steady herself but didn’t answer. She couldn’t. 

The devil tilted his head down to the man he was holding. “Did you hurt her?” He shook the man roughly. 

The man’s hands scrabbled for purchase, legs scratching against the asphalt as he tried to get free. “No, no I swear, we were just having some fun! That’s all!” 

“Lie,” the devil growled. “Try again and tell me the truth this time. Trust that I’ll know if you lie. Did you hurt her?” 

The man choked on a sob. Even from several feet away, Grace could see the devil’s gloved hand tighten on the back of the man’s neck. The man cried out, then relented. “Yes! Alright, yes, we were going to hurt her! She hit her head and Joel slapped her around but that’s it, I swear!” 

“What were you going to do to her?” the devil asked. That low growl sent another shiver down her spine. 

“We were just going to rob her, that’s all!” 

“Stop lying.” The devil’s free hand struck the man’s head. 

He cried out. “We were gonna share her!” 

Another animalistic growl from the devil that had Grace’s heart hitching. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, could barely breathe. 

“You were going to rape her,” the devil said. He spat out the words like a curse. 

The man’s next words were choked off as the devil wrapped his other hand around his throat, hauled him up, and smashed him against the bricks. The man’s feet barely touched the ground as the devil snarled something into the man’s face, too low for Grace to hear. He was holding the man up with one hand fisted in his shirt and his other forearm braced against the man’s neck. Grace could see, even with the suit, that the devil was all powerful muscle. A predator, through and through. 

The man whimpered and then the devil was hitting him, over and over and over, even after the man’s body went limp. 

Finally, the devil let the man drop to the ground. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders shaking. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. 

“You’re safe now,” he said, the rough edges of his voice a little softer now. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” 

Grace was still trembling. “Who–who the fuck are you?” she finally managed to choke out. 

She thought maybe he frowned. He turned more fully towards her. “You don’t know who I am?” 

She couldn’t help her snort, though it was edged in hysteria. “Obviously not. I’m not–I’m not from Hell’s Kitchen. I just moved here.” 

The devil made a thoughtful noise in his throat. The sound humanized him, made her realize he was a guy in a suit, not an actual devil. “They call me Daredevil. I look out for people around here.” 

The name rang distant bells in her head. But the impact against the bricks, or maybe the adrenaline in her system, made it hard to pin down exactly why the name rang those bells, why it seemed familiar. 

“I–” She wasn’t yet convinced that he wasn’t going to hurt her. But he stayed still, several feet away from her. He’d taken out three grown men with ease. Men who’d been scared shitless of him. The men who had almost–she still didn’t think the word–they had known who this devil was, had been scared of him. He could have hurt her several times over already, but he hadn’t. “Thank you,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. The words were stilted on her tongue from her unease. 

Daredevil tilted his head to the side. “You’re bleeding,” he said softly. He stepped forward. It was pure instinct for her to stumble back a step in answer. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I swear.” The sound of ripping velcro. He slid one of his gloves off. “I’m just a guy,” he said as he stepped closer. Grace held herself utterly still even as her heart thrummed with fear and something else she couldn’t name. “Let me check. Please.” 

Slowly, so slowly she could have run if she’d wanted to, Daredevil eased forward until his bare fingers gently took her chin. He inspected her head, lightly probing where it had hit the wall and where her split lip was bleeding. Grace barely breathed. 

Up close, she could see the deep maroon color of the armor he was wearing. It looked almost like kevlar or leather or some combination of the two. His mask was, indeed, devilish, the eyes made of glinting red glass that seemed familiar, somehow. 

“How hard did you hit your head?” he murmured. Grace shivered again and was finally able to name that other emotion, tangled up tightly within the fear. 

Fascination. 

“I didn’t black out, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. His bare hand was gentle if a bit calloused. The longer he stood there, quietly inspecting her injuries, the more convinced her body became that he wasn’t actually going to hurt her. She could see, too, that he was holding himself very carefully away from her. Even though he was close, he had made sure to put space between their bodies, made sure not to crowd her. 

“Good,” he said. “You should probably ice it, to be sure. If you feel any nausea or–” 

Grace interrupted with a small smile. “I’ve been concussed before, don’t worry. And I have–have roommates.” It was a half-truth. She didn’t live with Ryan and Jess and Max, but they were close enough that it counted. “They can check on me.” 

“You should get home,” Daredevil said with a dip of his chin. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” 

A spike of fear at the words. “You’re–you’re going to follow me home?” She wasn’t sure if she was more nervous that a man dressed as the devil would know where she lived or that he would see that she lived in a car. 

This seemed to take him aback. “I…realize how that sounds now.” A soft laugh escaped him that eased her nerves even further. “No, I won’t follow you home. I promise. I’ll just…keep an ear out.” 

“I’m not sure I can trust you,” she said but her tone was light. The more the fear drained away, the stronger her fascination grew. Was that normal, she wondered, to immediately trust someone dressed as he was? Or was it some sort of trauma response, something broken within her brain? “How do I know you won’t follow me?” 

“You don’t,” he said. “But I swear I won’t.” He moved back a step and tugged his glove back on. “Ice that,” he said. 

“I will.” Grace stared at him a minute longer, then started down the alley. She paused just before she stepped out into the light of the street. “Thank you,” she said and turned to face the devil once more. 

But he was gone. 

– 

The next morning Grace woke with a splitting headache. The lack of decent sleep had only made it worse, she was sure. She’d first had to explain her injuries to a very concerned Jess, then had taken a long shower, then spent three hours laying in her car searching for everything there was to be found about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

All of that, her late night on top of the lingering imprint of the bricks in that alleyway, made her feel like she was having the worst hangover in existence. 

Somehow, she made it to work. She was slightly early again, mostly because her headache had woken her up before her alarm. 

Matt Murdock had beat her there again. 

“I thought I might see you in here early again,” he said after she announced herself. He held out the same black mug she’d used the day before, his own chipped mug in his other hand. He was already out of his suit jacket, tie already loosened. She tiredly thought that she liked when Matt Murrdock was a little rumpled.

“You’re my favorite,” she said with a sigh as she took the warm mug between her hands. 

“Me or the coffee?” Matt said, eyebrows raising above his red-tinted glasses. 

“Oh, the coffee, definitely,” she said with a laugh. “Thanks, by the way.” She quickly fixed it with cream and sugar and took a sip. 

“Long night?” Matt said as he took a sip of his own coffee. He seemed content to lean against the wall while she unpacked her bag for the day. 

“Yeah. When were you guys going to tell me about Hell’s Kitchen’s vigilante?” she said. Did she imagine it, or did Matt choke a little? He went almost unnaturally still. 

The door to the office burst open and Foggy came striding in. “Good morning, Grace St. James!” he said cheerfully. “Oh, and Matt.” 

Grace laughed even as she winced at how loud his voice was. “Am I in trouble?” she asked. 

Foggy was rooting around in the cabinets in the kitchenette. “Huh? Trouble?” 

“You said my full name. Made me think I was in trouble or something.” She shrugged and sipped more of her coffee. 

“Oh!” Foggy laughed. “No, I just like how it sounds, I guess.” 

Matt was shaking his head and smiling into his mug. 

“So, what’d I miss?” Foggy asked as he dumped coffee grounds into the coffee maker. “Why is everyone showing up early all of a sudden? What is this, a professional workplace?” 

“I was just asking Matt when you all were going to warn me about the vigilante running around,” Grace said as she set her laptop on her desk. She pressed the power button. The display was still dim from her late night searches. She turned the brightness back up to daytime levels. 

There was no mistaking it–Foggy did choke. He coughed to try and cover up the sound. 

“Uh–Well, I honestly thought you knew,” he finally said as the coffee maker started percolating. 

“I didn’t have any idea,” Grace said. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not from Hell’s Kitchen, remember? The vigilante definitely wasn’t in the welcome packet.” 

“Yeah, but–He’s kind of famous. Helped take down Fisk and all that. Twice. Saves people, helps the little guys, etcetera.” Foggy shrugged. He shot a look towards Matt, who still hadn’t moved from his position leaning against the wall. 

“Wasn’t that you guys? Fisk?” Grace had searched the law firm before applying and that was their most famous case–putting Fisk behind bars. His second arrest, the FBI had been involved, but they’d still helped from what the internet said. 

“Well,” Foggy said, his cheeks reddening. “The first time for sure. But Daredevil, you know, he helped us figure some stuff out and helped catch Fisk when he escaped…all that stuff.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Foggy hates to brag,” Matt said. “He doesn’t like showing off all the hard work he did with all of that.” Foggy shot Matt a grateful look. 

Grace studied the two of them. Foggy poured a cup of coffee before the machine finished then chugged it like his life depended on it. 

They were interrupted by Karen’s arrival. She seemed relatively cheerful, too, though much less loud than Foggy. 

“What’s going on?” Karen asked as she hung her jacket and purse up. She swept her tousled blonde hair over one shoulder. “Looks like I’m missing a meeting or something.” She smiled. It was so full of warmth that Grace returned it unconsciously. 

“Grace was asking us about Daredevil,” Matt said. His eyebrows went up, peeking over the lenses of his tinted glasses. 

Karen paused. “Daredevil? What about him?” 

Grace felt herself flush. The attention of all three of them was focused on her. “I didn’t know about him,” she said again. “Figured someone maybe could have warned me there was a vigilante running around.” 

“Why?” Karen said as her attention sharpened. “Did you…see him?” She and Foggy shared a glance. She wondered if they were all friends with the vigilante or something, since he’d apparently helped them get rid of Fisk. They seemed…protective, almost. 

“Yeah. I was…almost mugged last night. He saved me.” Grace chewed the inside corner of her lip. She didn’t want to say what had actually almost happened. She was still pushing that down and away to be examined at another time. 

“He saved my life, too,” Karen said. “Years ago. More than once.” 

“Really?” Grace perked up. She hadn’t encountered any of that in her digging the night before. There was a ton of information about him out there, though. Think pieces, police reports, headlines of lots of newspapers, some written by Karen. But none of them had mentioned him saving Karen. There had been a whole section on a fake Daredevil, a man named Ben Poindexter who had apparently dressed like him and killed a bunch of people. There was even a forum for people to report sightings of him where they also posted stories of being saved. 

“Yeah, he’s alright.” Karen lifted one shoulder in a shrug. But she was smiling. “We’re fans, to say the least. Are you okay, by the way?” 

“Did you get a good look at who attacked you?” Foggy added. Matt remained silent. 

“I’m fine, really. Like I said, Daredevil saved me. Got there just in time.” Grace snorted as she remembered her scream as the vigilante had charged. “He scared the shit out of me, though. Like I said–I had no idea someone like that was running around. Some guy dressed in red leather with devil horns showed up out of nowhere then ran at me. I thought I was going to die for a second.” 

Karen smothered a small laugh into her hands while Foggy sighed. 

“Yeah, he has that effect,” Foggy said. “I think the horns are meant to intimidate, or something.” 

“He was nice though,” Grace said. She thought of his gentle touch on her face. How he’d reassured her over and over, talked carefully to her so she wouldn’t be afraid. “Once I realized he wasn’t, you know, about to send me to Hell.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Matt said softly. 

They were saved from further conversation by two cell phones ringing in tandem. Karen and Foggy both stepped into their offices to answer the calls while Matt remained where he was. 

“You should get some pepper spray or something,” he said softly. 

“I took self defense classes. I actually punched one of the guys last night in the face a couple of times.” She didn’t know why she felt defensive. 

The line of Matt’s jaw went taught. His knuckles were white around his coffee mug. “You have to be careful,” he said after a minute. “Self defense classes are great and all, but what if Daredevil hadn’t shown up?” 

Grace swallowed and looked down, grateful he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks. He was right, she knew, but it still stung. She didn’t want to be seen as weak and incapable anymore. She’d spent years of her life filling that role with Dean. It was one of the reasons she’d liked the self defense classes so much. And it had felt good to hit those men who were trying to hurt her, even though they had overpowered her easily. At least she’d fought back. 

Several defensive retorts passed over her tongue but she bit them all back. Matt meant well. And he probably knew, better than anyone, what it felt like to be defenseless, to have to be extra careful. “I’ll order something online,” she finally said. 

Matt nodded slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said again, more firmly. 

Thankfully, the firm had a busy day and there was no more talk of Grace’s adventures the night before. She wanted to pester Karen with questions about the vigilante, but never had a chance. 

By the time the work day was over, Grace’s head felt like it was splitting in two, and even four cups of coffee was doing nothing to help keep her awake. 

She half-stumbled back to Ryan and Jess’s, waving off the offers for someone to walk with her. It wasn’t that far from the firm, after all, and it wasn’t even dark yet. 

Ryan and Jess were both busy, Max with his grandparents, so Grace was able to languish in the shower for a little longer than normal. By the time she was done and ready for bed, it was dark out. She crawled into her car, bone-tired, and fell asleep much more quickly than usual, not even bothering with dinner. 

That night, she dreamt of red glass eyes and bruised knuckles and calloused fingertips.

Next Chapter

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@zaminoo @yanna-banana @thetrinitytest​ @bellal1 @harry-bowie-mercury​ 

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x original female character #matt murdock x original character #daredevil x oc #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #daredevil x ofc #daredevil x original female character #daredevil x original character #netflix daredevil #daredevil #matt murdock #saved #saved fic #saved daredevil

[agoldengalaxy]

Lapdog

read on Ao3

words: 1983

“Edgeworth cares about no one. He’d replace you in a second.”

Red on the pavement, and red in his eyes, Gumshoe gripped the man’s shoulders tighter. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, pal,” he managed, his voice shaking with rage.

--

“You know, Detective, you needn’t follow me down all of these stairs. I would not blame you if you wanted to take the elevator instead.”

As they reached the bottom of the stairs of the Prosecutor’s Office, Gumshoe turned his head to look up at Miles Edgeworth somewhat quizzically. “I know,” he answered, a smile creeping across his face, “but it’s no fun being all alone!”

For a moment, Gumshoe wondered if he might have seen the other’s lips twitch. Maybe it was almost a smile.

The building was quiet at this time of night. The lobby was lit by a tacky chandelier above their heads, showcasing the smooth wood floor and carefully painted off-white walls. The secretary bid them a good night without even looking up from her computer, raising a hand in a half-hearted farewell. Gumshoe pushed open the large glass door and held it open for the prosecutor, who thanked him and stepped outside into the night air.

Miles’ eyes scanned the empty street. When he exhaled, breath swirled up into the air. “…Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”

Gumshoe was only taken aback for a moment. Though many thought Edgeworth to be cold, mean, and calculating just like von Karma, the detective knew better. Despite the threats to his salary, despite the short temper, Miles Edgeworth was a good man. Gumshoe had always known, but he couldn’t help but think, now, in this moment, he couldn’t have chosen someone better to swear loyalty to.

“Of course, sir. I’m happy you finished all that paperwork,” he replied with a wide grin. “Now you can get home to -”

Click.

Suddenly, he stopped. The night air was suddenly as still as his own breath as he turned his head, noticing a lone figure a couple feet away from Miles’ car. The silhouette raised his arm. “The keys to the car, and you walk,” a hoarse voice demanded.

Miles frowned, his hand twitching by his side but not moving toward his pocket. “I’m afraid that won’t be happening.”

Gumshoe pulled out his own gun, pointing it at the shadow. “Drop it, pal! You’re talking to a detective on the force and the Chief of Prosecutors!”

If that deterred the thief, he didn’t make it obvious. His arm didn’t so much as twitch, and he simply tilted his head. “…I know that. Your pal Edgeworth here isn’t worth the trouble, Detective.”

Anger burned in Gumshoe’s chest. He raised his voice. “Now you listen here! Mr. Edgeworth is a good man! Drop the gun, and your charges won’t be too severe!”

Silence and tension intertwined and curled around their necks like a fog. They didn’t dare look down.

A finger moved just slightly.

“Look out, sir!” Gumshoe grabbed Miles forcefully, shoving him out of the way and stepping out in front. Two bullets flew - one embedded into Gumshoe’s shoulder, the other hit the assailant’s knee. Screaming pain gnawed at the wound, but Gumshoe paid it no attention. While the thief gasped, caught off guard by the bullet, the detective took that moment to leap, tackling the man to the ground. Angrily, as adrenaline pumped through his veins, Gumshoe held down his shoulders and got a good look at the man’s face - he didn’t recognize him.

The man winced in pain, shaking his head. “You’re just his lapdog, and you bleed for him?” From where he hovered over the thief, blood dripped from Gumshoe’s shoulder, splatting quietly onto the pavement. “He cares about no one. He’d replace you in a second.”

Red on the pavement, and red in his eyes, Gumshoe gripped the man’s shoulders tighter. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, pal,” he managed, his voice shaking with rage. “You -”

“Detective Gumshoe.” Miles’ voice, calm as ever, cut through the red. Breath found its way back to his lungs. “You ought to let this man know his rights. I’ve already called for backup.”

Gumshoe blinked. “R-Right.” He cleared his throat, cleared his mind, shifting back into police mode. Before they knew it, sirens filled the air, bathing the otherwise dark street in red and blue. A couple of Gumshoe’s co-workers took the man from him, slapping a pair of handcuffs on to his wrists. They helped him walk, leading him toward the ambulance that had arrived with the cars.

Slowly, Gumshoe stood up, turning to look at Miles, who was staring at him, holding his elbows to his chest. “You ought to go to the hospital, too.”

“Huh?” He glanced down at the wound in his shoulder, which had made a huge stain of red in his green coat. The dull throb that had become of it during his adrenaline-fueled take-down had now evolved into a quiet burn. “Oh. Yeah. Guess you’re right, sir.”

“Detective,” he said immediately, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. “Never mind.” Gumshoe smiled and nodded. He took a step toward the street but immediately stopped, suddenly feeling very dizzy. Against his will, he swayed a bit. “Detective Gumshoe!” In seconds, Miles was at his side, supporting him. “Take it slow.”

They walked toward the ambulance together. His brain felt like mush, but he could make out Miles encouraging him softly, telling him he was almost there. By the time he was strapped into a gurney, his eyes had closed. He slipped into darkness, just after hearing Miles insisting that he ride to the hospital, too.

***

“…so we’ll just wait. Stop pacing, Miles.”

“It’s my fault he was hurt.”

A chair scraped against the floor. “It’s his job to protect you. He’s tough. He’ll pull through. Okay?”

Silence. A quiet sigh.

“Now, please sit and eat something.”

“…Fine.”

***

A high, rhythmic beeping filled the air, muffled at first, though slowly and surely becoming more tangible. He tried to grab onto the sound, to pull himself back up. His next sense gathered the paper-thin blanket against his hand, laying listlessly at his side, and he noticed the overwhelming smell of antiseptics. All that was left to pry his eyes open.

It proved to be surprisingly more difficult than he thought. He first succeeded in a squint, overwhelmed by the bright white light swimming into view above him, but he didn’t give up. After a few more tries, he blinked his eyes open, finding himself in a sterile, white hospital room.

The events that led him here had become somewhat hazy, but he remembered. Slowly, he turned his head just slightly against the pillow, surprised to see two familiar faces.

“Oh, Detective! You’re awake!” The first to speak was Phoenix Wright, looking frazzled but kind as ever. He sat in a chair beside the bed, a ray of sun glinting off the gold band on his finger. Beside him was Miles, who sat with his chin against his hand, clearly asleep. Gray hair fell into his closed eyes, and Gumshoe had to admit, he didn’t think he’d ever seen the man so relaxed.

His gaze slid back to Phoenix. “How long was I out?”

“About a day. They got you in and out of surgery. Apparently, the guy hit one of your arteries, so you lost a lot of blood. They were lucky they got you in at the time they did.” He sighed softly. “How are you feeling?”

Gumshoe paused to assess himself. He glanced up at the bags of IV fluid above him, the needles in his arm, and the heart monitor. “Fine,” he answered honestly, though his gaze slid back to the sleeping prosecutor. “I think they’re pumpin’ me up with pain reliever.”

Laughing softly, Phoenix nodded, pointing to one of the bags. “They are. Glad they’re working.” For a moment there was quiet while he followed Gumshoe’s gaze. “He’s been really worried about you, Detective. Wouldn’t leave your side since we got here.”

Warmth blossomed in his chest at that statement, overtaking the cold voice he remembered hearing earlier. He cares about no one. He’d replace you in a second. Suddenly, a loud ringtone filled the air. Miles stirred, and Phoenix cursed under his breath.

“Sorry, I have to take this. Be right back.” And with that he rushed out into the hall. Just before he closed the door, Gumshoe heard him say Maya’s name.

At the sound of ruffling clothes, Gumshoe’s gaze slowly slid back toward Miles, who seemed to be desperately attempting to save face - not that it mattered to the detective at all. In fact, seeing him this way humanized him a little more. He wondered that if everyone who disliked him could see him like this, would it change anything?

After running his hand through his hair and adjusting his coat, Miles cleared his throat. “How are you feeling, Detective?”

“I’m feeling good,” he answered truthfully, glancing down at his bandaged shoulder. “Pain meds are good to go.”

“I see.”

They regarded each other for a moment. Gumshoe could practically see the gears turning in the other’s head. He wondered if it would be better to stay patient or speak first. He decided on the latter. “What happened to that man? Did you recognize him?”

“They treated his wound and took him into custody for robbery and attempted murder.” He turned his head away, hugging his arms to his chest so tightly that his knuckles whitened around the gold band that matched Phoenix’s. “I…had never seen that man before, but as it turns out, I was the one who declared his older brother guilty many years ago. It seems he has not forgiven me for it.”

The words washed over him for a moment. Gumshoe supposed that was to be expected, but he still didn’t have to like it. He huffed. “There are better ways to go about that, pal,” he mumbled under his breath. So fast he almost missed it, Miles winced.

“…Why did you do that?”

Gumshoe blinked. “Do what?”

“Push me out of the way! You got shot just trying to protect whatever honor I have left. You didn’t have to do that.” Miles still wouldn’t look at him.

The only thing he felt at that moment was confusion. When would Miles understand? “Sir,” he said softly, “it’s my job as a policeman to protect you. A-And I’ve always been sick of people listening to rumors and basing their entire opinion of you on things you’ve done in the past. Sure, maybe you hurt that man, but that doesn’t give him the right to rob and kill you. After all, you’ve been working so hard for retrials from your early days.” He pressed his lips together, then tried a small smile. “You’re my friend, Mr. Edgeworth. I’m always gonna do what’s right by you.”

Miles swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. Somehow, he gripped his arms even tighter than before, slowly dragging his gaze up to Gumshoe’s. His eyes were shining, but when he blinked a few times, they returned to their normal gray. Maybe he had imagined it.

“…Thank you, Detective Gumshoe.”

As if on cue, the door to the room sprang open, and Phoenix, followed by a couple nurses, stepped into the room. Once the nurses checked him over, he cheerily answered all of their questions, thanked them for their hard work, and bid them goodbye as they left.

“How’s Maya?” he asked in the newfound quiet, and Phoenix smiled, resting his hand on top of Miles’.

“She’s good. She’s sending you some well wishes.”

Gumshoe smiled, leaning his head back against the pillow. “When I get outta here, we should go out on the town again.”

The other two exchanged a look, and to his surprise, Miles spoke first. “Very well, but it will be my treat this time, Detective.”

The familiar, comforting warmth settled around him again, and he wondered if Phoenix and Miles could feel it, too. He grinned. “Sounds like a plan, sir.”

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #detective gumshoe #phoenix wright #narumitsu #gumshoe deserves better #anyway #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

[sansxfuckyou]

Food fight

Summary: George gets cut off from making pancakes and in turn Sapnap has to finish cooking, he fucks up big time and neither have the desired meal in the end of it.

Warnings: Food, mock sword fights, swearing, small amount of pain, innuendos, thats about it.

Authors Note: @sobredunia I have no clue how you do it every damn time, but each prompt you create, each and every time, it just shoots motivation directly into my bloodstream, like, my train of is bouncing around my head, and I took foodfight to far.

It was five in the afternoon, and due to life being stressful, breakfast for dinner was chosen. It didn't happen very often that meals commonly reserved for the morning were eaten in the evening in this household, but there were exceptions. And boy oh boy, during those exceptions George did not disappoint in bringing the heat for the food part of the meal.

There he stood beside a pre heating stove with a heating pan beside him, a tray of bacon on the counter as well, half turkey half pork, and in front of him a bowl of batter he was mixing furiously, bananas and chocolate chips and blueberries added in as well. He knew it would taste delicious if no one fucked it up, which is the exact reason he blocked both doors with a chair, aware that if he let Sapnap touch a spoon for even a second things would go wrong fast.

And then it happened.

A buzz against his thigh, a specific pattern of vibrations that tore him from his trance in an unceremonious fashion. He placed the wooden spoon beside the bowl, taking a deep breath to regain his train of thought before checking to see who was calling.

It was a number he recognized to be that of the landlord, did their rent get bumped or something?

He still answered the call and tried to keep formalities and questions light until he had turned off the stove and the heating element on top, making sure to close each cupboard door as well, aware someone would hit their head on it. He then unbarricaded the kitchen door, Sapnap barreling in ready to start a dialogue, silencing at the swift and silent gesture to the phone pressed to Georges ear, instead Sapnap stood silent until he was addressed. Normally, the door was never unbarricaded when George was cooking when Sapnap was in the house, he knew it had to be something important.

"Sounds lovely, could you give me a second? Thanks," George said before pressing his hand to the microphone as he turned to face Sapnap with a grave look, the words he spoke laced with venom despite the twos relationship status. "I am entrusting you to finish preparing the batter while I discuss the rent with our landlord and if I catch you pouring roasted garlic into it, I will cut your nut sack off with a steak knife and roast it in boiling car oil."

Sapnap nodded silently, clearly afraid, George gave a soft smile before placing a gentle peck on the cheek and making his way off to the singular almost soundproofed room in the house.

Now, see, Sapnap was scared to even touch the food at this point, knowing full well that if he messed up he would be paying dearly, not to the point that George threatened though, George had a soul. Of course, the fear coursing through his veins causing his face to turn a deep scarlet from the tips of his ears down to his neck would do little to deter him from trying to help.

And with that he made his way over to the counter, grabbing the spoon before gingerly licking it.

A sudden crash sounded off in his head at the detestable taste, it made him recoil in disgust, almost made him gag. He slowly placed the spoon back down on the counter before grabbing a spare chair and pulling it over, he wasn't exactly short, but their home was tall if that makes any sense. He shook as he tried to balance himself on the chair, still unable to reach where George kept the best ingredients, right on top of the cupboards. He pulled off his socks before carefully placing his feet on the counter, gripping on the cupboard door for support as he swayed, only to have it swing open as he leaned back just a bit, the door came clean off at the hinges as he fell back on the floor with an awkwardly loud thud, a spark of pain shooting through his back, a bit more than it should've.

He released a groan of pain as he tossed the cupboard door aside, then he was greeted with the sound of rushing footsteps, George rushing in, his call on hold. He had a panicked and almost afraid look on his face, grip on his phone nearly enough to shatter it if he saw blood on the ground, then he saw Sapnap.

"Oh, you just fell down, again," George said with a sigh, still worried, but very aware that this was something that has happened before, voice already reverting to venom towards Sapnap. "Were you looking for the forbidden ingredient again?"

"Uh, no?" Sapnap responded, George pinched the bridge of his nose, phone in the other hand.

"Look, I'll only be a minute or two, don't you dare screw it up now, you've done perfectly so far, aside from falling on your back and probably fucking up your spine," George said, Sapnaps eyes widened as he realized that could happen. "Just don't mess up again, we need to have a talk after supper anyways."

"Ok." Sapnap said almost to quietly for George to hear before he left, Sapnap sitting up afterwards, aware he was running out of time to fix the batter, he stood up shortly after making sure none of his vertebrae were out of place, hearing a few cracks that made him whimper in pain.

Within a quick minute he was already balanced on the countertop, one foot resting in the sink that was half full of sudsy water, the other right beside the still hot pan on the still hot element, almost burning himself in the process. He blindly ran his hand across the top of the cupboard, his finger getting caught in a mouse trap in the process, that caused a quickly snuffed out yelp of pain as he slowly removed it before returning to his search. He quickly found the glass bottle he was looking for before bring it down slowly as to not knock his balance off, then he slowly crawled down, rereading the label.

'Spice on the way in, hell on the way out: Carolina Reaper Coco'

The flavor combo didn't make much sense, but the message did, and he sure had experienced it first hand more than once, he twisted off the cap with a retched sound being produced due to dry sauce on the edges, he was greeted with a pungent odor that made him recoil.

Oh yeah, that was what he was looking for.

He slid the bowl back and forth a bit before grabbing the spoon and stirring it once again, hoping the slightly dried consistency would be ok. He then lifted the bottle of hot sauce and tilted it just a bit, so he would get only a few drops at a time, knowing that if he added to much it would be inedible. As the scent of the sauce permeated the room, his eyes started to water, he lifted the bottle so it would stop dropping in the sauce, he spun the batter, being hit with the same aroma. He took a small taste test finding that he could barely taste the sauce having it been diluted with so much batter, he decided to pour in more.

He heard the sound of a door opening, George talking a bit, then total silence as he looked back to find George staring at him in horror, disappointment and worry due to the odor induced tears rolling down Sapnaps face.

"Fucking god Sapnap, I love you I really do, but just this once I hope you have a plan to escape my wrath." George threatened, each word ringing true, Sapnap had nothing planned, at least he didn't add roasted garlic this time.

With nothing left in stock, he reached into the bowl of batter before flinging the handful of pancake batter at George, aiming for the face but hitting his partners neck. The odor quickly had an effect, causing Georges eyes to water as he slowly scraped the batter from his neck, the thick substance like webbing between his fingers, he couldn't help but 'slurp' some of it off, slurp being the only viable word to describe what he did, the act caused Sapnaps face to darken in a shade of red that made George smirk. George flung the the remaining batter on his hands back at Sapnap who barely dodged before retaliating with a quick toss of turkey bacon lathered in pancake batter, George ducking, a piece of bacon getting caught in his hair.

That's when George started to circle towards the fridge, Sapnap grabbing the bowl of batter and circling away, both around the kitchen table. George grabbed and stacked the two trays of bacon, turkey on top, a bit of batter smeared on some pieces, he held up a piece in one hand, Sapnap loaded his hand with thick batter as well.

George chickened first, throwing a few pieces turkey bacon at Sapnap who dodged most of them before retaliating with handfuls of batter, one of which getting stuck in Georges hair. As they 'took turns' in their food fight they each slowly got covered with batter as the room was desecrated in uncooked pancakes, Sapnap somehow getting covered in more than George.

It was after about fifteen minutes that George pulled two leeks from the fridge, tossing one to Sapnap before the two initiated a mock swordfight on the table.

Sapnap had one arm behind his back, wielding his like a short sword, while George used both hands as though it was claymore. Sapnap parried each slash as he was pushed around the table before lunging at George with a few attacks that made little contact. It didn't take long for George to have his sword-leek held horizontally while Sapnap pressed down further in an attempt to toss it away.

In an instant the two where on the batter smeared ground, laughing, a piece of turkey bacon still in Georges hair and a piece of pork bacon somewhere on Sapnaps torso. George was leaned against Sapnap, his partner sticky due to being saturated with batter, but that didn't deter him from latching onto one of Sapnaps arms.

"God, you need a bath." George said between laughter, the odor of hot sauce making him tear up a bit.

"So do you, hot shot." Sapnap said, flicking Georges forehead lightly as he rolled his eyes, resting his leg on top of Georges.

"I mean, we could share a nice, hot, long, steamy-" George said, listing off reason after reason until he was met with the taste of Sapnaps batter covered hand, the hot sauce instantly taking dominance as flavor, he was sputtering a bit.

"No way, I'm still starved, I'd rather be thrown on a spit roast and slow cooked over an open flame than have sex with you," Sapnap said, quickly recovering. "Not when you have bacon in your hair, at least, like, c'mon, that's docking at least twenty seductiveness points."

"Ha ha, very funny mister so much batter in my hair you can't tell it was brown," George said before reaching up to touch Sapnaps hair, running a hand through the batter dense locks, ending up with a handful of batter. "Really though, you should go take a shower."

"What? I don't even get a single battery kiss from the love of my life, my one and only, the reason I wake up in the morning?!" Sapnap wailed, layering on the dramatics extra thick, George rolled his eyes before gripping Sapnaps chin to the best of his ability with a hand covered in batter before pulling him into a short, spicy due to hot sauce, somewhat squishy kiss, it was an odd feeling for both of them.

"There, now go shower while I make food." George said before standing up, so did Sapnap, but he was quick to speak.

"What happened to lets share a nice, hot, long, steamy soak, does it not matter anymore because I'm having a shower? How picky George, so britishly picky!" Sapnap said in an overexaggerated tone, turning away from George and bring a forearm to his head in a dramatic fashion.

"Maybe after supper I'll think about it," george said, face darking hue just a bit, but it was hard to tell with the amount of batter smeared on his face. "Now go shower, you smell like Reaper peppers."

"Ok, ok, see you soon, I hope you miss me."

"Sapnap, the bathrooms literally three rooms away from the kitchen."

"The sentiment is the same!"

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #georgenotfound #sapnap #sapnotfound #the gays #dream smp #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #rpf fic #tw rpf #tw food #tw swearing #tw pain #tw innuendo #tw implied sex #tw kissing #tw threats #tw dsmp

[sinner-as-saint]

Come Home.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Bucky comes home to find you and your son asleep in your bed and his heart damn near explodes with how much he loves his family. And after putting your baby to sleep, Bucky proceeds to show you just how grateful he is to have you and how much he loves you... 

Themes: fluff, soft smut

WARNING: FLUFF

a/n: just a quick dose of fluff because we all need some, ily! 

Bucky checked his phone the moment he slid into the backseat of his car. Without a word said, his driver knew that he would be going home. 

Bucky smiled at the text you just sent him, attached to which was a picture of you and your son cuddling on your bed with big smiles on both your faces. The text read: ‘Showered, PJs on and we’re ready for cuddles! Come home quick, we love you!’

Just the thought of returning home to his little family which he adored so much made all his fatigue fade away. He couldn’t imagine life without the two of you in it, he would die and kill for you without hesitation. 

Half an hour later he was home. He made sure to have a quick word with his guards outside - as always thanking them for ensuring the safety of his family when he’s not around during the day. He walked inside and locked the door and rushed upstairs, excited to see you and his son, already taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He walked into your bedroom and he immediately melted at the sight on your bed. 

Both you and your son, in matching PJs, fell asleep while waiting on him. You were sprawled carelessly on the soft mattress and your son fell asleep on top of you, holding on to your hip. Bucky let out a soft chuckle as he carefully stepped closer to you two, noticing the bedtime story books amidst the books you were currently reading, as well as the bar of chocolate on the bedside which you and your son probably shared - things your son inherited from you; the love for books and stories, and a sweet tooth. 

Bucky leaned over, kissing you both carefully on the forehead. He always found it adorable how both you and your son slept similarly; lips slightly parted, snoring softly. He decided not to disturb you two any further so he slipped into the bathroom as quietly as possible. 

Once he stepped out of the shower, he had to force himself to disturb your baby boy slightly because he needed to be put in his own bed so he could sleep more comfortably. But also, Bucky desperately needed some time alone with you. 

He placed one knee gently on the bed, bending a little and slipping his hands under the little sleeping frame of your son so as to pick him up as gently as possible. “Come on bud, we gotta put you in your own bed.” He whispered, mainly to himself as he detached the 3-year-old toddler from your hip. “Such a momma’s boy,” Bucky muttered under his breath when he realized that your son was putting up a gentle fight even in his sleep as his father tried to get him off of your leg. 

As soon as he felt the loss of contact from your body heat, your son whimpered quietly in his father’s arms, still asleep as he made an attempt to reach out for you again with his little arms. Bucky smiled. “I know, I know.” He shushed your son as best he could, rocking him gently and praying to God he doesn’t wake up. 

“I’m just as obsessed with your mom as you are. I hate being away from her too.” He whispered to your son as he slowly walked out of your bedroom and crossed the hallway to get to the little man’s room. “But hey, you hang out with her all day. Now it’s my turn.” He whispered, placing your son down on the smaller, equally as comfy bed. 

He positioned the pillows just how he liked it and tucked your baby in bed, kissing his forehead. “Good night little man, daddy loves you.” He turned the soft night light on before leaving the room, closing the door just halfway.  

Bucky was almost giddy as he slid into bed behind you. He pulled the covers over both of you before pulling you closer and spooning you from behind. You stirred gently, recognizing his touch instantly as his bare chest pressed against your back. He wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you into him even more and kissed along your exposed neck. 

You woke up giggling as he nibbled on your skin. You kept your eyes closed and just relished his touch. “Hi handsome.” You whispered. Bucky responded with a soft moan, kissing and licking along your throat. You immediately reached out to feel the spot beside you, where you remember your son had fallen asleep earlier. “Where’s-,”

Bucky replied before you even finished your sentence. “Already put him to bed. I found him holding on to your leg like a little koala bear when I came in.” 

You let out a chuckle. “God, I love him. I love him so much it hurts.” 

Bucky hummed, agreeing before he bit down on your shoulder. “Spare some love for me. I helped make him.” He spoke of his son fondly as always, yet you noticed the ever-present, playful jealousy in his tone. 

You giggled, “Oh of course. You’re part of the reason why he’s here. Thank you for that.” You turned in his arms to face your husband. You reached up and caressed his cheek softly. “Thank you.” You whispered again. 

Bucky smiled, which quickly morphed into a smirk. “I can think of so many ways in which you can thank me.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours before you could say anything. He felt you smile into the kiss as he deepened it, slipping his tongue into your mouth; licking and earning soft moans out of you. 

He wrapped his arms tighter around your warm body as he gently pushed you onto your back and climbed on top of you, not breaking the kiss yet. He hissed in pleasure when you playfully bit his lip, filling his mind with filth. He pulled away gently, looking down at you with his piercing blue eyes. “I’ve missed you all day.” 

You noticed the way he discreetly rolled his hips against you, rubbing his erection against your clothed core. Even through the layers of clothing you could feel his hunger; thick, large, hard. You were certain that by now your stare must be just as filled with lust and love as his was. 

“Show me how much.” You whispered, lips already parted as you awaited his kiss. 

Unable to resist, he leaned down for a brief, deep kiss before pulling away to stare at you again. “Where do you want me, baby?” His voice was deeper, words dripping with desire as his body heat wrapped around you. He was needy, rubbing his erection more and more in between your legs as if pleading you to let him pleasure you. 

You groaned, loving his gentle teasing. “I don’t mind, I just want you.” 

He chuckled, your words stroking his ego. “I love you.” He mumbled, lowering his mouth to yours again; kissing your lips before moving slowly down your body, his lips kissing down your body as his fingers slowly unbuttoned your top. He stopped and stared at your chest shamelessly once your top was off. He straddled you and reached up to cup both your breasts in his large hands and fondled with them before looking up at you. “Did they get bigger? I feel like they did.” 

That earned a loud chuckle out of you. “Perv.” You mumbled while sliding your fingers into his thick, soft hair which he had also passed on to your son. 

Bucky smirked before leaning in to kiss down the valley of your cleavage, still toying with your breasts while occasionally rolling and pinching your nipples, making you arch your back off the bed. He pulled away after a while, and kept kissing down your body until he knelt in between your legs. 

He gently lowered your shorts down your legs; getting rid of them and kissed your inner thighs once you were completely naked under him. No matter how many times he had seen you naked, your body, your warmth - it always excited him just the same as the first time.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath. 

You opened your eyes to look down at him with nothing but love, and desire in your stare. There was a time in your life when you questioned whether or not one day someone would be capable of loving you with all their heart, despite your flaws and imperfections. You wondered if you’d ever be one of the lucky ones whose partners looked at them with pure love, devotion and affection. That question was answered now because Bucky always looked at you like you hung the moon itself. 

It didn’t have to be said, he knew what you were thinking. He always knew. He placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them like he belonged there and inched his face closer to your already dripping core. 

You could feel his warm breath hit your wet skin as he brought his mouth closer to your wet lips. He held your stare as he peppered kisses around your glistening core. You moaned quietly when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your throbbing clit. You felt your heart flutter as a familiar warmth washed over you. 

Your hand immediately flew to his slightly damp hair, and you grabbed a fistful of it, tugging on it gently as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning another moan out of you. 

He didn’t hold back, he ate you out eagerly; satiating both your hunger. Bucky looked up at you again at the same time as you looked down, and you saw the pure hunger in his eyes. And he saw the need in yours. So he gave you his all. He had you squirming, moaning - a complete mess under him in no time.

Your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled as you felt his tongue fucking you gently. He locked his arms around your thighs and pushed your core further into his mouth, making you cry out of pleasure. He couldn’t get enough of you; your taste, your warmth, the way you moaned, the fact that he knew no one else would ever make you feel this way ever again. It drove him wild. 

With a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you coming undone; gushing out all over his tongue as he lapped up whatever you gave him; making you gasp and moan. The wet sounds erupting whenever his mouth sucked on your sensitive clit were downright filthy and it only made you want more of him. 

You felt him kissing his way up your body; leaving warm, wet kisses all over your skin, until he reached your mouth again. His kiss was gentle. When he pulled away, you finally opened your eyes to stare into his deep blue eyes. 

His stare was feral, he was hungry. “I need you.” He was in a bit of a daze as he thought of the last time he had you - yesterday morning - and that felt like ages ago. 

You reached up and touched his cheek gently. “I’m all yours, Buck.” You reminded him. 

That was enough. You were his, and he loved you more and more each day. And he showed you just that. He leaned in for a kiss again. He kissed your skin; from your mouth to your neck as he lowered his sweatpants and carefully slid into you. Your walls welcomed him perfectly and he moaned under his breath as he filled you up entirely, inch by inch. Your warmth wrapped around him, gripping him and reminding him that he was yours. He would always belong to you because no one else would ever make him feel this way. 

You whined in pleasure and your back arched off the bed just as you felt his thick cock filling you up; snug inside you. He felt familiar, yet just as intoxicating each time. He laced your fingers together and pinned both your entwined hands above your head as he sped up into you. You frowned in pleasure and threw your head back as he started rocking in and out of you. He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly.

The air around you got warmer again, his movements were gentle, and passionate and loving. His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting and intimate. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d mumble his name under your breath. 

“You’re all mine.” He whispered against your lips, and leaned in to kiss you deeply while he deliberately stroked his cock against your walls as slowly as he could just to make you whine and whimper even more under him. “Look at me,” he growled quietly under his breath. 

You immediately opened your eyes and stared into his. His stare was intense, but loving as always. His lips were full and swollen as he looked down at you like you were as important as the air he breathed. You felt his cock hit all the right spots each time he moved against you, and his lips parted and he groaned the moment your walls started clenching around him. 

He moaned at how tight you felt around his throbbing cock, and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for me, baby...” He whispered, voice strained and gravelly; which sent chills down your body. 

His voice was enough to take you right to the edge. You felt the pressure and the familiar, sweet pain in between your legs; making you gasp for air and your walls clench violently around him. “Come with me…” You moaned, wantonly. 

His hands reached down and grabbed your sides gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you; his cock slipping in and out of you with ease. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other. He held you as close to him as he could, pushing his face into you and nuzzling your neck as he fucked you relentlessly. 

With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone; gushing out all around him. You came around his cock with a loud moan; grinding against him hungrily while he moaned against your lips as he came right after you.

You were both gasping for air; hearts racing and holding onto each other as you came down from your high together. Bucky was careful not to crush you under him and moved to lay beside you for a moment, catching his breath before he pulled you into him again, spooning you from behind like he had earlier. 

You pulled the covers back up on top of your warm bodies and you closed your eyes, basking in his warmth. 

He leaned over to kiss your cheek again and playfully nipped at your earlobe, you pulled away giggling again. 

“I love you, baby.” He murmured into your ear. He would never get tired of saying it because he meant it, with all his heart and he knew that you knew. 

“I love you more.” You sighed, thankful for him. “Now,” you spoke as you turned around in his arms, facing him yet again, “Tell me about your day…”

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff

[kimnjss]

uncharted territory | kth

⤑  series: kinda hot

⤑ pairing: campus flirt!taehyung x sweet girl!reader

⤑ genre: lmao i don’t even know... angst? smut?

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 7.5K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: use of alcohol and weed, cursing, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, over-the-shirt nipple play, dry humping, ruined orgasms.

⤑ A/N: hihihi! just here to remind you how much i appreciate all of you guys reading this story nd getting as invested as you are!! don’t hesitate to let me know what’s on your mind - no matter what it is ., feedback is my favorite!!

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:07

Hoseok is leaning handsomely against the side of his car when you're stepping out. Arms crossed over his chest as his teeth nibble on his lower lip, eyes seeming to sparkle when he's looking at you. The shine only getting brighter when the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. Body lifting from the side of the car to pull the passenger's door open, gesturing to it with his hand.

“Ooh, check out the gentleman,” You're teasing with a laugh, ducking into your seat as he rolls his eyes. Jogging around the front of the car until he's sinking into the spot beside you, taking another moment to let his eyes travel over your body.

Nodding slightly to himself before he's grinning, “You look hot,” His warm hand landing on your thigh to give it a little squeeze before he's pulling from his parking spot and onto the road.

Compliments from Hoseok came sparingly, wasn't really one to gush over your appearance with mere words. He was more of a show-er than a talker in that sense. So when he was paying you a compliment, it was never anything all that deep. Never once compared the brightness of your eyes to the sunlight or whatever Shakespearean shit he could muster up. He was just going with what he thought and you appreciated that.

It kept things from getting confusing between the two of you. If he was constantly dotting on you and telling you how amazing he thought you were (and you were amazing, no doubt about that), but if he was telling you.. it would definitely put a damper on your whole arrangement. You were a simple girl to be completely honest. Words got to you, you'd be head over heels in love if he was calling you beautiful every chance he got.

Hot was good. Hot was fine. Hot was safe. Because catching feelings for Hoseok? You'd be better off standing in the middle of the road waiting to be run over. And then getting the driver to put it in reverse. Hoseok was brutal when it came to girls and relationships, didn't waste time on feelings or the overly emotional.

A bit of an asshole, but that was why you liked him. He knew how to keep things fun and exciting, loved being surrounded by people. But he wouldn't hesitate to tell someone to fuck off if the circumstances called for it. He was cool. To put it simply. A very cool guy taking you out on a date. Anyone would be giddy about that, it was Jung Hoseok for crying out loud!

“What you got a taste for?” His eyes don't move from the road in front of him. One hand steering the wheel while the other keeps its hold on your thigh. Skin easily warming under his touch, you force yourself to focus on what he's saying.

Having to keep yourself from suggesting, (for the first time in person but the eighth(?) to him) skipping dinner and going back to your place to make proper use of your time. You bite that down. He wanted to take you out to eat, so you planned to humor him. Eat with him so he can eat you out. Simple.

“Anything, really. You like pasta. Should we just go to that Italian place?” With a slight nod, he's directing the car toward the restaurant. The smile on his face lets you know that he had been secretly hoping to get to eat there tonight. It was his favorite place to go, knew the menu like the back of his hand.

So he's pleased that you're suggesting it.

The car ride is filled with soft music and playful banter about whatever comes to mind. He's challenging you, saying things that he knows will get under your skin just to hear you argue why he's wrong. Laughing as you outline all the reasons why mints and chocolate should be far away from each other.

He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leads you into the restaurant. Still egging you on with why he thinks you're wrong, laughing at the way your face twists up at him. Pausing only briefly to get your table, but the debate is in full swing the moment the two of you are settled across from each other.

There's a subtle type of competitiveness in his tone, paired with the playful smile on his face. Not even a full hour here with him and you were starting to see what Jimin was talking about. Being out with Hoseok, talking beyond where you should do it next, was something you never considered. 

It's nice.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:59

Conversation between the two of you doesn't die down even after your food is being set down in front of you. You're only now noticing that you never really talked to Hoseok before. You were friends, of course, that's what the 'F' in FWB stood for, but you were more like group friends.

Never really hung out alone until some months ago when you were starting this whole thing up. And fucking didn't really account for all that much talking. You knew nothing about him aside from the fact he was Taehyung's asshole womanizer roommate. No idea how witty, how animated, how attractive he could be.

It made you want him even more.

He's in the middle of explaining the King Henry VIII drama he had seen the other night, which is also surprising. He almost seemed 'too cool' to be this interested in a period piece starring Natalie Portman. But he's speaking so excitedly, that you can't help but hang on to every word from his lips. All until your phone is flashing on the table beside you, Taehyung's smiling face lighting up the screen.

The buzz steals both of your attention from the conversation, your brow furrowing slightly. A part of you knows that he's only calling for nonsense, probably in the midst of a fight with his girlfriend and he's calling for you to tell him he's right. It's hardly ever an emergency when he's calling you, so there should be no problem with letting his call go to voicemail.

Especially this close to the end of your date, you'd be heading back home with Hoseok in no time. Plus he could just text you if it was something important. There was no reason to answer, and yet, you can't keep your hand from reaching for the device. Shooting an apologetic smile over at Hoseok.

“He knows I'm with you... he wouldn't call if-,” The nod of Hoseok's head cuts you off, waving you away with a smile to take your call. And you're excusing yourself quickly, pressing the phone to your ear once you're far enough away from the table.

He better have his dick caught in a mousetrap or something to justify interrupting your dinner. “Tae. What's going on?” You listen, for any telling sounds of things being out of the ordinary. All you hear is the hum of the TV and his heavy breathing hitting the line.

“Yn, you've gotta get over here.” There's an urgency in his voice that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Why? What's going on?” It's probably something stupid, it usually is when it comes to Taehyung. But curiosity has already set in and you find yourself thinking of how to tell Hoseok you have to go. 

“I can't just tell you... you have to come,”

Groaning into the phone, your hand lifts to pinch the base of your nose. A deep sigh leaving your lips. “Tae. I'm out right now. If this isn't urgent-”

He's quick to cut your words, “It really can't wait.” He almost sounds serious, which has the slight annoyance you feel melting away. “Okay, okay. I'll be there in a minute,” Quick to hang up the phone and head back over to the table.

Hoseok has his head bowed, full attention on the plate of lasagna as he shovels forkfuls into his mouth. Reaching for his glass as you slip back into your seat, gulping down his water. And you're two seconds from telling him that you have to go when he's reaching for his napkin, wiping the corner of his lips.

“Taehyung needs you to rush over?” How he was able to just guess that is beyond you, but you're nodding your head a sheepish smile taking over your features. “He says it's urgent,” You genuinely feel bad. Even though things between Hoseok weren't any deeper than hooking up, you still had agreed to come out with him. To stay out with him.

To leave in the middle of it (not to mention before you could wrap everything up and go back home) felt shitty. You were having a good time getting to know him, but if you didn't go see what was going on with Taehyung, you knew it would bother you for the rest of the night.

Despite everything, Hoseok seems to understand. Insisting you finish the rest of your risotto before he's paying the bill. He even keeps up with the bubbly conversation from earlier, enjoying the sound of your laughter all the way to the car. Guiding you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

He lets you choose the music and hums along with the songs you play. It's not long before he's pulling up in front of his house, car staying on as he steps on the brake. You wait for him to put the car in park and when he doesn't, you're shooting a confused look in his direction.

“You're not coming in?”

He's quick to shake his head, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I'm gonna go see what's up with those girls in building E.” Oh. Right. You almost forgot for a second who you were dealing with. Jung Hoseok, notorious fuck boy. If he wasn't sleeping with you, then he'd just find someone else to do it with.

Feeling bad for cutting your date short was useless. “See you later, then.” He meets your words with a nod, waiting patiently for you to get out of his car. Spares a moment to lift his hand in a wave before he's speeding down the road.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 20:21

Taehyung is sat on the couch when you enter the house. Hunched over a bowl with chopsticks in hand. Torso bare and hair falling in a ruffled mess around his face. He doesn't budge at the sound of the door, too focused on pushing long strings of spicy noodles into his mouth.

He could've at least put together a fake emergency if he was going to call you over like this. Pretended his arm was broken or something, instead of coolly sitting on the couch trying to gulp down his beer around the mouthful of Ramen.

“Hey! What's so urgent? Why are you half-naked?” Your loud voice startles him, droplets of beer falling from his lips and rolling down his chest. He swallows, reaching forward to grab up a napkin, using it to wipe at his well worked on pecs. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his hand, long fingers brushing the droplets from his tanned skin. It must be the anticipation of getting fucked tonight because you're finding it hard to tear your gaze from the ripples of his stomach. “I'm in from the gym,” He explains the no shirt, the tightness in his arms that have fallen victim to your greedy stare. Flexing obviously as he reaches for his drink again, taking a few sips before he's picking up his bowl. His chest tenses with the movement.

Has he always been this... wow? Quite literally staring in the middle of the room, greedily enjoying the sight of your best friend without his shirt on. Yet, it's not the first time you've seen him sans shirt. Countless sleepovers and pool parties, but his bare stomach seemed different now.

Seriously. Did he always have abs like that?

You're forcing yourself to look away, face grimacing at the loud burp he lets out. Enough to snap you from your thoughts, wherever they were going was uncharted territory. And you had no interest in exploring that, especially when you were supposed to be annoyed with him!

“What's the problem? Why'd you make me rush over?” Wearily, you step closer to him. Eyes scanning over his body in a less pervy way, trying to detect any sign of injury. Maybe even a paper cut a little too deep. “Are you okay?” Your face inches from his, still searching.

He's laughing, hand lifting to rest on your forehead, pushing your head back slightly. “I'm fine. Want some?” Taehyung lifts the bowl between the two of you. And your gaze drops to the spicy scent. And normally you'd be letting out an excited whoop, accepting his generous offer and plopping down beside him.

But right now, all you are is annoyed. Annoyed and frustrated. If it wasn't for him, no doubt you'd be off somewhere with Hoseok, minutes from having your eyes rolled back, nails scraping against his skin. Instead, you're here, no emergency in sight. You shaved for this! Matched your lingerie for this! What a waste.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? I was out with Hoseok, Taehyung.” As if he didn't know. And he had the audacity, to sit there, slurping his noodles as if he wasn't at fault for this annoying ache in the pit of your stomach. Something that would've been long taken care of if it wasn't for him.

His shoulders lift in an uninterested shrug, jaw falling slack as he shovels another mouthful into his mouth. “Well... now you're not. It's extra spicy. Your favorite,” He's offering more food up to you and all you do is roll your eyes, letting out a frustrated huff.

“You're fucking ridiculous,” You scoff, hands rummaging through the contents of your purse until your fingers are catching onto your phone. “I'm calling Hoseok,” You announce for no real reason, especially because he acts as if he hasn't heard your words. Attention back on the hot bowl in his lap.

He's being weird and you don't know what it is. Noticed it in doses these past few days and assumed it would just blow over... but he just seemed to be acting more and more out of character the more time passed. It confused you. And you hated being confused.

Part of you was convinced that it had something to do with him now knowing that you're sleeping with his roommate. The side comments, inadvertently trying to cock block, and now this being proof enough. But there was another part of you... a much smaller, poorly trained part, that was convinced these were the actions of a jealous man.

What would he have to be jealous of, right? It wasn't like he wanted to be the one sleeping with Hoseok. Well, debatable... but seriously, the way he's been acting lately has led you to believe that there was something else going on that he wasn't telling you. Tae's known the guys you've fucked around with before and never has he acted so... stiff?

Something changed. Something was different. And you can't help but wonder if the picture incident had something to do with it. Highly unlikely, as Joon said, he has probably already forgotten about it. But, nothing else made sense.

Hoseok doesn't answer. Not like you actually expected him to. He went to 'see what's up with the girls in Building E'. No doubt busy with that, why would he answer his phone? “Come on, Yn.” Taehyung is beside you now, you're not sure when he stood up, but you can smell the sweetness of his body spray. Even after the time, he spent in the gym.

“Listen, I'm sorry I interrupted you.” His hand is reaching to lower your phone, halting your request for an Uber. “...but you're here now. Just stay. Relax.” Flashing that breathtaking smile of his and it's becoming apparent how he gets away with so much. This boy knew how to use his looks to his advantage, there was no denying that.

But, you're not easily fooled. “You can't just interrupt my dates because you're lonely,” Some of the bite is gone from your tone. Not entirely sure how upset with him you really were. Of course, calling you out when he knew you were with someone else was shitty... but it was Taehyung!

A terrible reason, but the best one you could come up with. There was no way staying mad at him was an option, when he has done the reverse many times with you involved. He's smirking at you, picking up on the anger melting away from your features. “So it was a date. You told me it was just dinner,” He teases.

Not entirely pissed at him anymore, but that didn't mean you'd just let his stupidity slide. This was the second time he's interfered with your much needed Vitamin D and it was about time he heard something about it. “Just dinner. A date. A fucking square dance. Taehyung, you can't just cut in because you want.” He's looking at you funny, this dazed expression that you've never seen directed to you before. From him.

It makes your heart stutter, so you ignore it. “What if I did the same with you? If you were out with Ailee and I called you up with some stupid excuse?” He doesn't even hesitate, dark eyes glued to yours. A stare so intense, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I'd come running,” The deepness of his voice and the seriousness of his tone has your breath hitching.

There was no way this was happening. You were used to flirty Taehyung, got pretty good at compartmentalizing your feelings when it came to the Taehyung that you dealt with on a day-to-day basis. But this... this was different. Uncharted territory, indeed. The way he was looking at you? Talking to you? Nothing like you've ever handled before when it came to him.

No idea how you were supposed to react, so you decide to just leave to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of him. “I'm leaving. Goodnight, Taehyung. Call your girlfriend.” A halfhearted request, you're really just reminding yourself that he has one. And while 'The Other Woman' was a great song, that wasn't you.

“She broke up with me like an hour ago,” Again? You want to say, feigning disbelief. Their routine breakups were far from surprising and they always ended up in the same way: them back together and holed up in Taehyung's room for days on end. Only to end in a pointless fight that would repeat the cycle.

They were always broken up, but that didn't mean they were done with each other. It never meant that. “Please, stay.” He's pouting obnoxiously, so you're confused why you find it so cute. Fingers laced with yours as he lightly shakes your arm. “I miss hanging out with you,” Puppy dog eyes aimed right at your heart.

He's not wrong. It's been a little while since the two of you just hung out. Lounged around in sweats, ate, and watched bad TV. And it was very unlikely that Hoseok would be returning your call. Jimin is surely busy with Jungkook or something. You'd just be going home to sit around and do exactly what you could do here.

“Fine.” Eyes rolling to exaggerate your annoyance. “Go make another packet while I change,” Soft hair bounces as he nods his head, turning to pick up his half-empty bowl from the coffee table, carrying it into the kitchen.

You're halfway up the stairs before he's calling out to you, smiling when he sees your head poke around the corner. “I'm really sorry I ruined your date. That was not cool,” There's sincerity in his tone and in his eyes, every last bit of annoyance or frustration you felt dissipating at the sight.

“It's fine,” The prettiest smile he's ever seen pushes onto your lips, nearly stealing his breath away. “I'll just have to text Hoseok and explain your issue with separation,” Giggling at your own lighthearted joke and he's matching the sound. 

Silently praying you hurry upstairs so he can get his heart in check. So he could think. Something he's been skipping out on that since the moment he picked up his phone and decided to call you.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 21:43

You're wearing basketball shorts. His basketball shorts. Paired with a sports bra that you must've left here for one reason or another. It takes everything in him not to zero in on the jiggle of your ass as you pass him. The pebble of your nipples pushing against the fabric. You always complained about how cold his apartment was.

He tries not to stare as you stretch to pull a bowl from the cupboard, laughing out loud when you realize that he's already taken one down for you. Thanking him as you move to stand close. Your cheeks are red and irritated from the quick way you removed your makeup with the dried-out wipes you left in his bathroom. Hair let out of the tight ponytail, cascading down your back in pretty waves.

It's not until you're pinning him with a furrowed brow and an upturn of your upper lip, does he realize he's literally gawking at you. With this unmistakable love-struck look in eyes. “Why are looking at me like that?” Spoken while plucking a piece of meat from the pan and pushing it into your mouth.

Caught and he doesn't even think of trying to backtrack. With a shrug of his shoulders, he's turning his attention back to the food in front of him. “I don't know. You just look beautiful or whatever,” He can hardly look at you as the words leave his lips, afraid you'll catch the blush on his cheeks.

“Or whatever?” You joke with a laugh, ignoring the flip of your stomach at the compliment. Instead, you move to the fridge, retrieving a couple of eggs while chastising him on forgetting the best part. Not sure what was up with him, but you refuse to let yourself get carried away.

You've spent so long accepting that he has and only will see you as a friend. Best friend, even. And just because he was throwing a few compliments your way didn't mean that everything all of a sudden changed. Nothing has changed. The two of you were still in the same spot you had been two years ago.

 Taehyung serves you with a smile ten minutes later, fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than normal. Not long enough to be weird, but definitely long enough to get the wheels turning in your brain. And then he's plopping down across from you like nothing, head ducked as he takes the first steamy bites of his food.

It takes everything in him not to profess his unclear feelings. Trying to limit how often he looks at you, censoring his thoughts as they teeter between mushy and cringe. It's hard with the way you're joking between bites the way you always do, he can't help but notice how pretty you are.

He felt lucky to have you like this. Even if it wasn't truly having you. Just the fact that you were comfortable enough around him to be like this. Even if it had been years, it felt different now somehow.

Everything felt different since he's started to notice little things about you that he failed to see all along. Your cute habit of flicking and tossing your hair as you spoke, more often with how animated you got. How your eyes lit up when you were excited. That tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth, which only made an appearance when you were laughing really hard.

On top of it all, he was noticing how obvious you were. Not exactly sure when it clicked in his mind and it could very well be his ego talking, but he was starting to feel like he wasn't the only one keeping a mental scrapbook. The more attention he paid to you and your little mannerisms, the more he picked up on the fact that you were doing the same.

Whenever he'd bite his lip, rest his cheek on his palm, angle his head in a certain way – your eyes would follow. And how could he forget the lust-filled look on your face as your eyes devoured him, it hadn't even been a full ten minutes since you got there and you were so obvious.

A wonder he didn't notice it before, but now that he thinks back... all of the signs were there. Everything that he missed has been screaming at him for the past-however-many years. And as much as he wanted to do something about it, he knew he had to be careful.

Extremely careful.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 23:52

Right now, you had your legs in his lap – ankle inches from his junk, but that's the least of your concerns. You're more focused on tucking every last crumb of weed into the paper, eyes flickering between your fingers and the TV screen. 

“How is she this oblivious?” You're commenting with a wrinkle of your brow and Taehyung has to act like he's been following the plotline all along.

From what he was able to pick up with your brief summary of the plot and the way you talked over every scene with backstory, the main character was set the be married to a man with much more experience than her. In life. In the bedroom. The scene playing in front of you right now she was just finding out that he had been lying about not being able to have children.

You had suggested starting from episode one, but he denied the offer. There was something about watching you explain a show while getting frustrated about the scenes that played out before you that he found endearing. Not a new feeling, but holding a new meaning now.

He can hardly hear what's being said because you're in the middle of a rant on how there was no reason for her to be so clueless and sent into a marriage. And how her mother should've gone into the nitty-gritty before shipping her off. And how her husband was just a compliment douche bag for taking advantage of her ignorance.

Taehyung is positive he looks like you just agreed to go riding off in the sunset. Leaned back against the couch and watching you with this dazed-dopey expression that you sum up to him just being high. You were working on rolling the second joint you'd share.

His eyes follow as you lean forward, hovering over his lap as you reach for the lighter on his side. Not even thinking to ask him to pass it over, not that he's complaining about the closeness. Elbows holding your body up as you fiddle with the spark, bringing it toward you when it stays.

You catch his stare as you exhale, handing the joint off to him before moving back to your end of the couch, legs falling back in his lap. He doesn't pull his gaze from you, letting the weed burn out between his fingers. “What?” You're asking with a soft laugh. He's hissing out a breath, bringing the smoke to his lips and inhaling.

“You're fucking gorgeous, it's annoying.” He says with a shake of his head, a thick cloud of smoke leaving his lips. “You're always talking shit,” Speaking through a burst of laughter, but he doesn't entertain the thought any further. Extending his hand to pass it over, eyes flickering up to the screen.

There had been something that he had paid attention to when you first turned this show on. The conversation that was being had on the screen about best friends and getting married and falling in love. And how that's how you should do it. Marry your best friend and it would work out.

No matter how many porn-like sex scenes appeared after that, he was still stuck on that one conversation. And the thought that if you looked so pretty next to him right now, there was no telling how much prettier you'd look done up and dressed in white. He has to laugh at himself, though.

Blaming his raging thoughts on the half-empty bottle of liquor on the table and the green you're handing back over to him. Which is why he doesn't bother to stop the question that slips out next. “Do you think that's really the key?”

Half forgot that even though you never left his mind, you couldn't read it. So you have no idea what he's talking about. “Key to what?”

“Being happy in a relationship?”

He hardly ever really talked about his feelings being with Ailee. You just knew what he told you and that was very limited. She annoyed him, but she was sometimes funny and knew what she was doing. That was pretty much it.

So you're a little shocked that he all of a sudden was bringing this up as if you knew their relationship from a hole in the wall. “Are you not happy with Ailee?” Someone who fought with their significant other as much as Taehyung did, couldn't really be happy. But you could be wrong.

“I'm sure I could be happier,” He's looking at you with those eyes again, flicking the ash off with his finger before bringing the joint back to his lips. “Do you think falling n love with your best friend is the key to all that?” He pauses, the blurts the last part out like he's lost control of his tongue. “Like you and me,”

You're letting out a harsh cough that has nothing to do with the smoke cruising through your lungs. Eyes tearing up while your back shakes. “Me and you?” You manage, letting out a gasped breath. “Like me falling in love with you and you falling in love with me?” Finger used to point between the two of you, just to be sure.

Taehyung nods his head, unphased by your dramatic reaction. “Yes, that's exactly how that would work. A money-less transaction,” You're letting out a laugh and a shake of your head, pushing the thought from your head. He was only joking, talking shit for whatever reason.

“Yeah, no. That would never work out,”

His words chase yours, “Why not?” You don't miss the small pout of his lips, as if he's actually asking. Wondering why you thought the two of you together wouldn't work out.

“I know too much. You know too much,” Going with the first reason that pops in your head, one that you've used countless times with convincing yourself. “There's gotta be some mystery,”

Taehyung is rolling his eyes, “Oh, come on. We're not the Scooby-doo kids, Yn. Mystery is overrated.” He's really pushing for this and you're not sure why. Most likely entertaining the thoughts that pop into his foggy mind, so you don't allow yourself to think too hard on his words.

Or what they could mean. “It's perfect,” He continues. “You meet someone, become best friends, decide to fall in love and now you're married to your best friend. That's the dream,” He says with a grin. And you're not sure if he's actually talking about you or if he's just talking.

“That's lazy,” Either way, you attempt to get the race of your heart to slow down. No matter how much closer he was to you now, backs of your thighs pressed against his. You're nearly seated in his lap and you just now noticed the mindless way his fingers drag over your knee. “You can't pick off from your existing friends. You meet someone, fall for them and then you become best friends,”

His laugh rings through your ears, then your entire body. Just the sound has you feeling warm all over, something that you were sure you had gotten under control a long time ago. “You just said the same thing as me, except you changed the last two steps,”

“It makes a huge difference,” It did. One was the two of you and the other could be any two strangers on the street. For the sake of you, your version was the one you'd go with. Anything else and it would be hard to talk yourself out of it.

But Taehyung has been a lot more attention, putting the pieces together as they appear. And one thing he was always good at spotting (except when it came to you for some reason) was when someone was into him. And judging from the subtle changes in your demeanor throughout this entire conversation, you were so into him.

With caution on his mind, he's shifting focus. Hand lowering to discard the dead bit in the ashtray. Leveling you with a squinted eyes and a purse of his lips. “What's the real reason you didn't want me to know about Hoseok?” Sort of had an idea of what this might be, but he wanted to hear it from you.

“What do you mean? I already told you,” You're reaching for the bottle on the table, taking a swig to keep your hands busy. And to keep you from having to look at him, no doubt the unfiltered thoughts in your mind would be slipping out with one glance. 

He doesn't pull his gaze from you, though. “No, you said you didn't want things to get awkward. I think that was a lie,” His face is much closer to yours now, you can clearly see the faint beauty marks scattered against his skin.

Just a simple stretch of his leg and you're pushed further on to his lap. Back resting against his arm now that he has his hand is pressed against the armrest. He's close, but not suffocating, has left enough space for you to get up and move if you wanted to. But that's the farthest thing from your mind right now.

“Wanna know what I think it is?” Voice so low he might as well be mumbling. His eyes flicker down to your lips, noting how soft they look. And he finds himself wondering just how they'd feel pressed against his. “What?” You sound breathless like you had been thinking about the same exact thing.

He's smoothly moving his arm from you, guiding the way your back falls against the couch. “I think you're into me, like how I'm into you... and you didn't want me to know because of that,” The risk of fucking up your friendship takes the backseat because he knows he's right. Took his time and put the signs together.

“Yeah, right.” You laugh it off, but he's learned how obvious you are.

A grin spreads over his features, hand dropping to your hip. “You're making the face you do when you've been caught,” The heat of his palm spreading from your side to your entire body. And you've come to terms with the fact that you've lost control of your heart. Wrapped up in the moment where Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, your best friend and former crush revealed he was into you.

His head bows, nose nudging against yours. It's embarrassing the way your lips instantly pucker, eyes falling shut as you wait for the soft press. Eyes fluttering open after a moment of waiting and receiving nothing, catching the devious smirk on his lips. 

“You're into me, aren't you?” While he was sure, positive after seeing how ready you were to have him kiss you, he needed to hear it. Needed to be sure that he wasn't missing something, he's been doing a lot of that lately.

The nod of your head is answer enough, followed by your warm hand reaching to rest on the back of his neck. Not sure who moved first, if you were pulling him down or he was lowering himself and you really didn't care. 

A tiny moan escapes from your lips as he shifts above you, the sound being sent straight to his crotch. His mouth is pulling from yours, brows raised and eyes wide as he stares down at you – surprised by the fact that you could actually sound like that. Before he's given a chance to comment on it, you're pulling him back down.

Kissing you is everything he's imagined it to be and more. The soft push of your tongue paired with the deliberate scrap of teeth on his lip. Your hummed moans fill the room and stir him on, his grip falling from your hip to your thigh. Easily pulling your legs apart to slot himself between them.

Fingers tangled in his hair and heavy breath hitting his lips each time you pull away, only to dive right back in. Mouths moving over each other messily, Taehyung can barely ask the groans that die on your lips. Free hand pressed against his chest, you can feel the hammer of his heart.

Thighs squeezed to his hips, bodies so close the thinnest of papers wouldn't fit. So it's no wonder you feel it. The twitch of his cock hardening against you, so enticing you can't help the way your hips lift to meet his just as he's dropping down to press into you. A hissed moan falling from your lips at the contact.

“Fuck,” He's groaning, a switch seemingly turning on inside of him. Mouth breaking for yours and hand moving up the toward your chest. His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bra as he rolls his hips into yours.

Just the heat from pressing against you like this was enough to rile him up, mind reeling with thoughts of what it would be like to really fuck you. And the sounds you'd make. You sounded so pretty with the simple rolls of his hips, what if he was actually buried deep inside of you.

His head drops, mouth latching onto the crook of your neck to suckle at the skin there. Your senses are fogged with nothing but him. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. Still lingering on your lips and hitting your taste buds as you lick them. There's a definite heat growing between your legs with each drag of his covered cock, angled perfectly that he's just barely tapping your clit.

You want more. So much more and it's making you delirious. Needy. Hips rolling up to meet his and he's pushing you down every time. Teeth scraping against your skin and fingers pinching at your chest. “Taehyung,” It sounds more desperate than you intend it to. He's groaning back in response, face lifting from your skin to admire the red mark he's left behind.

Tongue dragging over it, soothing it with a simple swipe. Hands re-positioned on either side of your head, his gaze drops to watch the way your hips move in order to meet his, a smirk pressed on his lips. “Fuck, look at you... such a mess.” He's pushing forward, cock meeting your clit perfectly.

Strained whimper ripping through your throat as you brace your hands on his side, back arching into him. “Grinding that pretty pussy all over my cock, didn't even let me get undressed. You're so wet, huh?” Now you knew what the boys were on about when they clowned him for being mouthy. Had laughed along before, but having his words directed to you was no laughing matter.

You knew what you were doing. You could feel the effect of what you were doing but something about having him point it out in that breathy tone of his was hot. What you didn't expect was for him to want you to talk back, but the slow of his hips is quickly warning you of your role.

“Don't stop,” You're gasping, hands reaching out to him. “I could cum like this,” Your whispering, cheeks heating up at the admission. How embarrassing, losing it over dry humping, you half expect him to laugh it off as a joke.

But he doesn't, instead, he's lowering his body back onto yours, the movement of his hips picking up in speed. “Me too,” He breathes out, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue teases against your covered lips. “Wrap your legs around me,”

His words are muffled, but you understand him enough to lift your legs, ankles locking behind his back. He drives into you like he's balls deep inside of you, pulling gasps and moans from your lips. Nails pressed into his skin as you beg him not to stop, chanting your near release. And just as you feel it bubble up in your stomach, his low pants of your name getting to you. Just as you're about to be knocked over the edge you've been teetering on, Jin's voice is breaking through.

His loud laughter bleeding through the door behind you, followed by the low grumble of Joon's voice. The jingle of his key is what snaps Tae out of it, body freezing as his head lifts to glare at the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You're quick to push him off, looking away as he adjusting the throbbing bulge in his pants – leaving you to wipe at the slobber-dampened mark on your chest. Jin and Joon are stepping in just as you're rushing upstairs for a shirt. Their laughter filling the downstairs as you rummage through drawers for something to pull on.

All while shoving your raging thoughts out of your mind. Still in shock that that actually happened... whatever that was. Taehyung was into you. He had said it and then kissed you. God, he kissed you. Would've been to be able to fully enjoy it if you weren't so damn greedy.

Just one taste and you were wanting the whole thing and from the look of it, he was willing to give it to you. But what if it had been a fluke. A one-off because of whatever happened to Ailee and the fact that you were there. Into you, but what did that really mean? Would that change anything?

You dare to hope, even though you're sure you're wrong. There was a lot going on tonight. Him fighting with Ailee, you being torn away from Hoseok before you can do anything properly. You were high! Still, high to be honest. Would he still be into you when he was sobering up?

Finding out is the last thing on your list. Fitting yourself as his best friend after your quiet crush was one thing. Doing that after he's taken back being into you was another. You didn't want to think about what a disaster that would be, you'd rather just go home and sleep.

Jin is turning to happily greet you as you make your way downstairs, while Joon makes room for you on the couch. Taehyung doesn't look up, cheeks flushed and eyes glued to his knees. You'd give everything to know what he's thinking.

“Yn! Tae said you were here. We're gonna open Monopoly, wanna play?” It's an invitation from Jin that you'd usually be jumping at. Claiming your designated money bag piece without a thought, so he's shocked when you're shaking your head. “Think I'm gonna just head home, turn in early.”

Tae looks up at the sound of your departure, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He had hoped you would want to stay, so he could have a chance to talk to you properly. Tell you how he was feeling even if he didn't fully understand it yet. He wanted to tell you that he liked you and he wanted to hear you say it back.

Let you know that he wanted to try to be good at relationships because he wanted to try with you. He's standing with that in mind, shrinking back when you're looking at him. There before did he feel nervous around you, but with all this weighing on his chest, he doesn't know how else to feel.

“Let me walk you home,” He offers, it's a twenty-minute walk across campus. Enough time for him to talk to you... or just be around you for longer.

You're shaking your head, though. Pushing an easy smile onto your lips. “It's fine. I texted Jimin,” It's a lie and he knows it is, but he doesn't call you on it. Obvious that you didn't want to be around him. Most likely regretting the whole thing.

Nodding as he plops back down beside Jin. He watches as you pull your shoes back on, throwing a quick goodbye over your shoulder before stepping out. Not even sparing a proper look in his direction. A huff leaves his lips as he sinks into the couch, hands tugging through his hair.

He really screwed up.

>> PART TWO COMING...SATURDAY.

— you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

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#taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts smut #🔥 sm au #taehyung fic #taehyung sm au #taehyung imagine #taehyung angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #jeon jungkook #namjoon #jin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #jungkook #bts #bts imagine #bts sm au #namjin #jikook

[cherienymphe]

Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal...until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.

~

Soft lips brushed over your bare shoulder, even softer hands guiding the strap of your slip down your arm, fingers dancing along your skin. Despite the cold weather outside, your room was sweltering, and you pinned it onto the man behind you...the man who was currently unwrapping you like a gift. With fear coursing through your frame, you realized that in a way, you were a gift. A pretty little gift given to the big bad gangster in exchange for resources and protection and whatever else your family needed.

Your eyes fell closed, and you thought back to the day where your father’s desperation had first begun. Desperation that you had ultimately underestimated.

You had been nervous as you tended to the dishes that day, glancing at the clock every now and then. Cleaning and tidying up was how you coped, how you attempted to calm yourself. It normally worked, but today was an exception. Looking around, you realized that there was nothing else to clean, and with a sigh, you leaned against the wall, biting your lip.

The rest of the family had gone to Birmingham. They’d gone to handle...business, and you being the only girl in the family since your mom died, you weren’t allowed to have a hand in the business. It had been a great deal of bitterness for you for years, ever since you were old enough to understand what was really going on, but now you had gradually accepted your father’s reasoning.

Your father and brother and uncles had left early, taking some of their best men with them. You knew they only did that for serious matters, and you had been worried ever since you saw them leave. You had scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and now you had nothing to do but wait. It was fortunate that you didn’t have to wait for much longer, hearing several cars come down the driveway.

No one greeted you when you opened the door, faces pinched and sullen, and you knew then that things didn’t go as expected. The only one to acknowledge you was your father, the older man pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before trudging inside with the rest. You swallowed, conflicted on whether or not you should say anything, but your worry got the best of you.

“How did it go?”

Before your father could answer, you heard your brother slam his hand into the wall, the pictures shaking from the force.

“Peaky fucking Blinders,” he spat, and your blood ran cold.

Your eyes met your father’s, and he gave you a look as if to say leave it alone, but you were in shock. You had never imagined that your family would start doing business with the likes of them. Everyone had heard of them, knew who they were and what they did, and the thought of your family being involved with them in any way was a terrifying one.

Everything those men touched turned to poison

“Father,” you had chided as soon as you walked into his office moments later.

From behind his desk, he held a hand up, the other pressed to his forehead as he sighed.

“Not now, Y/N,” he said, sounding tired.

“You promised that things would be different,” you whispered, ignoring his words. “You told me that we would start becoming legitimate, legal. That we’d start doing things right.”

“Y/N-.”

“You promised.”

He slammed his hand down onto the wood, making you wince.

“They’ve got their hand in every cookie jar that matters. Thomas Shelby is a political man, now-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

“Only a fool would get mixed up with the likes of them.”

He shot you a scathing look, and you swallowed, looking away with a sigh.

“We need their influence, their resources...their allyship.”

Your eyes widened at this, realizing that your father intended for much more than a one time business deal.

“You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond right away, simply heaving a sigh before turning his attention to the paperwork before him.

“I will do my best to keep you away from all this, but prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of them, eh?”

He didn’t say anything more, and when it became apparent that that was the end of the discussion, you turned and left. You could hear your brothers and uncles murmuring in the kitchen, going over the day’s events, no doubt, and you made your way upstairs. You never knew exactly what it was that your father sold, but you figured that drugs and alcohol was the gist of it. He’d been in the business for a long time, and he’d made a promise to you that he was going to put a stop to it. That he’d start making money the right way.

Getting mixed up with the Shelbys, the Peaky Blinders, was not the way to go about it.

You understood the appeal though. They had power, resources, influence. With them as an ally, people would think twice about screwing your family over...but was it worth it? Was it worth the increase in violence? Putting the family in the kind of danger you could never even imagine? Was it worth the devastation and death that seemed to follow them like a plague? The answer was simple.

No.

Your father didn’t seem to care about any of that though. Day in and day out, for weeks, you watched your family leave early in the day and return late in the evening, looking more irritated than they did the previous day. It was safe to say that negotiations with the Peaky Blinders was not going as expected. The frustration and annoyance was plain as day on your father’s features, and even though nary a word was uttered to you about anything, you could feel the tension mounting in the air.

The first time you actually met someone of the infamous family, it was a Wednesday. It was a rare day within the past few weeks in which your father was at the house. He had been holed up in his study all day when there was a knock on the door. You had blinked in confusion, trying to recall if your father had mentioned anything about company, but you had only just begun to move when you heard your father’s heavy footsteps traveling down the hallway.

“Stay back.”

Normally you would have argued against him, especially with a tone as harsh as his had been, but something in his voice made you listen. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he walked that made you understand the severity of the situation. You remained in the living room, listening as your father answered the door, unfamiliar voices eventually joining his.

Two men who you’d never seen before joined him in the hallway, standing between the kitchen and living room. You had slowly put your book down, story long forgotten at the sight of the strangers, and your movement caught their attention. Both of them were wearing hats and long coats, but you could still tell that their hair was dark. The lankier of the two was a bit taller, a mustache adorning his face while the other moved a toothpick around between his lips, a faint smirk crawling onto his face at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” the taller one greeted, and you quietly returned the greeting.

Your father cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Arthur, John...this is my daughter, Y/N. She likes to look after the house when I’m gone.”

It was the truth. After your mother’s death, the house was where you felt most comfortable, and you were more than happy to lock yourself in its walls. Especially while the rest of your family ventured out.

“Darling, this is John and Arthur Shelby. I’ve been doing some business with them, remember?”

You fought the urge to sneer at your father, keeping your gaze on the strangers in your home instead.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said with a tense smile.

Knowing you so well, your father could recognize the displeasure on your face, and if the other men before you noticed it too, they didn’t speak on it. You watched as they followed your father upstairs to his study, the younger of the two tipping his hat to you before departing. You remained there for a time before slowly exhaling, turning to make your way outside. You paid no mind to how long they stayed, spending the rest of your day away outside in your garden. Your mother always kept one, and you had done the same since she died.

That was the first of the few times you ran across Arthur and John Shelby. They were the only two that ever came by the house, greeting you with tipped hats and secretive smiles. You had grown somewhat used to their presence and faces, but not enough to be completely comfortable around them. You didn’t meet the rest of them, didn’t meet him, until weeks later.

“What?” you had breathed, staring at your father in disbelief. 

You watched as he rubbed his forehead, face pinched and eyes clouded over, telling you that he disliked this as much as you did.

“You’ll come to the next meeting with us,” he repeated, and you let out a sharp breath.

So you had heard him correctly.

“...why?” you eventually asked, sounding much calmer than you actually were.

“I know you hate them, but those Shelbys do have some morals about them. Things have been rather tense lately. It seems that we just can’t come to an agreement,” he sighed out, leaning against his desk. “...and I fear that things could become...rowdy.”

He didn’t continue, but you were smart enough to guess where this was going. When the realization hit you, your heart dropped, and you stared at your father like he was a stranger. The man you knew, the man your mother had married, would’ve wanted you as far away from any business dealings as possible. Somehow, the very same man was standing before you and suggesting…

“You think my presence at the meeting will make them behave...make them think twice about doing anything...violent,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, and you clenched your jaw.

“...and if it doesn’t-?”

“It will,” he argued.

“...but if it doesn’t…” you repeated with more force. “...then what? What will you do if they bring out the guns and razor blades right there? What will you do if they decide to use me to make you agree to their terms?”

Your father was silent, and you stepped towards him, eyes pleading.

“What will you do then?”

You watched as he straightened, standing to his full height as he looked down his nose at you. It was like you were looking at a completely different person, someone who wasn’t like your father at all. As you eyed him, you could see the stress on his face, the strain in his muscles, the conflict in his eyes. You’d had your suspicions that your family’s business with the Peaky Blinders was more serious than you could’ve imagined, but the toll it was clearly taking on your father confirmed it.

Even if you didn’t agree with what was going on, how your father went about getting what he so clearly needed and wanted, it was obvious that this was important to him. Since the death of your mother, very few things brought your father happiness. Very few things even halfway satisfied him, and hoping that this would, shoulders sagging with defeat, you agreed.

This was how you found yourself seated beside your father at none other than The Garrison. The pub was empty of any patrons or staff, only those important to the meeting present. Thomas Shelby, the man himself, was seated across from your father. He was as intimidating as you always believed he’d be, smooth voice having done nothing to calm you when he introduced himself.

John and Arthur, the two you were familiar with, were on his right while two more men by the name of Isaiah and Finn were on his left. They were one short in comparison to your father, his two brothers, your two brothers, and yourself, but an empty chair told you that one more was on their way. Seeing that the meeting had already begun, you deduced that their tardiness wasn’t a concern. Considering the nature of the meeting, a whole bunch of words that could be summed up into “who controls what”, you envied the mystery person’s absence. 

For minutes now, you had contributed nothing, but then again… That wasn’t your purpose. No, the purpose of your presence was to keep the men in line. Your entire purpose was to play on what few morals the men had, and you fought to hold in a laugh. With every member of your family being armed, you wondered if your father even believed this would work. Too busy stewing over how your father had purposely put you in harm’s way, you didn’t take notice of the pub door opening.

You were only pulled from your thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally registered. Considering that your back was to the door, you couldn’t see their face, and you didn’t want to appear nosey or unprofessional or draw attention to yourself in any way really by turning to look. You only glanced up when he finally came into your line of sight, and you observed him in the same manner that you did all the others.

Something about him reminded you of Thomas, but his features were much softer, not so harsh. However, that made him no less intimidating. He wasn’t sporting a hat, dark hair neatly pushed away from his face, and something about him was different from the rest. On his own, he didn’t look like he belonged with the rest of them, and as Thomas explained that he was their chief accountant, you got the feeling that that was purposely done. He introduced the man as Michael Gray, his cousin, and losing interest once again, you looked away.

You played with your fingers beneath the table, wanting to desperately be anywhere but here. You had a feeling that you’d get your wish very soon, taking note of the change in tone in your father’s voice. He sounded happier, relieved, and you glanced up at him, his relief contagious. As you did so, your eyes briefly connected with that of the newcomer, Michael, and you quickly looked away. Even still, you could feel the weight of his stare, and you reluctantly returned it.

He didn’t look the least bit ashamed at having been caught, bringing his cigarette up to his lips, a thick coil of smoke escaping them moments later. His face was hard to read, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. You blinked, eyes trailing to your brother on your father’s other side, but he seemed invested in the meeting. Everyone seemed to be...everyone but you and the man named Michael.

When your eyes met his again, it was just in time to watch him lean over, lips at his cousin’s ear as he whispered something to him. His gaze held yours the entire time. You glanced around again, feeling as if there was a meeting within a meeting going on, and you were the only one to notice. Brushing off the unease you felt, you sat back in your chair, eyes on the table. It was hard to ignore the heavy gaze that pinned you to your seat, but you fought to manage.

Especially since it seemed that an agreement was finally being made.

However, that sinking feeling in your chest traveled to your gut, settling there as you watched John move to whisper something to Thomas. The man, the leader of this great gang, paused for the briefest of moments. It happened so quickly, and John was back in his seat as if nothing had happened, and while Thomas’ words did not falter, the way his eyes briefly flickered to you had you straightening in your seat.

Your eyes fell onto the blue-eyed newcomer again, and he took another drag of his cigarette. Every single one of them wore smug expressions, from the first moment you’d been introduced to every individual man, you noticed that they all looked as if they owned the world. Michael Gray was no different, but the way he looked at you made you want to be as far away from here as possible. As more tendrils of smoke left his pink lips, you noted that he didn’t look at you like he just owned the world. He looked at you like he owned you too.

“Everything does seem to be in order, but...there is another matter I think we should discuss,” you heard Thomas Shelby say.

You looked to him, watching as he stood, his family following his lead and your family following theirs. You tightened your coat around you as Thomas gestured for your father to follow him into the back. His absence made you nervous, but you simply stepped closer to your brother as you watched him follow the other man.

“Let’s wait outside,” your brother said, and eager to be out of here, you hastily agreed.

Your other brother remained inside with your uncles while you followed Matthew, the middle child of you three, outside. 

“You alright?” he asked you as soon as you were in the fresh air. “You looked a bit tense in there.”

You watched him light a smoke, and you glanced away.

“The other one...the cousin, Michael… How much do you know about him?”

Matthew shrugged, exhaling.

“Not much. Doesn’t say much at the meetings, mostly handles the money,” he told you.

That did little to ease you.

“Why…?”

You were just about to tell him the reason for your curiosity when the door to The Garrison came flying open. You watched in shock as your father came storming out, your other brother and uncles hot on his tail.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, just as alarmed as you were.

Instead of an answer, your father simply grabbed your arm, and yanked you along. You almost tripped over your feet, and you looked at your father like he’d lost his mind. His face was clouded over, eyes thunderous, and you wondered what had happened in such a short time.

“What-?”

“Quiet,” he hissed, sounding the angriest you’d ever heard him, and your eyes widened at this.

“...but-.”

“I said quiet! Get in the car,” he spat.

He didn’t give you a chance to listen, opting for shoving you inside himself. Your foot was barely inside when he slammed the door shut, and you stared at the window in shock. Matthew joined you and your father in the car while the rest piled into the other vehicle. Your confusion only grew as the car roared to life, and you glanced up then to rest your eyes on a familiar face.

He leaned against the door to the pub, a fresh cigarette held between his lips as he lit it. His blue eyes were focused entirely on you, even as the smoke clouded his view and your father began to drive off, he didn’t appear to be interested in anything else but your trembling frame.

You sat at the dining table in shock, listening to the muffled sound of your father’s angry voice that traveled from his study. He was in there with the rest of the family, and he’d been in there for hours. He had barely looked at you when you all came home, heading straight for his office as he ordered the rest of the family inside. There was an unspoken agreement that that did not include you.

Still, the uneasiness from the meeting remained. You could still feel the heated gaze of the blue-eyed man, smell the smoke that drifted from his lips, see the way he watched you as he whispered to John. You could see the way Thomas had looked at you as John whispered to him, and this was what made you press your ear to your father’s study door hours earlier. This was what drove your curiosity to discover just what happened when you and your brother left.

“He wants her,” your father had forced out, sounding like he was going to be sick.

There was a long pause, and you had frowned in confusion.

“Who?” your other brother, Nathaniel, had eventually asked.

“The Gray kid! Polly’s son,” he spat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants her.”

You could hear your father’s heavy breaths, hear him pacing, and the confirmation that the discussion was about Michael Gray did nothing to quell your confusion. The silence that followed was loud and heavy, something unspoken in the air that you had yet to understand.

“...what?” you heard one of your uncles murmur.

Your father heaved a sigh, sounding much calmer now.

“They are...prepared to meet us more than halfway if we let him have her,” he slowly said. “Everything we’ve been working towards, everything we’ve been yearning for… It could be ours in a matter of hours if we let him have her.”

“No!”

Nathaniel’s voice could be heard before your father even finished.

“Absolutely not-.”

“Nathaniel…”

“You’re not considering this...are you? Father…”

“They’ve given us the day to think it over-.”

“What is there to think about? She’s our sister, your daughter, not some whore on the street,” Matthew interrupted, his words making you freeze.

Bile threatened to spill from your lips as you stared at the door, slowly backing away, their voices becoming less clear as you did so. Your back was pressed to the wall as the truth settled over you, and you suddenly felt foolish for failing to put it together sooner. Your stomach swirled, fear settling into your bones, and before you knew it, your head was in the commode, expelling everything you’d eaten that day. The tears had come shortly after, and that was how Matthew found you hours later, sitting at the table with tears in your eyes.

“I know you heard,” he said, sitting across from you.

You hesitantly looked up at him as he poured a glass of whiskey.

“You never could keep your nose out of things. Told you years ago to stop listening in on father’s conversations-.”

“Well, I’m glad I did this time,” you tearfully spat.

Matthew sighed, sliding the glass towards you.

“I think you deserve it tonight,” he said as you threw him an odd look.

Your shoulders sagged, and you gratefully accepted it, scrunching your face up at the strong taste that hit your tongue. The both of you sat there in silence for a while, listening to your father’s muffled voice, and you took another sip.

“What’s he going to do?”

Your fear must have been evident because his hand rested on yours on the table.

“Hey...he’s not going to agree, alright? He would never…”

You shook your head before he even finished, sniffling as you took another sip.

“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know,” you breathed.

Your eyes met his, and he frowned at you.

“These past few months or so… He’s been different, and you know it. He’s made deals before, but it’s different this time. Everything he’s ever wanted is so close. It’s different this time, and you know it, Matthew.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. You both knew that it was different this time, and you shuddered to think about what tomorrow would bring.

The next day came and went, much to your relief, and although you were glad that your father didn’t give into the Peaky Blinders, into what they wanted from you...what he wanted from you, it was still an unacknowledged elephant in the room. They still left the house for business, but you didn’t know if it was with the Blinders or not. You shuddered to think of how that conversation went when your father refused their offer. 

You got the feeling that they weren’t used to not getting their way.

It was three nights later, three nights since that fateful meeting in which you’d caught the eye of Michael Gray, that you left your room to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, an unusual sight seeing as at least one brother was usually up late in the kitchen, drinking or having a smoke. That wasn’t the sight that greeted you.

The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and you drank your water slowly. You hoped that things would be better now. You recalled how relieved your father had looked over the past few days, how much softer his features looked, and you desperately hoped that it was because the family was finally on the right track. You made your way back into the hall, glass pressed to your lips, when you paused.

The only light in the living room came from the moon, it’s rays bleeding through the windows and onto the furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take note of the shape that didn’t belong. The shape of a man. Light flooded the room, and all of your breath left you, glass shattering at your feet.

You stared at him in shock, taking in everything from his neat hair to his shiny dark shoes. He was dressed much like he was the first day you met him, a dark grey almost black looking suit hugging his frame. He leaned back in your father’s chair, nursing a glass of Brandy, and it was then that you realized he’d been here for a while.

“Father!”

It was instinctual now, how your father was the first person you ran to. He didn’t respond, and you called for him again, cutting yourself off when a smirk slowly danced along Michael’s lips. Your mind whirled, and dread filled you.

“What are you doing in my house? Where is my father?”

A small chuckle escaped him, eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled out a cigarette. 

“What do you think I’m doing here, love?”

Your entire body froze, the implication behind his words clear, and you shook your head. You called for Matthew...then Nathaniel...then your uncles and your father again. The only thing that met you was silence, and your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden. The weight of your predicament fully settled over you, and you slowly shook your head.

“No,” you breathed in disbelief. “...no.”

The man before you didn’t respond, simply pressing the cigarette between his lips, reaching in his pockets for a light, no doubt.

“I don’t believe you.”

That was what you said, what your lips formed, but your heart and your head didn’t agree. Something didn’t feel right from the moment you woke up, and a part of you that you desperately wished would shut up did believe him. 

“Do you really think your father would allow anyone into his home without his knowledge or permission?”

You watched him pull a drag, smoke filling the air, and you stumbled back, running for the door. You didn’t hear him behind you, and for that you were relieved, but your relief was short lived. Upon swinging the door open, you were met with the sight of John and Arthur Shelby dawdling in your driveway. They appeared to be having a conversation when you opened the door, their voices abruptly cutting off at your appearance. John simply smirked at you from around the smoke in his mouth, Arthur tipping his hat towards you.

“‘Ello, sweetheart.”

With a shriek, you slammed the door shut in their faces, chest heaving with uneven breaths as the situation fully resonated with you. You stumbled back further into the hallway, and Michael was still in the same place as before, nursing a cigarette as you fought to figure out a way out of this.

“You can’t...you can’t do this,” you eventually murmured, glaring at him.

Michael simply fixed you with an even stare, smoke escaping from his nose, the cigarette dancing between his fingers.

“I’m a Peaky Blinder, love. I can do whatever I want.”

He said it with so much conviction that you knew he believed it, and the longer you stared at him, the more you believed it too. You warily glanced around, telling yourself that you might actually have to fight this man, might have to fight to protect what your father had wrongly given away. Even though part of you denied it, you slowly accepted that Michael was telling the truth. Despite the fact that your family’s business and even lives were at stake, your father had no right to trade away what didn’t belong to him.

Michael’s eyes never left you as you stood there, and you finally looked to him again when he cleared his throat. The cigarette rested between his lips as he slipped out of his jacket, and you swallowed at the dark look in his eyes. He took another drag.

“Before you do...whatever it is that you’re about to do…”

He parted his mouth, the smoke swirling in there for a bit before pressing his lips together, tendrils escaping his nose.

“You should know that I’ve shot men in the head with no hesitation. I drug my blade across a man’s throat once and reveled in the taste of his blood on my lips.”

You flinched, taking a step back.

“When Tommy first tried to scare me away, threaten to send me back to the village in which I grew up… I told him about a well there, that I’d blow it up with dynamite if he made me go back...didn’t care if my hands went with it.”

He finished his cigarette, putting the rest of it out, eyes boring into yours as he slowly exhaled the smoke he’d been holding in.

“I just knew it’d be worth it to see those pretty white bricks all over that pretty village green...and I meant every word of that.”

You didn’t respond, and his blue eyes slowly dragged over every part of you, taking you in from your hair all the way to your bare feet, lingering on the thin nightgown in between.

“It’s something about the violence, you see.”

His words unnerved you, and he continued.

“The violence, the blood...the fight...it does something to me. Gets me excited, all riled up, so please…”

He gestured towards you, eyes glinting with something that made your heart stop.

“Do fight back, hit me even… It’ll just make me want to fuck you that much harder.”

The tears finally skipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back as he stood to his full height. With a shaky breath, you staggered up the stairs, running to the last room at the end of the hall, a guest room. You were quick to pull the window up, looking down below in worry. It was high up, that was for sure, but the alternative was worse.

Before you could even get a foot out, warm hands pressed into your stomach, pulling you back against a broad chest. A startled scream left your lips, and Michael’s hands traveled to your arms, fingers pressed into your skin as he held you tight. You leaned your head away from him as he pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in.

“Your father made a big mistake bringing you around us, eh?”

You couldn’t will your lips to move, too paralyzed with fear and nerves and anxiety for the unknown. The way he touched you was foreign, the scent that clung to him, a mix of cologne and expensive liquor and cigarettes, was foreign. The creeping sensation that blanketed your body was foreign. All of this was foreign, and more tears pooled within your eyes as the inevitable drew closer.

“He thought you’d keep us in line, keep us on leashes...but ever since I saw you, the only thing I wanted to do was take you like a fucking animal.”

You jerked in his hold, fighting to get away from him, but Michael tsk’d. 

“Let’s not spoil this, hmm? You seem like a good girl...if you catch my drift.”

More tears fell at his words, and he hummed.

“You do. You strike me as a well behaved lady of the house...and you girls like for this to be special, yeah? All gentle and loving,” he slowly mocked as he forced you towards the bed.

He shoved you onto it, knees pressing down on either side of you soon after, preventing you from going anywhere. Your tears soaked the sheet, and Michael’s fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”

He gently turned you over onto your back, and you stared up at the man before you. Even in the darkness, you could see the blue of his eyes perfectly. They were bright and filled with a hunger that scared you, a hunger you had never been on the receiving end of before. Michael leaned over you, caging you beneath him as he pressed his forehead to yours, soon followed by his lips.

You’d kissed men before, but they were soft sweet nothings that could barely be called a kiss. You knew that if you wanted to marry well, contribute something of substance to your family, you had to be smart about your actions...your reputation. All of the men, realizing that you weren’t going to give them what they wanted, left. Accepting that your family and reputation came first, they always left, and it hurt every single time. 

But it will be worth it.

That’s what you constantly told yourself. After every heartbreak, every sneer, every harsh insult thrown your way about what a frigid bitch you were, you told yourself that it would be worth it. And yet...here you were...beneath a gangster, having your reputation ripped away from you by a man who stole and murdered and wasn’t decent in any way.

Life was funny.

After slipping out of his shirt, the flimsy material floating somewhere behind him, Michael guided your hands to his chest. Your trembling fingers danced along his taut skin, taking note of an imperfection. An old bullet wound, you deduced. The dark-haired man groaned into your mouth, pressing into you, and you could feel him hard beneath his trousers. The reality of what was about to happen seemed to slink around your neck like a noose, and you didn’t even realize that you’d started panting until Michael’s hand found your neck.

“I-I can’t- I can’t do this-.”

He shushed you, kissing you again.

“Behave...and I’ll be good to you. Breathe,” he urged.

You slowly did as he suggested, squeezing your eyes shut as his other hand pushed the smooth material of your nightgown up your legs. One hand was still on your throat as that same hand traveled to his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. Your whole body went numb for a moment, ears ringing and vision blurring, and when you finally came back to earth, Michael’s hips were pressing against yours, nothing in between you.

He was speaking to you, you noted.

“...what?” you murmured.

“What’s your name, love?”

You swallowed, quickly darting your tongue out to swipe over your lips.

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, clearly liking the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded at you, drinking you in as he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly committing you to memory before sliding into you with one quick thrust. Your nails pressed into his skin, and he hissed, your own lips parting to let out a pained gasp. Michael held himself above you, a low groan escaping him as his forehead touched yours again.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours.

He held himself there for a long time, just feeling you. You weren’t naïve enough to think he did it for your sake, and you got the feeling that he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. When he did finally move, your chest arched upwards, unable to handle the unfamiliar feeling. His hand was still on your neck, and you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

The feel of him inside of you was strange. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt full...you felt stretched...and in a way, it felt unnatural, but the heat that festered deep within your stomach said otherwise. One of Michael’s hands was pressed into the bed beside your head, holding himself up so that he could look at you. You remembered his words, and too terrified to disobey, you fought to keep your eyes on him.

His face was strained with concentration, eyes flickering between your face and down to where the two of you connected. The hand that was on your neck slid down to your chest, thumb brushing over a heaving breast before resting on your stomach, pinning you down as he snapped his hips into yours. It was too much for you, too much at once, and your lashes fluttered. 

“Look at me,” he roughly breathed.

“I can’t...I can’t,” you panted, head twisting from side to side.

You could hardly focus on anything other than the way he was thrusting into you, taking you to heights you never knew existed. He called your name then, and you reluctantly met his eyes, the hunger in them making you shudder.

“That’s right. Eyes on me, love. Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you,” he murmured.

The smugness in his voice and face made you frown, a spark of anger in you.

“Do you fuck all of your girls like this? Huh?”

He didn’t respond, pink lips simply curving upwards into a humorous smirk.

“...or am I special because you get to ruin my life and go on with yours?” you shakily spat.

Michael slammed into you then, forcing a choked gasp from you.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You just focus on milking my cock, hmm?”

You wanted to hit him, spit at him, do anything other than lay there and take his unrelenting thrusts, but your body seized before you could do any of that. Your toes curled and your stomach clenched and your body shook as stars exploded behind your eyes. You hadn’t even realized what a moaning mess you had become until Michael paused just to listen to you, just taking you in with something akin to awe on his face.

You didn't have time to catch your breath before he was chasing his own high, hands pressed into your waist so hard you were sure you’d bruise. Your nails dug into his wrists, choked moans tumbling from your mouth as you clenched around him again, just in time for him to spill into you, releasing a long breath as he did so. You clung to him, tears catching in your lashes as you laid there, mind whirling at what you’d just done.

You flinched, shrinking in on yourself when his lips brushed the corner of your mouth just before pulling out of you. You winced at the action, staring up at the ceiling as you heard him moving about. You turned your head when you heard the strike of a match and watched as he lit himself another cigarette, pants just barely settling on his waist.

“So what happens now?” you finally asked, voice low in the dark room. 

Would your father and brothers come through that door tomorrow, pretending that they hadn’t sold you out? Would they be able to even look at you? Stomach the sight of you? Fresh tears kissed your eyes just as Michael spoke.

“Well…”

He took a pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he neared you.

“...I’m going to fuck you at least three more times before the night is over.”

You sat up at this, paying no mind to the pain in between your legs as you stared at him with wide eyes. Without realizing it, you gripped the end of your nightgown, pulling it to your knees as if somehow trying to prevent that very thing from happening.

“What-?”

“...and then I want you to pack a bag. Just some things that’ll last you a few days. I’ll be buying you a whole new lot of clothes anyway.”

“Michael-.”

“You’re my girl, now,” he quietly said, voice firm as he stood over you, free hand playing with the strap of your gown as the other held his cigarette to his lips.

You shook your head, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I...no. My family...they-.”

“Sold you away without a second thought.”

Your heart clenched as he threw that in your face, and you turned away as he reached for you. His fingers pinched your chin, jerking you to face him, and you swallowed. He bent down, staring into your eyes.

“You won’t have to worry about that with us...with me.”

He took one more pull of his cigarette before placing it on the nightstand, tendrils of smoke escaping his nose and mouth just before he pressed his lips to yours, fingers pressing into your skin as he settled between your legs.

~

tags: @cocoamoonmalfoy @trinittyy @ziamslarry-blog @a531a​ @s-u-t​ @sunshinechim-98​ @callmechannel​ @lil-hungryy​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @scissorkidscult​  @madamerubrum  

#peaky blinders #michael gray #michael gray x reader #michael gray x you #michael shelby #thomas shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #finn shelby #isaiah jesus #dark fic #dark michael gray #polly gray #michael gray smut #michael gray imagine #yandere

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

#corpse #corpsehusband #corpse husband #husband #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse x reader #x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #reader #requests open #request #fluff #love #romance

[zodiyack]

Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff

Song: Rude by Magic!

Words: 1,798

Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.

Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!

Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!

Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."

Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.

You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.

The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.

But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.

Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.

"Billy, stop messing with the tie."

"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.

"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."

For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.

"You're not putting me in that."

"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.

Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"

Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."

However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.

"Hello Mr-"

"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.

Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."

"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.

"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."

While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"

The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.

Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.

The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?

With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.

El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.

Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."

"Mr. Hopper, sir."

"What are you doing on my front porch?"

He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".

"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."

I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-

"Billy, he's just stubborn."

"No, no, I don't think he likes me."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"

"It's been how many years since he's met me?"

"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."

"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.

Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."

Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."

"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."

"I know."

The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.

His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.

"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.

"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"

"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"

"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."

This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."

"It's not like-"

Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude, rude?

Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.

He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.

He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").

He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.

He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.

However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.

Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"

"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"

"You son of a-"

"I got Eleven's too."

"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"

"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"

"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.

"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."

Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.

"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude? Why you gotta be so rude?

Bonus:

(after the wedding)

"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.

"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude?

#billy hargrove x reader #dacre montgomery #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery x reader #stranger things #x reader #all readers #imagine #reader insert #holy shit! #zodiyack #3000 followers #3000 follower special! #thank you guys! #i'm without words- that's how happy i am lmao #also sorry if this is shit writing #i'm still recovering #special #by recovering i mean getting back into the gist of things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #dacre montgomery imagine #x you #rude! #song fic #rude by magic

[waitimcomingtoo]

Quirks

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader with OCD

Thank you to the anon who requested this and consulted with me on OCD!

Disclaimer: It it not my intention to glorify or romanticize OCD with this story. I consulted with multiple people who have OCD to develop this character.

Masterlist

“Are you ready for bed?” Peter asked as he climbed under the covers on his side. It was your first night in Peters apartment after moving in with him, and you had a nervous feeling in your tummy. There were things about yourself you had begun to notice, and you wondered how long it would take for Peter to notice as well.

“Almost.” You nodded as you knocked on the wall behind you four times. You climbed into bed beside Peter as if nothing happened, leaving Peter puzzled.

“What are you doing?” Peter chuckled as he watched your movements.

“If I don’t do this, I can’t sleep.” You said simply.

“Okay.” Peter laughed again, making you wince a little.

“I know it doesn’t actually help me sleep.” You admitted. “I just need to do it.”

“Wow. I can’t wait to see all the other little quirks you’ve been hiding from me.” Peter smirked as he leaned over to kiss you.

“Yeah.” You laughed nervously. “Quirks.”

~

Peter woke up the next morning to the feeling of you playing with his hair, soft fingertips brushing it off his forehead.

“Good morning sleepy head.” You said through a yawn as you combed his hair off his face.

“Good morning to you too. Are you hungry?” Peter asked as he rubbed your shoulders.

“Um, what time is it?” You sleepily rubbed your eyes.

“111:23” He answered after checking his phone.

“I’m okay.” You decided, despite your stomach growling. “I’ll wait until lunch.”

“Are you sure?” Peter noticed the growl. “I can make you something.”

“I’m sure. Sure, sure, sure.” You told him. “I’ll wait until lunch.”

Once the clock hit an even number, it was lunchtime. You walked into the kitchen at 2:24 feeling famished.

“God I’m hungry.” You patted your stomach. “Do you have anything to eat?”

“Let’s see.” Peter said as he opened his cabinet. “I have honey and boxed Mac and cheese.”

“Ooo. This a fancy restaurant.” You teased as you hugged him from behind.

“Shut up.” He laughed and turned around in your arms. “I haven’t gone shopping in a while.”

“It’s fine. We’ll go tomorrow.” You told him before kissing him. You broke away from him and took out the macaroni while he got out a pot and filled it with water.

“Here you are my love.” Peter carried the heavy pot with ease and placed it on the stove.

“Thank you. How long does the box say to boil it for?” You asked as you turned the heat up on the stove.

“11-13 minutes.” Peter read off the back of the box.

“Okay.” You nodded as you set the timer to 12 minutes. “Okay, okay, okay.”

“So precise.” Peter joked, making your face flush.

“Yup.” You forced a laugh and kept your tone light. “I just like to be precise. I definitely don’t feel like I can’t eat the macaroni unless it cooks for exactly 12 minutes.”

“What was that?” Peter asked curiously when he didn’t understand what you said.

“Nothing.” You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. “It’ll be ready soon.”

~

A month later, Peter walked into his bathroom to brush his teeth. You were already in there, leaning close to the mirror and pressing on all your teeth.

“What are you doing?” Peter chuckled as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

“I need you to check my teeth.” You turned around in his arms with a panicked expression.

“For food?” He asked and looked at your teeth. “They’re all good.”

“No, for any loose ones.” You told him and he let out a short laugh.

“Why would your teeth be loose?” He raised an eyebrow, thinking you were kidding.

“They’re not. I know they’re not.” You said, mostly to yourself. “Could you just confirm for me that they’re not?”

Peter found the request strange, but obliged and pressed on your teeth the way you had.

“All good.” He confirmed. “Nothing loose.”

You sighed in relief and turned around again, leaving Peter curious about the encounter. He shrugged it off and walked back into the bedroom, changing into his Spiderman suit while you finished up in the bathroom.

“You’re going out?” You asked from the doorway when you noticed Peter in his suit.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be too long.” He promised. “I’ll be back before you’re asleep.”

“Will you be back before 12?” You asked as you tugged on your earlobe.

“Yeah, I will.” He told you as he placed his hands on your waist.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” You smiled at Peter as you patted his cheek twice before kissing him. You did this every time Peter was about to leave on patrol. Before you were a couple, he’d text you before he would go out on patrol so you could flex your hand three times to ensure his safety. Now, it was two taps to the cheek and a kiss.

An hour into patrol, Peters phone rang and lit up with your contact. He answered it but before he could say hello, you started speaking.

“Peter are you okay?” You wheezed, sounding frantic.

“I’m fine, honey.” He quickly assured you. “Are you okay?”

“Yea.” You sounded more relaxed. “Are you sure you’re okay? Where are you?”

“I’m on a rooftop near the bakery.” He answered. “Did something happen?”

“No.” You sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” He confirmed. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright. I love you.” You said into the phone. “I love, love, love you.”

~

“Are you ready to watch the movie, honey?” Peter called from the living room. It was a few months now since you started living together and he had taken a night off from patrol to be with you.

“Almost. I’m just washing my hands.” You called back. A commercial playing in the background caught your attention and you shut the water off to listen.

“What did they say it treated?” You asked as you looked over your shoulder at the TV.

“BPH.” Pete answered, reading off the screen.

“Do I have that?” You wondered, making a Peter laugh. He looked back at you to see if you were kidding, but your face showed your we’re serious.

“BPH? No, lovey.” He shook his head. “That’s just for men. I think it’s when your prostate is enlarged. And in the words of Noah Puckerman, “chicks don’t have prostates”.”

“So I don’t have that?” You asked him again, as if you didn’t believe him.

“No. You don’t have that.” He answered, growing concerned.

“Okay.” You nodded and dried your hands. “Do you have that?”

“Um, I don’t think so.” Peter furrowed his eyebrows at the strange question.

“Okay.” You said again. “Just making sure.”

“Okay.” Peter eyed you curiously as the opening credits started to play. “Oo, it’s starting.”

“I love this movie.” You mumbled as you nuzzled into Peters side.

“Me too.” Peter smiled as he pulled you closer. “I’ve seen it like 3 times already.”

“I’ve seen it 13 times.” You said after a beat of silence, making Peters eyes widen.

“Really?” He asked. “You must really like it.”

“I like rewatching the same movies.” You said sheepishly.

“Why?”

“I like knowing the ending and whats gonna happen next.” You told him, looking at him to see if he thought it was weird. His face didn’t show any signs of disdain, so you relaxed.

You watched the movie in comfortable silence as time went on, never leaving each other’s sides.

“What time is it?” You asked as the movie neared it’s end.

“11:47 babe.” Peter answered when he checked his phone.

“I have to go to bed.” You said suddenly, getting up off the couch.

“The movies almost over, lovey.” Peter chuckled in confusion as you left his side. “Just 30 more minutes.”

“I know.” You chewed your lip nervously and twisted your fingers. “I just have to go to bed. I can’t really explain it.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, still confused. “Good night.”

“Goodnight.” You bent down to kiss him before trotting off to bed. “Night, night, night.”

Peter was beginning to pick up on certain things. You needed it be in bed by 12, you often called him randomly to ask if he was okay, and you stayed away from odd numbers. He didn’t know what to chalk it up to, but he didn’t want to pry if you didn’t want to talk about it.

~

Peter caught you putting your caught on one morning as he was coming into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

“Where are you sneaking off to so early?” He asked through a yawn as he lazily kissed your lips.

“I forgot I have a doctors appointments today.” You pouted. “It’s in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Do you need me to drive you?” He offered.

“You don’t have to drive, but could you come with me?” You asked and he nodded.

“Of course. Let’s go.” Peter grabbed his keys and walked with you to the car.

~

You walked into the lobby where Peter had waited for you with a strange look on his face. Peter immediately stood up and met you halfway, feeling concerned when he saw your expression. He could sense something was off with you but he wasn’t sure what.

“Hey baby.” He rubbed your arms in comfort. “How was the appointment?”

“Um, fine.” You nodded hesitantly. “It was fine.”

“Just fine?” Peter asked. “Did the doctor say anything?”

“No.” You lied. “Nothing important.”

“Thats good.” Peter agreed, not fully convinced you were okay.

“Hey, when’s the last time you had a check up?” You wondered as you walked towards the car.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Peter shrugged. “Less than a year ago.”

“You should probably get checked out. You know, to make sure you’re okay.” You told him as you buckled your seatbelt.

“Sure. I can schedule an appointment soon.” Peter nodded, still looking at you in confusion.

“Do you feel okay? Do you feel sick or anything?” You put your hand on his forehead while keeping your eyes on the road.

“No.” You said quickly. “I’m okay.”

You continued driving in silence as Peter wondered what was bothering you. You were nervously chewing your lip as you checked your rear view mirror every few seconds.

“Oh my God.” You gasped and looked behind you. “I have to turn around.”

“Why?” Peter turned around as well. “What’s wrong?”

“I might have hit someone.” You gulped and changed lanes so you could turn around. Peters jaw dropped a little, knowing full well that you hadn’t hit anyone.

“Lovey, you didn’t hit anyone.” He said slowly. “We would’ve felt it.”

“I know I didn’t.” You said in defeat. “I just need to check to make sure.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, sensing something was wrong. “We can turn around.”

You turned around and passed by the street where you though you hit something. Nothing was there, so you kept driving. Peter kept hai eyes on you, notching the worried look on your face as you continued to check the mirror.

“Are you okay?” He asked you.

“I have to do it again.” You sighed. “I have to turn around.”

“You didn’t hit anyone. You’re a good driver, baby.” He said quietly as he put his hand on your knee.

“I know I didn’t hit anyone. I know that but I just…” You sighed in frustration and put your blinker on. “I just have to. I’m sorry. I have to turn around.”

“Okay.” Peter agreed, not taking his eyes off you. You drove past the spot again and kept going, but your expression didn’t change.

“Do you want to turn around again?” Peter asked gently, and hit tears fell down your cheeks.

“Yes.” You sputtered. “I have to do it again. I know I didn’t hit anyone but-“

“It’s okay.” Peter assured you. “We can turn around as many times as you want.”

You gave him an appreciative look before turning around again. You calmed down as you passed the spot and continued driving in silence.

“I’m sorry.” You said after a minute. “I know it’s weird. I know I’m weird. I can’t help it though.”

“You don’t have to apologize. And I don’t think it’s weird. I just don’t understand.” Peter spoke softly as he rubbed your knee. You looked at him quickly and chew your lip as you toyed with something in your mind.

“Peter, I have OCD.” You said weakly as you snuck glances at him. Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise before settling back down into a look of confusion.

“Oh. You do?”

“That’s what the doctor just said.” You continued. “He said there are medications to treat it. I don’t know if I should take it. But I think I need some help.”

“I’m proud of you for telling me you need help.” Peter squeezed your knee. “I had no idea you had OCD. You don’t clean things all the time or like, straighten your pencils or anything.”

“That’s not - no.” You shook your head. “It’s not really like that. It can be for some people, but that’s not what mine is like. OCD is not always cleaning based. Mine is mostly instructive thoughts or repetitive behavior.”

“Oh.” Peter thought back on all your repetitive phrases and movements. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” You sighed and looked at him out of the corner of you eye to see his reaction.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked, much to your surprise.

“Could you just text me? I worry about you. Like, a lot.” You admitted. “I worry about if you’re okay or not all the time. Every time you go out on patrol, I put on this one movie. I feel like if I’m not watching the movie, you’re gonna die. I can’t explain it. I know you won’t die, but I can’t shake the feeling that you will. I just always worry about you.”

“I think I can help that.” Peter offered. “I can text you every half hour and make sure you know I’m safe.”

“Are you sure?” You asked as you pulled into your driveway. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“It’s okay.” Peter assured you. “Whatever I can do to make this easier, I’ll do it.”

You smiled fondly at Peter before leaning over the gear shift and kissing him, patting his cheek twice before pulling away.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “Thats exactly what I needed to hear.”

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #Peter Parker x ocd!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

[for-fucks-sake-h]

La Paloma

A/N: A story in which Harry’s cocky talk is about the only thing he can lay on thick. Otherwise known as the realistic sex blurb! In the midst of a lot of smut on this website (myself included) I wanted to do something a little different than “sex god Harry Styles” and show a side of sex that is actually real and common and I think... funny! Thank you to my girls @oh-honey-styles​ @andwhenshesays​ @real-work-of-art​ @haute-romance-quotidienne​ for always encouraging the madness. Happy reading! x 

Word Count: 3.8k || Rated: M (mature), for implied smut, shit talking and a floppy disappointment! 

“Can’t wait to get you home,” he murmured in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your neck despite yourself.  

You were surrounded by people, who if they overheard anything he had whispered in your ear, you would have been mortified. Warmth spread to your cheeks as you lifted your shoulder to urge his face away from yours, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as his toned, pink, silk covered front pressed closer to your side.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” His palm made its ridiculously slow course of direction from your opposite shoulder, all the way down your spine, until he could grip your hip tightly to keep you close.  You could smell the tequila oozing from his pores, one (or three) too many La Paloma’s if had any sense of it. “Have I told you that tonight?”

“You did tell me,” you confirmed quietly, turning your head to look at him. “A few times, actually.”  

“Tell ya again,” he urged quickly, his hand squeezing your hip once more. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice was slow, the alcohol coating his throat into a subtle rasp. “Never wanted anyone more than you.”  

He was persistent, if anything. And horny. He made that abundantly clear as his intricately patterned hips ticked forward, his groin pressed tightly against the top of your thigh. He crowded every inch of your space, a few random twists of his hair tickling your temple, the silk of his shirt tickling your skin entirely too softly, the subtle hardness of his undeniably impressive length ready and waiting for you.  If you had let him, he would have snuck you into a closet, an earshot away from your distant relatives that attended your cousin's wedding alongside you.  

Your blood boiled with it though; that need, the utter desire you felt deep in your belly.  You almost gave in, almost let him lead you away, almost risked the embarrassment of being the subject of your family's gossip when someone undoubtedly caught you. You didn’t, clearly, what with the way the last hour had been a torturous form of foreplay.  

“H,” you warned, glancing behind him with a timid smile as one of your uncles approached the other end of the bar.  

You were standing just off to the side, in a tiny little nook that had no business being large enough to fit both your bodies. You weren’t even sure how you got there, your mind fuzzy from both your drinks and your boyfriend.  But there you were, listening to the deep timbre of his voice recite, in detail, what he planned to do once he got you alone.  

“What? I can’t love on you?” he faked innocence.  

You laughed softly. “You can if you keep it PG.”   

“Guess that depends,” he pondered with a slow drawl, “does making you come on my face fall under the PG category?”

A dramaticized roll of your eyes had him playfully giggling against your cheek. “Definitely not,” you sighed with a smile.  

“No can do then.”  

“Harry--”  

“Y’drive me crazy, you know that?”

“Feelings mutual,” you chuckled dryly.  

“The worst part... is that I know exactly what’s waiting for me.” His voice lowered, his lips just barely skimming over the corner of your jaw, warm breath caressing your skin once more. “I know you’re wet, and it’s fucking killing me.”  

You were wet, uncomfortably so, and this man did nothing to quell it. If anything, he went out of his way to intensify it. You didn’t miss the way his fingers toyed with his bottom lip periodically throughout the evening, or the way he walked dick first back to you from retrieving drinks in perfectly tailored pants, or that his hands always found purchase on you somewhere; your thigh during the ceremony, your shoulder throughout speeches, the small of your back as he slow danced with you. He kept you close at all times, the warmth of his palm searing into your skin at any given moment.  

You downed the mouthful left in your glass as a distraction, his hooded eyes burning a hole in your face as he watched, his thumb toying with the material of your dress.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, love,” he rasped. “Sinking into you.” He somehow felt closer. “Feeling you clench down on me the way you do.” His hand squeezed your hip. “Hearing you moan my name.” He swallowed harshly, Adam’s apple bobbing out of the corner of your eye. “Watching you come…” he exhaled. “It’s so fucking good.”

There was a moan sitting at the bottom of your throat, begging to escape with every passing word.

“You always feel so good. I just want you on me, wanna be so deep I can’t breathe. It’s like… heaven.”

“Take me home,” you murmured breathlessly.

***

“I want you so bad.”  The whine slipped up your throat, passing Harry’s lips where they were pressed to the delicate skin of your neck.  

When you gave him the green light to leave the reception, you’d never seen him move faster - giving his well wishes and goodbye kisses to everyone that mattered at warped speed. His affection didn’t let up in the car, a warm palm dipping entirely too far between your legs in the back of that town car for you to focus on anything but him.

You both had stumbled through the house as best you could, tugging each other's clothes off on the way, until you were in your bedroom, hands caressing the silk of his broad shoulders as he pulled you closer. His skin was warm against yours, tingles coursing through your veins at his touch. You could hear his panting breath just as much as you could feel it fanning out over your skin between the burning kisses his mouth left behind.  

“That was the longest wedding I’ve ever been to,” he murmured barely audibly as he followed your careless guide towards the bed. “Felt like I was going to explode.”    

Your chuckle was soft as the backs of your legs met the edge of the bed, keeping a tight hold on him as you both fell onto the soft pillow top. He was heavily pressing you into the mattress, quickly slotting himself between your thighs. You pulled him in by the back of his neck, your mouth finding his with a deep kiss, the tiny bit of stubble on his face a stark contrast to the soft skin of his neck.  

He pressed his hips into yours roughly, practically grinding against your core.  The hardness you felt against your hip at the wedding had subsided, the car ride home seemingly giving him time to calm down. But now you wanted him.  

“I’m so wet,” you whispered, eager to feel him after so much build up throughout the night.  

He pulled back just so, a dimple barely forming into his cheek. “Can feel that,” he slurred, the words forming together in one drawn out breath.  

You leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his puffy mouth, your lips finding their way down his jaw and neck. His hand smoothed down your thigh, squeezing roughly as he pulsed his hips against yours once more. His lips barely made contact with your skin, light kisses being pressed to your chest and neck. He was right there, not even half hard against the apex of your thigh. 

Harry enjoyed himself at the wedding - had his fair share of drinks. You both did, a delightful buzz coursing through your veins as well. You and your boyfriend were very similar that way, equally handsy and eager to be alone once you hit a certain point. It’s more fun being tipsy and horny when you’re in love with each other.  

“You okay?” you asked softly at his ear, feeling his shaky breath against the side of your neck.  

“Mhm,” he hummed, pressing a sloppy kiss to your clammy skin.  “Just give me a minute…” his words trailed off as he pushed himself up on one hand while the other slipped around his cock, giving himself a few slow strokes. And it was a sight to see; watching him play with himself right between your thighs, his stomach clenching both from his position and his hand.  

You couldn’t help yourself from reaching down to brush your knuckles over his hand as a signal to let you wrap your fingers around his cock instead. He happily obliged, choosing to kiss along your cheek and neck once more. You found a slow rhythm with a subtle twist of your wrist just as your mouth sucked a soft kiss from the side of his neck, just below his ear. But something that would normally have him hard in a few strokes, wasn’t doing the trick - three strokes coming and going, going, going, his cock steadily limp in your hand.  

He was breathing heavily against your collar bone as you gave him a few more pumps. His Paloma’s definitely seemed to be inhibiting him now, his tip brushing against your center over and over without so much as a glimmering twitch.  

A frustrated huff came from his pink lips.  “I don’t know what’s going on.”  

“Baby,” you eased as you pulled your hand away. “It’s probably the alcohol.”  

He wordlessly pushed himself up onto his wobbly knees, gripping himself once more as he looked down, a deep furrow dented between his brows. Two more useless strokes and brushing his tip against your core once more had him accepting defeat, falling onto the bed beside you with a disappointed grunt.  “Can still make you feel good,” he mumbled as he scooted the tiniest bit closer to your side.  

He smoothed his hand down your stomach and between your legs, only to brush his fingers just to the left of your clit. You shifted your hips slightly to get him on the right track, trying to help him find his way to where you needed him. And he did, momentarily, until he was too distracted as he tried to kiss your neck, moving off your clit once more.  

You sighed heavily as you turned your head to look at him, which only gave him false encouragement.  

“S’good, yeah?” he asked softly, his lashes blinking heavily back at you.  

You hummed through an extremely soft chuckle as you slowly turned your body towards his, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face as his hand fell from between your thighs. “Sort of lost it, babe.”

“What? Nooo,” he whined. “Wanna make you feel good.” The pout on his lips was so evident that it almost made you smile, strong arms wrapping around you to pull you close.  His forehead knocked against yours, a soft chuckle coming from his lips as he pushed his weight into you more. “Wanna make you come,” he murmured as he clumsily crawled over you, pressing wet kisses onto the skin of your chest.  His tongue smoothed over your nipple, a zap of pleasure crawling down your spine at the sensation of his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin.  

You weaved your hands into his hair as his lips smoothed down the center of your sternum, his face pressing softly into your stomach. You shifted beneath him as his arms wrapped around your waist, his mouth lazily pressing kisses to your stomach as his weight pressed you into the mattress further.  

“H,” you murmured with a scratch to his head.

“Hm?”

You lifted your head to look down at him as he nuzzled into your skin. “Are you falling asleep?”

“Wha? No…”

���Harry,” you sighed. “Come here.”  You pulled on his arms in an attempt to bring him further up the mattress. He groggily responded, pushing himself up your body until he was laying beside you, arms wrapping around you and legs tangling with yours.  

“M’sorry, love. Can’t keep my eyes open.”  

“Sh, it’s okay.”  

He squeezed you tighter as he tucked his face into your neck, your chin resting on the top of his head. “Promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”  

Sleep overcame him immediately, a content sigh falling from his lips before soft snores were escaping his open mouth. It was as endearing as it was annoying. After all that build up, all his shit talking, it was almost comical now. Or at the very least, you had to laugh, because otherwise you would cry of sexual frustration.

So you laid there, willing your mind to settle enough to fall asleep - all while Harry blissfully snored, his body radiating even more heat against your already too warm skin.

***

Was there anything worse than being woken up by a charley horse in your calf? In the grand scheme of the world? Yes. But in that exact moment? When shooting pain stabbed through your leg like a worn down razor blade?  No, there was nothing worse.  A night of drinking everything but water would do that do you though.  

You whined as you shot up from your pillow, whimpering as you attempted to massage the sore muscle, curling and uncurling your toes, breathing heavily as the cramp twisted tighter.

“God damn it,” you cursed quietly as you rubbed your fingers into the tense muscle, releasing a slow breath when the pain finally started to subside.  

And if that wasn’t bad enough, your boyfriend snored peacefully beside you, completely unaware of your turmoil as he cuddled a spare pillow close to his chest.  Was it his fault that you had a charley horse? Obviously not… but somehow you felt like it should be. Especially when you looked over at him drooling on his pillow, back muscles fully on display, hair a mess, puffy mouth hanging open - beautifully infuriating, all at once.    

So before you took your pillow and smothered him with it, you got out of bed, slowly easing onto the traitor leg before nakedly trudging to the bathroom for a shower.  He was in the exact same position when you returned with wet hair and fresh skin, and when you returned an hour and a half later with a neatly folded basket of laundry, he was still in the same position.  You were half tempted to hover your face in front of his mouth, make sure he was still breathing, just when a hiccuped snore escaped him as he wrapped himself around the pillow more.

You padded over to his side of the bed quietly, taking in the long lashes spread across the tops of his cheeks and the hair that was matted between his temple and the pillow, before carefully reaching out to stroke the backs of your fingers across his clammy cheek.  His skin was soft despite the impossible heat, pungently sweating out the last remnants of alcohol coursing through his system.  

There was a part of you that wanted to wake him up, mostly because you missed him (you were supposed to spend the day together) and partly because you couldn’t possibly forget what went on the night before. You would be lying if you said it didn’t linger in the back of your mind all morning, the reminder making itself present as soon as the water touched your skin in the shower, a surprising similarity to his touch - burning hot and completely encompassing.  

But you loved him, so with a huff and a roll of your eyes, you left him there to snooze away.

It was nearly dinner time before you heard the ensuite shower turn on from where you were perched in an oversized dark leather chair in the living room.  You stayed put, wrapped in a blanket with your Kindle and a cup of tea when he finally appeared in a pair of athletic shorts and a Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the word DAMN. written across the chest, hair still damp and sticking up in every direction.    

“Good afternoon,” you greeted, receiving a subtle look over his shoulder.  

“What’s so good about it?”

Your eyebrows rose as you peered at the back of his head while he filled his water jug from the fridge.  

“Wow,” you chuckled softly, entertained by his pouty face. “I mean, you’ve been relaxing in bed all day while I folded all your underwear. Sounds pretty good to me,” you shrugged.  

“Feel like shit,” he shook his head as he made his way towards you, plopping down on the sofa with a loud sigh.  

“Well, yeah, nine Paloma’s will do that to you.”  

“Didn’t have nine,” he grumbled before he chugged nearly his entire jug of water.  

“I was being gracious, babe. Think you had more than nine,” you laughed.  

He shot you a dirty look before his lips twitched with a small smile.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”  

“Fine?” he scoffed, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Would have thought more than fine, love.”

“Why’s that?” you laughed.  

“Y’know,” he smirked, a smug look crossing his face as he playfully raised his eyebrows a few times.    

You furrowed your brows in confusion, watching as your boyfriend gave you a tenacious look of pride.  

“Uh,” you chuckled. “I don’t know.”  

“Last night?” He looked at you expectantly. “When we got home? Was good, yeah?”  

You snorted a laugh, suddenly realizing that he wasn’t joking judging by the cross look on his face, brows furrowed deeply.  

“When you passed out on me?”  

His confused blink had you laughing again, watching as he seemingly tried to piece together the pieces of your non-existent rendezvous.  

“Didn't pass out on you,” he argued.

“Ya did, baby.”  

His bottom lip pouted out just barely as he contemplated your words, eyelashes blinking softly. “Well shit,” he huffed dramatically. “Musta dreamt it.”

You barked one loud, singular laugh. “Glad dream me got some at least.”  

His laugh was infectious and heart felt, his eyes crinkling endearingly.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you roll your eyes, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“I would make it up to you now but I’m afraid I’ll throw up in your mouth.”  

“That’s so hot,” you deadpanned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to you.”  

He smiled timidly, a faint blush crawling across his cheeks ever so slightly. Before he could say anything else, you started to stand up from your blanket cocoon. “Well, not-laid me is going to make some dinner while you… I don’t know, do whatever you’re gonna do with this,” you waved your hand in front of him, motioning to his hungover state.  

He didn’t follow you, even though you half expected him to, and when you returned only 25 minutes later, he was fast asleep on the couch with your abandoned blanket draped over him.  

You released a sigh, accepting that the day was gone by that point, and went back to the kitchen to eat alone.  You cleaned up once you were finished and quietly put the leftovers in the fridge while Harry slept on the sofa before you poured yourself a glass of wine and headed upstairs.  

It wasn't until you were settled in the tub for a bit, topping off another dose of hot water as the bubbles slowly disintegrated around you that the door to the ensuite slowly started to open.  He looked like a puppy that had gotten into a trash can, tail between his legs and a guilty look on his face.  

“Good nap?” you asked as you sunk into the hot water again before tilting your head back to finish off your wine.  

He didn’t say anything from where he stood leaning against the door, watching you with his temple propped on the woods edge.  You glanced over when a few silent beats passed, eyes meeting his gradually.  You didn’t say anything, didn’t offer anything else up, but that seemed to jumpstart him enough to push himself off the door and actually enter the bathroom, heading straight for the vanity to wordlessly brush his teeth.    

You focused on the hot water as it eased your sore muscles rather than the sound of Harry gargling a couple feet away. And once he was finished, he appeared beside you, crouched down next to the freestanding tub, elbows propped on the ledge for balance while his disheveled hair and the look on his face tugged on your heart strings.  

“Sorry I’ve been useless today,” he spoke softly, a subtle frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.  

“It’s okay,” you eased. “You’ll have other days off.”  

“I know, but still.”  Full days off for him were few and far between as of late. “Promised you the day. And promised you other things too apparently... haven’t held up my end at all.”  

“H,” you sighed. “It’s fine, really.”  

You knew your boyfriend, you knew that he was hard on himself sometimes. Pair that with his ego being a bit bruised and you had the perfect recipe for a pity party, which judging by his face, he already arrived at the party long ago.  

“You can make it up to me another day,” you added softly, lifting your hand from the water to smooth down the outside of his misshaped eyebrow.  

He caught your hand before it dropped back into the water and pressed his mouth to the inside of your wrist. “I love you.”  His words were spoken against your skin, his eyes closed as he pressed another kiss to the same spot.  

“I love you too.”  

He released your wrist in favor of cupping your cheek, the warmth from your bath evident beneath his thumb when he stroked it against the apple while the rest of his fingers softly rested against your neck.  

His lips were warm and minty when they met yours, the softest slip of his tongue making your skin tingle with goosebumps.  

“Well…” his hand slowly trailed down your neck to cup your shoulder, your bicep, your elbow. “I can make some of it up to you now.”  

His voice lowered minutely, taking on the tone that made the depths of your stomach twist delightfully.  

“Thought you felt like barfing?” you asked as you stretched your arms up over your head, your chest extending out of the water as beads of bubbles cascaded down your breasts.    

“Feel better now.” His response was quick, immediate, eager. You didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed down your body, his hand caressing the back of your arm softly.    

You shrugged. “Maybe later.”  

Your eyes didn’t leave his when you extended your foot out of the tub to press on the bottom of the faucet's handle, effectively pushing it up and all the way over to the left to fill the tub with some burning hot water for the third time that evening.  

“I charge interest, yanno.” An expectant raise of your brow accentuated your words.     

A subtle smirk tugged on his lips - he knew exactly what you meant; the eager glint in his eye, the soft flutter of his lashes. It looked eerily similar to his expressions throughout the wedding, as if he was imaging all the ways he could devour you if you’d just let him. All the ways he could pay you back, how many times he could make it up to you.  

A bit of waiting never hurt anyone. If anything, it made it sweeter in the end.  

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! xo 

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[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

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#weight gain #fic #male gainer