#You can’t tell me he didn’t say this at least once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stariikis · 15 hours

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operation : be your boyfriend | yang jungwon

synopsis ; thousands of ways to say, 'i love you,' and jungwon can't even carry out one special procedure without messing up. that is, until your birthday rolls around and you're greeted by the kitten you've always dreamed of owning, at your doorstep...

pairing ; clumsy!jungwon x fem!reader | genre ; fluff, crushing, confessions | wc ; 2721 | warnings n notes ; you're not oblivious, you're just a little bit of a mastermind sociopath! appearances of sunoo riki heeseung and eunchae in this fic!

baby... i'm just tryna play it cool... but i just can't hide that... i want you ઇઉ

OPERATION 1 : SECRET ADMIRER

“Clearly, he’s not listening to us.”

“Yang Jungwon…”

“Yang Jungwon!”

Jolting back to the present, Jungwon coughs awkwardly and jerks his gaze away from the girl across the room. He didn’t realise he was staring at the mere back of her head the whole time… how embarrassing for him. Shifting his gaze back to his groupmates, staring at him with a bemused expression, he clears his throat.

“I’m on task,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a pathetic croak from the roof of his mouth. He has to clear his throat again.

“What a liar,” Riki scoffs, following Jungwon’s prior gaze all the way to the front of the classroom. Doubled over with laughter by the board, yn seems to have an aura of gold surrounding her figure. In between rays of sunlight and flecks of fairydust, the way she smiles lights up the whole room like she’s in a fantasy book.

Barely trying to conceal it, Sunoo stares towards her direction. Ironically, the words that leave his mouth as he does so are, “can you at least try to hide it? You’re too obvious.”

“I can’t believe she can’t tell yet,” Heeseung mutters.

For some reason, the whole table goes quiet. In the middle of the silence, Jungwon can only hear the clacking heels of their Maths teacher walking around and the soft rustle of papers, amiable chatter as groups begin to complete their assigned project. But a single voice stands out in the crowd.

Never mind. Jungwon only hears her now.

Isn’t it ridiculous? How he believed that his initial crush on her would be short-lived, nothing more than an impulsive attraction that would fade once he got to know her. When she walked up to him, however, saying nothing but a simple ‘thank you for sending me notes for yesterday’s class!’, he felt like his heart would race out of his chest. Unfortunately for him, she was too charismatic.

With a perfect all-kill streak of grades, she’s never gotten a grade below 90. Not a point out of place. It’s the kind of person Jungwon aspires to be, a much better version of himself. Yes, he gets straight As every term and yes he’s been the class president for three years on end, but it’s nothing compared to her level.

For the past two years, ever since she joined the class with an air exuding and radiating sheer confidence, Jungwon has been trying hard to beat her. Once would be enough for him. He’s been trying so hard to defeat her, however, that he’s forgotten to try to tame his feelings for her too.

About a week after he met her, the butterflies churning deep inside his stomach were already too much for him. In her locker, silver letters Jungwon begged Sunoo to help him calligraph donned the bottom of an indirect, vague love letter. From your secret admirer. He doesn’t even remember now what he wrote inside, but he does recall many descriptions of her pretty smile and easygoing personality.

It was only a day later he found out that he had accidentally dropped it in the locker next to hers. Lee Heeseung from the class beside them walked past, a basketball under one arm and the other hand holding the letter and reading it aloud to Riki, walking briskly beside him. In an instant, Riki looked straight at Jungwon across the hallway and facepalmed.

OPERATION 1 : SECRET ADMIRER : FAILED

wait a minute, what is this? my heart is going lub-dub, just keeps pounding

even from afar, oh, my, gosh! ; pulling me close, you're, my, crush, like a superpower

OPERATION 2 : INDIRECT CONFESSIONS

Daydreams. Flitting endlessly through your mind, like a paradox. It’s impossible to zone out during Biology. How dull you find the zoomed in aspects of all the systems in your body. Sure, you want to pursue something medical-related, but this class just isn’t it.

“Jungwon’s staring at you again,” whispers your seatmate, Eunchae. She uses her pen to gesture behind you. Two seats diagonal to you both, Jungwon notices your glances his way and pretends to look elsewhere. He’s resting on the palm of his hand, the paper he took out to take notes on completely blank.

“I can’t believe he’s the class president again,” you mutter with a tinge of bitterness.

Eunchae sighs. She’s clearly heard enough of your one-sided disliking towards the student leader, and it shows in the way she decides to disregard you. “You don’t have to hate him. He obviously doesn’t reciprocate the hard feelings.”

Of course he doesn’t.

You try to hide a triumphant smile. Of course Jungwon doesn’t harbor any hatred towards you. Rather, it’s quite evident in the way he always asks you to be the first player in his team during PE, asks you if you want to group up with him, makes excuses to brush past you in the hallway – he’s always wanted something more than friendship.

The one time you did agree to do a Korean Language project with him, however, when he came over to record the podcast you had written, all that got done was a bunch of giggles into the portable microphone. Jungwon, admitably, had a good sense of humor. And it, unfortunately, matched well with yours.

You’re making this more solemn than it needs to be, you think to yourself, biting back a small smile to yourself. Shouldn’t it be a good thing that you’ve got Jungwon wrapped around your finger?

Spinning your pen smartly, you sit up. Right. You’ve gotten out of many late homework submissions and responsibilities because Jungwon would literally cover for you with visible hearts in his eyes when he talks about you. You know you should feel guilty for exploiting him, but it’s just what a friend does, isn’t it?

Friend. Another memory fades in.

“Yahh, you’re so down bad you can’t even let her do her own work,” Sunoo mutters to Jungwon, quietly rearranging the papers. He thinks you’re out of earshot, but you can hear their conversation clearly from your desk.

Jungwon shrugs his shoulders in the corner of your eye, and you swear he glances over at you for a second. “She’s my friend. Are you trying to say you never copy my homework?”

Sunoo tsks loudly. “It’s different. She doesn’t need the help! You’ve seen her grades.”

They divert into a small argument about whose grades are better, but you’re not really listening anymore. Your heart is starting to race uncontrollably, and you look desperately down at your chest. You’re trembling from the fact that Jungwon called you his friend? How pathetic. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as if juicing your brains of unwanted thoughts.

But you can’t help but let out a short curse when your heart doesn’t slow down, your cheeks don’t cool off. Only Jungwon wants this. Not you too…

And so when Eunchae finally gets bored of Bio once again, she leans in and pokes you. “Anyway, you know Jungwon has the fattest crush on you.”

“Oh really?” you murmur, averting your eyes back to the liver diagram in front of you. Where you’re supposed to label, ‘oxygen-rich-blood’, you’ve scribbled ‘only jungwon’ in illegible handwriting. You pretend to act surprised, hiding the words with the palm of your hand. “He didn’t ask you to say that? Did he? As a prank?”

Eunchae rolls her eyes. “It’s not a prank.”

“So he asked you to say it.”

“...”

“I see.” You reach into your pencil case and pull out an eraser to wipe away the traces of your daydreams. It’s a good thing you do, because Eunchae suddenly looks over and teases you for falling asleep in lesson when you’re usually such a good student. If only she knew about the homework incidences. If only she knew about the thoughts that run through your head.

What he’s trying to do is kind of… cute.

OPERATION 2 : INDIRECT CONFESSIONS : FAILED

my heart feels like a giant magnet, everything about you sticks to my heart, boy

we're magnetized, i admit it. this time, i want!

OPERATION 3 : LET'S GET IT!

She’s got to be joking, right? There’s no way…

“Yeah, idiot, you’re invited to my birthday party. You got a problem with that?” (Name) scoffs at Jungwon, retracting the simplistic black and white invitation card in her hand. “Maybe you don’t deserve this?”

“No!” He says a little too fast, reaching out to snatch it from her playfully.

He reads it with a poorly hidden smile. Is he even trying at this point? He’s been on the verge of a proper confession for a while now. Why would he want to hide the fact that he really really really wants her to be his?

“15 May?” He sighs, feigning disappointment. “Too bad, I can’t make it.”

Wait for it…

“Really? That’s too bad,” she replies monotonously, walking away without a care. Not the reaction Jungwon was expecting. He releases a breath of air, only now realising that he’s been holding his breath. How boring of her.

“I was lying!” He calls, smoothing out his school uniform and running down the hallway after her. “I’m definitely coming!”

She clearly starts to laugh as she runs away from him, yelling, “come or not, it doesn’t matter to me!”

Jungwon doesn’t give up. With a hand running through his hair, he chases her down the halls. He would chase after her for eternity if he had to. Eventually, he catches up to her with a tap on the shoulder. WIth a mock-annoyed look, she slows down, shoving his shoulder.

“What’s your problem?” She huffs, “Can’t I get a break around here?”

Jungwon smiles. With just the right amount of delusion, maybe he can convince himself that whatever she’s spouting is just a white lie. Untruths to cover up the truth. She wants him back, he swears!

“You’ll never get a break,” he mumbles, suddenly going shy as he leans in closer. Just like I practiced with Riki. Just like I practiced…

“Annoyi–”

“From running through my mind all day.”

When Jungwon finally dares to open his eyes (yes, he was so scared he closed them), he’s shocked to see an empty spot next to him. When he looks up and down the hallway, (Name) sticks out her tongue at him, taunting him. The unbothered glimmer in her eyes reveals that she hasn’t heard a thing.

Once again, Jungwon leaves school with a pit of mild disappointment in his stomach. Not so upset that it hurts like hell, but the wound’s deep enough to leave a scratch.

OPERATION 03 : LET'S GET IT! : FAILED

completely opposite, our type ; you're J and i'm so P

S and N, polar opposites, but that's what pulls us in

INTERMISSION : BABY YOU'RE MY CRUSH

You hear it all.

What would Jungwon say when he finds out, that for a while now, you’ve been wrestling with your own complicated feelings, playing a game of tug of war inside your own heart? Nobody even knows you know. Nobody would even suspect you, of all people, to reciprocate Jungwon’s feelings. And, by this encounter, even Jungwon himself has no idea.

i'll make it have a green light, girl's gotta have guts. so, let's go let's go, let's go let's go!

don't wanna hide it, the magnet in my heart. gonna follow my feelings and get with you, boy

OPERATION 4 : CATCH SOME FELINES (FEELINGS)

What would Jungwon do for love? Just ask him this one question. He’ll probably lie and tell you he doesn’t know, and doesn’t fall for the traps set out by catching feelings, but it won’t explain why he’s outside (name)’s house on her birthday at 8 in the morning. He could very well have come at 9, an hour before the party starts, but he wants to have some time alone with her.

To present his gift to her, snugly bundled up in his arms. And to, uh, say some other stuff.

He looks down at the pearl-white fluffy being, purring contently in his arms. Just a while ago, he got his inspiration for a birthday gift for her. She may have casually brought it up in the midst of discussion for yet another group project, but miniscule things like that stick with Jungwon for ages.

“I want a cat…” she whines, when their group’s gotten sidetracked from their discussion topic. (what do you think the rate of pet ownership is like in Korea?) “they’re so cute. Oh, even better, a kitten!”

“Just get one then?” Eunchae rolls her eyes, and Riki hums in agreement.

“I would. Even my mum wants one. But it’s so much work to adopt one.”

So much work to adopt one? Jungwon scoffs in his mind. Now take a look at the lengths I’ve gone to for you. And I don’t even know if you like me back. Am I stupid or am I stupid?

“Yes, Jungwon? Can I know why you’ve summoned me so early in the morning?” Suddenly, the front door opens after many persistent tries to ring the doorbell. “I know you’re excited for my birthday… but this is just weird.”

She doesn’t notice the kitten squirming in his arms, still rubbing her eyes blearily. She looks so exhausted that Jungwon wants to apologise for awakening her and almost runs away to save himself from the awkwardness. But he stands his ground. This time, he will succeed.

The chronicles of Yang Jungwon’s confession story. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

“Happy birthday.” He murmurs softly, daring to take a step closer and hold out his arms. At first, she squints down at the blur of fur in his hands, face smeared with confusion. It’s only when the furry ball lets out a small mew that she gasps and jerks her head back up. “I… I, uh…”

Seeing her so amazed, with tears gathering in her eyes from the euphoria, he loses track of his words. His mind goes blank. Not knowing whether to continue calmly, or panic and die on the spot, he struggles to speak and feels his cheeks quickly growing with warmth.

What if, just like we practiced doesn’t reassure him anymore, with the last time he used it as an affirmation turning out to be the greatest embarrassment of his life? Just like we practiced? He’s never practiced to be fluent and smooth. He’s always naturally been that way. He’s never had to fumble for the right words to say. Just like we practiced? When would he ever practice worst comes to worst with Riki? Come to think of it, he probably should have. He can’t handle standing here with such shame any longer.

“I’m sorry for being so annoying I just really really like you and I don’t know whether you’ll like this gift or not, but I can’t go another day thinking you probably don’t like me back you can just reject me that’ll be better than misleading myself forever and ever…”

He blurts in a small voice.

And then, he repeats himself, louder and more confident. Like he usually is. “I like you…”

“You must be blind, Yang Jungwon,” she says, laughing through the tears. A moment of silence passes as Jungwon tries to comprehend what he’s just heard. Blind? Why? She’s not going to say… “I like you, too?”

It’s a question. It makes his heart race, but it doesn’t seem like enough.

“You do?” He chokes, his voice failing him. Blood rushes to his ears. “You don’t.”

“Wait.” She clears her throat and claims, “I got nervous. I do. And it’s not the kitten, I know what you’re thinking…”

Taking a step back, she receives the kitten into her arms and coos while Jungwon tries to process everything. “Though I’m so surprised, and so grateful. This gift is the most thoughtful thing ever. No joke.”

She knows what I’m thinking…

Jungwon frowns and steps even closer. He’s so close and she’s so pretty, teary eyelashes gleaming in the morning sunlight. “So you’ve known what I’ve been thinking, huh?”

“I have.”

The hard, challenging tone that seeps into her voice is all too familiar to Jungwon. When she leads him into her house for the second time in his life, all he’s thinking is, what a way to reminisce the moment he fell in love with her.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, but I do!”

A game of wits, you could call it, is what sixteen year old them are playing. Head to head in number of points, they’re competing for first place. Jungwon hides behind his whiteboard, eagerly awaiting her response. She’s never going to guess what he had in mind. She’ll never write the same exact thing, letter for letter—

“I know what you’re thinking.” She whispers mockingly, smirking as she reveals her answer while peeking over the top of his board. The answers match up. She’s won. “I know exactly what goes on in your head.”

OPERATION 4 : CATCH SOME FELINES (FEELINGS) : SUCCESS!

no push and pull, gonna run to you ; our chemistry yeah, i'm in too deep now no push and pull, no regrets, gonna zero in on you ; never holding back straight ahead, yeah

this time, i want!

more of my works >

#stariikis #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen jungwon #jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen yang jungwon #jungwon x you #jungwon x yn #jungwon x reader #enhypen x yn #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #jungwon au #jungwon fluff #enhypen au #enhypen fic #jungwon fic #jungwon imagines

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cocogum · 2 days

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Yugo should feel weirded out by Echo.

I am so confused about Echo’s whole deal with Oropo mainly because of what Oropo is supposed to be.

Isn’t she aware that he looks like Yugo??? So many people around her say that he does, even Yugo said the same thing to Adamaï back when they were both stuck in the Inglorium.

Like if people around Echo keep saying that he looks like a copy-paste, then she should be able to know the similarities too. There’s no way she couldn’t have been aware cuz she’s been with Oropo the longest and was practically his diary for all these millenniums.

And here’s why it bothers me so much.

SHE SHOULD KNOW.

The fact that she and him have been in a relationship too is extremely odd cuz she KNOWS she’s essentially screwing with one of Yugo’s alter egos….

It’s obvious that Oropo and her have done things….cuz like…the bed scene in Season 3 implied it.

So…yeah.

I wish Echo could’ve talked to Yugo at least once in Season 3 but the two never interacted. The only two instances where they’ve been somewhat in the same scene were when Eva had given birth to Pin and when they both saw Oropo and Amalia kissing. So even if they were in the same place at the same time, these two never even spoke to each other let alone glanced at one another.

Like I really want Yugo to be weirded out by this lol. To know that a random eniripsa demigoddess has been screwing with one of his copies.

Oropo even says these in S4 EP1: “Here you are, whole again.” And “We are a part of you.”

So when I say Echo has been plowing a part of Yugo this whole time, I’m not exaggerating. She was literally doing that.

Also here’s another thing, when Yugo had finally accepted the eliotropes to be parts of himself, that meant he was able to see what their lives had been like, to know who they were, and what they’d gone through. So wouldn’t that technically mean that he also saw memories of Oropo with Echo? We did see how Yugo got a glimpse of Oropo and Echo’s kiss right before the bomb exploded so that would imply Yugo saw everything.

How does he feel? Isn’t he weirded out???

I get that Season 4 didn’t have everything explained because of the damn budget but even if they did have it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ankama wouldn’t dig deeper into this.

It’s just completely random to think about but it still exists. It’s still something that Yugo can think about, reflect on, and try to process what he just understood.

Toross is one thing to have been harassed by but being indirectly harassed by a demigoddess eniripsa is another thing entirely.

Bro technically got jumped by two divinities help-

Like no shade on Echo but girl what are you doing.

Like just picture this and pretend the same thing happened to you:

You’re 21 years old but you came to find out that not only did you accidentally create a whole race entirely composed of fragments of YOUR SPIRIT, but one of those fragments ended up getting into all sorts of shenanigans with some demigoddess who you had never met in your life.

And I know you’re gonna say: “But Oropo is his own person, he has thoughts and feelings too. That’s why he was able to love someone who wasn’t in his creator’s life, making him carve his own path to his destiny! 😫😫”

Gurl.

That’s putting feelings over logic.

Oropo is a PART of YUGO. Oropo doesn’t even disagree with that either. He doesn’t correct Yugo when he tells him that they’re supposed to be the same person.

Like I said before, he literally tells Yugo that all the eliotropes are parts of him, literal alter egos.

Without Yugo, he can’t live.

Without Yugo, he can’t think.

Without Yugo, he can’t be.

He literally cannot exist on his own because he is a part of Yugo. That’s why the majority of eliotropes can’t live for very long because their main core, Yugo, isn’t with them. That’s why Oropo tried to morph into Yugo so he could live longer.

Also, eliotropes can’t help but feel everything Yugo feels too: “We all cherish them as much as you do but nothing belonged to us." - Oropo in S3 to Yugo. It’s like an instinct, a force that they can’t control, they can’t help themselves but go with the feeling.

So again, Echo, what were you thinking??

Not only did you know Oropo would have a much shorter life span than you if he didn’t have access to the Eliacube and the eliatrope dofus (which would still be a pain to use for him), but you knew that he was essentially an exact copy of a person who had created him by accident, AND has a tendency of leaning towards that very same person’s desires more than he can help himself. Even his freaking name (which means “to rest” in French) wants to be at peace aka join Yugo.

Oropo declared he wasn’t going to see the day when his brotherhood become gods because he will die soon. Echo should’ve known, out of anyone, that the time would have come eventually.

So here’s the thing: since Echo knew he was going to die soon, and he was the last of his kind, she knew that Oropo’s life expectancy would go back to Yugo’s body.

Then what? What would she do?? Do nothing and weep?? She was his second-in-command and she truly did love him, so what would she do after that? Become the Eniripsa goddess without expecting to ever see him again??

I don’t think she planned that far.

She should’ve been more aware that falling in love with the COPY of a person who would die before you never ends well.

Again, the eliotropes are not saying that they want to be their own selves. They are perfectly fine accepting what they are and want to be acknowledged by Yugo.

That was the sole reason why they all appeared before Yugo when he was getting tortured by Toross. That was the main goal, to be acknowledged.

So Echo, why???

Like genuinely, did love blind you that much???

Also imagine if she actually ended up joining the others in the Inglorium unwillingly….

What are you gonna do, kneel before Yugo and tell him to bring Oropo back???

Literally what???

Someone has gotta tell me how her relationship works with Oropo.

#wakfu #ankama #krosmoz #wakfu yugo #yugo #wakfu season 4 #wakfu s4 #wakfu echo #wakfu lady echo #lady echo #echo #wakfu season 3 #wakfu s3 #wakfu oropo #oropo #wakfu oropo x echo #oropo x echo #yugo wakfu

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screampied · 3 months

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JAILBREAK. — SUGURU GETO. ☆

synopsis. you hate your job as a part time correctional officer. things change once you have to “babysit” one of the dangerous criminals of the a-block floor, suguru geto. but girl, maybe sleeping with an egotistical cocky ass inmate might have been your biggest mistake yet.

wc. 5.5k

warnings. modern au, fem!reader, pwp, inmate geto, corruption kink, degradation, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, geto has a tongue piercing, hair pulling, praise, overstim, reader’s kinda delulu

an. thank uuu @osaemu for beta readin someee!! inmate geto is my new hyperfixation omge

it was as if each shift became longer and longer, your daily occupation, nothing special, nothing fancy, just a correctional officer at some high maintenance prison near the city.

the stench of musk and sweat wafted around you, such a reoccurrence that it was practically normal. it was around midnight, as how most of your shifts were, and as you trod towards the secluded darkened space for only the inmates dangerous to themselves and others, you intake a breath before swiping your key near your hip, preparing to unlock the glass-like metal steel door.

“oh,” you close the door behind you, and that familiar deep voice does something to you.

what…?

you don’t know, but it had such bass in it, you turned to face the inmate, no one other than suguru geto. “…yo,” he mocks, giving you a sly head nod, his eyes scan up and down your body, your uniform and then your own meets his pursed lips. somehow, he managed to find a cigarette. again. “hmpf. they got the newbie watchin' me again? you do know that gun on your hip isn’t a toy, right?”

your eyebrows twitch, and your facial expressions formed into a deadpan as you walked towards him with his daily meal in hand. “yeah and i’m not afraid to use it on you if necessary.”

“ooh. rookie’s got jokes, that’s cute.” he grins.

you murmured, and he only smiles, he knows you didn’t mean that, he pissed you off, even if he wasn’t saying anything exactly. pulling out your staff notepad checklist of where you usually kept track of all the inmates attendance and meals, you uttered, “but anyways…” you blowed, “no one fed you today, suguru. you must be starving.”

“yeah, 'm starvin’ ‘n more ways than you can imagine, princess,” geto hums, and you suddenly freeze once the inmate stands up firm and tall. he’s just so damn big—broad wide shoulders, long slight shaggy dark toned hair, and with a split-second gaze, you look near geto’s orange jumpsuit. the bulge, yeah you spotted that immediately, but his tattoos…

his fucking tattoos.

“can you at least try to behave for a few minutes.” you sighed, and he's already getting on your last nerve. he could tell too…and damn was he was just getting nothing but pure amusement from your sheer irritation.

“eh, depends,” he speaks in a low gruff, his attention was on you and only you, raising his darkened thin arched brows before his lips converge into a witty smirk. “ya gonna feed me my food, babe? oh, you should know. poor inmate like me can’t feed myself when i’m all,” and he pauses while speaking, placing his hands in his lap — giving his wrists a slight shimmy and you hear the metal dance against his skin. “…handcuffed.”

it took everything within you to not smack this arrogant suave bastard, geto flirted with you whatever chance he got, with no shame either. you’re a pretty girl, well mannered, yet never took anyone’s shit, he liked that about you.

your job wasn’t to be taken lightly, it could be considered scary at times with the various inmates you have to deal on a day to day basis, but simply, you were just a girl with an attitude. but he wasn’t fond of brats, especially brats like you.

“…fine,” you mumbled, making your way towards him. he sat on the steel uncomfortable bed that was as usual, never made. geto practically lived in solitary confinement, they don’t call him the suguru geto for a reason. his name was known amongst many, he was feared worldwide. geto wasn’t exactly a good guy, far from it actually.

he’s a criminal and his record was… definitely spine chilling to say the least. “don’t try anything, just open your mouth.”

“hm, alright then.” he happily complies, his demeanor changes just a bit, and he’s more playful. geto opens his mouth just slightly and you spot tiny dimples form near the corners of his lips, and you gradually stick the spoon into his mouth, feeding him whatever food was made for the inmates of the night.

baked mash potatoes, geto stated it was one of his favorites and you just so happened to remember. a smile forms on his lips as you feed him. your eyes darted towards him, and now he’s just staring intimately at you.

that smirk that forever rested against his pink thinly parted lips.

“m-mhm.” he grunts, and your eyes widen just a bit, he was messing with you, and you don’t even realize geto’s got his hand gripped on your waist. stroking a thumb against your belt, you felt the feeling of him rubbing all against the firearm that was strapped tightly on you.

before you could smack his hand, geto swiftly brings you on top of his lap, stealing out a gasp from you at how quick he was with his movements. the silver spoon sticks out his mouth before you take it out, only to return him with an irritated glare.

“what do you think you’re doing?” you uttered, growing quite embarrassed yet trying to maintain a level-head.

“told ya,” he grumbles, swiping a tongue against the excess mash potatoes that remained near his lips. “i’m hungry, babe. that was good, but i’m not satisfied. i need more.”

“inmates in solitary confinement aren’t allowed to have seco—”

“pretty girl, you know what i’m talkin’ about,” geto chuckles, and you shiver a bit from feeling the soft pads of his thumb brush against the belt of your waist again. you were in uniform but this entire position was so dirty. not to mention, it’s not like this place of the prison was exactly secluded. it was, but there was bound to be people were walking by. “i’ve been seein’ the way you stare at me.”

he was just infuriating, but you didn’t know how to reply so…you didn’t. you just sat there on the inmate’s lap, with a quite dumb expression and he’s just eating it up. “geto—”

“it’s just you ‘n me, girl,” he slyly whispers, and his voice drops just a bit as he stops you from speaking. his touch against your waist just gave you more and more goosebumps. all the way up until you felt it. geto infamous boner that hid beneath his jumpsuit. he’s been incarcerated for at least three years now, in and out. he was for sure horny. you could just tell from his seductive gaze. “don’t gotta be shy. was waiting for you to show up if ‘m being honest. you’re not like the rest, y’know?”

that’s when you gasp, realizing his handcuffs were off — he must have took the key from your pocket, because he was just feeling you up now. you let off a surprised noise once you felt geto starting to make you grind against his lap, feeling his hefty bulge.

“sugu-” you mumbled, and he’s just staring at you with a sly grin pressing onto his lips, only before he leans directly up close to your neck, giving a part near your collarbone a soft deep suck.

you whine from feeling the near sharp edges of his teeth lightly dig into your skin, playfully.

“mhm, pretty thing like you isn’t fit to be workin’ here. cutesy little prison guard,” he sung, his warm breath wafts against your skin, “crushin’ on your inmates is real unprofessional, ya know. you could get fired.”

he was right, you could get fired. and perhaps he wasn’t lying about the second part too—you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t find suguru geto the slightest bit of attractive. because he was, he and you both knew it.

“don’t be stupid. i’m not crushing on you,” you denied, yet embarrassingly enough, your eyes widen at feeling geto air your words — his thick stubby fingers, two of them specifically runs down between your legs and you gasp again. “are you…crazy? there could be cameras in here.”

“so.”

“so? you’re trying to get me fired?” you raised your eyebrows, sitting up from his lap, and he’s playing with you entirely. stroking a rough scarred hand down your back. if it was any other inmate, you’d barely give them a second glance.

geto gives you direct eye contact, and he looks so handsome and lean back, but his messy long black strands of bangs nearly covers his eyes, making him appear to be ten times more feared.

“maybe,” then he chuckles. “it’s okay, if it makes ya feel any better. i fantasized about you at least once or twice while being secluded from the other inmates in this hellhole. i prefer you over the other annoying officers who’re always givin’ me shit.”

you were about to speak but suddenly you couldn’t—you realized how close you were to geto, propped up on his lap, propped up on his bulge. were you really throbbing right now? oh you definitely were.

pulsing, itching, aching.

“soooo, when was the last time you got laid?”

this guy.

“excuse me?” you stammer, entirely being taken aback. such smug fell off his tone, he cocked his head a certain way to let you know he was being genuine. in his own way, of course.

geto’s always been one to flirt with you whenever it was your shift to supervise him. his comments were always so bold. he’d purposely pitch his tone a bit low whenever he spoke to you, no one else. perhaps it was the incarcerated felon crushing on you.

“you heard me,” he mutters, giving you a sly glance. he ghosts a few fingers against your waist. you still don’t know why you’re happily sitting on his lap, but you were comfortable to say the least. “with your long hours i pretty much figure you don’t even have time to finger yourself, let alone get laid. poor baby.”

“…just shut up.” you chastised, his soothing warm words, the way he delivered those last two words as a form of mockery. it made you throb, you pinched yourself, feeling yourself grow out to be hot.

“make me, girl.” he faked a pout on his lips, almost as if his speech was purposely dumbing you down, solely from the tone. geto teasingly cocks his head towards the right and a teeny smile stretched against his lips.

and you did.

he was just poking fun at you—you loathed it, the tension between you and geto, his expressions were relaxed and smug like you won’t do anything.

so, what did you do?

you silenced him…with a kiss.

he’s taken aback, you’re taken aback, you don’t know what came over you but you just couldn’t stand him talking.

his sly grin, you desperately wanted to wipe it off his face. geto leans back against his bunk. his breath gets caught in his throat with the way you initiated the lustful kiss, parting your mouth open just a bit.

you can feel geto reaching for the firearm near your hip but with quick reflexes you smack his hand, and he chuckles, pulling you closer towards him.

he tasted sweet, with a tang of spice. leaning his head forward, he felt your warm breath shudder against him which makes him let off a low grunt once he feels you start to rock against his lap.

geto didn’t expect for you to trail a finger down his jumpsuit. the soft nearly wrinkled fabric, unbuttoning it and he shudders at how you’re all frisky and bold.

“easy now officer,” he whispers before pulling away, lips pink and glistening with a bit of spit. his voice was a mere rasp and it made you throb. “when i said make me, that’s not what i meant,” and then he smiles, tugging on your work pants. “but you’re something else. take off those pants, i’ve been meaning to show you something.”

geto wanted to show you his tongue, specifically his tongue piercing. not necessarily show you but make you feel it.

when you kissed him, you felt it tickle against you. the tasteless titanium rubbing against your tongue. it left you all hot and bothered.

he had you currently laid flat on your back, an entire needy mess, despite it only being a few minutes. how embarrassing…

it was just the way he curled his tongue, flicking it against your pussy, he’s sloppy. two big hands squeeze and grip against your inner thighs, long strands prickling against your legs as he swirled his tongue against your slit.

“f-fuck,” you’d gasp out, tilting your neck down to stare at geto. he’s already returning your eyes with a coltish glance, puckering his lips briefly to create kissed everywhere between your legs. your hands rummaged through his long silk hair. giving it a firm tug, that earns a low grunt from geto that makes you pulse even more. “tickles, suguru.”

“does it?” he purrs in a cheeky tone, slowly flicking his tongue against your clit—you jounce, a gasp gets caught in your throat at the way the piercing shifts against your folds. the slight coldness of it makes your thighs ache for more “mhm. can’t get enough.”

you pant, tugging and gripping roughly on his hair, geto’s nose deep, his tongue was so greedy. it was just the way he grazed and moved his tongue against your labia. your two sweet flaps, you grew more whiny by the second.

“s-suguru,” you’d squeak, biting down on your lip. you knew how wrong this was, so why did it turn you on even more? “think…think ‘m getting close.”

“yeah yeah, keep your legs open.” he cuts you off, and you stare down at him. he’s so nasty with his tongue, taking a brief second to spit right on your cunt, dragging a thumb between your slit. “do you get wet like this for all your other inmates?”

you stared down at him, feeling yourself grow more and more aroused by the second—your response was just giving him a subtle head shake. “no, just you.”

“just me?” he repeats, lowering his voice and it’s so attractive. “maybe you really are crushin’ on me.”

“shut up..” you hissed. your breathing started to become more and more erratic, your ears rang and you pulsed from how close you were starting to approach towards your orgasm.

geto’s entire chin was polished with your sweet slick—covered in nothing but all of it. such a messy eater, each time you tug on his long strands of hair. his husky pitched groans continued to make you pulse.

his piercing slowly lapped against your cunt, and you gasped at the feeling of him inserting a finger inside slowly.

“ooh, ‘s close isn’t it?” he teases, peppering kisses near your thighs now, nibbling on it playfully with his teeth. “you gonna make a mess for me? slutty prison guard?”

“y-yes.” you squirmed, your hands idly dragging him closer against your pussy. he chuckles, his technique snatching your breath away quite literally. “suguru… gonna come. wanna cum.”

he lays his tongue flat, lapping and lapping against your clit, giving it a long sweet suck to where his mouth starts watering from the taste and you moan. “ask nicer. where’s your manners huh?”

“p-please,” you whined, growing frustrated, so pent up—your walls clenched around the two fingers he now had buried deep into your cunt. you whimper from the mere stimulation, the way he toys with your g-spot with his lengthy slender fingers had you throbbing pathetically. “let me cum please, s-suguru.”

“oh but i don’t know,” the inmate teases, using his free hand to pry open your thighs a bit more. the cute pout that spread across your lips at his words was so adorable, “aw poor baby,” he hums, playfully blowing against your pussy to watch you writhe in pleasure and utter desperation. “you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

“suguru, please, please..” you whimpered, not even caring how you sounded. your sweet voice reverberated against the walls of the secluded kept room, own words coiling at your throat.

he smiles. “how about this,” and for a terse moment…he stares right at you. with his tongue going over his lips, savoring your taste. “i let you cum, you promise to get me out of here.”

….

help him break out?

all this so you could orgasm….

you swallowed, chest heaving and your legs felt nearly nonexistent. geto looked serious though, brushing a thumb against your sloppy clit. he awaited your answer and you were deep in pondering thought.

you’d for sure get fired, then again you did hate your job.

the fact that you were even contemplating letting an inmate break out just to cum. you just wanted a release so bad, the way his tongue lapped against your pussy, the smooth texture of it flicking back and forth to where your toes curl. you wanted more, and maybe it was a bit concerning that you started to not even care about your profession anymore.

“promise..”

“oh..?” he slyly remarks, for sure you were gonna at least deny or call him crazy, but a straight answer. he was amused—and the needy look on his face was all he needed to see. “hm, it’s a deal then. go ahead ‘n cum, pretty girl.”

your back arched in ecstasy, he’s holding onto your hips departing his fingers from inside you, and just his tongue’s doing the main finish. you shuddered as you felt yourself vibrate and twitch. the build up had you clenching around nothing but air. “f-fuck…”

scorching, your body radiated and carried so much heat around it, your eyes started to roll and roll towards the very depths of your head. once you came, you slump back against the rickety mattress, one hand still firmly maintaining its grip on geto’s hair.

“there there, ‘s okay,” he slyly purrs, making sure to clean you with his tongue. for a split second his eyes close, and geto brings a few kisses against your folds before sitting up to stare down at you. “c’mere.”

you sit up, giving geto a cute needful glance, you craved more and he knew that. you leaned in to kiss him, and he returns it with such filthy passion. geto’s handsy, his slick-smeared lips ghost against yours before he deepens it. a groan gets caught in his throat, and you whine once you feel him lay you down on your back.

he leans up against you and eagerly, you give the orange fabric pants of his jumpsuit a cute tug, a sign for him to take it off.

“such an impatient little thing,” he murmurs right into your mouth. you whined, wanting him to keep kissing you but he keeps breaking away purposely, watching your lips quiver in desire. “how bad do you want me?”

“s-suguru.” you pouted, your hand finding its way towards his bulge. the strain in his pants, all because of you.

“don’t ‘suguru’ me,” he rasps in a mocking tone, his body pressed against yours. and only then did you realize the size difference, how buff and well toned geto was. he was an inmate after all, he always had a consistent workout schedule. geto’s dark eyes stare into yours before he brushes a thumb against your glossed lips. “talk to me nice in that pretty voice of yours. you want me? say it then.”

the disappointed pout you had displayed on your lips remained there as you spoke, only to hear how whiney and desperate you were.

“i want you suguru, please.” you sigh.

“girl…you’re so unprofessional,” he snickers, a swift snicker leaves from his lips before you hear him shuffle in his suit. pulling down his matched set pants, he tugs near the edge and it goes down. “feel how hard you make me, officer.”

and you let out a soft gasp.

geto lightly grabs you by the neck, and you let off a needy moan once he starts to rub your face against his boxers. the very imprint of his bulge. “all your fault. got me throbbin’ for you...”

“suguru,” you whined, a small pout spreading on your lips each second he continued to tease you. “suguru, s-stop teasing me.”

“just jokin’,” you plop down on your chest, the moment he lightly shoves you forward against the plush-cushioned bed frame. it creaked from the movements, quite rickety. “oh wow,” he utters in a low voice — quickly averting his eyes towards your work pants, briefly pulling them down to come full-view of your ass. “do correctional officers just…not wear panties or…?”

you let off a moan, feeling him skim a few fingers against your ass, holding back a noise once he presses the leaky fat tip of his cock against your throbbing entrance.

“i…i forgot.” you whined, mouth watering — you wanted more than anything for him to be inside already. “i was rushing.”

“uh huh,” geto rolls his eyes, and you stared directly at him. the plump fat head of his swiped against your wet folds, a few taps and you were about to go crazy. “ooh. look at you trying to rush me.”

he was such a tease, you could hear the playfulness in his tone. as geto hovered over you, he took a few moments before slowly easing his way inside you.

his jaw clenches, and it’s sexy…

the way his muscles would tense all because of you. you were panting, legs just dumbly sprawled out. maybe it was unprofessional, participating in sexual activities with an inmate—yet, you just couldn’t help yourself. all the built up tension surrounding between the two of you. perhaps it was bound to happen.

“fuck, ‘s warm..” he grunts, and he’s just barely halfway in. you chewed near the inside of your lip, nails clawing down his buff arms and he starts to pant himself. geto was huge. emphasis on huge.

his happy trail was mesmerizing to look at, the way he had slightly black curly hair coating near the lower half of himself. it was well trimmed, yet much visible to see. the more he gently makes his way inside your cunt, you felt every mean inch. the curve geto had—it was hefty, you felt yourself starting to drool.

a single vein throbbed, and you felt it. geto bites his tongue marginally. and once he’s fully in, he gives you a coy expression.

“may i move, officer?” he snickers.

“p-please.” you whimpered.

“okay.” he hums, and the bass to his voice was just enough to get you wet. far wetter than you already were. such smoothness dripped from it, it was a deep pitch that always made your heart flutter and sink.

once he starts up just a single thrust, your body jolts back and you gasp—finding your arms to suddenly grab onto him.

geto chuckles. “dramatic thing, aren’t you.” you moaned, nails continuing to drag down how skin as you’re laid flat against your back. the angle was so deep and thorough, each hit against your pussy had your kind spasming. in an entire frenzy of you will.

he leans in to pepper kisses all over your face, strands of his hair that was out tickled against your skin. by this point, he’s buried deep. your head goes back a bit and…oh, that same curve that he had, it continuously made an appearance.

geto was buried between your legs, hefty sack just thwacking against you. your legs were perfectly bent, shoulder width apart. “f-fuck,” you’d stammer, suddenly clamping all around him. it took a few deep vigorous thrusts, but at this point he’s got your pussy memorizing his lengths size. geto spreads his knees for a more thorough base, his movements were so sloppy you could barely think straight. let alone process anything. “suguru, ‘s right there.”

“right there what?” he teases, leaning in to nibble near the bottom of your lip. the thin fabric of his jumpsuit brushes against your skin—you were just a mess. pulse after pulse, you wouldn’t be surprised if your brain was short circuiting. “i can’t hear ya when you mumble, baby.”

“fucking-” you spat, and he chuckles once you’re cut off with a deep kiss. geto vary’s his stance against you, and slides his tongue all throughout your mouth. it’s a rough and passionate kiss—so much so to where, he has you catching his breath. once you pull away, you moan, being brought back to reality from his ruthless smacks he’s making with his dick. “keep…keep hitting me there.”

he hums, giving your bottom lip a slow playful bite again, still ramming his hips against you at such a filthy pace. “is that an order?”

he was so annoying, that two second glance he’d give you—a smirk pressing against his lips, he definitely knew how to get under your skin. “please,” you corrected yourself, nails still running down his back. it pierced against his skin, earning a low husky grunt from him. “keep hitting me in that s-spot, suguru.”

“since ya asked so nicely,” he purrs, sneaking another kiss. this time near the very corner of your mouth. the taste was just glacé, sweet and all. simply divine.

you moaned into his mouth, and as his body weight pressed against yours — you shivered. he’s such a tease, geto starts to lightly ghost your cell keys against your bare tummy. your back arched immediately, the coldness of it just grazing against your skin. “you’re so sensitive.”

his soft, teasing words rang throughout your ears, and as you clung onto him—you felt yourself coming closer and closer. he gripped onto your legs, slightly raising them upward and you moan from the deep deep angled. “o-oh my god.”

geto’s shallow mean strokes had your eyes rolling all the way back….way back to the very depths of your skull. if you weren’t drooling then, you certainly were now.

the moment he sees you pouting from how he cockily starts to slow down—geto pushes a bit more deeper, grinning from your legs now locking around his waist.

moments later though, you both freeze at hearing the sound of footsteps approaching near the solitary steel door.

right when you about to orgasm, you both stare at each other — and it’s another officer. you could tell by the loud echo of the keys dangling against their hips.

“officer, you alright? been in there a while. we’re finishing up roll call then it’s time for the inmates to sleep.”

shit.

you couldn’t stay quiet, that’d be suspicious, and you knew you had to say something. geto chuckles, still buried balls deep inside of you, leaning in to give your neck a long suck. your hands ran through his hair and you bit your lip, trying to muster up what to say.

“your subordinate’s talking to you,” geto teases, and you gasp from how he suddenly pistons his hips, such sloppy ruthless thrusts your breath was merely taken away. “don’t be a rude girl.”

“s-shut up,” you whined, putting a hand in his face and he playfully kisses it. you stop a moan from escaping your lips before you project your voice lightly. “uh, yeah. everything’s good. inmate suguru geto’s asleep. i’m just—just finishing up then i’ll take care of his dishes.”

“alright,” the lower rank replies, and your legs start to shake and jostle against geto. he’s staring at you, just wanting for you to slip up. a few awkward seconds pass before the officer continues to speak. “are we still on for tonight?”

you gulped, and geto raises his brows before whispering into your neck. “…oh, tonight, yeah?”

by all means, you felt so embarrassed, heat rises up to your cheeks as if your entire body wasn’t already burning up from his weight pressing down against you.

you ended up cumming mid-convo, and had to cover your mouth to not be so noisy. you clenched all around geto, just a twitching and spasming mess.

“y-yeah, we are.”

“good, good,” he speaks through the other end of the closed steel door. poor officer, he sounds so ecstatic, a bit of confidence running through his tone. “i’ll see you then, pumpkin.”

geto blurted out laughing and you had to slap a hand against his mouth. the moment the coast is clear and he walks away, you glare and he simpers.

“pumpkin,” he repeats, mimicking your co-workers accent. “i didn’t know you had plans. have me looking like a fool, hmpf.”

“my private life isn’t your busin—” and you get cut off once geto abruptly sits you upright, to where you’re just straddling him. you moan, your cunt still being stuffed full of his thick inches — and for a moment, you felt his vein prod against you.

geto groans, seeing how your pupils were all dilated from your recent release. “yeahhh, it isn’t,” he says, grabbing ahold of your waist. you’re rocking back and forth and he’s so thick that you’re just completely cockdrunk and dizzy. “but ‘m having too much fun with you.”

you gasp once you feel the back of geto’s hand roughly smack your ass again, and again, and again. he loves the recoil — you hiss from the sting as your hips roll and maneuver against his lap. “you’re such a dirty girl. i don’t want you to go on that date. stay with me.”

“y-you can’t be serious.” you muttered, arms thrown over his neck. and for a brief moment, it was almost as if you heard a faint of jealously lingering on his tone. it made you throb, this high and mighty notorious inmate feeling this way…for a nobody like you.

“dead serious, baby,” he utters, and you can sense geto’s close too from the way his jaw tightens. his head tilts back and he bites down on his lip. “that way i won’t be less lonely. talking to the wall ‘n everything.”

oh right, he was in solitary confinement. purposely secluded from the other guards and inmates. geto was considered a danger, yet here you were — stupidly bouncing on his dick.

“but ‘m not so lonely now that you’re here,” he coos against your ear, and you whimper once he drags a hand down between your legs. he gives your pussy a few mean spanks and you whimpered. “fuck, keep moaning in my ear like that ‘n i’m gonna give you so much of my cum.”

“i need it.” you pleaded, tears swelling up in your eyes, you genuinely didn’t know what got over you — your body was so achy, each time he traced his fingers down your body, you whined. you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted to be filled.

geto groans, and his hefty base kept smacking back against you, your hips jerked as you tightly held onto him, marking up the very inner part of his neck with soft bite marks.

“f-fine,” he grumbles, and his voice gets a bit high, he’s growing out to be sensitive from the pressure building up. he even gets a tad bit whiney himself. the constant skin smacking makes him kiss his teeth, and his head throws back yet again—long pretty hair flowing against his shoulders. “god, you’re so fuckin’ nasty. riding me this g-good.”

you even start to tug on his hair, and that makes him moan even more. not like he minded. it turned him on, needless to say.

once geto came, it was thick, so much that it instantly spilled out of your cunt. you paused your hips, and he silenced his groans by grunting against your neck. he’s shaking just as much as you were — and it came out in velvety ropes, spurting and spurting.

“take it all,” he hisses, gripping onto your waist tightly. you whimper, grinding against him just for a few seconds and he’s for once speechless. “damn, those hips of yours is so deadly, fuck.”

you whined, sitting up and he pulls out of you, watching his own cum spill and drip out. geto brings a thumb towards your clit to smear it all over your pussy, an image that was a something he’d never erase from his mind.

you panted, hitting your back against his bunk while geto leans in to kiss you deeply. you kissed back, dragging your tongue against his, feeling his warm breath fan against yours before he pulls away with a weary expression.

“good girl,” he murmurs, peppering a soft kiss near the side of your mouth. “remember my promise?”

“yeah.” you exhale, trying to catch your breath. your legs felt like jello — head clouded and entirely empty, not a single thought in your mind.

he smiles. “good. because i forgot to tell ya something else,” and you stare at him, a soft confused head tilt, watching him re-adjust his jumpsuit, pulling his boxers and pants part up. “have fun being in solitary by yourself.”

“wait w-what?” you stammer, and reaches the door, your own keys in hand — and you couldn’t have felt anymore stupid. geto chuckles, with a sly shrug. “princess, you were so gullible. letting me take your keys,” and he unlocks the huge latch before grinning. “but hey, don’t feel too bad. you have a date tonight.”

you glare, overwhelmed with emotions before spitting out a, “fuck you.”

“you literally just did,” he wriggles his eyebrows. “don’t worry. i’ll come back for you,” and then he opens the steel door.

yet before slamming it, he gives you a wink and that same sly grin. “nah i’m just kidding, no i won’t. sorry.”

#★vegasbaby.#geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #jjk x you #jjk smut #anime smut #anime x reader #female reader #tw sex #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut

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isamoa · 4 months

Text

“ COMIN’ BACK FOR MORE! ”

jjk men x f!reader ࿐ MDNI.

ᰔ、summary. jjk men when the pussy is too good

ᰔ、tags. (ft. toji, geto, gojo, choso, sukuna, nanami), nsfw, female anatomy, fwb tropes, unestablished relations, p in v, threesome, cunnilingus, virgin!choso, fingering, homewrecking/cheating

──── TOJI FUSHIGURO、

toji didnt do the whole “friends with benefits” thing. he was more of a hit and run type of guy when it came to fucking—and he planned on keeping it that way when you came around. sure you were a little cuter than other girls he’s been with, he’ll admit that. but that didn’t make you any different.

but your face card was the least of his worries, and poor toji was unfortunately a little too late to realize it. your pussy was what he should have really been afraid of. it sucked him dry like no other had ever before; leaving him a confused mess when he left your apartment without a word the next morning.

he had an unfamiliar desire to do it all over again with you. toji fushiguro never slept with the same girl twice. but maybe he could make an exception—just this once.

“thought you only did one night stands?” you confronted the man on top of you suddenly, whining at the way he pushed down on your legs; knees practically touching your ears. it was well past midnight when toji had unexpectedly shown up at your door unannounced, not even bothering to give a simple ‘hello’ before his mouth was on yours and he was pushing you towards the couch. “had to have this pussy again, ma.” he admitted with defeat, hips plowing harshly into your stretched cunt. no amount of pride could have stopped him from coming back to this. you felt too fucking good to give up so easily—he wasn’t gonna let you get away as easy as everyone else. “it’s so fucking- you’re too fuckin’ good.” he stuttered out, his cock throbbing at the orgasmic feeling of your walls tightening around him. “so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

──── SATORU GOJO + SUGURU GETO、

gojo and geto did everything together. it was normal for best friends to want the same thing—and apparently that applied to woman too. suguru even planned on keeping you a secret at first, but ultimately couldn’t help himself from calling up satoru to tell him how good of a fuck he just had.

you couldn’t remember what had exactly led to you sleeping with the both of them, all you knew was that if you had one—you had to have the other?

you didn’t really understand their reasoning for it, but you weren’t gonna turn the idea down. especially when gojo insisted that if you didn’t fuck the both of them, you wouldn’t fuck at all.

“can’t believe you weren’t gonna share this with me, sug.” satoru mumbled between your legs, referring to the man but yet speaking to your cunt. you were positioned comfortably in suguru’s lap with your back against him, his chin resting on your shoulder while his fingers played with your clit and satoru’s tongue dug further into your folds. “knew you would act like an idiot.” suguru explained, his hand’s movements pausing for a moment to yank on satoru’s white strands in annoyance. his face lifted from the warmth between your thighs to cry out in pain, earning an annoyed whine on your end. “like you are now.” suguru spoke again, interrupting the man below who went to sit up, a snarl on his face before you spoke up in a frantic plea. “s-stop arguing and just let me cum.”

──── CHOSO KAMO、

you and choso were already good friends before the two of you had sex. heck, it wasn’t even a thought until he came to your house one late afternoon, saying something along the lines of needing to know how to give head since he’s starting to talk to this one girl. who better to teach him than you?

you agreed on behalf of being such a good friend—making him swear that it would only be a one time thing. he did so immediately of course; being that was what he had in mind to begin with.

but that soon was proven to be a lie when he ended up coming back to your place, insisting that he needed you to teach him how to fuck this time.

“like that?” he questioned quietly, his tone somewhat shaky from the rough pace he had going as he pushed into your slick cunt from behind, his hands gripping your waist with a gentle pressure. you groaned at the stretch, your face buried into the pillow to suppress your moans as your body jerked back and forth. “fuck- yeah cho, just like that.” you praised greedily, turning your head to rest on your cheek and look at him from behind. “doin’ so good baby.” you had almost forgotten you were supposed to be giving him tips—too focused on how good he felt; and how he didn’t even need any guidance. “you sure you never fucked anyone before?”

──── SUKUNA RYOMEN、

sukuna knew he was gonna get into your pants the second you introduced yourself to him. being roommates and all, this man heard everything. so he gladly took the chance to fuck you the moment he heard the front door close and you bid the guy you brought over a tired goodbye.

he’s heard you orgasm before when you touched yourself at dark hours, so it was easy to tell the difference when you faked one that same night before the man left. he took it upon himself to help you out; show you how a real man fucks.

the both of you found the amount of times you brought a date home getting lesser and lesser, before ultimately stopping completely. it just wasn’t worth it anymore; what with sukuna coming out of his bedroom to interrupt you the moment he heard you lead them into your own and all.

“finally gave up, huh pretty?” sukuna whispered huskily into your ear, his hand gripping your jaw tightly as he fucked his fingers into your soaked pussy. a whine escaped in response to his cocky comment, followed by a pout forming on your swollen lips. his fingers dug deeper, the base of his palm cupping your entire core as he pumped it in and out; a wet slapping noise filling the room. “no one fucks this pussy as good as me.” he states proudly, bringing your face up to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. “go on, say it.” he commands against your mouth; the last thing you hear before you’re gushing on his fingers, whining like a little bitch in heat. “that works too.”

──── KENTO NANAMI、

you met nanami at a bar a few days before you were supposed to start at your new job. your nerves were sky high, and you just wanted to go home with someone, fuck the shit out of them, and relax. you didn’t mean for the same someone to be your new coworker.

and it wasn’t a big deal at first—you fucked your coworker, so what?—at least not until you saw the sparkling wedding band that decorated his ring finger. that definitely wasn’t there the night at the bar.

he made you swear up and down to keep what happened between the two of you a secret; insisting that it was nothing more than a drunk accident and a horrible mistake. but apparently not horrible enough to stop him from sneaking you into the bathroom during his break every once in a while.

“you’re such a f-fucking pervert.” you cursed into the palm of kento’s hand that was wrapped securely around your mouth, his other one rubbing his throbbing cock along your wet folds. “fucking me when you’ve got a- shit.. wife at h-home.” you whimpered when he finally pushed into your sensitive hole, a groan erupting from his throat at the tightness. all this talk about being so loyal to his wife, but he’s got you sitting on the bathroom sink with his cock stuffed inside a pussy that doesn’t belong to him. he lets out a breathy chuckle, pulling your hips closer so you slap against his pelvis. “how ‘bout i make you a mommy then, hm?” he suggests, skin colliding against yours as the hand over your mouth moves to the side so he could peck your pouty lips. “get you knocked up so i can be with you full time.”

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livwritesstuff · 1 month

Text

inspired by a nate bargatze sketch

Eddie’s least favorite thing people say when they find out he’s gay and married to a man is when they ask who the “man” of their house is, because…it’s fucking stupid and wouldn’t be funny even if it didn’t rely on patriarchal bullshit that Eddie didn’t buy into even before he and Steve had three daughters.

The thing is though…there definitely is a man of their house, and it’s Steve.

And if Steve isn’t home, it’s their oldest daughter, Moe.

Eddie knows this is true because there’s someone coming to their house to work on…something. All Eddie caught when Steve brought it up was, “We’ve been in this house for almost twenty years. I’d rather deal with it now than wait until it’s causing problems.”

So it’s either the roof, the water heater, or the furnace.

(He thinks).

Every once in a while Eddie gets frustrated enough about this to want to get more involved – he helped Wayne out with this shit all the time when he was a teenager, and he worked as a mechanic well into his twenties (up until he got his first book deal and was able to quit and write full-time). It’s not that Eddie can’t understand all that stuff – no, it’s Steve insisting that he take on all that kind of stuff in their life together so that Eddie didn’t have to that did it, and now it’s been so long since he exercised that part of his brain that it’s basically gone dormant.

The nail in the coffin is when Steve says, “If he shows up before I get back – do not engage. Get Moe. She knows what this is all about.”

She totally does, is the thing, so Eddie just replies, “Got it,” and prays that Steve gets home from the hardware store before the contractor arrives (is he a contractor? Eddie doesn’t think he even knows what a contractor is).

Naturally, not even five minutes after Steve pulls out of the driveway, a dark blue van pulls in.

“Ah, shit,” Eddie mumbles, and then he calls upstairs, “Moe. The guy Pop was talking about is here.”

Moe calls something incomprehensible back (hopefully it’s I’ll be down in a second) because by the looks of it this guy is already halfway to the front door.

Unfortunately for Eddie, Moe is not down in a second and he ends up in a conversation about water heaters with…not a contractor, he’s pretty sure. A plumber, maybe? Doesn’t matter – just a guy who’s gonna fix – or maybe it’s replace? – their water heater…for some reason.

“So where’s the heater?” the not-contractor-maybe-plumber asks.

“Uhh…” Eddie hesitates, and thank Christ, Moe appears at the top of the stairs.

“Basement,” she says, “Anode rod was replaced three years ago but the rest of it’s been there since we moved here in ‘04.”

The guy launches into a whole water heater spiel, and Eddie realizes halfway through he’s not trying to engage with Moe at all. He’s directing it all at Eddie as if Eddie is hearing anything more than Charlie Brown-esque phone call mumbling. He concludes with a question about…something related to tanks maybe? Or maybe it was tankless. Eddie has no idea. Moe answers it because she knows what the hell this guy is talking about, but still this asshole is looking at Eddie for confirmation.

“Dude, I dunno why you're looking at me,” Eddie tells him, and then he points at Moe, “My daughter works on airplanes. I write books. I'm telling you – you're better off listening to her.”

#moe does indeed work on airplanes at this time #after two years she decides it’s not challenging enough and goes to law school instead #eddie is terrified of her #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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whoistartaglia · 8 months

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genshin men when you sleep talk

childe

childe would try to talk to you while your sleep talking. he thinks he’s kind of adorable how you’re muttering random things about your day, and will try to prolong the “conversation.” even if he’s really tired and you accidentally wake him up, childe will just sigh and entertain your sleep talk.

“then i came home… and my boyfriend was there…”

“hmm? and do your think your boyfriend is handsome?”

“yes… i guess…”

childe will try and ask you what “i guess” means, but you’ve started to snore, and his words fall on silent, sleeping ears.

zhongli

zhongli would wake you up the first couple of times, but then let you do your thing once he realizes you go back to sleep talking the moment you fall back asleep. most of the time, he can’t make out the words, but when he does, zhongli is confused. what do you mean you’re having a dream of him breaking up with you? he would never do that— and now you’re awake and accusing him of breaking up with you?

“it was just a bad dream, dear.”

“you broke up with me, and now i’m upset.”

“you’re upset with me for breaking up with you in your dream?”

at your fervent nod, zhongli sighs, and subsequently resigns to make up for your subconscious’s version of himself.

neuvillette

neuvillette finds it endearing, even if it’s three in the morning and you’ve awakened him by voicing random, nonsensical questions. he answers them all too—at least, to the best of his ability. some of your questions are so out there that he simply doesn’t have an answer to give you.

“…why is the ocean blue?”

“because the sky is blue.”

“but… why is sky blue…?”

neuvillette opens his mouth but finds himself stumped. at this point, he’ll gently urge you into a deeper sleep, and ponder your question as you’re snoring away. neuvillette takes it upon himself to ask your random questions later, when you’re awake, and very confused why he’s giving you a science report on the atmosphere and light refraction.

albedo

albedo will write down everything you say. he promises he does this in the least creepy way possible—he just wants to see if there’s any patterns to what your sleep talking. you didn’t think you talked in your sleep a lot, until you saw albedo start a new notebook, and found out he was on his second.

“‘albedo i love you’ i say that in my sleep too?”

“yes. more than once a week.”

“do i say anything too embarassing?”

“…do you really want to know?”

you hesitate, glance at the notebook filled to the brim, and decide your curiosity can be sedated another day. albedo is grateful for this so he didn’t have to tell you that you called him “the most handsome alchemist in teyvat ever.”

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sincerelyneo · 22 days

Text

teeth | l.hc

“fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet”

💿now playing: teeth by 5 seconds of summer

❯ summary: Traditionally the caption of the cheer team and the captain of the soccer team are friends - some even date. But you and Donghyuck definitely aren’t friends - if anything you’re enemies. The two of you can’t go five minutes without an argument. So, why are you letting him fuck you in the locker room?

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: college!au, enemies with benefits, smut

❯ words: 2.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, bickering, swearing, unprotected sex (don't do this!), hate sex, degrading names, general name-calling, manhandling, haechan is an asshole, but reader is also lowkey mean, choking, use of nickname 'princess', reader uses she/her pronouns, hardly any plot, it's literally just them hate fucking idk what to tell ya.

cheeky author's note: i'm very brtish, so referring to this as soccer literally made me want to rip my hair out 😀

“You don’t have to be so rough you know, Hyuck!”

"Will you just shut up and let me fuck you!?" He snaps.

The red metal of Lee Donghyuck's locker is cold against the skin of your bare back. Honestly, you don’t even know how it happened. But somehow the captain of the soccer team (and the boy you swear you hate) has you pinned against the boy’s lockers, one leg wrapped around his waist and the top half of your cheer uniform hiked up just enough to give him a full display of your tits. His left-hand grips your hip so tightly that you’re certain he’s doing it on purpose just to piss you off.

Not only that, but he also has your skirt bunched up around your waist. Giving him just the right amount of easy access to pull your panties to the side and tease his cock between your folds.

"Will you just hurry up and stick it in!?" You try to yell at him but, from the way he’s teasing the head of his cock at your entrance, the attempt comes out like a feeble whine.

Exactly on command, the scowl on your face quickly morphs into a wince, and the annoyed quirk on your lips disappears to form a small 'o' as Hyuck’s grip on your hip hardens and he pushes his cock quickly into your cunt. You can’t complain though - you did just tell him to stick it in.

"Shit," you squirm, hand coming up to his chest, pressing hard against the badge of his soccer uniform that rests on his right peck.

"Now look who’s needy," He teases. "I vividly remember you saying I’d be the shittest fuck on the soccer team."

"That’s what this is about!? You’re still mad that– uhh," you’re cut off by your own moan and your nails sink into the fabric of his shirt when he starts to move his hips. His pace is surprisingly slow - deliberately teasing - in comparison to his rapid first thrust inside of you.

"Christ! Even when you fuck you talk too much," Hyuck curses, his hand wrapping around your arm to free himself from the grip you have on his shirt.

"You're one to talk," You hiss back. "Even when you fuck you’re still an annoying little asshol– "

You gasp as he pulls out of you completely and then thrusts into you once again.

"You could've at least warned me, you dick,” You exhale, your walls readjusting to his size for the second time - and what a big size he was.

“Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture princess.”

You can’t believe that even when he’s buried to the hilt inside of your pussy he’s still calling you that stupid fucking nickname. It’s not the word ‘princess’ itself that bothers you per se; it’s Lee Donghyuck’s intention behind the name that makes your blood blister with anger. He’s been calling you ‘princess’ since your freshman year in college but you’d only ever inquired about it recently.

You were at a party, and even though you hate the bones of Lee Donghyuck, you’d be lying if you said your social circles didn’t overlap. It was inevitable, he’s on the soccer team, you’re a cheerleader; honestly, the two of you should be friends. But you’re not. And because of your strained relationship, it was no surprise that the minute you walked through the door he’d picked a fight with you.

You can't even remember what the argument was about now, but you know the two of you had gone back and forth in a boxing match of insults that always ended with him throwing the word ‘princess’ at the end of his rebuttals. And you really couldn’t quite understand why. In your mind, being called a princess was a compliment, but to Donghyuck, princesses were “spoilt bitches who have no grip on reality.”

Safe to say you didn’t think the term was one of endearment after that.

And it was at that same party where you’d insisted Donghyuck would be the shittest fuck on the soccer team – something you’re currently finding out as being not true as he fucks you senseless six ways to Sunday. In all honesty, even when Yuta had asked you the question in a silly little game of truth or dare, you knew Hyuck was the cop-out answer. Truthfully, your real answer would have been Jisung or Chenle. They’re both a little younger and act more awkward with you. But still, you’d let hell freeze over before letting Lee Donghyuck think he was a better fuck than somebody else. However, you’re pretty sure you’ve broken that promise to yourself from the way you’re breathlessly panting and gasping from the vigorous drilling of his cock. That or hell genuinely has frozen over.

But still, what did he expect? The two of you couldn’t go half a second without a petty argument. Sometimes you find yourself just doing it because you were bored and he was there. After all, it’s just the norm between the two of you.

That’s why you can’t quite understand why he’s taking a stupid comment said in a passing game of truth or dare to heart. You’ve said worse to him, you're sure of it.

Hyuck pulls out of your pussy and the emptiness that lingers between your legs has you groaning – even if it’s just for a second. He doesn’t give you long to harp on the loss of friction because he wastes no time dropping your leg from his hip, gripping your waist and slamming the front of your body against his locker.

You want to make another snarky comment about his roughness, but you secretly love it. Well, it’s not so secret actually — Hyuck is well aware that you like his manhandling because he feels your wetness becoming more slick on his cock as he thrusts into you from behind.

His pace in the new position is still tortuous, slow and teasing, and so fucking annoyingly good. But you don’t know how much longer you can take the tormenting leisurely pace. You want more - you need more. If he didn't have your arms pinned behind you and you flush against the lockers, you’d claw at his back to make him go faster.

You feel a warmth on the nape of your neck as he nuzzles against your ear, placing a kiss so gently, that you’re shocked at the sudden contrast in his demeanour.

“This the shittest fuck you’ve had, huh?”

No.

“Yes,” you reply and he growls deeply. There’s a rough snap of his hips and it catches you off guard so much you have to bite down on your lip to suppress a whimper.

“Fucking liar,” he scoffs.

The insult makes your face screw up in a glare, but still, all you can manage is a breathy, “Am not.”

No matter how good the length of his cock is making you feel, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right – that he’s not the worst fuck on the soccer team. Not that you had much experience with the others.

But even though you refuse to use your words to tell him you’re loving it, your body betrays you by being so fucking responsive to his touches. And no matter how hard you fight against him, Hyuck never lets you gain an inch. In fact, every time you try to free your arms from his, he lets out a frustrated groan, and the sound only makes your pussy throb harder.

His hand slips up your body until it finds your throat, where his fingers dig into either side of your neck. He stops his thrusts.

“Well if you’re not lying, are you saying I’m a shitty fuck princess?” He asks innocently as if he’s about to be gentle with you, but you know better. After all, this is Donghyuck. “If you want to pretend like you don’t want this; if that helps you sleep at night, then fine, but your slutty cunt is so fucking wet, I can almost feel you soaking my balls.”

He ducks down to place a kiss on your jaw, and you feel his lips smile into it as you shudder from his words. Instinctively, you swing your head away from him, only to be yanked back by the hand around your throat. He chuckles against your skin, hips starting to move again, thrusting shallowly into your stretched cunt.

“If I’m such a shitty fuck, I supposed you want me to stop, huh?” He asks in a low voice, lips grazing your cheek.

Noises you’ve never heard yourself make before tumble from your mouth as you moan and sob shamelessly. You try to bite your tongue, try not to fuel his ego, but his rhythm is too good at tearing down your guard, which is why you find yourself crying out, “Please don’t stop!”

He laughs, fucking you harder and faster, the stings of pain from his cock hitting you so deep morphing into a hot ache of pleasure that coils tighter and tighter in your core.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls.

His fingers, still on your throat press into your skin, not hard enough to cut off your air supply but just enough pressure to force out strangled moans. Your shoulders rub against the coarse material of his soccer kit, grounding you against him as he fucks you in punishing thrusts.

You don’t want to admit it, but your body can’t resist it.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” you mumble, eyes squeezed tight together.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me like a good little slut?” he murmurs into your temples

The low rumble of his voice has the tension in your core ratcheting higher, pushing you closer to your release. Your head feels like it’s floating as the tight spring in your stomach coils until it finally snaps and has your knees buckling beneath you.

Hyuck keeps his speed steady, fucking you through your climax and savouring the way your walls clench around him in rigid spasms. Your orgasm triggers his and he clenches his jaw.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he ruts into you harder, and all you can do is moan for him.

“Please,” you whimper.

He chuckles at your submission - he’s never seen you like this before - so needy and desperate. He didn’t think it was possible to love anything about you; but this right here, you fucked out and pleading for his cum, yeah, he fucking loves it.

He ruts into you a last few times with thrusts that are wild and more frenzied, his thighs slapping against your ass. He contemplates cumming inside of you, but he figures he’d save that for another day since the two of you had forgotten about a condom and hadn’t really discussed it.

And…did he just think about having sex with you again?

With a loud groan that rattles against the metal in the empty locker room, Hyuck pulls out of your cunt and jerks his cock until he’s cumming onto the small of your back. Unable to stop yourself, you moan softly and a stupid smile spreads across your face when you hear him sigh.

After that it's silent, only your rapid breaths echoing in the room. He’s pressed against you, face buried in your neck, holding you and your weak legs in place. You stay like that for a beat, but then you remember who it is that’s just fucked you.

Without any more hesitation, you shake his grip and push him away from you. "Christ! Stop breathing down my neck. Fucking gross."

If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s your arch nemesis you would have stayed tangled up in him a little while longer, letting yourself get soaked up in the fact that that was the best sex you’ve ever had.

As you turn around to face him, he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen on his face.

“There’s a towel in my bag if you want to…”

You scoff, “How chivalrous of you.”

You pull the towel from the bag in his locker and start wiping at his cum on your back. Your body is turned away from him but you can still feel his eyes lingering on you as you wipe away.

You stop to look at him, “What are you still doing here? We have a game in like 10 minutes. Shouldn’t you be like…warming up or something?”

“I think I’m already warmed up,” he mumbles and you shake your head with a smile, going back to cleaning yourself off.

“Seriously, get on the pitch,” you demand when you see him still lingering.

There’s a hand in his hair, scratching his head and he looks a little flushed. You never see him like this, it’s weird. The Hyuck you know and loathe is cocky, smug, arrogant, all of those kinds of words; but the one in front of you looks so awkward, flushed. Is it weird you kinda like it?

“Are you waiting for me to tell you you aren’t a bad fuck or something? Seriously Hyuck, get lost,” you try and joke, pulling down your cheer uniform.

“No..I…” he stumbles.

You groan, “Oh no, don’t do this. Don’t make things weird.”

“I’m not—”

“Can’t you just be like a normal guy and…I don’t know, say it felt good to fuck me like you hate me or some shit?”

His eyes sweep over your face as if he were studying you. His face softens and he steps closer.

“I mean I could say that, because it felt fucking amazing actually,” he says and you swallow thickly. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

You pause, freezing as he comes towards you. You don’t even register how close he is until you feel his breath on your lips and his chest against yours.

“What?”

“I don’t actually hate you that much,” he admits, and your eyes widen.

“Yeah right, funny joke,” you roll your eyes and laugh sarcastically but he’s not laughing with you. In fact he’s just looking at you, deadpan, and it’s starting to freak you out.

When you realise that he is in fact serious, you cross your hands across your chest.

“You’re not gonna start doing all that cheesy shit they do in the movies, where you profess your undying love for me, and tell me you never really hated me and it was all just a miscommunication, are you?”

“Fuck no!” He almost gags at the mention of it. “Just because I said I don’t hate you that much doesn’t mean I like you? Are you crazy?”

“Well I’m just making sure,” you poke his chest.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “But I do wanna do this again…” he trails off so quietly that you wouldn’t have heard it if there was anybody else in the room with you.

“This?”

“Yes, this. Us. Fucking,” he explains. “I fucking hate you, but fuck, I think I love your pussy.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #haechan x reader #nct hard hours #kpop smut

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fangswbenefits · 9 months

Text

Discovery

Summary: Miguel tries to fix the damage of his obsession for you, only to discover a secret you’ve been keeping that will change everything…

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 3k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced/In*ocent/V*rgin reader. Mast*rbation. Voye*rism (have to thank this anon).

Part 1 (if you’re just starting out) - Previous Part

Miguel O’Hara took pride in being able to keep his emotions at check.

For the most part, at least.

But when it came to you, he constantly found his reason at war with his feelings.

The way you were eyeing him expectantly, made his stomach flip.

“Is there something wrong?”

Many things.

For once, he didn’t want to lie to you. However, he dreaded what might happen in case he told you the truth.

Shaking his head, he took your pad in his hands, and glanced over at his watch.

100%

He wanted to just open the file and finally know who this Tom individual was, but he could see a faint frown settle on your face.

“Why can’t I have access to the settings?” you asked, coming to stand by his side to glare at the lit up screen.

He really didn’t want to lie.

“I needed to adjust the prototype first, before giving you full access,” he managed to say.

Great, Miguel.

Your eyes moved to glare at him. “You could have informed me of that.”

He could only nod, he tapped and scrolled through the interface, overriding the block he had placed on it a couple of days ago.

You didn’t seem upset in the slightest. If anything, it you seemed… tired? Sleepy?

“It’s done,” Miguel said, handing the pad back to you. “The interference was probably a mic, by the way.”

As you fought back a yawn, your face twisted into confusion. “A mic?”

Miguel was trying to play it casually, hoping that it would be enough to deflect this issue altogether.

But you… you were not easily detracted.

“Why is there a mic in my suit?”

His heart rate had nearly doubled, and he felt his sweat grow cold as your gaze intensified.

Then, he saw you straighten up as if hit by a sudden realisation.

“You… don’t trust me?” your voice was but a whisper and you started backing away from him. “You’re spying on me?”

Somehow, the conclusion you had drawn was almost as appalling as the truth.

“No! That is not why.”

“Then why?”

Miguel pressed his lips together, and you took his silence as an answer.

“Oh… you really don’t trust me, do you?” you went on, tears welling in your eyes. “I mean… Jessica did tell me you were against me joining Spider Society… I just… thought she wasn’t being serious…”

Miguel stepped closer, feeling a surge of indignation. “That was before I realised your potential!”

You blinked your tears away angrily. “You’re not even denying it.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I had my doubts at first, yes. Your inexperience, for example. But Jess quickly convinced me to take you in,” he continued, knowing that he sounded desperate at this point. “You are a very talented spider, and I realised that nearly right away.”

Then your eyes widened all of a sudden as if you had just realised something daunting.

Miguel felt his stomach flip, already anticipating more something much worse.

“Oh… oh… you — you sent Jessica to my dimension because of Tom…” you said, visibly shaken. “He’s subject A. You… you… woah!”

Miguel felt control slip through his fingers with each accusation you threw at him.

There was no point denying it, and he didn’t want to lie to you. If anything, he only sought to do damage control.

But your usual calm and sweet demeanor had long vanished.

“Who do you think Tom is?” you said between gritted teeth, clenching your fists at your sides. “Some… some secret weapon against Spider Society? Is that it?”

It was evident from your reaction that he clearly wasn’t that.

“Listen, I d-”

But you immediately cut him off, tears streaking down your face. “You want to know who he really is? Do you?”

In truth, he did. However, not at the expense of your emotional stability. Not like this. Everything was going sideways and he felt petrified.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll tell you!” you spat, hurt swelling in your voice. “Three days after I got bitten by that spider, I was struggling to get the hang of all the changes.” You began pacing nervously around the room, no longer looking at him. “I was heading toward a robbery site and… Tom was there… the criminals had dynamite and were threatening to blow up the building,” your voice cracked momentarily and you took a deep breath before continuing. “In an effort to get him out of there, I shot my web at his chest, but lost control and balance, and sent him flying across the street as the explosives went off…”

Miguel could only stare from a distance, feeling the frustration in your words.

You halted and glared at him, lips quivering and more tears spilling. “Tom broke his arm and suffered a serious concussion. Because of me.”

He opened his mouth to offer words of comfort, but decided not to interrupt.

“I grew up with Tom. He is — was my best friend,” you sniffled, lowering you gaze. “I even had feelings for him at one point, which was ridiculous… he was too good for me, anyway.”

Miguel took a few steps in your direction, wanting to convince you otherwise, but you immediately retreated away from him.

“Thankfully, he managed to fully recover. No one found out it had been me who caused it in the first place… everyone just assumed it happened because of the explosion…” you mumbled, before crossing your arms and hugging yourself, showing him you had done this multiple times before in search for comfort. “And I was a coward… I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth… so I removed myself from his life.”

A tense silence followed.

Nothing could have prepared Miguel for this revelation, and he couldn’t help but to feel a wave of sympathy for you wash down on him.

You then eyed him. “I don’t want your pity. I deserve this. I was never a decent spider-woman and-”

He quickly stopped you. “That is absolutely not true and you are not a coward.”

“Oh, but I am. When Jessica approached me with the offer to join you, I didn’t even think twice,” you confessed. “I’d do anything to spend as much time away from my dimension as possible.”

“You still perform your duties, as far as I know,” he pointed out rationally.

You let out a pained groan. “Because I have to! I’d much rather stay in the lab, piecing things together and be useful in other ways.”

“You could have told me.”

This time, you frowned and Miguel realised such expression didn’t suit you. At all.

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t have to. This is something I’m ashamed of.” You then pointed at his watch. “Your file won’t tell you any of this, and I really wish you hadn’t gotten involved, because this was my story to tell.”

Your words pierced through him like sharp knives, and he realised he had not only gone too far, but had also managed to hurt you in the process.

“If there is anyone here who understands what you are going through, it’s me,” he began carefully. “I know how it feels to want to do the right thing, only for the consequences to be disastrous.”

He watched your face soften ever so slightly, and you didn’t flinch away from him when he came to stand right in front of you.

“I’m really sorry that I overstepped the line,” he said softly. “I really care about you. That is the reason why I had the mic in your suit and why Jessica went looking for Tom.”

A half-truth, he figured. He couldn’t flat out say the actual reason. How would he even explain that he was obsessed with you? How could that justify any of this?

Simply put, it couldn’t.

And you would resent him.

So, he settled for a half-truth. He did care about you. Immensely. More than he could possibly reason with. But he just couldn’t have you know how much he wanted you to be with him to the point of extreme obsession.

Especially not after discovering this secret of yours.

He had to win you over.

“There is no one who can understand how hou feel better than me,” he whispered, cradling your face in his hands, tilting it enough to have your eyes meet his.

“But… you’re the Miguel O’Hara… you’re so… ” your voiced trailed off.

“Spider Society exists because of my mistake. Many people died at my hands, even if it was unintentional,” said with a sigh. “That is a burden I’ll carry forever with me. What you see here came at a price.”

You swallowed.

“But you don’t have to go through this.”

“How so?”

He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. “You get a chance set things straight. Tom is still alive. I don’t get to have that.”

He would never have Gabriella back. Ever. That was the ultimate price he had to pay.

Your gaze dropped and he saw a couple of tears streaming down your face. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not, but it’s still an open door. A choice you have.”

He felt your hands grip his wrists for support, as silence took over you.

“I just wish you’d told me,” he whispered, closing his eyes and planting a kiss to your forehead. “I would have been here for you sooner.”

The effect of his words coupled with the gesture were enough to have you break into a sob, tears streaming down your cheeks, as Miguel held your face with both hands.

This was painful to witness.

He knew all too well how it felt to feel powerless and thinking that you’ve run out of options.

He knew you now. He understood you. Better than anyone ever could.

“I’m… s-sorry…” you mumbled, trying to keep yourself from crying. “You’re… getting all w-wet…”

Miguel couldn’t help but to smile endearingly at your concern, as your tears began to roll down his hands.

“Do not apologise,” he said firmly. “You can cry. I’m here for you.”

Nodding, you opened your eyes again and tilted your had back to stare at him.

“Please s-stay…” you said in between sobs, your hands gripping him tightly. “Please…”

You were killing him.

Little by little.

Miguel would give you everything.

He nodded and you stepped back and let go of him, running the back of your hands across your cheeks to dry them.

Then you went to sit on your couch, removing the clutter of wires and boxes that were in the way.

Miguel spotted a blanket nearby and came to sit by your side, draping it over your shoulders.

You leaned against the backrest, and he followed suit, feeling your head drop to his shoulder.

“Please remove the mic… and delete that file…” you mumbled.

“I will.”

He swung his arm across your from you, to pull you closer to him.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, and Miguel closed his eyes, relieved that he had managed to somehow control the damage he had caused. Unfortunately, it had come at the expense of you having to open up to him, and he felt guilty for that…

He knew he had to prove himself to you, and was grateful that you hadn’t chosen to shut him out completely.

“Somehow… this was sort of cathartic?” your voice was suddenly heard.

Miguel squeezed your arm tenderly.

“I had… never told this to anyone…”

Guilt hit him at once. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be… I think I needed to let it out,” you mused against him.

He couldn’t help but to feel an intense wave of compassion for you. There was no way around it: Miguel was in too deep when it came to you. Everything about you pulled him in and gripped him.

You would always be his sweet girl.

His devotion was yours.

Just yours.

“Hey, Miguel?”

He felt you shift beside him and he looked down to meet your sleepy eyes. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Your words didn’t register at first, and he thought he had misheard you.

“What?”

You slipped your feet under you, before leaning slowly into him, face drawing near. “Can I kiss you?”

Denial hit him. “You’re just sleepy.”

But you didn’t back down. “No… I just…” your eyes darted down. “Can I?”

His heart went into a frenzy and he was left speechless. Your eyes were set on his lips and he somehow found the strength to nod.

It took you a couple of seconds to adjust yourself, and once you did, you closed the the gap, parting your lips slightly.

Miguel was left perplexed.

Weeks of yearning and obsession were finally being vindicated.

“Pretty eyes,” you whispered, breath fanning his lips. “So pretty…”

Your noses brushed together and he fought the urge to pull you into his lap at once.

“You’re the pretty one…” he said truthfully.

A smile curved your lips even through your sleepiness. “I’m going to kiss you now, Miguel O’Hara…”

And you did.

The moment your lips met his, Miguel felt his body react. It didn’t take long for the blood to rush down to his cock, slowly stirring it.

He could taste the inexperience on your lips as you kept breaking the kiss to gasp for air. It was blatantly obvious you needed some help figuring out what do next, so he happily obliged.

With one hand he managed to shift your leg to swing across his, and with the other he propped you onto his lap.

You broke the kiss, adjusting yourself and lacing your arms behind his neck and taking his lips again.

This time, he pressed his thumb to your chin, parting your lips, so he could deepen the kiss with his tongue. You immediately complied, and allowed him in with a soft whimper.

Miguel finally tasted you.

His sweet girl.

You came down to press your crotch against his painfully hard cock, and he immediately had to still your hips and lift you slightly.

You broke the kiss again, confusion in your eyes. “What…”

He didn’t dare confess it to you.

Instead, he pressed on your lower back so you would lean into him again with a kiss.

He wanted to taste you, but he couldn’t have you sit on his cock like that… he would absolutely burst.

His sweet girl sounded so sweet and receptive…

He felt you trying to defy his hold on your hips, surely wanting that friction, but he couldn’t afford that.

As much as he wanted to feel you grinding on him, he would be too embarrassed to cum so soon, and that thought was what ultimately prevented him from reaching the point of no return.

He brought one hand to grip your wrist, allowing the top half of his digital suit to disintegrate, so he could place the palm of your hand on his chest, revelling in your heated skin against his.

Suddenly, you parted from him with a gasp. “Wait… I’m…”

He arched an eyebrow in confusion and watched as you snaked your arm in between you two, sliding your hand down your sweatpants.

Miguel’s eyes widened and he was about to lose it until he realised what was really happening.

You slowly removed your hand and glared at it. “Oh.”

Your fingers were drenched in your wetness.

You were soaked.

For him.

He carefully looped his fingers around your wrist, wanting to taste you, but that sent you into an immediate frenzy, and you fumbled to get up from his lap, nearly falling back if not for his incredible reflexes.

“Easy…” he cooed, caressing his thumb along your pulse point. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.”

You tumbled to the side and he let go of you, watching you sit back against the cushioned backrest and looking startled like a deer in headlights.

Just how inexperienced were you?

“Thanks…” you mumbled, chest heaving erratically. “I’m… yeah… and sorry…”

Miguel sat up straighter and arched a brow. “You don’t have to apologise.”

You nodded, your eyes falling to his bulge. “I mean… for that…”

Only you would ever apologise for giving him a raging boner.

His sweet girl…

“Don’t worry,” he reassured, feeling his heartbeat slow down. “Are you okay?”

“Yes…”

He offered a warm smile. “Good.”

Miguel didn’t even know where to begin. He couldn’t quite grasp the events of tonight, and it almost felt like a fever dream.

He was so used to getting hard from just the thought of you, that he couldn’t believe he was now hard because of you.

Still, the way you had reacted when you realised how wet you were for him led him to believe that maybe you were far more inexperienced than he had anticipated.

And he would respectfully give you all the time and space.

He would wait for you to ask him for more.

He could wait. His throbbing cock not so much, but he had other ways of dealing with that.

“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked, adjusting himself over his suit.

Your eyes widened. “Oh…”

“Just to ease some of the tension,” he immediately said.

He was desperate to let his cock spring free, and let it calm down until he was back at his apartment.

You then averted your gaze. “Can you… do it here?”

Miguel was utterly and completely taken aback.

“I… I have never…” you went on, quickly pulling your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, and covering your face. “Nevermind…”

Oh.

Now it all made sense.

“Hey… look at me,” Miguel started, reaching out to tug at your wrist. “It’s okay.”

Slowly, you lifted your head to peer at him with evident hesitation. “Is it too… weird?”

“Not at all.”

And he meant it. By this point, he could feel his cock twitching more often, as more and more precum began to drip from the tip.

“Are you sure?” he asked, needing the absolute confirmation.

You promptly nodded, resting your chin on your forearm, eyeing him intensely.

He paused for a moment, expecting to be jolted away from this dream, or to have you backtrack.

“Please…” you whispered.

Swallowing hard, he allowed himself to sink into the backrest, before having the lower half of his suit disintegrating, and his cock finally released from its confinements.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted.

An instant ego boost that caused him to hiss as he wrapped his fingers around it. His body was so ready for you. Almost too ready. It didn’t take long before Migue felt droplets of precum sliding down his hips.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from you and it only added to the pleasure he felt.

Giving himself a few tentative pumps, he watched closely as you glared at the motion, curiosity splattered all over your face.

The first moans escaped his lips and he nearly slid his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from cumming too quickly.

But he didn’t want to miss out on anything you had to offer.

Miguel soon found a steady rhythm and began to fuck his hands like so many times before. But unlike those other times, he had you as an audience and he knew he wouldn’t last long no matter how hard he tried to muster images of the Vulture to dwindle his impending orgasm.

Then, you shifted closer, your legs dropping, but still pressed together.

He groaned, knowing exactly why you were being so fidgety.

Your hand was clutching at the hem of your shirt as a way to anchor yourself from the visual stimulation.

“You can touch yourself…” Miguel rasped, tightening the grip around himself, precum now flowing down his knuckles.

You pressed your legs tighter together and Miguel had to halt his motion or he would burst.

“…. or not,” he added, not wanting to overstep your line of comfort.

Your eyes darted to his face momentarily and, for the second time, Miguel saw your hand disappear inside your pants. You gasped softly and he could only guess that you must have reached your clit.

You let out the sweetest whimper, and Miguel’s cock twitched immediately.

His chest heaved and he swiped his thumb across the tip of his cock, letting out a groan.

He watched in awe as your arm moved rhythmically, and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Look at me…” he breathed.

You were biting yout lip, but did what he asked.

The urge to replace you hand with his — better yet, his cock — was almost painful and he knew he was heading towards the precipice, having to space out his strokes.

Your gaze fell to his hand. “How’s it so hard?”

He would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire and him being in need of release.

You scooted closer and closer, until your face was mere inches away, while still touching yourself.

For him.

Because of him.

“Why do you think?”

You gasped and he saw your hand slid out of your pants, fingers glistening with your wetness.

“Can… I?”

Miguel was too far gone to deny you of a newfound experience, so he nodded, bracing himself for what was about to happen.

He would burst.

You chewed on your lower lip as if unsure of what to do next, but he wanted you to take your time. A few moments later, you reached down with your soaked hand and he lets go of his cock, welcoming your touch.

He threw his head back and had to muster all of his willpower not to cum right away, as the pads of your fingers tentatively traced the underside of his cock, slowly moving to graze the veins that bulged from under the sensitive skin.

Everything inside him was suddenly burning like wildfire and he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking up.

By the time your thumb reached his tip and grazed slowly, Miguel hissed violently.

“Stop… stop - stop… please-” he begged, but was already being overtaken by the suffocating grip of a powerful orgasm.

You had indeed stopped touching him, but the damage had already been done.

His cock twitched rhythmically as hot spurts of cum began to cover his abs. Witch each roll of his hip, Miguel felt his vision blur and his fangs extend. He groaned your name a couple of times, before his words started to fuse together in a incoherent mess.

The stiffness of his peak shattered after a while and he slumped into the couch, struggling to even out his breathing.

Once he was finally able to open his eyes again, you came into his field of vision, holding a towel in your hands.

“Here,” you said as a smile broke across your face, before sitting by his side and offering it to him.

Even through the haze of an orgasm, Miguel was ablet o feel his heart skip a beat from your tenderness.

He proceeded to clean himself, wiping away the impressive amount of cum that had pooled on his lower abdomen.

“That was…”

His eyes were immediately on you. “Do you want me to…” he trailed off, allowing the not so subtle implication to dangle.

You didn’t catch it at first, but his silent was very telling.

“Oh, no — no, I’m fine, thanks,” you said with a chuckle.

“It’s only fair that I return the favor…”

You shook your head more vehemently this time. “It wasn’t a favor to begin with, Miguel. I was curious and… just wanted to watch you do it,” you mumbled as his digital suit began to cover his body again. “I had never… yeah — I’m still…”

Miguel had his suspicions that you were inexperienced, but he had no ultimate proof of that.

But this… “You’ve never had sex before?”

You settled back on the couch, crossing your legs. “No.”

He wasn’t sure of what to say. Was there even anything he should say?

So, he fell silent, waiting for you to take the lead.

“But… this was an interesting experience,” you eventually went on with a smile. “Do you… regret it?”

“No.”

But he could see doubt already settling on your face. “Maybe it was too much.”

“Not for me,” he said truthfully, straightening up in his seat. “Don’t think that, please.”

You nodded, but Miguel felt a pang of dread spread across his body. The last thing he wanted was for you to regret having opened up to him.

He had been longing for this for far too long to let it all be for nothing.

You were his sweet girl and you had his heart.

“Listen,” he started, set on preventing that from happening. “I can only speak for myself, but that was extremely hot. You are so, so attractive,” he went on, earning a doubting glare from you. “You are. I usually last longer than that.”

Your lips curled into an embarrassed smile, but Miguel could feel his words weren’t exactly reaching you.

Then silence took over.

You kept staring at your hands, head down and humming softly.

“Are you okay?” he shifted closer.

You took a deep breath. “I was thinking about your words earlier…”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

He watched you closely. “And what are you thinking?”

“I think you’re right, Miguel,” you drawled out, your voice but a whisper. “I’ve been blaming myself for what happened to Tom for too long.”

A jab of compassion and empathy tugged at his heartstrings. “You’re absolutely right.”

Then, lifting your head, you met his eyes. “I think… I want to meet up with Tom again. Thank you for making me realise that, Miguel,” you finished with a sweet smile.

Part 6

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader

7K notes · View notes

lovebugism · 3 months

Note

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once.

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?”

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back.

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean.

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too.

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie.

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again.

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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erwinsvow · 2 months

Text

You creep carefully into Rafe’s bedroom, pushing the already-open door gently with your palm. Your eyes dart around, worried he’s going to be just around the corner, but you’re greeted with nothing—just the empty space that belongs to Rafe.

How exactly did you get yourself into this? It had started a few hours ago—at least that’s what you thought. You didn’t have any clue what Sarah and her new friends were up to, you were just over for a pre-planned girls night that was dismissed the second you walked into Tannyhill. Instead, Sarah asks for a favor, one that you deny almost immediately.

“You’ll be in and out, it won’t take more than a minute-”

“I am not sneaking into Rafe’s room for you, Sarah. What if he-he catches me? Finds me in there? What am I gonna say?”

“He’s not gonna be home later, I promise. It’ll be a second, and he’s always liked you most out of all my friends so he won’t even care-”

Your face flushes at the very sentence. Her brother, Rafe, the one that you’ve only interacted with on chance occasions, the one who makes your heartbeat speed up anytime he’s in the vicinity, that very Rafe, has always liked you?

You’re too caught up in that thought and its implications to even question Sarah anymore. Her new friends—Pogue friends, ones that you don’t know and aren’t sure how long they’ve known her—linger by the door. They seem eager to make sure that you agree.

You’re being moved around the board like a chess piece but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s shallow, you know, as one thought circulates through your mind, body, and bloodstream—Rafe has always liked you.

A hazy, dreamy mist settles over you. You agree to Sarah, feeling increasingly stupid as you settle into the living room and keep your eyes on the television. She left with her friends, and when Rafe comes down, you’re supposed to tell him you’re waiting for his sister. Once he leaves, you need to sneak into his bedroom to find a map they seem to desperately need. One of the boys suggests it’ll be in his sock drawer.

“It’s not a porn magazine, JJ, why would it be there-”

“Oh, um, I don’t know, just that it’s the number one male hiding spot-” “What studies are you basing this off of?”

"A little thing called the study of life, Pope-”

You had interrupted them yourself, reassuring that you’ll look in his dresser and his desk.

But now, walking into Rafe’s bedroom, you're losing all your nerve. You’ve thought about this before—you’d be lying to yourself to deny it. Any girl who has a best friend with a cute older brother has too. In the summers you sleep at Tannyhill more often than your own house, but you still could have never imagined this would be the reason you’re in Rafe’s room for the first time.

The house is silent, just like Sarah had told you. Mr. and Mrs. Cameron out at the country club, Wheezie at the beach, Sarah supposedly with you but actually with those Pogues. She says Rafe is gone too, driving around somewhere with his friends, and you believe her without a second thought.

But you do have a second thought, and it's the fact that this is so beyond wrong.

Looking through Rafe’s belongings with your eyes, your hands start to tremble at the idea of touching something of his without his permission. You want to swallow your nerves to do this for your friend, but you hesitate, hands hovering over the drawer to his dresser.

For a second, you want to puke, worried that you’ll open this drawer to find porn magazines like John B had said, or worse—photos of one of his girls that you really don’t want to see.

Your shaking hands pull open the top-most drawer, but everything calms down once it’s open. Besides for white socks and plaid boxers, there’s nothing in there. Your shoulders relax, your knees feeling weak.

Then you wonder for a second—why were you so worried about finding evidence of some other girl in his bedroom? Your mind spins briefly, worried at how attached you really are to Sarah’s brother, someone who’s never spoken to you more than a handful of times. A million thoughts run through your brain, all of them about Rafe and none of them noticing the way his bedroom door has just opened wide.

“Looking for something?” The timber of Rafe’s voice hits your ears and you freeze, probably looking like something out of a cartoon, shoulders tense, eyes wide. You’re still facing his dresser, and you really, really don’t want to turn, but you do, and then you wish you hadn’t.

Rafe’s dripping wet—damp hair sticking to his forehead, a towel around his waist and droplets of water glittering on his abs. He’s looking at you like he never has before. Your eyes are focused on everything else—the bare skin of his chest, his huge arms, the blue color of his towel.

“My eyes are up here, kid.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, you turn your gaze up to lock eyes. You’re terrified—he has to be angry, no, furious. You’re practically a stranger to him, a stranger invading his privacy. But when you finally take in his expression, it’s not angry. He looks amused, a smirk playing at his lips while he takes you in, standing before him like a child about to be reprimanded for touching something that doesn’t belong to them.

“I-I…” you trail off, swallowing hard, still staring at Rafe.

“You, you?” he mocks. You think you’re going to start crying but no tears well up—yet. “What’re you looking for?” he asks it seriously, his tone shifting.

You’ve never spoken to Rafe enough to notice, but he’s incredibly domineering. You shrink just from his gaze, while he closes the door and walks closer to you.

“Um, I-” You stop yourself short.

“Looking for trouble, huh?” He says it like it’s a joke, but you know he’s not kidding. Your head shakes, trying to convince him you’re not, but it’s not much use.

He’s not very far from you now, maybe another foot and you could smell the scent of his soap, another few inches and you could feel the heat radiating off of his bare body.

You realize how you must look right now, wearing a tiny dress because of the heat outside but now feeling goosebumps prick along your arms. Your bare feet rest on his carpet while your hands feel clammy from how scared you are.

“I, uh, I needed socks.” You look down at your feet and he does too, looking back up at the same time.

“Socks? From me?”

“Couldn’t find Sarah’s. She needs to do laundry.”

“So you came in here to get mine?”

“I-I’ll bring them back. Washed. Promise.” Your gaze is now dying to avoid his, looking all around his room and then turning back to the drawer to take out a pair.

You feel a wet hand on your arm, turning you back around at full force, his balled up socks falling from your hand as you stare Rafe in the eyes. He must be able to tell from the way your body shakes in his grip, how your eyelids are fluttering fast, how scared you are.

“Don’t lie to me, kid. I won’t like it.” You suck in a sharp breath. A few moments pass.

“I’m not lying, Rafe. Promise.”

You actually don’t know it happens—ending up with his towel on the floor and your sundress right next to it, tangled up in the sheets, your body folded in half with Rafe pounding into you. He grips your cheeks and fucks you like you’re his, like he owns your pussy and every other part of you. It goes on for so long you lose track, forgetting everything else but how to say Rafe’s name, remembering nothing but how he sounded groaning into your ear. He kisses you, hard and wet, and that’s when you cum for the third—fourth? fifth? you’ve lost track—time. He cums too—inside you, and normally you think you’d maybe have an issue with that, but since you were the one begging for it, you don’t think you’re allowed to say anything in the way of a complaint.

Rafe rolls off of you a little bit later, after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath. You think he’s gonna tell you to get out so you try to get up yourself, trying to balance on trembling legs, when he puts his hand on your waist and steadies you back onto the bed.

“What’d you need? You should sit.” You look up at him, surprised. He doesn’t like it. “Water?” You nod, and he pulls on some sweatpants and forgoes a shirt, walking out and closing the door softly behind him.

You get comfortable under Rafe’s sheets, pulling them up to cover yourself and body sinking into his bed. You reach out to find your phone, which has somehow ended up on the nightstand even though you don’t recall putting it there. There’s a few new messages.

Sarah: Did you go in yet?

Sarah: I think he left, go now!!

Then one from thirty minutes after that.

Sarah: Did you find it?? Call me!!

You reply quickly, setting the phone down when you hear Rafe’s hand on the doorknob.

Sorry, didn’t find anything. Had to go, I’ll see you tomorrow.

#this format is so fun! do you guys prefer tiny text or normal tho?#i hope everyone likes this one! i wrote it quick #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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criminalamnesia · 3 months

Text

ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)

part one here and part two here

ending version 2 here

when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.

of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.

he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.

he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.

he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.

he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.

he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.

he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.

he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.

“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.

the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.

“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.

“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.

“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”

before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.

“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.

“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”

you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.

you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.

“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”

he gives a small nod. “understood.”

you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.

pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.

he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.

“nice place,” he says, and he means it.

you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.

you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.

you were never the problem.

he was.

“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.

best to get on with it, then.

“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”

you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.

“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”

your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.

“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”

“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”

god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”

“and what?” you interrupted.

“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”

you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.

“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”

he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”

“congrats,” you deadpanned.

“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”

“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”

“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.

you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.

“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”

silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.

“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.

he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.

“nothin’.” he said.

“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.

the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.

you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.

“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.

“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”

he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.

you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”

“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”

you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”

your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.

“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”

you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.

he turned and walked out the door.

————

author’s note:

muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!

this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)

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gh0stsp1d3r · 3 months

Note

Please please some dating luke as percys sister and him finding out about you two when he sees you both in cabin 3 🙏🏼🙏🏼

This is how I find out?

omg I love this.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Warnings: Brief making out, getting caught making out,, secret relationships, Luke never turned, reader and Luke are like 2 teenagers in love

“I don’t hate him- I just hate not having the place to myself anymore, you know?” You spoke to Luke. “He’s a good kid.”

He nodded, carrying his lunch tray. “At least it’s not like mine..” he shrugged, giving you a small smile.

“Yeah, I would run away.” You laughed, and you both sat down across from Percy.

“Hey, Percy.” You both said in unison, and Percy mumbled a hi. You noticed him staring at something behind you guys, rather someone.

Luke quirked an eyebrow and turned to who he was looking at Clarisse.

“You don’t think she still has something to do with it, do you?” Luke said, turning back to Percy.

“I don’t know.” He said, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You and Luke glanced at each other for a moment and then you sighed, looking at Percy. He looked at you back now.

“Don’t let it bother you so much. You finished the quest.”

“I know but-“

“Percy. Stop. Worrying. So. Much.” You’ve only known him for a few days, but he seemed to be anxious, a lot.

He didn’t say anything, and stared down at his food with melancholy etched on his face. Once lunch was over, you and Luke stood up, and Percy went over to Annabeth.

“You’re definitely his sister.” He said with a small laugh, you both walked into the forest and you intertwined your hand into his.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, you just met him like what.. a few months ago and you’re very protective of him.”

“I am not…”

He gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes. “I’m like that with everyone.”

“I know. It’s part of why I love you.” He teased with a small smile on his face.

“Stop being corny.” You smiled.

“Can’t help myself.”

You both walked for some more time, before you had to go back for the bonfire. You let go of his hand, and found a seat in the back of everyone.

After a while, he leaned over and whispered to you.

“You wanna go to your cabin?”

You quickly nodded, you both ducked down and slowly made your way to the cabin.

“How do we get away with it every time?” You asked him, sitting down on the bed.

He shrugged. “We’re probably breaking about 4 rules right now.” He laid down, arm over his head, and you smiled, curling up to him and laying on his chest.

“You may not be in another God’s cabin.” You mocked Chiron.

“You must be at the bonfire at all times.” He mocked him, with a laugh.

“No dating.”

“What’s the fourth?” You asked.

He smirked, craning his head and capturing your lips in a kiss.

You both moved around and sat up now, you began to straddle his lap, you held his face in your hands, and his hands were on your hips.

You both were so caught up in the kiss, neither of you realized Percy standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat. You jumped off of him, standing up and dusting yourself off.

“Percy!” You laughed nervously. “Did the fire already end?”

“Seriously? This is how I find out?” He said, looking at you both back and fourth.

“We wanted to tell you, but we couldn’t. Dionysus would have our heads on a stick.” You said.

Percy sighed, moving to his bed.

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Almost a year now.” Luke said.

“Jesus… just, don’t keep any more stuff from me, please?” He said after a little.

You both nodded, and Percy spoke up again “And don’t do any of that in front of me.”

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo tv show #pjo #percy jackson #charlie bushnell x reader

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a-simple-gaywitch · 3 months

Text

The Boy Next Door

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) and Spencer Reid have been best friends nearly all their lives. Everyone in their lives can see how head-over-heels in love with each other they are. The only ones that can’t? Themselves.

Warnings: minor miscommunication

Word Count: 2307

Author’s Note: my first fic finished in FOREVER! I’m actually pretty happy with this one

“There’s something about childhood friends that you just can’t replace.” - actress Lisa Whelchel

“Hey, Pretty Boy. Want to come grab dinner with us tonight?” Morgan asked as the team started gathering their belongings to leave for the day.

“Sorry, can’t,” Spencer said, hurriedly gathering his stuff and shoving it haphazardly in his satchel. “Gotta pick up a friend from the airport.” The team didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes nor the wide smile as he rushed from the bullpen.

“You think he’ll ever introduce us to this friend?” Emily asked, sidling up beside Derek.

“Who knows,” he sighed. “You know he’s a private person. He didn’t even tell us about his mom until he had no other choice.”

Spencer stood at the baggage claim, his head on a swivel. To say he was beyond excited was an understatement. He was practically bouncing in place as he scanned the crowd of people coming over to collect their belongings.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to wait for very long.

“Spencer!”

He spun around quickly to see (Y/N) (L/N), his best friend in the entire world, running over to him. He scooped you up in a hug, spinning you around as you squealed happily.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Spencer said, setting you down.

“I know! It’s usually the other way around, isn’t it?” you said, taking Spencer’s hand and leading him over to the carousel of luggage. “I feel like it’s always you coming to see me.”

“And you’re here for a whole week,” Spencer said, giving your hand a squeeze.

You smiled and leaned into his side. “Oh, my god, you’ll never guess what happened on the flight!”

You and Spencer grew up next door to each other. Your family had moved to Nevada when you were about 5 years old, into a house next to the Reids.

You’d always been outgoing and extroverted, so you took it upon yourself to introduce yourself to the boy with the big glasses in the next yard over while your father was building a swing set.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N)!” you’d said, leaning over the fence. The boy with the glasses was sitting in the grass, a large book propped up against his legs. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, I-I’m Spencer,” he’d told you.

You hiked yourself up over the fence and sat down next to him in the grass. “Hi, Spencer. What book is that?”

From that moment on, you and Spencer were near inseparable. Your mother joked that you were each other’s missing pieces. Where you were extroverted, Spencer was introverted. Where you had an interest in all things science and mathematics, Spencer had a love for the classics.

After William left, your family stepped in to help Diana wherever possible. At least once a week, your mom would bring dinner over. If Spencer just needed to get out, he knew where the spare key was hidden. Your parents would drive Spencer to and from school, especially after the incident on the soccer field.

When Spencer went off to college, your parents promised to keep an eye on Diana for him, as her condition was getting worse. In exchange, Spencer had to come home for dinner every other week. It wasn’t a hard bargain to keep. Spencer missed you while he was at school, and your parents genuinely worried for Diana. On her good days, she and your mom were close, sharing coffee and discussing novels and poetry together.

Even when Spencer couldn’t come home to visit, he’d still spend hours on the phone with you. Your father would joke that the two of you were running up his phone bill and tying up the line, but you both knew he wasn’t seriously annoyed.

Everyone in your lives were shocked you’d never dated. You’d both always claimed you were just best friends.

Spencer walked into the bullpen with a spring in his step. Rather than spending money on a hotel, you were staying in Spencer’s spare room while you were in town. Spencer had offered to take the week off, but you’d rejected the offer, knowing how important his job was. Besides, you were at a conference for your work most of the day.

“Just as long as you don’t get hauled halfway across the country,” you’d joked.

Spencer flopped onto his desk chair, a smile across his face.

“Hey, Reid,” Emily said as she came in, setting her stuff at her own desk.

“Hi, Emily,” he said, smiling down at the text you’d just sent him.

(Y/N): SOMEONE BROUGHT THEIR DOG ON THE TRAIN!!!!

(Y/N): IT WAS A BIG DOG STUFFED IN AN IKEA BAG!!!

“So, how long is your friend in town?” she asked.

“The week,” Spencer told him as you sent him a picture of said dog. “She has a conference at the Kennedy Center.”

“You know,” Emily started, “you should invite her to join us for Happy Hour. Let us get to know her a bit.”

“I don’t know…”

“Aw, come on Reid! Why won’t you introduce us?”

“We talking about this Mystery Woman?” Morgan asked, coming over to the two adjoining desks.

“Yeah. Reid’s refusing to introduce her to us.”

“Aw, come on, Kid. Are we really that bad?” Morgan said, leaning on his desk.

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to let up on this, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, grabbing his phone.

Spencer: Hey, do you want to go out with my coworkers tonight? Our regular bar is having trivia night.

(Y/N): Sure, sounds fun!

Spencer let out a long sigh. “We’ll be there.”

“So, (Y/N),” Garcia said, sipping on her fruity drink, “Spencer said you’re in town for a work conference?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “I’m a neuropsychology researcher. My team’s most recent study got selected for a national conference, and they chose me as the spokesperson.”

“Interesting. What’s the study?”

“We were looking at how psychological trauma impacts the physical structure of the brain.”

Spencer looked at you and how your face lit up as you told his team about your research. He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard Prentiss speak up.

“I guess it’s lucky you got chosen to speak about it then.”

“Oh, it’s not lucky,” you laughed. “I’m the only person involved in the study who isn’t a crippling introvert. I volunteered for it and they basically threw the money for accommodations at me in gratitude.” You leaned into Spencer’s side and sipped on the single drink you’d ordered.

“So, work keeps you pretty busy, then?” Morgan asked. “I mean, Spencer’s been talking about you forever and this is the first time we’re meeting you.”

“Well, I do tend to be pretty busy. Usually Spence comes home to see us, not the other way around.”

“So, you still live out in Nevada, then?” JJ asked.

“No, I actually live in California. I work at Stanford University but I visit my parents and Spencer’s mom about once a month.” You took a sip of your drink and leaned into Spencer’s side. The team looked at how you were curled up in Spencer’s space. They all knew how Spencer felt about physical contact.

The next morning at the office, Morgan rolled his chair over to Spencer’s desk.

“So, (Y/N)’s cool,” he said. “We like her.”

“Oh. Cool,” Spencer said, fighting back a smile.

“Yeah, not only is she smart, but she’s cool, too. She’s like a cooler you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“So, why haven’t you asked her out?”

“What?”

“Come on, kid, she’s perfect for you.”

“She’s my best friend, Morgan.”

“Exactly.” Morgan rapped gently on Reid’s desk. “Just think about it.”

“Hey, Spence,” you said as you walked into his apartment.

“Hey,” he said without looking up from his book. “How was your day?”

“Oh, um, it was- it was good,” you said, walking over to sit with him.

He sat the book on the coffee table and turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath. “I got a job offer today.”

“What? That’s amazing! What’s the job?”

“It’s a lead researcher position at the University of Munich.” You bit your lip as you looked at Spencer, gauging his reaction.

“Oh! That’s-that’s great,” he said. “That’s- I mean, do you want the job?”

“Well, it’s a good offer,” you said. “I’d be heading up a research project on treatments for schizophrenia which, you know, has always been my goal. But I’d have to move to Germany. On the other hand, the benefits are great, and it would be a major pay raise.”

“Well, then, you should take it.”

“Oh.” You cleared your throat. “Oh, um, I just remembered. I was, uh, I was supposed to meet some colleagues for drinks.” You got up and rushed out the door, leaving a very confused Spencer sitting alone in his apartment.

“I don’t get it,” Spencer said, spinning around in his chair. “She asked me what I thought about the job offer, I told her, and now she’s mad at me? She’s never been this mad at me before. She got herself a hotel room. I just- I don’t know what I did.”

“Walk us through it, Reid,” Emily said. “Walk us through exactly what happened.”

“She got a job offer from the University of Munich. It’s a great offer, better position, payment to relocate, all that kind of stuff. So I told her she should take it and-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” JJ cut in. “You told her to take the job?”

“Yeah? Why is that- What did I do wrong?”

JJ sighed. “Spence, it’s not just about the job.”

“You basically told her she should move halfway across the globe,” Emily said. “You’re effectively sending her away.”

“What? That’s not- that’s not what I want! That’s not- I don’t want that at all!”

“Then tell her that, Spence,” JJ said. “Look, it’s clear you’re in love with her. We all see it.”

“And for what it’s worth, (Y/N) feels the same,” Emily said.

You were moping on a hotel bed, blankly staring at the sitcom playing on the TV, when someone started pounding on the door.

“(Y/N), it’s me,” Spencer said from the other side of the door, still pounding against it. “Open up. We need to talk.”

You dragged yourself out of the bed, wrapping the duvet around yourself. You trudged to the door where Spencer was still knocking.

“Okay, okay, don’t burst the door down,” you grumbled, opening the door. Any residual anger you felt toward Spencer evaporated the moment you saw him. His hair was in disarray, his clothes were rumpled, and it looked like he hadn’t slept since you saw him last. “Oh, Spence,” you whispered.

“We need to talk,” he said, slipping into the room. After taking a seat on the bed, he said, “Don’t take the job in Munich. Don’t go to Germany.”

“Spencer-”

“I talked with some admin over at George Washington U. They have an assistant professor job open in their biochem department. I can get you an interview without a problem and I can even help you look for an apartment if you want, just- don’t go.”

“Spencer-”

“(Y/N), I love you.”

You froze. “What?”

“You- you don’t have to say it back,” Spencer said. “But the thought of you being even further away- it kills me. I’m in love with you. And I think I always have been.”

You reached over and took his hand. “Spence. I love you, too.”

Spencer’s face broke into the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. “What? Really?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “Spencer, I've been in love with you since we were 16 years old.”

“What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You shrugged and stood up, pacing in front of the bed. “It was never the right time. Either you were in school or I was in school or you were starting a job or I was starting a job-“ you sighed. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never dated? Didn’t you wonder why I only had 1 boyfriend when I was in high school and we broke up after, like, a month?”

“I just- I just figured you weren’t the dating type.”

You gave a small, sad smile. “No. It’s because my heart has always belonged to you. He knew it. Mom and Dad knew it. Everyone knew it before I did. Except you.”

Spencer smiled and shook his head, standing to join you. “We wasted so much time.” You saw a mischievous glint sharpen in his eyes. “And I’m not wasting anymore.” Spencer cupped your face and kissed you until you felt your knees go weak. He lifted you up and tossed you onto the hotel bed as you giggled.

Spencer knocked on Hotch’s door before pushing it open. “Hotch? Can I talk to you?”

Hotch gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. What’s up, Reid?”

“Uh, can I have two weeks off next month? I, uh, I’m helping my girlfriend move.” He couldn’t fight the smile on his face.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, uh, (Y/N). We-we made it official. She’s moving to D.C. She got a job teaching at the university.”

“She moving in with you?” Hotch asked. “Seems a bit fast, don’t you think?”

“Well, no,” Spencer said. “I mean, yes, she’s moving in with me, but no, it’s not fast. We’ve known each other our entire lives. We know everything about each other. It makes sense.”

The corners of Hotch’s mouth twitched. “Well, you’ve definitely accrued enough vacation time. I’ll file the time off paperwork.”

“Thanks, Hotch.” Spencer got up to leave.

“Oh, and Reid?” Hotch called. Spencer turned around. “It’s good to see you smiling.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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ellecdc · 1 month

Note

can i request a reader x poly!marauders where the reader finds a stray kitten and she hides in her robes so she can feed it in morning and just carries it around school.

it’s the boys vs a kitten for reader’s attention, especially sirius sometimes he’s talking smack to the kitten who’s a asleep and then reader catches him and scolds him for it

loolllll poor Siri. Thanks for your request!

Sirius' Arch Nemesis

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: brief mention of Sirius' crappy childhood but very brief and it's only for dramatic effect (it's from Sirius' POV, obviously)

Some may deem this dramatic, but Sirius was very sure that this was quite possibly one of the worst things to have ever happened to him.

“Now, that’s a little dramatic, Pads.” Peter chided, watching you coo at a little bundle hidden beneath your robes as you fed it pieces of chicken at dinner.

“She used to feed me chicken like that.” Sirius pouted, causing Remus to snort.

“She’s never once fed you like that, Pads.”

“Awe, poor Siri.” James cooed, sounding awfully sympathetic to his musings; at least Sirius had one ally here. “Would you like me to feed you chicken like that?”

Sirius gave James his best kicked puppy impression (which was very easy seeing as he was a giant puppy and had spent his entire life training for it) and nodded. “Yes please, Jamie.”

James cooed again and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ cheek before dutifully stabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to Sirius’ mouth.

“Merlin you guys are embarrassing.” Remus muttered as he turned back to watch you dote over the runty little kitten that you’d found in Hogsmeade last weekend all on its lonesome.

“You should leave it here, dovey. His mama may be looking for him.” Remus tried, though he couldn’t deny that the kitten did look particularly pathetic. The tiny thing was shaking, crying, and looked sort of wet or dirty - Remus may not know much but he was quite certain no kitty mama would let their little one walk around in such a state.

Remus nearly whimpered when you turned your face up to the three boys standing over you with tears in your eyes, your face overflowing with empathy. “Can we wait here then? To see if the mama comes back for him?”

Remus ignored the petulant whining’s from Sirius as he sat himself down beside you in camaraderie with nothing more than a sigh. How could he say no to such a reasonable albeit emotional request?

“Jamie?” You murmured, and Remus wasn’t sure how much of the pout was honest and how much of it was to gain sympathy for your cause, but James was quickly at your side.

“Yes, angel?”

“Do you think you could ask Madame Rosmerta for some water? Maybe tuna if she has some?”

James looked like he really didn’t want to do that but also felt he was in no position to deny you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He conceded, pressing a kiss to your hair and causing Sirius to grumble.

“Why don’t you come with me, Pads? Once we bring it back we can head to Zonko's whist these two wait.” James offered, causing Sirius to brighten up considerably.

Needless to say, the mama cat never did show up and the kitten let out a number of pathetic little sneezes from its curled-up place in your lap.

“It’s getting dark, dove. Curfew is soon.” Remus reminded you gently.

“I can’t leave it here, Rem.” You moaned, still never raising your eyes from the kitten as it kneaded biscuits into your robes.

And Remus really hated to admit it, but he didn’t think you could leave it here either.

So, thanks to your bleeding heart and Remus’ lack of self-restraint when it came to anything you ever wanted, Sirius was effectively being replaced by a tiny little devil.

“I don’t know why you’re so wound up about this Black.” Marlene taunted from her place in her girlfriend’s lap as said girlfriend massaged her scalp on the couch of the Gryffindor common room. “It’s just a tiny kitten.”

“'Just a tiny kitten'.” Sirius sneered back at his best friend. “Right, so tell me, Miss. ‘My-Girlfriend-Is-Currently-Snuggling-And-Petting-Me-Right-At-This-Very-Moment’, what do you see my girlfriend doing right now?”

Marlene barely maneuvered her head from Dorcas’ lap to see you curled up near the fire with a book in your hand and that stupid kitten in your lap.

“She’s reading to her cat?” Dorcas responded bemusedly, clearly not seeing what the big deal is.

“Exactly!” Sirius huffed. “That should be me.”

“Oh, my gods.” Marlene grumbled as she stood from her place, grabbing Dorcas’ hand to pull her up too. “Can we go snuggle in the snake pit? I can’t handle Sirius’ level of dramatics tonight.”

“Some friend you are!” Sirius shouted at Marlene’s retreating form as the portrait hole closed behind them.

James and Remus were currently at a prefect’s meeting with James being head-boy and Remus as (the head-boy’s favourite) prefect.

Usually, you and Sirius would spend this time together just the two of you, which was hard to come by sometimes in such a relationship as yours. One-time you guys went and used the bath in the prefect’s bathroom knowing that all the prefects would be busy for the next hour and having gained the password from your boyfriends’. Another time, you two fashioned your own prank without the help of the other Marauder’s and even got away with it!

But right now, Sirius just wanted to cuddle.

But that was fine! If it was animals you wanted to cuddle with, Sirius was more than happy to oblige.

With a quick glance to ensure that the common room was empty, Sirius quickly shifted into Padfoot and made his way over to you.

Padfoot was feeling pretty confident in his plan, that is until he heard a nasty little sound emanating from your lap.

“Sirius!” You scolded, picking up the now very spiky and angry looking kitten from your lap. “You’re scaring him, Pads!” You cooed, tucking the kitten into the collar of your jumper.

The portrait hole opened at this and James and Remus entered the room hand-in-hand, laughing about something before turning to take in the scene.

“Uh oh...” James started, making his way over to the two three of you currently sitting near the fire. “Did Padfoot try to eat the kitten?”

Padfoot harumphed the best he could in his current doggy form. Is good dog, he thought, would not eat...only maim.

“The kitten is frightened.” You pouted, looking to James for sympathy. James looked like he was considering giving it to you, but Remus spoke up as he scratched placatingly behind Padfoot’s ears.

“Perhaps you should bring him upstairs, dovey. Give him some quiet time.”

You readily agreed, much to Padfoot’s chagrin, and left the common room. Now you’d be all the way up there and he’d definitely not get any cuddles.

“Okay, is anyone else sort of jealous of the cat?” James finally muttered plainly once he knew you were out of ear shot.

Yes, Padfoot thought as he quickly shifted back to Sirius. “Yes! It’s like she’s replacing us!”

Remus scoffed at that. “No one is being replaced, boys. Just relax.”

Sirius levelled his boyfriend with a glare. “Yeah? When’s the last time she read to you by the fire, Moons?”

Remus paused and seemed to think on that for a moment before his eyes darted back to Sirius. “I still think you’re being dramatic.”

“It’s been since the kitten, hasn’t it Remus?” Sirius argued, not willing to let it go.

“Sirius, she’s allowed to love things other than us.”

Both Sirius and James scoffed at that. “I think bloody not!” James retorted.

“I can concede if she likes other things, but she cannot love anything more than me! She needs to love me the most!” Sirius insisted, causing both of his boyfriends to look at him funny.

“Oh?” James asked with a bemused frown.

“Is that how it is, really? You think she loves you the most out of all of us?” Remus continued.

Sirius levelled them with a look he hoped portrayed a “yeah, duh”.

“Is that how this relationship works for you Sirius? Which of us do you love the most?” James demanded, crossing his arms in that way Sirius loves because it makes his muscles bulge.

“Me, obviously.” He answered simply.

“You’re your own favourite?” Remus deadpanned.

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, I’m awesome.”

“You’re not supposed to have favourites!” James whined.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been like ‘oh merlin, right now Moony is my favourite’?” Sirius asked him.

James scoffed indignantly. “Right now, he very well might be!”

Instead of having the effect he hoped that comment would on Sirius, Sirius nodded in agreement. “See? Favourites.”

“You’re an idiot.” Remus grumbled as he stood and made his way upstairs.

“Do you really have favourites?” James asked quietly once Remus had left, his voice giving way to a vulnerability that made Sirius melt.

“Not a chance, bubs.” Sirius insisted, placing a kiss to James’ temple as he pulled the spectacled boy into his side. “I just like arguing with Moony; he makes it so easy to take the piss.”

James chuckled and allowed some tension to leave his body.

“No, but seriously, what are we going to do about that kitten?” James piped up and pulled away so he could look into Sirius’ face.

“I suppose my current plan of feeding it to the Hippogriffs is a no?” Sirius asked. He was answered by an unamused glare from James.

“Fine. Fine. Hopefully the novelty will wear off soon.” Sirius conceded. For as much shit as he gave you, he did sort of love how much you loved anything and everything that might be in need of some; himself included.

James and Sirius watched the flames dance in the fireplace for some time, just enjoying the quiet company that the two of them very rarely shared together.

“Why don't we go see what those two are up to, hm?” James asked eventually, helping Sirius up from his position on the floor and heading up the stairs towards the boy's dorm.

The room was quiet as they entered and when Sirius turned after closing the door to survey the room, he let out a horrified gasp.

“How in the buggering hell did he manage that!?” He whisper shouted, pointing to Remus laying on his bed with you pulled into his side, nuzzled into the crook of his arm.

As James moved to survey the two of you from another side, his face morphed into a pained grimace. “Pads, maybe it’s best we-”

But it was too late, Sirius had seen all he needed to see.

“You bloody traitor!” He nearly shrieked, albeit not loud enough to stir you nor the stupid fucking kitten currently curled up in a very content ball on Remus’ chest from your respective slumber’s.

If Remus had been pretending to sleep, his ruse was given away by a smug smirk gracing his face.

“Better luck next time, Sirius.” He goaded, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm as you burrowed further into the werewolf’s side.

Sirius had been beaten, crucio’d, starved, disowned and homeless in his eighteen years of life. But this right here was without a doubt the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

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beskarandblasters · 4 months

Text

Bluffing Season

Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty, @fhatbhabie, and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.

Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Late October

Beep Beep Beep

Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida.

You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.

“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.

He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”

Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?

“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.

He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor.

Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him.

But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!

You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks.

“Hey!”

Not again.

“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster.

“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon.

…Is he fucking for real?

You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit.

“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”

He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.

“I guess not.”

“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.

The fucking nerve of that man.

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door.

The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case.

“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”

“Sure! Which one would you like?”

“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle.

“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”

“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”

You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious.

“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle.

“Black is fine.”

You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks.

You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?

You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out.

“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”

“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter.

The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan.

“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!”

She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you.

“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving.

Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst.

Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated.

…Or so you thought.

Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year.

You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally.

Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?

You know what, why not?

You respond with:

Oooh, what time and where?

You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You check your phone and Ally says;

7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there.

She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling.

You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?

Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…

You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face.

“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder.

Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”

Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys?

“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before.

“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile.

“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair.

“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”

“Uh, she’s not coming.”

“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out.

“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy.

He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter.

“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.

“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”

He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife.

“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”

“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly.

You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.

“You want me to leave the fish?”

“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.

“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design.

“That better?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”

“I get that-”

“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter.

“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start.

“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders.

You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face.

“By all means,” Frankie says.

“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”

“Hard cider?”

“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator.

You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick?

You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly.

“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says.

“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced.

Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally.

“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember.

Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking.

“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty.

“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him.

Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head.

“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”

“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?

You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets.

And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.

You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?

“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond.

Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone?

But also… why not?

You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!”

You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost.

“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs.

Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”

The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”

You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?

“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny.

“Down the hall on your right,” he says.

You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings?

You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny.

You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”

“I’d like that,” you smile.

You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.

“Happy birthday by the way,” you say.

He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?

You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics:

1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks.

2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up.

3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him.

4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole.

And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him.

Mid-December

Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time.

The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever.

From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all.

But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too.

Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving.

“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone.

“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone.

“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”

“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”

“Uhh-”

“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”

“I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”

“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”

As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?

“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway…

“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Okay…”

“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”

“Spit it out.”

“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”

Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

“But… why?”

“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”

“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”

“It’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Why can’t you just go home alone?”

“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”

“What’s in it for me?” you sigh.

“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”

“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”

“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”

You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once.

“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself.

He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.

“Wait!”

He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”

“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.

“How long are we there?”

“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”

It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?

“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”

“Savannah, Georgia.”

Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”

“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon.

You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.

“What happened with your neighbor?”

“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”

“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”

“And that is?”

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”

“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”

“What’s his name?”

“Frankie.”

“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”

Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”

“Alright. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?

It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you.

“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes.

You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind.

It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.

You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course.

For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”

“Okay…” you say awkwardly.

Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again.

“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”

You were dreading this conversation.

“Yeah…”

“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Think you can do that?”

“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”

“Right…”

You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go.

“I guess we have to get to know each other.”

“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”

“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”

“Gotcha.”

“What about you?”

“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”

“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”

“I joined right after I got out of high school.”

“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”

“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”

“Gotcha. What do you do now?”

“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”

“We don’t have to talk about-”

“Our friend passed.”

“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”

“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”

“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”

“I pretended I was sick.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”

“Right.”

“She didn’t even know my full name.”

The cake that you made.

“Yeah…”

“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”

“About that.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know where she got that cake from?”

“No.”

“She came to my store.”

“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”

“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”

“I know…” he sighs.

“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”

“You did?”

“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle.

“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat.

“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask.

“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”

“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”

“That about sums me up I guess.”

“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”

“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”

“And also not cutting your lawn.”

“Listen-”

“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease.

“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”

“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically.

“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”

“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”

He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet.

It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you.

You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”

“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn.

“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”

“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”

You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.

“I noticed,” you say coldly.

Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!

“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”

“You and your friends are just… loud.”

“Oh.”

“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”

“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him.

“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not.

“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”

“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”

“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases.

“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”

“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”

“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm.

“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”

“I think so, too.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead.

“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say.

“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot.

“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door.

“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side.

He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom.

“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods.

You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance.

You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up.

“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag.

You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got.

“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”

“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”

“I think I’m all set,” you nod.

You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.

“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag.

“Oh god, why?”

“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”

“Okay.”

“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”

“You’re the baby of the family?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. It just tracks.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”

“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this.

“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”

“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”

“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”

You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to.

“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face.

“I think so?”

“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”

“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”

“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”

“That sounds tough.”

“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.”

“I understand,” Frankie says softly.

“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”

“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”

“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”

“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug.

“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head.

“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”

“You know I like the hat, Ma.”

She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met.

“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands.

“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile.

“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house.

It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples.

“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her.

“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”

“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”

“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth.

“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”

“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet.

“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”

“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”

“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”

Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Tired?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”

“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says.

“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

“Where did you put the lemon bars?”

“In the refrigerator.”

“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”

“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”

“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs.

“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs.

“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie.

Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left.

“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him.

“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost.

“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture.

“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment.

“Definitely my dad,” he says.

You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“A little,” you yawn.

“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly.

“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh, right. Just making sure.”

He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other.

“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes.

“…I won’t while we’re home.”

“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes.

“Goodnight?” he says.

“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle.

…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?

“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to be cold.”

“What’s your solution then?”

“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”

“No, do not do that.”

“Or there’s the other option.”

“Uh huh…”

“I could hold you.”

“…You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“…Fine.”

You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something.

“Better?”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass.

…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?

Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence.

Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?

Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side.

“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily.

“That was nice of her.”

“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”

“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge.

“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”

“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…

“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”

You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits.

“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”

“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off.

A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be.

“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”

“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza.

“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”

“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie.

“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says.

“I could tell,” you snicker.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.

“What about you, dear?” his mom asks.

“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”

“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”

“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”

“Whatever,” Frankie sighs.

“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink.

You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid.

“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head.

“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare.

“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”

“No,” Frankie says quickly.

“Oh yes,” you laugh.

“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh.

Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.

“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”

“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs.

“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her.

“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says.

As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”

“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell.

“You want to shower?”

Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”

“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”

He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet.

“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet.

“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…

What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?

You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs.

A knock on the door brings you back to reality.

“Can I come in?” Frankie asks.

“Uhh-”

“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”

“I guess.”

He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself.

But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute?

You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…

That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable.

You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while.

Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent.

The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy.

You roll over and ask, “You okay?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”

“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”

“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”

“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”

“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”

“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”

“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”

He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.

You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove.

“Good morning you two,” she smiles.

“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”

“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”

“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”

“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you.

To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”

As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite.

“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter.

“Yeah?”

“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”

“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”

“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?”

“Nah.”

That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida.

Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around five or so.”

It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower.

“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind.

“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”

“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove.

You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family.

Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara.

He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink.

“You look…”

“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide.

“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”

“No rush. Take your time.”

You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

“You look beautiful, honey,” she says.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her.

“Francisco’s in the shower?”

“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets.

She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table.

“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.

“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches.

“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says.

“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.

“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”

Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again.

“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags.

Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”

You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?

“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs.

“Hi.”

“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”

“I hope so,” you say.

You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly.

You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening.

“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts.

He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!”

You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”

“She’s the oldest?”

He nods. It makes sense.

She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand.

“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases.

“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”

You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged.

Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name.

“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”

This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”

“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say.

But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations.

“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie.

“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”

“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”

Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive.

And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived.

Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.

You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course.

Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”

“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.

“Go ahead,” Rosa says.

“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”

Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”

The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect.

“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching.

“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair.

He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand.

“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”

The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two.

With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off

“Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”

He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.

“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”

He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story.

“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”

“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.

“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”

“I get it,” you say softly.

“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”

He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity.

“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath.

You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty.

“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”

“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”

“Understandable.”

“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”

“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”

That actually gets him to laugh.

“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”

You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie.

“I know that was a lot…” he says.

“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him.

“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”

“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear.

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep.

You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful.

And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight…

Whatever, worry about that later.

“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”

“Already took care of it.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?”

“Right,” you say, lying on your back.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles.

“Merry Christmas,” you respond.

“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”

You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase.

“What did I get her?”

“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”

“Ooh, good idea.”

He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it.

“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”

“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs.

You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree.

You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away.

“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was.

Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”

The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you.

Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table.

The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars.

Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.

“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.

That earned him a smack on the arm.

Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.

“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk,” he says.

You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”

“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”

“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.

He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.

“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”

“Look at the back,” he says softly.

You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you.

He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”

“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.

And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night.

“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.

“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”

“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”

“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss.

After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”

You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time.

Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more.

“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”

“You’re sorry?”

“Well yeah, I-”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”

“How long?”

“Soon after you moved in next door.”

“Really? I thought you hated me.”

“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.

“Even when you were with Heather?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”

“...Maybe,”

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.

“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.

“Yeah?”

“What about like… your mom?”

“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before.

He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already.

“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.

Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.

He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so.

Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you.

“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.

“Oh??”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”

“Uhh-”

“Your bathroom window faces mine.”

“...It does?”

“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”

“Oh yeah? And then what?”

He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”

Your whole body shudders.

“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.

“Are you begging, cariño?”

“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.

“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.

“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”

It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.

“Y-yes…” you confess.

“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips.

“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”

“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.

“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”

“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.

You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.

“Look at me,” he softly commands.

You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.

“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.

“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.

“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.

“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.

You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.

New Year’s Eve

You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.

You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.

“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back.

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