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bullet-prooflove · 2 years

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Promises: Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwtiz x Reader

RATED M!

Tagging @enchantedblackrose who requested a follow up.

A companion piece to this ASK

You looked so small standing there in the doorway of your apartment. The black, off the shoulder, sweater wrapped around you over leggings and fluffy socks. Your skin was paler than usual, and streaks of mascara smeared at the corner of your eyes which were dull and outlined in red.

Mouse hated Matt Casey in this moment, hated the fact that the other man had broken your heart into a million pieces by taking off to Oregon of all places. When Antonio had broken the news, Mouse had fucking known how ruined you would be. You had invested so much of yourself into that relationship. He thought he’d come over an cheer you up because God knew you’d need a friend. You were his person after all, it was only fair that he was yours too.

"I've got Chinese." he heard himself responding holding up the carrier bag in his hands. "I've brought all the Lethal Weapon movies, and a six pack of craft ale."

You said nothing, you simply stepped aside. Mouse took this as an invitation, heading towards the kitchen as you closed the door behind him. He shrugged off his wet jacket, slinging it on the back of one of your chairs. He began by taking the DVD's out of the bag and setting them on the work surface.

"I got a few meals here, so do you want one to yourself? Or do a mix and match thing on the coffee table so you can pick?" he called out as he started separating the various containers from Mr Wong's.

It startled him when you put her arms through his. He heard your choked breath as you buried your face into his back, holding on for dear life. His hands rested on yours for a second as you sniffed and quaked.

Mouse turned gently, holding your hands in his before returning them to his waist. His arms went around you, drawing you into the comforting shelter of his body. You began to shake, his fingertips brushed through your silky hair. There were tears leaking through his shirt, causing a dampness on his chest.

Jesus, he wished this wasn't happening. He wished that he could say something to take the pain away and make you feel better. Yet, he knew there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do besides hold you. His lips brushed your hairline as you clung to him, long drawn-out sobs choking you. He felt them echo through him as you pressed against him.

You felt so small huddled in his arms, so fragile. You had let someone else in and he had destroyed you. Casey was dead when he caught up with him. They wouldn't even find the body.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and glistening. He could see it all in you, all the raw pain dragging you under. The fragments of your heart breaking every second you thought about Casey's decision. The wind outside was rattling the windows, the thunder was erupting around them, flashes of lightning played on the shadows of the room as the rain pelted the glass harder.

Your cheeks were streaked with tears as you simply stared at each other in complete understanding. You needed him, you needed him to show you that it wasn’t your fault that Casey had left, that you weren’t unlovable, that you were worthy of it.

"Greg..." you whispered.

Mouse used his thumb to brush away the tear that rolled down your soft cheek, before resting his forehead against yours.

"I know." he said gently.

"It's not supposed to be like this." you murmured, your chest tightening as you closed your eyes. It hurt to breath, the need and the agony rising up in your chest.

"I need..." you trailed off unable to say anything more, instead you tugged on the hem of his blue button up shirt.

Tears leaked down your cheeks, he used his lips this time to chase them away.

"I know, baby girl, I know." he said into your mouth.

He closed his own eyes, operating on touch alone as both hands caressed up your arms. You shivered as his hands rubbed your shoulders. Your head tilted up; your lips parted as you broke the centimetre distance between the two of you.

Mouse's world was crashing down as you kissed him; your hands roamed his chest, setting him alight with your touch as you began to undo the buttons on his shirt. He let you take charge for a moment until his shirt was hanging open, your kisses heated. He could feel the desperation tearing you both up.

He'd almost lost you, and that drove him. It urged him to take control as his hands wrapped around your waist and drew your sweater up and over your head. The skin-on-skin contact sizzled; the desire and the need for reassurance rode you until you were both naked and panting. Hands touching everywhere, familiar and yet new.

He laid you down on the couch, your beautiful body perfect. His hands ran up your thighs parting them as he knelt between your legs. Your eyes were on his, your lips moved, gasping his name in anticipation as he moved above you, his erection teasing your moist opening.

Your head tilted back, emitting a moan as he slid inside of you, suddenly giving you everything that you craved. His mouth descended on your neck, as your body moved with him harder and faster. Your nails raked his back, the scratches a welcome distraction, the pain mingled with the pleasure as he thrust into your tightness.

Mouse's left hand entwined in your right as you whimpered, followed by a loud cry of pleasure. He knew what was coming, you were on the edge. He could hear it as your voice as you spoke his name.

Your fingers dug into his as you hung in the balance, your entire body vibrated as you came underneath him, he rode out your orgasm with you, erupting only a few thrusts later. His face buried your neck as he breathed your name.

You lay there entangled in each other. Your hands running all over his shape as if memorizing very inch of his muscular body. Mouse kissed along your throat, before he reclaimed himself from you. His hand was already reaching over the back of the couch for the blanket you kept there, drawing it over you so that you didn't get cold as he rose to his feet in search of a towel.

You were still naked, curled up on your side, facing the television upon his return. Mouse smiled down at you as he stood there in his boxers holding the DVD's in his hands.

"Start with the first one and work our way through to the fourth?" Mouse was already crouching down and slipping the disk into the DVD player.

He turned around, to see you staring vacantly at the T.V, your cheeks pink and your expression blissed out. He climbed onto the couch and curved his body around yours. You fit together perfectly as you stretched out along the length of his body, cuddling the blanket closer. He wrapped his arm around your waist, cradling you gently against him.

"It'll be ok baby girl." he whispered into your ear, placing a soft kiss onto the curve of her neck. “I promise you everything will be ok.”

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mouse imagine #mouse x reader #greg mouse gerwitz #mouse gerwitz #mouse #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd

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gatekeeper-watchman · 11 months

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Daily Devotionals for June 1, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 17:22(KJV): 22 A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones. Proverbs 17:22(Amp): 22 A happy heart is a good medicine and a cheerful mind works healing, but a broken spirit dries the bones.

Thought for the Day

Maintaining a joyful spirit is like taking a dose of healing medicine. Scientists are beginning to see the Biblical truth that one's mental state affects one's physical state. A negative outlook causes people to succumb to sickness more readily than a positive one. According to many studies, a happy outlook may help cardiac patients avoid heart attacks and other health problems, because a hearty laugh causes a small, but fleeting decrease in blood pressure and releases endorphins, which have a pain-relieving and soothing effect on the body. Some doctors recommend that patients suffering serious illnesses add laughter to their treatment regimen, advising that they regularly watch comedy shows.

We must not allow Satan to break our spirits; for a broken spirit "dries up the bones." Our bones contain marrow which is vital for a healthy body; it consists largely of blood cells in all stages of development. Red blood corpuscles contain the iron compound, hemoglobin, that gives us strength and energy; white blood cells protect the body from infections and disease; and blood platelets are essential for blood clot formation. New blood cells are released into the bloodstream from the bones every second. Thus, we can see how important our bone marrow is.

If we succumb to the devil's lies and attacks, he can rob us of our joy which can cause the "drying of our bones." In essence, this means it can weaken our immune system, thus affecting all areas of our body, soul (the mind, the emotions, the will), and the spirit. We are triune beings, designed to function as a unit. The regenerated spirit should be in control of the soul, with the body in subordination to them. If bodily appetites or emotions control us instead of our quickened spirit, God's order is violated. We function abnormally; which is below our God-given potential. Jesus came as the Great Physician to minister wholeness to His people (Matthew 4:24).

To function properly, we must become "born again" by receiving the Spirit of Life. We will never be whole without this first step. Next, we must ask God to cleanse us, so that we might truly love Him with all our hearts. This is the first and greatest commandment (Matthew 22:36-38). Finally, we need to appropriate the healing Jesus purchased for us. Before dying on the cross, Jesus was lashed with Roman whips which tore pieces of flesh from His back. These are the stripes by which we were healed. "Whom his self-bares our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed" (1 Peter 2:24; see also Isaiah 53). God wants us to be whole: spirit, soul, and body. We can maintain wholeness by keeping a joyful heart; praising God and enjoying His blessings. Truly, it is like a dose of good medicine that brings healing.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you for not only saving my soul but for the promise of healing also. I do appreciate the many times over the years that You have healed me personally. I also thank You for the gift of healing as I have prayed and You have touched others with Your healing virtue. You truly are the Great Physician. I do appreciate that about You. Lord, I do want to always remain in a joyful attitude, no matter what might come my way. Fill me with Your love, joy, and peace daily, so that I might be an example of Your goodness. I ask this in the name of the Lord Jesus. Amen.

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terramythos · 1 year

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TAYLOR READS 2022: BE THE SERPENT BY SEANAN MCGUIRE

Title: Be The Serpent (October Daye #16)

Author: Seanan McGuire

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, First-Person, Female Protagonist

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 09/23/2022

Date Finished: 10/25/2022

Things are going great for October “Toby” Daye; she’s just gotten married to the love of her life, and the future looks positive. But her entire world changes when Jessica Brown, daughter of her best friend Stacy, is brutally murdered. As Toby puts the pieces together, she is betrayed by someone she thought she could trust— and an ancient enemy returns to terrorize Faerie.

“Hello, October,” she said, and her voice was hers and not hers at the same time, the echoing, terrible voice of a goddess, and oh, I was so completely screwed.

For live reading notes, check the reblogs (warning for heavy spoilers).

Content warnings and review (spoiler-free and spoiler versions) under the cut.

Content Warnings: Depicted — Eye trauma/gore (it’s the chapter header art), death, filicide, child death, violence, gore, mind control, drug use (kinda), drug addiction, warfare (kinda), kidnapping. Mentioned — Torture, child abuse, genocide, human sacrifice, domestic abuse.

**SPOILER FREE REVIEW**

Oh, October Daye, a series near and dear to my heart. Obviously it has some appeal for me, considering I’ve made it to book 16. It’s a Faerie-based urban fantasy series (though less urban in recent years) with memorable twists, great character development, and a concerted effort toward broad LGBT representation. That being said, it is hard for me to wholeheartedly recommend this series to others; it’s long, and while some entries are incredible, others… aren’t. The previous book, When Sorrows Come, is the worst in the series due to egregious filler and bizarre editorial issues. By contrast, Be The Serpent is fantastic, featuring a satisfying, emotional payoff built up from the very first book.

October Daye focuses heavily on the long game. While I’m sure some characters and plots are invented whole-cloth, it’s clear many story beats and developments have been planned from inception. A core component of the series revolves around hidden identities. Almost every major character (and there are a lot of them) is either secretly someone else or has something to hide. In a series full of crazy setups and payoffs, Be The Serpent contains the most shocking one yet; no small feat. According to the opening acknowledgments, this was planned a good fifteen books ago. From most authors, I’d be skeptical of such a claim, but I completely believe it here; so many weird details suddenly make sense.

If you’re not familiar with October Daye but have some interest in the series, I recommend reading to at least An Artificial Night (#3, the first major turning point) and seeing if you wish to continue from there. As I said, the series is a little hit or miss, but the hits are fantastic. My personal favorite entries are An Artificial Night (#3), The Winter Long (#8), The Brightest Fell (#11), and now this bombshell, Be The Serpent (#16).

**SPOILER REVIEW**

Jesus fucking Christ, STACY was Titania? Quite literally the last character I’d ever expect. But by God does it explain the weird shit going on with her bloodline and children. It looks like a lot of people suspected this, but I genuinely had no idea. I didn’t expect the casual “Stacy’s kids are kind of weird, huh” detail to explode in such a gut-wrenching way. Yeah, when the pre-release blurb mentioned the betrayal of a long-time ally, my sister and I immediately thought of the two most suspicious characters (Marcia and Stacy) but my brain never made the Titania connection. So like… half-guessed the twist, I guess? Even if Stacy was our second choice?

Anyway, this entry is highly reminiscent of The Winter Long, which is nothing but a compliment. I’ll have to ruminate on whether this beats that book and/or The Brightest Fell in terms of personal enjoyment. I had many complaints about When Sorrows Come and distinctly remember saying the series NEEDS a Winter Long-type shakeup. Well god damn did Be The Serpent deliver. I’m so pumped for where the series is going; I hope the days of filler plots and forgettable villains are behind us now.

Be The Serpent pulls no punches. Its inciting incident is the brutal murder of Jessica Brown, a recurring child character. There’s an overwhelming sense of unease as her mother Stacy becomes more and more suspicious. The reveal that Stacy is (unwittingly) Titania, who’s trapped in an eternal loop of cursed reincarnation and child murder, is… quite something. “Stacy” even MEANS “resurrection”, an infuriating bit of foreshadowing. Titania has been built up as a major antagonist throughout the series, and there’s a stark contrast between her and Stacy, a stalwart ally since book one. I think one thing McGuire did especially well in this novel is portray the transition between the two characters; the sense of wrongness when “Stacy” says something off-color just ramps up the tension until it explodes.

I’ve mentioned this a lot already, but this book solidifies my suspicion that Marcia is Maeve. Be The Serpent all but looks the reader in the eye to say that reveal is coming next, and that she’s someone we know. And there’s a ton of evidence both in this book and previous entries that line up with Marcia– her name, Firstborn acting strange around her, her ambiguous history and heritage, her association with water, the whole “can see through reality” line Toby drops and then refuses to elaborate on, the lack of suspicion around her, and so on. She is the only character in the huge cast that makes sense. I kinda hope the next book is the one to drop the reveal, especially after so much specific buildup for it in this entry.

Be The Serpent also ends on a cliffhanger, which I believe is a series first. Even though A Killing Frost drops the Oberon twist at the end, it still wraps up its conflict. Things are ambiguous here though. Toby has been kidnapped and brainwashed? Is she in a dream, a manufactured reality, or has Titania actually bent the world to her own whims? Is the August Toby encounters actually her half-sister, an illusion, or someone else? Is “Father” Simon and “Mother” Amandine? There’s also the unanswered question re: how Simon managed to resist Titania’s mind control toward the end of the book; he is “of her blood”, and his genetically identical twin Sylvester fell under her thrall. Until this point, Simon has been the poster child for “easily mind controlled” – by Titania’s daughter Eira no less– so I’ve got nothing on why that happened. Whatever is next, I’m looking forward to it. While recent entries have been a little hit or miss, the final chapter of Be The Serpent establishes an intriguing premise in the next book, at least.

#taylor reads #book review #10/10 #i'm back! and trying a new format for these

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princeofgod-2021 · 18 days

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LIGHT OF LIFE 494

John 1:4

DIVINE ORDER 59: Law Of The Tree Of Knowledge 7

Gen 2:16-17 But the LORD told him, "You may eat fruit from any tree in the garden, EXCEPT THE ONE THAT HAS THE POWER TO LET YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RIGHT AND WRONG. IF YOU EAT ANY FRUIT FROM THAT TREE, YOU WILL DIE BEFORE THE DAY IS OVER!" CEV

ONE LAW 4

We started making a salient point with ONE LAW 2 and I want us to look at it again now.

Mat 22:36 Master, WHICH IS THE GREAT COMMANDMENT IN THE LAW? KJV

Sometimes, the most important factor is not about how it can stand apart from the rest but about how much the rest depend on it and can crash if that one point is ever omitted.

I love watching Dominoes crumble when just one piece is tipped. The LAW can be like that.

Mat 22:37-38 Jesus answered him, “‘LOVE the Lord your God with every passion of your heart, with all the energy of your being, and with every thought that is within you.’ THIS IS THE GREAT AND SUPREME COMMANDMENT. TPT

Mat 22:40 ALL of Moses' Teachings and the Prophets DEPEND ON THESE TWO COMMANDMENTS." GW

Again, the intriguing thing about this 1 Greatest LAW is that it appears in every other Law.

Mat 22:39 And the SECOND COMMAND is like the first: 'LOVE your neighbor the same as you love yourself.' ERV

This 2nd [greatest] Law wasn’t part of the [Moses’] 10 Commandments but Jesus succinctly summarized about 7 Laws, bringing out the “cementing” and underlining point: LOVE.

Rom 13:8-9 Let love be your only debt! IF YOU LOVE OTHERS, YOU HAVE DONE ALL THAT THE LAW DEMANDS. In the Law there are many commands, such as, "Be FAITHFUL in marriage. Do not MURDER. Do not STEAL. Do not want what BELONGS TO OTHERS." But ALL OF THESE ARE SUMMED UP in the command that says, "LOVE OTHERS AS MUCH AS YOU LOVE YOURSELF." CEV

I want us to do some bit of “Scriptural Mathematics” shall we? Now, how seriously does the Commandments depend on LOVE?

Mat 22:40 CONTAINED WITHIN these COMMANDMENTS TO LOVE you will FIND ALL THE MEANING of the LAW and the PROPHETS.” TPT

The “Meaning” of all the Law & Prophets are found “within” Love, and Love is God, right?

1Jn 4:7-8 Dear friends, we must love each other because love comes from God. EVERYONE WHO LOVES HAS BEEN BORN FROM GOD AND KNOWS GOD. THE PERSON WHO DOESN'T LOVE DOESN'T KNOW GOD, because God is love. GW

Alright then; if you don’t have LOVE, you don’t KNOW God. But what does the LACK of knowledge of God do to you please?

Joh 17:3 And ETERNAL LIFE means to KNOW you, the only true God, and to KNOW Jesus Christ, whom you sent. GNB

You can’t enter heaven to meet God except you get to know Him first. Now, by the Law of Proportionality or Equality, what is another way to Eternal Life please?

Joh 14:6 Jesus replied, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. NET

So then, JESUS is the LOVE-LAW of God, extended to us and by whom we connect and Know God, so that we can make heaven.

Do you see the beauty of scriptural cycle? Everything keeps coming around to JESUS.

Joh 3:16 For this is how much God loved the world—he gave his one and only, unique Son as a gift. So now everyone who believes in him will never perish but experience everlasting life. TPT

So beloved, if Adam and his wife had Loved the Lord dearly, they shouldn’t have disobeyed Him.

If they at least respected and honoured a God who took time to visit them, they shouldn’t have betrayed His trust and companionship.

Isa 1:2 LISTEN, HEAVEN, AND PAY ATTENTION, EARTH! The LORD has spoken, "I RAISED MY CHILDREN AND HELPED THEM GROW, BUT THEY HAVE REBELLED AGAINST ME. GW

Every time I read the scripture above, my heart goes out for our Father and I wish I could fully comprehend the depth of the pains of being betrayed.

Why would the Supreme God be reporting His children to the elements?

May our lives neither be painful disappointments nor regrets to God, IN JESUS NAME.

Come back on Wednesday, as we proceed in digging into this inspiring Subtopic.

Brother Prince

Monday, April 08, 2024

08055125517; 08023904307

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gatekeeperwatchman · 1 year

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Daily Devotional for December 5, 2022

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for the Day

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 29:22-24 (KJV):

22 An angry man stirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in transgression.

23 A man's pride shall bring him low: but honor shall uphold the humble in spirit.

24 Whoso is a partner with a thief hateth his soul: he heareth cursing, and bewrayeth it not.

Proverbs 29:22-24 (AMP):

22 A man of wrath stirs up strife, and a man given to anger commits and causes many transgressions.

23 A man's pride will bring him low, but he who is of a humble spirit will obtain honor.

24 Whoever is a partner with a thief hates his own life; he falls under the curse (pronounced upon him who knows who the thief is) but discloses nothing.

Thought for the Day

Verse 22 - Giving vent to anger rather than properly handling it leads to many other sins, such as blasphemy, destruction of property, strife, abuse, and even murder. Anger is a form of pride, and pride breeds many other woes. An angry man will stir up strife, thus causing dissension. Some people think that they can manage their anger if it is directed at just one person; however, a spirit of anger is not easy to contain. Anger toward even one person will spill out upon those with whom we are not angry. That is why we must resist unbridled anger, and learn to release it to God by forgiving others when they hurt us.

Verse 23 - Pride is another deadly sin. If we exalt ourselves, we will be brought down from our lofty place. "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall" (Proverbs 16:18). Pride is always denounced in Scripture, while humility is prized. The Lord looks for those having a humble, contrite attitude and who respect His Word. They will receive His blessings and be brought to honor: "...but to this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word" (Isaiah 66:2). "The fear of the LORD is the instruction of wisdom; and before honor is humility" (Proverbs 15:33).

Jesus told us the same things: that the way "up" in the kingdom of God is "down." "But he that is greatest among you shall be your servant. And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased, and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted" (Matthew 23:11-12). "God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble…Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you" (James 4:6-10).

Verse 24 - A man who partners with a thief is his own worst enemy. He risks his life in every way, for not only may the thief turn on him and kill him, but he is twice cursed: first for participating in a crime, second for withholding evidence, and (if brought to trial) for lying under oath.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, we come to You, asking that You deliver us from all pride and anger. We truly want to be like Jesus, who was meek and lowly. Father, help us to remain humble and always be willing to assume the place of a servant. May we always be sensitive to the needs of others and look for ways to help them. I am reminded in Your Word that we are told, by love, we are to serve one another. Fill us with Your love, so that we may love those around us to serve them as You would. I ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

From: Steven P. Miller

Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups

Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA.

@ParkermillerQ, @GatekeeperWatchman1,

#GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller

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cosmiccitizen · 2 years

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rednights · 2 years

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Dear Mr. Right

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: During the week leading up to valentine's day you begin to receive love letters from an anonymous writer. For some weird reason, the handwriting looks exactly like your new English partner’s: Peter Parker.

WC: 4.2k

TW: Peter being an idiot with a crush, reader who hates Valentine’s day, tooth-rotting fluff that chipped away at my lonely soul. Mentions of anxiety (lip biting, bouncing leg up and down to relieve stress)

AN: happy valentines day!! And ignore my mistakes </3

You do not have permission to re-post my work anywhere. It’s my shit, don’t steal it.

Dear Y/n,

Roses are red We’re told that violets are blue I can’t admit my feelings But please know they’re true

February approaches And the sun still shines Though not as bright as you Would you ever think to be mine?

I’ll watch from afar Eternally gazing at you If the world contains any mercy Maybe you’ll feel the same too

I’m no savior I’m certainly no knight I’m a horrible poet But maybe I’m your Mr. Right

- Your secret admirer

“I see Mystery Boy has struck again,” A familiar voice calls, standing out in the crowded halls of Midtown High.

“Jesus!” You yelp, your heart freezing in your chest as you shove the note that was once in your hand deep into the pocket of your pants. “A little warning next time, Michelle?”

“Never,” She chortles, standing to the left of you. She glances at the outline of your newest letter before questioning, “Is this love confession 36 or 37?”

Small strands of her curly brown hair frame her face as the two of you begin to walk down the halls, books in hand, drowning in the sea of students. There’s a certain buzz in the air, the one that only comes out when Valentine's Day is near. Hundreds of couples are pressed up against one another, as if being separated for more than a single second would cause them the most hideous pain.

Lips on lips, hands in pockets, jackets around shoulders, it’s almost sickening in a way. Red and pink streamers are hung up in the hall, and you recognize the penmanship of one Betty Brant on the posters that advertise the school’s annual ‘Lover’s Dance’.

It truly wasn’t anything important. Just the 14th of February, it happened every year and only lasted 24 hours, just like every other day. Except for some reason, the entire month was dedicated to the singular event. Pharmacy after pharmacy filled with cheap, dirty cards and stuffed toys, as if it represented love in any real way.

It was safe to say you weren’t a big fan.

Well, until now.

At the beginning of the month, much to your dismay, you started to receive little notes through the slits of your locker. At first, they were small compliments, just a simple, ‘you look really pretty today :)’ or ‘I really like your shirt! It brings out your eyes.’

Then, they progressed into small words of encouragement, wishes of luck for upcoming tests, and reminders to take care of yourself. Now, whoever he is has taken a liking to poems, and has begun to spill his heart onto the red and blue sticky notes that he shoves in between the cracks of your life.

When Mystery Boy first started his little gig, you were slightly caught off guard. After all, what were the points of love letters and secret admirers? It seemed like such a senseless notion, so you paid no mind.

However, as the days passed and the shoe box under your bed began to fill with the folded paper entries, you found yourself curious about what he would write next. Did you know him? Did you share any classes together? After all, just how much attention was he paying? You even styled your hair a different way to see if he would notice. He did, and once again, he expressed his adoration through words on paper.

And so, a week until the once dreaded date, you let the small letter burn a hole in the pocket of your pants as you walked to your first class of the day.

“It’s not 37,” you grumble in response, “It’s 23, thank you very much,”

“It concerns me that you know the exact number. Please don’t tell me that you’re letting little Edgar Allen Poe get to you. I thought you weren’t into that kind of stuff?” MJ inquires, peering at you curiously. She’s never been a big fan of cheesy romance either, something that you both love to mock come each February.

“I’m not! I’m just curious is all…”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!” You protest, scrambling your words slightly. “It’s just weird is all! I’ve never had a secret admirer, so I don’t really know what to do in this situation.”

“Do you think he might ask you to the dance?” MJ asks, shuffling behind a pair of freshmen who are glued to each other's side. “Most importantly, if he did ask, would you say yes?”

The thought makes you gulp. You? A dance? The event never truly crossed your mind, just another thing to ignore, overlook, and simply not care about.

“It doesn’t matter what my answer would be MJ, I don’t know who he is. How am I supposed to go with him if he’s anonymous? How would I even tell him, seeing as I’m almost positive he's never uttered a single word to me?”

“Who knows,” She drags on, eyes shifting around, “maybe he’d ask you in person?”

“I doubt it, he seems so shy in his letters,”

You frown as the words leave your lips. Your poet seems nervous in himself, but confident in his words. You haven’t known him long, but there’s no need for him to force himself to do something he isn’t ready for.

“Getting attached, are we?” She pesters further.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of angsty teenage romance in the halls,”

“Good morning folks!” Your cheery English teacher says with far too much enthusiasm for nine o’clock in the morning. “As I mentioned last week, today we’re starting our poetry assignments!”

How fitting.

“In a moment,” they continue, pulling out a list, “I’ll assign you your new partners! Remember guys! Each partner must pick out a romance poem. When you both have read and analyzed the work, you’ll then write an essay comparing the similarities and differences in the writing styles!”

Subtle groans in protest arise, yet you’re more aggravated by the damn holiday than the assigned partners. Wherever Mystery Boy is, you hope he’s having a better day than you are.

As the names were called, and possible partners kept disappearing, you gave up hope of being paired with a person you were friends with. Bored and grumpy, you blocked out the slight chatter as students moved around the room. Of course, you were going to be paired with some half-wit asshole who wouldn’t dare to contribute anything more than their name, and it’ll be your job to-

“-And you’re with Y/n!”

Shit. I finally got a partner and I don’t even know who it is.

“Y/n, did you hear me?” The teacher asks from the front of the room, “You’re with Peter, he sits over there!”

Your brows furrow. Peter?

Peter... Parker? That strangely smart kid who MJ is sort of friends with? You slightly smile to yourself, maybe you won’t have to carry this assignment after all.

Your eyes wander around the room until they find the unfamiliar head of curls, and you walk towards his desk that’s two rows over. There’s a small spring in your step, after all, if MJ can tolerate this guy, (which is very rare), maybe he’s not so bad?

“Peter, right?” You ask him as you plop into the seat next to him, pencil clutched tightly in your hand. There’s an awkward pause between the two of you as he nods his head. His cheeks are a deep shade of red, brown doe eyes staring back into yours.

“So, any idea what poem you wanna do?” You ask, a smile gracing your lips as you twirl your pencil around your fingers, flipping through the many different poets in your mind.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He looks nervous, incredibly so, and you wondered if maybe, deep down, he had a hidden fear of poetry.

It wouldn’t surprise you. Nothing does anymore.

“Ok…” You begin, “Well, we could look at some from Edgar Allen Poe, obviously, or William Blake, maybe even Charlotte Smith?”

When he didn’t respond, you internally grimaced. Didn’t this kid have an internship with Tony Stark? You weren’t going to waste your time sitting here in this uncomfortably warm chair just to have Peter refuse to pitch in.

“Look, if you're not gonna do anything, just tell me now and I’ll work on my ow-”

“No!” He blurts, a bit louder than he intended to, and you cringed at the sudden noise. You caught a few groups quickly glance over before stiffly peeling their eyes away. “I mean- ‘m gonna do my work I swear! M-Maybe we should make a list or something?”

The word vomit rests heavily in the air as you slowly nod and begin to open up to a blank page of your journal.

This dude is... weird.

You began to brainstorm, Peter beside you, watching as your brows furrowed, scribbling out different titles and themes of famous romantic poems. You were lost in concentration, and he was seemingly lost in you.

“Here,” you say, sliding the notebook over to him, “Write down a couple of your favorites, then sort through them later,” You end your statement with a small smile. There’s no reason to be rude, and the poor boy seems to be shaking. The least you could do was have some common courtesy, even if the swirling events of a useless holiday were tossing your insides around like a rag-doll.

He trembled slightly before writing down a few titles, grasping his pencil with such force you were surprised it didn’t crumble under the pressure. His jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t help but stare. Weird? Sure. Incredibly attractive? Absolutely.

His hair spilled over his forehead, and his sweater was pushed up to his elbows, showing off his toned forearms. Long, slender fingers worked quickly as he gracefully created a list right beside yours, irises tracing back and forth as he contemplated his choices.

“I think I know which one I want to do,” he mumbles, the words falling from his thin pink lips. “Love’s Philosophy,”

“Percy Bysshe Shelley, good choice.” Your words are soft, yet true. You had memorized that poem when you were younger, and it never seemed to leave you.

“And the sunlight clasps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea,” You began, pulling the stanza from a hidden part in your brain.

“What is all this sweet work worth if thou kiss not me?”

You freeze slightly, your breath lodged in your throat. You’ve read this poem hundreds of times, yet hearing Peter mumble the last line seemed foreign in the best of ways. You refused to meet his gaze as you wordlessly took the journal back, checking the clock only to realize you had moments before the bell rang.

“Um,” You clear your throat, desperate for the lump that has magically appeared to dissipate, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

When you look back up, he’s staring heavily into your soul, and suddenly you feel far too warm. Heat rises to your face, and you feel yourself sizzling.

This is pathetic, he’s just a boy.

A very cute one, but that doesn’t matter. Not right now.

He nods as the bell rings, and you book it to your next class.

You didn’t have time for cheesy love letters.

And you certainly didn’t have time for Peter Parker.

Later on in the evening, you’re splayed out on your bed, sheets askew with your English journal right in front of you. You had been going back and forth between “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allen Poe, a classic, but something that might be overused, or “Love and Age” by Thomas Love Peacock, another beautiful piece of literature that had a deep hold on you.

You looked over to Peter’s chart, his chicken-scratch handwriting printed on your page. Though, the more you looked at it, the more familiar it became. The way he crossed his T’s, the subtle swoop of his A’s, and the curves of his E’s.

You knew that handwriting.

“What the hell..?” you murmur, shoving your pen between the pages of the book. You hopped off your bed and crouched down on the floor, fishing for the small box that was hidden in the darkness. When your hand touched the corner, you grasped it tight and tugged it out.

It was filled to the brim with crumpled and torn sticky notes, words smudged and jumbled together in a heaping mess of romance. Very quickly, you dumped all of them out on your comforter and began to shuffle through them.

Your heart was in your throat as you clumsily flipped through the pages of your journal to find a sample of Peter’s handwriting. Titles after titles of the world’s most romantic poems, something that looks more like a Hallmark website than an actual assignment.

Your hands are drenched in sweat by the time you reach to grab one of the matching sticky notes, the deafening silence leaving a poisonous ring in your ears and a hollow feeling in your chest. You fear the worst before it happens, bracing yourself for whatever blast of emotions you might experience the moment you put the pieces together. Time doesn’t listen to your pleas as the realization dawns on you.

Nerdy Peter Parker is Mystery Boy.

Sweet, warm, loving words written on cheap paper, hidden in the comfort of your locker, barely taking up space under your bed. The phrases have been ripped away from you, and nothing feels sacred.

Does he mean what he writes? Does he know how much it makes your heart race every time his pen hits the page? Does he realize that you love this so much you almost hate it? Does he lie awake thinking about you in the way that you think about him?

Would he ever understand how terrified this feeling makes you?

You don’t have the heart to be angry, but you do have the right to be confused.

How long has he felt like this? Why didn’t he say anything? Was he prepared to wait days? Weeks? Months?

You chewed your lip raw until it began to bleed, your leg bopping up and down, faster than your heartbeat, which was louder than the ringing in your ears.

This is insanely stupid. There’s no reason to be acting like this.

“I need to go to bed,” you sigh, rubbing your palms over your eyes before shoving everything back into that damn box, willing yourself to forget it.

Unfortunately for you, your budding feelings were harder to hide.

Ok, you’ll admit, you didn’t think this one through.

When you promised yourself you’d do your best to ignore his gestures and act like a civilized person, you didn’t realize he’d be sitting across MJ at your sacred lunch table. The table where you mocked, criticized, judged, and just overall became a sarcastic mess.

It’s alright, I’m gonna be fine, it’ll be great.

You forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other, clenching your jaw as you walked up to a group of Ned Leeds, Betty Brant, Michelle Jones, and one Peter Benjamin Parker.

You pulled out the new book you had started to read, shoving your nose so far in you could practically smell the ink. You re-read the same page over and over again, almost walking into a freshman. Anything to avoid human confrontation.

“Well good morning to you too,” MJ chortles, shutting the book of her own, “whatcha reading?”

“Another Colleen Hoover book that is bound to wreck my emotional stability for a week. I swear this woman has it out for me.” You groan. You looked up and said your hellos to the rest of the group, hoping they’d move on and leave you alone, but not everything goes your way.

“Why is it that the only romances you enjoy are the ones that have such a hard journey?” Betty asks in between sips of her water, blonde hair tied into a proper bun with not one piece out of place.

“Because Betty,” you start, sending a brief glance to Peter who has taken quite the interest in the soggy food before him, “love is a fleeting feeling that is destined to destroy the souls of the innocent.”

You take pride in the eye rolls you receive.

“I'm shitting with you, Brant. Hoover is an exceptional writer and I like her style.”

Normally you wouldn’t have corrected yourself, but the fleeting dash of despair that overtook Peter’s eyes was enough to have you regret every word.

As conversation followed, you tried not to notice every time Peter’s big honey eyes traced your face and the way h- nope. Stopping now.

But for every time he looked away, he’d never notice all of the times you’d look back.

Close to the end of lunch, a terrible idea popped into your head.

Peter Parker wouldn’t happen to have any sticky notes on hand, would he?

“Hey, does anyone have a sticky note? I need one,” you ask, watching Peter tense. He toyed with you often, why not return the favor?

Betty hummed as she searched through her bag, pushing around her color-coded notes and mechanical pens, but ultimately coming up empty-handed. You knew MJ didn't have any, and Ned didn’t bring his bag, so just as you planned it, Peter was the last man standing.

“I -uhm,” he gulps, and you look him dead in the eye, “red or blue?”

“Hm, can I have both?” You peer, pushing him. He’s breaking, his ink is spilling out onto a new page and you’d burn the world just to read it.

He pushes the stack towards you, thin hairs standing tall on his arms, daring you to speak.

And you just can't help yourself when you say, “Thanks, Peter! You’re my Mr. Right.”

When the bell rings, you’re more than ready to leave. Nothing else matters besides exiting the premises as you weave through people, clenching your jaw at those who walk incredibly slow.

Your combination is muscle memory, and it doesn’t take you long to pop open your locker. When the metal squeaks and the hinges groan, another poem falls gracefully to the floor, and suddenly time stops.

The paper feels familiar against your hand. You know the sensation and it brings you comfort. You know the writing, the script, the way he rhymes, and the way he lets you see small glimpses of himself that leave you craving more. You’re hesitant to read it, but ultimately give in. When it comes to Mystery Boy, now known as Peter Parker, you’ll always give in.

I worry now That you’ll leave Because you don't like The heart on my sleeve

I fear you know The secret I keep Locked away So you won’t see

Tell me we’re ok Tell me this won't change Say we’ll be alright And I’ll take the blame

I understand If the writing needs to stop I’ll throw away the paper And the pen will be dropped

But if you change your mind If this is just in my head Then please say something And end my dread

Atop a swing is where I’ll sit Waiting in the night Come and find me, it won’t be tough I’ll show you I’m Mr. Right

- Your secret admirer

Well shit.

He wants to meet you? Tonight?

That's a little risky. Nevertheless, incredibly tempting.

You lift your head up and scan the hallways in search of Peter, but he’s nowhere to be found. All that remains is the crumpled stanzas and your mixed emotions that are fighting a war with one another.

Like water and oil, your thoughts clashed. What's the harm in going? Besides, why would you leave him alone in the dark?

No. No. The harm in going is obvious. His kind words that weaseled into your heart went against everything you stood for, and you promised you’d never become a “lovey-dovey” hopeless romantic.

But it’s Peter! Sweet, adorable, rosy-cheeked Peter who writes you notes and takes time out of his day to slide them in your locker. Smart, wonderful Peter who deserves the world and everything it has to offer.

Peter Parker who gives you his heart and trusts you not to break it.

You’re going, there's no doubt about it.

Atop a swing is where I’ll sit Waiting in the night Come and find me, it won’t be tough I’ll show you I’m Mr. Right

The air nips at your skin as you walk across the uneven pavement, up to the only park in Queens. It’s old and simple, nothing special, but it reminds you of better times and you find yourself missing certain parts of it.

The sun is setting, bleeding out onto the sky. The dusty red fights the deep blue that threatens to take over the night sky, and you chuckle at the color choices.

The last final moments of the sun glare in your eyes as you walk up the final hill, shoes scuffing against the pavement with each step. The world is quiet, and for once you embrace the silence in your mind.

When the ground peaks, you stop.

There he is, faced towards the sun, exactly where he said he would be.

His back is tense, and it takes everything in you not to soothe him the way he does you. His curls shift in the cold wind, and the mulch beneath his feet shuffle every time he swings slightly.

You never realized how beautiful he really is, inside and out. He’s shown you parts of himself that he thought he’d keep locked away forever, and you know you want to see more. Even the small things that shouldn't matter, but do. Like if he prefers chocolate or Vanilla, or if he’s team Edward or Jacob. What his comfort movie is, what food he hates, the song stuck in his head, or even what he had for lunch.

You want to learn, and you’ll let him teach you.

You know him through his words, through his pages, through the box you keep to yourself, and you hope with time, you’ll gain more.

He hears you coming, the ruffle of your sweater is a dead giveaway. He lets you stare, after all, he’s surprised you came. He’d wait forever in the sun until the only light is the moon. You can watch as long as you like, he doesn't mind.

Your heartbeat calms him. Even if you’re taking your time to approach him, he’s glad to see you.

When you do finally work up the courage to sit beside him, all you can do is stare. His freckles dance like wildfire, his eyes trace your face, and the two of you see each other in a new light for the first time.

“So,” you speak first, breaking the comfortable silence, “You’re Mystery Boy?”

He expects to hear resentment in your voice, but it's simply pure curiosity. There's no malice, no venom, no poison; just you.

“Yeah, how’d you figure it out? Was I that obvious?” He asks, lips quirking into a smile.

“No, actually. At first, I honestly had no idea who you were. I memorized your handwriting from the letters, and then realized the poem list that you wrote in my notebook during English looked far too familiar,”

He’s surprised at the confession. You memorized his handwriting?

“And I confirmed my suspicions during lunch, wanted to see if you carried the supplies around with you,” you stared straight ahead when you confessed your words, embarrassment wrapping itself around your throat like a noose.

“I always keep them on me. I never know when I’ll have a free moment so I kinda learned to work around it.” He follows after. His words are kind, and there’s no trace of bitterness.

“Who knew that Peter Parker would be a poetry master?” You tease, enjoying the way the tips of his ears turn the same shade of the dying sun. There’s a silent acceptance of what’s growing between the two of you, warmth seeping into your dry bones despite the sharp cold.

“Thank you,” you say after a while, causing Peter to look at you once more. “Your notes were some of the best parts of my day,”

“And what happened to hating hopeless romantics?”

You groan and bury your head in your hands, squeezing your eyes tight. Your words are muffled as you reply, “Oh my god, you sound like Michelle,”

He laughs as you shrink into yourself, but you know he means no harm. To prove it to you, he hesitantly grabs a hold of your hand, and you have no problem letting him.

“Will you let me change your mind?”

He’s vulnerable. He’s showing you another part of himself that you'll never forget, no matter how hard you try.

“Alright, Peter. You can be my Mr. Right,”

reblogs are deeply appreciated! they make my day fr

629 notes · View notes

ellsbclls · 3 years

Note

" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!

NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.

WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter

They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.

A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.

Peter didn't drink.

He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.

Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.

Bullies, you'd call them.

There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.

God, did you miss her.

It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.

“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”

Jesus Christ.

You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.

"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."

"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."

"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."

You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."

Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."

You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.

"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"

Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.

"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."

Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.

Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.

"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"

"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.

You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.

Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.

"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.

His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.

He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."

And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?

Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.

"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."

"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."

"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.

"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"

"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"

"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship.

You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.

Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking.

Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.

“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.

“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.

“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”

“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.

“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.

Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit.

You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.

All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.

“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.

"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing,"

“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.

“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."

“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly.

“Do you trust me?”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.

You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.

The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.

Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—

"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"

"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."

Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.

An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.

"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand.

“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly.

Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment.

Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.

Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”

“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.

“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x stark!reader #3K ????????????#3?????????#K??????????#IDK HOW I GOT HERE #MOM PICK ME UP IM S C A RED?????#idk i think there's just something about stark!ready x peter parker that just gets me going #mine*

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damselofblueroses · 3 years

Text

Bambi, Prologue

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations' session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to friends.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be four or five chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Prologue

The Mid of April, Sejong Institute, the Department of Archaeology

“Could you give me Bulfinch?” you asked to your teammate. “I have to check the layers of the Underworld.”

“Here you go.” Junmyeon gave the thick book to you. While you were searching for the details in your mind, Junmyeon was dealing with the plan of construction.

You have been knowing each other since the last 10 years, working together was nothing but natural as breathing for both of you. Junmyeon was older than you and supposed to be superior to you, however he decided to pursue a career not in the field, but in the library, you became the leader of the archaeological team of Sejong Institute.

“Indy,” Junmyeon called you by your nickname. You automatically lifted your head, your nickname became your Pavlovian weakness, sometimes you forgot your real name. “Be a good girl and pass me the cookie jar.”

You wholeheartedly laughed at his face expression and threw him his favourite chocolate cookie.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” you asked, stretching your body. “My battery is literally going down; let’s grab an americano.”

“Only if you buy me a carrot cake.”

Junmyeon had a sweet tooth, as he opened the package and swallowed the cookie just without even chewing.

“Okey, big boy.” you smacked his shoulder, standing up. “You are goddamn lucky for having that fast metabolism, you know.”

“My darling girl, I work out in a fucking routine.” he grinned like a 5-year-old boy. You really loved to see his cockiness. “My body ratio is not a heavenly gift; I gain every muscle with tears and blood.”

“What kind of god can reward you, shitty dandy?” you chuckled. “You are a walking blasphemy.”

“Still better than you.” Junmyeon pulled your hair by laughing.

“You are definitely right.” you lolled your tongue out of your mouth. “Come on, move your bloody but peachy butt!”

Actually, you were shy, quiet but quick to make sharp remarks. However, Junmyeon was more than a teammate; he was the closest one to a brother for you, you have been always so relaxed when you were with him. The outcome of your friendship was the freedom of speech, you could be vocal as much as you wanted. Junmyeon was never offended by anything you would say, the same applied also to you. You were his dear sister, your families became friends because of you.

You could not imagine your life without Junmyeon.

“What do you think about the digging session?” you asked to him when you were waiting in the line. Junmyeon was trying to select his dessert, carrot cake was already forgotten.

“Well, you will be the team leader, that is sure thing.” he huffed. “Most probably they will ask you who do you want in your team, and you will not name me if you want to live.”

“You are the last one who I am going to choose when it comes to work in the trenches.” you smirked. “Who wants a cry baby in the field?”

“Oh.” Junmyeon turned you, shooting a dirty look, which only led you to bite your upper lip in order to prevent bursting into laughs. “You need a brain; those muscular tough babies cannot figure even how to use tools out.

“But they do not run away when they see a bug.” you could not help but start to laugh. “Do you r-

“Shut the fuck up.” Junmyeon covered your mouth with his hand. “You are banned to talk about that incident from now on. Ever.”

“But,” you took his hands off you, tears forming in the edges of your eyes due to the memory you remembered. Junmyeon gave you a deadly stare, but you could not help. “You were running over the hill because you came across to a spider in your trench. Didn’t you give up on becoming Indiana in our first digging session?”

“No, I preferred to protect my own dignity.” he shook his head, then he also burst into laughs. “Jesus, I hate spiders and one Indy is enough for the family.”

“At least you learned that X never marks the spot before quitting.” you murmured, then pointed what you want to him. “Blueberry muffin, Jun. It looks yummy.”

“At least you learned that rolling in the dirt is not for the people who has a class.” Junmyeon ordered two americanos, one blueberry muffin and one red velvet cake. “Jokes aside, there are some gossips. Did you hear any of them?”

“Damnit, yes.” you exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose. “The Executive Board is thinking to build a collaboration between us and Sunkyungwan people.”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon sat down on a chair, helped you to settle yourself. “And if they do, you know who is going to be the other team leader, right?”

“Do not tell me.” you covered your ears with your hands. You knew, you already heard the possible name, however even the possibility was giving you nothing but headache. “That’s why I asked your opinion. If that bastard will be my fucking colleague for Chios, I think I will pass this session”

“Hell, over my dead body.” Junmyeon aggressively grasped his little fork. “I know how much you guys despise each other, but this is your fucking career. Do not even dare to think you can turn your back to an opportunity.”

“But, Ju-

“No.” he was firm as fuck. “If they will give you the excavation of Chios, you will be fucking happy and you will accept their fucking propose. Chios will be the icing of the cake for you, you always want to lead an excavation in the Aegean.”

“You are right.” you knew when the occasion called to not push Junmyeon’s limits. Career came first, the rest is not important was his mentality. “You are right, but I really do not draw myself working with him.”

“Ignore him. You do not have to see him every day, ditch him in the field, goddamn.” Jun chewed a mouthful bite of his cake. “I do not want you to be facing with the Board, standing for no ground. If they will manage to build the connection, Sunkyungwan will appoint Byun Baekhyun as the leader for sure.”

You did not answer his god-fucking-damn-it prediction, but even thinking about it made you want to puke.

You vividly remember Byun Baekhyun, a fucking tease, and a smartass, from your bachelor years. You were not the type of people who could easily hate someone, but you hated Byun Baekhyun since the first day you met. He was a cockhead and dandy, he was a real scumbag, always so full of himself, underestimating everyone and their abilities, thinking he was the star of the universe. To your dismay, both of you were accepted from same university for your master and you had to endure his presence till he accepted the offer of Sunkyungwan.

You never tell this to Junmyeon, hell, he would not spend even a second to kill you if he would learn this, but you turned the offer of Sunkyungwan just because of Byun Baekhyun’s acceptance.

You hated him to the bits.

And you really did not know what the heck you were going to do if Sejong’s Executive Board was going to approve the collaboration. You looked at Junmyeon, he certainly was not going to let you to turn the offer down, and this time you could not hide the fact from him.

You grunted inside of your brain.

The Beginning of May, Sunkyungwan, the Department of Archaeology

Byun Baekhyun was happy.

More than happy till now.

He just stormed into his room, trying to register the news.

You? Were you really going to be his fucking colleague for fucking three months?!

He remembered you very well, and he was %100 sure of there was no person in this universe, he despised more than you. He even could not endure to share same atmosphere with you. He always wanted to fuck your attitudes out of you since he met you.

And was he really going to see your fucking face for three months, in an island?!

It had to be a bloody joke. A bloody plot on Baekhyun.

“I said,” he screamed when he heard his door was opened. “I do not want to see anyone!”

“Even an old friend?” a kind voice asked, Baekhyun immediately turned to the door.

Junmyeon was there, smiling to him. Baekhyun was startled, he was definitely caught off guard.

“Hyung?” he murmured. “Junmyeon Hyung?”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon’s smile widened. “May I come or not?”

“JUNMYEON HYUNG!” Baekhyun forgot you for a second and threw himself onto Junmyeon. He loved Junmyeon very much, enough to forgive his close relationship with you. “Welcome!”

Junmyeon smiled and hugged to Baekhyun but averted his eyes from him.

There was a plan in Junmyeon’s mind since years, and he had the chance of making it true after the news of collaboration. He averted his eyes also from you because he did not want anyone to understand his real intentions about you and Baekhyun.

Junmyeon smiled to Baekhyun.

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun angst #exo series #exo fanfiction #exo x reader #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo #exo fic #exo imagines

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

Wilfords Demands: Separated

Summary- 5.6k Curtis x You. Curtis lost the tournament and has been cast back to his original home, the tail end. You are now contained in Wilfords precious engine to see the crazy ramblings of Snowpiercers Leader. You also must find out Curtis’s fate and you believe you can find him, if you can just get beyond that door Wilford likes to disappear into. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- Stressful situations, spitting, hitting, demeaning talk, threats, language. You also find out what happened with Curtis’s other children, its dark and upsetting. Proceed reading with caution. Thats as descriptive as Im going to get in that warning.

Chapter 6 / Wilfords Demands Masterlist

As you were dragged away, you could hear the cheers echoing off the steel walls. You could feel the overwhelming sensation of panic settling in your chest. It was all consuming as you started struggling against the man dragging you behind Claude, trying to pummel your fists against his padded chest and scratch at him.

“Let me go! CURTIS!” you screamed, resorting to trying to bite at his hand wrapped around your upper arm. Claude scoffed seeing you give the guard a hard time and snapped over quickly, open palmed, she slapped your face to stun you.

You panic turned to white hot rage at the woman, turning on her but the man tightened his grip, stopping all your movements.

“For once in your miserable fucking life, will you stop it?! Jesus Christ you are not worth the effort Wilford puts in you. You don't even make a good whore.” She spit in your face before turning back to open the door to Wilford’s chambers once more, jerking her head to direct the guard to bring you in. “He will be back soon, make sure she doesn’t do something stupid can you? Just don't hurt her, Wilford will have both our heads if anything happens to the precious prize.”

She sneered out the last words at you, You spat at her with a smug smile when it landed on her face. She screamed in disgust and wiped at her face with her sleeve. “Tail Ender Pig, you are all so disgusting.” continuing to mutter as she left the room, the guard released you, standing at the door and his eyes followed you as you were sure to put distance between the two of you.

Wilford’s area was the same as before. More luxurious than the others, you went towards the engine, the furthest you could get from the guard when he barked out. “That's far enough.”

Flipping him the bird, you moved to sit in a nearby chair, rubbing at your belly protectively.

Right now the anger was the only thing controlling your fear. You had no idea what was going to happen to Jace, was Curtis even still alive. You couldn’t think like that, because you would lose it if Curtis was dead.

He promised you that he would find a way, swore to you.

But promises made were not always kept. You swiped at your face furiously to hide the tears, thinking about Curtis would have to come later, when it actually could sink in. For now Curtis was still alive, he would come for Jace, that was all that mattered.

Time seemed to stretch, tension building when you heard the door shift open. The guard stepped aside and Wilford walked in, followed by Grey who was bloody, limping and spotting several cuts and bruises.

I hope you feel every single one Curtis gave you, you hissed in your mind looking at him before turning away.

“Well look at you sweetheart, told you we would be getting to know each other better.” His hand came to stroke your cheek and you jerked away, making him laugh. “Soon enough you will learn not to pull away.” Grey said while Wilford handed him some towels to clean himself up.

“As promised, she is your prize. You just have to wait till after the birth.”

You shifted in your seat, your hand still protective over your stomach to face Wilford, ignoring Grey for now. “Where is Curtis?”

“Well she isn't going to be much longer till she spits out that spawn for you. I don't mind waiting.” Grey spoke over you, ignoring your question.

“Weeks Grey, not long at all.” Wilford flipped to a calendar, and to your disgust you saw where he had appointments set up with the doctor. Your name, some others, you shuddered at it.

“Is Curtis still alive?” You started again, but both men ignored you once again when you finally gave a scream, willing them to at least acknowledge you.

Wilford blinked at you calmly while Grey scowled at you. “Curtis really didn't teach you any manners did he? Know what we are doing first.”

You hitched your chin, refusing to back away from him in fear.

“Curtis is no longer your concern Y/N.” Wilford started. “You won't be seeing him again.”

Your eyes welled up at these words and your face pinched trying to process these. You can't break down right now. Jace needs you to keep it together.

“Fine, but this child is my concern. I need to know what his future is going to be.”

Wilford broke in a grin at this one, rubbing his hands together. “Of course, you spent all this effort supplying me with Curtis’s child. I have high hopes for this one.”

Fuck you were going to be sick, listening to him. “I want to raise him, he is mine as you said.”

Grey cocked a brow, his arms folding over his chest with a laugh, Wilford joining him. “Ah- no. This child is mine. I already have a name. Trust me, that whole Jace Tyler was cute and all, I heard all about why you wanted that name but no. Joseph Wilford the second will become my successor. Hopefully. Curtis was always my favorite.”

You spared a look at Grey who’s features clouded slightly but then went back to victorious. “Well Curtis is washed out, past his prime now.” He pointed out and Wilford shrugged a bit.

“Happens to all of us. Why I needed Y/N to get pregnant rather quickly, before the tournament. I'm still taking a risk, but such a pretty thing who's a survivor from the tail end. I like Joseph’s chances. So for now Dear, your stuff is being removed from Curtis’s quarters, being moved into Grey’s. For now though you will be staying with me. Grey, how about you go get cleaned up, celebrate your victory.”

Grey gave one final swipe of his towel, smirking. “I think I will just do that.” Cold eyes swept over you, possessive now. “I will see you real soon.” Sure to run his fingers over you again and grasp your chin tightly when you tried to pull away, his touch hurt, bit into you as he dug fingernails into your skin to mark you. “Keep up that act, I like breaking women in.”

Letting you go with a cruel laugh, he left the engine. Wilford seemed oblivious to your distress. “Come Dear, let me show you your cot. You need to rest. Most certainly, can't have you stressing the baby.” He tugged you to a stand, leading you to a corner near the engine humming and pushed you to sit. “See this is pretty good.”

You couldn't help it anymore, everything you had hoped for had shattered in moments. You curled as much as you could away from Wilford rubbing your back and sobbed into your arm, mourning Jace’s father.

Curtis first noticed the pain. It riddled him hotly with every sway of the train's movements. His fingers curled against rough fabric underneath him. When he tried to move pain seared through him everywhere making him grit his teeth and sink back into the hardness beneath him. “Don’t try to move mister, Mama said you needed to stay still.” came a young boy's voice near his ear and Curtis strained his neck to look next to him, nothing but shadows and more darkness filling his vision but then movement caught his attention.

A boy, young by the looks of him but it was hard to tell without proper lighting. Big eyes stared at him though as the boy crawled closer to him. “Where am I kid?” Curtis grunted out as the boy lifted a gelatin block to his mouth and took a bite.

“This the back of the train Mister.” He shoved the block at Curtis, setting it on his chest. “I will go get my Mama. You can have some if you're hungry.” The boy smiled and crawled away, dropping away from sight and scurrying off. Curtis curiously picked up the block and sniffed at it, wrinkling his nose at the smell and set it off to the side. With a groan he tried to sit up again, but gasped again in pain. “Fuck!”

“Fuck is right.” A woman came into view, carrying a lantern with her to light up her way and sat at the edge of the bed. The little boy crawled in on the other side and grabbed at the gelatin block to bite into again, squeezing it a bit in his small hands, humming happily at his food.

“Mama, I thought you said that's a bad word.”

“It is Timmy, but he's allowed to say it. Go on now, shoo. Let me talk to this man.” she waved her hands at him and yet again the little boy, giggling this time climbed upwards into what looked like more bedding above Curtis.

She watched him with a soft smile till the boy was gone, then turned her attention back to Curtis. “That's my baby Timmy and my name is Tonya.”

Curtis frowned a bit at the name, then it clicked. “I remember you…” he grunted and Tonya smiled with a nod.

“I remember you to, but back then you were still a youngin’. Barely 17, still young and hot headed. If you are back here, I’m assuming you're still hot headed?” Tonya chuckled as Curtis tried once more to sit up, and she pushed against his chest to press him back down. “Whoever did this to you did a number on you. Mostly your ribs and possibly your shoulder. You are gonna have to just stay put for a while.”

Curtis worked his shoulders and she was correct, the pain in his collarbone and down his back was enough to make him see sparks. “Yup, I have to agree. And not hot headed… There was a tournament and… Fuck.” This time he surged up to a sit with a yell, holding onto steel grating above him, gasping. “I have to get out of here right away. They took her and I promised to keep her safe, keep our son safe.”

Tonya shook her head confused. “Who? What are you talking about? You should lay back down.”

Curtis stubbornly swung his feet over the edge of the bunk and moved to sit on the edge, looking around. More and more of it was familiar. In the years he had been up front, none of it had changed. Except there was less crowding then before.

“Y/N, she's up at the front and in serious trouble. Fuck.” He swore again and pushed to a stand, bracing his hand against the framework and tried to make sense of where the door was. Tonya was right next to him, following along.

“Wait, Y/N? She's up there still alive?”

“Yes.” Curtis weaved among other people and Tonya tried making him stop. “She was in my care, Wilford… “ He came to a stop at a steel door, looking it over to see any way to open it. “Wanted her to get pregnant with my child. Once he has what he wants, he is just gonna throw her to monsters.” he hissed while pressing his hands against the door.

“You are not getting that door open Curtis.” Tonya wedged her way next to him and made him turn around, being as week as he was at the moment. “You are telling me shes pregnant? Our Y/N is pregnant?” Her eyes glowered at him and he squared his shoulders slightly.

“Yes, due anytime now. I told you, she was brought to me for a reason. It wasnt what either of us wanted but…” He turned back to the door and up towards the ceiling, looking for cameras or anything to get someone's attention. “... It turned into something more. And I need to get to her now.” His gaze turned intense looking at Tonya. Her hands were at her hips accusing but then her gaze softened a bit and she sighed.

“There is no way out Curtis, don't you think we have tried? Its a box, a prison. This is hell on earth and you are now stuck in it with us.”

Curtis could feel his breath quickening and his heart racing.

He had to get out of here, he had to get to you.

Time seemed to turn meaningless while you stayed with Wilford. He had the doctor monitor you daily, check constantly for the moments you went into labor. But you shut down, not talking or acknowledging the others around you unless you were forced into it. Wilford though didn't seem to notice. He talked all the time. Rambled joyfully about everything to do with the engine. Tinkering away at little things in it, tightening screws and bolts. Running inspections. “Dear this whole train keeps us alive. And it needs so much care and love.” He would sing softly as his hands stroked along the metal wall. “Just a gentle touch for our sweetheart here.”

You would curl up your legs onto your cot, or try to, it was hard with your belly. He was fucking crazy the way he spoke to the engine. The constant hum of the engine and the spinning didn't help either, it made your head pound till you felt like you were also going to go a bit mad in the room with him.

The nights though were the worst. The engine would seem louder without Wilford’s constant chatter. You would stretch on your cot across the room from Wilford, who slept in a large plush bed. It was hard, almost impossible to get comfortable and relax. It wasn't because the cot actually bothered you, you spent years either in a hard bunk or leaning against a wall in the tail end.

Instead you were used to sleeping with Curtis. His body would be pressed in against yours, his arm wrapped around you to hold you close and your head would be cushioned on his chest or shoulder, or a hand draped over his stomach. He was warm and safe. That is what you missed. Your hands would rub your belly, sniffling to yourself. You refused to let yourself cry in front of Wilford. But in the night when your only company was the hum of the engine, you let yourself talk to Jace about Curtis.

How much you missed his father, letting yourself mourn for him because it was the times you thought maybe he actually didn't make it. Those thoughts you cursed yourself, because he couldn’t be gone. He hadn't even gotten to meet his son. The nights were the hardest, the only time you didn't have to pretend to not exist and it would become overwhelming. When it became too much you would sing softly to your belly.

Don't take my sunshine away.

The only thing unusual about the engine was the door. Just a door near the spinning blue lights that made the engine come to life that you studied. It was better than going into a trance watching the blue orbs circle slowly. Wilford would once in a while disappear into the room and wouldn't come back out. Just a few times you leaned just right in your cot when he disappeared into the room, catching sight of computer monitors. That had to be how Wilford was watching all of you.

That made you shiver, the idea Wilford watched you and Curtis doing everyday things. You didn't even want to think of what else he spied on. But more importantly if you could get in there, maybe you could find Curtis. Or see if he was still alive.

One morning Wilford was cooking what you guessed was supposed to be breakfast. The smell of onions, potatoes and eggs was making your stomach roll viciously. Curtis had always made sure no eggs made it into the room. Wilford wasn't quite as considerate. You were just coming out of the bathroom, having rinsed your mouth out when the smell hit you all over again. Luckily nothing was left to come up.

“Sweetheart, just think when I have Jr, I will have him ready to take over the engine.” Wilford said cheerfully, sliding eggs onto a plate with a sickening splatter. Your stomach did another roll, and you did your best not to gag. It didn't click with his Jr. spiel, since you never thought of your son as anything other than Jace Tyler. Wilford slid a plate on a small table near your cot for you. “Go ahead eat, I want Jr big and strong like his sire. Make his Poppa proud.” He turned away and you ignored the eggs, recalling his earlier statement.

“Take over the engine?”

Wilford made a show of cracking another egg into a bowl, holding up the shell. “Did you know these would be extinct if it wasn't for me? Something so simple… “ He studied it before tossing it into a nearby garbage bucket. “No more chickens. Or oranges like you have in that glass next to you. Fresh squeezed by the way. No more bread.” He picked up two slices of thick sliced bread. “Nor butter, because cows would be extinct.” He dropped them into a pan to crisp and sizzle. “Everything Y/N would be extinct, if it wasn't for our Snowpiercer.” he flipped his eggs and slid them onto his plate.

You remained quiet, refusing the eggs, the toast and the juice he had set on the table, watching him.

“But I won't last forever. I can fix this train, but there is no way to replace my body parts. So next best thing. Make the perfect replacement.” He went to his table and sat down. “Why I searched you out for Curtis. Women in the front, been ruined in less then twenty years we have been on this train.” He said disgusted as he started to eat, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewing. The yellow burst of yolk on his lip certainly made you gag this time, covering your mouth while trying to turn away.

“No, I needed someone smart enough to survive but also untouched.” His grin turned cool as his eyes raked over you. “You survived the tail end, were strong enough to survive the lockbox as well as stunning, how you came out of there a virgin I don't know. But it worked out for me. Perfect for Curtis. All his other children before, just weren't perfect enough.” Another forkful of runny eggs and toast. You were struggling trying to wrap your mind around what Wilford was saying.

“W-what happened to the others?” You asked shakily, scared of the answer.

“Ahh, they didn't work out. We tried, sometimes the babies wouldn't shut up, other times they got to a certain age and would struggle with the motor skills. There were a few who got sickly.” Wilford shrugged as he sopped at his plate with his bread and popped that into his mouth. You though, your arms circled around yourself protectively as the horror of what he was saying made your heart race.

“You just- got rid of them?”

“Of course, I can't keep them if they can’t be useful. That's when it clicked. Curtis, he was fine. He's everything I wanted, big, strong, smart. Until you came along, he thought logically. It's a flaw, his falling for you, made him weak. But nothing I can't overlook I suppose. So many other perfect qualities in a leader. It was the woman.” He carried his plate to the sink and approached you. You shrunk back on your cot and he cupped your face in delicate warm hands, hands that never did hard work. “I needed a strong woman to match. All the front end bitches I paired with him threw off weaklings. You Sweetheart are going to give me the perfect prodigy. I considered switching Curtis for Grey for a while, but ahh he is too volatile to throw me a good son. No, it had to be Curtis and You.” He brushed your cheek gently and then grasped your hair to yank you forward towards the plate of food. “Now eat this gift I give you, because I need that baby to come out healthy.”

Claude entered the room, clipboard in hand with a smile. “Sir if you're all set, we are ready for the inspection in the greenhouse.”

“Oh yes Claude, be right there.” He beamed as he pointed at your tray of food with a snap of his fingers. “I want this gone.” Turning he made his way to Claude, the two of them chatting as they left the room, leaving you all alone.

Your heart raced and breathing came out in a rush. With a swipe of your hand, you pushed the plate and glass off the table to shatter against the floor in a mess, screaming in a shrill burst. Overwhelmed with what he informed you, you couldn't hold it all back anymore, your scream just got shriller and tense to bounce all around you from the steel walls. Your voice ended up giving out with a croak and you dropped your heads into your hands sobbing at the fate of your son.

You can't let this happen, just can't. This isn't what you or Curtis wanted for Jace. Your head lifted and eyes were wildly looking around the room, trying to figure something out. Attacking Wilford would do nothing. You could possibly hold him at knife point, but it would only be a matter of time before you were captured again, and it would just be worse for you and Jace if you had managed to kill Wilford. No, it needed to be more permanent. Something that would overthrow the whole train.

Your eyes fell to the door, the door with all the monitors and control panels. You needed to be in that room and that's when a plan started to form.

Although Curtis couldn’t find a way out of the tail end didn’t mean he wasn’t busy. Curtis started to get to know more about the tailenders, those who were ready to fight for there freedom, those with special skills that could be used in a revolt, listen to the stories of the horrors they have had to do to survive. It became more then simply getting back to you, now it was about getting these people out of here as well.

Curtis started timing the guards coming through, trying to figure out how to work the inspections and feeding times to his advantage. After all this time, they should be fairly slack, rituals loose purpose after a while.

But he didnt see his opening. No matter how many times he timed the lengths the doors were open, how long they stayed, how hard the cart full of the blocks were to manuever. It was all so precise, the same everytime and there eyes were watchful, always willing to bash a tailender should they step out of line.

There was just four counts when all the doors were open and Curtis could see down the length of the train. It just wasnt enough time to get through several train cars. Tonya was perched next to him, listening to him count under his breath.

“Curtis, don’t. We’ve tried that. It just ends with them culling us.” She hurriedly whispered back to him. Once they left he turned to her.

“Then what Tonya? Y/N might have had Jace and tossed to Grey. Who even knows what will happen to my son.” Some frustrated tears caught in his lashes and some managed to escape, making a track down his now sooty dirty face. He dropped his head into his hands and Tonya rubbed at his back, trying to be supportive even though she delivered the harsh reality.

“I know Curtis…I’m sorry, I just don’t want you going on a suicide mission. Y/N needs you, so does that little boy you got coming.”

Curtis took a ragged sigh and stared back up at the camera beeping above the door, flipping it off before pushing to a stand and disappearing out of sight to continue trying to figure out a way to get back to you.

You waited, you could be patient. You learned a while ago when you first joined Curtis to watch, it was also the harsh lesson he taught you in the beginning. It was how you got to know him as the man you cared for today. You were quick to learn that Wilford wasn't predictable. He would go into the room at random times. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for a few minutes.

No matter how much you looked around the engine from your perch on your cot, you couldn't see where there were any cameras in the engine room. But you were still wary. Thinking maybe he was trying to catch you doing something, spring out of that room with a gotcha.

But you were smarter. No, you were patient. Storing it all away.

The worst was when Grey would come around. He seemed to turn into Wilford’s pet, always coming in to chat with him or ask favors. Oftentimes he would sit across the table, staring intently at you with a sneer. His eyes roaming you up and down like he had a right to take you whenever. These times you would hitch your chin up and stare back at him. Refusing to give him the satisfaction that he won.

Maybe he did win your body. But you refused outright to give him any satisfaction in that. It didn't matter though, for Grey you were just a prize. You didn't matter to him except what you could give him.

“She must be due soon, right?” Grey drawled out, moving to a stand and approaching you. In your bid to defy him, you didn't move an inch to draw away from him. His hand fisted in your hair, twisting viciously to have you look up at him. “Excited right? I'm sure it gets a bit boring just sitting here on your cot, waiting for time to pass with that little bastard inside of you.”

You work your mouth to draw out some spit, hocking it at him as best you can at the unnatural angle. It earned you a loud smack, whipping your head to the side. Not a word dropped from you in pain as you glared up at him. Grey leaned in closer, his hand wiping at his face and wiping his hand clean in your hair he still had fisted in his other hand.

“Nasty little thing arn’t you? Treat Curtis like this? Or did you just drool all over his cock every chance you get?” His fingers bit into your cheeks as he pressed harshly against the hinge of your jaw, wrenching your mouth open. “Don't worry, soon this will be all you know.” He spat in your open mouth, making you heave and try to pull away from him as he lewdly groped his crotch, laughing at your distress.

“Grey, leave her alone… you will have her soon enough.” Wilford finally interjected, beckoning Grey forward towards the room. “I got something to show you anyways, step in here.”

Grey snickered at you before sauntering over, passing through the door and Wilford followed him in, closing themselves in. You grabbed at some of the bedding, bringing a corner of a blanket to your mouth to try to tear at the fabric. You just needed a little bit.

Your teeth ripped into the cloth and stitches, wrenching at the fabric till you could feel it weakening.

Another pull, another twist and you could feel the fabric starting to give. Your eyes darted back to the door. “Come on…” You whined out and then there was a distinctive rrrriiippp…

Balling the small bit of fabric in your fist, you got up to approach the door. Careful you pressed your ear to it, trying to listen over the engines humming, but it was pointless. The whoosh whoosh whoosh of the spinning mechanisms made you sigh in exasperation. You didn't want to ruin your chance by not being prepared.

Pressing against the wall, you tried to think about what you knew. The door was pressured close to guarantee a seal. Your eyes roving up to the mechanism that worked the door. It also made it close slow. You could wait a good five seconds after they left the room to do what you wanted. You could pretend you were passing by to go to the bathroom, seeing the door was just beyond your main target. Stepping back a few steps, you paused. Eyes on the handle, waiting for them to walk back out, swing the door wide open.

It felt like hours till the handle jiggled and sure enough it swung wide open with both men leaving, laughing about some shared joke between one another. You started counting just like the way your Grandpa showed you when you were a kid playing hide and seek in the apple orchard.

One Mississippi

You stepped forward as if you had been striding from your cot, which neither of you bothered to give a glance. The door clicked into reverse.

Two Mississippi

Your chest clenched seeing the door start to close, the two men were a step away from you now where you could pass between them and the door.

Three Mississippi

In passing, you rolled the ball of fabric in your palm, your hand brushing against the inside of the door jam and nimbly shoved the ball into the hole that would seal the door shut. Continuing on past.

Four Mississippi

You paused at the bathroom door, your hand giving a shiver of anxiety while listening before opening the bathroom door. Please don't latch, please don't latch….

Five Mississippi

The door shut, but there was no distinctive click the door handle locked. You glanced over your shoulder to see it looked sealed. You yanked on the bathroom handle and escaped into the bathroom, covering your mouth as a gasp of relief escaped you, tears brimming your eyes at knowing it worked. Now it was just hoping Wilford left before he found out what you had done. Sinking to the floor, you took several breaths to try to calm your racing heart. Tilting your head back and closing your eyes, your hands pressed against your belly, whispering. “Jace, we are gonna find your daddy and figure it out from there. Right kiddo… we got this. We are going to be okay.”

After giving yourself your pep talk and you weren't feeling like Wilford was going to figure it out and bust through that door, you made your way back out to see Claude had joined Wilford and Grey.

“Well I need to go do my inspections.” Wilford motioned towards to exit, Grey took a glance at you shuffling back to your cot. Coldly he looked you up and down, obviously checking you out.

“Will be seeing you soon Y/N.” You didn't respond, looking away as you lowered down onto your cot. He left and Wilford reached out for a clipboard Claude was holding, scanning over several papers. “What's the numbers on the tailenders?”

“High hundreds. We took a count this morning. Its getting overcrowded once again.”

“Ahh, I know it was getting bad once more. Gonna have to do something about that.” Wilford sighed. “Just need to get creative about it.” You did your best to keep from retaliating. “And how's our special guest there?”

This made you perk, curious as to who he would be talking about. “Oh settling in nicely, like he never left.” Claude retorted as the door opened, and you couldn't stop the flutter of hope. Maybe it was Curtis.. Could be Curtis they were talking about. The door slammed shut and you started to count.

Wilford could stay away anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. As anxiously as you wanted to run to the door and go in the room of cameras, you couldn't do it too soon. Wilford would just rush back in and stop you. All this effort, lost.

So you waited. Counting like before till you were sure it had been a good ten minutes. Easing off the cot, you approached the door and rested your hand to the door handle.

God let this work. You screwed your eyes shut and started to ease back, the door moving just as easily as if it was properly unlocked. Not even a turn of the handle. Slipping inside and pulling out the fabric from the hollow spot in the door, you let it shut you in.

Camera, so many grainy moving pictures, it made your head thump with the intake of information. You started moving from screen to screen, searching faces to try to find Curtis. No matter how many you looked through, searching the garden cars, over to the kitchen crew, entertainment cars full of kronole high individuals, none of them had Curtis. You made your way down the line, cars with animals, people making equipment, prison cars. Still no Curtis. You bit at your lip, your fingertips pressing against screens, like you were crossing off people.

“Come on Curtis, I need you to show yourself.” You passed to the last row, people all from the tail end. You leaned in close, mentally crossing off sections till you stopped at the door. It was a flash of familiarity that brought you back to that screen.

“Jace… I found your daddy.” Your voice broke in relief, seeing him studying the door and camera, scowling up at it. You remember that look, the one that he was frustrated with his situation. You had never been so relieved to see him looking pissed off. “Thank fucking god you are still alive Curtis.” You fell back to sink in an office chair. “Now how do I get you out?”

#wilfords demands #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #tw: children deaths #curtis everett fan fiction #snowpiercer fan fiction #curtis everett au #snowpiercer au #amber writes #sweater writes

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Horny on Main Disease - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: Reader catches a strain of the despair disease that means she says everything she is thinking. Kind of awkward considering all she can think about is how much she wants to jump Komaeda's bones. This is intended to be sort of funny, but i still wrote it pretty seriously, just want to make it clear that i did not half ass the smut. i whole assed it.

Word count: 4444 Contains: fem reader, they/them pronouns, despair disease, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, voyeurism Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

It’s not even a particularly hot day, and yet you’re sweating bullets as you walk over to the dining hall like you do every morning. Your legs are wobbly and your head is aching something terrible, you assume that you’ve caught a cold or something , whatever the problem is, it’s going to be a question for Tsumiki when you meet up with her at breakfast.

Kuzuryu is standing out by the pool, pensively staring into the still water. He probably misses Pekoyama, but you’re smart enough to know not to-

“Hey, Kuzuryu! I bet you miss your dead girlfriend, huh?”

He just stares at you, and it takes a good few seconds for you to even realise what you just said out loud. You clap a hand over your mouth, horrified.

“I don’t know why I said that!” You squeak

Kuzuryu doesn’t look...angry? He shakes his head at you and sighs, “you’re acting weird today too, aren’t you?”

“What? Weird? Who’s weird?”

“Owari was here a few minutes ago, bawling her eyes out on the ground.” He crosses his arms and looks away from you, “I think the bear is planning something again.”

You nod sternly, “anyone with tits as big as Owari has nothing to cry about! Something is definitely suspicious.”

Oh god why did you say that??

“Oh god, why did I say that??”

You just keep saying everything you’re thinking!

“I just keep saying everything I’m-“

Kuzuryu grabs you by the wrist and starts tugging you towards the dining hall, “something is definitely fucked up.” He looks down at where his hand is gripping yours, “Jesus Christ, your skin is on fire!”

“Yeah, cause I’m hot !” That was already an embarrassing thing to say, you are horrified when your mouth drops open again to follow it up with, “bow-chicka-wow-wow!”

There is definitely something wrong with you. In general you are the sort of person who takes the time to carefully curate every word that leaves your mouth, the fact that you are just speaking without even thinking about it is bizarre and alarming. The ache in your head is also steadily growing stronger and you’re starting to feel dizzy, maybe you’re just delirious with flu? It doesn't make sense for you to catch the flu on an abandoned island, but weirder things have happened already.

It is at this moment that you realise you have been (only semi-coherently) mumbling your full internal tirade outloud to Kuzuryu, who is now helping you up the stairs to the dining hall. He has very diplomatically, been either ignoring, or at least pretending to ignore everything you have been saying.

“You’re nice. Probably the politest yakuza i’ve ever met.” you pause, “I’ve never met another yakuza, i'm not sure why i said it like that.”

Kuzuryu scoffs and tugs you up at the last step. Deigning to give your comment any sort of response.

As you step up onto the dining hall landing, you freeze. This is dangerous. Your nails are biting into the skin of your palms, and your already warm face feels even hotter. Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think about him. Kuzuryu is giving you a look, you must be verbalising your own mental gymnastics, but that is less embarrassing than the alternative.

“Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think-”

You look up, like an idiot . Komaeda is sitting by the window with his chin in his palm, just sort of staring off into the middle distance, not really looking at anything. The morning sun cascades through the window and catches in his hair. It shimmers. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, you have been trying to keep this little fascination of yours under wraps, but he slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose and-

“He looks like an angel .” You say, and you say it loudly.

All eyes in the room turn to you. Hinata especially is looking at you with his particular brand of exhaustion, that says this is not the first weird thing he has heard today. You scramble, trying desperately to think about anything other than Komaeda, to stop yourself from saying anything stupid. In your desperation, what you say is: “Yes hello! I was talking about anyone in this room apart from Komaeda. Please do not be confused, it was not Komaeda. I want to make it crystal clear that i am NOT attracted to Nagito Komaeda. This is a very convincing lie and you all believe me!”

Mioda straightens her spine and salutes you, “Roger! You are not attracted to Komaeda, I believe you!”

Your sweating even more now, it’s getting hard to breathe, “Forget I said anything!”

Mioda salutes again, “Consider it forgotten!”

“What is happening?! ” Hinata exclaims, gesturing wildly to you, Mioda, and Owari who you suddenly notice is leaning against the far wall and sobbing, “This is not normal!”

Your eyes slip to Komaeda again. He is looking at you and he is blushing-

“He looks so...cute…” You whisper, and Hinata yelps.

“Why are you all being so weird???? ”

Monokuma takes that as his cue to finally show up. Waltzing on into the dining hall like he owns the place, clearly buzzing with excitement, “A good question!” He says, clamoring up onto a vacant chair and holding a paw in front of his face to hide his laughter, “ Oooh , this is my best motive yet! Looks like three members of the class have come down with a bad case of the despair disease!”

“D-Despair Disease?” Tsumiki contributes, nervously playing with her hands, “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“Yeah, well. It’s pretty self explanatory!” Monokuma says, “The main symptom is high fever, along with some other fun despair related effects! It’s a bit of a mixed bag though and no two cases are the same! For example, Moida is suffering from the Gullible Disease...Owari has the Cowards Disease.” Then, Monokuma points his stubby little paw in your direction, “And you have the No Filter Disease. You just say whatever you’re thinking! It’s been lots of fun so far, upupupupu~”

“Oh, does that mean all those things they were just saying about Komaeda were the truth?” Sonia says. Her brows draw together, and she taps her lips with a finger, “How interesting.”

“It’s not my fault he’s gorgeous!” the words escape you before you have a chance to stop them. You squeal and clap a hand over your mouth before you start talking again. Komaeda is now bright red to the tips of his ears.

“That was true? GROSS!” Saionji exclaims.

You glare at Monokuma, “If you wouldn't kill me for doing it, I'd rip out all your stuffing right now.”

Monokuma withers a little, “Aw~ Is that what you really feel? Here I was thinking we were great friends.”

“I’ll gut you like a fish.” you pause, “a bear-fish.” another pause, “a fish-bear.” You groan, “UGH, I can’t stop saying stupid things! I’m all sweaty! This sucks !”

Tsumiki steps over to you, her hand is shaking as she brings it up to your forehead.

“Oh…” you breathe, “your hand is cold.”

“S-Sorry! I’m just checking your temperature.”

“You smell like lavender.”

She recoils a little, “It’s j-just my shampoo!!'' Then she shakes her head and turns to the rest of the group, “Monokuma is telling the truth. They’ve got a fever.”

Hinata hurriedly presses his hand against the foreheads of both Owari and Moida, confirming that they’re also burning up, “What do we do, Tsumiki?”

Before she can answer, Monokuma pipes up again, “did I forget to mention? It’s contagious~~”

Saionji squeals and backpedals all the way to the stairs, “Contagious!?”

“Yeah and I'm a conta- genius . Get it?”

Souda gives you an uncomfortable look and scratches the back of his neck, “How much space in your brain is taken up by bad puns?”

You’re feeling really dizzy now, “A lot of it! But usually I don't say any of them!” your knees wobble and you almost fall over, luckily Tsumiki is still close enough to grab you before you topple to the ground, “I am going to kill that goddamn bear .”

“Could-could someone help me?” Tsumiki squeaks, “If i keep holding them up like this we-we’re just both going to fall over.”

You giggle a little, slipping into a semi-delirium as you cling to Tsumiki for dear life. Hinata and the others start working on a plan to keep everyone safe until the illness runs its course, “Hey Tsumiki…” you whisper, “Komaeda’s got real nice hands, huh?” she is too busy trying to keep you upright to answer, “I want him to carry me. Unless I'm too heavy, Tsumiki, am I too heavy?”

You’re all but draped over Tsumiki now, who is trying in vain to shuffle you over to a nearby wall, when you suddenly hear her sigh in relief, “Oh...Th-Thank you. I’m not very s-strong…”

You manage to flop your head around to face the other direction, lacking the strength to turn your neck properly. Komaeda is looking down at you, it might just be the fever, but you feel like you’re going to burst into flames.

“Aha, I’m sure i'm not much stronger than you, Tsumiki.” He says, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you over to him. You might have moaned, you can't be sure, “But I do have the height advantage.”

The utter tsunami that leaves your mouth is unavoidable. Literally medically unavoidable, but that doesn't stop it from being the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“He’s touching me. He’s touching me…” your head has come to rest on his chest and you are practically hyperventilating, “He smells like chamomile soap and clean laundry...His hands are cold, his shirt is soft...Oh god i'm so sweaty, he probably thinks i'm disgusting! Komaeda, i'm so sorry , this was meant to be a secret!!! I wasn't going to tell you, everyones gonna think I'm weird!” your thoughts are leaving your mouth faster than you can think of them, if Komaeda is reacting to anything you have to say, you don't notice because despite your mouth running a mile a minute you still have an ounce enough of shame and bury your face in his chest to hide from your own words.

The world is spinning, your head feels heavy, everything is so hot , “Your hair is nice, did you know your hair is nice? God, I've wanted to run my fingers through it since day one. This is so fucked up, you almost killed someone! I want to stop talking , i feel like i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out. Im gonna…”

***

“I think I passed out.” Is the first thing you say when you wake up. You’re still hot and the back of your neck is sweaty, but you can see that you are now in the hospital, and that you’re wearing a hospital gown.

“Who undressed me?!” You exclaim, disappointed to find that you still can’t help saying everything you think.

At the sound of your voice, the door to your room opens, and Komaeda steps in.

“No! Not you!”

He freezes, withering under your gaze, “Ah, I see. Being greeted by garbage like me in your current state, it must be insulting .”

You feel like an asshole .

“That’s not what I meant! Please don’t go, I never want you to go.”

Komaeda laughs a little, still lurking nervously in the doorway, “You’re confusing me.”

“I don’t want you to hear what I’m thinking. I want you to stay, but all I can think about is how much I want to suck on your collarbone.” You freeze the second you stop talking, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth as you hide your face in your hands, “I’m so sorry! I can’t stop it!”

Stepping further into the room, Komaeda quietly closes the door behind him. Your heart is pounding.

“I’m nervous.” You say.

He tilts his head, walking over to the side of your bed, “I can still leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable.” You shrink under his gaze, “it just, the way you closed the door it makes me feel like you’re planning something, like maybe we’re going to have-“ you manage to cover your mouth before the rest of the sentence escapes. Keeping your hands tight over your lips as all you can think about is his long fingers, his soft hair, his half lidded eyes.

“Are you...still talking behind your hands?”

You nod.

A smile crawls up the side of his face, “are you saying something embarrassing?”

“I wanna stick my tongue in your mouth.” You say, loud enough that even the tight grip of your hands doesn’t muffle it.

Komaeda remains remarkably calm, “You keep saying those things. This disease...means you say whatever you’re thinking, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s driving me crazy, I’m just being such an idiot and I’m probably freaking you out. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not it.” He sighs, moving slowly as he sits down on the side of your bed, “Honestly, why would you let such thoughts about scum like me take up so much real estate in your mind?”

“I can’t help it!” You exclaim, “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I just can’t! I want you so badly. I…..I-“ you hold your breath, you can’t let that last part out, no matter what, you can’t say that last part. You’ll die of suffocation before you let him hear it.

“You...what?” He asks

Oh god. You can’t stop thinking about it. Your lungs are aching, screaming for you to just open your mouth.

“What are you hiding, hm?”

It’s too much. The nerves, your sick and weakened body, him right there . You can’t do it, you can’t stop it, the next time you see Monokuma, you are drop kicking him into the sun.

“I’ve touched myself while thinking about you!”

The words echo off the walls of the room like a gunshot.

For a moment Komaeda just stares at you, but then, his shaky hands reach out and wrap around both of your wrists. His throat bobs.

“Hng. I want to suck on the side of your neck, I want to see you covered in marks from my teeth-“ you try to cover your mouth with your hands again. Komaeda grips your wrists tighter.

“No.” He whispers, trembling, “keep going.”

“ God, your hands are so big. I want to know how deep your fingers would reach inside of me. I bet you’re good at it, I bet you’re really good at it.” He just keeps staring at you, ghostly green eyes blown wide, chest heaving , “Are you turned on? Is this turning you on? Just pin me down and fuck me, do it, do it, do it!”

“How...how often are you thinking about me like this?”

“Oh, all the time.” You freeze, mentally (and therefore also verbally) berating yourself, “Not all the time! Just like, a normal amount. However much that is.” He is still just looking at you, the pad of his thumb slowly brushes across the pulsepoint in your wrist and you shiver, “Yes, yes! I’ve wanted this intimacy with you for so long . I couldn't tell anyone, I couldn't tell you. During the first trial, when you went on your weirdo rant about hope and despair. I was scared, i was so scared, but oh god- ” you can't stop yourself. Every thought in your head is pouring out of your lips. Filling up the room, the mortification is drowning you . All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, “I was wet , Komaeda. I went back to my cabin and came three times to the thought of you, I am reprehensible . What do you think the others would do if they found out, huh? That all i can think about is you fucking me over my trial podium. They’ll tie me up next-”

The bed squeaks, and Komaeda brings his knee up and over your hips.

“-Oh my god. You’re doing it aren't you?”

His other leg comes up on the bed, and he settles, hovering up above you. He shrugs, “I honestly don't understand why this is something you want,” he leans down over you, resting his palms on either side of your head, “but who am I to deny the wishes of an ultimate.”

If not for the warmth of his lips pressed against yours, you are sure that you wouldn't be able to shut up, based only on the number of thoughts tumbling through your head like they’re on a spin cycle. You are still sweaty with fever and probably look disgusting, but Komaeda shuffles down in between your legs and hikes your hospital gown up to your waist. So you are suitably distracted.

He laughs as he hooks his fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs, “I cant believe that you want scum like me to touch you like this. Usually I would assume that you are lying, or taking pity on me.” He grins, running a finger up the length of your sex, “But everything you say to me is your exact thoughts, isnt it?”

“Yes! Touch me, please! ” You’re quivering beneath him, barely able to breathe in between your frantic pleas, “You feel so good, you feel perfect . I want your fingers inside me so bad .”

He hisses as he slips his middle and ring finger inside of you, eyes glued to where your entrance is swallowing him up, “Ahaaa...you’re drenched . You really do want me don't you?” he pistons his fingers in and out slowly, slowly and deliberately, “Someone like you, desiring me so terribly. It’s such a waste , but i can't help it. I must be selfish and take this chance while i can.”

“Not a….waste....” You force out, helplessly grinding on his fingers, “Want you....want only you…”

“Oh- Ohhhh .” He moans, “I can feel you, squeezing around my fingers. You’re so wet...so warm…”

You hear a zipper coming undone, and your thoughts go into overdrive, “oh my god, oh my god. Komaeda’s going to jerk off in front of me, wanna watch, wanna watch! ”

His fingers still inside you for a moment as he tugs his boxers down far enough to slip out his cock. Your eyes follow the movement of his long fingers as he slowly curls them around the base, and tugs them up again, rolling the pad of his thumb over the head. His hips buck, and you moan.

“You...you’re tightening around my fingers…” he breathes, choking on a moan as he pumps his cock again, “you like watching me touch myself?” Your hips stutter, grinding your clit against the meat of his palm as he continues stroking himself. His eyes are wide as he watches you writhing beneath him.

“The face you make when you do that...it’s so cute.” You say, whining as his fingers start moving inside you again, “it’s even cuter than I imagined. Your cheeks are all red.” You swallow, “and your cock is so pretty...I want you to cum inside me, so bad .”

His breath hitches, “you want me to cum, inside you?” his cock is leaking with pre-cum now, painfully hard in his hand. His chest is heaving.

“Yes yes yes! ” You plead, “I want you, please! ”

“I don’t understand.” He breathes, and you whimper as his fingers slip out of you, “How could someone be so desperate for my pathetic seed?”

“Fill me up , Komaeda!” You exclaim, at this point you are long past embarrassed. The words leaving your mouth are the absolute truth and there is no way you can deny them.

He groans at that, an octave deeper than you are used to hearing and it seems he is having trouble denying you. His own desperation mingling with yours and overtaking his painful self-doubt, he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and slowly edges the swollen head against your entrance, “f-fuck…” he mutters as he slips inside you, “you’re so warm .”

You can barely even register what you are saying anymore, it’s little more than a string of compliments about how good he feels inside you. About how handsome he is. Your tongue feels weird and loose in your mouth from overuse, but you still can’t stop talking.

He looms above you, halo of white hair bouncing as he thrusts in and out of you, the unmistakable jangle of the chain hanging from his jeans. All things that confirm it is Komaeda inside of you. Your heart races with the fact.

“Th-thank you, for permitting me to do this with you.” He stammers, sweat slowly dripping down his brow, “it’s...so good...it feels like I belong inside you. ”

A moan rips through you, and you hook your weak ankles around his waist, “you do belong inside me. You fit so perfectly , I was made for your cock. GOD I sound so filthy…..I- I can’t help it.”

“ No.” He hisses, eyes meeting yours, “Keep talking.”

“You say that like I can stop.” You dip your head lower, and wrap your lips around his left collarbone, moaning as you suck hard enough to leave a bruise. He keens above you, hips snapping against yours even faster, “Your hip bones are digging into my thighs…”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I-I’m sorry, do you want me to-“

“Don’t you dare stop, Komaeda. You’re mine , I want to feel every inch of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You bring a shaky hand up to his cheek, he nuzzles into your palm, “You aren’t hurting me. It feels wonderful.”

He kisses you then, messy and wet, his lips taste like desperation. Even with his tongue tangled with yours, you are still trying to speak. Sweet nothings, forceful demands, anything and everything that comes to mind is trying to force its way out of your mouth. Something is in the pit of your stomach is twisting tight and you moan greedily into the cavern of his mouth as his hips meet yours again. You can feel that he’s losing his rhythm.

“S-sorry. I’m...im close…” A moan rips from his throat and he buries his face in your neck.

Your hips have started canting up to meet his, you want so badly to be close to him, to feel all of him, “M’close to. I love having you inside me, i want to do this again and again and-”

Komaeda freezes, eyes turning to the door on the other side of the room. Footstops.

“Who is it? Did they hear? Are there going to come in? What do you think they’re going to do if they see you inside of-”

Komaeda covers your mouth with his palm. You’re still talking, but at least it’s muffled now. Kuzuryu and Hinata are chatting in the hallway, the footsteps seem only to be growing closer. You can't stop thinking terrible, horrible things, and while Komaeda’s hand keeps you quiet enough that they can't seem to hear you from outside, Komaeda can definitely hear you.

“I wanna keep going.”

His eyes are blown wide, but you feel the tell-tale throb of his cock inside of you, “ What?! ” he hisses, “there’s no way you can keep quiet like this...they’ll definitely hear us.”

“I don’t care if they hear us, I want them to hear us. I want them to know what you’re doing to me.”

His hips twitch, and he bites his lip hard to keep in a moan, “You're not ashamed to be seen intimately with someone as despicable as me?”

You coo at him, running your index finger down the front of his throat and over the mark you left on his collarbone, he tentatively removes his hand from your mouth and pushes some sweaty hair away from your forehead, you smile, “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m in love with you.”

Komaeda sucks a breath in through his teeth, and it is only then that you realise what you have said.

“Oh GOD. I didn't - I'm so sorry.” your eyes are wide, you’re ready for him to jump up and bolt out of the room, “I just thought it and then i said it, and jesus christ im so sorry-”

You’re cut off by his lips. The kiss is gentler, less desperate, but filled with the depth of passion. He starts thrusting in and out of you again, and you gasp in surprise at the feeling. He pulls away from the kiss, and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy as one of his hands slips down under your knee. He pushes your leg up higher and you choke on a moan at how much deeper this new angle feels.

A high-pitched whine leaves his throat as he continues moving inside of you, he swallows, “I...I love you too.”

“Aaah... ahhh .” You’re so close at this point, the coiling in your stomach is about ready to snap, “I love you so much, I want your cum, please! ”

“I’ll give it to you, I...hah...I’ll fill you up...is that what you want?”

His hand slips down to your clit and you shriek , clenching hard around his cock, “Yes, yes, yes! I’m close...i'm so close…”

“I’m gonna...I...I…”

A moan rips through you as your climax finally hits, for the first time this day your mind is void of thoughts. All you can do is feel . Your fingers dig into the bedsheet under you, and your legs tighten around Komaeda’s waist. He writhes and moans above you, he just keeps going, harder and harder and harder, and then, with a heavy groan you feel him release inside of you.

“Thank...you…” you mutter, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Before Komaeda has a chance to say anything in return, someone clears their throat on the other side of the door. The two of you freeze.

“Are you two done?” Hinata asks, he sounds exasperated.

Komaeda clears his throat, “Um...yeah...pretty much.”

“His dick is literally still inside of me! Maybe give us a few minutes!” You wince at the blunt sentence that just left your mouth, Komaeda is clearly trying not to laugh, you huff “Sorry Hinata! I can't help it!”

This disease was going to be the death of you.

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito x reader #my writing #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa fanfiction

245 notes · View notes

jeonqqin · 4 years

Text

man up. [m] | pt. 2

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNINGS: nopee, well ji looking at readers butt?

A/N: are u team Chan or team Han?

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

After your afternoon class with Jisung, he quickly noted that you were absent for the rest of the day.

Sure, you didn’t have any other classes, but normally you would be hunkered down in the library with your nose stuffed in some sort of book, or wandering around campus with Felix at your heels. You were either cramming due to your procrastination or roaming around procrastinating. Jisung also knew you weren’t a fan of staying in your small dorm room since your roommate loved flaunting the fact that she had a boyfriend and how she wasn’t shy about anyone witnessing their ‘acts of love’.

So he really had no idea where you were, and it bugged him a little more than he would like to admit.

But outwardly, he didn’t want to show just how worried he was. You were his best friend’s sister, it wasn’t his job to make a fuss about something so trivial. It would be weird if he went looking for you… but if Minho just so happened to get word of his little sister’s sudden disappearance, Jisung would have to help his dear friend search for you.

It was only common courtesy.

“Minho, I think Y/n was kidnapped.”

“You WHAT?!”

Okay, starting the phone call with that probably wasn’t the best choice, but what other choice did he have. Jisung was an impatient guy.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened.” He replied casually, already able to hear the panic on Minho’s end of the call. “She was here and then she wasn’t.”

Not only was he impatient, he was a(n idiot) songwriter; his words articulate and poetic.

Minho was silent for a second before cutting back for the call.

“I texted Changbin and he said she just ran off.”

Jisung frowned. “Do they know where she went?”

“Apparently to beat some sense into me.”

The two friends knew then where you were and a rush of panic filled their chests all at the same time.

“Fuck—”

“—Chan.”

Jisung nearly dropped his phone in the process of hanging up, immediately taking off towards the familiar apartment.

His worst nightmare was coming true—Chan was an unknown in Jisung’s mind. He was handsome, charismatic, and an older guy, so it was realistic to imagine you falling head-over-heels if you were to ever meet him. Unfortunately, it seemed like fate wasn’t in his favor and he was in deep shit if you were really at the apartment alone with Chan.

Alone with Chan.

He shivered at the thought.

The only brightside to the ordeal was that Minho was also aware of the dangerous situation. Out of everyone, he would be the only one to prevent any feelings from sprouting between you. Jisung counted on Minho every time and he never once failed to preform.

Dear god, he hoped he didn’t decide to stop now.

Arriving at the complex, he almost rammed full speed into Minho, who was also going as fast as his legs could take him. They only shared one glance before trampling over their feet to get up the stairs, no doubt bothering the neighbors along their way.

Minho was the one to swing the door open, his head on a swivel as he walked in. He was ready to break up any inappropriate business with as much force necessary—he didn’t care if Chan’s bicep was twice the size of his head, he had leg power on his side. And if he saw your tongue anywhere near Chan’s, Minho was going to be swinging.

“Chan?”

“Y/n?”

Thud.

There was a crash behind the closed door of the office, and both heads perked up at the sound.

Minho hurried forward, arm outstretched to grab the door, “No. No no no—”

Jisung never wanted in his life to see you involved with someone else. With your pretty eyes hooded and shining with desire, and your chest heaving heavily against the tight fabric of your blouse. It had been difficult enough to watch you fill out and grow into an attractive woman, he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you were old enough to meet other guys and moan their names.

He certainly didn’t want to hear you moan Chan’s name—of all people, why Chan?

“Shit, Chan—”

Jisung felt his face heat up as Minho pushed the door open, ready to pull his friend away to avoid the scene on the other side.

“—get your head away from my ass! The power strip isn’t even near there you prick!”

“Hey,” Chan defended with a laugh. “In my defense, all you said was it was over here somewhere. How do I know that somewhere isn’t next to your ass?”

The position that the two of you were in was compromising—though not in the way that Jisung had originally expected. It caused the two newcomers to freeze, their brains struggling to really understand what was happening.

The two of you were surrounded by thousands of cables and wires, black foam scattered across the floor as well. You were on your hands and knees, the only visible part of you was your bottom half with your head tucked underneath Chan’s mixing table doing who knows what. As for Chan, he was crawling around same as you, on his hands and knees with an extension cord wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uhm…” Minho gaped, eyes unable to focus on one part of the scene.

Jisung had no trouble at all, his eyes locked solidly on your raised ass.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, eyes locking with Jisung’s and immediately widening. You couldn’t be in a worse situation—fucking hell.

In your haste to get out from under the table, you slammed the top of your head against one of the sturdy table legs and winced as Chan cracked up from your side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class—Jesus, ow…” You asked, your hand moving up to rub the forming bump.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked, his eyebrows brushing his bangs.

“Y/n wanted some help with her stats class and I needed someone to help me upturn this room and make it into a recording room.” Chan snorted at your little dramatic groans, completely unfazed by the growing frustration on Minho’s face.

But before Minho could say anything to Chan’s statement, Jisung stepped in.

His lips twisted sourly, “I thought Seungmin was going to help you with your stats stuff?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I will not subject myself to that kind of torture and I refuse to let anyone convince me otherwise.”

“Well you could’ve asked me.”

Defeated and jealous; Jisung could no longer hide it.

The two older boys could see it clearly in the way he looked at you with big sad eyes, though neither of them said anything. Chan’s brows furrowed in thought, it looked like you had someone else infatuated with you.

You laughed. “Uh-huh, because you’re the resident genius here. Jisung, you dropped two of your classes last semester because both professors were minutes away from giving you an administrative failure.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jisung’s head is full of rocks—” Minho dismissed, unsympathetic towards the scandalized boy next to him. “Why the hell are you turning my storage room into a junkyard?”

Chan finally stood, pulling the cord from his neck and throwing it to the side in favor of helping you up.

“It was already a junkyard, bundle-boy.” You said, voice clipped and annoyed. Who wouldn’t be after smashing their head against a solid piece of metal? “We were renovating.”

“Like hell you were. I thought I said no to the recording room?”

Minho’s rage was just about completely directed towards Chan, but to your surprise, the guy gave minimal to no reaction. His face stayed indifferent, wide shoulders relaxed and eyes set.

You’ll be dammed, the fucker wasn’t scared.

Chan wasn’t afraid of your brother.

There was someone on the planet who didn’t go running when Minho looked at them funny, and he was standing right next to you in his beautiful sleeveless glory. If you weren’t currently suffering from a possible concussion you would be dropping to one knee and popping the question then and there.

“Oh, so what you said earlier was a no?” Chan (very unconvincingly) feigned innocence. “Sorry, the phone connection must’ve been bad.”

“I was yelling to you from the other room.”

“These walls are very thick, Minho. It’s your apartment, you should know that.”

“Do you want to be homeless?”

“Define; home.”

That was it, he was your one true love.

As Minho began to cross his arms over his chest, squaring up to Chan with the glare of a certifiable killer, you slid out of the way to avoid the oncoming fist fight.

Or explosion, whichever route Minho decided to take.

But then the unthinkable happened—Minho sighed, dropping his arms to his sides and turning towards you.

Both you and Jisung stood speechless, because you just witnessed someone give Minho an attitude and not get beat down afterwards. Hyunjin had once attempted the same thing and had been chased around the quad for a good forty minutes until the taller man had gotten tired and your brother had become uninterested.

Felix told you that they were both reemed during dance practice that night for being too tired to execute their choreography.

Minho shook his head, “You and Changbin were probably going to convince me anyway. Might as well save the wasted time and get it done now.”

Either your brother had a fat crush on Chan, or the Lee Minho was afraid of someone.

You knew Chan was older than him, but someone had to have some sort of super power to keep Minho from kicking their shins and shoving a knee in their face.

“What is happening…?” Jisung wondered, eyes wide and mouth open.

Chan smiled, striding over to clap Jisung on the shoulder, making the shorter boy jump in surprise.

“Good news. We’re getting a recording studio.”

And you would like to get married to one Bang Chan please.

You joined Chan’s side.

“Now you can finish that song you were working on.” You said, nudging Jisung’s shoulder.

He was just going to ignore the sudden wave of excitement at the fact that you remembered that he was working on a song.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Jisung laughed tensely. “Looks like I’ll be around more often.”

“Yeah, definitely…”

You nodded absentmindedly, eyes locked on the exposed skin of Chan’s arms. Chan himself didn’t acknowledge your stare, but couldn’t help the smug smile that slid onto his face.

Jisung watched the exchange and groaned, looking over to glare at Minho for failing him the only time it truly would end badly for him. Because of course Minho had to be soft for Chan and of course Chan had to be moving in.

Why couldn’t Chan just be ugly?

“Okay,” Chan sighed, placing all the wires he held into a pile on the floor. Suddenly, he turned to you, “You held up your end of the bargain. Let’s work on some stats, huh?”

Your eyes widened for a second, caught in headlights.

“Oh,” was your smart reply. “But we didn’t get to finish?”

Chan waved it off. “The only reason we tried to get it all done was to make sure Minho couldn’t say no. Now that he’s accepted it, we don’t have to rush.”

As much as it bothered him not to finish a project.

You laughed at the little punch Minho threw at Chan’s shoulder on his way out of the room, mumbling something about “going to bed before Changbin comes home to beg for food”. He also made sure to pinch your cheek before leaving.

After swatting at Minho’s hand, you grinned.

“Okay, well… Let’s figure out how we’re going to do this.”

Chan mimicked your smile with a nod.

No way, Jisung thought as you followed his older friend out into the living room, no fucking way.

You just left him without an acknowledging glance his way, and all of a sudden he had a really terrible feeling about leaving you and Chan alone together. Anything could happen—kissing, fucking, god forbid you talk to him. You could become closer and gain feelings for the guy, which would not be a hard task considering Chan was basically the human embodiment of the sun and every damn person seemed to be pulled into his orbit after the first meeting.

Dammit, it was even difficult for Jisung to be mad at him. The guy was too lovable.

Cursing under his breath, Jisung all but ran into the living room to prevent any and all touching or deep talks, because heaven knew how much Chan talked about deep shit.

Ew, he sounded like Minho.

“You don’t have any notes at all?” Chan asked, eyebrows raised. “What do you even do in there?”

You let out a sigh.

“Stats is where I usually do my biology work.”

“Then what do you do in biology?” He questioned bluntly, his eyes skimming all the lost files on your computer that you had given up on ages ago.

“That’s where I write all my essays. The teacher—”

“—never stands up from his chair.”

With wide eyes, you laughed in surprise. Your mouth formed many words but nothing stumbled out, perhaps for a good reason because what you had in your head wasn’t very coherent on its own.

So you just pointed at the snickering Chan, “You…?”

His head shook and your mood dropped.

“I don’t do work for other classes,” he corrected, the mischievous smile slowly sliding onto his lips giving you a little hope back. “I actually produced a whole song in that class.”

Was Jisung dreaming or were you looking at Chan with those big bewildered eyes? Was that what was happening right in front of him? Could he be seeing things?

For once he really hoped he was going insane.

“I knew I wasn’t the only one that slacked off in that class!” You chirped, bouncing a little in your seat.

“And I still got a one-hundred on my exam.” He told you pointedly before passing on the laptop and leaning back on the couch.

Normally, smugness wouldn’t have been attractive to you but on Chan it was something else. His eyes lit up in a way that was almost pretty.

There was a pull towards him as he just sat there and looked at you. It was something that set you on edge in the same way it put you at ease, he just had such a conflicting presence and you really didn’t know how to process it. So your body pushed you forward on it’s own, and with no complaints from him, you felt your hand come to rest on his knee—

But out of the fucking blue, Jisung was throwing himself between you two, his thinner body fitting snuggly in the unfilled space. You sputtered and Chan nearly yelped, holding his hand to his chest to placate his thudding heart.

“Jisung—what the fuck?”

“Did you just jump over the back of the couch?” Chan frowned looking over his shoulder to really determine the path Jisung took to get there.

Jisung smiled obnoxiously, “I just figured I’d help you guys out. Considering I’m also in that class.” He wiggles a little more to separate the two of you even more. “And three brains are better than two.”

“Not when yours is nonexistent.” You quipped, feeling your lips pull into a pout at the intruder.

“Ah, how I love your humor.”

Jisung poked your nose with a tight lipped smile.

Sending Chan a look of apology, he shrugged, falling back further into the couch.

“Sure, why not?” Was his response, shoulders lifting up and falling back down with a huff. “Let me help you set up some proper notes.”

Jisung brought his hands together once to create a near deafening sound that had you even more irritable. His happy-go-lucky mood wasn’t funny when you were on the receiving end of the annoyance.

One nice thing—you couldn’t have one single nice thing ever.

Between your brother and his dumb best friend (that you may or may not have sorta feelings for) you couldn’t do anything. Your prime years were being wasted on sucky romance movies with Felix and Hyunjin and cat fights with Jisung. You couldn’t afford such bullshit for much longer.

“You know I love you, Y/n.”

“Stuff your love up your ass.”

The rest of the week passed by smoothly with minimal conflict on your end and grades that didn’t have you contemplating slamming your face into a wall. On weekends you usually spent most of your time at Minho’s apartment while Changbin dicked around at the gym and your brother slept for the forty-eight hours that he had to himself. You could watch movies and finish your homework with no distractions.

That was until Chan decided to move in and steal your attention every moment he could. You were even starting to suspect that he was doing it on purpose after the time he walked out of the bathroom in only a bath towel and responded with a “oh, I didn’t notice you there”.

You also concluded that Felix was a snitch and no longer deserved your friendship, because once you shared with him your encounter with Chan, everyone in your group of friends was wired in to everything that concerned you and Chan.

Especially Jisung. Which eventually caused—

“Jisung why the hell are you following me?”

The boy in question didn’t bother to acknowledge you, instead he simply continued to walk at your side, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and hair just a little messier than usual, “What do you mean? This is how I get to my next class.”

You snorted. “Last time I checked, you had dropped your two-thirty class. And even then, it was on the other side of the building.”

Jisung couldn’t help but roll his pretty brown eyes.

“Stalker…”

“Says the guy who’s been up my ass all day.” You chirped, taking pride in the way he glared at you.

Jisung threw his hands up in frustration. He knew what he was doing was out of character, sure. But did he want to be called out on it?

“Can I not hang out with you? God, Y/n. We’ve known each other for years, I’d think you’d get used to me being around.”

You merely shook your head with a laugh, continuing forward.

“You’re really something else.”

He snorted, “So you’re being an adult now?”

“When am I not the adult when I’m with you? There’s no room for stupid energy with you around.” You replied cheekily

“Well I’m sorry for hogging all the ‘stupid energy’, damn…”

The way that Jisung held up the air quotes for “stupid energy” had your cheeks aching from how hard you smiled.

“Well, I’m going to lunch with Felix and Hyunjin right now. So unless you want to be subjected to their combined stupidity, I would suggest you go back to your dorm.” You sent him a small smile over your shoulder, just barely missing the way he tripped over his feet because of it.

Felix had called you in a rush right as you were getting out of your last class of the day and asked you to come eat lunch with him and Hyunjin. It was a one sided conversation that lasted almost ten seconds but you figured you had no other choice but to comply. Whatever reason he had for being in such a hurry was enough for you to listen.

“But you can come if you want, Sungie. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

Sungie.

It had been a while since you last called him that nickname—possibly way back when you were in primary school. It sent chills down his spine to hear you call him that again.

Jisung caught up to you easily, slinging his arm around your shoulders just as he used to when you began calling him Sungie. Over the years it had started to put a strain on him since he found it hard to differentiate what was friendly and what was too friendly. He had a girlfriend after all, and there were only so many things he could do with other girls that was acceptable.

But of course you were just Y/n. The little sister that bothered them all day and called him Sungie.

He didn’t have to feel embarrassed to hug you or tease you or hide his insecurities behind stupid pick up lines. Now matter how much it made his heart pound in his chest, you were still Minho’s baby sister—you were Jisung’s baby sister.

“I’d like that, my dear.” Jisung said, stuffing his free hand into his pocket and pulling you closer.

So close that it almost felt domestic.

Y’know, as domestic as it could get with someone who was like a little sister to him. He had a beautiful girlfriend too, so the domestication was more like a… family comfort and less like how it would feel if you were married and he was allowed to hold you as close as he wanted—

“Ah, you’re warm,” you hummed, making a small fuss of tucking yourself further into his hold. “It always looks like it’s going to be nice outside, but it seems like the weather changes its mind just as much as Hyunjin.”

You didn’t notice but Jisung was completely lost to everything you said after “you’re warm”. He just continued to hum and nod as if his brain wasn’t completely fried.

Jisung was in the midst of a mental breakdown when you somehow managed to lead him to the small restaurant right outside of the university. It was a popular place since it was so close and dolled out cheap food in a matter of seconds, which definitely appealed to its main demographic.

You spotted Felix’s head of purple hair immediately, a bright smile etched onto his face as he spoke animatedly to the waiter standing at the ready. The boy was cute, black hair and pretty dimples that made him appear younger. He also looked friendly with Felix with how he spoke with a wide smile that showed his perfect teeth.

You approached the table, shrugging Jisung’s arm off of you and ignoring his whine in protest.

“I made it,” you announced, gaining the attention of your friends—

And fuck.

You met eyes with Seungmin sitting in the seat beside Felix, and felt your shoulders slump as he flashed you a smirk.

“Glad you could come, Y/n.” Seungmin all but sang at your visible distress.

But Felix had a hold on your arm before you could respond with attitude, tugging you dangerously close to the waiter at your side.

“Y/n, this is Jeongin—” Felix gestured towards the boy who lifted his hand to wave. “He’s a school friend of Hyunjin’s.”

“It’s my last year.” Jeongin added with a shy laugh.

Peeling your eyes away from Seungmin, you got a good look at the boy in front of you. The unexpected cuteness both startled you and made your stomach flip. You really had to withhold from squealing and pinching his cheeks. He was so cute.

You smiled genuinely, “It’s nice to meet you, Jeonginnie.”

A small wave of red covered his ears at the sudden nickname, his long eyelashes fluttering in surprise.

Jisung just about combusted in his spot. He was getting pretty sick and tired of keeping tabs on all the boys you managed to hook around your finger, it was starting to get out of hand. Okay, maybe he was the stalker.

In a bout of frustration, Jisung grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, sliding into the booth beside Hyunjin and tugging you after him. You made a noise of surprise as your ass connected harshly with the cracked red cushion of the booth, sending Jisung a glare.

Though, he kept his eyes on the table, avoiding the amused looks on everyone’s faces, even going as far as swatting away Hyunjin’s poking fingers. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to release your hand from his.

Jisung’s palm was sweaty in your hold, but strangely enough it was something that you didn’t mind.

Jeongin looked between you and Jisung for a moment before quickly coming to some sort of realization that only Felix seemed to understand. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and a small smirk was suddenly on his lips as he asked what drink you would like.

Whatever that was about, you didn’t like it.

“I’ll just have a water.” You answered skeptically, finally managing to pull your fingers free of Jisung’s grip.

“Water for me too.”

Jeongin didn’t bother to write down your orders, instead he just nodded and left with that same goofy smile on his face.

Why did your friends have to corrupt the poor kid?

You sent a glare towards Felix, ready to grill him about what the hell just happened but his eyes were on something else above your head, his lips forming into the same smirk that Jeongin had on. Whatever what’s either above you or behind you was either a stupid compilation video of League of Legend funny moments or your next victim.

“Care for one more?” Came from behind you.

And both your and Jisung’s heads swiveled around at a dangerous speed to see the beautiful image of Chan, and damn was he beautiful. He was dressed for the weather, arms now covered in a long black sweater that hugged every one of his muscles so so nicely, and instead of sweatpants, he was wearing jeans. You could definitely tell the difference between a casual day around the house and one where he was going to be seen out in public—was that makeup?

And Jisung frowned. It had been going so well.

It was his turn to send Felix a glare.

The purple haired boy mouthed something along the lines of “girlfriend”, but Jisung couldn’t (could) really make it out.

“Sit down.” You managed to choke out, motioning toward the table.

“Hey!” Felix greeted, standing up to fully embrace Chan in a hug.

You were floored.

“You know each other?”

Felix’s eyes flickered towards you, “We both grew up in Sydney.”

And you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your skull.

“You’re Australian?” You gaped, watching Chan as if he had sprouted a new head.

He then proceeded to spout off some heavily accented words that you could barely make sense of, and you could feel your heart practically flutter in your chest. After meeting Felix, you never thought you’d ever find an Australian accident sexy as hell—but Chan’s was, in fact, very sexy as hell.

“Wow,” Hyunjin whistled. “What does it take for one to become Australian, because fuck.”

You didn’t think you would ever agree with Hyunjin so much in your life.

Chan snorted. “I think you have to be born in Australia unfortunately.”

“Or you know,” Felix tossed sarcastically. “Live there.”

“Damn. Always the catch.”

You sighed, almost going as far as face-palming yourself and/or slamming your forehead against the table.

Instead you just sent Chan an embarrassed smile. “You can sit down if you aren’t planning on running away.”

“Thanks.” He laughed.

Unfortunately for you, there were already three people in your booth and he wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

Fortunately for Jisung, there were already three people in your booth and Chan wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

But when Chan began to slide in the seat next to Felix, Hyunjin suddenly jumped with a yelp, glaring at the suspicious looking Felix in front of him. The two had a very strange conversation with their eyes before Hyunjin was huffing a sigh and maneuvering himself to slip under the booth and (clumsily, you may add) pop out on the other side of Seungmin, ignoring the spectacled boys' complaints as he sends Chan a smile.

Stupid plotting assholes.

“Just wanted to sit next to my… uh—”

“Boyfriend?” You supplied, blinking at him dully.

“Yeah, my boy—hey, fuck you!”

“Sorry, were you waiting to tell people?”

He took the liberty to be the kicker instead of the kickee and sent his foot into your ankle, making you hiss with a glare.

Felix nudged Chan’s hip to direct him into the spot beside you, his mouth open in a wide smile as you are further squished between both Jisung and Chan. With one boy being very broad and the other being very clingy, you barely had any room at all.

“Y/n, you look a little cramped, why don’t you scoot over here a little more—?”

“Jisung, if I get any closer to you, I would be on top of you.”

Hey, he wasn’t completely opposed to that plan.

Jisung certainly would rather have you on his lap than Chan’s. He couldn’t even think about that without grasping for your hand again, though you were too fast and managed to wiggle out of his grip.

“Yeah, Y/n. Why don’t you just scoot over?” Hyunjin sang, his mouth curled up in a coy little smirk that he always had carved onto his face.

“You scheming little—”

But your words were cut off by the clearing of a throat.

Seungmin leaned over the table, and the way his sleeves were rolled to his forearms was suddenly very noticeable. He looked at you with the intention to kill, and had he not been a prudish reincarnation of the devil, you would’ve thought he looked hot as fuck.

“Do you want me to retell the little incident that took place at last year’s Christmas party?”

A collective gasp went around the table, Chan being the only one who was absolutely clueless.

Felix whispered something under his breath about how “that was sworn to secrecy”, and Hyunjin’s wide eyes stuck to the side of Seungmin’s face like glue.

Even Jisung broke out of his jealous stupor to gulp.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

That was the true form of Kim Seungmin.

“What? Do dinners like this happen all the time?” Chan asked. “Do you ever actually eat?”

As if on queue, Jeongin stepped up to the table, notepad in hand and wide eyes sparkling. “Are you guys ready to order—?”

But Felix was dragging the boy down to his height, whispering something quickly into his ear, causing his eyes to widen. After enlarging, his gaze flickered back and forth between you, Jisung and Chan.

“I… will give you guys a few more minutes.”

Jeongin scurried off and you wanted to kill everyone at the table.

“Well, I’m going to answer my own question here and say no. There will be no eating food today.” Chan hummed, tossing his menu onto the table similarly to a petulant child.

You huffed. What did you ever do to deserve any of this?

With both boys at either side of you, it seemed to create a visual representation of the conflict in your mind. And Seungmin looked like he was ready to pass out with how hard he was trying to hold in his laughter as Felix and Hyunjin simply smiled your way.

To say that the two boys were completely clueless, would’ve been an understatement—

With Chan too busy thinking about all the food he wouldn’t be eating and Jisung preoccupied trying to grab ahold of your hand, they didn’t once notice the way that the three little devils stared holes into their heads.

“I literally can’t stand any of you.”

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