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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

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The Woman He Didn't Choose part 2🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem contestant Reader

Synopsis: the aftermath of the show as you and Miguel move on(sort of). The first part is mostly from his POV then transitions into your experience on the spinoff show- Singles in Paradise where you have a second shot at finding love. Word count: 6k

A/N: Sorry to any Xina fans, I made her OOC and quite mean in this one. I haven't read the comics but from what I've heard of her and seen so far she's one of the canon love interests I like the most. (Even tho I shamelessly self ship with Miguel lolol bc as far as I know ATSV Miguel is separate from comic Miguel Soo until we hear otherwise I'm gonna be delulu.)

Also, I am sorry if any of the couple pairings in this part bother you, it's purely for the purpose of the plot since we're supposed to be on another dating show and I am too lazy to create a bunch of OCs. If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, RACIAL MICROAGGRESSIONS ABOUT ESL AND FAMILY STRUCTURE(IF THAT'S SENSITIVE FOR YOU PLEASE SKIP ❤️) EMOTIONAL ABUSE, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, ALCOHOL ,DOWNPLAYING MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLES, LITTLE BIT OF EMOTIONAL CHEATING ON MIGUEL'S PART, STRUGGLES WITH RELIGION AND FAITH, MENTION BULLYING AND FAMILY STRUGGLES, BREAK-UP, FANTASIZING, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CLASSISM, MODERATE SMUT(P IN V BUT IT'S ONLY MENTIONED NOT FULLY DETAILED, THESE ONES ARE DETAILED: DRY HUMPING, HEAVY MAKING OUT, AND FINGERING. ALSO, VOYEURISM-ISH)

(couple pairings are Ben Reilly and Felicia Hardy, Jessica Drew and Noir, George Stacey and MJ, Xina Kwan and Miguel O'Hara, not saying anything else bc spoilers)

Part 1 , Part 3

@miguelhugger2099, @kodo1221,@mimiemie, @laysmt, @cheerrioeoz , @spicydonut25 , @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @thekidscallmebosss , @librababe99 , @ce3stvu @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood , @mauvecherie-writes , @royale-skeleton-key , @famouscattale

I'm so sorry if I forgot you in the tags , just lmk

------

"Miguel!"

Miguel looks up abruptly from a spot on the floor he was zoning out on to look at Xina's slightly annoyed expression. "Hydrangeas or peonies for the guest tables, babe?" she repeats, standing next to the sample table where the wedding planner and florist awaited with anxious eyes.

Miguel blinks rapidly. "It doesn't matter to me, baby...um...." he points to the peony arrangement. "That one."

Xina huffs and turns to look at the planner and florist. "We'll do the hydrangeas."

Miguel smirks and puts his hands in his pockets. "Now, why would you ask me my opinion if you're going to just pick the one you wanted?"

Xina's annoyed look softens subtly but she shakes her head. "It's mostly the bride's day, you know. You're just supposed to show up."

Miguel smiles. "Well, I guess you don't need me to come to the wedding planning dinner tonight? Since you seem to have it all handled?"

Xina groans. "Miguel! You said you'd be there! Have you even read through Exodus like I asked you to?"

Miguel feels his cheeks burn. "Shit...um, no..."

Xina shoots a glare at the wedding planner and the florist and makes a shooing motion with her hand. They both put their heads down and quickly leave the room, giving them privacy. Miguel adjusts his tie, a little bit thrown off by her dismissive actions towards the staff.

Xina sits down at the table and pours herself a glass of ice water. She takes a long sip and sighs, looking at Miguel. "Babe...," she says in a low voice. "You know that getting married in the church is a top priority for me. You know what it means to me..."

Miguel's eyebrows knit together with worry. "I know it is..." he rapidly crosses the room to join her and kneels in front of her, hands on her thighs. She squirms away from him a little and purses her lips, looking down.

"Promise me you'll catch up on your Bible reading by next week and set up an appointment with the missionaries?"

Miguel hesitates for just a fraction of a second in his mind but he answers her, almost a little too quickly, "Of course I will."

Xina manages to give him a little smile, fiddling with the top button on his shirt. "Love you..."

"Love you too."

---

Later that evening, Xina and Miguel are sitting next to each other at a large, circular, oak table across from her parents, eating dinner in their mansion of a home.

Xina's mother makes a face when she takes a bite of the salmon.

"Something wrong with it, hun?" Xina's father asks, dishing himself some potatoes.

Xina's mother spits the bite into a napkin. "Rex!" She barks. An older, balding man with a kind face and chef's uniform enters the dining room. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Salmon's not up to par, I'm afraid." She pushes the dish towards the puzzled chef.

"M' sorry ma'am. Can I make you anything else you'd like instea-"

She cuts him off. "No, my appetite's ruined. That's all, Rex."

The chef looks down in shame at the dish he worked hard on, picking it up with shaky hands and shuffling quickly out of the dining room.

Miguel tightens his grip on his fork and shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He had not seen this side of Xina's parents. But, it was only their third time meeting, so he did his best to concentrate on who he was really there for, Xina. He took another bite of his roast beef.

Once the old man was out of earshot, Xina's mother tuts her teeth. "Sorry, he's insufferable... I don't know what we'll do with him.... is your roast beef even edible, dear?" She asks Miguel.

Miguel inhales slowly, trying to stifle his outrage on the chef's behalf but Xina's father cuts in.

"So, Miguel," Xina's father says, breaking the silence. "Your folks are planning on driving down on the... 25th, right? For the rehearsal dinner?"

Miguel nods, blotting his lips with a cloth napkin. "Yes, sir."

"Remind me who's coming?" He asks, pouring a generous helping of gravy on his potatoes.

Miguel clears his throat. "My younger brother, Gabe, and my mother-"

"Right, your father's not in your life." Xina's father says, waving his fork.

Miguel's lips fall open and he blinks in disbelief at the abruptness of his statement. I mean, he wasn't lying, per se. Miguel took a sip of his wine, trying to chalk it up to just him not choosing his words carefully, that's all.

"Right, he's not..." Miguel says, straightening in his chair.

Xina's mother pipes up, "You know, that's really such an inspiration on your part. Most people like you with your background end up on the streets, or worse."

Miguel abruptly stops cutting his meat, first looking at Xina's mother, who sat with a smile on her face looking at him, to her husband, who was too occupied with his potatoes to even care, to Xina who was just looking at her lap, clearly a little embarrassed at her comment, but stayed silent.

It got worse. She continues, "... wouldn't even guess that English isn't your first language. You're so well spoken for someone like you."

At that point, Miguel is so uncomfortable that he stands up abruptly, removing his napkin from his lap and setting it next to his wine glass.

"...if you'll excuse me..." he briskly walks out, making sure to close the front door a little extra loudly than he normally would.

Miguel paces in the driveway, taking deep breaths. He exhales a little bit when he sees Xina, but he's met with a different reaction than he was expecting.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her stomach.

Miguel's face contorts in confusion, "Babe..that comment your mom made-"

"It's just how she is, Miguel!" Xina says, her annoyance starting to make itself apparent as her face comes into view.

Miguel is now even more confused.

"Just come back inside, please?" Xina looks around, hoping none of the neighbors were witnessing their spat.

Miguel takes a step back, his face hurt. "Xi...what's got into you...?"

"Look, I'm sorry that she said it, okay? But that's just how she is. She doesn't have a filter. Old people are just like that. Now she's upset because you stormed out."

Miguel becomes angry now. "Babe. I understand your parents are from a different generation and your mom has a certain way of... communicating." He sighs. "But what she said was kind of racist. I felt extremely uncomfortable."

Xina looks up at the sky in utter aggravation, "Okay! Fine! You're right! It was totally racist, okay? Happy? I'll talk to her about it later, but I really don't wanna fight anymore about this. We're supposed to walk down the aisle in three and a half weeks. They're just stressed because they're not only hosting my family, they're hosting yours too. I'm stressed, you're stressed. We all are..."

Miguel takes a deep breath. Now he's second guessing himself and his feelings. Did he overreact? The last thing he wanted was for them to dislike him. They were his future in-laws after all. Even though Miguel is hurt she won't defend him and is downplaying his feelings, he decides to shove them aside for her sake. Miguel looks down at her, taking her waist in his hands. She flinches a little and tries to pull back at first, but remains where she's standing when he holds her a little tighter.

"I'm sorry...okay? I'm sorry for being an ass..." Miguel can't help but feel a little odd that he's the one apologizing, but he continues. "Let's go back inside, yeah? Maybe we can go on a date this Friday, just to get away from all this wedding planning stuff."

Xina gives him a half smile and takes his hand in hers. "Deal..."

----

Later that night as Miguel showered in his shared apartment with Xina, he kept replaying their fight over and over again. He didn't know what it was, but lately, Xina was showing a very different side of herself. One that was completely the opposite of the soft spoken sweetheart he fell in love with when the cameras were rolling

He knew that she was religious when he proposed, but had the impression she was more of an Easter and Christmas-only attendee. Her devoutness amped up shortly after their engagement. Her pressure for him accept Jesus and get baptized so they could be married in her church started making him realize he bit off a little more than he could chew.

He felt a phony when she'd ask him to pray over meals and when he'd be called on to read a passage in Sunday School, like he wasn't supposed to be there. His scientific-inclined brain clashed with the idea of a magical being in the sky who would send him to Hell if he touched himself.

Furthermore, Xina demonstrated that she could be quite insensitive to his feelings, and he couldn't unsee the way his future in-laws poorly treated their chef in front of him, and the casual microaggressions they were throwing out about him and his family.

His whole childhood, he was bullied for his accent and for being one of the kids who would get pulled out of class for extra tutoring because he was so far behind everyone else. He was used to being doubted and constantly faced taunts from his classmates and teachers. Conchata was generally the better parent compared to George, but unfortunately that wasn't saying much.

She put immense pressure on Miguel to do well and excel in everything, constantly shifting the goalposts for the near impossible standards she expected him to reach.

But, he worked his ass off and eventually started reading two grade levels above his current grade and took home placing trophies in Math and Science olympiads. It wasn't long before Ivy League schools set their sights on him, and he went on to be the successful geneticist he was today, even buying Conchata a new house despite their volatile relationship.

Throughout it all, he never felt ashamed of where he came from, or his heritage. Nevertheless, it was something he was still was VERY sensitive about and he told Xina about it many times which is why it stung when she couldn't defend him. He even told you about it.

Oh God....you. This was the first time in a while that he finally allowed his mind to dwell on you for longer than a minute. He remembered how receptive you were when he told you. For once, he didn't hear a, "well at least you have it better than most", or a "cheer up, it's not so bad," when he explained his life story. Instead, you listened carefully with a soft look in your eyes and one of your hands resting on top of his, letting him know that the way he felt was completely valid. Something he didn't realize could be so healing when he heard you say that in that moment.

On top of that, your family was so...kind. Your mom even went out of her way to whip up an extra loaf of banana bread just for him when she caught wind that it was his favorite. Your siblings treated him like he was just another member of the family and it was a little unreal how seamlessly he got along with all of them. And, he distinctly remembered how gracious every single one of them were to the restaurant staff when you all went to lunch, with no awkward, demeaning energy like Xina's parents unfortunately demonstrated at dinner tonight. The cameras must have kept them on their best behavior until their true selves could come out once they turned off.

He's about to do something he knows he shouldn't, but he can't resist. He unblocks you on Instagram. (He has only one post on his own account and it's from when he was announced as The Eligible Suitor, the show forced him to create one for publicity's sake, he actually loathes social media in all forms).

And there you were, smiling with your friends at brunch. Another one of you showing off your new dog you rescued from the shelter named Hamilton, and your gorgeous headshot of you in a swimming suit for your debut on Singles in Paradise, where you and other rejected candidates from the show were all going to go at it in a fancy beach resort in Mexico.

Man, you looked good, curves on full display. The smile that he fell in love with was spread across your lovely face. The same one he was responsible for erasing when he broke your heart with less than 10 words on a tranquil beach in Thailand months earlier.

Now, you seemed happier. Trying to carry on with life as though he was never there. Like he didn't haunt your dreams and the sound of his name didn't cause the sting of a thousand burns to scorch through your body. Like you were never the first girl he ever spilled his cum into during that sexy night in the Fairytale Suites, remnants of him imprinted somewhere deep inside you.

Xina climbs into bed next to him and he closes out of Instagram immediately, ashamed that he let his mind wander. Her hand wanders down to his cock and it's not long until he's pounding into her. His mind struggles desperately to fight off the memory of the way your lips parted in ecstasy the whole time she's underneath him.

-----

A few days later

"What the fuck, Miguel?!" Xina screams at him over the phone. Miguel holds the phone away from his ear for a moment, the sound too harsh against his eardrum. She was upset at him this time for his interview on a morning talk show, promoting their upcoming wedding which was supposed to be aired live as the show's long awaited special before Singles in Paradise made its debut.

The host smiled and leaned on her elbow.

"Now, Miguel. Eligible Suitor's number one fan blog is releasing rumors that you only chose Xina because she was the safer option compared to y/n, the season's edgier "bad girl". Is there some truth to that statement, or can you elaborate on that?

Miguel nods slowly, a little bit of panic settling in on the inside, wondering how the hell the fan pages were eerily accurate, despite him not giving away any hints about his internal struggles regarding his engagement to the press that he was aware of.

"Well, as the man chosen to be the Eligible Suitor, there are certain expectations for me and who I ultimately end up with...Xina fit in well with my family. She had all the qualities of the ideal partner. Overall, it just seemed to be a better match..."

"But you're making it sound like if say, y/n for example had all of that, would you have picked her instead?"

Miguel hesitates, turning a little red. He wasn't good at lying. "Well, I mean..."

Awkward silence that lasts a little too long.

He quickly tries to recover but he ends up making it worse, "I mean, what's done is done. There's not really a point in wondering about that, you know....? We-we're very excited for the wedding..."

It wasn't longer than a minute after the show cut to commercial that his phone was ringing off the hook.

"Tell me right now that you love me, and not her, or I swear to God, Miguel I will call off this whole thing!" She says through tears.

Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Now he really felt like a jerk.

"I do love you baby..."

Xina is still distraught and doesn't seem to want to listen. "After everything we've been through. I've supported you. I got along with your mom, I got an apartment with you. I even supported you through all that mental health bullshit of yours and you still can't even defend me on live television and say you love me more than that broke piece of trash!"

Miguel freezes. "Hold on, mental health bullshit....?" Miguel really hopes that he didn't just hear what he thought he heard. He does his best to keep his anger at bay but he can feel it rising anyway. "So, all of the internal struggles I trusted you enough to tell you about....my depression which is something that will ALWAYS be a part of me, Xina...you think it's bullshit?"

Xina sputters, "Miguel, no, I didn't mean it like that. It's just...ugh you are just so hard to deal with sometimes, you know? I totally understand and respect the fact that you're going through a lot right now, but so am I. And I can't sit here and coddle you through everything if you don't get help."

Miguel's world comes shattering down. His worst fear that started to creep into the back of his mind ever since about 2 weeks after he proposed to Xina had just been confirmed to be true: she was not at all the woman he thought she was. It was merely an act for the show, and, with the help of the producers and audience, they pushed him towards her simply because she was the woman they wanted to see him with, when his heart truly lied with you the whole time.

And now, you were on a beach in Mexico probably getting courted by all sorts of men who could give you way more than Miguel ever could, while he was left to contend with a broken heart and a cancelled wedding.

He says in a shaky voice. "I was getting help...I told you I started therapy. I trusted you with THE most sensitive parts of me, Xina. And you threw it in my face. By the way, why do you say y/n is broke trash, as you put it, huh?"

"Miguel, stop putting words in my mouth..."

"Nononono...you LITERALLY said it, Xi. Don't start with your gaslighting bullshit on me!" Miguel is raising his voice now. "You called her broke trash. Let me guess: you shoo away our wedding planners, your parents treat your chef like complete shit. She has less money and prospects than you, therefore she's just trash, right? Well, I came from hardly anything, too. Does that make me trash? Huh?"

There's only silence on the other line, then she says, "Miguel, you're different..."

"No. No, Xina. You're different. You're not who I thought you were, and I think we shouldn't be marrying each other." Hot tears spill down Miguel's face and he hangs up his phone. He presses his back against the wall, sliding down until he hides his face in his hands, sobbing on the floor.

--------

A few weeks later at a beach bungalow resort in Mexico

"Welcome back to another season of: Singles in Paradise, I'm your host, Jason Donner and boy is it good to be back!" Jason beams, flashing his pearly whites at the camera.

You hear your cue and you walk out, clad in a white bikini with a pretty purple coverup wrapped around your midriff with the knot resting on your hip, emphasizing the curve, a certain post-break up glow about you that immediately made you hard to resist, a confident twinkle in your eye. You greet Jason with a hug and he holds your hands in his.

"Great to see you. Feelin' nervous?"

You flash a lovely smile at him, playing it up for the cameras. "Just a little bit. But I'm more so excited than nervous."

Jason's lips curve into a smirk. "Anyone down there on that beach you're hoping to run into?"

Miguel.

No, you hadn't really thought about it. Noir was pretty cute. You throw his name out there. "I hope Noir is down there..."

Jason nods, giving your shoulder a good luck squeeze. "Well, go on down there and see for yourself. Good luck! And welcome to paradise once again."

"Thanks, Jas!" You play it up, giving him a little flirty wink as you walk down the stone path and disappear into some trees, making your way to the beach. Necks turn slowly and you feel your heart pound as several pairs of eyes land on you.

Felicia Hardy is standing at the beach side resort bar waiting on her piña colada with a bad case of RBF. But, her snowy eyes melt into an enthusiastic expression when she sees you.

"Noooo way!!! Oh my GOD, you're even hotter in person! Girl! What!!"

You beam, flattered as she pulls you into a hug. Her long, platinum blonde hair hangs loose from a claw clip with the ponytail flowing in waves that brush against her back, a few stray wisps framing her face. She's wearing a dark blue tube top dress which is doing her figure all types of favors, accentuating her goddess-like pear shape. And, she smells totally divine of coconut body spray, evidence of sunbathing apparent in her sunkissed cheeks and tan lines.

"Holy shit, where'd you get your outfit?" She asks, giving her piña colada a sip, shamelessly eyeing you up from head to toe.

You smile, giving her a little twirl. "Girl, $20 at Marshall's for the whole thing. I swear to God."

"No way! Oh my God, I love that place!" Felicia smiles. "I gotta say I'm a huge fan of you. Dude, that pissed me off so fucking bad when Miguel fucked you over like that."

You smile back at her, flattered. You can tell that you definitely want to have Felicia be your beach bestie throughout this whole process. She had been the Eligible Suitorette about 2 seasons ago. Her tenure was one that went down in the show's history, the way she didn't take any shit, and had so many guys falling all over her. But, unfortunately her engagement to Flash Thompson went down in flames when his dumb ass eventually got caught cheating, making fans of the show rally around her even more.

"So, I guess I should give you the low down on who's coupled up with who so far?" She asks.

You nod, familiar with this part of the game. "Yes, please. Oh my God, tell me everything."

You two go sit down on a pair of beach chairs, turning them so your knees are touching each other, leaning in close together for your woman to woman huddle, the cameras zooming in on you both.

"Okay, so first of all, I'm with Ben." She gleams, biting her lip. You follow her gaze and see Ben shirtless, playing volleyball with some of the other men, his baby blues are locked right back on Felicia with his angelic, pretty boy face. He nods and gives you a polite wave hello.

"Girrrrrrllllll...." You smile, turning back to her. "Good for you, honestly, he is SO damn fine, respectfully of course."

Felicia throws her head back and waves you off with a laugh. "Girl, thank you. No worries at all. Yeah, he's uh, he's something else alright." She bites her lip again and looks down. "He treats me so good. It's going really well..."

You give her a warm look, the unmistakable signs of falling head over heels quite recognizable all over her demeanor and the way she's talking about him.

Felicia resumes her report. "Noir is here, but he's got a thing for Jess."

You feel slightly disappointed to hear that but nod, encouraging her to continue.

"Peter B. is here, but it's been kinda awkward. MJ is here too."

"No fucking way?" You sit up, interested. "They really invited both of them here?"

Peter B. and MJ were considered royalty as far as the show goes, with Peter being one of the most beloved suitors of the show's history. However, that quickly became tainted with scandal with the volatile on-and-off nature of his and MJ's relationship. They got engaged at the end of his season, then they were "taking some time apart", then they reunited, but he was seen in the Barbados with some mysterious brunette, but she was also out and about with no engagement ring. BUT, they were spotted in Chicago holding hands and all over each other in a night club just a month ago

"Yeah girl, I have no fucking clue. They're clearly off at the moment , but you can totally tell it's bugging Peter. She's all over George right now."

"Girl noooo. George Stacy?!"

"George, fucking-Stacy, girlll."

George had troubling political opinions and was known for being quite a douche. BUT he was also well over 6 feet tall with ocean eyes, big arms, and money. Well, for you, personally, no way in hell you'd tolerate that.

"MJ hates me though." Felicia warns.

"Wait, why??"

"She thinks I "stole her man" even though Peter was literally throwing himself at me when they were on break number 394 or some shit." Felicia chuckles, shaking her head, stirring her piña colada which is now becoming a watery slush. She pauses for a moment then looks at you. "So, girl, tell me, who did you have your eyes on coming here?"

"Well..." You sigh, the options so far were not promising. "I did think Noir was cute, but he's already with Jess."

"You could still invite him on a date, technically." Felicia points out. "But, I understand. He does reallyyy seem to be into her right now. It would be hard to try and pull him at this point." She drums her fingers. "Girl! Go for Peter. Oh my God you guys would be so cute!"

You blush internally. Peter? You hadn't given him much thought. You turn around, searching for him. He's standing in the ocean a few feet away up to his ankles. He turns to the side a little, and the wind blows open his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt as he leans down to examine one of the seashells under his feet.

Oh God, he was handsome. 6'2, lean muscles peppered with dark hair that ran across his chest and belly button, and a shadow of stubble on his face gave him a rugged feel, but those chocolate puppy brown eyes made him look so innocent. One of his cheeks had a little dimple that would pop out when he made that signature little smirk of his.

"Fffuck...really, girl?" You murmur, your jaw practically still hanging open at the sight of him. "But I thought you two were a thing?"

Felicia smirks. "Hell no! I rejected him forever ago. You sooo like him! I can tell. Just do it!"

You take a shaky breath. "God...okay, fuck it. I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Good luck!" Felicia calls after you. "Come find me afterwards and tell me everything!!"

You nod and shoot her a smile as you walk away. You bite your lip, your stomach doing all sorts of flips and tricks as you approach Peter. He has sort of a hopeless look on his face as he watches George and MJ from afar cuddled up on their beach towels, George's rough hands rubbing sunscreen into her shoulders as he was practically eye-fucking her.

"Peter!" You call for him. Peter turns, confused at the sound of a woman's voice calling for him, but his pupils go wide when he locks eyes with you for the first time.

"H-Hey!" His lips part a little bit at the sight of your gorgeous hair and friendly smile. His eyes start to land on your figure but he quickly flicks them back upwards to look into yours, not wanting to look like a perv. God, he was so cute. He offers you one of his hands, his voice gentle. "I'm Peter B."

You introduce yourself and he repeats your name back to you. The way he says it is making you scream a little on the inside, his voice is soothing and low. And suddenly you want to know more, so much more about him. And with the way he's gazing down at you, he does too.

You two just stand there in the ocean, chatting as the wind rustles against you both. Soon, the sun is starting to dip further down in the sky and you feel a chill coming on. Peter notices the goosebumps on your arms and wraps his shirt around you, holding you under his arm as you both meander back to the beach.

You squeal when he swoops you into a bridal style carry, butterflies appear in his stomach when he feels your hair brush under his chin, and he's almost tempted to pull you in closer. No, he decides there's plenty of time for that later, if all of this continues to go as flawlessly as it is already. He sets you down on one of the poolside cabanas, spreading a blanket over your legs. You curl up under it, shooting him a smile of appreciation. He looks at you with adoring eyes at how cute you look curled up like that.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He asks gently, the tips of his fingers brushing against your thigh, sending a chill down your spine.

"Um, vodka cranberry, please." You say sweetly. Peter gives you his signature smirk, the little dimple in his cheek driving you wild. His fingers make full contact with your thigh this time, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"Coming right up..." he's off to get you your drink, leaving you internally screaming by the pool.

---

Jason is leaning against a palm tree, silently monitoring the scene of flirtatious couples below when a tall dark figure approaches him. The camera stays on Jason and captures the look of shock across his face.

"Well, well, WELL! Look who it is, great to see you man!"

The man's face isn't shown, and it appears his response is being muted off mic, Jason's voice is the only audible one, the camera focusing on his reactions with the mystery guest,

"Wow...I'm so sorry to hear that man...yeah, yeah she's here. And you're sure about this.....? Alright, well here's your date card, feel free to use it whenever you wish. Good luck down there man."

------

You and Peter are laughing together by the pool, the alcohol slowly starting to weave its way into your banter. The daybed you're sharing is just a smidge too small, forcing your thigh to touch his as you squish on it together, bodies laying side by side. When you ask him a question, you subtly push yours a little closer into his. Peter seems to notice your increasing touch, his train of thought stalling for just one minute, before he turns pink and apologizes. "Sorry, must be the alcohol," he mumbles cutely, looking sheepishly at you.

"Yeah, the alcohol..." you tease, your pointer finger traces his sternum. His breath hitches and he's looking at you with wet lips, his eyes come to rest on your breasts that are squished so deliciously together.

You're looking back at him too, letting your eyes rake over his body up and down, admiring how good he looks and how the faded blue lights from the pool are casting a sensual shadow over his form, wondering how it would look if it were in the darkness of your bedroom instead.

Peter clears his throat. The nervousness catching up to him, and he turns his head, gazing at the shimmering water. "Sorry..." he lets out a breathy chuckle, then turns back to you. "I haven't connected this quickly with someone ever since...well I mean, since my last relationship which ended badly..... As I'm sure you're well aware of thanks to the press."

You hum, your finger now tracing little circles on his shoulder, making him tremble slightly. "Yeah....I heard. I'm kind of in the same boat."

You take a deep sigh. God, just when you thought you were getting over him, Miguel pulls you right back in. Being with Peter right now feels foreign, strange. You can't put a finger on it. You notice that those decadent brown eyes are already fixed on you, and you stare back, your voice oozing a hint of desire as you softly tell him,

"But, I wouldn't mind if I...spent some more time getting to know you."

Peter exhales softly, you detect the sweetness of the liquor on his breath, the wetness that the rim of his glass left behind is shiny on his bottom lip, and all you want to do is taste.

Peter slowly smirks back, his fingers coming to pull under your chin, bringing your face closer to his.

"I wouldn't mind either..." lust codes his voice now. But, before he goes in to kiss you, his eyes soften a little bit as he drinks in your features. "You're very beautiful..."

You feel the heat rising in your body, you drape one of your legs around him, resting your knee on his hip. "Thank you..."

Peter lets out a soft groan, his hand immediately comes to grip your thigh, encouraging you to press your body against his, and he traps your lips in his with a fiery kiss.

The stubble from his face is a little scratchy, but you don't mind. His tongue is sweet from the wine he was drinking, and you can't get enough. His hands travel a little higher on your thighs and you gasp into his mouth as he pulls you on top of him so you're straddling him with one knee on either side of his waist.

"C'mere..." he purrs.

You lean in closer to him, pressing your forehead against his to try and make your moans more quiet as he grinds your pussy against the bulge in his swim trunks, the soft fabric of your bikini bottoms separating you. The friction is delicious and you reward him with a neverending chorus of his name.

"Peter...."

Peter gives a loud groan, his grip on your hips tightens, this time bucking his hips under your spread pussy, letting you ride the outline of his cock.

"Ffuck....Peter, baby...." you whine.

"Mmm yeah, baby?" Peter lands a sharp spank on your ass in response, making you curse under your breath again. "You like what I'm doing to you?"

"Yes baby, I love it." You bite your lip, closing your eyes. "What if someone sees us, baby?"

"Let em watch.." Peter moans.

"Oh God...don't stop, please." Your moans rise in pitch.

"Fffuck....." Peter breaths out, his hands coming up to grip your breasts while you ride him. "I won't baby...fuck..." The sensation causes him to close his eyes as well. "You feel too good to stop."

You lean over, your lips crashing greedily against his, both of your tongues dancing in each other's mouths, while you grind together. His hands can't get enough and he finally starts to curl two fingers inside your pussy which elicits a sharp cry of passion, Peter playfully shushing you as he kisses your nose.

-----

The rose Miguel is holding falls onto the sand below as he watches you and Peter heavily making out, now engaged in mild foreplay and you might as well start fucking at any moment now due to how hot and heavy the scene is.

It's almost a race with how quickly the jealousy, nausea, and rage rises in Miguel's body, filling him to the brim. He stands there, jaw and shoulders tense. His cock twitches a little at your whines but seethes at the sight of another man's hands all over you. He finally rips himself away, not able to withstand it any longer.

Noir and Jess look at him with raised eyebrows as he sits at the beachside bar after downing 3 shots of tequila back to back. He just sits there, eyes glazed over at the empty shot glasses in front of him for several moments until he leans forward, laying his head in his arms with his eyes closed.

----

To be continued...

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spotify #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara angst #miguel ohara angst #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #Spotify

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Text

it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.

Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.

A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!

divider by firefly-graphics

Today is hot.

Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool.

You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.

You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.

Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night.

You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.

The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees.

You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.

The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora.

The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.

That’s never stopped you, though.

Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.

Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.

There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.

He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them.

He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.

The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.

You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep.

“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.

The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him.

He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.

Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.

The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head.

“Can you swim?” you ask.

He stares at you, blinking.

“What?” he says after a beat.

“Can you swim?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”

"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”

His brows furrow.

“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.

“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.

“That’s good thinking.”

You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I walked.”

“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”

“Oh. I climbed the fence.”

You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him.

“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"

His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”

“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”

“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”

“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”

“My house number has a three in it,” he says.

“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.

He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you.

“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.

“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”

He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”

"Who doesn't?"

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it.

“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says.

You shrug and kick at the water gently.

“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”

“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”

“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say.

“Well, this isn’t her gate.”

“Yeah. I like your shorts.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink.

“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask.

That turns his cheeks pinker.

“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”

“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923."

“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”

“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”

Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”

“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."

“Huh.”

You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours.

"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."

"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."

"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile.

You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing.

Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.

"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.

"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."

Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt."

“My dirt?”

“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."

"Out of dirt?"

"Out of worms."

"Huh."

Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge.

"Your hair is wavy," you observe.

"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."

"Like what? Secrets?"

"No, like, gel. Product."

You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”

Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."

"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."

"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."

"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."

"Will do."

"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."

A smile creeps onto Steve's face.

"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some lemonade?"

"Is it poisoned?"

"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."

"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."

Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much.

"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks.

"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."

"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."

Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.

He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe.

"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."

Steve makes a weird noise in his throat.

"Uh, th-thanks," he says.

"You're welcome."

"So you, uh, know Lucas?"

"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."

You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change.

"You don't have a car?" Steve asks.

"No."

"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"

"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."

Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours.

"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says.

"Uh-huh. A Porsche."

A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you.

Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.

"Shit. Not enough sugar?"

You swallow and open your eyes.

"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly.

"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."

"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour."

Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."

You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."

Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun.

"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks.

"Why would she pick me up?"

"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."

"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."

Steve frowns deeply.

"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again.

It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade.

"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink.

You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass.

"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"

"But what?" he prompts.

"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”

Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”

“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”

Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.

“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”

“You have kids?”

“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."

You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.

"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."

"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."

Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number.

“You want me to call you?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”

Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”

Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up.

"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."

"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers.

"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."

"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."

Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still.

He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent.

Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing.

"Good penmanship," you say.

"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."

"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."

"Graphologist?"

"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"

"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."

You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.

“Thank you for not poisoning me."

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile.

His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill.

You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.

“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.

You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.

You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”

“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”

Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through.

Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips.

“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.

Your eyes dart from his chest to his face.

“Yes.”

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”

“Second time’s the charm,” you say.

“I thought it was the third time.”

“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”

Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.

“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."

You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”

“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”

“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He grins. “Sure thing.”

You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.

"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."

Then you go.

You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother.

“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.

You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour.

Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept.

There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world.

Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt.

From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat.

You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk.

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.

Okay. Maybe you mind a little.

"Hey, neighbor!"

You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him.

"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb.

"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly.

"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."

Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes."

"Undoubtedly," you say.

"Are you his neighbor?" she asks.

"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him."

"I believe it," says Max.

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks.

"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”

Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."

"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse.

"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.

"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"

Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."

"A series of what?"

"Poems."

"Love poems are corny," she says.

You wonder if Steve would agree.

"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say.

Max acquiesces with a hum.

"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."

So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block.

The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead.

“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”

You follow her gaze and spot Steve.

Oh. Steve.

He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee.

“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”

The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”

Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max.

“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.

“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.

He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier.

She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you.

“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”

“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.

Max shakes her head at you.

“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.

“Oh. You’re doing great."

“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup.

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.

"Hi,” he says. "I can pay."

“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.

“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”

“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.

“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.

You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what.

Steve glances at her, mouth pinching.

“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream.

“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.

Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.

"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says.

Steve whips his head around to hiss at her.

"Robin."

"She's my neighbor," Lucas says.

"We know," Max tells him.

"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."

"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say.

She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you.

"Princess Buttercup?" you ask.

"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”

You mull that over.

"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley."

Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…"

Robin snickers. Max smirks.

"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says.

"Shut—"

He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes.

"Have some class, will you?" she says.

"I'm classy!" Steve insists.

"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter."

"Childcare is dutiful work," you say.

Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Is that a mud pie?” he asks.

You nod.

“Gummy worms?”

You tilt your head. “How did you know?”

Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”

Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.

“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”

“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”

“Are they your kids?” you ask.

Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.

“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”

“How many kids do you have?” you ask.

“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”

“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”

“I’m alright.”

You lean in. Steve blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You have an eyelash.”

You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.

“You have to make a wish.”

Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.

“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”

The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.

You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed.

Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror.

You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can.

The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin.

You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone.

Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons.

The phone rings. You rock on your toes.

“Hello?” Steve says.

You freeze.

“Hellooo…?”

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”

“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”

“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”

Relief floods you. He remembers.

“Yes. If you’re planning it.”

“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"

“I can walk.”

“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.

“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”

You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers.

Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves.

It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy.

The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.

“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks.

You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest.

You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.

“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”

Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.

“Hi, El,” you say. “Cool hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”

“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”

"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?"

“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles.

Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.

Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything.

They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet.

But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.

“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”

“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”

The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem.

Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk.

“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”

She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees.

You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say.

Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”

You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.

Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.

“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.

You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.

“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.

“What?”

You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”

“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”

“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”

“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”

Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.

“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”

Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile.

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”

“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”

“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”

“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.

“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”

“Triple threat.”

He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.

“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”

“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”

His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.

“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”

Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says.

“I’m nervous,” you confess.

“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”

Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks.

You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.

Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister.

Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important.

Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt.

You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn.

The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates.

It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open.

"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."

"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up.

"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"

Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.

As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately.

You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch.

You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath.

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"

He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."

The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."

"That's okay. Just the cookies, then."

"Buttercup?"

You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing.

You wave back. Robin squeals.

"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified.

"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."

"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck.

“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.

“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”

"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”

"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”

Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”

"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."

"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"

"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand.

The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve.

"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”

"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”

“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?”

Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding.

"'S good," he says after he swallows.

"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say.

His cheeks turn pink again.

"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."

Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek.

"Uh, thanks."

“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?"

"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."

"I want a cookie!" Dustin says.

"Dude," Steve hisses.

You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie.

"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.

“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.

“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”

You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.

“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”

"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.

"By accident?"

"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate."

Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird.

Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"

"They're for Joan," you say.

"Joan? Is she your friend?"

"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand."

"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers.

"Yes," you say. "They can be."

"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."

You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."

You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin.

"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."

"Wait!"

Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.

"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."

"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."

You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails.

"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat.

Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."

"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."

He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant.

"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."

"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger."

He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids.

"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?"

"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it.

He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle.

"Thank you," you say.

"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger.

"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt."

"It wasn't awkward."

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”

"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”

"Do you want another lady's kiss?"

"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."

You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it.

"Your hair has product," you observe.

"Yeah. No secrets, though."

"Everybody's hair has secrets."

"Even yours?" he asks.

"Especially mine."

Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting.

"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks.

"I like it as well as anybody else."

"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."

"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."

"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."

"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile.

"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."

"You're a very thoughtful host.”

Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot.

"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask.

Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."

"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come."

Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"

"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."

You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."

Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends.

"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Steve," you say.

"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath.

Even the way he breathes is pretty.

Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party.

Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”

You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible.

It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love.

"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.

You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch.

"But you love Brett," you'd said.

"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."

Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around.

You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same.

You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later.

Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer.

A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet.

Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand.

"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"

"No one here wants to talk," you say.

Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"

The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do.

You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else.

Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out.

You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip.

There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol.

You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it.

You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned.

You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded.

"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you.

"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."

Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."

She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard.

"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"

Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny.

"Debbie would've told me," you say.

The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe."

Weird tastes like poison in your mouth.

"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.

Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab.

You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria.

"Hello?"

You lean against the wall, phone in both hands.

"Uh, hello? Who is this?"

"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks.

"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."

"I'm sorry," you say.

"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Debbie ditched me."

Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.

"Steve?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"

"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."

Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."

"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody."

"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt.

"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small.

You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest.

You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms.

You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall.

"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"

His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo.

"My knight," you say.

"I thought Westley was a pirate."

“He was only pretending."

You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.

"Ow," you say dazedly.

"What? What hurts?"

"Keys."

"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey."

"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."

"I love that you know that."

"Do you really?"

"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home."

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark.

"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say.

"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."

"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"

The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady.

"Whoa, what's—"

"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"

"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."

You still. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.

"Comfy?" he asks.

"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."

It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke.

"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."

"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."

"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."

If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him.

But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing.

So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.

"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition.

You turn your head. "Hmm?"

"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"

"Without a doubt."

Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all.

"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out.

There's no reply. You close the door behind you.

Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.

You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence.

Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May.

“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate.

"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side.

You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.

A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe.

"Is this yours?"

"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"

He grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Cool."

You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves.

"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve.

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes.

"Making every man mad."

Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair.

"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."

"You invited me," you say.

"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."

"You play good music."

"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."

"She's obviously biased."

"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"

Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you.

"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"

"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave."

Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"

"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"

You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."

"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."

"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them."

Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."

"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."

Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt.

"I like Kashmir."

"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."

"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."

Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."

"Where's Joan?" Robin asks.

"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair.

"Sick," Eddie says.

You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."

"I like it," Robin says.

"Thank you."

Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin.

Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."

"That's a rock," says Steve.

"Yep."

"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"

"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."

"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"

"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."

You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue.

"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."

Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.

"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."

"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"

Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume."

"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say.

"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."

Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."

"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."

Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"

"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again."

"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest.

"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail.

Steve turns to you and smiles softly.

"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."

"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law."

You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time.

Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.

"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard.

You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not.

The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.

“Here, take my seat,” he says.

“We can share,” you offer.

Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers.

“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.

“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”

“It’s spectacular.”

He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”

“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”

Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”

“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.

He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”

“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”

“Doritos!” Robin shouts.

“Napkins, please,” El says.

“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.

“Beer!” Eddie whoops.

“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”

“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”

“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”

Steve sighs, lifting his arms.

“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”

“I can help,” you offer.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.

“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”

You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.

"Whoa, whoa.”

Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops.

"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."

You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."

"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.

"I knew you’d best me and succeed."

"Best you?"

"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."

Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows.

"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"

"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."

"I would never try to sword fight you."

"I appreciate that."

His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.

“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”

You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair.

“Buttercup?”

You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember.

Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.

“Yes, Westley?”

Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”

“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”

Steve’s eyes widen.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”

“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not like Debbie,” you say.

“I know.”

“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”

“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.

“Oh.”

You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.

“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper.

He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I would very much like that.”

Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.

You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist.

It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.

The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in.

Dustin shrieks.

“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”

“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter.

“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”

They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.

“Again, very sorry about them.”

“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.

Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”

You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle.

“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”

“Three popsicles?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”

“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things

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zazter-den · 7 months

Text

Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

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fearandhatred · 1 month

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good omens and religiosity

ok so one thing about me is that i'm christian and i'm also VERY interested in the sociology of religion. last year i wrote a paper on religion in film and television (more specifically the differences between christianity in film and television vs other religions, both in how they are portrayed and how they are perceived) and i did mention good omens in it so. i wanna see something

*MRWR stands for "my relationship with religion". too long for the poll lmao

**"affected your liking of good omens" can either mean 1. influenced your opinions on the show while/after you watched it, 2. it got you to start watching it, or 3. made you grapple with your liking of the show (e.g. religious guilt)

please reblog for sample size because i feel like there are about 0.7 actual practicing christians/catholics in this fandom lmaoo 😭 also if you care to elaborate in the tags please do so!!! this is very intriguing to me!!!!!

edit: i forgot to add an "more than one/other" option. you know what just pick the most applicable one or tell me in the tags thanks bye. sorry for the lack of options but this is just for my own interests and not official research and also i made this poll at like 4am

edit 2: some people asked so if it wasn't obvious this poll is mainly about christianity/catholicism (bc this poll idea was sparked by my research on christian hegemony!). if you don't fit into any of the categories the "none of the above" option is there for u

#fearandhatred #fearandpolls #this poll is probably not worded very well but whatever #good omens #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens polls

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bro-atz · 4 months

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Would you ever consider a part 2 to the professor!yunho imagine? One where they’re hiding their relationship but maybe they almost get caught one day?

opticks

in which: you and professor jeong yunho decided to continue your relationship secretly, only to almost get caught one day

pair: professor!yunho/afab!reader

word count: 4k

content: smut, teacher x student relationship (college level, so it's completely legal mind you), safe sex, professor kink?, choking, oral sex, bedroom sex, office sex, completely consensual!

author's note: anon, i originally was not going to do a part two since i wanted to make this a prof series w some of the other members but 1. prof yunho is hot as fuck and 2. my roommate and i were talking the student that ross dated in friends, so fuck it let's do this let's bring those forum girls back... also like tysm for waiting like if you forgot you asked this or assumed i deleted it i hope that reading this makes up for the wait/sadness (':

tag list: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols apply for the permanent taglist here! network: @cromernet professor!series: yunho pt. 1, yunho pt. 2, san pt. 1, san pt. 2, yeosang, seonghwa

post: i would absolutely love if prof jeong sat me on his lap in his office and bounced me on his dick. replies: 1: oh yes and then he sweeps all of his stuff off his desk and fucks me into the table → 2: girly you are unhinged 3: imagine if he stuck his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet while he fucked you on his chair → op: that'd be fucking amazing 4. i'd rub myself against his thighs first ngl have you seen how muscular they are? → 1: fuck you're so right → op: rubbing myself on him until my panties are soaking wet is definitely something to think about... → 2: do y'all have wet dreams about prof jeong bc jesus → 4: as if you've never had any → 2: ...you're right okay moving on 2: guys but like... why do i feel like prof is in a relationship → 1: has he said anything??? → 2: no but like... the vibes are there → 1: IJBOL girl stfu what fucking vibes → 3: don't go breaking my heart → op: there's no way he is → 4: why do you say that? → op: have you seen his work sched?? → op: even getting office hours w him is impossible

“Are you sure you’re not posting anything on the forum?” Yunho asked you. “Because, darling, if there’s anything you want me to do, you can just tell me to my face.”

You found yourself in Yunho’s office sitting on his thigh— you didn’t know how it came to be, but one second you were discussing a test with him, and the next you were actualizing what the girls in the forum were posting about. You clung to Yunho’s shoulders as you rubbed yourself along his clothed thigh, your panties getting wetter by the second. You glared at him slightly as you replied with a trembling voice, “Baby, I promise. None of those posts are mine. I’m only checking the forum because of you asked me to.”

“So you don’t have any perverted fantasies you want to fulfill with me?” there was a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“You’re—” you sharply inhaled when you felt your clit brush against his thigh just right. “You’re the perverted one here, Yunho.”

“True, but,” Yunho dropped his voice as he gripped your waist tightly and pressed his lips against your ear as he spoke. “You have to be a little perverted, too, for you to agree to this.”

You wanted to retort, but Yunho pushed his thigh up the slightest bit and planted wet kisses on your neck, making you let out a breathy moan. His fingers slipped under your shirt and massaged your breasts over your bra before he said softly, “Get up and strip for me, darling.”

He left you with a sweet kiss before helping you stand on your trembling legs. You shed your clothes while Yunho unbuckled his belt and slid his own pants down before swiftly rolling a condom on. You were left in only your panties when Yunho reached out for you. You pushed your panties to the side and positioned his twitching cock at your entrance. You sighed blissfully as you felt his dick stretch you out and fill you up.

“The forum said that I should bounce you on my dick,” he whispered teasingly in your ear. “Do you want me to do that?”

“Yunho,” you moaned. “Fuck me however you want. I just need you to fuck me.”

“Anything you want, darling.”

With that, Yunho cupped his hands over your ass and started moving you up and down. You gripped his shoulders tightly and let out a slight whine as you buried your face in his neck and did your damn best to suppress your moans. You felt like he got bigger every time he pushed your waist down onto his lap, and you let out a loud moan when he jerked his hips upwards, your ass stinging with the impact.

Before you could let out another moan, you felt Yunho run his fingers through your hair and pull your head out of his neck. He gripped the roots of your hair tightly as he left a powerful kiss on your lips, your lower lip tingling as he sucked hard, electricity zapping through your nerves as he dove his tongue deep into your mouth. Passionate exhales left your lung between each kiss, and you felt Yunho smirk slightly against your lips. He pulled his head away and quickly replaced his invasive tongue with his slender fingers.

“Not so loud.”

“I ca—”

“If you stay quiet right now, I’ll take you home and fuck you tonight as well,” he offered an incentive with a low, dangerous tone.

Gulping, you nodded and proceeded to focus sucking on his fingers as his hips slammed up even harder. You squeezed your eyes shut and clung to him, your fingers raking through his hair and latching on when you felt his fingers go even further into your mouth.

“Fuck, I need more than this,” you heard the man hiss in your ear, nearly making you cum— you always got even more turned on when you heard the professor use profanities.

He quickly withdrew his fingers from your mouth and lifted you as he stood up. With one hand under your ass to support you, he used the other to sweep everything off his desk and lay you down flat. He went from his hands to his elbows as he pinned you down and fucked you so hard that the desk started creaking. You were worried that the desk would collapse under your weight, but that worry immediately vanished when Yunho’s fat cock brushed against your G-spot and hit your cervix. You bit your lower lip and did your best to muffle your cry of pleasure as you came, your entire body shaking.

“Oh fuck!” Yunho bit out.

You blinked tears from your eyes as you looked at him. His jaw was tense, and his eyes were dark. He yanked you towards him quickly, his waist slamming against yours once last time as a low, deep moan left his throat, his cum filling up the condom. He breathed heavily as he stayed inside you, his body hunching over yours, his head dropped. You reached up and pushed his hair out of his face, a soft smile appearing on his face and, subsequently, yours.

“Was that everything on the thread?” he asked you teasingly.

“You’re such a perv, Yunho.”

post: so i stopped by prof jeong’s office during his office hours the other day but i wasn’t able to meet w him… his door was locked and i figured i’d come back later bc he prob had another student w him, but i lingered for a little in case his meeting ended and i swear i heard a girl moan his name and then there were also… other noises.

replies: 1: no fucking way. → op: i’m serious → 3: what did the other noises sound like?? → op: like mac and cheese → 3: THAT’S WHAT GOOD PUSSY SOUNDS LIKE HELP → 1: WHAT THE FUCK??????? → op: https://youtu.be/JBaHxFgmRdE

2: are you sure you weren’t just having a wet dream op? bc i seriously doubt it → op: no dude i swear this is real → 2: did you see who it was then? → op: i tried waiting, but then i got a call and had to leave → 2: sure, yeah, "a call" stop lying

3: see guys i’m telling you professor jeong is in a relationship → 4: you should ask him then → 1: stop! no! prof is definitely not!

4: guys imma ask him if he is after his class this week. i’ll post and lyk what he says → 3: gl friend

“Baby, look at this…” you said cautiously as you held your phone out for him to see.

You were sitting in his kitchen scrolling through the forum as he cooked dinner for the two of you— well, you already finished dinner, so he was doing the dishes while you sat and waited for him to finish up.

Yunho leaned over the counter to get a better look at your phone screen. He stifled a chuckle, a puff of air slipping out as he leaned back and continued washing the dishes.

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed— you were seconds away from having a full blown panic attack. “What if we get caught?! Getting expelled is one thing, but these girls are going to actually assassinate me if they find out! I don’t want them coming for my head!”

With a small sigh, Yunho turned off the faucet and wiped his hands dry before walking around the countertop and sitting on a chair next to you. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your temple lightly.

“Don’t stress out about it. If you worry too much, then you’re more likely to get caught. Besides, they only seem to be interested in whether or not I’m in a relationship, so if I say that I’m not, then you’ll be safe,” Yunho said in a calming voice.

Your heart hurt slightly— you weren’t one to ask the “What are we?” question, but you did want to know how Yunho felt about you. Sure, he loved you and you loved him, but you hadn’t established any labels yet. You lowered your head and nodded, your eyes gazing at your lap.

You kept your head down as you felt Yunho slip your phone out of your grasp and set it aside. He then pulled you into his chest and hugged you while nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You felt him exhale, the warm air hitting your exposed collarbones, sending shivers down your spine. You hugged him back and sighed as you melted into his embrace, the warmth of his skin and strength of his hold calming you down.

It was when Yunho licked your neck then planted wet kisses on your neck did your mind completely clear. All you could focus on was clinging to him as he lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He carried you to his bedroom and laid you down gently, his lips moving from your neck to your jaw to your lips.

“Darling,” Yunho whispered breathlessly in between kisses. “We don’t have to have sex tonight if you don’t want to—”

“No, I do. Please, baby. Have your way with me,” you whined. “Fuck me until I’m screaming and crying.”

“Okay. Strip and lay down flat,” Yunho instructed as he sat up.

“Yes, professor.”

You watched Yunho visibly shiver as he got off the bed. He looked you dead in the eye, a dangerous glint in his eye. “So that’s how you want to play it today, huh?”

“Yes, professor,” you replied teasingly while holding his gaze, a playful smirk crossing your face.

Yunho nodded. He pointed at your clothes and gestured, re-instructing you to strip. Doing as he said, you took off all your clothes and laid flat on the bed. The position was definitely awkward, and you felt yourself get slightly embarrassed just laying there stark naked, but when you paid attention to Yunho’s movements, the embarrassment faded. You watched him absentmindedly pump his cock until it was rock hard and standing erect. He rolled the condom on while letting out a light exhale. You chewed on your lower lip as you stared him down while he approached the bed.

“Don’t bite your lip like that, darling,” Yunho whispered before kissing you. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep your lip tucked in like that.”

“Promise?”

Yunho had to stifle a giggle. He shook his head and regained his composure— truth be told, he didn’t like to be called professor, but when you called him professor in bed, it made him all sorts of horny. He wanted to go further with this kink tonight.

“Y/N, you’re a bad student, aren’t you?” Yunho asked as he knelt, his knees on either side of your waist.

“Yes, professor. I’ve been a very bad student,” you whispered and nodded. “Very bad.”

“You came during my office hours to seduce me, didn’t you?”

He trailed his finger from the center of your neck down your chest, his nail tracing under your boob. You shivered and pressed your lips together in a tight line, doing your best to not bite your lip. You gasped and let out a shuddering exhale when you felt his large hand rest over your ribs, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin.

“No, I wanted to go over my results for the last test because I didn’t do that well,” you murmured— it honestly was the truth because you did go to discuss test results and ended up fucking him in his office all because he asked you about the forum.

“You know the concepts that you were being tested on, Y/N. Did you intentionally fail as an excuse to be alone with me in my office?”

“No—”

“Or are you trying to fail so you can be in my class again next semester?”

“I— Oh, fuck!”

Yunho didn’t give you the chance to respond. Without warning, he shoved his cock into your wet pussy quickly and harshly, his cock filling you up. You moaned loudly and tried to move your legs, but he had a firm hold on your thighs, making you keep your legs flat on the bed. You grabbed his arms and dug your nails into the skin on his forearms as he moved without remorse, his cock sliding in and out of you at a fast rate that you were not anticipating.

When Yunho changed his angle slightly, you felt the length of his cock rub repeatedly against your clit, making you tremble all over. You attempted to reach down and rub your clit as well, your orgasm nearing, but before you could even graze down there with the pads of your fingers, Yunho grabbed your hand. He lowered his upper body and forced your hand to rest on his shoulder. You ended up clawing Yunho’s back when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat and press lightly, a gasp and whine leaving your lips.

“You want me to punish you, don’t you?” Yunho said in between grunts as his hips rammed his cock deep inside you. “That’s why you let yourself be heard. That’s why you let someone overhear us, right?”

“N-no, that’s not— Ah!” you cried when his hold on your neck got the slightest bit tighter.

“This act needs to be punished, you know that, right?” Yunho brought his lips to your ear, his voice deep and dark.

“Ye-es, Professor Jeong.”

“Good girl,” Yunho said sweetly, making your body flush with heat. He let go of your neck and pulled out before saying, “Hands and elbows. Now.”

Breathing deeply, you struggled to do ask he asked now that your blood was rushing back to your head. Yet, you managed flip yourself over as he ordered. Without so much as a warning, Yunho grabbed your ass with a tight grip and shoved into you once again, his strong hands pulling you back towards him while he thrust forward.

Yunho’s gyrations sped up when he bent over you, his chest pressing against your shoulders. His arms snaked around your body, and his fingers sought out your nipples. He pinched them tightly and twisted them while pulling down, earning a loud cry of pain mixed with pleasure. You only got louder when his entire hand gripped and massaged your breasts roughly.

“Yu-yunho— Fuck!”

You weren’t expecting the man to slap your ass. Yunho had moved back up and slapped your ass a second time before biting out, “It’s Professor Jeong to you.”

“P-professor, I’m gonna cum!”

Your voice shrilled as you began to see spots. Yunho pushed himself so far into you, his cock brushing against your cervix as his waist pressed right into your ass. You felt the wave of pleasure take over you and flung your head back, unable to bear the restriction of your orgasm. Yunho pulled out suddenly, and you squirted all over the bed, your entire body trembling.

Seeing your ass and thighs jiggle as you came uncontrollably was too much for Yunho. He barely let you finish properly before he shoved two of his fingers into you roughly, his curled fingers slipping in and out of you. He hit your G-spot several times, and you squirted again, this time all over his hand. However, that wasn’t enough for the man.

You were practically sobbing when you felt Yunho pull you up and over so that you were sitting in between his legs, his hot, throbbing cock pressing into your back. One hand on your breast, the other slithered in between your legs, his fingers re-entering you. He bit your shoulder and handled you with such force and strength that your brain completely melted. You came yet again when left the sloppiest kiss on your neck. You for sure thought that he was going to give you a second after that, but you were sorely mistaken.

Before you realized it, Yunho had you so that you were on your back again. He spread your thighs and pushed his face in between your legs, his nose brushing against your clit.

“P-professor, wait, slow down!” you cried as your fingers found their way to his hair.

You gripped and pulled the roots of his hair, trying your best to move the man away from your cunt. But, Yunho was an immovable force. No matter how much you cried and beg and pleaded, he remained right where he was, his tongue deep inside and violating you without remorse.

Right as you were nearing your nth climax of the night, you squeezed your thighs together, prompting Yunho to remove himself from your pussy. He rubbed two of his fingers against your clit quickly until you felt like your clit was going to catch on fire, and you came again. Your entire body convulsed, your grip on him gone as you ran your fingers through your own hair trying to cling to whatever remaining sanity you had left.

Tears blurred your vision as you cracked your eyes open to see Yunho preparing himself at your entrance.

“Wait!” you breathed out. “Give me a second! Please.”

“It wouldn’t be a punishment if I listened to you, darling,” Yunho stated as he kissed your tears away. “But, I’ll slow down if you really need me to.”

Yunho left sweet kisses on your lips, his eager cock twitching as it yearned to be inside you. However, he waited until you were ready for him. The two of you continued to make out, your hips unconsciously rolling into the sheets. Yunho felt you writhe below him, and without breaking your chain of kisses, he swiftly entered you again, but he kept the slow pace up.

You were the one to break away first. You moved your head to the side and guided Yunho’s head into your neck, silently requesting him to kiss your neck as he fucked you senseless again. Yunho did as you asked, and he left sloppy pink marks along your neck as he bucked his hips against yours. He had one hand hold your head while the other one guided your thigh upwards, your knee pressing in your breast as his thrusts got jerkier and harder.

Yunho was close. He pushed himself up and grabbed both of your legs, your legs resting his shoulders as he sat upright and rut himself into you at a fast, steady pace over and over again, your entire body shifting with every thrust. You nearly bit your lower lip, only to remember Yunho��s words from earlier that night, so you bit down on your knuckle as the man sped up.

“Shit, I’m cumming!” Yunho groaned, his cock still gliding in and out of you as it spasmed.

You felt him twitch several times inside you, his chest heaving as groans left his system. His hold on your legs weakened, allowing you to lower your legs and fully melt into the bed. You remained in said puddle even when Yunho got off the bed, threw out the condom, went to the kitchen, and returned with water. He helped you up and sat next to you, allowing you to lay your head on his chest. You sipped at the water and snuggled into his embrace further.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked gently as he brushed stray hairs away from your face.

“Fulfilled,” was the best word you could come up with to accurately describe your physical state.

“Good.”

You detected slight disappointment in his voice. You sat away from him to get a good look at his face as you asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yunho smiled and shook his head.

“You don’t sound like nothing’s wrong. What is it?”

“…Are you sure you’re okay with us doing this? I don’t want you to feel scared to be with me,” Yunho whispered.

“As long as I’m with you, I’m not scared of anything,” you shook your head. “I love you, Yunho.”

A genuine smile crossed his face. “I love you, too,” he whispered happily as he hugged you closer to him, his hand running over your waist as he left a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

Take the glass of water out of your hands, he set it aside before lacing his fingers with yours, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. He rubbed calming circles into your hand, his head resting gently on top of yours as he continued, “I’ll always be here for you, so don’t let those forum girls scare you, okay? We won’t get caught. I promise.”

“Alright, class dismissed!”

You watched Yunho from your seat in the classroom as you packed up and noticed a gaggle of girls heading right towards him. You watched the scene unfold as you continued to pack up your materials, the shrills of the girls’ voices reaching your ears.

“Professor Jeong!” the way the girls spoke to him made you want to tear your ears out, but you continued to listen anyway. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You choked on your own spit. You watched with wide eyes as Yunho calmly responded, his face unflinching as he answered their inquiry.

“That’s awfully direct,” Yunho said with a light chuckle.

“We just wanna know because we all keep arguing about it, that’s all,” another girl explained.

“I see… But, that is a very personal question, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer it. Maybe ask me questions about class?”

“Okay, then, when you teach, do you think about someone?”

“I’m not answering that either.”

“Please?!”

You quickly made your way down the lecture hall steps as the girls inched closer towards the man you loved, nearly cornering him.

“Professor, I have a question about the upcoming test,” you said as soon as you reached the podium.

“See,” Yunho pointed at you. “That’s a question I can answer. What is it?”

“I was wondering about these equations…”

You absentmindedly spoke as you watched the girls slink away, their heads bowed in defeat as they left the lecture hall, leaving you and Yunho in there alone.

“Thank you for that,” Yunho said with a sigh— apparently those questions the girls bombarded him with did a number on him.

“Okay, but now I wanna know,” you said quietly.

“Know what?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Yunho furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you, only for him to understand what you were implicitly asking.

“Of course I am,” he answered with a grin. “I’m seeing you, darling.”

“So would you say that we’re dating? We’re in a relationship?”

“Yes, Y/N, I would say that. You are my girlfriend.”

Your heart fluttered with happiness and relief. You let out a content sigh as you replied, “Then you’re my boyfriend, professor.”

“Don’t you dare, darling, or I’ll have to fuck you right here in the lecture hall.”

“Promise?”

#broatz request #ateez #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #jeong yunho ateez #yunho ateez #jeong yunho smut #broatz #cromernet

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thebearer · 10 months

Note

no but i love your writing! ever since i watched s1 and 2 last weekend because of a youtube ad, i peaked in the carmy tag and was a surprised to see the amount of stories carmy had! would love a scenario where he’s married to a sassy, take no shit type of reader sim to natalie. his wife legit could work with him for all i care. but for whatever reason he does something w/o checking in— he prolly just forgot. she finds out and confronts him hella pissed (could be at family or during restaurant prep idc) and she says “oh, if carmen said it was cool.” not even carmy the full government name bro 😭. p much how natalie articulated it 🤣. can’t remember the ep but in early season 1 when marcus blew the fuse you can also include slick commentary from richie (and fak) if you’d like! tysm in advance 🥰. also if you don’t me me asking, do you have name/alias on this blog? what we can call you? enjoy your week

- 🥣

yes yes yes ahhhhh! he definitely needs someone who keeps him in line but walks that fine line where he can also keep them in line (bc dom!carmy is living in my heart rent free forever lol). also you can call me e if you'd like :) thank you for your sweet words! i hope you have a good week, and hope you enjoy this!

"What's this?" You ask Sydney, looking at the new box being unloaded from the truck- big and bulky in a crate, far too large to be a produce shipment.

"Uh, I think it's the new glassware for the bar." Sydney looked at her clipboard, back at you carefully.

"Glassware? What new glassware. We haven't picked that out yet." You frowned, looking at the crate carefully.

"Oh, well, it was in Carmen's notes for the day, so... I think that's the only shipment we have. Unless the hostess stand came early, which would be amazing, but you-" Sydney stopped her ramblings, seeing your soured expression. "You know what? Never mind, uh, ignore me. I'm just...Carmen's with Sugar and Richie in the back if you want to ask him."

"Thanks, Syd." You muttered, ripping the bell open with a shrill before bounding towards the back. You could hear them before you saw them, a familiar chorus of chatter and rising voices.

"Hey, so what's the delivery out front?" You ask, not bothering to wait for them to acknowledge you. If you did, you'd never talk, they all talked over each other.

"The new glasses for the bars." Sugar turned, smiling softly at you. "How are you doing?"

"Good." You muttered, eyes cutting to Carmen. "We haven't ordered new glasses yet."

"Uh, well, I thought you liked the ones from last week, angel." Carmen's eyes were bulged, clearly flustered.

"I said I liked them for basics, but I needed you to confirm a drink menu." You glared at him, arms crossing over his chest.

"You can't put the drinks in that?" Carmen asked, hand flying out towards the hall.

"Not if you want the specialty, no." You huffed. "Carmen, I told you to wait just a few days and we could get them at the wholesale market. The textured ones for the signature at least."

"Uh-oh," Richie muttered, snickering to Fak.

"Can you not use the glasses I got?" Carmen sighed.

"I can, but did you get enough? And did we decide if the signature is going in a whiskey glass or a cylinder one? Did you order double of those?" You lifted a brow, taking a step towards him. Richie and Nat watched, heads turning from you and Carmen like a tennis match.

Carmen paused, running a hand down his face. "N-No, but-"

"-So what are you going to do when we open and you run out of drinks, huh? When everyone orders the signature and it comes in different glasses? You think those travel groupie influencers won't notice? Won't post about it and make it a big fucking deal?" You countered.

"Then we'll figure it out!" Carmen huffed. "Look I gave the order to Richie, and-"

"-Hey, no fuckin' way cousin. You gave me your order." Richie held his hand up. "Sweetheart, Carmy said it was good so I just placed the order."

"Well, if Carmen said it was good, then it must be, right? He's the fucking boss." You snarl, glaring at Carmen furiously. "Seems like you've got it under control, Carm, so I'll leave it to you." You turn on your heel, furiously stomping away.

Richie and Fak wait until they hear the slam of the office door, to release their cackles. "Oooh! Cousin, you are in the fuckin' dog house now." Richie laughed, Fak's chorus of barks emphasizing his statement.

"Shut up, ok? Just shut the fuck up." Carmen growled, running a hand through his hair.

"Carmy, why wouldn't you ask her before you ordered? She's your mixologist." Nat sighed, shoulders heavy with disappointment.

"Also your girlfriend." Sydney added, poking her head in. "I told you to wait. Just saying."

"Thank you, alright, thank you all for your fuckin' helpful words." Carmen snapped. "Just... Nat, make sure they get all that shit set up right, ok? Make sure the dishwasher fucking works before we're open, please."

The office door was shut, and Carmen hesitated, reaching for the knob anxiously. He wasn't sure if he should knock- I mean, fuck, this is his office but... you were already so mad at him. Knuckles rapping on the door, he didn't wait for the invite in- knowing he'd never get one.

Carmen found you, sniffling in a furious pout in the corner, body angled away from the door. "Baby-" Carmen started with a sigh, shoulders falling gently at your upset state.

"-Don't." You snap, wiping your eyes. "Don't even start with me, Carmen." The way you say his full name sounds so bitter, too formal and full of malice to be from you.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought we agreed on it, and-and Richie was pressuring me and... And you're right. I shouldn't have made that decision without you, and I'm sorry." Carmen said slowly, waiting for your gaze to meet his, angry, wet, waterline.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." You agreed bitterly, wiping your eyes. "I get this is your restaurant, Carmen, but don't ask for my help if you're just gonna do what you want anyways. That's-That's not nice."

"I know." Carmen nodded slowly, approaching you with the caution he would a wild animal. "I want your help. I do, and-and I like your idea that the house drink goes in the special glass. Makes it stand out."

You lifted your gaze up to his. "Yeah?" You asked, he nodded, sitting next to you. "Did you blow your budget?"

"No," Carmen shook his head, not a total lie. Fak had been able pull some strings with the new stoves, turns out he did have a guy. It left a little over five thousand left over.

"We could go to that place, if you want to. Go look and see if they have the glasses. Get a rough estimate of about how many we'd need." Carmen offered, his hand cupping your thigh gently, thumb rubbing over your leg in soothing circles.

"As long as Sydney or Nat does the numbers and not you." You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes at him.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I'll get Sugar to run 'em, alright? Then we can go. Call it an early night."

You beamed at the idea, letting him slide in next to you, melting into your side. "That sounds good." You hummed, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

"I-I'm real sorry I didn't as you ." Carmen muttered. "That was shitty."

"Yeah." You sighed in agreement. "I just... I want to be included in things." You asked, looking up at him sweetly. "Not everything, but-but at least the things that apply to my area."

"I know." Carmen nodded, his hand catching your cheek softly. "I'll let you handle it next time, alright? I trust your opinion."

"You don't have to do that-"

"-No, you're right, I don't. But-But I want to." Carmen nodded. "I know you're lookin' out for the best in this place just like I am."

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nonexistent-introvert · 10 months

Text

Alternate Reminder pt 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Content: Miguel sees you again, confessions, hurt with comfort. Read part 1 before this (it's better trust me)

A/N: I didn't expect part 1 to get such an overwhelming response so here's the long-awaited part 2. its 1am, i got carried away. not proofread im gnaa paass out

Part 1

It felt weird being a spectator to Miguel’s debriefs. Your legs swung below you while you were perched on a ledge. Miguel was standing a few feet away, giving a debrief to the spidermen that had tagged along for the mission. Peter was sneaking glances at you, his face dramatically emphasising how naggy Miguel was. Jess nudged him in the ribs, urging him to pay attention before Miguel loses his patience and snap, causing the debrief to go on for even longer. You chuckled lightly at his antics.

It was weirder to see Miguel again. The last time you had seen him was when you quit. His hair has grown longer, the ends curling like you remembered. His hands moved while he emphasised on certain points he was making. A smile formed on your lips when you saw him gesture to the buildings in the city. Undoubtedly, talking about the rules of multiversal travel. Especially the rule that Spidermen were not supposed to be spotted swinging around another dimension without their mask on. Despite sitting a few feet away, far enough to be unable to hear what Miguel was saying, his words that were drilled into your mind after several mission debriefs gave you a hint of what he was talking about. You shook your head, you were no longer a member of the spider society. It should be of no concern to you what they were talking about, In an attempt to distract yourself from them, you pulled out your phone from a compartment in your suit. The screen lit up to reveal the date and time.

Miguel’s birthday was 4 days ago. You furrowed your eyebrows at that thought. His birthday hasn’t bothered you ever since you quit. Maybe it was because he was standing in a few feet away from you which reminded you of his birthday. It wasn’t like Miguel was ever one for birthdays. You stared at the frowning Miguel.

Yeah, he definitely forgot his own birthday and spent it drowning in work in his lab. An amused grin crossed your features when you remembered the times you would remind him of his own birthday. Sometimes even bringing him a cake. Miguel would pinch his nose in annoyance, claiming that you were wasting his time. Every year without fail, you would appear at his office just to celebrate his birthday for him, just to get on his nerves. Until you quit that is.

To annoy him, that was the reason behind every action you did for him. The actions ranging from making him a coffee, celebrating his birthday. These actions weren’t annoying. The only thing that was annoying was the remarks that you made upon doing all this for him. Miguel is also the only person in the world who seemed to be allergic to sweet actions. A seed of doubt formed in your heart, was it really just to annoy him? Or was there something more?

Miguel trailed off, his eyes meeting yours. There was a genuine amused smile on your face while you stared at him. His heart skipped a beat, it’s been so long since he actually felt your gaze on him. Although you seem to be in a daze to notice that he was staring back at you. He wondered what you were thinking about. He envied whatever made you so happy. Jess cleared her throat, Peter tried to stifle the smile on his face as they noticed what caught Miguel’s attention. At the same time, you finally noticed the heavy pair of eyes staring back at you. You almost fell off the ledge you were sitting on, quickly averting your gaze away from Miguel. Miguel cleared his throat awkwardly before returning to his debrief. You suddenly felt self conscious of yourself as you quickly pulled your mask over your face.

You rid yourself of the memories and tried to stop your heart from fluttering. “You just reminded him of someone he loved” you repeated to yourself, reminding yourself that you would only get hurt, that you would only live in someone else shadow if you did let yourself fall.

Almost, there was a time where you were so close to falling for Miguel. You shifted uncomfortably at the thought. You were never good at expressing your won feelings and neither was he. Despite the constant annoyance and hatred the both of you had for each other, there were times where you would like to think that beneath all that was love. The kind of love you see in old couples, those couples who bicker over the smallest things but would give their life for each other. Your heart clenched, turns out it was all a lie. Those looks, those feelings you thought he reciprocated, it was for another version of you.

Yet again, the word ‘almost’ is the saddest word in the dictionary. It gives birth to hope and the question of ‘what if?’ and those constantly leads to the disappointment you were already so used to. You shook your head, it wasn’t right to say that you loved him but you almost did. Miguel O’Hara was someone you knew you could love if you let yourself, it was completely natural to think of a possibility where you would wake up next to him and spend the rest of your life with him. Forgiveness comes easily when you let yourself think of the possibility,but you would never let yourself have to live in someone’s shadow, you respected yourself more than that. The breadth of ambiguity makes your breath hitch in anticipation, like you’re awaiting a fall when you reach the peak in a rollerocaster. How could you let go of someone you never even had?

You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Peter’s arm over your shoulder. “What got you looking like a sad puppy?” Peter laughed. You forced a smile for your friend, brushing your thoughts off. Miguel would never come back to your universe for you, you never would have to see him again and yet your heart aches.Seeing him once today was enough to undo the years of effort you had put into forgetting about his existence. Miguel O’Hara is indeed a powerful man. Jess appeared beside you, creating small talk with you. She quickly nudged Peter who clicked his tongue in annoyance, until Peter noticed who was standing behind Jess. “I guess I’ll get going now! I’ll visit you some time again!” Peter quickly unhooked his arm from over your shoulder, laughing nervously as he glanced at Miguel. “What-” You let out an exhale, wondering what had gotten into Peter while Jess drags him away.

Miguel’s mind went blank as he stood in front of you. The sunset that casted a golden glow onto your face was not helping things either as it highlighted all the features on your face. Upon noticing the huge shadow in front of you, you cursed internally. You should have left early. You watched as the spidermen slowly disappear into portals except for Miguel who still stood in front of you, also waiting till it was just the two of you.

“You came.” There was a hint of disbelief and surprise in Miguel’s voice.

“You called.” you replied without missing a beat. Miguel’s eyes widened at your response, he expected the ‘it was for work’ or that it was because the anomaly was in your own universe (of course you had to be there). Your response made his heart flutter, there was no sarcasm in your tone, only your true feelings. You swallowed, you were terrified at your own response. Knowing full well that you were being vulnerable in front of him. However, you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny how you felt about him. The excitement and anxiety that filled you when you stared at the call titled ‘Miguel’. How your breath hitched upon hearing his voice after years and how your heart lifted at the thought that he remembered you.

=======

It was foolish to invite him to your home. It was like walking straight into the lion’s den. Your home was your safe place and where you were most vulnerable. The late nights you spent patching yourself up, the grim reaper knocking at your door. The days where you broke down in the privacy of your home. Now, the man who already makes you vulnerable is standing here in your sanctuary.

Miguel’s eyes flickered from one corner to another, trying to absorb every detail of your home. A smile tugged on his lips, the places where you spent the most time at, were the messiest. The desk at your study reflected the one in headquarters. The shelves with books about science and technology were messily stacked and squeezed onto the shelves. The only shelf which contained storybooks was neat and tidy. Although there was a layer of dust slowly settling on the top of those books. The walls were decorated with pictures of you and your friends, one single picture of you and your friends from the spider society. Next to the photos were post it notes of tasks, reminders and various sketches of new designs.

“You can stop judging the mess now.” Your voice startled him, although Miguel didn’t show it. It was at the exact moment he noticed the jacket that was around your chair. It was his. You berated yourself for leaving it out. You tightened your grip on the plate in your hands. “Happy belated birthday, Miguel.” You diverted his attention away from the chair. Miguel’s eyes watered ever so slightly, he looked away from you. You remembered and maybe, you never stopped celebrating his birthday for him. Even if he doesn’t celebrates his own birthday, you made it a special day. “I didn’t expect this.” He told you, eyes still brimming with tears. “I just had some cake lying around. And- since you’re here, you reminded me.” it was another lie. On his birthday, your fingers would hover over his contact button, contemplating if you should just wish him. Then time passed and it got harder to reach out with every passing year. Yesterday, when he had called you informing you of the anomaly in your universe, you passed a bakery on your way home. It was an impulse purchase, you told yourself that you were craving for cake. Yet another lie, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat it. When you saw it this morning in your fridge again, you contemplated and stressed over how you were going to give it to him.

If it’s meant to be, the universe will pull it’s strings.

That was the conclusion you had came to when you left the house and now he stood in your home. Miguel was sitting in your dining room. You watched worriedly when he had to bend down ever so slightly to avoid hitting his head against the doorframe.”Do you not like the cake?” You asked, watching him stare at the cake. “I do.” He replied quickly, extinguishing that thought of yours. “It’s just been a while.” He admitted. Miguel picked up the fork, “Thank you.” He thanked before frowning.

“Do you always wear your mask at home?” He asked, knowing the obvious answer. Your eyes widened, touching the mask on your face. You laughed nervously, feeling more natural when you had your mask on while talking to him. It is also the reason why you didn’t notice Miguel’s eyes watering at the cake. “I don’t” You answered, plucking at the mask nervously. Miguel raised his eyebrows at you. “I’m making you uncomfortable.” He concluded. You sighed, pulling off your mask while you tried to smooth your hair down. Miguel’s gaze on your bare face made your heart tighten, knowing that you remind him of someone else. When you had your mask on, you could be sure that he was talking to you, and not her. “I’ll put it back on,” You said. Miguel’s hand reached out to stop you.

“You’re not her.” He stated firmly. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You weren’t her, you aren’t who he loves. Miguel took a bite out of the cake in front of him, trying to sort out his thoughts. “You’re more than just a memory to me.” Miguel confessed. You looked up at him and Miguel felt a pang to his chest. The hurt swirling around in your eyes. Did he cause it? You rubbed your face with your hand, using your hand to cover the pained expression you had. Why did you care? You had left with only hatred for the man before you, hated him for seeing his soulmate in you, hated him for treating you like the alternate version of you, hated him for treating you like a replacement. However, your heart ached, yearned and longed for him the longer you spent without him. Love was something that had no logical explanation. Magical was the only phrase that could describe such a beautiful yet painful emotion perfectly. Seeing Miguel in your home felt natural, like he always belonged here with you. His jacket still hanging from your closet and your chair. The coffee brand he had once recommended you was the one you drank everyday. It was no wonder why you never truly moved on, some part of him was always with you.

“You never did let me explain myself that day.” Miguel wiped his mouth with a napkin as he finished the cake. You felt your shoulders slump at the reminder of that day. “You and her may share the same name and face, but the both of you are polar opposites.” He started. Your heart cracked at the statement, he loved someone who was the opposite of you, he felt so far from you. “She’s really polite and responsible. Hell, she gets stressed easily and hates mess.” You gripped the chair you were sitting on till your knuckles turned white. “Miguel, I really don’t want to know.” You said sorrowfully. You weren’t strong enough to hear about how infatuated he was with an alternate version of you right now. Miguel looked at you, “Bear with me.” He said. You laughed at the irony of the statement. He used to bear with your antics and sarcastic remarks, now he’s asking you to bear with him. “You are messy and arguably rude, excuse my bluntness but you know it’s true.” The ends of his lips quirked upwards. “You’re incredibly carefree, always smiling and joking no matter the situation. People laugh when they are around you. Me and her, we got along really well because we were so similar to each other, but when it comes to you, me and you are complete opposites.” You glanced around your home, you were never good at heart to heart thoughts. It wasn’t any better that he was practically telling you how different the both of you were.

“Ok, you love her and I’m nothing like her. So you don’t see her in me. You can stop there now.” You mumbled, wanting to keep your heart intact for another day. Miguel let out a sigh, “You’re shit at this.” He rubbed his forehead. You rolled your eyes at him, your previous dynamic with him coming back naturally. “I’m not coming back to the spider society Miguel.” Miguel let out another disappointed sigh. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.” He assured. Miguel looked at you and he can’t help but chuckle lightly.

“You’re such an idiot.” Your jaw dropped dramatically. “You’re an idiot.” You shot back at him childishly. “You are so shit at coding, have you seen your own code? Considering you’re from the future too. And your slow ass platform, that doesn’t make you cool. It’s just stupid after the upteenth time.” You shot insult one after another. Miguel couldn’t help the baffled look on his face as he listened to you, completely in your element. Then he finally smiled again after a long while. He got you back, you were the person he remembered and fell for again. “I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you.” He started. “Yeah, maybe you should instead of talking in riddles by telling me about an alternate version of me.”

“You’re not her and you’ll never be. Because you’re you, the person I had fallen for despite everything. And because of my foolishness, I almost lost you. I’m sorry you even thought that I took you as a replacement. You never were, you always meant to me much more than that.” Miguel confessed. Your throat turned dry, the confession too out of the blue for you to confess. Minutes ago, you were still bruying yourself in self pity, that it was unrequited love between you and him. “I mean, we always had the weird dynamic that we hated eachother. But i could never hate you. When I thought you hated me, it was like my own personal torture. Cause I’m a fool for you, and the things you do. I refused to admit it because I was also afraid that I was projecting my feelings for her onto you. I was afraid of making myself vulnerable and going through the pain again. Amidst all my fears, I had pushed you away and lost you.”

“Fuckign hell Miguel.” You cursed at him, letting the tears fall from your eyes. “You made me go through a whole rollercoaster and I’m not even a fan of rollerocasters.” Miguel panicked, not knowing what to do. “I’m sorry, its ok if you don’t feel the same way. I just had to clear things up.” He rambled nervously. You shook your head, “You’re an idiot O’Hara. I can never hate you. I have fallen for you too.” You confessed, a blush taking over your features.

The euphoria in Miguel’s heart was almost too much to bear. He looked at you, the tears he kept holding back finally falling from his eyes. After all these years, he was finally happy again. He was finally given the chance to be happy aagian. Was the good karma from being spiderman finally working in his favor. Miguel leaned over the table, gently tilting your chin up as he kissed you.

Miguel didn’t mess up this time. He hasn’t lost you and he never will.

Falling for you is indeed his canon event.

tags: @notplutos @monaypo1 @mimooyi @xricly @spiritndrain @violetstyless @dhishkabob @laviedanslespetal @digipaw2-0 @dil-33 @sosograndii @butterflytyannie @4sat0ruu @1ts-okuyasuh3h3h3 @hoseokslefteyebrow @gracielukey @unavoidabledirewolf @loreleis-world @viriexo @cosmicmagicgirl @shadowqueen090 @idkneel-forloki @hannigramtampon@ironflowerpenguin@mfrnchsk@powethebowe@cookielovesbook-akie@shppliftin@lazy4teen@mrdockloverr@killerwendigo @biggiecheeze04 @spaceemeeatt2 ( i tagged everyone who left a comment)

#miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider-man #into the spider verse #spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you

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bookworm551 · 10 months

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Take the Edge Off | Part 2 | Focus

Things are tense between you and Miguel, and it all comes to a head when you try working a mission together.

A/N: this is technically a part 2, but it stands on its own pretty well. I might just keep going with these posts bc I can’t get him out of my head

Warnings: p in v, fingering, biting (ykwim), MINORS and my roommate DNI

Word count: 4.4k

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

With all the time you spent in Miguel's dimension, sometimes, you forgot that you had your own. You loved spending time amongst the Spider-Society, so many of different people who were like you in all the important ways. It was a nice environment, but it was also nice to be home every once in a while.

You'd been home for about 10 days now. You had never gone so long without being called in for a mission, and while it was nice to take a break from capturing anomalies, it also made you a little nervous. You came back the day after Miguel had visited you and left you a new gizmo...

...among other things.

Now, it had been nearly a week and a half, and there had been complete radio silence from Earth-928. You were starting to think that your little encounter with Miguel was to blame. Maybe he wanted you out now.

You had gone out to your favorite spot in the city to clear your mind. Just as you were preparing to swing back home, a beeping noise captured your attention from your wrist. Your heart leapt as you raised your arm in front of you, and Lyla's glowing, yellow form appeared from your watch. "Hey there," she greeted casually. "Boss wants you to run backup on an anomaly on Earth-287."

You smiled faintly as the code appeared on your device. "Sounds good," you replied, standing to your feet and walking onto the side of the building so that you were staring straight down at the street hundreds of feet below. "I'll be right there."

You activated the code, and a dimensional portal opened up in front of you further down the building. Taking a breath, you let go of your grip on the building and allowed gravity to pull you down into the portal. The shift in gravity was exhilarating as you emerged from the portal into Earth-287.

Emerging from the portal, everything was dull. The sun had set a while ago here, but even if it had been out, the colors would still be strangely muted. The building that you stood atop of overlooked a large city with strange gray, yellow, and green lights. This was a weird dimension.

Standing together, Pavitr and one of the many Peter Parkers was there. Upon seeing you emerge from the portal, Pav perked up. "You're here!" He said in an excited voice as you approached. You smiled under your mask and replied with the same energy, "I am!"

Glancing around, you noticed the lack of a certain presence you had expected to be there. "Is it just you guys here?" You asked casually. Before they could answer you, a cold voice behind you said, "What are you doing here?"

You whipped around and found Miguel's figure looming over you. Though his face was concealed behind his mask, you could tell by his rigid stature and unwelcoming tone that he was not very happy to see you. This was not really the greeting you'd hoped to receive from him.

"Lyla sent me," you told him defensively. "She said you wanted me to run backup with you." The eyes of his mask squinted down at you menacingly. "I didn't send for you," he said in an level tone. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and stared up at him stubbornly. "Then why am I here?" You demanded to know.

"Actually, you did mention calling for an extra member," Pav reminded him cheerfully. You looked back at Miguel with triumphant posture. "And here I am," you said. Miguel didn't seem amused, and he stared down at you for moment before sighing in resignation.

"Fine," he muttered reluctantly before turning away from you to look at his watch. "We have a Goblin anomaly somewhere in the vicinity. This is a routine bag and tag, but we need to cover our bases and sweep the area separately. Whoever finds him first needs to call it in for the rest of us. Am I understood?" His gaze seemed to be fixed on you, and you felt like his last question was directed at you.

You cocked your head a little at him before replying in a smooth voice, "Yes, sir." Miguel didn't reply nor did he give you any sort of reaction, but you could feel his eyes on you as you walked toward the edge of the building. "I call the north side," you stated before casually falling off the side and swinging away.

Leaving them behind, you were gliding between the buildings, looking for any signs of the anomaly or any traces of environmental glitching he may have left. You swung through the strangely-colored city until you landed on the top of a building to observe the cityscape below. You crouched low on the edge of the building, scanning carefully for any signs of the anomaly.

After a few minutes, you were about to get up and swing away before the sound of feet landing behind you stopped you. You whipped around and shot a web reactively. Miguel sidestepped your web, his head tilted in an unimpressed posture.

"I told you, I called north," you said with a huff of annoyance. "I have reason to believe the anomaly is somewhere in this direction," he told you vaguely. You put a hand on your hip. "Okay, well, this is my direction. I'll let you know if he shows up," you stated stubbornly.

"Hey, this is my mission," he argued. "I can go where I want." You rolled your eyes under your mask. "Whatever," you muttered. "Just don't get in my way."

He chose not to respond to your comment. An uncomfortable silence settled over you, and you didn't know whether to leave it or to try to alleviate it. Miguel made the choice for you. "Where have you been?" He asked finally. It was an attempt at a normal conversation, at relieving some of the tension that was wedged between the two of you.

You shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "Home. I figured you'd call if you needed me, and you did."

"Need is a strong word," he muttered. You scoffed softly. Miguel never wanted to seem like he relied on anyone. "Well, in that case, I can just go home. The newest episode of my favorite show comes out tonight." Despite his face being hidden behind his mask, you could tell that Miguel was unamused. "Let's just focus on finding this anomaly," he grumbled, turning his face away from you back to the streets below.

"I'm focused," you told him casually. "Are you focused?" "I could probably focus if you could shut your mouth," he snapped. "Maybe I would if you asked nicely for once," you shot back, a smile pulling at your lips behind your mask. "Ever heard of saying please? Or maybe...por favor?"

His head turned slowly to look at you, and it was impossible for you to tell what he was thinking. "No?" You said. "Okay, then I'll do as I please."

He sighed in exasperation but didn't say anything. Just as the silence felt overbearing, a large crash captured your attention. "Sounds like our guy," you said before somersaulting over the edge of the building and swinging toward the sound. Miguel was right behind you as you both headed for the noise together.

There in the streets was your guy. Goblin was recognizable across any dimension, and this was no different, but looking at this short figure below, you almost wanted to laugh. He was thin, and his figure was stooped, and he didn't have a glider like you were used to seeing. This would be a cinch.

The anomaly spotted you before you could reach him, and he crouched with a sneer and called out, "Spider-Man!" Then, seeing your figure next to Miguel, he added, "...and company?"

"I'm Spider-Woman!" You clarified cheerfully as you shot your web at him. "Nice to meet you!" The little goblin rolled out of the way before your web was able to catch him.

"Where am I?" He demanded to know. Behind your mask, you rolled your eyes. "Always the same questions," you muttered. "'Where am I?' 'Who are you?' 'What is this place?' When are you guys gonna switch it up and ask how I'm doing?"

"Can you stop talking and focus?" Miguel snapped as he tried webbing the anomaly to no avail. You sighed. Banter was your thing. In fact, it was almost every Spider-Person's thing except for Miguel. It was definitely not his thing.

"You'll have to forgive my colleague here!" You called out to Goblin as you twisted in the air to avoid one of the bombs launched at you by him. "He's a little crankier than usual. I'm not sure why."

"You want to know why?" Miguel called out to you in irritation, webbing a bomb and throwing it back at the villain below. "It's because you're getting on my last nerve!" You sighed in exasperation. "I'm pretty sure you've only got one nerve, and someone's almost always on it," you grumbled.

You both managed to knock the anomaly into a dim warehouse. Together, you webbed his arms to the wall he was cornered into. He was looking around frantically for an escape. "Listen, bud, this isn't personal," you told him. "We just need to make sure you go home." You felt pretty confident about this whole mission, definitely one of the easy ones.

Goblin stopped struggling to free his hand and looked at you with a crazed smile, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the sight. "Workplace relationships can be tricky," he stated. "I think you two should try resolving some of this tension."

Before you could reply, the anomaly kicked his leg, and a small, metallic sphere came rolling out of the sole of his boot. You barely had time to say "Uh oh," before the explosion knocked you and Miguel backwards. As you were recovering from the impact, the Goblin actually took flight, breaking free of the web bindings.

"What the hell?" You exclaimed. This Goblin didn't use a glider like you were used to, he had some weird type of rocket boots. He flew up and smashed his way out of the warehouse window and out to the sky with a loud cackle.

"He's getting away!" Miguel shouted as if you weren't already aware of the fact. You both slung yourselves up to the window and outside the building, but the Goblin was much faster than you both, and before you could catch up, he was out of sight.

Miguel punched the wall next to you and snarled in frustration. After taking a few breaths, he lowered his arm and stood completely still except for his deep, even breathing. His back was toward you, and you could tell that he was holding back a tidal wave of fury. Well, you might as well break the dam.

"You're awfully quiet," you stated reluctantly. "Anything you want to get off of your chest?"

Miguel whipped around and looked over you menacingly. "You let him get away!" He shouted at you.

"Me?!" You asked incredulously, ripping your mask off of your face. "How was that my fault?" His suit receded from his face as well, displaying his frustrated expression. "You were supposed to catch him! It's a very simple expectation," he told you angrily.

You scoffed. "Well, excuse me for not knowing this Goblin had flying boots instead of a glider," you said. "It's just as much your fault as it is mine."

Miguel wasn't happy with that statement. He took a step closer to you and crossed his arms over his chest. "It is your fault," Miguel snapped at you. "And now he's gone again." You stepped toward him defiantly and crossed your arms to mirror him. "Maybe if you weren't breathing down my neck, I could've gotten him," you retorted.

"That's your excuse?" He asked in an exasperated tone. "Yeah, it is," you replied sharply. "What's yours?"

"You're distracting me."

"I'm distracting you?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," he said in a low voice as he took another step towards you so that his face was inches from your own, "you are distracting me. You never should have come on this mission." Your heartbeat sped up a little at how close he was now, and you couldn't help but look at his lips as he spoke.

"Well, too bad," you told him stubbornly. "I'm here, and you've got to deal with it. So, instead of fighting about it, why don't you get off my ass and help me catch this guy?"

"You don't get to tell me what to do," he argued. "I'll stay on your ass if I want to." You raised an eyebrow at his comment and had to suppress a snicker. Miguel realized as soon as the words left his mouth how they sounded, and he closed his eyes in a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. "Just focus on finding the Goblin anomaly," he grumbled.

"Oh, so you don't want to stay on my ass anymore?" You clarified with a smirk. He scowled down at you and snarled, "Do you ever just shut up?" You weren't deterred by his temper. Instead, you batted your eyelids up at him and gave him an overly-sweet smile. "Only if you ask nicely, remember?"

Miguel finally had enough of you. He shoved you back against the wall, making you gasp in surprise, and placed a hand on your throat. "I'm done being nice with you," he growled before crashing his lips down on yours with every ounce of his frustration.

You kissed him back with as much aggression, your tongues exploring each other's mouths impatiently. His hand slid down from your neck to grope your breasts over your suit. You sighed loudly as his hands roamed across your body, and when he pressed his knee between your legs, you couldn't stop the moan that emerged from your throat.

"What about the others?" You gasped. "What if they find us and—," Miguel cut you off with another open-mouthed kiss. "I don't give a fuck," he murmured against your lips. "They can watch for all I care."

You took a shuddering breath as he pulled at the neck of your suit. It had been designed for easy removal when you needed a quick change back in your world, but now, Miguel was using it to his advantage to pull it down over your shoulders. You didn't resist him disrobing you. You hadn't expected this at all, but with the frustration you both caused each other, you shouldn't have been so surprised.

You pulled your arms out of your suit as he peeled the fabric off of your torso. Miguel didn't have the patience left in him to properly undress you. Your suit was at your knees before he abandoned any further effort of taking it off. "Fucking full-body suits," he muttered in annoyance as he pressed heated kisses to your exposed neck.

You huffed an amused breath while you kicked off your boots and the remainder of your suit. His lips left a trail of sloppy kisses from your collarbone, up your neck, until they finally found your mouth. His tongue forced its way between your lips, and you couldn't help but moan at his overpowering touch. You barely even felt rough surface of the wall against your back as Miguel pushed his body against yours.

He was so tall that it seemed like his figure was devouring yours. To remedy the height different, Miguel's large hands hoisted you up by your thighs close to his own height and pushed you up against the wall roughly. You grunted at the force of his body shoving you against the brick, but you didn't care, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. You had both hands gripping his head, pulling his mouth to yours eagerly, tongues practically down each others throats.

Miguel's hands were gripping tightly at your thighs before he reached up and pulled down on your underwear. He wasn't holding you up anymore, relying instead on your ability to stick to the wall to keep you upright. Now that he didn't have to support you, his hands were free to do what he liked.

Your breathing quickened as his fingers teased the outside of your hot entrance. He traced over your clit, causing you to groan and throw your head back against the brick. "Is this what it takes to get you to shut up?" He growled in your ear. You wanted to say something snappy back to him, but right as you opened your mouth, he pushed two of his fingers into you, and you were unable to do anything but let out a gasping moan.

Your fingers ran through his hair, gripping it tightly as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Not such a smart ass now, huh?" He observed smugly. You wanted desperately to prove him wrong and shoot him a smart retort, but the pace he was setting with his fingers rendered you speechless.

You leaned your head against his as you took shaky breaths to regain some semblance of thought. "What h-happened to focus on the— on the mission?" You managed to ask through panting breaths. His fingers were curling inside you, making it difficult to speak properly.

"I told you," he whispered in a low voice, his lips tickling your ear. "You're distracting me. How am I supposed to focus when you're here with me?" He placed a wet kiss on your neck, and you sighed at the sensation.

"All I can think about is how good you feel around me," he murmured against your skin, "and all the pretty sounds you make." His fingers continued fucking you while his thumb started moving in circles around your clit, forcing a loud moan from your mouth.

"Even your scent," he continued. "I could smell you the minute you arrived. It's been driving me fucking crazy." Your legs were starting to shake as you felt yourself growing closer. Miguel could sense it too, no doubt, from your staggering gasps and the tightened grip you had on his hair.

"And now, you're letting me touch you like this in the middle of a mission," he said. "How do you expect me to focus on anything when you're here?" His voice sounded frustrated, angry almost, and that frustration was evident in the way his pace increased.

You were gasping his name over and over again, unable to say or do anything else. He was touching you in all the right places in all the right ways. The resentment you had felt for him before had completely transformed into lust, and as he continued moving his fingers in and out of you, you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

Miguel ran his tongue up the side of your neck before whispering into your ear, "Look at you. Are you gonna cum on my fingers while we're on a mission?"

As if to answer his question, your whole body began shaking, and you let out a trembling moan out as your orgasm overtook you. Something resembling a laugh came from Miguel's lips as he felt your body clenching around him, and he was pulled in closer by your gripping arms. Your breathing came in shallow gasps as your body trembled with his touch.

After a moment, his hand slowed down until he pulled out of you completely. Dazed, you blinked your eyes open to look at him. His eyes were red with lust, and he brought his hand up and sucked his soaking fingers without looking away from you. Your body was still twitching from your high, and the sight in front of you made you moan softly.

"I'm not done yet," he murmured as he gripped your jaw in his hand. You were still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, and your head was limp in his hands. He noticed and moved your face back and forth to test your submission. "Dios mío, you're a mess," he noted with a smirk. "Are you gonna let me fuck you like this?"

Still trying to recover your breath, you were barely able to give him a faint nod of your head. "That's right," he said softly, placing another kiss on your neck, but you were barely registered it as you felt something hard at your soaking entrance. Miguel had retracted his suit just at his waist, and it seemed that this time, he hadn't even bothered with wearing anything underneath.

"Must be convenient having a nanotech suit," you commented under your breath. "It's not nanotech," he corrected. "It's much cooler than that." You rolled your eyes. Even during sex, he had to be right. "Whatever," you replied. "You don't have to nerd ou—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp as Miguel pushed himself into you without warning. You tugged at his hair reactively as the stretch of your pussy made you whine. "Just shut the fuck up," he muttered into your ear.

He gave you a second to adjust before he started moving his hips against yours. You head fell back against the wall as he thrust in and out of you desperately. He had no regard for how the rough brick was scraping against your skin. He was now engaged entirely in his own pleasure, using you to channel all his frustration into satisfaction. You didn't mind one bit.

His pace was relentless. His head was pressed against your temple, and his panting breaths tickled your ear. You still had a tight grip on his hair as he fucked you mercilessly while your other hand held onto his shoulder in desperation.

Miguel's hands were digging into your thighs as soft grunts formed in his throat. "I've been craving you all week," he told you with a gruff voice, interrupting the repetitive sound of his hips slapping against your cunt. "The way you feel, how you take me so well, it's all I can think about."

You whimpered in his ear as he continued rolling his hips against yours at a savage pace. You were getting high off of his words, and all you could do to encourage him was moan. "I've been...thinking about you, too," you whispered to him, the overwhelming sensation of him railing into you causing you to pause every few words. "Late at night...when I'm all alone. I think about h-how good you feel...inside me. It makes me so hot."

Miguel growled in response, your words obviously having an effect over him. His lips met yours in a hungry kiss, and he actually let out a soft moan of his own. He let go of one of your legs to bring his hand up to the wall to support himself, and you heard the brick next to your head crack as his fingers clawed at the stone.

He pulled away from your lips and brought his mouth down to kiss your neck. His movements were growing more desperate and sloppy, and you knew he was getting closer to finishing. After a second, he raised his head up from your neck to rest against your own.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered in your ear.

What kind of a question was that? He had you pinned to the wall, fucking you mercilessly in another dimension in the middle of a mission. You certainly didn't not trust him.

Still, at his relentless pace, you found it difficult to speak properly, so you nodded your reply. "I want to hear you say it," he grunted. You were breathing hard as you tried formulating words. "I do," you gasped. "I-I do trust you."

That seemed to satisfy Miguel. His hips moved faster and harder into yours, and without further warning, he sank his teeth into the base of your neck. You cried out in alarm as you felt the tips of his fangs pierce your neck. You hadn't expected him to do that, but you couldn't deny that the pain made the pleasure even sweeter.

For Miguel, having his teeth in your skin made him go wild. It was like a primal reaction, and whatever self-control he'd had evaporated. He began pounding into you, using your neck almost like an anchor while he thrust into you over and over again.

Your eyes became unfocused as a knot formed in your stomach from the overwhelming sensation of Miguel's cock and teeth inside of you. "Don't stop," you begged with a gasp. "Don't stop, I'm gonna—"

You couldn't even finish your sentence before another powerful orgasm took over your body. A loud cry emerged from your throat as your thighs tightened around his waist, and your whole body began shaking. You gripped Miguel's back and hair desperately as his movements became erratic.

Just as it was becoming too much for you, Miguel's body tensed, and he let out a long, rare moan against your neck as his hips grew still and he came inside you. He took a couple seconds to recover his breath before he released the grip of his jaw on your neck. You let out a small whimper at the feeling of his teeth being removed from your skin. In response, Miguel ran his tongue over the two new sets of puncture marks you now had.

"Was that alright?" He asked with surprising softness, referring to his bite. You nodded honestly and replied, "I thought it would hurt more than that." He licked over it again as he pulled out of you, earning a quiet sigh from you. "Believe me, it could have," he said in a low voice.

You turned your head to look at him, meeting his eyes with your own, and you couldn't help the faint smile that pulled at your lips. You tilted your face up and kissed him. It wasn't the ravenous kisses from earlier, it was soft and slow, a token of appreciation.

"You're not allowed to come on missions with me anymore," Miguel mumbled against your lips. "Do you understand?"

You chuckled softly at his statement. Truthfully, you'd forgotten you were even on a mission. You opened your eyes to look at him before you whispered, "Yes, sir."

His jaw twitched, and he ran his thumb over your lips in admiration. "We need to get going," he told you after a pause. You looked up at him with a sly smile. "Think you can focus now?" You asked. His eyes flashed up from your lips to your eyes, and a faint trace of a smile formed at his mouth.

"I wouldn't count on it."

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burntheedges · 3 months

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Maintenance Request: Chapter 6

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ (minors DNI) | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 2.1k

a/n: it's Friday! now that these two are on ~better footing~ let's see what's going on. also, I forgot to say this last week -- thank you to @katareyoudrilling for beta reading this fic!!! you're amazing. 💖 chapter tags/warnings: fluff, hint of angst (the lightest hint), banter

Chapter 6

Wednesday, October 2 Sixth week of the semester

After Joel (you’d been practicing calling him by his name in your mind, rather than Hot Construction Guy or HCG) answered your maintenance request, you felt like you had a new start. There had been a misunderstanding between you, and maybe it was a mild one, in the end, but you were on new ground now. Possibly flirting-allowed ground. (You’d waxed lyrical about his shoulders at length to Beth, about the way they’d flexed while he worked in your office, until she demanded a picture or for you to shut up without supporting visuals. Fair enough.)

Just two days later, on Wednesday, you were standing outside of your building and chatting with a student who had walked with you from your morning class when you saw him again. This time he wasn’t alone. A young girl, maybe 13 or 14, walked next to him as they made their way across the quad. She was right around Ellie’s age, with curly hair and a huge smile on her face as she poked him in the side. He dodged, laughing, and you realized he was carrying a small backpack. Must be the daughter.

Jen, your student, cleared her throat. You looked back to her and realized you’d trailed off in the middle of whatever you’d been saying. “Sorry, Jen. Got distracted. Come by office hours this week? We can chat about your paper more then.”

“Sure!” She looked over her shoulder curiously, but you didn’t look back at Joel. You didn’t want to give away what you’d been looking at. Jen nodded and headed off towards her next class, and as you turned, you realized Joel had come much closer on the path across the quad. And he’d obviously spotted you. You waved and smiled.

“Mornin’,” he greeted you as he and the girl you thought might be his daughter came to a stop right in front of you. “This is Sarah, my daughter,” he confirmed. He elbowed her in the side as he introduced her, and she laughed and elbowed him back. You introduced yourself, smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sarah! I heard you have great taste in books. And that you keep this guy up to date.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I do my best to keep this old dinosaur using his brain.” Joel grumbled and rolled his eyes back at her in response. You laughed.

“So what brings you to campus?”

“Her school’s out for the day, for some teacher in-service thing, so she’s coming to work with me. Right now we’re doing a tour, though.” He gestured around the quad. “I think we’ve covered the basics.”

“Sure, dad, you pointed out like four buildings and every single plant between here and your office.” You laughed again, wondering if he was on the crew that always did the landscaping? Come to think of it, you weren’t really sure what his job was, exactly. You decided to ask later.

“Sounds fun. Where are you off to now?”

“Well, lunch soon, after a bit more tour.” Joel hesitated, and you noticed Sarah squinting at him before she suddenly interjected, “you should come! Join us for lunch.” The invitation surprised you and warmed you, a bit.

“Wish I could. I’ve got a faculty meeting over lunch.” You sighed. “Lunch with you would be way more fun, believe me.” Sarah looked a little disappointed, and you bit your lip, considering. “I could show you around the English department, if you want? It’s not that exciting, but you could see what it looks like. Before you go to lunch.” Sarah perked back up.

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” Joel smiled at her obvious excitement and you made yourself look away. It would probably be weird to stare at him like that in front of his daughter. Right? You gestured to the steps behind you, and Sarah led the way into the building. You fell into step with Joel and studied him out of the corner of your eye.

“Thanks, darlin’, for the tour.” Joel nudged your shoulder with his own, and your breath caught. You smiled.

“It’s no problem. Sarah seems fun, I do wish I could have lunch with you instead.”

He laughed. “I’ve met your colleagues, I believe you.”

“Oh? Does Trevor terrorize your department as much as he does us?”

At the mention of his name, Joel actually frowned. “That as—, er, man works with you? Darlin’, I am so sorry.”

You laughed, and waved your hand. “I know, believe me. It’s fine. There’s one in every program.” He studied you, and you weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you’d caught up with Sarah so you had no time to find out.

You showed her around the building’s lobby, which usually had rotating exhibits of students’ art and short stories. The collection featured that day had been put together by the Creative Writing Club and focused on a spooky theme, since Halloween was approaching. She actually started reading some of the short stories that went along with the art, so you promised you’d send them to Joel so she could read them later when she had more time. She grinned, and followed you down the hall to your office, with a quick pit stop by the kitchen on your way to grab coffee (for you and Joel) and tea (for Sarah) in little paper cups.

“Is this what all the offices are like?” She asked, studying your colleagues’ doors and varying levels of decor.

“Some of the buildings are fancier than others, especially the business school and the engineering labs, but generally, yes.” She hummed in response.

You unlocked your office door and gestured the two of them inside in front of you. “Feel free to look around,” you told Sarah, who was already engrossed in your bookshelf. You plopped your bag down on your chair and started unpacking from your class. Joel hovered for a moment, awkward, before settling into one of your two small armchairs for visitors. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, smiling a bit to yourself.

“Ooh! Dad, look, it’s the book we read!” Sarah tapped the spine of the same book of short stories you and Joel had talked about a few days before.

You nodded. “That’s the one he told me about, the one he said you gave him to read. What did you think?”

It turned out she’d loved it, and she told you all about why as she looked over the rest of your shelves. You listened, but turned to check on Joel, who you found was already looking at you. His expression was soft and almost too much for you to take in. Your eyes met and he half smiled at you, just an upturn of one side of his lips. It was too charming. You bit your lip and tried to tune back into what Sarah was saying, ducking your head.

“Do you have a favorite genre?” You asked, glancing back at Sarah, who had found the bound copy of your dissertation, apparently. She’d pulled it off the shelf and started flipping through the pages. “Ah.”

“This is so cool!” She turned the title page towards Joel, where you could see your name and the title of your dissertation, and you felt your cheeks heat. “Look, dad.” He leaned forward to read it, and then looked back at you. There was something warm in his eyes that made your stomach twist.

“Impressive, darlin’.” He held your gaze again as Sarah read through the table of contents, murmuring about the themes you explored and the novels and poems you included.

You tore your eyes away from her dad and said, “I can send you a copy of that, too, but I promise it’s pretty boring. Dissertations are just overly long proof that you learned something, not particularly exciting reading.”

Sarah regarded you skeptically, but nodded and said she’d like that. To distract yourself from staring at Joel (again), you reached out and picked up the flyer for the exhibit in the lobby. “Hey, this has the link to all the stories we saw in the lobby.” Sarah took it and nodded, looking over it.

“Here, darlin’, let me give you my regular email so I can forward stuff to Sarah more easily.” You nodded, a bit surprised, as Joel reached out for a post-it and a pen. He jotted down his email and passed it back. You smiled at his neat handwriting. “We should probably get going to lunch, get out of your hair.”

Sarah sighed but agreed. “Thanks for letting me look at your books.”

You smiled. “Anytime, really. If you have to hang out on campus you can always come bother me instead of your dad. If you’d like,” you added, realizing that maybe that was a strange offer from an adult she’d only just met.

But Sarah and Joel both smiled at you, and she nodded her head. “His office is pretty boring,” she teased. Now it was Joel’s turn to sigh, but you could see he was trying to hide his smile.

You stood up to usher the Miller duo out of your office, glancing at the clock. You had about fifteen minutes until your meeting. They both said goodbye and waved. After about a minute, though, you heard Sarah call down the hall to her dad that she forgot something, and sure enough her head poked around your door a moment later.

“Sorry! I forgot my flyer.” You looked down and found it on your desk, and handed it back to her. “Thanks! Um. I wanted to say, too that, well.” She peeked back down the hall behind her before continuing, lowly, “my dad said you were really smart and cool, and he was right. I’m glad. He needs more cool friends. And he loves people who are smarter than him.” She grinned sunnily at you before running back down the hall to meet her dad. You were left leaning against your desk, stunned. Cool, huh? You smiled and bit your lip.

…

Ellie (12:42 PM): can I come over after school

you (1:03 PM): you know you don’t need to ask (1:04 PM): but yes, obviously

Ellie (1:07 PM): 🫡 (1:08 PM): mom’s going to work and I need to study

you (1:10 PM): study buddies, assemble (1:10 PM): 💪

Ellie (1:11 PM): nerd (1:12 PM): i don’t think grading counts as studying (1:12 PM): it’s like, the opposite of studying

you (1:15 PM): study and grading buddies doesn’t have the same ring to it

Ellie (1:20 PM): 🧐 (1:20 PM): but i had to ask you never know you might have ~plans~ these days (1:22 PM): since youre running into your big crush and his DAUGHTER and not TELLING ME ABOUT IT (1:23 PM): ?????

you (1:25 PM): 🙄 (1:25 PM): it just happened like 2 hours ago

Ellie (1:26 PM): you already told beth about it

you (1:26 PM): i’ll tell you about it tonight

Ellie (1:32 PM): you bet your ass you will

…

Later that night, the three of you were crowded around your coffee table over takeout, Ellie’s books, and your students’ homework assignments. Beth had heard Ellie was coming over for dinner and invited herself along, unsurprisingly.

When you told them the whole story, Beth sighed.

“Babe. Listen to me.” She grabbed you with one hand on each side of your head, looked you right in the eye, and said, “listen. He introduced you to his daughter. He told her that you’re cool. He called you ‘darlin’ in front of his daughter.” She shook your head a little as she talked. “He. wanted. you. to. eat. lunch. with. them.” She punctuated this piece of evidence by tilting your head from side to side with each word, squishing your cheeks. “The man wants you. And I’m pretty sure you want him, too. Just let yourself believe that, the next time you see him. Alright?”

You laughed, but it felt hollow. You closed your eyes, but you promised to try. Everyone in that room knew how difficult that could be for you. After everything.

She squeezed your face again.“Ok, I’ll take it. But just remember, it might be worth it even if it feels difficult. Good things take effort sometimes. That doesn’t mean he’s one of the bad ones. Right?”

You took a deep breath. “Right.” You felt Ellie nudge you with her knee and you smiled.

Beth nodded. “Right. And don’t worry, if we get even a whiff that he’s anything like The Asshole we’ll tell you before anything happens.”

Ellie nodded, too, clearly in agreement. “Fuck yeah we will.”

You hugged them both, knowing they meant it.

It helped.

...

a/n: what's next for these two? well, Joel still has to come back and fix that shelf. he promised. 👀 prev | next

tag list: @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @katareyoudrilling @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123

@jupiter-soups my deepest apologies ily

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fic #maintenance request fic

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frost-queen · 5 months

Text

Sudden attention // part 3 (Reader!Potter x Fred Weasley)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @elllie-does-the-posts, @alex--awesome--22, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @imagines-by-her, @vviolynn, @melsunshine, @evilcr0ne, @floatlosers, @callsignwidow, @whotfskai, @freddieweasleysgf, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

Summary: Back at Hogwarts you might not be able to escape Cormac. While Fred tries to cover up his feelings for you amongst friends he must interfere when Cormac corners you. [part 1 & part 2]

Taking a deep breath you felt at home again. Home. Hogwarts welcoming you. Taking in the castle in all it’s glory. It’s walls harboring all your memories. The laughs you had laughed and the tears you had cried. A hand on your back made you turn your head. Hermione passing you with a gentle nod to follow her. Ginny right behind her, when passing you she turned round facing you with a big smile.

Ron walking by on your left side followed by Harry. Harry gave you a brief nudge for standing still. Something about seeing the castle again made you sentimental. George stretched his arms while passing you from the long train ride. Once more a touch on your back made you turn your head with a few blinks.

Fred coming in sight with a smile. – “Shall we?” – he asked. Instantly you started to smile back at him. – “Yes.” – you whispered getting in motion. More groups of students gathered when you all went in the same direction. Taking the fields way. Quickly you all were inside at the common room.

Hermione plopped down on her bed with a deep sigh. You were knelt down sorting some clothing in your trunk when you noticed Ginny nearing. She grabbed the pole on your bed, letting herself sway on her feet with a dramatic turn to you. – “Are you excited to be back Y/n.” – she asked. Something about the tone in her voice hinted she had a hidden agenda. – “Why’d you ask?” – you responded folding the sweater Molly had knitted neatly aside.

“Nothing for.” – she responded with a pitch in her voice. – “I’m sure a certain McLaggan boy would be pleased to see you again.” – the mention of his name made your eyes widen. You had completely forgotten about him and the letter he had send you. The letter you had never answered because it got burned.

Then you forgot about it, caught off guard by Fred being suddenly extra nice to you. Hermione gasped loud remembering it as well. You got up, turning towards them, eyes wide in shock. Hermione stared in shock back at you. – “How did we forget.” – she spoke removing her hand from before her mouth. – “I didn’t.” – Ginny answered with a chuckle.

“I never wrote back.” – you said out loud as Ginny sat herself down on your bed. Crookshanks hopping on the bed with her. – “Perhaps it is for the best. He is a bloated toad anyways.” – Ginny went on stroking Crookshanks tail. Hermione slapped Ginny against her arm. – “How can you say that!” – she called out. Ginny took a breath turning more towards her. – “He’s all smug.” – she reminded her.

“Yes, but he also is interested in Y/n. He is the first one to proclaim his interests in her so loudly. Shouldn’t we take this in consideration?” – she answered. Ginny crossed her arms. – “Are you saying Y/n should settle for the first worst thing just because he is the only one interested.” – she bit back snappy.

“Hey!” – you called out as they were speaking over your head. Both turned their heads at you. – “Sorry.” – Hermione immediately apologized. – “I’m just warning you.” – Ginny responded making you briefly roll your eyes at them.

“It’s not like you have a lot of interested boys.” – she finished. – “Maybe he isn’t the only one.” – you called out catching her off guard. – “Truly?” – she gasped jumping up. You pulled your shoulder up, keeping your mouth shut. – “Y/n.” – Ginny said when you remained silent returning to your duties. – “Are you seriously not going to tell us anything.” – Ginny said eager to know.

You pulled your shoulder up again without a word. Ginny groaned in agony, grabbing you by the shoulders. – “Tell me!” – she said staring desperately at you. She fluttered confused when you started laughing. – “I need to know…” – she whined out hoping you’d show pity with her. Hermione could only stare at you, trying to figure out who. – “Who!” – Ginny pushed you back as you fell on your back, laughing loud. – “Who tell meeeee!” – she begged whiny wanting to know it so desperately.

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly on you. – “Help me Hermione. I need the answer!” – Ginny cried out for help. Hermione came joining in tickling you to get an answer out of you. No matter how hard you laughed, you didn’t slip a secret. Keeping Fred’s name deep in your heart, but never outed.

“What is she sour for?” – George asked when coming to join the table in the great hall with Fred. – “Y/n wouldn’t tell us who the second guy is that fancies her.” – Hermione informed them as Fred looked intrigued at you. You gave no attention to his glance. – “Second guy?” – George spoke glancing over his shoulder to Fred. Fred pulled his shoulders up as if not knowing who he was talking about.

“Look at you miss popular amongst the boys.” – George teased with a nudge in your side. Fred chuckled nervously catching his brother’s gaze. – “I’m hardly popular.” – you told George with a faked smile. George threw his arm over your shoulder. – “Two seems like a popular number. Soon number three and four will join.” – He acted out, counting it with his fingers.

Fred cleared his throat. – “I honestly think not.” – he spoke making George quirk his brow up. – “How would you know?” – Hermione asked noticing Ginny was still in her sour behavior. Arms crossed and a bothered expression on her face. – “A hunch.” – Fred answered making you suppress a smile.

George turned his head, checking twice if he saw it right. – “Speak of the toad.”- he spoke motioning with his head in the direction. You leaned back looking behind George to the doors. Everyone else looking as well. Hermione getting a bit to look over Fred. From afar you caught Cormac standing with some of his friends. The second he noticed you, he waved with a big smile at you. It made you feel embarrassed hiding yourself behind George. – “Looks like he’s still head over heels for you Y/n.” – Hermione spoke lowering herself.

“Even though you ignored him all summer long.” – Hermione said as you shushed her. George intrigued by the sudden new news. He hummed curious. – “You’ve been ignoring him all summer. What did he send you letters or what?” – he joked out. Seeing the expression on your face and Hermione’s he stopped laughing.

“Are you serious? Did he send you a letter?” – George asked. You slowly nodded your head. – “The toad!” – George cursed, clenching his hand. You glanced across the table over to Fred. Wanting to know what he thought about all of this. His expression was neutral but partly clenched. You could see the anger he was trying to hide.

George puffed in Cormac’s direction, daring him to even try and come near. – “Don’t tell my brother.” – you said not wanting Harry to be involved in this as well. – “He’ll murder him on the spot.” – you added nervously. – “Now that is something I like to see.” – Fred answered to your surprise. – “A bit of a cruciato torture on him.” – George filled in with a funny expression. – “You boys are being ridiculous.” – Hermione answered slapping Ginny against her arm to stop moping.

Fred and George both pulled their shoulders up in response. – “Well whatever you decided to do, just leave Harry out of it.” – you reminded them getting up. Fred got up as well as it made you stare half confused at him. Fred cleared his throat sitting himself back down. George snorted loud at his brother’s silly behavior as Hermione quirked her brow up.

Hermione slowly got up to follow you. The Weasley staying behind as the two of you needed to go to class. Hermione grabbed you by the elbow, pulling you out of the way from Cormac. Who seemed very eager to come over now it only the two of you. Hermione and you caught up with Ron and Harry on your way to class.

After class you went your own way. Hermione joining Ron and Harry for a trip to Hagrid’s. You rounded a few corners, walking in the open corridors around the courtyard. – “Potter!” – you heard loud behind you. It made you slow down. – “Potter! Y/n!” – slowly turning around you saw Cormac run over to you. Your eyes widened as there was no one around from your friends to help you out. He came to a stop by you, catching his breath.

“How… how was your summer…” – he asked making you smile nervously at him. – “It… it was okay… how… how was yours?” – you asked in return to be polite. – “I’ve send you a letter.” – he said bluntly catching you off guard. – “You… you did?” – you answered trying not to sound too suspicious. He hummed loud. – “Didn’t you get it?” – he wanted to know. You slowly shook your head trying not to show any signs of your lying.

“No… no I didn’t get anything.” – you told him untruthfully. – “Strange…” – he scratched the back of his head. – “Anyways I’m really glad to be back at Hogwarts. We should head to Hogsmeade once. I’ll buy you a butterbeer.” – he said leaning a bit closer to you. – “By the way this is me asking you out.” – he added a bit cocky making you gulp shyly.

“So what do you say Y/n? Shall we call it a date?” – he went on getting all smug. – “I’m busy.” – you flopped out without thinking. Cormac furrowed his brows. – “Come on I’m sure you can find some time for me.” – he pressured on making you feel uncomfortable to say no to him any further. – “I’ve been thinking all summer about you. Couldn’t get you out of my head Potter.” – he teased reaching his hand out to you. Letting his fingers brush against your cheek as it startled you.

“McLaggan!” - you suddenly heard making you gasp loud. Cormac groaned irritated at the sight of Fred. Fred came standing by your side, giving him a little shove to keep his distance from you. – “What do you want.” – he asked rudely. Cormac chuckled cocky. – “It’s between Y/n and me, Weasel.” – he replied. – “Think about my offer Y/n.” – he winked your way making Fred step in between. – “She won’t.” - he called out. – “So stop bothering her!” – he made clear. Cormac scoffed.

“You’re not her superior, so why don’t you stop bossing her around.” – Cormac answered with a sneer. Fred took a step back, grabbing your shoulder and pressing you hard against his side. – “No, I’m her boyfriend.” – he casually said making you look startled at him. Expression full of surprise and shock. Cormac started to laugh. – “No you aren’t.” – he said.

“Oh yes I am!” – Fred kept on. He turned his head looking down at you. With his thumb his turned your head closer to him, inching it closer to him as he leaned down. Your eyes widened feeling a burn on your cheeks. Flustered and flushed with heat as he drew his lips nearer to you. His lips inches away from yours. – “Alright I get it!” – Cormac called out. Fred paused curling up a smile.

He turned his head looking all smug at Cormac. He puffed loud, stuffing his hands in his pockets, storming off. – “Good riddance.” – Fred said letting go of your chin. You stood frozen; eyes wide as the heat had risen to your entire face. This close, this close was Fred to kissing you without a warning. You weren’t even sure if he was bluffing or was willing to actually kiss you to proof a point. – “Y/n.” – he said noticing the frozen state you were in.

“Y/n?” – he waved his hand in front of you. You slowly blinked. Before he could say more, you turned around, walking off with your hands pressed against your cheeks to cool off. Somehow it felt like you hadn’t seen the last of Cormac even with Fred’s little charade. Yet why was your heart thumping so loudly against your chest. Was this Fred’s doing?

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