#i watched over 7 hours of content or something like that only to find out writers just wanted to be smartasses??

[measuredingold]

7:15

author's note: hello hello hello ! the jolly fic i promised last month. on a roll :-) i have a few trips coming up and i wanted to get this sweet lil fic out before i was away from home. i haven't wrote much for jolly and i just really like how this came out. short and sweet, domestic as fuck. as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated !

pairing: joakim karlsson x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 1.9k

cw/tags: fluff, sweet domestic tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, maybe some angst but it lasts 2 seconds, kissing, ~suggestive~ content, 18+ minors do not interact

Jolly wakes up slowly, a groan slipping from his lips as he stretches his limbs out across the bed. He pauses, realizing the spot beside him was unoccupied and cold, and a frown settles on his lips. Blinking, he sits up and stretches out his limbs again with another groan, looking beside him to confirm that yes, the other side of the bed is definitely empty. 

He doesn't panic, no, because he sees the bedroom door has been left ajar only slightly, but enough to let him hear you downstairs. It's a distant sound, muffled, but he can hear the clambering and chattering of pans in the kitchen and the faint hum of music. The frown on his lips slips away and a smile replaces it soon after, heart twisting. 

He loves mornings like this with you. With their more than hectic schedule now, mornings like this are few and far in-between, so he tries to never take it for granted. Even though he'd much rather drag you back into bed with him and sleep a few more hours, (he flinches at the time on the clock, 7:15), he throws his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up. He hisses as his feet meet the cold floor but braves it, shuffling out of your shared bedroom and down the stairs. 

The music gets louder the closer he gets to the kitchen and he's not sure what it is, something easy to listen to early in the morning. Some morning indie playlist you found on Spotify, he's sure. He smiles again when he finds you in sweatpants and an old shirt of his, hair pulled back out of your face. Your back is facing him, humming along to whatever song is playing, and he leans against the wall beside him. Jolly doesn't remember the last time he was able to just... admire you from afar. He's always in your space whenever he's home, the both of you wanting to spend as much time with each other as you can, never leaving each other's side. 

He likes seeing you like this. As corny as it sounds, this is the most beautiful he thinks you are. Still sleepy he’s sure, still in your pajamas, hair thrown in a messy ponytail, cooking breakfast for the both of you. It's something he'll never get tired of.  

After a solid two minutes of silently watching you, he shuffles over to where you stand and doesn't waste time in wrapping his arms around your middle, lips meeting your shoulder.

"Good morning."

"Was waiting for you to come over here." You hum and instantly melt back into his chest. "Were you just watching me in silence?"

"Maybe."

"Creep." 

But he can hear the smile in your voice, which makes him smile, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head before untangling himself from you, leaning against the counter to your right. 

"What's on the menu this morning?" He questions, eyeing the eggs in the pan.

"Eggs and waffles. Wanted some turkey bacon with it too, but was deeply disappointed to find out that we were out." You send him a pout before focusing back on cooking.

"Oh, you poor thing. How will you ever survive?" He teases before reaching out to poke your side gently, causing you to squeak. "I’ll make sure to add it to our ever growing list. You still want to do that today, right?"

"At some point." You nod before reaching over to turn the stove off and then reaching for one of the waffle filled plates that were placed behind him - two for you, three for him. "We also need to clean this place up before you leave. The living room makes me want to peel my skin off... and don't even get me started on your studio."

He hums, almost in an afterthought, and watches you plate the eggs. "We have time, love."

"I know, I just..." You trail off, continuing to plate the food and he watches as your brows begin to furrow like they always did when you were in thought.

He reaches up and rubs his thumb in between your brows. "Your face will get stuck like that."

"Shut up." You grumble, but your face relaxes for just a moment. "I just like having the place clean before you leave. Makes it feel better when you're gone."

It's his turn to frown, brows furrowing as he stares at you. He knows it rough when he leaves. Leaving you here all alone while he's off traveling with the band isn’t an easy thing to do. If it was his choice, he'd bring you with him every time, but he can't. You have responsibilities here... and unfortunately, his responsibilities are elsewhere most of the time.

He doesn't leave for another three weeks, though, and usually you're asking him to help clean up around the house the week prior. Something is obviously bothering you.

"What's on your mind?"

You sigh, sitting the spatula down on the counter after you finally finished plating. "I just... this time feels different. Don’t you think?” 

Jolly cocks and eyebrow up at you. "How so?"

"I don't know." You shrug and come to stand before him, leaning into him and resting your forehead against his shoulder. His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you closer to him. "You guys are getting bigger, which is amazing. Don't ever think I hate that because I don't, but... the bigger you get means the more tours you get. The more tours you get means..."

You don't say it, voice trailing off, but he knows what your next words will be. The more tours you get means the less time at home. With you. His frown deepens at that.

"Baby..."

"And I don't want to sound selfish. Seriously, I don't! I'm so fucking proud of you, Joakim. All of you. Some of the most deserving people I've ever met, but I..." You sigh again, almost in defeat, and he feels you press closer to him, voice muffled. "I miss you. More than I usually do. It used to be easier, and it still is because I know you'll always come back, but..."

The silence that follows breaks his heart. 

He does remember this last time being away in Europe was a little rougher than normal, constantly thinking about you, wishing you were there with him. It might be because last time they were there you were with him, taking leave from work to join him on their European headliner for this new album. The only thing that really got him through was the fact he knew that when he got home, you'd be right there waiting for him.

"But?" 

"But... it just sucks." You pull back just enough to look up at him, a sad smile settling on your lips. "Wish I could just go with you and not worry about anything else.”

"You could," He's quick to respond. "You've always had that option."

"I know." You mumble, face pressing back against his shoulder. "I feel bad, though. Making you support the both of us. Plus, you know how much I hate flying. I couldn't stand it." 

Jolly laughs at the tiny groan you let out, probably remembering your flight last year to the UK with him and the rest of the band. You had begged Matt to switch seats with you, so he could be by the window and you in the aisle with Jolly squished between you two. One look out the window - while you were still on the ground - had sent you in a spiral. He remembers having to hold your hand the entire flight, and when it was allowed, lifting up the armrest so you could press yourself into his side. He hadn't minded it one bit, finding it endearing that you put all your trust in him to keep you safe.

"You and flying don't mix well." He teases, hands now rubbing up and down your arms. "But... you know I don't mind providing for you."

"I know you don't."

"And I love taking care of you."

"I know you do." You whine, pulling back again to pout up at him. "But you know I can't let you do that. My brain tells me no."

"Tell your brain to get over it and let your boyfriend take care of you." He leans forward, planting a kiss to the center of your forehead. He feels your arms circle around his middle and he smiles against your skin.

"If only it were that easy." He pulls back to find you still staring at him, but a smile has since replaced the pout on your lips. "This'll only suck for a little bit, then it'll become our new norm and it'll get easier. I'm just cranky about it now, but I know we'll figure it out."

"We always figure it out." He hums. "Just tell me what you need from me to make it easier on you while I'm away, and I'll do it."

"There's nothing you can do.” You pause. “Except, maybe, right now… a kiss could possibly fix my cranky mood."

He watches your gaze drop from his down to his lips, and then back up, your own lips puckering dramatically. Jolly huffs out a laugh before happily obliging and leans down, lips pressing against yours gently. Nothing too crazy, a sweet peck, because he still hasn't brushed his teeth, and he pulls back seconds later.

"I love you." You say happily, eyes fluttering shut briefly. 

"I love you, too, baby."

"Alright, I’m not allowed to complain for the rest of the day. Let's eat before all my hardwork gets cold." You step on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling away entirely, reaching around him for both of your plates. "And maybe after, shower? Then go grocery shopping? The fridge is running on fumes... I think I used the last of the eggs and we have maybe half a glass of milk left."

He perks up at that, following you over to the chairs that sit at the island in the middle of the kitchen, plucking his plate from your hands before settling down in his chair. "A shower, you say?"

"Of course that's the only thing you heard." You deadpan, but he doesn't miss the smirk on your lips.

"Sorry. You know my brain likes to focus on the important stuff."

"Perv." You tease, but the smirk has finally settled on your lips fully. "Does that sound good, though?"

"Mhm. Sounds good to me, love."

"Oh! And maybe later we could go to the thrift store we wanted to check out last week? Hit up some other shops, too."

"Oooh, yes. That sounds like a perfect plan.”

It's almost as if the worry from earlier is forgotten as your conversation continues through breakfast, and when you're finished putting your dirty dishes away and dragging him up the stairs to go shower (among other things), Jolly knows that the two of you will eventually figure it out. He knows you two can weather any storm, just like you have for the last few years, and that these worries won't mean much to the two of you in the future. He knows wherever he goes, you’ll be right there waiting for him, and he hopes you know he’d do the same for you.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #joakim karlsson fic #joakim karlsson fanfiction #joakim karlsson x reader #mine

[sanakimohara]

hi, is it okay if i request something? 💖

thinking hard about roommate! seungmin..

imagine you havent been able to get off in over a month or so and youre so sexually frustrated that you end up impulsively buying a fuck machine online.. your roommate ends up going out to meet with friends so you find it the perfect time to try your newly bought toy out, and as you use it the pent up stress and frustration just spills out and youre so fucking horny you end up orgasming and squirting for what seems like hours, until you finally hear the door click open and you try to reach for the remote to turn it off, only to realize it fell on the floor, and youre lying on top of your bed with legs too weak to even attempt to sit back up. the machine is still fucking in and out of your dripping cunt and when seungmin shouts that hes back but never hears back an answer, he gets worried and walks into your room only to find you desperately begging him to help, to turn off the machine for you, but he cant help the fact that hes slowly getting hard as he watches you get fucked by a pathetic little dildo..

“SURREAL SATISFACTION” K. S. Pt.1

….now this is a mouthwatering request 🖤 lets get to it shall we?…breaking this down into 2 parts btw.

[ MDNI ]

+++++++

"Ugh!" You groaned loudly, pulling your hand from between your spread legs and sitting up with a dejected expression on your face as the desire to touch the edge of yourself disintegrated without warning.

Frustration, stress, and despair coiled in the pit of your stomach -erasing the prickle of pleasure you'd been trying to increase for the past week and a half.

There was no luck for you though. It seemed like something went wrong or interrupted every time you touched yourself. The first few times hadn't bothered you much, but now….going nearly two weeks without masturbating was altering your psyche for the worst.

Everyday tasks were becoming annoying to complete, and sleeping through the night turned into restless tossing and turning, but the cherry on top for you was the consistent ache your cunt wouldn't let go of. Being horny 24/7 wasn't news for you, and you'd found that watching porn while your roommate was gone helped quell some of your urges.

However, this wasn't always an excellent solution for two main reasons:

Seungmin could return to your shared apartment anytime -already comfortable with just waltzing into your room whenever he pleased if the door wasn't locked. You knew he'd never judge you for watching erotica since sex was the causal topic for the both of you…but somewhere deep in your soul, the thought of Seungmin seeing you so desperately in need of sex -to the point you'd turned to porn for salvation- made you blush shamefully.

You couldn't even get off to porn anymore. It was nice to watch; it was better for edging yourself, but it was still not enough to finish the job. Yet, despite how numb you were becoming to sexual media, you continued to consume it.

Now, you were stuck in a frivolous circle, edging, giving up on that, and resorting to your laptop's browser history….again.

"Fuck my life…" you mutter angrily, laying flat on your stomach as you slip your laptop from underneath your pillows and open it right up to visit whatever porn website you can find.

You'd already greedily indulged in most forums, raking through each website category to find your favorites and watching a handful of videos before becoming bored or dozing off.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you passed page after page of porn content, feet kicking back and forth gently, and your bottom lips catching between your trashy as you scanned more forums.

One finally caught your eye. "Specifically for Women" was the headline, and you immediately clicked on it with a shadow of hope on your face as it loaded on the screen.

You browsed the site for nearly an hour, thoroughly enjoying the content provided, but still unable to get off to it. You began to consider exiting the forum, seeing how late it was, and deciding that getting some sleep would benefit you. That was your plan before Seungmin stalked into your room without warning. "You have any plans for tomorrow, sweetheart?" He asks you nonchalantly, heading straight for your nightstand to retrieve the charger you'd borrowed from him earlier.

You snapped the laptop shut as he neared the side of the bed, unplugging the cord with one swift hand as he raised a brow at you, waiting to hear an answer to his question. You smile nervously, nodding to whatever he says, "You are busy? I'm just double-checking because I'll be out with some friends all day, but I have a package coming in. I was gonna ask you to sign for it while I’m gone.”

You cut into his explanation, studying his features as he looked you up and down, "Sure, I can sign for it while you're gone, Min. It's no problem…" you offer your help with a tight-lipped smile, subconsciously hugging your laptop closed to your chest. Seungmin laughs softly as he takes notice of your anxious action. "I thought you said you'd be busy-"he pries, and you gulp before rushing out a haphazard excuse.

"W-well, I won't be gone all day, Min. Sorry if you misunderstood what I meant.."

He stared down at you, scanning your obviously flustered state with a smile tugging at his lips. "What were you up to just now, Y/n?" He asks the question casually, holding your gaze for what seems like an eternity until you mumble, "…nothing." Seungmin can feel the guilt oozing off your skin; it's swimming in your eyes, and he wonders why you'd lie to him about something bothering you.

He thought by now -after two years of being roommates- that you'd established a typical exchange of trust. Neither of you acknowledged the steady tension growing up til now, and he preferred it that way, but within moments like this, he wished you'd open up to him like a proper significant other would.

But you weren't his partner, and he decided not to press the issue if you weren't comfortable addressing it.

"Hm…okay. Well, I'll be up pretty late tonight. If you need anything, just shout for me…"!Seungmin circles around your bed again, flashing you one last smile before he leaves your room, and when the distinct 'click' of the door closing hits your ears, you open your laptop up again.

"That was way too close," you mutter to yourself, exhaling heavily to slow the rapid beating of your heart, but the image of Seungmin looming over you -unknowingly feeding your lust-driven psychosis- had your core throbbing all over again.

You couldn't take this much longer, enduring the sight of Seungmin without jumping on him for a bid at sexual relief, and if you thought about how that's playing out for more than ten seconds, you were back to square one of the problem.

So, you tried to fix it with a hasty decision. Buying a sex toy, not just an essential aid for arousal, but a contraption you were confident could get the job done…at least once.

Thankfully, the site you'd been browsing through for the past hour and a half had an expansive selection of products. Finding and purchasing the needed item took you only a short time.

< Your order is complete. Express shipping arrives in 24 hours or less! >

You stared at the message, confused as to why it said you paid for express shipping when you clearly clicked on "standard', but since the mistake was made and over with, you shut your laptop with a tired sigh.

In the living room, Seungmin sauntered over to the plush black cushioned couch, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, his phone occupying the other. He wasn't lying when he told you he'd be up late. The reason why was similar to your own for dodging his question.

Sex.

More specifically, how to get it from you, and with all the intelligence in the world, Seungmin thought his friends could help him achieve this.

He was proved wrong. They all had suggestions he'd previously employed that all ended with little to no results being attained.

"Have you walked around shirtless like Chan Hyung," Jisung piped up at the end of their three-way call, to which Felix laughed and added to the question, "Try shirtless with grey sweats. That'll be more accurate."

Seungmin groaned at their idiocy, grumbling as he sank onto the couch, "I've tried both, but she just avoids me the entire day when I do. And I know it's not because she doesn't like me back. She'll walk around barely clothed the next day, asking me to help with everything, and I know it's her way of getting back at me…"

It was, but you'd never say it aloud for him to hear, and he'd grown too headstrong to admit the effect it had on him.

Felix spoke up, amused by his friend's troubles but still wanting to provide a helping hand. "This might sound weird…maybe even a little off-putting…but let her catch you…ya know..?"

Seungmin sat up straighter, face scrunching as he tried to decipher what he meant, "No, I don't know, Lix…" He heard a nervous chuckle from the blonde, a sharp inhale, and an explanation he'd never imagined Felix, of all people, to give.

"Let her catch you masturbating."

"Felix?!" Jisung shouted in disbelief, voicing the same shock Seungmin couldn't seem to put into words as he mulled over the suggestion. Felix huffed, disregarding Jisung's dramatics to address Seungmin directly. "Listen, it worked for me before. Maybe it'll work for you. Sounds like she feels the same way you do. She just probably needs…a sign from you."

Felix had a point…sort of. Seungmin knew it but wasn't sure jerking off to get your attention was the right way to go.

That was until he heard your muffled moans vibrate through the wall.

He froze, unconsciously licking his lips as he listened to your whimpers of pleasure, not hearing a word Jisung or Felix said for the next minute.

Is she….touching herself right now?

Seungmin hung his head, gripping his phone so hard he thought it would break, and his joggers started to pull tight as his cock hardened. "Seungmin…hey Min, you still there?" Jisung's voice sounded miles away, drowned out by the salacious moans that you failed to stifle in the mess of your covers, but he heard every slutty sound you made.

"I. I gotta go, guys. I'll call you later.." he ended the call without a second thought, barely registering his friend's farewells, closing his eyes as he honed in on your voice. He could hear the thick covers on your bed shifting with your every move, and it wasn't hard for him to imagine how dainty you must've looked, tossing and turning with a hand tucked between your thighs.

Seungmin felt his throat go dry as the image of your legs spread open for him, what your creamy folds would look like when he sank two fingers into you, and how long he could make you cum like that -clenching around his fingers as they fucked you at a practiced rhythm.

His head reeled back against the wall, a soft grunt leaving his lips as he henpecked them and laid one of his hands over the bulge in his pants. You were talking yourself through it now, trying to edge your body closer to a release but unintentionally encouraging Seungmin to touch himself as he listened.

"…fuck, please…just like that…" you whined into the still air of your room, twisting your head against the pillows as your own fingers deviled farther into your walls. You were right at your end, closer to achieving your goal by using the image of Seungmin staring you down as fuel, but the oncoming threat of dissatisfaction crept in quicker than you could pump your fingers. You couldn't reach deep enough and explore the entire expanse of your warm walls as thoroughly as you assumed Seungmin could, which drained your imagination entirely.

You drew your hand away from your cunt with a defeated groan, whining curses as your slick-coated fingers started to dry, and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. This was unfair. The universe had to be playing a sick joke on you to make you crave a man so much that the simple act of pleasuring yourself to the thought of him felt useless.

The devastation had your head spinning, lacking logic, and doused in a pathetic sense of loneliness. "Seungmin.." you mumbled hopelessly, ready to cry as you snuggled into one of the pillows at the head of your bed. Saying his name eased your distraught state, made you remember who he was to you, and brought you back down into the depths of reality. He was your roommate who occasionally flirted with you.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Crushing on him was bad enough; craving his touch was worse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it. With a heavy heart and mind, you dozed off into sleep, hugging your pillow tight to substitute Seungmin 's embrace, and tried to forget your shameful night.

Seungmin's eyes shot open when he could no longer hear your sweet cries, his hand just beginning to fist his fully erect shaft, and precum oozed from his aching tip in a steady stream.

Why'd you stop? How could you leave him on the edge like this? Were you trying to agitate him, or was this another ploy to get back at him for something?

He was too frustrated to formulate answers to those questions, hyper-focused on the coil in his torso begging to snap, and unable to resist the urge to finish himself off. He pumped his fist slowly, replaying the last five minutes of your soft moans as a guide, and his own groans began to surface then.

Seungmin didn't bother to shut himself up, considering Felix's earlier suggestion, but put his own twist on it.

You didn't need to catch him.

No, he'd let you hear him as shamelessly as you had. And even at the brink of sleep, you listened, biting your lip as his husky voice trembled through the wall, and the sound of his cock sliding through his wet palm brought a heady blush to your cheeks. He moaned your name with confidence, smirking to himself as his hips bucked involuntarily at the thought of you, "Y/n…Y/n…mmm, fuck.. you're so good baby…so, so good."

The heat rose in your cunt like a raging wildfire as he let your name ring through the apartment.

Did he not care that you were on the other side of the room? Was he that certain you were asleep? Why don't you want him to stop? Why are you listening so intently?…

You gulped, subconsciously wrapping your legs around your pillow to rut against it, following the cadence of Seungmin's moans. His words began to slur together, dissolving into rough grunts as he reached his high, and with a final curse falling from his lips, he came.

You bit into your pillow to mask the excited mewl you let out, hearing him unravel. Visualizing the amount of cum that drenched his hand felt sinful; having to bite the tip of your index finger to keep from rushing out of your room to lick his hand and cock clean felt even worse, but you managed to stay sane…to stay put as he shuffled around in the other room to fix himself up.

Seungmin heard your timid squeals, though, grinning like a madman as he cleaned himself up and took a sip of his alcohol. His plan had gone smoothly, if not perfectly, and if your reaction meant anything…..he was sure it wouldn't be long before you came crawling to him for more.

++++++++

Like I said, I’m breaking this down into to two parts. 🖤 We’ll get to the best half soon. ;)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I support the Seungmin Sir/Master kink agenda and this edit is a contributing factor in my argument. 🖤 credits to creator btw 🖤

#skz #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #kim seungmin skz #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmim #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin stray kids #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin imagines #seungmin skz #seungmin stray kids #seungmin smut #seungmin #seungmin hard thoughts #seungmin hard hours #sir kink #master kink

[sanatomis]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ── 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄!

a child is bound to feel neglected when they discover no one bothered to show up for their science fair, especially when all their peers have someone to dote on them. it seems fushiguro megumi is no exception.

content. female!reader with she/her pronouns, feminine nicknames (princess), established relationship with satoru, slight angst with a happy ending.

notes. nobody was there when i presented my end of the year research-project as a 14 year old, so megumi (age 7), baby, i'm gonna make sure there's someone there for you.

࣪taglist. | series masterlist.

Megumi never really cared about science fairs. To him, they’re just a regular afternoon at school that he’ll have to sit through until he’s finally allowed to go home. He may think of them as unnecessary—as he does not believe in a good reason for parents to come to the school and marvel at their child’s (very much mediocre) creation—but he has never had a strong opinion towards them. They were just. . .there. 

He didn’t pay them much mind, and that exact indifference turned out to be the motive behind the very serious crime of putting a flyer in the bin. 

“Look what I found!” 

There’s a sense of annoyance that bubbles up in his stomach when Satoru puts the invitation to the science fair in front of him. Megumi’s brows furrow, and he purses his lips—leave it to him to find something he doesn’t want to have found. 

“Hm?” You hum, and lean over to look. One of Satoru’s fingers taps impatiently on the flyer, as if it’s saying ‘look, I caught him hiding something!’. Megumi briefly contemplates biting the digit clean off. “Science fair. . .Is this yours, Megumi?”

While reading, you put the bowl of rice back down onto the dinner table, and Tsumiki gingerly grabs it upon return. You mouth the words as you do so, and the boy nearly gags when he watches Satoru’s lovesick gaze at your little quip. It’s so disgustingly sappy, he nearly forgets you asked him a question. Nearly, as it had induced just enough anxiety into him to make him remember. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and pokes a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. 

You stop reading at his confirmation. There’s a sad look in your eye, it forms quickly and is instantly directed at him. Megumi doesn’t like it. Especially since he’s most likely the cause of it. “Why didn’t you tell us?” You ask, and he finds himself at a loss of words. 

Why didn’t he tell you? In all honesty, it just didn’t occur to him to do so. He has never cared about science fairs, nor has he had people who attended them for him. Most times, they are for parents only—so try as she might, Tsumiki was never allowed inside. Megumi eventually stopped bringing them up. He felt a little sorry for all the failed attempts his sister (very lovingly) made. But now. . .well, yes, why didn’t he tell you? 

He doesn’t know the answer to that. 

“Didn’t think of it,” he says eventually, because he knows you’ve been trying to get him to talk more; verbalising his feelings, is what you called it. 

You frown at his answer, and it makes him wonder if he said the wrong thing. A quick glance between you and the man at your side is shared. Megumi thinks that can’t be good. 

“It says it’s for tomorrow evening,” you tell Satoru, and push the flyer over back to his side of the table. “Are you free, then?”

Satoru pauses. He’s not free, Megumi knows he isn’t. Not because Satoru told him so, but because he listened to the phone call he had a few hours ago. It’s bad manners, he knows—he can hear you in his head, and he shouldn’t have done it. But, Satoru talks so loudly, he should simply quiet down if he doesn’t want others to hear. 

“I sure am,” he says then, and Megumi tries to hide the surprise on his face. He’s lying. Liar. Liar. Liar. It’s all that goes through the boy’s head, but he doesn’t say it out loud. 

He does wonder why Satoru lied, but he quickly gets his answer when he sees the happy smile that breaks out on your lips. “That’s great!” You say, and place one of your hands on his. Seemingly delighted, you look at Megumi. “We’ll be there.” 

“It’s nothing special,” Megumi says. His voice is clear this time, as opposed to his previous mumbling. Once again, he hears you in his head. You’re allowed to make noise. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Nonsense,” Satoru chimes. 

You continue his sentence. “We’ll be there.” 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

. . .So, where are you? 

Megumi isn’t too proud to admit that he’s currently desperately looking for the blabbermouth you call your boyfriend. It’s not because he’d rather have him here than you, but his white hair makes for a stark contrast among the crowd. It’s so very easy to find, and yet it’s nowhere to be found. He’s not here, and that, by extension, means you probably aren’t here, either. The realisation hits him harder than he thought it would have. 

For some reason, there’s a deep sadness. He thinks it’s a little silly. Nobody has ever shown up before, and he was fine with that. Being alone isn’t new to him. None of the situation he’s currently in is surprising, and yet Megumi has to fight off the tears welling up in his eyes. Why is he feeling this way? This hasn’t happened before. 

Megumi doesn’t care about science fairs. But, if that were true, then why do all the children and their parents suddenly make the room feel smaller? He swallows. All his classmates are darting around the room, chattering and motioning towards their projects while their parents gawk in feigned awe. As they always did. Except now, he feels something akin to resentment boil from within. His hand balls up into a fist. 

There isn’t a good enough reason for him to feel so disappointed. The position he finds himself in isn’t unfamiliar, and he knows Satoru was initially called-in for a mission somewhere in Ginza. Something came up, that’s all there is to it. Megumi knew better than to get his hopes up, or so he thought. How pitiful.After all this time, he still hasn’t learned.

And suddenly, he’s four years old again, and crawling into the crumpled bed sheets of his father’s ever-so-empty bed. He’s holding onto the fabric as if it’ll slip through his fingers, and stifling his quiet sobs with the pillow that doesn’t carry the same comforting scent any longer. It hasn’t for months now. Megumi keeps hoping that one day, it will. Tsumiki peeks into the room, and he pretends not to notice. He’s four years old, and has no parents, and absolutely no idea why his father left without him. 

Why was he forgotten? 

There is a lump forming in his throat. Its imminent appearance lulled him out of the faded memory, and into the present—the present, where he is, once again, forgotten about. Perhaps that is simply the tale of Megumi Fushiguro. 

“Mom, look! I added the glitter to it just as you said,” a girl speaks from the booth next to him. “What do you think? It’s pretty, right? Do you think it’s pretty?”

Her mother laughs, and pets her head once the girl starts tugging on her arm. “Mhm, it’s beautiful, darling. I’m very proud of you.”

Megumi doesn’t necessarily want to cry. Though, when his eyes water momentarily, there’s very little he can do about it; he feels even more powerless when his bottom lip starts trembling. He once read that blinking rapidly will make one’s tears disappear like snow before the sun, except that article mustn’t have taken the feeling of heartbreak into consideration. It doesn’t matter how much Megumi blinks, the first tear falls down his cheek a few seconds later. 

“Huh? What’s this? You really need to work on your handwriting, Megumi, your name is barely rea. . .” 

A part of him is convinced that the universe has it out for him. There is no other reason for the constant waves of misfortune that strike him. Sniffling, he looks up at the man in front of him—and the worst thought he has ever had surfaces. He is so very happy to see Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing the water staining the boy’s cheeks, but even then Megumi can’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed. Not at this moment. With teary eyes, he blinks up at the tall man that snatched him up from the street like he was some discarded piece of free furniture.

“Where’s. . .” he croaks out, but gets interrupted rather quickly. 

“She’s talking to your teacher,” Satoru says softly. It’s a new tone of voice, one Megumi vaguely remembers as the one he normally reserved for you. This is making him uncomfortable—even a blind person would see that, but Satoru still tries. “Hey, it’s alright, buddy. She’s here.” 

The pat on his head nearly feels awkward. . .No, it does feel awkward. Satoru is petting him as if he were gently pressing a buzzer. It’s not even remotely close to the soft caresses you use when soothing him back to sleep, but it still brings him some strange sense of comfort. Megumi doesn’t swat his hand away. 

“There, there,” Satoru mumbles, and crouches down to his height. It’s a little silly to see such a man all folded up, his legs too long to look normal. “There was an accident a little further down the road. It took us a little longer to get here.”

Megumi lets out a shaky sigh. The petting stops shortly after. It’s quiet for a little while after—even if the room is filled with adults and children alike. Satoru looks at him, and he briefly wonders how you’re able to withstand looking into his eyes for as long as you do sometimes; Megumi thinks the blues will blind him soon. He gulps. For as annoying he might be when speaking, it turns out that Satoru Gojo is much more unnerving when he’s silent—silent, and looking right at you. 

Adorned with white lashes, Satoru’s baby blues pick Megumi apart at the seam. The boy has the brief idea to ask what he is thinking, but then decides against it. 

“Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice startles him. He hadn’t expected him to speak any time soon. 

“Megumi,” he calls out. “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? Megumi doesn’t know for sure. There are a lot of emotions he went through these past twenty minutes, and he isn’t entirely convinced that his brain was able to process them all. But for now—for now, he at least feels okay. 

Megumi nods. It’s all he does, not confident in his ability to verbalise his thoughts at the moment. He sniffs again. He’s okay, things are okay. 

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mumbles, and his eyes dart towards the right side of the room; towards the door. He clears his throat, and one of his fingers carefully makes its way towards Megumi’s cheek. “That’s good. She’s here now, see?”

Megumi visibly perks up, and, while still a little shaken, starts searching for you. As soon as he lifts his head up, there’s a soft brush against his skin. He wavers for a moment, confusion on his face once he realises Satoru brushed some stray tears away. The two look at each other once again. Why did he. . .

“Oh, there you are, lovie,” you say, relief apparent in your voice. It never takes you long to embrace Megumi—you once said he’d be stuck in your arms forever if you had your way. The boy moulds into you, and his anxiety dissipates as soon as your perfume hits his nose; the scent comforting him. “I’m so sorry, there was an accident, and all roads were blocked, and. . .God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long.” 

You cup his cheeks in his hands, and Megumi suddenly feels under scrutiny. It’s as if you’re searching for any inkling that your late arrival had caused him unease. It clicks, then, why Satoru did what he did. He’s a buffoon most of the time, but it seems there are some working cells left in his brain—when it concerns you, of course. Megumi is very thankful for him now. Though, he will deny ever feeling so. 

“Alright, princess, let him breathe,” Satoru says, the usual light lilt to his voice has made a return. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you fuss over him. “Don’t you want to show us your project, Megumi?”

The mention of his project catches your attention. “Oh! Yes, will you show us, Gumi?” 

One might think you’re speaking about some grand architecture design rather than a small, barely functioning science project. That is, if they took the look in your eyes as anything to go by. The boy glances between you and Satoru. Megumi then decides that, yes, he would like to show it to you—he always has wanted to show them. 

You weren’t his parents, but you were at his side. And when Megumi looks at the near-giddy excitement showing up on Satoru’s face, and the unconditional support on yours. . .he thinks that may just be enough. 

He nods, and finds his words again. 

“I—I will, yes. Follow me, please.”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

taglist [based off the last fic in the series, let me know if it’s no longer wanted]: @torusdoll @sad-darksoul

#ꕤ — sanatomis darling: fushiguro megumi #ꕤ — sanatomis darling: gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #platonic fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[lowkeyremi]

Hi there!! I’ve read some of your works I they’re really good- you’re so talented and amazing 😭✋🏾

Bakugou x reader where he slips reader a letter telling her to proofread his letter to Santa and she’s like:??? but doesn’t judge bc she loves him, and it says that he’s asking Santa for a wife 😭🥰 and then when she looks down he’s on one knee 🥺

All I want for Christmas is You k. bakugo x fem!reader

a/n: THIS IS SO CUTE OMG IM GIGGLING STOPPPP i was about to say at his grown age he got a santa list but it made more sense after I read the rest :3

content: fluff, established relationship, bakugo is silly

The old grandfather clock that Katsuki insisted he needed chimes loudly to announce the arrival of the next hour. You were in the kitchen getting a little snack before winding down for bed.

As you continued preparing your snack your boyfriend made his presence know in the kitchen with his humming.

"What's that?" He asks looking over your shoulder.

"I'm trying something new." You explain, taking a look at it for yourself. Honestly, you don't know what to call it. His eyes travel down to your feet where he can see you aren't wearing socks or your house slippers.

"How many times do I have to tell ya to wear something on your feet? You'll get sick." He complains for the umpteenth time this week.

"Mhm I know. I need you to be quiet you're breaking my concentration." He finds it cute how your tongue is slightly poking out as you try to frost this.. interesting looking cupcake.

"Doesn't look like ya put much effort or thought into it but okay..." He clicks his tongue and you elbow him in the stomach. Of course it doesn't hurt though, because he's built like a marble statue.

"Anyways, I need you to read over this when your done. It's my wish list to Santa." You don't respond right away, waiting to see if he's going to say he's joking or something, but he doesn't. You put down the frosting bag and stare deep into his soul.

"Are you serious? I thought Santa wasn't real. At least that's what you told Denki and ruined his Christmas." You recall last year's Christmas party when Katsuki harshly broke the news to Denki. The blond had a mental break down.

"I've reconsidered what I'd said before. He's real 'n I've been real good this year so hopefully I'll get what I wished for." He emphasizes that for some odd reason.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that. Remember when you verbally assaulted that kid who said you look like a mean Pokémon character?" He grumbles something that you don't quite catch but you get what he means.

"Just read it." He says with a roll of his eyes. You stare at him once again.

"Ughhh be happy I love your ass. I have to stop my cupcakes to read a santa list??? How old are you five?" He knows you aren't mad which is why he holds out the red envelope for you to take.

He watches you intently as you gently tear open the envelope. You pull out a piece of paper, which reads:

Dear Santa,

It's me. Bakugo.

The only thing I want for Christmas is a pretty wife who will stay with me through thick and thin. Who's also annoying and banned from going to sleep after me because of her terrible pranks.

Thanks.

As you finish reading it you're in shock. You lower the letter from your view to see your boyfriend on one knee, a pretty ring being presented to you in a very exquisite box.

"So.. will you help Santa out? Make my wish come true?" He's shaking and he looks so vulnerable it touches your heart.

You already know your answer but who would you be if you didn't give the man a run for his money.

"Well I don't know, Santa still needs to receive the letter then he'll probably come to me and we'll talk." You say crossing your arms. Katsuki glares at you and you smile back.

"Of course I will!! I mean who else would do it if not for me?" He rolls his eyes so hard you feel it.

"I could get anyone to marry me in seconds." He scoffs while putting the ring on your finger.

"All this talk and it took you 7 years to finally pop the question." Before he even gets another word out you lean down to press a soft kiss onto his lips.

"Merry Christmas, hubby." You say with a snort.

"Way to ruin a romantic moment and hubby is not going to be a new nickname."

jokes on him hubby stuck around for a long time :3

#bnha #mha #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Take Your Time - Evan "Buck" Buckley x Reader

summary: Evan Buckley is getting ready for parent-teacher interviews with the parents of his kindergarten class. He wasn't expecting to hit it off with one of them.

a/n: this is my first 9-1-1 fic (and first non-TGM one in a long time) but I had this idea and after @sarahsmi13s and I discussed it, I went with it!

pairing: teacher!Evan "Buck" Buckley x single mom!reader

warnings/content: mentions of divorce, single parent, Buck getting a crush on reader.

word count: 2k

Evan Buckley let out a heavy sigh as he checked over the schedule he’d made for parent-teacher interviews. Teaching kindergarten was quite the change from the fourth and fifth graders he’d been used to, but so far, the seventeen little darlings in his class had been, for the most part, a refreshing new experience. He’d struggled initially, trying to find ways to entertain a classroom of five year olds, but after a week or two, he’d found his groove, settling in nicely in his new surroundings. The school district he’d transferred to was underfunded, a stark difference from the well-to-do private school he’d worked at for the previous three years, but, he appreciated the change - the private school circuit wasn’t for him, he’d learned, and the longer he stayed, the worse it seemed to feel staying in it. 

Buck looked up at the clock and furrowed his brow. He had exactly 45 minutes before parents and caregivers would start filing in, eager to meet their son or daughter’s new teacher, probably reacting with shock or surprise to learn that a man was teaching kindergarten, like his new co-workers had done when he started. He wasn’t sure what was so strange about the concept, but for some reason, it felt like a lot of people couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea. He sighed as he got up from his desk and headed down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he strolled down the empty corridor. 

In the small staff lounge sat a few round tables and aged chairs, upholstered with vinyl and flattened padding, hardly comfortable to sit in for any length of time. On the counter sat a coffeepot that looked to be about as old as Buck was. He’d been hesitant to use it before, questioning both the sanitation and safety of it, but, if he was going to be hosting these interviews until well into the evening, he needed something to get him through the next four and a half hours. He just hoped that coffee would be strong enough. 

Back at the comfortable familiarity of his desk, a mug of burnt, flavourless coffee in hand, he looks around the classroom, surveying the layout in an attempt to determine if he needed to make any last minute changes in the next twenty minutes of free time he had. He sighed, realizing there wasn’t much that could be done to improve the room with the small time-frame and limited budget. Twirling a pen between his fingers, he looked out the window, watching the clouds rolling in the California sky. Focusing his attention for a moment, he looked down at the stack of papers, neatly situated on the desk in front of him. 

“Right,” he said to himself as he started sifting through the papers, ensuring each student was sorted according to the rudimentary schedule he’d made. “You’ve got this, Buck, you can handle it. A dozen and a half kindergarteners and parents. It’s fine.” 

Right on cue, the first parent entered the room at 4 pm, escorting their young daughter in the doorway, ushering her to a seat. Buck stood from his seat for a handshake, awkwardly accepted by the parent. He sat back down and nodded his head. It was going to be a long night.

“Alright, Holly, are you ready to for Mommy to meet your teacher?” you asked your five-year-old as you stood in the hallway outside of her classroom. 

It was later in the evening, the 7:45 slot being the only one you could make work with your hectic work schedule. Holly nodded her head excitedly, tugging on your hand as she tried to pull you into the classroom. You started cycling through a dozen of scenarios in your head, each one playing out how the parent-teacher interview was going to go. You knew very little about your daughter’s teacher, admittedly. You knew a form had come home with Holly on the first day of school, introducing them, but a coffee spill later, that form ended up in the trash before you had a chance to read it.

“Holly!” her teacher smiled warmly, crinkles by his eyes softening as he looked at your daughter. “I’m Mr. Buckley,” he nodded, extending his hand out to you for a handshake. “Mr. Evan Buckley.” He laughed, his cheeks turning red.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Buckley,” you smiled. His grip on your hand was firm, yet gentle. He dropped your hand after holding it a moment longer than he might’ve needed to, before taking his seat at his desk. 

“Please, you can call me Evan,” He nodded, smiling as he took a seat. He gestured to the empty chairs in front of his desk, “Please, have a seat.”

Once seated, Evan folded his hands neatly over the stack of Holly’s school work. A pair of tired baby blue eyes looked at you, meeting yours with a softened expression. You could tell he’d been at the school for hours, probably wishing he’d chosen another career choice at this stage, having been stuck in this building since at least 8 am. His dark blonde hair was neatly brushed back, strands held in place with styling product. His dark green sweater accented his pale skin, cheeks rosy and pink from a little too much sun, the pale blue collar of his dress shirt laying flat against his sweater’s neckline - he somehow looked exactly how you’d imagined a male kindergarten teacher to look, and nothing at all like how you’d imagined all at once. 

“Holly’s an exceptional student,” he began, nodding his head. “She’s always there to help her friends, and she’s been hard at work practicing the letters of her name. She’s been making some great attempts at writing her name.”  

“She has, has she?” You beamed, looking over at Holly, who was now nodding proudly at you. 

Evan produced a few sheets of paper with Holly’s name sprawled across the page in large, clumsy handwriting, on brand for a five-year-old child. He shot Holly a smile, sharing in the pride she’s showing for her work. 

“It’s been a team effort, but Holly’s been able to write it by herself for a few tries. We just needed to figure out which hand she felt most comfortable trying to write with first, right Holly?” He smiled, flashing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth, a smile you’d expect to see on a poster in your dentist’s office. 

Holly nodded her head in agreement as you and Evan continued to discuss Holly’s progress in school, how you’d been struggling the past six months since her dad walked out, and how you were relieved to hear that it hadn’t impacted her performance in school. 

After what only felt like a few seconds of discussion, you looked over to see Holly yawning, her eyelids looking heavy with exhaustion. The clock on the wall said 8:20 pm - your meeting had gone 20 minutes over the scheduled time, and now, Holly would be getting to bed later than usual.  Quickly, you stood up, shaking hands with Evan once again. 

“It was nice meeting you, thank you for being so supportive of Holly and helping her settle into school.” You started, nodding your head. “I really appreciate it.”

Buck let out a sigh, the clink of metal keys against the ceramic dish on the table by the door echoing throughout his quiet apartment. It was 9pm on a Friday, and instead of going out with his friends, like most late twenty-somethings, he’d be tucked in on the couch within the next five minutes, takeout containers scattered across his coffee table. He set the paper carry bags on the counter while he rummaged around the kitchen for a clean fork. He knew he should have run the dishwasher before he left that morning, but in his hurry to make it to school early enough to allow time to set up for meeting parents all evening, he’d forgotten half a dozen things he’d planned on doing. 

Settling for a plastic fork that he’d found in the back of a drawer, likely stored away from a previous takeout meal, he grabbed his food and sunk down into his couch, a heavy, exhausted sigh drawing from his lips. He began tucking into his dinner, tv remote in the other hand as he shoveled veggie fried rice into his mouth. Sports highlights droned on in the background, something about how the World Series was progressing, two teams Buck didn’t care enough about to pay attention to battling it out for the championship. 

As he flipped through the channels, he found himself unable to focus his attention on anything. Well, almost anything. 

The only thing his mind could focus on was the last parent interview he’d had for the night. The one with Holly’s mother - a newly single mom who was trying her best, but had to balance a hectic work life with an impending divorce and a five-year-old. 

“Thank you for being so supportive of Holly and helping her settle into school, I really appreciate it.” 

The woman’s voice echoed in his head, her gratitude evident on her face as she spoke. Buck couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with joy when he heard how she spoke so positively - a welcome change from the disdain and boredom he was met with from the vast majority of parents he spoke to. Blank stares and uninterested nods, “mhmm”s and a couple of “why are we even doing this? It’s kindergarten.” – but not with you. 

With you, it was entirely different. Smiling and laughing as you talked, a sense of concern for you washing over Buck as he listened to your concerns about Holly’s transition into school now that your ex-husband had taken off. As he watched you talk, the prettiest set of eyes he’d ever seen fixed on him, your perfect pink lips pursing into the sweetest pout he’d ever seen as you thought, mulling over what Buck was telling you about Holly, dewy, sun-kissed skin accented beautifully by your floral print dress, a light, acid-washed denim jacket draped over your shoulders, framing your figure like a work of art. 

The next morning, Buck rubbed his bleary eyes, blinking a couple of times to orient himself. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, again. It wasn’t unusual for him lately, most nights he ended up dozing off before he made it to bed, but usually, he woke up in the middle of the night, making a tired stumble up the stairs to the loft of his apartment where his bed awaited.

He frowned as he looked around the room, sunlight pouring into the living room, washing everything in a bright, golden glow. He sat up on the couch, eyes scanning the room for his phone. He reached down behind a couch cushion, pulling it out with a tired grunt as he stretched muscles that had tensed through the night. His blonde eyebrows furrowed at the time, sighing as he realized the time. He settled back down in the cushions, scrolling aimlessly on social media, trying to catch up on updates he’d missed from friends from past week.

Buck froze when he saw one of the pictures, shared last Saturday, a familiar face smiling at him from the screen. He checked who posted it –- the girlfriend of a friend of his – and his eyes widened as he saw the name of the person tagged. Confirmation that it was, in fact, you. His palms began to feel clammy as he realized you were a friend of a friend, that, if he’d gone out with his friends last weekend, he would have met you under different circumstances, shared a couple of drinks, and, maybe, invited you back to his place if you were interested. 

Now, however, things were complicated. 

Dating the parent of a student wasn’t entirely forbidden, was it?

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #buck x reader #buck 911 #buck #evan buckley 911 #evan buck buckley #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x y/n #buck x you #buck x y/n #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buck buckley x you #evan buck buckley x y/n #911 fic #911 fanfic #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fanfiction

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, cheating, choking (barely, and only if you squint) fingering, etc

Hello lovelies! I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season and a very merry Christmas (if you celebrate). So sorry for the wait, but I trust you’ll understand…things get so crazy this time of year! Please excuse any mistakes you find, I did some under the weather editing. Xoxo love you all ❤️

True to his word, he was knocking at your metaphorical door the second their brief intermission allowed, and now you find yourself trudging along beside him through a nearly deserted parking lot outside the town cinema that is conveniently attached to the mall.

The mall sees little action these days as it is - throw in the fact that it’s early afternoon smack dab in the middle of the week and you’ve got yourself a recipe for isolation.

Which was exactly the plan all along. It’s a small town, and questions are the last thing you need.

When he’d pulled up in his rental, some luxury sedan with sleek black paint and deeply tinted windows, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you. How out of place he looked…he would’ve seemed more at home on a tricycle.

Now, after a hug that felt too intimate in the unforgiving glare of the sun, he holds the door open for you, ushering you inside, ever the gentleman, when his phone begins to hum in his pocket.

“Here,” a credit card, black and heavier than standard plastic, slips into your palm as he nods towards the popcorn and candy, “Go wear it out.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Kiszka?” You tease, leaning in conspiratorially, “Am I your dirty little secret?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shuts you down. “Dirty? Yes. Secret? Not so much.”

He tilts his phone to display Josh’s name trilling across the screen. “You’re welcome to say hello, if you’d like. But I honestly detest the thought of sharing you right now. Sounds torturous.”

Your eyes travel over him like he’s a fucking meal. Linen pants cuffed lazily at the ankles to display scuffed and worn boots. Light blue button up, barely buttoned and hardly hiding the softness of his stomach, which you long to gnash your teeth into. Coins and medallions clink about against his chest, locks curling like ribbons along the shoulders of his midnight onyx blazer…no, on this you two can agree, you’d rather not share him either.

“Don’t let him talk so long that I have to miss you.” You smile with a wink that sizzles the blood in his veins as he watches you make your way over to the concession stand.

In keeping with yet another promise, he stands beside you before the popcorn has even been buttered, ready to follow you into whichever darkened room you’ll be inhabiting together for the next couple of hours.

When you fold into your seats, you find yourselves utterly alone.

A half an hour in, and you’re deeply regretting your choice. Something more PG would have been a lifesaver. You should have opted for something animated, for christ’s sake.

Watching them twist through the sheets, his hands dipped into her waist as she rocks above him in the gorgeous, cinematic lighting would normally have no more than a minute effect on you…especially given how little you’ve paid attention to the actual plot.

But he’s so near. You can feel the warmth of his body heat. You can smell that woodsy hint that lilts through his aura, paired with the ghostly remnants of a cigarette he’d swear he never smoked. If you leaned in just a fraction of an inch, your lips could play against the corner of his jaw. And again, you’re alone, so alone, in the cool darkness of this deserted theater.

Watching them this way with him so close has your heart banging about in the cage of your chest like a bird, stunned and frightened. Intense. Inescapable.

It’s the middle of the afternoon. The sun is beating down upon smoldering asphalt just outside these walls, bathing this town, in which you’ve built a life, in blinding light. Outside, it’s just another Wednesday…but here, with him next to you, quiet and concentrating on the two strangers making love on screen, you could be a thousand miles away. An alternate reality where in which only you walk the earth - Jake’s hand in yours as he strolls along beside you.

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?” His question hushes out, though there is no one else around to hear it, but his eyes remain fixed ahead.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You bristle gently…he knows you far too well for it to ever feel fair.

“I am.” His head tilts towards yours, but still he watches on. “Would you like it if I shared, instead?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to talk at the movies?” You tease, simply to avoid whatever you know to be coming, “You really are spending too much time with Josh.”

A thought seems to suddenly occur to him, flickering a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. “Do you ever miss the way it used to be? With Josh? Before I came along and fucked everything up?”

His hand, which has been linked loosely with yours since the lights went down, offers a tiny squeeze. A reassurance that whatever the truth is, it will be alright to say it.

“Never.” And that really is the honesty of it all. “I miss the way things were when it was the three of us sometimes…but I think that’s really only because I miss you. I miss him too. But so differently. And I miss Sam and Danny. I miss…” you fall silent, searching for words that won’t come, and finally settle upon, “everything.”

“You don’t have to.” He is still refusing to look at you, though your eyes are heating his cheek with the intensity of your gaze in the dark. “You don’t have to miss anything, anymore. You can come home, baby. You should come home. I want you to come home. I need you to—” his throat catches, and you watch his lips fold in against the vulnerability.

“I am home.” You argue, wishing you could take it back the second you’ve whispered it into existence.

“Why?” Finally, finally, he turns to catch your eye. “Because of him? I’m so sick of hearing about him it isn’t even funny. And not just because I’m jealous - which I most certainly fucking am - but because it’s such bullshit.”

Trying your hardest, you muster a bit of astonished annoyance, though you feel none of it “My life is bullshit?”

His response is matter of fact as he turns his attention back to the couple still feigning ecstasy before you “Yes, it is.”

“That’s real nice, Jake.” Now your irritation feels a bit more concrete. How dare he so nonchalantly sit here in the dark and try to poke holes in what you’ve cultivated in his absence? “What isn’t bullshit, then? Our pretend life that you choose to live inside? Or the one from years ago that you can’t let go of?”

Another squeeze of your hand comes tender and comforting, “I’ll let that slide because I know you don’t mean to be hurtful…and because I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you pull away and begin to miss his touch instantly. “I just…I have a fucking life, Jacob. And you seem hell bent on ruining it.”

“Okay,” he nods, turning in to nudge your nose with his own. “Take me home then, Sugar. Parade me through your life. Introduce me to Mr. Wonderful. Show me where you sleep. Where you watch TV with him at night. Where you take your baths, floating in the bubbles until you’re pruny and half-drunk on wine. Show me your backyard. Show me the walls he fucks you up against while you don’t think of me. Show me where you hide away from him at night to whisper sweet things to me…and not so sweet things. Let me meet your cat.”

His mouth is so close to yours you can faintly taste his minty toothpaste, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Alright,” he grins, sly as a snake, cheeks sweeping against yours as they perk with his smile, warm and soft “then just take me home and show me your pussy.”

It’s crass and ridiculous, and you know he’s said it simply to make you laugh…it works.

~

“So this is it, huh?” He leans forward, peering at your house through the windshield as you coast into the driveway. “No porch. No garden. But I’m going to wager there’s a welcome mat.”

His eyes cut over to you, a wickedly adorable gleam dancing about in them, “There is, isn’t there? How fucking quaint.”

How does he remember that you hate welcome mats? That you find them to be untruthful somehow, because certainly not everyone is welcome…some who find themselves at your doorstep should just go away. And how has he guessed that you do, in fact, have one? That he brought one home not long after you moved in and you hadn’t had the heart to tell him to throw it out?

Once more, you’re reminded of Jake’s uncanny ability to peer inside your head, but you refuse to stoke the fires of his ego. “You promised to behave, Jacob.”

He pops his door open and climbs out with a lazy stretch, “Oh, c’mon pretty girl, don’t tell me you believed that.”

Hand slipping from the steering wheel, you steel yourself with a steadying breath. This was a bad idea. A horrible choice. A disaster gearing up to wreak havoc…but here you are, leading the way with Jake strolling along behind you, taking in the suburban elements of your neighborhood with his hands buried casually in his pockets.

He always looks as though he has nowhere to be and all day to get there. It’s calming. Soothing. Like the invisible hand of a beloved caretaker reminding you that there is time enough to breathe. No reason to rush, it says…that gentle air about him. I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.

As you fit your key into the deadbolt, he resumes his antics, “When will Mr. Wonderful return from sea? Is there a widow’s walk where we might watch for him together on this dreadful day of pining?”

Voice warbling and pitched low, he reaches up and tugs a lock of your hair, goading you like a drunken, English pirate.

“Shut up, Oliver, or I’ll go inside and lock the door behind me.” The hinges squeak open…no turning back now.

“No, you won’t.” He scoffs, laughing lightly at his own nonsense. “Seriously, do I get to size up the competition today?”

You welcome him in, slightly dizzy at the sight of him sauntering inside…you’ve imagined him here so many times. Longed for his penchant for filling up space, fat and full, with his greater than life presence.

He makes you feel small in the most wonderful way; you are bird cupped safe and sound in his palms as he holds you close to his chest, protecting you from the world.

And maybe you should tell him these things…the way he makes you feel. His eyes would turn soft, he might touch your face with his tender fingertips and sigh your name into the room like a wisp of a breeze.

But a glance at the mantel, and the framed picture perched there, sends a tiny rush of guilt surging through your veins and you shake the moment off and instead opt for a stern…

“No, you won’t be sizing anything up today, Jake,” you move about the room to keep his eyes on you rather than in the direction of the mantel. “I’m not sadistic enough to subject him to your gleeful nastiness.”

He laughs like he’s never loved anything more, tipping his head back to expose his gorgeous throat…you yearn to bite it. “Gleeful nastiness? Sugar, you wound me.”

Rather than stride across the room to sink your teeth into him, you cross your arms, disgruntled and annoyed. “You’d have way too much fun being an asshole, and he’d be far too nice to put you in your place.”

That darkens his eyes, and you almost regret it. Almost. “Put me in my place? Are you choosing sides, sweetheart? Because it sounds an awful lot like you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

He’s moving toward you now, and you should back away, you know you should. Instead, your feet shuffle forward.

“Pretend your heart lies with him all you want,” he sweeps his lips over the apple of your cheek, “but I know better, and so do you.”

“Kiss me.” You bite your lip against the plea a second too late.

Those warm eyes of his, like coffee stirred with a splash of cream, flick down at your mouth and back to meet your gaze, and then his answer comes simply and with finality, “No.”

“No?” You’re incredulous, and admittedly stung by his rejection.

“No.” He reiterates, stepping away from you as your hands drop uselessly from his shoulders to your sides. “Take me on the tour, pretty girl. Show me this wonderful life of yours. I simply cannot wait.”

~

The “tour” he was so eager for is winding down as you steer him down the hall hurriedly, hoping he’ll ignore the door that is cracked and streaming light into the hallway.

Of course, he doesn’t. “What’s the rush, baby?” He smiles, feigning confusion, “What prize hides behind this one? Is this your bedroom?”

Suddenly, there is no space left between your bodies, and his is radiating a possessive heat as he backs you up into the room, guiding you along with a sure and steady arm wrapped around your waist.

“Is this where Mr. Wonderful fucks my girl?”

“Jake,” you’re protesting, but your fingers have curled into his shirt, thumb toying with one of the buttons that has likely never known what it’s like to be fastened. “Stop talking about it.”

He tilts his head in mock confusion, “Why? You like sex, I like sex, let’s talk about it, yeah? Oh, this is it right here, isn’t it? Look at this great big beautiful bed. Did you make it yourself this morning? Are the sheets clean?”

His mouth is at your throat now, licking and sucking between his terrible taunting questions. “If I laid you down right now, would I smell you on them? Would I smell him?”

“Jake, shut up,” you snap, but you’re pulling his lips in closer, hands fisting loosely in his hair.

You expect him to toss you down on the bed. To crawl on top of you. To grab you. To fuck you. To own you on the bed in some misguided show of territorial dominance.

And you expect to let him.

You expect to fight to be on top so that his hair will rest upon your pillow…so tonight you might drift away into a peaceful slumber gifted by the scent of him blurring your senses.

Instead, you find yourself pressed up against the wall, “I won’t have you in that fucking bed, even though I could, if I felt so inclined. I can tell you want it.” He sizes you up while grinding his cock into you with a delicious rhythm that’s got your breath panting out in tiny puffs already. “You do, don’t you, baby? You want me to fuck you in that bed. You want me all over the sheets he sleeps in.”

You’re ashamed, so fucking ashamed…but it’s true.

He’ll go, and you’ll miss him so terribly, and in some sick and horrifically twisted way you want him to spill on to the sheets, to leave his fingerprints on every surface. To lick across the bathroom mirror. To use your hairbrush so that there might be a strand or two of his silken waves left behind. You want him to drink from the milk carton and lounge about on the furniture. To lose the remote between the couch cushions. To tilt all the pictures uneven with his careless touch. You want him everywhere…to leave behind tiny remnants of himself once he’s gone, little pieces to ease your aching heart.

“Tell me, sugar.” He fucks himself against you with quick rolls of his hips until you’re praying his name. “Tell me the truth, baby. Tell me where you want me to give you my cock. I’m so hard for you, sweetheart.”

“In our bed,” it’s a rush of desperation as you clutch at him, dragging him closer to you…but it still isn’t enough, you wish you could crawl inside him. “Fuck me in our bed. Make me cum in our bad. Make me say your name in our bed. Please, jakey, please,”

Ignoring your disgraceful display, he continues to rock into you, gasping into the crook of your neck while his breathless moans tickle their way into your ear, “Does he make you cum in that bed? Does he take care of your pretty cunt the way I do? Does he make you shake and beg for terrible things? Hmm? Are you a good girl for him in that bed? Look at it.”

You shake your head back and forth against the wall, thrusting wildly to meet him. He’s right, he’s so fucking hard.

His palm wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides, directing your line of sight. “I said fucking look at it. I want your eyes on that bed when I make you cum. I’m gonna make it mine without laying a goddamn finger on it. My bed, and my girl with her pretty wet pussy that belongs to me.”

“Inside,” it’s a rasping, shaking plea, and it should embarrass you and cast your eyes downward in shame…but it doesn’t. You’ve always wanted him this badly, and he knows it as inherently as he remembers the walls of his childhood home. “I need you inside, need your cock.”

“That’s it, fuck doll…” there is a filthy smirk evident in his tone, though his face is once again buried against your neck, “Beg for my cock. Tell me how badly you need it. Ask real sweet, sugar…be my very good girl.”

Your bodies writhe together feverishly until you feel like you might catch fire and burn away into ashes that will singe against his tongue like scorching want “Please, Jakey…please. I think about you all the time. I can’t clear my head, it’s always so full of you. Fuck me, fuck me, please please please…”

A painfully ragged groan rumbles out of him as his mouth, eager and starved, sucks against your throat, “Not gonna fuck you here. Not in this room where you let him touch you, not in this house where you let him love you.”

“Outside,” your teeth clench around the word until your jaw is screaming as loudly as the ache between your legs. “Take me out back, fuck me there…”

At last, his face, so beautifully flushed and dew-kissed, emerges from the crook of your neck, “You want me to take you outside and slide you onto my cock all wet and pretty? Want to let your neighbors hear what a whore you are for me? Let them hear how wet I make your gorgeous cunt? Hmm? Let them hear you whine my fucking name?”

“I don’t care what they hear…” you’re nearly mewling with need, clawing at his shoulders, clutching at his shirt, nearing your end, but so desperate to run from it because you want so much more. You don’t want this to be over without him slipped inside you, hard and hot.

“Look at me.” The insistence in his tone leaves no room for argument and your eyes flutter open to lock in on his.

A breathy, “You’re so beautiful,” trips off your tongue - a reflex that couldn’t be helped if you tried. He’s an evil, diabolical doctor banging a tiny hammer just below your knee cap.

A slow, languid blink is the only indication he gives that he’s even heard you. “You know my face, sugar?”

It’s the most absurd question that has ever been asked of you. Of course you know his face. Sometimes, it seems like you know nothing but his face.

Those sleepy eyes, that seem to see more than anyone has ever seen, down the deep and winding halls within you. His plush lips, full and pink, cruelly perfect, with a Cupid’s bow to rival the angel’s even if you stacked them all together. Rounded tip of his nose, different now, but still constantly luring your kiss. His jaw, so strong at times, so soft at others, but always begging for your tongue to trail along its path…his brow, his eyelashes, the way locks of hair display it all like a gilded edged frame adorning a wall in some ancient, European museum.

Yes, you know his face. You will always know his face. He is true north on your compass. He is the only direction in which your heart will ever willingly travel.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak even as your hips rock against him.

“Good girl,” he presses the softest kiss to your mouth, “I want your eyes on that bed when you cum, but I want my face in your heart, and my name on your pretty pink tongue. We’re gonna fucking erase him, aren’t we?”

Suddenly, you wonder who he means? Does he mean this new rival, who really isn’t his rival at all? Or does he mean Josh, even after all this time? Does he even know which? Do you?

“No, baby…” your voice is but a whimper, and it tugs a growl out of his lungs that makes you weaker still, “I don’t want to cum like this. I need you inside of me. Make me feel good, Jakey…make me whole.”

“Not here,” he shakes his head sternly and you shrink away from his scolding, head resting against the cool wall. “Never here. Not in this house. I hate this fucking house. I want to burn it down and salt the goddamn earth.”

“Give me more,” your fingers are tearing and pulling at him frantically. You need so much from him always, you need his everything.

“I’ll give you more,” his voice sounds feral, grinding and growling like sandpaper…like he is lost and stumbling along far away from himself, as he jerks you away from the wall and slams you up onto your vanity.

Tiny bottles and tubes tumble and spill to the floor, but rather than care, you reach back and blindly sweep the rest away to make room for whatever is about to happen.

“I’ll give you fucking more,” he bites into your throat as though he wants to swallow you down and carry you around inside him. “I’ll give you fucking anything if you’ll just let me. Let me, sugar…fuck, please baby.”

“Just…” you can’t finish your thought…can’t find your mental footing while vibrating with such desperation, so you don’t even try. Instead, you begin fumbling with his belt, but he shoves your hands away.

“I told you,” he grabs hold of your face, a firm yet shaking hand tight around your chin, “Not here. Stop.”

On your fingers march, fighting with leather and metal until his voice, soft and mournful now, guides you out of the haze, “Not here, sugar. Not here.”

Everything slows in a blink, as if fate has adjusted the playback speed, and you find yourself watching with bated, yet quieting breaths as he pops the button on your jeans and lowers the zipper, eyes on your face all the while.

He slips his fingers in slowly, carefully…you are precious and deserving of his care, and he wants you to have it.

“Lean back,” he soothes, the heel of his palm grinding softly against your clit, “Let me take care of my girl.”

You’re prepared to whine and barter, but he shakes his head the moment your lips part.

“Shh, settle down, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” free hand now petting at your face, he offers you the gentlest smile. “You’re so wet, sugar. So warm.”

“Jake,” you’re rocking up to meet him now, slipping into the breathtaking haze of bliss he saves just for you.

“What, pretty girl?” God, the way he’s speaking to you…each word dripping with adoration and awe. Drenched in lust. Positively soaked in love. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” your eyes are drifting closed now as you wade deeper into the tepid pool of your Jakey. You want to stay forever, to sink into his swirling blue waters until you’re forced to suck him into your lungs and drown.

“Eyes open.” The demand is soft and delicate, like lace drawn across your flushed skin.

You recall his earlier instruction and cast your heated stare at the bed you share with a man you could never exist for the way you live and breathe for Jake, but he shakes his head, “I was wrong…I don’t want that. Look at me, sugar. Right here, look at me.”

How could you ever want to look at anything else? Your gaze locks with his, and in reward, he curls his searching fingers and drags a high pitched moan off the tip of your tongue.

“Good girl, baby…” he nods, dropping his forehead to meet yours “So pretty. Silky little pussy wrapped up snug and tight around me like she never wants me to leave.”

“Don’t,” you’re writhing and grabbing at him now, crawling closer and closer to the edge, “Don’t leave me, Jake.”

His hand trails down from your face to cover your heart, “Is that coming from here, too?”

Watching him like this, your chest feels like it could easily cave in…like it could crumple in on itself - a balled up scrap of cheap aluminum foil crushed inside a fist. He is a sonnet come to life. A haunting song, living and breathing, watching you like you are love incarnate.

Of course it’s coming from your heart. It’s coming from your soul…or perhaps from the soul the two of you sometimes seem to share.

“I don’t know why I keep fighting this,” strangely, tears are burning in your eyes as the white hot band of pleasure stretches tighter still in your belly, “You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted,”

Satisfied, the air sighs out of his lungs as his fingers crook just perfectly and unravel you with a jolt. It is such a lazy, undulating ribbon of pleasure, unwinding through your veins like slow heat as you gasp and hush his name.

“Just like that, baby,” he coaxes, sounding far away. “Nice and slow…just like that. Shh, I’m right here. I’ve got you, sugar, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes never stray from his, even when the intensity you find in them threatens to crack your chest wide open, and when you finally come down, that’s how you both stay for so long you can almost believe the rest of the world has fallen away.

When his fingers twitch and you shiver with overstimulation, it breaks the spell and he pulls back… reluctantly sliding slowly from the cashmere grip of your cunt, only to suck those two fingers into his mouth with a muted groan of content.

“Pack a bag, sugar…” his hands cup your cheeks, fingers slick against your face as his nose tips up to meet yours, “Or don’t. We’ll go shopping and I’ll buy you anything and everything you’ve ever needed. Whatever you want, pretty girl…it’s yours.”

“I—“ you can’t seem to think straight.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’s teasing now, with a barely there smirk taunting his lips, “Let me steal you away and take you home where you belong. I’ll write pretty songs for you, and make love to you every morning until the sun is so envious of us it resents having to rise. Let me build you a house. Let me till a garden for my girl.”

At last, you find your voice, “I have to do this the right way, Jake. His heart deserves care. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to. I’m the bad guy, here.”

“No,” that soft, hidden away smile of his clutches at your heart. “I think I’m the bad guy here. I just can’t find a shit to give.”

~

You’ve righted your disheveled selves and are now attempting to right all the other wrongs, with you stretched out on the rug watching as Jake picks up the tiny bottles and jars that litter the floor, asking after each one…

“Highlighter? What the hell does this do? Are you a book report?” And “How many lip glosses do you even need, sugar? You only have two lips.”

…before carefully placing said product back on the vanity - when, way ahead of schedule, the garage door rumbles to life.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, but on his end, Jake’s eyes light up with menacing delight, “Well, what do you know, babe? It seems our dear captain has returned.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @thelvnternskeeper @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fic #fanfic #gvf fic #jake gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiskza #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #josh kiskza smut #gvf one shot #gvf smut #gvf imagine

[elliesmainhoe]

Happy Mothers Day!!

HBO!Ellie Williams X MotherFigure!Reader

THIS CHARACTER IS UNDER 18 SO THIS FIC IS STRICTLY PLATONIC!!!!!!!

Summary: The first mothers day Ellie has ever celebrated and she's going to make sure that it's amazing.

Contents: tooth rotting fluff, happiness, extreme cuteness

Pancakes were supposed to be simple. Key word supposed.

Ellie woke up at the ass crack of dawn that morning, she had set her alarm clock for 6m and had switched yours off- discreetly forcing you into sleeping over time. She'd gathered all the ingredients the recipe had told her. Said recipe having been ripped out of the book they were originally in and found laying near a library a little outside of Jackson.

Ellie had squeezed fresh apple juice as she waited for the first pancake to cook through. A bad habit of Ellie's was losing track of time, she got carried away, squeezing the apple juice lead to her finding cutlery which lead to her cleaning said cutlery which lead to finding the right tray to put the silverware on. Ending up with the smell of burning flooding the kitchen.

She slammed the kitchens door, attempting to stop the smoke from wafting through the house alerting you of her antics and waking you up. She opened the window, the chilly air ventilating out the smell of smoke before she turned off the stove.

To say the pancake was a little crisp would be a bit of an understatement.

Shit. She only had enough for two, one for you, one for her. Oh well... She'll have the burnt one, today's about you anyways.

Take two was a little more successful a bit crisp on the edges but it'll do. She flopped them onto the two blue and white china plates- covering yours in fruit and hers in chocolate, balancing them on a wooden tray with the two glasses of juice before she took to the stairs.

She nudged open the door with her foot as she walked into the dark room, curtains closed and blocking out the ever insistent sunrise from seeping into your bedroom.

Cautiously, she placed the tray on your bedside table quietly before tiptoeing over to you window and drawing the curtains apart- the warm glow of the morning lightening the space.

Ellie watched as your eyes fluttered open. "Fuck kiddo. What time is it?" You grunted rolling over to look at your alarm clock 7:45am. 1 hour and 30 minutes late for patrol. Before you opened your mouth the soft voice of your daughter interrupted you.

"Don't worry Mom... I talked to Maria and she cancelled your patrol today" her hand gestured towards the tray of overlooked pancakes, before she whispered a shy "Happy mothers day mama..."

"Oh sweet girl come here" you opened your eyes as a blur of brown hair launched itself at you, her arms wrapping around you and giggling when you pecked her forehead lovingly.

"I tried to make you breakfast. It's not the best but-"

"It looks amazing kiddo. Thank you so much_ you smiled into her hair, before scooching up the bed- your back meeting the headboard as you move the tray onto your lap.

You took a bite of the fruit covered pancake, and honestly you couldn't tell whether or not Ellie was a culinary genius or you were just a smitten mother. Because fuck it tasted good.

Ellie's doe eyes looked up at you expectantly and with worry and anticipation. "Well done Ellie. This tastes so so so so good. You gotta cook for me more often now kid." You hummed, she seemed content with your answer.

"oh wait I got you something else" the girl said darting off your bed and out of the room before swiftly returning with what looked like... A sketch book? "I uh didn't really know what to get you and I thought you would enjoy something personal... So..." She shoved the sketch book into your hands "here."

You set your food aside, opting to open up the leather bound pad of paper instead. The first page read.

To Mom.

I know how much you like my drawings so I decided to put something together for you. Happy Mothers day.

Love Ellie.

You flipped to the next page and there was a beautiful sketch of you, sitting a the barstool of your kitchen island, glasses resting on the bridge of your nose as you read a new recipe

The next one was of you and Ellie. She had sketched out and traced the photo you both took in the malls arcade.

The next one was of a cartoon giraffe wearing a space suit on the moon.

It went on and on and on for 80 pages, sketches of you, her favourite things, her favourite hobbies, her favourite people it was so so so beautiful.

A single tear dripped down your cheek, "come over here baby" you sniffles hugging your girl tightly "my baby's so talented..." You hummed hands playing with her hair as she smiled joyfully.

"Thank you so much kiddo.."

---------------

I actually celebrated mothers day 2 months ago! But I have baby fever rn so here I am again, healing Ellie Williams mommy issues.

Taglist:@aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @eywaskisses @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm @hi2647 @gumdropkoo @coffeeandbookskeepmealive @womaniza @namgification @kimiisims-blog @tayyyystan @abigaillovestoread @whoreshores @kylieeluvstlou @knowitsforthebetterr @endureher @erikaar @lanasluverr @sayah13 @ilovebufflesbians @srryhoneyy @222fine444u

NOT PROOFREAD

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #mom!reader #mother!reader #mother figure #ellie williams x platonic!reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie x platonic!reader #mothers day #tlou fic #the last of us fic #tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader fluff #mothers day fic #hbo tlou #fluff #tlou but make it happy #bella ramsey #bella ramsey tlou #ellie hbo #ellie williams hbo

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Never Say Never

Chapter 11

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 9.4K

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Three hours later found you sitting in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, wondering if doing this together was a good idea. After you managed to get some actual baking done, your counter littered with trays of sweet treats, you'd realized what time it was. Steve announced that the two of you should go get the kids. Like this was a normal occurrence, the two of you picking up your children from school together. Like you wouldn’t be making some epic statement to the world when you exited the same car at Hawkins Elementary. 

What would Eli think when he came out of school to find both you and Steve waiting for him? How would he feel riding home from school in Steve’s car? Who were you kidding? Your son would be ecstatic. He’d get to spend more time with Jeremiah, which was always a good thing in his book. And wasn’t this exactly what the boys had been pushing for? The two of you together?

Were you together? It should be obvious after what had gone down in your kitchen. But was it? It was fairly obvious to you that Steve had been around the block a few times. From the way he and his friends talked he was no stranger to relationships. Did sex mean anything more to him than just a good time? Did you want it to mean more? As much as you liked him, what in the hell had you just gotten yourself into? It felt like you'd just bypassed far too many steps and were stumbling into what could be dangerous territory. Shouldn’t there have been some conversation about what you were to each other, declarations of love or something before you got all carnal with each other?

You had no idea. You were really bad at this. You and Justin hadn’t slept together until the night he’d told you he loved you and you'd said it back. There had only been three guys prior to him and only one of them had been a one night stand, a drunken mistake your freshman year of college. Was that what this had been? A one night stand? Or, actually, a one morning stand since it hadn’t even been noon when it began? Or was Steve thinking you were now officially a couple? Jesus, you needed to talk about it but this would be a really bad time now. You couldn’t have this discussion with the kids around.

Why hadn’t you said anything in the kitchen? It wasn’t like the two of you had been silent. You'd talked as you baked but it was all meaningless stuff. Steve filled you in on the new project his company was working on. You told him about the helicopter mom that had been in the office yesterday, standing over your shoulder as you'd administered vaccinations. He’d been touchy, kissing the back of your neck as he transferred baked goods to the oven for you or placing his hands on your hips, watching over your shoulder as you tried to show him how to properly measure ingredients. The guy had no idea what he was doing. He was used to seasoning to his heart’s content. You had to explain that baking was like chemistry. It had to be exact. But not once had either of you addressed what had just happened or what it meant. 

“Anyway, you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I know Jere would love it. And I would love it too but I don’t want to put too much pressure on you. I know this thing has just started, really.”

This thing? What thing? The two of you? Was it a thing? Were you the thing? Had it started? And what did that mean? Was he your boyfriend now? And what had he even been saying? Were you having the exact conversation you were thinking about and you were missing it? Your inner monologue had just interrupted him and now you had no idea what Steve was asking you. 

“I am so sorry. I kind of missed all of that. I was stuck in my head. What were you asking me?”

“We’re having Jere’s birthday party next weekend. It’s at my ex’s place. It will basically be all the people you met at my house plus my ex, her husband, and her parents. Anyway, Jere really wanted Eli to come so I promised I would ask. Nance and Jonathan hired some guy that dresses up like Batman so he knows he’s coming and he said Eli would be so mad at him if he didn’t get to meet Batman too.”

“Your ex’s house?” you asked, that one detail the only thing you could focus on out of everything he’d just said.

You'd gone on one date, somehow bypassed the appropriate amount of time before sleeping together considering he’d just ravished you on your damn kitchen counter, and now he wanted you to meet his ex-wife? To be introduced as his…what? His son’s friend’s mom? His friend? His girlfriend? What was happening right now?

Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the car door, squeezing tightly. Inhale. Exhale. You were not about to have an anxiety attack in his car. You were not going to do this right now. You had control of yourself and your body. This was insane. Why couldn’t you just respond to stress like most people? Why did the slightest things always set you off? You hated it. You hated that you couldn’t just handle the normal ups and downs of life anymore.

“Yeah. Look, I know it sounds weird but I promise you it won’t be. Nance is great and she’s dying to meet you.”

“Dying to meet me?”

“Yeah. I mean, Jere told her about you so she asked and then I told her about us going out.”

That explained it. The ex wanted to size up the new woman who was in his life, the new woman who was in her son’s life. You couldn’t blame her for that. If you were in her shoes, you would probably feel the same way. You'd want to know who was hanging around your son. Maybe she thought this was all too fast. Maybe she was pissed because he hadn’t talked to her about it first. Maybe you should have met her beforehand?

But how could you have? This all began because you were trying to set up a playdate for your son, not one for yourself. You'd had no intentions of dating Steve, not at first. It just kind of happened. There was no way to go about this the proper way when it hadn’t been planned. But was she going to hate you? To see you as some woman who was sneaking in behind her back and trying to take her place? 

“Look, you don’t have to come if it makes you uncomfortable. I knew it would be a hard ask. But if you don’t mind, I can always pick up Eli and take him myself. Jere would be shattered if his best friend wasn’t there.”

“No. Uh…I’ll go,” you stammered, swallowing down the tension that was filling your throat, choking you slowly. Why were you agreeing to this? Because you just couldn’t say no to that face, those hazel eyes, golden in the afternoon light that were looking at you with so much hope.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” You turned your head toward him, offering up the best smile you could muster. You might live to regret it but it would make your son happy and Steve really seemed to want you there.  “Eli will be so excited.”

“Great. It’s at three. I would offer to pick you up but I told her I would help with setting up. You know, him being my kid too and all. I’ll give you her address.”

“Great.”

Steve pulled into the school parking lot, sliding into a space. You stepped out and walked to the front of the car, waiting for him to join you. You were pleasantly surprised when he took your hand in his as if it was just something you did, the two of you making your way up to school. He wanted you to come to his son’s birthday party and he was showing a display of affection in front of everyone at school. Maybe this was more than just hooking up. Maybe the two of you were a thing now. Your stomach both fluttered with joy and rolled with nerves at the thought.

You could feel the eyes following you and could practically hear the whispers that would be flying around like wildfire at the sight of the two of you. Not only showing up at parent pick-up together but holding hands. Whatever. It didn’t matter really. The rumor mill had already started churning from the moment you had left the baseball game together so let them talk. At least now what they were saying was actually true. 

The doors swung open, kindergarten releasing first followed by first grade. Little feet racing across the concrete into waiting arms, squeals of joy that the school day was over and they were going home to bike rides and basketball hoops in backyards. You caught sight of your son, right next to Jeremiah, where he always was, the two boys talking and laughing. His eyes fell on you, moved over to Steve, and then went directly down to where your hands were clasped. Him and Jeremiah shared a wide-eyed look and then they both yelled out loud, fists pumping in the air. 

“I think they’re happy. What do you think?” questioned Steve with a grin.

You laughed, “I would definitely say they’re happy.”

The boys ran over to you, both yelling, talking so fast it was difficult to catch what they were saying. They kept it up the whole walk back to the car, barely waiting for the car to start before questioning their parents.

“So are you guys like boyfriend and girlfriend now?” asked Jeremiah, leaning between you. 

“Put your seatbelt on,” Steve stated.

“But are you?” he asked again, sitting back and buckling in. 

“Yeah. Are we all going to live together now?” piped in Eli.

“Oh, that would be so cool! Are you getting married?”

“Do I call you daddy?”

It was happening again. You sunk down into your seat, eyes focusing on the numbers on the clock, the pine tree shaped air freshener hanging from the mirror, the sunglasses clipped on the visor above Steve’s head. You closed your eyes. Sounds…you couldn’t focus on sounds, nothing could be heard over the myriad of questions the boys were spewing out in the back. 

Then a warm pressure landed on your knee. Fingers pressing into the jean material, centering you, keeping you still while inside you felt like you were losing control. You inhaled through your nose, exhaled through your mouth, focusing on Steve’s fingers, the warmth and pressure, the comfort it provided. 

“You good?” he asked when you slowly opened your eyes and you nodded. You were. Somehow you were. “Alright. Let’s calm down a bit, okay? Eli's mom and I are just getting to know each other. We like each other and we would like to spend more time together and keep doing that. But no one is moving in anytime soon and no one is getting married anytime soon. Okay?”

His eyes darted to the rearview mirror and both boys nodded. He squeezed your knee again reassuringly. 

“But we might be spending even more time together than we have been. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah!” both kids yelled enthusiastically. 

“Alright. How about we start with tonight? I need to help your mom box up all the goodies we baked today for the school carnival on Saturday. How about after we’re done with that we go to the diner to grab some burgers and then we can come back and play some games, all four of us? Sound good?”

“Can I get a milkshake too?” asked Jeremiah.

“Oh yeah. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Let’s both say it on three!”

“Okay,” Eli agreed as both boys turned to each other, counting before exclaiming at the same time, “Strawberry!”

Steve chuckled, turning those beautiful eyes on you, “That okay with you?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pressing your lips together. “That would be nice.”

“Good because I’m not ready to stop looking at this face yet.” He winked and your heart stuttered. 

___________________________________________________________

“Rita, can you schedule Tyler for a follow-up in two weeks?” you inquired as you walked Tyler and his mom to the front, turning to the mother. “Dr. Wilson just wants to make sure it’s a respiratory infection and not asthma. He’ll listen to his lungs again to make sure they’re clear after using the breathing treatments and corticosteroids. As long as everything sounds clear, then he should be all set.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” Leaning forward, you ruffled the six year old’s hair. “We’ll have you back out on the soccer field in no time. Just make sure you take it easy for a couple weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” he grumbled. 

You smirked, amused, because you knew if it were Eli he’d be the same way. There was nothing worse than trying to keep a little kid from being active. Your son would be devastated if he found out he couldn’t play baseball or run around at recess or don his cape and race around the backyard for a couple weeks. 

Kids. They just didn’t understand. You would give anything for someone to order you to take it easy for a couple weeks. You'd catch up on the books that were piled in your bedroom, the ones you couldn’t seem to stop buying but never seemed to get to. You'd watch all the movies that you hadn’t had time to go see in the theater. You'd take long bubble baths and afternoon naps. 

But barring some crazy illness, that was not in the cards for you. And you couldn’t afford a crazy illness, certainly not one that would knock you down for a couple weeks. Not with the school carnival tomorrow, Eli’s game on Sunday, and the impending promise of your parents showing up for a visit. 

Your eyes wandered over the appointment list, seeing that you didn’t have another patient for an hour but your mind was anywhere but. Your mind had been anywhere but where it should have been all day. You should have been focusing on test results, examinations, immunizations, medical histories, and charting. Instead it somehow kept finding its way back to your kitchen yesterday afternoon. 

What in the hell had you been thinking? That was precisely the problem. You hadn’t been thinking. Your brain had completely shut off and your body had taken over. You were like some teenage girl completely controlled by your hormones and your urges. He’d just looked so damn good and then he was kissing you and he was all you could think about, the only thing you could feel. And you'd wanted more. 

Right now, standing here, in the middle of the office, you wanted more. You wanted to get in your car, drive to his home, and have a repeat performance. It might have been a mistake but damn if it wasn’t one that would be worth repeating, if for no other reason than you were damn near positive that you would never feel like that again with anyone else. What was even more terrifying was that you didn’t want to. He was all you could think about and feeling this intensely this quickly was unsettling because it would make losing him all that much harder if it happened.

Was it Steve? Was he just that amazing at sex? His fingers and tongue had done things to you that made you forget your own name. He was definitely skilled. But was it as simple as that? Was it the combination of the two of you? It sure as hell felt so. It felt like you just fit, like his body had been carved to mold perfectly against yours, all your curves and edges lining up. 

“Hey girl!”

You shrieked, jumping about a foot in the air, your arm lashing out and knocking a cup of pens off the counter and onto the floor. Grumbling, you bent down to grab them, glancing up to find Janice grinning at you, eyes wide. 

“Sorry. What’s got you so jumpy?”

“Nothing. I…it’s nothing,” you muttered, setting the cup down, plopping the pens back inside. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought lunch,” your friend stated, holding up a brown paper bag and a cup holder with two coffees. “June made us two of her phenomenal turkey and pesto sandwiches on sourdough.”

“Okay…” you said, the word dragging out suspiciously. “And why exactly did you bring me lunch?”

“Does a bestie have to have a reason to do something nice for her favorite person on the planet? Also, do I have to have a reason to want to have lunch with you?”

“I guess not.”

“So, are you free?”

“Yeah, actually. I just looked and my next patient isn’t scheduled for another hour.”

“Did you want to head to your little spot by the pond?”

“Sure.”

You followed Janice, who bounced on the balls of her feet, only furthering your suspicions that this wasn’t just her wanting to have lunch with her best friend. The girl definitely had an agenda and whatever it was, she was pretty anxious about it if the bounce in her step was any indication. She bopped over to the bench, you joining her, as she pulled out two sandwiches wrapped in brown paper, offering one to you. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking a long drink of your iced coffee. “I needed this pick-me-up today. My morning caffeine hit is quickly wearing off.” Unwrapping your sandwich, you took a bite. “God, this is so good. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until now.” You both ate in silence for a couple minutes, the only sound little groans of pleasure. June’s talent did not stop at a good cup of coffee. She knew how to make one perfect sandwich as well. “So what? Just needed a little break in your day?”

“Not exactly…” Janice began, pressing her lips together. She looked up at you, her lips pressed together in a nervous smile. “I’m pregnant.”

“What!?” Your arms flew out, the last few bits of the bread scattering off of your lap. Oh well. The ducks would definitely enjoy it. “Are you serious? When? How long have you known?”

“About two hours,” she said, mouth tight. “I just took the test this morning after Matt left for work.”

“What? Does he know?”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“Janice…oh my god! I’m so…I’m so happy for you!” You pulled your friend into a hug, joy feeling like a balloon, filling you up until you could absolutely burst with it. “But, you told me first? I mean, you are planning on telling him, right?”

“Yes. I am. But I was just so nervous. I’ve been feeling a little nauseous and at first I just thought I’d caught a bug. But then I realized my period was a week late and it’s so early. I know it is. I probably shouldn’t have even told you because the chances of something going wrong are so drastically high right now…”

“Nothing is going to go wrong,” you assured her. 

“You can’t promise that.”

“No. I guess I can’t and maybe you wait until the second trimester to announce it to the world but you can’t wait that long to tell your husband. Matt is going to be so excited. The two of you have been trying for months. He’s going to be a dad, Janice.”

“I know! Trust me, I know. It’s just…he wants this so much and what if I tell him and we’re all excited and we’re picking out names and then something happens? I’m thirty-two and Holly is the same age as me and she had a miscarriage. I don’t want…”

You winced, remembering that emotional phone call you'd received just six months ago. Holly, your mutual friend from college, lived in California now, having moved there when her husband got a job transfer, but she still stayed in touch. Weekly phone calls, cards for special occasions, and she’d even flown in last summer to spend a week with you. A glorious week where you had taken vacation time and you'd all lounged at the lake, eaten far too much junk food, and stayed up half the night laughing and talking as you shared a bottle of wine. It had made you feel like you were twenty again, just starting life, optimistic about what was to come, not a care in the world. 

“Okay, yeah. That’s always a possibility but you can’t assume that. It had nothing to do with her age. Don’t you remember Stacy? We were only twenty-one and she had a miscarriage and that girl was the epitome of physical fitness. She ran track and watched everything she put in her mouth. She couldn’t have been healthier. Sometimes there’s no rhyme nor reason to it and it’s not fair but it doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. Let yourself be happy. This is a happy occasion. If you don’t want to share it with everyone for a while, then fine, but you have to share this with Matt. The two of you deserve to be in your own little bubble of bliss.”

“I know. I know you’re right. I just…I don’t know. I saw those two pink lines on that stick and at first, I was so excited. I screamed and I jumped up and down. I almost hopped in my car and drove straight to his work to tell him. But then all these doubts started creeping in and I just couldn’t. I freaked out and so I did what I always do when I freak out.” She paused, smiling, her shoulder lifting in a slight shrug as her hand covered yours. “I ran to you.”

“Well, while it is a tough job to always be the one to try to lead you back to the shallows when you jump off the deep end, it’s not a job I would ever trust to anyone else,” you told her, wrapping your fingers around your friend’s hand, squeezing gently. “And oh my God, Janice! You’re having a baby!”

“I’m having a baby!” she cried and the two of you collapsed into a hug, weeping and laughing and shrieking. “You’re going to be an aunt!”

“Eli is going to freak when he finds out.”

Janice raked her teeth over her bottom lip, “Can we not tell him just yet?”

“Of course,” you assured her. “Of course. We can absolutely wait until you’re ready. Besides, you and Matt definitely have to be the ones to tell him this news. He’s always wanted a younger sibling and I don’t see that happening so maybe he’ll settle for this.”

Janice shifted, one eyebrow raising, “I don’t know. There’s still a possibility.”

“Oh please,” you snorted with a dry laugh. “I’m widowed and in my thirties. Justin and I…I mean we talked about trying for another baby but then he was gone. I would have loved to give Eli a sibling but I really don’t think that’s in the cards.”

“Never say never,” your friend sang. “You have a new guy in your life. You’re not ancient. You’re sitting there telling me my age is fine for being pregnant so why couldn’t you do it?”

“Janice, Steve and I barely know each other. We’ve gone on one date.”

“Well, you know my argument on this. The two of you have spent far more time together than that. Besides, I think we can safely count it as two now. He was at your house yesterday baking.”

“That was baking. We were just getting stuff ready for the school carnival.”

Your face flushed with heat, your gaze dropping to your lap, thumbs twirling tightly around one another. It was far more than just baking but did it count as a date? Probably not. A mistake? Absolutely. Steve had been with quite a few women if rumors were to be believed and now you'd just lumped yourself in with the rest of them. So much for making him wait or keeping him interested. He already knew everything you had to offer. 

“Still, you were alone and…why’s your face all red?”

“What? My face is not red,” you protested, sucking down a massive gulp of iced coffee, willing the cool drink to also cool your flesh and stop giving you away. 

“You are too! You’re redder than a boiled lobster.”

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You’re pregnant! We’re very excited about that.”

“Like hell we’re not talking about you. Don’t you try to change the subject. I mentioned baking and you got all flustered. The two of you, alone in your house, no kids around…you had sex, didn’t you!?”

“What!? I…no…I…”

“Girl, don’t bullshit me,” Janice warned, one perfectly manicured finger just an inch from your nose. “We’ve been friends for fourteen years. I know you better than anybody. You had sex, didn’t you?”

You groaned, your body sagging against the bench, “Yes.”

“Holy shit! Holy shit! I knew it! Oh my god, this is amazing. How was it? Where was it? Who initiated it? Does he look just as good underneath those clothes? Is he hung? Details! I need all the details!”

“Jesus Christ, do we really have to do this?”

“Yes we have to do this. My friend got well and truly fucked for the first time in over two years. I need to know everything.”

“But you don’t. It was…”

“Oh god. What’s wrong with him?” Janice cringed. “Is he a minute man? Was he one of those guys who thinks penetration is enough to get you there? Does he have a micro penis? Oh Jesus. He has a micro penis, doesn’t he? Guys like that, they always look like they’ll be hung but then they’re not. But it’s okay. We can work with it.” 

“No! God. It…it just shouldn’t have even happened. It was a huge mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. That was the problem! I wasn’t thinking. I just…god, I wanted him so badly. I haven’t had sex in forever and I lost all control and then it was happening and there was no stopping it once it started and now he’s going to think I’m easy and he’s not even going to be interested. And now there’s all these feelings that wouldn’t have been there if I would have just kept my damn legs shut and if it doesn’t work out it’s going to be even more devastating. I’m terrified of what another heartbreak will do to me when I’m already hanging on by a thread most days. And it was so good and it shouldn’t have been that good. I shouldn’t be craving him the way I am right now. I can’t stop thinking about him and then that makes me feel awful because it feels like I am just completely abandoning Justin. I’m just moving on as if he didn’t matter. I shouldn't even be able to feel like this about someone else.”

“Whoa!” Janice held both hands up in front of her body. “Alright. Take a deep breath for me.” She inhaled slowly, gesturing for you to join her. After you did, Janice smiled. “Okay. That’s a lot of shit to unpack. So, let’s take it a step at a time, okay? So what if you already slept with him? Are you stuck on some archaic three date rule or something? You guys don’t fall into that category because you’ve been spending time together for a few weeks already. So, forget that. Steve is not going to think you’re easy. Honey, you’ve been the Virgin Mary since Justin passed away. It was inevitable that your self-control was going to snap. And around a man that looks like that, who could blame you? As for the feelings, feelings aren’t a bad thing and you can kid yourself all you want but sex isn’t changing the fact that you were already in deep for that man.” She pointed to herself. “Person who knows you best, remember? I know every expression that crosses your face, every little gesture you make, every emotion that you wear painted right across your sleeve. You’ve been in deep for that man from the moment you saw him on the baseball field. I could see it the first time you talked about him. So, that ship has long since sailed. If this all ends, you’re going to be just as devastated whether you opened your legs or not so you may as well have fun with it. I will throw your own words right back at you. You can’t control the future so be happy. You deserve it and as far as Justin, stop it. Stop obsessing about what he would think. He’s not here, honey. You’re not cheating on him. You’re not forgetting him. If you were, you wouldn’t be obsessing about how he would feel. He would be pissed, absolutely, if he were alive but he’s not. You wouldn’t be doing this if he were alive so that’s inconsequential. And the only thing he ever wanted, the only thing that ever mattered to him, was that you and Eli were happy and taken care of. Justin would love Steve because from what you’ve told me, he’s amazing to both of you. So, stop it. Okay? Get out of your head and enjoy this. Something amazing is happening here. Be in your own little bliss bubble.”

“I really like him,” you admitted.

“Well, duh,” laughed Janice. 

“It terrifies me. He’s amazing. I mean, he shouldn’t be real. He’s gorgeous. He’s kind. He’s attentive. He listens. I mean, he really listens to everything I say. He’s respectful, always making sure I am okay with what’s happening before it happens. He makes me laugh. He is a wonderful father and just a wonderful human. He’s so self-sacrificing, always putting everyone else before himself. I think…I think I might be falling for him and that’s insane. We barely know each other. Isn’t that insane?”

Janice shrugged, “Is it? I mean, there’s no timeline for this kind of stuff. There’s no manual on how to feel about something. We can’t control it. I knew I loved Matt on our fourth date. I don’t know. I just knew he was it for me. I didn’t say it then, of course. I was scared he would think I was crazy and I would chase him away. But he said it after we’d been together for six weeks and so I said it too. And look at us. Look at you and Justin. How long did it take you to say the L word?”

“Two months. He took me ice skating. I fell and took him with me and he just grabbed my face and told me he loved me. And I don’t know. I just knew I felt the same way. I think I actually knew it for longer than that but I didn’t say it.”

“So, do you love Steve?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned. “That’s a really big word for something that’s barely begun.”

“Babe, you’ve been about as intimate as two people can be. And you all hang out like you’re a little family already. I don’t think it’s as big of a word as you think. Or, it is a big word, but I don’t think it’s too big to describe what’s happening.”

“Maybe…I…I just don’t know. I know I really like him. I know that I can’t stop thinking about him. I know that I am counting down the hours until he picks us up tomorrow for the carnival because I just want to see his face.”

“Sure sounds like it to me,” Janice grinned. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. No one’s saying you have to say anything or define anything right now. Just stop obsessing and let yourself enjoy this because it’s pretty damn cool. You, my friend, are in the midst of a love story, a sequel if you will to your first one. Just enjoy the ride.”

“I’ll try,” you assured her, dropping your head on her shoulder. “Now, how soon am I allowed to start shopping for my niece or nephew?”

“Oh lord,” she chucked. “You’re going to spoil this kid rotten, aren’t you? I guess I deserve that for all the shit I’ve bought for Eli over the years.”

“Absolutely.”

___________________________________________________________

“Four hot dogs with everything and a popcorn please,” the jovial dad announced as he stepped forward in line. 

“You got it. Would you like anything to drink?”

He glanced over at his wife, the two conversing over their drink options. Their kids, a boy in third grade and a girl in fourth, chimed in, making sure their preferences were known. It quickly turned into the kids whining and huffing when their parents settled on waters, denying their request for a Coke and an icee. 

The icee machine was something that Laurie was very proud of procuring for the school carnival. Apparently, she convinced Sal, who ran the gas station in the middle of town to allow them to borrow his for the evening. You were pretty sure Sal was just the next in a long line of men that Laurie strung along, flirting shamelessly to get what she wanted from them. Poor guys. They didn’t realize they would be receiving nothing in return until they were in too deep. 

Steve loaded up the hot dogs, handing them off to you so you could hand them to the family. You reached into the cooler to grab their bottles of water while he scooped out popcorn, loading it into the red and white striped boxes that were customary at every concession stand. 

You smiled as you watched your son and his friends race past, their faces covered in paint. Tina had kindly offered to keep an eye on them while Steve and you fulfilled your hour at the concession stand. You took the money the dad offered, telling them to have fun, watching as Eli stepped forward to try his luck at the duck pond. His little face lit up when he turned his duck over to reveal a number. The guy offered him a tiny rubber finger alligator and he couldn’t have been more pleased, immediately placing it on his finger and roaring as he shoved it in Jeremiah’s face. The boys thought this was hysterical, all of them breaking into a fit of laughter. 

“They’re sure enjoying themselves.”

You jumped at Steve’s words spoken right in your ear. You tilted your head to find him, one arm propped on the counter, his lips just a breath from yours. The smile he gave you was as soft and familiar as a pillow, the one you even had to take on vacation because it was molded to your shape. 

“Hi,” he whispered. 

“Hi.” You laughed, the sound hoarse and breathy as you tried to get your bearings. His presence invading your space sent you entirely off kilter like a planet knocked from its orbit, floating haphazardly in the vast nothingness of space. 

“We’ve been working back here for thirty minutes together and have barely talked.” His fingers walked across the counter to cover your hand with his own. “You’ve been kind of quiet.”

“No. No, I haven’t. We’ve just been busy.”

His head tilted, lips pouting in that way that just made you want to kiss them right off his face. One eyebrow lifted, those hazel eyes reaching straight through you and into your soul, as if he could read you like the pages of a book. The thought, while comforting, was also a bit unsettling. You weren't sure how to feel about him being able to see you so clearly after such a short time. 

Had you been quiet? Probably. Your brain was a bit occupied with everything that had occurred in the last forty-eight hours of your life. You'd not only gone on a date with Steve but crossed the line into sex. What did it mean? Were you a couple now? Were you still just getting to know each other like he’d told the boys? Did he still look at you the same way even though you'd been so willing to be intimate with him so quickly? 

You were spinning out a bit. Your talk with Janice had helped some but you hadn’t done this in years. You had no idea how to deal with the bevy of emotions that were twisting you into a knot. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. A simple touch and you were like a sixteen year old girl, hormones raging, on the verge of losing control, ready to grab him and smash your lips to his in front of all these damn people. 

“Is that it?” he mused, forehead tilting down, almost close enough for yours to touch. “I know we haven’t really talked about what happened on Thursday but I’d like to. I wanted to…”

“Help has arrived!” came a high pitched sing-song voice and you moved your head around Steve to see the source. It was Janet Comstock, one of your least favorite people on the planet. And judging from the look on Steve’s face, she didn’t rank very high for him either. “Looks like you two have been pretty busy.”

“Janet? I thought your shift didn’t start for another thirty minutes. You and Ryan are supposed to do the next one together,” Steve stated, straightening and turning. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, staring her down like she was a misbehaving child. 

“Oh, it doesn’t but I figured you two could use the help when I saw how people just kept lining up.”

“I think we’re alright,” protested Steve. 

“Nonsense. It never hurts to have more hands, right?” she beamed and then snorted, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you fill up the popcorn boxes in advance then you don’t have to waste time when people order them. Much more efficient. See? You need me.”

“Like a hole in the head,” he muttered, teeth clenched tightly, only you hearing his words. 

“Oh, hi there." She smiled at you as if she'd just noticed you standing there. "I didn't realize you were volunteering." Bullshit. She'd been at the meeting. "How have you been?” Janet breezed, donning a pair of latex gloves in preparation to scoop up popcorn. 

“Okay…” you replied slowly, growing more confused by the minute. You weren't a fan of Janet either but Steve seemed to be extremely put off by her presence. 

“That’s good. I’m so glad to see you doing better,” she continued as she scooped. “We were all so worried about you for a while. No one ever saw you. I swear, you became a hermit after everything. Not that I blame you. Justin was perfect, wasn’t he? You had every woman in town jealous. If only we all could find our soulmate but alas, we’re not so lucky. I mean, when there’s only one person who’s really meant to be yours, what are the chances of you finding them in this great big world?”

“I…I mean, yeah, I was lucky to have Justin. He was an amazing man,” you said awkwardly, unsure of what was happening. 

Steve was like a statue next to you, standing rigid, his jaw so hard you were sure it could cut through six inch glass. This was the most uncomfortable situation you'd ever been in. You would never pretend like Justin wasn’t one of the best things to happen to you but you really didn’t want to talk about that in front of Steve. But Janet couldn’t know that, right? People may have made assumptions about the two of you but they didn’t actually know what had happened. 

“Oh, he was,” crooned Janet. “Strong, kind, and so romantic. I remember when he had all those roses delivered to the doctor’s office for you. I had taken Sally in for an ear infection and they were everywhere, completely covering the counter. Poor Rita could barely see.” She laughed. “The way you two would look at each other, it was like something out of one of them cheesy romance movies. The kind you think are completely fake because nothing like that could ever actually exist. But you two showed us all it could. You must miss him terribly. It must be awful knowing you can never find anything that could come close to that again. But at least you had it for a while, right? Some of us never do.”

“Yeah. I…I…did…” you stammered, your fingers wrapping around the counter so tightly they were tingling, on the verge of going numb. What was this? Why was Janet saying all of this? 

You were struck with the need to get out of there, to be anywhere else but here, talking about your perfect love that you no longer had in front of the guy you were hoping to find it with again. To find something with again. The muscle in Steve’s jaw jumped, his nostrils flaring. He was angry. 

Was he angry because you were talking about Justin? He knew. He knew you'd been married, knew you'd lost your husband, knew you had loved him very much. Was he not capable of handling this? Of knowing that you'd had a great love before? Justin was never going to be erased from your life. Eli was proof of that. You would forever have a piece of him and if Steve couldn’t handle that then this whole thing might be over before it had even begun. 

Janet turned with a sad smile, sighing deeply, her plastic covered hands coming to her chest, “I thought I had that.” Her eyes moved over to Steve and it felt like a ten pound stone had just dropped in your stomach. “I really did but some people are just too scared to let true love in, to see what’s right in front of their face. They keep running to the wrong thing instead of embracing the right one.”

Oh god. Janet. It all came rushing back. That day on Steve’s deck, the girls all talking about this woman he’d dated. Janet, the one he almost had to get a restraining order against. The one who had become obsessed with him. And now it all made sense. Now you could see why Janet was going on and on about Justin. She was trying to make Steve see that you were all wrong for him. Was he thinking that too?

You lifted your fingers from the underside of the counter, curling them one by one, focusing on the feel of the smooth stainless steel. Your eyes zeroed in on the popcorn boxes, the familiar red and white stripes. You needed to get out of here before it happened again. It could not happen here, not in front of Janet, not in front of half the town. You would never live it down. The news of you breaking down at the school carnival would be everywhere before everyone’s heads hit the pillow tonight.

“You know, since you showed up early, how about you help Steve for a bit? I’m going to go check on the boys,” you said, pushing off from the counter, inhaling slowly through your nose. 

“Wait. What?” Steve had been zapped from wherever his mind had just been taking him. “No. I…we only have twenty minutes left…I…”

“No, really. It’s silly for all three of us to be back here when it really only takes two. I’ll go relieve Tracy.”

You walked off before he had a chance to respond, not trusting yourself to spend one more minute in the midst of that tension and animosity. You could not hear Justin’s name come out of that woman’s mouth one more time. You could not watch Steve grow angrier each time he came up. You marched out, on the hunt for your son, ready to lose yourself in the chaos of the carnival instead of the chaos of whatever the hell that was. 

___________________________________________________________

“Janet, what the hell was that?” Steve snapped as the heavy door closed behind you. You'd darted out of there as fast as possible, not that he blamed you. He hadn’t wanted to be there either but one of you had to stay behind. 

“That was me trying to save you from making a huge mistake,” she stated, arms folding over her chest, brown eyes burning into his. “Are you really that naive that you can’t see it?”

“See what exactly?”

“That girl is all wrong for you! You’ll never be able to measure up to her husband, ever!”

“I’m not trying to!” he yelled, jolting when he noticed Sarah standing at the counter, looking sheepish at interrupting what was obviously a heated argument. 

“Hey there,” she said brightly, waving. “So sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to get some popcorn and a couple of icees.”

“Of course!” Janet beamed brightly, turning to handle her order as if they hadn’t just been yelling at each other.

Sarah cringed, mouthing sorry to him and Steve just gave her a small smile and a wave of his hand, indicating it was okay. She probably knew what was happening. The whole town had known he’d dated Janet for a while. Hell, he was sure the whole town knew how he’d broken her heart because she’d probably made sure they all knew. 

She thanked Janet as she took the snacks and traded her money before heading off, turning back once to look back at Steve with sympathy. Everyone knew Janet was a bit crazy. He just wished he’d known before he decided to ask her out. He wished he’d listened when his best friend told him she was after meeting her once but it probably would have already been too late by then. She’d been a stage five clinger from the first date. 

“Steve,” she began, shaking her head, pulling her gloves off and flinging them in the trash can. “You didn’t see the two of them together. I did. That was epic, once in a lifetime love. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life living in some man’s shadow? Because that is all you will be to her, a pale comparison of what she had before.”

“You don’t know anything about her and I, and it’s none of your damn business!”

“It is my business! It is! I gave you everything. I took care of you. I bent over backward to be everything you wanted and you still threw me to the side like I was nothing but trash!”

“I didn’t throw you anywhere! And maybe that’s the problem. You shouldn’t mold yourself into what you think someone wants. Then that’s not really what they want and that’s not fair to you. Why would you want to be with someone if you have to pretend?”

“I wasn’t pretending! I’m telling you, if you head down this road, you’re just going to wind up heartbroken. She will never need you like you need to be needed. You will never be number one for her because he always will. You will never be the most important. And you and I both know how much you want that.”

Her words hit their mark. He would never tell her that. And how the hell did she know him that well? Robin had said all those same things to him. How he craved to be the most important to someone because he’d never been to anyone else. But now he had Robin and he knew he was pretty damn high on her list. Not to mention Dustin. That kid relied on him for damn near everything. 

But what if he couldn’t ever be that person for you? What if you looked at him and just saw the next best option? Like he was the store brand version of your name brand husband? What if he couldn’t ever have all of you because part of you had been buried in that casket with him? 

When Steve envisioned a life with the person he was meant to be with, he envisioned them having all of him, him having all of them. Two people who were so connected that nothing could come between them because they were a force that nothing could break. But could he have that with someone who’d already had that? 

“You know I’m right, don’t you?” she smirked, one eyebrow lifting smugly. “She might be a pretty package but she’ll never truly be yours. That gift tag has someone else’s name on it. Dead or not, it doesn’t change that.”

He was saved from responding when the door swung open, Ryan, the other dad who had volunteered, entering. Before he could even get a word out, Steve was gone, pushing past him and into the gymnasium. As if all the doubts Janet had just put in his head would be locked behind that door too when it shut behind him. 

Weaving through running children hurrying from one game to the next, his head was on a swivel, looking for any sign of you or the boys. The entire place was chaos, a constant drone of conversation, squealing, and feet smacking against the linoleum. He hadn’t made it halfway through when a little body slammed into his legs, arms wrapping around him. He looked down, expecting to see his own son but finding Eli instead. 

“Steve! Steve, you have to come see! They have a reptile guy here and he has real snakes! There’s a python that’s like ten hundred feet long!”

You stood just behind him, Jeremiah next to you. You offered him an uncertain smile and he gave one back. He had no idea where you stood. No idea where your head was at after that embarrassing scene in the concession booth. 

Hell, he had no idea where you stood, period. He was hoping you would get a chance to talk tonight. But between the boys and Janet, that wasn’t looking likely. He knew the two of you had crossed the line, and rather quickly. He didn’t regret it. That moment in your kitchen had been playing on a loop in his brain ever since. But he needed to know how you were feeling about it all. Were you officially a couple? Or were you thinking that was a mistake that you wished you could take back? You really might be after what just happened. 

Eli grabbed his hand and Steve allowed himself to be dragged across the gym. He responded appropriately with wide eyes and gasps as the boys made him look at every single reptile the guy had from iguanas to a python that was not ten hundred feet long but still pretty damn big. But the whole time his mind was on you, on what you were thinking right now, what you were feeling. He was dying to talk to you, to find out. He wished he could peer into your brain. Were you feeling for him the way he was for you? Or was this just a stepping stone, like Robin had been scared of, a jumping off point for you to move on from the man who’d truly made you happy?

The two of you followed the boys from game to game, dutifully holding any prizes they won. You spoke, your words polite but clipped, uncomfortable and he hated it. The boys didn’t seem to be aware but he sure was. Steve stepped up at the game where you threw a ball at pins and won a goldfish for Eli. 

“Mommy, look!” he shrieked, holding the bag up proudly. “Steve got me a fish! I’m going to name him Flash. I know Flash is red and he’s orange but I bet he can swim really fast.”

You smiled at your son, trying to convey excitement but your eyes weren’t quite showing it, “Oh fun.” You looked up at Steve, so exasperated but damn if you didn’t look cute. “Now we need a bowl and food.”

“Sorry,” he offered when the boys raced ahead, leaving you holding the newest member of the family. “I guess I didn’t really think about the ramifications of winning a living creature.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “My biggest concern is keeping this damn thing alive. If Eli sees him belly-up, he’s going to be heartbroken. And with a fish, the chances of that are pretty likely.”

“I can stop and grab supplies on the way out of here and drop them off for you,” he offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do. It’s my fault you now have a fish to house and feed. It’s not a big deal. I can even help him get Flash all set up if you’d like.”

He wanted you to say yes. He wanted another reason to see you. He wanted an opportunity to talk to you, somewhere away from all the nosey residents of this town. And he was kind of hoping that maybe the boys would head off to Eli’s room and give you some time alone. Time for you to hash all of this out and figure out what exactly was happening here. 

You swallowed, your eyes off in the distance and he feared you were going to say no but then you turned to him, smiling. 

“Okay. Thanks. I don’t really know anything about keeping a fish alive so that would be helpful.”

Steve shrugged, “It’s not that hard. Not a goldfish anyway. They just need some freshwater, a bowl, and some fish food. I can get a couple fun things for in the bowl too. Some fish are more complicated. My uncle had an aquarium and he had saltwater fish and that’s a pain in the ass. You have to make sure the water is the right PH and everything. But goldfish are pretty basic.”

By the time the carnival was coming to a close, the boys had exhausted every single activity, many more than once. They had maximized their time and the very full bag of cheap prizes that Steve was holding proved it. The baked goods had been a hit. Even Laurie had approached you to tell you how amazing your treats had been, leaving you with that pink blush to your cheeks that Steve loved so much. 

The boys were moving much more slowly as they made their way to the parking lot, the energy they’d exuded in the gym finally starting to catch up to them. 

“You know, if Jere is really tired, you don’t have to run to the store,” you told him. “I can always go tomorrow. Hopefully this guy can survive in a bag for one night.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Watch.” He turned to the boys. “Hey Jere. We’re gonna stop at the store to grab some stuff for Flash and take it to Eli’s. You good with that or are you two tired to go to his house?”

Jeremiah’s face lit up, his exhaustion forgotten as he bounced on his toes, “Yeah!”

“See?” teased Steve with a laugh. “He’s good at bouncing right back when he’s excited.”

“Can we have another sleepover?” asked Eli. “Jeremiah hasn’t stayed at our house and then he can hang out with Flash too. We can sleep in my room. My bed is big so we’ll both fit!”

You sighed, smiling, looking over at Steve who shrugged, letting you know he was okay with it if you were. You looked back at the boys, opening your arms wide. 

“Alright. Why not?”

“Yes!” both boys shrieked at the same time.

“Well, then why don’t I just take Jere back with me?” you asked. “The boys can play for a bit until you get there with the fish stuff.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Bye daddy!” Jeremiah yelled, jumping in your backseat with Eli. 

“Well, alright then. See you in a bit, okay?”

“See you in a bit,” you smiled. 

Steve walked to his car, hope blossoming in his chest, a tiny green sprout of hope that this would work out in his favor. If he could play his cards right and hang long enough, until the boys were passed out, then you could finally have the conversation you needed to have. And then he would know. Either that sprout would spread and bloom or wilt and die. 

Chapter 12

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[fragileruns]

welcome backk !!

request for tasm!peter - peter would always blow off reader on dates because he's busy fighting crime and stuff like that, and reader has always been patient with him and understanding until she finally had enough. peter went to her apartment without thinking ( so he was still wearing the suit ) because he wanted to make up with reader right away and then he reveals his identity to her and they make up ( can end with smut )

i am terrible at making requests, and sorry if it would be hard to understand T T

anywaysss happy that you're back :D take caree

sorry this request took so long, lovely! i hope you enjoy! sorry for not including any smut, i’m just not the best at writing it yet.

summary: peter’s been showing up late, or not at all, for all your dates recently and you’re upset, until you find out why.

content warnings: fluff mainly, very slight angst, peter being a stressed baby, gn!reader (i think, let me know if not!), not proofread

The first time it happened was a study date. You had been struggling to grasp the new topic that had been introduced in your mathematics class and Peter, being the braniac he was, had been quick to offer to tutor you. He was supposed to come over that Friday night and have a movie night, after you finished studying. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe he was just running late or had an emergency, but then the hours creeped on and he still never showed. He apologized the next day, claiming May needed help with something and he couldn’t get away (apparently, this ‘something’ had kept him from messaging you that he wouldn’t come, as well, but you decided not to bring that up).

The next time was a bit more annoying. It was date night. You and Peter always set aside at least one day every week to be ‘date night.’ It usually just consisted of take out food and really cheesy movies, but it was nice to be able to spend time together, especially when classes filled up most of your schedules. You had a stressful week, with exams coming up and final projects being due, and you had been looking forward to spending a night with your boyfriend. He always knew how to put you at ease. You waited up for him for hours, but he never showed, again. At least this time he did text you, even though it was nearing midnight and it only read ‘I’m so sorry, this huge emergency came up. I’ll make it up to you with an icecream date tomorrow???’

The cycle continued on. He kept missing minor dates, sometimes showing up hours late or texting you that something came up, and other times just going radio silent until the next day. And you had forgiven him everytime, but he could tell you were getting annoyed and feeling rejected. Rightfully so. He knew he had to make it up to you, somehow, and his best plan of action was to scrape together whatever money he could and find the fanciest restaurant nearby (which wasn’t as fancy as he’d have liked, but it had foods he had never heard of, so he figured it was good enough).

“Okay, listen, I know I’ve been really, really bad at showing up to our dates on time, as in, I haven’t been,” he had started one night, coming into your apartment after one of his classes. You were sitting on the couch, surfing through movies to find something to watch, and he walked over to plop down next to you. “And I know you’ve been stressed with exams, and I just… I want to make it up to you and tell you I’m proud of you for getting through them. So, I made us a reservation at that fancy place - the italian one, down the road? Anyway, it’s for Saturday at 7, and if you don’t totally hate me, I thought it’d be nice.”

You glanced over him, furrowed eyebrows and with only a hint of hope. It was hard to keep believing he’d show up whenever he had missed so many. “I don’t hate you. I just… are you sure you’re gonna show up? I’m really tired of embarrassing myself by just waiting around,” you admitted with a doubtful sigh, and Peter’s heart nearly broke. He felt even worse for missing everything, and he wished more than anything that he could just tell you why.

“Hey, I swear, okay? I — I’m really sorry for missing any of our dates, and I’m sorry you felt embarrassed. But, the only way I don’t show up for this one is if I’m dying in a hospital somewhere, alright?” He rushed to reassure you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek and keep your attention on him. Seeing his puppy dog eyes made you give in quicker than you would have liked to, and you just nodded with a small ‘okay’ to agree. He grinned, leaning in to give you a sweet kiss, before turning back to the TV, decidedly picking some action movie that he thought you’d like.

Saturday came around, and you hated to say it, but you were excited. You had dressed nicely, taking over an hour to get ready just to make sure you looked perfect. You even arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, waiting outside for Peter to show. He ended up texting you that he’d be running a few minutes late and asked that you went ahead to claim your seats, told you he’d still be there shortly. You lost some hope, but still trusted he’d keep his word and went in to sit down.

By 7:30, most of that trust had died and you apologized to the waiter for wasting so much of her time, but you were sure your date would show. She gave you a sympathetic smile that made you want to curl up and die as you ate your complimentary bread.

By 7:45, you had already send Peter a string of texts, letting him know you were about to leave and would talk to him later. You still hoped he’d respond though, but no luck.

Finally, by 8:00, you had given up all hope and just left, apologizing again to the waiters as you hurried out, eager to get away from the stares. You stopped by a small pizza place on your way back, starving as you hadn’t ate since before noon that day, scarfing down the slice before going to your house. Part of you worried that Peter was, in fact, dying in a hospital somewhere and that was why he didn’t show, though you knew that wasn’t why. Knew he just got caught up with something else, like always.

Peter stared down at his phone, mask held in his other hand as he frowned at your string of texts, all consisting of things like ‘this is humiliating, are you showing up??’ and ‘you promised you’d show.’ He felt that deep pit of guilt, and he didn’t think before swinging to your home, only wanting to make things up to you. Only wanting to make things better before you finally just gave up and broke things off with him. He wasn’t at all focused on the fact that he was wearing his tight suit, mask in his mouth now, identity fully revealed if anyone squinted enough.

His heart was beating a mile a minute, but not because of the adrenaline of the fight or the feeling of whipping through the air. Because he could only imagine how upset and angry you must feel right now, and he felt awful for being the cause of it.

He got to your house in less than half the time it would usually take, moving as quickly as possible, tapping on your bedroom window as soon as he spotted you in bed. You had rolled over at the noise, eyes squinting to see what was going on at first before you spotted him. He noticed the split second of anger that came across your features, but it was quickly replaced with wide eyes as you rushed to let him in. He glanced behind him to make sure nobody was about to throw something at him.

“Peter, you’re —” you had started once you pulled the window up, but you didn’t have time to continue before he started rushing to apologize.

“I’m sosososo sorry, I know I promised and I don’t have a good excuse, and I know you must be so upset right now,” he started, his own eyes wide as he climbed in, hands immediately finding your waist to stand you in front of him, ignoring your own shocked look and attempt at getting words out. “Tell me how to make it up to you, I’ll do anything, I swear. Seriously, Do you want a puppy? A cat? A — a lion? Anything?” He was practically begging.

“Spiderman,” You had responded. His eyebrows furrowed, hands dropping from your waist as he took in what he thought was your request.

“You want — you want Spiderman? Like, a cutout? That’s… okay, I didn’t know you were that big of a fan.”

“No, Peter, you’re… you’re Spiderman,” you stated and he was more confused than ever, but then your hands reached out to grab the mask that had dropped to the floor, and everything clicked together. He had never changed.

“Oh, that — um, I was at a costume party,” he attempted to lie, and it was clear on your face that you weren’t falling for his bluff. “Okay, yes. I’m Spiderman. That’s… sort of why I’ve been so late to everything.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Did you not trust me?”

“No. No! That’s not it at all. I just — it’s dangerous. For you to know anything. For you to even be with me, but I’m too selfish to end things. I just didn’t want someone coming after you just because you knew my identity,” he admitted with a frown, upset that you were now in harms way just because of his own stupidity.

“You’ve been doing this alone? You haven’t had any help?”

“What?” He questioned, looking at you as if you had asked the most absurd question possible. You were worried about his help when he had just missed his probably fifth date in a row? And put you in danger? “Um, yeah, I’ve been doing it alone. Look, I’m really sorry about tonight, and I promise —”

“Peter. It’s fine, I’m not mad. Anymore. I just can’t believe you hid this from me. I could’ve helped you, you know?” You cut him off, reaching out to rub your hand over a bruise forming near his eye. He hadn’t really noticed it from the fight, used to being punched around and overly focused on trying to get home to you.

His eyes were wide and filled with both worry and guilt. Guilt over missing tonight. Worry because he had no idea what was going to happen now, because it was about to become ten times harder to keep you safe. If anyone found out you knew his identity, they’d come for you, and Peter really didn’t know how to deal with that.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I was scared something would happen to you. I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice small, and your heart broke.

“You won’t, okay? Nothing’s gonna happen to me, I’m here. But I wish you would’ve told me, I hate thinking about you out there, getting hurt. Not having anyone to patch you up. Is that why you’d wear hoodies so often?”

“Yeah,” he looked slightly embarrassed, and he moved to sit on the edge of your bed, keeping a hold of your hand as you went to sit next to him. “I usually heal up really fast, though, I promise. So it’s not that bad. And I’m really good at patching myself up, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course I’m gonna worry about you. I worried about you before I knew you were Spiderman, why would you think I wouldn’t worry about this?” You sighed, scooting closer to him as he wrapped his arms aorund you, moving to hide his face in the crook of your neck. You could tell how messed up he felt about it all with how openly he was craving your affection, but you didn’t say anything and instead just put your hands in his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

“Sweetheart, ‘m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that,” he said, but you didn’t stop and he didn’t stop you.

“That’s fine. Just go to sleep, bug boy.”

He grumbled something out about the nickname, something about being a man and not a boy, but it was quiet, and he almost immediately fell asleep soon after.

#tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter fic #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker angst #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #peter parker drabble #peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n

[cloveroctobers]

MICHAEL BERZATTO — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: whew I’ve been debating if I wanted to get into writing for Michael again. For the works that I’ve already dropped for the bear I’ve gone back to rewatch the episodes to connect it to my work and episode 6 is tough! The entire show isn’t some walk in the park ofc but knowing what we know of Michael? They deliver it all in pieces but it’s enough. We’ll only ever get to see Michael through everyone else’s eyes since that’s all that’s left and it’s really messed up to think about. My summer prompts are supposed to be light hearted but I’m also a angst loving writer smh. Brace yourselves.

Originally had no intent of adding a prompt to the mix just like Richie’s but here’s what I’m using: “you’re gonna melt. Get in here.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @darlingshane

WARNINGS: talks of living a traditional future, heavy mental-health fic, mentions of opioids, and a sprinkle of sexual content somewhere.

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[130 days BEFORE 7 fishes…]

His eyes are closed but he’s not asleep.

He hears the front door creak open but Michael knows not to get his hopes up. He’s curled up on the stoop, finding it as his second bed over the past three days. Between the stoop and the grass, it all depends on what feels more comfortable but he cannot take the cold shoulder from her.

Except he has no choice, he already attempted to barge his way through once before but the semi-automatic pistol that was pressed into his cheek from her uncle was a hint for Michael to take it easy.

It feels like something light touches his back, shaking him to open his eyes. He’s wrapped in a blanket of his as he shifts, one arm coming up to block the light from blinding him. After a moment, Michael realizes it’s her sock covered foot that shook him awake as she pulls her long leg back. He wonders if she’s off to the gym again and his clears his throat, ready to greet her this morning but her words beat him to it.

“You’re gonna melt. Get in here.” Her chocolate eyes are set out into the street, beyond the gate, already aware that her neighbors witnessed what Michael’s been up to these days.

Michael’s groaning as he sits up, eyes scanning the front yard and the neighbor’s house to the left of you. It’s a elderly man who’s a vet and Michael swore he’s nothing but a old racist with the way he always eyed how Michael was affectionate towards her in public, whether it was him kissing her goodbye before he headed down to Chicagoland, him spinning her back around into his arms when she was trying to leave for the gym at early hours, or just them hanging out in their backyard by the pizza oven he and Richie built together. The vet’s locking up his door with his gray Great Dane trained right beside him, it’s almost instant that his eyes peer right over to Michael’s.

He knows he raises a two-finger salute to the man to irritate him but surprisingly the man gives a sneer of a smile in his direction, shaking his head as he goes down the stairs.

That felt like an insult in itself.

“Old fart,” Michael states as watched him head down the street with his dog.

Michael turns back to the front door, which is ajar and she’s no longer standing in the door way.

She’s left it open for him.

Michael hurries to get to his feet now to enter the brick bungalow home. What used to be his home. Should still be his home. He closes the door shut behind him, keeping the rising heat of the morning where it belongs, his blanket slowly slipping from his shoulders as he tries to pick up on what’s changed in the weeks of his absence.

To the left into another room, there’s still the small table right against the wall that’s adjacent to three large windows in the living room. The console table is now painted a pale blue with small dainty looking pictures seated right on top, faux white peonies that resembles her favorite flowers (Michael’s brought home plenty of those for her to see in the morning) are placed on top of some books, followed by a large mirror that’s hung up on the wall.

Which leaves Michael to get a glimpse at himself and he almost gets angry at how pitiful he looks right now when he knows it’s his fault that he’s in this situation, that he put them there. So he rubs at his face, fingertips brushing over the slight stubble that he’s letting grow in since he hasn’t been in much of a mood to shave, mentally telling himself to get a grip so he can hopefully get back on track with her.

The love of his life.

Blowing out a breath, he sees the door to his right cracked open which was their bedroom and he wants nothing more than to hold her there in his arms again. Their bedroom held many nights of love and hurt but that’s not something that can be changed. It’s just the way it was.

Michael tears his eyes away from the door, already sensing that she wasn’t in there and walks through the living room to his left, pass the stairs tucked in the corner, along with another door behind the half-wall on the right which contained the laundry room and continued around the corner to the kitchen.

He’s standing in the middle of the hardwood floor as she has her back to him, hands leaning against the counter as she stares out the window in front of the kitchen sink. Michael’s already tossing his blanket on the arm of one of the kitchen chairs, feeling some sort of comfort in their updated black and white modern kitchen.

She doesn’t initiate the conversation and there’s clearly tension in her shoulders that Michael is itching to be behind her. Itching to get rid of what he’s caused but he knows it’s probably best that he doesn’t act on impulse just yet.

That doesn’t stop him from scraping the chair around so it’s facing her, plopping down and stretching his back as some sort of massage he needs for himself. Folding his arms with his legs spread out, he picks up on the temperature and says, “it could be colder in here you know?”

Michael always preferred colder weather compared to hot. If he was still in the house, rest assured this place would be below sixty-eight and he knows she had to have the thermostat on at least seventy-four.

She represented summer with a natural glow to her bronzed skin and dark lengthy wavy hair, full of sweet smiles that usually matched the sparkle in her brown eyes and tasted like peaches, with a touch that felt like summer sunrises, and a laugh that flowed like the gentle flutter of butterfly wings. She’s the light that Michael wanted to stay in, hold onto, and be part of.

He hated how his consistent winter blues began to disrupt the warmth of her being.

“…you can go back outside and deal with heat exhaustion or you can just be quiet.”

“I think we’ve done enough of this silent treatment, Lena.” Michael rasps, “just talk to me.”

“What good is talking going to do if we’re never on the same page anymore…or if ever?”

“What do you mean?”

“Michael, do you realize how much you showed your ass at my sister’s baby shower last month?” She whirls around, back pressed against the counter now, “Do you realize what you said to me?”

Michael clenched his eyes shut, scratching at his eyebrow and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah honey, I know. And I regretted it ever since.”

“Do you?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I fucking love you with all that I have, which ain’t much but it’s something… I just—I can’t always be everything to everyone all the time.” Michael says, feeling his eyes burn.

Lena feels her own eyes close, welling with tears as her brows furrow. Michael knows that look and he’s off his feet now, ready to walk around the small island that’s keeping him from her.

Lena’s hand goes out, stopping him from coming any closer to her, “uh uh. Don’t.”

With her eyes open, the tears spill from the corner of her eyes and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away this time. She sniffs as she chews on the back of her bottom lip for a bit, “so what do you want to do about this?”

“We talk it through.”

“For what? Closure?” She laughs humorlessly, “to ease your heart? although you already broke mine a couple of times. You can’t claim to love somebody and break their heart repeatedly, love shouldn’t have to hurt this damn bad. Love should feel better than this.”

It wasn’t all bad being with Michael. Sure they’ve only been together for a solid four years since Lena wouldn’t count the back and forth prior to that. Michael was dealing with a situationship before he took a full interest in Lena and she wasn’t going for it. Lena always wanted a love that mattered and she kept choosing Michael Ira Berzatto but lately it doesn’t feel reciprocated.

Michael drops his head, resting his arms against the island as he stretches in search of words, “…you’re right it shouldn’t and I’m sorry that nothing in life is ever easy. I want to be with you but sometimes it just doesn’t feel worth it and it’s not anything you’ve done it’s just how it feels to me.”

There’s a lump in Lena’s throat but she can appreciate the honesty this time around. She hears what her boyfriend is saying to her and she knows Michael loves her dearly but these moods he gets in along with the hurtful things he says and the disappearing acts isn’t healthy. So she had to kick him out (off the couch) to get a better sense of how to deal with this but the reality is she wasn’t. She closed him out even when Michael tried to come back the next day to locked doors since he always forgot his key, so she gave him a duffel bag full of his clothes to take with him to his mother’s for a little while.

Until he got the picture.

Lena didn’t necessarily want Michael to go back to his childhood home with Donna but she learned from Tiffany that’s where he’s mainly been. She didn’t think about where he would go but all she knew was that she needed him out. Michael didn’t want to put his shit on Richie or Tiffany but he also didn’t want to spend nights alone down at Chicagoland. He wanted to be in bed with the woman he felt truly connected to. Talking to her until sleep found them, holding her.

He wanted to be with his home.

It’s been a whole month and Michael was ready to do something about his relationship with Lena. She was not someone he wanted to lose but he couldn’t help the spurts that erupted in his brain.

“Michael you told me you didn’t want to marry me or have a family with me in front of my family. I thought that was something we were building towards…something we wanted to add to this life we share together. We got this house together so what’re we doing here if that’s off the table now?”

Michael’s envisioned a life with Lena the moment he expressed that he was in love with her, sitting parked along the curb one rainy Chicago night over milkshakes and pork chop sandwiches, He thought about kids that maybe looked a little like himself but mostly had Lena’s good qualities…the moment they entered the house together with their new set of keys. He thought about being brought to tears seeing Lena in a wedding dress being led down the aisle by her uncle/godfather.

Of course he wanted all of that with Lena…he just didn’t know if he deserved it. It was contradicting to think about if maybe that’s how his own father felt when he looked at Michael, Natalie, and Carmen but that didn’t erase the hurt he put them all through including his mother.

“I didn’t mean it. None of it. I was in my head, the bad parts you know?” Michael clenched his biceps with his hands as he struggled to get the words out, struggling to make it all make sense, the way he felt.

Lena deeply exhales, head dimming, that the brim of her hat is shielding her face that Michael just wants to yank it off. He didn’t like when Lena did that, hide her pretty face or her emotions but it was hypercritical because Michael’s been hiding a lot of the weight. He just didn’t want anyone to know that, however Lena knew this and she wasn’t just anyone. How could she not? She’s seen it all inside of this house and just simply being together, she just wanted Michael to trust her and let her in.

Fully.

“I get it…but we’re supposed to be a team. Together. I do love you and I want to support you through this but I can’t help you if you choose other methods that’ll push me away.”

“What? You think I’m some sort of project for you? Like I’m one of those horn dogs down at the gym that need some pointers? I don’t need fixing, Lenny.” The way he used her nickname felt like it was against her, condescending almost.

“That’s not what I’m saying to you at all.” Lena’s voice was always so soft like the melody of a harp and she always knew how to keep her tone leveled despite the disrespect she was feeling from the man she loved, “what I’m saying to you is I’m recognizing that you’re going through something. I’m your girl, what makes you think I wouldn’t? My dad…you know Michael. I’m not trying to fix you, I’m trying to love you through it all.”

Michael met Lena a month after her father passed tragically. She was outside of the restaurant, leaning against the building and Richie was the first to set eyes on her, telling Michael there was some, “babe,” just lingering outside.

That was a question mark in itself since Chicagoland had all sorts of people making themselves comfortable on the street. Michael didn’t expect to find someone like Lena there on the fresh touch of winter, warm smiles despite the frost beginning to hit.

“Hey, you’re gonna freeze out here, Mr.” Was the first thing she said to him over her shoulder, once she realized Michael’s been watching her while she paced, lightly tapping a harmonica against her fingertips.

She’s stunning to say the least as Michael breaks his stare to glance down at his short sleeve attire. He shrugs, “Nah, don’t worry about me. I take ice baths for fun, it’s kinda my thing. You on the other hand, look like you’re ready for Christmas.”

It’s only the beginning of October but Lena’s dressed like she’s prepared to spend a night out in Antarctica, wool hat with a pompom attached to it, huge gold hoops poking through her dark hair, a winter coat that was probably two sizes too big for her frame, and some furry boats. He laughed about it then and still laughs about it now, she was cute as hell not being used to Chicago’s weather and thinking some fifty to low forty degree weather bothered Michael.

A smile was still placed on her face that Michael couldn’t help but to mirror, “You caught me, I am actually looking for the chunky man with the white beard. He likes to wear red a lot.”

“Yeah, i think he’s in there. Probably enjoying a requested pastrami grilled cheese with a side of tomato soup and a spiked hot coco to go.”

“Sounds filling.”

Michael nods, “with my hands on it, you bet your doll face it’s something special. Now…what warm meal can I get you?”

“Oh you’re kind, I…can’t go in there.”

Michael blinks, “why not? I hear from some of my team you’ve been out here every Thursday around this time just watching. There’s nothing in there that’s gonna hurt ya, I promise.”

“…this was my dad’s place where he liked to have lunch. He was a musician and travelled a lot but he’s a Chicago native through and through. When I would spend summers with him, he’d take me here for lunch for the Penne Alla Vodka when I was a little girl…then I stopped spending summer’s with him.”

Michael listens carefully to this and asks, “what’s his name?”

“Lionel. Lionel Marsalis, he had a familiar relationship with the previous owner…which I’m assuming is probably your dad.”

Michael takes this information in and knows it rings a bell. He’s seen a black and white picture of a man that was standing beside his father and uncle Jimmy once before, holding a harmonica up to his lips while his father had his head thrown back in laughter. Uncle Jimmy was full of smiles, and the only one with his eyes set on the camera as the man in the middle played on with his eyes closed.

“Well in that case, we’re practically family already!” Michael holds out his hand for Lena to grasp, “And you’re no stranger, so you deserve a seat inside don’t you think? C’mon in, I’ll even let you get the best seat in the house…which is right next to mine.”

Lena thinks about it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before she had to just take a chance and enter. However she had a man here who had some sort of a connection to her father just like she had to his. So she places a warm hand in his cold rough one, Michael giving her’s a squeeze followed by a grin as he began walking backwards, reaching out for the door to lead the way.

“And I don’t ever want you to stop loving me,” Michael exhales, “I just don’t want my issues to outshine what’s good. What we got, it’s good isn’t it?

“We can’t keep ignoring this though, don’t you get that? It’s causing us both more harm than good.” Lena says, “Did you get rid of them?”

Michael freezes in place, not expecting Lena to bring this up. He thought the focus would just be on him being reckless with his mouth during a bad time. He couldn’t tell you what got into him, popping in at his supposed sister-in-law’s baby shower, the numerous questions of when he was going to pop the question, have kids of his own with dear Lena, got to be all too much for the usual charismatic man.

And he unfortunately took it out on Lena.

As if right on cue, Michael feels the pinching and throbbing in the palm of his left hand. The scarred hand he carelessly injured last winter when he was having a low moment down at Chicagoland. That ultimately added to his routine of numbing pain by the quietness of a certain white horse pill.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mike.”

Michael huffs, “I’m not, want to check my pockets?”

“Yeah, maybe I do.”

“Go for it then.”

Lena hesitates but Michael holds her stare. It was hurtful that their relationship resulted in this, a sense of trust almost lost now. Yet it was just as hurtful for Lena to figure it out and Michael not being comfortable enough to confide in her. She wanted him to sink into her especially when he was feeling low but Michael felt like it was selfish to do that. Selfish to dim all the light that Lena is by his darkness. He wasn’t flashy but his love for Lena was genuine and damn right he wanted the world to know. That pride was something ferocious! He was positive that the best thing he’s ever done was love Lena Marsalis and he wanted everyone to see just how happy they made each other so why would be even dare ruin it with his ongoing pain?

That didn’t make sense to him. What made sense was loving as hard as he could, tussling with the bear that was deep inside, against anything that wanted to challenge him.

He would never go down without a roar.

Michael’s dark eyes are focused only on Lena as she takes slow steps towards him. He’s standing up straight now, standing sideways from the island as Lena approaches him. She’s playing with her fingers and Michael knows that is a nervous habit, he can’t bring himself to be pissed that she’s doing this because his heart goes soft just as the thought of her alone.

She’s inhaling as she stands face to face with Michael, eyes trailing over his features as if she could ever forget what he looks like. When her hands brush against his waist, as if she could ever forget what he feels like, and when her fingertips just touch the outline of his Jean pockets she breaks.

A sob erupts over her frame and a balled up fist goes up to her mouth to almost slam it back down. However the damage was already done as she’s fighting to catch her breath through her sobs, and the furrow in Michael’s brows hits his face and he can’t help but to pull her hard against his chest. He’s holding Lena again and it’s easy for him to swallow her pain, the pain that he’s caused. The motion of him pulling her to him, knocks her hat off from her head and Michael’s replacing that barrier with his lips pressing to the top of her rosemary scented head.

Lena’s hands are balled up against his chest, nails almost gripping his shirt as she cries and Michael just squeezes the top of her shoulders with one hand and the other holds her by the back.

“We’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna be fine. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Michael chants with his lips on her forehead and Lena only clenches her eyes tighter.

Those apologies don’t come without the fear of wondering if this was truly it for ol’ Mikey and Lenny. However they don’t dwell on it when Lena places open mouthed kisses against his beating throat. A rumble forms at the action and Michael’s hands are sliding down her lower back as she’s looking at him now with fresh tears.

“Let’s go back to bed,” her voice is hushed as Michael is caressing her face now.

He nods because he feels it too before he smashes his lips right against hers, almost stealing the air right from her lungs.

And Lena let’s him.

He carries her like he’s done before the first time they entered this house together long ago, without the ring or the title but that didn’t matter. Their feelings for one another was just enough then.

Michael can’t keep his eyes off Lena as she lays on the bed, eyes low and reaching up to rest the palms of her hands flat against his chest where his heart beats. His hand rests right against her’s, keeping it tight in his hold so she knows that his heart can be completely in her hands if it’s still what she wants.

They hold eye contact, even when he’s peeling off her gym pants and he’s kissing her soft thighs and shea butter scented skin. His hand rests flat against the thin material that’s shielding him from one of her most sensitive parts and it’s pulsating just from his touch alone leaving her whining, which is music to his ears. He lays against her before his finger shifts the material to the side.

“I love you,” she says to him, “always.”

And that almost makes him want to cry as he slides inside, “I love you too, Lenny. So much.”

He groans while settling inside, trying to burn this feeling into his mind forever, how they almost melt together, welcoming what they’ve been missing. Their hands rise up along the bed, clasping onto each other as Michael begins to find rhythm against the downfall of what once was.

There’s a candle that sits on Lena’s night stand, burning in the distance as they release together. Equally there’s tears on both of their faces as Michael pulls back to get another good look at Lena. Her fingertips are brushing his tears and he leans down to kiss hers away.

‘I miss you.’ She thinks and Michael’s lips tells her just the same before he lays down beside her, pulling her to rest against his chest in the room they share.

And she’ll always miss Michael, especially when she crosses that bridge on her way to work, the same place she can’t bother to do her morning jog along anymore, and that same bridge where they spent many nights together, knees pressed together as he animatedly talks about some wild story she has to act like she’s hearing for the very first time but doesn’t mind, just happy to see a smile on his face.

It’s the same smile that matches the one she catches when they share a bed together. The last time he really had the chance to hold her before a harsh winter came to his childhood home without her by his side, with her hand caressing the scruff on his jaw, thigh tossed over his hip. Her fingers start trailing every detail of his face from the bridge of his wide nose, the crinkles by his dark eyes, and the smooth smile of teeth that splits onto his lips although their relationship has completely altered…the love would always still be there even if at a distance.

His eyes are closed but he’s not asleep.

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Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #Michael berzatto x black reader #michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #Mikey berzatto x black reader #jon bernthal #summer prompts #summer prompt #queued

[ebonyslasher]

Scary, Spicy, and Sweet? Pt. 2

Synopsis: You work as a new Nurse in Smith's Grove after finding a passion working with mentally ill patients. Impressed with your skills, Dr. Loomis assigns you to the infamous Michael Myers. His terrorizing activities take an odd, sexy turn that surprises you.

This is part 2. This one has 18+ content. Grown folks Only! Read part 1 here.

This is a request from soooo long ago for @hdhhffgjdhdhdbdbd. I do hope that you enjoy.

Discovering that you were not coming in, set Michael OFF.

Over the past 3 weeks, your reactions have amused him greatly. The shaking in your arms and legs made him chuckle. The short screams from his fake attacks made his cold heart race. However, his focus shifted to other aspects about you. You were very beautiful. Your beauty enhances your scared visage, making you more attractive each day. Your wide nostrils would cutely scrunch when you felt uncomfortable. The way your lips contorted made him want to nibble and suck. Wide mouth screams made him want to cover your mouth with his and dip his tongue into you. Those wonderful eyes of yours would blow up into the cutest way, like a small cat on alert.

Michael could not help but notice your smell. It was always so pleasant. He could not place the scent, but it was light and alluring. It made him inspect your body with increased interest. Your breasts looked delectable. Plump. Sometimes he could see your nipples after a good scare, making his dick jump in excitement. He wanted to watch those hips and ass jiggle as he chased you around, excited to catch his cute little nurse. 

It was only yesterday that he realized that he found you the most adorable person he’s ever seen. These feelings, these thoughts were unlike him. He could not wait to explore these odd feelings with you. And now you took the day off? 

He would make sure you never leave his side again. 

—

“...Only doing this cause it’s damn 80 an hour….. fucking…. Michael ass Myers, big funky ass self!....and that weird ass doctor…” You mutter as you stomp through each steel double door, clocking into work, yet AGAIN. 

Although you took the offer for extra money, you were still highly upset. You were already running yourself ragged with how often you worked. Surely the hospital was technically breaking some labor laws for allowing this. You should have had a few days off throughout those last few weeks. But that overtime pay was nice. Being aggressive with payments significantly cut down on your student loan debt in the past 7 months.

Still fuming, you make your way towards the nurses station to acquire the stock medication. While typing in the code to access the sedative, an idea pops into your head. Maybe if you administer the medicine as fast as possible, then you could go home sooner. Just stay for a few hours to get enough pay and clock out. Michael would be knocked out anyway and you’d just be sitting around. This was sounding like a good plan. Executing it though could be a problem.

The sedative deposits out of the machine and you read its label. While doing some calculations at your station, a fellow colleague known as Davis Sellers, comes into the area. The man looks distraught. Once he sees you, his shoulders visibly relax. 

“Man, it's like I'm looking at an angel right now.” He sighs out.

“An angel? What’s gotten into you?” You asked, amused.

“That nigga Michael…went crazy as hell. I was getting the medicine ready right? Why I turn around and he looking at me cock eyed??? And then that motherfucker jumped at me ooooo noooo. Man, I was fighting for my damn life in there. Had to yell for backup.” During his story telling you had to look away and stifle your laugh. Sometimes, you hated how he told stories. It's not funny, but it's funny. 

“Damn, well he better get some sense when I get in there. Cause he’s gonna get knocked the fuck out soon!” You replied, faking some confidence to uplift your work friend.

“Ay, good luck. If he tries something just yell. I got you.” David tells you as he comes over to pat your back in solidarity.

“Oh I will. I’m bout to go get this over with right now.” You gather the materials and begin to head out the station. You double back, squinting your eyes in suspicion. You had a feeling that you were forgetting something...the key! A golden, square shaped key sat beside your computer. You grab it, needing it to access Michaels’ room. Ready to get this ordeal over with, you speed walk towards his room. 

Although you were excited, you were very apprehensive. There was unease hovering in the air as you approached his foreboding door. This man, with his sizable muscles and strict determination, was already riled up. David didn’t inform you specifically of how they left him. What exactly you were walking into was unknown, but you were ready to scream at any moment's notice. Standing in front of the door, you hoped that he wouldn’t continue the bull shit. 

Shakily, you use the square key to open the door. And the first thing you see is Michael. He looks pitiful all wrapped up in a white straightjacket, mirroring the ‘crazy’ characters in movies.  ‘Never thought I would see the straightjacket used in real life,’ you thought, slightly amused. The straightjacket looks like it fought for its life as well, scuff marks of unknown origin littering its ragged form. It looked like there was a second straight jacket weirdly wrapped around his muscular legs. How they did that, you didn’t know. As long as he couldn’t move, you were chill. Michael just sat awkwardly on his bed, leaning against the white wall, observing you like always.  

You don’t even mutter a greeting when you turn to the nearest counter to lay your materials onto. You absentmindedly lay the key near the edge of the counter, closest to the door as you begin to open the materials. While doing so, you felt eyes on your form. This makes you turn unconsciously towards the source looking dead set at you. It felt as though he was staring harder than usual. Weirdly enough, it looks like he was…happy? That interpretation was probably very incorrect. But as you approached to observe how you would administer the medicine, there was a gut feeling that you were right. 

The initial dilemma of administering the sedative was the location. ‘Which area would be low risk…?’ The drug had to be administered in his veins, so it could act the fastest. Your two choices were between the leg or arm. ‘

You regard his legs, which were twisted up in a complex fashion in the confining jacket. It would be a high risk to try to tackle that mess to get to one leg. There’s a chance that both legs could get free. He could kick the fuck out of you and try to get out of the room. No bueno. So, the arm it is. 

You look to the nearest arm, on his right side. It’s still a risk, but a better option, since the straight jacket was easier to navigate. Time was of the essence and you had already spent ample time regarding the situation. Excited at the thought of relaxing at your station, you grab his right arm and disassemble the jacket slightly to get to it. His biceps felt strong and smooth underneath. It was nice and a little distracting. A warm fuzzy feeling gathers in your abdomen. Pressing on, you ignore that odd feeling. Now's not the time to notice attractive things about a very dangerous patient. 

Pulling the arm from the jacket, you're surprised that it drops limp onto the mattress. Maybe David gave him a quick sedative while wrestling him? Something to where he couldn’t move fast? Pondering about that doesn’t matter. Getting him fully knocked out was the end goal. You move back to wash and sanitize your hands and some equipment. You manipulate the syringe to slowly take up the medicine. Placing the needle on top, you screw it on and flick the tube to rid of any air bubbles. During the preparation, you could still feel those heavy eyes watching you. Turning back, with the medicine ready, you steel yourself. Sliding towards the Shape, you grab his limp arm.

If you could rewind time, you would have taken the time to question David about all the details of their scuffle. Namely, if he was able to give a quick sedative to Michael before leaving the room. Because suddenly, he grabs your hand, twisting it painfully. You yelp, trying to pull your hand away from his painful grip. As you pull, he lets go, causing you to stumble and drop the medication. Onto the fucking mattress. He grabs it and uses his thumb to bend the needle and crushes the syringe in his palm like it was nothing. The clear liquid sedative leaks from his fist.

You stand awkwardly against the wall. This was terrifying. You want to scream, but your vocal chords stopped working. You mentally yell at your legs to ‘RUN!’ but, your legs are like mush. While your chance to escape was escaping right in front of you, Michael tore off the rest of the jacket. Those jackets are thick and he rips into it easily. Now both his hands were free. The Shape takes those long fingers to tear at the mess around his legs.

It seems like now your dumb legs want to run. You attempt to scramble to the door, but Michael magically grabs you and throws you onto the bed. Fuck. Now, he’s at the door, free to do whatever he likes. And it seems that the first target is you. Your teary eyes stare horrifically at his tall form. His stoic facial expression slowly warps into a small smile. 

You say nothing. Just staring at him, in survival mode to see what he would do next. Maybe, you could dart past him when he moves? But he moves first, twisting slightly to grab that key you sat on the counter. He calmly lifts it and places it on top of the highest cabinet in the room. There is no way you could reach that. Michael stalks forward and in turn you scrunch your eyes closed. You did not want to watch your last moments play out.  

You feel him firmly clasping your arms. It makes you tense and squeak. But nothing happens. A few seconds go by and he's still holding your arm. Actually, he isn't even hurting you. Confused, you flutter your eyes open to look up at Michael, who was looming over you with an unreadable expression. His hands awkwardly slither down your forearms, down to your wrists. He holds the left one in place, and lifts your right hand. He expertly and quickly adjusts his hands around your wrist for more mobility. He pulls your hand and places it on his crotch. Your eyes widen, and his dick pulsates under your palm.

Okay, what the fuck was going on?! Were you going to die?! Where’d this come from?

The absurdity of the situation finally made you speak, “Michael…” You meant for that to be questioning, instead it sounded…pleading? Forthcoming?

He leans forwards, his handsome face coming towards you. His face is blank as he connects his lips to your forehead. ‘Did..he just kiss me?’  Could you even say it was really a kiss? It’s more of a placement of  lips to your forehead. A few seconds pass before he pushes his lips out. You couldn’t even hear the smack. Just feeling soft lips wetting your forehead. Now you're very confused. He is exceedingly soft for an emotionless killer. 

Michael lowers himself to the bed, never taking his eyes off your face. It's unnerving the way he stares at you. What will he do next?

You didn’t have to wonder long, as he takes his hands from your wrists and brings it to your breast. He squeezes experimentally and starts playing with them. Good lord, you were getting sexually assaulted by this awkward ass serial killer. His awkwardness made you want to take over and show him what to do.

Wait, whoa, no. You should feel like going home, out of here, to safety. You did not want this to continue, no matter how his pretty blue eyes looked at your face. He really was handsome though. And those hands felt so good squeezing your eager breast. 

Fuckkkk noooo. No, you were not going to form a weird complex about this man, this monster. You’ve seen how weird those white fangirls were to these killers online, you were not going to go down like this. During your quick morality freak out, you remember that your palm was still on his dick. You start to pull away, but Michael stops. Then you stop. He takes his hands and makes sure to firmly replace your hand on his crotch. So scary. In an effort to try to ensure your survival, you decided to just play along to his exploration. 

You circle your palm, feeling his cock continuously jump. And jump. And jump. You squeeze and feel just how thick he was. Damn. This man was packing. It made you feel hot. ‘Okay stick to the plan,’ you can’t get distracted. You continue as he plays with your breast. He breathes heavily as he comes closer, kissing your forehead again. Making your body and mind feel all confused. This continues for some time, before Michael stops and rips your scrub top open. 

Your boobs pop out, slightly spilling over the old bra you should have thrown away long ago. You gasp as you look down at your ruined shirt. Looking back up, you see those beautiful blue eyes widen, mesmerized by your breast. He looks up at your face, watching your reaction. It felt hypnotizing being looked at with such desire. Michael studies your breast again. It was beginning to feel torturous with him just looking and doing nothing. It’s making you antsy. And it got to the point where you took his hands and put it on your breast. 

This surprises Michael, who ardently caresses the exposed skin in apparent apprehension. You sigh at his touch, fingers interestingly soft for a killer like him. Before you could begin to question your recent actions, he pulls down your bra. Your nipples harden, now exposed to the world inside Michaels’ eyes. Not hesitant any longer, Michael replaces his hand onto your breast and begins to play. You sigh in pleasure at the lovely kneading he was giving. 

But, you want more. The rest of your body began to feel neglected,the desire running through your veins asking for more pleasure. This made you reach for the bottom of his shirt and place your hands under it to rub his abs. Which were heavenly. Every groove of hard muscle excites you more. Your exploration leads you to squeeze his pecs and pinch his nipples. 

Michael is a bit startled by your newfound enthusiasm. But, he was not going to stop your actions. It looks as though he enjoys this new sensation of being touched so gently, his eyes becoming half-lidded in response. Michael’s handsome self has such kissable lips. It spurs you to think about showing him what a real kiss is supposed to be like.

You lean towards his face to plant a kiss on those pink lips. Michael stops, eyes wide from this sensation. You end the kiss and lean back slightly, observing in glee how awkwardly surprised he is. It makes you desire him even more. Kissing him again, you begin to give him a personal tutorial. The man is a quick learner, which is proven when he starts kissing back. It's a bit of a mess of lips colliding, but it starts to tighten up quickly. 

Your moist tongue licks the bottom of his lips slowly, asking for permission inside. He opens his mouth slightly. You thank whoever was caring for him today that his breath smelled fresh. Your tongue enters his mouth and you start to guide your tongue into his mouth. It's a couple of pulses before his tongue slides with yours. Finally, you two were making out. Interchanging between pecks, long kisses, and tongue caressing made you wetter than ever. You could sense the heat pooling in your panties. 

You weren't the only one wet, as you pull away to look at Michaels’ crotch. There lies a big wet stain on the pants of one leg, where his dick uncomfortably pulsed. You wanted him inside you so badly. So so badly. The outline of his big dick makes you moan softly. Michaels ears pick up the sexy sound, making his cock pulse fiercely. He backs up, jumping off of the mattress. You watch in interest to what he does next.

Thankfully for you, he strips his clothing, baring his whole body to you. ‘Oh my god’. It was a crime that a man this dangerious looks so fucking fine. His arms hold bulging biceps that make you drool. The muscles on his long torso are marvelous. His breasts look juicy and abs hard as a rock. Good lord. Your eyes travel down to brown curled wisps that adorned his crotch. His dick was standing prettily between his luscious legs. His pre-cum dripping from his pink head, pooling onto the mattress. Bringing yourself forward, you start crawling seductively on all fours towards him. You make sure to emphasize your hips as you do so. Your head is level with his dick. Through your pretty eyelashes, you look up. He looks down, waiting for you to do whatever you want. You bring your lips to the head and experimentally lick. His cock bounces back onto your tongue, pre cum spilling onto your tastebuds. He tenses in surprise.

You lick around his head and lower your mouth around his dick.He clenches his fist. You go as far down as you can, slightly choking on the amazing girth and length of his cock. He makes a strange strangled noise. You stay there, nostrils flaring as you breathe through your nose. You wait until you feel the saliva gather in your mouth before starting to suck his dick. You start bobbing, the sounds of saliva slushing as you move and suck. Michael curls his toes, and moans low.  Luscious lips cover his cock, saliva drips onto the mattress, on your face, and moves down your neck as you continue. The amount of saliva produced was ludicrous, often causing you to spit more out onto his cock.

Michael could not take this any longer. He brings his hands to your hair and pulls back gently. While your head is bent back, he observes the state of your gorgeous face. Strings of saliva sit upon your face, under your nose and across the bottom half of your cheeks. It's an alluring sight. He bends down to kiss you, bringing his tongue straight into your mouth. The taste of himself doesn’t phase him.

He takes his hands and pushes you back onto the bed, back hitting the mattress. Michael quickly rids you of your pants and panties in one go. You lay there, legs slightly open to give Michael a teasing view.He looks at your pussy, glistening with your wetness. It covers your inner thighs. He brings himself back onto the mattress, taking your legs and spreading them further apart. He stares at your pussy inquisitively. Then looks up at you. 

He does nothing as he interchanges his view of your face and your vagina. This again. It was getting frustating and you were ready to be fucked. 

“Touch me…rub it, please...” you beg. Michael obliges, taking his fingers and rubs right onto the mysterious button poking out at him. It makes you tense up and moan loudly. He quickly rubs it again, addicted to the sounds you were making. You keep moaning, instructing him to put a finger inside. 

It slides inside and its bliss. You plead for more. He adds a second finger, causing your opening to stretch. The moisture inside squelches as he twists. He experimentally rubs around, feeling the soft bumpy inside on your canal. Each movement makes you go crazier, your breath is heavy. 

You scoot away, not wanting his fingers in you anymore. You want something much bigger.

 “I want you inside me,” you state seductively. 

His eyebrows raise. He sits up, cock in full view. You position yourself, legs behind your head ready for missionary. He enters and you both gasp. Michael scrunches his eyebrows while yours raises. The feeling was delicious. He starts moving, eyes desperately glued to your face. The faces you were making were erotic, burning into his memory. Michael didn’t want to miss a moment. Continuous strokes make your soul sing. His cock digs deeper, making you whine. Michael switches his angle and it sends you over. You climax, vagina spasming on his dick. Michael is mesmerized by your intense reaction. 

He doesnt cum, purposefully. He wants to watch you climax beautifully more. It will make his release intense. Michael backs up and leaves the bed. With his strength, he lifts you and places you against the door. Your face and arms smush against the door as he lifts your legs. Michael lines himself up and starts fucking you. His strokes reverberate through your body, causing the door to vibrate. It was then that you remembered where you were. You cover your mouth with one hand to stifle your whines. It’s a challenge, considering Michael is becoming an expert at sex.

It’s still a real struggle to hold everything in as he fucks your second orgasm of the evening. Your eyes roll back and you try to breathe through. Michael pulls out and lifts you back to the bed, plopping your form down onto the mattress. He gently presses your head to the mattress and guides your bottom into the air. Oh, so he wants doggy style. Quickly, you arch your back and fix yourself in the position. Michael stared graciously at your lovely backside. He plunges himself into your heavenly canal.

Michael fucks you at a faster pace in doggystyle. The slaps from the skin contact fill the room. He grabs the back of your neck, squeezing slightly. Taking advantage of the position, you play with your clit. The pleasurable sensation builds up to your third climax. Michael allows this to be his first as you both finish at the same time. You feel Michaels’ dick pulse as he fills you up. He pulls out to watch his semen glide out of your pink hole. 

Satisfied and sore, you fall onto your side. He sits back onto the bed as you catch your breath. You look over and he's observing you. The side of his mouth quirks up in a small smirk. He almost looks happy. Before you could register that interesting reaction, Michael gets up. You twist to watch as he walks over to the top cabinet and gets the key. He places it on the counter. Calmly, The Shape walks back and relaxes on his bed. Taking this as a cue, you get up. However, your legs are jelly. It feels ridiculous trying to hobble over to the counter. During your tumultuous journey, you gather what’s left of your clothes. The pants and panties were in good condition. You note that you had your bra on your body the whole time. But…your shirt. Ah!

Thankfully, you remember that there's extra shirts in a drawer in his room.After pulling down the white shirt, you turn to look at him again.

What could you say? Thanks for the mind blowing sex? You got me a little obsessed? He looks deceptively docile sitting there. His eyes tell you that he wants you to stay. But…you couldn’t. Although you wish you could, so you wouldn’t have to face the reality of what you’ve done. In the meantime, you decide to  approach him, giving him one last kiss on the lips. Gathering the energy to leave, you collect what materials you could and make your way out. You give one last look to your new lover. Even though you leave physically, you know that you’re mentally hooked.

#michael myers #slasher x reader #black reader #grown folks business #18+

[molly-ghuleh]

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 7

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You slowly chip away at Elizabeth's diary. Copia takes you for a little break to clear your head.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hey hi hello!! Thank you once again for your incredible patience with these chapters. You all are so very close to my heart and I cherish every single like/reblog/comment (I cry when people say nice things to me, help). That said... let me know your thoughts!!

Warnings: possible mention of anxiety (very brief), Sister Imperator being shady, mentions of ritual sex (no graphic depictions)

AO3 / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

You live in limbo for a full week. “A few hours” of working in Copia’s office had turned into a full day and well into the night. Then one day turned to two, and two to four, and then you found yourself in his office without him asking, simply because it would save time. 

The atmosphere between you and Copia during these days is oddly comfortable. You’ve always preferred to work alone, feeling that any noise or talking would be a distraction. Your translations would always turn out more eloquent and faithful to the original text when you could place yourself into the author’s headspace, and that requires near silence or, at most, the ambience of the room around you. 

With Copia, though, you find that you’re able to focus even when there is noise or talking in the corridor outside his office. Part of you wants to believe that it’s just the change of scenery. His office is opulent, as the rest of the Abbey, but understated. The wall to the left of the door is lined with bookshelves filled with books and little relics or knick knacks. The desk you work at, which sits nestled in the back corner of the room, had been piled with papers and books which you’d helped him organize (a task which he insists he owes you a favor for), but now it houses your own materials. His desk is still fairly cluttered but since you’ve started spending the days in his company, he’s made a significant dent in the work. 

He’d said that having a study buddy helps him stay on task. You’ve always thought you were the opposite, but perhaps you’d never found the right person. It’s as if Copia radiates this aura of calm and focus that you can inhale by just sitting in the same room as him. Your notes are clearer, you can decode letters faster, the Latin flows from your pen smoother. 

That’s not to say you always stay on task. 

There have been times when a little observation or comment turns to an hour-long conversation, or an invitation to the refectory for lunch turns into a walk through the gardens to take advantage of the warming weather. Or a little glance his way turns into watching him work, memorizing the pattern of his pen’s dragging across a signature line. Watching the little cowlick he tries so desperately to keep in place as it falls back over his forehead. Spotting a tiny smudge in his black paints and remembering how his face had looked, soaked in rain and bare and flushed at your touch. 

Yes, you have been living in limbo between being Copia’s study buddy and being something more. 

You know, he’d said. You must.

You do know. If the past week has shown you anything, it’s that you know, more surely than you’d expected to, that you’re dangerously close to falling in love with him and that every day you tip further and further over that cliff. The abyss below is deep and if you fall you have no chance of climbing back out. 

Copia… Copia is already plummeting. There’s a pleasant heaviness that settles in his chest at the thought of you, increased tenfold at the sight of you. Just existing in the same space as you makes him content with how his life has been, like every moment he’d spent alone only led him to you. Oh, yes, Copia is hurtling downwards at terminal velocity and it’s a long way down.

Somewhere within the last few minutes, Copia noticed you’ve stopped writing. Your eyes stare blankly at the letter grid, one hand pointing to keep track and the other holding your pen a few inches off the notebook page. You must be lost in thought. 

“Tesoro?” Copia calls gently. A small smile plays on his lips. He’d gone for the informal paints today after staying in his office far too late to complete some work the previous night, and not at all because you’d accidentally let slip that you like his freckles during a particularly sunny walk. “Where did you go just then?” 

At the sound of his voice, your eyes flick up towards where he sits at his desk, watching you. You blink. “Mars, I think,” you say with a little laugh. “I’m stuck on this one phrase.” 

Copia rises from his desk chair, stretching his arms above his head, and you try not to stare at the little sliver of skin exposed when his shirt rides up. “Would you like another pair of eyes on it?” He asks. 

“Here,” you nod, pointing at the line in your notebook where you’d written the deciphered phrase in Latin. “Collige virgo rosas. Literally, ‘pick, girl, the roses’.”

“Ah, so… what is that phrase? ‘Stop and smell the roses’, yes?” 

“Yes, exactly,” you say. “But in the context of this, it doesn’t make sense. She’s not talking about something good.” 

Copia’s brows furrow as he rounds your desk and comes to stand beside your chair. He leans over to read what you’ve deciphered in your notebook. The words of Latin slide effortlessly off his tongue as he reads your work out loud, and not for the first time, you’re reminded of how smart he really is. Not that you ever doubted it—he’s proven time and time again through answering your questions about the Ministry’s history that he’s Papa for a reason—but it’s a quiet intelligence. The two of you could be joking about something entirely inconsequential and then suddenly he’s telling you about the theistic anti-religious undertones of the works of Marcus Aurelius and somehow he makes the transition make sense. 

“Oh! I see,” Copia says with a jaunty little snap of his fingers. “Here. Further down, read this part.” 

Your eyes follow his gloved finger down the page of your notebook to a passage you don’t quite remember deciphering. Using the letter grid is mindless now. After spending a week doing nothing but mapping and mapping and mapping every single letter in Elizabeth’s diary, you’ve learned how to let your mind drift just enough that the translation is still accurate but your mind is elsewhere. 

In horto moribundo, elige rosas sanas, Elizabeth had written. 

In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.  

You continue to read the rest of the passage, and yes, now that first idiom makes more sense. It’s oddly… optimistic, for Elizabeth. 

“Huh,” you say dumbly, suddenly all too aware of how close Copia is standing. “I don’t remember writing that at all.” 

“Because you were on Mars,” Copia laughs. “Come back down to Earth and we can go for a walk, si? You seem to be, eh… zoning out.”

You smile at him. His eyes are already on yours. From this close you remember that, on top of his intelligence and kindness and wit and charm and empathy, he’s devastatingly handsome. And then you remember how you feel about this man, and how this man feels about you, and your heart kicks up a gear. There haven’t been any romantic declarations or passionate kisses, but every time you pass the romance section of the Library on your way to return Elizabeth’s diary to its lockbox at the end of the night, you’re tempted to borrow a book or two, just for the catharsis of it. 

Carefully, you close the diary and wrap it in its linen to protect it while you’re away. Copia moves back to his desk and fishes his key out of the top drawer. “Let’s go to the front gardens today, cara mia,” he says.

“How come?” You ask as he opens his office door for you. 

He shrugs. “It’s something different. And the sun is over there right now.”

He doesn’t mention the conversation he’d had with Terzo the night before. How he’d approached his brother, the master of romantic gestures and wooing, and asked how exactly he might tell someone he has feelings for them in a way that won’t leave anything in question. He doesn’t mention how Terzo had (embarrassingly) made him roleplay how his confession might go. He also doesn’t mention that, at Terzo’s suggestion, he’d gone to Primo to ask where the prettiest places in the Abbey gardens are, and Primo had told him that the front gardens are full of Japanese camellia bushes on their last leg of blooming for the Spring season. Copia doesn’t mention how, after that, Primo had lent him a well-loved copy of Linguaggio dei Fiori. 

When you’re finished organizing your materials, Copia leads you out his office door with a warm hand placed on the small of your back. The touch, little as it is, makes you shiver. 

“I haven’t been to this side of the Abbey,” you tell him. “Not since I arrived.” 

Copia watches you as you speak. “The front of the Abbey is very, eh, overlooked. Most people prefer the back gardens because they are bigger. There is more to look at.”

He seems nervous, you notice. You can hear the creaking of his leather gloves as he wrings his hands behind his back. And despite his calm facade, his voice sounds… different. Not weaker, but less sure. 

“Copia,” you say quietly. You always say his name with such softness and it makes his heart pound. “Are you alright?” 

He smiles at you but it isn’t very believable. “Oh, yes, tesoro, I’m alright,” he says too quickly. 

You tilt your head. 

“Well…” 

You can read him like a book, he knows. Fitting—you can read almost any book in the Abbey’s library, no matter the language, and you choose to read him. And he can read you, too. Like scholars with their manuscripts. Cheesy, he thinks. I’ve been talking to Terzo too much. 

“It’s alright,” you say after a pause. “We can just walk, if you’d like. But you have my ear if you need it, or if you need some time—” 

“No, no, I…” Copia gently takes your hand as if you’d drift off if he didn’t. “Please, walk with me. There are just… things on my mind, which I need to sort out.”

You squeeze his hand, relieved. “Okay. I’m with you.” 

Sathanas. You’re with him. Copia breathes in and out again, shakily. You’re with him, it’s just you. Nothing to be nervous about. 

It’s just… you. 

You, who he’s about to bare his soul to. You who came into his life and who will stay for such a short time. All he has is a few months with you, and he’s been kicking himself for a week, trying to tell you that he can’t bear to waste any more time, not when you’re both well aware of the feelings you each hold. He can’t go another hour without knowing how it feels for you to know. He knows you know, of course, but you don’t know—

The hallway seems too long. Copia’s working himself into a spiral. His brain keeps telling him you’re as good as gone already. That if he tells you how he feels, you’ll reject him and he’ll lose you. But he’s going to lose you anyway, and he needs to know if he can have these few months with you or no time at all. 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, he thinks. And sorry I could not travel both…

The two of you come to the front door of the Abbey. The old wood creaks when you push it open with your free hand, your other still holding Copia’s. You emerge outside and you hold the door open for him to follow after you. He gives you a small smile, not entirely present. Perhaps on Mars, visiting where you’d been.

The front of the Abbey is picturesque. You remember seeing it as you rode up the driveway that first afternoon. It had been so imposing then, gothic and ancient and huge compared to Marseille. These things are still true as you emerge into the sunny lawn, but in the sunbeams, with a breeze that holds only a little bit of bite compared to the air when you arrived, it begins to feel safe.

Your mind reels against the Abbey being a safe place. For your entire stay thus far, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you don’t like it here, that you aren’t absolutely titillated by Elizabeth’s diary, that the massive Library doesn’t make your mouth water. This is just a temporary work placement, nothing more. Nothing can keep you attached. Not even Copia. 

You almost have to laugh, because you know immediately that you’re lying to yourself. You’re already attached. The thought of leaving the Abbey burns in your gut, but the thought of leaving him almost makes you crumble. 

You squeeze Copia’s hand. “Still with us?” You ask gently.

Your voice brings him back to this realm, but he’s already mostly through his mental recital of The Road Not Taken, and it’s better if he finishes it. It helps him breathe. Decide. 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

“Yes,” Copia replies after a moment. “Still here. Sorry, cara mia.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Would it help to talk out loud?”

Copia turns his head and looks at you. All the words he’d practiced with Terzo are suddenly lost to him, nowhere to be found in his brain. Now he just sees you, feels your presence in his chest, and he knows he can’t use some rehearsed line with you. That’s not him. And more importantly, that’s not you. 

The two of you walk along the blooming camellia bushes. You recognize them from the first time you’d walked in the back gardens with Copia. They’re the only flowers in bloom at this time of year, bright white and pale pink on a backdrop of evergreen. You wonder why more Siblings don’t spend time in the front gardens, especially at this time of year. The flowers are big and supple, if not just on the verge of wilting for the season, and the springtime breeze carries their sweet scent on a hint of warmth to come. 

“Tesoro,” Copia begins, his voice soft and quiet, just for you. “I, eh… well, I wanted to… tell you that I, eh…” 

You wait patiently. Your heart kicks and you think you might know what he’s trying to say, but you give him time. Neither of you have spoken the words out loud, and in your head, it exists only as the thing between you. The thing that is happening, the thing you feel.

Instead, Copia turns the subject. “I read about camellia flowers recently, you know,” he tells you. “Primo leant me his book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, the language of flowers—well, eh, you must already know that, of course, you are fluent…. Anyways, I was reading about camellia, and I learned that this kind is native to Japan, isn’t that interesting? They only bloom in late winter or early spring, and go dormant in the summer, but they don’t die because they are evergreen shrubs, which means—”

“Copia,” you interrupt gently, “breathe.”

“Right, yes…” He takes a deep breath and his shoulders drop. “What I mean to say is that these flowers will be gone soon, when the warm weather comes. I wanted to take you to see them before they were dormant.”

You stroll along the line of camellia bushes, observing the large blooms closely. The sun almost makes them glow against the dark green leaves. There are a few early bees gathering pollen for their stores, until it’s time for the summer flowers to blossom. You reach out to brush your fingertips against the outer petals of one pink flower, feeling the satiny texture and the dewdrops still clinging from the morning. “They’re beautiful,” you say softly. 

“They remind me of you,” Copia replies. 

Oh sweet Satan, you think, your heart suddenly pounding in your ears. 

He continues after a brief pause. “In that book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, it said…” he clears his throat. “It said that camellia symbolize admiration and affection and desire.” 

You look at him then, and he meets your gaze. Admiration and affection and desire. 

“And longing, for someone who is far away.”

Copia steps closer to you. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell you that it’s alright, he won’t ambush you, that these are those feelings and now he’s saying them out loud. Your eyes stay locked on his own, watching as his green eye grows more vibrant against the backdrop of the camellia bushes’ leaves. His other hand lightly runs down your arm to take yours. 

“I’m not far away,” you whisper. 

“No, you are not,” Copia says, and he’s close enough that his breath wisps over your face. You have to tilt your head up slightly to hold his gaze as you stand nearly chest-to-chest. “You are here, and the camellia are getting ready to close their flowers.” 

“And when I go, they will bloom again.” 

“Yes. And when they do, I will long for you, Camellina.”

Camellina. Little camellia. His flower, his blossom in the cold. Here until you’re not. “Copia…” 

He reaches up and brushes a stray hair from your forehead, then traces his fingers down your cheek until he cups your jaw tenderly. “I don’t want to keep dancing around each other,” he tells you softly. “If we only have so much time, I don’t want to waste it.” 

Your eyes flick back and forth between his own, and you’ve committed your own cardinal sin. You’ve gotten attached. So very attached. Incredibly, deeply attached, and you’re terrified, but Lucifer below, how can you be scared when he’s looking at you like that. Like he might already love you. 

“No,” you say. “I don’t want to waste it, either.

“Then please, camellia mia, let me kiss you.” 

He waits for just the slightest nod of your head before he draws you in and presses his lips to yours. 

It’s really not a kiss at first, just a light brushing of lips together. He wants to know you’re sure that this is what you want. And when you don’t run, or disappear, or turn into a frog like some fairytale bastardization, he kisses you for real. Your lips fit together like they were cast from the same mold, built as the perfect opposite by Satan himself. He kisses you like you’re ethereal. 

His hand on your jaw pulls you closer while his other hand slides around your back, and your own find his shoulders to keep yourself upright. He tastes like overly sweet coffee and whatever the refectory had served for breakfast and something else you can’t really place, but has the same distinctness as how he smells. The subtle oakiness of his cologne fills your nose as it sweetly bumps against his. His thumb gently pushes your jaw up, tilting your head to kiss you deeper at a better angle. You feel his tongue swipe along your bottom lip and you don’t even have to think before you let him in. 

Your hands trail down from his shoulders to his chest and you press slightly, feeling the warmth of his body under his vest. You can feel the quick pounding of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and you know from the thundering in your ears that yours is paced the same. 

When he pulls away, it’s barely far enough to stop the embrace. With every slight movement, your lips brush together in the lightest touch possible, an echo of the kiss you’d just shared. 

“Impie… seigneur des ténèbres en bas,” you breathe against his lips. It seems the only words that can escape you now are those thanking your Dark Lord for the man standing before you. What else can you say when Copia has just drained your brain of any coherent thought? “Embrasse-moi comme ça pour toujours.” 

Copia laughs, the puff of air brushing against your lips and cheek. “I’ve broken her, I think,” he says. “She’s lost her English.”

You swallow and try to suppress the heat rising to your face. “I, uh… merde, I can hardly think. Maybe you did.” 

“Is this a good thing, camellina?” Copia asks, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He’s still wearing his leather gloves but you wish that he’d take them off. You want to feel his palms against you. 

“Oui—sì, er… yes,” you stumble. 

Copia laughs again and presses another kiss to the apple of your cheek. “You know, I thought I was going to be the one tongue-tied,” he says with a little smirk. “But I’ve rehearsed this in my head about a million times, so perhaps the shock hasn’t set in yet.” 

“Oh? It hasn’t?” You ask, finally coming back to your head. You lean up and kiss him again, simply because you can. 

“N-no, not yet. Sathanas, do that again.”

You oblige, and kiss him once more. This time you linger, your fingers gripping the fabric of his vest and pulling slightly. You feel him smile into the kiss. He’s still smiling when you pull away. “I don’t think you ever finished your thought,” you say, remembering what he’d said before… all this. 

“No, I did,” Copia tells you. “I had this whole speech planned, telling you how much I adore you, but I kind of… stumbled through it.” 

You smile, imagining what his rehearsed speech might’ve been like, but it doesn’t feel right. You can’t imagine it going any other way than it did. “I adore you, too,” you say softly. “And your speech was perfect. Very you.” 

“Awkward, long-winded, but somehow made sense?” Copia asks. He draws you into his side and takes your hand again, resuming your stroll through the front garden. 

You laugh, and Lucifer below, it’s the sweetest thing Copia’s ever heard. “Exactly.”

Oh, this is bad. Maybe you would’ve gotten away with a mild heartbreak when you left if you hadn’t kissed him. But you had, and you know that when you leave you’ll be devastated. Kissing him, allowing yourself to finally feel the feelings you’ve been desperately pushing down since you first met him, is just digging yourself deeper into the hole you find yourself in. 

But how comfortable and warm and perfect this hole is. 

You remember the passage from Elizabeth’s diary you’d been having trouble with. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses. Find the good within the bad, the light in the dark. 

When you spare a glance at Copia as the two of you continue strolling through the front gardens, you find that there’s a dimple on his cheek that hadn’t been there before, and little crinkles beside his eyes. He’s smiling. You smile too, and look forward again. 

Pick, girl, the roses. 

~~~

“You remember what we talked about, I’m sure?” Sister Imperator asks Secondo, who stands in her office rather against his will. 

“Yes.” 

“And you have kept it a secret?” 

“Yes.” 

He hasn’t. 

No, in fact, he’d done the opposite of what Sister Imperator had asked him to do, just to slight her. He’d told you exactly how old Elizabeth’s diary is, and what he knows about Prime Movers. Although it seems like Sister Imperator knows more than he, if she’s so adamant about keeping it hidden. 

“Good,” Sister nods. “We wouldn’t want some little French girl getting any ideas.” 

Secondo huffs and looks out the window of Sister Imperator’s office.

There you are, walking hand-in-hand with his younger brother, looking quite cozy. From the second-floor vantage point, Secondo can tell the two of you are talking, but he can’t tell about what. The window is situated at Imperator’s back—she’d given herself the corner office, of course—so she can’t see what’s happening just under her nose. Secondo’s lips quirk up at the corner at the sight. From the little interaction he’s had with you, he knows you’re not some naive little French girl. 

“Sister,” Secondo begins, “I do not understand what is so important about it that it has to stay a secret.”

Sister Imperator is irked. “Because it must,” she says, as if that’s a good explanation. “We can’t have just any Sibling with a womb vying for Papa’s attention because they heard a silly rumor. Not everything is full of sunshine and butterflies.” 

“And what rumor is that?” 

Sister sighs. “Being a Prime Mover is not glamorous, Secondo. The role is barbaric and dehumanizing, and I would not have any Siblings think otherwise.”

Secondo turns to leave with a huff. “I was hoping you would tell me something I did not already know.” 

“Ask your father,” Sister Imperator says, and perches her reading glasses on the tip of her nose in dismissal.  

~~~

March 29

I woke up in Papa’s bed this morning, alone. I do not fool myself when I say I had not hoped differently. 

Mother says the ritual went well. She says the candelabras in the garden chapel stayed burning all night, a sign of approval from the Dark One. She says that candles lit from the fire of burning ritual bedsheets will burn until the sun takes over, but I think it is just because the candles were large and extra care was taken to ensure the chapel is not drafty. 

He was very gentle. He was very… skilled with his hands and mouth. He treated me like a lover when we were alone in the chapel. It was as if the ritual bed was my own, and all I could focus on was how I felt and how he felt. Whispered words and praises and caresses on my skin. He was human for those moments. He became Papa once more when the knocker sounded. 

Mother said to be glad that he was gentle at all. She said, ‘pick, girl, the roses.’ 

I want to believe that Papa hates this as much as I. He seems kind. Perhaps a man obligated by faith into such a demeaning practice, but kind nonetheless. I want to believe he cares for me in some regard. If not now, I hope he will grow to, as we will be spending much time together. But he was kind, and he was gentle. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.

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

Tag list: @bonelessghoul @gbatesx @the-did-i-ask @leah-halliwell92 @archive-obsess @rosacrose @nikkyatoyourservice @sodoswitchimage @portaltothevoid @lightbluuestars @thesoundresoundsecho @stephnthangss @enchantedbunny @jackson5611-blog @copiasprincipessa @kadedoesthings @justheretoreadleavemealone @tiedyedghoulette @bl00d-mxxn @honimello @deetz-ghuleh @copias-sewer-rat

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus x f!reader #papa emeritus #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x f!reader #copia x reader #copia x f!reader #copia #popia #popia x reader #popia x f!reader #ghost bc x reader #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x f!reader #secondo #papa secondo #papa emeritus ii #sister imperator #copia emeritus

[444rockstargf]

okay so I thought of this after seeing the rory Halloween photos but maybe you can write a story (preferably with Jack Thurlow) where they go to a Halloween party that he doesn’t really want to attend but he ends up having fun and it could be a bit of fluff + smut? thank you 🫶🫶

"a little party never hurt no one." | jack thurlow

art deco. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly

female!reader x jack

word count: 864

contents: slight fluff, jack being a little perverted

“oh c’mon jack, you know this is my favourite time of year.” you whine as you follow him up the stairs, his footsteps making the creaky floorboards groan. he rolls his eyes once he reaches the top. “and what do you want me to do about that, huh?” he placed his hands on his hips, his gaze turning into a slight glare.

you returned his glare, causing his own to soften a little. “i want you to come to the party with me. that’s all i ask.” you held your hands behind your back, fidgeting with your fingers as you watched the vein on his forehead disappear. he sighs deeply, rubbing his temples as he thought about your request.

he met your stare once more, this time your eyes filled with more desperation than anything. with one last huff, he finally gave you the response that you’d been hoping for. “don’t expect to wear a costume or anything, alright? and if there isn’t good booze then i’m leaving.” it was the bare minimum, but you squealed, rushing up to him and wrapping your arms around his defined torso in a tight embrace.

he gently peeled you off of him, giving you a gentle pat on the cheek with his calloused hand before locking himself in the solace of his room. you glanced at the time. 7:42pm, meaning that you had just over an hour to get ready and there was still so much you had to do. you rushed to the bathroom, starting to work on your hair, makeup, and finding a costume that would make jack lose his mind.

you finished off in the bathroom, coming out looking the opposite of how you went in. you strolled over to your room, making your way to the mass of clothes in your closet. you wanted something that was simple but not forgettable. something that would turn all heads in your direction without making you seem like an attention seeker.

just as the clock struck 9, you heard his heavy footsteps echoing through the eerie halls, coming in your direction. he landed a few knocks on the door, his tone revealing his irritation. “are you goin’ to this thing or not?!” there was no response, allowing his voice to bounce off the walls. he banged on the door a few more times before you flung the door open.

“s-sorry, im here. let’s go.” you walked past him, but his jaw was on the floor. he was frozen in place, reeling over the sight he saw for only a fraction of a second. you were halfway down the hall, but he just continued to stare at what you were wearing.

you had on a short, tight black leather skirt with torn tights underneath, something you knew always made him weak in the knees. but your shirt is what surprised him the most. it was his well-known ultraviolence t-shirt, but you had tailored it into a skintight lacy bra that could barely hold itself together on your body.

you put on your shoes, feeling as he gawked at you. you looked in his direction, a pink flush covering his pale cheeks. “you coming?” you smiled at his teasingly as he blinked himself back to reality. he rubbed his eyes, muttering quietly under his breath. “y-yeah, just a sec…

he seemed to be in a daze the whole journey to the party. your hands were locked the entire time, but you felt him stealing occasional glances at you, his hands getting sweaty and his body trembling slightly. and best of all, it seemed like he was actually looking forward to the party, but you couldn’t be too sure. 

you and him quietly stepped into the host’s house, instantly being welcomed by the strong smell of beer. you lead jack inside, making him look like a lost puppy that was clinging onto you. you brought him to the kitchen, pouring some beer into a plastic red cup and handing it to him with a warm smile. 

“thanks for coming out with me tonight. i hope this isn’t too much for you.” he shakily took a sip from the cup, his eyes travelling down your cleavage. “no problem…” you picked up on the slight uncertainty in his voice, feeling the need to lighten the mood. “so you really didn’t dress up? you’re no fun.” you gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, making his body jerk.

you noticed his silence, starting to feel a twinge of remorse. you spoke again, but this time your voice was regretful. “y’know what? how about we just call it a night. this party wasn’t as good as i thou-” your speech was cut off when he grabbed your neck and pulled you into a hungry, desperate kiss.

his mouth stayed on your for the longest second of your life before he pulled away,, leaving your expression contorted from shock. he smiled sheepishly at you. “you know i’ve been looking for this shirt…” a dumb little smile crept onto your face as he snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “yeah… i know.”

author's note: im so sorry for unannounced inactivity :(( this week was rlly hectic but im free all weekend so stay ready!!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #jack thurlow smut #jack thurlow x reader #jack thurlow #jack goes home #smut #culkin cult #lana del ray #lana del ray aesthetic #lana del rey #art deco #honeymoon #444rockstargf

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 9

Welp, I have hit the end of my buffer. Thanks to food poisoning and catching my husband’s cold I’ve only been able to do my minimum daily word count. So posts will slow down a bit.

We get to the first part of the surprise and Eddie’s mind gets blow.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4 Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

*

Steve sat down the table and Eddie sat across him, picking up the menu.

“Steve,” Eddie murmured, “you can’t be serious. These are so fucking expensive, man.”

Steve laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Eddie. I’m treating you this weekend. Just get whatever you want.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, man,” Steve assured him. “We could get a sampler, so we can try out a bunch of stuff and find out what you like.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up. “Hell, yeah!”

So they got a sampler of duck, surf and turf, and lamb. The surf consisted of lobster and clams, while the steak was done to a medium temperature.

They shared the meal with a glass of whiskey between them.

After the meal, Eddie decided he liked the steak, the duck, and clams.

“Duly noted,” Steve said with a grin. He raised his hand to request the bill but a man in a suit came over instead of their waiter.

“The bill has been taken care of by Mr Osbourne,” the man said. “He’s also ready for you when you are.”

Steve grinned. “I think we’re ready now.”

The man in the suit nodded and Steve and Eddie got up to follow him to the VIP lounge.

Steve could hear Eddie mutter the last name over and over again until they got about ten feet from a table that had a short man with a long brown hair and a round face. He wore round sunglasses that were perched on his nose so you could see his eyes. Steve knew that look. The man was stoned off his ass.

“Son of a bitch!” Eddie hissed. “Steve Harrington, you tell me right now are we really going to have drinks with Ozzy Osbourne of Black Sabbath?”

Steve turned to face him and the guy in the suit smirked.

“Yep!” he said with a soft easy smile. “And if he asks if you’re going to concert, the answer is yes.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “And would we be lying to the man?” As if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Steve smirked and rolled his eyes. “No,” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t lie to a celebrity as big as Ozzy Osbourne.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Eddie growled.

“After the concert though, right?” Steve asked with a grin.

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, after the concert.”

The man in the suit laughed. They sat down across from Ozzy and he smiled.

“I can already tell which one is the fan and which one is the guard dog for the evening,” Ozzy said with a smile.

Steve blushed. “I just wanted to do something nice for him after the earthquake and him losing everything.”

Ozzy smiled as Eddie blushed.

“You boys have tickets to the concert tomorrow?”

Steve nodded. “Metallica’s team is taking care of it.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as Ozzy chuckled. “Then I’ll have a couple of goodie bags sent to your hotel room.”

The man in the suit nodded. “I’ll let Sharon know.”

Ozzy lit up. “Sharon is my wife. She takes care of everything for me!”

Eddie nodded. “I know, sir.”

Ozzy scoffed. “I’m no one’s ‘sir’. I’m too metal for that!”

Eddie suddenly blurted out his favorite song and then the two of were talking and laughing about music styles and sounds. Steve just sat back and watched.

He had been contacted by Ozzy’s team the day after he set up plans with Metallica also wanting to do something for Eddie. The thought was instead of finding their own ‘charity case’ they would just co-op Metallica’s. Which was fine by Steve. Getting to meet all of his heroes in one weekend? Steve would have been a fool to turn them down.

Occasionally Ozzy or Eddie would draw him into the conversation, but for the most part Steve was content to watch Eddie be so happy.

A couple hours and three drinks later, the man in the suit tapped on Ozzy’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“Sorry, guys,” he mumbled. “That’s me done for the night, I’ve got a party I’m going to with the blokes from Metallica. I’ll see tomorrow, lads!”

He was gently lured away and the man in the suit came back and said to continue to enjoy their evening as Ozzy had paid for their drinks. Eddie downed one of the drinks that had been left on the table and ordered another.

“Easy there,” Steve said. “You don’t want to be hung over for what I have planned for tomorrow.”

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie whined. “I can never repay you for just tonight, how the hell am I supposed to repay you if you continue to blow my mind?”

Steve put his hands in the air. “Don’t look at me, man. The original plan was to play the sympathy card and get a couple of cheap seats so you can go see the concert Wayne said you were trying to save money up for.”

Eddie whirled his finger at the hotel. “So how did all this happen?”

“They were already looking for ways to help out Hawkins when Nancy called,” Steve explained. “They were going to just donate money, but when she told them about a metal fan that loved their music so much that he learned their most recent single in three weeks by ear? The PR team was just positively salivating.”

“Wow,” Eddie said. “And Nancy set all this up?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope, she just gave them my number and I planned it all with them. I may not be able to plan how to take out liches and monsters, but cut me some slack, I do know how to plan a good date.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “So...Henderson and Red going on and on about how you defeated a pack of demodogs entirely by yourself is what? A fabrication? An exaggeration?” Steve blushed. “Don’t sell yourself short. This has been amazing. And we’re only on day one.”

“Tomorrow is going to be fun,” Steve promised.

“I can’t wait.”

*

They got back up to their hotel room and suddenly the adrenaline wore off. The long car ride coupled with the excitement of dinner and then drinks with Ozzy Osbourne had wore Eddie out.

“Fuck,” he said and face planted into the bed. “Why am I so tired?”

Steve sat down on the bed next to him. “Because your body is spending all it’s energy trying to heal. That’s why Dr Hathaway wants to check you out when I bring you back on Monday. To make sure all this didn’t set back your progress.”

“It sucks,” he mumbled.

Steve kissed the top of his head and got up to remove Eddie’s boots. He removed the dinner jacket next and then rolled Eddie over.

“You have two options,” he told the metalhead. “You can either crawl underneath the covers and pass out in your clothes. No judgment from me. You’re tired as fuck.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “And the other one?”

“Or I can help you get in your pajamas and then you can pass out,” Steve said.

Eddie wagged his eyebrows. “And if I told you that I sleep in the nude?”

Steve laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend it, not until the bandages come off, anyway. They’ll snag on the blankets and might rip off.”

Eddie winced. “Pajamas it is, then.”

Steve helped Eddie to his feet and helped him change into his pajamas. Which mostly consisted of Steve holding Eddie upright when he needed and handing him his clothes.  

Eddie snuggled up in the large bed and watched out of the corner of his eye, Steve getting ready for bed.

“The doc say anything about the road rash on your back and arms?” Eddie asked when he saw the still angry-looking burns when Steve pulled off his shirt.

Steve looked over his shoulder first at the scabbed over burn and then at Eddie. He shrugged. “Keep it clean. Keep it dry. And don’t do that ever again.”

Eddie rolled over on his back and propped himself up on his elbow. “You know, I starting to think I got the better deal than you did. And that’s never happened before. Rich boy always got preferential treatment over the poor boy.”

Steve sighed and turned around, pulling the soft shirt down over his chest. “It’s because by the time I got to the hospital there wasn’t much they could do. Some doctors take offense to that. I guess Dr Hathaway is one of those.”

He crawled into bed and into Eddie’s space. He laid back on the bed and let Eddie snuggle close.

“Thanks for tonight, Stevie,” he murmured.

Steve kissed his forehead. “You’re welcome, Eds. I’m happy to do this for you.”

*

Steve woke up to Eddie bouncing on the bed excitedly. “What’s the plan for today, sweetheart?”

He laughed. “First thing’s first. Breakfast. Room service provided. And then some shopping before lunch. Then if we have time before dinner, we’ll hang around like tourists. Then the concert at 7pm. Ozzy is opening, so I was told to make sure we were at the box office by 6:30pm.”

Eddie jumped off the bed and when he straightened he whimpered a small, “Ow.”

“Got a little too excited there, sunshine?” Steve asked as he got of bed. “Forgot you weren’t quite up to par yet?”

Eddie nodded with a pout.

“Let’s take a look and make sure nothing has opened back up, shall we?” Steve asked, tugging on the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie nodded and let Steve pull up the shirt. Steve ran his fingers over the bandages.

“Everything seems okay,” he murmured.

“Kay,” Eddie said, shyly.  

They ordered breakfast and got ready to go. They chatted happily through their meal, munching away on perfectly cooked bacon, light and fluffy French toast, and scrambled eggs.

“So are we coming back here before the concert then to change?” Eddie asked when Steve told him to just wear whatever.

“I figured we just come back here for dinner and change before we go,” he replied with a shrug.

Eddie nodded. “Sounds good, sweetheart. I’m assuming that by Jeff and them helping you out, they helped you with your clothes for tonight?”

Steve leaned in. “Oh, what’s the matter, sunshine? You afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your favorite band?”

Eddie blushed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve kissed his cheek. “Of course you did. But it’s okay. I’m way ahead of you on that, Eds. I won’t look out of place.”

Eddie blushed deepened, flushing his ears and throat. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place. I don’t want this to be torture for you. I want you to have fun, too.”

Steve pulled him in close and put his hands on Eddie’s hips. “I know you do. I was only teasing. The one thing I’m worried about is the flashing lights and whether or not I’ll have to pull out my sunglasses.”

“What’s up with that?” Eddie asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Oh, that’s right,” Steve said. “You haven’t been in the party long enough to know. As part of the many side effects of my many concussions, I get migraines. Flashing lights can trigger them.”

Eddie hugged him. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tonight?”

Steve leaned back far enough to kiss him. “Yeah, sunshine. I promise. I and Nancy have planned for every eventuality. I’ll be fine. Besides, I won’t be watching the band. The only show I’m interested in, is watching you light up like rich kid on Christmas morning.”

Eddie giggled. “All right, sweetheart. I’ll trust you know what you’re doing.”

“You ready for the best day of your life?”

Eddie’s giggle turned into a full on laugh. “Yeah, babe. Let’s go.”

Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, depression, alcohol abuse, cheating, illusions to physical violence, language, drug use (weed, calm down), masturbation, oral sex (f/rec), shitty editing (as always), etc

“It fucked me up.” Jake confesses, passing the dwindling blunt over to you, staring up at the curling smoke as it dances above your heads.

If someone had told you that your night would end lying beside Jake on your living room floor, head and heart still reeling from a most exquisite orgasm and the taste of his own still satiating your appetite for him, you’d have suggested they consider penning fictional novels.

And yet, here you are, and here he is, and it’s bordering on perfect…save for the remembrance of pain that washes the edges of his words in black.

Refusing to tell the story that wasn’t his, he’d decided to quell your interest with one that he felt worthy of sharing.

“She wouldn’t tell the truth. Not at first. Which was a betrayal in and of itself. I thought, who the fuck are you to deny me what I’m entitled to? You know? I deserved the truth…that belonged to me.” He watches you draw in a lungful of smoke and then brushes an errant lock of hair out of your face.

“You did deserve that.” You agree softly on the exhale, avoiding eye contact so as not to break whatever spell has been cast over the two of you to loosen his tongue. “We all deserve that. Truth. Though we so often don’t get it.”

He sighs to let you know he’s heard you, and that he knows you’re right. “I could smell it on her. The deceit hung in her hair like campfire, lingering in her space - sickeningly sweet perfume. It gave me a headache. Every time she touched me it was like swallowing a rock, and she just kept feeding them to me. Jagged pebble after pebble until I was completely weighed down with whatever it was she had done.”

His prose is somehow prettier when he’s describing something ugly.

You can help it no longer, your hand finds his chest. You want to hold him, to soothe him against your breast like a distressed child. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”

He laughs it off, which only makes you hurt worse for him. “Long time ago, babe. She told me, eventually. Told me there had been someone else. Gave me that ‘it only happened once’ bullshit. But she wouldn’t tell me who. I suppose I hated her the most for that. By keeping that from me, she was choosing him, again. Or, at least that’s how it felt at the time. It’s stupid, looking back.”

“No,” you argue with quiet conviction. “It isn’t stupid, Jake. It isn’t.”

The blunt is cashed, and he drops it into his leftover tea with a hissing sizzle, and then relaxes back down onto the rug.

“I asked her to leave. She cried. I cried. She packed a bag and walked out the door. Came back for the rest of her shit later on, and that was that.”

This last bit has truly astounded you. “You lived together?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, folding his hands together over his chest. “If you can call it that, really. You know how often I’m gone.”

“That’s no excuse.” You feel murderous toward this mirage of a woman whom you’ve never met.

“Didn’t say it was.” He points out before continuing. “So, like I said…it fucked me up. Bailed on a bunch of gigs, wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was to wander my drunk ass down the street for a fresh bottle. Stopped showering, couldn’t sleep, all that shit. I forgot about her fish and accidentally let him die. Still feel bad about that one.”

You listen silently. Maybe he needs this…each spoken word feels like it's brand new on his tongue, as if he’s never opened up with such candor about these things hidden. And if he needs a mindful ear and an open heart, you will gladly give that to him. Tonight, and always.

“Josh showed up, because of course he did.” He huffs a breath of a laugh and shakes his head, searching out patterns in your popcorn ceiling. “Asshole beat on the door for an hour before I sobered up enough to hear him. Then beat on it for another hour until I finally hated the noise enough to answer.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him run through imaginary chords along his chest, a habit that presents itself when he’s nervous or angry. Right now, you imagine he’s a bit of both.

“He made me get up and shower. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up until I had. Cleaned up the trash that had piled itself up in disgusting mountains around my bed. I’ll never forget that. Walking into my room and seeing those trash bags. Five of them just completely crammed to hell and back full. That’s what it took. Those bags. Who was this? This guy who sleeps with trash and whiskey bottles and doesn’t shower, right? One of the most astonishing realizations of my life and I made it with a filthy towel that had been lying on my bathroom floor for god knows how long wrapped around my waist.”

Your heart aches painfully for him. You can’t even begin to equate that scenario with the beautiful, cocky, brilliant, man before you. Still, you’ve never felt closer to him, it’s like he’s unlocked a door and invited you inside. Except this time, he isn’t giving you the shiny tour. Now you’ve been ushered in and he’s letting you peek into the junk drawer.

“It only got worse from there. He combed the knots out of my hair…took him forever, and it made me feel loved and like shit all at once. Fucking prick ordered me to strip my bed while he threw the windows open.” He makes prick sound like a term of endearment. “Then he just came out with it. Just fuckin’ said it while he tromped around cleaning like he owned the place.”

You wait while, presumably, he gathers his thoughts, or maybe his wits, or perhaps both…but you don’t push. As far as you’re concerned, you’d lie on this floor with him and wait forever, just so he never feels as lonely as he must’ve felt then.

“He said,” he waves a hand above your heads as though setting the scene. But really, you know this to be a strange quirk of his, this slightly theatrical flare that colors his words when he’s recounting his twin. “Jake, this might be terrible fucking timing, but we’re gonna do this now. You’re going to hate me, and that scares the shit outta me, but you deserve to know, and you deserve to hear it from me.”

“I knew right then, the second he said that, but I waited because….” His hand drops and reaches for your own, warm and tight in grip, like those confident handshakes that seem so important to some “I guess I waited because I didn’t want to know. Two extra seconds of blissful ignorance was too tempting to let go of. Doubt I even got two, seemed more like a fraction of a second before he was out with it. ‘It was me’, that’s all he said because he knew that’s all he had to say. He understood that on some level, I’d probably known all along.”

As difficult as it had been to equate Jake with the melted down version of himself he had described, imagining Josh - all love, sunny smiles, and sweet sentiment - caring so little about his brother’s heart, is impossible. It had to have been some imposter standing in Joshua’s shoes; a monster tucked away inside his brain steering him headlong into cruel flippancy.

It makes you angry. What a foreign feeling when it comes to these two. “It was horrible, what he did to you.” There are worse things bitten back on your tongue.

He’s playing with your fingers now, turning them this way and that, inspecting them as if they’re much more interesting than you’ve ever thought them to be. “Like I told you before, he was drunk and she was somethin’ else. She had the sweetest voice…always sounded like she’d swallowed a bit of helium. It used to drive me crazy, that cotton candy voice of hers.”

A pang of jealousy, unwelcome and unwanted, creeps to life inside you, but you hide it well - you think.

“He earned points,” he continues on. “By telling me…and she was right not to tell me. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d heard it from anyone but him. And hearing her say it? That she’d fucked my brother - with that voice of hers, all honey and sugar dripping all over his name, I think it might have killed me.”

It dawns on you, suddenly and sickeningly, “Is that what I am? What this is? You loved her, and you believe he loves me, so you’ve found an angle? Are you using me to break his heart the way he broke yours?”

The very thought makes your stomach tighten and twist around itself.

Somehow, he knows - how does he always seem to know? - and he places his wide, warm palm across your navel gently and then rolls atop you, nudging the tip of your nose with the tip of his own, an innocent Eskimo kiss that sets your pulse wild.

“You aren’t a pawn in some bullshit game between brothers, poppins. Far from it. But I’ll play with you anyway if you’d like.”

Fuck, the cashmere of his voice, the way it billows into the night like a gauzy curtain flutters in a summer breeze. Vocal chords oscillating as his guitar strings do, humming straight into your heart.

You shove aside all the need he has once again flickered to life inside you and ask, “What happened then?” Your question is meek, as if you’re afraid of the answer.

“After he told me, you mean?” He murmurs against your neck…mouth hot and wet as it searches for places that will make you sigh.

“I kicked his ass wearing only a towel, which didn’t stay on long, so you can imagine how that must’ve looked.”

An unexpected laugh responds to his unexpected joke and you watch him soften…he loves your voice, too. Maybe not as much as he had loved hers, but there is an undeniable affection there that will do just fine for you.

“I made an even worse mistake, as I am so often wont to do. In some ridiculous quest for revenge, I made it even worse.”

He sounds loathsome of himself, so you stroke through his hair, comforting him, loving him this way. Still, you can sense the book closing, he has talked enough for tonight. The wound reopened, split apart and bleeding.

You cauterize it with a joke, just to hear that gentle chuckle of his. “So, no naked grudge match carried out in your depression room? Oh, the disappointment is crushing, Jakey.”

You’re gifted with the laugh you’d so hoped for. “No, babe, that definitely happened. But if you ever feel the need to retell that story, have mercy on me and leave that part out.”

A quiet descends around you like a comforting caul…dragging you back down into the blissful trenches where there is only him. Only Jake.

No peculiar sibling rivalry. No strange twin bond that you’ll never begin to understand. No confusion. No complications…

But never no Josh. Even when there is only Jake, there is still Josh. He lingers in your peripheral vision, a blurry specter watching, reminding. The same way Jacob floats about in your heart when Josh’s hands and eyes are on you.

Jake speaks into the hush first. “You heard me when I said you aren’t a pawn in some fucked up game, right?” His hand is trailing down, down, down, now…tucking itself between your legs, playing with you idly over your panties that are still damp from the last time he decided to grace you with his touch. “I mean, you really heard me, right?”

“Yeah,” it rides out on a feathery moan as your legs spread further apart for him.

“Yeah?” He’s satisfied with your answer, and taunting you a bit now. Sweetly mocking how lost you seem to already be.

“Jake…” it’s a whimper and you don’t care.

“I suppose this is alright, don’t you think, poppins? If I touch you here? Done it before, haven’t I? And he has too, hasn’t he, babe?” He doesn’t pause for your answer. “Playing field’ll stay nice and even, even if I make you cum in these pretty wet panties, won’t it?”

Your hand has wrapped itself around his wrist, urging him to keep going. “If it isn’t a game between the two of you, why is there a field?”

“That’s such an excellent point, baby doll.” He breathes, soft and slow, against the shell of your ear. “Fuck keeping things even, yeah? How about something new? Would you like that, hmm? If I did something new to you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you whine, devoid of absolutely any shame. “Just do it, Jake, please.”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, nor do you care.

“Do what, babe?” His fingers are inching under the lace you wish would disappear. “What if I make my way down?” Those same fingers are now tapping against your lips. You lap over them and he groans at the curl of your tongue before he’s walking down your body with them like two tiny legs. “What if I just kiss my way down until my face is between these pretty thighs and my mouth is against your sweet little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jake, please…” you’re shoving at his shoulders now as he grins through a bite to your throat. “Please!”

He’s at your breasts all at once, tugging your shirt as he had before until you pull it off. That mouth you’re aching so badly for, closes around your nipple, sucking as his teeth sink in deeply enough to make you squirm away.

“Does that hurt?” He pants through licks and suckles that threaten to tear you into the tiniest of pieces.

“No.”

“Then lie fucking still.” The way it trips off his delectable tongue, heated and unwavering, causes you to clench around nothing.

You do as you’re told and pray silently for him to make his way lower and lower.

Like the deity he seems to be, he hears your prayers and answers them by dipping down to lavish an open mouthed kiss upon you, savoring you through the soaked material that once served as underwear, but has now been demoted to an annoyance to be dealt with.

The moment his lips meet silk, he pulls back as if you’ve burnt him, fingertips to his gorgeous mouth like he can’t believe this is real. Coincidentally, neither can you.

“Let me see, poppins,” his chest heaves with every word, fighting to be heard. “Show me where you want my mouth, pretty girl.”

Yanking your panties to the side you once again begin to beg. You can’t seem to help it, and he seems to like that very much.

“There?” He offers that conspiring, lopsided smirk. “And what should I do with my mouth right there, babe? Would you like a little kiss?”

With a growl that sounds like you’re little more than a feral cat mouthing off, your hands fist in his hair and yank him in with force that catches him off guard enough that he loses balance and sort of falls into place, groaning vibrations against your cunt until they spark and sizzle down to your toes.

He strokes the flat of his tongue over your clit, once, twice, three times, then rolls onto his back, taking you with him.

With you now perched and writhing above him, he spanks your thigh, and, with his eyes blazing up at you, sends you reeling with a gravelly “Well, c’mon then, Mary Poppins…feed it to me.”

You’ve been known to do a stupid thing a time or two, but never anything as stupid as wasting time when Jake is asking for something as depraved as what he happens to be asking for now. To that end, you lower yourself down, head falling back to cry out to a god you think you might not even believe in, when he yanks you down completely.

There’s no way he can breathe, but the way he is sucking you in, there’s no way he cares. Praise and pleas for more muffle against you, as does his drawn out moan when he tugs his cock free and wraps a fist around it.

Tongue fucking inside you now, perfect nose brushing rhythmically over your swollen clit, your hips begin to chase it now all on their own.

He nods in urgent approval and sends his fist flying over his cock faster as your toes sweep over the muscles flexing and pumping wildly in his arm.

Growls and groans of lust and exertion press inside you as he drags you closer and closer to that bright and stunning end. Hands in his hair, you let him take you there. Though you might be steering the ship, he is the sea upon which you sail.

“Cum with me, fuck Jake, please please please, I want it, want it so bad…” have you even made a sound at all? You can’t be sure until you feel him nod again beneath you, his free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you down even closer, like he wants to get lost and disappear inside you.

He has built a shimmering, iridescent world, all for you, but you don’t step into it alone. He goes along, reaching up to grab your hand with a barely discernible gasp of your name, just to save you from feeling lonely in your heaven.

Somehow, when the blurry haze begins to clear your head, you’re on your back again, quietly sobbing for air as your body trembles with divine aftershocks.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he wonders almost silently…face pink and shining with you and breathtaking. “God, you make my chest ache. It hurts to look at you, sometimes.”

Shying away from his worshipful prose, you feel around for your shirt, eyes watching his mouth. You adored it before, and now you’d simply lay down and die for it without thought.

You clean him up. Carefully dragging cotton over his hand, stomach and belt where he has spilled and made an indulgent mess…you contemplate using your mouth, but think maybe the moment has passed.

A comfortable, nearly domestic, quiet takes over until finally, you ask him to stay.

He declines with sweet kisses upon your cheek, and lets you in on another secret - he’s leaving to pay a visit to his favorite tree in the park. He plans to sit a while, as it’s where he does some of his best thinking.

You don’t ask what he plans to think about beneath an old sugar maple at close to four in the morning. Maybe you’d like to know, you figure, but maybe you shouldn’t.

~

The morning finds you showered and a least somewhat put together, wandering through the very same park. Meandering towards the rusty back and forth creak of a swing set.

Josh waits just where he said he’d be when he’d phoned to ask you to join them.

Looking casual and clean in crisp joggers and a band T that you know, without a doubt, smells of fabric softener - he is relaxed back against a bench, contently watching Lil’s ponytail fly as she chases around with her tiny companion - a friend from the neighborhood. He’s the sweetest thing who is almost always happy to let Lily boss him a bit. They often remind you of what the twins must’ve been like as children.

You slide into position beside Josh and he ponders as if you’ve been conversing for hours. “Remember what that was like? Just running to run? Look how happy she is.”

His question is rhetorical, his smile sly, when he turns his attention to your face. “Look how happy you are, sweetheart. You’re glowing. Is it safe to assume that my lesser half paid you a visit last night?”

You feel your lips part stupidly in shock.

“He called me this morning, just after I called you.” He shrugs casually. “Told me he was around and that the two of you talked. I know what ‘talking’ means when it comes to Jacob.”

You shake it off, grounding yourself by watching his lovely daughter rather than the twinkling accusations in his eyes. “We did talk.”

“Amongst other things, I’m sure.” He blows right by his own comment and leans in a little closer. “Do you think less of me now? Now that you know exactly what I did to him? Because you should.”

“No.” You answer without hesitation, and truthfully. “And he said he did something even worse, so it seems to me like you two are even.”

“Even?” There’s a disgruntled edge to his tone, but instinctively, you understand that his disgust is centered squarely upon himself. “We’ll never be even. Not after what he gave me to make things right.”

You squint into his eyes, trying to piece together the puzzle. “And how did he make whatever it was he did, right? What did he give you?”

He allows you to stare a while and then gives you your answer by shifting his gaze to the tiny beauty laughing in the sandbox.

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Gratitude - Safety Ch 7

Ominis Gaunt x f!Ravenclaw!Reader (Reader is not MC)

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Emotional abuse, threats, descriptions of a panic attack... I promise there's some fluff in here too.

Summary: Y/N L/N had always despised Ominis Gaunt. He was everything she hated about her life. As the only daughter to a wealthy pure-blood family, she knew it was inevitable that she would someday find herself in an arranged marriage.

But why did it have to be him?

Or, a classic arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn.

Also available on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Six

The crowd was chattering loudly around them, and she couldn’t blame Ominis for the unamused expression on his face. 

“Not one for crowds?” she asked as they settled into their seats in the Quidditch stands. 

“Not in the slightest,” he said. “If Sebastian wasn’t playing, I wouldn’t bother to come.” 

It was the second match of the year—the first had been Gryffindor against Hufflepuff, and Hufflepuff had pulled off a surprising victory, seeing it was the first time their new Seeker had played. Now, as the cool of late fall was beginning to set in, the next match was about to begin; this time it was Slytherin against Hufflepuff, and the later team was considered to have an advantage after coming off their high from the first game. 

She shook her head. Her thoughts were sounding much too like Constance’s ramblings. 

Normally, she would have been dragged by her to this match—with no skin in the game, it would have been purely to scout out the competition. But the two of them hadn’t spoken for over a week now. They’d both seemed to decide that the silent treatment was best, and carefully planned their own time apart from each other. 

Every night now, she waited for a long while before heading up to their dorm room—it was a big step that she even felt like sleeping there at all, given the ever present tension there. And in turn, she would wake up each morning to find that Constance had already left, down to breakfast long before anyone else. 

She watched her friend from afar, observing the way she shifted all-too-easily to spending her free hours with other members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. She figured it was only natural. As much as she complained about her teammates, they were sure to have some sort of bond and loyalty to them. 

She, on the other hand, found herself spending more and more time with Ominis and Sebastian. 

It was almost scary how well she got on with the two of them. They were much like brothers—always bickering back and forth, Sebastian’s overconfidence constantly butting heads with Ominis’s cold logic. It was like its own version of a Quidditch match, the way they threw words at one another. And it surprised her how easy it felt to be a part of it. 

All the same, it was strange attending a match without Constance at her side, rattling off criticisms and observations all the while. 

Still, there was something very amusing about Ominis’s clear distaste for the event, one she was content to chuckle at. 

“You should make him buy you some sweets for coming,” she said. “Seeing how great a sacrifice it is for you.”

“I’ve already tried bargaining with him,” he replied with the slightest of smiles on his face. She’d come to learn what that sly expression meant over the conversations they’d shared the past little while, how it was about as much of his amusement he was willing to let show when in places such as that. “He said he shouldn’t have to bribe me into being a good friend. Perhaps he’d be right if I could actually see him play.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you when to cheer. That way you can properly perform you duties of the supportive best friend.”

Throughout the match, she did her best to keep to that, letting Ominis know anytime the Quaffle was nearing the Slytherin goals. Sebastian was an excellent Keeper—he always had been, something that Constance had held against him. Now, without any sort of allegiance preventing her, she could properly appreciate his skills, letting out hoots and hollers whenever he made a particularly spectacular save. 

By the end of the game, her voice was a bit hoarse from all the cheering, ears still ringing at the loud applause around her when Slytherin won the match. She and Ominis waited for the stand to clear a bit before heading out, making their way over to the changing rooms. 

When Sebastian came barrelling out, he was sporting a wide grin. “Now that was a match,” he said, throwing an arm around Ominis’s shoulders. “It’s always better when the other team has some skill. Makes the taste of victory all the more sweeter.” 

“Don’t get your hopes too high,” she said, folding her arms and smiling at him. “Ravenclaw is still going to knock you flat when that match rolls around.” 

Sebastian waved his hand at her in dismissal. “You saw us just now. They won’t know what hit them.”

“Careful, Sebastian,” Ominis said. “Your helmet might not fit in the next match if your ego keeps growing at this rate.” 

She laughed, just as she did several more times as they walked back to the castle. There was a deep feeling of gratitude for the pair; they had taken her in with no hesitation, even with the strange ways she and Ominis were tied together. It felt lighter, being around them. She didn’t have to worry about hiding the engagement. In fact, they sometimes spoke openly about it, brainstorming different ways to overcome it. While their conversations had yielded no results, the mere action of saying those sort of things out loud made her feel less alone than she had in a while. 

It was her own fault that she never felt those sorts of things with Constance. She had hidden the truth, and therefore hadn’t let Constance attempt to comfort or help her in any way. As time went on, it became harder and harder to convince herself that had been the right decision for her to make. 

It was a pleasant afternoon, albeit a bit chiller with winter getting ready to come on. Once they reached the castle, Ominis and Sebastian went off to their common room, ready to partake in their house’s celebrations. She decided she’d take advantage of the nice weather and go for a walk after grabbing a scarf to keep her warm. 

Her plans went off the rails the moment she stepped foot in her dorm room. 

Constance was there, sitting on her bed, looking… uneasy. With a frown, she turned away from her blonde friend, facing her bed. An envelope sat on the covers. 

“Your owl just dropped it off,” Constance said softly. “Don’t worry, I didn’t read it.” This time.

She resisted scowling at her as she reached for the letter. The same, familiar parchment greeted her, and she frowned. What more did her parents have to say to her? She was about to rip it open when she realized it wasn’t a letter like the ones she had received before—it was a Howler. 

Constance, who had been watching her from her own bed, seemed to realize this at the same moment, eyes widening. “I’ll… I’ll step out,” she said quietly. 

While she was grateful for not having to ask for privacy, the feeling was completely overcome by anxiety as to what she would hear. She had laid low the last few days. She’d been playing her father’s game, what had she done to warrant a Howler?

With trembling hands, she opened it. 

She was greeted by her father’s cold tone. He wasn’t yelling—but the harsh words still boomed throughout the room, each syllable sending a shiver up her spine and making her heart pound. 

“It seems you do not know when to quit. When I last left you, I thought you had finally seen sense. Do you take me as a fool? Your incessant begging has been enough, but I never would have thought you were as idiotic as you’ve proven yourself to be. The opinion of your Mudblood friend will do little to persuade me.

“Listen and listen well. There will be no more letters addressing this matter, from you or any filth you see fit to keep company with. Another word, and I will not hesitate to rid myself of you once and for all. You will not disobey. Not if you value your life.” 

The silence of the room made her feel small. Her life. He would take her life. 

Panic started to build in her stomach as the words echoed in her head. The room felt like a cage—like the walls were closing in around her. She couldn’t breath, her chest tight with anxiety. 

She didn't even hear the door open behind her when Constance walked in. 

The sound of her name being said snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. Constance was pale, eyes wide when she turned to face her. It was clear her friend had heard every word, even from outside the room. 

This was her fault. She’d sent a letter to her parents, once again muddled where she shouldn’t. Would she never learn? Would she ever understand that she couldn’t fix this, that no one could fix this?

"I warned you," she said, voice trembling with anger. "I warned you over and over again, but you never listened."

"I'm sorry," Constance said in a hushed tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't---"

"Of course you didn't," she said as she shoved her wand in her pocket, wrapping her robe around herself. "You don't understand. You can't. Why do you think I never told you? Because you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from trying to solve my problems. They’re mine. And I know damn well there’s no fixing them."

She marched to the door, hand gripping the handle.

"Where are you going?" Constance asked from behind her, a note of panic in her voice.

Her voice fired back in a growl. "Away from you." 

She slammed the door shut behind her, struggling to hold herself together. There was only one clear thought in her mess of a mind. 

Ominis. She needed Ominis.

The last place she knew he’d been off to was the Slytherin common room, and with nothing else to go off of, she set her course, forcing her focus on each step as she made her way down to the dungeons. 

She knew she was in the right hall, but there wasn’t even a door she could knock on. She was about to curl up in defeat when a strange shifting noise was heard and a door appeared, no other than Sebastian Sallow walking out of it. 

“—as many as I can carry!” he was calling out, still facing the doorway as he left the common room. “I’ll be right—” He nearly ran into her head on, the door slipping from his grasp and closing behind him. “Merlin’s beard, are you alright?”

“No,” she said quickly, knowing there was no point in hiding it. “I-I’m sorry, I’m not… Where’s Ominis?” 

Sebastian frowned, clearly worried about the state of her. She was sure she looked a mess, still breathing shallowly and feeling clammy all over. “He’s just inside,” he said. “I’ll send him out.” 

“Thank you,” she muttered as he turned back around, giving her a quick nod as he walked back inside. She closed her eyes, trying to take deep breaths as she waited for Ominis to emerge. It only took a few moments before the entrance opened once more, and he came out, wand in hand. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as the door shut behind him. He wore a concerned expression, and that was enough to finally make her come crumbling down. 

She couldn’t speak through her tears, as hard as she tried to get a single word out. Ominis was by her side in an instant, hand reaching out to hold her arm as he said her name. He looked frazzled for a moment, thrown off by her sudden outburst, but quickly regained his composure. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of the hallway.” 

She didn’t protest in the slightest as he took her by the arm, pulling her to a classroom nearby. As he closed the door behind them, he turned back to her. 

“Deep breaths,” he said softly. “Come on, you need to breathe.” 

“I-I’m trying,” she stuttered. 

“I know,” he assured her. “It’ll be fine.”

She shook her head. “No, it won’t. It—”

He shushed her gently. “You can tell me in a moment. Right now you need to calm yourself.” 

She closed her eyes, trying to do as he said. After a minute or two, her tears had stopped, and she finally felt like she was getting enough oxygen. Ominis, hearing the way her breathing had changed, smiled a bit. “There. Now, what’s wrong?”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Everything. Absolutely everything. I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

Ominis frowned. “Well, let’s just start with one thing, and work our way to everything, shall we?” 

She sighed. Logical, as always. “My… my father sent me a Howler. He was angry because Constance sent him a letter, no doubt telling him off about our engagement.” She closed her eyes, trying not to shiver as the sound of her voice filled her thoughts once more. “She heard what it said, and I yelled at her. If there was ever any chance of us fixing our friendship, I’m sure I just destroyed it.” 

“Is that what has you in this state?” Ominis asked. “If she’s any friend worth having, she’ll find it in herself to forgive you. I’m sure of it.” 

“No, that’s not… that’s not all,” she said softly. She pressed her lips together, preparing herself to force the words out of her mouth. She was done keeping things in. Pretending it was fine. That her world wasn’t all on fire. “My father threatened to kill me,” she whispered. “One step out of line, and I’m finished.” 

Ominis stilled at her words, seemingly frozen in place. 

 “He’s threatened to take many things from me,” she admitted. “My wand. My inheritance. My future. But never before my life.”

“Do you… do you think he would really…?” 

“Yes.” As she answered, she knew it was true. She felt it in every part of her, the way her body trembled at the mere idea of facing him in his wrath. Her hand went unconsciously to her left forearm, feeling the scar there. “He’s never hesitated to raise his wand against me.” 

The weight of her words sat heavy in the room. Ominis seemed lost in his thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. 

“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “I should have known he’d be willing to resort to this.” 

It was clear, now, how cold he truly was towards her. She’d always hoped—however stupidly, however foolishly—that he had some amount of care toward her. That all his twisted actions and demands were some display of his broken sort of love. She’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he shared a shred of the love he had for her mother for her—because he had to love her mother. Had to. Why would he have kept her around otherwise, even after the Healers had told them she could bear no more children, when they learned she would never provide him a proper heir? 

But it seemed whatever love he’d had was all used up before he could share a portion for his only child. 

No, this was the perfect confirmation. The one that assured her she was an unwanted child. That her father had meant it each time he said he’d rather have no heir than have her. 

She leaned back against the wall, letting herself slide down it, feeling like she was on the verge of coming undone once more. Her throat began to tighten, and she closed her eyes to keep tears from falling. “They don’t want me,” she choked out. 

Ominis fell to the ground beside her, and just as a cry escaped her lips, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. 

She buried her head in his shoulder, letting herself get lost in the feeling of his embrace. It took several minutes before she felt even a little composed, and she loosened the grip she’d had on the front of his robes. Her knuckles were sore from how tightly she’d tried to hold herself to him. 

His arms did pull away from her. He was warmer than she thought he would be—she didn’t know why that surprised her so much. Perhaps she’d thought he’d feel just like the appearance of his eyes, like an ice-covered lake. But no. Ominis was warm. And soft. He didn’t stop surprising her—didn’t stop being the opposite she’d thought he’d be. 

And in the comfort in his arms, another thought occurred to her; she wasn’t sure she’d ever been held like this. She wondered if he had. 

Despite the fact that she would have loved to let herself forget about her worries cradled there, she pulled away. There had been several new discoveries in her time in his arms already. She was a little afraid of what more she might find if she stayed. But he didn’t seem ready to let go of her completely, and when he grabbed her hand in his own, she decided that was enough of a middle ground to stand on. 

“I’m going to be honest,” he said softly. “This… makes things quite a bit more difficult. It’s getting harder and harder to see a way out of this.” 

He was right. No matter what choice she made, her life would be over.

“I don’t mean to be grim,” he said. “But it is the truth. Though I will say this.”

Shifting, his grip tightened on her hand, his body facing hers more completely. “I will do all I can to assure you a life that is happy and safe.”

“Both of us,” she added. “Both of us will be happy and safe.” 

He smiled softly. “If there is a way.” 

She didn’t like the implication of his words. The idea that he might sacrifice his own happiness for hers—well, it made her heart feel tugged in an uncomfortable way. 

But he didn’t give her a chance to argue with her. Instead, he rose to his feet, forcing her to stand with him as their hands were still locked together. “What do you say we stop moping for a moment and cause some mayhem?”

That caught her a bit off guard, and she felt her eyebrows raise. “I didn’t know Ominis Gaunt liked to cause mayhem.” 

“Then you haven’t been paying very much attention.” He let go of her hand, opening the door of the classroom and letting her walk through. “I’ve got something in mind.” 

Despite the hopeless feeling still stirring in her chest, she smiled. “Then lead the way.” 

She couldn’t ignore the slightest bit of a sly expression when he began to take her down corridors and halls. For the most part, it was the Sallow twins who had a bit of a reputation for troublemaking—but in the last while she had learned that Ominis was just as bad as they were, only much more subtle about it. 

He stopped so suddenly at the end of a hall that she nearly ran into him. 

“Tell me,” he said softly. “Is Duncan Hobhouse anywhere in sight?” 

Her eyes widened, then a small laugh escaped her lips. Ominis had always had it out for the Ravenclaw boy—and she would have felt bad about it, if she hadn’t overheard him saying something about how Muggleborn teachers should be thrown out. She suspected Ominis had once heard him say something similar, and a very one-sided rivalry was born. 

She scanned the hall in front of them. “Yes, he’s against the wall at the far end, just beside the corner,” she answered. 

“Ah, yes, I sense him there… convenient position, couldn’t have set it up better if I tried.” 

She chuckled. “Set it up for what?” 

He smirked. “You’ll see, dearest. Stay right here. And please, do your best to look natural. I can’t have you giving me away.” 

With that, he turned heel, heading back down the hall behind them. She stood in confusion for a moment, watching after him. When he turned a corner, out of sight, she frowned. Might as well follow his instructions. 

She stood by a suit of armor, keeping an eye on Duncan in her peripheral vision. After a few minutes, she started to get a bit uneasy… this wasn’t some elaborate ruse to get rid of her, was it? 

But then she heard… something. It was hard to make out over the din of the hallway, but it sounded almost like… a purr? 

Whatever it was, Duncan seemed to hear it much better than her. His eyes went wide as he pushed himself off the wall, looking around frantically. After a few quiet moments of him not finding what he was looking for, he seemed to get a little relief. But then she heard it again—and this time Duncan did not seem to think it was his imagination. 

“Who—where—”

Spotting her opportunity, she walked forward. “Is something wrong, Hobhouse?”

 His head whipped around toward her. “I’m sure I just heard…” He swallowed hard. “...nevermind.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it,” she said. “I thought I heard it, too. Puffskien purrs are just fearsome, aren’t they?” 

The purr sounded once more, and that was enough to make Duncan yelp before running off like a madman. 

She burst out laughing, and soon enough Ominis’s chuckling joined her as he lifted the Disillusionment Charm off himself. 

“Oh, that was just brilliant,” she said, still laughing. Ominis seemed pleased by the sound, leaning against the wall and smiling wider than she’d even seen him do. “How on earth did you do that? Do you really have a puffskien hiding in your pocket.”

“No, I’ve discovered a much more convenient way to carry their likeness with me.” He parted his lips just a bit, and a flawless impression of a puffskien’s purr left his mouth. 

Her eyes widened. “How—”

“Practice,” he said. “Probably too much of it, but it’s been a delight using it whenever I get a bit bored in class. There’s no better sound than hearing Hobhouse in distress.” 

She shook her head in disbelief. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You say that like you weren’t there at the beginning of this year.” 

She laughed, bumping his shoulder with her own. “Well, I’m glad I found my way out of it.” 

He smiled down at her, and a strange shiver went through her as his blue eyes nearly met her own. “I’m glad, too.” 

She tore her gaze away from him—had it always been that hard to do that?—and stared instead at the floor. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For this. For everything.” 

“Of course,” he said, matching her tone. “I… may not be able to fix everything for the two of us, but if I can help you forget about it for even moment, then perhaps I’ve done something worthwhile.”

A warmth took over her chest, and it took only a moment to search for the name—gratitude. She was grateful for Ominis, for his understanding, for his care. 

There was a lot that was uncertain. A lot that sent her heart racing and thoughts spiraling, but as she looked back at the blond young man beside her, she smiled. 

Maybe her heart could race for some good reasons, too. 

-

Chapter Eight

A/N: What do we have here? Feelings??? Not sure, you better stay tuned to find out...

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