#it’s just a fun little way to welcome the turning of the year
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I fully forgot I had this .. so here’s a little something for y’all lol
prompt: Jonathan calls you up after having a few drinks
WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), mentions of alcohol/intoxication, brief mentions of suicide, subby-ish Jonathan, phone sex, come eating
*not proofread & old as hell*
you’re abruptly awoken by the phone ringing. through squinted eyes, you peak at the clock sitting on top of your nightstand.
1:03 am flashes at you. who’s calling at this hour? you drag your body out of bed and trudge your way over to the living room where your home phone resides. once there, you drop to the couch and grab the phone, putting it up to your ear.
“hello?” you groan, you hear a small snicker on the other end.
“hiii babyyy!” they respond, clearly a little tipsy, you immediately recognize the voice.
it’s jonathan, your close friend, who had recently got placed into a psyche ward after attempting to kill himself. you hadn’t heard from him since he had told you the news. now here he is, ringing your phone at 1 am, while simultaneously dropping a “baby” bomb on you.
“jonathan?” you blurted, feeling yourself become a bit more awake, “what are you doing? why are you up? how do you even have access to a phone right now?”
he sighs into the phone, “me and toby sn- toby’s m’pal .. by the way .. we snuck out ‘n had a few drinks ..” his mumbles, “now ‘m allllll alone ..” he whines, dragging out the all to emphasize his loneliness, “oh ‘n about the phone .. since i’ve been so good they gave me a landline, cordless too, i mean they couldn’t give me a cord ‘cause i might wrap it around my neck, but it’s nifty!”
you roll your eyes. of course he’d do some shit like this. if it was any other friend, you would’ve told them bluntly that you’re not in the mood to talk, but jonathan was an exception right now. he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and his comment about wrapping the cord around his neck grounded you back into reality. you decided to chat with him for a while.
“is that so?” you reply, “how’d the night go?”
“fun!” he bubbled, “oh m’god .. me and toby .. my friend .. we saw this piss drunk guy fall in the street!” he giggles while recounting the incident. you giggle with him, not so much at the story, but at the fact that he felt the need to reiterate that he has a friend named toby.
“that sound very funny, jon, but shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”
he whines, “‘m not tired! plus i’ve been thinking about you .. that’s why i called .. wanted to hear your voice ..”
oh?
“why’d you wanna hear my voice? you miss me that much?” you joke, relaxing more into the couch. he hums, “jus’ like how it sounds ..”
“well. you woke me up, and i don’t think i’ll be able to go back to sleep, so you’re welcome to listen to my voice for a while.” you chuckle softly, not thinking too heavily about his intentions. he’s drunk, after all.
“hmm ..” he mumbles in approval, “can you jus’ talk? tell me about your day, love ..”
your brows furrow a bit at the request, but you oblige.
“i didn’t do too much .. just showered .. picked up a bit .. it was nice though.”
he groans quietly at you mentioning showering.
“mmh .. wards got no nice soaps .. i like how your soaps smell. always smellin’ so good ..” he murmurs, through the phone you can hear some minor rustling, but you assume it’s just jonathan drunkenly tossing and turning.
you laugh at his odd compliment, “you think i smell nice?”
“oh, i think a lot of you s’nice, darling.” he assures, his breathing becoming heavier
“what else about me is nice, jonathan?” you ask, thinking he’ll say something corny like your humour or your personality.
“that face f’yours .. gorgeous ..” he giggles and huffs, “‘n that body .. maybe it’s ’cause ‘m all alone .. ‘n a bit tipsy .. but i can’t stop thinkin’ about touchin’ you ..”
oh.
you’re not too sure what to say. you’ve been friends with jonathan for years, you would have never assumed that he wanted you that way. jonathan was very attractive, and you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him in a sexual way before.
“jonathan ..” you reply calmly, “i think you’re just drunk and confused, how about we talk more tomorrow? you can call me when-“
he whines, “no, baby, ‘m sorry .. i’ve just wanted you .. for so long ..” he hums as his breathing becomes louder, “‘n now .. just your voice got me s’hard ..”
you pause, listening to jonathan, you still hear the shuffling and his breathing. occasionally he whines a few times, is he touching himself?
“jon, are you .. getting off right now?”
he chuckles, “s’hard .. mmh .. thought i might faint.”
you hate to admit it, but hearing jonathan’s neediness got you a little worked up. knowing he was hard just from your voice ignited some interesting feelings from within you.
as your mind is racing, jonathan speaks, “if i w’s there .. would y’touch me?”
your heart begins to pound, his words have become more direct. he’s not just rambling about how he feels, he wants to know how you feel. you slip one of your hands into your panties, feeling how slick you’ve become from jonathan’s words. you might as well get yourself off as well.
instead of answering, you flip the question. “i’m wondering what you’d do if i was there.” you laugh breathily as you gently rub your clit. jonathan whines into the phone, “god, baby, s’filthy. y’don’t even wanna know ..”
“tell me. i want to hear it.” you pry as you become more aroused, hearing jonathan moan weakly at his own thoughts.
“mmh .. wanna eat your cunt .. make y’come at least once on m’face ..” he groans, “wanna fuck you. raw. make y’shake ‘n cry from my cock. wanna make that cunt feel so so good.”
jesus. really didn’t take much convincing for him to spill his thoughts. you bite your lip at his words, hearing his fantasies made you blush embarrassingly hard.
“hm .. yeah?” you moan into the phone, rubbing your clit at a quicker pace
“‘n i wanna eat you again after my cocks been ‘nside you .. lick up our come ..” jonathan gasps, through the phone you can hear him fisting his now slick cock. “then i wanna kiss you when m’done ..” he adds, chuckling a bit.
“god ..” you sigh, “you are filthy.”
you’re finding it difficult to hold back your moans, you almost want jonathan to hear them at this point.
“you .. you got me all wet, jon ..” you admit a bit awkwardly, you’ve never had phone sex before, but you don’t think jonathan will notice.
he whimpers “are y’touching yourself, baby?”
“yeah .. yeah i am ..” you purr, sliding a finger inside yourself and moaning softly as you plunge it in and out.
“jesus, fuck ..” he huffs, “you rubbin’ your clit? or fingering yourself?”
“i’m doing both .. switchin’ every now and then ..” you coo, adding a second finger inside. you hiss slightly at the change, but your cunt quickly adapts and accepts the second finger.
“mmh!” jonathan moans, “s’hot, knowing you’ve got y’fingers all over that pussy .. you sensitive, baby?”
he’s really into calling you baby. although it feels foreign, you’re not opposed to it at all.
“yeah .. a bit ..” you chuckle breathlessly as you remove your slick fingers out and bring them back to your clit.
“oh, fuck ..” he whimpers loudly, “baby, baby, ‘m not gonna last- m’sorry ..”
you could tell from jonathan’s tone and desperate little whimpers that he was close, he didn’t need to tell you, but it’s kind of nice that he at least let you know.
“that’s okay, come jon. show me how good it feels.” you purr. he can’t physically show you, but he can verbalize it, and he does.
“mmf- fuck, baby, ‘m comin’-“ he moans loudly, you’re worried other people in the ward might hear him.
“that’s it, come on yourself jon, good boy.” you encourage, you’re almost surprised that you called him a good boy, you never expected that to slip out.
his moans dwindle into small little whimpers as he rides out the orgasm, huffing quietly once he’s come down.
“‘m all messy, baby ..” he giggles,
“poor thing, you gonna clean yourself up?” you hum to tease.
“mhm .. nice ‘n clean ..” he mumbles as you hear him making small sucking and licking noises,
“jon, are you licking up your come?” you nearly chuckle at him,
“well no one’s ‘ere to do it for me ..” he whines, continuing to lick away his come.
“jesus. dirty, dirty boy.” you scold playfully, toying with your clit again.
“‘m a dirty boy ..” he repeats while yawning, “dirty boy.”
“you tired?” you ask softly,
“mmh, yeah, little bit ..” he mumbles,
“how about you get some sleep and we talk more tomorrow, all right?”
“mmh.. but i wanna talk ..” he groans,
you laugh weakly at his determination, “i’ll be here tomorrow. trust me. get some sleep. we can talk when you’re more awake and sober.”
“fine .. g’night baby. sweet dreams.” he gives in, yawning again
“sleep well, jonathan.” you close before hanging up. as you place the phone down, you’re left with silence and your thoughts. you decide you might as well get yourself off, and you do, you come in your pants to the thought of jonathan’s whimpers and moans. then, you clean yourself off before heading back to bed.
—
Not to jinx myself … but I am currently writing. Send me good energy yall please
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x fem!reader#jonathan breech x reader#jonathan breech#on the edge#hope y’all like this#:)
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my boy only breaks his favourite toys — lewis hamilton x nico rosberg (full work)
chapter 3 - touch me
cw: angst, smut, drinking, semi-public nsfw
summary: 2015. it’s lewis’ birthday. nico shows up
Lewis didn’t feel very much excited to celebrate his birthday that night.
He won the last race and he was happy about it, but as usual that caused him to fight with his best friend. He was so tired of their on-and-off unofficial relationship, which was more off than ever. Nico almost didn’t talk to him at all. They were just friends with benefits that weren’t even friends anymore. And Lewis wasn’t getting any benefit from the situation either.
When racing Lewis was invincible and he didn’t cared about anything but to win. But when the weekend was over, he missed holding Nico, spending time with him, kissing him without any rage or any post podium adrenaline.
After the last race, Nico wanted definitive closure. “For real this time” he had said.
Lewis felt incredibly sad all the time since then. It already happened and they managed to get back together anyway, but he feared they couldn’t fix it this time.
Nico didn’t come to the party, nor called to say happy birthday. Lewis spent the day checking the phone, desperately looking for any text message. All in vain. His heart was aching by the end of the day.
However, after a few drinks, the feeling was almost gone. With his small group of friends, Lewis decided to keep having fun in an exclusive club in Monaco. He didn’t really want to stop and make way to the heartache coming back.
The car ride to the club was crazy, everybody was super excited, and the club was a nice place, full of famous people. Music loud enough he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.
He was sitting on a couch, laughing with one his friend, a beautiful girl sitting on his lap and one by his side, when he spotted a face in the crowd he could recognise among thousands.
Nico Rosberg approached the group of guys. He was wearing a white shirt under a black open gilet and dark jeans. Lewis couldn’t believe his eyes. Was he already that drunk he was imagining his now ex lover?
“Hi.” Nico’s glance lingered for a second on the girl on his lap, then quickly returned on him.
Safe to say all his friends’ were on Nico.
Lewis excused himself to the girl and stood up. He softly put his hand on Nico’s arm and made his way with him towards a more isolated side of the place. His heart was pounding so violently he began to fear it would come out of his chest.
“You’re here.” Lewis’ eyes were full of hope. If he was sober, he would’ve probably been furious, but God, he could’ve asked him to get on his knees right there in front of everyone and he would’ve do it without hesitation.
“I–“ Nico put his hands on his pockets, gazing down on his feet. “I wanted to congratulate you for the last race. I’m sorry for how I behaved after that. I wasn’t feeling quite myself.”
Those weren’t a lot of words, it was rather a poorly formulated apology, however Lewis had forgiven him as soon as he saw his blond hair and unmistakable figure walk up from the crowd.
“So… 30 years old.” Nico’s lips turned in a little smile. “You will forever be a that kid in my eyes. Happy birthday.”
Nico didn’t look okay. He looked exactly like someone who also spent days overthinking, picking up the phone and then immediately changing his mind and putting it back down. Hell, he looked like he cried his eyes out. Like he was doubting all his life choices.
But again, Lewis was way too drunk to process or even notice all of this. He was just euphoric to see him. “Thank you.”
They looked at each other without saying anything for a time. Then Lewis cleared his throat. “Come now, I want you to meet my friends, they’re fan of yours.”
They went back to the group. Nico shook hands with all his friends, a big smile on his face. They offered him a drink, which he gladly welcomed. The atmosphere definitely looked more festive now.
They talked about futile arguments, making fun of the motorsport community, of the press, of the team bosses. They completely forgot about their fight, about every bad word they had said to each other. That night they were just two boys having a lot of fun.
Nico took advantage of a pause to ask a question. “Would you like to dance?”
Lewis didn’t hesitate to nod. “Sure.”
Nico took his hand and dragged him on the dance floor. They were suddenly surrounded by music blasting, neon lights and people dancing and nobody seemed to care about them. It was the best sensation ever.
They danced like crazy for they didn’t even know how much, both so drunk they didn’t mind their bodies bumping into each other.
Lewis’ hand land on Nico’s waist and Nico’s on his shoulder. Smiles wouldn’t leave their faces. They didn’t want anything else than each other in that moment.
Nico turned around in a move, gently pressing his back on Lewis’ chest, his ass brushing on the other’s lower abdomen. That seemed to bring Lewis over the edge. He shifted both his hands on Nico’s hips, searching for more contact, his mind blurred by alcohol and lust.
Lewis was breathing heavily in Nico’s ear, and that was affecting him too. Honestly, the german could only think about his dick inside him.
“Nico.” Lewis was loosing his mind as Nico was at that point almost rubbing against him. He held tightly on his hips following his movements. “I miss you.”
Of course Nico couldn’t hear any of that, but his lips were very much near touching Lewis’. He turned around again to face him and finally removed the distance between them, throwing his arms around his neck and quickly getting rid of Lewis’ hat. Nico always said it was so “Justin Bieber” of him to wear it backwards.
They kissed passionately for a time that seemed infinite. Lewis’ hands were never leaving his ass, his tongue entwined with Nico’s. He wished they were in his bedroom. Fucking. Slowly.
Then suddenly Nico broke the kiss. Lewis immediately searched for more but Nico pulled away, removing Lewis’ hands from his back. Lewis felt the world collapsing.
“I’m sorry, we can’t. I can’t.” Almost cried out Nico in the surrounding noise. He covered his eyes with his hands. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“What do you mean?” Lewis’ tried to hug him, to comfort him, but Nico flinched. “I love you.”
The blond man distanced himself more and more, nothing but doubt and sadness in his eyes. And tears. There were tears too.
“Please don’t go.” I can’t breath without you.
And just like that, he disappeared in the crowd.
Right away, Lewis began looking for him in the chaos, reaching the exit as soon as he could. He was gone. He wanted to cry so hard. He didn’t get what he was doing wrong. Why the hell did he always fall for his apologies?
Lewis came back to his friends with his heart aching again, but now his head was too. He almost collapsed on the couch, too drunk to even stand on his feet. He just hoped he wouldn’t forget everything the morning after because he wanted to remember their last kiss forever.
“Where did your boyfriend go?” One of his friends asked.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” He managed to say.
“Whatever, but I think he took your hat.”
And that was his last memory of that night.
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I don't share
Pairing: Possessive!König x Fem!Reader
Summary: König doesn't like sharing you, which is exactly why you had been married for almost ten years and none of his comrades knew about you. At least, not until he drunkenly spilled the beans and you showed up the next day with a box of cookies..
Warnings: Bondage! MDom! Doggy! CreamPie! OverStim! Oral(M2F)!
König was very secretive of his personal life on account of his social anxiety. He had been transfered to Task Force 141 for a while and had made pretty good friends with them, but of course, one night TF141 was making fun of him while drinking and in his own drunken haze he blurted out something that didn't go unnoticed,
"If you keep making fun of my wife, I'll kill you. Oh wait, that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."
He was very protective and possessive of you, which you didn't mind in the slightest. But he had accidently revealed that he had a wife, and everyone kept pestering him about it.
"I bet she's a strong lass aye? Big as an Ox! Only person that makes sense fer a mountain" Soaps slurred comment made him scoff as König kept sipping on his vodka, aggravated and embarrassed.
"What she do fer a living König? She a construction worker or somethin?"
König looked at Gaz with bewilderment. "A construction worker? where the hell did you get that? Gott.. Nein she's a baker."
Even Ghost was muttering how she probably had massive arms to carry 8 trays at once of protein bars. König kept to himself the rest of the night before returning home to you.
"Hi mein Liebe, I'm home." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, stripping off his tactical vest and mask then kicking off his boots.
"How was your night with the boys? Was it fun?"
He lied down on top of you, burying his face in your chest, crushing your small frame as he huffed annoyed.
"Kept making fun of you...Arschlöcher.. kept sayin you were a big burly lady.."
You snorted, running your fingers through his hair. You told him to ignore them because they didn't know what they were talking about, they were just trying to get a rise out of him.
He sighed, content in your arms as he fell into a drunken sleep on top of you, the crushing pressure more than welcomed.
The next day you decided to surprise König on base with a little gift. The guards of course did not believe that you were his wife so you pulled out the marriage certificate and your spouse ID card to shove it in their face. They were gob smacked as they discovered he had a wife and informed you he was currently at the cantina.
You were directed where to go, a box of chocolate chip cookies in had as you made your way there. Once inside, the place gradually got quiet as you made your way over to your husband giddy as his back faced you.
König was currently berating his friends about making fun of you again until he noticed that they weren't even paying attention, they were looking behind him.
He turned, and there you were, barely meeting his eye level while he was sitting, a box of cookies in hand adorned in a pleated pink skirt and a white tank top with a knit sweater and chunky white heels.
"Surprise! I brought you cookies Liebe!"
The horror that flooded his gaze was unmatched. He quickly wrapped around you to hide you from onlookers, glaring in their direction.
"Mein Liebe, what are you doing here? You are for my eyes only!"
You pouted into him, pushing off of his chest, "I wanted to surprise you," His eyes softened and he huffed, turning to glare at the men at the table who were still gaping in your direction.
"Thas your wife König? The lass is like half your size!" Soap stared on in horror, you could tell what he was thinking about so you hid in his shirt.
"Let's go." He stood, throwing you over his shoulder and flattening your skirt over your ass. Your face was red as you tried to keep the box from being crushed, and you just stared down, completely embarrassed.
"König put me down!" You kicked your legs, trying to fight him off, but he just smacked your ass and carried you out of the cantina, everyone completely silent.
"What the hell just happened." Ghost shrugged at Soaps comment and just kept eating silently.
König had carried you all the way to his quarters, gently placing you on the bed. The blood had rushed to your head so you were bright red.
He knelt, taking off your shoes and rubbing at your sore feet.
"Why did you think this was a good idea mein Liebe? Hmm?"
"I just wanted to bring you a treat.. I thought you'd like seeing me here.."
König sighed, kissing your shin before he looked up at you with his piercing gaze.
"Lamm, I can't keep my eyes off of you, which means neither can other men. I'm the only one that gets to look at you. Du bist mein."
You huffed and averted your gaze, cheeks a bright pink as you handed him a cookie.
"Still, you didn't have to make a scene.." He simply chuckled and stood.
"I know you like it when I toss you around Liebling, you cant fool me. I know you loved the attention."
He caged you in on the bed, prompting you to lie on your back, legs hanging off the edge. You pulled up his mask to reveal his mouth and pressed your lips to his. König groaned softly, slanting his lips against yours, intensifying the kiss.
You moaned and panted into his mouth, whimpering at the flavor of his tongue against yours. He ran a hand up your thigh, squeezing your soft skin in his calloused hands.
He pulled away to attack your neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin
"K-König.. what if someone sees-!"
"Don't care.. they need to know who you belong to... Du bist mein..."
You squirmed underneath him, far too excited at the attention he was giving you, especially when he slipped a finger under your panties and rubbed at your sloppy folds.
"Scheiße.. du bist so wet for me Liebe.."
You watched with dazed eyes as he slid off the bed onto his knees, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he ripped off your underwear and started sucking on your clit. You immediately grabbed at the fabric of his mask and threw your head back, arching into his mouth as you moaned loudly.
König quickly sunk two fingers into your wet cunt, rubbing at your sensitive walls as he fucked you with his hand. You met his gaze and whimpered as he continued eating you out like a starved man. He moaned against your pussy as you came on his hands and face, plenty of slick being absorbed into the fabric hiding his face.
A soft whine escaped as he cleaned up your mess with his tongue, savoring every drop of your arousal. He stood, sucking his fingers clean as he stared down at your spent form lying limply on the bed.
"Braves Mädchen.."
You lied there, staring at him as you tried to grasp a single thought after that mind blowing orgasm, but you just blushed when you noticed his dick straining against his pants.
"What is it Liebling? You want more? Dirty little slag..."
Gnawing on your lip, you nodded, completely drunk on his attention. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and shucked from his pants immediately made you throb for him.
He bound your wrists with the belt, flipping you on your stomach so you were bent over the side of the bed. You had to stand on your toes, causing your legs to shake at the stretch.
"König.. Please.." He chuckled at your desperate plea as he forced your knees back onto the bed so your hips met his. He rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you by swiping over your clit.
You whined, burying your face further into the mattress as the friction of the blanket rubbed against your knees. König sunk the head of his cock into you, eliciting a pitiful moan as he stretched you wide, this fat cock stuffing into you inch by inch.
He groaned softly at the friction, praising you for taking him so well, "It's like you were made for me Mein Liebe, wrapped so fucking tight around me... Scheiße.."
He slowly pulled out then sunk back in, reveling in the feel of your gummy cunt wrapping tight around his meaty shaft. You whined, pressing against him to meet each thrust, tears staining the mattress as you took his cock.
König nearly growled every time you sucked him back in, head thrown back as he pulled your hips against his.
"I don't share Liebling.. You're all mine.. Only I get to see you.. get to fuck you... Scheiße.."
He moaned as you tightly squeezed around him, creaming on his dick. He watched as a ring of white collected at the base of his cock, stuffing it all the way in before spurting thick ropes of cum into your cunt.
He pulled out slowly, his cum leaking down your thighs as you whimpered at the empty feeling. He gently undid the belt around your wrists and pressed a kiss to your forehead through his mask.
"Stay there Liebling, Ill clean you up.."
König stepped away to get a washcloth soaked in warm water, gently cleaning off the arousal that had covered your legs and folds, placing a gently kiss on your ass and putting your underwear, socks and shoes back on for you.
"Now let's get you out of here, I don't need anyone else looking at my beauty.." you just nodded slowly and tried to rise on shaky legs. Clinging to his arm, he walked you back to your car, many onlookers staring in shock and utter horror.
He raised his mask above his nose and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you leave. When you started the car, window still rolled down, he listened intently to the radio, realizing you were listening to his playlist.
Rein, Raus
Rein, Raus
Rein, Raus..
You flushed, turning down the radio and meekly met his gaze, "I like that song.. Reminds me of you.."
His piercing blue eyes told you all you needed to know. When he got home, you wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.
Because he was going to make sure you couldn't walk.
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Show me where it hurts (part 1)
Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader
(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist
summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.
warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo
a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker. I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D
(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)
edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(
wc: 3.6k
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You think Miguel is avoiding you.
One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point.
"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."
She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it.
"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"
"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow.
"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.."
He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here."
"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?"
"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?"
"I don't have time for this-"
"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?"
"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans.
"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks."
"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now."
This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching.
"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-"
"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."
"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."
He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "
Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!"
When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall.
"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly?
Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out.
~~~
Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big.
He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing.
Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm.
"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain.
Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies.
"What happened?" He strains.
"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-"
"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"
"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"
Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye.
"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-"
"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."
Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple.
"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."
When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile.
You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you.
"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."
You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."
"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."
You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?"
He shrugs. " 'Course I was."
"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does.
"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now.
He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?"
"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan.
"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"
"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact.
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-"
"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-"
"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"
"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-"
"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "
He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it.
"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"
Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.
"I don't… I d-don't…?"
"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?"
Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to.
"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."
"Miguel-"
"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."
"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts."
Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."
You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears.
"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."
You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.
~~~
The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning.
The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before.
You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now.
"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"
"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home.
You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time.
The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear.
"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."
"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?"
"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"
"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."
"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."
"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."
"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?"
You hum.
"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"
"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."
He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?"
"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me."
"Naturally…"
"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."
"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"
"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."
"Shit."
"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."
"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."
"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "
"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me."
" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."
"Good to know. I'll see you around."
He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard.
Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes…
You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.
On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate.
"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you.
"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding.
"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?"
"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."
"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?"
She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."
Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?"
"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."
You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?"
"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."
"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?"
She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters."
"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"
"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word.
"I'm a little confused, Lyla."
She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface.
It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head.
Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…
"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "
You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla."
"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."
Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning.
"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?"
"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."
"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."
"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."
"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this."
"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"
"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."
The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."
"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you."
With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.
_
_
_
#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#across the spiderverse#kat_writes😼#this gif is fucking crazy btw
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Too Sweet
Toto Wolff x Reader
Max Verstappen x ex!Reader
Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)
I take my whiskеy neat
The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”
“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.
The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”
She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.
“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.
“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.
You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”
Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”
Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”
He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”
Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.
“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”
You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”
William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.
“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”
“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.
William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.
Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”
“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”
His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”
You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.
“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”
The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.
You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.
A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”
For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.
Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.
You deserve so much better than him.
The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.
“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”
“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.
Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.
“Suit yourself, then.”
As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.
Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.
***
“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.
Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.
“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.
That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.
You.
Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.
The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...
The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...
Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.
Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.
Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.
Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.
“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.
Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”
Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.
“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.
“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.
The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.
But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.
As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.
When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.
This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...
… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...
… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...
… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.
Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.
The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.
Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.
The whiskey burns on the way back up.
Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.
You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.
My coffee black
The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.
It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.
A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.
“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”
He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.
“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.
You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.
The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”
You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.
“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.
The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”
“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”
Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”
He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”
You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.
The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”
You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”
Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”
The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.
He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.
With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.
“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.
It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.
“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.
In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.
“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”
His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.
“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”
The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.
Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.
When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.
It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.
He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.
For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.
Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.
“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”
You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.
Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.
His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.
As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.
***
The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.
Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.
Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.
A pure vision of effortless contentment.
His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...
So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.
You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.
“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.
“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”
Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”
Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.
When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.
“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.
You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”
With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.
“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”
Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.
A look he always met with disdain and scorn.
Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.
The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.
“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”
You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”
Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.
Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.
“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”
You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.
“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”
Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.
“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”
Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.
Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.
It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.
In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.
And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.
And my bed at three
The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.
A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?
He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.
You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.
You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”
Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”
He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”
Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.
“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”
You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.
“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”
He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.
Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.
After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.
Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.
And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.
Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.
A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.
Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.
An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?
He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.
Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.
Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.
***
Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.
He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.
With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.
The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.
His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.
It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.
He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.
So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.
“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.
He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.
A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.
“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.
You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”
“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”
You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.
An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.
But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.
Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.
“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”
Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.
“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”
The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.
In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.
Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.
It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.
A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.
Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.
And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.
Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.
Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#toto wolff#max verstappen#toto wolff imagine#max verstappen imagine#toto wolff x reader#max verstappen x reader#toto wolff fic#max verstappen fic#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff fanfic#max verstappen fanfic#toto wolff blurb#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#hozier
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Could you do something for cat animangus reader x Sirius where they're older like order of the phenix older during winter time and Molly makes a comment to Sirius about him having a sweet cat and when he turns to corner he finds reader cuddled up to Remus again do to his body heat and Sirius just reacts to a "really this again?"
Things between Molly and Sirius are still frosty, but the same stuff that chills between them glazes over the windows, and the winter air serves as a healing balm while everyone huddles around the fire for warmth.
The heating systems in Grimmauld Place are functional, but ancient, and it's much easier to stay by a roaring fire than to huddle by the floor vent on one of the upper levels. Sirius has insisted, as the owner of the house and as the man unwillingly cooped up inside of it for years, that he will make the cocoa, because if he goes any longer without making himself useful he will begin yearning to touch the fatally cursed objects his mother hoarded before her demise.
Molly relents, if only to keep his callused hands away from a music box that will kill him if the tune reaches his ears.
"Oh, that's lovely," The woman coos, peering at your feline form curled up on Remus's lap in front of the fire, "Remus, I didn't know you had a cat. I thought the only one we had was Hermione's, but he's orange."
"She's not mine," Remus hums, though he drags a palm flat over your head, letting you butt into it to your own liking, "She's Sirius's."
Molly's brows scrunch; surely Remus doesn't mean the dog man that stands eerily alert at the back door whenever he hears the pitter patter of little paws on the back fence-? But when the aforementioned animagus comes into the room with a tray of cocoa, she confirms Remus's words straight from the source.
"Sirius, your cat is lovely." She muses experimentally, watching the way the man's eye twitches slightly.
"Oh? And where is the little devil-?" Sirius peers around the room, and when his gaze lands on you lounging on Remus's legs, he shoves the tea tray haphazardly onto a side table with a scoff. It makes a cacophony of sounds; most of them unpleasant as glass-on-glass tends to be, "Oh, you're joking."
"Sirius, it's warm here," Remus attempts to calm the man, but it's no use as he steals a mug of cocoa and makes a break for the staircase. You're glad to see that prison never took his flair for dramatics, but he's being a tad ridiculous. Remus keeps explaining, "You're welcome to take her if you want to sit by the fire! She's just getting warm!"
"Keep her! Keep her," Sirius calls from the ledge of the second floor, "And Moony, why don't you just take the deed to the house, too! And my things, you can steal the clothes right off of my back next time."
With a huff and a flourish that are aided by his chin-length curls, Sirius turns to beeline for his room, and the slam of a door that rattles the paintings on the wall is your confirmation that your husband will be sulking until you pad upstairs and settle on his chest.
"Well, that was fun while it lasted." Remus drawls, scooping a hand beneath your belly and hoisting you out of his lap. He sets you on your feet, and you mourn the loss of the fire's warmth.
"Go humor him, love," Remus nudges you towards the stairs, and Molly watches bewildered as you begin your ascent.
"We've been having this fight for over a decade," Remus muses, sipping at his cocoa and skillfully avoiding a whipped cream mustache, "When your children aren't eavesdropping with that extendable ear, I'll tell you about the time he found her curled up in my bed instead of his."
#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagine#sirius black scenario#sirius black oneshot#sirius black one-shot#sirius black one shot#sirius black headcanon#sirius black headcanons#sirius black hc#sirius black hcs#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fic#sirius black blurb#sirius black drabble#sirius black dialogue#sirius black fluff#sirius black x reader fanfiction
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I've seen a lot of posts welcoming new Tumblr users, but I haven't seen any welcoming old users BACK. So, if you're returning, here's some fun new stuff Tumblr has added. Some of this may be desktop only right now, but Tumblr has been very good about migrating features to mobile without too much delay. I'm also primarily a desktop user, so some buttons may be in different spots on mobile.
You can now turn off reblogs on your posts, even the old ones. Click on the little gear icon at the top of the post window and towards the bottom to set reblogs to "anyone" or "no one."
You can have up to 30 images in a post now! Just be sure to be respectful and tag it as a long post.
Speaking of long posts, you can now set tumblr to automatically shorten anything over a certain length. It's under Settings>Dashboard.
Tumblr now has content labels, which is what has allowed them to bring back mature content art. These are important, so please use them. You can turn them on on each post individually by clicking the "everyone" drop down next to the "post now" button. And you can control how your dashboard shows or doesn't show labeled posts by going to Settings>Account.
You can now filter tags and post content via tumblr itself without using something like XKit! This is also under Settings>Account.
Tumblr offers an ad-free subscription now. $40 a year. If you love this little hellsite, this is a great way to show support!
Tumblr also allows users to pay to turn their posts into ads now. It's called blazing a post. It is great fun and generally hilarious. You have no control over your audience. You're just yeeting your post, of any sort, not just advertising, off into the void. An ad-free subscription hides these posts, but you can in fact turn blazed posts specifically back on while blocking the rest of the ads. Blaze a post by clicking on the little flame icon at the bottom. You can only blaze your own posts.
You can buy fun little tchotchkys for your dashboard and, sometimes, the dashboards of others. Right now we've got crabs, a horse that shits everywhere, and the super special double blue checkmarks. These are just fun little things to play with.
You can now enable tipping on your blog/individual posts. Totally optional, of course, but can be useful if you're a creator.
Staff has been a lot more active this last year, so if you want to keep up with what is going on be sure to follow @staff, @changes, and @wip.
That's all I can think of. Everyone else is free to add to this!
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something something caretaker! steve gets hired by rockstar! eddie to look after and live with wayne. everything is set up over the phone after eddie was given his resume so eddie's never physically seen the guy but he has enough positive reviews and references that it seems like there is anybody in this world that doesn't like this steve harrington fellow.
wayne munson soon becomes his #1 fan.
wayne keeps telling eddie all about steve in their weekly phone calls. anytime eddie tries to steer the conversation into something actually about wayne's health and wellbeing, wayne manages to involve steve. says that steve's blushing face is real handsome while steve rolls his eyes and laughs to himself across the room.
"you should come home on your next break," wayne says.
"i'm planning to."
"steve really wants to meet you," wayne says with an infliction.
"well, shit, wayne. from how much you gush about him, i'm excited to meet your new boyfriend too," eddie teases.
"oh hush, you. my casanova days are over. you, however, could use someone good."
the next break eddie has, nearly six months after steve starts working for the munsons, he arrives at nearly 11pm. he's quiet as he sneaks into the house he bought wayne years ago and nearly shits himself when he sees steve hanging out on the couch watching TV. he drops his suitcase to the floor, jolting steve out of his trance.
"oh god, i'm so sorry!" steve rushes to say as eddie clutches his chest and tries to steady his breathing.
"steve, i take it?" eddie laughs breathlessly.
"yeah, hi," steve stands from the couch and holds his hand out. "nice to finally meet you."
steve steps into the light as he does this and eddie's taken aback by just how handsome he is. oh fuck, wayne wasn't just messing around. eddie takes his hand, firm and strong, and shakes it.
"sorry to jumpscare you like that," steve smiles and his eyes twinkle in the low hallway light.
"no, i should've prepared myself," eddie says. "someone hasn't been in the house either than wayne or i in....well, ever."
"don't worry, i'll try to keep mostly to myself as you two have quality bonding time," steve replies sheepishly.
eddie shakes his head. "you don't gotta do that. you're more welcome around us than anyone. i owe you so much for looking after him."
steve smiles. "you already sign all my paychecks."
right, yeah. eddie's technically this guy's boss. eddie's never really thought of it that way before. that means any plans eddie's monkey brain had in the last thirty seconds about flirting with the handsome caretaker is out the window. it wouldn't be appropriate. eddie slouches and gives steve a tired smile.
"i'm gonna turn in. see you at breakfast?" eddie asks, hopeful despite his conflicting internal monologue.
"be prepared for oatmeal," steve jokes. "it's the only thing he wants for breakfast nowadays."
eddie scrunches up his face. "you don't have any poptarts or anything fun stashed away somewhere?"
"depends. do you like brown sugar cinnamon?" steve asks.
"love it," eddie whispers.
"then yeah, your breakfast fate can be a little better," steve nudges his elbow and it lights up eddie's skin.
"thank you caretaker steve," eddie salutes and turns heel to his teenage bedroom.
over the next few days, eddie goes out of his mind. he watches steve just do his job, the job he hired him to do, and he's still going crazy over it. how steve prepares for everything, accidents and things eddie couldn't even predict. spoon feeds wayne if his hands are too shaky. jokes and messes around with him like he's family. wayne's eyes keep drifting over to eddie's when steve isn't looking, a smug little smirk on his face.
"it can't happen," eddie seethes when steve leaves the room. "you're what's important here and i need him to stick around."
"and i need you to stop moping about the country, getting your heart broken every other week," wayne retorts. "steve's a good boy. he would treat you right."
"we don't even know if he's gay," eddie grumbles.
wayne gives him an unimpressed look that makes eddie bark out a frustrated laugh. "take a look at his bedroom, kid. you'll have all your questions answered," wayne advises right before steve returns.
"jeopardy time?" steve asks, hands already on wayne's wheelchair handles.
"eddie is gonna beat us both," wayne claims.
"that so?" steve beams. eddie is glaring daggers at wayne.
"he's full of useless facts," wayne jokes while eddie throws up his hands and steve laughs joyfully.
eddie falls for steve more and more as the week goes on. he tries his best to restrain it, tries his best to never be alone with steve. catches himself from checking steve out (especially in his daily running outfit, god) and swallows flirtatious lines that nearly escape his mouth. it's hard to say no when steve invites him to watch a movie or hang out with him while he cooks dinner but he does. eddie has to be coming off like a total dick at this point but it's for the best.
steve is out running an errand so eddie finally decides to snoop only a little bit. opens steve's bedroom door and smiles at all the decorations. sure enough, there is a little bisexual pride flag sticking out of the pen cup on his desk. eddie is admiring framed photos of steve and some kids along with little handwritten camp postcards on his corkboard when steve enters the room.
"anything interesting?" steve jokes from the doorway.
"shit!" eddie yells, clutching his chest again like he did the first night. "fuck, i'm so sorry."
"don't be," steve shrugs easily. "it is your house after all. i snoop your teenage bedroom all the time when wayne asks me to change the sheets."
"still, i shouldn't be invading your privacy," eddie says with an apologetic face.
steve walks carefully over to where eddie is standing. "i don't think there is much privacy between us where wayne is concerned," steve says quietly with a kind smile, leaning up against the desk.
"i'm sorry about him," eddie groans, rubbing his hand over his chin. "he is a little pushy about my love life."
"no, i'm sorry that he's weird about us. i swear i called you handsome once and he has never left it alone since," steve admits with a small blush.
eddie's eyebrows raise. "you think i'm handsome?"
"are you kidding me? you got this whole," steve gestures in a circle, "rockstar bravado going on. hard not to admire the show."
"well, you've got a show i admire too," eddie admits, inching closer.
steve huffs, looking down bashfully. "do i?"
"mhm. smart, genuine guy with a heart of gold. makes wayne's days better. lights up a room. probably rescues cats from trees and saves drowning puppies," eddie smiles.
steve tilts his head from side to side. "i may have rescued a cat before but it was stuck under my little brother Dustin's porch."
"see? heart of gold," eddie repeats.
steve exhales deeply, twisting his mouth. "i wasn't sure if you liked me."
eddie reaches his hand over and touches steve's hand on top of the desk. steve looks up shyly to eddie's sympathetic face. "i didn't want to-- there's a power trip here, you know? like you said, i sign your paychecks. i'm not about to pull out the moves and make you feel like your job is at risk if you aren't into it."
steve nods before slowly rubbing his thumb over eddie's.
"and if i am into it?" steve whispers.
"well i--" eddie stutters.
"can i kiss you?" steve asks quietly. eddie's not sure he's ever been asked in his entire life.
eddie nods. when steve's lips touch his, it's all over. any pretense of keeping his feelings undercover blows up like fireworks underneath his skin. eddie feels as his resolve sparkles and cracks away into the air. he encourages steve to keep kissing him by pulling in his face closer. steve sucks his bottom lip in between his own when his watch beeps.
"wayne's meds," steve whispers.
"old bastard," eddie jokes. "watch a movie with me later?"
steve bites his lip and nods. "i know just the couch."
#emily writes#emily's brain worms attacking her at work once again!!!!!#steddie ficlet#steddie#steddie au#steddie fics#steve harrington/eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Mike schmidt as your boyfriend hcs ꩜
Pairing: mike schmidt x fem! Reader
Contents: slight angst if u squint, Fnaf mention, Reader and mike are sooo cute hehe
.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
-You and Mike met in 1983 when you were 15. Mike was smart in the things you werent, So you two made a deal that you could copy off of him . One day when you were walking down the halls you saw the meanest boy in school Trying to bully mike and it pissed you off.
-You pulled the boy off of mike and punched him with no hesitation, Mike was so sure there were hearts in his vision. You were brave and fearless, But you were also gentle and caring when you offered help if he was hurt, He wasnt but He had never wished he was more than on that day.
-Thats when you two started becoming close. At first it was small talk or friendly banter but it slowly turned into never being seen anywhere without each other.
- One lucky day in december of senior year he decided to tell you how he felt in the garden you had showed him. Mike was never romantic, He didnt know what to do or say, So he did whatever guys did in the movies he’d seen. He handpicked you some beautiful pink flowers and wrote you a cute but short letter and handed it to you.
-You accepted his feelings and looked at those puppy dog eyes that crinkled as he smiled.
-Mike is very loyal. He has your initial around his neck and he talks about you almost all the time. (Abby tells you all about it) He has even gotten into a few fights for you, He always defends you even if you aren’t there.
-As mike got older, He starting learning the old way of love. He opens all doors for you, The occasional flowers and cute poems he writes for you, the sidewalk rule, He really knows how to treat his lady.
-Mikes Love Language is definitely quality time. Youre the love of his life and he wants to be with you always! There are alot of times where mike doesnt know what to say or show you how much he loves you. But you know he does by the way he follows and takes you everywhere. How he offers to spend time with you when he gets off of that strange nighshift where he works, Even if it means he gets no sleep.
-Mike is a family man. He loves his little sister and you love her too. You and Abby have a bond that was fun and ‘girly’, in mikes words. (Mike wears bracelets you and abby make for him) When Mike opened up to you about his brother and his parents one day, You just put your head on his shoulder, letting him talk and not mentioning how his voice would wobble and crack every once an awhile.
-Mike struggles with his emotions and mental health. When he feels like its getting bad, He tends to distance himself but you reassure him you are there for him no matter what. You hold mike whether hes crying or not and whisper sweet words into his short curly hair.
-Mike is very jealous and protective. He tries to not to show it but its obvious. His arm slinged over your shoulder everywhere, Making sure everyone knew you were his. Even when you talked to people, He subconsciously glared at the people taking your attention away from him. Mike eyes, that could be so welcoming, were cold.
-Mike loves the date nights you plan for the two of you. Whether it was going out or staying in, He loves being in your presence.
-Mikes favorite part of everyday is at night when you two would cuddle while talking about your future together. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you and hes thrilled someone like you wants that with him too.
A/N!!!: happy halloween!! What are u guys going as? Me and my bf are going as mavis and johnny :3
Hope you enjoyed!
Requests
Taglist: @nowitsmissing
#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt#mike schmidt fnaf#fnaf movie#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#josh hutcherson#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt imagine#william afton
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kinktober | your woman - e.m.
kinktober day four - taped
pairing: eddie munson x plus size!reader
wc: 5.48k
summary: your little friends with benefits deal with eddie was more than you first intended. when eddie asks you if you'd be okay if he recorded the next time you guys hooked up, you were all in. but, you didn't think he'd end up with his phone camera recording himself asking you to be his girl. especially not in a guest room at robin's annual halloween party.
warnings: 18+ ONLY!, minors are never welcomed. jealous!reader, making a sex tape, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, raw penetration (p in v), *wrap it up fr tho.*, pet names, eddie being eddie
reblogs, comments and likes are so very much appreciated i hope everyone is enjoying this!
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EDDIE WAS ALWAYS INSATIABLE. in every way, of course. everything he wanted, he begged for. at least from you.
it wasn't like you two were a thing officially, it started in high school when the two of you were graduating. he came up to you at a party, being eddie's usual self and flirting with you. though you weren’t receptive at first, it didn’t mean you never would be.
so he kept trying, even after high school the fall after you two graduated, he found you at another party. neither of you went to college, but had mutual friends in college. so, that night you went to meet up with robin, he cornered you.
and also that night, started a year long relationship that had no title, no expectations. and even though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else, and he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, you had a territorial problem.
so when eddie brought the subject up for the first time, you were all in. he didn’t even have to beg you, he just asked and you told him he could any time. truthfully, you’d do anything he wanted to do.
he wanted to make a tape with you, but in general wanted to record you while he fucked you.
“do you think, i don’t know, would you be okay if i recorded you during sex?” he asked, abashedly. eddie didn’t know if he even had the right to ask. he didn’t even know what the two of you really were.
“you want to record me while you fuck me?” you asked, making sure that this is what you were hearing.
“i do.” he smiled, nervously and excitedly when he noticed you didn’t immediately shut it down.
“okay.” you smiled. he just swallowed, smiling and leaned over to kiss you.
it’d been a week since then, and when eddie finally saw you again it was the night of robin’s infamous halloween party she threw every year. the concept of recording you taking him in every way had been plaguing his mine, but tried to act completely normal at the same time.
which he managed. but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
to get into robin’s party, you had to wear a costume and of course eddie was excited about this. you on the other hand were a little dreadful.
“is this a kids party or what?” you mumbled as you adjusted your costume.
you chose to go as carrie. a long pink rose silk dress covered your body and hugged your curves softly, of course drenched in fake blood from head to toe with a prom queen crown sitting on your head. eddie had the pleasure of watching you douse yourself in said blood not even a few minutes ago, right after you pulled the pretty dress over your full figure.
of course you forgot to mention that when you weren’t wearing a bra that night and just so happened to step out just in your panties to get ready, he had to be peeled off of you just so you could get ready.
another thing about eddie, he was a little obsessed with you.
“you hate fun,” eddie tsked and adjusted his hair to be even more frizzy. of course eddie decided to go as eddie van halen, which you told him was maybe too literal.
“so what do you think of my costume?” eddie gleamed and you turned from the mirror to look at him.
“you look like you did yesterday. you literally just look like yourself.” you deadpanned and he pouted. he was wearing a jean vest with no shirt underneath, brown leather skinny jeans and a bandana around his neck. you had to help him tease his hair to get it like the picture he showed you, but over all he just looked him himself but times ten.
“okay, but do i look hot? like, would you fuck me right now?” he asked and grabbed his guitar pick just to hold.
“you’re gonna bring the guitar pick but not the actual guitar?” you said nodding to his wall, the dark red abstract guitar collecting dust.
“oh, she’s not going anywhere tonight.” he replied and you shook your head.
“but yes, eddie you look hot and i would fuck you right now. if we wouldn’t be any later than we already are, come on let's go,”
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robin greeted you at the door of her new townhouse, excited for her housewarming party to turn into a halloween party.
“i thought couples usually match costumes.” robin teased as she pulled you away from eddie.
“we’re not a couple,” you said bitterly as she pushed past people drinking, smoking and dancing together under the blacklight and into the hospital lit kitchen.
“you guys have come to every single one of my parties, together. you guys leave every single one of my parties, together. what do you call that?” she suggested over the loud music.
while she bickered you scanned over the house, the spacey living room that led into an archway to the kitchen. on the kitchen island were large bottles of alcohol pushed together in the middle of the marble, ranging from vodka to rum to tequila.
“we’re friends.”
your hand went to grab the bottle of pink whitney, grabbing a little shot glass and pouring yourself one to the rim. robin grabbed one with a scoff and you poured her one, setting the bottle down and facing each other.
“to friends,” she said smugly. you just rolled your eyes.
“to friends,”
it didn’t take long for you to lose eddie at the party, as per usual. it’s always how it went, you and he would split up and hardly look each other's way, just to text each other when the other wants to leave and meet outside.
but today you were especially needy, and after roughly three cups of mixed drinks and many many shots, you rip away from robin and nancy to find him. it was dark, smokey and you were in need for something of eddie. weed, his hands, his voice.
you found him of course, but not like you expected. part of you expected him to be sitting in a corner with his friends smoking a blunt, which he was, but instead of just his friends he was the only one with a girl on his lap.
now he told you that he wouldn’t mess around with anyone but you especially if he thought about wanting to go bare with you, but you didn’t believe him.
the music was thumping and the alcohol made you feel a little better in terms of confidence, especially being in a silk dress with no bra and skimpy panties so there wasn’t a panty line. you felt sexy, covered in blood with your hair down and as you came into his view, eddie took a drag of his blunt and looked you up and down.
his friends greeted you with enthusiasm, happy to see you again after being out of their company for so long. another thing was, regardless of who you were to eddie, his friends still loved you.
“hellooo,” you dragged but kept your eyes on eddie, and not the thin girl making her spot in eddie’s lap.
“can i have a hit?” you kindly asked eddie, and the girl looked at you with an awkward smile.
“eddie’s a little busy right now, maybe you guys can smoke later?” the girl suggested and you looked at her, then looked at eddie.
you weren’t expecting him to say anything. but a part of you wanted him to. you wanted him to feel the need to tell her that you were the one he was taking home that night, but he didn’t.
“is that right eddie?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked between the two.
“we were just, uh, kinda talking?”
you pinched your lips into a thin line and nodded, turning to one of his friends. his friends on the other hand were watching the interaction, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to curse eddie out.
you could see him gulp before you turned to one of his friends.
“can i buy any from one of you?” you asked, ignoring eddie completely and watched as one guy you really didn’t know the name of pulled out his fanny pack.
“how much?” he asked and you walked to stand in front of him where he sat on a couch, and you sat knee to knee with him on the coffee table that held empty bottles and ash trays.
“mm, just enough for a joint.” you smiled. you could feel eddie’s eyes on you, burning into the side of your figure but you didn’t acknowledge him. why would you?
you were used to being single, textbook single. single, nonetheless. you were quick to leave when things got stupid between you and eddie, not caring and not thinking twice. eddie knew that. he’d been on the shit end of the stick when he fucked up one too many times. being ignored by you, blocked and never putting up a fight because it was never worth it to you.
he wasn’t going to ruin your night. not when the day was going so well, with him or not.
you watched his friend bag up the weed, and even give you a cigar wrap to roll it with. you go to take out the money you slipped in the cup of the dress that held your heavy breasts together, but he stops you.
“pretty girls don’t need to pay, it’s on me.” he smiled, and you blushed. he was cute, not compared to eddie but definitely your type.
“well,” you said as you took the baggie and the cigar packet and stood up in front of him, looking down, “come find me later n’ maybe i can give you something to say thank you?”
at this point, eddie was non-existent. you were focused on the man with black locs that were in slight waves, and stubble on his jaw.
“actually,” you paused and sat back down. “do you think you can roll this for me?”
eddie was fuming. the girl on his lap held his interest no longer, and his eyes were bored into the natural flow of your interaction with his buddy danny. you seemed genuinely interested, serious about wanting to give him a thank you gift.
he watched as danny took the baggie and started to roll for you, grinding the weed and putting it into the wrap, all while you watched. not once looking his way. soon, danny sealed the blunt and actually had the nerve to put the blunt between your lips and spark it himself.
you inhaled, exhaled the smoke in danny’s face and leaned in close, close enough to smell the tequila on his lips, “thank you.”
you got up with the blunt between your fingers and left, walking away back to the kitchen where nancy and robin resided. they were laughing in the corner as they passed a bottle between each other, and when you got closer they got excited and hugged you.
“you got weed from eddie?” robin asked as she handed you the bottle and you handed her the blunt.
“nope.” you smiled and took a swig, having robin pass the blunt back to you. she looked at you quizzically.
“one of his friends. actually i’m going to need a ride home, eddie’s probably taking someone else home tonight.” you said nonchalantly, huffing and puffing on the blunt until the mix of tobacco and weed burned your lungs.
you didn’t even get to take another swing of the bottle before the girls’ eyes are looking up a little, and you feel a tug on your arm that yanks you back. you turn with the blunt between your lips and eyebrows pinched.
“are you fucking crazy?” eddie gritted, the grip on your arm only tightening when you breathe in the smoke and taking the blunt from between your lips with your other hand.
“can you fucking let me go?” you snarled, ripping your arm from his grasp and walking backwards.
“what’s your issue?” he asks, and you pass the blunt to robin before you step closer to him.
“go fuck her eddie. why are you bothering me when you have a really really pretty girl on your lap? weren’t you just, uh, kinda talking?” you mocked, lowering your voice to match his. no one was paying attention to you, not even robin or nancy could hear you. instead they just moved further aside.
he just grabs you again, dragging you away from the kitchen and up the stairs to the first room he sees, which just so happened to be a guest room. he yanked you inside and locked the door, letting the only light shine being from outside and the little lamp on the bedside table.
“you know i only take you home every night right? we leave every place we go to together, together. even if we don’t go together— you’re always back in my bed. you know i choose you.” he tried, but you weren’t having it.
you were already irritated, the audacity for him to make you feel the way he did when he didn’t shoo the girl off immediately.
“whatever, i don’t care. i’m not your fucking girlfriend so who cares? do whatever you want. i’m not arguing with you at a party. i’m supposed to be getting drunk, not standing here with you.” you said and tried to walk past him, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in front of him.
“you want to be my girlfriend, baby?” he asked you as his breath fanned on your face.
you smiled sweetly. “no.” you crossed your arms over your chest and moved your head to the side.
“if i wanted a boyfriend, i’d probably choose the one who gave me free weed, not the one brushing me off for another girl.”
he just chuckled darkly, grabbing you by your hips and leading you to hit the edge of the bed with the back of your knees. “ i think you’re lying. you don’t want him, sweet girl. i know you want me. why else would you be trying to make me jealous?”
“i’m going home eddie,” you tried as he pushed you back by your shoulders so you’d land on the bed. you just propped yourself up on your elbows and watched him as he pulled his phone out and threw it beside you.
he crawled over you, lifting your dress by skimming his fingers up your leg and under the fabric to hike it up over your hip.
“if i asked you to be my girlfriend, would you say yes?” he asked, watching the dress pool around the fat of your hips, revealing the lacy red underwear you had on underneath.
you huffed, the cold air hitting your thighs when a breeze came in through the window. “no.”
he sat straight up on his knees, still straddling you but now unbuttoning the leather jeans to slide them down to his knees.
“mmm,” he hummed as his cock strained against his briefs, palming himself over while you watched him. your mouth was salivating already, forgetting how you ended up here almost bare to him, but not questioning it. “i think you’re wrong. i think you would say yes,”
he grabbed the string of your underwear and pulled it down your thighs, letting them fall as you wiggled your feet to drop them from your ankles.
“maybe we should record this for evidence, just so you can watch it back and see why i think,” he paused and smiled, “why i know, you’d say yes.” he was smug, confident, and had you wrapped around his finger.
you knew your jealousy maybe might’ve been misplaced, projecting about the fact that you two weren’t official and he’d never bothered to ask you either. you weren’t really allowed to feel this way when he wasn’t yours.
it just always felt like no matter what he did to piss you off or make you cry, you’d always be his.
he grabbed the phone, messing with the screen until the flash came on and stayed on. he never showed your face, only pointing the camera between your thick thighs when he shuffled downwards to spread your legs.
“look at you,” he hummed, getting closer to your heat when he spread your lips, the flash making your slick glisten for him. you were leaking, your arousal dripping out of your hole as he recorded every second of it.
“eddie,” you whined, moving to close your legs but he pushes them apart, his camera getting a shot of your bare bottom half with the dress at your waist.
“was my baby jealous tonight? you only want me to yourself?” he asked, inhaling the scent between your legs, “i did not know you could be so greedy,” he teased.
he let his phone record your cunt when he pushed two fingers into you and started to fuck your hole like that, purely because he wanted to feel how wet you were for him. you were soaking, your arousal leaking from your hole and around his fingers.
the phone was getting everything. the sounds of your cunt squelching around his fingers, the way your trimmed bush covered your mound, the way his fingers shone with your juices. he didn’t even know where to look, the phone or the real thing. he chose the real thing, but looking at the phone periodically to make sure you were still in view.
“fuck, eddie,” you couldn’t help but react to the stretch of his rough fingers, the ones that always wrapped around your throat when he fucked you on your back, or the ones that held your hand to help you down the stairs.
you were still aware that there was a party going on downstairs, still smelling weed smoke and the alcohol on your breath, but too focused on the fact that eddie was recording your every movement.
his fingers fucked you gently, not nearly as rough as he would, and you whined in reaction. eddie just watched you throw your head back when he stopped recording and threw the phone next to you, moving to let his tongue run over your cunt. his fingers kept you spread while he lapped at your hole, but you knew he was rushed.
eddie was too excited to finally record you, to finally have something he can watch over and over again until you’re able to satiate his craving for you again. he loved you like this, jealous and bothered by the fact that the two of you had no ties together.
eddie wanted ties. but you didn’t seem like the type to want that. at least, he thought so.
“get on your hands and knees, do that for me,” eddie said in the usual rasp he had after he smoked, and you opened your eyes at the loss of contact to look at him.
you were breathless from the sliver of pleasure he gave you, and needy for the hardness under his briefs. but you did it quick, sitting up and moving your body to get on your hands and knees except instead of holding yourself up on your hands, you grabbed a pillow and used it to rest your head on so that your ass was in the air for him.
the silk rose dress that was drenched in blood just pooled at your waist, letting you expose both holes to him, wet and needy. eddie frantically looked for the phone again, grabbing it and went back to the recording screen.
“fucking shit,” he whispered, the flash letting him see all of you. your holes were throbbing, aching for him to fill and take his spot that practically had his name branded on.
regardless of titles, you were his. even if he wasn’t yours.
“eddie,” you whined as your cheek pressed into the pillow, feeling his hand spread you open to the cool air, and to the camera of his phone.
“what is it, baby? you need me? wanna show my camera how fucking needy you are?” he taunted as he landed a spank on your ass cheek, of course eddie recorded him play with you as he liked.
as he pulled your round ass cheeks apart and spit on your puckered hole, moving the camera to show his thumb rubbing the rim of your asshole, and moved to press into it while you flinched at the touch.
“eddie, what the fuck,” you gasped as you felt his thumb slide into the tight hole with restraint, feeling an odd pressure that soon turned into the pleasure of something being filled.
you’d take what he’d give you, because the entire recording thing was for his pleasure. you knew he wanted to get every angle, every scenario, every moment of you naked and aching for him so he didn’t have to imagine your sinful activities together 一 he could just open his photos app and watch as he tore you apart.
he slid his thumb in and out of your hole as slow as possible, and you heard the mattress squeak and felt it dip, not feeling eddie’s clothed thighs behind yours anymore. they were naked, skin to skin and you felt the phone thud next to your leg, his thumb still curled inside of you when you felt his wet tip hit your cunt. you couldn’t help the gasp that left you, and you waited for the pressure to stretch you out, but it never came.
so when you tried to push your hips back onto him, he gripped your asscheek to spread it and hold you there.
“uh-uhn, you have to wait.” he said and you let out a cracked whine, and then saw the flash turn on again.
eddie had the phone in his hand above you, up to his chest to get all of your curves, the bareness up to the middle of your back where the blood-soaked dress sat, and his tumb still wet and sliding in and out of you.
“you want my dick, baby?” he asked, recording you wiggling your ass and trying to sink onto him.
“please, eddie, don’t tease me,” you whined, lifting yourself up just a tiny bit to look over your shoulder, getting a hard glimpse of eddie’s sinister smile, watching through the screen of his phone.
“tell me, tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he demanded softly. it was a simple demand with heavy baggage to it.
“i want it, please i want your dick so bad, please give it to me,” you whined beautifully, eddie realizing he’d get to hear you like this all over again whether it’d be on his phone or in person.
the sensation of being recorded while in your most vulnerable state sent shockwaves to your cunt, and he felt your hole clench around the small of his tip. it was so erotic, so exposing, and the simple act alone meant there was more trust you put into eddie than the both of you realized.
you’d trust eddie with your life, and when he finally sinks into your tight hole, you realize there wasn’t anyone else you’d rather trust with your body, your mind, your image.
“my f-” you sputtered, the single sound of trying to say fuck dragging out when eddie groans behind you.
eddie was catching everything, and for some reason watching himself stretch you out around the girth of his cock made him bite into his lip hard enough to draw blood.
“fuck baby, you look so fucking good,” he said breathlessly, “like you were fucking made to be on camera,”
he drew in and out of you, each time admiring the way you molded around him, how your skin was littered with little beauty marks and stretch marks. he could say he was in love with you, but you might reach back and try to slap him.
he bottomed out, his balls slapping against your cunt with each stroke and groaned with every clench. eddie recorded all of it, and let the camera catch the way your slick was gathering in a ring around his cock. he was high off of you, delirious from how you felt squeezing him like you did.
he felt like he was gonna go insane with how you moaned and whined for him in every way.
“eddie, eddie, eddie,” you chanted in moans, responding to the way he made you so full. so full of him.
your hand reached down blindly as you face planted into the pillow, moving your head to the side and finding where his cock slid in and out of you. eddie saw you start to position yourself to touch your clit, and moved the camera to the underside, capturing the way you rubbed your clit for him from below. he could feel the tips of your fingers brushing against the shaft of his cock, and he let out a throaty, cracked moan.
he moved his camera back to your spread cheeks and noticed how you started to bounce back on him, spreading your legs wider to be more accessible for him. by now, you completely forgot how you got here. you forgot that you were at a house party, robin’s house party with people walking up and down the stairs to go to restrooms and find their own vacant room.
it was exhilarating, and you wanted more so you started to meet the rhythm of his thrusts. you were able to feel him everywhere, deep inside to the point your legs felt like they were trembling already.
before you could move your hand anymore, eddie managed to grab your arms and place them at your back to grip them by your wrists. your hair was a mess, the prom queen crown laying on the mattress beside you, and tears forming in your eyes when you felt your cunt clench continuously around him.
eddie wasn’t missing anything. he had it all on tape, filming every moment of you squeezing around him. you consumed him completely, and the feeling of you so snug around him and realizing no one else would ever be able to have you like this — it was pushing the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“tell me baby,” he said in a huff, “tell me you’re mine, this pussy’s mine,”
you cried at his words, feeling his pace pick up and the force of his thrusts becoming harder. it was nudging the inside of your cervix, pressing at your spot that he knew all too well. he was so much to take, too much to not feel pleasure and the prick of pain. it was everything to you.
“you know this pussy’s mine. you want me tell everyone you’re my fucking girl?” he grunted, the phone becoming hard to focus on as he remembered why he was doing this in the first place.
“yes! eddie, yes! i want it, please,” you confessed, desperate for a release. he restrained you as his hips snapped against yours, the sound of wet skin emanating in the room. loud enough for anyone outside the door to hear.
but you didn’t care.
eddie let go of your wrists and curled his body over yours for his stomach to touch your back, reached the phone around to the front of your face. he used his free hand to grab the base of your throat and pull you up just a little more so the camera got to see all of it.
“that’s right, princess, say it again for me, think i need to hear it again,” he teased breathlessly. you didn’t even know how he was able to talk so much with how heavy he was breathing over you.
the feeling of his palm on your throat with his fingers on the sides made your cunt clench again and he just chuckled, moving his hand from your throat to grab your hair. he yanked your head back softly and pulled you up to where you tried to grasp for the blanket, but instead settled to rest on his thighs that held you in place.
“i’m your girl, ‘m yours, please ‘m yours,” you whined. eddie could feel the vibration against his palm and his cock twitched at your words.
he felt his release begging, and you were holding on for as long as you could until he tells you to cum. he knew that too, and he took advantage of it.
“you sound so pretty baby, my pretty fucking girlfriend. all fucking mine, goddamn,” he said and buried his face in your neck, ignoring the burn in his arm for holding the phone far at an upper angle to get all of you.
“mine?” you choked, wanting to ask a certain question but couldn’t form the words through your moans and sobs.
you didn’t think he’d understand, but by the innocent, curious, desperate tone in the moan you choked — he did.
“i’m yours baby, of course i’m fucking yours, ‘m all yours,” eddie heaved buried in your neck, his hand twisted in your hair to rest your head on his shoulder.
you were bent in odd angles that nobody has ever put you in before, no one had even bothered to take you out of doggy style. not to mention that he was recording every minute of it, not even knowing how his phone hadn’t died yet.
but this was intoxicating. you were addicted and couldn’t get off of him, even if you tried.
you were desperate. but you were only desperate for him. and through each moan he coaxed out of you, forced out of you by the abruptness of his thrusts — he knew.
“‘m gonna cum, eddie, gonna cum for you,” you whined at the ceiling, your eyes dropping with every frantic thrust his hips provided. it was too much, everything was too much.
before eddie could even speak, he dropped the phone on the mattress and let go of your hair, wrapping both arms around your waist and making you sit on his lap practically. he was fucking up into you as your body leaned into his and shook, squirming in his grip as you cried and moaned.
the pulsing around his cock only made him grunt, letting his forehead hit your shoulder until it perked up again at your words.
“cum inside of me, please, please cum inside,” you begged as you felt his thrusts and rhythm breaking, recognizing the sound of his voice and the moans he was making that he was close.
eddie panting in the crook of your neck, and you could still feel the sensation of his balls slapping against your cunt until he stilled inside of you. his cock twitched, and you felt heat spread within your pussy, ropes of his release filling you.
the full sensation was overwhelming, so much that your legs started to tingle again as you could start to feel the tip of his cock nudging you inside.
you were full of him, all of him and he sank his teeth into the arch of your neck as if he were a vampire, biting down until his hips stopped the stutter.
“mmmmm,” you hummed, letting your body slump against his. you were still half dressed, the pink silk still at your waist and you were praying that the fake dried blood on your body didn’t get on the sheets.
your eyes fluttered closer, sulking in the warmth of his arms as the breathing between you two began to regulate. but eddie needed to get you in his bed as soon as possible. though he really loved the sex, his second favorite was having you curled into his body while he held you tight.
“mm-mm, no, you gotta get up and get dressed so we can go back to mine,” he said as he finally pulled out of you, bending you over again to have you face down and supporting yourself on your knees.
“eddie, wait,” you budged, thinking he was going in for another round. he’d have plenty of time as your boyfriend to go rounds, just not tonight.
“hold on babe, i have to get the money shot,” he said in a lighthearted tone, fully serious and grabbing the phone to quickly open the camera again and take a video up close of your hole pushing out most of what he released inside of you. you squirmed and whined as the cool air hit your wetness, but he enjoyed it even more.
“fuck me,” he said in a breath as he held your ass open, and let out a whistle,
“so are you really my girlfriend or were you just saying that?”
#plus size smut#smut#fat girls#plus size reader#eddie munson#chubby smut#eddie stranger things#eddie munson smut#stranger things 4#stranger things au#eddie munson x reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson x plus size reader#halloween#kinktober 2023#kinktober#drabble#masterlist#eddie x reader#smut stories#plus size series#plus size representation
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unclaimed, clarisse la rue
summary: after being unclaimed for seven years, your father claims you when a new kid arrives and is claimed.
warnings: bullying a little, i guess… they’ll be a part 2 if anyone likes this one. there’s not very much clarisse x reader, but there will be in part 2
wc: 1.6k
a/n: guys it’s my bday in three days… i wanna be 16 forever
you were barely ten when you arrived at camp half-blood. you were scared, shaking, and cold as your satyr protector led you away from the body of your mother and to the entrance of the camp.
with no idea of what was happening, you followed him blindly, hoping for an answer, but the second you crossed the threshold, you collapsed.
when you awoke, there was a blonde kid above you with a wide smile. “hi,” he said, “i’m will!”
you sat up in confusion, murmuring, “where am i?”
“camp half-blood,” will responded. “your satyr didn’t tell you?”
you shook your head. “what’s a satyr?”
since then, you and will had been friends. he was your only constant at camp. in the seven years you’d been there, you hadn’t been claimed by a god. it was understandable. you didn’t do anything to make them proud. you weren’t good at archery or sword fighting, you didn’t get along with nature nor were you heroic.
but, in those seven years, you had been claimed by someone else.
clarisse la rue was the daughter of ares. she knew how to get what she wanted and at 15 what she wanted was you. clarisse became a constant in your life. breakfasts would be spent feeling her eyes on you, archery practice she was purposefully tease you as if you weren’t already bad enough with a bow as it was.
then, she asked you out. you had been supporting a crush on her for a year at that point, so it was a no-brainer. you loved your girlfriend more than anything.
will and clarisse were the only people you were devoted to. the only people you really trusted.
as of now, your seventeenth birthday was quickly approaching. clarisse and will wanted to make it special since you hadn’t really celebrated any birthdays since you were ten. three days before your mother died getting you to safety.
it seemed like their efforts were futile because three days before your birthday, a curly-haired blond boy walked through the entrance after supposedly killing a minotaur. all celebrations had been pushed to the back of everyone’s minds. to the back of clarisse’s mind.
you didn’t care though, your birthday wasn’t a fun celebration. it didn’t even hurt that you weren’t anyone’s first priority. in fact, you were happy.
percy came with a reputation already hung over his head. he had killed a minotaur, though clarisse would tell everyone that it was bull crap. he was like ten, there was no way. you didn’t care that much. if they say he killed a monster, then he killed a monster.
as you sat at lunch, three days before your birthday, you were shot looks of pity. whether it was because your girlfriend was ignoring you or because you hadn’t been claimed in nearly seven years, you had no idea.
with a sigh, you got up and retreated back to the hermes cabin. you wished chiron would have let you choose which one you wanted to stay in. it was clear you had overstayed your welcome. they didn’t like you very much.
later that day, after sparring, it was dinner and your girlfriend was nowhere to be found. and of course, neither was percy jackson.
you got up and walked down to the outhouse where two of clarisse’s half-siblings were guarding the outside.
“let me past,” you ordered. they shared a look so you just pushed past, in time to see clarisse be soaked head to toe with what you hoped was tap water.
she glared at the boy before turning and storming out past you, followed by another two of her siblings. you’d comfort her in a minute.
“i’m sorry about her,” you said sincerely. “clarisse doesn’t like liars and she doesn’t believe that you killed the minotaur.”
“i’m not lying!”
“i didn’t say you were,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “but, uh, water powers, eh?”
“what?”
you shook your head. “i’m y/n.”
the boy nodded. “i know who you are.”
that made you frown. “you mean you know i’ve been unclaimed for seven years?”
“i-i,” he stammered, making you scoff.
“no worries. see you around, percy jackson, minotaur killer, orphan.”
“ouch.”
“don’t worry. i got here the same way, only hades didn’t save my mother, i don’t think. i didn’t see, too busy running and not killing,” you said. “welcome to camp half-blood.”
you walked out and to the ares cabin, knocking on the door.
your girlfriend opened with a glare, “what?” she asked.
“hello to you, too. i missed you too,” you mocked. clarisse just raised an eyebrow so you dropped your facade. “what was that back there? he’s a child, clarisse.”
“he’s a liar.”
you rolled your eyes and pushed her into the cabin. clarisse held back a smile as you made it dark and brought her over to her bed before kissing her lips softly. “leave him alone, please. i have a feeling he’s not the type of person that you want to mess with.”
clarisse scoffed at your reasoning and didn’t make any promises, but held you close.
“has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” clarisse asked suddenly, making you roll your eyes. “not… not in the way the aphrodite kids are. more like… like deathly beautiful.”
“thanks… i think?”
-
capture the flag was something that camp took very seriously. you were obviously on clarisse’s team, red team. even though you hadn’t won since a child of athena started leading the blue team. part of you hoped that percy would join your team, but knew he wouldn’t.
you forced a smile onto your face when you saw him. will had told you to smile more. that it makes one more approachable. it didn’t feel right to you, though.
you coughed and got in position.
you were by the water when percy came, clarisse hot on his tail. it was a fight you didn’t want to get in the middle of. you flinch when you heard your girlfriend’s spear snap then again when she screamed. you felt bad for the kid, he didn’t know what he had just started.
luke then ran down with the rest of the blue team cheering him on as he dug the red flag into the pebbles. clarisse stormed away once again, leaving you, yet again, with percy jackson.
you saw a colourful outline of a person, before annabeth took off her cap and revealed herself. she congratulated and her cursed her out for not helping him. you watched from afar as annabeth showed him way.
percy was suddenly in the water.
when annabeth pushed percy into the water, everyone watched intently. his cuts healed instantly as he yelled at her. he didn’t even know the gravity of the situation. the crowds went silent as everyone’s gaze moved from percy to above him.
another demigod claimed within days, when you hadn’t been claimed in years.
percy jackson, son of poseidon. a forbidden child. the only one, as thalia had died.
you knew it was only a matter of time before he was sent on a quest. you prayed for him.
that night, you tossed and turned in bed. sleep never came easy, but now it was like something was forcing you to stay awake. you groaned and opened your eyes, confused.
this didn’t look like the hermes cabin.
“hello, child,” you heard a deep voice say, making you turn around.
“who are you?” you asked. you knew who he was, though. he was hades. you were in the underworld, somehow. what you wanted to know, was who he was to you. “is it you?”
“is what me?”
“my father. are you him?” you asked bitterly. seven years. seven years curious and he only now claimed you out of pure jealousy.
“you know the answer.”
you nodded. “why now? why not seven years ago?”
“you know the answer to that, too.”
you were becoming seriously irate. your father was a prick.
“the boy didn’t just take something from my brother. he took something from me, too. i need you to get it back,” you father ordered. “before you say no, i have something you want.”
he nodded to an area behind you and you turned to see a golden statue, like someone had been touched my midas. the statue looked eerily familiar. then it clicked. “my mother?” you whispered.
“get me my helm of darkness.”
you shot awake in a cold sweat, blinking at the light. was it morning already?
“someone get luke,” you heard a hermes kid whisper. “quickly!”
everyone was looking at you. or rather, above you. you looked up at your father’s symbol glowing above your head, a three-headed dog. you felt sick.
not only were you a forbidden child, but you were the forbidden child of hades. when word got around to luke, he had practically dragged you to chiron’s office. it didn’t take long, so your father’s symbol was still over your head before quickly disappearing after chiron saw it.
luke had been asked to leave and you were alone with chiron and mr. d. “i-“
“we have a quest for you,” mr. d cut you off. “with peter johnson.”
“we would like to you to go and retrieve the master bolt from your father,” chiron told you. “you leave with percy and two others of his choosing tomorrow.”
“do i not have a choice?” you asked.
“you’re the only way they’re going to get out of the underworld. they need you.”
you sighed and nodded. “okay.”
this was not you wanted when you said you wanted to be claimed.
suddenly, you had forgotten all about what your father asked of you. your only job now was protecting percy jackson.
#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse pjo#clarisse la rue#elijah writes#please reblog
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Whumptober 2022
Welcome to Whumptober 2022, in its fifth year of running!
To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone new, WELCOME!
Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.
This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.
With that being said, we’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators, see what juicy whump they’ve created too! We wish you all the fun!
(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)
Whumptober 2022 Prompt List
No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY
Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"
No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUN
Cornered | Caged | Confrontation
No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH
Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled
No. 4 DEAD ON YOUR FEET
Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out
No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS
Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia
No. 6 PROOF OF LIFE
Ransom Video | “I’ve got a pulse” | Screams from Across the Hall
No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER
Shaking Hands | Seizures | Silent Panic Attack
No. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING
Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead
No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT
Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning | Caught in a Storm
No. 10 POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS
Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding
No. 11 “911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?”
Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid | Makeshift Splint
No. 12 WHAT COULD GO WRONG?
“Mayday, mayday!” | Cave In | Rusty Nail
No. 13 CAN’T MAKE AN OMELETTE WITHOUT BREAKING A FEW LEGS
Fracture | Dislocation | “Are you here to break me out?”
No. 14 DIE A HERO OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME A VILLAIN
Desperate Measures | Failed escape | “I’ll be right behind you.”
No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE
Lies | New Scars | Breathing through the Pain
No. 16 NO WAY OUT
Mind Control | Paralytic Drugs | “No one’s coming.”
No. 17 HANGING BY A THREAT
Breaking Point | Stress Positions | Reluctant Caretaker
No. 18 LET’S BREAK THE ICE
"Just get it over with." | Treading Water | "Take my Coat"
No. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH
Knees Buckling | Repeatedly Passing Out | Head Lolling
No. 20 IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY
Going into Shock | Fetal Position | Prisoner Trade
No. 21 FAMOUS LAST WORDS
Coughing up Blood | “You’re safe now.” | “Take me instead.”
No. 22 PICK YOUR POISON
Toxic | Withdrawal | Allergic Reaction
No. 23 AT THE END OF THEIR ROPE
Forced to Kneel | Tied to a Table | “Hold them down.”
No. 24 FIGHT, FLIGHT OR FREEZE
Blood Covered Hands | Catatonic | “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
No. 25 SILENCE IS GOLDEN
Lost Voice | Duct Tape | “You better start talking.”
No. 26 NO ONE LEFT BEHIND
Separated | Rope Burns | “Why did you save me?”
No. 27 PUSHED TO THE LIMIT
Muffled Screams | Stumbling | Magical Exhaustion
No. 28 IT'S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG
Anger Born of Worry | Punching the Wall | Headache
No. 29 WHAT DOESN'T KILL ME…
Sleep Deprivation | Defiance | “Better me than you.”
No. 30 NOTE TO SELF: DON'T GET KIDNAPPED
Manhandled | Hair Grabbing | “Please don’t touch me.”
Alternative Prompts List
No. 31 A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL
Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”
Ringing Ears
Whimpering
Dazed and Confused
Touch Starved
Ambushed
Sensory Overload
Protective
Made to Watch
Quicksand
Adrenaline Crash
Stabbed
Carried to Safety
Crutches
Emergency Blanket
Tears
Event Info & Rules
~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask - A link can be found at the end of this post. ~
WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “bee”, you can create something about bees, about yellow and black striped baseball bats or bees on bandaids. It’s up to you.
Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.
Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.
When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:
#whumptober2022 …..(the event tag)
#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)
#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)
#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)
#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)
#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)
#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)
#your own tags go here
PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]
Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.
Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us, if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.
Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?
When in doubt: JUST DO IT!
Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?
Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.14, #underpressure). If you post works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.
Q. Can I post early/late?
Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.
Q. Will you reblog my post?
Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:
tag your post properly
post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.
Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?
Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :) Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.
Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?
This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)
Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?
Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)
Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?
Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)
Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?
Yes.
Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?
If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters using one or more of the prompts.
Q. What kind of characters can I write for?
Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like to whump.
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i never thought you’d happen to me - 1
part two / part three
pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. smut (part two), fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀 (part two). if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!
words: just a bit over 6k.
notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card.
fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think! 🥰
It’s another late Friday night as you and the team lounge around the common room, nearly empty takeout containers scattered around the table, glasses and bottles of your drinks much the same. There’s a movie no one is watching playing on the large screen as the current conversation around you continues.
You’re not sure how telling a story from your last mission with Bucky has turned into this once again, but here you are. Another cute remark from Sam about his expectancy to be in the wedding party earns him another glare from you.
“Hey, you side-eye now but in ten years you’ll look back and realize how right we all were,” he says, elbowing Bucky slightly. “Tinman by your side,” he adds with a grin - clearly amused with himself.
“That is not my future,” you say with a humorless chortle.
“I can show you your future,” Wanda speaks from her spot on the couch, everyone turning their heads at once to look at her. She’s been unusually quiet the past few minutes - not engaging much in the conversation as she observed it instead. She takes another sip of her wine as she meets your gaze, foot swinging lazily as she keeps one leg crossed over the other.
She tilts her head at you while you eye her with a raised brow, a look of incredulity on your face.
“What?” she questions, confused at not only yours, but everyone’s, lack of response.
“Come on,” you laugh lightly, brushing her off.
“I’m serious.”
“Wanda, I don’t need to see what my future looks like to know that Bucky will be playing no part in it.”
A round of scoffs, snickers and a groan erupt from around the living room as you roll your eyes. You catch Bucky, seated across from you, doing the same as you turn your face.
“You’re all very funny, and I’m glad you’re amused with yourselves, but I can’t sit here and listen to the same inane conversation over again, soooo,” you pause for a breath, “I’m going to bed,” you clap as you stand from your spot on the couch.
“Look, I don’t speak for everyone, but I am not joking in the slightest,” Kate laughs as she leans back into her seat. Aiming finger guns at you and Bucky, “You guys,” she says, “are endgame.”
“And you, my friend, are drunk.”
Another round of laughs before the previous chatter resumes among the group, a story of misadventure now being told from Parker’s perspective, and you can hear Stark’s interjections already.
You grab your empty glass and head to the kitchen, Wanda following shortly after you.
“You’re stubborn,” she says with no preamble.
You turn with a quirked brow, “Am I?”
“Very. So much so, I think I may need your permission.”
“Sorry...uhm, for?” you ask, clearly confused.
“I think you should see it.” Your face falls slack at her words as you turn back to finish washing out your glass.
“Wanda, -” you go to laugh again.
“No, actually,” she stops you, correcting herself, “you need to see it. You’re stunting yourself. You’re constantly getting in your own way. I think it’d be good for you, to see what you can have if you finally allow it to come to you.”
You're quieted by her sincerity for a moment, half because you weren’t taking any of the previous conversation seriously, and half because you didn’t think it was something she was actually capable of doing. In fact, you still didn’t. But if she wanted to try, who were you to argue.
“Uhhh,” you begin, shaking your head lightly, “I mean, if you really want to, then, go for it, I guess. You have my permission.”
“Good,” she smiles, turning to walk back out to the other’s.
“Wow, wait,” you stop her, “like, what exactly are you gonna do?”
“Just a swap,” she says simply. “A day in the life of your future self. You don’t have to do anything, just go to sleep tonight and you’ll see.”
Your eyes narrow in thought, “...This isn’t dangerous, right?”
“No, not at all. You guys will be fine. 24 hours and you’ll wake up in your own beds, safe and sound. I promise.”
She smiles and flits away quickly. You shake your head at yourself again, still unsure what exactly you’ve agreed to. And it isn’t until you’re walking down the hallway back to your room that what she said actually catches up to you.
You guys will be fine?
You stop walking when you hear footsteps behind you, glancing back to find Bucky coming down the hall. You swallow hard and turn back around, not far from your door.
“Stalker much?” you say without facing him, earning a scoff in return.
He’s barely a step behind you now, though his sudden proximity is not all that surprising. You’ve grown used to his stealth.
“In your dreams.”
“More like waking nightmares. Every time I turn around it’s like you’re always just right there.”
“Maybe if you didn’t put yourself into jeopardy every five minutes I wouldn’t have to shadow you so often.”
You’re walking side by side and you get to your door as he speaks. You turn on him, instantly irritated.
“Are you being serious?” you level at him. He doesn’t respond. “How are you still hung up on Belarus? It was one mission. That was not on me, I didn’t fuck up. No one else saw them coming, either,”
“I did.”
“Well, sorry I’m not as infallible as the one and only Bucky Barnes,” you speak exaggeratedly, annoyance clear in your tone. “You still act like I’m some kind of liability. I’ve been careful. I’m riding a lengthy no injury streak and we’ve still yet to fail a single mission. After how many assignments we’ve been on together, you think you’d start taking me more seriously.”
“I never said I didn’t take you seriously. Just think sometimes you’re still a little too cocky for your own good.”
“For the thousandth time, I’m not clueless, Barnes. I don’t need you monitoring my every move. Not during training, not on missions, and definitely not walking down a hallway at night. I think I can handle getting to my room alone. Or is assuming that too cocky of me?” you ask with a tilt of your head, sarcasm dripping off your tongue.
You don’t wait for a response before you turn to your door and let yourself in, snapping it shut behind you.
You flick on the light and are quickly greeted by a room that is… definitely not yours. You pause for a second, taking in your surroundings before you deflate with a sigh, following it up with a deep breath. You turn the light back off and then turn back around to the door. You wait for a second longer with your hand on the handle before you force yourself to exit the room.
Just like you knew he would be, Bucky is still standing right where you left him; a stupid smirk on his stupidly handsome face.
“Wrong room,” he says.
“Fuck off,” you grumble as you walk a little further down the hall, to your actual door.
“Goodnight to you, too,” Bucky says as he continues to his own room, not far from you. You send him a glare and a “hmph” before shutting your door and getting ready for bed.
You’re not helpless. You’re not clueless. You’re damn good at what you do. But fuck if Bucky doesn’t have a knack for knocking you off kilter with a single look.
—-
It’s a soft shaking that wakes you from your peaceful sleep. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move - you don’t even want to blink open your eyes. But the shaking comes again. Your brows furrow as your arms tighten around your pillow and you cuddle further into it.
Only it’s not your pillow.
It takes a second for you to process that instead, it’s a warm body you’re pressing yourself against before your eyes snap open.
You look up and find a confused Bucky staring down at you.
When your eyes meet, though, there’s a bit of softness there. And as you take in his face, you relax a bit again. His presence beside you is at once comforting as it is confounding.
“What are you doing?” you both ask at the same time - only furthering your confusion.
You suddenly realize you’re still wrapped around him and quickly sit up and give him space.
“Why are you in my bed?” you ask as you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.
“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he says as he looks around, “but I don’t think we’re at the tower.”
You look up and blink away the fuzziness. Then it hits you.
“Oh shit,” you murmur.
“What? You know where we are?” he asks as he stands and starts looking around, inspecting the room. “Better yet, how the hell we got here?”
“Maybe…Would you believe me if I said we might possibly be in the future?”
Bucky turns and looks at you incredulously.
“Wanda,” you speak at the same time.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says as he runs a hand over his face.
“In my defense,” you begin, “when I agreed to this, I didn’t think she’d be able to do it. I also didn’t think it’d involve anyone else..”
“What do you mean you agreed to this? What is this?”
“She said I needed to see the future. It’d be good for me, or whatever, so I said okay. She said it was uh, a future swap? 24 hours. Day in the life and then I’d wake up back in my own bed the next day.”
“And you agreed to it?”
“Fuckin’, yeah, obviously,” you huff. “I didn’t think it’d be.. Real? I don’t know.”
“So, so what? We’re stuck in some unknown future for the next 24 hours?”
“What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not understand?”
“Why would you agree to something like this without fully knowing what it is you’re agreeing to? This is exactly what I’m talking about when I say-”
“Spare me, Barnes. It’s Wanda, okay? We’re fine. It’s 24 hours, and I’m assuming that clock started when we fell asleep last night, so really it’s only…,” your voice dies down as you look to the clock on the bedside table. The time isn’t what catches your eye, though.
No.
It’s the framed photo behind it that derails your train of thought.
“No fucking way,” you breathe as you grab it in disbelief.
You stare at the photo of you and Bucky, a close up of you in a sweet embrace, adorning soft smiles as you share a chaste kiss, your left hand touching his cheek, and what you can only assume is a wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.
This has to be some kind of dream. That’s it. You’re dreaming. Duh. Your hand moves before your mind does and you slap yourself in your face as hard as you can manage, sure it’ll wake you up and you’ll be back in the tower, in your own bed, alone.
“What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaims in surprise as you wince slightly and hold your cheek as it stings. He walks over to you, becoming more tentative as you look up at him.
“‘M not dreaming. Are you?”
“No, I’m wide awake, believe me,” he says as he gets closer. “Don’t slap me, either.”
You eye him harshly before handing him the frame.
“Well, it.. Explains why you’re here, at least,” you say, voice quieter than you intended as your thoughts were still reeling. “We’re not just in my future, we’re in-”
“Our future,” he finishes as he stares at the photo himself.
“Yeah.”
“So, our room…” he says more to himself than to you. He makes his way around the room, pulling open drawers and looking in the closet as you stand and head for the bathroom.
You meet yourself in the mirror, sure enough, you still look the same. You’re you.
Walking back out into the room, you head for the window, pulling back the curtain. As you peer out, you’re expecting to see a skyline, or city street, but instead you’re met with the view of an open yard.
You pull away from the window in surprise, “Are we in a house?”
You turn to Bucky, who turns to face you. You both head to the bedroom door, you following behind him as he takes the lead.
It’s a house. Definitely a house.
The bedroom door leads to a long hallway, three doors along the right back wall, another door at the far end opposite your own, and to the left of that, on the left wall, is another room.
In the middle of the hallway is an opening, and you and Bucky turn there without inspecting any of the other rooms.
You find yourselves in a living room, before walking into the kitchen.
“We should look around,” you say in a whisper - why, you aren’t sure.
“What exactly are you planning on finding?” he questions as you pull open a drawer, sifting around.
“I don’t know? More information. Like what we’re doing here. What we do. What year it is. Maybe we learn something and it’ll send us home sooner? I don’t know, just, something,” you answer, on edge already by being surrounded by the unknown and only growing more agitated at his every word.
“Why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not getting-,” you stop yourself, taking a breath, “sorry. Okay? I thought you were trying to be a dick,”
“Why do you assume I’m being a dick?” he asks, annoyed himself now.
"Because you always act like a fucking dick!", you nearly yell as you slam the kitchen drawer shut.
"Fucking dick!"
You both freeze at the high, sweet-sounding voice that comes from behind you. Your brows furrow as you glance at Bucky, his reaction to the mirthful echo much the same as yours, before you both slowly turn around.
The sight you're met with has you both frozen in shock.
A set of twin toddlers clad in matching pajamas, both of whom bear a striking resemblance to you and Bucky, are staring at you both.
You can't explain why, but your heart is gripped by the mere sight of them. It's something more than just their cuteness, it's something instinctual. How it's possible, you're not sure, but you know, somehow, that they're really yours. Future or not, those are absolutely your kids.
It seems with each passing moment, you and Bucky are left more and more stunned by how your future is turning out, but as you notice the little boy's eyes watering and the pout on his little lips as he looks right at you, you can't seem to care about anything else.
“Hey, buddy,” you squat down and hold your arms open for him, and he waddles to you right away as his eyes well more and more. He hugs you, still pouting as he cuddles into your chest and you hold him tightly as you stand, exchanging another glance with Bucky who looks nearly stupefied until the soft voice of the girl rings out once again.
Your eyes shoot to her as she twirls around clumsily, a chant of "fucking dick" leaving her lips over and over before she starts to tilt, seemingly having made herself dizzy. You're about to gasp, moving forward instinctually as you watch her wobble a bit more, but she's in Bucky's arms in an instant as he grabs her before she falls.
"Woah, there, sweetheart," he says with a small laugh as she dramatically goes limp in his arms. An exhausted breath leaves her little lungs as she breathes out the repetition one final time. She then lifts her tiny hand up to Bucky’s cheek, effectively slapping him as she plants it, blinking up at him. “What’s this?” she asks him curiously as she smooshes his face, feeling his stubble.
“Uhh…It’s hair. I haven’t shaved - Ow,” he exaggerates when she interrupts him and pats his cheek again, a bit harder this time, though you know it didn’t hurt him in the slightest. It makes the girl laugh, though.
“You should shave, Daddy,” she advises, pulling a face.
Her words pull a breathless laugh from him as he gazes down at the small girl, a lump forming in his throat as he takes everything in. He feels crazy, but he can see you in her, and he can see himself, too. Her and her brother, they both look like the perfect little combinations of the two of you. And they’re both so comfortable with you guys. So at ease and uninhibited, just like children should be..
It’s a stark contrast to how he grew up and he can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, of pride, knowing that he isn’t repeating the cycle he swore would die with him.
He’d stopped letting his mind wander to what if futures long ago, but when he did imagine what it’d be like to have a family of his own, this is the kind of peace he longed for. The happy, settled down future he was sure he’d never have.
And you.
Your hand has been mindlessly rubbing the boy's back in an effort to comfort him as he cuddles into you, that never faltering pout pulling every string your heart has as Bucky attends to the girl relaxing in his arms.
"Linc's sad, Mommy," the girl says, pointing at her brother. The title has you swallowing hard, your heart clenching at how sweetly she calls to you.
Linc?... Must've been Bucky, you think briefly before you gently pull him away from you slightly so you can see him better, his bleary blue eyes peering up at you.
"Why are you yelling at Daddy?" he pouts still. Your brows furrow and mouth parts on an inhale, as if you're going to answer him, but nothing comes out as you try and think of what you can say. His innocent question stumping you.
"It's alright, pal, we were just kiddin' around," Bucky offers as he gets closer to you both. You look at him, a bit guilty but thankful for the save.
"Can we have pancakes, Daddy?" the girl asks as she wriggles around like a worm in his hold.
"Pancakes! Please!" Linc smiles as he continues hanging onto you, seemingly happy with Bucky's defense of you - any qualms he had long forgotten as he’s now focused on the mention of pancakes for breakfast.
"Sure," you answer for him, acquiescing easily with a smile before looking to Bucky with wide eyes.
You’re not entirely sure how exactly this all happens, but somehow you end up married with two kids. As shocking as it is, and as confused as you are about how, a part of you is grateful - maybe even happy - that Bucky is here. He may be an ass a lot of the time, overbearing and micromanaging your every move, but you guys have been through hell and back together. Partners from the very start of your time as an Avenger. If you’re being honest, this future makes more sense than you previously wanted to admit.
In an attempt to not freak out the twins, you know you have to play the part. Act like nothing is out of the ordinary and that you are indeed their mom. You are, technically, but you don’t have any idea what the hell you’re doing or what’s wholly needed of you. You’ve nannyed before, though. You know the basics..
"Have we brushed our teeth yet?" you ask the twins, sure the answer is a "no". Your and Bucky's arguing clearly is what woke them up, the yelling must have led them out here from their room.. Rooms?
"Mhm," the girl hums, though just from looking at her, the lie is evident as she avoids looking directly at you.
"Don't lie, Ellie," her brother chastises.
Ellie.. That must've been me, you think with a twitch of a smile before you set Linc down.
"Alright, go with Buc- your dad, and I'll start on the pancakes," you instruct before the twins burst out in giggles. You frown, brows furrowing as you watch them, hoping they'll let you know what exactly is so funny.
"No, we want daddy's pancakes, Mommy!"
"With chocolate chips and syrup!"
"Yeah, they want Daddy's pancakes, Mommy," Bucky taunts with a smirk as you shoot him an annoyed look. He seems a lot more comfortable now than he was a few minutes ago, and you can’t help but notice how easily he seems to be taking this; easing into his role in this place and time. He’s good.
"What's wrong with my pancakes?" you press the toddlers.
"Daddy's are better, but it's okay, your grilled cheese is the best,"
"Yeah! Oh, can we have grilled cheese for lunch, Mommy? Please, please, pleeease," Ellie begs cutely, leaning to you while still in Bucky's hold.
You huff a laugh, agreeing as Bucky sets Ellie down to follow you.
"See if you can find anything," you tell him as you meet his eye before following after the tikes pulling on your hands.
"Don't forget the chocolate, Daddy!"
Bucky watches as you're led to the bathroom before he starts moving around the kitchen. He's about to start looking around for more information on when exactly you are, and the kind of life you’re living, but thinks better of it for now. He'd rather not have two toddlers throw a fit over unfinished pancakes on top of everything else he's trying to wrap his head around at the moment.
He finds the pantry and grabs all the ingredients he needs for his mom's pancake recipe - the one he knows by heart- and gets to work on the batter. The chatter from the kids and you in the bathroom floats into the kitchen and he can’t help but smile at the sound of your voice as you talk to them.
He soon loses himself in the simplicity of the task at hand, and how nice it is to be here like this. He's in pajamas on a Saturday morning, making breakfast for his family as they start their day..
Seems entirely unreal, but a dream nonetheless. And as if that wasn’t enough to have his thoughts in a flurry, he still can't shake the feeling of how nice it was waking up with your soft body pressed against his. Opening his eyes to discover the warmth beside him was you. He was confused at first, wondering when and how you’d gotten into his room, but more so concerned about the why. He watched you for a minute before he noticed the bedding draped over the both of you. It wasn’t his and when he looked around the room, he realized he had no idea where you guys were. You were wrapped around him as you laid together in the comfy king bed, and it took him a second to try to wake you up. He knew he had to, of course, but if he was honest, he didn’t want the feeling to end. Your hold on him was comforting and he was completely at ease in your embrace, circumstances be damned. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in ages.
Though, that wasn’t entirely true. He remembers the last time he felt that way, and of course it was with you. You were stuck in a shoddy motel off the highway during a storm, the crappy jeep you’d been traveling in finally gave out half way through your drive back to the compound and you guys had no choice but to crash for the night. Of course the motel only had one singular room available with one singular bed. After some back and forth, you both decided you’d just share. It was big enough for the two of you, with space in between. When Bucky woke up that next morning, though, he found himself holding you tightly from behind, your arms wrapped over his as you slept peacefully in his embrace. He remembers the heat that crept up his neck and the flurry in his stomach that he still refuses to acknowledge as butterflies. He quickly loosened his hold and slipped away from you before you could even bat an eye. You were still none the wiser. He thought about that morning a lot after it happened.
He wondered what would’ve happened if you had woken up, too. What you would’ve said, what he could’ve said to you if he’d finally gotten out of his own way..
He can’t dwell on it anymore, though. He hasn’t. He won’t.
Except maybe he does.
And seeing as this is your future together, he thinks maybe that’s not as hopelessly embarrassing as he’s made himself believe it is.
And god, the sight of those kids. The warmth that bloomed in his chest as he took in their faces, he honestly was worried he would start crying if he stared too long. He had long given up on the idea of starting a family, he didn't think this life would ever be in the cards for him, and especially not with you.
But as he stood pouring chocolate chip pancake batter into a sizzling pan, he was struck by how right it felt.
Obviously, it wasn't right, neither of you should be here right now, and it made him wonder where exactly the future you and him were.
As soon as the thought went through his head, a tablet he hadn’t taken notice of on the back counter dinged.
He flipped the pancakes before he went to get the pad, taking the tablet in his hands. His face unlocked the device easily and opened up to his email account.
He clicked on the new, unread message from.. you?
—-
Hey Bucky.
Wanda says this is unnecessary but if I know me, I’m still probably freaking out internally. So, just letting you know that everything's fine. Or so she says.
We're gonna be back to our respective places in time come tomorrow.
I know waking up in the future - especially our future - may be hard to wrap your heads around, but it’s a hell of a lot better than waking up alone to a preening Wanda staring at you, trust me.
And you guys aren’t as oblivious as you try to be. You know, deep down, exactly why you’re there. Together. - and why it isn’t all that crazy.
And this goes without saying, but obviously, take care of the kids. Eleanor and Lincoln. If you haven’t found them yet, they’ll find you, I’m sure.
Today at 2pm, you need to drop them off at 7314 Wisteria Drive. That's Steve and Nat's house - so don't make it weird. They're keeping the kids so we can celebrate our anniversary.
Funny how that lines up..
So, anyway, apparently all we need to do on both ends is enjoy the 24 hour downtime. We’ll be waking up in our own beds before we know it.
Okay.
Bye.
(I’d say I love you but I don’t wanna freak you out. x)
—
Bucky just stares down at the email blankly while his brain tries to catch up. He's gonna have to have you read it yourself. Before he can fixate on that last line in particular, he can smell the browning of the pancakes.
His attention quickly returns to the food as he starts to plate it, shutting off the burner. The kiddie plates he finds in a cabinet earn a half smile from him as he cuts up the pancakes for the kids and spots their booster seats, placing the plates before them.
He hears them before he sees them as they come down the hallway, all laughs.
You appear just after they do, a look on your face he can't turn away from. Your soft smile and the adoration swimming in your eyes as you watch your kids, both of them waiting to be lifted up to sit down, is.. beautiful.
He catches himself staring before he turns his focus back to the table, lifting Eleanor into her seat before lifting Lincoln in his, earning a "thank you, daddy," from each of them in return, a wave of astonishment and pride coming over him yet again. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to that.
You listen as they talk back and forth about their pancakes and their laughter when they start playing with one another as they eat their lightly syruped bites.
You stand by Bucky, absentmindedly grabbing a pancake and biting into it, stopping almost immediately as the fluffiness catches you off guard. God, they were so right. These are amazing.
"Good, right?" Bucky's voice pulls you back as you swallow your bite.
You lick your lip before looking over at him. "Did you find anything?"
He hands you the tablet and watches as you read the email.
You click your tongue, and then stay silent for a minute.
He almost can’t believe it when you do it, looking at you incredulously once again after you suddenly slap yourself in the face once more.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he bites quietly, moving to stand in front of you and blocking your view of the kids momentarily.
"Just had to make sure," you reply, again cringing at the stinging of your cheek. You eye him before making a move to slap him, too, but he grabs your hand before you can make contact. He looks at you like you're insane as you huff again. "So this is..."
"This is real," he finishes for you. "That hard to believe, huh?"
"That's an understatement. So, I’m not dreaming. But are you sure you’re not dreaming?"
“You think my dreams involve waking up in the future with no memory of what’s gone on between me going to sleep to waking up? That’s a literal nightmare for me. Plus, I learned a while ago how to differentiate between my dreams and reality. Trust me, we’re not dreaming.”
You swallow thickly, an apology on the tip of your tongue. You hadn’t considered that before. Before you can voice your thoughts, though, you're distracted by the interaction between the kids at the table.
"Linc, I'll give you a piece and then you give me one of your piece, okay?"
"You take this one," Linc says as he gives his sister a piece off of his plate and she gives him a piece off of her's.
You can't help but chuckle at the exchange.
"We make cute kids, though," Bucky says, almost under his breath. But you still hear him, and you respond before your brain catches your tongue.
"Yeah, we do."
You push off the counter as Bucky watches you, surprised that you heard him and even more so by your agreement, though it'd be impossible for anyone to argue that your kids aren’t, in fact, ridiculously adorable.
"Do you guys want -"
"Orange juice, please!" Ellie answers before you even finish asking.
"And water, please," Linc follows.
"OJ and water, you got it."
----
You and Bucky get the kids ready to go to Steve and Nat's with minimal arguing... until you had to pack their bags.
What they should or shouldn't take with them was a point of contention as you ridiculed each other's choices. After your bickering and some input from Ellie and Linc, you guys just hoped they had everything they needed. You'd unnecessarily packed them three outfits each just in case of spills or messes and their diaper bag was loaded full, too. Maybe too much for one day, but better safe than sorry, right?
After loading the twins in the car, Bucky followed the GPS to the address you'd left in the email.
When you guys pulled up to the house, you were greeted by Natasha who was unloading groceries from her car. The domestic scene warmed your heart. She deserved the simplicity, the normalcy, and you were happy to know that one day, she’d have it.
She lit up as she saw you guys approaching and came right over, going straight for the back door.
Linc and Ellie were all smiles and giggles as they tried fruitlessly to escape their car seats in favor of being in Nat's arms.
"Bugs!!" Nat greeted them with an enthusiastic smile as she started working on their belts. "I've missed you guys so much! How long has it been? Ten years?"
They laughed in unison at her before Ellie corrected her. "Yesterday, Aunt Nattie!"
"Yesterday?" she questioned in faux disbelief.
She wasn't able to keep up the play, though as the second they were out of their seats, they nearly tackled her.
You watched Steve come outside, coming up to the car with a grin, a girl no more than ten and another toddler, maybe a little older than the twins, in tow.
"Get them inside for me, honey," Nat said to the oldest one. She looked nothing like either of them, dark hair and dark eyes, but still it was clear she was their daughter. The younger one looked like Steve, though, and you wonder briefly if that was just by chance or if they’d had a surrogate. Natasha had talked about the possibility before, and of adopting, but starting a family wasn’t something any of you were actually considering at the time, settling down and having kids wasn't really your focus when you were all trying to make sure the world wouldn’t be ending tomorrow. "We'll be right in. And pick a movie for the sleepover before your Dad does," she pretended to whisper, earning a laugh from the girl as she corralled the kids up the porch.
Nat turned her gaze back on you and Bucky, her stare nothing less than scrutinizing.
"Are you guys in pajamas?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Mh, uh, yeah," you laughed a little breathlessly before looking back at the house, distracted. "They didn't even say bye," you said in your disappointment. You'd only just met the kids, but you felt so instantly connected to them.
"Don't worry about them, they're gonna have fun tonight. And so are you two," she says pointedly, if not a bit suggestively, pulling you from your thoughts. You feel the heat that creeps up your skin and refuse to look at Bucky.
"What are you guys doin' tonight, did you decide?" Steve asks.
"Staying in," Bucky blurts out as you blink and smile. But their faces at that, their smirks of acknowledgement make you grow hotter as you try to not let your embarrassment show.
"Mhm," you hum tight lipped.
It's quiet for a moment as you all watch one another before Steve breaks the silence.
"You guys are acting weird."
"Are we?" you question back too quickly.
"Yeah. You are," Nat says.
"Sugar," Bucky blurts out again. "They're loaded up on sugar. Sorry, they really wanted pancakes this morning. But uh, look, thanks for watching them. We should uh, get going, so.."
"Yeah, we should go," you agree. "What time do you want us to pick them up?"
"We're dropping them off tomorrow afternoon, right?" Steve questioned. "Or did you not want them to go with us?"
"No, oh, right. Duh! I just forgot - that's what we talked about. Because you're taking them to.." you trail off, prompting them.
"The gardens?" Nat finishes.
"Right, yes, the gardens. Which is great. And we appreciate it so much. And if you need anything or anything happens, ya know just call us," you continue on as Bucky starts to pull away. You fight the urge you have to glare at him until you finish your awkward goodbye and Steve and Nat watch you both drive off, clearly confused about the weird interaction.
"Did you miss the part of the email where it explicitly said: don't make it weird?" Bucky asks.
"Fuck off, you were no better," you scowl as you slump in the seat. "What now?"
#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#bucky x curvy!reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#dad!bucky#mom!reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky x plus size!reader#bucky barnes x avenger!reader#bucky barnes x plus size!reader#the slumberparty
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Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?
Pretty When I Cry
✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader
✧ Era : Season 1
✧ Pronouns : she/her
✧ Genre : Angst/Fluff
✧ Word Count : 4k
AN ~ This is a very cute idea. I've been wanting to write something for season 1 Daryl because he's just such a cutie pie, but I didn't really have any good ideas. Though I think if he were to ever snap and "be mean" it would surely be in the beginning; his sassy era lol. But thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!
In an instant it seemed like, all of humanity was completely flipped upside down. You were on your way to work when the chaos all erupted, dead people coming back to life and the military taking matters into their own hands. Bombing places left and right even if that meant killing the ones who weren’t infected. The entire thing shook you more than you were ever willing to admit, after all, you were more fragile, soft and clearly not built for whatever the world was suddenly turning into.
But to your surprise, you made it out alive. Traumatized, sure, but alive.
You seemed to count your blessings every single day since then, thankful for every little thing that had happened to you since. Luck seemed to shine down upon you as you weren’t alone for long, finding a small group camped out in the high mountains merely days after everything went down. They all welcomed you with open arms, clearly taking a liking to your kindness and wanting as many people to come together as they could get. After all, it’s all that was left of the world. People you could rely on.
You grew to love the tight knit group, forming friendships with people you never would’ve guessed you’d meet in a million years. You also tried to keep yourself busy, wanting to be as useful as possible and provide what you could for the others. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you simply wanted to. Things like cooking, collecting berries and mushrooms, doing laundry, anything you could find to help contribute.
Something you seemed to be ashamed of however, was that you couldn’t really do any of the “heavy lifting.” You had never fired a gun in your life, that alone narrowed down the list. Not being able to stay on watch, not being able to hunt, and…not being able to take care of the dead things that sometimes wandered all the way up here. At first, the thought of you being weaker than the others never even crossed your mind. It was only brought to your attention when a certain man began to poke fun at you because of how small he saw you.
Merle Dixon was a grade A asshole to put it bluntly. Ever since he and his brother showed up to be a part of the group later on, he had made it his mission to annoy and harass you whenever he saw the opportunity. You couldn’t figure out why you were his main target, his main source of entertainment, but you could only guess it was because he always got under your skin in a way he was able to see. That, and he tended to make you cry. He even gave you a nickname because of it after a while, one that you absolutely hated. And he knew it too.
Although Merle was someone you couldn’t stand, his brother Daryl however was…different. He could still be snappy and hot headed just like the other one you supposed, but he had never acted that way towards you surprisingly. His main target was Shane, and honestly, who could blame him? There were many times where the man would take things too far and Daryl would put him in his place, unaware of the watchful wide eyes that watched the interaction. He never seemed to care, wanting to tell everyone how it was without a single ounce of regret. You sort of envied him for that small little thing.
You had never stood up to anyone in your life, always too scared of the outcome and you hated being yelled at more than anything in the world. So it was safe to say you avoided confrontation at all costs. Clearly, as you hadn’t found the strength to stand up to Merle since he got here. But though neither of the brothers particularly cared for you, you were still kind to them just like you were to everyone else. You didn’t miss how the others in the group would almost look down on them in a way you couldn’t understand, so you wanted to be the one who provided just that little bit of kindness. It really went a long way, or at least that’s what you believed.
Though you had to admit, it was a little difficult sometimes. There were moments where you just wanted to yell in frustration, curse at Merle for how he always treated you and how Daryl typically sat there and did nothing. But you always managed to cool off, reminding yourself that they most likely acted like this because of something from their past. Something they couldn’t control. Who were you to treat them differently because of that? It was hard to stay strong at times, but in the end, you always seemed to send them a small smile.
You currently busied yourself on just the outskirts of the camp past the trees, finding and picking a few berries to bring back seeing as the group was running a bit low. And every bit of food counted these days. Your gaze stayed down as you chose the ripest ones, placing them in the little woven basket you brought to gather as many as you could for the time being. Though upon your hunt for different kinds of plant based things you could eat, your eyes happened to catch a mere glimpse of something colorful a few feet away.
To your surprise, it was a small patch of wildflowers growing together, each a different beautiful color and only a reminder to you that the world wasn’t completely dead. There were still many beautiful aspects along the way, even though a bit of hope may be lost, it was little things like this that brought a smile to your face. So you decided to wrap it up, bring back the things you’d collected along with picking one of the small flowers, putting it behind your ear for now to take back and put in your tent with the rest of your things. You had the idea of pressing it into one of the pages of a journal you kept.
You then found yourself slowly trailing back towards the site, almost dreadfully as you could predict what was coming next. You could practically hear it in the back of your mind like it was burned into your memory. Merle’s phantom voice echoed in your mind, knowing he would most likely call out to you the moment he noticed your presence reenter the space. But again, you reminded yourself to just try and be kind. It was the one thing you were best at.
Slowly but surely you made it past the treeline, and only about eight seconds passed before you heard a loud wolf whistle from your left along with the same booming laugh. Like he amused himself or something.
“There she is!” he called from the space in his and Daryl’s separate camp away from the others, “It’s weeping willow.” he smiled widely in hopes to get a reaction out of you.
You sighed as you sent him a small smile, “Still not my name Merle.” you reminded as you just tried to walk past him.
But it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy. He easily stepped in front of you to block your path, the smirk still plastered on his face. “Close enough.” he waved off, “Besides, I wanna see what you so kindly brought back for me.” he said before quickly snatching your basket out of your hands.
Your eyes slightly widened as you tried to grab it back, but he pulled it away faster. “Merle.” you huffed as you attempted to reach for it again, but he only moved it away quicker. Every move you made, he would make as well, purposefully keeping it from you as he started to walk backwards for you to follow.
Like dangling a damn carrot in front of your face.
Your frustration grew as you continued to follow and reach for it as he laughed, watching your attempts and fails. You could feel your cheeks beginning to heat up in embarrassment now, sensing Daryl’s eyes watching the interaction as he made a few bolts by the small fire they had set up. He sat there still, doing nothing as per usual as he watched the interaction unfold right in front of him.
“Merle, please. It’s for the group.” you tried as you reached for it again.
But he pulled it out of your reach as you stood face to face, “Well, I’m a part of that group ain’t I? I think I deserve this just as much as the next bastard. Unless of course you have a different opinion bout that…” he trailed off as his smirk grew.
You sighed, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. It’s for everyone.” you clarified kindly.
The man only laughed at you, and you quickly began to feel the familiar lump forming in your throat, trying desperately to swallow it down and not let your emotions escape. It was obvious you were sensitive, but also having to fight the same fight over and over again, it got old quicker than you would admit. You could hardly stand these interactions anymore without at least tearing up a little at his teasing and taunting.
Finally after having enough, you reached out quickly and managed to snatch the basket back from him in one quick motion, placing it on your arm as your brows furrowed a little in frustration. Merle’s eyes widened a bit at the fast unexpected action, before he started smirking all over again once he caught the expression on your face.
“Oooh look at that. I almost got ya to snap.” he poked as he swayed a little clumsily on his feet, most likely a little drunk or high would be your best guess.
Sighing to yourself again to calm down, you shook your head as you knew of his only goal, “I’m not snapping.” you stated calmly.
Though he clearly didn’t believe you, wanting to push you even more. His eyes traveled away from your eyes as he grinned wickedly, pointing to your ear. “What’s this lil thing?” he asked. Your eyes widened a little, but before you could even react, he quickly snatched it away all while pulling your hair a little in the process.
Your hand reached again, “Merle, come on, please.” you spoke desperately as you moved to keep up with him, before your frame accidentally stepped a little too far to the left.
In a fit of embarrassment and clumsiness, your foot accidentally knocked over a bucket that was sitting a little too close to the fire. The only problem was, Daryl’s freshly made bolts were sitting in there, now being engulfed in the flames. Your eyes widened in horror as you quickly scrambled back, watching Daryl instantly stand to his feet in an attempt to save what wasn’t ruined. But it was too late.
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed loudly as he bent down to pick up the bucket.
One of your hands came up to your mouth as you couldn’t believe what you had just done, freezing in place as you now didn’t know what to do. You knew you were in deep shit already, but when Merle suddenly paused just as you did, you knew you were royally fucked as the two of you just watched Daryl stare down at the fire motionlessly.
Eventually you found your voice, stepping forward a little to reach out to him, “Oh my God, Daryl I’m so sorry-”
But your words clearly didn’t mean a thing. He slapped your hand harshly away from him as his head snapped up to look at you, a fire of his own growing in his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with ya?!” he screamed.
You instantly flinched back at his sharp tone, the lump once again forming in your throat as you desperately tried to keep yourself together, “It was an accident-”
“Do ya even know how long it took me ta make those?” he asked angrily, not even bothering to wait for an answer. “Nah…course ya don’t. Cause you don’t do anything around here! Always just sittin in yer own little fairytale, smilin without a goddamn care in the world, when in reality you just fuckin ruin everything!”
His words cut through you like a knife. But not one that was sharp. One that was dull, just sawing back and forth relentlessly and hurting you even more than you could’ve ever imagined. Your eyes quickly filled with tears, not even knowing what to say as he was clearly about to blow up even more with how angry he grew.
He scoffed once he saw how speechless you became, “Just get the hell outta here.” he spat harshly as he got up closer to your face, aggressively pointing off into the trees.
Tears began to pour down your cheeks at the last of his words, not even wasting another second as you dropped the basket from your arms before taking off in the other direction in a flash. Your chest heaved as you moved quickly through the trees, not being able to get alone fast enough so you could finally let everything out. You almost couldn’t believe the things that just happened, how everything got so messed up after you swore you were making progress with the two of them. But you weren’t. And perhaps you never would, that being something you would just have to accept.
Though finally after feeling like you walked quickly for miles, you came to the clearing of the large quarry, slumping down near the water before you began to sob all by yourself. You let everything out, every built up emotion poured out of you like a rush of water. You could’ve sworn you cried so much that you could fill a quarry of your own, knowing that those emotions were really the only thing you were good at. Crying could be an olympic sport, and you would win first everytime given the chance.
But that thought only got you thinking more, making you stew over Daryl’s words. Maybe he was right. Anyone could say that it was the heat of the moment, his anger, insults just spilling out of his mouth that were simply not true. But in a way, you knew how true they were. You had to admit that you did feel useless as you hugged your knees to your chest, covering your face as you sobbed even more. You didn’t have useful skills like some of the others, not being able to prove yourself as you truly were weak when it came to a world like this. All you ever wanted to do was be kind, provide for the people you cared about most. But your outlook got ruined in an instant, quickly replaced with a new one that you would surely think about forever.
It was funny, you thought. You once heard Merle’s faint voice playing in your mind repeatedly, but now…you only heard Daryl’s. His insults, his harshness, it was something you never would’ve guessed or expected from him. But now you knew that you had just ruined everything, when all you wanted was to help.
You didn’t know how much time you spent alone, crying off and on to yourself the more you allowed your mind to run, but you could only assume it was a fairly long time. The sun was beginning to set in the sky, the little bit of light that was left shone over the water in front of you, making it sparkle as your tears continued to blur the scenery. You sniffled as you wiped your cheeks over and over again, wanting to pull yourself together enough to be able to show your face again back at camp. But the embarrassment was still weighing heavily, almost a crushing pressure.
But then all your attention was pulled to a shuffling noise coming from behind you, causing you to whip your head around in a panic to see where it came from. Though the sight was more surprising than you could’ve ever prepared yourself for. Daryl slowly emerged from the trees with a hesitant look on his face, and your eyes widened as you quickly turned your head back in the opposite direction. You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to understand why he had come out here. He had already done enough, he made his point crystal clear. You were just silently hoping he didn’t come out here to yell at you again.
Daryl on the other hand felt an immense amount of guilt. His chest tightened a little as he caught barely a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes and your tear stained cheeks, knowing he was the cause of it. He couldn’t describe how it made him feel, but all he knew was he was wishing he could take it all back if it meant not having to see you cry. His brother already caused you to break down enough, he didn’t want to be the cause of that too. And yet, he was.
The man slowly walked up to where you sat near the blue water, the rocks crunching beneath his boots louder and louder as he approached. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you just prayed he would go away, not wanting to interact with him after everything. But Daryl was stubborn, and he didn’t want you out here all night just because you were nervous to come back.
“Dinner’s almost ready.” he said a bit awkwardly, stopping just a few feet away from you. You heard him loud and clear, but you said nothing, not really in the mood to eat. Facing the group after they surely heard the scene that went down, it all sounded like a nightmare.
Daryl sighed heavily as you didn’t respond, you didn’t even look in his direction. Acting as if he wasn’t here at all. “Hey.” he called.
“...Why do you hate me?” you whispered, still not facing him as you spoke.
He almost questioned what you had said, but then it seemed to hit him all at once just how badly he had fucked up with all this. The one girl that showed him a kindness he had never seen, now thought he wanted nothing to do with her from the projected words he spat at her.
He let out a soft breath as he closed his eyes momentarily, stepping up a little closer, “I- I don’t…I don’t hate you.” he said quietly.
You didn’t react, so he managed to push himself a little further than what he was comfortable with. He moved to slowly sit down beside you, keeping some distance, yet he wanted you to know he was there. That he meant it. “I don’t hate you.” he said again.
“You act like it.” you were quick to say as you turned your head to look him in the eye, “I…I don’t even know what I did…” you said, your voice quiet and broken.
The man stared at you for a long moment, before slowly shaking his head, “Ya didn’t do nothin…it’s…it’s hard to explain. But I guess I never really understood…why yer so nice. Thought maybe ya just wanted somethin from me…I dunno.”
You shook your head a little in disbelief, “I’m nice because I care…that’s it.” you assured as you didn’t want him to think otherwise. But you supposed hearing his reasoning out loud made a little more sense, seeing as how you truly were the only one nice enough to show your kindness to the brothers. He was skeptical because no one had done that for them before, the thought nearly broke your heart.
A long moment of silence passed between the two of you, before you were the one to break it, “Listen…I’m so sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean to ruin what you worked so hard on, it was an accident.”
Though Daryl quickly shook his head, “Nah, don’t be. If anythin, I should be apologizin for what I said. I…I didn’t mean none of it…”
You stared at him with a soft expression, “But you were right…everything you said-”
“Everything I said was bullshit.” he said bluntly, looking at you with a seriousness in his eyes, “I say a lotta stupid shit I don’t mean when m’ angry, and this ain’t no different, ya hear me?”
“But it’s true.” you argued gently before looking back out into the water, “I don’t know how to help out…how to survive in a world like this. I always try to do what I can, but it’s never enough.”
Daryl paused as he saw the sadness behind your eyes, a sudden feeling overtaking him as he wanted to say or do something that would get you to smile again. “Hey, that ain’t true. Ya go out and scavenge, ya help cook the food that’s brought back…ya even helped stitch Glenn up when the dumbass hurt himself.”
His words caused a small laugh to escape your lips as you looked back over to him, “Well I knew he would somehow mess it up even more if he did it himself…I didn’t have a choice with that one.”
“Nah…ya did.” he said seriously, “Ya always have a choice, and I see ya puttin others before yerself all the time. That’s somethin ya should give yerself credit for.”
Your eyes softened the longer you looked at him, a small smile forming on your face just seeing how much he cared. Even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud just yet. “Thank you.” you said quietly.
Daryl felt his face grow a little hot as he ducked his head, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, “Yeah, no problem…” he muttered before it looked like he suddenly remembered something. “Oh, and uh…I brought ya this.” he said before revealing the hand that sat behind his back.
You looked down to see it was the same small flower that Merle took from you, sitting in the palm of his hand as he held it out to you. Your eyes widened a little as your small fingers delicately took it from his grasp. “You got it back?”
“Uh, no that one was all smushed by the end of…everythin. So I went and got ya a new one…hope that’s okay.” he explained a bit quietly.
Your smile grew as your eyes lit up at the simple kind gesture, one you would have never expected from him. “It’s perfectly okay…thank you.” you said sincerely, raising it up to place it behind your ear.
He nodded a bit awkwardly as he watched you for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip. “Alright, well come on.” he muttered as he stood back up to his feet, “Best be gettin back.” he spoke, hesitantly extending a hand out to help you up.
His actions surprised you a bit, but that didn’t stop you from taking his hand, letting him help you stand before the two of you slowly headed back through the woods. You half expected complete silence as you walked side by side with him, but he managed to keep a conversation with you as if he suddenly enjoyed your company. Though maybe he always did, he was just cautious as he didn’t always trust people as easily as you did. But you were growing more hopeful as he slowly came around, finding you had to be patient to see how much of a gentle person he really was.
From that day on, you and Daryl had slowly gotten more comfortable with each other. You wouldn’t really call it a friendship per se, but it was something the two of you very clearly cherished. But that wasn’t the only thing that seemed to change.
Merle’s attitude toward you seemed to have completely flipped from what you had grown accustomed to. He rarely ever spoke to you again after that day, and if he did it was always something short and simple, not an insult in sight. Though you were a little surprised, a part of you had a feeling who changed his mind about you.
~ Thanks for reading!
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Simmer #1
CH1. Home Style | The Menu
[3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.
Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.
In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.
The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.
The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.
—————
Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.
It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.
So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.
She smiled at you.
So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.
The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.
You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.
“You lost, kid?”
You were. Just a little.
“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”
You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.
“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”
“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”
The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”
The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.
“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”
The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”
It turned out Wayne was right.
You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.
Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.
The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.
No one came.
So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.
The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.
You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”
You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.
You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.
“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”
“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”
No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.
“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”
You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.
“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”
You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.
A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.
“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”
Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”
You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”
The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”
You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.
“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”
The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”
You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”
The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.
“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”
—————
Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.
Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.
Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.
The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.
“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”
You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”
“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”
The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.
Librarian's assistant.
Barista. For two weeks.
Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.
“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”
Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.
“You ever worked a kitchen?”
You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”
“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”
Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”
“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”
“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”
Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”
You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”
Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”
You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.
“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”
The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”
#Eddie munson#eddie munson x you#Eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#Eddie munson fanfic#Eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#Eddie munson oneshot#Eddie munson imagine#linecook!eddie
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❛THE WEEKEND❜ ( j. sungchan )
p. bestfriendsbrother!sungchan x fem!reader w. 3.6k+
— 𖦹 warnings. sungchan is lowkey obsessed with reader even tho he just met her, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink
— 𖦹 (you didn't intend on meeting your best friends brother, let alone fucking him, but hey it's the weekend ) !
“Hey how about we have a sleepover this weekend?”
You turned to your new friend who sat next to you; it had only been a few months since you started at your new school — not many people were welcoming to you because it was in the middle of the school year; everyone had made their respective friend groups and your shy nature made it hard for you to even make friends.
Then came jung soojin; your saving grace— she was a relatively popular girl who approached you first offering a seat to you; then sitting next to you at lunch, and then as the days went by your friendship blossomed. she’d been over your house multiple times, but you’d never been to her house. “th-this weekend?”
She shrugged, the teachers voice playing in the background. “yeah, it’ll be fun, we can watch a bunch of movies and eat a ton of snacks.” She smiled, you thought about it for a second. “okay sure.” She nodded. “great, we can head over to your house after school and get your clothes, and then head over to mines.” She explained. “okay.” You both turned back to the board, excited for the weekend to come.
After the bell rang; she dragged you to her car, driving over to your house — your parents were always happy to see her, chatting her up while you grabbed the things you need for the next three days, running back down the stairs before they could embarrass you. “that’s enough mom.” You grabbed soojins hand. “we have to go.”
“okay, well you girls have fun, i’ll see you sunday.” You waved, dragging her back out. “I love your mother.” Soojin started the car, you rolled your eyes. “yeah because she’s not spreading your business too people.” She laughed, driving off in the direction of her house.
“Shit.” She cursed pulling into the driveway. “he wasn’t supposed to be here.” She whispered. “who?” you questioned. “my brother, he's home from college, he wasn’t supposed to be here until next weekend.” She frowned. “im sorry.” You’ve heard of her brother once or twice; but this was the first time you’d be meeting him. “it’s okay.” You smiled. “we can still have fun right?” she nodded. “of course, he probably won’t even bother us.”
You both got out of the car, making your way up to her door, opening it and walking in, taking your shoes off at the front. “lets go to the kitchen first and the head up to my room.” You nodded, following behind her, looking at all the pictures they had hanging up. “you have a nice house.”
“thank you.” She held a bunch of snacks in her hand, handing them you so she could grab some more. “you think we’ll be enough to last until dinner?” you chuckled. “im almost certain it will.” She sheepishly smile. “Jesus, other people live here you know.” A deep voice shocked you, making you jump a little. “you’re taking all the good snacks.”
“you’re not even supposed to be here today.” You friend said. “I came home early to surprise our parents.” You turned to face the attractive voice — being met with an equally attractive face. “they aren’t here, they went to a wedding for the weekend, yn is gonna spend the night.”
He shifted focus to you, he was probably the most gorgeous man you’ve even seen, perfectly good symmetrical face, his hair fitting for his face— and he was tall, making you feel small; he made you feel nervous and you didn’t even know his name. “this sungchan.” Your friend said. “my annoying older brother.” You smiled. “h-hi.”
Sungchan took a look at you, eyes scanning you up and down — you hands full of snacks, looking up at him with doe eyes; you nervously rocked on your feet; you were cute. “hello yn.” You liked the way he said your name, it gave you butterflies. “we’re going to my room, so we won’t bother you.” Soojin said. “so don’t bother us.” She warned.
“Why would I do that?” he scoffed. “shotaro is coming over later to play basketball, we’re gonna order pizza if you want to eat.” You watched your friend’s eyes light up. “He is?” You just knew you had to ask her about it. “I’ve told you he doesn’t like you.” She scoffed. “how do you know?” she said. “he has a girlfriend.” He pushed past her, you watched them bickering as he filled up a cup filled with water. “okay , im done, you’re boring.” He said. “great didn’t want to talk to you anymore either.”
“Good.” He approached you, his body towering over yours. “leave her alone.” Soojin said. “can I have those?” he pointed to the bag of chips in your hand. “h-huh?” you were too lost in his eyes, he smirked; you were so cute. “these are the last bag and they’re my favorite, can I have them?” you held the chips out, handing it to him. “h-here.” He smiled taking the chips. “now go.” Soojin said. “nice meeting you yn.” He walked back up the stairs. “my gosh he’s so annoying.” She rolled her eyes.
“He’s okay.” You said. “please, you don’t know him, get to know him more, and you’ll be tired of him.” She guided you up the steps to her room — looking down the hall, seeing a quick glance of his back as he walked into his room, soojin pulling you into her.
“He’s so cute isn’t he?” soojin looked out her bedroom window; where sungchan and his friend played basketball in the front of their house. “and look at his abs.” you got up, looking out the window— both of them were out there, shirtless; but you only paid attention to sungchan, his toned six back, dripping in sweat as they played. “him and my brother have been friends since forever.” You nodded, not really paying attention, unable to keep your eyes off the older boy.
You were so focused on him, you didn’t even realize he was also staring back at you until you heard soojins voice, pulling you back to reality. “He’s looking up here, oh my god he’s so fucking fine.” You laughed at your friend, silently thanking god that she was too busy lusting over her brothers friend; to notice you lusting over her brother.
You heard the door shut, your friend jumping up. “let go downstairs so I can see him.” She pulled you up, dragging you down the stairs. “be calm he’s not here.” Your breath got caught in your throat, he was glistening with sweat. “he went to go pick up the pizza.” Your friends smile dropped. “ah! so annoying.” He heard your little giggle, turning to you — you were no longer wearing the sweater, giving him a full view of your white blouse that was unbuttoned, a sliver of pink from your bra peeking through the shirt, making him want to unbutton your shirt and get a full view. “when will he be back?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know, I also told him to stop by the market and get some beers and chips.” He said. “but i think he’ll be around an hour, might want to go fix that ugly face and outfit if you want his attention, im gonna shower. She slapped his chest as he walked upstairs. “asshole.”
“I have to go shower, yn make yourself a home.” She chirped. “we’re gonna eat out here with them.” She winked , running back up the stairs, leaving you in the kitchen. “she’s never ran that fast as long as I’ve known her.” You laughed to yourself, making your way into the living room.
15 minutes later; you saw sungchan walking back down the steps, shirt cut so you could see his rib cage — and a peek of his abs if you looked hard enough, and a pair of basketball shorts. “she’s still in the shower?” he asked, you nodded. He didn’t say anything, walking into the kitchen you turned to your hand, picking at your nails. “here.”
You looked up, he was now standing in front of you, a soda in his hands. “oh thank you.” He watched you open it, taking a sip, the red liquid falling past your lip, dripping down your chin. He chuckled to himself, sitting down right next to you. “so messy.” He said to himself.
“h-huh?” you asked, eyes wide open at how close he was. “you made a mess.” He said, your face was hot, you wipe your chin, sitting the soda down — he stared down at your thighs, watching you nervously picking at your skirt. “sorry.” He laughed, opening his water bottle. “no need to apologize.” You stared at his neck, watching his adams apple move as he drank the water, letting out a sigh, that sent your body off.
“So you must be new.” He said. “I know all my sister’s friends.” You nodded. “I-I moved here a few months ago.” God you were so cute; back at his university he was popular amongst the girls, going back to his shared apartment with shotaro, but none of them were like you — cute and nervous, so small and ready for him to ravish. “your sister was the only one to talk to me on my first day.” He listened to you talk. “she’s been a good friend to me.”
“I’m glad; if she hadn’t the I would’ve never gotten to meet you.” He said, you eyes jump to him, back to your knees. “so cute.” He said, you felt his hand come to your chin, lifting your head up to face him. “So shy cant even look me in the eye.” He chuckled. “I make you that nervous baby?”
You wanted to speak, but you were still stuck on the nickname that you couldn’t even focus, until you felt his hand caressing your cheek. “it’s okay baby I don’t bite.” He smirked. “I saw you looking at me earlier, you almost started drooling.” He teased. “I was looking at you too.” His thumb ran across your bottom lip, you let out a low whimper. “you sound so pretty just now.” He hummed. “I wonder what other noises I can get out of you.”
He was so close you could smell the scent of his shampoo and body wash flooding your nostrils; his arms trapping you, your eyes quickly flickering to his lips. “you want a kiss pretty girl?” you bit your lip, shyly nodding. “well then come get it.” He whispered. “wh-what?” he chuckled. “you want to kiss me right? So kiss me.” He watched your face get closer and closer to his, until he could feel your lips on his.
It was a quick peck, he almost laughed. “not like that.” He cradled your cheek, pulling you into a deeper kiss; you let him take charge, pulling you closer. His hand moved from your face, to your thigh, his hand inching up your skirt, you whimpered against his lips, he smirked pulling away. “keep making those noises pretty baby and your friend is gonna walk in on me doing something to your pretty body.” You could feel his lips on your neck, you let out a small moan. “su-sungchan.”
Fuck you sound so pretty moaning his name into his ear, his shirt balled up in your shaking hands; his cock begging to be freed — he knew he didn’t have more time, hearing the bathroom door open, the front door rattling open. “shit.” He pulled always, pulling your skirt down. “I got pizza!” shotaro entered the house, looking at the both of you. “am i — shotaro!”
You thanked the man above as your friend ran down the steps; distracting the man. “soojin , hey.” He smiled at the girl, you watched them interact. ‘he definitely likes her’ sungchan was too busy looking at you, your shirt was unbuttoned more, you’re a little ruffled; his hard cock jumping; you looked so ready to be fucked. “lets eat!” shotaro called out. “I’ll go get some plates.” Your friend said. “I’ll come too.” Shotaro following behind. “he definitely likes her.”
Sungchan quickly moved next to you, his hands on your chest, buttoning up your shirt. “you look so obvious baby.” He smiled, patting your hair down. “so cute.” He pulled away, leaving you breathless once again as soojin shotaro returned. “shotaro this is yn, my friend who just moved here.” You waved. “it’s nice to meet you.” Shotaro looked at the scene in front of him; shaking his head. “it’s nice to meet you yn.” You friend jumped. “oh yn, let’s go get some drinks from the kitchen.” You nodded, following behind her.
“She’s cute.” Sungchan turned to his friend. “nothing like your sister other friends, is that what you find attractive?” sungchan scoffed throwing a pillow at him. “please don’t act like I don’t see you flirting with my little sister.” He shrugged. “touché.”
You all sat around eating the pizza and talking; you watched your friend and shotaro flirt back and forth; occasionally turning back to sungchan who was already looking at you like he was ready to pounce on his, his presence making heat boil up in your stomach— your hands were so shaky, spilling some of your soda on your legs. “oh! yn you okay?” you nodded, sungchan reached over, grabbing a napkin. “here.” He patted your skirt, cleaning your legs, his hands lingering a little too long for your poor heart.
“look at you , trying to be a gentleman.” Soojin said. “too bad you’re actually a ogre under that.” You giggle, taking the tissue from his hand. “thank you.” He nodded, moving his hands from your legs. “I actually have to go soon, I have to help my mother out tomorrow.” shotaro said. “and it’s getting late and she’s a early bird.”
“I’ll come back soon.” He stood up. “let me walk you to your car.” Your friend said, he nodded. “nice to meet you yn.” You wave. “could you help put the trash away?” you could see your friend begging with her eyes. “yeah, i’ll help.” He picked up the empty pizza boxes, you grabbed the cans following behind him as your friend left out the door.
You threw the trash away, ready to walk back upstairs to wait for your friend so you could get ready for bed — but you were stopped by sungchan pulling back against him, you could feel his hard on against your ass. “you feel that?” he sighed. “you feel how much I want you pretty baby?” you pushed back against him, he groaned stopping you by grabbing your hips. “not right here fuck.” He was truly loosing the war. “when she goes to bed.” He pulled away, ready to feel your warmth again — what were you doing to him?
You could still feel him on you; smell his scent on your skin, even after you were showered and in your pajama — you could hear him groaning how much he wanted you as you listening to your friend go on and on about the kiss she shared outside with shotaro. “I felt butterflies.” You smiled watching her dopey smile. “he was so soft and sweet, it was perfect.”
“I knew he liked you, the moment you came down the steps.” You said watching her giggle, looking down at her phone. “he just text me good night, look!” you nodded. “has he asked you on a date yet?” she hummed. “next weekend.” She squealed, her face getting serious. “but enough of that, this is our weekend, time for us to have some girl time, I have face masks, nail polish and gems.” She said. “and a few movie and of course snacks.”
Many movies and snacks later; face masks washed off and your freshly painted pink nails, soojin was knocked out cold beside you; phone in her hand, you could still see the messages against her and shotaro. You pulled the blanket over her body, slowly making your way out the room, and down the hall to the bathroom.
You reached for the handle, but it was already open, you stepped back, revealing the boy who you longed for — his chest fully exposed, your eyes traveling down to his abs. “h-hi.”
He looked down at you outfit; his cock hardening once again in his basketball shorts, a big shirt eating your small frame straight up, coming down to your knees — it wasn’t his but he fucking wish it was, wanting to see you in his clothes as he fucked you. “nice pajamas pretty girl.” He smirked. “i’ll let you do what you need to do.” He moved to the side, letting you into the bathroom, closing the door.
You did what you needed to do; brushing your teeth, spitting into the sink, before making your way out of the bathroom. “where you goin?” you felt him coming up behind you. “she sleep?” you nodded, breathing heavily as you felt him feeling up your body. “good, cause im not going any longer without your pretty little body on mines.”
He took you by the hand, guiding you to his room, letting you in, closing the door behind him; turning to you, the lamp from his bedside giving you a good look at his darkening eyes. “been hard ever since earlier.” His hands came up to your face. “you’re so fucking cute baby.” He pulled you into a messy kiss; grabbing at your shirt, pulling away from you. “lift your arms up.” He breathed.
You slowly put your arms up, letting him pull the shirt over your head, throwing it to the floor, the cold air on your nipples, making them pebble up. “so cute.” He back you against the wall. “su-sungchan.” You moaned as he pinched your nipples. “keep making those noises for me.” He placed a kiss on your chest. “I wanna hear them all.”
Kissing down your stomach, he stopped at your pajama shorts, pulling them and your panties down in one go, also dropping down to his knees, your back arching off the wall. “such a tiny pussy baby.” He pushed your legs apart. “need to taste you.” You gasped out as you felt his breath on your heat. “su-su— oh my god.” You moaned out as licked a fat strip on your clit. “so good pretty.” You bawled your fist up, desperate to grab a hold of something.
He grabbed your hands without stopping his assault with his tongue, putting it in his hair, giving you leverage. “sh-shit sungchan.” You tugged at his hair, whining. “gonna cum.” His nosed brushed against your clit, humming against your cunt setting your orgasm off, grinding against his face as you came, legs shaking. “good girl.” He pulled away, kissing your cunt. “came so much for me.”
He stood up; now towering over you, making you feel small. “you want my cock pretty baby?” you nodded. “words baby, I want to hear you say it.” you whined. “ne-need you sungchan.” He that’s all he needed, to lift your body up like it was nothing holding you . “fuck you’re so adorable.” He pushed his shorts down to the ground. “need to feel you on my cock.” He grabbed the base of his length, his read leaky tip kissing your entrance. “gonna stretch this tiny cunt.”
You winced feeling his cock protruding your hole, both of your moan as he mounted you down on his cock. “fuck you’re so tight.” He groaned. “your tiny pussy barely taking my cock.” You moaned out. “so-so full.”
He moved his hips up, fucking you. “I knew I needed to fuck you the moment you walked through those doors.” He moaned. “so tiny, so cute.” He kissed your chest. “needed to see you struggling to my cock.”
He felt so addicted to you already, he knew this wouldn’t be the only time; shit the way you felt around his cock he probably would be able to have sex with another girl without thinking of you. “sh-shit pretty girl im gonna cum.” He groaned. “wanna feel my cum filling you up.” He flicked your nipples. “need to breed this pussy.”
“pl-please.” You whimpered into his ear, tears streaming down your face. “please come inside me.” He kissed your tear stained cheeks, his cock twitching inside you. “cum with me.” He sped up his movements, you came for the second time, feeling his cum entering you cunt. “fu-fuck take it all for me.”
His lips pressed against yours, as he held you in his arms, moving to his bed, laying you on your back — slowly pulling out, watching the cum leak from your puffy cunt. “so pretty, tiny pussy can’t keep all my cum inside.”
He wiped you down, cleaning you up, whispered sweet nothing as he got you dressed. “so, so pretty baby.” he kissed your lips softly— giving that this was your first day meeting him, you felt more loved by him than you did with your ex who you gave your virginity to.
“i don’t think this can be a one time thing.” Sungchan said, laying in bed next to you. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” You sat up, he followed sitting up on his elbows. “well you have to go back to university.” You said. “I know.” He frowned. “but we can still talk all the time, and it’s not like I won’t be here for the summer.” You said. “but summer is a while away.”
You nodded. “yeah, but we can still talk.” You smiled. “and we still have the weekend left.” You said. “let’s just have the weekend” He grabbed your hand, kissing it.
He'd figure it out before he went back to college cause he knew he couldn’t just have the weekend.
©️LUVYENI
#kpop x reader#kpop smut#riize smut#riize x reader#riize imagines#riize hard hours#riize hard thoughts#riize x imagine#riize fanfic#sungchan hard thoughts#sungchan hard hours#sungchan x reader#sungchan smut#sungchan fanfic
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