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waitimcomingtoo · 5 months

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A Film By Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter gets back into making little videos once the two of you start hanging out

warning: extreme 2017 homecoming era nostalgia

Masterlist

Of course he went for Liz.

Liz was the ingénue. She was perfect in every possible way. Perfect grades, perfect face, and the perfect boy pining after her. You’d been crushing on Peter since the third grade but with Liz around, he never noticed you.

But Liz was gone now. She had moved to Oregon following her dad’s arrest and taken Peter’s feelings for her with her. Now that she was gone, you decided it was time to stop pining after Peter from afar and start pining from up close. And so, when you walked into the cafeteria that day, you didn’t sit at the end of the table like you usually did.

“Oh, hey.” Peter smiled in surprise when you sat down next to him. Smiling was good. Smiling meant he wasn’t creeped out by you sitting so close. You gulped before giving him best smile back.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, making Peter give him a look. You immediately regretted your decision and wished you’d just stayed in your usual spot.

“What do you mean? She always sits with us.” Peter pointed out.

“No, she always sits down there. She’s never actually sat with us before.” Ned replied and gestured to the end of the lunch table.

“Yes, but I’m sitting here today because I needed Peters help with the chemistry homework.” You said and put your chemistry notebook on the table. You knew you couldn’t just randomly sit with them without a reason, so you came prepared.

“Oh, for Mr. Eddie’s class? It’s easy. I’ll show you my notes.” Peter’s offered with a smile. You returned the smile as he pulled out his own notebook. It was a win/win for you since you actually needed help with the homework and it would start a conversation with Peter. While he was explaining the problem to you, you never once looked down at the notebook. You were too focused on the curve of Peter’s suspiciously long eyelashes, the longest you’d ever seen on a boy. Ned noticed the way you were staring his his best friend and frowned a little.

“Does that make sense?” Peter’s asked when he was done explaining.

“Yeah, it does. Wow, thanks Peter. It sounds so easy the way you explain it. I wish this stuff came as naturally to me as it does for you. You’re so smart.” You said as if you had listened to a single word he had said.

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m really not that smart. I just like chemistry.” He replied as he blushed from the compliment.

“Oh, come on. You’re the smartest guy I know. You’re the only one that answers questions in that class. And you always get them right. When Mr. Eddie asks if anyone has any questions, I don’t raise my hand because I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.”

“That’s I feel in English. I can barely make it through the first line in a poem and you’re already going back and forth with Ms. Teague about Pindaric odes or whatever they’re called.”

“You listen to when I talk in English?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Of course I do.” Peter shrugged. “I always find the reading boring until you raise your hand and talk about how you interpreted it. You make it interesting.”

“I liked that book we read when the kids ate the other kids.” Ned said and interrupted the moment. Your smile dropped as you and Peter looked at him with disgust.

“The one with the flies-“

“We know.” Peter cut him off.

“Anyways, thank you for helping me with the homework. I’ve been stuck on it all week.” You said to Peter.

“Ugh. That’s been me with my paper for Mrs. Teagues class. And it’s due tomorrow.” Peter groaned.

“Oh, the analysis essay? I could help you with that.” You offered.

“Really? You’d help me?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. I already wrote mine. It would be no problem.”

Ned was watching this back and forth conversation for a while until it clicked it in head. He gasped and slapped the table, making you and Peter look at him.

“Oh my God.” Ned said. “That’s why you’re sitting here. You have a-“

“Can I talk to you for a second, Ned?” You quickly cut him off when you realized where that sentence was going. Before Ned could even answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him outside the cafeteria to talk in private.

“You like Peter!” Ned whispered harshly. You clamped your hand over his mouth and pushed him up against the wall.

“You need to keep your mouth shut.” You hissed. “Yes, I like Peter, okay? I’ve had a crush on Peter since middle school. He never noticed me when Liz was around but now that she’s in Oregon, I might finally have my chance. I don’t want to scare him off so just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this.”

You took your hand off Ned’s mouth and he started to gasp for air.

“Oh, please. Your nose wasn’t covered. You could breathe just fine.” You said with a roll of your eyes. Ned stopped pretended and straightened up.

“So you actually like Peter? For his personality?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Ned admitted.

“I like everything about him. And I’m gonna tell him that. Just please, don’t say anything before I do. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“Are you going to cast a love spell on him using a lock of his hair?” Ned whispered to you.

“What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because you’re a witch.” Ned said like it was obvious.

“I’m not a witch.” You groaned. “I just accidentally cackled that one time but it was only because I had phlegm in my throat.”

“Then about that time on the bus?”

“We’ve been over this. It was just a coincidence that that biker fell off his bike after I gestured with my hand. I didn’t move him with my mind.”

“And that one time in physics?” Ned narrowed his eyes.

“I still don’t know how that guys shirt caught on fire.” You shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me.”

“It caught on fire after he made fun of you for being a witch.” Ned pointed out.

“Maybe he was just standing too close to the flame.” You shrugged.

“He was standing in the doorway. There was no flame.” Ned reminded you.

“The magic of science.” You shrugged again.

“But what about that time-“

“Don’t bring up the nosebleed.” You whined.

“I am gonna bring up the nosebleed.” Ned hissed. “In sixth grade, our Spanish teacher got a nosebleed right after he told you to stop staring out the window and made everyone laugh at you. How do you explain that?”

“You’ve made your point, okay? Now are you gonna tell Peter or not?”

“Look, I’m not gonna expose your gross secret feelings, as gross and secret as they may be.” Ned sighed. “But Peter is still my best friend so I have to look out for him. I don’t want any spells cast on him.”

“That’s fine. There will not be any spells.” You held your your hands in defense. Just then, Flash walked by and laughed when he saw the two of you talking.

“Woah. What is this, the friendless loser convention?” Flash snorted.

“Shut up.” You snapped. Flash immediately tripped over his feet and fell to the ground, making Ned look at you with wide eyes.

“Witch!” He whispered harshly as he pointed a finger at you.

“Shut up. Let’s go back inside.” You rolled your eyes and pulled Ned back into the cafeteria.

Later that day, you met up with Peter in the library to go over your assignments. You started with his English essay and finished that within an hour before moving on to your chemistry homework.

“You can plug the numbers into your formula now using the method I taught you. And then you just solve for x.” Peter explained as you worked out a problem together.

“Hm. You make it sound so simple.” You sighed and leaned on your hand. Peter saw the way you were staring at him in his peripheral vision and felt his face heat up.

“It’s, uh, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I never liked the way Mr. Eddie taught it. I figured this out myself and it’s worked much better for me.”

“Thanks for helping me. You’re a good teacher.” You said and put your hand on his arm. Peter laughed shyly at the contact and cleared his throat.

“Thanks. And so are you. That was the best essay I’ve ever produced. I honestly worry she won’t believe I wrote it.”

“Well if she says anything, I can vouch for you. You put in good work on this essay. You deserve the credit.” You assured him, making Peter blush all over again. It occurred to Peter that he never realized how pretty you were. You’d been classmates since 3rd grade so he always looked at you as just another girl in his class. Now that you had his full attention, he didn’t feel like looking away.

“Thanks. I appreciate you helping me write it. I know it can be frustrating to work with me because of my dyslexia.”

“It’s no problem. And it wasn’t frustrating at all.” You shrugged. Peter smiled at felt better about how long it took him to write the essay.

“Thanks.” He said. You had successfully gotten him to spend time with you one on one but now you needed to commence the next phase in your plan which was to hang out in a non school related setting.

“Would you ever want to hang out socially?” You blurted.

“Like, and not do homework?” He asked. You nodded your head and he smiled before nodding as well.

“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”

“Cool. Me too.” You smiled. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but it worked nonetheless.

“Does this weekend work?” He asked you.

“Yeah. What do you want to do?”

Hard cut to that weekend. You were on the subway with Peter and he had his phone out to record himself.

“Firts social hang out with a girl. A film by Peter Parker.” He said in a low voice before flipping the camera to face you.

“Staring me.” You smiled and waved to the camera.

“Are you sure you’re cool with me filming this?” Peter asked as he flipped the camera back to himself.

“Yeah, of course. The other ones you showed me were so cute. But why did it seem like there were so many missing parts? You were always talking about something cool that I didn’t get to see.”

“Uhhh, no reason.” Peter said and looked to the side. He had skillfully edited out any incriminating superhero activity that you were not ready to see yet.

“Well I like it. I feel like I’m on Modern Family.” You said and posed for the camera.

“Which family member would you be?” Peter laughed and zoomed in on you. With his phone blocking his face, he could shamelessly admire your face on his screen.

“Duh. Lily.”

“I can so see that.” He chuckled. The subway lurched suddenly and you both grabbed onto the pole, coincidentally putting your hands in top of each others.

“Oh, sorry. Our hands touched.” You laughed shyly.

“Oh my God. So romantic.” Peter joked, making you blush and look into his camera.

“Stop it.” You laughed and covered his phone with your hand. He laughed as well and put his phone away.

After learn you had never been, Peter decided to the Lego Store. He’d been hyping it up to you all week over text and now that it was finally happening, he hoped it impressed you. You walked in together and Peter heard you gasp.

“Big Lego Aladdin.” You gasped and ran to stand under the giant magic carpet and Aladdin made of Legos.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that string of words come out of someone’s mouth.” Peter laughed and went to stand under it with you. You looked over at him and were surprised to see he was already looking at you.

“This is even better than you described it. You need to show me everything.” You said and excitedly shook his arm.

“I can do that.” He blushed and nodded his head towards some of the sets.

Peter took out his phone to film you as you looked at everything in the store. The way you were looking around like a little kid brought a smile to Peter’s face. He zoomed in on you and caught himself staring at you fondly through the camera.

“Come on. I haven’t even showed you the coolest part yet.” Peter said and brought you over to the build your figure own station. He laughed when you gasped again and started to excitedly rummage through all the pieces. Peter didn’t bring his phone out again until you had built each other.

“Show me what you made.” He laughed from the other side of the phone.

“Looks! It’s a little Peter. He has a backpack and a beaker.” You said as you proudly showed the camera the little Peter figure you had made.

“This is Y/n. I can’t believe I found the shoes you always wear.” He said as he filmed the figure he had made of you.

“You notice my shoes?” You asked with a smile. Peter didn’t catch it because he was too busy fitting the hands of your Lego figures together.

“Look. They’re holding hands.” Peter gasped.

“Aw.” You laughed. “Us on the subway.”

“We should give them some privacy. They might not want us to hard launch their relationship.” Peter said and put his phone away.

“You’re so cute.” You laughed without thinking about it. Peter looked up at you with rosy cheeks and you gulped when you realized what you said.

“I mean-“

“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He cut you off before you could explain. He brought you to Delmar’s and ordered his usual for you to split. You sat together inside and you tried your best to remain calm. You always wondered what Peter got up to when he wasn’t at school and now you were in one of his favorite places and eating with him.

“Okay, this is Y/n’s first time eating at Delmars since he reopened. Let’s get her reaction.” Peter said as he filmed you unwrapping the sandwich.

“Wait, why is it so flat?” You laughed and held the sandwich up.

“Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to warn you that he always squishes it for me. But you’ll like it. Trust me. It’s much better when it’s squished down real flat.”

“Well I’m glad I now know you like your sandwiches to be squished. I would not have expected that about you.” You said and took a bite of your half before giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked hopefully.

“I do. Your squishy sandwich was surprisingly good.” You admitted.

“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that.” Peter smiled and phone away. “So to make it even, you have to show me one of your favorite places next time we hang out.”

“Oh.” You smiled coyly. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time.”

“There better be. I had a lot of fun with you today. How come we’ve never hung out before?”

“I don’t know. I always wanted to but you were busy running around with Ned or staring at…” You trailed off and chose not to mention Liz in case he was still hung up on her.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re friends now.” You said instead.

“Me too. I’ve never had a girl friend.”

“What was that?” You said and started choking on your saliva.

“All my friends in my life were guys. It’ll be nice to have a female influence in my life.”

“Oh. Girl friend.” You smiled tightly.

You hung out another hour before taking the subway back to your respective apartments. Peter walked to you the front doors of you building and you had an awkward moment where you didn’t know if you should hug or not.

“We uh, we should probably get an ending for your film.” You said with a timid smile.

“Oh, right. Thats a great idea.” Peter smiled and pulled out his phone. He pressed record and you waved to the camera with both hands.

“So, can you give our first time hanging out a rating?” He asked you.

“9/10.” You grinned and held up two thumbs.

“What? Why’d I only get a 9?” Peter scoffed and pretended to be offended.

“I had a 10/10 time but I have to deduct a point because we saw that guy cutting his hair on the subway and I was scared he was gonna throw the scissors at us.”

“Well I would’ve just protected you with my lightning fast reflexes.” Peter said simply. You smiled at him through the phone and he smiled back. He put the camera down and looked at you with a content smile on his face.

“Seriously, though. When’s the next time we’re hanging out?”

It ended up being just a few days later. And then again a few days after that.

“Peter’s first time!” You cheered as you filmed him during one of your hang outs.

“Trying boba.” He clarified. “I don’t understand this drink. Do I eat the balls?”

“Yes. Sip it slowly so they don’t all go down your throat.” You instructed. Peter took a big sip and immediately started choking.

“Peter! I said slowly!” You said as you slapped his back until he stopped choking. You quickly put the camera down to help him recover.

Your hangouts started getting more and more frequent and Peter soon considered you a best friend. Your weekends became each others and school days were often spent together in the library or at one of your apartments. You were quickly moving up the ranks in Peter’s life, just as you hoped. And the closer you got, the more Peter could not believe he had never noticed you before.

Little did you know, Peter often found himself watching the footage he had taken of you during your hang outs with a big smile on his face. He’d rewatch the videos he had taken and realize that they were slowly becoming less of a documentary and more of a highlight reel for you. He never imagined a girl as cool as you would for him so when he realized he was starting to fall for you, he quickly repressed his feelings. Little did he know, the feelings were mutual.

“Did you always make these little videos?” You asked Peter one day as he filmed you trying to balance on the curb of the sidewalk.

“I used too make them all the time but I hadn’t for awhile. I only started them again when we started hanging out.”

“Really? Why?” You wondered and stumbled off the curb.

“I don’t know. You remind me of the time before my life got crazy. It made me want to do these again.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help but smile at that information and turned around to look at him.

“So I could be the star?” You asked and posed for the camera.

“Exactly. You’re my muse.” He played along, making you laughed shyly. When he watched the video back later that night, he knew he had meant every word of that.

Peter sat in his bedroom one day and filmed himself wearing your glasses while you did homework at his desk. He looked over you every now and then just to admire the back of your head.

“Don’t break those.” You called without looking up. All you needed to hear was the sound of your glasses case opening to know what he was doing.

“I’m not even wearing your glasses.” He lied and admired himself in the camera.

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not. But yes, I am.”

“Knew it.” You snorted.

“Hey, how come girls always smell so good?” Peter wondered. “Your hair hit me in the face when you turned too fast before it smelled like a baby in a damn meadow.”

“It’s just my womanly essence. Now can you stop looking at yourself long enough to help me with my chemistry homework?”

“It’ll be hard but I can try.” Peter dramatically sighed and set his phone down. You got yo from the desk and went over to the bed with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Incoming.” You announced and patted your elbow twice like a wrestler.

“No, don’t.” He pleaded. You ignored his pleas and jumped on top of him. He groaned and pushed you off, leaving you laying in the bed beside him.

“Ow. My ribs.”

“You’ll heal.” You rolled your eyes. “Now can you help me with number 7?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Can you check this email before I send it?” He asked and handed over his laptop. You handed him your worksheet before reading over his email draft.

“Oh, honey.” You grimaced just a few words into the email.

“Is it bad?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Howard. I hope this email finds you well. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I was just wondering if I could possibly have an extension on my midterm paper? No worries at all if an extension is not possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this email may have caused. Thank you for reading, Peter Parker.” You read out loud.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“After your name, you included the name of the class, the time you have it, and a description of yourself. She knows who you are!” You laughed and turned the laptop around to show him his mistakes.

“She may have forgotten.” He pointed out. “I can’t take any chances.”

“Peter, this email is way too submissive. You sound like such a bottom.”

“Well excuse me, genius.” He said sarcastically. “How would you write it?”

“Here.” You said and handed the laptop back after retyping his email.

“Oh, wow. That’s actually really good.” He said once he read your updated version.

“This is why we are such good friends. You have all the math and science knowledge in this little, beautiful head of yours-“

“Little?” He interrupted.

“You’re right. Sorry, I was just being nice. What I meant to say is that your head is huge.” You corrected. “Anyways, you have the math brain and I have the literary brain. It’s like you’re Einstein and I’m Victor Hugo.”

“Who the hell is that?” He laughed as he peaked at your mirror to see if his head was actually huge.

“The guy who wrote Les Mis.” You said like it was obvious.

“Never heard of it.”

“What? You’ve never seen Les Misérables?” You asked in a thick French accent.

“Huh?”

“We have to watch it. It’s so good.” You said and snatched his laptop back. You pulled up the movie and handed it back to him.

“Oh my God. It’s two hours and 38 minutes long? And a musical? Hell no.” Peter shook his head and pushed the laptop away.

“But it’s so good.” You urged. “We can just leave it on in the background while we work. It’s super light and easy to watch.”

“Really? What’s it about?”

“Oh, you know. Just war torn France.” You mumbled.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But you’ll like it! There’s prostitution and con men and um…oh! And orphans! You can watch it and feel represented.” You said and shook his arm.

“I hate you.” He laughed but nearly gave in to your request just to see you happy.

“Fine.” You huffed. “I finished editing your midterm paper, by the way. You don’t actually have to send that email.”

“And here is your completed chemistry homework.” Peter smiled and handed your worksheet back.

“Aw.” You gushed. “Look at us. I love cheating with you.”

“So do I. We make a great pairing.” He chuckled as he looked over at you. You looked back at him and gulped. You hadn’t realized how close you were with your arms and legs pressed against each other as you sat together in your bed. Peter knew his sheets would smell like your perfume that night and smiled at the thought.

“Now that we’re all done with our work, you know what we should do?” He asked as he moved in closer.

“W-what should we do?” You stuttered now that he was right there.

“You know what I’ve been dying to do with you for a long, long time?” He asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. What?” You laughed nervously. Peter moved in even closer and right when you thought he was gonna kiss you, he reached over and grabbed his laptop back.

“I wanted to show you a real musical. Not this French miserable bull crap. Have you ever seen a little movie called Hair-“

“No. I’m not watching Hairspray with you again. You scream-sang every lyric last time and I couldn’t even hear it.” You cut him off and reached over home to take the laptop back. He pulled it away at the last second and you ended up on top of him. You looked into each others eyes and both froze in the positions you were in. Your faces were almost touching but neither of you tried to pull away. Your eyes were going back and forth between his lips and eyes and he was doing the same. Like magnets, you two started to lean towards each other but before your lips could connect, May opened the door.

“What did you guys want- oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize I would be interrupting something. My bad.” May smiled sheepishly and pretended to cover her eyes. Peter burned bright red as you quickly climbed off of him.

“May.” He said warningly.

“Sorry. But maybe lock the door next time. And use protection.”She whispered the last part before shutting the door.

“May!” He groaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a long, awkward silence before you were even able to look at each other. When you finally did, you smiled awkwardly and kept your distance.

“That was so weird. What did she think we were doing?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.

“Psh. I know.” Peter scoffed. “She said she was interrupting but we weren’t even doing anything.”

“Yeah. What did she think? That we were gonna kiss or something?” You asked and laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever suggest.

“Us? Kissing? How silly. Imagine that.” Peter forced a laugh as well and looked to the side. The awkward silence returned and you struggled to look at each other.

“Do you think she made dinner?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“Let’s check.” You said and quickly got off the bed.

You didn’t discuss the almost kiss and went home shortly after. You couldn’t sleep that night because you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your mind. No matter how much you wanted him to like you back, if Peter reciprocated your feelings, he would have kissed you.

Your pity party didn’t last long because on the subway the next day, you felt Peter put his earbud in your ear. You heard the Les Mis soundtrack playing in your ear and looked up in surprise. Peter was already filming you with a huge smile on his face.

“This guy 24601 should stop stealing bread and stick to singing. He has serious pipes.” Peter said.

“You listened to it?” You melted into a smile and held your hand over your heart.

“Yep. I stayed up all night watching lyric videos because I couldn’t understand what they were saying with their accents. It’s actually really good. I love Eponine. I just wish Marious wasn’t such an idiot. How does he not see that his best friend is clearly in love with him?” Peter asked with exasperation. You looked directly at the camera and hoped it picked up the irony before looking at Peter again.

“He’s not an idiot. He’s a romantic.” You sighed. “He doesn’t notice Eponine because he’s in love with Cosette. And course he is. She’s prettier and richer and has perfect hair. He doesn’t even see Eponine.”

“Good hair isn’t everything. Eponine is way better than Cosette.” Peter scoffed. “I’m team Eponine all the way.”

“Are you really?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, for sure. I see why you like this stuff. These songs are awesome.” Peter said and put the other earbud in his ear. He then flipped the camera around to film the two of you sharing earbuds. As Heart Full Of Love played in your ears, you couldn’t help but longingly staring at Peter. The fact that he had stayed up late just to listen to something you suggested made you overcome with fondness for him. If he had done something like that, maybe he actually did feel the same.

“I forgot how good this album is. I haven’t listened in a while. I used to listen to it all the time back when you…” You stopped short when you realized you were about to say too much.

“When I what?” Peter wondered. You looked him in the eyes and decided that it was time to be honest. The song ended and a new, much louder one began to play in your ears.

“Back when you liked Liz. She was Cosette. I was Eponine. I was the one pining after a guy who never noticed me because he was in love with another girl. You were never mine to lose.” You admitted. Peter stared at you for a minute before pulling his earbud out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said. Master of the House is such a banger. What did you say?” He asked you.

“Never mind.” You smiled. “It wasn’t important.”

He smiled back before getting a text on his phone. You looked at his phone when you heard it buzz and realized he was still recording. In other words, he had just recorded you saying you liked him. Your eyes went wide but you only had a second to panic when you read the text he had gotten.

“Did Liz just text you?” You asked in a quiet voice. You felt like you were about to throw up. Years of crushing on a boy who liked another girl turned into months of pinning for your best friend and now turned into a rock in your stomach. Peter stopped recording the two of you to answer her text, which felt a little like a slap in the face.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been talking lately.” He absentmindedly replied to you as he laughed at whatever she had written.

“You have?” You asked with a dry mouth.

“Yeah. She says Oregon is pretty cool. But she wants to come back and visit this summer to see everyone.” He told you.

“And see you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It would be nice to see her.”

“Yeah. Totally.” You said weakly. “So how long have you guys been talking?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks? She texted me a little while ago and we’ve been catching up.”

“That’s awesome.” You lied.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again after she moved.”

“Neither did I.” You said through a forced smile. You needed to get off the subway and away from Peter before you started crying. So as soon as the subway doors opened, you bolted out.

“I gotta go. See you later.” You called to him before running through the subway station. You wiped tears as you went up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until you were in a bathroom stall at school. You gave yourself five minutes to be upset before drying your face and leaving the bathroom. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Now, Peter never had to know how you felt about it.

Peter was beyond confused by your exit on the subway but he wasn’t about to get any answers from you. You dodged his texts throughout the day and didn’t dare go into the lunchroom where you knew he and Ned would be.

“Y/n isn’t here yet?” Peter’s huffed as he sat down at your usual lunch table.

“Not yet. Actually, I haven’t seen your girlfriend all day.” Ned realized.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter blushed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me. She’s been so weird ever since this morning. Everything was fine on the subway until we got to school.”

“Well did anything happen on the subway that would weird her out? Oh no. Did you graze her boob with your hand again?”

“No. That was one time. And it was her boobs fault, not mine.” Peter whispered harshly. “We were just listening to music together and I was filming her like normal. But she could not get away from me faster once the doors opened. It was so weird.”

“Did you say anything weird to her? Girls don’t like it when you say weird things to them.”

“I know that. I didn’t say anything weird.” Peter replied as he pulled out his phone. He watched the video he had taken on the subway with no sound to see where he had gone wrong. All he saw was you looking at him with heart eyes which made his face heat up. But still, no evidence of where he messed up.

“I knew it. We were having a normal conversation about Les Mis and then I got a text from and then she ran. It makes no sense.”

“What was the text? Was it May saying something weird?”

“No. And stop saying weird. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore.” Peter ordered. “And the text was just from Liz.”

“Oh shit.” Ned said when he heard this.

“What?” Peter wondered.

“Oh, Peter.” Ned sighed. “Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“What?” He asked again, annoyed now.

“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or just keep saying my name?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy. And I don’t want Y/n to put a hex on my family.” Ned said and held up his hands.

“Y/n swore you to secrecy? About what?”

“Can’t say.” Ned shrugged and zipped his lips.

“Does she not like Liz? And doesn’t want me to know?”

“Dude. Dude, dude, dude, dude. You are so close but so far.”

“So she does like Liz? Oh my God. Does she a crush on Liz? And she’s jealous that Liz texted me and not her?” Peter whispered with wide eyes.

“You’re getting colder.” Ned waved his hand. “I don’t even know how you got there.”

“That was all my guesses. Just tell me.” Peter whined.

“Hell no. I don’t want Y/n to curse my crops and make not grow for all of eternity.”

“You don’t have crops.” Peter pointed out.

“I could develop some.” Ned snapped.

“I just don’t understand what she would tell you something but not tell me. We’re best friends. She usually tells me everything.” Peter said right as his thumb accidentally hit the volume button on the video. Your confession to Peter on the subway was heard loud and clear by the two boys. Both of their jaws dropped as the video ended with you asked if Liz had just texted Peter.

“Well I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush like that if I knew you had video evidence of her saying she liked you right in your hands.” Ned sighed dramatically.

“I need to find her.” Peter said and ran out of the lunchroom. He looked around the school until he found you under the bleachers in the gym. You were sitting with your back against the wall and your knees drawn to your chest with your earbuds in your ears. When you saw Peter coming up to you, you quickly pulled them out.

“Hey.” He said and waved cautiously.

“Hey.” You smiled sadly as he sat beside you. You sat in silence for a minute as neither of you knew what to say.

“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you all day.” He started off. You looked at your hands to avoid making eye contact and sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Liz?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t hiding it. I just didn’t think it would interest you.”

“Well you have no idea how interesting I found it.” You laughed dryly. “What do you guys talk about anyway?”

“Well, she originally texted me to ask me to confirm I had an internship at Stark Industries because her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she knew a guy who worked there. Apparently he’s been trying to get an internship there for years and he wanted to know how I landed mine. Then we just started catching up. I only talk to her here and there, though. And it’s only ever about school or work.”

“Oh. I thought you guys were talking talking.” You couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard the word “boyfriend.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just regular talking. When you saw her text on my phone, she was telling me about her cat getting spaded. And I didn’t know what that meant so she had to tell me. I should’ve just googled it.”

You laughed softly at that and he did too. The tension was let out of the conversation and you could finally breathe again. When you stopped laughing, you finally looked in his eyes.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” You asked quietly.

“For her? No.” He laughed. “Those are long gone. I have feelings for someone else now.”

“Oh God. Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter looked at you for a minute until an idea came to him.

“Actually, uh, I came looking for you because I was just making another video. Wanna be in it?” Peter asked and took out his phone. You looked at him like he was crazy and could not believe he had just asked that during that moment.

“I’m not really in the mood right now, P.”

“Come on. I can’t make it without my muse.” He said and nudged you slightly. You couldn’t help but to smile at that and reluctantly nodded. He propped up his phone against the bleachers and pressed record.

“In a world where two best friends have no idea how to communicate despite spending way too much time together.” Peter said in a fake deep, gravely voice.

“Okay. Shade. That’s fine.”

“What will it take for them to admit they have feelings for each other?” He kept the voice as he looked at you.

“Wait, what?” You asked and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Peter smiled softly at you and shrugged a little.

“What’s it gonna take?” He asked again in his normal voice.

“I don’t understand.” You laughed nervously.

“I watched the video from before. From the subway. I heard what you said.” He admitted.

“Oh shit. You watched it?” You grimaced.

“Uh huh. So if you’re Eponine, I guess that makes me the idiot who didn’t realize his best friend was in love with him?”

“I guess so.” You said with a tight smile and still didn’t understand why he wanted to film this incredibly awkward conversation.

“You know, if I didn’t have a video of it, I never would have believed that you liked me.” Peter told you.

“You wouldn’t? Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t seem possible that the coolest girl I’ve ever met liked me.” He replied.

“You think I’m cool?” You asked skeptically.

“I think you’re the coolest. And you know, I watch the videos I take of you all the time. And half of them are just clips of you existing. So I do notice you. It just took me a second to catch up.” He told you. A smile tugged at your lips as you stared into his big brown eyes.

“You’re my best friend.” You told him. “I’m sorry I want more.”

“I’m not sorry.” He shrugged.

“You’re not?”

“I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up and find that what I’ve been looking for has been here the whole time.” He said as he hooked his pinky under your chin and brought your face close to his.

“Wait, why does that sound so familiar?” You wondered.

“Don’t think about it too hard.” Peter whispered right before your lips touched. You kissed for the first time under the bleachers but it could have been in a palace for all you knew. The world disappeared around you as Peter slipped a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and laughed nervously together. It was a good nervous, a happy feeling of anticipation.

“Was that Taylor Swift?” You realized when you finally placed where you knew that like from.

“Shh. No.” He shook his head. “But yes, it was. You’re not the only one with good music taste.”

Tag List 🏷️

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #Peter Parker mutual pining #peter parker x best friend!reader #spiderman homecoming #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #peter parker x y/n

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kaaaaaaarf · 6 months

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So I watched that episode of Our Flag Means Death where Ed finds the bunny and thinks it's a wolf and thought, what if Remus was a wererabbit and Sirius had no idea? Anyways, have a drabble.

Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy)

Hogwarts Era. 654 words. Wererabbit Remus. G.

Remus' floppy ears twitch unhappily. He had been so careful—so careful not to let his friends see the monster he becomes every full moon. He thought he was sneaky, when he made his way out of the castle before dinner—after the other boys had already left for the Great Hall, but here is Sirius, standing above him with wide eyes. He'd seen the whole thing, the whole transformation—running into the clearing before Remus could even shout at him to stop. Before his body bent and twisted violently into a monster. Remus' tiny body shakes in fear. Finally, after an impossibly long moment, Sirius seems to come back to himself. "R—Remus? Are you—you're a werewolf?" …I'm a what now?

"I thought maybe you were upset about Snape ruining your Potions final when you didn’t follow us down to dinner, so I came back to find you and saw you sneak out of the castle. I decided to follow you, but I didn't think...Oh my God. You're so...so...cute." Remus' nose twitches in a way that he thinks sufficiently expresses his shock and distaste. He’s not cute. He’s fearsome! An abomination! Sirius, unafraid, crouches down and strokes a gentle hand over the tawny fur on his back. Okay, well Remus doesn't hate that. Sirius scratches behind one floppy ear, and it makes Remus’ back foot twitch. Sirius smiles. "Are you a friend, wolf? Merlin, wait til I tell James about this! Our Moony—a real bloody werewolf!" and then as quickly as he’d appeared, he's gone, running off back toward the castle. It's just as well, Remus is dangerous like this. As much as he would love some company on the moons, one bite is all it would take and he could turn Sirius, too. He couldn't live with himself. Remus has just finished snacking on some grass, and is just about to hop into the underbrush to play chase with the rabbits of the Forest, when Sirius comes running back, this time with James in tow. Great. "See James! That's Remus, he's a werewolf!" James, who is bent over trying to catch his breath, looks up at him like he's stupid. "That's a rabbit, Sirius." "No...I saw him transform—that’s Remus. He's a werewolf." "At best that's a wererabbit." He looks down at Remus, his face twisted in thought. "Sorry Remus, just a sec. Sirius—" he looks back up at the other boy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “—have you ever actually seen a rabbit before?" "Well, not precisely...Grimmauld is in the middle of London, not exactly teeming with rabbits and the like." "Babbity Rabbity? Surely you've read Babbity Rabbity at least." "I'm pretty sure Babbity Rabbity would never make it into the Black family library. Not macabre enough." James sighs. "Okay well, I’m telling you that's a rabbit." James points down at him, and Remus twitches his nose, hoping it conveys how tired he is. Sirius stomps his feet, insistent. “But his last name is Lupin, not Lapin! He's Wolfie McWolf, not Bunny McRabbit!” “I’m pretty sure his name has nothing to do with which were-animal decided to take a chunk out of him, Sirius!” Remus tries to hop away while they’re fighting, but Sirius spots him and scoops him up into his arms. “Oh no you don’t! Come on Remus, I’ll sneak you back into the castle—get you something to munch on. What do rabbits eat, anyway? Hay? Flowers?” Human flesh. “They eat grass and, like, carrots. Good call though, better get him inside before an actual wolf spots him. Come on, Remus.” And that’s how Remus finds himself, a few hours later, in a soft bed, snuggled under the covers with Sirius’ hand gently resting on his furry back. He supposes being found out isn’t so bad, and if he wakes up in the morning—human again, Sirius spooning against his back, he thinks that might actually be even better.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #remus is a wererabbit #wolfstar microfic #fic: Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy)#hogwarts era

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areislol · 1 year

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𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪 𝗩𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗦 𝗪 𝗛𝗣 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗦

ft. harry j. potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, cedric diggory, sirius black, remus lupin

warnings. aged up!! nsfw content, MDNI! mostly soft sex but rough sex is also included, twitter links. fem! reader, sub! characters will be mentioned in the names, imaginative texts included! pet play, teasing, nasty stuff

a/n. cedric, sirius and lupin's image is below!! kinda ooc! ron? i barely see any hp visual links so.. here this is lmao, and please, again, MDNI. sirius n remmy in the marauders era // this is my 2nd nsfw hc/fic im crying happy tears.. ALSO FIRST EVER HP WORK

here's a spotify playlist.

harry james. potter

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐎… absolutely adores your tits, he will rest/sleep on your chest, sucking on your nipples as he falls asleep (his mouth latched onto it still), it's some sort of.. comfort to him. he loves how they're so soft and squishable. loves playing with them, rolling your nipple in between his fingers as he sucks on your other nipple before switching sides.

"I- mhm, god your tits... please.. can I?" harry pleads while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. Your fingers run through his hair as you nod. He's quick to latch onto your tit as he starts to suck them softly which makes you softly moan as you tug onto his hair, rutting your pussy against his leg.

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐎… even after a long day will take his time and be patient and soft with you as he tenderly places a kiss on your thighs before kitty-licking your pussy <3 he's quite literally making out with your pussy and devouring it. if you didn't know any better you would've thought he was a starved animal.

"Just be a good girl f'me yeah? Be nice and good while I eat this pretty pussy.." harry says before ducking down in between your thighs as he begins to eat your pussy feverishly.

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐎… loves to fuck you in the reserve cowgirl position, watching as your tits bounce up and down, as his appears before being engulfed with your pussy. sometimes giggling and smiling while staring up at you in awe.

"Oh- fuck, oh your pussy feels so good-!" he says, his head lolled back as his dick slips in and out of your wet pussy.

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐎… just wants to be soft with you although most times it turns into a heaty session. loves to make out before having sex with you or during, as long as his lips are on yours that's all that matters..

making out with you before having passionate sex is his favourite thing to do. "I love you so, so much y/n.." he whispers before ghosting your lips to which you smile at before kissing him, for real this time.

𝐒𝐔𝐁! 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐎… squirms, twitches and whimpers when you touch and jerk his dick, rolling your thump and hand over his tip as he desperately tries to stop you from overstimulating him.

"mhm, please.. y/n-! Ah.. stop, please." harry whimpers as he takes hold of your hand, "uh-uh, just be a good boy and let me touch you.. you'll be a good boy, right?" you chuckle when harry nods his head vigorously.

𝐒𝐔𝐁! 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐎… is shy during your first time having sex, he's quiet at first but after you ride him he's whimpering and panting, he can only look at you in awe as you ride him

"Shy? Why are you shy?" you question while straddling his lap, your hands on his shoulders as you smirk from his flustered face. "I-im, because.. it's my first time you know.." he mumbles as he turns his head away from embarrassment. You place your finger on his chin and make him look at you, "don't be shy, harry.. let me make you feel good. I promise I will.." you coo.

ron weasley

𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… jerks off while allowing you to ride his hand as he rubs circles on your clit.

"Oh wow... this is nice.." ron whispers, watching you stroke his dick with your hand while he rubs circles on your clit. "Oh please.. ron just get on with it." you whine, ron smirks and nods, "anything for you."

𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… is slow with you, peppering you with small kisses. thrusting slowly in you before gradually fucking you like how you want to be fucked <3

"You like that, hm?" ron is never the one to tease you in bed but seeing you all open to him sparks something in him that he can't explain, all he knows is that he's feeling good. "Let me make you feel good baby"

𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… makes out with your pretty pussy! on most days he just wants to stuff his face in between your legs until you cry out his name multiple times, gripping onto his hair tightly as he makes your stomach knot over and over again.

"Oh, ron! Please.." you whine as you gripped onto his hair tightly. "Please what?" ron mumbles, his mouth still latched onto your pussy as his tongue licks stripes on your clit. "Please go faster.."

𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… pounds your pussy after a long day without seeing you, he just missed this pretty pussy of his.

"D'you know how much i've missed you? Huh? Missed this pretty pussy." ron bucks his hips forward as he slams into your cunt and he doesn't stop, he just missed you so much, he missed being inside of you. You'll be good a girlfriend and allow him to, hm?

𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… watches as his cum drips out of your pussy, admiring it before fucking you again and again, pulling his dick out just to see his cum drip out of you.

"Oh would you look at that.." he whispers, fingers prodding and stretching your pussy to see his cum dripping out of your fluttering hole. "So cute" he coos, he could not wait to do that again.

draco malfoy

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… fingers you, leaving you breathless and moaning for more. who slaps your face harshly before kissing you.

Draco's fingers are pumping in and out of your weeping hole, and he's doing it roughly. "You like that? It feels good?" draco whispers in your ear, grinning as he already knew the answer. Your hands are clutching his arm. You were too tired and overstimulated to speak, you could only nod. "I need words baby."

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… sneaked you into his room after his roommates left and proceeded to fuck you balls deep.

Draco invited you to come visit his room just to "study" but you knew that draco was never really the one to study, but you agreed anyways, he was your boyfriend after all. What you didn't expect was in after a few minutes he would be balls deep inside of you. "Oh-! Draco, it feels so good, mmm"

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… has a breeding kink, wanting to stuff you with his cum, watching as it all dribbles down from your pussy. Watching as your pussy clenches around nothing.

"You're so cute y/n, you know?" he hums teasingly, his hands gripped onto your thighs tightly as he pulls them apart to admire his work. You knew draco was looking at you, or rather your pussy, but nonetheless it made you feel hot under his gaze. You mew in response as your pussy clenches around nothing, obviously hinting that you wanted something more.. thicker inside of you once more.

cedric diggory

𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… fucks you in doggy style <3 relishing in how his dick is being swallowed whole by your pussy.

"You look so pretty like this.." he murmurs as he pounds into your red and abused cunt. "Mmm so pretty for you-!" you sputter out as your hands clench onto the bedsheets tightly.

𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… passionately makes out with your clit before fingering you whilst licking and flicking your bud with his warm tongue.

"You like that don't you?" cedric mumbles as he stares up at you while fingering and licking your cunt. "Mhm! Yes i dooo" you drag the 'o's as he speeds up his fingering, cedric only grinned as your juices flow down his chin.

𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… holds your hand as he pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy, he just wants to hold hands while doing something intimate with you <3

"Here, hold my hand pretty" he says – in a sweet tone as if he wasn't fingering you harshly – as he intertwines his hands with yours. "God you're so cute."

𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎… eats you out in his room while his roommates are away for quidditch practice, he called in sick just to eat his pretty princesses' pussy. Loving your cute little moans as he burrows his head further and further in as if he wasn't already.

"Oh c'mon! Let me just have a quick taste.. so what if they burst inside?" he says with a pout, his head hovering just right above your glistening pussy. "So what? We could get in trouble!" you whisper-yell. "Awh, well too bad im going to anyways." he states before burrowing his head down.

sirius black

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐎… fucks you until your shaking from your orgasm and squirting. Slapping his cock on your pussy as your hips buck forward.

"Aww, look at you, all of this because of me?" sirius teases before patting his cock on your wet pussy. "We ought to do this more, hm?" you nod ever so slightly to which he chuckles at. "Alright, lets get you cleaned up now."

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐎… loves to see you all tied up as he teases you with his cock, torturing you as he slides it along your aching hole before finally giving you what you really want.

"Look at you, all dolled up for me.. gorgeous aren't you?" he says just barely above a whisper. You nod you head and whine, "alright alright, ill give you what you want now" he chuckles before slipping his dick inside of your needy hole.

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐎… trains you with a leash on, all dressed up just for him as he fucks you again and again.

"What's the safe word?" sirius asks, his finger tracing your spine, "green." you respond with a smile. Sirius returns tn before giving looking back at his dick that was positioned in front of your entrance. "There we go.." he whispers as his dick slips inside your pussy before tugging onto your leash.

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐎… wants to hold you in his arms as you two have sex, he wants to be close as possible, this is as they say, an intimate act.

"Fuck- y/n you feel so good. Come closer to me will you, yeah?" sirius mumbles, pulling you closer to his chest. Both your arms wrap around each other as he pounds into your poor, abused cunt.

remus lupin

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎… hates being rough but since he is a werewolf, his... tendencies tend to come out. He fucks you harshly as he holds you down from moving.

"Come on y/n.. stop squirming you- fine." he mutters before holding you down, his hand on your belly before switching to your arm, trying to subdue your squirming and movements. "Please remmy! I-i need it.." you whine, lolling your head sideways, bucking your hips forwards in the hopes of getting more friction. "Then let me give it to you."

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎… teases you with his dick sliding over your needy hole, grinning when he sees you whining and twitching at his touch. But, he is nice so he will give you a reward for being so patient.

"Remus, please.. I want it." your hand gripping onto his sleeve as you tried to move your slips to "accidentally" make his dick slip inside. "Nuh-uh, just be patient and i'll give you what you want.." even though you weren't patient you nodded anyways, "good girl."

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎… is smitten with your boobs! He loves how soft they are, small, medium or big, he will love them nonetheless! Remmy will fondle with them, suck on them, toy with them, lick them and so on. Just please let him have your tits.

"Mm, don't you think that's enough..?" you question, looking at your boyfriend who was fondling with your breasts. "Enough? Absolutely not!" you frown at his response. "But- what about-" "that can wait, love. Just wanna focus on my girls first."

note: if you would like to be added to the harry potter taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️ : (i'll def be making more hp work so.. yeah.. that's that)

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

another note: finding twitter links was kinda hard ngl, just giving you a heads up if you want to make one yourself! and thank you to @tessimagines for agreeing w this idea <33 love ya!!

IDK IF U SAW IT @fleursbending BUT HERE

#harry potter x reader #ron weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #ron x reader #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #lupin x reader #harry potter smut #—✧ · . fandom: harry potter

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wonryllis · 2 months

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☆ ᵎᵎ ENHYPEN COMING HOME TO FIND YOU ASLEEP.

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen in whipped era 𖥔 ݁ fluff, soft soft softtt LIB? fem!reader word count `719 PLS REBLOG!!

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he knows you stay up late waiting for him, this time he finds your figure laid against the soft cushion in a weirdly adorable position. heeseung quietly tiptoes to have a closer look, taking his time to admire your sleeping face. oh he so wishes to keep coming home to you like this. he'd sit beside you and tell you things he could never have said to your face, his deepest thoughts. apologizing for things he could've done better and thanking you for being with him and loving him.

i think i will love you forever, i want to.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so used to it, at least he thinks he's so used to it but everytime he comes home to find you passed out on the couch, or on the carpet slightly lolling to the side the book in your hands almost falling off, he feels the same butterflies he did when it first happened. if you aren't in your pajamas already, best believe he'll change you himself, not wanting to disturb your sleep and put you to bed like magic fairy. he'll join you in later, and if you accidentally stir awake he'll put you back to sleep.

shh, go back to sleep love, i'm right here.

𝘀𝗶𝗺 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 this guy has a field trip range of emotions upon seeing you asleep after a long day of work. he feels this fuzzy and warm feeling watching the one he loves sleep so peacefully, and on the other hand he's so excited to just join you. if you're on the couch he'll squeeze himself in whatever space he finds and cuddle you into the morning and if you're on the bed, he'll leech onto you leaving more than half the mattress empty while he snuggles into his baby on your side of the bed.

mmm, love having you in my arms like this

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 outwardly he's so nonchalant at first, just coming up to your passed out figure and picking you up to get you to the bed, a smile on the tip of his lips. however the moment you nuzzle into him in a soft whine, he's so putty feeling his heart skip beats, his breath staggering like boy is damn smitten. placing you on the bed he'll quietly pull the covers on, a sneaky kiss on the lips and then leave the room to calm himself down, maybe even scream silently a little with the way you get him nervous over nothing.

fuck, she's so damn adorable i'll melt.

𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he'll text you to ask if you're awake and if you don't respond he knows you're out. he'd definitely softly speak about his day even though you're not listening. complimenting you as he always does of how pretty you manage to look all the time. will sing you a bunch of songs if you wake up, holding you close and tracing over your features, smiling so wide all the tiredness of the day washes away. also makes sure to wake up before you to again admire your sleeping face.

you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 asleep or not, jungwon is always careful when he walks through the door, softly opening and closing it. tiptoeing inside as quietly as he possibly can, and when he spots you asleep on the couch he'll put everything down to bring you to bed. carrying you like the most precious thing, laying you on the mattress and immediately leaning over to leave kisses all over. if you stir awake he's getting in and cuddling you back to sleep, hands caressing your head gently.

it's just me baby, you looked so cute couldn't help it.

𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 will absolutely not switch on anything or make any sound and obviously will carry you to bed if you're passed out somewhere else. he'll kinda avoid looking at your face, until he cannot help it and god help him because once he does he'll be glued, eyes staring non stop. he can't believe someone so beautiful loves him, and all these complicated emotions come at once. he's overwhelmed and so whipped, he'd play around with your hair deep in these thoughts until sleep comes to him too.

how did i manage to have someone like you?

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz

2K notes · View notes

worldlxvlys · 1 month

Note

can you do a fic where chris and reader are dating and reader interacts with all the edits of chris on tiktok and fangirls with the chris girls.

TIK TOK

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: cursing, sexual jokes

a/n: i kinda love this, i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone do a tik tok social au before

lmk what you think

**click yes to actually watch the edits**

WATCH VIDEO?

yes scroll

COMMENTS:

@ y/n

good LORD THAT MAN IS FINE 😩

@lustfulslxt

oh i’m DRENCHED

y/n -> the sturniolo police abt to get ur ass (same)

@flowerxbunnie

suddenly i’m on my knees 🫠

y/n -> literally me

@sturnssx

y/n is so lucky but idk if i wanna be her or chris more

y/n -> i’d want myself too honestly (i’m kidding i love chris)

@mattslolita

why is he not in my bed rn ??

y/n -> sorry bae he’s in mine ✌🏾i’ll tell him to go visit u later !

@its-jennarose

HOW IS HE REAL?

y/n -> the way that i genuinely ask myself this question on a daily basis

@sophssturn

GOD DAYUM 😨

y/n -> fr like who does bro think he is ??

@bernardsleftbootycheek

THIS IS CRAZY GOOD

y/n -> idk which is crazier, your username or this edit ( both eat tho)

@queen161718

the fact that y/n is always just lurking in the comment sections of chris edits absolutely takes me out 😭😭

y/n -> gotta support my man and his talented ass fansss

@cupidsword

i need him BAD

y/n -> same (i already have him)

@imwetforyourmom

i just need one chance 😫

y/n -> nah bae, he’s got a brother thooo !

WATCH VIDEO?

yes scroll

COMMENTS:

@ y/n

his hair is really nice 🤭

@evieolo -> I’M SAYINGGGGG

@nickmillersn1gf

it always looks so soft and fluffyyyy

@mbbsgf -> if he ever shaved it off i would cry

y/n -> you and me both sis

@mattsneezing

yesss, i love my husband’s hairrrr 😍

y/n -> aren’t you a matt girl ?? where’s your sense of loyalty ??

@chrisstankyleg

my man is looking FINE

y/n -> girl, i don’t know how to tell you this…

@sturniolobltch

even the paparazzi is obsessed with his hair

@sturniolowhore -> can’t even blame them

@bethsturn -> he’s just so 😫

@ y/n -> you guys get it

@bernardenjoyer

biting my phone rn

y/n -> glad i’m not the only one !

@rac00ns-are-c00l4

long hair chris >>>

@ y/n -> NO FR, IDK WHY HE KEEPS CUTTING IT

WATCH VIDEO ?

yes. scroll.

COMMENTS.

@ y/n

MY MAN MY MAN MY MANNNNN

@chrisloyalgf

it’s a good day to be a chris girl

y/n -> it’s a good day to be chris’s girl

@urmom2bitch

HIS FINGERS GOOD LORD

@ y/n -> they’re long as hellll 😋

@defnotayonna -> wdym by that 🤨

@ssturniolo

chris girls, how y’all doing ??

y/n -> I’M LOSING MY MIND RN

@judespoision

i’m just a sturniolo girl atp

y/n -> AS YOU SHOULDDDD

@ y/n

HELP CHRIS JUST ASKED ME WHY THIS AUDIO HAS BEEN REPLAYING FOR SO LONG

@blueeyedbesson -> not you watching chris edits while you’re with him 😭

@ y/n -> THEY’RE SO ADDICTING

@hearts4chriss -> oh hey boo tell my man i said hey 😛

@ y/n -> oh is matt your man now ??

@ hearts4chriss -> …girl don’t play with me

@chrisstopherfilmed

GRIPPING MY SHEETS RN

@starsturniolo -> he’s so fineeeee 😩

@robins-scoop -> LIKE WHY ISN’T THIS MAN IN MY BED ??

@ y/n -> sorry y’all he’s in mine !

WATCH VIDEO ?

yes. no.

COMMENTS

@ y/n

PERIODDD YOU CLEARED SHOWING THIS TO CHRIS IMMEDIATELY

@ y/n

damnnn me and flo milli twinninggg 🤞🏾

@ christophersturniolo -> oh look at that it’s night

@readerakayourname -> CHRIS 😭

@fandomhopped -> he’s so real for that honestly

@ y/n

i’m absolutely obsessed with that first clip

@yamamasjumpercables -> i want this edit engraved in my brain

@ y/n -> no LITERALLY

@ineedchriscock

i’d let him choke me any day

@ y/n -> where is your self respect 😧 ( literally same )

@luverboychris

the only person’s babies i’d carry

@ y/n -> WHAT 😭😭 (real)

WATCH VIDEO ?

yes. no.

COMMENTS

@ y/n

his frat boy era will be missed 😔🙏

@rootbeerworshiper -> frat boy chris >>>>>

@ y/n

song choice >>>>>

@ christophersturniolo -> i wanna watch u get naked !

@ y/n -> then come over ???

@patscorner -> oh !

@junnniiieee07 -> ik those are the lyrics but i don’t think they’re joking 😭

@ y/n -> 🤫

@chr1sgirl4life -> THAT’S MY MAN MY MAN MY MANNNN 😍

@breeloveschris -> incorrect that’s MY man !

@ y/n -> idk how to tell y’all this…

@nicksmainbitch

this audio choice was the best decision you could’ve ever made

@vanteguccir -> this song is so chris coded

@55sturn -> frat boy chris + this song 😩

@mayhem-72 -> his smirk ?? are we kidding ??

@ y/n -> bros ego is INFLAMMED

he ain’t even the fart fr

WATCH VIDEO ?

yes. no.

COMMENTS

@ y/n

BODY ROCK OH I WANNA FEEL YOUR BODY ROCKKKKKKKK

@endereies

CHRIS + JUSTIN ??? THIS EATSS

@ y/n -> i’m sayingggggg

@sturniolosmind

smash !

@ y/n -> oh (i agree)

@disturbedwoodelf -> i love how no matter what chris edit i’m watching y/n is always in the comment section

@ y/n -> AND AMMM

@ mattsturniolo -> she has nothing better to do

@ y/n -> alr fuck you too then

-> and you can’t be talking you had to click at least 5 different drop down arrows to even find this reply

@ mattsturniolo -> i’m very busy actually

@ christophersturniolo -> matt you’re literally walking around the house catching pokemon

@nikolastrn -> damn they gagged you 💀

@bernardsbendystraws -> i’d rock his shit

@ y/n -> what do i even say to this

@ berbardsbendystraws -> wanna join in ??

@ y/n -> oh my 😨 (🤭)

CREDITS

@ frxy on tiktok

@ bl6tts on tiktok

@ sturniolo.vfx_ on tiktok

@ strvnloml on tiktok

@ chrislover476 on tiktok

@ edzbyang on tiktok

this took me wayyyyy too long to make, but it was so funnnn

lmk if you want more like this :)

no tag list cause i tagged y’all in the actual fic 😝

masterlist

1K notes · View notes

some-bunniii · 3 months

Text

Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good?#my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

2K notes · View notes

stylesparker · 8 months

Text

closer than friends

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman

A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33

"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.

"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."

You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.

You huff, "I don't want a word from you."

"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."

"What did I just say?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."

While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.

You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.

You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.

"Is that better?" He asks.

"It was fine before."

"I'll keep it like this anyway."

You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.

When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.

"Alright, let's go."

You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"Close to ten."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.

It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.

After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.

If you need us. - S

Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.

When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.

His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.

"Hi," you respond back, even softer.

Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.

He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"

You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.

"Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.

You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.

"I can't either," you say quietly.

With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.

Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.

He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.

"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.

You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.

You couldn't.

But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.

You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.

"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.

Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.

You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.

"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."

You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.

About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.

"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.

...

"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"

"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.

"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"

"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."

You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.

"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."

"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.

"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.

You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.

"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.

"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.

"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.

"You alright?" You ask jokingly.

"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"

"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.

When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.

"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"

You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."

"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"

"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."

"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.

...

A couple weeks later

"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.

"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.

"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.

"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.

The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.

"Sam." You say impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."

"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.

"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"

"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"

You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."

A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.

"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."

"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."

"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."

"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"

"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"

"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.

He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.

"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.

"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"What, he was bothering me."

He smiles, "I don't doubt it."

He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.

You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.

"What happened?"

"You happened, you idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"

Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.

"D-Dean... I can't just-"

"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.

He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.

He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.

"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"

You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"

"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.

He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.

Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.

"You have the key?" You query.

"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm in love with you."

Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.

He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.

"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.

Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.

"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.

He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."

You don't say anything again, but he continues.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."

"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."

When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.

"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.

"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."

His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.

"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.

"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."

"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"

You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."

"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.

"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.

Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"

Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.

"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"

"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.

"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"

"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"

"Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare."

...

The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.

Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.

You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.

Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.

"Kids."

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester #supernatural

3K notes · View notes

futureman · 8 months

Text

old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point.

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone.

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s.

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want.

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts.

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best.

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface.

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word.

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised?

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you.

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you.

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care.

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin.

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck.

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer.

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home.

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity.

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night.

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services?

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is?

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have.

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse.

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly.

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel.

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was.

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see.

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical.

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily.

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues.

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward.

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you.

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't.

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?"

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused.

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously.

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different.

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago.

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek.

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here."

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again.

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel.

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt.

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach.

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this.

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer.

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation.

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him.

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense.

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date.

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants.

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat.

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night.

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back.

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something.

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him.

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace.

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation.

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall.

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment.

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt.

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all.

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating.

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside.

But your luck's officially run out.

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice.

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken.

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock.

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now.

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup.

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other.

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers.

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world.

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall.

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next?

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night."

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek.

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height.

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you.

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily.

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off.

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement.

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age.

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now."

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away.

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart.

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?"

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek.

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light.

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them.

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes.

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are.

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours.

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love.

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson.

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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formulafics · 6 months

Text

★ BABY, JUST SAY YES | LS2

Scenario: its no secret that logan sargent isn’t single, but one thing that no one can quite figure out - not even his co workers - is who the mystery girl is. logan doesn’t reveal who until she’s no longer his girlfriend, but his wife. (requested)

Pairing: logan sargeant x fem!popstar!reader

A/N: it’s taken me 4 days of writers block to get this one figured out, but she is finally here! i hope everyone enjoys! <3

logansargeant

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and 233,567 others

logansargeant the flight is always worth it to be with her

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sargeantformula another day, another soft launch from logan 😔 when does the pain end?

logansgirl HE LOOKS SO GOOD

formulogan so either logan plays guitar or his gf plays guitar 🧐

⤷ norizzlando i thought that i could figure out something by looking at the music sheets but it’s beatles songs, and i doubt logan is dating paul mccartney

⤷ alexalbonooo23 STOP IT FHIS COMMENT IS KILLING ME 😭 “i doubt logan is dating paul mccartney”

logansargeant

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logansargeant summer dump

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alex_albon getting a little to close to using @/georgerussels tactics

rizzciardo logan pls just tell us who it is 😔 do it for your fans

⤷ norrisnation DO IT FOR AMERICA

formulaobssesed why is logan kinda…

⤷ sargeantformula YOURE JUST LEARNING THIS? HES BEEN FINE

sargeantnation THE FIRST PICTURE HELLO YOU LOOK SO GOOD

ls2sargeant okay, but WHO is in the second picture? 😭

logansargeant

in love

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logansargeant

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formulanorris the location being “in love” is sickening

⤷ piastrizz no literally i want want what him and his gf have

williamillion ITS NOT FUNNY ANYMORE LOGAN

godblessls2 boy if you don’t just drop her @ rn

loscargirlie logan you wanna drop her @ sooooo bad rn

logansargeant and ynlnsargeant

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 467,892 others

logansargeant so glad my baby said yes. happy one year, my beautiful girl.

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ynsworld LOGAN IN RHE MIDDLE OF YNA FUCK I G CONCERT???

oscarpiastri happy anniversary ❤️

⤷ rizzciardo loscar crumbs 🥹 i love them

alex_albon happy anniversary! love you guys.

formulasargeant LOGAN WHAT????

piastrizz LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT I SWEAR TO GOD

ynfannacc the caption. not okay, young man.

⤷ godblessls2 LMAOO THIS COMMENT IS SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON

rizzciardo the mesh of logan and yn fans in the comments is so funny to me 😭

loscargirlie I KNOW I BEGGED YOU MULTIPLE TIMES TO DROP THE @ BUT COME ON LOGAN

ynlnsargeant

liked by logansargeant, lewishamilton, alex_albon, landonorris, and 789,367 others

ynlnsargeant what a night. thank you to everyone who came out tonight, i am so grateful for your support. on a side note, happy anniversary to my love, @/logansargeant. one year down, forever to go. 🫶🏻

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logansargeant i love you so much baby.

⤷ ynlnsargeant i love you more. thanks for coming out tonight ❤️

ynsguitar the end of an era - she changed her username

⤷ ynloverforlife ITS SO CUTE 😭 she and logan are actually so cute together i can’t even be sad

ynsworld simultaneously extremely happy for you and feeling like my heart has been ripped out. ilysm </3

ynsnumberone i cannot believe i witnessed this kiss in real time

⤷ formulasargeant i have no idea how you survived because me personally? that would be the end

danielricciardo NO WAY. happy anniversary!

⤷ rizzciardo DANIEL WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE LMAO

⤷ sargeantformula apparently only oscar, lando, and alex knew about their relationship. oscar was the only one who went to the wedding 💔 (not to mention daniel has always liked yn’s music)

all feedback is appreciated! thank you for reading <3 - daelynn

general taglist | @renarots (special shoutout to her for always fueling the brainrot for these fics) @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @harrysdimple05 @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @minkyungseokie

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z3rinn · 4 months

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# #. DOING THEIR MAKEUP !!

featuring: nrc 1st years !! You're usually bored in Ramshackle, even while having sleepovers with the other first year boys. But then, you suddenly have an epiphany!! To do their makeup!! But how do they react?

srry I haven't posted in a while >.< I've been working on some projects that I hope you guys will enjoy! Plus winter break is always so hectic for me lol. I hope all of ur holidays went well and i hope you have a happy new year!

# #. ACE TRAPPOLA

Ace is initially sceptical at first. Why would you offer to do his makeup? It was such a random request, he couldn't help but be nervous. Were you about to prank him? Or draw a dick on his face??? Was this payback for all the times he's drawn them on you and Deuce?

It doesnt take much convincing to let you though- drawing that heart day after day gets annoying. Especially because Riddle makes sure it's perfect every morning. It'd be nice to have someone do it for him.

Ace sits in front of you, legs spread for you to sit in between. He's leaning against the couch, slouching and complaining about how long this would take. Yet, the sudden feeling of your hands on his face shuts him up. Huh. When did the two of you get so close?

Your hands brush against his face, a sort of tension in the air as you do so. The soft sensation of the makeup brush, the powder on his face, the chill of the air. It was all calming and cold. Yet he couldn't help but feel warm.

You were too close to him. That had to be it! So close he could feel your breath on his lips. Once he felt your fingertips press against the plush of lips, he flushed brightly. He hoped you didn’t notice his stare.

Once you finish he smirks. That stupid, snarky, voice leaving his lips. He teases you for being so close to him, saying you must've done it on purpose. Luckily, you couldn't notice his pink cheeks under the blush you placed on him. He hums lightly, a cheeky grin forming on his face. He’d have to let you do this again.

# #. DEUCE SPADE

Deuce had makeup on his face before, seeing things like foundation and concealer were common to find on him. His mom would put them on him, it was due to their matching complexions, she would say, giggling.

He stopped during his delinquent era, using it occasionally to draw scars and bruises to seem “cool.” Makeup reminded him of his mom. Of his time as a delinquent. Of both his bad and good decisions. Perhaps that’s why he was afraid to agree.

Nonetheless, he accepts, albeit a bit nervously. Deuce sits on his knees, body tense as he glances around the room. You sit before him, laughing at his flushed face. You probably wouldnt even need to blush him with how red he was. Deuce was panicking, you were way too close to his face.

He's nervous and tense when your hands come to caress his cheeks. At first not even registering your touch. The feeling of his skin on yours is too much at first. It’s like he’s about to explode with how fast his heart.

However, he soon relaxes, face still flushed and heart still pounding. But he had a dazed look in is in his eyes, so close to falling asleep. The feeling of your hands on his face, gently putting product on him. He could fall asleep to this. It was comforting.

He flushes bright red when you wake him up, stuttering apologies like he had accidentally pushed you or something. You laughed at him, ruffling his hair (that you did while he was asleep) before pressing a teasing kiss to his cheek. Now he was burning.

# #. JACK HOWL

Jack's also confused, why would you want to put makeup on him of all people? Wouldn't you prefer someone prettier? But then you comment on how pretty he looked during the fairy gala, leaving him with a wagging tail and twitching ears.

Jack still looms over you, even while sitting. So it's better to have his head in your lap, or have him sit in a chair while you do it. You chose the former option (obviously). So he lays his head in your lap, albeit awkwardly.

Your hands travel to the back of his head, slightly massaging the hair behind his ears. His eyes are closed, body tense, like any sudden movements would disrupt you. You just giggle, petting him more and telling him to loosen up.

Soon, he relaxes, melting into your touch. His heightened senses usually make things uncomfortable, especially with things on his face. Yet your touch was calming and nice. Plus the scratches did help.

It reminded him of his siblings, and how they would make him play dress up and put makeup on him for fun. All those tea parties he had to attend, and those scrutinizing hours of just sitting there seemed to be useful once in a while. His eyes open to meet your own, golden eyes gazing up at you.

You were concentrating, biting your lips slightly as you blush his cheeks. He can't help but smile at your face. Once noticing Jack's stare you smile, complementing how still he was, compared to everyone else. Would he let you do this again? Yeah. If you asked.

# #. EPEL FELMIER

Epel sighs, dramatically falling to the floor. Of course you'd want to do his makeup. Ever since coming to NRC he's had to deal with people (Vil) wanting to put products on him like he was some sorta mannequin.

But you're not Vil, and you weren't forcing it onto him. And Epel could admit the teeny tiny crush he had on you. ( Having your hands on him was like a fever dream- ) Plus you were one of his closest friends! So with the sweetest smile ever, he agrees.

He sits crossed legged, with you on your knees above him. You look down at him, lifting his head up slightly. You cup his cheek, gently running your finger down the soft flesh, they were so smooth that not even a single blackhead was there. Vil's products really worked!

Meanwhile Epel was trying so hard to not scream at the top of his lungs. He could feel your warm, minty, breath, your skin softly caressing his own. He wanted to shove his face into one of the couch pillows and scream for an eternity.

Luckily, he's able to keep his composure, and soon gets lost in the familiar feeling of makeup on his face. It was oddly comforting, or satisfying at least. But he just can't seem to let go of the butterflies in his stomach.

Seven forbid he opens his eyes again ( they've been closed this whole time ) cause as soon as he sees your focused stare he's gonna retire to the countryside. The smile you give when finishing melts his heart. When he gets back to pomefiore he's gonna scream into that pillow like there's no tomorrow.

# #. SEBEK ZIGVOLT

Sebek is yapping and refusing, saying how it's unbecoming to wear makeup as a knight. He would get messy and dirtied during his training anyway, so what was the point? You remind him that Lilia's a knight, and that he wears makeup. He shuts up...Before yelling once more.

You sigh, groaning into a couch pillow at his annoying voice. Looks like you'll have to bring out the ultimate weapon for this. You stand up, batting your lashes as you place an arm on his shoulder. "But Sebek, don't you want to look your best for Malleus?"

That gets him to shut up. He sits on the sofa, posture still perfect as he grumbles to himself, arms crossed. Yet you can see the nervous excitement on his face. It was both cute yet annoying how dedicated he was.

You stand above him, a cheeky grin on your lips as you hold the brushes to his face. He's rolling his eyes at you, telling you to hurry it up. And that you do. He doesn't care much for the feeling, finding it somewhat pleasant- in a weird way.

He's far more focused on the way your standing above him. Your eyes gaze at him, and it feels like your staring deeply into his soul. He notices how your lips pucker slightly, carefully placing lipstick on his own. Your lips look oddly nice....

GAH- you're just a dumb human!! Why was he thinking about you like this?? He's suddenly flushing a bright red. Sputtering curses and nonsense- something about you bewitching him?? You just roll your eyes, quickly finishing the job before kicking him out. At least he looks good for Waka-Sama.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #twst first years #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek x reader

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faetreides · 2 days

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Art seems like such a sub, like he’d be so down pathetic when he sits between your legs, back to your chest while you give him an hj. He whimpers while you whisper dirty things in his ear and shakes more with each pump OOH I NEED HOLY WATER 😭

he gives switch vibes with a sub lean for suuuuuuure 😮‍💨

cw: 18+ mdni, handjob, sub!art, set more in the college era, reader’s a switch too btw but art makes them feral, very loving tho, taking care of him after a tough practice, afab reader

“That’s it, just lie back on me. You must be feeling so sore.” You coo, caressing his biceps and getting into position on his bed.

You recline against the wall and open your legs. Art can’t hide the way his eyes light up as he eases onto the bed and swiftly turns around, resting his back against your chest with a soft sigh. You pick up on the groan he attempts to stifle in his palm, knowing how his muscles be absolutely aching right now.

It’s a big deal for you to show that you support him by showing up to his games and practices, so that’s what you doing earlier. You’ve always admired his determination when it comes to tennis, so you don’t mention that losing a college game isn’t the end of the world. Still, you won’t deprive yourself of the eye candy that comes in the form of your boyfriend sweating and grunting as he practices his drills.

Once it was over, he bounded over to you with a tired grin and jokingly pushed your face away when you tried to kiss him. “Angel, i’m all gross now.” He’d laugh, and you’d shut him up by licking some of the sweat of his cheek.

“Did I do good today?” He asks and looks up at you with his big eyes.

You’ll never not be grateful that he seeks out your approval like a dog with a bone, because you’ve never been so proud of someone in your entire life.

“You always do the best, babe.”

Art blushes and tilts his head back onto your shoulder. And for a cliché moment time stand still, the sunset outside casts an orange glow over the room and the two of you. Your boyfriend looks beautiful like this, eyes shut in exhaustion and nestled in your arms.

But you have other plans for the evening than just admiring your boyfriend, there will be plenty of that later during pillow talk.

Art cracks his eyes to see your hands trail down his arms to end up at his crotch. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t squirm as much as he usually does, but he turns his head to nuzzle your shoulder.

You soothingly murmur to him, “My boy worked so hard today, i think he deserves a reward, don’t you?”

“I want whatever you have to give me.” He genuinely smiles into your skin, shifting his hips to push up against you palming his bulge.

And it’s true, he’d throw his head back like a whore and moan unabashedly no matter if you were edging him with a vibrator of if you were gently grinding your fat ass against his dripping cock.

You teasingly squeeze his clothed bulge and then dip your fingers under the waistband of his white boxer briefs. Thank god for the fact that Art likes to strip down as he soon as he gets back to his room after practice.

“Lift your hips for me, baby boy.” You tell him with a nip to his earlobe.

He sighs again as he gives you the suitable free space to push his underwear down enough to free his cock. It’s so long and pretty, such a good size too. Flushed blush pink at the tip and veiny, your mouth waters but giving your boyfriend head is a reward for a different day.

Art whines when you get your hands on his bare cock, “You know ‘m sensitive, feels so good already.”

“But your tears are so pretty when you’re overstimulated.” You peck his temple and lean your head on top of his, curling your hand around the base of his dick and steadily beginning to pump him. “You should be happy to cum as much as you want, sweets.”

He whimpers and spreads his legs over yours. You hook your feet around his and keep them there.

Pearls of precum bead to the tip of his cock, making the slide easier. You grip him tighter and move your wrist in quick circles as you speed up your thrusting.

“Oh- F-fuck!” He keens, latching onto your hips and arching his back against you.

“Shh, if you can’t handle this how are you supposed to handle my pussy? It’s so much tighter than my hand, baby, you’ve felt how warm and wet it is.”

He cums embarraingly quick when he gets like this, all doped up on how you make him melt. It’s adorable and a huge ego boost, but he can only cum inside you so much before he’s out like a light.

Art gasps at the mention of his treat, and awkwardly twists his torso around to face you, “I can handle it, can i have it now? Please please please please.”

“I don’t know…” You hum, pretending to consider his begging.

You clasp your fingers around his leaking dick and thumb the tip, spreading the precum. You fuck his length with your fist and you’re going so fast, you’re making a ‘thwop! thwop! thwop!’ sound.

“I think I want you to cum just like this, love.”

Art keens as you furiously jack him off. You rile him up by whispering in his ear.

“Got me so hot watching you today. Seeing the sweat on your body when you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face, i wanted to ride you into the ground.”

Art gapes, trying to kick his legs out on reflex but your ankles over his keep him right where you want him. He screws his eyes shut tightly and moans in between his babbling.

“Unh- unh- ‘s so good, gonna cum, can i cum? Please say i can cum, ‘m gonna burst- FUCK!”

You don’t know who’s crying more, Art or his cock. He’s leaking so much that you had to concentrate or you’ll lose your grip.

You don’t let up until he’s heaving a strangled cry and shooting his hips up, spilling on and over your hand like a fountain. He gets so sloppy with it, fucking himself with your fist through the aftershocks.

“That’s it, such a big load for me. I bet you were aching holding all that in, baby.”

And he’s so gorgeous, mouth open wide and tugging on his hair in random intervals. You grab his face with your free head and rub your thumb over his cheek. You let him come down at his own pace, and when he focuses his pretty eyes back on you, you bring your sticky hand to his mouth.

Art cleans his own mess, maintaining eye contact with you. The fierce tomato red blush he’s sporting deepens. You wink at him and slurp up an equal amount of his cum, like a couple sharing a milkshake in an old fashion diner.

#im more of a sub bottom but sometimes im possessed by the urge to peg a man #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers 2024 #challengers smut #mike faist challengers #challengers movie #mike faist #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist x you #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #art donaldson challengers #🎧.asks #🕊️.alivedove

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bratzforchris · 29 days

Text

Five Love Languages, M. Sturniolo

Summary: The five love languages look a little different for Matt and his girlfriend, but that's always okay<3

Pairing: Matt x neurodivergent fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic burnout, this is entirely self indulgent

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I think we need more representation around here, especially for different neurotypes and disabilities <3 This fic is based off of this Instagram post :) I am autistic and have ADHD, and this was so much fun to write--if you'd like to see the same thing but for another boy, drop a request in my inbox!

Infodumping༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“Matt, come here! Now!” You squealed from your shared bedroom, your joy infectious as you bounced up and down on the bed happily.

You could hear the sound of your boyfriend running up the stairs, followed by him bursting through the door, slightly out of breath. “What’s up, honey?” he asked with a smile, noting your happy stims and luminous grin.

“Taylor’s going on tour!” You giggled, shaking your hands in small fists as a way to release all the happy, all-consuming energy that came with engaging in a special interest.

“Oh really?” Matt asked genuinely, sitting beside you on the bed. “Tell me more, hun!” he encouraged you, kissing your cheek gently so as not to get in the way of your movements.

“It’s going to be a tour where she goes through every era,” You smiled, happily bouncing on the bed. “We have to go.”

“We will,” Matt rubbed your knee softly. “As many dates as you want.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up at the thought of getting to experience your special interest with your favorite person.

“Really, honey. What album are you most excited to hear?”

Matt looked at you kindly, his eyes shining with love. He absolutely loved watching how excited you got over your special interests. You had been a huge Taylor Swift fan for over ten years now, and the brunette wished that he could bottle up your happiness whenever you engaged with her music. He would almost equate your joy to that of sunshine, baby animals, and glitter. Where some people thought you were “just a fangirl” or “too obsessed”, Matt loved listening when you infodumped about Taylor Swift. The sheer dedication someone could have to a singular topic was beyond impressive and adorable to him.

“That’s really hard, Matt,” You whined playfully, still happily stimming and flapping your hands. “I really like Lover a lot because it reminds me of you, but I also want to hear reputation because it’s just so iconic. Like the whole snake aesthetic after the Kim and Kayne thing was just perfect. But then I also love folklore because of the love triangle thing and also because it’s just so experimental. Did you know that there was only eleven months between Lover and folklore?” You asked your boyfriend, becoming more animated as you spoke.

“I didn’t know that!” Matt responded, clearly very invested in the conversation. “Here hun, why don’t you play with this instead? I don’t want you to hurt your wrists, sweetie.” he explained softly, passing you a fidget toy that was laying on your nightstand.

You blushed as you took the toy from him, not even realizing just how bad your wrists were hurting. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?” You asked him, slowly crawling across the bed and into his lap.

“I think I had an idea or two.” Matt smirked.

You began to play with the fidget toy with one hand and Matt’s hair with the other. You still felt the need to stim, your nervous system buzzing with happiness. Whenever you felt the need to fidget, you loved to mess with your boyfriend’s hair, and he always let you. The way his soft, brown curls slid through your fingers and the way his natural highlights hit the light gave you such good sensory feelings.

“Thank you for listening to me…I know it’s a lot sometimes.” You whispered shyly, hiding your face against his hoodie.

Matt rubbed circles on your back as you played with his hair. “I love listening to you talk Taylor, baby. I think it’s interesting.” he grinned.

“You do?”

“I do,” he booped your nose. “I think it’s cute too.”

“Do you think she’s gonna go era by era?” You asked, still too excited to focus on much else besides your special interest. “I hope so. That would be so much fun.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me everything,” Matt giggled. “I can’t be one of those boyfriends who goes and looks miserable.”

You squealed, untangling your hands from his hair and planting a kiss on his lips. “Oh hun, you’re gonna be the most educated boy in the stadium. You’ll know more Taylor lore than Taylor

Parallel Play ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed happily, pulling your blanket closer around yourself and taking a sip of your coffee. Thankfully, Matt had a completely free day with nothing to film, which meant you could just enjoy each other’s company. These days were few and far between, but you treasured every one because of how unmasked and free they allowed you to be.

You sat your mug down on the coffee table and picked up the yarn and crochet hook you had set out earlier. Matt sat at the other end of the couch, feet in your lap as he focused intently on his book. You felt your heart swell with love as you took a peek at the cover, and noted that it was a memoir about understanding and aiding your partner in their unmasking journey.

Matt was by far the best boyfriend you had ever had when it came to accepting and loving you, neurodivergence and all. Finding a man who didn’t fetishize or infantilize being an autistic woman was hard, but the brunette was a diamond in the rough. Like right now for example, when he was spending his Saturday morning that he had off learning about how to understand the way your brain worked.

You blushed and picked up your crocheting, beginning to work on the blanket you had started earlier in the week. You had picked a chenille yarn in pretty pastel colors, and the rainbow of yarn, as well as its soft feel made you smile. You began to crochet, taking a peek at Matt every so often. Occasionally, your boyfriend would look up at the same time and catch your eye, sending you a soft smile before going back to reading.

The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. Matt had a way of making you feel loved and safe, even without speaking the words out loud. Having grown up with his own mental health struggles around anxiety, your boyfriend understood the importance of “being alone together” and just existing in each other's orbit, without the need for words.

“Thank you.” You whispered shyly after about thirty minutes of silence.

“For what?” Matt asked you, closing the book and setting it on the pillow next to him.

You sat down your craft as well and moved to snuggle into his arms, angling yourself so that you could hear the beat of his heart. “For just letting me be me.”

The brunette buried his nose in your hair, speaking softly against his head. “I love you.”

“You just let me be and we can do our own things without feeling awkward or weird,” You explained. “It’s comforting…and it makes me fall more in love with you.” You giggled softly, a blush creeping up your neck.

Matt held you closer to his body, arms wrapped around you protectively. “You’re perfect, baby. All of you.”

As you snuggled further into his hold, the two of you fell into companionable silence again, enjoying each other’s company. It really was the little moments like these that made you realize just how lucky you were to be in such an accepting, caring relationship.

Support Swapping ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Over the past year of dating Matt, you had fallen into a wonderful routine with your boyfriend, one that allowed you to distribute your spoons more easily and allowed him a slight break from his anxiety, especially socially.

“Support Swapping” as you two called it was great help and was arguably one of the best parts of your relationship. Being autistic and having ADHD, you tended to struggle with executive functioning, always focusing on the wrong things instead of doing what you needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. If you were hyperfixated on something, your mind could block out all reminders and signals from your body to eat, drink, rest, and use the bathroom. Once you finally realized how depleted you were, it would inevitably lead to an autistic meltdown because of the overwhelming sensory urges of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst.

Matt, on the other hand, oftentimes struggled with parts of his job that came along with being a content creator. As much as he loved being in front of the camera and giving the fans funny content, he despised writing and sending emails. Nick could edit out anything that made him seem a little too weird or awkward; he couldn’t control how the recipient would take his email. You however, had loved writing ever since you were a little girl and actually took great pride in being able to communicate effectively through the written word.

When you had voiced these concerns with each other and how they made both of you feel emotionally, it was clear there was only one option, and that was to support each other, just like you were on this particular day. It was nearing dinnertime by this point, the sun setting over the LA skyline as you tapped at the computer in Matt’s office. You had been hunched over the computer all day, filling out paperwork and emails for collabs that Matt had to do. You typed up all the notes for him, pasting them into a document, where he could then sign his name and send them off. Between your love of the written word and routine, writing the same thing over and over again was like a weird therapy for you.

“Sweetheart?” You heard a soft knock at the door before Matt entered the room.

“One sec.” You hummed, eyes still trained on the screen. “I’m almost done.”

“Babe,” Matt spun you around in the office chair so that you were facing him. “I love you and I adore you for doing this for me, but it’s almost seven. Time for dinner.” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips.

“Oh,” You blushed, not realizing how much time had gone by. Just then, your stomach rumbled, making Matt give you a knowing look. “This is why we help each other and remind each other.” You snorted, facepalming yourself softly.

Matt kissed your forehead gently, helping you out of the chair and guiding you towards the kitchen with a soft hand on the small of your back. Before you two left the office, though, he sneakily closed out your computer, making sure you would spend the rest of the evening resting. Your heart swelled when you walked into the kitchen and saw your and Matt’s small dining table completely laid with dinner and drinks.

“You didn’t.” You smiled, turning towards your boyfriend.

“I did,” Matt picked you up and kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I know how distracted you can get when you’re working, sweetheart.”

You blushed as Matt sat you down at the table, knowing he was absolutely right. “You take care of me so well.”

Matt rubbed your knuckles softly as he sat down in his own chair. “That’s what a partnership is for,” he smiled, the adorable crinkles around his eyes that you loved oh-so-much on full display. “We take care of each other.”

"Please Crush My Soul Back Into My Body" ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed, growing restless as you shifted around in the backseat of the van. The triplets were filming their weekly Friday car video, and you had decided to join on this particular day. You absolutely loved playing Over/Under, but the effects of the evening were beginning to wear on you. Between Chris frequently changing topics to almost anything that wasn’t Over/Under and Nick’s yelling, you were starting to become overstimulated.

You shifted, trying to pull your hoodie off since it was starting to irritate you, only to loudly smack your arm on the hard, plastic door of the car. All three boys looked your way, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked with a chuckle, but his eyes held a concerned look.

“Mhm,” You nodded, trying not to let your frustration show. “Just a little too hot.”

“We should finish up. Nick’s second timer has already gone off.” Matt turned in his seat and stretched, trying to discreetly end the video.

Matt knew you almost as well, if not better than you knew yourself, and he could tell that you weren’t super comfortable, despite your best efforts to hide it. Even he had to admit that Chris’s frequent change of topics and Nick’s yelling was getting to be a lot, so he couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling. Luckily, his brothers seemed to take the hint, and the boys swiftly ended the video, with you whispering a little ‘bye’ in the background.

As your boyfriend began to try towards the triplets' LA home, you shoved your earbuds into your ears, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window. You were overstimulated and exhausted, and the next person to add to sensory overload was going to catch it if you didn’t try to calm yourself. You were so caught up in the awful feelings taking over your body and your anxiety that you didn't even notice that Matt had pulled into the garage and Nick and Chris had vacated the car until your boyfriend turned in his seat, patting your knee.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly.

“No…” You mumbled, trying not to choke on tears. “Too much.”

Matt understood what you meant and gently helped you out of the car and into the house without another word. On the way to your shared bedroom, he quietly shushed Nick and Chris, mumbling a little ‘overstimulated’. Both brothers were aware of you being autistic and immediately piped down, silently feeling terrible for you.

Your boyfriend sat you down on the edge of the bed, handing you a fidget toy from off your nightstand. Despite the discomfort you were experiencing, you felt your heart swell as you watched Matt gently take off your socks and shoes, before standing up and looking at you.

“Do you want your headphones?” he asked you in sign language.

You could’ve cried right then and there because of your sheer love for Matt. Ever since you two had started dating and you had explained that you used ASL to communicate when you were feeling overstimulated, the brunette had taken it upon himself to learn as much of the language as possible. He was still rather beginner level, but it was the thought behind it that made you want to squeeze him and pepper his face with kisses.

You nodded to his question, and Matt swiftly replaced your earbuds with better quality, noise canceling headphones. You sighed softly at the relief, standing up and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's waist. “Thank you,” You signed against his chest. “I love you.”

Matt hugged you back gently, almost like he was scared you would break. “Pajamas?” he asked again.

You nodded once more, and your boyfriend gently helped you into soft, sensory approved pajama pants and one of his faded, soft shirts. You quietly got curled up under your weighted blanket as Matt bustled around the room, getting himself ready for bed, but the pressure wasn’t enough. You needed something more. As your boyfriend crawled into bed, you rolled over onto your side, tapping his shoulder gently.

“Will you lay on me?” You signed.

Matt smiled, kissing your forehead gently. He grabbed the remote and turned on your comfort show on the television, before laying his head softly on your stomach. You smiled and sighed contently at the feeling, running your fingers through his soft, brown curls. That was one of your favorite stims, and the feeling of Matt’s pressure, combined with stimming and noise canceling headphones, was slowly calming you down.

Over the hour that followed, Matt softly laid more and more of his body weight over top of you. He knew that deep pressure therapy helped you regulate your nervous system, especially when you were overstimulated. If some extra love and cuddles would help, he wasn’t going to be the one to complain. Sure enough, by the time he looked up at you, you were fast asleep, a happy little smile on your lips.

Penguin Pebbling ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Matt looked over at you from his position on the couch as you giggled, happily kicking your feet. “What’s so funny?” “Check your Tiktok.” You laughed, a happy little smile taking up residence on your face as you stimmed.

Your boyfriend smiled at whatever antics you had going on, migrating to his phone. You let out a little giggle as you watched Matt’s facial expressions change, from that of confusion, to that of happiness.

“You really sent me one hundred and fifty different cat videos?” he asked, though his tone was playful.

“They reminded me of you,” You whined, throwing a stuffed animal at him. “You’re the one who always sends people images of sleeping kittens and says ‘that’s me’.”

Matt chuckled as he sat watching every single video. He knew how important sharing was to you, especially when it had to do with the people you cared about. “Penguin pebbling” as it was called, was the act of unconventional gift giving as a sign of affection. Your boyfriend absolutely loved when you did this, because it was pure love. It wasn’t big, expensive gifts or luxury vacations. It was the smallest, most accessible thing in the world, yet you took time out of your day to do it.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” the brunette asked, sliding onto the floor beside you and kissing your cheek.

“Maybe once or twice.” You grinned.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniee @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @mggcult @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @aemrsy @billsslutt

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1644s · 25 days

Text

ruination

warnings/tags: minors DNI, dark themes, Bridgerton!AU, woc!reader, playing fast and loose w/ how things work in the regency era, Prince!Charles, soft dark!Charles, manipulation, peer pressure, possessive behavior, these tags are not exhaustive

wc: 6.4k (this is so aksdfljas)

summary: Royalty and greed go hand in hand. Prince Charles is no exception to this rule. If he must ruin you to have you, then so be it.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

rewatched Bridgerton, thought about Charles, and here we are :) obligatory unedited, unbeta'd etc. please let me know your thoughts! and happy reading :P

You wonder how one finds themselves in a position such as your present one.

He is dripping water onto your floors but your other choice was to leave him to his devices and so really, there was no choice at all. You can only hope your cousins remain engrossed in their conversations with the King and his ensemble. Though, you are certain they would find much more enjoyment in finding out you’ve snuck a boy into your quarters right underneath your parents’ noses.

You bring him all of the towels you have and thrust them into his arms. “The bathroom is over there. I left some of my cousin’s clothes in there but…” you trail off, unsure of how to tell him they might be too big. Your cousin was quite testy at this age and you do not wish to further ruin this boy’s day.

“Thank you,” he says politely, a far cry from the bumbling boy you were ushering into your room just minutes ago. The red in his cheeks hasn’t faded away yet but he no longer resembles a tomato.

You sit on your bed, feet dangling, as you wait for him. Luckily, the day is warm and sunny so his clothes will be dry within the hour. Unluckily, you do not know if you have an hour to spare.

Chewing on your cheek, you wonder how you’ll manage to keep this boy hidden for so long and without suspicion. You are due for lunch soon but there should be a delay due to the royal family coming for a visit. Your father is a man unable to not try and seize every opportunity given to him and these types of opportunities can only be taken advantage of with the absence of children.

The bathroom door opens. There’s a disgruntled look on the boy’s face as he tries to adjust his sleeves to no avail. They hang limply over his hands and it takes every ounce of your etiquette training to not giggle.

“Don’t worry. Your clothes will be dry soon,” you say. Unfortunately, nothing can be done about the wrinkles that are certain to appear. But that is an issue he must deal with so you don’t bother to apologize for it.

“Oh, sorry about the water,” he says, noticing the puddle by your vanity. He drops one of the damp towels on top and half heartedly wipes it away with his shoe.

“It’s fine. I think.” The dirt at the bottom of his shoe is going to leave a mark but you’ll worry about that later. The dress your mother put you in has ensured that you won’t be able to do anything other than breathe carefully and sit upright until the King and his entourage leave.

“If it’s not, I can let my father know and he’ll find a way to fix it,” he says unhelpfully. An almost resigned expression flits across his face but he quickly smooths out the wrinkle of his nose with a bland smile.

For some reason, his immediate assumption that you will take him up on it irritates you. He will be long gone by the time a punishment comes if one is to come. Instead of acknowledging his offer, you ask, “How did you end up in the fountain?”

He blinks, surprised. Then he averts his eyes. “I tripped.”

You twist a loose strand from your bed covers around your finger. “Ah.” If only you had come by five minutes earlier, you would’ve had something to laugh about during lunch. “You aren’t bleeding anywhere, right?”

“No.” But he’s looking over himself as he answers you. “No,” he repeats, more assured. “Mother would’ve killed me if I showed up to lunch with my clothes in disarray. Again.”

“You’re going to the lunch too?” you ask, tilting your head. As far as you know, your family and the King’s immediate family are the only ones allowed. Surely, one of the King’s own wouldn’t find himself in such a silly position.

He cuts you an aghast look. “I’m the Prince.”

You can’t help yourself from giving him a once over. “Are you?”

His clothes are quite nice, you will admit to this. It was the first thing you noticed when you saw him toppled over in the water. But what sort of prince falls into a fountain? And wouldn’t the King ensure his sons are by his side his entire time? You glance out your window as if you’ll suddenly see the Kingsguard crawling up the walls and to your room.

“Yes! I am,” he says, flustered.

He seems sure of himself so you choose to believe him. Maybe the kingdom of Monaco is a much more relaxed place than you have been led to believe. “Alright,” you shrug.

“I’m Charles,” he introduces. Charles stands expectantly as if awaiting a dramatic reaction.

It takes a second for his name to register. The spare as he’s been so crudely called.

You give him your name easily. Your father is a lesser known Earl. He’s clawed his way into his position so you aren’t surprised when there is no flare of recognition in Charles’ eyes. Your title hardly matters as you are merely a pawn for your father to move around the board as he sees fit.

“That…makes sense,” he says after a moment. “I was wondering why you were in the garden without a chaperone.”

Distaste sours your mouth. Ever since your first cycle, you have not been left alone without someone to watch over you whenever guests are around. Fortunately, your estate is not plagued with visitors but it is annoying having to seek out one of your cousins when your family does find itself with visitors. You tend to avoid any man older than you by default so you believe you have more than earned the right to wander your own home no matter how improper your mother finds it.

“Speaking of chaperones, where are your guards?”

At the reminder, he scoffs. “I snuck away from them.”

It’s nice to know even the prince feels smothered at times. “And here I thought you lived a charmed life.”

He wavers and then sits a polite distance from you. It should feel illicit—because it is illicit—but the shame never comes.

“I’m old enough to be on my own,” he complains. “It’s not as if Father forces me to train because he thinks I find it fun.”

“Do you find it fun?”

“I do. But that is not the point,” he huffs.

“What a trial it is to have a father that loves you,” you say with a hand to your chest. “Oh, the travesty!”

Your dramatics earn an amused scrunch of his nose. He flops on your bed, head just below your pillows. He tucks an arm underneath his head and sighs. “It sounds bad when I put it like that, huh?”

“No. I get it.” However, to a lesser degree. For all the freedoms Charles is granted in comparison to you, there are restrictions you can not even imagine that he must have. “Somewhat.”

The bed creaks as he shifts to his side. “Really?” he asks.

“Really,” you confirm with a nod. And then you shrug. “But it will not be forever.”

“It will not,” he agrees quietly. “Once I’m of age…”

You wait for him to finish but he doesn’t continue. But it doesn’t matter for you hear your maid knock on your door with three rapid raps. You scramble off of your bed and hold the door closed.

“I’m coming,” you call, hoping the reediness in your voice isn’t noticeable.

The handle stops turning. “Hurry.” With that, she leaves.

You exhale. You do not want to imagine what would have come if Karina had barged in as she usually does.

“You should leave first,” you say. The spike of anxiety has yet to retreat so you sound harsher than you intend.

Charles does not need to be told twice. His gait is stiff as he leaves. He looks back at you before he disappears around the corner.

After a respectable amount of time passes, you walk to the dining room. You can hear your mother chiding one of your cousins and pray she is too distracted by whatever mischief they’ve gotten into to notice your late arrival. And because you are not known for your luck, you accidentally come across Charles and his mother as they enter.

“Why are your clothes damp?”

You’re close enough to catch the Queen’s question to her son. Charles tries to wave it off but she pinches a cuff between her fingers and asks again.

The resigned downward curve of his mouth is what drives you to interrupt them. “It is my fault, Your Majesty. I was getting a drink of water and managed to spill it on His Highness. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Her eyebrows raise. She inspects her son further. Something about him must amuse her for she smiles in that knowing way all mothers do and says, “It is fine, my dear. Let us go eat.”

Charles tries to catch your eyes during lunch but you keep your gaze steadfast on your cousins whenever you speak. It is only when the adults turn their attentions away from your section of the table that you meet Charles’ earnest gaze with a smile. You tip your chin in the direction of your father and give the barest hint at a shake of your head.

Before he and his family depart, Charles pulls you aside. Your parents are too focused on saying their farewells to the King and Queen to notice you’ve been sequestered away. Unfortunately, Charles draws the attention of his older brother much to your horror. Your urge to stomp on his foot is only quelled when Lorenzo shakes his head with a little laugh and holds a finger to his lips.

“Write to me,” Charles says in one breath. “Please.”

“Your Highness,” you say, unsure.

“Charles,” he corrects. He digs into his pocket and slips a folded piece of paper into your hand. He closes your fingers around it. “I’ll await your letters, my lady.”

He’s hurried off to his family before you can say another word. Shaking off your bewilderment, you tuck the paper given to you into your sleeve, and go to join your parents in wishing the Leclercs a safe journey home.

Hours later, when you are finally alone are you able to unfold and read what Charles has written you. It is an address with instructions on how to write it so that any letter of yours arrives at his personal quarters.

You press your tongue at the back of your molars, a little impressed at his confidence. It is not unfounded as that same night, you pull out a piece of paper and begin writing to him.

It is seven long years before you see Charles and his family again. But it is as if no time has passed as you and Charles exchange letters in your time apart.

You were able to conceal your correspondence with Charles with the simple lie of having befriended one of the maids the Leclerc’s brought along with them. Guilt did not swirl in your stomach at the disappointment in your father’s face when he realized the sturdy letter in his hands did not come from the King or Queen asking for your hand in marriage whenever you were eligible. It is pure luck you happened upon your father receiving the mail and were able to extinguish his hopes with a nonchalant lie.

He’s funnier than a prince ought to be. It doesn’t take long for you to forget you are talking to a prince and not one of your peers and formality becomes a thing of the past. By the end of that year, you considered Charles one of your closest friends.

You were one of the first to find out about his father’s passing. It took hours of convincing and a smidge of bribery to coax your cousin into bringing a gift to Charles from you the next time he went in for training at the palace along with your condolences. Letters from Charles ceased for a handful of months understandably but you sent your weekly letters faithfully. You detailed everything from your days to your studies to the little warm pockets of memories you had of his father and his kindness to whatever else crossed your mind. You didn’t know how else to comfort him from so far but when Charles finally returned his pen to the page, it was to thank you for allowing him some respite during the worst of his grieving period.

The years pass and while communication becomes strained as you two come to grow into your respective roles, you still consider Charles a very good friend. He’s one of the first to hear about your woes on your upcoming debut into society. You are approaching your twenty first year and you are sweating at the thought of what’s to come. You detail to him the families that have begun sniffing around you as if to test the waters of what sort of prestige your father is expecting. It is taxing but you deal with it well. You have no other choice after all.

Charles is strangely reticent at the topic of your debut. He offers a sympathetic ear but struggles to reassure you in ways that don’t make you vaguely uncomfortable. You can’t quite put your finger on why but his insistent claims that you will not have to worry about the men circling you like vultures does not set you at ease as you suspect he thinks it does. It reeks slightly of ownership but you brush it off as surely his written word is more one dimensional than his thoughts. It is far more likely Charles thinks to soothe you by the implication of an order of protection as he has no way to actually prevent someone asking for your hand. It is the thought that counts, you think.

This time around, the Leclerc’s visit is rather unexpected. You are due to travel to Monaco in a week’s time to make your debut but you cannot say you do not welcome the chance to see your old friend sooner.

Except, he is not the Charles you have kept so dear to your heart over the years. He is a man grown now. And you do not recognize him.

“Hello, Your Highness,” you greet, curtsying as suited for your station. You do not let yourself linger on him, to soak in how much he’s changed over these years.

It feels like a slap in the face even though it is to be expected. With your correspondence spanning from childhood until now, it should not come as a surprise to see Charles as the prince he is. But foolishly, you’ve held onto the image of him as the boy whose sleeves were a tad too long and whose smile hadn’t quite grown into the charming one he’s sporting now. Before, you could trick yourself into believing Charles was a friend of equal standing. But now you know that has never been the case.

He has always been Prince Charles Leclerc.

You greet his younger brother next, dutifully reciting your introductions to one another. A flash of recognition crosses his expression and his eyes flick to Charles for a moment. You pretend you do not notice.

His older brother, the king, makes idle conversation with your parents. Your fingers twitch against the fabric of your lehenga. The weight of your necklace is suddenly stifling and you bring your hand up to adjust it.

“Are you excited about your debut?” Arthur asks politely.

Seeing as your parents and the king have left the three of you to your own devices but within their eyesight, your shoulders loosen. “If my mother asks, I told you I’ve never been more excited in my life,” you say, sharing a conspiring smile with him. There is little doubt in your mind that Arthur is expected to happen upon a wife during this ball somehow.

“And if I ask?”

Charles’ voice is smooth and playful. He is not someone you can ignore regardless but you wish he made it a little easier to look at him without feeling blinded by his beauty.

“I am dreading it,” you confess. And he is well aware of that.

“Still scared no one will ask you for your dance card?” Charles teases.

You look up as if considering the possibility. The thought crossed your mind months ago but your mother had quickly assuaged those fears. “No,” you say. It isn’t arrogance that fuels your adamant denial. It will be a shock if not one man approaches you for a dance at your debut of all things. “More that I am scared my father will throw me to the first man who extends his hand.”

Your dry confession wipes the smile off of Charles’ face. “He would not do that.”

Arthur looks aghast. “Would he?”

“He would,” you say seriously. “We all have our duties do we not?”

You manage to shut Charles up while encouraging Arthur to complain about how his mother plans to spring a bride upon him to keep her wayward son home. Said mother beckons to him after ten minutes to point him towards Lorenzo’s guard, leaving you and Charles with the illusion that you two are alone. Hyperaware of his presence, you take a step back. You may not be searching for a husband but it does not mean you can tarnish your reputation by being careless. You turn to head back to your room with the intention of feigning ill. Except, a set of footsteps echo your own.

Charles follows after you. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

Not particularly, you think but force the thought into the recesses of your mind. “While that sounds lovely, your Highness, I really must go.”

His hand wraps around your wrist before you can take another step away from him. “Must you be so cold?”

“Your Highness,” you whisper warningly. Your voice pitches at the end as your eyes dart around the two of you. There are eyes in every corner and none are to be trusted.

“Charles,” he corrects. “I’m Charles.”

His grip isn’t so tight that you cannot pull away and yet, you do not make an attempt. You stand there with his hand around your wrist and your heart in your throat like a fool. “We cannot be alone, Charles.”

“We’ll sneak off then,” he implores. His voice lowers. “Please. I’ve missed you.” The words linger as if he has more to say but he limits himself to this vulnerability.

The ache in his voice threads through your ribs until it wraps around your heart and squeezes. You chew on your lip for a moment you do not have to spare and then admit defeat. “Wait for me in my room,” you whisper. “I trust you remember how to get there?”

A boyish grin tugs at his lips. “How could I forget?” And then he is off, walking through the halls as if they are all he’s ever known.

You make your way to the kitchen with half a mind to sneak off into the gardens on your own. But you banish the thought, having briefly imagined the disappointment on Charles’ face if you do not show up. You quickly pack lunch and loop your arm through the handle of the basket.

It’s easy enough to get to your room without any prying eyes but you can never be too cautious. You peek around yourself, angling the basket so it looks smaller than it is to a wandering eye, before opening your door. Charles is digging through your vanity and spins around when he hears the creak of your door.

There’s something crumpled in his hand that he quickly shoves into a pocket. He grimaces. “You are back.”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “I am. Are you ready for lunch?” You do not have the patience to question what he’s taken as a souvenir. It is likely something innocuous and something you’d give to him without thought anyway. Nothing you have is of value to a prince of all people.

“Are we to eat in here?”

You shake the basket hanging from your arm. “Of course not. We shall eat in the garden.” Eyeing the worn out throw on your couch, you point to it. “Take that so we may sit on it.”

Charles acquiesces, carefully bundling it in his arms. The hallway is empty and there are no echoes of hurried footsteps so you motion for Charles to follow you. Instead of leaving how you came, you lead Charles towards the rarely used back hallway. With two quick turns, the two of you find yourselves near the unused lower quarters.

Charles glances around himself, mildly surprised. “I was not aware these were here. Even from the outside it looks so…”

“Decayed?” you offer, amused at how he doesn’t correct you. “My grandfather never bothered to include these in the renovations so they remain empty. Every once in a while, someone will come down and clean it but if anyone is down here, it’s either me or my cousins.” You think it’s haunted as well but you don’t tell Charles that.

Pushing open a door with your back, you bring Charles to the very edge of your mother’s garden. A quaint pond sits off to the side, hidden from view.

Once the two of you are settled atop of your blanket with food in your hands, you ask, “Is this the season you intend on finding a wife?”

Charles chokes on his sandwich. You jerk back, nearly dropping your own due to his coughing fit. He thumps at his chest a few times before clearing his throat. With watery eyes and a raw voice, he says, “No. It is not the right time yet.”

Charles is twenty two to your twenty. He is considered young in a way you are not granted. Envy begins to drip into you but you quickly cauterize the entry point of it. The freedom you long for is no fault of Charles.

“You do love your dalliances,” you agree teasingly.

Embarrassment scalds his face to a deep red. You are confident if you were to hold your hand up an inch from his cheek, you would feel the residual heat.

He splutters, unable to form a string of words in defense for himself.

You laugh loudly. His reputation as a rake has preceded him. You don’t think it to be as scandalous as higher society wishes to believe but there must be some kernel of truth mixed in with the rumors. Despite the rumors circulation, it certainly hasn’t affected his value on the marriage market.

“I don’t—“ Charles presses his lips together and sighs. “Okay, that is true. To an extent.”

“Oh, is it now?”

He throws a piece of carrot at you. The red in his cheeks is receding but not by much. “I’m young,” he defends. “And I am trying to be patient for her sake. Or else, I would already have a betrothal in the works by now.”

Your ears perk up. “There is someone you wish to wed?” you repeat excitedly. He has not mentioned anyone in particular to you but perhaps they are someone he wishes to keep close to his heart until the match is secured. While so far none of your letters to each other have been placed into the wrong hands, some subjects are too delicate to risk the chance.

Charles looks off to the distance and then back to you. A crumb rests on the corner of his mouth and the casualness of it is at odds with the severity that pinches his face. “Yes.”

“Do they know of your intentions?” You try to think back on if Charles has accidentally hinted at someone being in the picture but you are drawing a blank.

He scoffs. He sounds almost bitter but when you look at him, the purse of his lips is closer to self-deprecating. “Not in the slightest. She would run in the other direction if she knew.”

“Oh please, you are a prince,” you say, exasperated. “You will be hard pressed to find a woman who wouldn’t swoon at a proposal from you.”

“You would be surprised.”

You knock your shoulder against his. Many dream of becoming a part of the royal family and romanticize it to an extreme degree. The insight Charles has given you over the years has proven it is anything but and you do not envy the women who will find themselves by the Leclerc’s sides.

“I am surprised. Besides being a prince, you’re charming too,” you say thoughtfully.

“And handsome.”

“And handsome,” you agree much to his delight.

“See? I knew it. I knew you thought this as well.”

“So then you understand why I think it is absurd you are so hesitant. You’ve always been brave. But maybe that is a testament to how fond you are of her.” You will have to make sure to keep a careful eye on who captures Charles’ attention at the ball. Perhaps, you may even need to deploy Arthur to gather some intel.

“I am very fond,” he says softly.

You look up at him to find his eyes already trained on you. Unease weaves itself through you, opening a pit in your belly. But you ignore it. “Hopefully, you will invite me to the wedding.”

He is silent for a long enough time that you fear you’ve overstepped some boundary you weren’t aware was in place. Before you can apologize, Charles brings his hand up. For a moment, you think he will lay his hand against your cheek and you begin to move away. But he merely picks a stray rose petal that has somehow found flight in the wind and tangled itself in your hair.

Whatever look is on your face softens him and the intensity radiating from him peters off into something less stifling. He leans back and examines the petal in his hand. It’s ruby red and faintly fragrant. It seems to center him for Charles says to you, “Save me a dance?”

Your answer is an easy, “Of course, Your Highness.”

Seven short days later, you find yourself in Charles’ home. The ballroom is stunning but its beauty cannot take away the nerves that have overtaken you. Your bones feel soft and weak and you fear you won’t have the strength to stand in front of the Queen. You long to hold your mother’s arm, clinging to her as a child once more, but you force yourself to take each step into the ballroom by yourself. You take a cursory look around, relief overlaying your anxiety at how many other nervous debutantes there are. Your anxiety is fully extinguished once you see Charles chatting with who you believe is Pierre. As if sensing your attention, he slowly turns to your direction and finds you almost instantly.

You give him a mockery of a curtsy.

He gives you a wink.

And so, your debut comes and goes with Charles dominating your dance card. Arthur manages to sneak himself on there as well as Pierre but other than the Leclerc brothers, Pierre, and a few others, your dance card is barren of any of the men your father hoped to potentially marry you off to.

A sticky sort of relief coats your lungs at managing to delay the inevitable for a while longer.

“Last night would have been awful if not for you. Thank you.”

You must head back to your home this afternoon but somehow, you have managed to carve out some time after breakfast to sneak away to say your goodbyes. It took the length of one dance to convince Charles to abandon his duties to allow you to say goodbye. It makes you think perhaps it is a good thing Charles was not the first born.

The glances you keep taking over your shoulder are more instinctual than anything. According to him, this part of the castle is secluded.

“I am indebted to you.”

Charles puts a hand on the ledge to lean forward until he’s all you can see. This close, you can the brown ring around his irises. He studies you, studies how you can’t help but sneak a peek at his mouth, and hums.

“I’ll be sure to collect my debt then.”

You enter your twenty fourth year with no prospects in sight. It horrifies your father.

You have become accustomed to it. The disappointment used to sit bitterly in your stomach but now you’re able to set it aside and put acceptance in its place. You’ve joined your younger cousin for her debut as her chaperone. The castle is as you remember it and so you’re able to impart onto her the two places she can go to for a breather if the chance arises and is needed.

She’s already danced with three gentlemen when she makes her way back to your side. You almost shoo her away but she grabs at you insistently. “The Prince is looking at you,” Sarish whispers.

“He’s probably looking at you,” you whisper back, distracted. You’re tempted to rip your bracelet from the thread it’s caught upon but with your luck, you’ll end up unraveling a good portion of the delicate seam work your mother labored over.

“No, he is not. Look,” she says urgently.

To appease her, you look around until you find one of the younger Leclerc brothers. Arthur has been coerced into a dance with another young woman but Charles remains off to the side. As Sarish says, he is looking at you.

He raises his champagne flute to you, earning the attention of those around him as he does. People crane their neck to see who has caught the eye of the ever elusive Prince Charles Leclerc.

Thankfully, the ballroom is so full, it is impossible to pick out who Charles motioned towards. You have learned to be grateful for the little things and that does not stop now.

“See!”

“I see,” you say through gritted teeth. “Oh look, more gentlemen are coming.” And then you leave your cousin to the swarm of men coming her way because while you are a chaperone, you never promised to be a good one.

It is surprisingly easy to escape to the backyard. Fleetingly, you think they should have more guards around but the lack of them works out in your favor.

You head towards the fountain a few feet away. The gentle lapping of the water soothes you and you take a fortifying breath. Charles can afford to be reckless but you cannot.

Gravel crunches beneath someone’s feet behind you and you whirl around, a hand to your heart. But you find that it is only Charles.

“I hear another betrothal is in the works for you,” Charles says after the silence stretches on for a moment too long. He adjusts his cuff links, smile thin and eyes devoid of all feeling.

You cast a wary glance over his shoulder. The party is in full swing and the guests haven’t quite yet begun to trickle into the backyard. “You called me out here to speak to me about rumors?” you ask doubtfully. Your father, a greedy man with an even greedier extended family, has been anguishing over your lack of proposals. The few courtships you’ve had have extinguished before they could get off the ground. And it is not for a lack of trying on your behalf either. Marriage may not excite you but you see its practicality. It helps that marriage will mean you are no longer be under your father’s thumb and beholden to his politics.

As the months drag and your various suitor’s indecision remains, your father’s hopes at finding a match lessened until he’s now grasping at straws.

“Your father has sent a letter to Carlos,” Charles informs you in a tight voice. “Expressing his interest in potentially being a foothold for the Sainz in Monaco.”

You close your eyes, cursing your father. He must truly be desperate if he thinks to weaponize his little influence to sway an outsider. “The Sainz are a smart family. They will not entertain such a clumsy scheme.”

The gravel shifts underneath his shoes. “Do not worry. I am the only one who saw the letter and I do not think your father so stupid as to think he can insert himself into matters such as this. Desperate, yes, but not stupid.”

The ironclad grip on your heart releases. “Thank you.”

“You have met Carlos though.”

He does not frame it as a question but you answer it like one anyway.

“Yes.” It had been a peculiar week when the Duke’s son found himself at your family home. An accident you still find hard to believe. You smile at the memory.

Charles grinds his teeth. “He is considering making his own offer for your hand.”

That stops you short. “What?”

“He sent the letter before your father’s arrived. The Duke was kind enough to inform me of your father’s…lapse in judgment. He also let me know of his son’s intentions.”

You did not think you left such an impression on Carlos but alas, maybe your luck is looking upwards for once. You cannot control the grin that graces your mouth at this information. If you must marry, you suppose he is a fine choice for a husband. He is certainly someone you know you can come to love and it would be far from a chore to do so. “I see,” you say diplomatically.

“Will you marry anyone then?”

His tone is disapproving and it immediately makes your hackles rise. Charles is a second prince and with his nephew’s arrival, he is no longer considered the spare. He is free to choose who he wants rather than what is good for the nation. Surely nothing holds him back from marrying the girl he loves he mentioned just a scant four years ago.

“I will marry anyone my father finds suitable,” you correct coolly. “It seems you forget my station.”

He rubs his mouth angrily. “Why haven’t you considered me?”

One second you are capable of breath and in the next, you feel as if your lungs have been compressed. The corset is much too tight and there is a sudden lack of air.

“Pardon?”

Charles steps towards you. A perverse sort of torment crosses his face. “Have you not thought of me as I have thought of you?” Another step. “Not even once?”

You must not hide your expression quick enough for his eyes light up. “Charles,” you say with a touch of warning.

“You must have,” he decides, advancing forward. A pleased smile stretches across his mouth.

“If I have, it was fleeting,” you say, taking an equal step back. “I do not dare to wish for more than I can be granted.”

“But you can be granted me.”

“But I don’t wish to be a part of your family, Charles.” Your head is spinning. “I am ill suited. I cannot be your wife. I cannot handle those expectations with grace, Charles.”

“And I cannot bear to be without you,” he interrupts desperately. “I tire of waiting. I tire of waiting for you to come to your senses.” He says your name, a longing whisper on his lips. “I tire of you refusing me.”

Your blood turns to ice. There is a brief swoop of your stomach as you take another step back from Charles. The back of your heels hit the fountain and you nearly buckle backwards.

“I think you should go inside now, Your Highness,” you say, voice caught in the back of your throat.

Charles has no care for your personal space and neither your propriety for he comes closer. He cups your cheek with a too warm hand despite your flinch. This point of contact is damning. “Why would I do that?”

“Charles, I don’t have a chaperone.” The music is winding down and perhaps that is why your heartbeat sounds deafening in your ears. It will be no time at all before the guests begin to trickle out to enjoy the night air.

If Charles will not course correct, you will. You have every intention of slipping off and fueling a different type of rumor but Charles doesn’t move out of your way. Instead, his thumb rubs across your bottom lip with reverence. His touch anchors you to your spot.

Dread runs sluggishly through your veins when his eyes trail down your face. You are beginning to understand that there is only one way this night will end. And you are a fool for not realizing it the moment Charles stepped foot in this courtyard.

Your ankle scrapes against a sharp edge on the fountain, reminding you of your place. You have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide from Charles. He’s set the trap and you’ve found yourself a willing participant in your demise.

“You haven’t had a chaperone with me for years, my lady,” he points out softly. “Must you start now?”

Charles doesn’t wait for an answer.

For all of Charles’ gentle appearance, he kisses you like he’s starved. He dips you slightly, placing his other hand flat against the small of your back for stability. Without his foresight, you might’ve taken you both into the fountain.

Your hands weakly push at his chest but he pays no mind. Instead, he deepens the kiss. Scandalized does not cover what you feel when his tongue slips past the seam of your mouth.

A gasp is what allows you to pull away from Charles. Shock still clings to you, making your limbs stiff and your reaction delayed. His hand cradles your face even as you turn your head ever so slightly to gauge the damage.

And with the multiple pairs of eyes staring back at you, all with varying degrees of incredulity, you know there is no way for you to sweep this under the rug.

He gently turns your face back to him. A satisfied smile rests upon his mouth. Victory lurks behind his smile as he says, “Spring is a lovely time for a wedding, mon amour.”

this fic is finished. there will never be a part 2. thanks!

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