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rafetopia · 4 months

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𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

-𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader

genre: smut & angst -> 18+!!

words: ~3k

warnings: dom!rafe & subby reader, prison sex, “public” sex in a sense you can be possibly watched and heard, (slight) daddy kink, (sexual) choking, hair pulling, blackmailing, bribery, mentions of an affair (not r & r), fingering, slight handjob, mentions of violence and tiny teeny bit of soft!rafe

summary: you visit your fiancé in jail after his arrest

note: i want to say big thank you to @rafesthroatbaby for giving me this wonderful idea (i really hope i did it justice) and to @rvfecamerons for beta reading and helping me improving this piece!!! love you guys to pieces!!

The moment you walked through the doors of the Kildare's Detention Center, you had all eyes on you. The way your cute little summer dress hugged your curves and emphasized your tits, combined with the pastel pink heels and the way you were carrying yourself, was just impossible for anyone to miss. You pulled out your phone and opened your camera, using it as a mirror to apply your lipstick. When your gaze met one of the officers, you gave him a genuine but exaggerated smile, before making your way over to him, making sure to swing your hips a little bit more than usual.

“Good afternoon, officer.” You smirked. “I’m here to see Rafe Cameron.”

“Mr. Cameron isn’t allowed any visitors. Have a nice day.” He bluntly spoke, not interested in any further interaction.

“Oh, but he sure is.” You smiled innocently, before leaning over the counter until you were really close to the man in front of you. “And you’re gonna let me see him.”

“And why is that?”

You smiled devilishly, as leaned towards the man, now only inches away from his face. “Because I’m sure you know who my family is and that I am capable of shredding every single one of you and your corrupt and very much incompetent colleagues to pieces if you don’t grant me that teeny tiny request to see my man..” You paused, “Starting with you and the little affair you have been going on with the mayor's wife.”

His expression shifted as he listened to your threads, knowing that you were indeed serious. You saw how he was fighting with his thoughts and he knew this was bad but he couldn’t risk you exposing the entire department and especially not his affair.

“Fine.” He mumbled as he looked from left to right, making sure that nobody was listening in. “Wait here.”

He came back around five minutes later and guided you towards what you assumed to be the room, where your fiancé was waiting. He was about to open the door when you stopped him.

“See, Officer Wilson, my man and I didn’t have a lot of privacy recently… so I need you to make sure that we will have that.”

“Absolutely not.”

You gave him a disappointed look before reaching into your bag once again. You pulled out a 100-dollar bill and stuffed it into his pocket, before leaning towards his ear. “See, if you would be so kind and look away…might even let you watch.” You smirked, causing him to turn bright red from embarrassment. “Keys?” You smiled, as you opened your hand. He reached onto his collar, removed one single key, and handed it to you. “See, wasn’t so hard, now was it?” You grinned.

You could tell Officer Wilson was beyond pissed that he got screwed by someone as young as you, a female to make it worse but that didn’t matter to you. You got what you wanted.

….

“Hello, baby.” You said the second he had closed the door behind you.

“(Y/N).” He chuckled softly. You were still standing next to the door, but you could see the tears building up in his eyes.

Your heart arched at the way he was looking at you, with teary eyes, tousled hair, and a bruised-up face. You were there when Officer Thomas buried his fist in your fiancé’s face, everyone was able to hear your screams and pleads for him to stop. Deputy Plumb had to physically hold you back and stop you from going full-blown crazy on her colleague, which resulted in you throwing violent threats at the whole police force that was there at that moment. Plumb even wanted to lock you into a cell until you calmed down but Shoupe warned her of the aftermath that would have been your father if she had taken action on her plan.

You took the seat in front of him and immediately held out your hands, for him to hold them. His hands were cuffed together with a light violet and blue line around his wrists, where the metal clung to his skin. You immediately went for the key in your fist and tried to open it.

“How did you convince them to let you in? Alone to give you the key?” He asked surprised but deep down he knew he shouldn’t be. He knew how convincing and resourceful you were, it was one of the many things he loved about you.

“You know I have my ways.” You smirked at the satisfying click of the cuffs. The second his hands were free, you took them into yours and softly caressed his bruised skin. They had them way too tight and you were pretty sure they knew that.

“You do.” He chuckled. “I miss you.”

“I’m here now.” You whispered softly, trying to suppress the tear that was building up in your eye.

You wanted to say that you wouldn’t leave him again but you both knew that would’ve been a lie. The way he held on to your hands was enough for you to jump up, walk around the table, and climb onto his lap, where you gently pressed his head onto your chest.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You smiled, “I made sure of that. Now come here.”

He leaned his head back onto your chest and buried his face into your dress. It didn’t take long until you felt his tears through the thin fabric of your dress, followed by quiet sobs leaving his mouth. It was only with you, that he would ever let himself go like that but he hated it, he hated every single second of it. He knew how much it broke you to be apart from him and he hated to be the cause of your suffering. He never wanted it to go this way, he never wanted anyone to get hurt but most of all, he never wanted for you to get hurt.

After a few minutes, he quickly got himself back together and looked into your eyes. They were soft and kind but had an evil spark in them, which was the perfect reflection of your personality. He saw how much you tried to stay strong for him, he saw how much you fought back your tears and he couldn’t have that. He needed to be the strong one, the one who protected you and was there when you needed him, not the other way around. But at this moment, he couldn’t and you knew that. His tears had dried by now, just as quickly as you were used to it with Rafe.

You leaned in for a kiss, which started out soft and gentle but the more you both realized how you had missed each other's lips, the more passionate and hungry it became. Your hand was resting on his chest, as his hands were wandering down your back to your ass until they slipped under your dress. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin, a feeling that you had missed so much. You felt his hardened bulge between your legs, begging for your touch. You let your hand slide into his pants, the thin material being easy to be pushed aside, and started caressing him. He moaned out quietly at the feeling of your fingers dancing around his tip, trying to not get the attention of the officers. Normally he wouldn't give a single fuck about anyone hearing the two of you, but in a setting like this, he would rather die than have you pulled away from him.

He pushed away the material of your barely existing thong, and slid inside two of his fingers, causing you to let out a loud moan. His other hand quickly flew towards your mouth, making you unable to make another sound.

“Quiet princess, you don’t want them to hear us, right?” He breathed into your ear.

You gave him a quick nod, a silent promise for you to try and stay quiet. He started moving his fingers again as you slid your hand up and down his shaft, first slowly but then faster and faster, until it became hard for him to stay quiet. He let out another moan and this time it was you, who put her hand on his lips.

“Seriously?” You whispered, one eyebrow raised.

He then pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, leaving a satisfied grin on his face. “You have no idea how much I missed your taste on my lips, baby.”

You smirked, before hopping onto the table behind you. The metal was cold on your bare skin, sending goosebumps all over your skin. “I would love to feel your tongue on me baby but…” You started, “But I need to feel you inside of me because…” You stopped, looking up into your fiancé's eyes.

“But you don’t know when we will be able to do this again.” He finished, a tone of sadness washing over his voice. “I don’t want to think about that right now, princess.” He smiled, before reaching into his pants and pulling out his dick. “I love you.” He whispered against her lips, before aligning himself with your entrance.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Everything you want, baby.”

“I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to get you out of this. That I will never give up on you. I want you to know that we will be able to do this again, but right now, I really need you fuck me like we won’t.” You paused, “I need you to fuck me like it’s gonna be the last thing you will ever do. Can you do that for me?”

“Trust me, princess, once I’m done with you, you will barely be able to walk out of here, leaving my DNA all over the floor of this building.”

Before you could even respond, he had his hand on your neck and pushed himself into you. You wanted to moan out at the feeling but his grip around your throat tightened so much, it was hard for you to get any sounds out. He started off slow and gentle but quickly became faster, as he thrusted into you. He clashed his lips onto yours, as your fingers dug into his shoulders. you didn’t realize it, but your hands moved up to his neck where your nails dug deep into his skin. He felt so good inside of you and since you weren’t allowed to make any noise, your energy just had to go somewhere.

“Just… just like that baby.” You whispered, trying so hard to keep your voice down.

He smirked and thrust into you even harder. With every thrust, he hit that sweet spot of you and you could already sense that familiar feeling in your stomach building up. He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, so he pulled out, causing you to protest.

“Why…” You pouted, disappointment written all over your face.

“Turn around.” He demanded, without giving you any reasoning.

You did as told, jumped from the table, and turned around. With a swift motion, Rafe had buried himself in your walls once again, without any warning. Your nails dug into the cold metal of the table, and you were sure if you applied just a little bit more pressure, they’d break.

Your face was directed towards the door and windows now, making everyone who chose to look inside able to look directly into your face. The danger of being walked in by an entire police force, combined with the deep and ruthless thrusts of Rafe’s hips, was enough to almost send you over the edge. Your gaze was fixated on the window, where you could see the back of Officer Wilson’s head, who was standing guard just like you told him to.

“Harder please!” You moaned out louder than intended.

Your lack of quietness seemed to have caught the attention of the guard, who had now turned around and granted himself a peak through the glass. His eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but smirk, as you let your head fall back into Rafe’s neck. He also seemed to have noticed what was going on and he would’ve lied if he said it didn’t turn him on even more. The grin on his face was enough for the now embarrassed Officer to turn around again, desperately trying to hide the blush on his face.

“I thought, I told you to stay quiet…fucking brat…” He growled, as he took a chunk of your hair and pulled your head back, so he could reach your ear more easily. “You’re gonna be the death of both of us I swear.”

You were sure he saw how you were smirking at the officer from the reflection of the windows, but that only made it more fun. You loved doing shit like this and he knew that. But you also knew how good he was at punishing you and most definitely could not risk him leaving you dry, not tonight.

“Mh sorry.” You cried out.

“What was that?”

“Sorry, daddy.” You repeated, “Gonna be good now, promise.”.

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked, before ripping off your thong. “Just to be sure.” He added as he stuffed the piece of fabric into your mouth.

You could taste yourself on your thong and if you were being honest, you really were fucking delicious. His thrusts became harder and harder now, hitting your G-spot every time he pounded into you. But it wouldn’t be Rafe Cameron if he wouldn’t add at least one finger to the party, in order to send you completely over the edge. He placed his index finger on your clit and started massaging it, while his other hand started to taunt your ass relentlessly.

“Being such a good girl for daddy, doing such a good job.” He cooed into your ear, but you were barely able to hear his words, as your mind had drifted far, far away. “Taking me so perfectly.” He added as he thrust himself even deeper into you, with more force and less mercy.

He knew it was loud but he had long stopped caring. All his sorrows had left his body, the second he could feel your walls around him. His soul might have been broken, as he got ripped off every ounce of control he had over himself and his surroundings, but when he was inside of you, it was like you handed it all right back to him. At this moment, his hand now back on your hip and his other on your clit, he had all the control over not just your body, but also over his own, as he thrust into you deeper and deeper. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and there was no doubt that Officer Wilson heard it too.

The harder and faster he went, the harder he felt not just your walls tighten around him, but also his dick twitching beneath them. He knew the both of you were close so he sped up his pace once again, ramming himself into you with every ounce of strength he had left inside him. Your vision turned blurry as you felt tears stream down your face and your release rushing over your body like a bomb exploding inside of you. Rafe came close behind, shooting his load deep inside of you.

He stayed like that for a second, his arm wrapped around you, as he rested his head on the back of your shoulder. As the two of you tried to catch your breath, reality swamped over your mind like a hurricane. You pulled your thong out of your mouth and wiped away the black tears that had stained the table beneath you. You then set yourself up and turned around, where you found Rafe fixing up his pants. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw the pain that he had been surprising for the last seven minutes and it tore your heart apart once again.

He softly wiped away the tears that had stained your beautiful face, but he wasn’t able to get it all. He knew the tears weren’t coming from a sad place originally, but he also knew that these very much could’ve been the tears you had been suppressing since the moment you stepped foot into the room.

“Hey.” He said softly, as he wrapped his hands around your face, forcing you to look at him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You smiled, as you took his hand in yours. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise.” You added before getting interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

You rolled your eyes at the sign, making the boy in front of you laugh. “It’s okay.” He whispered, “Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine.” He paused, “All I need is for you to be happy.”

“Baby hell is gonna freeze over before I’m letting you rot in this cell. Besides, how dare you, believe that I could ever be happy without you by my side.”

He smiled softly, before placing a soft kiss on your lips. He then took the handcuffs from the table and handed them over to you. “Rather have you do it than any of those assholes.”

“Kinky.” You chuckled, before placing them around his wrist. You made sure to make them loose enough, so he would still be able to move them around, without his wrists bruising up. “Here, keep this, you’re gonna need it.” You said as you got the ripped piece of fabric, that used to be your underwear and stuffed it into his pants, careful so it wouldn't be visible.” Rafe grinned at that gesture of you, knowing this, and the memory of you and the past few minutes would be the one thing keeping him sane for what was about to come.

“Till death do us part?”

“Till death do us part.”

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#jas writes ❥#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks smut #dom!rafe cameron x sub!reader

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springseasonie · 1 year

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Hate me more | LMH (M)

Enemies to lovers, Camp counselors Mark x Fem reader

Summary: You really dislike Mark and you're pretty sure he dislikes you too. Ever since he came to the camp last year, he's been nothing short of a headache to you. And now you're forced to work with him this summer, and his mission is clearly to piss you off.

Warnings: sexual content, heavy dubcon/cnc themes, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), kissing (shocker), Mark is annoying, so is the reader tbh, may be errors even though proof read

Word count: 7,7k

Song recs: kiss by NCT dojaejung (this is my way of promoting the unit go stream)

A/N: I was gonna write something for the release of golden hour but this took a bit longer than expected 😭 10 days later an I finally finished it lmao please give feedback if you want it's always appreciated

"Okay kiddos make sure you have all your things before we go back to the cabins okay?"

"Yes Ms. Y/N!"

You gave them a thumbs up as you leaned on a tree, waiting for all the kids to pack up. This was your life every summer for the past 4 years. Being a camp counselor was a lot of work the first time, but by the end of the summer, you had to come back. You loved your kids and they loved you. The staff was always so welcoming and nice. That was true until Mark started the third summer.

He was such an asshole. All the other female counselors gushed over him and his looks. He was constantly flirting with everyone, using his looks and charisma to get himself out of shit. It annoyed you, and Mark instantly took notice. He would side eye you all the time and talk about you as if you weren't friends with everyone else. He didn't really care though, he enjoyed being confronted by you every time he got "caught." Mark found your anger funny, never really taking you seriously.

And now you're paired to work with him this summer.

"Ms. Y/N, where is Mr. Mark? I need help getting something out a tree," one of the kids asked.

"That's a good question honey." You glanced around the area, looking over both shoulders to try and get a sign of him. And of course, he's nowhere to be found. "I don't see him around. We're just gonna have to wait for him okay?"

The little girl nods and runs back to her friends. Ten minutes go by and you start to get annoyed. This happened way more often than you would like to think. Mark disappears to do something or someone for way too long and you're left to take care of the kids by yourself. Sometimes, you almost think it's unbelievable how unreliable he is, sneaking away leaving you alone with 20 children in a forest. But then again, it's on brand for him.

5 more minutes went by and you start to get frustrated. You have no idea what he could be doing that's going to cause all of you to be late for dinner time. "Okay everyone please listen to me okay?" All the kids stop talking and turn to you. "I'm gonna go look for Mr. Mark, but I need all of you to sit in 5 rows of 4. Now." All the kids practically run to sit next to their friends and plop down on the floor.

"Good. None of you move or get up. If anything happens, scream at the top of your lungs okay? I'll be right back." All of the kids agreed as you turned to walk into the forest, going the way you last saw him.

"So fucking irresponsible," you muttered to yourself. "How the hell am I supposed to watch 20 kids by myself?"

You could still hear the kids, so you know you weren't too far away from the area or the trail. This wasn't new for you, always looking for him. It's only been a month since the both of you had to start working together, and he was already making shit hard for you. Mark liked to go hide somewhere. it was either to get away from you, the kids, or to get blown off by some staff member. You couldn't stand it.

"I mean seriously, can't he control himself for one fucking summer," you grumble. "Fucks everything that walks. What an ass."

"Well I wouldn't say that."

Your body jumped violently suddenly hearing his voice next to you. You whipped your head in his direction seeing him sitting, leaning in a tree. Mark had his ear buds in and from where you were standing, you could still hear the music playing.

"Where the hell were you," you asked angrily.

Mark stood up and dusted his pants off as he walked to you. You crossed your eyes, eyeing him up and down. He was so smug about everything. He always looked like something was amusing to him, like there was always a joke to tell.

"Here," he said.

"Clearly. And how the hell do you even have a working phone out here. There is literally no service."

Mark shrugged, wrapping the ear buds around his phone and putting it in his back pocket. "I downloaded stuff before I came."

"Whatever, let's go," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Where are the kids," he asked you, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked.

"In the same place I left them. I had to come get you like you were a lost child. Stop leaving me with all these kids."

Mark smiled in amusement as he walked behind you. You didn't really notice, but you tend to stomp when you are angry. And fortunately for Mark, it wasn't annoying. He actually found it cute, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Can we take a break? My legs hurt," he whined teasingly.

"Mark, stop playing games. We have 20 kids in the forest waiting for us to come back and the sun will start setting soon," you replied, sighing heavily.

"Oh please we'll be okay."

And at this moment, you've just about had it with him. You turned around, lips pursed at his nonchalant response. Mark stopped in his tracks, looking up at you as you stood on the top of the small hill. "You have one more time to piss me off or I will report you. I'm not joking."

Mark's amused expression washed away as you turned around and kept walking. For the rest of the walk back, he said nothing. Soon enough, the both of you got back to the kids who were still sitting and chatting.

You sighed, groaning quietly. "I'm gonna do another headcount. You get that thing out of the tree."

"Why couldn't you just do it," he complained.

"Because- you know what, just get it out the tree."

You counted all of the kids, double and triple checking everyone and the area around you. Soon enough, Mark got the toy that was stuck in the tree out, and everyone was ready to leave. "Okay everyone you know the drill. Get your buddy and get in line. Mark, you'll watch the back."

"Didn't sound like a question," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wasn't asking."

"I swear to you I will kill him if I'm ever alone with him again."

"He's really not that bad," Somi said, taking another bite of her pancake.

"Please, bad is an understatement," you say as you sit down. "He fucking left me with 20 kids, and then when we got back and I told him how dangerous that was, he says 'but you handled it, right?'"

Somi laughs, clearly amused at your story. You give her a confused look, not understanding why she wasn't siding with you. "Y/N, anything he says makes you angry."

"That's not the point!" Somi stops laughing when she sees how upset you are. "He left me and 20 kids in the forest near sunset to sit on his ass and listen to music. Then got an attitude with me because I was telling him what do when he wanted to act like a fucking child. I'm tired of it, Somi. I've been dealing with this for a month."

"Shit, I didn't think it was that serious," she said, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

"We literally could've had a bear encounter or something. I don't want to keep taking responsibility for his shit," you say, sighing heavily. "Anyways, I'm done complaining. Let's just eat."

You went to bed last night still completely angry at what happened in the forest. Mark didn't say anything to you walking back, but your conversation once you got back to the main camp was nothing short of unpleasant. It consisted of all your usual unpleasantries with him. Mark didn't really seem to care much though. You hated that you always let him get a rise out of you once you said you weren't going to do it anymore. And at this point, you had to get to the bottom of it.

You looked around the dining hall trying to find Mark. You knew he was there, he always came late after roughhousing with the kids in his cabin. Searching around some more, you spot him in line getting food. "I see him."

"Please don't harass the man," Somi begged you.

"Too late." You got up and walked to him. You really needed all this bad energy between the both of you to disappear. You weren't too sure about him, but it made every day difficult and you couldn't deal with it all summer. "Hey buddy," you said, tapping his shoulder.

"Didn't know we were friends."

The fake smile immediately turned into a frown. "Our conversation from last night isn't finished."

Mark groaned quietly as you followed his pace in the line. "Why do you keep bothering me if you don't like me?"

"I'm not bothering you, I'm trying to figure out what your deal is," you whisper yell. You followed Mark to his usual seat with the other male counselors, taking a seat right next to him. You were too focused on him to notice the confused stares you got from everyone else.

"Um, hey Y/N," Haechan greeted you awkwardly. "Is this…your new spot?"

"I came to talk to your friend if you don't mind."

"She's crazy," Mark blurted out, making the table laugh.

You smacked him on the arm, making him turn to you with the brightest smile you've seen all summer. And for some reason this was the first time you looked at him without feeling pure irritation. He was actually pretty…cute?

You couldn't look directly in the eyes, fearing that the anger you felt all morning would go away. Instead of speaking, you got up and went back to the table with Somi.

"So..what happened," she questioned.

"Nothing."

"You don't seem too upset by it," Somi observed.

"What..what are you talking about," you said, trying to deflect.

"You can't fool me, you're terrible at lying," she laughed. Somi took another bit of her pancake, but stopped laughing, giving you a look as if she found out something. "Do you like him?"

"Keep your voice down! And don't eat with your mouth full, you look like a damn kid."

"Y/N, do you like him?"

"Of course not! I can't stand the man," you deny.

Somi squints her eyes and side eyes you, but says nothing. You know she doesn't believe you, but it doesn't really matter because either way, you don't like him. "Okay..just know that today is your day to clean the kitchen."

"I know," you said with a sigh.

"And his also," she reminded you.

"Goodness kill me now."

You and Mark cleaned the dishes in the kitchen silently, not daring to say a word. There was an unspoken rule between the 2 of you at the moment, first person to speak surrenders to the other for the entire summer. You'll never surrender to him, no matter what it takes (that's what you want to believe anyway.) Mark had been stealing glances for about 30 minutes now, watching you clean meticulously and quietly. He always thought you were pretty, except for when you were being annoying that is. He always thought of himself as the bigger person, despite his childish nature, so he thought he should end this silent game sooner than expected.

"Did you get sleep," he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"I can't be concerned about my friend," he said. Mark chuckled softly when you sucked your teeth.

"Why do you insist on pissing me off," you say, turning to him. "Like I really don't understand why you don't like me. Since you came here last year, I've been nothing short of annoyed with you."

"It's never been my intention, but I just happen to strike those emotions in some women."

"What the fuck does that mean?" You put down the dirty dishes, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a brow raised.

"It means," he replied, turning to you, "that the more women are attracted to me, the less they like me."

You scoffed, getting back to cleaning the dishes. "You wish. You're out of your fucking mind."

"If I'm crazy, then what exactly was that earlier," he asked. You didn't know, but Mark definitely noticed how you backed off of him during breakfast. The way your expression changed, how quick you got up. It almost seemed like you were running from something, and he knew exactly what it was. "I know you like me."

"I don't like you. I just didn't want to talk to you in front of all your friends. They were laughing at me, so I left," you explained. Mark took two steps to you, his body ending up close to yours. You backed up a bit, not understanding why he was close to you, but he followed you again. "What are you doing?"

"Testing something out," he said simply.

"Look I don't know what you're testing but I'm busy. " Just as you moved away from him, he placed his arms beside you, trapping you under him. The both of you have never been this close before. Sure there were times where he had to catch you or hold you for activities in the forest, but there was nothing like this. This was close. This was personal.

"What are you doing," you asked, shock written all over your face.

"Standing here." Mark's lips curled into a smirk as his eyelids dropped once glancing at your lips. "You're pretty."

"Thank you but I really need to-"

"You know," he started,"you never told me what you wanted to talk about before you left the table."

You sighed, making a dramatic pained expression. "Mark, please. Can you back up?"

"No."

You looked up at him, surprised that his face was closer than before. One more move and your lips would've probably touched his. 'Why am I even thinking about that right now,' you thought to yourself.

"I know you wanna kiss me," he said almost in a whisper. Mark chuckled softly seeing the frazzled look on your face. You were so easy to read, always saying you didn't like him knowing damn well you wanted him. He just wanted to make you say it. He wanted to break your prideful attitude down and make you beg for him.

"You are saying insane things right now." You couldn't even look him in the eye, too afraid you would melt under his body. He was too close. You couldn't control your heart beat or your whirling mind. 'Maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad,' you thought to yourself, but pushed the thought to the back of your head.

"But you didn't say I was wrong," he said, leaning into your neck.

"Mark, seriously." The slight whine in your voice made you want to run and hide from everyone. You felt like you were going to collapse into his hands the closer he got. His voice was so soft, but his presence was still so dominating. It was almost too much for you to bear.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now," he whispered in your ear, a smile on his face. "Would you push me away, take it and get mad, or maybe give me another one?"

You could barely look at him, let alone speak. You had no idea how to respond to him. You didn't even know if you were supposed to. But what you did know is that if he made one more move or said anything else, you would most likely lose your mind. "Mark, it's too early in the morning for this," you said practically begging him to stop.

Mark released his hand from the counter, placing it on your waist. His grip was firm as he pressed you against the counter more, body so close his leg was between yours. "You're not even trying to run at this point. You little liar."

"Mark..what if someone comes in here?"

"Let them. Why do you care? Are you scared," he teased. Mark kissed the spot behind your ear softly, making you gasp. Your body tensed up in his hand, causing him to rub small circles in your waist in an attempt to comfort you. He kept missing down your neck, moving back up to kiss your jawline.

You stood there, still as a tree. Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in the feeling of his lips on your skin. At this rate there was no point in fighting it. He had already won like he did with everyone else. You felt Mark's hand leave your waist, grabbing your chin as he ran his finger down your bottom lip.

"If you want me to stop I will."

You shook your head unconsciously, brows slightly frowning at his words. You were desperate and he definitely knew from the way you were frozen and speechless.

"Good girl." Mark kissed you softly, but deeply. His hand slowly made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You dare to touch him, feeling like it was way too intimate. But before you could even pull away, he kissed you again, this time with even more sincerity. You didn't know why you had such a heavy feeling in your chest, but it did scare you a little bit.

"We have to finish all of this stuff in 15 minutes. You think we can make it," he asked on your lips.

"If you stop fast enough, maybe.."

Mark chuckled softly at your response, pulling away from you. He was clearly extremely turned on, but you were not the kind to help him with his problem, and he knew that. But that didn't stop his mind from drifting, thinking about how hot it would be if you dropped to your knees at this very moment.

"Wasn't that fun Y/N?"

"What are you talking about," you said, covering your face in embarrassment.

"Unwinding instead of having a stick up your ass," he jabbed.

You dropped your hands, scoffing at him. You shoved your way out of his arms, walking to the sink he was at previously. "Gosh, you're so annoying," you mumbled as you scrubbed the dirty plates.

"Yeah but you like it though."

"You wish."

"Proved my point."

You and Mark haven't spoken since the kitchen fiasco. You said a couple of words to each other when it came to the kids, but nothing more than that. You couldn't even look at him, the shame filling your body once he came into your vision. But one thing was for sure- you definitely didn't hate him as much. You were still very confused. You didn't understand where all those feelings came from for Mark in the kitchen. Maybe your subconscious? It didn't really matter, you just wanted to make sense of everything.

"Okay everyone, tonight is movie night so we need to leave a little early okay," you announced.

Mark leaned on a tree silently watching you as you interacted with the kids. You didn't know that he had conflicting feelings as well. All the teasing and messing around turning into sexual tension was not what he hoped for. He just wanted to mess with you. He wasn't actually going to kiss you for real, but when he saw the desperate scrunch of your eyebrows, how could he resist himself? If it weren't for the kids, he would definitely have his way with you right on the ground, but nothing in his life ever works right.

Mark admired the way you were with them, always so nice and careful. You were careful with anything really, never wanting to come off as irresponsible or rude. But he never cared about any of that. He didn't care if people thought he was a prick or an ass, which is why you were so intriguing to him. He never got a chance to actually introduce himself to you before you can dislike him as easily as you did.

After 20 minutes of walking back to the main site, the sun had finally set and all the kids and counselors went back to their respective cabins before going to the lake for movie night.

"So you're telling me," Somi started,"after all these months of not liking him, he came onto you in the kitchen and you didn't refuse?"

"I know, I know it's humiliating," you grumbled putting on your shirt.

"Enemies to lovers. My favorite trope."

You let out a loud embarrassed groan listen to her words. "We only kissed twice. We didn't say anything to each other for the rest of the day," you added.

"Not even for your group," she questioned.

"Well of course we did, but very little. He was..so distant," you said. You slipped into your jean shorts and put your shoes back on quickly. "I'm gonna go make sure all the girls are ready." You got up and walked outside to see everyone playing around. Just as you were about to round up your cabin, you see Mark who's talking to some of his kids. You wanted to stop staring at him, but you couldn't. You gulped as he glanced at you, giving you a small wave. "I hate him," you muttered to yourself almost as if you were trying to convince yourself it was true.

You shake your head, attempting to push what happened out of the forefront of your mind, but it's hard to do that when he's walking up to you. You turn away from his direction, hastily gathering the girls from your cabin. Just as you were about to make your way to the lake, you were tapped on the shoulder. Turning around agonizingly slowly, you face him with a fake smile.

"Hi," you said awkwardly.

"Hey, so listen-"

"I can't talk right now, we're about to head to the lake," you interrupted.

"I know but-"

"Can't talk."

Mark sighed, looking down at his shoes. He knew you were difficult, but not like this. "Can we talk after the movie?"

"Talk..about what? There's nothing to talk about," you say dismissively.

Mark rolled his eyes, walking away from you. You looked behind yourself, watching him walk back with his hands in his pockets. All that you could hope for was him forgetting whatever conversation he wanted to have with you.

Your cabin was the first to get to the lake while Mark's was the last like always. The movie started at 7, so thankfully for you, you could be left alone for 2 hours. You leaned against a tree as you watched the movie projected on the sheet quietly.

Unlike you, Mark was watching you silently, eyes never leaving your body as you stared at the screen. He knew you wanted nothing to do with him even after he kissed you, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He's never been in a situation like this before. Having to chase after you was starting to dampen his pride, but he liked it.

He watched as you whispered to Somi about something, not able to read your lips. Maybe he shouldn't have thought to follow you as you walked away from everyone, but getting to be alone with you came rare, so he had to take his chances.

"Hey, I'm gonna go back to the cabin. I forgot something," he whispered to Haechan.

"Okay, be quick though. I don't wanna be responsible for you," he replied.

Mark gave him a dry laugh and walked away, following you from behind. Mark picked up that you were going to your cabin after a few turns on the trail. The sun was starting to set, so he began to rationalize he weird actions to himself. "It's not weird that I'm following her," he muttered to himself quietly. "I'm just keeping her safe." It was surprising how you didn't notice anyone was following you. You were usually always attentive, but it seems that you were only that way with other people.

Soon enough, the both of you made it to your cabin. You went inside with a big sigh, letting the door slam behind you. Mark would be a kind person and knock on the doors but he wasn't all that kind, so scaring you is the option he went with. Mark quickly went up to the door, opening it quietly. Your back was turned as you rummaged through a bag for something, causing you to not hear his footsteps or the door creaking open.

"Boo!"

"Fuck," yelled, body jumping violently as you turned around. "Mark?"

"Surprise."

You scoffed rolling your eyes at his jazz hands motion. "You're not funny. Now get out, this is a girls cabin."

"I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to talk." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as you went back to looking for whatever you were looking for.

"I really don't care, just leave," you said sternly.

Mark had enough of beating around the bush with you, the constant teasing, and asking dumb questions. He had to know why there was bad blood between you, especially after you let him kiss you that morning. "Why don't you like me?"

"You're kidding." You let out a dry laugh as you turned to face him. "I don't like you? I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."

"I'm just curious because since last year, you never gave me a chance, so I really want to know," he said, lifting his brows with a small smile.

"I want you to tell me why you don't like me first, then maybe I'll consider explaining myself to you."

Mark took small steps towards you, not being able to control the smirk on his face when you furrow your brows in confusion. "You're uptight and rude to me. And you never give me your attention unless it's to be rude with me, and I hate that that's the only way I get to talk to you. You only want to speak to me if it's to tell me how bad of a job I'm doing or how frustrating it is to be around me or work with me."

"That's not true, I-"

"I'm not done." You closed your mouth, intimidated by how commanding his voice was. "Then you go around and say to everyone how much you hate me. I know you complain to Somi and all the other counselors, and that's fine. But next time I would like to hear it from you directly."

"That I hate you?" You gave him a weird look, making him chuckle softly.

"Yes. Tell me that you hate me." He was walking closer to you slowly, arms now at his sides as he looked down at you with hungry eyes. Your arms were still crossed as you stood there, not allowing yourself to show how intimidating he was to you. Your face was calm, but your heart was beating faster with every step he took.

"I'm not telling you I hate you. Can I talk now," you asked.

"Go for it."

"You're fucking annoying and not helpful. You came into this camp last year and made all these friends and everyone liked you instantly. Everyone says you're funny and such a great guy but I have yet to see it. All you've done since you've been here was piss me off."

"You wanna know why," he said. He leaned down to your ear, a smile tugging at his lips. "Because you're pretty when you're angry."

"That's not funny," you said, looking away from him.

"I wasn't joking." Mark moved away from you, eyes going straight to your lips.

"Seriously mark, I don't care that you like to get me riled up, but yesterday was uncalled for. Do you have any idea…will you stop staring at me like that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mark could barely concentrate on what you were saying. Your expression, the way you spoke, how close the 2 of you were. All he wanted was to just kiss you and shut you up for the night. Mark could barely keep his hands off you, every bit of self restraint coursing through his veins.

You sighed trying to back up from him, but all you did was bump the edge of your bed making you fall back. You plopped on the thin mattress placing your hand behind you to stay balanced on the bed. Mark's gaze turned dangerous, staring at you as if you were prey.

"God you're so hot," he mumbled.

"Mark," you said, his name coming out a bit breathlessly.

Before you could finish your sentence, he pinned your body to the bed. You were dead silent as you watched his eyes move rapidly along your face and body. "Mark..we can't. We have to be back soon."

"Stop fighting it. Just say you want me," he mumbled quietly. He leaned into your neck, breath tickling your skin as you closed your eyes.

You shook your head, brows furrowing as you tried to push the feeling to the back of your head. But the only thing you can think about is how his hands are leaving your wrists as he moves them down your body. Your breath hitched when his fingertips brushed against the slightly exposed skin of your stomach. You didn't stop him as he lifted your shirt, hands attaching to waist firmly.

The both of you stayed silent, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of breathing and your old bed creaking at every movement he made. You watched him as he moved his hands lower, fingers resting on the button of your jean shorts. Mark looked at you for any signs of you wanting to stop, but all he saw was the desperation on your face.

You gulped watching him unbutton and unzip your shorts, lifting your hips as he tugged them off you. Mark took his shirt off, laying it next to your shorts. He hooked his fingers on your underwear, pulling them off you quickly. You let out a small yelp when he tugs you towards him, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he moves between your legs.

'Just get on with it,' was all you could think. You were way too eager to get him between your legs, and at this point, nothing was going to stop it. "Hurry up," you said, breaking the long silence.

Mark didn't say anything or look at you, all he did was smile as his face disappeared between your legs. A small gasp of please leaves your lips as he kitten licks your core. You close your eyes, letting your head fall back onto the mattress taking in every movement. He ran his hand up and down your leg, nails lightly scratching your skin making you shiver. Needing more friction, you begin to grind yourself on his tongue slowly, but he stops you with a hold on your hips.

"We're gonna do this nice and slow okay," he said.

"We can't, we have to get back soon."

"They'll be okay. There's more than enough people out there." Before you could say anything his mouth was back on your core, tongue pressing against your sensitive bud hard. Without thinking your hands made their way to his hair, fingers running through the blonde locks. Mark kept licking at you agonizingly slow, chuckling when you whined for more. He would speed up at moments, flicking his tongue against your clit faster just to tease you, then stop.

"Please," you begged breathlessly, "it feels like I'm being punished."

"I know," he mumbled.

You smacked him on the side of his head softly, making the male look up at you with a brow raised. "I fucking hate you."

Mark chuckled, removing one of his hands from your hip. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he slid two fingers into you, pumping them slowly. Mark watched as you basically fell apart in his hands, moans never stopped spilling from your lips. He began licking your clit, but faster, almost sending you over the edge.

"Shit, don't stop," you whined softly. You couldn't control your hips as you grinded against his fingers and tongue. Your jaw dropped when he fingered you faster. Gripping his hair, your hips moved on their own as you grinded faster. You were so close, your core pulsing on his fingers. "Fuck I'm gonna cum," you whined.

Your whines became louder, the pornographic sounds of your moaning, bed creaking, and sounds coming from Mark filling the empty cabin. This is one the many times you thanked God no one was around. Your eyes rolled back and body shuddered as your orgasm hit you like a truck making you mumble curses that not even Mark could make out. You let go of his hair, plopping back down on your mattress breathing heavily.

"I'm assuming that was the first time you came in a month?" Mark slid his fingers out of you slowly, wiping the digits on your sheets. He moved your leg off his shoulder, lifting himself from between your legs.

"Do you think I'm getting myself off after hiking and being around kids in this damn camp everyday," you asked, rolling your eyes at his statement.

"No. I think you're too uptight to do that," he said with a soft chuckle.

"It's crazy that you're still calling me uptight like I won't get up and leave."

Mark didn't respond to you, laughing softly to himself knowing you wouldn't move either way. He moved off the bed untying his sweats. You watched him as he let his clothes fall to the ground, eyeing his body. Not that you couldn't get it before, but now you see why he was a big deal to the other female counselors.

"Aren't we gonna use protection," you asked, gulping when he was back in front of you.

"I don't have any," he mumbled.

"You're so fucking ridiculous," you grumbled. "You're lucky I'm on birth control."

Mark could barely hear you with how eager he was to see you lose yourself for him. No amount of mean words or insults could turn him off in the moment, every word you spoke sounded like exactly what he needed to hear. "You're so fucking hot when you're mad." His lids dropped as he grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him.

"Don't tease, we don't have all night," you whined.

Mark couldn't take his eyes off you as he lined himself with you, slowly entering you with ease. You looked pretty under the light of the setting sun peering through the window. The light hit your eyes perfectly as they rolled back, soft moans leaving your lips at the same time. Mark thrusted into you slowly holding your waist firmly. He wanted to savor the moment, finally able to get you under him, because even though he had you now, he might not ever get you again. It was taking everything in him to not ram into you after every move not wanting it to end too quickly.

With the way he was looking at you you thought he was gonna eat you alive. And in all honesty you would let him. It was conflicting to you that all this pent up aggression towards him exploded into sex, but you were clearly not that conflicted. You would never tell him, but you had always been attracted to him and the kiss was just the tip of the iceberg.

He slid his hands up the back of your legs, pinning them to your chest as he thrusted into you faster. Your moans echoed in the empty cabin, not even thinking about if anyone could be near. "Feels so good," you moaned.

"Who's making you feel good?"

"Fuck..you are," you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you take in pleasure.

"Good girl," he cooed. Mark watched as you slipped your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit at the same place as his thrust. His fingers were constantly kneading your legs, leaving prints in your skin. "You're close aren't you baby?"

You nodded fast, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Kiss me.. please."

Mark didn't have to think twice. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss quite literally sticking his tongue down your throat. You sucked on the wet muscle, moaning loudly on his tongue every time he thrusted into you.

"Mark..fuck," you moaned softly. Mark took a hand off your leg, wrapping an arm on the small of your back pulling you closer to him. You kissed him again, moans and whimpers poured into his mouth.

Mark moaned softly against your lips as you squeezed around him, cumming on his length. You pulled away, your lewd sounds becoming louder as he didn't stop fucking you. Mark leaned down, kissing your neck messily as you clung onto his shoulder. Mark has never had this kind of passionate feeling with a person before. It was starting to feel like more than just a sexual attraction to him, maybe he did actually have feelings for you.

"Cum in me," you said cupping his face.

Mark looked at you, brows furrowing in uncertainty. "A-are you sure? I-"

"Please baby just cum for me," you mumbled, completely taken over by the pleasure spreading in your body. "Can you do that for me?"

"Anything for you," Mark breathed out. Your words went straight to his length, his pace speeding up as he felt himself closer to cumming.

Your jaw went slack, eyes rolling back as you felt another orgasm creeping up on you. "Y-you're gonna make me cum," you whimpered.

With just a few more thrust, both you and Mark came at the same time, loud moans and groans filling the space. Mark's body went limp, laying on top of you with his face buried on the side of your neck. No one said anything for a minute, just laid there in each other's embrace trying to catch your breaths.

"I guess you don't hate me after all," Mark joked, breaking the silence.

"Only a little less."

Mark snickered as pulled himself out of you slowly. "Let's get you something to clean up with." He got up and pulled his boxers and pants on. You were sure it was because you just had sex with him, but the way you looked at him was different now. Before you were completely annoyed by his presence, but now even the little faces he made were endearing. Of course, Mark would never stop being an infuriating person to talk to but maybe you like talking to him. Maybe you liked being around him this whole time.

"If you want to go for round 2 just say it." Mark walked back to you with tissues, handing them to you with a smile. He chuckled softly when you gave him a frown for his comment. "Back to hating me I guess."

"I don't hate you Mark," you admit. The words felt unnatural to you, but they were the truth. You don't hate him, and you don't think you ever did.

"I'd like it if you did though," he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. "If what we just did considered hate fucking, please hate me more."

You rolled your eyes, tossing the dirty tissues in the trash bin across the room. "Who said it was gonna happen again?" Mark watched you closely as you shimmied back into your underwear and shorts. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Yeah." He stood up, pulling you to him, making you gasp softly. Mark kissed you deeply, smiling against your lips when you kissed him back. "We should get back. I think we've been gone too long," he mumbled.

You nodded, kissing him one more time before he pulled away from you agonizingly slow. "Please don't be weird when we get back. I don't want to have to hate you again," you joked.

"Didn't I just tell you I want you to hate me more?"

"What do you mean you fucked him last night," Somi whisper yelled.

"Yeah..I did..right on the bed you're sitting on."

"Ew ew ew." She shot up from your bed with a frown on her face, making you laugh loudly. "Seriously what is wrong with you, why didn't you say that before I sat down?"

"Thought your reaction would be funny, and it was," you'd aid giggling.

Somi looked at you with disgust on her face, dusting off her body. "Anyways…are you guys like..a thing now?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," you answered.

"Well do you wanna be a thing?"

"Well..I think I do," you admitted. "But I don't know him that well, you know. All I did was have sex with him. What if he doesn't want anything," you said.

"You want me to be honest?"

"Please do."

"I think you should go talk to him. Like right now," she suggested.

"Now? I don't even know if he's in his cabin," you stated.

"Just go. If he's not there, go back another time. You should talk to him while your feelings are still fresh," she suggested.

Somi was right. Even though you thought it was still a bit early to talk to him, you couldn't stop thinking about him all day and all night. Throughout the day, the both of you kept stealing glances, staring at each other but not saying a word. It's been hard trying to keep your bubbling feelings for him at bay, especially when you're working so close for the summer. But Somi was right, it wouldn't hurt to try.

You nodded, sighing softly. "You're right. I should go." You turned walking to the door, but when you opened it, Mark was standing there, hand up like he was about to knock.

"Oh," you said, surprised. "Hi."

"Hey," he said, looking everywhere but at you. "Can I, um, talk to you?"

"Uh, yeah. You wanna talk here or.."

"Just walk with me. Please?" You've never seen him so nervous or unsure before. It was kind of cute. You agreed, leaving the cabin and walking along the trail with Mark.

The first couple of minutes were silent. Neither one of you said anything. The only thing that could be heard were the sounds of your feet on the dirt trial and the laughter of children from afar. But it wasn't an awkward kind of silence. It felt comfortable, he felt comfortable and warm.

"I really like you Y/N," he started. "And I know it might be weird for you, but I just felt like you had to hear it."

His words went straight to your heart, making it beat faster with every syllable. You blinked fast, not really knowing how to respond. You were afraid of coming into him too strongly, saying something that would scare him away, but you had to say something.

"I..like you too," you confessed. Your face was beginning to heat up, palms becoming clammy from the nervousness. You haven't been like this since middle school, all shy and nervous.

"So..where should we go from here?" Mark raised a brow and looked at you. You glanced at him quick enough to not want to run away from the situation all together. He grabbed your hand, making you pause mid step. Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it at this point, and you were sure he could too.

"I, uh, I don't know," you stuttered.

Mark chuckled, clasping his fingers with yours. "I've never seen you so nervous."

"I'm not nervous." You don't know who exactly you were trying to prove that too, but it definitely wasn't him because as soon as you spoke he laughed.

"I think we should start over this summer," he said. "I think we should meet each other for the first time again."

You looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he started, turning to you. He stopped walking and tugged your hand to look at him. "I mean we should start again from a clean slate. I want to get to know you better on a good note, but only if you're willing."

You gulped looking down at your feet. You must've looked like a kid with the way mark was smiling down at you. "I..I would like that. I'd like that a lot actually." You looked at him, expression going from shy to worriedm. "I'm sorry for y'know being rude and everything."

Mark didn't say anything, allowing your words to linger for a moment before he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was softer this time, more innocent. Mark pulled away with a small smile on his face. "You don't have to apologize to me for anything. I know I've been an ass, and I'm willing to make up for it."

It was hard to keep a smile off your face and stop yourself from blushing like a kid. "If we do this, will you stop talking to me once we're out of here," you asked.

"Y/N when I said I liked you I was serious. I don't want this to be a summer fling. I actually want to get to know you before I date you," he explained.

Your eyes went wide, completely flustered from his statement. "You want to date me?" Your heart fluttered repeating his words almost immediately, getting butterflies in your stomach. "But I've been so terrible to you and-"

"So? We like each other and we should explore that this summer."

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You let go of his hand and placed it on the back of his neck, kissing him. This was the first time you kissed him. And it felt good. It felt good knowing that you didn't have to keep trying to convince yourself you didn't like him, or that you were never attracted to him. You pulled away, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. You didn't know if this conversation would make a difference for the rest of the day or the rest of the summers, but if Mark was true to a hate he said, you could wait.

But if not, then maybe you just might hate him for real.

#nct dream #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct oneshot #mark #nct mark #mark scenarios #mark x reader #mark fanfic #mark smut #nct scenarios #mark oneshot

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 1: Break

A night out takes a turn. The first chapter of Yearling, a TLOU fan fiction. Find the Masterlist here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.6k

AO3 | Next Chapter

Friday, September 26, 2003

Dubois, Wyoming

“They ain’t even that good,” you took a sip of beer, glaring at the girl in the short, white eyelet lace sundress standing near the band on stage. Your Texas accent got stronger when you were drunk. It also got stronger when you were pissed. You were speaking with a full blown drawl now. “I can play better n’them.”

“Baby Doll, you can play better than everyone in town,” Justin leaned down, his head so close to you that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his lips brushing the shell of your ear when he spoke. His arm went around your waist. “Better than you is a damn a high bar…”

You could hear the smile on his voice and you turned around in his arms to face him, eyes narrowed.

“You’re lovin’ this,” you said. “I can tell, you’re just havin’ the time of your life…”

“I ain’t gonna lie to you,” he smirked. “It is fun seein’ you get all worked up over a girl hittin’ on me.”

“I am not!” You swatted his chest. “I just think it’s disrespectful, she saw me come in with you, she should know that you’re gonna dance with the one that brung ya…”

“Hey,” he teased. “I brung you, not the other way ‘round…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, turning back around and taking another sip of beer just in time to see the girl in question heading to the bathroom with one of her friends. She looked a little green and you smiled a little. Served her right. You looked back up at Justin. “Don’t go thinkin’ you’re hot shit now just because I didn’t like some rancher’s daughter tryin’ to climb you like a tree.”

“Oh I’d never dream that you thought I was hot shit,” he kissed your temple. “Don’t you worry. Need another?”

“It’s Friday night and if I’m gonna listen to that band fuck up ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ you better goddamm well get me another,” you said. He just shook his head and worked his way up to the bar. You smiled a little, watching him go, rapping your fingers along the side of your almost empty beer bottle.

You were getting attached to Justin.

He’d started out as something fun to do over the summer when he showed up at the ranch you’d been working at for more than a year now. He was a few years older - not enough to make it scandalous but enough that he knew what the fuck he was doing. He was rugged and handsome and he was happy to buy you beer and whiskey because, at 19, getting your hands on the stuff was tricky. It had started in May with you fucking him.

At first, that’s all it had been. After a few weeks of him staring at you when you were hanging tack back up at the end of the day, you all but cornered him in the barn.

“You got some kind of problem with me, cowboy?” You snapped, getting so close to him that the brim of your hat almost caught his chin.

“No I do not,” he replied. “Unless you count the fact that your ass looks way too damn good in those jeans to be doin’ nothin’ but ridin’ horses all day. Otherwise, I got the opposite of a problem with you.”

“Oh,” you stepped back from him, looking him up and down. He was tall, broad, handsome. He reminded you a bit of the boy you’d lost your virginity to when you were 16 and he’d been working on your parents’ ranch back in Texas. “Well, I’m done for the day, headin’ back to my room. You’re welcome to join if you want to see what else I’m good at ridin’ on.”

You turned and started off toward the bunkhouse. He scrambled to catch up with you and you smirked a little. He was definitely going to be fun.

In August, he asked if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. You frowned, looking over at him, his naked body shiny with sweat.

“Dinner,” you said, incredulous. “With me.”

“That’s what I said,” he replied, looking over at you. “Unless there’s someone else you’d rather go to dinner with…”

“You realize you’re already fucking me, right?” You frowned. “You don’t have to try.”

“Oh trust me, I noticed,” he grinned, a little cocky. “But I’d like to do more than fuck you. So I’m askin’ you to dinner. Gonna try to make a proper lady outta you and all that.”

You snorted.

“No proper lady to be had here,” you said. “But… we can have dinner.”

This was actual date number five. Not that the number of dates meant much when you were already screwing every chance you got.

But you’d gotten to really like Justin, especially now that you were spending almost every spare second together. Maybe love him. A little. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“You know,” he came and pressed a new beer into your hand and took your empty bottle, putting it on a nearby table. “Bet you’d look pretty as hell in a little dress like that…”

He ran his nose along your temple and you glared at him a little.

“OK, first of all, it’s after Labor Day, wearin’ all white like that is tacky,” you said. “Second of all, you get frustrated when I take 10 minutes to tame my hair before we leave, you know how long it takes to look that put together? Longer than you want to wait, cowboy.”

“OK well I’m dyin’ to know where you got that Labor Day thing from. But you’re prettier than her, so I’m sure it wouldn’t take you that long,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I’m not talkin’ about for every day. Maybe if we were to… I dunno… take a trip somewhere.”

“A trip?” You smiled, brows raised. “You tryin’ to take me away from all this, that it?”

“Maybe,” he winked. “Thinkin’ maybe a few days, we run away to a cabin on a lake, find some fun restaurants, I get to spend way more time kissin’ you than usual…”

“Sounds good to me,” you were about to move to kiss him when there was a strange, snarling sound from over his shoulder. You frowned, leaning around him just as he turned to look.

The girl from before - in the stupid white dress - flew at him, her blonde hair tangled, her fingers curved so her nails were more like claws. He stepped back, his hands going up to stop her but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

She jumped, knocking him to the ground as you jumped out of the way, the girl ripping at his shirt before digging her bared teeth into his neck.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her backward. She sprawled on the floor next to Justin for a second before she scrambled up onto all fours and tried to rush you. You took your half full beer bottle and throttled her on the side of her head, hitting her with every ounce to strength you had, sending her down to the ground, unconscious.

“Shit!” A man near you looked between you and the girl.

“Hey, she fuckin’ started it!” You snapped. “She just tried to take a chunk out of my boyfriend’s neck!”

Someone else got down on the ground with the girl as Justin got to his feet. You looked at his throat, her teeth marks red and oozing.

“Jesus, she got you good…” you frowned, leaning in close.

“We should call the cops,” the man near you said.

“And that’s our cue,” Justin took you by the elbow and started pulling you to the door.

“Hey, we didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” you said as he dragged you along beside him. “She went fuckin’ nuts…”

“Yeah but that’s your third beer of the night and you’re 19,” he said quickly. “Rather not get in trouble for buyin’ you booze…”

“That’s the girl that hit ‘er!” Someone yelled. You looked up at Justin.

“Run!” Justin pulled you with him as the two of you took off, him clearing a path with you at his heels until you were in the parking lot, a handful of people on your tail.

“Sure hope you ain’t drunk!” You said as you jumped into the passenger side of his rusted pickup.

“Sober enough to get us outta this,” he said, turning the key and holding it until the old engine turned over with a growl. He floored it, nearly taking out the front of a sedan on his way onto the main road.

He careened through town at 80 until the streetlights had faded in the distance and the sky was bursting with stars.

“What the fuck was her problem?” You crawled to the middle of the bench seat and tried to get a look at his neck. “Maybe you should go to a hospital, this looks bad…”

“I’ll just clean it up when we get back,” he waved you off. “I’m too eager to find out what kind of sex I get as your boyfriend…”

“What?” You sat back, incredulous.

“You called me your boyfriend back there,” he smirked. “I’m really ready to find out what that means once I’m in your bed…”

“Oh, Jesus,” you shoved him playfully. “You got a one track mind. And you shouldn’t read too much into what I say when I’m defending myself because some psycho tried to take a chunk out of ya.”

He winked and you rolled your eyes.

The two of you made it back to your room without any more excitement - something you were plenty thankful for. Once you were inside, you took Justin’s plaid button down off and draped it over your worn wooden desk chair before getting out your first aid kit. You usually used it for patching up cuts when a horse did manage to throw you - a rare occurrence - or when you weren’t paying close enough attention and cut yourself on barbed wire - less rare.

You frowned at the bite mark, the skin around it red and angry, as you cleaned it with rubbing alcohol and applied a bandage.

“This looks infected,” you said. “Really should take you to a hospital…”

“Nah,” he waved you off. “I’ll go to a doctor in a day or two if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ right. I’m fine, Baby Doll, really.”

He tugged you onto his lap and kissed your cheek.

“You’re cute when you’re worryin’ though,” he smiled a little. “If I’d known all it took was some rancher’s daughter gettin’ handsy with me to get you to be all over me, callin’ me your boyfriend, I’d have done it sooner…”

You rolled your eyes and shifted so you were less sitting on his lap and more straddling him and his hands went to your waist.

“See if you were in a dress, this’d be easier…”

You glared at him.

“You’re not careful I’ll give you a matchin’ bite mark on the other side of your neck.”

“Oh, from you, I’d welcome it,” he smiled, kissing you as he unbuttoned your shirt.

You ground your hips down against his as he undressed you, his hands exploring you as he kissed you. Once you were bare from the waist up, he pulled you down on the bed and you crawled down his body, opening his pants and stroking his hardening length a few times before taking him in your mouth in one, swift motion.

“Fuck, Baby Doll,” he groaned, one of his hands going to your hair. “Fuckin’ love your mouth…”

You hummed in approval, making his legs twitch as you sucked him, bobbing your head up and down his length as his fingers dug into your scalp. You worked his cock until he pulled your head roughly away from him, panting for breath.

“Really don’t want to come before I have a chance to properly fuck ya,” he said, grip loosening on your hair.

“So demanding,” you teased, looping your fingers over the top of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down his legs and leaving them on the floor. You took off your own jeans and underwear, too, and crawled up his body, leaning over him to grab a condom from your bedside table. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked you as your breasts hung over his face, his fingers sinking into your hips.

He reluctantly released you when you moved back down to straddle his thighs, opening the wrapper and sliding the condom on over his thick length. You looked at him naked in front of you and rubbed two fingers through your slit, spreading the wetness that had gathered there.

“You gettin’ wet from suckin’ me off has to be the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” his hands slid up your legs as he watched you arrange yourself over him.

“I’m so busy thinking about this the whole time I can’t help it,” you said, breathless, as you sank down onto him. He groaned as you did, your body slowly and surely taking all of his cock into you. Your hips met his and you ground yourself down against him, his hardness just big enough to stretch you enough to satisfy. You rode him like that, rubbing your clit as you did, his hands on your hips as you worked yourself to an orgasm on his length, coming around him with a whimper.

He took advantage of your orgasm and grabbed you, flipping you onto your back and driving into you as you rode out the last waves of pleasure, arranging your legs so he was pressing deeper. You groaned as he started to fuck you harder, faster, the force of it making your tits bounce.

“Love seein’ you come on my cock,” he grunted. “Love seein’ how this tight little pussy takes me…”

He ground himself in as deep as he could reach, your body tightening around him again.

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasped it out as he started to come deep inside you, spilling into the condom.

Your eyes went wide and your orgasm hit - soft and subdued but not entirely put off by his words. He collapsed beside you when both of you were spent, your own slick leaking out between your legs. You stared up at the ceiling.

“Knew boyfriend sex would be good,” he teased, a little breathless and smiling at you.

“Yeah, about that,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What did you say at the end there?”

He frowned.

“I said…” and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit… I didn’t mean… I don’t expect… Look, I…”

“Did you mean it?” You asked, brows raised.

He flinched.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t plannin’ on sayin’ a damn thing about it to you, alright? So please don’t freak out about this, OK? I feel like we’re in a good place…”

“I…” you paused. “Well I dunno if I love you yet or not but… I do like you. A lot. You’re kind of my favorite person so… I might love you a little. But just a little.”

You shrugged and fell back down onto your back. He smiled.

“Well, you’re my favorite person, too.”

“Don’t read too much into it,” you smiled a little.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Baby Doll.”

He rolled over to kiss you before getting out of bed. You frowned.

“Gonna go rinse off,” he said. “I’m feelin’… I dunno, just off.”

“I’m telling you, that stupid bite is infected,” you called after him as he went to shower. You waited until you heard the water turn on and got out bed yourself, getting his shirt from the chair and shrugging into it. It hung on you and you had to roll up the sleeves. You smiled a little at the physical representation of him enveloping you, the shirt smelling like his cologne with the faint smell of hay below it - a smell he never seemed to really shake. You liked it.

You got your guitar from its stand in the corner and settled back down on the bed, tuning it briefly before just noodling on it. You’d been experimenting with a combination of chords and the rhythm you could get from tapping on the guitar body itself.

“That’s soundin’ good,” Justin said, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He got is boxers off the floor and stepped into them, draping the towel over the chair.

“Thanks,” you said. “Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet but something eventually… Feeling any better?”

“Bit worse actually,” he frowned. “Maybe I should go back to mine, what if I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Don’t need to be gettin’ you sick, too…”

“You were just inside me, Justin, whatever you got I’m gonna get,” you rolled your eyes. “Assuming it’s contagious and it’s not from that damn bite.”

“She wasn’t rabid,” he teased, climbing into bed beside you. “Sure I just picked up somethin’ somewhere…”

You put the guitar down beside the bed and curled into him, falling asleep breathing in the smell of hay on his skin.

His twitching is what woke you up.

“Justin,” you whispered, nudging him. He didn’t respond. “You’re dreaming, c’mon baby…”

You gave him a shake but he didn’t wake up. You sighed and untangled yourself from him and the sheets. You grabbed your panties off the floor and ducked into the bathroom. If you were awake, you might as well pee. You did that, chugged a glass of water and went back into the bedroom.

It was uncommonly dark, the new moon making it so there was almost no light coming in through your windows. You nudged Justin again as you tried to get under the covers.

“Hey,” you shook him a little more firmly this time. “Baby, you’re dreaming something crazy…”

He responded then, taking in a deep, raspy breath, his movements still sharp and jerky.

“Justin?” You said quietly. “Hey, it’s me, it’s…”

He shrieked, sounding like the girl at the bar and you shocked back from him, jumping away just as his fingers reached and groped for you.

“This isn’t funny!” You yelled, stumbling over your guitar as you backed away from him. You squinted, barely able to make out his writhing in the bedsheets in the dark. “Justin, cut it the fuck out!”

He just shrieked again before he fell to the floor with a thud, his breaths still coming in deep, rasping pants.

“Justin?” You crept toward his side of the bed cautiously. He snarled and scrambled, on all fours, for you.

It shocked you so much that he got ahold of your ankle, yanking you onto the ground so hard that it made your brain rattle in your skull, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh as he dragged you closer.

You fought without really thinking about how or why or who, you just kicked as hard as you could with your free leg, catching the side of his head with your knee. He shrieked and released you and you scrambled back from him, pulling yourself up by your bed to run around to your nightstand. You yanked the middle drawer open - just below where you’d grabbed a condom just hours before to put on the man who was now bent on killing you - and pulled out your hand gun.

“Justin!” You were crying. You almost never cried. You weren’t sure when you’d started. “Please! I don’t want to do this, please!”

He snarled and lunged for you again and you pulled the trigger. He collapsed immediately and you screamed, fumbling to turn on the lamp on your side table.

“Justin?” You got down on the ground next to him. You’d shot him in the chest, right by his heart. The rattling sound of his breaths were gone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please…”

You sobbed, instinctively trying to put his blood back inside of him. If you could just fix it, put it back together, he’d be OK, he’d wake up and be Justin again and everything would be fine. That had to be the way it worked, it was the only thing that made sense…

You barely noticed it, out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled the bandage off his neck at some point, the violent bite mark on display and a fibrous, vine-like tendril reaching out from his throat. Reaching for you.

You yelped and scrambled back from him, your gun still in your hand. The thing was still moving, with a mind of its own.

“What the fuck?” You were panting for breath. His body twitched and you did the only thing you could think to do.

You ran.

“Help me!” You ran out front of the bunk house, gun still in your bloody hands. “Please! Help me!”

You heard it before you saw it, the rattling breath and the inhuman snarl. Like the girl at the bar. Like Justin.

It was Keith, one of the older ranch hands. He worked with the cattle. You’d almost never seen him so much as jog and here he was, running for you, snarling, his hands in a claw-like shape.

“Stop!” You held up the gun. “I ain’t jokin’, I will shoot you!”

He kept coming, the snarling getting louder. You fired, shooting him in the head by the glow of the light on the barn. He collapsed where he stood as you heard something crash against the door of one of the other rooms at the bunkhouse. Like someone was hurling their body against it, trying to break free.

You looked around, frantic. There was only one thing you were sure of: you’d get torn apart if you stayed here. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know what caused it, but you knew you were going to die if you didn’t get away.

You ran to the paddock where you’d been working with a horse, a filly who was just past her yearling stage. You’d been breaking her in, now that she was old enough, barely to dumb broke, just starting to carry a rider and learn commands. She was there, asleep in the grass. You jumped the fence, not wanting to risk going in the barn where there were sometimes still people, even at this hour.

“Hey Nike,” you whispered. She roused with a whinny. You’d named her for the goddess of victory and you hoped that meant she’d help you win whatever the fuck battle was apparently happening here today. “We gotta get goin’ sweet girl…”

You coaxed her to her feet and she shook her head, her mane bouncing. You jumped on her back and realized that you hadn’t even put on shoes or pants, you’d been in too big a hurry to get the fuck out of your room. But it wasn’t safe to go back, not now. You’d have to make do. You tucked your gun into the waistband of your panties. Nike pranced, impatient below you.

“We’re gonna get the fuck out of here,” you said. “You and me.”

You leaned forward and took some of her mane in each hand, one on each side of her neck. You couldn’t afford to go and get reins, you hoped this would be enough.

“Lets see if we can make you a jumper…”

You nudged her forward and got her moving. There was more snarling from the bunkhouse, louder now. Something must have gotten through a door… you shuddered, thinking about it.

Once she was up to a good clip, you pointed her at the fence line and drove her to it, adjusting your weight and pulling back on her, hoping that she’d figure it out.

She did, you barely hanging on as she sailed over the fence posts.

“Good girl!” You said, driving her toward the woods at the edge of the property. “It’s you and me, Nike. You and me. We’re going to get through this, we’re going to get help, we’re going to get through this.”

You said it more for you than your horse as you rode into the dark of the forest, the ranch and the bodies of the first men you ever killed behind you.

***

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“Been quiet today,” Tommy said from beside Joel, the gentle crunch of the snow under the feet of their horses the only other sound on the cold air.

Joel groaned.

“Jesus, Tommy, why don’t you just ask for us to get swarmed by infected,” he glared at his little brother.

“Don’t tell me you’re superstitious now, brother,” Tommy smirked a little. “You and I both know that whatever I say don’t got shit to do with anything that happens later.”

“It will if I deck you for sayin’ stupid shit,” Joel replied. “And I ain’t superstitious, I’m just smart enough to not say somethin’ that goddamn dumb in the middle of a patrol.”

The men were, at this point, about a four hour’s ride from Jackson, Wyoming. But they’d been taking it at a slow pace because - as Tommy had rightly and stupidly pointed out - it had been a quiet day. A quiet day in a quiet month.

Raiders seemed to have gone dark - either hunkering down for the coming winter or migrating elsewhere. So had infected, though they knew they could put that on their migratory patterns. Stupid fungus was smart enough to know that the humans it occupied couldn’t hold up in extreme cold and that their host bodies would freeze and die if they stayed too far north during the winter. Things thinned out this time of year.

“We should turn around and head back soon,” Tommy said. “We cut over a few miles, we’ll be able to sweep up and check a different area…”

“You know this shit better’n me,” Joel shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised if we come up on a pocket of raiders now…”

Tommy rolled his eyes as they rode up on a stream. He nudged his horse to follow it, cutting back toward Jackson.

They’d only been following the path of the stream for about 20 minutes when Joel first noticed it. The sign of footprints, then blood.

“Tommy,” he said quietly, nodding his head at it.

“Shit,” Tommy sighed, shaking his head.

“You said it was quiet,” Joel said, trying not to smirk at him.

“Fuck you,” Tommy replied, steering his horse to follow the footprints.

They didn’t have to go far, the snow growing steadily redder the further they went, until there was a body face down on the ground.

Joel slid off his horse and crouched next to the man, checking for signs of life even though it was pretty obvious that there weren’t any. He rolled the man over. There was a sizable knife buried in the man’s chest but that’s not the thing that caught Joel’s attention.

“Jesus Christ,” he looked up at his brother, still on horseback. “Tommy, look at this.”

Tommy frowned, dismounting and squatting down next to Joel.

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Was that… infected?”

The man’s face had been nearly torn apart, nail marks like some kind of feral animal had gotten to him but they were distinctly human, little half-moon shapes dragged through his flesh that had gushed blood. He’d been alive when something - someone - got to his face.

“Ain’t ever seen one go at someone quite like this,” Joel said. “And infected don’t use knives…”

“Maybe suicide if he got bit?” Tommy shrugged.

Joel looked over the body and found a gun with plenty of ammo and nodded to it.

“Well then, never mind,” Tommy frowned. “Jesus, he pissed off someone…”

“The fuck knows who,” Joel said, looking him over more to see if he could find any signs as to where the man had come from. There were a few thick zipties in the man’s back pocket. Joel sighed and held them up for Tommy to see. “Well, probably plenty. I’m bettin’ he’s a raider, probably tryin’ to bring in someone who fought back a little harder than expected…”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy sighed, getting up again. “Grab the guns I guess, knife too. See if we can’t find who fucked him up.”

The men mounted up again and rode on. They found another body, this one shot dead and not scratched to hell, though one look at the nails - free of blood and torn flesh - told Joel this was another raider and not who they were after.

“Joel,” Tommy nodded at another set of tracks, starting with little drops of blood in the snow and coloring it more crimson as the path wore on.

“Shit,” he sighed, steering his horse to follow the path.

They didn’t need to go far.

Ahead was a body in the snow, splayed out on the ground, splotches of red and pink around it. Joel dismounted and approached slowly. He could sense that this was different. This was who the raiders had been after.

He moved cautiously, almost afraid to see what the raiders must have done to you if you’d done that kind of damage to them. You were bloody but he wasn’t sure the source of it from a quick glance. Your face was bruised and he could see signs of you being bound on your exposed wrist, the skin ringed in harsh and angry red.

“Jesus,” Tommy breathed, coming up along side Joel.

He noticed it then, the small, almost imperceptible movement of your chest. Joel tapped Tommy’s arm and nodded toward your torso.

“Oh shit,” he said.

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a sharp breath, struggling onto your elbows and hands, trying to drag your broken body back away from Joel and Tommy.

“Woah!” Tommy held up his hands. “Not here to hurt you, you’re OK, we’re just gonna try to help…”

“Fuck you,” you spat - literally, blood and spittle flying from your lips as you tried to get a full breath. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey,” Joel got down on your level, his hands up, and met your eyes. There was something in them that felt familiar. Something that he wanted to protect. “It’s OK. We’re not like them, those men back there. Guessin’ you killed ‘em?”

You nodded once. Your eyes were so wide, you were so afraid. It reminded Joel of a baby deer, fragile and wild.

“You did good, Bambi,” he said, keeping his hands where you could see them. “Fucked ‘em up real good. We’re from a settlement, few hours from here. It’s a good place, we’ve got a doctor who can help you…”

“Can’t walk a few hours,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Joel said, nodding to your torso. “Mind if I take a look? See where that blood’s comin’ from? I’m just gonna lift your shirt, not gonna touch you.”

You looked at him for a moment before you gave him a stiff nod. He gingerly raised the bloody fabric - you weren’t wearing nearly enough layers to be out in this weather, just jeans, boots and a button down - and examined your stomach. There were two bullet holes there. He winced. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew getting shot in the stomach was bad. He noticed a raised scar on your hip, just below and to the left of your belly button, a branded letter M. His stomach turned. The fuck had happened to you?

“It’s bad,” you managed. “Just shoot me, better… better than dyin’ with them.”

“She’s right, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice low. “She’s lost a lot of blood, dragging her back to town’s just torture at this point…”

You’d fallen back into the snow, struggling to breathe, your eyes closed. But he remembered your eyes, the warmth wrapped in something harsh and sharp.

He realized then what they reminded him of, who you reminded him of. Tess. You were a survivor, like Tess. He hadn’t been able to save her, either. He’d failed her, too.

“Bambi,” Joel said, just sticking with the name. He figured you’d offer your real one if you wanted to. You opened your eyes again. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you for this but I’m gonna be as gentle as I can…”

“Fuck you,” you winced. “Just…”

“Not going to just let you die out here in the cold,” Joel shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Tommy. “Gonna get you on my horse - it’s OK if you pass out, I’ll hold onto ya - and we’re gonna get you back with us.”

“I don’t…” you began but Joel slid his arm below your legs and the other behind your ribs and he gently, slowly, lifted you into his body. You cried out in pain but he held onto you, putting you on the horse as best he could.

“Sorry, Bambi.” You instinctively wrapped your fingers around the saddle horn as your body slumped forward and you whimpered. He mounted up behind you and held his hand out to Tommy, who handed him his coat. He draped it over your shivering frame and tugged you against him. Your head lolled back against his chest and you groaned. Your eyes were closed. He wondered if you were conscious.

“This is damn stupid, Joel,” Tommy said, mounting his horse again.

“Couldn’t just leave her out here,” Joel said. “You know we couldn’t.”

Tommy sighed.

“Let’s get back,” he said. “Maybe, by some miracle, this won’t all have been for nothin’.”

“And you said it was a quiet day,” Joel said, starting off at a faster clip this time.

Tommy sighed.

“Fuck you.”

A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to Yearling! I hope you've enjoyed it so far and that you'll come to love Bambi and Joel as much as I have as I've been thinking about and planning this story for the last month or so.

You can expect updates a few times a week here as I have brain rot and really only want to write this stuff :)

I'll start a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added!

Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you stick around and go on this journey with me. Love you!

Next Chapter

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #slow burn

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moni-logues · 5 months

Text

Kintsugi 15

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.8k

Content: references to self-harm, description of self-harm scars, some chat about self-harm; oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, protected sex

A/N: I said I'd make it clear, so let's do that: IT'S THE END! THE FINAL ONE!! THE LAST CHAPTER! IT'S DONE!!! IT'S FINISHED!!! NO MORE!!! NO MAS!!!! FINIT!!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!!

I was so relieved to finish this yesterday and thought I would be glad more than anything to post this and finally (FINALLY!!!) bring the series to a close, but I honestly do also feel kind of sad it's over. We've been together over a year now, these characters and me; I've been actually writing them for a year but they first popped into my head 18 months ago. And now we're at the end.

Huge thank you to everyone who has beta'd for me, inc. for this chapter @quarter-life-crisis2 and @here2bbtstrash, @minttangerines, @blog-name-idk, and Amethyst

Thank you to everyone who has left comments and come along on this journey with me; it has meant SO much to me to have your investment in and enthusiasm for this story. It has made it so rewarding to tell and I hope you like their ending.

Without further ado...

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Chapter Fifteen - Spring

You rested your head gently against the window, watching the people come and go. The cherry blossoms had fallen already, gathered in gutters and collected in corners. You were always sad to see them go, but this year, you felt like they had given you something. Summer, of course, as always: the heat, the sun, the long days, the blessed relief of an ice-cold drink and even colder air-conditioning. This year, the cherry blossoms had brought you something else. Truly like confetti, they had blown around you, whirled around you, celebrating your first week of From Now On.

You didn’t say that you were getting ahead of yourself. Not this time. Because you weren’t that anxious about it, as much as that surprised you. You had all the anticipation of your first day at school with none of the nerves. The cherry blossoms had gone but they hadn’t left a hole; you couldn’t feel their absence because your life felt abundant. Last year, when you had watched them bloom and fall and fade away, you had been empty. All the joy they usually brought you couldn’t touch the sides of your despair. It hurt more to see them ushering in spring when you felt stranded alone in winter. But now you weren’t alone. Not even close.

It was a fairly mild day, just the cool side of hot, and still. You had been impatient and got ready early, hence the sitting and staring. Yoongi wasn’t due for another five minutes, but you’d been there for twenty already. You imagined you might see him on his approach to your building and get to observe him, unnoticed. You wondered what he was doing right now – driving? In a taxi? On the subway? Was he already on his feet, close to you? Was he nervous? You thought he would be. His shyness recently reminded you of when you first met, those tentative overtures of friendship, the thrill you felt when he opened himself up to you.

It was not unlike the thrill you felt now, waiting for him to pick you up for your very first date.

When he was due in no less than two minutes, you stood and moved to your mirror. You had, initially, planned to wear something that you considered sexier – that is to say, more form-fitting, a little more scandalous, a dress that showed off a little more of what your mother gave you – and then you changed your mind. You didn’t need to do that, because Yoongi already knew. He had already seen what lay beneath and it was all for him now anyway. So you dressed a little more comfortably, in a dress with a little more give, a little more fabric and flounce. You looked cute; you wanted Yoongi to think you looked cute.

Then, as you always did, you heard his footsteps.

“Babe!” you cried, leaning out of your door to see him coming from the end of the corridor.

But you almost didn’t manage to say anything at all because, whilst you had expected Yoongi, you hadn’t expected Yoongi in a suit, holding flowers. It stopped you short; you had been about to run out to him, jump into his arms, do something silly. Instead, you were flustered, grinning at him from your doorway, your heart going like the clappers and your blood roaring in your ears because god-fucking-damn, had he always been that handsome?

“No!” he called back. “Go back inside! What are you doing?”

What were you doing? Short-circuiting, a little. His hair was still long and you imagined it twisted between your fingers, soft and pullable; he was smiling, even as he scolded you, all his little teeth on display. You had always liked a man in a suit – you must have said it a thousand times – but you had not been prepared for how much you liked this man in a suit. You were going to have to get some kind of grip if you were going to make it through dinner.

“I’m saying hello!” you called back, a little too loudly now that he was closer. “I was going to run out to meet you!”

“Get back inside! I’m supposed to be picking you up! I need to knock on your door!”

Truthfully, Yoongi would have loved to have you run out of your apartment and into his arms, even if he’d tumbled, you’d stumbled, you’d both fallen to the floor in a bumped, bruised heap. He’d have loved to have thrown all caution to the wind and run away with you. But all of that was still overwhelming, far too much good for a boy who still thought he was bad, and there was a process to be followed, procedure. He was clinging to that. Like a life raft.

Yoongi had practised. In as much as you can practise speaking to a friend without actually speaking to them. He had forgotten, in all his anxiety about dating you, about being with you, being seen by you, that you were his friend. He’d had these feelings for you from the very beginning and they had never paralysed him like he felt they were now. He knew sex was not the (only) answer, that sooner or later, he was going to have to remember how to act around you. So he called each of his friends in turn to hang out with them, to remind himself, firstly, that he had them, that he was likable; secondly, that he enjoyed their company—he enjoyed company in general, more than he would ever let on; thirdly, that he could be good company: he got a laugh out of every one of them. That had to count for something.

And he bought you flowers. Because they would provide a good distraction in case all of these remembrances fell out of his head the second he saw you. And because he wanted to, because that’s what you should do when you take someone out on a date. He knew you liked tulips and it was tulip season. It felt right. And it released a little of his impulse to shower you with things, to buy things for you and haemorrhage cash to make him seem worth it.

For the longest time, money had been all he had. He had laughed out loud in his therapist’s office when he said that because, for the longest time, money was all he didn’t have. The not-having of money was the very thing that defined his life and set him on this path; it was the bedrock beneath the biggest of his life’s decisions. And then it became all he had. All he had to offer. He was still learning that maybe there were other things, too.

You did as you were told and shut the door, palms pressed against it as you listened to your heart and tried to make it slow. Then you waited six seconds until you heard his first knock.

“Oh my god, hi!” you exclaimed. “I had no idea you were here!”

Yoongi pretended he wasn’t grinning and shot you a look.

“Shut up,” he replied. “I bought you these.”

Tulips. Your favourite flower. You didn't remember ever telling Yoongi that, but maybe he just knew. They were another reason that April was your favourite time of year. Seoul Forest was full of them, hundreds, thousands of them blanketing the banks. There was a rainbow of colour in every direction; tall heads on sturdy stems barely touched by breezes, swaying like a choir. It was like a pilgrimage; you went every year. Maybe this year, you would take Yoongi.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

You took them from him, not bothering to try to restrain your smile from splitting your face in half, and leant in to kiss him. Then you stopped.

“Are we allowed to kiss?” you asked, one inch from his face. Then you moved away and started looking in cupboards for a vase you weren’t sure you owned.

Yoongi looked confused.

“Y’know, kissing on a first date?”

He still looked confused. Then you remembered. You laughed.

“Oh, of course, that’s right. You’re Mr Fucks on a First Date, aren’t you?”

You expected him to be surprised; you hoped he would be a little flustered, hoped you would get to see that pink creep onto his cheeks in a way that was just too cute. Instead, he grinned and you felt your own cheeks heat.

“Is that a promise?” he asked and your stomach swooped.

You had found a vase, tipped flower food into it, and were gently arranging the stems. You abandoned them in favour of moving closer him, then a little closer, slowly closer, until your lips were almost on his.

“Cheeky,” you muttered, eyes flicking down to his lips, amaranth pink and just a little pouty. You bit your own.

Yoongi hummed.

“So is that a yes?”

“Only if you play your cards right.”

You dragged your eyes up and slowly pressed a kiss to his mouth. His hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t stop yours from reaching up, tangling one in his hair, using the other to rake through the dark locks you hoped he never cut. It wasn’t exactly the kind of grip you needed to get, but every atom of your body was asking for more. It was intoxicating to be kissed by him.

It was Yoongi who broke from you (you did not have the same level of restraint), his mouth lifting in a grin as he nodded his head slightly towards the counter, where your tulips stood in their vase.

“Did I mention I got you flowers?”

“You might need to tell me one more time.”

You weren’t nervous. Not at all. On the one hand, you felt like you should be, because it was Yoongi and this felt enormous. When you stood back and looked at it, it was huge. He was one of your two (2) friends in this world and you were ruining your friendship good and proper. You could still remember the sharp-toothed despair that wound around you like a strait-jacket after what happened with Sungbin; you remembered the suffocating heartbreak of San leaving you. You knew that it could happen here. There wasn’t a guarantee that Yoongi was The One, that you were The One for Yoongi. It should have scared you.

But it didn’t. It was too hard to be anxious sitting across from him at dinner, as if you hadn’t sat and done this very thing with him dozens of times before. It was impossible to worry about whether or not he liked you when he looked at you like that, when he smiled in that way that you had always suspected was just for you. You knew he liked you because he was here. He had asked for this date and bought you flowers and he was laughing and teasing and being exactly the person you knew him to be. That didn’t make you nervous.

Yoongi had picked the restaurant carefully. Not too fancy, not too quiet, not too busy, not too empty, not too casual. He had spent a great many hours trawling the internet for reviews and photos and listings. He wasn’t usually this obsessive, but so much about it all had felt out of his control and this was in it. So he was going to get it right.

Sitting across from you, he knew he needn’t have bothered. Because he knew you didn’t really care. He wasn’t even sure, sometimes, if you knew what you were eating, because you barely stopped talking to shove it in. You spoke around the food in your mouth and whirled your chopsticks around as you gestured. You picked things off his plate and dropped pieces of your own food onto it. You had this way of creating a world around yourself, such that he forgot where he was; he forgot there was anyone else around, anything else to think about. And he realised he could have taken you anywhere and it would have been just exactly this good. Because it was you.

“Do you want to go for a drink or something? I looked up a couple of bars not far from here,” Yoongi said as he led you, your hand in his, from the restaurant.

You leant up against him, shook your head and pouted.

“No?”

You shook your head again.

“Ice-cream?”

Not that either.

“Ok... Do you want to go home?”

“Yes, please.”

Yoongi seemed surprised and you saw his eyes dim and realised—too slowly, clumsily for too much wine—that you had not exactly said what you meant.

“I want to go home with you, please,” you clarified, still pouting up at him.

“Oh.”

It took Yoongi a couple of seconds to recalibrate, then he smiled down at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Miss Fucks on a First Date, is it?”

You punched him playfully in the arm and he didn’t bother to act like it hurt.

“Do you want a drink?” Yoongi offered as you slipped off your shoes inside his apartment.

You shrugged. You would have one if he wanted, but you didn’t need one. You felt lush and warm and relaxed enough already. And truthfully, you were at home now, in the privacy of his apartment; you didn’t want to waste a minute with your mouth on anything that wasn’t him.

You kissed him, soft at first, because you did want to fuck on your first date, but you weren’t an animal; you had some patience. Or, that’s what you thought as you pressed your lips against his, but the thought washed away like writing on the sand as soon as you tasted him. All your impatience, all your greed, all your excitement came rushing forward, into the fray, a tsunami of feeling, all good, all for him, all surging through you like a stampede.

“I never,” you started, interrupting yourself with another kiss, one more. “I never want to stop kissing you.”

“Then don’t.”

You moaned into his mouth and pressed your body against his, suddenly too warm, hot, the fabric of your dress burning where it brushed your skin. You pushed Yoongi’s jacket off his shoulders and pulled at the knot of his tie. He laughed against your lips and pulled back.

“You know you’re just making it tighter?”

You whined and let him take over, deftly undoing the damage you’d done and loosening it properly, pulling it through the collar of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You thought that was quite long enough to not be kissing, to not be held so tight against him, you could practically feel his heartbeat in your chest, but he held you back.

When he started walking away from you, you rushed after him, grabbing his hand as he opened his bedroom door.

“Cherry?” he called softly, padding over to the bed, where she was curled up on the pillow. “You have to get the fuck out of here, ok?”

She ‘mrowed’ at him and rolled onto her back, exposing her exquisitely soft underbelly for strokes, purring when Yoongi put his hand on her. You thought to yourself that you would quite like to be the one purring under his touch, but had to accept that being jealous of a cat was insane, even for you.

“Come on,” he said encouragingly, lifting her up and walking away from you yet again, taking her out to the living room and placing her on the sofa.

“You mean you don’t even give her a free show?” you asked when he returned to the bedroom.

Yoongi’s face flattened and he looked at you, pretending not to be amused.

“Would you like to fuck in front of my cat?”

You jumped up and skipped over to him with a giggle.

“No, thank you!”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and wasted no time reconnecting your mouths. Yoongi, now the cat was out of the room and the door firmly shut, seemed as impatient as you were, his hands sliding under the skirt of your dress and up, slipping beneath your underwear and squeezing at your backside. His mouth moved to your jaw and then your neck, sucking soft kisses into your skin, holding you firmly close to him.

You were impatient because you wanted more, more, and even more of him and you wanted it now. But you also wanted each moment to last. Every time his lips met your skin, they felt softer; every time his tongue rolled over yours, he tasted sweeter; every time his hands squeezed, you felt your heart race a little faster. You wanted him immediately and you also wanted it to last forever. You couldn’t get enough of him.

He moved his hands upwards, outside your dress, and made light work of the buttons at the back that had honestly taken you forever to do up by yourself. You hummed.

“You’re good at that.”

“Hm?”

“Good with your fingers.”

He chuckled and flicked you lightly with one hand whilst his other freed a button from its clasp.

“Is that right?”

“Shut up, you know what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you meant.”

You shivered, even in the warm room, in the bright light of the sun streaming in through the window, when he pulled your dress off and you let it pool on the floor. You didn’t have time to be self-conscious, even if you might have otherwise, because Yoongi was on you, pushing you towards the bed until you were flat on your back, his mouth exploring your body as if he’d forgotten every inch of it in the last week. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and tugged down; you shuffled in response, lifting your hips and wriggling out of it in a way that was less than dignified, and less than efficient, but you didn’t want Yoongi to move off you, didn’t want to sit and then stand so you could do the job properly.

Naked, again, beneath Yoongi, fully-clothed, you held tight to his shirt collar and hoped he would let you know what he wanted. You wanted to let him lead.

And lead he did. He pulled one of your hands to his shirt buttons and you experimentally popped one open. He led your hand to the next one. You worked your way to the bottom, pulling the ends from his trousers, kissing him: his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He wouldn’t look at you and you could see the red on his ears; if you pressed your hand against his chest, you could feel the thump of his heart like a hammer.

“Baby,” you whispered as you slowly slid your hands under his shirt, his body warm against them, soft, not smooth.

He gave no reply and you nudged him gently with your nose.

“Baby, look at me.”

It took seconds that felt like minutes before his eyes met yours. They were guarded, unsure, a little bit afraid. You kissed his lips and smiled.

“We can stop here,” you reminded him but he shook his head.

“Go on.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded but his eyes were elsewhere again.

You pushed your hands along his chest, around his shoulders, forcing the shirt to fall to the bed. You let your hands see him first, your lips still employed on his neck. He was soft and warm and the dip of his spine slightly damp with sweat. You felt them before you saw them, laddering down his arms, criss-crossing his chest, a handful near his hip that were rough and scabbed, still healing.

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment that you had never seen Yoongi in a T-shirt. That he always wore long sleeves. You hadn’t noticed. Now you knew why.

Yoongi’s face was pink now, a little pained, uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Yoongi wanted to burst into flames and drown himself both at once. He didn’t dare open his eyes because he knew he’d not be able to see for tears. He was holding his breath, waiting for something he desperately didn’t want to happen, even though it always had. The shock, the disgust, the reluctance, the holding at arm’s length.

You took his hand and kissed his palm, kissed the single, thick, raised scar on his wrist and all the smaller ones that followed. You turned him around, guiding him gently so he lay against the headboard, so you could kiss him all over, each and every one of them.

“Babe,” you called to him, crawling up his body until you hovered over him, resting on your hands.

Then you lowered yourself on top of him, skin to skin, and stroked through his hair.

“Hey,” you tried again and Yoongi nodded slightly.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are you ok?”

He nodded again.

“Gonna look at me and say that?”

When he looked at you, it was a Yoongi you had never seen before. Shy and defeated and embarrassed and sad and there was something hurt in his eyes that almost made you angry – because no one was allowed to hurt him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

You kissed him once and then again and he cleared his throat lightly.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Yoongi...”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Some of the hesitation in his face left him then and he looked at you.

“Have you changed your mind?”

It was a little defensive, the barest hint of a challenge in his voice.

“No,” you answered. “Why would I have changed my mind?”

He looked away again, not answering, though you didn’t need him to. You both knew. But that would never have changed your mind. He could have been covered in slime or secretly a lizard-person and you’d have been just as soft for him as you were now.

Though you were glad that he was neither.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you continued. “Well, it does--” You noticed the clench of his jaw-- “because I know what it takes to do it...” You traced your finger lightly over the scars on his arm. “I know exactly how it feels and I hate that you know, too. I wish I could take it all away from you. So that bothers me. Because I don’t ever want you to feel like it’s something you have to do.

“But-” you pushed yourself up a little, sitting on his lap and pressing your hands to his chest- “actually, also, they’re proof you’re still here, y’know?” Your hand circled his wrist and you pressed your thumb against the worst scar there. “You might not have been. Any one of these could have been the last one, right? But they weren’t. It’s like... every time you do it, it’s a little bit of effort towards staying alive because there’s something worse you could do but you’re not doing that. So it’s proof. Proof that you’re here and trying and you’ve been trying and I, for one, am very glad you are still here. More than glad.”

He didn’t reply. You shrugged.

“And you’ve seen mine. My body is not exactly unscathed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.” His voice was stronger, more like his own.

“And there’s nothing wrong with yours.”

Yoongi had to get out from underneath you, had to stop you looking at him, at least for a moment. He knew that it had to happen, that you had to know, but this was too much. Too much of what he didn’t want and not enough of what he did. He didn’t want to talk about it or think about it. His chest was tight and he felt unsteady and he so badly just wanted to get back to you: you, naked in this bed, with him.

He sat up and his arms came around you and you relished the feeling of your skin on his, nothing but warmth between you. He kissed you, insistent this time, impatient again. He wanted you on his tongue, in his hands, enveloping him. He wanted to serve himself up on a plate for you, kneel and kiss your feet; he wanted to lose himself completely in the sound of you coming undone.

You shuffled off him and fumbled at his belt, at his zip, pushing them to the floor. You barely noticed the skin there, that was really more scar than skin; you didn’t see the light lines and the dark ones, crossing and re-crossing, thickening, fading, all over. Because it didn’t matter to you. That he wasn’t fresh out of the box, perfect and unblemished. No one was. And you shared a pain; the pain that led to these blemishes, these marks, these scars, it was yours, too.

So you didn’t see them as they were un-covered, as he stepped out of his clothes, as you took his cock in your hand. Hot and heavy, you pumped slowly, but Yoongi had other ideas.

He lay you on the bed and spread your thighs, trailing kisses up one side and down the other. You shivered when his hot breath hit your core and again when his mouth met your lips, his tongue licking through your folds. The pleasure felt brand new as he drank you in and you felt the exact right amount of drunk.

If you’d been sober, this would have been too quick; you’d have been too easy, too alert. It would all have been over too soon. But the alcohol blurred the edges, dulled your senses just enough to allow you to luxuriate in it: the soft, wet pad of his tongue brushing over your clit, then hard as it pushed inside you; the press of his kiss-plump lips, their seal as he sucked at your swollen bud. Like swimming through champagne, everything was fizzing and golden.

The sun hit Yoongi’s head, so bright it made his black hair brown and it shone. You tangled a fist in it, pulling his mouth closer, tipping your hips and he flicked his eyes towards you. They were deep and glazed and only half-open, his tongue still pressed against you. You whined and rolled your hips, then did it again and he let you rut against his mouth until all your pleasure was coiling tight, down into a heavy ball in your core.

Then he pulled back and shifted his weight, lifting a hand from your hip.

“Good with my fingers, right?” he said, a lopsided grin on his face, mouth sticky and shining.

“Y-e...eess.”

You answer was punctuated with the slip of those fingers inside you, and your breath hitched by the curling of those fingers, the pressing of them against your front wall. Yoongi lowered himself again and put his mouth back around your clit, the suction hard and sure. You were squirming now, all your muscles tightening, everything drawing down, deep into your core before bursting forward in a wet rush of heat.

You sighed as your limbs flopped against the mattress and your chest heaved. Yoongi wiped his mouth and knelt back, similarly breathless. He took a hand to his cock and squeezed lightly at the base, hissing slightly as he did.

You slithered off the bed, to your knees, and tapped Yoongi’s knee, asking him to turn towards you, reaching for him, for his dark, heavy cock, your mouth growing wet at the mere thought of it.

Yoongi looked hesitant.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

You tipped your head to the side and frowned.

“But... I want to, though?”

He hesitated a second longer and you thought he was going to say no, but he turned and you did nothing to hide your enthusiasm. You pressed a kiss to the tip and let your tongue lick at the pre-cum dripping from it. Yoongi grunted and you grinned because it had actually been a long time since you’d had this kind of fun.

It had been a long time for Yoongi, too, since he’d had his dick in anyone’s mouth. He couldn’t even remember the last time. He’d forgotten the heat of it, the softness and strength of a tongue, the looking down at them looking up. It was frankly criminal, he thought, that you could be so cute with a cock in your mouth. It was every bit as good as he might have dreamt, as hot and wet as he might have imagined. You pushed forward and he could feel the back of your throat, see the tears sparkling in your eyes, caught on your lashes.

He had to stop looking. He tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. He clenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing down because, god, it had been so long and it was you. It was you and you had kissed him all over and you were looking up at him with wet stars in your eyes and your mouth was doing all that to him and he closed his eyes. Then you moaned with the tip of his cock at the very back of your mouth and he almost lost all control.

He swore, his throat tight, his thighs twitching. He placed a hand on your head and pushed back your hair, tugging ever so slightly to pull you off him. You wiped your mouth and grinned up at him; it was such a sweet, filthy gesture that he almost came again.

“You ok?” you asked and Yoongi fell to his knees. He answered with a kiss, licking into your mouth, pulling you against him.

“Yes,” he answered, mumbled against your lips. “Want to fuck you now.”

“Yes, please.”

And it was everything you had wanted. Everything you had forgotten sex could be. Yoongi held you close and fucked you slow and you kissed him and caressed him and the world could have fallen apart outside and you would neither have noticed nor cared.

There was something tearing inside Yoongi and he didn’t know what to do about it. Because you were holding him tight, pulling him so close to you, kissing him and moaning into his mouth and no one had wanted him this close, this soft, this slow for a long time. Ever. He had tried to pace himself before, tried not to rush through it but it was a blur to him now, the frenzy and the nerves and the uncertainty of it all rendering it choppy and indistinct. Whereas this was full high-definition. This, you, the way you touched him and looked at him, the way you said his name... it was like a dream. Like something he never thought he would have. The luxury of your warm body so close to his; the indulgence of your lips against his and your eyes sparkling like you had never seen a sweeter sight than him. That you wanted him. That you wanted him and let him know it. That you wanted all of him, as you ran your hands down his arms, as you squeezed at his chest and pressed your hand against his back, pulling him closer.

Because it wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just the thrust of Yoongi’s hips, his cock buried deep in your wet cunt; it wasn’t just the slap and slick of damp skin and arousal; it wasn’t just the pleasure you felt in your core expanding outwards, the heat in your blood, and tingling in your toes. It was all-encompassing; it was everything. It was this person who knew you, all the bad bits as well as the good, knew you and saw you and held you like you were precious. It was feeling safe and cherished and valued. It was knowing that your feelings were reflected, returned, reciprocated. It was the sweetness of finding someone who lit you up and being able to light them up the same way.

When you lay, side by side, spent and sated, you felt like you were glowing. You rolled onto your side, into Yoongi, as he rolled into you and you kissed him again, for the hundredth time or thousandth, it still wasn’t enough.

You slept soundly, without dreaming, without waking, until the sun was high in the sky again the following morning. You turned onto your back, throwing an arm behind you as you went, expecting it to hit Yoongi next to you.

But he wasn’t there. You rubbed your face and pushed yourself into a seated position, assuming he was in the bathroom and would return momentarily.

Then minutes passed and he was nowhere to be seen. You stood and scanned the floor for your underwear. Your dress was already picked up and placed over the back of a chair; Yoongi’s clothes, you could only assume, he had put in the laundry already. Your underwear was not hiding under your dress. You dropped to the floor and onto your hands and knees, to look down under the bed.

“Aha!”

“Aha, what?”

You hit your hand on the bedframe as you quickly pulled it back and span to face Yoongi, standing in the door with an iced coffee in each hand and a paper bag hanging from his wrist. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, bemused but charmed.

You twirled your knickers on one finger.

“Thought I’d lost them. They were under the bed.”

Yoongi merely ‘ah’ed and nodded, placing breakfast on the dressing table and swapping his jeans for light pyjama trousers.

“Did you bring me coffee?” you asked sweetly, knowing the answer.

“And pastries.”

You jumped to your feet and gratefully accepted his offerings, taking a long draw from the straw of a coffee so sweet and milky it might as well not be coffee anymore.

“Do you know how much sugar is in those, by the way?”

“Yep! That’s why they’re so delicious!”

“They’ll kill you.”

You shrugged.

“Oh well. I died doing what I loved: drinking sugary coffee.”

Yoongi chuckled and stepped forward until you were within arm's reach. You could feel his hesitation, so you took it from him, stepping into his body and offering him a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to get back into bed?”

You couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.

You could hear something out in the hall, something maybe like a cat’s purr, but also not a cat’s purr. Some sort of buzzing, intermittent enough that you told yourself you were imagining it at first. But it just kept coming.

“Do you hear that?” you interrupted Yoongi to ask and you held your hand up for silence as you listened for it.

A jarring, quiet kind of noise.

“Sounds like a phone vibrating,” Yoongi offered.

“Oh fuck!”

You scrambled, ungracefully, out of bed, still in just your knickers, and found your phone, buzzing against your keys, half falling out of your bag.

Taehyung.

“Hi, baby!” you greeted, overly cheerful because you hadn’t checked the time and you were almost certain he was calling because you were late.

You had planned to have brunch and a debrief. You had forgotten all about it.

“When are you coming home? I’m bored.”

You pulled your phone away from your ear and, upon noting the time, realised that you weren’t late at all. Not even close.

“What do you want, Teddy? I’m seeing you later.”

“I know, but I’m bored now and you’re a dirty, little stop-out.”

“Entertain yourself! I’ll be home when I’m home. I'm not leaving now just because you’re bored.”

He sighed dramatically at the other end of the line.

“So I suppose it’s love, then, is it?”

The word made your heart skip a beat and you didn’t turn around, just in case Yoongi was looking at you.

“Maybe.”

“You sicken me.”

“Fuck off. You’re happy for me.”

“Yes, I am, babygirl. I’m very happy for you but I’m also very lonely and bored. Can’t you just come home a bit early? Yoongi will still be there tomorrow but I am fading away by the second.”

“Dying from lack of attention?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll be home when I’m home, Teddybear. Try to make it until then.”

“Alright, but you’ll be sorry when I'm gone.”

“Extremely. Now leave me alone!”

He heaved another dramatic sigh before hanging up and you skipped back to the bedroom.

“Everything ok?” Yoongi asked as you settled back in his arms.

“Teddy’s being needy.”

“Do you need to go?”

“Absolutely not!” You snuggled in tighter and pressed your lips to his chest. “Not until the very last minute, please.”

Love. You thought about the word when you left Yoongi’s apartment very late that morning. You wanted to say it then and there, tell him, but it felt like a lot. It felt like your usual Too Muchness coming back. You had only been on one date. It was a lot of pressure to put on a person and you didn’t want to pressure Yoongi. You didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to take control and careen this fledging thing straight into a ravine.

It felt natural. It felt easy. It felt like everything you had wanted. It felt so right that it was maddening to you that it had taken you so long to see it. But you also understood that that had to happen. The time it took you to see Yoongi like you did now was time you spent getting things wrong and hurting and healing the wrong way and then the right way and you knew that this, this happiness you had that made you glow, that made your steps feel light, it was a result of that time, that patience. So you didn’t want to rush. Didn't want to push. You would still love him tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that and on and on and on. It could wait.

Until six days later, when you were sitting on the subway on your way home from work and you snapped. You didn’t want it to wait. You wanted to tell him. And you knew you could. You could say it and he could not and you would survive that. You would understand. And it wouldn’t matter because you knew he was in this, knew he would get there if he wasn’t there already. You chided yourself for waiting at all, because love should never have to wait. Love should be shouted from the rooftops, shouldn’t it?

So you got off at a different stop and changed lines and you walked as fast as you could to Yoongi’s building and you let yourself in.

“Babe!” you cried as you hastily kicked off your shoes and rounded the corner into the kitchen, a little out of breath.

“Are you ok?”

Yoongi had his apron on, a knife in his hands, vegetables on the chopping board in front of him and it was so sweet, so domestic, a perfect vision of everything you wanted. He was looking at you with concern, as well he might, given you had just burst in, unannounced, in all kinds of a fluster.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you panted. “I just had to tell you. I love you.” You moved closer to him; he put the knife down and wiped his hands on his apron and you held tight to it. “I love you. As in, I am in love with you. I love you so much. And I know, I know, it’s been no time at all and it’s too soon and it’s too quick and you don’t have to say it and I don’t want to put any pressure on but I just want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you and I wasn’t going to because- because all of the above! But I love you and I want you to know that I love you. I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He blinked a little and then a bit more.

“Oh.”

He sounded surprised and you laughed because you were nervous and because you felt giddy and silly and so in fucking love. You tugged him closer with his apron and kissed him, firmly at first, then softer when he kissed you back and rested his hands on your hips.

“I love you.”

He said it quietly, his mouth still close enough to yours that you could feel his lips move with the words. You laughed again and kissed him again and whispered it back to him.

“I love you.”

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fluff #bts fluff

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

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if it's not with you | tom grant x fem!reader

Pairing | Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, general banter, flirting, all around fluffiness.

Word Count | 5k

A/N | eeeee i'm so excited to share this fic with you all!! honestly i've fallen in love with tom all over again writing this, i hope you all enjoy this flirty fluffy cuteness!!

This caravan park was easily the worst place you’d ever been on holiday to. You couldn’t even lie to yourself — the entertainment area was outdated, the food was far from good, the staff were mostly rude and unhelpful, and the caravan you’d rented for the week was the biggest piece of shit.

Your idea of a nice, relaxing beachside break from the city was basically down the pan the moment you arrived, though you had to admit the one saving grace was in fact the gorgeous beach, barely thirty steps away from your rental, all golden sand and crashing waves. It was peaceful, quiet — the school summer holidays were over so it only left the caravan owners and the odd few stragglers without kids behind.

Summer was barely clinging on, the nights were beginning to close in fast and the air was feeling that bit crisper once the sun set, like it had done every Summer since you could remember. There was still the odd humid, hot day, and this was one of them.

Muggy beyond belief, despite the cool sea breeze rolling in from the East. You were sweating, skin feeling sticky as you sunbathed in peace, laid out in a one piece on your towel. Regardless of the factor thirty, you already knew you were going to burn — you always did, no matter what. The harsh rays from the sun were unforgiving to your sensitive skin, leaving you flushed and freckled.

You feel the figure looming over you pretty quickly. The slight darkness on your left hand side as said person blocked the sun. You let out a deep sigh, using your hand as a makeshift sun visor as you open your eyes carefully, squinting up into the sun.

You spy the caravan park logo on his polo shirt immediately — site worker, clearly. He’s all curly hair, pale skinned and a goofy grin on his face as he clutches onto the magazine you’d taken with you to read, obviously blown off in a gust of wind when you’d been blissfully unaware, “Think this was trying to do a runner on you,” His voice is unexpectedly deep, though still chirpy, as he extends his arm out with the magazine rolled up in his hand.

“Thanks, mate,” You bark out a little embarrassed laugh, propping yourself up on an elbow and taking the magazine from him. Your fingers brush, and you can’t help the flush that creeps up to your cheeks at the barely-there touch, “It’s shit anyway — one of them magazines people get paid fifty quid to share their fake stories to, y’know.”

The man snorts, shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, “I know the ones, my mums obsessed with them. Surely nobody believes the ghost stories?” He’s making conversation, not in any rush to get off, and it’s strange. He’s maybe the second worker you’d encountered who was genuinely an alright person.

“Oh I know, in this one they’re claiming the ghost made toast in the middle of the night. Didn’t realise they could open a loaf of bread, who’d have thought it?” You humor him, and he properly laughs at that, kicking his toes in the sand as he looks down at you.

He’s awfully pretty, you notice, as you look up at him properly now the glare of the sun has been blocked a little. Big brown eyes and a freckled nose, tinged pink from too much sun and not enough sunscreen, no doubt. Nice full lips and a cute chin, chains dangling on his neck. Very typical English boy, but that was always your type.

Your mouth runs dry, now that you’re suddenly aware of how attractive this man is and you’ve just called him mate. Ground swallow you now.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going,” He looks sullen at that, nose scrunching up a little, “Duty calls — these old fuddy-duddies who arrive this time of year always find something to moan about.”

“Well, you enjoy that…” You blush, giggling like a dickhead, suddenly aware of the fact you’re lusting over a man who’s name you don’t even know, “Sorry, I never got your name. No nametag?”

“Tom,” Tom digs in his pocket, a small triumphant noise escaping him when he pulls the old nametag out between two fingers proudly, showing you it, “I usually don’t wear it. Can’t be fucked when these arseholes complain about the staff and name us to management.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to name you to the staff when I check out and let them know you were a very helpful young man, Tom,” Your voice drips sarcasm and humour, and you know you’ve got him hook, line and sinker when he bellows a true laugh, throwing his head back and exposing the vast expanse of his neck, veins protruding. Your thighs clench.

You’re both shook out of the little bubble when somebody starts shouting Tom’s name from behind you both, startling you. He rolls his eyes, tapping the watch on his wrist, “Gotta go, darling. You need anything just ask for me personally when you phone, yeah?”

You nod, dumbstruck as he smiles wide at you, pearly white teeth on display. He takes off in a jog, and for the first time you truly understand the term ‘hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.’

You bump into him again two days later, in the laundry room as you’re banging on the washing machine that currently had four days worth of clothes and underwear locked in it. It’d swallowed your token, locked the doors then refused to start, and you were raging — three quid down the fucking drain, just like that.

He knocks up behind you unexpectedly, his hip catching on the soft flesh of your ass as he leans over to pop a token into it. You suck in a breath and hold it, watching with awestruck eyes as the tendons in his wrist flex when he turns the dial. The machine whirs to life, water beginning to fill the drum in just mere seconds.

“What’d I tell you about just shouting for me if you needed anything?” Tom’s smug, lips so close to your ear they’re almost brushing the shell and you have to literally shove down the gasp that almost makes its way up your throat. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and a shiver ripples up your spine.

“I didn’t expect to need maintenance help for washing my underwear,” You bristle, trying to act calm as he brushes past you and opts for leaning against the machine, hands once again buried deep into his pockets — he’s wearing grey joggers this time, clearly to match the miserable and dreary weather outside. You avert your gaze from the obvious bulge in his trousers, willing yourself to just get a fucking grip.

It doesn’t help when you lock eyes with him, and he’s all gooey brown orbs and long eyelashes. It’s embarrassing how much you fancy him, and now you feel like a right slob — down here in your leggings, hoodie and crocs of all things. Hair up in a messy bun and no makeup on, on account of the severe sunburn on your nose and cheeks.

“C’mon, we’ll go back to the token machine and I’ll get you your money back,” Tom nods towards the door, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You want to tell him you don’t need the money back, but a little part of you wonders — and hopes — that he’s offering to do this so that you have an excuse to wander off with him.

“Sure, lead the way my saviour,” You joke, extending an arm out towards the open door. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a look that could only be described as fond on his features as he saunters past you. You feel your cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the sunburn this time.

“What’s brought you to Cornwall, then?” He asks conversationally — you’re bumping arms you’re that close, and the corridor isn’t even that narrow, he’s just naturally gravitating towards you. You plod along slowly and he matches your pace, your heart thudding in your chest as your hopes were confirmed; he was being nosey, interested in getting to know you.

“Not much, I like the beach but I live in London so I don’t get to see it much,” You admit, shoving your hands into your hoodie pocket, “I work from home, too. So I thought I’d maybe get some work done whilst I was here. The wifi is shit, by the way.”

Tom winces, shooting you an apologetic look, though it’s clearly a mockery, “Yeah, this place doesn’t have much going for it, darling. Though it’ll give you an excuse to actually enjoy your break instead of worrying about work, right?”

You’re walking so slowly you may as well be at a standstill, and you know it’s because the token machine is barely ten feet away, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” You admit, because it’s true — you’d hardly even thought about your job since you got here, enjoying your time soaking in the sun and the peace away from your roommate, “What about you? You from around here?”

“Born and raised,” Tom shrugs. You glance to the side, watching as his adams apple bobs up and down when he swallows, “I live on the site now, though, have done since I was sixteen. I’m here all year with Kai, you’ve probably seen him around, angry looking dickhead with a buzzcut. A girl called Jade used to live here too but eh, she’s gone now.”

You hum, acknowledging what he’s saying. You want to pry, the way his voice changed when he spoke about this ‘Jade’ character leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — an ex, maybe. But you were basically a stranger to Tom, so why would he explain that to you?

The both of you stop right at the token machine, and Tom fumbles for his set of keys, flipping them until he finds one with a red tag on it. You watch his hands the entire time, thirsting silently — god, his hands were so nice. For a maintenance guy, they were clean, nails manicured, the skin soft. You could tell he took care of himself, and that made him all the more attractive to you.

He slips the three pound coins into your hoodie pocket, knocking you out of your daze. His hand bumps against your waist when he pulls it out of said pocket, leaving you feeling flustered. There’s no way he’s just being nice, he’s flirting, albeit subtly.

“Thank you,” Your voice is breathy, catching in the back of your throat as your eyes search for his again, though it doesn’t take long before his eyes are locking on yours once more, “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Or that three quid, actually, that’ll get me another shitty magazine from the shop and a bottle of Coke.”

Tom laughs, showing off his ridiculously perfect teeth once again, “You’re right, it will. Hopefully the ghost story in this one’s a bit better —”

There’s a sudden harsh knock on the window behind your head that has you leaping out of your skin. He glances up to where the source of the banging came from, and he’s huffing, rolling his eyes, “Gotta go, darling. Another dickhead to deal with. Remember what I said, need anything just shout for me, yeah? Enjoy your magazine.”

He lands a soothing hand on your shoulder just barely before he’s taking off, and your skin burns even through the thick material of your hoodie.

There’s one day left of your holiday. One miserable day. You hadn’t seen Tom at all since your encounter in the laundry area, and you had to admit you were feeling deflated over it. You hadn’t been avoiding him, in fact quite the opposite, but your paths had just never crossed again.

The weather was unbearably hot once more, worse than the first day you’d met Tom, not even a breeze coming in off the sea, and you were desperate for a cold shower to rinse off the sweat from your now sunkissed skin.

The caravan door slams shut behind you as you step foot inside, basking in the little bit of cool air in the living area that’d been bathed in shade the entire day. You strip off your two-piece without a second thought — your caravan doesn’t look onto any others, and you don’t see anybody around, so there was nobody to scar when you stripped naked.

At the beginning of your holiday you didn’t believe you’d ever become accustomed to the tight living quarters, especially the bathroom, but now that you’d been at the park for a week you almost couldn’t imagine going back home to your shitty little flat in Central London. You actually enjoyed the peace and quiet, and you were saddened about leaving.

You couldn’t deny that Tom was part of that, too. Though you’d hardly gotten a chance to know him you were drawn in, and the thought of heading home the next day and never seeing him again was weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Stepping into the tight shower, you twist the dial to turn on the water, only to be engulfed in a roaring hot heat that has you yelping and gasping. The sharp sting of the scalding hot water hitting your sunburnt chest brings tears to your eyes, your hands flapping to turn the dial back until the stream stops.

You jump out of the shower, grabbing for your fluffy towel that you’d set in the open window that morning, pulling it around your bare body and tucking it in until it’s sat nicely. The ends of your hair drip wet, the water cooling fast, an almost pleasant feeling in comparison to what you just felt.

There’s not a second thought before you’re dialing 0 on the phone in the living area and asking for a maintenance person to come look at the shower, reeling off that the water was scalding hot and had burned you. The person on the other end sounds bored, uninterested and far from shocked when you tell her what happened. You hang up and, in your anger, stick up your middle finger at the phone.

You didn’t even think to ask for Tom. You perch your ass on the arm of the U-shaped sofa, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and shaking your leg as you wait, wondering who it’d be that showed up to your call. You really, really hoped it’d be him.

Not even five minutes go by before you’re hearing a rapping of knuckles on the glass pane of the door, and you answer it quickly, all street smarts going out the window as you pull the door open just clad in your towel. Tom stands on the narrow step, clutching onto a metal tool box, and you breathe out a sigh of relief that it’s him.

“Fucking hell, that burn looks sore,” Tom looks with bug eyes at your chest, taking in the look of your skin tinged a deep red, much darker than the rest of your sunburnt body. You flush, moving out of the way to let him in, “If you put in a claim for that this place would be shut down.”

He laughs about it, but visibly looks nervous. You can’t help but wonder if, as much as he complained about the job, he genuinely liked it. Or maybe it was all he knew, which was also probably true, considering he had told you he’d been here living since he was just a teenager. A pang in your chest asserts itself at that realisation.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, it’s my own stupid fault for stepping into the shower before turning it on like a silly bitch,” You shake it off, a wobbly little laugh escaping you, “Nothing a bit of lotion won’t fix, Tom.”

“No, it’s fucking ridiculous that this even happened,” Tom grunts, stepping past you and wandering the short distance into the bathroom. You follow him like a lost puppy, clutching at the top of your towel with one hand, standing in the doorway as you watch him flip his toolbox open, grabbing for something and banging the shower door open.

“Dunno why they still rent out this caravan every summer there’s so much shit wrong with it, told the manager it was fit for the scrap yard two years ago,” Tom’s conversational, unscrewing the shower tap and fiddling with it as if you’re not standing there basically naked and still slightly damp from your failed attempt at hosing off.

You’re trying to look anywhere but right in his direction. It’s hard, though. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his arm bulging and straining under the tight material of his polo shirt as he uses his wrench to tighten a bolt, “S’okay, I got it pretty cheap. I’m away home tomorrow, didn’t want the next poor sod to get burnt like I did.”

Tom shoots a glance at you, brows marrying for a moment until he’s turning back to the job at hand, “I didn’t realise you were away so soon, fuck sake. If I’d known I would’ve come and seen you earlier. You’re alright, y’know?”

“Thank you?” It comes out as a question, and you can’t help but feel somewhat offended by his choice of words, “I suppose you’re alright yourself. Probably the only decent member of staff I’ve spoken to this entire week.”

“Yeah, the nice face and banter are just a bonus, eh?” Tom flashes you his teeth again and it has you rolling your eyes, though a fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “Not like those posh London boys, they’re stuffy and boring.”

“You’re right about that,” You agree, watching as he throws the wrench back into the toolbox blindly, the tool landing correctly in its place. It’s now or never, you think, as he screws the tap back on. This is it, after this last chance meeting you’re not gonna see him again. “Who’d have thought something as simple as catching a blown away magazine would have a girl weak at the knees?”

You cringe at yourself, though Tom’s head shoots around. He looks at you with a confusion etched on his features, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Surely you were being obvious enough, right?

You watch him dumbly step out of the shower, even going as far as to shut the screen door behind him, “What do you mean?” He asks, quirking a brow. Clearly you weren’t being obvious, then.

“Is it not totally obvious that I’m into you?” You scoff, wanting to lean forward and rattle that devourable looking neck. He’s clearly so clueless, it would actually be kind of endearing if you didn’t find it so infuriating.

Tom balks at you, taking a step closer to you, which has him almost right up in your face, with how enclosed the space of the bathroom is, “Really? I’m really shit at reading signals, sorry, love.”

Love. You melt at the pet name, going all gooey. You take your chance, fingers tugging at your towel until it’s loosening on your body. He watches you with curious eyes that soon turn lust filled, when you let the towel drop to the floor and pool around your feet.

You blush under his intense gaze, taking in the swell of your tits, the pebble of your nipples, the curve of your hips, the mound of your cunt. He takes another step, so you’re basically toe to toe, and he exhales loudly.

“Not done this for a while,” Tom admits, as his large hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to him until your naked body is flush against him, the soft material of his worn-in work polo a pleasant feeling against your skin, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, far too fast, too eager, but he clearly doesn’t seem to mind, leaning in until his plump lips are capturing yours. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him in closer, fingers burying in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tom deepens the kiss quickly, tongue running over your bottom lip and you open up willingly, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His own tongue glides along yours deliciously, has your pussy clenching and your legs shaking. He moves you blindly backwards, like he knows the entire layout of this caravan — which he probably does, has probably been here many a time.

The backs of your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward, opening your legs for Tom to nudge between them, one hand still on your waist tightly, other slipping down your leg, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh. You shiver, unable to contain it, the feeling of the hands you’d thought about so much the last week finally on you was almost enough to drive you crazy.

Tom’s hand skates higher and higher up your thigh, until he’s cupping the heat of your cunt. He’s the one to break the kiss, pulling away from you to look you in the eyes properly, like he’s looking for confirmation that you’re still good and you’re okay to keep going, “You okay if I touch you?”

You melt. You nod, and he dives in, kissing the side of your neck with spit-slick lips, leaving you gasping and writhing below him. He bumps his hips down into you, and you feel the outline of his hard cock brushing against your inner thigh.

Suddenly, your carnal desire for him overcomes your every being, your hands falling from the back of his neck to fist into his shirt, bunching up big handfuls of the material, “C’mon, you too?” You beg, voice whiny, completely distracted by how Tom bites and kisses at your neck, “Need to see you too.”

He sits back on his haunches, smirking down at you, hands leaving your body and in turn leaving you cold — though it’s not for long, as you watch him pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He dives back down into you quickly, bumping those godforsaken hips down against your pussy this time, leaving you gasping.

That stupid, shit eating grin never leaves his face until he’s burying his face back into your neck, peppering your skin with kisses, hand nudging between your legs again, until the pads of two of his fingers finally dip in between your slick folds, gathering your juices on them. He grunts against you, rutting his hips down again, “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He mumbles, caught off guard by it.

“Mmph, all for you,” You gasp, breath catching in your throat when he finds the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit and starts rubbing in small, tight circles, until your hips are pushing up into the air, “Oh God —!”

You lose yourself in the feeling of Tom lathering you in kisses, the way his plump lips ghost along the stinging, burnt skin of your chest and soothe it, his fingers working on your clit until your cunt is gushing wetter than before. He’s so sensual, passionate, taking the most attentive care to your body, and it’s driving you wild.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” Tom groans in between kisses, looking at you with those pretty, chocolate brown eyes, now mostly blackened with lust, “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock, babe.”

You squeal, a moan punching out of you when his fingers leave your clit just barely to dip into the entrance of your pussy and glide back up, taking some of your milky wetness with them. You clench, quivering at his words, a deep heat blooming in the pit of your belly, alarmingly fast, “I’m so close,” You admit, losing yourself in the pleasure of Tom’s fingers catching on your clit, winding you up tight, tight, tight.

Tom kisses the swell of your breast, lips dragging down until they latch onto your nipple, licking and sucking until you’re crying out. He can’t take his eyes off of you, watching every contortion of your face as he makes you fall apart. Your fingers grip into his curls, tugging lightly until he’s groaning, vibrations echoing up your chest.

His fingers work at that same torturing pace, sliding in circles until you’re arching off the bed slightly, coil in your tummy snapping, your entire body tensing and going lax just as fast as your orgasm washes over you, a gush of slick slipping from your hole as you shake through it.

Tom works you through it until you’re jerking away, fingers unwinding from his hair and pushing at his shoulders instead. He presses a light kiss to your nipple, pulling himself up and slipping his fingers from your cunt, “Was that okay?” He asks, though he’s smiling, proud of himself, clearly.

You nod, catching sight of the prominent bulge in his grey joggers, sudden desperation to get to his cock overtaking you — you lean up, tugging at the waistband of the offending material until it’s bunched around his thighs, uncut cock springing out proudly, you gasp, “No underwear? You always wander around like this, you slag?”

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “No, I wasn’t on shift but took the call because I knew this was your caravan,” He admits, and you giggle, a little swell of pride in your chest. That little admission was enough for you, he did like you as much as you liked him.

He dives back into you, capturing your lips with his own, and you take that opportunity to get a feel for his cock, deft fingers blindly wrapping around the length and giving him an experimental tug, pulling the foreskin back. He gasps into your mouth as you work him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip, and he’s punching his hips into your hand.

“Keep doing that an’ I’m gonna cum before I get to fuck you,” He mumbles against your mouth, nibbling at your bottom lip just a little. You take that as your cue to stop, hand dropping from his cock and instead wrapping around his bicep.

He makes a show of it, like an arsehole, grabbing a hold of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit and gliding it back down, until you’re gasping and silently begging for it, digging your nails into the meat of his tanned arms.

“C’mon, Tom. Please?” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and he takes the bait — he slips his cock into you in one fluid motion, until his balls are flush against your ass. You couldn’t have been prepared for the sheer thickness of him stretching you from the inside out, a gasp escaping you when the head of his cock brushes along your frontal wall.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Tom moans, burying his head into the other side of your neck this time, kissing and biting at your flesh until it’s raised. He pulls out, slamming back into you to the hilt, and you clench around him, unable to help it, the curved head of his cock brushing against the spongey part of your cunt perfectly, “God, babe, don’t do that, I’ll cum so quick.”

You moan, clenching around him again until he’s groaning, fucking in and out of you properly, your cunt sucking him in, gushing around his length. You’re overwhelmed by the feeling of him all over you, his lips and teeth on your neck, his hair tickling your face, his toned torso crushing down into yours, his cock sliding in and out of the tight heat of your pussy.

“You feel so good around me, fuck,” Tom’s mumbling against you, words almost getting lost in your skin, but you’re fucking melting for it, the praises having you keening up into him.

You feel your orgasm building quickly, unaware of how loud you’re moaning until Tom’s picking up the pace of his thrusts, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in the room, the wet schlick of your pussy mixing with the other sinful noises.

“M’gonna cum,” You cry, tears pricking at your eyes as your tummy blooms with heat once again, orgasm building a lot quicker this time than the last time, and Tom pulls himself away from the crevice of your neck, looking at you with his lust blown eyes, swollen red lips open in a constant moan, “Fuck, Tom, s’good, so good,”

You’re babbling and Tom groans, fucking you so rough you’re sliding up the bed — your high hits you so hard you see stars, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and gushes around the girth of Tom’s cock, fingernails biting into his arms so hard that you know you’re going to leave behind broken skin.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Tom’s voice goes high pitched, eyes rolling into his skull as your pussy grips him like a vice, and he’s coming too, hips stuttering as he paints your walls in his release, cock pulsing in the tight heat of your cunt.

You mewl, spent body giving into everything. You feel like you’re floating, unable to comprehend what just happened. Tom’s looking down at you with this big dopey grin and you smile back, leaning up to kiss him languidly as his spent cock goes soft.

Tom slips out of you with a hiss, collapsing down next to you, chest still heaving on breath, “You sure you’ve gotta go home tomorrow, darling?” He asks, voice quiet as he tugs you into him, those big arms engulfing you in a tight cuddle. Your whole body melts into his, your mind blank of anything but him. Maybe you didn’t have to go home just yet.

“I suppose I could see about hanging around for another week… or two,” You admit, and Tom cackles in triumph, squeezing you tighter until you’re giggling into his chest, heart swelling.

#tom grant smut #tom grant x reader #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #my fanfic #mine #my writing #x reader #not this being the longest fic i've ever published stoppppp

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dancingtotuyo · 4 months

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Home | Part 2

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You and Frankie come to a crossroads

Tags: fluff, angst, family, recovering!frankie, girl dad!Frankie

Warnings: references to past drug use (cocaine), addiction recovery, struggling to cope, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: once again- thank you to the lovely @wannab-urs for beta reading!

I don’t think this is going to turn into a full fledge series but I definitely foresee myself revisiting this little family at least once more.

Words: 2225

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Life either feels like it’s rushing by in a blur or crawling at a snail's pace. Layla is growing like a weed, standing as tall and as straight as a yardstick. You celebrate her third birthday in the summer, filling this old house with smiles and laughter. You wish it could always be this way.

Frankie gets his helicopter license reinstated the year before. It helps, but you still see the struggle in his eyes. Despite his assurances that he’s not touched cocaine since he got busted, you find yourself checking his old hiding places and searching for new ones. You haven’t found anything yet. He’s given no indication of using again, but you see the stress carved out in his forehead and the weight of the world on his shoulders. It feels like a when, not an if. You don’t know how to slow down the barreling train.

Then, one night he’s not home. It’s well past midnight as you sit on the couch wrapped tightly in a blanket staring out the window. You pray for his high beams to blind you. There’s a pit forming in your stomach. He always tells you when he’s coming home. The only pictures you can conjure up are of him snorting lines. The background changes, but you always see the same blown pupils staring back at you.

The night you met, you’d done lines together off Frankie’s dealer’s coffee table. The dealer was dating your roommate at the time. It hadn’t been the first time you used or the last, but you could count the times you had on your hands. You escaped the addiction. Frankie hadn’t.

It’s after 1 am when his headlights finally shine in your eyes. You stay on the couch, not eager to greet what’s coming through your back door. Frankie’s feet are heavy on the back stoop. There’s a pattern, a routine to them. Two knocks on the side of the house, three stomps on the doormat. The rattling storm door opens and then the ever present squeak of the backdoor echoes through the quiet house.

Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself up. Frankie's eyes meet yours as you flick on the kitchen light. It stings both your eyes. You search for any signs of a fading high. He seems calm, a bit shaken but not in a coked out way. His eyes dilate as they should. He catches your careful inspection. “I’m not high.”

You bite your lip. “Then where have you been?”

Deep bags stain under his eyes. His shoulders slump. He looks exhausted. “I went to get high… sat in the alley for hours.”

“Fuckin’ christ, Frankie!” You hiss, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re not sure you can survive another relapse.

“Baby, I didn’t. I told you.” He grabs your hand, voice breaking. He needs you to believe him. “Please.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick!”

“I’m sorry. I had a bad day and-” a sharp little cry interrupts him, and then another. It reminds you of a kitten. They seem to be coming from his duffel. “Shit.” Frankie drops your hands, rushing over to his duffel.

Carefully, he unzips the bag, catching a ball of black fluff that threatens to escape. Your jaw drops. “Francisco Morales! What the fuck is that?”

He holds the kitten to his chest, fingers scratching behind its ears. It’s tiny, probably not old enough to be weaned from its mother yet. “I saw him in the alley.” The kitten nuzzles into Frankie more. “I couldn’t find any other kittens or the mom. The little guy was all alone.”

“And probably infected with fleas.”

“So, I’ll throw my bag in the dryer.” Frankie shrugs. “and pick up some flea and tick medication tomorrow.”

“We can’t take care of a kitten. We’re not prepared.”

“Can’t say we were prepared to take care of Layla either, but she’s still alive,” A faint smile graces Frankie’s face either from the joke or the way the tiny animal is falling asleep in his solid arms.

You bite your lip. Frankie is tired and worn and barely fighting off the demons, but he’s smiling, maybe even relaxing a little. He chuckles as the kitten perks back up, swatting at Frankie’s fingers.

You sigh. “He has to stay in the bathroom tonight, and he’s going to the vet as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie winks, stepping toward you.

You sigh, letting the night’s tension out. Frankie is here. He’s okay physically. He’s not coked up. Of all the outcomes you spent hours worrying over, this one is sunshine and rainbows. As the tension eases, you feel more inclined toward the kitten. He’s a little ball of midnight fur, not a speck of other color to be seen.

“I swear to god, Frank if he has rabies-”

“Then I’m already dead.” He teases.

You smack his shoulder. “Or any other communicable diseases, I’m going to kill you.”

“He’s just a kitten, Babe.” Frankie smiles, kissing the tuft of fur between his tiny ears.

You sigh. “I’ll grab some newspaper. You’ll have to give him milk.”

“Don’t kittens like milk?”

“He’ll probably get the runs. Cats can’t digest milk.” You shoot Frankie the side eyes, gathering the necessary supplies to get the kitten settled.

Frankie is in the bathroom with him until almost 3 am. You have to admit. You almost feel bad leaving the tiny animal alone. Almost. The last thing you need is a flea infestation.

Frankie eventually curls up next to you, sighing as he nuzzles into your neck. “Think he’ll be okay?”

“You found him in an alley. One night curled up on a towel in our bathroom won’t hurt him.”

“Layla is going to love him.”

A laugh sputters from your lips. “If she doesn’t choke him to death. We’re still working on gentle hands.”

Frankie’s laugh joins yours from deep within him. It’s the kind that brings a smile, a true one, about. It’s something that’s been rare as of late.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His hands wander haplessly. You bite your lip, soaking in the feeling of his warm hands across your body as you remember how close you came to losing this tonight.

He kisses your neck. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You always worry me.”

Frankie inhales sharply, squeezing you tighter. His lips play at your ear. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“Addiction is a disease, Frankie.”

He huffs, never accepting that response. He feels guilty. He feels responsible for getting hooked on coke, putting you through hell and back.

“If I never-”

“If you never- we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have met. We wouldn’t have Layla.”

Frankie sighs, dropping his forehead into your shoulder. You feel the hot tears slipping down your neck. Kissing his head, you thread your fingers through his thick brown curls. Something else is waging war inside him and you think he may finally tell you.

“I think I almost died tonight.”

Your fingers still. Frankie pulls back so that he can look you right in the eyes. The moonlight flickers off of them in your favorite way. “What happened?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nothing. I looked at that alley for so long tonight. I just had a feeling that if I went in, there was no coming back.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. You’ve felt it too, the boulder hanging over your heads, like a sixth sense. If Frankie slips again, there’s no coming back, and relapse has felt so close.

He clenches your pillow in his fist. More tears pour from his eyes. “And what’s worse is the only thing that kept me from it was that damned cat.”

You thumb away one of his tears. “I don’t think that’s true, Frank.”

“I was about-”

“And how long did you sit there before the cat showed up?”

“I don’t know. An hour, maybe two. It took me just as long to catch the cat.”

You stifle a laugh, caressing his cheek. “He might’ve given you a reason to walk away, but I don’t think that cat is the only reason you didn’t relapse tonight.”

“We need to do a better job at talking.”

You nod. “Agreed.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep checking my hiding spots.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You know about that?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nods. “And I don’t blame you either.

You stare at him for a moment. His eyes seem clearer today than they have in months. He’s warm against you. He’s home, and he’s your Frankie.

“Will you tell me what happened in Colombia? What really happened?”

He sucks in a breath, rolling onto his back. His hand travels to the meat of your thigh. He squeezes and rubs as if he’s self-soothing. “Please don’t leave.”

It comes out just above a whisper. Your heart clenches. This is why he won’t talk about it. Not because of the trauma, but because he’s scared you’ll walk away from him after. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He takes in a long breath, holding it, and then releasing it. Then, he recounts it all until the sun is peeking through your bedroom windows.

As predicted, Layla is obsessed with the kitten the moment Frankie brings him out. You give him a bath before you let her touch him, treating him with flea and tick medication Frankie grabbed from the grocery store that morning.

Once he’s bathed and treated, the three of you sit on the kitchen floor for hours with the newest member of your family. You’re exhausted and you see the same in Frankie from not sleeping the night before, but your daughter is enthralled by the kitten as the two of them stay occupied with an old shoelace. Nap time is a long way off.

Layla throws a fit to get the kitten to take a nap with her, but you stand firm. He needs at least 24 hours for the flea medication to do its job. You and Frankie fall into sun-soaked sheets once she’s down. Your eyes drift close immediately and Frankie pulls you flush against him.

“Kitten needs a name.” He mumbles.

“Never said it was staying.”

“Ya didn’t need to.”

“You name him. You’re the one who brought him home.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your brain slips further into darkness.

“Cocaine.”

“What?”

“His name. I went into the alley to find Cocaine and I found him.”

You sit up, eyes bleary, but sleep the furthest thing from your mind now. “Our three-year-old daughter is not going to yell out for Cocaine, Frankie.”

His chest shakes with laughter, a smile dancing on his lips. “C’mon. It’s cute. She can call him Coke.” You cross your arms across your chest. Frankie sees none of it, eyes still closed. “... or Coco. That’s cute.”

You huff. Frankie still doesn’t seem to notice but pulls you back down against him instead. “Said I could name him, babe.”

“She’s not calling him Cocaine.”

You fall asleep to Frankie’s deep chuckle.

To Layla, he’s Coco. Frankie calls him a rotation of things like Coke and Cokey, his actual name, and sometimes Little Shit. You call him Crack from the way he zooms through the house at all times of the day.

Layla is obsessed with her newest little pal, always wanting him to be in her room or bed, or to take him to the grocery store, but he spends the nights curled up in your bed – usually around Frankie’s legs.

The times that little Cocaine Morales isn’t flying through your home on a fruitless hunt, he’s curled up somewhere. If Frankie is home, you can find him on his lap, or riding his shoulder. You know he’s much more than a cat to Frankie.

You like having him too. He’s brought joy into your home. It’s a joy that had become rare- only showing up for Layla’s milestones and sparing minutes. You know it’s not just Cocaine. It’s what he represents. He’s a marker for the night things changed for the better.

You and Frankie are talking about it all, the nightmares, the demons. Something that’s been absent for too much of your relationship. You both have begun to seek out help, separately and together. You don’t check Frankie’s hiding spots anymore. The deep, swelling love you’ve always had for him once again bubbles over, filling every crack and crevice of your home. Frankie is more present, more attentive. Slowly but surely, ghosts flee one by one.

Layla’s nickname for the kitten dies the moment Uncle Ben walks into your Labor Day cookout. From the moment on, she spends her time calling out for Cocaine. Her plethora of uncles are a gaggle of hidden chuckles and mischief each time. You shoot glares their way, but you can’t help but find it just as cute.

This thing that nearly tore your family apart, is now something you laugh about bundled into a cute little ball of black fur. The catalyst for things getting better.

There are still dark days, but they’re few and far between. While the thoughts play through Frankie’s mind from time to time, he never returns to the alley.

#pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #pedrostories

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tainted-liquor · 8 months

Text

'Make it Awkward...⋆｡°✩

E1610!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, Kisses, n a lil bit of smiles! TWs: Awkward teen love like rlly rlly awkward W/C: 1.8k A/N: SZA Inspired fic ❤︎!! another cute lil req from my 100 special!

You and Miles had developed a sturdy friendship in middle school, with you always being hyped up as the "art kid" in each of your classes. Initially, he was a little bit bitter because he didn't really understand what the hype was all about. He could draw, and he could do it just as good as you. Which, granted was indeed true, but your work felt like something out of a Van Gogh discography. Each and every one of your paintings and drawings almost looked like there was a filter over them, like something out of a flurry dream that evoked nostalgia and warmth in whoever seemed to view them. To say he was inspired by you was an understatement, he wanted to drown himself in everything that was your talent.

But as time passed and spiders bit, you two grew apart from each other on account of him semi-blowing you off for Gwen. You stopped hanging out slowly, he began to drop art and pick up a sudden interest in physics and inter-dimensional travel, and even got...meaner? The kind and innocent kid that once was Miles suddenly became jumpy and antsy. You thought that you two had something worth way more than any other friendship you had, but one day shit just shifted into complete, and total, awkward silence. But as time heals all wounds, you slowly began talking again at the top of this month, right before your summer came to its close.

Miles quietly hummed along to the steady bump of the music in his headphones, nodding to the rhythm as he began illustrating a head in his sketchbook. As 'Les' By Childish Gambino slowly fizzed out and the electronic chords of 'Awkward' By SZA became known, his sketch started to warp a little. He didn't necessarily remember how or when, but he noticed his sketch become a lot less androgynous and more familiar, with twinkling brown eyes and thick curly hair becoming more detailed with each pencil stroke. It took him a while to realize, but eventually, he had drawn...you. Down to the finest details as well, your smile lines and your perfectly sculpted Nubian nose.

What he hadn't anticipated was filling up the next 2 pages of his sketchbook with both your face and the signature crochet fingerless gloves you wore during the winter. What initially was just a warmup while waiting for you to arrive at his house turned into a full-blown drawing session with you as the muse. You weren't even there and he still had drawn you 100% accurately from memory. He sighed as his playlist continued to play out a steady stream of nothing but SZA, leaning back in his chair as he stared up at the ceiling before he heard a knock on his room door. "Ah-Come in!" he yelped as he quickly put away his sketchbook, swapping out the pencils and paint markers for paintbrushes and canvases.

You gently pushed open the door, showing Miles your painted tote bag full of art supplies, such as watercolors, charcoal, oil paints, three palettes, and various paintbrushes. "Hey, Miles! Sorry, it took me a lil bit...that fuckin' line in the art store was INSANE" you chirped as you slowly entered Miles's room and set down your bag. You placed your shoes in the corner of his room before walking over to sit on his bed. He pulled off his headphones, gently placing them on their stand before spinning around in his indigo desk chair. "That's fine! Don't even worry about it I know how full them stores get" he shrugs as he grabs his Bluetooth speaker from off his shelf, motioning for you to follow him as he stacks the canvases and art supplies in his hands.

"C'mon, there's not enough space in my room for two people to paint," he explains as he climbs the stairs up to his apartment roof. You followed closely behind him, setting up the art supplies as he fidgeted with his speaker. You lean back against the wall as you sit on the concrete roof, taking in the pretty sky as you sketch out some buildings and a landscape on your canvas. "So how's summer for you, huh? What's her name...Gwen was it? How'd things go over with her?" You ask as you begin to add minor details to your sketch. Truth be told it ate you up every single time he would mention her in your past conversations, with you having a small...thing for him that grew over time.

"Oh! Uh, Gwen...yeah. Things went south, we don't really talk anymore..." He shrugs as he rips the plastic off of a rather large canvas. You nodded slowly, indicating that you were hanging on to his every word as you cracked open a fresh bottle of paint thinner, pouring it into a small glass cup before coating your brush in the clear mineral spirit. You slather a couple of shades of deep blue, rusty orange, bright magenta, and off-white on your paint palette as you work to form that beautiful 'sunset gradient' on your canvas. He connects his phone to the small black speaker, his playlist resuming quietly in the background. "But how's your summer been?" he asks as he mirrors the process of sitting beside you and leaning against the wall.

"My summer's been fine actually. Nothing too eventful, no trips or nothing, just taking a couple...ahem...adventures!" You explain as you recall how you nearly got in trouble with the police for trespassing in various abandoned locations for funsies. Miles gives you a playful side-eye, looking you up and down. "You sound a lil sketchy...what did YOU do this summer?" he chuckled as he began sketching out some scenery and what looked like the early stages of a body on his canvas. "Shhhh, your dad's a cop" you giggled as you picked up a smaller brush, filling in the buildings and scenery in your painting. You both chuckled at the slight confession, looking ahead of you so you could get an accurate view of what you were currently painting.

You took a small glance at what Miles was currently sketching, getting a good look at the faceless humanoid figure sitting cross-legged, with an unidentified object that vaguely resembled a pencil in her hand as she drew on her...face? Eyeliner maybe? You hummed along to 'Supermodel' By SZA. You held up your canvas closer to Miles's canvas, analyzing the difference in art styles. Yours was much more realistic, and heavily influenced by the world around you with your unique play on your color palette. whereas Miles was more stylized and thought out, the colors remaining true to their actual hue.

"What do you think this needs more of?" you ask as you tilt your canvas towards Miles. He thought for a moment, tilting his head slightly so he could thoroughly analyze the painting. "More shine to the light sources maybe? Like a soft glow!" he beamed as he pointed towards the canvas with the opposite end of his paintbrush. You nod with your signature full smile, smile leans indicating your raw and unfiltered joy. Miles's eyes lingered on you for a couple of seconds before he madly swiped away at his canvas, seemingly blocking out more details with darker shades of watercolor.

You spent the next four hours, yes, four hours giggling like children as Miles sang along terribly to some of the songs on his playlist, starting a mini karaoke session on his roof with the both of you. It began to get cold and dark, so you decided you would pick up the canvases again after going inside to get something to eat. He grabbed his speaker and supplies, leaving his large canvas on the roof of his building before disappearing through the door to his apartment complex. You stuffed most of what you wanted to bring back down into your bag, before deciding to look over at Miles's painting. It looked exactly like you, but you were younger.

You remembered that damn scrunchie you had locked on your wrist, your favorite dark red satin scrunchie that went perfectly with your uniform. You shifted slightly to get a better angle of the canvas, watching as 8th grade you sprung to life in the form of doing your eyeliner on the bathroom sink. Miles had been there with you, watching as you painfully kneeled on the edge of the sink and leaned hazardously close to the mirror. You smiled softly to yourself as you noticed each beauty mark you had perfectly positioned on your face, from each scar to every minor indent in your smile. You chuckled quietly before swinging open the door and bolting down the stairs, straight to Miles's room.

And there he was, viciously fucking up a cup of noodles like someone would take it from him at any moment. "Damn, is it good? it ain't goin' nowhere now..." you joked with wide eyes as he gestured to an identical cup cooling off by his mini desk fan. You ate alongside him in silence, not really knowing what to say to each other. "I see you're still painting like in middle school...?" he states, referring to your distinct blurred style of painting. "Huh...Oh! Yeah, haha. I miss middle school kinda." You shrug as you sit the cup down on the side of his desk.

"Really? I always thought you thought I was a lil annoying back in middle school. I think you were my quietest friend ever" he joked as he finished his cup, dunking it in his trash can. "Huh? I literally thought you were the cutest thing ever! If I thought you were annoying I would've told you!" you stated with a small chuckle. Miles seemed to think for a moment, pausing as he processed the first half of your sentence. "Wait, you thought I was cute this whole time?" He asked with wide eyes. "Yeah! I was quiet cuz I didn't wanna fuck anything up! I think I had the fattest crush on you!" you laughed as you realized he thought that YOU thought he was annoying this whole time.

He gawked for a minute, his jaw slacked and eyes even wider than before. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" he semi-shouted as he began pacing around his room. You could only laugh, saying "We were like 10 and I didn't know if you would've liked me back." He looked at you as if you had 2 heads, going on some long rant about how he always thought you just weren't interested or thought he was annoying. You silently got up from his bed, walking over to him and stopping him entirely.

Miles looked at you with a rather confused and amused expression, probably still processing the fact that you openly admitted to liking him in middle school. But nothing in the world could have prepared him for the delicate kiss that you placed on his lips. He eagerly closed the space between the two of you, wrapping one arm around your waist almost by instinct. You pulled away from him after what felt like years, muttering a small "Who taught you that?"

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales #miles x reader #miles molares #1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles fluff #miles morales 1610 #1610 miles x reader

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thatdesklamp · 7 months

Text

Sometime in Summer, Before 2004

set in ‘intrinsic warmth’ canon, because I needed to write something happy and I thought I should share it <3

Satoru can’t believe you don’t remember when you met him.

“This means you hate me,” he says to you, one day, in the Chapel. It’s mid-July, hot and sticky, and the weight of the heat in the air has made him lazy.

He’s got a white shirt on, and he’s pretty sure he’s got some sweaty patches there—if he was with someone else, Satoru would put in some effort to hide them, because someone else would probably think it was gross, but it’s you, and so he doesn’t need to. He likes that about you: it’s one of the many things he likes about you. You know him so well that he doesn’t care about things like that anymore. After all—Satoru flattens his hair down over his forehead—you don’t care about his new haircut, which he hates more than anything anywhere at anytime ever.

Satoru’s lying on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling with hazy eyes. His sunglasses are crooked on his nose, and he pushes them up.

A few days ago, he’d used Limitless to try to throw a pillow at you, but he’d overshot it and accidentally blown a hole in the ceiling. He does feel bad, just a little, mainly because you haven’t stopped talking about how cold the winters are going to be. Satoru would like to tell you that you can just get close to him for warmth, but he hasn’t mentioned it because he’s such a good friend.

He thinks about that, maybe more than he should. He would like it if you could get over your whole touch thing, because he wants to be able to touch you. Sometimes, in the winter, he’ll see you shivering on your own, this huge divide between the two of you, and he just wants to put his arm around you and stop you from being so cold.

You’re always telling him how much of a heat radiator he is—my space heater, you say sometimes, which Satoru likes, because he likes it when you say things to him like that, like you’re staking a claim on him, that he’s your best friend, and it’s not only that you’re his—and so he figures that you should just shuffle closer sometime, and it’d be fine. Satoru hasn’t ever really touched you, and so he doesn’t know what it’s like: and he knows nearly everything in the whole world, so he wants to find out what it’s like at some point.

“You hate me,” he says again, when you don’t respond to him. Satoru looks over at you, pouting. “Why do you hate me?”

You’re cross-legged, leaning against the wall of the Chapel, flicking through a Vogue magazine. You roll your eyes and tut.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do.” Satoru makes a big display of being really, really sad. He does this sometimes, because sometimes it’ll prompt you to say something a bit more overt, in terms of your friendship with him.

Satoru tells you all the time how much he likes you, how much of a good friend you are to him, how cool you are and how amazing you both are—but you’re more reticent with your feelings, and so he has to treasure every single time you say something like that.

He doesn’t think you know that he does it on purpose, but at the same time, you have these crazy psychic powers that you can always find things out about him. Satoru often thinks that you can read his mind—you can just look at him, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. It’s kind of spooky, but he’s okay with you having those superpowers, if it’s just you.

And it’s not like you’re going to use it for anything bad. You’re too cool to do that, and you like him. Which is really cool. You like him.

Except he’s pretending you hate him, which is funny.

“I don’t,” you say. You stop reading the Vogue—success! Satoru has claimed your attention—and start fanning yourself with it. “I just don’t remember everything in the world, Gojo.”

“It’s not everything in the world! It’s the first time we met. That’s important!”

“I remember the second time we met. That was more impactful, anyway.”

“How?” Satoru doesn’t understand that at all. “But you’d just met me! How was that not impactful?”

“I didn’t know you’d want to talk to me again,” you say, shrugging. “So, when you did, it was surprising. That’s what I remember.”

Satoru makes a face, scrunching up his nose. “Of course I’d want to talk to you again.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Course I would!” Satoru groans and then sits up, making a heaving sound. He pushes his glasses into his hair and pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his sweaty face. “Agh. Too hot. Too hot, and you don’t remember when we first met, and I’m too hot!”

He looks over at you, feeling a bit petulant. You’ve stopped looking at him, and you’re focusing back on the magazine. You’re not even reading it properly—he can tell, since your eyes aren’t moving. Weird. Satoru groans again, to get your attention back, and you press your lips together.

“Hebi-Hebi,” he says. “Hey. Hey. Look at me. Look at me.”

You do. Satoru grins.

“You’re so mean to me,” Satoru says, and he rolls over to his stomach to get a bit closer to you. “So mean. How are we going to celebrate our best-friendiversary?”

You choke. “What?”

“It’s a thing,” he says, grin widening. “I’m pretty sure it’s a thing. When we became friends!”

“Shouldn’t that be when we became best friends?” you ask. You tilt your head against the wall, seeming to actually consider it. “There’s a difference between a friendiversary and a best-friendiversary, surely.”

“Oooh. Yeah, maybe.”

“So we should remember a date for our best-friendiversary instead.” You hum, thoughtful. “That would be nicer, since that’s more important.”

“So you’re saying we’re best friends?” Satoru asks, goading.

You raise your eyebrows. “Of course we are.”

You say it like it’s obvious. Satoru feels all glowy inside.

“Of course.” Satoru drags out the words, feeling how it sounds in his mouth. “Of coouurse. Of course we are! And you know what?”

“What?”

“Best friends,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you, “should remember when they first met!”

You blow a burst of air through your lips, clearly pretending to be unamused. For all of your psychic superpowers about figuring out his thoughts, Satoru thinks he can read you pretty well too. It’s funny when you pretend to be all aloof and not like him, when it’s obvious that you actually really really do.

“You’re so annoying,” you say to him. Satoru laughs, and your lips twitch.

Ha-ha! Another success!

Satoru likes it when he can make you smile. It doesn’t happen all that often at all, and so when he manages it, it’s a huge success. It’s one of the best feelings in the world, he thinks, when he can make you smile. It’s only trumped by the times when he can make you laugh, which then is only trumped by the times you call him by his first name.

Satoru is Satoru, but you only ever call him Gojo. Which, yeah, is his name, but it’s also his name to everyone else—everyone else in the world thinks of him as Satoru Gojo, from the Gojo family, heir to the Gojo technique, which is really cool sometimes, but also really annoying and kind of not cool.

But to you, he should be Satoru. You’re the only person that he’s ever met that he’d want to call him Satoru. And so, when you don’t, he feels strange. You tell him often that he needs to get used to not always getting what he wants, but Satoru doesn’t think that he should have to, not really. In his opinion, everything would be better if he could get what he wanted all the time.

“So mean to me,” Satoru says again, without much gusto, because the day’s getting even hotter and he can’t really summon the energy to play out your usual routines.

You seem to be getting tired, too. You’re watching him with a funny look on your face, but your eyelids are drooping and you keep blinking all slowly, the way you do when you’re sleepy.

“Sure,” you say, yawning.

“Can’t believe you admit it.”

“Mmhm.”

“Can’t believe—” Satoru stifles a yawn: he caught it from you. “—that you don’t remember. I remember, Hebi-Hebi.”

“You should tell me, then.” You shuffle down until you’re lying next to him. You’re on your side, looking at him with a faint smile playing across your lips. Satoru feels glowy again. “Remind me, about the first time we met.”

“Should I?” Satoru asks, not caring about hiding his smirk. “Would you like that?”

“Maybe.”

“Then,” Satoru says, as he turns onto his side too, so you look like two mirror images of each other, if someone was looking down from the Chapel ceiling, “I’ve just got to, haven’t I? If you’d like it, then I’ve got to do it.”

Your lips press together, and then all of a sudden you’re smiling, big and wide, the way you barely ever smile in front of him. Satoru feels his stomach swoop. He loves it when you smile. My best friend, he thinks. Mine.

“I guess you have to,” you whisper, and you’re almost shy, almost hesitant. You know that you don’t need to: Satoru, surely, by now, has made sure of that. He’s spent his whole life trying to make you happy, all of his life that he’s enjoyed living. He doesn’t think that there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you, if you wanted him to. He’s certain you know that by now.

“Then I will.” Satoru brings up a hand between your bodies, and he loves how you don’t move away from him, the way you do to everyone else. You trust him, more than anyone in the world. This is what he loves, too: just as much as you are his favourite, he is yours.

Satoru rests his head on his arm, and settles in for a story; you’re watching him, with soft, affectionate eyes, and he is more happy than he ever has been. He keeps thinking that, when he’s with you. And, every time he sees you, he thinks it again. Here you are, listening to him, devoting your attention to him wholly, and you’re the best person he’s ever known.

“So,” Satoru says, so determined to keep your eyes on him, to keep your focus for ever and ever and ever, “it was a few months before my seventh birthday, and I didn’t know that I would be meeting my favourite person in the world.”

#gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #intrinsic warmth

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obaex · 7 months

Text

a little dirty - jj maybank

summary: you find that watching jj work can be very... distracting

words: 800

warnings: fluff, a lil' (very?) suggestive

a/n: just a little something short and sweet! inspired by tuxedo by clare dunne, which is so jj coded i needed to write something for it.

Oh, my man He got them real strong hands And after workin’ all day out in that hot sunshine He comes walkin’ in always lookin' so fine Oh, my heart Lights up like shooting stars He’s like a knight in shining armor with them blue jeans on Dirty white tee and my baby don't need no tuxedo

It was hot.

You were no stranger to the heat of the late summer that rolled off the marsh in waves, but the storm that had blown through the night before left Kildare feeling even more humid than usual, the air heavy like wet blanket. Plus, it had knocked the power out, leaving you without electricity and without air conditioning.

You felt the heat cling to your skin as sweat gathered at the base of your neck and you padded through the house, trying to tidy up and get chores done, reveling in the infrequent breeze that snuck through the open windows.

You could hear JJ in the backyard trying to clear the debris from the storm, including a large tree that had come down and just missed the back porch. You wandered over to check on him, leaning against the doorframe of the open screen door. He was carrying limbs and branches two times his size over his shoulder, hoisting them up and dragging them to the back corner of your property. Even from your vantage point you could see the way the muscles in his arms rippled with the effort.

He was breathing heavily as he made his way back, his chest straining against the fitted white t-shirt he had on that was now doppled with sweat, and streaked with dirt. He lifted the bottom corner of his tee to wipe the sweat off of his face, giving you a tantalizing peek at his toned stomach that lay beneath, his abs glistening with sweat, glinting in the strong sun. Your eyes trailed lower to the clear v-line that trailed into the jeans and boxers that hung low on his hips and you swallowed, a blush finding your cheeks at just how good he looked, even when he was dripping with sweat and covered in dirt.

He dropped his shirt and lifted his head to see you gazing at him. He held a hand over his eyes to see you better, his signature smirk breaking clear across his face as he started to make his way over to you. “Like what you see, pretty girl?” he asked.

Your cheeks blushed a deeper shade of crimson and you bit your bottom lip, breaking his intense gaze to glance at your feet, self-conscious that he had caught you staring.

“Mm’maybe I do” you replied coyly as his wide gait closed the distance between you and he hopped up the porch steps, stopping on the step just below you, leaving you eye level.

Your eyes traced his face, the way his tan skin glistened with sweat and his ocean blue eyes twinkled at you as you reached out to wipe a smudge of dirt off his cheek. At this close distance you could smell his sweat, a salty scent that was distinctly him mixed with the sweet smell of the wood he had been hauling. Maybe it shouldn't be, but to you, it was intoxicating. He was close enough that you could feel the heat coming off of his body and all of yours tingled in response as your heart hammered in your chest and your eyes fell to his lips.

“Do you maybe wanna come inside and not cool off with me?” you hinted, inching even closer to him and his perfect pink lips.

He ducked his head and ran his fingers through his damp hair.

“I would love nothing more, princess, but I’m soaked and I smell, you don’t want—”

“—You have no idea what I want, JJ Maybank” you said, interrupting him as you looped two of your fingers into his beltloops and pulled him flush to you, silencing him by pressing your lips to his.

Your sweaty skin against his suctioned you to each other and the second your lips met, his hands came to cup either side of your face. You could feel his calloused palms on your soft cheeks, could feel the dirt coming off of them and you couldn’t care less as his tongue glided over yours and you hummed in response. His lips were salty with sweat and he was already pressing you backwards into the house, guiding your body with his own towards your bedroom.

His hands left your face and he grabbed the back of your thighs without ever breaking his kiss; your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing you even closer to him as he continued to walk you through your house.

“Not afraid to get a little dirty?” he mumbled in a smile against your lips.

“Not even a little” you replied as he tossed you on the bed.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @voidcameron, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank #obx jj x reader #jj outer banks #outerbanks jj #jj x reader #outer banks jj #obx fanfiction

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crappymixtape · 3 months

Text

crappymixtape recos

going to try and do this at least once a month – sharing fics that have just blown me away ❤ so many talented writers on here omg 🥺 show them some love and BE KIND, REBLOG! xoxo, 💿

♥️ holding hands with steve – @upsidedownwithsteve ( steve and unconciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping or not realizing they’re holding hands til someone points it out • steve harrington x reader, fluff, hurt / comfort )

♥️ driving mr. harrington – @upsidedownwithsteve ( blurb prompt → steve and driving lessons, and let me tell you, no one is surprised at how damn sweet this is • steve harrington x reader, ALL fluff )

♥️ i guess it's never really over series, 18+ only– @loveshotzz ( a summer back in hawkins with your best friend and the boy you’ve done nothing but try to forget • mechanic!steve harrington x reader, smut, angst/hurt comfort, no upside down )

♥️ watching steve shave – @plainemmanem ( waking up to find a shirtless steve standing in front of the mirror shaving, his back muscles going absolutely sicko mode with each movement, just standing there staring at him bc he's so sexy • steve harrington x reader, just a giant thirst trap with a sprinkle of fluff )

♥️ steve's too drunk pt. 1 • pt. 2 – @pearynice ( steve gets drunk at a high school party and gets stuck wallowing in his own self-pity, but there on the back porch he finds an unexpected friend • steve harrington x eddie munson, omg the cutest fucking steddie interaction of all time AND THERE’S A PART TWO )

♥️ he's a freak, he's the fastest kid alive – @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe ( thinking about eddie getting arrested one night by hopper and officer whats-his-face and when they turn their backs on him for a second he fucking bolts • steve harrington x eddie munson )

♥️ power's out neighbor – @lovebugism ( the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me with steve • steve harrington x reader, fluffy, SO funny and witty )

♥️ i'll be there for you series, 18+ only – @supernovafics ( in which you and steve end up at your childhood home after a shitty party at the house of one of your old high school friends. a frozen pizza and some spilled wine lead to another awkward moment between you two • steve harrington x reader, smut, fluff )

♥️ call me daddy, 18+ only – @stvharrngton ( gator’s got you bent over his bed and you accidentally discover a kink • gator tillman x reader, just straight up filthy smut )

♥️ spin doctor – @carolmunson ( eddie works at a record store, he’s a little snobby, sort of shy!reader if you squint and it’s the very late 90s • eddie munson x reader, witty banter and a teeny bit of fluff )

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the-owl-house-takes · 8 months

Note

I absolutely hate the argument that Luz can be excused for her actions and people have no right to dislike her just because she’s neurodivergent. I struggled immensely in school both academically and socially in large to my own “neurodivergence”-can I just say I hate that word-but I was never so stupid as to think about bringing live animals and fireworks inside my school. The fact that Luz, the 14-year-old daughter of a veterinarian, saw a bunch of living, breathing animals and thought-‘yeah, I’m gonna use those as props! My book report is gonna be so cool! I surely can’t just use rubber snakes!’ Which probably why they were so damn aggressive! Because snakes only really bite and attack when they’re threatened, or stressed, or pissed off! Which really does not paint Luz as being a very caring or thoughtful person!

“But that’s the point! She needs to get better and she does!”-No she absolutely fucking does not. Instead of realizing that she can’t just run away and live in fantasy-land, the show again and again reaffirms that Luz can do no wrong, everybody else never should’ve felt angry about her reckless idiocy-because that’s what it is, idiocy-she gets to live out her little fantasy world and do whatever she wants. The way the show acts like the principal giving the summer camp pamphlet was some horrible evil thing, how could anyone do that? B I T CH LUZ IS FUCKING LUCKY that she weren’t expelled or arrested! She brought EXPLOSIVES WITH THE INTENT OF SETTING THEM OFF INSIDE A SCHOOL BUILDING. In an area of mass shoring fears and schools prohibiting anything can looks like or emulates(even if it is just a foam sword or something), Luz really should’ve just taken two seconds to think to at least leave the fireworks. Course at 14 I would think that a person who have the common sense for that to never be a thought.

And no, “neurodivergence” is not an excuse. It pains me when characters in media doing stupid shit and senseless(especially when it gets on the audience’s nerves) gets pinned on having autism or ADHD like it makes it okay, and that the character can’t be blamed or held accountable for it. Why do people hold those with these conditions to such low standards? When this happens, it feels like people are saying, “Yeah, this could’ve easily caused grievous bodily harm or death but they’ve got anxiety and autism, so we can’t be mad, they couldn’t possibly know better because they’re simply not on our level, they’re too stupid to understand!” Hell no. Stop giving excuses! The “I’m literally neurodivergent and a minor” attitude does not work in court!

And maybe if they understood this and actually challenged Luz on being very episodic on learning her lessons and that she did in fact run away to avoid consequences of her actions and reality won’t bend to her interests and she can’t treat everything like it’s a fanfiction instead of beating the dead horse with another dead horse about how Luz ““““helped”””” Belos when all she did was teach him one glyph and got used as bait by someone who she KNOWS tricked her. By that logic Lilith is just as responsible for Belos meeting the Collector as Luz is. Yeah she’s 14 but did it really have to stretch through the entirety of season 3?

Because season 3 is where I officially knew that Luz hadn’t learned a thing. The way the show frames the art teacher giving Luz the side eye like it’s wrong for her to distrust the kid who used the art supplies-that she probably paid out of pocket for-to infest the school with spiders and snakes and then would’ve blown it up if she hadn’t gotten sent to the principal’s office is so out of pocket. She has every right to view Luz with suspicion! People don’t tend to like others who make a mess in their areas with their stuff, shocker. I’ve already said a bit about the summer camp thing, but seriously, a summer camp that teaches teens about mortgages, how to manage a bank account and checkbook, do taxes, etc is literally the best thing Luz could’ve gotten out of that situation. She would’ve learned something many people complain wasn’t taught to them at a young age AND would’ve met people who she could easily befriended. Yeah, it’s boring and Luz probably would’ve checked out of the situation but it’s better than juvie! Also boring stuff is apart of life, it’s part of the way we can live the way we do because everything is easier said than done. Also with Camila, it’s a dumb retcon to have her not understand anime or Luz’s interests in Season 1 and 2 but a secret nerd who just got put down by the man in season 3. Like, Camila had to make a change with Luz, because 14 is not far from 18, and if Luz did do something stupid that ended up being a crime, she could very well be charged as an adult.

Then the whole ‘I just wanna be understood!’ Luz, honey, you’ve been surrounded by people who understand you and don’t get mad when you mess up, even if it’s spectacularly. Your girlfriend literally immediately told you she essentially wanted to spend the rest of her life by your side right after you got revealed as a liar which you promised you wouldn’t do anymore. Your best buds have always been on your side even when you’ve gone behind their backs. Your mom was sending you to that camp bc she had too, even though she originally believed it would expose you to kids with similar interests that could be befriended. And again, her hands were tied, because you were being reckless to the point of danger. But oh wait, it��s all okay now because you’re ‘understood’.

Not finding that happy balance where you can express yourself but not act like an idiot or endanger yourself and others, just some vague ‘understanding’ by an anonymous ‘them’. Do you mean everyone, all the time has to understand you the way Camila, Eda, King, Willow, Gus, Amity and Hunter do? Because that’s not how real life works.

And this isn’t a character hate-though I do hate the way Luz was finished-this is on the writers for not going through with the themes of Fantasy Vs. Reality they had going that could’ve taught Luz that balance and management; which in my personal opinion, would’ve been a better arc for a person with ADHD.

#the owl house #toh #character hate #toh critical #long post #I know anon said that this isn’t character hate #but cmon….

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

Misery Loves Company // B. Wayne x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: mentions of menstruation

Summary: You have a sinus infection, period cramps, and it’s hot as balls. Bruce is a good husband.

“I think I’m dying.”

Alfred tutted over you as you glared at the screen in front of you. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the camera from Bruce’s cowl rattle at bit when Killer Croc got in an easy hit.

“I assure you, Mistress Wayne, that you are not dying. It’s just a small sinus infection.”

“Oh yeah, you call it small when you’re blowing out of one working nostril.” You scowled, your hands bumping into various buttons on the keys as you waved your hands, and then remembered who you were talking to. “Sorry, Alfred, I just feel miserable.”

“Quite alright, Miss. Master Tim has said far worse when I gave him his last flu shot.”

“That’s because Timmy is a wimp when it comes to needles,” Dick said over the comms.

“Names,” you and Bruce intoned at the same time.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I had the comms on,” you explained. “My brain is a mess today.”

Alfred cleared his throat and you avoided his gaze. You knew he wanted you to admit you were sick, but there was no way in hell. How could you complain about a little headache and period cramps when they were getting shot at and blown up? You especially couldn’t make them worry, namely your husband, when they needed to focus.

“I do remind you, miss, that I handled running the computers when Master Bruce first conceived this hairbrained idea,” Alfred said. “And it appears that you have the same propensity as Master Bruce as not understanding the need to rest.”

Your eyes narrowed and you slowly turned your chair to face him. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Either get upstairs and into bed or I shall tell Master Bruce.”

“You’re an evil, evil man.”

Deciding rest didn’t sound like a terrible option, you dragged yourself upstairs to the bedroom you shared with Gotham’s resident vigilante. It was summer and living in a city built on a swamp and next to the ocean meant that humidity and heat clung to the air like a bad smell. You grunted once you left the cool air of the cave and into the damp atmosphere of the manor.

You were hot, your face felt more stuffed than a turkey on Thanksgiving day, and your uterus was trying to murder you.

Fuck this day.

After changing into pajamas, too tired to even bother with skincare, you laid on your side of the bed and realized that no sleep would be happening tonight. How the fuck were you able to sleep when one half of your face felt like it was packed full of cotton, your back ached from cramps, and the sheets plastered itself against you and clung to your skin in a way that overstimulated you?

This was the worst. Sitting up helped your sinus infection, but aggravated your back. Sweat dripped down your skin and you let out a pitiful whine. God, this sucked. Everything sucked.

You punched the pillow underneath your head in an attempt to make it more comfortable and then flipped it over to sink your cheek into the cooler side of the silken fabric. Your hand reached out and snatched up Bruce’s pillow, which you drew into your chest and cuddled. Even if it was hot, you would do anything to have your husband next to you right now, calloused hands rubbing into the sore muscles of your back. With his low, soothing voice and magic touch, you could be asleep in minutes.

Ah, shit. Here comes the water works. You pressed your face into the soft fabric of his pillow and immediately regretted it as the fabric dampened, saturating the scent of his cologne and body wash with the saltiness of your tears. You needed to get your shit together. What if someone came home injured today? They would need you to have your head on straight.

“Darling?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Bruce’s voice. When had he opened the door and walked in? Swiping the back of your hand across your cheeks, you sat up and quickly looked him over. No visible injuries.

“What happened? Why aren’t you on patrol?”

His large, calloused palm came up to cradle your jaw and you sank into the delicate yet strong touch he offered. Your eyes slid shut as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Alfred called me back in. Sorry, I’m a bit late. I swung by Leslie’s and picked up an antibiotic that will fix that sinus infection and then I had to run to CVS to get some things.”

You paused, your eyelids cracking open so you could stare up at him. “In the suit?”

If you didn’t know Bruce, you wouldn’t have picked up on the tiny twitch of his lips. “Maybe.”

The visual image was striking. Batman standing in line at CVS with a basket clenched in one of his leather gloves, filled with pads, snacks, and medicine. You could only picture the look on the cashier’s face as he swiped a box of tampons over the laser. Bruce liked to keep the house stocked at all times thanks to three women living there permanently and numerous others trickling in on the daily.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

He stooped down and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you as easily as you picked up Alfred the cat everyday to deposit kisses on the cat’s head. Your husband’s strength always surprised you, even after being with him for years.

“I did. You deserve it. Lukewarm shower and I’ll set up the netti pot. Leslie said you take the antibiotics twice a day for eight days. The whole time. No skimping. Take all sixteen.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snorted. “I know how antibiotic resistance works.”

“I forget sometimes that I’m not dealing with the average human population.”

“Let me guess, someone else tried to take a selfie with Killer Croc tonight.”

“Had a selfie stick and everything.”

You snickered and settled in against his chest. You still felt like shit, but with Bruce here, it was starting to get better. Maybe you could convince him to give you that massage after your shower…

Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @alexxavicry @havingarebelliousstage @the-wayward-daughter @cursedandromedablack

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne imagine #batman x reader #batman fluff #batman imagine

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hugheses · 6 months

Text

Jack Hughes on The Chirp (recorded on 9/12/23).

Transcript under read more ↴

Daren Millard: You always show up at this looking good. Give me an idea of what you're wearing here.

Jack Hughes: I try to look good. Yeah, I got the maroon suit on. The white shoes and the white shirt. That’s it.

Daren Millard: Are you full sneakers with suits now?

Jack Hughes: Yeah, I am. It helps when you're playing better. You know, when you're doing well on the ice, you can- Pete doesn't love it, though. [laughs] But, yeah, I like to wear sneakers with my shoes. I'm pretty much 75 out of the 82 games. Sneakers.

Daren Millard: ‘Kay, Pete, come over here for a second. Just. Just. Why don't you like the sneakers?

Pete Albietz [NJD Comms Manager]: It's not that I don't like it. There's just a time and a place, and sometimes I get a little versatility with the suit game. A little tight shoes, maybe a wingtip. Class it up a bit. He can. He can do it. You could pull it off.

Daren Millard: A little bit of a suggestion. I'm with you, Jack. Let's- let's embrace this. I've gone deep into this now. Are you only swoosh or do you mix that up?

Jack Hughes: No, I- I mix it up. My game on the ice would show that I would wear sneakers off the ice too. So that's why I do it.

Daren Millard: That's well done. Little consistency right across the board. Embrace that flair, right?

Jack Hughes: Trying.

Daren Millard: Yeah.

Darren Millard: What's the summer been like for you? I've been watching you on social media, so walk me through this.

Jack Hughes: [laughs] It's been a good couple of trips with the boys good to be home, trained hard -

Darren Millard: Where’d you go?

Jack Hughes: Went to. I went to the Jersey Shore, went to Montreal for F1, went out to uh, Manhattan Beach, obviously Nashville for the awards, that was fun. And then a few weddings too. So, I was on the move. But I also got to spend more than enough time back in Mich. So it was a really good summer.

Darren Millard: Saw you guys at a football game.

Jack Hughes: Went to. Yep. Summer wouldn't be complete if I didn't go to one U of M football game, so. And I'm like, I didn't even go to U of M.

Darren Millard: I know!

Jack Hughes: I was saying it like a true- a true fan.

Darren Millard: You- you wore that jersey with a real pride.

Jack Hughes: Well, my brother, both of my brothers and a lot of friends went. So it's like, I feel a part of it as well.

Darren Millard: Did I see the U.S. Open in there, too?

Jack Hughes: Yeah, I did go to U.S. Open.

Darren Millard: [gibberish] You- what were your seats like?

Jack Hughes: They were pretty good. It was Coco Gauff.

Darren Millard: Yeah.

Jack Hughes: You know, she's the real deal, so it was a lot of fun watching that.

Darren Millard: F1, U.S. Open, Michigan Football. What was the coolest event?

Jack Hughes: I got to be honest. Like I went with Cole obviously and Z and Cole like had us up to the nines-

Darren Millard: To Formula One?

Jack Hughes: Yeah, to Formula One. So we were like completely set up and I had no clue about Formula One. But then you show up and it's like there's diehard fans, you know, And I was just blown away with that event and, you know, Cole set us up perfectly, and a friend of his, Mark Smith, I'm teeing him up right now, but he did an amazing job helping us out. So we had a great weekend there. And then U of M games, always a blast and I'll put U.S. Open in the three hole.

Darren Millard: Do you play tennis?

Jack Hughes: I love playing tennis. Yeah.

Darren Millard: You any good?

Jack Hughes: I'm okay.

Darren Millard: One handed or two handed or backhand?

Jack Hughes: Two handed. Yeah. It's pretty fun, though. Like, well, at my country club, you have to put on all whites. So I'll dress up with our all whites and we're just whacking the ball around, not playing that well, but it's fun.

Darren Millard: To keep it inside the fence.

Jack Hughes: Yeah, Like we - we - we're athletes, you know, we're cool.

Darren Millard: Oh yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend-

Jack Hughes: Give us whatever we'll make it happen. But I’m not saying we're professional tennis players, but we're good. We're pretty good.

Darren Millard: What was last year like for you, that first playoff game?

Jack Hughes: It was so great until the game started, because once the game started, we didn't have- we had a bad game one and a bad game two, and obviously Devils Rangers big rivalry. Really close to each other. So when the Devils were playing well, it was the Devils arena and when the Rangers were playing well, it was the Rangers arena and I was at MSG and the- at the Pru. So games one and two were like road games. Game three was like, Dougie scored that one goal and was like the biggest goal of the year. Game four was like a Rangers game, or a Devils game and then game. It was just like, For that to be your first series is pretty incredible with it being like Devils Rangers and that's kind of how I expected it to be when I got drafted to the Devils and the Devils had the first pick and the Rangers had the second you almost knew at some point we were going to hit each other like on a collision course. So, that was a wild first series.

Darren Millard: Is the rivalry back?

Jack Hughes: You guys tell me. I mean, when you're in it, it feels pretty, pretty back, you know. So I thought that was a pretty crazy series and that was - a bit of the tough part was that that was such an emotionally draining series because you got to remember, Carolina was so far ahead of us for like two, two months leading up to the end of the season. So pretty much for two, three months we knew that we were going to play the Rangers and they knew they were going to play with us. And then like the last week of the season, I think Carolina like, came back down to earth a little bit. And then like, the last game, we could have grabbed the one seed if they lost. But then, I don't know, we- we might have just like, ran out of gas emotionally, heading into the Carolina series.

Darren Millard: We've got the Islanders who are in the mix, Rangers and Devils rivalry. Have you ever been part of anything like that?

Jack Hughes: I mean, no, it's, it's pretty crazy. Especially there's so many other sports teams going on there. But, you know, the Islanders were in the playoffs, Devils playoffs, Rangers playoffs. So just a lot happening in like, the New York/New Jersey sports world. You know.

Darren Millard: Do you ever invade the New York territory, go into the city and hang out a little bit?

Jack Hughes: Of course, it's New York City, all the time. [laughs] Yeah, but thank God it's the biggest city in the world, you know? Never see any of these guys.

Darren Millard: You're looking at me like I'm a complete idiot for asking that.

Jack Hughes: Well, I mean, you're. It's not fair that you would know, like, I don't think people know how great New Jersey is. And yeah, it takes us 10 minutes to get to New York. Like, I might be closer to New York than most of the Rangers guys because they might live in Connecticut or whatever they do. I don't I don't play for the Rangers, so I don't know. But we have it great ‘cause we go golf in the suburbs in New Jersey or even the Jersey Shore. For me, like, like last weekend I went fishing down in Point Pleasant. So it's like, just a lot of good stuff there.

Darren Millard: For what, what'd ya catch?

Jack Hughes: A fluke. It was fun. Yeah. So you pull up a stingray, but you don't know what's on the line. You just yank it up.

Darren Millard: But you pulled up a stingray?

Jack Hughes: All of us did. But you don't. You don't touch them. You just cut the- you just cut the line.

Darren Millard: You know who has a better life than you?

Jack Hughes: Probably a lot of people. But I like my life for me. You know, I- I'm living my- my dream. So it's pretty good for me.

Darren Millard: 99 points.

Jack Hughes: Yeah.

Darren Millard: You know, 100. That a goal?

Jack Hughes: I mean, eventually down the road, I would like to get 100 points, whether it's this year or not. Of course I'm pushing, pushing to do that. So yeah, of course I want a hundred points. But how- however it shakes out, you know, I think this is the first year where there's like really a lot of excitement for me going into the season because, you know, like even last year, no one knew or expected us to be where we got to. It was kind of like, oh are the Devils going to be a little better and whatnot. And, you know, this year now there's a lot of expectations, so it's a lot of fun.

Darren Millard: Outdoor game. Tell me about it.

Jack Hughes: Yeah, Should be a- a great event.

Darren Millard: How many times you played outdoors?

Jack Hughes: Zero. I mean a game, game? Zero.

Darren Millard: How many times have you like, skated outdoors?

Jack Hughes: My whole life. That's what I grew up doing. I'd start on ponds-

Darren Millard: ‘Cause you’re of the age where a lot of guys don't do that. They play outdoors-

Jack Hughes: Which is crazy.

Darren Millard: Yeah.

Jack Hughes: Like growing up, I remember my mom would drop us off at the rink, it was a frozen tennis court and we’d just be out there for like 5, 6 hours and then she'd pick us up and that was our day. You know, I go to school and maybe not a practice and just go to the rink. So it was amazing. And I think, you know, that we get to do it when we're like an exciting team to watch. You know, it just makes it even better. So we're really fortunate that, you know, the NHL involved us in the game.

Darren Millard: Who's the first family of hockey? The Tkachuks or the Hugheses?

Jack Hughes: Definitely the Tkachuks. You know, I think we've followed them like, Keith obviously taught Brady and Matthew what they know. Quinn. It's funny that Quinn lived with Keith and Brady, so we're all at Brady's wedding this summer. And it's just funny, I don't think it's a, it's definitely not a competition. It's more of like, us giving the Tkachuks their flowers because, I mean, a lot of what we know is partly based on what they've done as a family as well.

Darren Millard: You guys are looking towards the future. New Jersey Devils are trying to take a step back with Lindy Ruff getting an extension. What's your relationship like with him?

Jack Hughes: Yeah, Lindy's been great for me because when he came in, I don't think- I was- I was a good player, but I'm not what I am today. And, you know, I think he saw the vision with me and he trusted me and he empowered me. And, you know, he's a lot of the reason why I am what I am today. And, you know, I think a coach/player, you're always going to have your like moments where you're like, augh, this guy, and he's going to be like wanting to bench me because I turn a puck over or whatnot. But, you know, I think Lindy’s a great person and Lindy's been a great coach for me and the rest of our team. And, you know, he's the- he's the right guy leading the ship for us.

Darren Millard: You guys, a lot of attention being paid to your shooting room. Is that your idea?

Jack Hughes: I think both of ours, you know, when we were kids, like, the first thing my dad would do when he would buy a house or rent a house, would he put up plywood on the walls in the basement so we could just shoot pucks. And so everywhere we went, we had a shooting room. And then when me and Quinn got our house, I know the Vancouver video got a lot of like love or whatnot, but when we got the house we were like, ‘Hell yeah, we got to have a sick shooting room.’ So.

Darren Millard: So a tricked out shooting room, right?

Jack Hughes: What's that?

Darren Millard: It's a tricked out shooting room. Like all the bells and whistles?

Jack Hughes: It’s got what you need. I can't say. It's like, anything, like, insane, but it's really good for us. We put our roller skates on and turn the music on and just go shoot pucks.

Darren Millard: Tunes and everything?

Jack Hughes: Yeah.

Darren Millard: I love that. What are the tunes?

Jack Hughes: I listen to country, so.

Darren Millard: Nice. Yeah, I like that. One timers for some fun here. Okay, who would you pick as a roommate?

Jack Hughes: Luke Hughes, ‘cause he's my roommate right now.

Darren Millard: How much is he paying you?

Jack Hughes: Nothing.

Darren Millard: Just a bad deal. Last drive through that you went through?

Jack Hughes: Last drive through, um… maybe Tim Hortons really early in the summer.

Darren Millard: Have you ever drove a standard transmission car?

Jack Hughes: No.

Darren Millard: Nicest car you've ever driven.

Jack Hughes: Umm…

Darren Millard: You know what, you know what standard transmission car is though?

Jack Hughes: Yeah, of course. Yeah. [laughs]

Darren Millard: Nicest car you've ever driven?

Jack Hughes: Nicest car I've ever driven. I have no clue. I can't even.

Darren Millard: You can't even narrow it down?

Jack Hughes: Well, I don't like.

Darren Millard: For most of us it's pretty obvious

Jack Hughes: What's, what's obvious for you?

Darren Millard: Like I don't have, I would say like a Porsche 911. I drove, but you probably driven a bunch of nice cars

Jack Hughes: I haven't though.

Darren Millard: Really?

Jack Hughes: No.

Darren Millard: So have you ever driven one with, like, butterfly doors or anything like that.

Jack Hughes: I play in the NHL. I'm not some… car guru. [laughs]

Darren Millard: You're going to Formula One, U.S. Open, all that.

Jack Hughes: This guy thinks my car garage is insane! Like it's just loaded up.

Darren Millard: What's your car right now?

Jack Hughes: Just a Range Rover.

Darren Millard: That's pretty good. Movie theater or stream at home. What do you want to watch a flick with?

Jack Hughes: Probably stream at home.

Darren Millard: Best player on your ten year old team.

Jack Hughes: Best player on my ten year old team… Riley Damiani, plays with AHL Texas Stars now. He could shoot the puck, he could... He could do it all.

Darren Millard: Yeah?

Jack Hughes: Yeah. He's a - he's still a good player.

Darren Millard: Do you think he would say you, just out of default, on your ten year old team or do you think he-

Jack Hughes: No, he was.

Darren Millard: He was that good.

Jack Hughes: He was that guy.

Darren Millard: Yeah?

Jack Hughes: Yeah.

Darren Millard: Of the other three major sports: Baseball, basketball, football. Which one would you be best at?

Jack Hughes: If I- I played baseball growing up, so maybe baseball, but I would like to say basketball, but I’m not tall enough.

Darren Millard: Last concert you went to?

Jack Hughes: Last concert was, I think, Morgan Wallen.

Darren Millard: Good for you.

Jack Hughes: I saw him. He was pretty good. Dierks Bentley, I saw Dierks actually. And then he did the awards. Well he did the awards like two weeks later. The only mistake I didn't- I made was not getting a picture with him because he's like, been my favorite country guy for like, years.

Darren Millard: Okay, we're going to set that up.

Jack Hughes: It- yeah.

Darren Millard: Okay. Stevie. Stevie Mayer? [NHL Chief Content Officer who is in the room.]

Jack Hughes: Well it was like, honestly, it was quick, you remember?

Steve Mayer: [unintelligible]

Darren Millard: We're going to set that up.

Jack Hughes: No, he was in the zone. I didn't want to like like, come on.

Steve Mayer: [still talking]

Jack Hughes: I didn't want to be like Mr,

Darren Millard: Steve Mayer is like, somehow got into this very [Jack cackles] secure area.

Steve Mayer: [More unintelligible] have to go in [?]

Darren Millard: You know what? It's an echo. It's a dressing room. We want the guys to feel comfortable. Nothing gets things done, like bringing you into this spot and making it happen. We're going to get that picture. We're going to make sure it happens. Because he's here.

Jack Hughes: Right.

Darren Millard: Because Steve’s here. Okay. Nice job. Let- let's jump on a scale of 1 to 10, what's this been like? What- 1 to 10 rate this-

Jack Hughes: This interview?

Darren Millard: Yeah.

Jack Hughes: It's been great. Good convo, good scenery. Nine.

#much to ponder #jack hughes

145 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 year

Text

What a Look on You || Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Summary: Y/N and Rooster are best friends. Two of the closest best friends you'll ever see. The squad tries to get them to admit their feelings, with no luck. Y/N's friend comes into town stirring the pot up a bit.

A/N: Well I'm kind of blown away by all the sweet comments you left on my first Top Gun FF. So I decided to crank another one out for you guys! This time featuring our lovely Bradley Bradshaw. I'll def write a part two to Who are You? Just give me some time :)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 6400+

“Come on Gigs, he clearly likes you.” She paused looking you up and down, “Hell, he might be in love with you.” Natasha smirked after sinking yet another pool ball.

“Shut up, Phe. He doesn’t like me, and he certainly doesn’t love me.” You sighed grabbing the pool stick from her. You eyed the stripes, took a deep breath, and miserably missed.

You heard her laugh from behind you, “Too busy thinking about Rooster?”

You lightly shoved the pool stick into her side shaking your head, “No, I was thinking of ways to murder you.”

“You wish, I’d beat your ass. Don’t even try.” She threw a wink in your direction.

You nod silently, “Not disagreeing with that.” Natasha was just stronger than you. Not that you were tiny and weak but there was something so frightening about Natasha Trace that you wouldn’t even think of crossing her.

“So, you agree then?” She asked waiting on your answer patiently.

You groaned shaking your head, “No Phoenix, I do not agree with you. The man doesn’t have feelings for me. That’s it.”

“What man?” The annoying voice of Hangman spoke up from behind you.

“Rooster.” Natasha grinned making kissy faces in your direction.

“Oh no shit, that man is in love with you.” He nodded one hand with a beer the other in his pocket.

“Not you too.” You threw your head back in defeat, “He’s just my best friend. That’s all.” Truth be told you wish it was more. You’ve wished it would be more for years. He was everything to you. He was the man of your dreams really.

He was thoughtful. Oh, was he so thoughtful. He remembered the smallest details about you, making you feel like the most special person in the world. One of your favorite memories with him was when he invited the whole class to his place to watch some football. He had made pulled pork but remembered you didn’t really like pork. So, he pulled you aside and handed you a bowl of shredded chicken. Your heart nearly burst into pieces then, you had only known him a few months and just knew he was it.

He was also so incredibly sweet. One summer when the two of you were walking Virginia Beach, not too far off base, he noticed a little girl drop her ice cream near the vendor. He didn’t hesitate to try and calm the poor girl. He bought her a new cone and quickly gave it to her calming her meltdown. You couldn’t wipe the stupid cheesy grin that laced your face.

He was soft when you needed him to be but hard when he saw you hurt. He was protective of you, so protective of you. He couldn’t bear to see you hurt. He really did think the world of you. He never wanted to lose you. But you never thought to much of it, he just acted like a big brother would.

The two of you met in school. Rooster to be a pilot. You attempted to be one, but you were rather quite miserable at it. So, you tried your hand as a WSO and found your groove with that. Rooster always claimed he didn’t need a WSO but was always so happy to have you along when he was ‘commanded’ it. The pair of you clicked instantly. He always made you laugh. In fact, that’s how you got your callsign ‘Giggles’. He made you laugh when you were in drill, getting you in trouble way to often. You really didn’t mind though; you were so infatuated with the man.

Days turned into months turned into years. The two of you dated different people at different times never really finding the right time to get together. You settled on best friends who literally knew everything about one another. You really did want him but just like him, you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“Besides,” You looked at the two of them, “Carly is coming into town, and I need to worry about that. Not him.”

Jake smirked, “Is she that pretty one you post sometimes.”

Rolling your eyes you nodded, “Yes pig. She’s my pretty friend. She’s off limits for you Hangman.”

Laughing he eyed Phoenix suspiciously, “That’s not your decision sweetheart. It’s hers.”

“Why are you so annoying?” You wanted to punch him, but you restrained yourself knowing better than to crack open that can of worms.

“Relax. Has Carly ever met Rooster?” He questioned.

“No. She’s met nobody here. I went to college with her and really haven’t seen her since. But she lives close so we recently reconnected. Thus, why she’s on my Insta Hangman.” You admitted, way too much. You weren’t sure why you divulged all that information.

He nodded, “Speak of the devil.” His eyes flicked towards the door which your eyes followed looking to the man entering the bar. Your face broke out into a wide grin seeing Roos in his usual Hawaiian shirt, looking relaxed on this fine evening.

“I’d say she’s in love too.” Phoenix laughed.

“Shut up!”

“I can’t believe you get to look at these guys every day.” Carly whispered ogling nearly every aviator that walked by.

“Every damn day. They’re more like brothers than anything. God, they’re all so annoying.”

She nodded, “Could be worse. You could be looking at Phyllis all day every day.” She laughed which you joined in on. Carly was traditionally beautiful. She was tall, thin, blond, and athletic. Everything came natural for her. Things were just easier for her. You were always slightly jealous of the girl but tried your hardest to let it go, you did a good job at hiding it.

“That’s true. No Phyllis’s here.”

She grinned turning back to the front, a small commotion coming from the entryway. Of course, it was Rooster and Hangman arguing. The two of them were always bickering about something.

“Who are they?”

“Two idiots.” You laughed.

“Wow,” She finally tore her eyes from who you thought was Hangman, “He’s beautiful.”

“Which one?” You asked peaking your eyebrow up in curiosity.

“The brown-haired guy.” She grinned turning back around to eye him. The pair were still caught up in whatever argument they were in as they walked to the bar for some beer.

Your heart sped up a bit, surprised she wasn’t talking about Jake. They always went crazy for Jake, not her Rooster, “That’s Bradley. Rooster.”

“Oh wow, Y/N. That’s your best friend, right?” She looked at you wide eyed.

“Yep, that’s Roos.”

She nodded, “You didn’t tell me he was drop dead gorgeous Y/N. Is he single?”

“Yeah, he is a cutie and he’s single.” You nodded trying your best to sound less than enthused about the whole situation.

“You wouldn’t be mad if I went and talked to him then, would you?” Her eyes brightened as she looked back and forth between the two of you.

Why would she want to do that? You knew Rooster was a catch, it confused you as to why he wasn’t snatched up just yet. It didn’t seem to bother you that a stranger at any time could go up to him and win him over but Carly? That was too much for you. Way too much for you. “No, no I wouldn’t mind.” You lied again refusing to turn and face her. You were being incredibly weird, and you knew it.

“I’m surprised you’re not going for the blonde though, seems more your type?” You spoke up just before she started to walk away. Making any attempt to stop the girl from wooing over your Rooster.

“He’s cute. But there’s something about Rooster. I can’t place my finger on it.” She smiled brightly waiting anxiously for you to let her go talk to him.

Your stomach clenched but you ignored it nodding her on, why were you your own worst enemy? Why were you letting her do this? You knew the second you said it wasn’t okay that she would drop it. You didn’t know why you were being such a chicken shit about the whole thing. But ten years of friendship was hard to give up knowing just how good that friendship could be.

You sat on the high-top chair anxiously tapping your glass attempting to look anywhere other than the bar where Rooster, Hangman and Carly were chatting. Your leg bounced up and down slightly shaking the whole table in your attempts to look the other way.

“You okay Gigs?” A soft voice spoke breaking you out of your trance.

“Hmm, yeah totally fine.” You smiled seeing Bob appear at your side. Bob was always so sweet to you, always looked out for you. You had also known Bob from early on in your career. The two of you being the quietest WSO’s in your respective classes and always getting shit on for it. You tried your best to protect him, and he did the same for you.

He sat down opposite you following your line of sight right to the bar, “What’s the matter?” He asked again waiting for you to open to him. Truth be told you and Bob were close as well. Not as close as you and Rooster but you weren’t afraid to be honest with him. He really felt like a brother to you, a protective one at that.

“Nothing Bobby.” You looked back at him continuing to play with your glass.

“Bullshit Y/N.” He challenged you leaning forward.

“Uh oh, Bob breaking out the real name. I must be in trouble.”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “Somethings up, you looked like a maniac there for a second.”

“I just got distracted.”

“By what?”

You eyed him knowing what he was doing, “My thoughts.”

“Is that why you were staring at Rooster and the girl?”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping just a hair, enough so that Bob noticed, “I wasn’t staring Bobby.”

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes finding the right words to tell his friend, “You are a being a fucking idiot Y/N.”

“Bobby!”

He looked you dead in the eye, “Y/N, I’m being serious. You’re hurting yourself now. You’ve loved that man since I’ve known you. And I’ve known you for almost eight years Y/N.”

“I can’t Bobby. I can’t lose him. I can’t risk it.” You looked down at the empty glass coming to that full realization, you didn’t have it in you. The worst outcome is that Rooster would walk away and that was way worse to you than the slight chance he might like you back.

“Come on Y/N. He likes you too. You just don’t see it because you’re so used to it. Rooster would do anything for you.”

“There’s nothing there Bob. It’s been ten years, there would have been something. I’m his best friend. He’s mine. That’s it.”

He groaned, “Fucking idiots. Both of you.” He threw his head into his hands trying to get you to realize what was right in front of you.

“Jesus whose dog died?” The southern draw from the annoying blonde pilot spoke from behind you.

“What are you talking about Hangman.” You looked at him like an annoyed sister would. If looks could kill yours would.

“Bob here looks miserable. Guess that’s just you bringing out the best in people.” He winked setting his glass down between the sitting pair. You turned around seeing Rooster making his way over slowly with Carly. You held in your disappointment and channeled it to the second most annoying thing in the room.

“Charming as ever Jake.”

He decided to stop after seeing the sadness in your eyes. You thought you were great at hiding your emotions, turns out your damn facial expressions gave you away like a book. “You love my southern charm darling.” He gave you a side hug attempting to bring the snarky Y/N back out, not the mopey one.

“Yeah, yeah.” You nodded looking at Bob who was simply observing what was going on around him. You were sad. Hangman caught onto it and tried his best to cheer you up, Hangman style. Rooster seemed enamored with Carly and Carly seemed just as enamored as him as they walked up to the small high-top table. You looked like you were about to combust when you saw where his arm had landed, right on her hip drawing her closer to him. You flicked your eyes to Carly who was smiling at him. You then looked at Rooster who of course was staring right back at her, even when they got to the table.

“Roos, nice to see you.” You said all too bitterly before hoping off the chair refusing to look at him. “I’m getting another, anybody need anything?” You just looked at Bob, ignoring the rest of the group.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you.” He followed grabbing his empty glass. What you didn’t see was the hurt look that crossed Rooster’s face after the unfriendly greeting. He couldn’t recall a time when you had spoken to him that way, your voice was always so sweet and kind. Even when the two of you argued you never had sounded so upset before.

“You didn’t have to come, I just panicked.” You admitted once you got to the semi-crowded bar.

“Because you don’t like him.”

“Uhh, shush. You know I do. Just shut up about it.”

He grinned, “It’s nice to hear you finally admit it.”

“Shhh, Bobby, lower your voice. You know, you’ve known. You’re the only person I’d admit it too though.” You waved the bartender down for another round, not seeing Penny tonight.

“Y/N has a crush, Y/N has a crush!” He whisper shouted in your ear.

You wide eyed him, “Shut up Bobby, I will beat you up.”

He started full on laughing now, “Why do you always threaten violence, Y/N?”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. Who was this Bob and where did hers go? “Bobby, you’re being a little shit right now.”

“I’m just excited you finally fucking admitted it Gigs.” He clapped your back.

Shaking your head, you picked up your beer and slowly made your way back to the trio that had taken over your high top. Rooster had backed off Carly a bit.

Rooster grinned when he saw you walking back over with Bob, “Giggles.” Still grinning with that big, beautiful smile he had.

“Roos.” You nodded your head sitting back in your seat next to him, returning the smile as best as you could.

That worried him, your half smile did. It was different. If there was anything he noticed in this world it was when you acted different. It was always so easy and normal between the two of you. He could pick up when something was off, he just knew something was off.

“Have a good day?” He asked you, just you. Looking right at you, the staring was almost too intense for you. You in turn also noticed things with Rooster. Like right now, him boring his eyes into the side of your head was certainly new.

You hummed, “Fine, except Cyclone was up our asses all day today.”

Bob nodded in agreement, “Some new wizzo training he’s getting us all on.”

“Seems like a bunch of bullshit to me.” You continued, “But can’t talk back to Cyclone. No siree, no.” You took a long drink from your beer. It was really hitting the spot today. You glanced up and Rooster was smiling at you. You nearly forgot about your poor friend Carly, standing there clueless.

“Sorry Carly,” You smiled at her, “Wizzo is WSO which is what Bob, and I are.”

“Right!” She laughed, “Weapons people, right?”

Hangman chuckled, “The best damn weapons people we got right here.”

“Aww, is Hangman being sweet?” You cooed at the tall blond.

“That’s what I have tell myself, since you are the only two left here.”

“You asshole.” Bob laughed smacking his arm.

“Not that you guys aren’t the most fun but there’s a pretty little thing over there that just walked in, so if you’ll excuse me.” Hangman winked over at Bob before sauntering off, surely turning up the charm, to the girl.

“Oh Hangman.” You laughed turning your attention back to the group, “And your day Roos?”

“Same old, same old.” He laughed running a hand through his hair. You attempted to hide your ogling eyes, why did he have to do this to you? It’s not like he hasn’t run his hand through his hair a thousand times before you. You willed your brain to just stop thinking of him as more than just a friend, but it might finally be rebelling against your wishes. You didn’t want to blame Carly for the green-eyed monster that was threatening to spill out, but she was the only difference in the group.

“Mav kick your ass yet again?” You smirked watching for his reaction.

“Hey now, Giggles. I’ll get him one of these days.”

Shaking your head, you eyed Bob who was having all too much fun watching the two of you go back and forth, “Statistics say you’ll have to beat him one of these days.”

He pointed his finger at you playfully smirking, “You just know exactly what to say.”

You shrugged looking back to Carly, “Roos can’t beat his instructor, Maverick. Bit of a running joke at this point.”

“Don’t poison her mind Y/N!” He gasped pulling her tight. Ouch, that hurt, you noticed. You noticed how easily they seemed to mesh, how Carly’s face lit up when she was pulled into his side, how he seemed more than pleased with himself holding onto her.

“You’re already doing that Rooster.” You force a laugh knowing just how unnatural it sounded.

“So, Y/N, Bradley was telling me about all the different places I should check out when I’m here.” She grinned looking up at him with her big brown doe eyes. You bit your lip forcing yourself to stay civil.

“Oh yeah? Like where?” You asked genuinely curious of what he had said to her.

“A few beaches, the museum, the base and didn’t you say something about a cliff?” She asked pulling on his arm getting him to look back to her. He obliged nodding his head like a little kid.

The cliff? Your cliff that only you and Rooster seemed to know about and made sure not to share with anybody? He mentioned your spot to her. It seemed as if the air had gotten knocked out of your lungs. You hadn’t defined that the cliff was your spot but neither of you brought it up to anybody else. It stung, it hurt, and you quite frankly didn’t know how to react. You fought the stupid hot tears that wanted to flood out of your eyes.

You set your halfway empty glass back down onto the table, harder than needed. Which of course caused both Carly and Rooster to look at you. You faked another smile and muttered, “Why doesn’t Rooster just show you?”

Bob sat back in his seat curiously watching the situation unfold before him. He noticed Carly light up at the suggestion again pulling on his arm, “That’s a great idea Y/N!”

You curled your lip fighting every damn emotion that wanted to spill out, “Chock full of them.”

Rooster laughed trying to ease the tension he could clearly see coming from you, “Are you sure Gigs? I don’t want to take time away from you and Carly.” He asked placing his hand on yours.

“Oh, I’m positive Bradley, go have so much fun.” The words came out just as bitterly as before. You were testing him, and he was failing you miserably. You knew it wasn’t exactly the fairest test. You weren’t communicating with him, you desperately wanted him to see what you were doing, but he didn’t see it.

“If you’re sure.” He tried to grab your hand again which you slid away just in time. You looked back up at Bob with the saddest eyes he’s sure seen. Again, you refused to look over at Rooster, you knew the waterworks would be out in full effect if you did.

“Mhmm.” You hummed chugging the rest of your beer, “I’m going to go.” You spoke more to Bob than to Carly and Rooster.

You quickly gathered your things and started walking to the door head full of every scenario imaginable. What if Rooster liked her? What if he decided to start dating her? You shuddered at the thought. Of course, it would be Carly to come swoop in and take him away from you. Carly was playing life on easy mode; she could get whoever she wanted whenever she wanted.

You made it about halfway to the door before realizing you drove Carly here. You sighed and turned around seeing Bob silently sitting there with his thoughts watching you while Rooster and Carly seemed very into whatever they were chatting about.

“Rooster.” You shouted not wanted to walk back over there and deal with it, “Bring Carly home. Or don’t, whatever.” You mumbled the last sentence, hoping he really didn’t hear what you had to say.

He gave you a thumbs up sending another kick to your stomach. Spinning around on your heel you beelined it for the door now. Once out of the bar the fresh air hit you like a ton of bricks, a few tears escaped. This really wasn’t how you thought this night would go. You thought Carly would be all over Hangman or one of the other pilots, not Rooster.

You hopped in your car mentally thanking yourself for parking on the opposite side of the bar, away from any windows. You sat there and let yourself cry it out. They were silent tears. You didn’t want to breakdown in the parking lot of the Hard Deck, but your emotions were simply getting the best of you now. You had to wonder why you were feeling this bad now, you’ve seen Roos flirt with hundreds of girls and take them back to his place, why did Carly freak you out so much?

You don’t know how long you sat there but it was long enough for you to hear a knock on your window. You almost jumped out of your seat looking over to see Bob standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“Bobby?” You asked while sniffling.

“Let me drive you home.”

You shook your head, “No, I…”

“Y/N.” He just looked at you. You let your shoulders fall before unbuckling yourself. You got out and moved yourself to the passenger’s side, letting Bob take the driver’s seat.

“Bob, I can really do this myself. I’ve done it a thousand times.”

He rolled his eyes while starting your car up, “I called your name three times Gigs, you’re not fine.”

“I am fine, I was just…”

“Thinking?” He interrupted seemingly agitated with your responses.

“Yeah Bobby, just thinking.” You hummed looking out the window.

The ride back to your place was mostly silent, just the radio chatter buzzing away. You weren’t sure what to say. Bob sure as hell didn’t know what to say. He simply observed two adults who clearly have feelings for each other continually put both of themselves in pain watching the other. It didn’t make sense to him. He was sure Rooster had feelings for you, deep feelings, although he’s never directly confirmed it. He also knew that you liked him, having finally admitting it to him.

He pulled up to your place off base, he didn’t live to far from you. He was planning on walking home and finding a ride back to the bar tomorrow. He couldn’t let you drive seeing how zoned out you were, how distraught you really looked. He had to wonder if this was a regular occurrence for you. He didn’t really see the longing in your eyes before tonight.

You started to get up, he realized he needed to say something quick, “Y/N, I’m not the best at giving advice. But I think you need to tell him. You’re tearing yourself apart over this.”

You turned away from him thinking for a moment, “What if he leaves me Bobby? I don’t think I could go on. I really don’t.” A fresh set of tears started making their way down your red cheeks. You turned back to him shaking your head.

“Hey Y/N.” He frowned seeing you look so small and broken. He was never good at this, women crying, it always overwhelmed him, “He would never leave you. He loves you.” Bobby squeezed your hand softly trying you to get you to understand what he saw day in and day out.

“I’ll think about it.” You mumbled finally opening your eyes to him.

He nodded with a smile on his face, “Good, that’s a start Gigs.”

You used your cardigan to wipe the tears off your face, “Thank you Bobby, for everything. Really, thank you.”

He gave you his genuine Bob smile, “Anytime Giggles.”

You smiled back at him remembering when you were ‘officially’ assigned your callsign. Rooster stood diagonally in front of you in drill. Every time the Captain would turn away, he would make a remarkably stupid face which made you laugh, a little too loudly. Your poor ass caught the end of Captain Warmack’s really bad day. You started giggling trying to hide your face, but Warmack caught you. He stood right in front of you, squatted down and started berating you. You had to take it, in front of the whole class. You were sure your face was as red as a cherry tomato. At the end of his yelling he said, “And all you do is giggle, giggle, giggle.” Sparking the callsign in Rooster’s head. He profusely apologized when you were dismissed and you shrugged him off telling him, “It took everything in me not to laugh Roos.” And the pair of you were cracking up. Officially earning your callsign Giggles. You didn’t hate it, but you certainly didn’t love it, you were growing to love it. Over time it got shortened down to Gigs, which you embraced whole heartedly. You were worried that the name made you seem weak, but it did the opposite, people saw you as approachable which gave you many opportunities over the years to show how good of a WSO you really were.

“Night Bobby.” You said as the two of you exited the car, “You can drive my car home if you want.”

He shook his head, “It’s a ten-minute walk, I might need you to drop me off at the Hard Deck tomorrow though.” He sheepishly grinned.

“Anything for you Bob.” You waved while entering your home. It wasn’t really your home; you were renting it out from a couple while you were here. You weren’t sure how much longer you would really be here anyway. The mission was over, half the squad was already reassigned. You knew your time was ending and it terrified you that you would be shipped away from Rooster yet again. The two of you had managed to get deployed together often but not every time. Your stomach was always in knots whenever you were due for reassignment, just hoping you’d be close to him.

You looked at the clock frowning seeing it was only 8, you really did plan on being out for a while longer. You decided on pampering yourself tonight seeing as that was the only thing that could get your mind off Carly and Rooster. You turned your phone to silent and set it by your bedside not wanting any distractions. You picked up your favorite book deciding a nice long soak in the tub was exactly what you needed. After spending far too much time soaking you decided to just read and go to sleep. Your eyes closed around 10 that night, failing to turn your phone over since you had gotten home.

What you didn’t see were the frantic texts from Rooster making sure you were okay. He has probably texted you 15 times between the time you left the bar and when he was dropping Carly off. You were clearly upset trying to play the whole thing off as nothing. So, he decided to text you to make sure you were alright. An hour passed and the conversation with Carly was fine. She was a beautiful woman, but she didn’t hold a straw to you. After the first hour he sent a few more texts, just hoping for a response but to no avail. He distracted himself by taking Carly down to the beach showing her a few things. He wasn’t really going to take her to the cliff, it kind of just spilled out when he was talking to her earlier.

After another few hours of faking it with Carly he decided that he needed to check on you. It was nearing 10 and you still hadn’t texted him back which sent a little terror through him. Once he pulled in, he let Carly know he was just going to talk to you. He walked in enjoying the smell of your home. It always smelled like lavender, just like you did. Rooster was sure Carly picked up in his disinterest, he wasn’t trying to blow the girl off he just needed to make sure you were okay.

You were sound asleep when you heard a soft knocking on your door. Annoyed you rolled back over willing yourself back to sleep, but the knocking wouldn’t stop, “I’m sleeping Carly.” You spoke softly hoping she would just go away.

“Not Carly.” Rooster’s voice spoke through the door.

You internally groaned not ready for whatever this was, “Yeah Roos?”

“Can I come in?” He asked leaning his entire body on your door.

“Sure.” You spoke while still laying down, not feeling like moving.

He quickly opened the door taking a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He smiled seeing you laying there, looking so peaceful. You were still clearly trying to wake yourself up.

Yawning your stretched out while Rooster took a seat on the other side of the bed, “What’s up Roos?” You rolled over turning your body to him fluttering your eyes, trying to keep them open.

He looked sad, “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“I haven’t looked at my phone since I left the bar.” You admitted, almost whispering. Is that why he was here?

“Really?” He asked looking anywhere but you, “I texted you a lot.” He sighed looking down at his hands.

You bit your cheek to stop the stupid grin that was going to give you away, “I’m sorry Bradley, I was just tired and… yeah just tired.” You stopped yourself from spilling everything, just tired, that was all.

“Are you okay?” He asked leaning back into your bed turning himself to face you now, far too close for your poor little heart to handle.

You nodded, “I’m fine.”

“You just seemed so upset at me when you left the bar.” He stated in an almost whisper matching your nervousness.

“Did I?” You asked softly deciding to break the eye contact you two were making.

“Mhmm. Really upset and if was something I did…”

“No, it wasn’t you Roos. It’s me. I just…” You stopped this time feeling the emotions coming back stronger than ever. Your throat tightened up and you could feel your stupid eyes beginning to water. You quickly flipped around so you were facing him anymore to take a deep breath. Again, this was perhaps the last thing you expected to happen to you tonight.

“Hey, hey, hey, come back to me Y/N. You can tell me anything, you know that.” He placed his warm hand on your shoulder squeezing it tightly drawing you back into the room.

“If I tell you what I want to tell you it could ruin everything Rooster.” You whispered letting a few tears fall.

He could tell you were crying. It nearly broke his heart in two. He hated when you cried, he hated the boys that would fuck with you and break you down. He couldn’t stand it. It freaked him knowing that he was likely the source of your tears, “You could never ruin anything Y/N. I promise.” He cooed still holding your shoulder tightly in his hand, afraid you would vanish if he let go.

Here goes nothing, “Bradley I…” You took a deep breath before continuing, “I was jealous tonight.” You closed your eyes waiting for him to respond, so afraid of what his reaction might be.

He didn’t respond right away which sent your mind into a million directions all at once. You felt him get up from his spot on the bed, finally letting your shoulder go. This was it, he was walking out on you. How could you be so stupid? How could you ruin the one good thing you had, the best thing in the world?

“Y/N,” You felt him pushing the hair away from your face catching you by surprise, “Please open your eyes.” He stated.

You obliged, sucking in a breath when you saw just how dangerously close he was to you now. He was squatting down to the floor. His head was level with yours.

He grinned seeing your eyes snap open, “There you are.” He spoke so softly. Continuing to brush the hair out of your face putting you into overdrive. You weren’t sure how to deal with the utter intimacy. Sure, you and Rooster were close, but this was so different. He was looking at you like you really were the only thing that mattered. His palm felt so warm against your face you were sure you were about to combust.

“Here I am.” You looked away from him again. This was something. Any sort of courage you had was gone. This was your Rooster, yet you couldn’t even look him in the eyes for more than a second.

He cocked his head ever so slightly waiting for you to continue. You took another deep breath making sure to avoid his face when you exhaled, he was so close to you just waiting. Waiting on you to make the next move.

“I wanted to be her Roos.” You took a gulp ready to let it all spill now, “I was so jealous when you wouldn’t take your eyes off her. When you pulled her close. I was a stupid jealous girl who didn’t and still doesn’t know how to say this.” You groaned in frustration eyeing him to see his reaction. He looked happy, content, almost thrilled at the admission, so you continued, “I… I like you, Rooster. I like you way more than best friend should and uhm I…” You faltered.

He placed a finger over your mouth smiling as big as you’ve ever seen him smile, “My turn. I love you, Y/N. Not just as a friend, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you.” He looked right at you. You were struggling to process his admission to you. He loved you. He was in love with you. Your heart couldn’t keep up with your mind that was spinning in a thousand different directions.

“You do?” You managed to squeak out in the mess your mind currently was.

He nodded with his big goofy grin taking your head in both of his hands, “I’m so fucking in love with you Y/N it hurts and jealousy is quite the look on you.”

“Oh, wow.” Is all you said before you started cracking up. The relief that flooded through your system was twenty times stronger than any adrenaline rush the Navy gave you. The laughter was one of sheer bliss. Like you were floating through clouds, and you never had to land. You were sure your smile reached all the way up past your eyes. You placed your hands over top of his, which were still cocooning your face.

He joined in as well. The relief of knowing how the other felt about each other was nothing like anything the pair had experienced before. After a few minutes of Rooster making you laugh harder you finally came down from the high you were experiencing. He had yet to release your head from his hands. This time not afraid you would disappear but in euphoria that you admitted your feelings, he wanted to touch you for forever.

The laughter died down and two idiots were left looking at one another just smiling, finally admitting what had been building up for literally a decade.

You hummed rubbing your thumb along the back of his hand noticing the chills the rose when you did so, “I think I love you to.” You nodded your head, “No, I do love you. I don’t think I do. I love you, Bradley.”

That was all it took for him to let go of your head, gently of course. He scooped you like you didn’t weigh a pound from your laying position and brought you close to him, bridal style, “I thought I’d never hear those words coming from those beautiful lips.”

You turned your head into his chest to hide the insane blush that was inevitably covering your entire face, “No, no, no, don’t hide that face from me beautiful.” You could feel him laughing as he held you in his arms.

“That’s not fair.” You turned your head to take another good look at him. Your Rooster. Your beautiful Rooster. Who was holding you so gently in his arms. You hugged him tightly not wanting to let him go this time feeling like this was all too good to be true.

He pulled you closer to him in response, “Penny for your thoughts?” He asked in response to your actions.

You shook your head, “I just don’t want to let you go Bradley.” You smiled looking up to him. So happy. You were sure this is the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. Your Bradley. You were going to get to tell him you loved him for forever and you really couldn’t wait. You were going to get to wake up next to him, when you weren’t off on missions, every day and you really didn’t want to wait, “Stay with me tonight?”

He nodded rocking you back in forth gently in his arms, “I’ll stay whenever you ask, whenever you need me to.”

Your smile got even bigger if that were even possible, “Can you kiss me now Bradley?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

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asimplearchivist · 10 months

Text

𝑪𝑯. 𝑰 — 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑶𝑵 𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑻𝒀.

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary 🕷️ ⤏ spider-woman of earth 928c is introduced to some unexpected visitors. pairing 🕷️ miguel o’hara/spider!reader word count 🕷️ 3.1k a/n 🕷️ ⤏ don't mind me, I'm just chasing a plot bunny. ⤏ this version of the rhino is from the spectacular spider-man universe because I’m self-indulgent and that’s still one of my favorite iterations of the character. I am also adlibbing this version of the 2099-verse because I only know what the wiki told me…and it wasn’t a whole lot. 🕷️ MASTERPOST 🕷️ 🕷️ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER 🕷️

Let’s review all this one last time, shall we?

“Hey, Rhino! You’ll have to try a bit harder than that to catch me!”

My name is—well, you already know that, don’t you?

A furious bellow set every hair on your body on edge. You hooked your feet on the lamppost and curled around it just in time to avoid the crushed taxi launched at your direction. The loan office it embedded itself into had been vacated when the scuffle started, thank God, as had the rest of the street’s occupants. You could hear police sirens several blocks over, trying to navigate the destruction the brute beast had left in his wake. You’d been trying to tire him out in the harsh summer sunlight—just as you had a couple of years prior.

I got bitten by an enhanced radioactive spider, and for the last five years, I’ve been the one—and only—Spider-Woman.

“You’ve really got to work on your aim, O’Hirn, I don’t know what to tell you,” you chided lightly, webbing the taxi and jumping down to swing it back at him. The metal husk caught him right in the chest, managing to knock him flat on his armored ass. “You’ve gotten a bit rusty since I last saw you.”

I’m sure you know the rest—I’ve saved countless people in Nueva York and have kept it intact. (Mostly.)

“I—don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!” he snarled, peeling himself out of the vehicle. “I never seen you before—d’you replace Spider-Man or somethin’?”

I lost my husband in a freak accident, I barely manage to keep my small business open, and sometimes I want for nothing more than to burn this suit and walk away from it all.

You raised a brow under your mask. “I’m afraid I’m the only resident web-slinger in this neck of the woods. Did you get your head bashed a little too hard while in the slammer?”

But I’ve learned that no matter how many times I get knocked down, shot at, blown up, stabbed, punched, kicked—you name it—I have to get up. Always.

The Rhino roared instead of opting to give a comprehensive answer to further the conversation, and you narrowly avoided getting impaled on his horn when he lunged. Latching onto the awning of the hotel across the street, you swung wide and squinted down at the mercenary as his momentum carried him directly into the rubble of the obliterated loan office.

I genuinely thought that I had seen it all: science experiments gone horribly wrong, villains of the week that would give horror writers a run for their money...weird-ass situations all around, and I’m weird.

Something…wasn’t right. Your spider sense had been ringing off the chart since he’d first galloped through the wall of your pharmacy demanding a fight—it was persistent and loud enough that it had given you a splitting headache by now. It hadn’t reacted this badly in several years, and you’d care not to think about the circumstances surrounding the last occasion.

But this…certainly took the cake.

This guy…wasn’t the Rhino you’d fought. You hadn’t even heard anything about the prison he’d been sent to being destroyed, or any of the inmates having made a miraculous escape, for that matter. He sounded different, acted different, looked different…not to mention the fact that this…imposter, or whoever he was, had a far more rudimentary armor than that of the first. It looked like a solid compound of some sort bound to his skin, rather than faulty nano-particles that had malfunctioned and locked themselves out of control at the time of its first reckless experimentation.

You’d know that better than anyone. Alchemax had been nothing but a source of perpetual pains in your ass ever since your husband died, the higher-ups far too hungry for imitation superhumans from a century prior to exercise caution or reason. They’d stop at nothing to get what they wanted, the common people they inevitably harmed be damned.

As the crumbling cinderblocks settled, you slipped down and landed lightly on the cracked sidewalk. You lamented the property damage of the entire block just as much as the fact that you were going to have to use your preferred pharmacy’s sister branch, all the way on the other side of the Hudson, and they always took days to refill your prescriptions even after you received the automated alert.

Computers. Damned with them, damned without them.

“Hey, O’Hirn?” you called into the cloud of dust slowly clearing in the mild breeze. “I don’t suppose you did my job for me and knocked yourself out, huh?”

This time, he charged without a sound. You tried to jump away with a yelp, your instincts screeching like a banshee, but his massive fist caught your ankle and slammed you down into the asphalt hard enough to crater around your frame. Winded, you only just caught his heel with both hands before he drove it directly into your chest cavity—you groaned with the strain of keeping his weight at bay, arms trembling with effort. You gasped for breath, eyes searching out his face despite the tears welling in your eyes (because damn that hurt), and twisted your wrist just enough to utilize the spinneret on the top of your wrist instead of in the bottom. The sickly sweet-smelling web nailed him right in the eye.

He stumbled back with a muffled shout, the silk having netted his entire head from the impact. You rolled out of the asphalt angel memorializing your clumsiness and away from his stomping feet, coughing and doing your best to ignore the pain lingering in your back and ribs.

“Got me there,” you wheezed, struggling to your feet. “Now I’m not going to play nice.”

“The hell is this stuff?” he shouted, finally tearing the object of offense free. “It reeks!”

“Something to help put you down for a nap,” you sighed, already threading the nearest dislodged fire hydrant. You waited in a tense crouch until he whirled on you and lowered his head to clock him in the knee.

He shook the ground when he dropped, howling while clutching the dislocated joint. Letting the hydrant loop over your head, you brought it harshly down on the opposite shoulder to incapacitate him further.

The ground swayed abruptly, and you staggered sidewise to keep from stumbling. The Rhino, despite his obvious agony, flashed you a shit-eating grin.

“Didn’t think about that, did’ya?” he goaded, before rearing his good fist back and driving it into the gaping crack in the concrete.

That entire section of the street caved into the sewer system below, and O’Hirn grabbed your ankle once more to drag you with him.

Rubble and unstable brickwork separated the pair of you, and you struggled to get your bearings even as it pinned you in place under running water (rather than actual sewage, thank God—it had taken months for the smell to leave your suit, even if the UMF had decontamination processes preprogrammed) like the odd little bug you really were.

Heart pounding, you clenched your jaw and shoved at the boulders blocking you in, fruitlessly at first—finally, finally they gave, and you surfaced with a ragged inhale.

Your entire body ached. You were going to have to deal with Alchemax soon, you really were, because your health insurance was definitely not going to cover a visit to the ER—your improved healing would still take a while to fix it, even if you were to gorge yourself like usual.

“Just be glad for no broken bones,” you muttered, peering up into the hazy sunlight streaming into the chasm Rhino had created. “Those hurt like a bitch.”

“I think I can help with that.”

You whipped around. “Oh, for the love of—”

Rhino’s fist nearly took your jaw clean off your skull with a dizzying roundhouse that sent you flying into what remained of the sewer’s wall. You collapsed on the service walk, biting your lip fiercely to keep the bubbling whimper firmly lodged in your chest. “Fuck, man, you couldn’t stand to be a gentleman, could you? That’s my good si—”

He cut off your tirade by clamping his fist around the back of your neck, dragging you into open air and glaring down his crooked nose at you.

Were you imagining things or was he…shaped differently than a normal person? Not even being a supervillain, he just…looked weird. Like, really weird.

Or…maybe it had to do with the fact that his fingers easily reached around to the front of your throat and were now squeezing hard enough to block your airway.

“I’ve about had enough of you,” he growled, grimacing as you grappled his arm in an attempt to release his grip. “You superheroes and your smart mouths. If the Big Man ever caught wind of another Spider hangin’ around, he’d blow a gasket.”

You had enough wherewithal to utilize your specialized webs once again, but even though you managed to cover his face again, he snatched your wrists and twisted them to the side to cut off the flow. He snarled and squeezed harder, though a small trickle of relief bypassed the growing panic of suffocating when he stumbled a little. His eyes were going crossed, it was working…

…but not quickly enough. You were fading fast, losing feeling in your fingers and toes, your hands and feet, your arms and legs…your heartbeat thrummed in your ears like a torn war drum, the only sound that followed the dizziness creeping into your consciousness.

Well…you supposed this was it. Definitely not the way you’d imagined going, but…your aunt would feed your cat. There were worse ways to go, certainly—you’d witnessed them firsthand. You just wish that you didn’t feel like such a failure, despite all your countless accomplishments and victories. None of it felt substantial. Not when you had failed to protect those most important to you.

Not when you’d lost your husband. Not when it should have been you.

Your body fell limp. You made one last effort to turn your head and bite the heel of the Rhino’s palm, but he only knocked the back of your head against the wall. You hardly felt it, really, only hearing your tapering pulse and the wailing ring of your spider sense.

“Fuck you,” you tried to rasp, but with no air to speak you only mouthed the words.

The Rhino had the audacity to laugh at that, glittering dark eyes eagerly watching yours steadily glaze over. He reached towards your chin, where he would find the seam of your mask.

Through darkening, blurry vision, you watched a maelstrom of crimson and gold bloom like an aurora over the Rhino’s massive shoulder, illuminating the damp maze of broken rock like neon on a rainy night. Your eyes drifted shut of their own accord as a shape sprinted forth from the vortex at breakneck speed. You hadn’t figured the afterlife would herald a six-foot bodybuilder in blue spandex, but, hey—who were you to complain about witnessing the epitome of masculinity at the time of death?

Listless, you barely recognized being dropped. You didn’t even realize the pressure had been released from your windpipe until your instincts kicked into overdrive. You inhaled so suddenly and so harshly, the burn was what startled you back into lucidity.

Sucking in precious oxygen, you propped your arms beneath your chest and lifted your impossibly heavy, throbbing head to stare in utter rapture as you witnessed what you’d accepted as a hallucination of the peak male figure proceed to kick Alexander O’Hirn’s ass into next week.

“What the hell?” you croaked, sagging into the floor.

The stranger was…lethal, really. Every punch and kick was delivered with frightening force and deadly accuracy. It wasn’t until he backflipped to avoid impalement into the sunlight that you saw the cross between a spider and skull motif caressing his rippling physique. Him then twisting his hands down and launching luminescent red threads to trip the beast mid-lunge only confused you further.

“You ready for the containment field?” called a second stranger—a woman this time—standing propped against an honest-to-God motorcycle in the mouth of the vortex.

The Rhino grabbed the webs and yanked hard. The man, to his credit, didn’t yelp as he was pulled off his feet and towards O’Hirn’s brandished horn.

You reacted before you could think.

Your web coiled around his midsection, and your braking pull slowed his momentum just enough to give him time to lift his foot and dig his heel into the Rhino’s left eye. They both careened into the heap of rubble and under the water.

You scrambled onto your feet, limping to the edge of the walk to peer into the murky depths. You were about to speak to the woman on the opposite side because you wanted to know exactly what in the actual hell that thing was, who they were, and why the hell were they both copying your design when the surface broke into a shower of droplets that speckled your suit. The man tumbled into a heap at your feet, dripping and coughing.

“I’d thank you for your help,” you panted in spite of your sore throat, “but I don’t think he’s down for the count quite yet.”

His head snapped towards you, and you saw the crimson frames surrounding the lenses of his own mask widen. He lurched upright, taking a full step away from you as though you’d tried to bite him. He towered over you easily, well over six foot (even past half?), and his musculature more than emphasized it.

“Hey, no hard feelings or anything, I appreciate the hand,” you said, raising placating palms to him. “I almost kicked the bucket back there, so I owe you—”

He whirled just as the Rhino surfaced from the deep, roaring in fury. His nose was bleeding profusely, but not from his nostrils—was that a bite mark across the bridge?

“Get back and let us handle it!” the man in the midnight suit snarled suddenly, and your heart stuttered.

Your mouth fell open as he launched himself forward, leaving gauges in the concrete where his feet had been planted. You watched, frozen and speechless, as he latched onto O’Hirn’s shoulders and spun him into a glowing red shibari presentation in less than ten seconds. The Rhino lost his footing and collapsed back into the water, though into the shallows. The woman tossed the man a device, and it bloomed into a forcefield that swallowed their fallen prey in a humming yellow cocoon.

“Oh.” You blinked, shut your mouth, and swallowed. “Wow. I need one of those.”

The stranger ignored you, stooping down and hefting the Rhino over his shoulder like he weighed a sack of potatoes.

You blinked rapidly before following his sloshing lumber across the canal. “Wait, wait a second, aren’t you going to—”

“We’ll take it from here, baby,” said the woman lightly, gesturing to the beast who had, oddly enough, fallen into a stiff stasis. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it,” you responded tersely, “because that is definitely not the Rhino of my world, you two are just as out of place as he is, and that looks an awful lot like a wormhole that is somehow not causing the known universe to collapse in on itself. Can I please get an explanation, since you both seem perfectly calm?”

The man growled under his breath, shaking his head, while the woman arched an appraising brow at him.

“That’s classified,” he ground out through gritted teeth, and your heart squeezed once more.

“Do either of you work for Alchemax?” you demanded hotly, skin pricking with agitation. “Because if this is another one of their freakshow experiments gone wrong, I am going to blow that place sky high, I swear—”

“We don’t work for Alchemax,” she soothed. She cast another glance at her cohort, eyes narrowing, before she refocused on you with a much kinder expression. “And we definitely have no other intention than getting this big guy back to where he belongs. We’re not your enemies.”

“Just leave it alone, Jess,” hissed the man in blue, resuming his steady pace towards the glowing, shifting maw of raw power. “We need to get back before the toxin wheres off.”

You couldn’t take that nagging feeling anymore.

“Tell me what the hell is going on!” you snapped, hoping the indignation in your voice disguised the fact that your throat was unbearably tight and a persistent sting blurred your sight. “You can’t just—”

He didn’t stop moving, didn’t even turn to face you—not really—just tilted his head to the side enough to regard you with disdain from the edge of his peripheral. You couldn’t see it, of course, nor his expression, but the disapproving drawl of his single-worded reply was enough—more than enough, and you realized that it sounded familiar. “No.”

“Wait, please!” you tried, (begged, more like, much to your chagrin—you hated it when your voice cracked), taking a step forward and trying to decide whether it was worth the risk to web him immobile after his rather impressive (and aggressive) display. “Miguel?”

The imposing figure went stock-still mid-step.

Your breath caught, your suddenly buoyant heart lodging itself firmly in the pit of your throat. He sagged in on himself for a moment, a deep, shaky inhale emphasizing the sheer mass of him—easily thrice your mass—and his ragged exhale was the only indication of weariness you’d observed thus far.

“It would be best,” he enunciated thickly, almost garbled, as though he spoke around a mouthful of gravel, “if you forgot about this encounter altogether, in the long run.”

All you were able to absorb in that split second before he stepped through the contorting portal and disappeared were the splashes of golden light accenting the sharp angle of his cheek and jawline, as well as the subtlest suggestion of a deeply furrowed brow beneath the glimmering material comprising his mask and suit alike—just like yours.

The other woman regarded you for a long moment, something like sympathy clear on her unguarded, unconcealed face. You opened your mouth to entreat her, likewise, desperate for answers when the former stranger had so blatantly refused explanation, but she merely shook her head slowly, reminding you of a gentle, maternal refusal. She, too, wheeled her bike into the portal and flickered out of view.

Then, inevitably, the portal itself dissipated into nothingness within the blink of an eye, as though you’d been hallucinating the entire thing. The tunnel was plunged into total darkness, save the wall of sunlight behind you.

You dropped to your knees, your chin sank into your sternum, and the particles of your mask receded so you could cradle your face in your hands. Hot, embittered tears dripped from your nose and splattered against the concrete, only the faintest suggestions of discoloration in your distorted vision.

Just like that, he was gone.

Again.

#fanfiction #reader insert #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara/reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderverse #fisara's codices #miguel o'hara x reader #mine #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #spider man: across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv

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