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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

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✧ 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 & 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 || hughes brothers ♔

album & song: 'more taylor' ; safe and sound (taylor's version)

summary: being sick calls for an immense amount of comfort frmo her brothers, so she’s upset when she gets sick again and they’re not there… well for long

pairings: hughes brothers x sister!reader

warnings: sick, throwing up, coughing up blood, blood, hospitals

published date: 12/17/23

notes: the second fic of the nhl x ts series! i couldn't help myself when i saw this so i had to write as fast as possible. i'm working on hey baby next, promise. also, i know this has the red album cover but because it's from the hunger games i just classified it as 'more taylor'. and as usual, anything hughes brothers i put my heart and soul into so i hope you guys enjoy this one. the grin is real. and if you're wondering, y/n got her nickname 'baby bear' because everyone always calls quinn 'huggy bear' and she's the baby and she's so much like quinn so 'baby bear' it was. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

more taylor masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

'I remember tears streaming down your face When I said I'll never let you go When all those shadows almost killed your light I remember you said don't leave me here alone But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight'

She was five when she got severely sick the first time and she was terrified. She woke up feeling warm and cold at the same time, her throat was scratchy and dry, and her eyes were watery but she didn’t know if it was because she was scared or if it was just a reaction, and her energy was slim to nonexistent which was scared Ellen and Jim.

By now, their sons would’ve scooped the youngest child out of her bedroom and made their way downstairs to watch something on TV or just play with her. Yet, it was dead silent in the house. Ellen got up from the bed and peeked into each of her son’s rooms and realized to find that they were just asleep still.

She hoped the same for her daughter but when she walked into the room and saw her five-year-old in tears sitting on her bed, she rushed over.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Mommy!” She let out a loud cry alarming Jim and he came rushing in as well, not noticing the eldest Hughes child in tow.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m here, your brothers are still sleeping, let’s not wake them up. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel good.” She sniffled and quieted her voice.

Ellen picked her up and placed her daughter on her lap as she sat down, “Jim go get the-”

Before she even finished, y/n leaned over and threw up, trying not to get it on Ellen, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, hon. Jim go get the thermometer.”

Jim quickly walked out of the room, heading to the bathroom but got stopped as he ran into his son, “Quinn! Morning.”

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Your sister’s sick, it’s probably nothing.”

Quinn’s face went pale, “Is she okay? Does she have a fever? Is she throwing up?”

“Quinn! Calm down. I promise you, it’s probably just a little cold. You can go see her if you want, Mom is in there with her.”

Quinn walked into the room to see Ellen hugging y/n. He took one step and Ellen turned to him, “Hi, Quinn.”

“How is she?”

“It’s most likely just a cold. Y/n/n, look who’s here.” She directed her head to her son and pointed to him, “Quinny!”

She reached her arms out for him and Quinn gladly took her, placing her on his hip, “Hi baby bear.”

“I no feel good, Quinny.” Quinn nodded his head, “I know but we’re gonna make you feel better, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Jim walked back into the room, placing the thermometer under the girl’s tongue. Seconds later it beeped and Jim took it out of her mount, “40.6/104”

The parents sigh and start to walk out, “Quinn if you don’t mind can you get her ready quickly, we’re gonna need to go to the hospital.”

Quinn nodded his head and he walked over to his sister’s closet, “Whatcha wanna wear, sweetheart?” Y/n lazily pointed to her brown bear sweatshirt and snuggled her head back into her brother’s chest. Quinn got her ready and sat her on her bed so he could put her shoes on.

“Quinny?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Are you going to leave me?”

“Of course, not y/n/n. I’m never going to let you go.”

Jack and Luke had both heard the rustling from outside their rooms and they both stepped out into the hallway, “What’s going on?”

Jack shrugged, “No clue, bro. I’m so tired.” The boy saw his sister’s door open and walked in there.

By now, Quinn was sitting on her bed and y/n was lying in his arms, “What’s going on?”

“She’s sick.” Jack and Luke immediately wake up at the news and rush over, spitting out questions left and right.

“She’s got a fever but that’s all I know right now. Mom and Dad are taking her to the hospital.”

“The hospital?!”

“I wanna go.” Luke protests just as their parents walk back into the room, fully dressed, “Oh, good morning you two.”

“Can we go with?”

“Guys, the three of you can’t come with.”

“Please, mommy.” Y/n’s little voice spoke up from her brother’s lap.

Ellen sighed, “Fine. But if you guys aren’t out there in five minutes, dressed, then we’re leaving without you.”

Ellen reached over and grabbed her daughter, the three of them heading out to the car to wait for their sons.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

In the hospital, Jim and Ellen were the only ones allowed to go back with her at least for now, and y/n let her voice be heard. She cried and cried until they relented and let one of them go back with the two. She reached for Quinn immediately and he nodded his head and followed behind his mom and sister, Jim staying with the other two.

When they got home, the boys sat at the kitchen table as Jim tried to give y/n her medicine, “I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t want to, honey, but you have to. Don’t you want to feel better?”

“Jacky.”

Jack’s head popped up from where he sat and looked at her, “Yeah?”

Y/n pointed to her medicine and then to Jack and glared, “You want Jack to give you your medicine?”

She nodded with purpose and Jim happily gave the medicine to his middle son, “All yours, Jack.”

Jack didn’t complain, it meant that she trusted him and he loved that feeling. Jack poured the liquid into the small cup to the correct fill line and put it near his sister’s mouth. She took it without a hassle and from the corner of his eyes he could see his father throw his hands up in defeat causing everyone to chuckle.

✧༺✎༻∞

'Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound'

Later that night, y/n lay in bed by herself, looking at the wall. Her stomach hurt and she let out a barely audible whine. Luke, who happened to be walking by heard it and peeked his head into the room, “You doing okay, baby bear?”

“No.”

Luke walked fully into the room and sat on his little sister’s bed, “What’s wrong?”

“Stomach. Will you stay with me?”

“Of course, I will.” Luke laid down next to her and she curled into him, “Thank you.”

Luke looked confused, “For what?”

“For making me feel safe. All three of you.”

Luke awed internally, trying not to let tears fall down his face, “No need to thank me for that.”

Five minutes passed and Jack and Quinn got down waiting for their brother, getting up to see where he was. When they saw him lying in y/n’s bed, they made their way over to them, “You guys okay?”

There was no answer as both of them had fallen asleep. Quinn told Jack to stay there as he walked out to grab some pillows and blankets and brought them back to him. The two made their makeshift beds on the ground and fell asleep not long after.

✧༺✎༻∞

'Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire The war outside our door keeps raging on Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone’

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound'

Ever since then, it was common that y/n had to go to the hospital. As the boys got older, they got more worried. They were busier, Quinn went to college and eventually, he and Jack made the NHL. Luke went off to college and this year he started his official rookie season with the Devils.

However, it wasn’t as often that it happened when they were away, and if it did it wasn’t as bad as having to go to the hospital, just more or less the doctor’s office. They weren’t as worried about her when this happened, getting texts from either there or their parents and calling them to make sure she was okay.

This time was different. Ellen and Jim had run out to grab a few things for dinner and they left y/n at home alone, because she was 16 and was capable of being by herself. Yet, in hindsight, they probably shouldn't have.

They had been gone for twenty minutes already and she thought they wouldn’t be much longer and she could hold on. But she couldn’t. Every couple of minutes it felt like she had a coughing attack, but this last one, blood came up with it.

Wasting no time she dialed the first person that came up on her contacts, Luke.

“Lukey.”

“Hey, y/n/n! What’s up?”

She was glad they didn’t have a game today, otherwise she’d be totally screwed.

“Lukey, I’m scared.”

“You’re scared? Why? What’s wrong?” Luke stood up from his bed and made his way out of his room and towards Jack’s.

He didn’t knock on the door before entering which left Jack to somewhat argue with him about knocking before entering, not that he was doing anything, but manners, you know?

“It’s so bad. Really bad.”

“Well, where’s mom and dad? How bad are we talking?” Jack’s interest peaked at the mention of his parents and scrambled to sit next to his younger brother on his bed, motioning for him to put it on speaker. Luke pressed the button and pulled his phone away from his ear, waiting for the girl to talk.

“They went out to grab-” She took a pause before coughing some more. Jack and Luke looked at each other worriedly, “Y/n?”

“Oh god. There’s more.”

“More what?” Jack inquired, nervousness settling at the bottom of his stomach, “More blood.”

The three were silent, y/n trying not to freak out and Jack and Luke trying not to freak her out. It was quiet for a couple of minutes before the oldest of the three-spoke up, “When are Mom and Dad going to be home?”

As soon as she went to say her answer the front door clicked and y/n rushed downstairs, “Dad! Mom!”

She threw her phone on the counter and Luke turned the volume all the way up in an effort to hear the conversation, “What? What’s wrong?”

“I threw up some blood.”

“Oh my. Get in the car, I’ll meet you two there.” Jim rushed y/n to the car and Ellen ran around the house gathering a few things in case they were there for a while.

Jack and Luke were freaking out, “Dad, what’s going on? Mom? Y/n?” Ellen spied her daughter’s phone on the counter and looked at it curiously seeing her son’s contact name on it, “Luke?”

“Mom, what is happening?”

“We’re taking her to the hospital. How long ago did she call you?”

“I don’t know like five minutes ago maybe?” Luke’s voice broke as he explained to his mom, Jack placing a hand on his back.

“I want you to call, Quinn-”

“No!” Y/n interrupted her mom as she got into the passenger seat, “What do you mean no?”

“He has a game, please.”

“Honey, I think you are more important to him than the game. Let Luke and Jack call him.” Ellen’s voice was stern as Jim pulled out of the driveway.

“If you’re gonna call him let me talk to him.”

Ellen, and the boys, went to protest but y/n’s face showed desperation, “Fine. We’ll call you two back when we have answers.”

“Don’t bother. We’re already packing.”

As Ellen and y/n were squabbling, Jack ushered his younger brother to his room and told him to go back and he left his phone in his room. Jack pulled his suitcase out of his closet and was halfway finished packing when they acknowledged the two again.

“There’s no need-”

“You’re not winning this y/n/n. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Jack hung up and finished packing meeting Luke and in ten minutes, they were on their way to the airport.

Meanwhile, y/n had dialed Quinn’s contact, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. It was an hour before the game was supposed to start and she had no idea if he would actually answer or not, but to her luck, he did.

“Quinn.”

“Hey, y/n/n. What's up? Need help with some homework?”

“I’m going to the hospital.”

Quinn dropped his stick as he stood in the locker room, some of his teammates glancing at him worriedly, “What is it?”

“Same old, same old, but this-” Her sentence was interrupted by another coughing attack and Quinn could hear their mother telling her to take it easy in the background.

“What do you mean it’s worse?” Quinn didn’t need her to finish the sentence for him to know what she meant.

Elias was standing next to him, a hand on his shoulder to ground him in case anything got out of hand, “I coughed up some blood.”

“You what?!” Quinn’s voice echoed through the clubhouse, “Quinn what’s wrong?”

The boy shushed his teammates, “Quinn, I’m probably fine-”

“If you’re coughing up blood you are not fine. Do Mom and Dad know? Do Jack and Luke?”

“Yes, Mom and Dad know, you idiot. Who do you think is taking me to the hospital? And yes the other two know, I already called them. I didn’t want to call you because you have a game.”

“I couldn’t care less about the game when my little sister calls and tells me she’s on the way to the hospital. Let me talk to coach, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Quinn, no-”

“Nope, la la la la. Blah blah blah. I’m coming. Give the phone to mom.”

“But-”

“No.”

Y/n reluctantly handed the phone to her mom but as she extended her hand, her arm dropped and the phone clattered to the ground. The only thing Quinn could hear was the faint yelling of his sister’s name from his mom.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Y/n was lying in the hospital bed when Jack and Luke, watched the only show that was on this late at night, Family Feud. She was trying to answer but every time she went to speak she’d start coughing. The two ran in just as y/n’s previous coughing attack had subsided and she was now glaring at the TV because someone said a stupid answer.

“I said sex first, asshole. But no one wanted to listen to me.”

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Jacky! Lu!” Y/n had a dopey smile on her face as she saw her brothers. They couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or if she was just being herself.

“Hey, baby bear. How you feeling?”

“Mom, can I swear?”

Jack laughed, “Aren’t you the one who just called someone an asshole?”

“Mom! Jack’s being mean.”

“Jack stop torturing your sister and yes, y/n, you can swear.”

“I feel like shit.” Luke nodded, the only one who seemed to have sympathy for the girl right now, “What did the doctor say?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.”

Ellen and Jim explained how it wasn’t a big thing and that she should be able to go home in a couple of hours or so. The two stayed with her until she was discharged and drove home with the three where Luke carried her upstairs to her room because she fell asleep on the way home.

That’s where Quinn found them when he got there, Jack and Luke on either side of her in her bed as they watched the Game Show Network. One of the many stuffed animals that Quinn had gotten her wrapped in her arms against her chest.

“Hey guys.”

“Quinn! You’re here.”

“Of course, I’m here. I couldn’t let those two take care of you.”

Jack and Luke feigned offense at the eldest child but Jack moved over so Quinn could sit where he previously was, knowing y/n always chose to be close to him when she was sick.

“You doing okay?”

“Could be better, but I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m never letting you go, none of us are.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

It was something the three had already talked about, they had already talked to their coaches and were scratched from their next couple of games because their sister needed him.

Y/n spent the rest of the night surrounded by her brothers feeling safe and sound.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

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gentlyweeps-world · 4 months

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Brownies?

summary: You experience a bad high with Lando.

pairing: lando norris x reader

warnings: edibles, weed, getting high, throwing up

You knew Lando used weed, you knew he used it as a form of stress relief, you didn’t care, as long as he didn’t do anything stupid.

You had never done it- use weed or anything. Sure you’ve had alcohol but that was the extent.

For New Years Eve you and Lando had gone out to a club, drinking and having fun before the New Year.

You two left the club when it had officially became the New Year, giggling and being all touchy as you take an Uber home.

“Hey baby? Do you want to do something fun..” Lando mumbles out, leaning up on his elbows on your guys bed.

You raise your eyebrows at his suggestion, pulling off your clubbing outfit and pulling on one of Landos shirts.

“Depends on what this fun is..” You say with a smile, moving next to him on the bed.

“I have these edibles- I don’t really use them because they’re really strong, would you want to split one?” He says, moving on his side to face you as he reaches out a hand to play with your hair.

“Hmm sure why not..” You say with a soft smile, leaning into his touch. “Alright I’ll be right back..” He murmurs out, moving off the bed and out of the bedroom.

A few moments later he comes in with a brownie that’s cut in half, “Where have you been hiding those?” You hum out, moving as Lando gets back into bed and hands you one of the pieces.

“Back of the freezer, I know you never look back there..” He replies with a grin, watching you take the piece and eat it in one go, Lando follows suit, cuddling up next to you after.

“Hmm how long do they take to set in?” You ask, reaching out on of your hands to play with his curls.

“Uhhh thirty minutes? I’ll put on a movie or something” He says, reaching over to your bedside table to grab the TV remote, putting on a random movie.

An hour had passed, it didn’t feel like anything had set in, not until in a middle of a conversation everything felt like a dream.

“Wait Lando- did that conversation happen? I feel really tingly..” You say, starting to panic as the effects set in.

“Hey- hey it’s okay, it’s just the weed” He replies, snaking an arm around you to pull you into him.

“I feel like my heart beat is really fast- this is weird” You say, fidgeting around as everything starts to feel like it’s in third person.

“I don’t like it Lan- make it stop..”

Lando wraps his arms around you, moving you so you’re in his lap. “Hey it’s okay Y/n, baby I’m here, you’re safe with me..” Lando says, giving you a squeeze.

“I feel like I’m having a heart attack- Lando is this normal?” You whimper out, clutching at his shirt, body shaking.

“Yes baby, it’s okay, that’s all normal, it’s okay I swear..” Lando coos out, moving you two so that you guys are cuddling.

You quietly lay there in his arms, your world slowly turning into a dream- time going by slow.

“I feel like I’m out of control..” You whisper out, leaning into his warmth.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t know how much was in those brownies…” Lando softly says, rubbing his hand on your arm.

“You’ll be okay Y/n…” Lando reassures quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I think- I think I might throw up..” You mumble out, don’t throw up, don’t throw up, you hate throw up Y/n! You think to yourself, slowly moving out of bed and into the bathroom, hunching over the toilet as you dry heave.

You could hear the grumbling from your stomach, and the build up of everything you consumed that day crawling up your throat.

Just as you hunch over to throw up Lando rushes to your side to pull back your hair, “It’s okay Y/n, let it all out baby..” He soothes, rubbing circles into your back with his free hand as you throw up.

You let out a groan, moving away from the toilet you lean against the wall. “Can I get something to wipe my face..?” You mumble out, peeking open your eyes just enough to meet the worried face of Lando.

“Sure baby, of course..” He says, rushing to grab a rag for you and a glass of water.

He comes back and wipes your face for you, handing you the water he sits next to you and laces your fingers together, rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb.

You quickly grab the cup of water and chug it down, leaning onto Lando’s side. “Why do people like that?” You groan out.

“Well usually it’s different- it is your first time and it was probably too much for you..” Lando says with a soft smile and chuckle.

“Then how come you’re taking it so much better than I am..” You pout out, looking into his equally red eyes.

“I’ve done it more than you- and I know the symptoms..” He says with a grin, “You’ll feel better after you sleep baby..” He adds on, pressing one more kiss to your forehead.

Even if everything was still spinning, you had Lando to anchor yourself.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: Just a little idea I had. Send in any requests 💙

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spider-stark · 10 months

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A DARK AGE

next part

summary - it's been nine months since you watched your best friend, gwen stacy, plummet to her death; an event that ultimately caused new york's hero to abandon the city entirely. now that he's finally returned you find yourself being forced to confront the ugly truth you've been running from.

series warnings - 18+, minors DNI, will contain depictions of violence, sexual content, dark themes, and more. i will do my best to place warnings at the beginning of each chapter, but please read at your own risk.

word count - 10.3k

// a dark tasm!fan fiction // masterlist // send me your thoughts //

THE BUGLE was buzzing to life in a way it hadn’t in ages. Landlines were ringing off the hook, accentuated by a chorus of email and text notifications crying out from every cell phone in the building. As you stepped out of the elevator you found yourself staring at a sea of amateur reporters, all of them gathering on the far side of the office around a television set.

You clutched the coffee in your hand tighter to keep it from spilling as a young man accidentally bumped into you, quickly moving to join the herd of his peers. You shot him a nasty look, ignoring the swift apology he muttered out as he continued to rush past you.

Despite your intrigue at the collective panic of your coworkers, you didn’t bother moving to join them around the TV. Instead, you walked the clear opposite direction, making a beeline for the office of the only man in New York City that you trusted to know exactly what all of this fuss was about.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Workplace etiquette had flown out the window for you a long time ago. Reporters didn’t have time for benevolence.

“They’re acting like rowdy animals out there. Foswell is running around the office like he’s in a goddamn marathon! Nearly gave me a third degree burn trying to get past me.”

A vehement grunt was the first thing to leave Jameson’s mouth, which constituted a typical greeting for him. Following it was the shrill squeak of his old office chair as he spun around to face you. “Haven’t seen the news, y/l/n?”

You furrowed your brows. “We are the news.”

Another noise of discontent, followed by a hand coming up to rub viciously at his eyes. If you had learned anything during your time at the Bugle, it was that Jameson was always upset, which meant that you rarely found his vexed appearance very concerning. Yet, despite that, you couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was off.

“The Daily Globe.” The name of the Bugle’s biggest competitor slipped past his lips like a slur, Jameson’s lip curling as if it had somehow left a bad taste in his mouth. “Some jackass at the station leaked info to them before they even got the crime scene taped off. Bushkin had everything plastered on their front page this morning before most of us even had time to pour a bowl of Special fucking K!”

“What crime scene?”

His hand dropped from his face down to his lap, shooting daggers straight at you. “You’re a reporter, y/l/n! Check the fucking headlines for once in your life!”

“Sorry,” you sneered at him, “some of us actually have a life outside of work.”

Of everyone at the Bugle, you were the only one with the authority (and the audacity) to backtalk Jameson and actually live to tell the tale. It was a perk of being his top investigative reporter, one that you never let go to waste.

If anyone else dared to get snarky with him, he’d likely send a paperweight flying at their head. But, since it was you, he only responded to your comment with a dry chuckle—primarily because he was aware that you were lying through your teeth.

The Bugle was all that was left of your life, the one remaining piece after you had lost everything nine months ago. Jameson knew how fresh the wound still was, how hard you fought to ignore what you’d gone through, and so he elected not to make an actual comment on your remark; a subtle indication that the crotchety man actually did have a heart.

“Remember Aleksei Sytsevich?”

You nodded, patience already growing thin as you waited for him to finally just tell you what happened. At this point you were beginning to think you would have been better off to gather around the TV with the rookies. “Of course I remember him,” you told him, “I’m the one that wrote the story on him hijacking that Oscorp truck last year. He goes by the Rhino now, right?”

Each of you formed your own twisted expressions at the name Sytsevich had picked for himself. The name was fitting given the military grade battlesuit he’d managed to snag from Oscorp, but it was a tad too on the nose for your taste. It lacked creativity, though neither of you really expected anything better to come from the former Russian mafia leader.

“Sometime last night he was found in an alley off 102nd.” Jameson declared, following you with his eyes as you moved towards his desk, taking a seat in one of the old chairs that sat in front of it. “Beaten to a goddamn bloody pulp.”

Your nose scrunched up slightly.

If it were anyone other than Sytsevich that had been left to bleed out in the dead of the night, you might have felt a bit of sympathy for them. But, instead, you only felt hopeful that Jameson would confirm the question that already fell past your lips, “He’s dead?”

It was cruel to wish death on anyone. You should have felt guilty for the way your chest swelled with hope as you waited for Jameson to reply, but you didn’t. New York was running short on heroes these days, which meant that more and more criminals had begun to use that to their advantage, making a hobby out of terrorizing the innocent.

Sytsevich had already escaped the Vault once, the so-called impenetrable prison, which meant that sending him back to jail was all but useless. But death? Not even Sytsevich would be able to crawl back from that.

“No.”

Your heart nearly sank, and you could tell that the sentiment was shared by Jameson, who looked equally as disappointed. After all of the innocent lives Sytsevich had claimed, he deserved to be put six feet under.

“Not yet, at least.” He clarified, “As soon as they noticed a pulse they had him life-flighted to North General. Good news is that they don’t think he’s gonna make it through the weekend.”

You snorted at Jameson’s execution of the comment, as well as the childlike joy that seemed to twinkle in his eyes as he thought about the possibility of Sytsevich finally being gone for good. Still, you could tell that there was more. That he hadn’t quite told you the full story.

While the impending death of a former mafia leader was quite a story, there was little chance that it had been enough to piss Jameson off so much that the Daily Globe got word of it first.

Criminals die every day, especially in a city like this. It was hardly front page material.

“So you mean to tell me that the world is in hysteria all because Sytsevich is about to kick the bucket?” You questioned him, nudging your head in the direction of his office door, encouraging him to acknowledge his frantic employees as they paced the office floor.

“It sucks that the Globe got to it first, but we should be celebrating!” As demented as it might seem, it was true. “But instead you’re in here wallowing as if we just missed out on the story of the year.”

The joy that he had felt just moments ago was now extinguished entirely, replaced with an expression that carried far more weight.

“You’re right. Sytsevich dying an excruciating death would be a fucking fit from a God I don’t believe in, y/l/n.” His forehead creased, thin lines appearing between his brows as he pressed a button on the laptop in front of him, tapping a few keys before turning the screen around to face you. “But the story isn’t just about his death—it’s about who killed him.”

A wave of shock slammed into you like a ton of bricks, hard enough that it made you lose your grip on the disposable cup in your hand, the contents of it staining the old carpet that lined Jameson’s office. Neither of you paid any mind to the mess and you became consumed by the headline on the homepage of the Daily Globes website.

SPIDER-MAN RETURNS - BRUTALLY ATTACKS ESCAPED CRIMINAL

Your eyes grew wide, air getting caught in your lungs as you worked to keep yourself from vomiting right on Jameson’s desk.

“No.” The word slipped out from under your breath without approval, a flash of pity washing over Jameson’s face as he took in your reaction. He had expected it, though, aware that of every reporter in New York, you would likely have the most intense response to the news.

But your shock quickly began to morph into something more closely resembling rage. “There’s no way, right? Spider-Man’s been awol for months, J! They really expect us to think that out of every enemy Sytsevich has made that Spider-Man would be to one to fucking kill him? It’s bullshit! They’re just trying to get eyes on their shitty paper!”

Jameson’s brows raised, clearly agreeing with the sentiment. He was never one to miss an opportunity to slam the Globe. “Normally I’d agree with you,” he mused, turning the laptop back around, “but the NYPD confirmed that Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/l/n. It doesn’t look good.”

Your blood ran cold, turning to ice in your veins. Darkness started to take over your peripheral vision, threatening to consume the entire space around you. Images flashed through your head—asphalt painted with thick blood, bones snapping, his gruesome screams—it was a past that you had fought so hard to put behind you, only for it to now creep back up on you.

You instinctively clutched the bag at your side, half debating reaching inside for the little orange bottle you hadn’t touched in months. You restrained yourself though, terrified to feel as if you needed to rely on the pills again. Things were getting better.

“Spider-Man’s not a murderer.” Your voice was so hesitant, so uncertain, and it made it difficult to tell who the statement was meant to convince, Jameson or yourself.

Jameson’s shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug as he leaned back in the rickety chair, the plastic creaking at the shift of his weight. You were aware of his stance on Spider-Man, but even he had never considered the possibility of the vigilante committing something like this.

“No, he isn’t.” He agreed with you, evoking a bit of shock. “But he’s about to be. He’s the only one that can be linked to the crime scene. If Sytsevich dies—and it’s only a matter of time—then Spider-Man’s the one going down for it.”

Your mind was reeling, yet your body remained motionless, your gaze fixed onto the floor. Coffee still leaked from your cup, forming a sizable stain that only grew with every second that passed. You didn’t care.

It had been months since anyone had last seen Spider-Man, and during that time, New York had already begun to turn on him. Citizens hadn’t yet forgotten their debt to him, the countless times in which he’d nearly laid his life down for the city, but that didn’t mean that many hadn’t grown to resent him.

They had been abandoned by their hero, left to question if he was even still alive. And if this was how he returned? A killer?

“It’ll turn into a man-hunt.”

There was no other outcome for it, you both knew that much. Since his disappearance, an eerie sense of unrest had settled in the streets. Spider-Man’s absence had created a whole slew of problems, things that the NYPD weren’t equipped to handle. Hope had already become such a precarious thing, and if it were confirmed that their lost hero had abandoned his own code of ethics? It would destroy all that's left. It would unleash pure chaos.

It would be the dawn of a new age.

A dark age.

“Maybe.” He was being cautious with his approach, aware that this topic had the ability to turn you into little more than a ticking time bomb. “Still, there’s not any cold hard proof that he was the one to send Sytsevich to his death bed. All they know for certain is that he was at the crime scene.”

It was strange to hear those words from Jameson, crafted as a defense for the vigilante he swore to hate. If anything, that only increased your already heightened level of fear.

Of everyone in the world, you would have never imagined that Jonah J. Jameson would be willing to testify that Spider-Man was innocent in anything.

“I already told Urich to assemble a team, get out on the streets, and start finding some real proof. I’ve got a source at North General giving me hourly updates on Sytsevich, but we still don’t have much time to put together a story.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your face contorting into a sour expression as you flung out of your chair, ignoring everything about his statement except for one detail.

“Fuck Urich!” You screamed loud enough that more than a few heads turned from outside Jameson’s office, a few of them now attempting to eavesdrop as the conversation became heated. “This is my story, J.”

He sucked in a deep breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d anticipated this reaction too.

“No, y/l/n, it’s not!” Jameson’s own voice boomed, easily rivaling yours in volume. You didn’t so much as flinch. “Last time you chased a story with that Spider-fuck you nearly died! You’re staying away, got it?”

You gritted your teeth, taking another step towards his desk, closing in on him. “You said it yourself J, we’re running out of time, right? You need someone that knows what they’re dealing with. Urich doesn’t have any connections to Spider-Man! I do!”

Somehow you believed that preaching these facts to Jameson would change his mind, as if he didn’t already know about your past encounters with the hero, like he wasn’t the one that published the stories you had done on him.

“I’m one of the last people to even see him alive, J!” You reminded him, finally letting your tone drop back to a normal volume as you continued, “Urich might be able to snoop around a crime scene, but I’m the only one with a chance of getting an actual statement from him.”

Both of you knew that your claim was a bit far-fetched. If this were last year, getting a statement from Spider-Man would have been a piece of cake for you. But now?

It was different.

Either way, Jameson didn’t seem willing to budge. “A statement isn’t worth losing my best reporter.”

If the circumstances were different you likely would’ve teased him for the comment, for making it so obvious that you were one of the only things to matter more to Jonah J. Jameson than a story.

“Fine.” You snapped, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you challenged him. “Then I quit.”

His face blanched. “You what?”

“I’ll pursue the story on my own. Get a detailed fucking statement from Spider-Man—a few pictures, too.” You crossed your arms over your chest, entirely unwavering as you held his gaze. “Then I’ll sell it to the Globe.”

Jameson’s face turned beet red, his eyes narrowing at your threat. “Don’t be stupid. You’d need an entire team to go after a story this big.”

You mocked the lazy shrug he had offered just moments ago. “No, Urich needs a team. All I need is a few hours and some phone calls.”

Ben Urich would need access to several of the Bugle’s best reporters in order to conduct enough research to even know where to begin. Aside from that, you and Jameson both knew that one of the best potential sources for this story layed beyond the gates of Ravencroft—and Jameson would have a hell of a time trying to get authorization for an interview with any of their prisoners.

But you?

You could get in with a simple phone call.

“This isn’t a game, y/l/n.” Jameson cautioned. “The night Spider-Man disappeared—when I got that call from the hospital—I thought you were gonna be dead, y/ln.”

A pang of guilt shot through your chest and he reminded you of that night. When you arrived in the emergency room they had tried to call your emergency contacts—but you knew they wouldn’t answer, that they were the reason you were even there. Jameson was the only one that answered, the only one to show up.

You knew how much guilt he still faced for pushing you to chase another Spider-Man story, for encouraging you to get closer to the vigilante, only for it to land you in a hospital bed with several broken bones and a grade three concussion.

Sometimes you wished that you could tell him it wasn’t his fault. That you were already in too deep, long before you had started chasing another story, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. But you couldn’t.

“If you take this story then you’re putting yourself at risk. Again. You’ll be destroying everything you’ve worked for.”

Blood pooling, bones snapping, his screams echoing.

You bit your cheek until you tasted crimson, shoving the hellish thoughts from your mind. “Are you gonna take Urich off the story or not?”

Jameson’s shoulders immediately slouched, his disappointment evident as the corners of his mouth turned downwards. But he knew you—too well, which meant he knew that nothing would stop you from following this story.

So, against his better judgment, he straightened his posture and tried to mask his own emotions, but you could still tell how much it had hurt him to mutter out the word—“Fine.”

You didn’t plan on waiting around long enough to hear anything else he might have to say, already turning on your heel and aiming for the door, knowing that it was best to leave before he changed his mind altogether. Still, just before the door slammed closed behind you, you heard him speak.

“Your funeral.”

His snide comment left a bad taste in your mouth, pungent and unpalatable, but you did your best to ignore it. There wasn’t any time to comprehend the gravity of his statement, to consider just how close you had come to death last time.

If Jameson was right about anything, it was that time was of the essence. The sooner Spider-Man could be proven innocent the better.

So instead of dwelling on it and risking uprooting your past trauma, you shoved your way through the crammed newsroom, coming to a halt only when you could plant yourself at the edge of Urich’s desk. He looked up at you through his thickly-rimmed glasses, brows knitting together.

“This your team?” You asked him, an idle finger pointing to the crew of unfamiliar faces that surrounded the desk.

Urich gave a stiff nod.

“Great.” The smile you gave was sickening, filled with misplaced animosity. You scanned over the group, your gaze ultimately settling on the figure directly to his left, a somewhat tall woman with neatly bobbed hair. Out of everyone, she was the only one armed with a pencil and notepad, having taken note of his every word. “What’s your name?”

The women seemed stunned, her voice shaking the tiniest bit as she responded. “Betty. Betty Brant.”

“Nice to meet you Ms. Brant.” Your tone was much milder when speaking to Brant, though it quickly turned harsh again as you shifted your attention back to Urich. “I’m taking over the story. Jameson already gave me clearance, so please, if you plan on whining about it, keep it between the two of you, mkay?”

Urich’s usually squinty eyes suddenly widened behind his lenses, thin lines settling into his forehead. He didn’t even have time to open his mouth in protest before you had already cut him off.

“Anyone who isn’t Brant can get out of my face. I don’t have a use for you.” A dismissive hand was waved at the small crowd, although none of them bothered to move more than a few feet away, too interested in eavesdropping to venture any further.

“And, um, what is it that you’d like me to do?” Betty Brant was quite the apprehensive woman, her lack of confidence shining through in quite literally everything she did. She was new to this, that much was obvious, but you still found yourself with some sort of intuitive faith in the girl.

“I need you to track down some information for me.”

A pit suddenly grew in your stomach as it dawned on you that this would be the first time you had so much as uttered his name since that night. He had essentially become a ghost to you, capable of haunting every corner of your mind without ever reentering your life. It was easier that way, though. Avoiding him had been the best way to recover from him; even if that meant treating his name like a curse.

You took a deep breath, garnering every ounce of strength you had left to ensure your voice wouldn’t crack. “I need a way to get into contact with Peter Parker. He used to work here, but the number we have on file isn’t in service anymore.”

Once.

In the nine months since it happened, you had only tried to call him once. With the phone pressed to your face you had already prepared yourself to hear the dial tone go on for ages, fully aware that he’d just let it go to voicemail. He didn’t want to talk to you—he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But, instead, you were greeted by a prerecorded message saying the number had been disconnected.

And that was the closest you ever got to a goodbye from Peter.

“Parker?” Urich finally got a word out. “What’s he gotta do with this?”

You didn’t have any intention of offering him a detailed explanation, your back already turned to him as you spoke over your shoulder. “He’s the only one to ever get a clear shot of Spider-Man. If everything goes as planned, I’m gonna need his skillset.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth. Regardless, it was the best defense you had for needing a way to contact Peter; one that wouldn’t raise any suspicions. If anything, you would have preferred to start your hunt for information with Peter, because then you would’ve been able to avoid Ravencroft altogether. But, unfortunately, Peter was little more than a dead end right now.

“Jameson has my number–get it from him and text me as soon as you have a lead!”

It was the last order you barked before disappearing into the elevator, quick to rush off to the first destination on your list. You had to get moving, at least until you could find a way to talk to Peter, which meant you needed to start gathering the names of anyone who might’ve actually wanted Sytsevich dead.

Unfortunately, that meant hailing a taxi to Westchester County and digging up another ghost from your past.

You hastily pressed the button for the ground floor, your other hand already delving into your bag, grabbing your phone and dialing the number that had called you many times over the past months; a number you rarely answered.

“Hi, this is y/n y/l/n calling,” a weight settled deep within your stomach, accompanied by a shiver running down your spine as you forced yourself to speak, “could I speak with Leonard Samson? I would like to take him up on his visitation offer. Please tell him that I want to speak with Harry Osborn as soon as possible.”

The Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane was not for the faint of heart.

At first glance, most would consider it a fine establishment. The ornate iron gates lining the property seek to paint a picture of elegance, while the impenetrable stone walls offer those on the outside a sense of security—serving as a silent oath that those on the other side can’t get out.

While technically labeled a prison, Ravencroft always insists that they place treatment above punishment for those incarcerated here. They pushed this motto, staff members regularly appearing on the local news to preach of mercy and remission; despite the fact that no one committed to the facility had ever made it out alive.

Ravencroft’s prisoners weren’t always as willing to keep up the facility's pristine public image though, well known for spitting in the face of that ‘guise of elegance they’d worked to build. It was because of their sharp tongues that Ravencroft rarely let reporters past the front gates, petrified of what they might learn from those on the inside, worried that someone might get the chance to uncover their true nature; or worse, expose their unlawful ways of curing the prisoners.

You were the only reporter to ever be invited onto the property, even if it was under special circumstances.

“Truth be told, I was shocked to hear you called!” Director Samson confessed. His tone always rubbed you the wrong way, always coming off as far too exuberant for a man in charge of a psychiatric facility for criminals. “What’s it been, five months? Six, perhaps, since we last spoke?”

“Seven.” You noted, sporting a rather sardonic smile. He didn’t seem to notice your ill-intent.

“Well, either way, it had been far too long!” He chortled to himself, a chorus of keys clanking against his hip as he led you down another winding hallway.

Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating the immaculate white linoleum beneath your feet. The smell of bleach was incredibly pungent, burning your nostrils with every breath you took. You did your best not to breathe at all.

“You’ve been checking your email, yes?” Director Samson was a few long strides ahead of you, moving at a pace you couldn’t manage to keep up with. “When you stopped answering your cell, I decided to have my secretary begin forwarding you all of our notes from his treatment sessions. It’s pivotal that you’ve stayed up-to-date on his progress, especially if you finally plan on becoming an active role in his recovery!”

You braced yourself for the tainted oxygen that would fill your lungs as you lied, “Of course. Even gave them a quick review on the ride over.”

In the seven months that you had been dodging Samson’s calls, you had never once opened any of the emails from his secretary. You always saw them come through though, and you always found yourself staring at the subject line for just a moment too long.

Patient #121394 - Progress Report

It made you sick sometimes, the way he had been reduced to a number. Other times, you were thankful for it. It helped to create a divide in your head, allowing you to create some sort of separation between who he was and who he is. Harry Osborn was your friend. Patient #121394 stabbed you in the back.

Regardless, you could never actually make yourself read them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to delete them, stashing one-hundred and eighty-four daily progress reports from Ravencroft into a separate folder, out of sight but kept on hand, just in case you ever needed them.

You weren’t sure why you ever would.

“Good, good!” He chirped loudly, both of you now approaching a large armored door. It didn’t match the rest of the hallway, the rusted surface polluting the otherwise pure white space.

Your attention was pulled away from it as Director Samson spun on his toe, index finger suddenly wagging in your face, your eyes growing wide as you tried to lean back a few inches. His nails were a touch overgrown, caked with a substance you didn’t recognize. Describing him as eccentric would be kind, although disconcerting fit him better.

“You must promise me something before you speak with him!” He sputtered out. You did your best not to flinch as his saliva spewed onto your face. “I understand you may have felt a need to…” his head bobbed side to side, squinting as he considered his wording, “distance yourself from Mr Osborn. That is why I did my best to respect your need for space the past several months-”

Ah yes–you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to laugh in his face–calling bi-weekly and sending daily emails is clearly a sign of respecting someone’s wish to be uninvolved.

“But!” He shouted out, his rotten nails now close enough that you could smell whatever laid beneath them. “If you cross this threshold,” his hand moved to the large door behind him, offering you a chance to swallow back the bile building in your throat, “you cannot abandon him again, Ms. y/l/n. Progress is a volatile thing, especially for the damaged souls that call Ravencroft home. I need to know that you’re prepared to devote yourself to Mr. Osborn’s treatment.”

Abandon him—the claim was enough to make your blood boil. You wanted to scream at him, remind him of what had happened that night, remind him that you were the one who had been abandoned. You wanted to turn around, to leave and never step foot in this cursed building ever again.

If you did that, then maybe you could keep lying to yourself. Harry Osborn could remain your former friend, one of the few crumbs you had left of the life you so desperately wanted back. He could be innocent, and Patient #121394 could be the murderer.

“Well Director Samson, I can assure you that I have absolutely no intentions to abandon him!” The mask you put on was sickly sweet, more than palatable enough to hide the animosity behind it.

His bug-eyed stare remained locked onto you, unnerving and wild. “You must promise.”

“Okay,” A sigh managed to slip out, quickly covered by your response, “I promise.”

He instantly relaxed at the vow, easily returning to the childish ebullience he’d displayed previously. You wondered how he would react if he had noticed the hand behind your back, if he knew your fingers were crossed as you spoke.

Abandonment was a much kinder fate than Harry Osborn deserved, so you were certain that if a higher power existed, they would forgive you for breaking your promise to Director Samson.

Metal jingled about as he removed the keys from his belt loop, somehow knowing exactly which one to grab from the couple dozen crowded the thick ring they hung on.

“Now, please, do your best to remember the rules!” He began unlocking the various deadbolts on the door. “All patients in the visitation area will be secured to his or her station, for your safety as well as theirs. Under no circumstances should you touch any of the patients. Should you notice a patient is acting out of sorts, please remain calm and notify the warden-”

You already knew the do’s and don’ts of visiting prisoners, having interviewed several of the inhabitants at Ryker’s Island for the Bugle, and so you found yourself droning him out entirely, watching as he moved from one lock to another, until he finally reached the last one.

“Most importantly, do not forget that this time is meant to inspire and encourage your loved ones to continue on their new path towards righteousness!” He displayed a toothy grin, cavity filled and displeasing. In return you offered a much less prominent smile. “And please, when you’re done with your chitter-chatter, come by my office. I would love to discuss next steps with you!”

You gave a curt nod, aware that you would not be doing that. Interacting with Samson was enough to drain even the most extroverted people, which was one of the many reasons you’d stopped returning his calls only two months into Harry’s sentence.

He viewed you as a valuable tool for curing Harry—mentally, at least. His actual disease was of little interest to Samson, his physical health naught in comparison to his damaged mind. Harry had no next of kin, which meant all of Samson’s hopes had been placed onto you. He believed in order to cure Harry’s mind, he needed the assistance of someone who was dear to him, someone to act as a tether to his sanity.

Director Samson also believed that the venom Harry injected into his veins was the cause for his self-proclaimed insanity. This told you all you needed to know about the Director; he was clueless.

You knew the truth. After all, you were the one that had fed his lawyers the story and loaded them up with all the evidence they’d need in order to paint a picture for the jury, illustrating Harry Osborn’s mental descent. It was you that had convinced them to make him swallow his pride and take the insanity plea—your final act of kindness towards Harry.

The clunky metal door groaned profusely as Director Samson pushed it open, heavy enough that it required him to use both hands and the majority of his body weight. Once it was open, he bowed in a particularly odd manner, motioning you into the room with a dramatic flair that made you nauseous. More than anything in the world, you couldn’t wait to never see him again.

The small space you walked into had distracted you from Samon’s bizarre attitude, immediately taking note of them in case you ever felt like breaching Samson’s trust and writing a story on Ravencroft.

First–it didn’t share the same suffocating scent as the hallway, the smell of chemical cleaners having completely vanished. You took advantage of this, letting your chest expand with several deep breaths. Your nostrils no longer burned, however this came with a price, this room much grimier than the rest of the facility. It didn’t shock you.

Second–there was nothing white in here, a stark contrast from the unsoiled appearance of the never ending hallway you took to get here. This room truly felt like a prison, despite Ravencroft’s insistence that they were far from that. Muted shades of chipped paint coated the walls, the floors nothing more than poured cement.

And, finally, third–no one, and you truly meant absolutely no one, appeared as if they were on the road to recovery.

To your left there was a red-headed girl chained to a metal bar fastened to the wall. A bit of drool dribbled down her chin, her eyelids drooping as if she had been drugged. On your right was a boy no older than nineteen, handcuffed to his chair and left with nothing to do except stare at the floor beneath his feet.

They looked miserable, and you almost felt bad for sticking Harry in a place like this.

Almost.

Behind you the door shut with a crash, the symphony of locks clicking back into place. Your heart rate spiked as you realized you were now trapped in here with them, taking a glance at the warden. He was a burly man, yet the only weapon he had on him was a baton, lazily stuffed into his waistband. It only added to your growing apprehension.

Anxiety, you reminded yourself through gritted teeth, is another thing reporters don’t have time for.

Each second brought you closer to Sytsevich’s impending death, which meant you didn’t have time to waste on fear. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier, still feeling as if you were frozen in place, wishing that they hadn’t made you leave your bag in the main office.

If Brant had managed to find a number for Peter then you could just skip this whole mess, go straight to the source and get hard proof that he was innocent… but it was too late to turn around now.

You were already here.

In the furthest corner of the room you saw a steel table, placed directly in front of the patient’s only source of natural light—an incredibly small window, armed with thick black bars. Your heart lurched as your gaze settled on the table's only occupant. Even with his back turned, you could still recognize him.

Lifting just one foot had been the hardest part, terror pricking your bones as the single step caused one of the patients to whip their head around towards you.

He was an enormous man, standing several inches over six feet with muscles that rivaled the Hulk. Fortunately, you didn’t hold his attention for long, hesitantly watching as he went back to staring at the old-style television set that had been stuffed in the corner. Static painted the screen, and every once in a while the large man would give a swift hit to its side, making the other patients flinch. The warden didn’t stop him.

Each step after that was rushed, an attempt to get out of his line of sight. He was restrained, as were all of them, but he still filled you with a sense of unease. When you finally reached the table and quickly slipped into one of the metal chairs, eyes still darting about prudently, you heard the patient sitting across from you laugh.

You had thought the terror seeping into your veins had been intolerable, but it was no match for the misplaced grief that fought to consume you at the sound of his voice. It simultaneously sent chills down your spine and relaxed every muscle in your body, a paradox of a reaction that only the living dead could possibly provide.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He drawled, leaving you hanging onto every syllable. “My new friends scare you?”

A bit.

“Hardly.” You snapped back a bit faster than intended. Beneath the table you clenched your fists, fingernails prodding into the soft flesh of your palms.

Stay calm. Hide your weaknesses.

You were disappointed with yourself, your inability to mask your discomfort, especially here. A penitentiary wasn’t the best place to rollover, and you knew that the moment you fucked up and showed your underbelly you’d be as good as dead. You needed to be better. You needed to be incomprehensible.

“You look well.” You spoke again before he’d have the chance to beat you to it, determined to be the one holding the reins in this conversation. “I’m shocked.”

It truly wasn’t meant as a slight though the scoff you received in response made it clear that he’d taken it as one. It was God’s honest truth though; you hadn’t expected him to look as good as he did.

Last time you saw Harry Osborn was when the venom had already invaded his bloodstream, transforming him into something near unrecognizable. That was the Harry Osborn you had been expecting to see today. A nightmare, a killer, a monster.

Instead, you found yourself looking directly into the cerulean gaze of a boy you had mourned for nearly a year. There were subtle differences; the natural dark pigment of his hair still hadn’t returned, leaving it a dusty shade of brown, and the disease that fought relentlessly to claim his life had spread, a scaly patch of skin taking over his cheek bone.

But, for the most part, he looked like himself. He looked like Harry.

And that simple fact was almost enough to break you.

“Wow, less than a minute in and you’re already spitting out back-handed compliments.” Harry's mouth twitched into a smirk. “You sure know how to greet an old friend.”

Was he antagonizing you on purpose? Or was he simply delusional? Either way, you only offered him a tight smile, “We’re not friends.”

You had no way of knowing if your words actually had any effect on him. Having been raised in the limelight meant that Harry had years of practice in maintaining his composure, always working to maintain the Osborn image. You had never been good at reading Harry, and that’s how he liked it. Like most powerful men, he enjoyed keeping secrets.

“Aren’t we though?” He countered, a swift tug at the reins, an effort to regain some semblance of control.

Your jaw clenched. “Not anymore.”

Harry leaned forward a touch, those menacing eyes glistening as his palms remained flat against the cold steel, secured there by thick cuffs. “You think I don’t know what you did? That I don’t know who fed my lawyers all that bullshit about childhood abuse and disease warping my mind?”

That bullshit had saved his life. Forced the jury to see him as more than another twisted villain, coerced them into feeling some sort of sympathy for Harry. By no means was Ravencroft comparable the the fucking Four Seasons, but it was far better than the alternative. Without the insanity plea, Harry was on a quick path to Ryker’s Island—a place you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

“You’re right. I gave them everything they needed to build your case.” There was no use in denying it. The recounts of the trauma his father had inflicted on him were too detailed, too intimate, and Harry knew only three people in this world had access to that information. Himself, you, and Norman; and the latter was already dead. “But not because we’re friends.”

He cocked a brow at you, once again leaning back into the uncomfortable metal chair. “Then why bother?”

“Because I’m not like you.”

And you wholeheartedly believed that. Caring about him had nothing to do with your choice to try and spare his life, your decision to aid Gwen’s murderer.

“A rich boy like you wouldn’t last a single day in Ryker’s. Those guys would’ve eaten you alive.” You asserted, the only physical sign of the anger coursing through you being your flared pupils. You were in control. “I had an opportunity to save your life, so I took it. Not because of friendship,” the word tasted acidic, burning as it rolled off your tongue, “but because I’m a good person—better than you ever were.”

It wasn’t until you were done talking that you realized how desperate you had been for the declaration to cut him. You only recognized it afterwards, irritation flooding you as he remained perfectly still, seeming entirely unphased.

Then after a moment of nothing, he sighed. Not out of annoyance, not out of sadness. Instead, it seemed to be out of pure boredom, which only made your irritation towards him grow.

“Guess that means you’re not here to help with my treatment, huh?” He said it like a joke, as if he too thought he was incapable of redemption and found this whole thing to be a waste of time. “Samson’s gonna be so disappointed when he finds out.”

“You’re right, I’m not here to help you.” you confirmed, sucking in a deep breath and biting back at your pride, “But you’re gonna help me.”

His brows snapped up—a reaction, subtle, but there nonetheless. “And why would I do that? I mean, you already made it clear that we’re not friends. So why should I do anything for you?”

“I’ll keep coming here. Participating in whatever stupid shit Samson has planned, keep acting like I wanna help you get better.” You sneered, eyes rolling. People like Harry Osborn were incapable of better. “There’s gotta be something for you to gain in all of that, right? Some sort of reward for making progress. If you’re lucky then maybe they’ll give you more playtime with your little buddies or something.”

Your gaze flicked over his shoulder, once again landing on the enormous man that had noticed you earlier. He was still beating against the side of the television, the thumping of his palm against thick plastic echoing through the room. No one seemed to mind the noise.

“Besides,” you continued while shifting your focus back to Harry, “you owe me.”

He did owe you—him and Peter both—but pulling that card made you sound desperate, like you had truly run out of options and were now using everything left in your arsenal to sway him.

But that was the point.

It was a calculated move, entirely deliberate, right down to the doe-eyed glance you shamelessly flashed at him, feigning a moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t rolled over, hadn’t exposed your weak points, but you wanted him to believe you did.

There were certain benefits that came with knowing Harry—who he used to be. You knew about his insatiable desire to be needed by someone, to feel wanted. There had been a time in which you wouldn’t have dared to exploit the trauma that desire stemmed from, but things were different now.

Even when armed with his stoic mask, you could tell that you had hit your mark perfectly. He remained silent, considering your words. A rational part of him was likely screaming to tell you no, to send you out of Ravencroft without so much as a second glance. Odds were that he knew this was an attempt to manipulate him, to play at the side of his that ached to be essential to another.

But Harry Osborn wasn’t known for making rational decisions. He was rarely driven to act by his near-genius level IQ, instead always finding himself a victim to the gnawing pain in his chest; and you were banking on that.

Then, it happened.

For a moment—mere seconds, at most—the mask slipped. A single muscle twitched in his jaw, his nose wrinkling the slightest touch. The shift in his demeanor was so subtle, yet so apparent to you. Having once been so close to him, you’d all but trained yourself to detect the moments in which his arrogance would melt into something far more innocent. You used to crave those moments; live for them, even. It felt like an honor to witness the side of Harry in which he fought to keep locked away, a side he tried to ignore.

Now, though, you felt almost nothing.

Harry finally let out a gruff sound, his tongue darting along his chapped bottom lip. “You’re here about Peter, aren’t you?”

You were careful not to outwardly react. “You’ve seen the news?”

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Not everyday the city hails Spider-Man a murderer.”

He said the vigilante’s name like a curse, as if it were the dirtiest word he’s ever spoken. It was laced with a bone-chilling sense of contempt, one that only deepened your resentment towards Harry. You didn’t like it—the way he spoke as if he had a right to hate Peter. After everything Harry had done, after everything he’d taken—your nails dug deeper into your palms as you fought to keep your eyes peeled. terrified that if you so much as blinked you’d catch a glimpse of Harry’s sins. That you’d catch a glimpse of her.

“Are you gonna help or not?” You struggled to stay composed, his brows raised in amusement at the snipped statement.

An unfortunate oversight in your plan had been in failing to acknowledge that Harry knew you just as well as you’d known him. It didn’t matter if you rolled over, because you were already exposed. He knew that Peter was a soft spot for you, that he had always been a soft spot, and all he had to do in order to push you over the edge was jab a little harder at that unhealed wound.

Surprisingly, he chose to leave it alone.

“You’ll come four times a week. Minimum.”

You fought the urge to grin at his demands, aware that it meant the rational side of him had lost.

“Twice a week.” You countered.

“Make it three.” He almost sounded pitiful, coming off more like he was begging than demanding. It caught you off guard to hear him sound so desperate, and for a moment you wondered if he had turned the tables; if he was now manipulating you, playing on your emotions and trying to make you feel bad for the loneliness Ravencroft had inflicted upon him.

But there was something about the look in his eyes, how transparent they suddenly seemed, that made you feel like this hadn’t been done with nefarious intent. His desperation was genuine, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that.

“Fine.” You agreed, aware that you didn’t have time to negotiate with him all day. You had a story to write, and in order to create a solid defense for Spider-Man—for Peter, you’d need help. You’d need a culprit, someone that had a motive to kill Sytsevich. “Deal?”

Harry grinned, that same arrogant and flashy sort of grin you’d seen him give heiresses and models. You always wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile, to be the one he was trying to win over, but now it only made your stomach sink. “How can I be of service?”

“Do you know anyone who might want Sytsevich dead?” You decided to be blunt with the question, keeping your voice low.

“Uh, yeah. Try the entire Soviet Union. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like he made a real fucking mess of things when he left Russia.” Harry noted.

“O-kay,” you drawled, “what about locally? People talk in prison, yeah? If somebody was planning something you would’ve heard about it.”

His nose scrunched up. “What do you think happens in prison? That we all just get together like it’s a slumber party and swap hit lists?”

You didn’t bother responding, not verbally, at least. Instead, you opted for shooting him a sharp glare. It didn’t phase him.

“Look,” he glanced towards the warden, scooting forwards a touch once he noticed the negligent guard had become distracted by his phone, “a guy like Sytsevich doesn’t go down without a good fight, alright? I saw the blueprints for that armor he wears, right before the board locked me out of Oscorp’s systems. I know what it’s capable of. Most people wouldn’t even have a chance to get a hit in, let alone send him to the hospital.”

“Perfect,” you snapped, his eyes widening slightly, “if you know what his armor is capable of then you should know who would be strong enough to take him on.”

Harry scoffed at the simplicity of your deduction, “Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea, actually.”

You gritted your teeth, aware of where he was heading. “It wasn’t Peter.”

“How’re you so sure?” He asked you, a thin crease settling between his brows as he glowered at you. “I know you like to fixate on my fuck-ups in favor of avoiding his but you were there that night, y/n!”

The banging sound of the prisoner’s palm colliding against the side of the thick television kept the guard from hearing Harry’s raised voice.

“He wouldn’t kill Sytsevich.” You held firm in your beliefs, even as your gaze faltered and fell away from Harry’s, settling on the surface of the table.

Bang.

“He almost killed me!” His voice was consumed with bitterness, with pain.

“And you killed her.”

Was that truly a good defense? Had Harry’s sins somehow absolved Peter’s? A life for a life—the logic behind the sentiment was skewed and you didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to venture into the memories you’d fought so hard to block out. Your stomach suddenly became taut, unwilling to face the question you didn’t want answered.

“You know what he’s capable of.” He pressed further, still leaned in close, as if trying to close the gap between you both, the shackles securing him to the table preventing him from doing just that. “Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/n. Don’t be dense-”

Bang.

“Peter isn’t a murderer, Har!” You hissed through your teeth—too overstimulated to notice the pet name slip from your mouth and too livid to care.

He went to argue the statement when another bang sounded out against the side of the television, this one finally powerful enough to knock some life back into the formerly deceased device. Your eyes darted in it’s direction, Harry’s neck snapping around to do the same as you both listened to the hum of the static clear, a female voice breaking through.

“-just moments ago we received word from the NYPD that former Russian mafia member Aleksei “the Rhino” Sytsevich passed away less than an hour ago. Sources from North General hospital confirmed that Sytsevich’s condition began to rapidly worsen, until he eventually gave in to the fatal wounds sustained in last night's mysterious assault.”

The tautness in your stomach grew stronger, a wave of nausea settling over you as the organ began to tie itself in knots.

“Chief Davis with the NYPD will be holding a press conference this afternoon, however officials have already confirmed that there is now an active warrant out calling for Spider-Man’s arrest. Individuals with any information on New York’s fallen hero are being asked to call the number displayed on the bottom of the screen, and police advise citizens to avoid their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man at all costs-”

Harry twisted back around to face you, cautious and uncertain as he met your stare. He almost appeared concerned—not about the news, not about Peter, but about you. The corner of his mouth twitched downward, forced to watch as your face blanched, mind reeling.

It’s not too late. There’s still a chance. He can still be proven innocent. A warrant doesn’t mean jackshit.

The metal legs of your chair screeched against the ground as you pushed yourself back from the table, “I need to go.”

Harry’s wrists pulled against the shackles that held him in place, instinctively reaching towards you, as if he’d nearly forgotten they were even there. “Wait!”

Against your better judgment, you listened to him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. You needed to go. You need to contact the Bugle, needed to see if Brant had found a number for Peter. As much as you hated to admit it, Ravencroft had wound up being a deadend, and you needed to keep moving—but you just didn’t. You stayed, staring back at a boy you once knew, waiting for him.

You always waited for them—Harry and Peter both.

“You’re not-...” he hesitated, blinking and shaking his head as he debated whether or not he should even continue, if it would even make a difference. “You’re not going to see him, are you?”

“Of course I am!” You ignored the groan that escaped his parted lips. “You’ve been fucking useless, so Peter is all I’ve got left. He didn’t kill Sytsevich, alright? But he was at the scene. He’s gotta have some idea as to who did this.”

It was obvious that the offhand insult had stung, evident by the way he winced as you launched it at him. You nearly found yourself apologizing for it, but decided against it as you watched him quickly stiffen back up, always refusing to wear his pain so blatantly. Norman had trained him well, drilling into his head that weakness wasn’t a part of the Osborn way.

“Don’t get involved.”

Your stare narrowed. What he offered hadn’t been a recommendation, rather a demand. “They’ll hunt him down, Harry! If the police convince the entire city that Spider-Man’s a murderer? The city will turn into a fucking disaster. I’m not gonna let him go through that alone.”

“You could get yourself killed!” Harry barked back, clearly indifferent to whether or not Peter suffered alone. You found yourself laughing in response, finding humor in his attempt to show concern for your life.

“It’s Peter.” You stated plainly, devoid of any emotion as you rose to your feet. Harry’s head tilted upwards, following you with his eyes. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

“Remind me again who saved you that night.” His jaw clenched, his tone turning callous as he decided to prod at the old wounds. “Cause it sure as hell wasn’t Spider-Man.”

Your fists balled up tighter, blood beginning to seep from your palms and pooling beneath your nails. You zoned in on the stinging sensation, digging deeper into your flesh, using the pain as a tether to keep you from slipping too deep into your own subconscious. You didn’t have time to think about that night. You didn’t have fucking time.

So you bottled up the thousands of thoughts running rampant in your head, biting your tongue instead of allowing yourself to spit anymore insults at him. He’s not worth it–you tried to tell yourself, starting towards the warden–it won’t change anything.

“y/n!” He growled as you moved past him, electing to ignore him entirely. He thrust his arms against the shackles again, rattling the thick metal and grunting as they tightened around his wrists. You were just a little over a foot away when he spoke again, “Don’t fucking tell him you know!”

You paused, suddenly feeling as if your feet had been cemented to the floor. You cursed yourself as you responded, refusing to look back at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you talked to him since that night?” He asked.

“No.” You chewed on your bottom lip, ignoring the abrupt pang in your chest. “I haven’t.”

“Okay. Great. Then he doesn’t know for sure what you saw that night. That you saw him without the mask, that you know he’s Spider-Man.” He was talking uncharacteristically fast, as if he was worried you’d leave before he’d get the words out quick enough. “So don’t tell him.”

You frowned, shifting to the side, now looking at him through your peripheral. “Why?”

“Because.” Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fending off the growing headache that this situation had brought on. “As far as he knows, I’m his only loose end. The only one that knows who he really is.”

Your chest tightened as you realized what was happening. Since walking into Ravencroft, you’d concerned yourself so heavily with keeping your guard up, with guarding your weakest points—only for Harry to be the one to rollover. He was exposing his hand, and you found it unsettling, especially when you realized that there was no selfish intent behind his words.

Harry had nothing to lose in this situation.

Except for you—his friend.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s not a murderer. But if he did kill Sytsevich? Anyone who knows about Spider-Man’s secret identity is gonna have a huge fucking target on their back.” His eyes remained closed, drawing in a shaky breath before he continued, “So please,” his voice shook, desperation lacing each syllable, “just–don’t tell him, okay?”

Goosebumps arose on your forearms, unable to hide from the fear that radiated off of him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find an ulterior motive for the statement. There was no clear sign of manipulation, no indication that he wanted to do anything other than protect you; and that made you feel sick.

You had long since buried Harry Osborn, having told yourself countless times that two of your friends died that night. For two-hundred-and-seven days you had mourned both of them.

With every fiber of your being you had believed that the arrogant boy that had weaseled his way into your life was gone, having been replaced with a malevolent monster.

But now you could feel him.

It no longer felt as if you had just been staring at his corpse, but rather as if someone had actually breathed life back into him, offering you a glimpse of what still remained.

It caused the tiniest spark of hope to ignite within you, a spark that you would do your damndest to extinguish.

Harry Osborn was better off dead.

“Our deal’s off.” You asserted, cold and uncaring. His eyes shot open again, a desolate expression washing over him. He didn’t try to conceal it, didn’t bother to adjust the mask he always wore. “You gave me absolutely nothing, so I’m not obligated to hold up my end.”

Harry’s lips parted as if he were going to protest, as if he were going to do something—but nothing came out, and you hadn’t expected him to find the words, anyways. Try as you might, the three of you had never been capable of such candor; never willing to shine a light on the darkest corners of your minds, too scared of the risks that came with exposing what laid beneath the surface.

You couldn’t help but think there was something poetic about it; the melancholy cord that bound you to Harry and Peter. How you were all fated to don matching wounds, but always be too afraid to admit to one another that you were bleeding.

Sometimes you wanted to show them the stains on your hands, the red that you could never scrub off. You wondered if it would have made a difference, if maybe then the three of you could have bore the weight of it all together, rather than crumbling beneath the pressure.

But none of that mattered anymore.

None of you were the same anymore.

And so you gritted your teeth and held your head high, letting the blood continue to collect under your nails, hiding it from his view. You took a heavy breath, your chest heaving beneath all of the pain you chose to carry.

“Coming here was a mistake.”

It was the only thing left to say, the only other admission you’d let slip past your lips. It hung in the air between the two of you, resonating with each of you in an entirely different manner, knowing that you’d never share your own interpretation with the other.

Harry didn’t respond, choosing to drown in his silence, having grown used to watching people walk away from him. And you forced yourself to leave, choking on the remnants of your own grief; having grown used to abandoning what you once loved.

a/n - ah, so it's definitely not june BUT i did post it finally! i've put a lot of time and effort into this fic cause i do just genuinely love the idea of it and it brings me a lot of joy lol. with that being said, it takes a ton of effort for me to write it because i'm putting in a lot of little details, so updates on this won't be the quickest, especially while i'm taking summer classes!! but i'll be doing my best! please feel free to leave comments, opinions, etc. and look forward to getting loads of peter content in the next part! also feel free to check out THIS if you want to see an edit of the newspaper headline!

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somber-sapphic · 10 months

Note

Was wondering if I would be ok to request a sick reader with Wandanat where readers just come out of surgery (could be for anything, like injured on a mission, wisdom teeth etc) and they’re kind of loopy still, not really sure if it counts as a sick fix though so I don’t mind if it’s not your thing 😅

A Little Less Wisdom

〖Notes: Okay, I had my wisdom teeth out a few months ago and I thought I'd be funny after waking up. NO. I just cried. I cried a lot. And then I got confused and hit my ride home. It was a long day.〗

〖Summary: You need your wisdom teeth out.〗

〖Word Count: 1320〗

〖Pairing: Wandanat x Sick Reader〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Out of all of the problems you could face as a superhero, ‘impacted wisdom teeth’ was never on your list. It hadn’t even crossed your mind; it just wasn’t something you’d ever believed that you’d need to worry about. Maybe there was a part of you that considered the possibility, but when there were so many other more dangerous things to worry about dental health didn’t really make the top hundred.

But two weeks ago, when your girlfriends had noticed the way you were avoiding hard foods and the copious amounts of over-the-counter pain meds you were taking, they finally said something. It really didn’t click to you that anything was wrong until Natasha had brought it up, a look on her face that betrayed her true concern.

Once they had completed their makeshift intervention, you began to notice the real pain in your mouth and began to wonder how exactly you had ignored it in the first place. Your best guess was that something was always hurting from one battle or another, that this one just didn’t seem too pressing. That sprained ankle had been a worse issue than the tooth pain. Until you noticed it, of course.

After a checkup from Dr. Helen Cho (who reiterated over and over again that she was not a dentist) and a few x-rays later, you were found to have “severely impacted” wisdom teeth. Not just regularly impacted, but severely. Not only that, but it was all four of them. You didn’t do anything in halves.

Wanda had been shocked at how well you had been hiding your discomfort, while Natasha was more focused on helping you to feel better. She wanted you to have surgery as quickly as possible, stating her concerns about possible complications and expected recovery time.

This was her way of expressing her love, getting overly caught up on details, and making sure that everything was 100% taken care of so that neither you nor Wanda had to worry. She was a wonderful girlfriend.

The day of the surgery came and went, a mission getting in the way of your dental care. This didn’t particularly bother you, part of you (as embarrassed as you felt) was incredibly nervous about the operation. You had read up about it in secret and had learned about every single complication ever recorded in human history.

This was, of course, a bad idea. Now you were panicking about dry-socket, nerve damage, infection, and possible death as a result of the anesthetic. The idea of being completely out of control of your surroundings was not one that you particularly enjoyed.

Unfortunately, beings who wanted to destroy the human race could only keep you from getting your wisdom teeth out for so long. The day arrived and you were mildly freaking out about it. Wanda, who could literally sense your emotions, had been trying to keep you calm by distracting you with silly little tasks and offering small comforts.

Natasha was less subtle about her attempts to soothe you; she straight up hadn’t left your side the whole day. She kept murmuring reassurances to you while you watched some dumb TV show and had even done research of her own to combat what you had found. She combatted your fear with love and statistics. These two very different ways of trying to make you feel less anxious were working very well together to put you at ease.

You lay back in the dentist’s chair and stared with panic-filled eyes at your loving girlfriends who were hovering in the doorway, unable to enter the sterile field. Suddenly, a very loud thought filled your head.

It’s all going to be okay. Breathe. We’ll be right here. You’ll be okay.

It was hard to describe how it felt when Wanda projected a thought into your mind. You could tell that it wasn’t a thought of your own, it had a comforting feeling. A soft, gentle, loving feeling. It put you at ease more than the intravenous anesthetic that was being pumped into your body.

The last thing you felt as you closed your eyes was that lingering emotion that Wanda had pushed into your mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“They’re waking up,” Natasha murmured, nudging Wanda slightly. The witch looked up from her phone where she had been anxiously tapping away at some game, a look of relief flooding her face. The two women stared down at you, both smiling as your beautiful e/c eyes fluttered open.

“Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?” Wanda cooed softly, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of your lashes. You opened your mouth as if about to speak, but then closed it again. You repeated the motion a few times, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you started to reach up for your mouth.

“No no no, let’s not do that. We’ve gotta leave that alone for now, okay?” The brunette chastised, quickly pulling your hand away. You pulled a pout, but the time it took for you to actually change your expression was absolutely hilarious. It took you a full five seconds to register that something had been said and react to it.

“Mh mufh iffmahds.” You mumbled around the gauze, the words you were trying to say lost around the cotton fabric stuffed into your mouth. Natasha leaned forward and bent down to kiss your head, leaving her lips there for a few moments to express her relief. She knew that nothing bad would happen to you, but the anxiety was always going to be there.

“Just rest baby, we’ll talk when you’re a little more awake.” She said kindly, grabbing Wanda’s hand as your eyes fell closed again. The redhead turned to her and grinned before kissing her soft pink lips.

“They’ll be okay Wands.” She reassured, resting her forehead against Wanda’s.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The peace of you being sort of asleep only lasted for twenty or so minutes. This time when you woke back up, you were ready to go. You quite literally came up swinging, your eyes wide and yelling something that neither of your girlfriends could understand through the gauze.

“Woah! Calm down, it’s alright babe, it’s okay.” Natasha said, reaching over to grab your fists.

“The chicken! The chicken’s comin’!” You cried, forcing the words out as you struggled against the grasp of your concerned girlfriend.

“What are you talking about? There’s no chicken!” The redhead replied, sounding frantic as she dodged a kick aimed at her face. You weren’t fully coherent, but your fighting skills were still very much intact. You had trained for this and were using your training to keep yourself safe from the aforementioned chicken.

“Robot chickens! So many, too many, can’t do it, gotta go!” You spat out, starting to get out of the reclining chair. You made it halfway up before falling back again, not entirely prepared for the weight of gravity. Gravity was hard.

“Y/n, Y/n. Listen to me. There are no chickens, okay? We’re in medical, you had surgery, and it’s all okay. Relax babes. You’re safe. It's just Nat and me.” Wanda soothed, putting every bit of calming energy into her voice. She felt bad for using witchcraft on you to alter your emotions, but she needed to calm you down as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, it worked. You sat back and relaxed, your body going limp against Natasha’s. You quite literally fell against your favorite assassin but remained conscious this time, breathing heavily as you relaxed again.

“I don’t like poultry.” You grumbled, nuzzling your face into Natasha’s shoulder. The redhead laughed softly, and Wanda let out a weary sigh, a grin spreading over her face. The operation was over, but it was becoming more and more obvious that that had been the easy part. Now they had to deal with an incredibly confused, slightly high you who would probably remember absolutely none of this.

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spadesolace · 7 months

Text

feel special - im nayeon x producer! reader

synopsis: in the midst of thousands of faces trying their best to capture a certain bunny’s heart. you were the only person who captured her attention through your skills in music, to capturing her heart with your very own heart.

spade speaks: nayeon is actually my ult bias (along with yeji) who made me stick around and listen to k-pop. on top of this, feel special being my fave album for various reasons. happy very belated birthday to my fave album and to my fave bunny!

if there was one thing you know about nayeon, is that she prefers the quiet and serene moments of being alone, watching some show on tv, and having kookeu by her side.

nothing beats that.

yes, she loves her members, they’re her second family but living with 8 girls for 3 years then moving to a bigger place with 2 roommates, she still chose to stay in her room. then you arrived.

you were no one in the midst of hundreds of producers wanting to work with the group, to say the least, maybe it was fate that made you two meet. jyp did in fact introduce you two, from working with their twicetagram album to becoming a constant producer in various b-sides.

im nayeon, who’s voice is as sweet as honey, one to bring you comfort, and overall just bring a smile to your face.

before her, solitude was in your studio with your dog who would keep you company as you vibe to music you’ve produced. your place was never quiet, there was always some sort of music playing in the background, and twice became a constant to your playlist. a part of you immediately would distinguish nayeon’s voice in every twice song, maybe it was because she’s your bias.

a little part of you wanted to get to know her, not just as colleagues, but as friends.

it started small, from bringing her drinks so as to not make her throat dry from singing for hours. visiting her after practice just to hear her talk about her day, from overall just being there.

it didn’t take long for you to ask nayeon out on a proper date, similar to the ones you’ve been doing for months. this time, there was an actual label to it, not simply a hang out to talk about each other’s day. it wasn’t much, you just invited her to your place where you cooked dinner, hearing her talk about digesting oil as there are benefits to it, having kookeu and your dog play around as you two played board games to kart rider.

“no, i don’t see any benefits in consuming oil aside from getting sick.” the debate was still on-going as the game went on, you were leading with nayeon barely catching up.

“it’s tasty and consuming oily food would get you sick.”

“eating straight up oil is worse, nabong.” who knew you would fall for this girl who eats oil.

your date was a complete success, having to cuddle with nayeon as you watched carol. bringing her back to the dorm was bittersweet, a part of you didn’t want it to end but clearly, nayeon had different plans. watching her about to leave your car, she looked back at you, a smile evident on her face.

“i’ll plan the next one.” a kiss on the cheek was all it took just for her to have your heart.

one date turned to two, then three, then it became weekly.

there was not a time that you two weren’t together. her free time was spent in your studio as you two made songs together that the world would not get the chance to hear. having the chance to hear you sing behind closed doors, persuading you into posting it on your socials. it didn’t take long for that snippet to go viral.

every love story had to start somewhere and yours was about work. from listening to her sing her parts in sweet talker, helping with their japanese album, do the remix for their concert, and overall just admire the girl.

at the very same studio you two first met; you had finally called nayeon yours.

nayeon’s idea of solitude changed from the day she met you. it was no longer being stuck in her room scrolling on her phone or watching a random series or movie on the tv with kookeu. it was now with you, in the comfort of your home where she could be alone… with you.

when their tour started, slowly your time together faded. nayeon was busy and all you could do was consider the situation, the girls are still at their peak and you were merely there to help them out. she still used her free time with you when she’s back in korea, talking about the tour and how fun it was but she wished you could be there to watch them. you did, yet it was only the first day at seoul. so, when their manager had given you a ticket to their manila concert, you immediately took it, letting their management know that you wanted to surprise the girls.

when your girlfriend was busy doing the concert, you watched with keen eyes on how the group you’ve adored since debut to working with them and now, dating the girl of your dreams, felt too surreal. too surreal.

that’s where your thoughts left you with, would nayeon get tired of you? would she pick her career over you? until when will she settle for you and realize she deserves better?

ironic how you’re watching her perform with the loudest crowd there is to date, and you’re overthinking your relationship with who you consider the girl of your dreams… you fear waking up from this dream and return to reality with nothing but disappointment waiting for you. but this is reality. she’s your girlfriend, nayeon is and will be proud to call you hers as you call her mine.

“y/n? you ok?” their manager looked at you as the show finally ended, watching the crowd leave the venue. everything feels gloomy, tiring, anxious would be the better option to describe your state.

“yeah, just tired.” it may have been unnoticed by the manager that you were lying but clearly one nayeon saw you with the same smile you give her but with eyes calling for help, she knows something is wrong.

nothing goes past nayeon, especially when it comes to you. the thing is that she knows not to ask until you feel ready… but whatever is running in your mind makes her worried. you’re one for open communication, she knows this as your colleague and girlfriend, not once did you not voice out your concern for anything. what’s stopping you now?

maybe it was the fact that your best friend, mina, is telling you how much she needs to keep going. she has to, as she would say. you knew of her state for quite a while now, but there was something after their manila concert that just made her break. you were at the manila concert, the way mina was struggling, oh you can never tell your best friend what you’ve been thinking when she needs you the most.

nayeon watched your interaction with mina, she knows well enough how deep your friendship goes but she can’t merely just watch how you were also distancing yourself from her. not when there is clearly something going on inside your mind that you can’t seem to hide anymore. that’s where it started, the sad songs, how you’re writing ballads rather than your usual upbeat music that most of their songs are about. even when mina is already in hiatus and planning to go home for a bit as to recharge and be under the care of her family. you were lost, gone, mind running with the possibility of nayeon leaving you as if you’re not doing it yourself.

that was a toxic defense mechanism, one that you’ve done multiple times. if it weren’t for jihyo’s stubbornness, you would have continued avoiding nayeon.

in your studio where everything is normally organized was a complete mess, jihyo took notice of your eyebags, the amount of takeout containers. the sleep deprivation and the lack of sunlight was getting to you. phone on do not disturb as you avoid replying to nayeon or just sending cold replies, everything is out of place. slowly, jihyo took care of you, cleaning the studio while you finally slept. that was where she took notice of the little things, how you and mina had been talking, keeping your best friend company who was back in her home country, while she was clueless to how you were overanalyzing your relationship with nayeon and how mina being on break took a mental toll on you.

“you can’t keep running away from her. not when she also needs you right now.” jihyo has always been right, the girls have had quite a hard hit when mina went on hiatus, some of which were scared of what the future holds and nayeon was handling it quite poorly.

“jihyo, she’ll realize that she deserves someone better, and it’s not gonna be me.”

“she needs you, y/n. you’re the best thing that has happened to her and you can’t just decide on what’s better for her when you haven’t told her what you’re going through.”

while jihyo took care of you, slowly making sure you were properly talking to nayeon as she set up a schedule with your personal psychiatrist. slowly you were back on track. therapy was an eye opener, how you’re the one ruining the relationship for not knowing how to communicate your concerns because you deem it to be childish.

if it weren’t for jihyo, things would have been different. you wouldn’t be in front of nayeon’s dorm holding a bouquet and a bag filled with her comfort food. you wouldn’t be crying in front of your girlfriend as you told her every single thought. you wouldn’t be able to call her yours as she gave you reassurance that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to her.

“you’re so dumb thinking that i’ll leave you.”

“i know, it’s just that- you’re literally a superstar with everyone falling for your charms, how can i not think of that?”

they say fear attracts.

in nayeon’s eyes, the idea of losing you was the last thing on her mind. that if you were gone, she’d prefer to stop being an idol and try her best to have you back. losing you is one of her biggest fears along with losing her members. when one of her greatest fears (mina going on hiatus) was close to becoming reality, she needed you. she wanted you to know that she needs you the same way that you need her. if fear would be the reason for your breakup, nayeon has every right to call you dumb; you love her yet you won’t fight for her?

solitude for you has and will always be nayeon, losing that would result in chaos, disruption of your peace. you can live without music but without nayeon in your life, without the girl who you tried to push away and yet she still stayed, it would be stupid of you to let her go.

when things have been settled, and jyp asking for your help in producing two of their b-sides, you couldn’t say no to what the message of the album was. having to perfectly encapsulate your thoughts and emotions along with the group’s own thoughts being let out. aside from the chance to work with your best friend and girlfriend; feel special holds a place in your heart.

even when the world becomes dark and you’re consumed by your thoughts, you’re reminded that nayeon is there for you, that she has the patience to understand what is happening inside your brain.

so when her birthday is a few days away, you wanted to surprise her. something that screams that i’m glad to have you in my life. and no, an engagement ring would be too early in your relationship of around 5 months. what better way than to spend the entire day or at least an hour together as she prepares for their comeback the following day.

in some world, or way, you’re back to how you first started, admiring the girls as you make a name in the industry. nayeon shines on stage and it has been like that for years. even when the pandemic hit and you could only talk virtually until things lightened up. in every song she writes, you were a part of it, and when her solo debut was on the works, one call away and you’ll produce half of it.

to nayeon, you’re every song she’s written, every song she covers, and a vital piece to her everyday life.

to you, nayeon is your solitude, baby blue love, and your everything.

“happy birthday, love.” you wave your candybong with the crowd singing happy birthday to nayeon, and in the midst of the crowd, her eyes are set only to you.

#twice scenarios #twice imagines #twice #twice x reader #twice nayeon #nayeon #twice x you #im nayeon #nayeon imagines #nayeon scenarios #nayeon x reader

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chloessleepystories · 7 months

Note

We have storms hitting both the east coast and west coast. Could we get a story about storms changing people on a rainy day leading to some steamy nights?

The buzz was insistent, a double, triple buzz. Jeremy hit the button to unlock the front door and a moment later heard her pounding steps coming up the stairs.

“Jesus look at you, you’re soaked!”

Candace was drenched, but smiling, as she crossed the threshold of his apartment. “Whaaat? It’s just a little rain,” she grinned.

He laughed. “You’re an idiot. Let me get a towel.”

She peeled off her sopping sweater as he called from the bathroom, “You know we could have just done this another night.”

“Are you nuts?” she called back. “It’s already hard enough to avoid spoilers online, I’m going to wait another 24 hours before catching up on Ahsoka?”

“Here, try this.” Jeremy was holding out one towel as he threw another on the floor at her feet. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Well if you would just share your password like a normal person, I could watch it at my house.” She squeezed the towel around her long hair, then tried to pat dry her skirt.

“I would if I could!” he protested. “You know they’re all cracking down on that shit.” He led the way into his cozy living room. “Anyway, I like sharing it with you.”

“I know. I like coming over here too.” She smiled shyly. He smiled too. After a moment, she looked away. “It’s a … It’s a good thing our apartments are so close together.”

“You mean you walked over here?”

“What?” She was standing by the TV, still dripping everywhere. “It’s just a couple blocks. And it’s a nice warm night.”

“A nice warm night with a freak storm,” Jeremy laughed, reclining on the couch. “You didn’t check the weather forecast before you headed out, huh?”

“Nah. I don’t believe in that stuff, any – ahchoo! - anyway.”

The sneeze didn’t seem that hard, but she swayed dizzily for a moment.

“You don’t believe in … ? What, just a conspiracy of meteorologists, you mean?”

She giggled. “I just mean the forecasts are so often wrong, I don’t even – don’t even – ahchooo!! … Don’t even uh bother … ”

Jeremy stood up, slowly. The first time he thought he was imagining it, but the second time … “Are you feeling all right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I coulda sworn, when you sneezed just then, your … your uh …” He gestured to his chest, unable to say ‘breasts,’ or any of the other synonyms that came to mind. “I mean, it’s a pretty thin top, it doesn’t hide much, like …”

She folded her arms, and pouted, a little cuter pout than he had seen her make before. “Jer, you’re actin’ real weird all of a – all of a …”

There was no denying it this time. Her chest bulged as she let out her biggest sneeze yet. Candace was normally flat as a board, but suddenly her soaking wet top was sticking to – well, there was no other word for it – her sizeable tits.

Her eyes crossed for a moment, and she staggered. When she recovered from the explosion, she looked down and gasped. “What the shit are these?” she said, grasping them with both hands. Her voice seemed a little higher than before, more breathy, but there was an edge of panic to it as well.

“I think you’re coming down with something …” Jeremy said, knowing how dumb it sounded.

“Oh, you think?”

“You should probably uh … you should get out of those wet clothes …?”

She giggled, then mock-scowled. “Oh, nice try, buddy, I see what you’re – I see … I … oh shit”

Ah – CHOOO!!

“Ow ow ow!!” Her voice had climbed another octave. “It hurts!! Je-er, help mee!!”

Her tits were straining the buttons on her shirt, and her tiny bra, usually barely needed, was obviously pinching in several places, trying to hold in the unaccustomed mass. He moved toward her.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to – oof!”

She threw her arms around him, held him tight. She pressed her whole, wet body against his, soaking his tee shirt in moments. She was nose to nose. She pushed her bottom lip out and made her eyes big and damp. Jeremy thought she had never looked lovelier. “I need help, please,” she panted.

She was rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. Probably by accident. His erection didn’t care. He licked his lips. “Yeah, yeah, let’s uh … let’s get that off. Do you want to go in the uh …”

She stepped back, and ripped open her top in a desperate moment. A button pinged off one of his bookshelves. In a moment, she was showing him more skin than she ever had in all the years of their friendship – her chest heaving, her arms bare, her hair long and flowing (and could it possibly be longer than before?) and her plain-and-simple bra laboring with the effort of holding back the swelling melons.

Jeremy swept a palm across his forehead. Was it getting warm in here? He was wet with sweat. Wet with something – he plucked at his damp tee shirt, which was sticking to him. He rubbed his jean-covered thigh, which was spongy with water too and likewise sticking … like, were his jeans shrinking?

“Now, now listen uh – ”

“Here, here,” she turned around to show him her almost-bare back, and he broke out in sweats again. “I can’t reach it! Can you get it?” He barely registered how high-pitched her voice was now, so distracted by trying to figure out what she was asking. After a moment, it clicked, and he sprang forward to fumble with the clasp of her bra.

As soon as he had it undone, the cups flew off her boobs to land on the carpet two feet away. Her tits, released, sprang out and wobbled around like nothing he had seen outside ridiculous anime porn, as she swung around toward him. She was topless, and he grasped his swelling cock through his jeans. She was topless in his apartment, and she looked like a wet-dream cartoon.

Sounded like one too. “Ohhh!! Thank you thank you!!” she chirped. “That’s sooo much better!!!” Her eyes went to where his hand was kneading his erection, and she licked his lips. “And I know what would make it better still …”

In a moment, she was pressed against him again, her wet jugs soaking his tight tee shirt further. She stripped the shirt off him with flattering haste, catching his ear painfully with the fabric, then ran her hands over his bare chest. “Mmmm … such muscles …”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, fumbled for words. A skinny dork, he’d never considered himself muscled but … he had to agree she was right.

She dragged her boobs down his body, falling to her knees, fumbling with his belt. “I need it, I need it,” she whimpered.

“Candace … Candace, don’t you think we should …”

“Unh uh!” she giggled, shaking her head. “Call me Candi, I think I like that better …”

She jerked down pants and underpants in one movement, and gasped at the erection inches from her face. Her eyes crossed a bit, dazed, and … was she actually drooling, a little?

She swirled her tongue around the helmet, then took a couple inches of the shaft into her mouth. It swelled between her lips, and she looked up at him, his cock in her mouth, and winked.

Candi let the cock out of her mouth with a pop. She held up her heavy melons with both hands and whispered, “I know where this belongs …”

Jeremy’s shaft slid between her swaying funbags, still slick with the storm’s rain and Candi’s sweat, and as she held her tits around it, he began to stroke it up and down against her wet skin. It grew. And grew. And grew, to a length and thickness he absolutely knew it had never possessed before.

And as it did, he felt his brain grow more sluggish. His eyelids drooped. He looked at the bimbo on her knees before him with an animal lust. “Couch. Arm,” he grunted, his voice much lower than usual. “Now.”

She draped herself over the arm of his couch, flipping up her skirt. He snatched the panties off her trembling legs in an instant, and speared her gushing cunt with his thick monster cock. She screamed out in pain and ecstasy …

As the rain came down all over the city. All over thousands of unsuspecting strangers …

An hour later, Candace and Jeremy lay sprawled on his carpet, panting. After a lot more exertion than either was used to, and months’ worth of orgasms crammed into one night, they were finally feeling a little more like themselves.

“What the fuck was that,” Candace said, in something closer to her usual tone of voice. Her breasts were no longer coconut sized, but they were still healthy large apples. Or maybe oranges, thought Jeremy.

Or maybe I’m just hungry.

He had expended a lot of energy, after all.

“I don’t know, but it was amazing, that’s for sure,” he rasped.

“We should uh … ” She sat up, looking around. Where was a glass of water when you needed one. She was powerfully thirsty. “Maybe we should hit the shower? Wash off the rest of it?”

“… Together?” he suggested.

“Why not? I think we’ve broken down that barrier.” She smiled. “You’ve been abusing all my holes for an hour, I think you’ve earned soaping up my bottom.”

Jeremy got slowly to his feet, cricked his neck. He was glad she still wanted to be friends. Maybe … maybe be more than friends. “Or …” he said.

She put out a hand, and he helped her up. “Or?”

He looked to the window, where rain was still spattering the panes.

“Or we could go outside and dance in the rain.”

Candace looked to the window. Her eyes slid to Jeremy’s smile.

And she grinned.

251 notes · View notes

umeoniii · 1 year

Text

daddy’s bestfriend, kenny

!: corruption kink, age gap, reader is 18+ obvi, innocent virgin reader, reader calls kenny “uncle” they aren’t related it’s just what she calls him, fem reader, guided masturbation, size kink,

{\❀_/} ( • • ) />♡<\

you sat on the couch of your parents spacious living room, skipping through the channels of the tv trying to occupy yourself until your parents left for their anniversary vacation.

they were leaving you at home for 3 days to your own discretion. you were happy to be alone for the few days, you could use your mothers makeup and look through her clothes all you wanted to now.

your mother walked into the living room putting on her earrings. you already knew she was going to try and set a bunch of rules.

“y/n honey, while we’re gone make sure to watch the house. also if you decide to invite over friends text me, and also make sure to feed princess, if we run out of food make sure to get ‘kitty’s delight’ not the cheap kind…” you drowned out your mothers voice, blabbing on about the same things.

“y/n! are you listening to me?” she says snapping you out of your trance.

you nodded your head watching your father come down the stairs in his suit.

you stood up and walked your parents to the door and kissed them goodbye. you walked back over to the couch plopping back down. before your father walked all the way out the door he turned around and walked back towards you, who was yet again skipping through channels.

“also honey, you remember my good friend kenny? the one who used to watch you alot when you were younger?”

your ears pricked up as soon as the name rolled off his tongue.

“yeah, why do you ask?”

“well he might come over to make sure you stay in check. so keep an eye out okay angel?”

you gave your father a long stare before opening your mouth, “im old enough to watch the house, i dont need a babysitter.” you whined standing in front of your dad.

“i don’t care honey, i’d feel safer if there were an older adult in the house with you.” he walked back to you giving you a kiss on the cheek.

you watched as he walked back to door standing with your mother, who blew you a kiss before closing the door. you stood at the window watching as their taxi drove them off.

turning back to the living room you turned off the living room tv and went into the kitchen getting yourself a snack. a piece of the strawberry cake from their anniversary gift.

after you finished your last bite you remembered, uncle kenny’s coming over!

you ran up the stairs, quickly going to your room taking out cuter lounging clothes. your bathroom was your next destination hopping into the shower washing yourself with the strawberry cream body wash you got from the mall the other day.

you wasted no time to shave your entire body and to wash and do you hair as well. you hopped out drying your body off, and greasing up.

you dried and combed through your hair fixing it into a ponytail with a ribbon. after you were done modding your appearance you ran back into your bed laying down. you checked the time on your phone. damn, it took me 3 hours to do all of that? n’ he’s still not here…

you looked over to your nightstand drawer and opened it taking out your diary as well as your pen.

you wrote, “today my parents left me home alone! they acted like i couldn’t watch the house, im in college im pretty sure i can… they’re gonna be gone for a few days, 3 at most. and guess who’s gonna come over? guess! kenny is! my, i’m lowkey nervous but im happy because i haven’t seen him in a lil while.”

it was honestly odd what you had for your father’s friend. you’ve always had a little crush on him. you found many of his attributes attractive. you liked how he towered over you, how he was always very nice to you and overprotective of you. you felt icky at times with the way he made you feel, but you couldn’t help yourself.

while thinking you heard a knock at your door.

it must be kenny! you got off your bed and peered through the blinds seeing kenny’s black truck. you ran down the steps quickly and stopped at the front door. you looked through the peephole seeing kenny’s tall form standing with a bag in his hands.

you opened the door swiftly to be greeted with a large smile on his face. you jumped and gave him a big hug, his large arm wrapped around your hips.

“hey kiddo” he said

“hi kenny” you backed up from the hug, motioning him to come inside. the two of you walked in standing in the living room.

“you’ve gotten older since last time i seen ya’” he said, you noticed how his eyes drifted to your breasts before he quickly looked back at your eyes.

“it hasn’t been that long.” you scoffed, “ what’s in the bag?” you inquired following him to the couch.

“nothin’ my stuff, also i gotcha something.” you watched him pull out a stuffed puppy out of a separate box he was carrying. it was pink with a white bow tied on it. you smiled with bright, wide eyes.

“i knew you liked this kind of cutesy stuff so i got it for you at the store.” you opened it, staring in awe at the white puppy plush that sat before you.

“what did you do with the last one i got for you?” he asked.

“oh, the bunny? well it sits on my bed!” you told him thinking about how you cuddle with it at night as if it were your uncle.

“that’s great, so where am i gonna sleep at?” he asked yawning.

“the room next to mine, you want me to show it to you?” you asked sweetly.

he gave you a nod. you walked up the stairs with kenny behind you. you walked down the long hallway past your parents room and yours and right to the guest room.

“here it is.” it was a nice cream colored room. it had a queen sized bed and a tv.

“you can use my bathroom kenny if you need it m’kay? my parents hate even when i use their bathroom.” you gave him a soft smile as he took off his boots. you walked out leaving him alone.

you walked back to your bedroom putting the dog plushie on your bed. you layed down on your back getting your phone and putting in your headphones listening to your music.

you sat on your bed lying down until you felt a light tap on your thigh. you sat up quickly turning to kenny. you saw his mouth moving not hearing a word leaving his lips. you took off your headphones to hear him clearly.

“huh?”

“i said im about to take a shower y/n, help me out will ya?”

you both walked inside of your bathroom. you showed him where everything was and how to work the shower. he took in the scenery of your restroom.

“damn even the soaps shaped like a lil animal.” he chuckled inspecting the soap, while you lit up your candle.

he pulled out his razor and you walked out sitting back onto your bed.

you pulled back out your diary writing more of the day’s events and also writing some reminders. a few minutes later you heard the door creak from the bathroom as kenny stepped out.

beard shaved off clean, towel wrapped around his waist, and dripping wet. you looked at his hair sticking to his body and you couldn’t help but look down at his happy trail that wrapped around his navel and went down. you looked at him lips parted before you turned around, the heat of your body almost making you sweat.

“sorry i left my clothes in the room, forgot to bring them with me to the bathroom” he chuckled, you watched as he walked out going to his room.

kenny left the clothes on purpose, so he can see your little flustered face as he stood half naked in front of you. he wanted to see just how long it would take to make you break.

he dried off in his room and put his clothes on. he stayed in his room letting the tv entertain him occasionally checking in on you until you came in asking him if he was hungry. you eyed the tight black shirt he wore, outlining his muscles and biceps. as well as the pajama pants he wore.

“hell yeah i am.”

“well i’ll be in the kitchen, i’ll make us something good to eat.” you smiled walking off.

when kenny heard you walk down the stairs he creeped into your room slowly.

he loved how you liked cutesy things, everything in your room was a pastel color or pink. you had cute trinkets and posters all over your room. he looked through your drawers looking at your lacy panties and bras.

what’d he do to see you in only them.

he turned around towards your bed catching a glimpse of the pink journal with stickers laying on your ditsy rose comforter.

he sat himself on the bed softly looking at the cover of the book y/n’s diary DONT read further.

he chuckled to himself before reading forward.

he wanted to know more about you and how your life has been since he last saw you. he hasn’t talked to you consistently in about a year and he didn’t wanna nag you by asking, so he took matters into his own hands.

and boy was he was surprised at the contents of the book. it started off normal about things you did in your day, what you ate, what you wore simple things. sometimes his name would be mentioned. and the things said with his name were always about your feelings twoards him or how you thought about him a lot. one struck his eye though.

“last night i had a dream about my uncle kenny, a very weird dream. i don’t even wanna write about it because it was so dirty and yucky. usually these kind of things come with your subconscious, i mean yeah i like kenny a little more than i should. but i don’t think i like him in the way shown in my dream, that’s weird and nasty. and i’m not like that, i’ve known him for so long, he’s like my uncle. i think i’ll just try to forget about it and get ready to go to work…”

you had a crush on your uncle kenny. and surprisingly he liked you a lot too, he thought you were always such a cutie. when he saw you on your 18th birthday something in him changed.

he knew your father would murder him mercilessly if he knew how he felt about you, but he couldn’t contain himself. kenny closed your diary and layed it back on the bed the way it was originally.

“kenny dinners ready!” you called out to him

he walked down the stairs to the scent of tomato soup and grilled cheese.

“smells good, y/n” he looked at you sitting down at the island

“really? i tried something different and quicker today”

“looks good as well.” he said nearly drooling over his plate. kenny ripped a piece of his sandwich and tossed it to the persian long haired cat meowing on the ground. the two of you ate quietly sometimes making eye contact with a soft smile.

“hey does your parents have a liquor cabinet or somethin’ ?”

you nodded, walking over to the cabinet standing on your tippy toes trying to reach it. kenny came up behind you with one of his hands on your hip the other reaching for your dad’s rum.

you felt a tingling sensation with his hand touching you so intimately like that. he went to another cabinet grabbing two glasses, the both of you taking your seats on the soft cushions.

“y/n you’re old enough to drink ain’tcha? have some.” kenny saud slyly pouring some into a glass for you

“well no kenny, i don’t really like it…” you said hesitantly

“c’mon it ain’t bad, i’ll help you out if you need it.” he smiled at you

you nodded sipping at the liquor and you hated it. you swallowed it only because kenny was watching you, but the burning sensation in your throat almost caused you to purge right on the table. he saw you were struggling and got you a bottle of water.

“here, i ain’t like it my first time either.” he chuckled rubbing your back as you downed the water.

a little while later you and kenny were finished, and you and him went up to your rooms separately. you sat in your bed and put your journal back into your bedside drawer.

you layed in your bed thinking about how flustered your uncle made you that day. the way you felt when he walked in front of you basically fully exposed and the way his big hand laid on your hip.

you got the weird sensation again, you tried to squeeze your legs shut in attempts to make the feeling go away. you turned off your lamp and drifted to sleep next to the barrage of plushies on your side.

you woke up later on to a suddenly heavier feeling in your bed, turning to your side you saw kenny asleep right next to you. you gasped audibly, slapping his arm trying to get his attention. he woke up giving you a confused look before realizing what he had did wrong.

“what are you doing?” you whisper screamed

“im sorry honey your bed looked more comfortable.” he said, you noticed his shirt was off which made the heat grow even rapidly.

he looked at you, a smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth.

“ya‘ know, i know yer’ lil secret” he whispered into your ear.

you looked at him genuinely confused, “what secret?” you grabbed the lighter next to your bed, lighting up your candle.

“don’t play dumb with me doll. the little book that was lying on your bed, i read it.” he said sitting up

you thought deeply into it before you felt your heart drop.

oh my god, kenny read my diary. you tried your hardest to keep your composure, but it was clear that you were shocked and scared.

“don’t worry honey, i ain’t angry or anything. tell me, what was your dream about?” he asked looking into your eyes

“i um, it was about…” you cupped you hands around his ear, “we kissed” you paused abruptly, “ an- and we had… sex but before things really got started i woke up.” you whispered shamefully into his ear.

he looked at you, your heart almost pounding out of your chest.

he picked up on how nervous you were feeling , “you okay?” he asked you, sultry voice making your hairs stand up.

“yeah well, it makes me feel… icky.”

“icky? how?”

“first of all it’s weird because you’re like my uncle, kenny. and second i get this weird tingly feeling sometimes.”

he pulled you closer to him, to where you were almost on his lap, he snaked his arm around your waist and layed his hand on your thigh. “what tingly feeling?” he hummed in your ear.

you hesitated embarrassed to tell him how it felt.

“c’mon tell me sweetie, i wanna help you try n’ get rid of it.”

you grabbed his hand and drifted it to your clothed heat.

“oh, so your cunnie’s what’s achy hm?”

he pressed his finger onto your panties making you gasp. he rubbed it slowly causing you to writhe under him.

“you a virgin y/n?” he said still rubbing your clit through your panties.

you nodded vigorously grinding onto his finger.

“good girl, i don’t want you being with any of those nasty little boys, okay?”

you nodded.

“have you ever touched yourself down here before?” he said nibbling at your ear lobe.

“n-no sir” you stuttered

he removed his hand feeling how damp your panties got.

“m’ gonna teach ya a little something okay?”

he grabbed your hand and trailed it to your panties. he took his hands and ripped your panties, the cold air on your exposed pussy made you tremble.

“kenny i really liked those.” you muttered softly

he held your hand with his and showed you how to touch yourself.

“whenever you get to thinkin bout me just get your fingers and rub em’ on that little bump right there you see?” he slid you all the way onto his lap. the hairs on his chest rubbed against your back. he layed his head in the crook of your neck taking in the scent of strawberry pound cake perfume.

you layed your fingers on your clit rubbing it slowly while he helped you move your hand.

“just like that.” he groaned into your ear.

you felt the tingly feeling become more disperse throughout your body. you moaned softly rubbing your clit. you felt how hard kenny was while sitting on his lap.

kenny moved your hand from your cunt, replacing it with own fingers. he sped up the pace making you squirm more, your thighs closing.

you felt the tingly feeling build up but then it suddenly vanished as your orgasm crashed over your body.

“mm kenny” you whined, your thighs squeezing his hand as you wiggled uncontrollably in his lap.

he kissed your neck as you breathed in and out. he then picked you up and layed you back onto your bed barely giving you time to recover. he spread your legs before pulling down his pants.

a look of dread and confusion took over your face as you looked at his cock. it was long and curved over his tummy. his head was swolllen and leaky. you closed your legs and shook your head.

“what’s wrong pretty? it ain’t gonna hurt, promise.” he said kissing your cheek and prying your legs back open.

he spit onto his fingers and rubbed it onto your vulva before lining his head to your hole.

“im gonna stuff ya like a fuckin’ apple pie.”

he pushed himself into you, softly groaning while doing so. you watched waiting for him to be all the way in. he pushed the last of himself in quickly, causing you to let out a yelp.

he was balls deep inside of you, your legs on his shoulders. he slowly thrusted himself in you. you whined softly to yourself. it was more painful than you imagined, he was so big compared to your virgin body. you felt yourself stretching out after every thrust.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, your headboard squeaking from all the movement.

“how would yer’ daddy feel? if he knew how dirty you were getting for me?”

“upset” you hiccuped, his skin slapping against yours.

“damn right he’d be, so you can’t tell him about this. that his best friend is fucking the hell out of his daughter.” he said rubbing your cheek

you felt guilty, but at the same time you couldn’t help it, you wanted more.

“kenny it feels so good, c-can you go a little faster.” you said shakily

he sped up causing tears of pleasure to run down your hot cheeks. you felt the way his tip rubbed against the ridges inside of you, it made you feel an emotion you’ve like none you’ve ever experienced.

“fuck, you’re so tight honey, im trying so hard not to cum.” he held you closer to his chest biting the tender skin of your neck. you yelped from the sudden feeling of his teeth in your neck, but weirdly enough you liked it.

you liked the full feeling he gave you, the pang of pain you felt when his cock expanded your virgin cunt, you loved it. he slid his hands up your gown groping and squeezing your chest, you wrapped your legs around his waist holding on to him as tight as possible.

“you don’t know how many times i’ve imagined this day. how many times i’ve came into my hand thinkin’ about you.” he grunted, his body slamming against yours.

you started to feel a pleasurable sensation, like something intense was building up inside of you “k-kenny” you sputtered, voiced shaky from all the movement. he looked at you still thrusting, “i feel it again, the weird feeling.” you whined clawing at his back. he didn’t answer your inquiry and instead sped up.

you felt the feeling build up even more as the ribbon in your tummy snapped. you moaned loudly tensing your body and cumming all over your uncle kenny. you gasped for air while kenny continued to thrust into you, his pace getting sloppy.

he pulled out before grabbing your cheeks and forcing your mouth open.

“stick out your tongue like you’re licking a popsicle alright?” he said jerking himself over you.

you obliged.

a few pumps later his semen spewed from his swollen, dark red tip. white covered your tongue as you kept it hanging out of your mouth.

“swallow it like the good girl you are.” he said, his big hand resting on top of your head.

you swallowed the thick, salty liquid with a slightly embarrassed grin.

kenny grabbed you by your cheeks indulging in a deep kiss groping your body more.

little did you know he was planning to repeat this again tomorrow.

。

a/n: only few ppl on this app will understand how bad i need kenny ψ(｀∇´)ψ

a/n2: i hate to be the bearer of bad news for the south park fans, but this is abt kenny ackerman from aot Σ('◉⌓◉’)

#umeswritin!~#aot imagines #aot #aot smut #aot x reader smut #aot hcs #aot x female reader #aot x reader #kenny ackerman smut #kenny ackerman #kenny ackerman x reader #kenny aot #kenny snk #attack on titan #need it inside me #kenny ackerman x reader smut

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dorkszn · 2 months

Text

— letting you do their hair

— thomas j, alexander h, and phillip h x gn reader, john laurens x masc reader

+ black coded reader for thomas and john! modern-ish au!

PHILLIP H !

✩ he loves letting you do this hair. sometimes you don’t even have to ask, he’ll ask you.

✩ he only trust you and his parents to wash it and take care of it

✩ you style it a lot for him and eliza loves it

✩ tender headed as fuck

✩ if someone flirts with him in public, especially if they bring up his hair, he’ll just go on and on about you

✩ “oh my hair? yeah it’s nice, ain’t it? my (s/o) did it. Aren’t they so skilled?”

✩ you teach him how to braid his hair and style it the way you do so he can do them himself if there’s a time you’re not around

☆ watching your favorite shows 🤝 washing and drying his hair

THOMAS J !

☆ he is so protective of his hair. like he’s the only one allowed to touch it

☆ so obviously it took you a lot of begging and convincing but he eventually gave in

☆ he’ll make snarky comments and act like a baby when you first wash his hair or attempt to style it but a little pop with the comb gets him to shut up

☆ he almost fell asleep the first time you braided his hair, but he likes to pretend it never happened

☆ so embarrassed to ask you to wash his hair and you can’t help but tease him for it

☆ after a while, he had you braiding his hair once a week for an extra curl

☆ you guys have matching bonnets

☆ he will literally call James mid hair session and just start talking about the government with him

☆ he was very skeptical about your products but eventually they become the only thing he uses

ALEXANDER H !

☆ he was genuinely surprised when you asked him to do his hair

☆ he hadn’t had anyone to do it or take care of it for years, especially since his mother passed

☆ “you’d do that for me?” he’d question, genuine shock on his face

☆ and it takes all of both of you to not start crying when you do take care of his hair

☆ the first time you washed it for him was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him

☆ it was the most loved he’d felt for a while

☆ then there were times were you just played in his hair

☆ whether we was working or just watching tv, you were putting silly little styles in his hair. and it he loves it. he thinks it’s adorable.

☆ some mornings, he ask you to put his hair up for him or slick it back for him just so he can have the best start to his day

☆ his hair was very first thing he asked you to do when he came back from war

☆ scalp massages >>>

☆ they’re one of the only things that convince him to leave his office, just for a little bit

JOHN L !

☆ after he meets you, he refuses to do his hair unless you’re away on a trip

☆ he whines and pleads, making an excuses on “how you do so much better” and “how loved it makes him feel” while giving you kisses

☆ but if you’re truly tired, of course he’ll give you a break

☆ you came home once and found him wearing your bonnet/durag

☆ you also do most of his haircuts

☆ he doesn’t mind his hair growing out but he knows it’s getting too long when you start beating him while play fighting

☆ to him if you’re winning, his hair is messing with his vision and it’s a “handicap”

☆ definitely gets popped with the comb everytime you do his hair

“john, could you turn your head just a little bit?” you question, your frustration already growing. he couldn’t help but tease you constantly, it was in his nature. he slightly turns his head with a small smirk on his face, knowing he was pissing you off.

“john, don’t play with me right no—“ you cut off your words when john grabs you by the waist and pulls you in and onto his lap. his hand gripping the outside of your thigh to support you as you straddle his legs.

“this angle good enough for you?” he asks, giving you his typically stupid grin. you can’t help but softly smile as you look at him, your previous anger from before leaving.

“t’s fine, i guess.” you shrug before going back to attempting to cut his hair.

“see? why let anyone else do my hair when i can have you do it for free and get a lap dance at the same time?” he says nonchalantly, continuing to scroll on his phone. his free hand caress your thigh and slithering back to ass.

“john, i swear you’re going to wake up bald one day.”

#dorkszn #dorkfilmz #hamilton musical #phillip hamilton x reader #hamilton drabble #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson fic #alexander hamilton x reader #john laurens x reader #john laurens #hamilton fluff #hamilton angst #hamilton an american musical

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olivia091108 · 1 month

Text

Farmers daughter

Summary:Johnny goes home and meets his new neighbours daughter

Pairing:Johnny Knoxville x reader

Word count:2.4k

I had just finished filming the last episode of jackass and I’m heading down to see my folks in Tennessee for a few weeks.

My dad pick me up from the airport and drives us home it’s not too long of a drive but I know I’m almost there when the houses are all miles away from eatch other. We pull up and i get out and grab my bag and walk in with dad to see everyone.

I walk into the house and as I set my bags down ma is already pulling me into a hug telling me she hasn’t seen me in so long and telling me that I’ve missed a lot of things.

Johnny I’m so glad your home I hope you don’t mind but we have a visitor here right now but I want you to meet him. She pulls me into the living room and sitting there is a middle aged couple

“Johnny this is Albert and carol they’re our neighbours” she tells me and I shake their hands “this is my son Johnny the one who went to Hollywood”

“That’s exciting what are you doing all the way down there trying to become a movie star”carol asks me excitedly

“Yeah well I’ve actually just finished my show on mtv you might’ve seen it.”

“We don’t have a tv it shows very graphic things we just keep up with the paper” I nod finding it odd they don’t have a tv but carry on talking to them

“So Johnny how old are you?

“Im 27 sir”

“Oh your only a year older than our daughter” she turns to ma and says “she’s sorry she couldn’t make it she’s very busy at the moment”

“Oh it’s alright I’ll see her soon Johnny can you help me in the kitchen for a second”

I follow mum into the kitchen and she talks quietly “Johnny do you think you can go round and help Albert with sone jobs he isn’t strong enough for them and I promise by the time you come back I’ll have your’e favourite dinner all dishes out”

Yeah ok ma she kissed my cheek and I ask Albert if he needs any help and he brings me up on my offer and I follow them on the walk to their house.

As we approach their house it’s not as big as ours but it looks cosy and as Albert leads me round the back of the house towards the barn he begins to mutter.

“Y/n you need to quicken your’e pace and stop daydreaming or you won’t be able to finish your chores in time”

I wonder who he’s taking to as all I see is clothes and a white bedsheet hanging on the line drying. A hand quickly moves the sheet to the side and reveals a gorgeous young lady this must be there daughter.

She’s absolutely breathtaking she has lovely tanned skin wearing a white float top and denim shorts and long hair cascading down her back with small braids dotted around.

Sorry dad I was away with the fairies I’m almost finished then I’ll head to the bar- I so sorry I don’t know where my manners went I’m y/n nice to meet you she shakes my hand and I realise I’ve just been gawking at her and quickly tell her my name with a smile.

“He’s just here to help with a few things he’s Margaret’s son.”

“Of course she has not kept quiet about you saying your’e some big movie star.”

“Y/n finish this and meet us at the barn”

I nod and get back to hanging the washing and as Albert ushers me to follow him I can just about drag my eyes away from her.

Once Albert has explained everything he wants me to do he leaves the barn but I hear him begin talking to y/n who ahs just arrived

“Y/n i dont want any funny business with you and that boy alright young lady”

“Of course not dad”

“Good make sure you finish all your chores or you won’t have any supper”

As y/n walks in I quickly look back at my task and pretend I hadn’t heard their whole conversation. I work on fixing the stable door while y/n does her chores and silence fills the barn other than the occasional noise form the animals.

“Your’e show is really funny” her voice sounds like honey dripping with sweetness

“I thought you didn’t have a tv”

Well we don’t but when I go round and have supper with Margret it’s always on she’s really proud of you yknow.

I smile at her and let the words echo through my head.

Sorry if my mas a little bossy I’m sure you have better things to do tan have dinner with her every week.

“No no that’s not what I mean I love going round your folks are so kind to me”

We keep on chatting with y/n following me round while I do my jobs completely abandoning her own until I have finished and are ready to head home just intime for dinner.

She takes my wrist and looks at my watch seeing it reading 5:40. Oh Christ I’ve gotten so distracted she quickly rushes round the barn trying to complete her chores and I watch her as I’m about to leave I feel guilty especially after what her father said if she doesn’t finish. I dismiss my hunger and offer y/n help

No you should get going I don’t want to keep you you’ve only just gotten back. She says while carrying a bucket of water in one hand and some hay tucked under her arm to the animal penns.

“It’s probably something like meatloaf anyway” I begin to take water and give it to each animal and in 20 minuets we had finished them all and began to walk back to ge house

As we arrive just outside her back door she climbs on her tiptoes and wraps her arms round my neck and thanks me telling me how much trouble she would’ve gotten in if it weren’t for me and she planted a kiss on my cheek and pulled back with a smile before entering the house waving me a goodbye

I smile to myself and walk back home the only thing being on my mind was her.

The next day it’s the hottest It’s been for a while and after hanging round the house I soon become bored when there isn’t anything good on tv there’s only about 20 channels on our tv and half of them are the news. Mum asks me if I can go into town to get a few bits for her.

Ma I’m going to go round to Albert and carols to see if they need anything I’ll be back in and hour I shout upstairs to her and leave the house. While I’m waking all I’m thinking about is y/n she’s honestly like a ray or sunshine everything about her seems to take my breath away.

When I reach their house I knock on the door and carol answers and I ask her if she needs anything from town

That’s very kind I’ll write you a list would you mind taking y/n with you she doesn’t get to go into town much.

Of course ma’m that wouldn’t be a problem I tell her feeling my heart speed up a notch.

She should be down by the lake it’s behind the barn she points out to me and I walk down there and see no sign of her until she rises up to the surface from under the water.

I walk closer and stand on the bank of the lane admiring her even if I can only see the back of her head.

“hey y/n” I call over to her and she turns around and holds up her hand to block the sun not seeing who I am then a smile breaks onto her face

“Hi Johnny what you doing here is my dad trying to get you to do more jobs for him?” she asks me swimming over and it only occurs to me now that she’s not wearing any kind of clothes and I suddenly feel very shy

I turn round giving her some privacy and say. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were naked I came over to see if you wanted to come into town with me I’d be bored going alone” I say loudly so she can hear me.

“It’s alright I don’t mind it’s natural” she says and I slowly turn my head to see what she’s doing and she’s climbed out the water now and slipped on some knickers and a bra wich immediately gets wet as she hadn’t even dried herself and grabs a small checkered red top and some denim shorts.

“Let me get some money from the house cmon” she says and grabs a hold of my hand and quickly pull me towards the house. She runs upstairs quickly to grab her money and I collect the list from carol only having a few things on it.

“Has a handsome young man like you have a girlfriend yet Johnny?”

“No not yet ma’m”

“You know my y/n is single she hasn’t had a boyfriend in a long time” carol tells me

“Mum stop” she groans as she runs sos. The stairs jumping down the last two and saying a quick goodbye to her mum before we both walk out heading to town.

“Do you like being home or are you missing the movie star life she asks me”

“Nah I like being home seeing my folks and being in my own bed I like that I’ve met you as well” I say staring down at her

“I’m glad I’ve met you too I don’t have many friends we live so far from everyone I’m just stuck on the farm all day but I can complain I love hanging around the animals.” She beams

“Do you think you will ever leave”I ask her knowing I would be crazy if I was living in the middle of nowhere away from everybody

“I want to go travelling one day but I don’t think I’ll be able to”she says kicking stones along as we walk

“Whys that?”

Well dads getting old and he won’t be able to manage the farm for much longer and we really don’t have the money for it anyways.

We carry on talking all the way until we reach the town and I can see how excited she is and she’s wanting to go into every shop and I simply follow after her like some lost dog.

We walk into a candy shop and she buys a pick and mix bags with a few lollipops and we sit on a walk and share them and I notice the cinema. Opposite playing dazed and confused

“I love that film have you seen it” is at pointing to the title that’s in bold letter above the entrance. She shakes her head no way she has some kind of sweet in her mouth and quickly finishes it.

“I haven’t seen many films only when I go round your’e house I catch a few minutes of one. Can we go and watch it?”

“Yeah let’s go”we get off the walk and buy a ticket and I buy us a bucket of popcorn and we find our seats.

She seems to be enjoying the film and as much as I like the film my eyes aren’t in the screen they’re too focused on her. I lol down at her hand resting on the armrest and think about holding her hand but think she will find it weird I brush that idea off and tell myself to go for it and wait for the right moment.

While trying to watch the film I feel her smaller soft hand slide into mine softly squeezing it and my cheeks blush as red as our seats and look over at her to see what she’s doing but she’s too engrossed in the film to think anything of it she catches me staring at her and offers me the popcorn and I grab some and settle back in my seat and squeeze her hand a bit and savour this moment

Once the film has finished we levee the cinema and see that the sun is setting and we should get going home the whole way home she still hangs let go of my hand as we continue to talk and every word she says and everyone she smiles or laughs it just makes me like her even more

As we’re about to reach her house she says to me “Johnny I’m really glad that your here I was starting to go mad on that farm” she laughs at the last bit

“I’m glad too and maybe soon you can come visit me in LA I think you would really like it there”

“Yeah that seems nice”she says as we reach her house and she says goodbye and goes up her porch stairs now she’s just below my height before turning round and grabbing my face and pulling me in for a kiss.

I immediately kiss back and I can taste the sweetness of her lollipop on her lips and my hands wrap around her waist desperately trying to pull her even closer. As we both pull away I see her lips are pink and a bit swollen and she has a small blush coating her cheeks probably matching mine.

We hear her father shout out for her and we both chuckle a bit before she gives me one last kiss and going inside not before she gives me a small wave.

I don’t know how I’m gonna leave now that I’ve met her I think to myself

Hey guys I litch have been thinking about this since @kunntzsstuff @princessthatcantfuckingsleep and @pjknoxx posted their moodboards

Iike always feel free to request

-Liv

#liv’s writing #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville #jackass imagine #johnny knoxville x reader

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renecdote · 1 year

Text

in a heartbeat

idk what this is that buddie scene in 6x12 just gave me lots of soft feelings

[Read on AO3]

Eddie doesn’t ask if he’s staying. He puts a sandwich on a plate and slides it across the table, tops up Buck’s water, and pretends he’s not watching out of the corner of his eye while Buck eats. Then he washes the dishes, not arguing when Buck grabs a tea towel and starts drying, and when everything is clean and put away, he offers another beer, and this time Buck says yes.

“Your sister does know you’re here, right?” he asks when they’re back at the couch, Netflix taking its sweet time loading on the TV.

Buck shrugs, picking at his beer label. “She’s probably figured it out.”

Because where else was he going to go?

Eddie just shakes his head, more fond than exasperated the way it might be from anyone else.

“Text her,” he says, not quite a suggestion. “Or she’s going to freak out when she goes over in the morning and you’re not there.”

He doesn’t ask if Buck is staying, he just assumes, and Buck wonders if he should speak to his cardiologist about the way his heart skips a beat. She’ll probably want to run a test for that too, make a note in his file: cause of heart problems — Eddie Diaz. No cure.

He texts Maddie (I’m fine, I’m with Eddie), then silences his phone and shoves it down the back of the couch so he doesn’t have to deal with any of the dozen follow-up questions he’s sure she’ll have. He almost feels bad for it when Eddie’s phone starts chiming a few minutes later, Maddie and Chimney’s names blowing up the screen, but not bad enough to regret it. It’s so much easier to be okay here, at Eddie’s house, on Eddie’s couch, and he doesn’t know how to explain that. Doesn’t know if he even wants to explain it.

(He tried, once, and Maddie just looked at him like she wasn’t sure if she should smack him on the head or hug him really, really tight. Buck decided it was easier not to bring it up again.)

He lets Eddie pick something to watch, sinking into his corner of the couch and trying hard not to think about it being his corner of the couch. It’s not like he always sits here, specifically, and there’s only a limited number of places to sit on a couch anyway, and Eddie sat down first, so. It’s not like it means anything.

(It’s not like it means everything.)

When the chill of the beer gets under Buck’s skin and he starts shivering, Eddie gets up without a word and comes back with a thick fleece blanket from the hall closet.

“Thanks,” Buck mumbles, huddling under it, waiting for the warmth to kick in.

“Nobody would believe you’re from the east coast,” Eddie teases, but he tugs Buck’s legs until they’re in his lap and starts rubbing warmth into him through the blanket.

Buck kind of wants to kiss him. He’s—not sure why that surprises him. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s thought it (not like it wasn’t one of the first thoughts he had about Eddie Diaz, new recruit). Maybe it’s just because he looks across the couch as Eddie raises his beer to his lips, watches the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way he glances at Buck afterwards, and for the first time in a long time he thinks—huh. maybe he wants to kiss me too.

“What?” Eddie asks, still watching him, eyebrows tilting towards confused. “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s room for a bad pickup line there, Buck thinks. Maybe more than one. For a brief moment, he lets himself imagine what might happen if he said it. If he leaned across the space between them and fit their lips together. If Eddie held him close and kissed back.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Sorry, just—distracted, sorry.”

A quick of Eddie’s lips, something softer than amusement. “Watch the movie, Buck,” he says, squeezing Buck’s ankle, and there it is again, that familiar skip in his heartbeat.

Buck watches the movie, but he doesn’t follow a word of it.

He doesn’t look at Eddie again, either, half afraid of catching his best friend looking back.

When the movie is over, the TV shut off and the room dark, Eddie still doesn’t ask if he’s staying on the couch. He just holds out a hand and pulls Buck to his feet, blanket held around his shoulders like a cape, and gently pushes him down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Okay?” he checks, when they’re both under the covers, too much and too little space between them.

Buck closes his eyes and sees the outline of his best friend in the dark, so close and yet so far.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’m okay.”

This is more than okay.

Eddie doesn’t ask him to stay, but if he did, Buck knows he would say yes in a heartbeat. It makes him smile as he falls asleep because he’s pretty sure—at least ninety percent sure—that if he asked, Eddie would say yes too.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #911 Spoilers #haven't edited this sorry if it's full of mistakes

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luveline · 1 year

Note

Hey Jade! Just a request for the Steve Zombie AU (if you’d like!!! ♥️). What about a hurt/comfort before they reach the college where reader is having a really rough time and has a bit of a breakdown. Protective Stevie wanting to make things better but also being practical to like sort it out because they’re still on the road having to survive. Super “it’ll be okay. I’m gonna fix it!” vibes (because I just DIED when I read that line 🥹)

thank you for your request!! steve zombie!au ♥︎ fem!reader 1k

You’ve been inside of the apocalypse for so long that you can’t remember how long you’ve been inside of it. You’ve lost your family and friends, your life, your choices. You miss TV and movie theatres and frozen pizza, but more than anything, you miss how it felt to wake up rested.

You miss Saturday mornings with nowhere to go. How you’d wake and spread out over your warm sheets, look up into the dimpled ceiling of your bedroom and take a moment to follow dust motes dancing between beams of insistent, golden sunlight.

There’s no sunlight now. It’s raining hard, and you and Steve have nowhere to go. You’ve built the best tent that you’re able to build during such a sudden downpour, two sharp sticks and a tarp buckling under the weight. Every now and then Steve will reach up and slowly release the water that’s been up there, pushing his palm into the bump until it runs down the side of the tarp and away from you and your things.

You feel hopeless.

Steve must see the look on your face. He’s getting very good at knowing how you feel. Which is great when you’re feeling great — you barely have to hint for a kiss anymore when you want one — and unfortunate when you’re feeling down. He knows you’re prone to despair, and his knowing makes it worse. He’s in the exact same boat as you watching you come apart.

“Have my hand,” he says.

You try to focus on what he’s said. Not take my hand, but have my hand. He offers his right hand to you, his knuckles scratched from a stubborn wooden fence, and smooths his fingertips over your palm with a deliberate gentleness. He squeezes your fingers as they slot between his, and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb.

Things with Steve are good. You love him, though you won’t tell him that, and he has a deep affection for you at the very least. You don’t fuck, which had surprised you but isn’t disappointing — you’re almost always sweaty and you aren’t sure either of you are ready for that. But not fucking gives you a little more confidence in your relationship. He can’t be using you for sex if you don’t have sex. And besides, Steve isn’t the type to do that unless you wanted it too.

He doesn’t lie. You like that about him. You trust him to be honest in his intentions.

He doesn’t lie, and he doesn’t sugarcoat.

“I don’t know how long this will last,” he says. “The rain. We have to be careful. We need to stay dry, or it’s probably gonna kill us.”

“It’s just rain,” you say softly.

“It’s about staying warm.” He rubs the back of your hand.

"How do you know?"

"I don't. I'm guessing. I'm always guessing."

"What?"

Steve shuffles toward you. Tarp or not, the ground feels damp and cold beneath you, and he must feel it too as he draws closer. He wraps one of your arms up in his and tugs it under his armpit, an uncommon shape to hug you in but by no means weird. Your right shoulder pressed to his, his face inclined in the dimness so you can see his eyes clearly.

"I don't know what I'm doing, honey," he says, 'honey' said sweet as the real thing and just as smooth. He's trying to pull you back from the precipice of panic. "But that doesn't mean we won't be okay." He gestures to the rain. "I'll make it okay."

"How can you?" you ask.

His reassurance makes you cry. Tears well and fall, a cruel and burning lump takes station in your throat.

"We don't have enough to stay here and wait," you say, looking at his chest rather than his face.

"We'll make it enough. We have water, we have food for another four days. All we have to do is stay warm…" He grins at you. There's a hopefulness to his smile. "I can keep you warm."

Your laugh splutters through tears. His eyebrows wriggle over his forehead. When the laughing turns into sobbing he doesn't baulk, only pulls your face into his shoulder and crooks his arm behind your head. You cry with an ardency made up of raw-tipped fear.

"I don't wanna die here," you say.

Steve shushes you, hand rubbing a too-quick motion over your back. He holds you together for the hundredth time. "You're not dying here."

You're grateful he doesn't say, "Sweetheart, it's only rain." Because it isn't only rain that's hurting you tonight. It's everything. Everything but Steve.

"You think I'd let that happen? We're doing what we need to do. We stay dry, we wait for the rain to pass, and we keep going." He kisses the tip of your ear. You almost don't feel it. "I will drag you out of this damn forest with me. I'll carry you if I have to."

"You can't carry me, Harrington," you mumble.

"You're lucky it's raining. I can't carry you," he says, disbelieving. "Are you kidding?"

He starts to pull you up toward his chest. Steve is surprisingly strong considering he isn't too bulky, and your shoulders and back feel as if they're decompressing, shifting. You let your weight fall into him. He stops you from sliding down the length of his chest. You should know by now, Steve will always hold you up.

The rain abates sometime in the early hours. You and Steve roll up the tarp, drag it dripping wet through mud and leaf mulch to the highway, and you keep walking until you find a place to rest. You try to say sorry for breaking down. Steve won't hear it, but he does accept the apology kiss you offer, and he gives your cheek an aching squeeze.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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shuadotcom · 10 months

Text

Take Me Higher | CHS (M)

🍃Summary: Yeah, your first real party was completely different than you had imagined, but it was even better than you had hoped.

🍃Pairing: Stoner!Vernon x Stoner!Afab Reader

🍃Genres & AUs: Smut, a dash of fluff, friends to lovers au, pwp

🍃Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

🍃Content/Warnings: Marijuana usage, mention of alcohol, profanity, protective sex, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, bathroom sex, sex while high (they’re both faded but they like each other and are consenting), multiple orgasms, dry-humping, allusion to big dick!vernon, reader has boobs and a vagina but no gendered terms are used for y/n

🍃Words: 6.1k

🍃Note: As a cannabis connoisseur myself, I love stoner!vernon fics and will read any and every single one so it was only a matter of time before I wrote my own. Truly it was a mighty need - especially blue hoodie Vernon because that's my favorite shoot of his. This is based off of a slightly true story of my first adult party years ago. Y/n has a much better partner and time than I did though 😂

I also listened to Rihanna's Anti album (aka the last album she'll give us 😭) a lot when writing this for whatever reason.

Thank you bestie @the-boy-meets-evil for being my beta!🫶🏽

Tagging the lovely @kthpurplesyou 😘

🍃Net Tag: @kflixnet

Tonight was turning out to be different than you ever thought it’d be. It’s your first-ever real party and it was turning out to be much less notable than you’d have imagined. Growing up, you had been a typical wallflower with a tiny group of friends that were as introverted as you, so you never knew people who threw parties, and you sure as hell weren’t “important enough” to get invited to them. Nothing much had changed from middle school and even through college.

It’s not until you’re well into your young adulthood that you receive your first party invitation. It comes from your oldest friend, Joshua, whom you recently reconnected with. You had practically grown up with him and when he and his family moved away, your communication eventually lessened with life and timezones in the way. It isn’t until you just so happen to move near him after college that you start hanging out again. He sends you an Instagram message after happening to see a location close to him that you tagged in a post.

You and Joshua easily pick your long-dormant friendship back up, getting along as perfectly as you had years ago. Your closeness and trust are quickly restored in him the more time you spend together. It’s why when he invites you to a party a friend of his is throwing, you jump at the chance.

Having never been to a party, you only had the tv shows and movies you watched to go off of as to what the atmosphere would be like. You imagine loud, deafening music, drunk people spread all over the poorly lit house, the air reeking of alcohol, and too many people.

In reality, the lights are on around the house as expected and the music that plays over a speaker in the living room is loud enough to get lost in while dancing but not so loud that you couldn’t hold a conversation. Instead of smelling like nothing but alcohol, the air only smelt of pizza and an artificial air freshener, with a hint of beer.

There are only a few handfuls of people milling about, most of whom Joshua and Jeonghan - his other close friend who came with the two of you - had long since introduced you to.

One of whom you’ve spent the most time with when you hang out with Joshua and his friends and are the most familiar with. You have a ton in common and always feel comfortable around him.

He also happens to be the friend that you have an embarrassingly huge crush on.

“Hey, Vernon!” Joshua calls his name as the three of you file down the basement stairs where it looks like most of the guests are.

Vernon turns from his conversation to find you three and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his smile widened when he made eye contact with you.

He says something to the guy he’s talking to before approaching you all.

“Hey, Josh, Jeonghan. Hi, Y/n. Thanks for coming.”

“Obviously we’d show up! I don’t think anyone has thrown a party just for fun in months. And I knew you wouldn’t mind if I brought Y/n. It’s baby’s first party!” Joshua throws his arm around your shoulders, bringing you forward from your spot nearly hiding behind him. You’re not too flustered that you can’t pinch him in the side for exposing you so willingly.

“Of course, I don’t mind!” Vernon rushes out, maybe even a little too loud. He clears his throat, breathing out an awkward laugh. “Anyway yeah, Seungkwan and Chan were feeling particularly social this weekend so I didn’t have much of a say but it’s cool.” Vernon scans the room, pointing out his two roommates across the room as he says their names. “Tonight won’t be anything crazy so don’t worry.” He says the last part to you, a sweet smile on his pretty lips.

As if they could tell they were being talked about, Seungkwan and Chan spot the group of you and are over in an instant, thanking you for coming and guiding you over to where all the snacks and drinks are while Vernon trails behind.

Truth be told, the whole party feels as if it’s a normal hang-out session with everyone. Sure some people get a little more drunk than usual and there’s more dancing and obnoxious singing than there typically is on any other Saturday night, but overall it’s nothing like the parties in movies. No one is swinging from the ceiling naked and drunk off their asses (unless you count Soonyoung shirtless and screaming at the top of his lungs to the karaoke song he’s doing, but no one is too concerned).

You’re even more grateful that you decided on jeans and a nicer shirt after agonizing over what to wear for days. Everyone was in the most normal clothes which took a lot of the pressure you had initially felt off of you. This includes Vernon, who was in jeans and an oversized, cozy-looking hoodie in the prettiest shade of baby blue. You could barely keep your eyes off of him, not that you really tried. He didn’t make it any easier, seeing how he hasn’t moved from your general vicinity all night.

Whether it was near the snack table, upstairs for a little while, or standing near Joshua and Jeonghan as they played beer pong, Vernon hasn’t been far, mostly talking to the two men or any other people around you, occasionally trying to bring you into the conversation. You’ve been doing your best to contribute, but your nerves about not knowing what to do with yourself, paired with the butterflies in your stomach that erupt whenever Vernon so much as looks at you, have you feeling a little out of your element.

At some point in the night, Jeonghan wanders off and Vernon disappears for a bit. You and Joshua are standing near the drinks, trying a few different shots and you hate them all. You nearly forgot how much you dislike the taste of most alcohol.

“So when are you going to tell Vernon you’re into him?” Joshua’s question is abrupt and he knows it. It’s why he snickers, watching your face contort as you choke on the shot of Patron you just knocked back, which you instantly regret.

“When am I going to what?!”

Joshua shrugs, taking a shot himself, his eyebrows only knitting a little.

“You heard me. And don’t act so surprised. Watching the two of you steal glances at each other all night and then act all shy as if you weren’t doing that was cute for the first five minutes, but enough is enough!” Joshua reaches for another shot, but you smack his hand, demanding why he thinks you like his friend. You haven’t told a soul about your crush on Vernon.

He’s about to say something else, but then Vernon shows up and your attention locks onto him.

“Hey guys, I’m heading outside if you want to come.” His eyes linger on yours and you momentarily forget how to speak so Joshua answers for you, letting him know that you’ll both be joining him.

It’s late and you’re not sure what time it is, but the sky is full of tiny stars, providing faint light to the group of people sitting outside. The small circle of people is sitting on lawn chairs surrounding a brightly shining lantern and a bong as they take turns passing it around. The three of you take the spots still open with you between Joshua and Vernon.

You didn’t forget what Joshua said inside, but put your interrogation on the back burner.

You’ve smoked weed before, in fact, you do so multiple days of the week. It’d been your chosen way to destress with friends before you moved and even more so now as you quickly learned that Vernon was the stoner friend in this group. If everyone was going to be hanging out and Vernon was there, there’d inevitably be edibles or a joint passed around. In your mind, you were practically perfect for each other.

The other partygoers greet you, and Vernon immediately takes the bong from the person next to him. Joshua falls into conversation with Wonwoo on his other side which gives you time to study Vernon.

He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, his forearms on full display. His movements are effortless as he leans forward to grab a pinch of weed from the grinder tin on the small table in front of you. His fingers, always looking so long, nimbly pack the bowl of the bong. He uses his middle finger to gently press it down as his eyebrows knit in concentration and his lips purse just a tiny bit.

Your eyes never leave him as he places his lips into the mouthpiece and uses his free hand to grab a lighter on the table. Vernon lights the bowl with skilled fingers, inhaling gently but confidently, then removes it. His eyelids flutter closed, as he inhales steadily, the smoke in the bong swirling as it fills his lungs.

Once he’s had his fill, he pulls the bong away, holding the smoke in his chest for a few seconds before his red lips part, the smoke seeping out of his mouth in rings and drifting up to the dark sky. A dopey smile plays on his lips as his eyes open again, meeting yours.

The entire act has you clenching as you watch him work, so in his element and looking absolutely breathtaking while doing so. But the look he’s giving you now has an undeniable effect on you and the want you so often feel for him.

Vernon tips the bong lightly in your direction, asking if you want a hit and you accept it. Instead of handing it to you, he holds the mouthpiece out to you, keeping it in his grasp as you lean forward and place your mouth on it. Vernon lights the bowl for you, holding eye contact as you start to let the smoke billow into your mouth, your chest already feeling warm as it fills you. He waits until your eyes close to remove the bowl, and you inhale sharply, your head already feeling lighter.

The bong is pulled away and you tip your head back, the smoke swirling inside of you before your lungs begin to burn and you open your mouth, releasing the smoke. You watch it float up and dissipate and don’t notice Vernon’s gaze still glued to you.

When you meet his eyes, neither of you moves, almost waiting to see what the other will say or do.

Joshua is the one to interrupt the moment, yelling at the two of you for not sharing. Vernon leans over you to pass the bong to Joshua’s waiting hands and he’s the closest to you he has been all evening. The smell of his sweet shampoo hits you first before the woodsy scent of his cologne follows, topped off with the faint smell of weed. It takes everything in you not to kiss him, but you hold it together until he sits back in his chair. He slouches into the uncomfortable fold-out chair, his legs spread wide in his worn jeans, practically begging you to crawl into his lap. Again, you don’t, but dear god how you want to.

Time ticks by as your small group stays outside, passing the bong around the circle every few minutes. You’ve quickly lost the conversation being held by the whole group since you and Vernon spend most of your time talking amongst yourselves. You don’t discuss anything in particular, just movies you’ve seen lately, new restaurants you’ve tried, and some of your favorite new musical releases. Conversation with Vernon always flows so naturally and easily. The two of you rarely broach awkward topics which is a miracle in itself.

At one point, the conversation shifts to you and your lack of experience in the party department.

“So, you’ve never been to any party ever? Like not even a birthday party?”

“Do birthday parties at laser tag places count when I was like ten?” Both of you giggle at that, feeling so much more at ease than you did earlier.

“I don’t think so. I mean like, in high school, you never even went to like a small house party?”

You shake your head as you sip on the soda you had dragged yourself back into the house to get earlier. “Nah. I wasn’t really popular in high school and my friends and I were all too nerdy to throw parties. We had anime-watch nights, but that’s about it.” Waving your hands dismissively you chuckle, but Vernon just shakes his head.

“I can’t believe that.”

“What, that I’m a massive nerd? I wouldn’t think that’d be a surprise since Joshua and I literally got into an argument about Full Metal Alchemist last weekend at Seungcheol’s.” A snort leaves Vernon when he laughs and you can’t help but notice how endearing it is.

“No, we already know you and Shua are weebs!” He keeps laughing even when you lightly push him at his teasing. “What I mean is, I can’t believe that you weren’t popular. I mean, look at you!” He gestures wildly to you, his eyes sweeping over you from head to toe.

“Oh, come on.”

“No, for real! You’re so damn funny and so fun to be around. You’re super sweet and kind and you’re always taking care of us. Plus you’re the hottest person I’ve ever met so like, how the fuck weren’t people all over you? You’re basically fucking perfect!” His words make you feel fuzzy all over, and you know it’s not just the weed.

“Thank you, Vernon,” you whisper, averting your attention to your drink. Hearing Vernon call you hot and “fucking perfect” makes you squeeze your thighs together. Something about him complimenting you so blatantly has you weak in the knees. With your earlier stress gone and feeling a little more carefree, you decide it’s now or never. “I think all of that about you too,” you mumble under your breath.

At first, you’re not sure if he hears you so you dart your eyes over to him. Vernon is staring at you, blinking slowly and you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Oh wow,” he finally breathes out. “Really?”

Oh. He did hear you.

“Yeah.” You admit. It’s already out there so you may as well just stand by it.

Vernon’s brain looks as though it’s working overtime as he stares at you blankly. Your stomach does the most violent of flips as you wait for what comes next, unsure of what you should say.

Thankfully, Joshua barges into the conversation, disrupting the tension that hung between you and Vernon.

“Hey, Y/n, I’m tired. I’m gonna find Jeonghan and head home. You wanna share an Uber? Jeonghan’ll probably crash at my place and you can too. Or we’ll put your address in as a stop.”

“Uh…” Do you want to leave now? You just kind-of, sort-of, maybe confessed your feelings to Vernon. But, he also kind-of, sort-of maybe did the same.

If you leave now, will he pretend none of this happened the next time you see him again? Will he blame the weed for his words that he possibly didn’t mean? Does he want you to stay and decide what to do next together?

“Y/n mentioned staying behind for a while longer. Right?” Vernon decides for you, tilting his head and looking back at you, unmoving as he waits for you to verify.

“Oh, yeah I’m gonna stay a little longer.”

Joshua narrows his eyes at you, scanning your face for something that may contradict your words. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good here with Vernon.” Joshua seems to inspect you both, the seconds dragging on before he finally decides that he accepts what you’re saying.

“Okay, but I better get a text from you later when you’re going home and when you get there. Got it?”

“Promise!”

Joshua throws another look at Vernon. “Everybody better stay safe.” There’s something else behind Joshua’s demand and you’re not sure how exactly to take it.

You and Vernon watch him go before the earlier silence you shared is back. It hangs in the air for what feels to you like an eternity but is more likely only a few seconds.

“You wanna, uh, go upstairs?”

“Yes!” Vernon stumbles over his words when he asks you, but you don’t when you answer him. He’s barely able to get the last word out before you’re accepting his offer. You don’t care where he wants to take you because you’ll go wherever with him.

Vernon slowly stands, reaching for your hand which you give him without a second thought. He leads you back inside the house, upstairs, and to one of the bathrooms in the hall.

“Um, my room’s not clean. I didn’t really expect anyone would be in my room besides me so…” Vernon confesses rather sheepishly when the door is shut behind you. “But, Seungkwan made us clean all the common areas so I promise this room is clean.” A nervous chuckle leaves him, averting his eyes from you.

“That’s okay,” you admit. And it is. Your romantic feelings for Vernon aside (and yes it is a lot of feelings), you want him so badly. You yearn to kiss him, touch him, and let him fuck you, no matter where it happens. Knowing that maybe your feelings aren’t unrequited only makes you want him even more. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Vernon smiles at you, his mouth taking the shape of a heart that has your actual heart beating wildly. He approaches you almost cautiously, pressing you against the bathroom door.

“Are you sure you want this?” His question is a whisper as he’s practically nose to nose with you.

“Of course.”

“We can stop whenever you want to. If you get uncomfortable or change your mind about me or anything like that just say the word.”

“Vernon, I want to be here, I promise. Now kiss me, please.”

And kiss you he does. Vernon dips his head to close the gap between you. His lips are a little chapped as they move against yours, but you don’t mind at all. Your hands ball themselves in the front of his hoodie while he cups your face and kisses you hard. His tongue prods at your lips and you open immediately, moaning as the muscle slips inside your mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, suckling at it and pulling another desperate sound from you. The urgency behind his movements is evident, as his hips meet yours, his body flush against you.

It’s shallow at first and barely noticeable but when you do feel it - Vernon grinding against you - you instantly react, meeting his small thrusts.

When his clothed erection, already hard and straining through his jeans, presses against your pelvis, he makes a deep, pleased hum in his throat. Even through his clothes, you can feel just how big Vernon is. More wetness pools between your legs, already making your underwear feel uncomfortable and sticky.

Vernon continues to hump against you, his kisses becoming more frantic and his hands have long since started wandering on you. His big hands cradle your hips, sliding down the tops of your thighs, then around you to grab a handful of your ass. He yanks you into him, his hips continuing to rut against you.

The sheer act of Vernon dry-humping you like a man truly crazy with lust only makes you want him more. You feel yourself clench around nothing, the friction of Vernon’s hard-on nudging so close to where you need him the most. He has to pull away from your mouth finally, gasping for air, but his hips don’t falter.

“Vernon…please, I need more.”

“M-more?”

“More. Need more.” Your words come out as more of a whine when he squeezes your ass again.

“More of me?”

“Please!”

“Fuck, yeah. Okay.”

He looks genuinely forlorn at the thought of stopping his movements, but he does, lightly panting from his exertion.

Your hands leave the crumpled fabric of his hoodie and snake down to his waist, slipping your hands under the hem. Vernon lets you undress him and then he does the same to you, pulling off piece by piece, tossing each article away without so much as a second thought and drinking in the sight of one another as you go.

Vernon is back on you once you’re both naked, shoving your bodies together as he kisses you again. He cups your breasts, thumbs rubbing circles over your pert nipples. You moan into Vernon’s mouth, letting him work your sensitive buds, the sensation making you rub your thighs together. When your knee brushes Vernon’s hard cock, he nearly chokes. His hands knead at your plush skin as his lips trace their way from your lips to your neck.

Vernon’s teeth nip at your skin and your hands float up to grab at his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, keeping him at your most sensitive spot. Your knees nearly buckle when he starts to suck harshly and his hands continue their work on your tits.

Before you know what’s next, one of Vernon’s hands is inching down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. With a step out to the side, you spread your thighs to give him access. A single, long digit swipes at your already sopping folds.

He eases his finger into your hole, your warmth greedily sucking him. Vernon begins pumping his finger in and out of you as he continues marking your neck, mumbling about how warm you are and how wet you feel. Your mind starts to turn to mush, your hands scrambling to grasp onto any part of Vernon you can. It happens to be his biceps - those of which are surprisingly firm. You’ve never seen him go to the gym or talk about working out, but clearly he’s doing something. The muscles ripple as he pistons his finger in and out, soon adding a second which slides in with no resistance.

His hot, rock-hard length brushes against your thigh and you reach down with the hand not clutching his arm for dear life, and wrap your fingers around his cock.

Vernon jumps, hissing through his teeth as you slowly jerk him off. Your thumb rubs over his tip, the precum oozing out and helping your hand glide over him.

His lips find yours again, the kiss bruising and messy as he finger fucks you faster and the squelching sounds you make around him echo off of the tile. His fingers scissor in you, working you open for him and when he grazes that soft, spongy spot inside of you, your legs nearly give out.

He manages to keep you upright with his other arm locked around your waist. “You okay?” His voice is gruff, much deeper than it was earlier and you can feel more wetness seep out and around his fingers.

“I’m s-so close, Vern, fuck.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

The sentence is so simple but it has you clenching around his digits so hard that you hold your breath.

“Mmhmm!” you can’t manage words, only sounds, but he doesn’t ask again, instead quickening his pace. Doing your best to match his speed, you twist your wrist, letting Vernon cant his hips forward and fuck into your hand. You whimper into each other’s mouths, the only focus is each other. The only thing either of you see and think about is the other.

Vernon eventually breaks the kiss and bends down to draw one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking at the bud before sucking on it hard enough to hurt in the best way. The twinge of pain shoots straight to your belly, the tension finally snapping.

When you cum, you throw your head back, hitting the bathroom door with a loud ‘thunk!’ and your eyes squeeze shut so tightly that stars swim in the darkness of your closed lids “Fuck!” You choke out, your knees finally giving up on keeping you upright as you let go of Vernon’s cock to grab a hold of his other arm.

Your body sags against his bare chest. He has to prop you back against the door while he helps you ride out your orgasm. The image of you like this, naked and sweaty and crying out for him on his fingers will live in his mind rent-free until the day he dies.

When he finally slips out of you, he can’t help but stare in awe at your juices that drip down his fingers. His first impulse is to shove them into his mouth which he does eagerly, sucking and savoring the flavor of you.

Vernon’s eyes roll back and you watch the entire thing, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Can I eat you out? If that’s okay with you of course.” Vernon’s eyes are wide as he meets yours, half-afraid that you’ll say no. He’ll respect you of course, but he’ll also daydream forever about the way just the small sampling of you tasted on his tongue.

Luckily, for both of you, you want nothing more than to feel Vernon’s kiss-swollen lips on your cunt.

“Please!” You shamelessly beg, droopy eyes widening at his request.

He leads you to the bathroom counter and helps you clumsily clamber up onto it. Both of you are wobbly and clumsy from the weed, but you make it without injury. Vernon’s on his knees instantly, wide hands prying your legs open, pussy on full display.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet!”

“Vernon!” You cover your face in embarrassment, feeling self-conscious.

“Like, your pussy is fucking shimmering in the light, baby.” His face is right in front of your heat, the proximity making your hole flutter right in front of his eyes. “Fucking hell I just watched your pussy squeeze. I’m going to pass out.”

“Vernon, fucking touch me already, please! I need you so bad!” His heavy eyes meet yours, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Much like earlier, he didn’t need you to tell him again as his eyes focus on you and he dips his head between your legs.

Vernon’s tongue immediately finds your clit, the muscle flicking forcefully, sending a jolt through you. Shaky fingers rake through Vernon’s hair and grip the brunette locks for support as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it in the way you need.

“Fuck! Vernon, yes!” Your hips start to buck up into his face when he changes direction and dips his tongue into your pussy, groaning low in his throat as he does.

“Mmph! So good.” Vernon drawls, his words muffled as he tongue fucks you, slurping your wetness as he does.

His tongue darts in and out of you, his nose brushing your clit every time you lift your hips. Vernon makes out with your cunt, the lewd sounds alone are enough to have you hurdling to your end and Vernon’s grunt reverberating through your body is what ultimately has you cumming.

“Vernon!” His name erupts from your mouth in a shriek, your thighs clamping around his head. Your whole body feels as if it’s on fire, as you arch almost painfully into him. You stay that way for what feels like minutes, hips still pushed towards him as you gasp and Vernon continues to lazily lick at you.

The world could crumble around you at this very moment and you don’t think you’d care.

That was undisputedly the best head you’ve ever gotten.

Vernon chuckles from between your thighs, finally coming up for air.

“Best head ever huh?” His nose all the way to his chin shines with your juices as he gives you a lopsided grin.

You hadn’t even realized you said your last thoughts out loud. Only a small part of you feels embarrassed. The rest of you only focuses on Vernon as he stands up, his cock red and angry as it rests against his stomach.

“Can - can we do it on the floor? My legs feel like cooked pasta right now and I can’t stay upright.” His expression is sullen as he says this, but you can only giggle at how cute he looks, pouting at you, cradling his very thick, very distracting dick.

“You can fuck me wherever you want as long as you do it.”

Vernon’s eyes widen, blinking a few times as if your words fluster him, but he quickly snaps out of it, helping you off the counter. He grabs a bath towel hanging on the rack nearby and spreads it out on the floor before helping lay you on it. He promises that it’s clean, but you shrug his worries away. Towel or not, at this very moment all you want is Vernon to fuck you even more stupid than the weed has made you, and you don’t care what he does it on.

With fumbling hands, Vernon reaches for his pants and digs his wallet out in search of a condom. When he finds it, he opens and rolls the rubber on, hands trembling as he goes.

He scurries back over to you, easily taking his place between your legs. He momentarily forgets what he’s doing when he catches sight of your still-sopping folds and you have to call his name to get his attention. His eyes dart up to look at you, fixating on your heaving chest and bottom lip pulled tight between your teeth, hair sprawled out around your head, eyes red and shiny, staring right back at him.

You look straight out of all of the late-night fantasies he’s had about you and you don’t even know it.

Vernon’s cock feels as big as it looks when he finally eases inside of you, your legs quivering along the way. His hands hook under your knees, keeping you open until he buries himself balls-deep into your pussy.

The two of you share a moan, your voices harmonizing in pleasure at finally filling you and being full by him. He takes a moment before he thrusts forward, gauging your reaction. A scrunch of your brow and a nod to him lets him know to move and he anchors himself by gripping your thighs as he starts to snap his hips.

A high-pitched yelp leaves you, echoing in the room along with the wet sounds of your arousal, the sound only intensifying as Vernon starts to fuck you with more urgency.

“Holy shit, Y/n. You feel fucking incredible.” He pants out as he drives his hips into yours, sweat already beading at his hairline.

Your shaky hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders and you pull him closer. “S-so do you…” Vernon stumbles, but catches himself, planting his hands on the sides of your head. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you do your best to lift your hips with each thrust, meeting Vernon’s momentum as he fucks into you.

Through the condom, you can still feel the most prominent veins on his cock, the friction gliding against your walls, your eyes crossing at the pleasure. The bathroom floor isn’t where you imagined your first time with him being, although you never thought that your first time with him would even happen. Your crush on him was one you kept close to you and in your mind, it wouldn’t be reciprocated.

That thought was obviously cast aside if the way his soft brown eyes, rimmed with scarlet, are looking down at you, even as his lips press together in concentration with each drive of his body jolting yours and almost pushing you across the floor.

Even with THC coursing through his system and making every other movement so slow, Vernon is quick and determined as he rocks into you, your soft, gummy walls squeezing him harder the faster he fucks into you at a bruising pace.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Vernon rasps out between grunts.

“You’re f-fucking the last of my brain cells out of m-me and you wanna be romantic?” You manage a laugh, even if it gets cut off with a sob as soon as Vernon’s cockhead bumps into your g-spot.

“I can’t help it. You make me wanna be romantic.” His words are accentuated with a breathy groan - the sentence a stark contrast to the way he pummels your cunt.

Tears well in your eyes, and you blame the weed for bringing emotions out of you. Raising your head as best as you can, you meet his lips in what is meant to be a sweet kiss, even if it’s more teeth than anything, but neither of you minds.

You lay back and settle when you can’t keep yourself up anymore and Vernon stays close to your face as he pivots his hips, shoving his hand between your bodies. It takes him a second, but he eventually finds your clit, eliciting a shriek from you.

The pace that Vernon finds with both his hips and his fingers has your orgasm right on the cusp, your body already sensitive from earlier.

“V-Vernon!”

“Say my real name,” he wheezes desperately.

“Hansol! Fuck, so good. ‘M gonna cum! So close…” His real name rolls off of your tongue just as easily as his nickname does, if not easier.

His fingers pinch at your clit between pressing against it as his other hand supports most of his weight, his sweaty forehead resting against yours.

“Cum for me again, baby. Wanna see you cum just for me.” His voice is like honey, dripping all over you, and setting your heart and body ablaze.

You reach your high then, a needy cry of his name exploding from you, your body going stiff. Wave after wave rushes through you like an inferno, your blood rushing to your head. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear Hansol actually growl from above you, your name, and a string of curses sounding like a chant coming from him.

His mouth hangs open again as his hips stutter, riding out his orgasm until he lets out a loud huff. Instinctively, you reach your hand up, running it through Hansol’s damp strands. His eyes slip close, pushing his head into your hand more, relishing in the way your nails graze his scalp.

The air is calm and full of so much adoration even as you both harshly huff and puff, catching your breath. You relish this moment with Hansol, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with him.

The sound of his stomach grumbling cuts through the moment. “Sorry,” he snorts, causing both of you to break into a fit of laughter.

“Wanna go back downstairs and get some pizza?” You ask him as he finally moves off of you and you peel yourself up from the floor. Vernon has to help you stand, but to be fair, both of you are unsteady as you stand again.

“Hell yeah. Would you wanna bring it back up to my room? I can clean up really quickly and you can stay over. I have a bowl if you wanna smoke more. But only if you want to! You can say no and I can stay with you until a rideshare gets here.” The nervousness in his question is obvious as he pulls his clothes back on, having to concentrate on getting both legs in his jeans without falling over.

“Of course, I’ll stay over. And don’t worry about the mess. As long as there’s room in the bed for us, the food, and to smoke it doesn’t matter to me, Hansol.” You smile to yourself once you’re dressed, loving the way his real name sounds to your ears. You want to only call him Hansol from here on out.

His head snaps up and he fixes you with a wide-eyed look once his hoodie is back on. “Really?”

You nod at him, laughing at his expression - the same incredulous look he’s given you all night. Closing the small distance between the two of you, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, enjoying the way he instantly melts into you.

Yeah, your first real party was completely different than you had imagined, but it was even better than you had hoped.

Seventeen masterlist | All Masterlists

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luvdzu · 1 year

Text

bts’ hyung line arguing on who raised sua for 19 minutes straight

by suazoos | march 27, 2020

hello! i’m back with a new video that features our one and only sua along with some of the many clips, of bts’ hyung line arguing on who raised sua because they’re cute like that, and they’re all precious :> also the video is 19 minutes long… sorry not sorry, there’s more btw

##CLIP ONE | bts in the soop

“Oppa!” Sua giggled as she waddled her way in the car with Suga and Jin, both who are waiting for her as she jumped at the back seat, waving and greeting the cameras before closing the door.

“I’m with my reliable oppa!~” Sua cheered at the camera as she situated herself in the back seat causing Jin to laugh at her antics.

“Wear your seatbelt Hyun-ah.” Yoongi spoke, pulling his mask down as he buckles his own seat, getting ready to drive.

Sua shuffled on the back pulling the seatbelt stuck from the top, her face scrunches up as she pulls the seatbelt harder shaking it multiple times.

“Oh? Why?” Sua let out an exasperated sigh causing the older members to turn around and look at her.

“What’s taking you long?” Jin glanced from the mirror, laughing as he watched Sua struggle to fight the seatbelt.

Yoongi smirked at the younger member, “Why are you like this Hyun-ah?” he asked in sarcasm, teasing Sua.

“You’re acting like a rookie, haven’t you been in a car ride before?” Jin shouts from the front seat before removing his seatbelt and turn around to help the younger.

“You don’t need to pull so hard, just release it from the top.” Jin showed Sua how to do it, and buckled her in her seat himself to avoid any more complications.

“Oooh oppa is so cool.” Sua giggled, doing a small dance smirking at the camera in front of her, “he’s like a boyfriend- no a father!”

Jin sat down in his seat buckling himself as Yoongi begin to drive, in the hopes to catch up to the members. “It’s like when I met you back then, I would do your seatbelt for you. Such a kid Ahn Seohyun.”

Jin sighed as Yoongi shook his head in agreement, “We were worried that Sua would begin dating other guys when she turned 20, but till this day she’s still-”

“Oppa! You can’t say that in national tv.” Sua gasped trying to change the subject, but she know they’re never going to stop teasing her anytime soon. “I have a crush, what if they see me.” Sua replies jokingly causing the members to look behind her.

“Yah! Who do you tell tell me?” Seokjin glanced at the younger from the mirror as she raised her brows, chuckling mischievously.

“It’s ARMY of course! I need to be on my best, and show off my charms.” Sua shouts to avoid any more dating allegations stacked on her name.

Yoongi sent Sua an unknowing smirk before ignoring her previous statement, “What are you talking about? ARMY’s love all your charms.”

Sua shakes her head avoiding conversation, holding back the giggles in her mouth.

“You better tell me later, send me a message right now.” Jin mumbles under his breath opening KakaoTalk to ask her.

##CLIP TWO | 150709 [bangtan bomb] late happy fairy sua day in australia

“I can’t believe it, she’s already 20 years old.” Hobi faced the camera, drying fake tears as the group huddled to surprise her.

Sua was called to film an interview after their schedule in Melbourne, which gave the boys enough time to design and surprise their hotel room with cake and balloons.

“Sua is already an adult, it’s sad to see her grow, but I’m happy of the all the things she will achieve.” Hoseok smiled at the camera before continuing to design her cake.

“What about you hyung! Suga hyung! Say something to Sua, it’s a letter for her.” Jimin ran to his direction placing the camera in front of him.

Getting his emotions ready, Suga let out a short sigh before looking at the camera, “That little squirt is already 20, how fast does time go. We’re here in our first world tour and I’m happy that she got to experience these memories and moments with us.

The first time I met Sua, she was 15 years old, such a baby, and now she’s already an adult. I’m proud of her.” Yoongi smiled softly and waved to the camera, before continuing to help the rest of the members.

Moving on, Jimin went to Namjoon to ask him to send Sua a message. “Sua, when we first met you were so small, and I showed you around BigHit, you were timidly following behind me, and now you’re walking on a flowery path.

I wish you all the best, and I hope you enjoy your time as an adult. Remember that the members are here with you, and together we will walk together. Happy birthday Sua!”

Namjoon smiles before sending a finger heart to the camera, before Jimin smiles, leaving him to find the rest of the members and their messages.

##CLIP THREE | 150508 [bangtan bomb] after KBS Music Bank 1st Place

“This,” Sua placed the trophy in front of her with stained lips from Tae’s antics, “this is my early coming-of-age-present. Which is coming in 15 days!”

Sua shake the award in front of the camera before staring at in, honey dripping from her eyes. “I’m so so happy. This is our first award and woah, it’s just shocking. I’m shaking right now.”

Sua shows the camera as Seokjin walks from behind you, “Are you okay Hyun-ah?” Seokjin rubs her shoulders comforting her as she show him her shaking hand.

“I’m still processing the whole thing, you know, our first win. It’s nice, I- I didn’t think we would win. Thank you ARMY!~” Sua smiles pulling Seokjin inside the frame and pose with her.

“I’m so proud of you!” Seokjin smiled at Sua and pat her head lovingly, pinching the sides of her cheeks.

Turning around, Seokjin faced the camera saying, “I can’t believe I’m here to witness Sua grow up as an idol. I raised her you know.”

Namjoon, who was walking near him, listened to the conversation and nodded his head behind Jin, pointing to himself and mouth the words, “me too”.

“Sua has become a lovely girl, and when I let her she was so adorable and sweet.” Seokjin spoke, showering Sua with compliments.

“I met her first! I met Sua back then, even before Yoongi and Hoseok!”

##CLIP FOUR | [BTS 꿀 FM 06.13] 2nd BTS birthday ‘BTS FESTA 2015’

“Okay it’s time for Sua’s segment.” Yoongi flipped his script as the members scoot over to push Sua on Yoongi’s right side.

“I have a segment? What is this?” Sua laughed awkwardly looking at the other members.

“Yes, this is for your coming-of-age celebration preparation time!!” Yoongi spoke quickly causing the members to laugh at him.

“Of course, in our room, Sua keeps talking about having plans for her birthday.” Seokjin added.

“So, Sua, tell us- well me and hyung already know but tell the other members.” Yoongi gestured to the rest of the members, eyes never leaving the female.

“Ohhh, I want to go to a park! Maybe we can hang out outside the dorm? I can treat you out because I saved some of my allowance, I can’t go home either and my parents will be sending me money I think?

I can treat you, we can eat meat at the restaurant near BigHit, after practice! But, I don’t know if we have a schedule or not, so maybe we can celebrate earlier or later, it’s okay to me, as long as we celebrate it together.” Sua ended her statement with a smile as the members cheered at her promising plans.

“It’ll be in a month right? Your birthday?” Jungkook spoke beside her.

“Yeah, perhaps, did you forget when my birthday is?” Sua asked, playing sad as Jungkook frantically waved saying he knows.

“Sua is growing well, let’s hope we don’t have any schedule’s planned during your birthday.” Hoseok spoke before closing Sua’s segment and moving on to a different topic.

##CLIP FIVE | 170921 BTS Comeback Show DNA

“Sua’s DNA?” Jin tilted his head to the side, and the first words that come out of his mouth are, “my child”

“I practically raised her.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders, unfazed as he mumbles staring at the camera.

“A baby?” Namjoon chuckles with a big grin flashed on his face.

“Did the other hyungs say Sua is their child?” Hoseok looked at Jungkook from behind the camera as he jumps and laughs along with Hoseok.

“Ahh, I knew it, these hyungs. Seohyun’s mother! Hello, I’m J-Hope.” Hoseok bowed in front of the camera causing Jungkook to laugh behind the camera.

“Are you introducing yourself hyung?” Jungkook asked.

“Yes, I also helped raising your daughter, but thank you for giving birth to her.” Hoseok smiles at the camera before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Sua is my child, I fed her, and made her food when she was in high school. You were there!” Seokjin shouts as Jungkook nods his head in agreement. “You made us lunchboxes hyung! Noona and I would eat them together.”

“Hyung would say he raised Sua, but I also raised her! I gave her pocket money so she can hang out with her friends after class.” Yoongi nods his head, full of pride for Sua.

“You never gave me pocket money hyung!” Jungkook shouts from the back of the camera, “You said you didn’t have friends?” Yoongi retorts causing Jungkook to scoff at his reply.

“Just so you know I shared the money with Kookie.” Sua spoke from the back leaving Yoongi shocked. “What!”

##CLIP SIX | bon voyage 2

“To Sua,

Ahn Seohyun, you’ve grown so much, not just as an idol, but also as a person. How fast the time goes by, when I met you seven years ago, you were but a child, an 8th grader to be exact. When I met you, I just felt the need to take care of you, it was a natural instinct that came over me, and I fed you and helped you especially when you still had classes.

I’m glad you stayed around, and stuck with us seven. I’m proud of you, and how far you’ve come. I’m sorry if I became a burden to you, if I nag a lot and scold you, know that it is out of love, and I’m glad you’re understanding of not just me but to all of us.

There must be a lot of pressure on your shoulders right now? If so just know you can lean on me, and the rest of the members when you’re tired. We can help you ease the burden, and we’re ready to help you.

All the responsibilities that was given to you at a young age, I’m glad you pushed through and worked hard, if not as twice as hard as me. Sua, who never gave up to all the problems that arises. thank you for everything, I’ve learned so much from you, and the wisdom you impart to the team.

Ahn Seohyun, you are special to us. Thank you for being a part of this team, and to see you grow into a fine woman. I am filled with pride to be a part of your journey. i love you.”

##CLIP SEVEN | #2018BTSFESTA

“Who taught you to drink?” Yoongi drawled as he watches Sua take a shot of alcohol.

“I’m bad at drinking though, I only drank once with Jin-oppa, after the Red Bullet Tour? We went out to celebrate and he poured me a drink.” Sua explained as her face scrunched up to the burn of the alcohol down her throat.

“Woah! You went out on a drink with hyung? How come we never knew this, you went out all along with hyung?” Hoseok chided, asking for more details to this unknown scenario.

“Yes, we went and oppa gave me a glass of soju, it was horrible, I didn’t like it, so I never drank in front of you guys.” Sua shrugged it off, ignoring the fact that she’s been drinking before without the boys knowing.

“Why didn’t you call me instead?” Yoongi pouts feeling sad you went with Jin instead.

“Because you were in the studio after the tour remember? And we didn’t plan on getting drinks we were just eating dinner that one time.”

Yoongi shook his head in disappointment, “I can’t believe our Sua can drink by herself already.”

His statement causing the members to laugh at him, “Yah! Hyung what are you talking about?’

"I can drink alright, I thought you guys knew though.” Sua tilted her head sideways thinking of the time she told them before.

“I can’t believe I’m witnessing you drinking for the first time and you’re so nonchalant about it.” Yoongi rolled his eyes in a playful notion as Sua giggled at his actions.

“Let’s get a drink together, I’ll treat you out!” Sua shouts from the other side of the table as the members holler and cheer.

“Woaaah she’s going to treat you out hyung!!!.”

“Can I come with the both of you?”

“How come you only invite Yoongi? Do you forget we’re also here?”

“No, you don’t have to pay. I’ll pay like a cool older brother, just like I always have.” yoongi brushed it off coolly.

“I can’t believe Sua is already at the age where she can go out drinking, she’s growing old.” Namjoon mumbled feeling sentimental.

“What are you saying oppa? It’s been years since I can drink!” Sua laughed from her seat, “You’re acting like I drink all the time, this is probably the third time I drank alcohol.”

“You’re still a baby Seohyun-ah!’ Namjoon shouts all of the sudden making Sua giggle at him.

"Oppa, are you drunk already?”

#bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition #bts female oc #8th bts member #female kpop addition #female kpop oc #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #kpop female member #female kpop member #bts x oc

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