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slaybestieslay946 · 3 months

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Everything About You - Luke Castellan

Summary: You've been Luke Castellan's closest friend ever since he arrived at camp, but unbeknownst to you, he's been desperately crushing on you this whole time. And of course, the feelings are reciprocated. In hopes of getting over you, he agrees to give it a go with someone else. Will he realise how you feel before its too late?

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares!Reader

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: uh sorry for shitting on that demeter girl sm, there needed to be some conflict somewhere

also please forgive me for this fic being crazy self-indulgent and therefore not up to par with my usual writing, i needed to express the obsession i have w this man otherwise I'd go INSANE

MASTERLIST

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You thought you knew everything about Luke Castellan.

After 5 years of being best friends, how could you not? You knew about the big things in his life, his damaged mother, the strained relationship with his father. You understood his anger towards the gods, the way it fuelled him to be better, work harder.

You knew about the little things too. He liked green olives, not black ones. He always stuck his leg out from under the duvet when sleeping. He sucked at tightening his armour, always convincing you to do it for him.

You could recognise each and every one of his tells. He always cracked his knuckles before sparring. He scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous.

But the one thing you didn’t know about him was the way he felt about you. You, who was normally so observant, was entirely oblivious to the gentle touches and soft looks he threw your way. And that, more than anything, was driving him crazy.

“You gotta tell her how you feel man.” Chris said to him, noticing the way his gaze would constantly stray to the Ares table. Your table.

Luke scoffed, “Yeah, right. I’d rather die…”

“Yeah, well it’s driving me nuts. All this pining. It’s-”

“Pathetic? Tell me about it.” He responded, not taking his eyes off you.

“Well, yeah. It’s pathetic. At this point, either confess your undying love, or move on.”

Luke could safely say that neither of those options sounded particularly appealing.

“There’s that new girl, y’know the one in Demeter?” Chris continued.

“What about her?”

“She’s pretty cute, don’t you think?”

Luke tore his gaze away from you to look at the girl Chris was on about. She was pretty, sure, with pale blond hair and flushed cheeks. He recognised her as one of the girls that would always sit in the fields and entertain the kids with her flower magic. But still, she couldn’t hold a candle to you.

“Yeah, she’s fine I guess.” Luke responded, noncommittal.

“See, told you so! Look, how about I set you guys up-”

“No thanks.”

“Ugh, you're no fun. Fine, just talk to the Demeter girl at the campfire tomorrow.”

Luke opened his mouth again to refuse, but Chris cut him off.

“And if you do, I’ll stop bugging you about it. Promise.”

Luke looked at his pleading face, and knew that there would be no shutting him up until he agreed.

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

The next morning, Luke woke up earlier than normal, so he figured he might as well get some extra training in before capture the flag in the afternoon.

He climbed out of bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his many, sleeping, half-siblings, and grabbed his sword, stepping out of the cabin into the fresh morning air. He jogged down towards the amphitheatre, and was confused for a moment when he could hear movement inside the small arena.

Then, as he walked closer to the entrance, he realised it was you, slashing dummies left right and centre. And, gods, the sight took his breath away.

The early morning sun shone on your face, highlighting your sharp features. You moved like a dancer, and the sword in your hand was merely an extension of your body. Yes, they called him the best swordsman in the last 300 years, but his technique couldn’t compare to the grace of the favourite daughter of Ares.

He watched you for a few more minutes, standing just in the entrance to the amphitheatre, until he realised it might be a little creepy to stand there and watch you, so he decided to make himself known.

“What are you doing up so early?” He called out, striding forwards towards you.

You quickly spun around, a shocked expression on your face that softened into a fond smile when you realised it was just Luke who had snuck up on you.

“Oh, y’know, just preparing to beat your ass later on.”

“Aw, really? Hate to break it to you, but you don’t stand a chance.”

“Wanna test that, soldier?” You smirked, gesturing to the sword in this hand.

Luke laughed, stabbing the sword into the sandy floor and cracking his knuckles, meanwhile you took up an offensive stance.

And, as soon as he picked up his sword, you were on him, ruthlessly slashing through the air, and he barely had enough time to block the blow before you sliced through his face. He returned your strikes with equal vigour, moving with the precision and technique that he was so famous for.

With the way the pair of you fought, anyone would think you hated one another, trading blow for violent blow, both of you refusing to hold back.

Of course, it was the complete opposite, but that had never stopped the pair of you from sparring so aggressively.

The session went on for close to half an hour, neither of you wanting to surrender to the other. Eventually you were bested, as Luke sent your sword flying from your hand, holding his own up to your throat.

You held your hands up in defeat, rolling your eyes at him, before moving to sit down at the edge of the arena.

“I’m still gonna win in capture the flag today.” You remarked, your voice strained from physical exercise, but jovial nonetheless.

“As talented as you are,” He responded, sitting down next to you, “You're not gonna be able to beat Annie’s new strategy.”

“And what might that be?” You said, shuffling closer to the boy.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased.

You pretended to sulk at that, turning your body away from him in the process. Luke frowned, pulling your arm to turn you to face him again.

“Don’t be sad. Even if I told you you still wouldn’t win.”

“Whatever. Asshole.” You mumbled.

“What did you call me?” He asked, accusatory, and you quickly made your escape, running out of the amphitheatre to avoid his wrath.

But, of course, he managed to catch up with you easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked.

Somehow, you both telepathically communicated a need for breakfast, and your feet naturally led you both to the pavilion.

“I’ll see you later on, yeah?” You asked, detaching yourself from him to look him in the eyes.

“Mhm. Can’t wait to kick your ass.”

You laughed, cocking your head at him, “Why are you thinking about my ass Castellan? Bit weird.”

And then you were striding away towards Clarisse, leaving the Hermes cabin counsellor frozen, a faint blush covering his face.

Maybe Chris was right. His addiction to you was getting slightly out of hand.

“That boy is so obsessed with you.” Clarisse muttered, her voice derisive as you sat down opposite her.

“Who? Luke?”

“Who else?”

“Nah, no way.” You responded, chuckling as you grabbed a slice of toast from the centre of the table.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. How oblivious could you be?

“Whatever. As long as your little romance doesn’t get in the way this afternoon.”

“No chance. Besides, there is no romance. Gods, you’re just as bad as Silena!” You laughed, slightly sheepishly.

“Rude. But still, she’s right about these things like 90% of the time.”

Silena had been trying to get you to admit that you liked Luke for months, but each time she brought it up you would staunchly deny it. Of course, you were lying through your teeth, but it’s not like you could just admit something like that. It would open up a whole can of worms that you didn’t need.

“Yeah, well this is the 10% then.” You shrugged, taking another bite of your toast.

“You’re impossible.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know I’m your favourite sibling.”

“You were my favourite. I don’t know anymore.”

“Bitch.”

When Ares and Hermes were on opposing teams, suddenly capture the flag became even more serious.

Ares, of course, was the warrior cabin. Their father was the god of war, making them the most feared in combat. And, most of Camp half-blood was scared shitless of you and Clarisse.

Then there was Hermes, and their automatic alliance with Athena. That meant they had Luke, the camp's star swordsman, and Annabeth and her siblings, who always came up with the best strategies.

It was safe to say that when they weren’t competing against each other, it was painfully boring.

You only had about half an hour before the game started, so after you had secured your armour and recovered your sword from the amphitheatre, you decided to seek out Annabeth, both because you enjoyed her company, and because she may spill something about her new strategy.

“Hey, Annabeth!” You called out, and the young girl spun around to give you a little smile.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how things are going over here, y’know, scope out the competition.”

“I’m not gonna tell you our strategy.” She deadpanned.

“Damnit. Oh well. What’ve you been up to, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

It was true, you hadn’t spoken to Annabeth for a few days, nor had you even seen her.

“She’s been too busy stalking the new kid.” Luke’s voice interjected and he stepped out of seemingly nowhere to pat the girl's head.

“Shut up! No I haven’t.” She sulked, pushing him off of her.

“Wait, which new kid is this? Percy?” You asked.

You’d seen Luke show the boy around camp. You’d been briefly introduced, but you hadn’t spoken to him all that much. The only other thing you knew about him was that Clarisse had a bit of an issue with him. Well, she had an issue with a lot of people, so that wasn’t exactly new.

“Yep. Can you believe it? My little sister has a crush!” Luke exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest.

Annabeth then gave him a small shove, before something clearly occurred to her, and she gave him that look that meant she had something on him. And whatever the blackmail was, it worked as he immediately held his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry! You could never like a boy, I know that!”

Annabeth didn’t respond, simply glaring at him whilst you laughed. Sometimes, she really was intimidating. Despite being only 12 years old, she had a stare harsher than medusa.

“Anyway. You need to get going, otherwise you're definitely gonna lose.” Luke said, pushing you away by your breastplate.

“Fine.” You said, and were about to walk away when you noticed his own armour, as usual, wasn't done up properly.

You walked back towards him, sighing, and grabbed the straps on either side of his body, pulling them taut, doing the same for the guards on his forearms.

“You seriously need to learn how to do these yourself, soldier. One day, I might not be here to do them for you.”

“That’s not true. You’ll always be with me.” He whispered, more hopeful than certain about his statement.

You just rolled your eyes, grabbing his helmet out of his hands to push it on his head.

“There. Can’t have someone hurting your pretty face, can we?”

“Uh-”

“Bye, have fun losing!” You laughed, and then you were walking away, once again leaving a malfunctioning Luke in your wake.

“And you say I have a crush.” Annabeth snorted.

“Shut up.”

Pretty much as soon as you made it back to your team, the conch sounded, and Clarisse shouted at you to ‘get your ass over here’.

She then quickly outlined her plan to you as you both made your way deeper into the woods, the rest of your team splitting off at different points as you went.

You two, as well as a few others, were to be on the offensive, searching for the flag, meanwhile the rest of your team were either guarding the flag, or serving as distractions. It was a pretty typical strategy, but it had every chance of working, as long as you two were able to work out roughly where the other team's flag was.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t be at Zeus’ fist this time, that’s where Annabeth put it last time, and apparently she has a new strategy.”

“She could be lying to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s a place to start.” Clarisse reluctantly agreed, and the two of you moved further into the woods.

Along the way you came across a few of the blue team on border patrol, and the pair of you quickly disarmed them, you with your sword, and Clarisse with her electric staff.

You made your way down to the south edge of the woods, and it appeared that the number of blue troops were decreasing. Normally you would take that as meaning the flag wasn’t this way, but knowing Annabeth that could be some kind of purposeful bluff, so you kept going, until eventually you reached a dead end and had to choose a different direction.

“Ugh, the others better be closer than us I swear. I’m not losing again.” Your sibling said, batting aside a tree branch with her crackling staff.

“Yeah. I’m sick of having to listen to Castellan gloat.” You sighed, although the noise was more fond than anything else.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your inability to keep him out of a conversation.

Then, there was a sudden noise of people crashing through the trees. You both raised your weapons, ready to defend yourselves, when you realised that they wore red helmets and were in fact, your siblings.

“Oi, Clarisse, we heard some of them talking that they’ve got the flag down at the creek! And that brat Jackson’s guarding it!”

You noticed the way Clarisse’s eyes filled with anger (and a little bloodlust).

“You keep going,” She said, “I’ll check it out with them.” She then patted you on the back and spun around, sprinting off into the woods.

“DUMBASS! IT’S PROBABLY A TRAP!” You yelled, cupping your free hand to your mouth, but either she didn’t hear you, or she didn’t care, because she gave no response.

You sighed, unable to believe how gullible your sister could be sometimes. But, you had nothing better to do than keep searching for the flag, so you kept walking, slashing through the undergrowth with your sword as you went.

Eventually you felt like you had covered the entire forest, and at a certain point you weren’t entirely sure if you were still in enemy territory or not.

That was until Luke Castellan burst into the clearing holding your flag.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smirked.

“Asshole.” You snapped, immediately leaping at him, sword in hand, just as you had during sparring that morning. God he loved your temper.

You then began to battle one another with even more zeal than earlier, your slashes quicker and your blows harder as you moved. It was strange the way you two sparred, it was like as soon as you were in combat you forgot that he was your closest friend and that you would die for him in a heartbeat. Instead all you could think about was winning.

He was so annoyingly graceful as he moved, each swish of his sword perfectly calculated to hit at a certain spot, each block and parry almost perfectly executed.

Of course, your anger at his flawless technique was only further intensified when you realised that one: he didn’t have a shield, and two: he was holding his sword in his non-dominant hand, with the flag in his dominant one.

You ground your teeth at that. How could you expect to ever beat him if he held his own so easily? Whenever you watched Luke Castellan fight, you couldn’t help but wonder how he was a son of Hermes, and not a son of Athena or Ares.

And, as always, he defeated you eventually.

He threw a blow at you that you couldn’t quite block, and the force of it sent you toppling backwards, and landing on your ass. He quickly lunged down too, pinning you to the floor and holding his sword to your throat, so close that it almost broke skin.

“Do you surrender?” He asked, grinning smugly down at you, and you couldn’t help but notice just how close his face was to yours.

“Never.” You spat, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

He sighed fondly, before moving upwards to press a quick kiss to your forehead and saying, “You’re so cute, y’know that?”

Now it was your turn to be left malfunctioning, your face bright red with astonishment as he leapt off of you, and ran away into the forest, leaving you behind, on the floor, and completely and utterly frozen.

And then you came back to your senses, pushing yourself off the floor and chasing after him.

“LUKE CASTELLAN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” You screamed, sprinting through the woods as fast as you could, but you knew there was nothing you could do to catch up, and you could faintly hear him laughing as those stupid long legs carried him over into friendly territory.

It appeared that a lot had happened during that game of capture the flag.

Luke had gotten your flag, and was about to go over and taunt Clarisse about it, but he immediately saw that she was even angrier than usual, and seemed genuinely upset.

He quickly went over to ask Annabeth what was going on, watching as you ran over to console her.

“Percy broke her staff.” She said, pointing to the shattered piece of wood in Clarisse’s right hand.

Luke winced. He knew how precious the girl was about that staff; it was the only token she had from her father. He was surprised Percy was even still breathing right now.

“Wait, where is Percy?” Luke asked.

“With Chiron. He got claimed.”

“What? By who-?”

“Posiedon.”

The boy’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking. No fucking way.”

“Tell me about it. He could be the one, Luke.” The younger girl said, her voice quiet and hopeful.

“Hm. He could be. Don’t get your hopes up too high though, yeah?”

Annabeth sighed, but nodded nonetheless.

Luke then gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, before beginning to walk away, intending to get a shower in before dinner, but Annabeth quickly stopped him in his tracks.

“Where are you going? It’s dinner, silly!”

“What, no it’s not-”

“Yes, it is. Campfire tonight, remember? Early dinner? C’mon, you’ve only been here for what, five years?”

Luke groaned, and suddenly all the adrenaline from Percy being claimed, and from winning capture the flag melted away, as he remembered the deal he had made with Chris the night before.

He traipsed behind the daughter of Athena on the way to the dining pavilion, suddenly dreading the rest of the evening.

As the pair entered the building, a cheer went up from the Hermes and Athena table, a few of their respective siblings rushing over to give them pats on the back and congratulations for their efforts.

Luke laughed along with them, eventually being dragged away from his sister to his own table.

Then dinner began, and it was as loud and raucous as usual, maybe even more so coming off the back of a capture the flag victory. But Luke was unusually quiet, pushing his food around his plate and taking the odd sullen bite. He could feel Chris’ eyes on him, probably pissed off he was sulking again, but he didn’t really care.

He could also feel another gaze on him, and he looked up, expecting it to be you, giving him a feeble glare or mouthing some stupid insult. But instead it was the girl from the Demeter table, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and smiling sweetly at him.

The boy felt slightly disappointed, but masked it with a grin of his own, winking at the girl before returning to his food.

He felt that strange sinking feeling in his stomach as he continued to eat, but decided to push it away. What choice did he have? It’s not like you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so maybe Chris was right and he should give someone else a chance. Besides, how bad could it be?

As it turned out, it could be really bad.

Ok, maybe that was an overstatement. Really boring was probably more accurate.

As soon as they got to the campfire, Chris disappeared, but not before practically shoving Luke down beside the girl from Demeter, who let out a high-pitched giggle as he fell into her slightly.

And gods he wished he hadn’t agreed to his friends stupid plan. Because he then had to spend the rest of the evening being obnoxiously flirted with. And sure, she was nice, and quite pretty, but not in the way that mattered.

She didn’t take his breath away like you did. He couldn’t imagine searching for her face in a crowd. The whole thing was just dull.

And her laughter was grating. Really grating. There was no way she thought he was that funny, especially when he was giving mostly one word responses.

They had nothing in common. She liked lounging about in fields, playing games and making flower crowns, whereas Luke couldn’t think of anything worse. He’d much rather spend an afternoon sparring, or at archery, or even swimming in the lake.

All the things you liked to do.

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you, not whilst another girl was clamouring for his attention. It was cruel. But he couldn’t help himself.

And eventually he gave in, switching off from the conversation and settling for observing you through the flames.

Your hair was down right now, like it only ever was at dinners and in the early morning. You lounged back comfortably on the benches, smiling lazily and joking around with Clarisse and Silena. Your face was lit up by the flickering flames, complimenting you so well, like they just wanted to be near you, close to you. He couldn’t blame them.

And then your eyes met his across the fire, and he thought his heart was about to combust with the way you smiled at him. He recognised that smile. It was the one you reserved just for him.

At that moment he steeled his resolve to reject this Demeter girl, grab on to you and never let go.

But as he was about to do just that, he felt a slender hand wrap around his bicep, and he turned to the blonde girl next to him. And without any warning, she reached up and kissed him, snaking her arms up and around his neck.

He pulled away after a second, shock written all over his face. He quickly whipped around, looking to see if you saw that, praying that you hadn’t.

But you had. And you seemed just as shocked as he was, except there was something else in your eyes. Hurt.

Why were you hurt?

As you walked away from the campfire, you couldn’t help but ask yourself the same question. Why were you so hurt?

You had known for years that your pathetic crush on Luke would never amount to anything. He was just way out of your league. Perfect in every way.

He was so smart, and kind, and funny, and well-liked, and you just couldn’t compete with that. You were rough, and mean, and cruel, and angry. Why would he love someone like you?

Of course, you hadn’t seen the daughter of Demeter coming. But maybe you should’ve. She was everything Luke should want in a girl, gentle, sweet, feminine. Someone fit to be a girlfriend.

And let's face it. You were much more skilled in matters of the sword than matters of the heart.

You had always known this day would come. Eventually you’d have to let go of your best friend and come to terms with the fact that you weren’t the most important person in his life anymore (besides Annabeth).

So why were you so devastated?

You reasoned that it had to be the shock. Yes, it was surprising, that’s why you were reacting like this, running away from the campfire like a child, foolishly hoping that he would come running after him, when of course he wouldn’t. He’d stay with his new girlfriend.

“Hey!”

You whipped around, shocked to see the very boy you were just pining after running up to you.

“What?” You asked, snapping at him slightly, and immediately regretting it as he took on the look of a kicked puppy.

“Why’d you run away from the campfire?”

“Just needed some air.”

“You sure? I mean you look kinda-”

“I’m fine! Just fine! Now you can go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone!” You burst out, waving your hands around manically.

He looked shocked by your sudden shouting, probably because you had only genuinely been angry with him about three times in your whole friendship.

“Sorry. Just give me a minute, ok?” You said, your voice shuddering slightly. God it was pathetic, getting so worked up over a boy? You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You then turned around and began to walk away, but didn’t get far before a hand grabbed yours pulling you back.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He said firmly.

“What?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even really know her name.”

He then apparently realised how that sounded, because he quickly amended his statement.

“Not like that. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t like her like that. She just kinda grabbed me.”

You stammered slightly, trying to regain composure. Right now you looked like a jealous loser, and while that is what you were, you didn’t want him to see you like that.

“Ok cool. I don’t care, y’know. Kiss whoever you want, man, not my problem!” You laughed although it was painfully strained.

“Again, not what I’m trying to say.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Nervous.

“So what are you-”

“I’m trying to say I’m in love with you!” He rushed out, holding you by the shoulders and staring directly into your eyes to try and get his point across.

“What?” You whispered, once again not able to believe your ears.

“I said I’m in love with you,” He repeated, slower this time, his voice more even, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, you have no idea. I was only talking to that girl ‘cause I thought I’d never have a chance with you. But then I realised that I don’t want some other girl. I only want you.”

You took in a sharp intake of breath, scanning his face for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re being serious?” You asked.

“Deadly serious.” He responded immediately, smiling sheepishly.

You paused for a minute, before whispering, “I love you too.”

Only then did he finally make his move, holding you gently by the face and bending down to kiss you.

And it was like a piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. It was painfully cliche, and it felt like you were in some dumb rom com, but kissing him really was like fireworks going off all over your body.

He clearly felt the same way, holding you by the back of the head and pulling you in further, closer, like he didn’t want to be apart from him ever again.

Eventually you both pulled away for air, and he looked at you with a smile of pure joy, until the shock of the whole situation hit him.

“Wait, so you really mean it?”

“I mean, I did just let you kiss me, didn’t I?”

“Good point. Sorry, I’m just a little surprised.”

“Fair enough. I mean, I had no idea you felt the same way.” You laughed, all the previous tension ebbing from your body.

“What, really?” He asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Yes, really! How was I supposed to know? Besides, I didn’t think I was really your type.”

At that his eyes practically bulged out of his head in shock, more so than any other time that night.

“Not my type? You’re entirely my type! Not like it matters anyway when you're the most perfect girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

You frowned, “Now you're just lying to me, Luke.”

“No I’m not. You're everything I’ve ever wanted. The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” He said firmly.

You looked at him, still slightly doubtful, but he was determined to fix that.

So he kissed you again, and suddenly all your doubts were swept away in his strong embrace as he kissed you like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Believe me now?”

“Yeah. And, I guess you’re pretty great too.”

He looked at you teasingly, daring you to elaborate, and for once you decided to stroke his ego.

“Fine. You're the most handsome, funny, charming man I’ve ever met in my life.”

That clearly satisfied him, because a wide grin wriggled its way across his face that you couldn’t help but mirror, because you both knew you meant every word.

“So does this mean you’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes. I’d give you a hundred chances.”

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #x reader #fluff #romance #minor angst #fanfic #writing #luke castellan #jealousy

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ovaryacted · 2 months

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CANDY HEARTS

PAIRING: RE2!Leon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: It was Valentine's Day at the precinct and everyone was giving out candy grams for their secret admirers. Who knew that one piece of candy would have so much of an impact?

CONTENT/WARNINGS: FLUFF. Mutual pining. Alcohol consumption. One kiss. Flirting and confessions at the end. Canon-adjacent. Modernized era (they have cell phones). The og gang is together and are all above the age of 21. Leon being silly and not knowing about social cues. Chris plays matchmaker & Claire is a jokester. Jill likes margaritas and Rebecca is the mom of the group. They are all friends and live happily ever after cause I said so.

WC: 3.7k

NOTES: I am back from the dead, and I come bearing gifts. This was just something I wanted to write for Valentine's Day, and I don't even know how the idea came along the entire way. Here’s some nice fluffy stuff with a bit of added corniness, something new from me. Hope you all enjoy and like it! Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

✰ ── 《 Navigation ⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ AO3 》

February, supposedly the month when red and pink mesh together to signify the one thing that couldn’t be explained. Love. Romance. Companionship.

It was a silly thing really, something that Leon didn’t understand, mostly because to him, it couldn’t be real. That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, that he always wondered what it would be like to be so attached to another person it felt like being two parts of one whole.

It was another full week of the month, the days passing by as quickly as they started. Another day, another patrol, that was what he knew as part of his routine. Heading toward his locker to grab his gear, he was surprised to see a small heart-shaped lollipop wrapped in a red bow. He raised a brow at the strange object, curious fingers reaching out to inspect it closer.

“What do you have there?”

His head turned to the side at the sound of your voice, more so feeling your breath on his neck as you peered over his shoulder. Holding up the red lollipop for you to study, you took it from his grasp, the very tips of your fingers barely touching his before you held the wrapped candy.

“Leon, do you even know what this is?”, your eyes held that same mischievous gleam it always did when you were with him, and simply gave you a shrug. “It’s a candy gram silly”

“What? Someone just put a lollipop in my locker?”, Leon didn’t get why someone would even bother putting something like this for him to find.

“It’s for Valentine’s Day, something that the precinct wanted to do to celebrate. If you get one of these, it means someone is your secret admirer”, the way you described the entire ploy was almost comical to him, and he only chuckled.

“So it’s like a crush type of thing?”

“Sort of. Did you even read the note?”, and from the way he looked like a deer in headlights you knew he didn’t. You motioned over to the small red note that was hidden underneath the piece of candy. Carefully, he went to unfold it and read over the words that were written in cursive black ink.

I can’t turn water into wine, but I’m hoping to turn you into mine.

You watched as Leon quickly became flustered at the funny pick-up line, rolling his eyes and trying to hide the subtle blush he got from reading the words over and over again.

“I don’t like this game”, Leon grumbled under his breath, trying to shake off his embarrassment and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh cmon, it’s supposed to be funny. But listen, if you don’t want your lollipop I’ll gladly take it”, you smirked as his eyes met yours, pink lips curling up to match your grin.

“What? You didn’t get any candy grams of your own so you have to steal mine?”, he unwrapped the lollipop, popping it into his mouth and humming as he approved the taste. Cherry, his favorite.

“For your information, I got three. I just munched on all of the candies already I wanted another”, you placed your hands on your hips, the uniform only accentuating the curvature of your figure that Leon tried his hardest not to notice.

“Really? You got notes too or were you too busy eating your lollipops you forgot to notice”, he was teasing you now, going into his locker to put on his tactical belt and wrapping it around his hips. It fit snugly on his body, the leather belt he wore underneath to hold up his cargo pants seemed to add to his slim figure. Not that you were paying attention either.

“I did, but didn’t pay too much attention. I got a nice one though, said something like My candy heart is all yours. Real cute stuff”, you leaned against the wall as you waited for Leon before going on patrol. He was one of the only good things working at the R.P.D. had to offer, and coincidentally it just helped that he was also your friend. Having known each other for a while now, being like this came naturally, remembering how easy it was to be with him when you two first clicked.

“Sounds corny”, he said with a shake of his head, closing the metallic door and gesturing the both of you to start walking out of the room and into the main hall.

“Yeah, you’d know everything about being corny wouldn’t you?”, you taunted him back as you walked through the halls of the precinct, keeping track of all the patrols you had on the board today.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Are you coming on this patrol with me or what?”, he already knew the answer, didn’t have to so much as second guess to know that you’d be riding along with him.

“Of course I am. Who else will bother you with their favorite pop songs?”, you walked ahead of him, and his gaze went down your back to look at the handcuffs that jingled every time you took a step.

He definitely wasn’t looking at anything else.

It was a long day of work patrolling the city before Leon finally had some time to himself to relax. Thankfully, he didn’t have to work the overnight shift and could lounge at home to watch some shitty reality TV or whatever tickled his fancy. Of course, that was before he got a text message from you, ever the pest constantly wondering what he was up to. Not that he complained.

There’s a whole theme night going on at the local bar. Free shots at 10:30 pm. Bring your ass over here, and wear red!

Drinks? With you? That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary considering how familiar it felt to be around you, but he still couldn’t think of anything else he wanted to do for the night. So, he pretended like he didn’t want to be dragged out of his small apartment as he trudged his feet toward the shower to get dressed. He shouldn’t have cared so much about being presentable, usually, he never did. But for you, he was willing to try new things.

For the first time in probably ever, he’s forgone his usual color palette and took out a red button-down, rolling the sleeves up towards his forearms. Leon was always more fond of shades that reminded him of the sky, blues, greens, and white. Red was out of his comfort zone, but going out on Valentine’s Day night was enough to make that ball of anxiety tighten in his gut. Topping it all off with a bomber jacket, he left the keys to his jeep behind and took a cab instead, playing it safe if he ended up drinking something that would surely knock him off his feet.

He seemed to be counting down the minutes to the moment he walked into the bar. Scanning the area, he looked for any sight of you amongst the crowd, walking past several pairs of people lip-locking and downing shots in groups. The energy was electric, the music was lively, and as he continued to trek further into the bar that’s when he spotted you.

There you were, sporting a red deep-cut blouse and leather pants that were tight along your thighs. He caught the glossy red lipstick you put on for the occasion that only brightened your teeth as you laughed with those around you. And when you turned your head to find him standing there, he gulped down the pang he felt in his chest.

Yeah. He’s screwed.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for you for so damn long. Good to know you listened to me for once”, you walked up to him, grabbed a hold of his wrist, and pulled him toward a corner of the bar where your other friends were sitting. Unless you cared to look for it, his pulse spiked when your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Maybe you felt it, maybe you didn’t, but that brief touch was cut short when Leon was brought to the table.

Most of the newfound gang was there, Chris and his sister Claire were there sharing a beer, while Rebecca was forcing Jill to be a bit more social. It was supposedly a normal night even though you were out of your uniform, forcing Leon to find a point on the wall to avoid peeking over in your direction. Chris kept him occupied, offering him a drink that he sipped to ease the nerves he felt, all while Claire teased him about wearing red instead of his usual navy. This wasn’t so bad, I’ll make it through the night, he thought to himself.

It only took a few drinks for everything to spiral out of control. The blame is to be put on tequila. It was always tequila, but thank god it was the weekend.

Just like you warned him, 10:30 pm rolled around and the bar burst into cheers as servers carried shot glasses filled with red liquid. Everyone at the table had one, and Leon watched as you downed the shot with ease, a wild grin on your face as you did. With your encouragement, and Claire’s taunting, he drank the shot and winced at the stinging of the liquid going down his throat. He hated taking shots, that you knew, but he’d do it so long as it made you happy.

This is why you leave the clear liquor to me and you stick to your beer. He remembered hearing you say that to him one night when you made him drink vodka, the raging hangover he got in the morning only further proved your point.

He’s lost count of the number of shots you consumed, splitting them between Jill and Claire, and an extra you forced Chris to take despite him sticking to his beer. Rebecca remained as the group chaperone, making sure nobody did anything too embarrassing tonight. Hearing a particular song that brightened your mood, you brought Claire towards the middle aisle where others seemed to follow you to dance in the small space.

Propping his elbow up against the wooden table, Leon leaned back to simply watch you move to the music. His whole body felt warm at the sight, seeing how you swayed your hips to the beat of the song and Claire did the same. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his eyes ran up the stitching of your leather pants, over the deep v-line cut of your blouse, and again towards your face. Sure, you were attractive, he wasn’t blind. But what he was the most fond of was your smile, all cheery and wide to the point where the corners of your eyes crinkled.

He could see that look all the time and never get sick of it. The only thing he’d change was that he was the reason why you beamed like that.

“You’re doing it again”, Chris said out loud with a smirk, knocking Leon out of his little fantasy before meeting eye to eye again.

“I’m not doing anything”, he challenged in denial, Chris only chortled and shook his head.

“Unless you’re watching Claire dance, you know exactly what you’re doing”, the brunette matched his sister in humor, Leon exasperating in disbelief and took another sip of his beer. “You like her. You should do something about it”

“Chris…”

“C’mon, man. How much longer are you going to stand on the sidelines and just watch? Even I’m getting tired of the tension, it’s killing me”, ever the dramatic man, he wrapped a thick arm around Leon’s shoulder, bringing him in closer as if he were telling him a secret.

“You had a chance with the candy grams you realize that right? Sure, free candy but why not make it special?”

“Who says I didn’t do just that?”, the blonde said before it could be filtered out properly, sighing and downing the rest of his bottle.

“You’re joking. Seriously? She got like three of those things”, Chris’s brown eyes widened the slightest bit, not wanting to believe the truth.

“Does it look like I’m laughing right now?”, Leon chuckled incredulously at the realization that these feelings he’d been harboring for so long were starting to pour out of him the more he drank. “I don’t know how to talk to her. Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway, she’s not into me”

“Leon, you must be an idiot or something because she is into you. Who do you think gave you the candy gram?”, Chris muttered, probably not meaning to say it the way he did but it sounded like a confession.

Leon didn’t have time to ask for more details when you came back to the table on his side, an energetic Claire going towards Jill who was down three margaritas and growing sleepy. He could practically smell the perfume off of you, jasmine and soft vanilla, things that he found comfort in and sought after through his day-to-day.

“I think that’s enough dancing for me, I got dizzy”, you said, finishing the last bit of your watered-down drink and slamming the glass down on the table. From the way you were standing, your body almost leaned against Leon’s, ever inching closer toward him.

“Do you want to leave?”, Leon asked you, ever the concerned friend and partner despite the fact the alcohol was starting to get to him too.

“Nah, I’ll stay a little bit. Do you want to go?”, the way your eyes were hazy when you spoke to him brought that same twitch in his chest he usually ignored when he was around you.

“If you’re good, then I’m good. I’m not leaving without you”, he didn’t mean to say it in a different context outside of friendly, or maybe he did, but when he avoided a visceral reaction from you he figured he was in the clear.

“You got it boss”, you joked with him, but your hand lightly skimmed against his by accident, a shock running through you from the light touch. You didn’t meet his eye, instead, you felt the way his pinkie came closer to your own, discreetly curling around the digit.

It was a shy touch as if to gently test the boundaries of what was other than a cordial relationship. Leon started to grow anxious, thinking maybe he messed up, his mind beginning to spiral until you squeezed his finger back in silence. He tried not to make it obvious, but he looked over at you to see you smiling, and for that second he thought his small dream had come true.

“Another drink and then we’ll call it quits”, Chris’ voice popped the bubble that you were both in, but your hands didn’t move from where they were.

Yeah, one more drink couldn’t hurt, so long as you two remained like this for the rest of the night.

Leon regrets having that one last drink. The world around him was spinning, and his feet were lugging across the floor as if he was going to sink into the Earth any minute now. He nearly forgot that he wasn’t going home alone, that you were beside him, doing your best to support his body as you brought him over to your place like you had done a few times before.

Unlocking the door to your apartment and walking inside, Leon was hit with the same scent of jasmine and soft vanilla that he recognized as your own, faint layers of cinnamon engulfing him when you brought him over to your couch in a slump.

“I’m never letting you drink that much again”, your voice sounded almost distant, but it was comforting nonetheless. You walked away from him, your footsteps growing faint until you came back with a glass of water he graciously chugged.

“Wasn’t so bad, I can handle my liquor”, he slouched further into your couch, his head beginning to whirl from everything he drank.

“Leon, I had to carry you inside. You’re drunk”, you glanced at him with that same mischievousness you always had reserved just for him. Even if you had a better alcohol tolerance than he did, your pupils being dilated told him that you were in the same predicament

“Not complaining”, he was damn near mumbling now, his head pivoting to look at you fully. You were right there next to him, all dolled up in a way he hadn’t seen before. In the back of his mind, he imagined you did it just for him.

So pretty.

“You think so?”, your voice brought him out of his current haze, watching as he blinked once or twice before realizing he said his inner thoughts out loud.

“I-I…huh?”, Leon was stuttering now, looking towards the floor and growing embarrassed at the slip-up. You couldn’t help but giggle under your breath, and he prayed to God it wasn’t at him.

“Leon…I don’t know if you can tell but I’ve been trying to send you signals that I like you for months now. You’re a tough nut to crack”, you were speaking, but your words stopped filtering through his brain the moment you said the words ‘I like you’.

You like me?

“Yes, you cornball, I do”, you answered him anyway, catching him off guard at the response. At this rate, he’ll spill his deepest darkest secrets because he can’t tell the difference between what he’s thinking and what he’s saying. “The candy gram, that was me. Thought it might register in your head but it didn’t”

Leon looked like he had uncovered the biggest truth known to man. It was astonishing to witness, how he couldn’t process the thought that you were actually interested in him. You could see the gears starting to turn in his head, and once the revelation settled in his mind his lips were formed in a gentle smile.

“That was a really bad pick-up line”, Leon said, making you laugh even harder. Your hand made contact with his chest, patting against his body with every sound that slipped past you.

“And yours was any better?”, your hand didn’t move from where it sat on his chest, mindlessly caressing the material of his red button-down.

“Yeah, I think ‘my candy heart is all yours’ is one of my best works”, he was almost cocky when he talked, but his facial expression was anything short of dorky. You both looked like a bunch of love-drunk idiots waiting for one to say what the other wanted to hear.

“Hmm, that sounded like you. Is this you admitting that you gave me that candy gram?”, you were leaning on him, shifting so your body was closer against his. The tequila still running through your system heightened your senses, the natural scent of Leon’s cologne was enough to make your heart flutter.

“Something like that”, he grinned bashfully, blue eyes looking at you intensely. He took in every detail of your features he could get, moving some of your hair out of your face and curling it behind your ear. His hand didn’t move too far, resting his palm against your cheek and running his thumb against the warmth of your skin.

“Would it be bad to kiss you?”, he whispered his words to you, as if his feelings would only be safe in the four walls of this room.

“No, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me”, you moved so your chest was pressed against his, hands moving up towards his neck and caressing the hair at his nape.

Leon didn’t have to wait too long to feel your lips meshing with his, sighing in what he could only describe as pure satisfaction. A shiver rushed down his spine and broke off into the rest of his body, blood pulsing through his veins at rapid speed the more his heart pumped in his chest. He pressed your body against him, wrapping an arm around your waist and keeping his other hand on your cheek.

Leon felt drunk, both literally and figuratively off of you and everything that you were. Things made sense for the first time, having you like this here with him. It was all he wanted, all he needed, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough. Against his wishes, he pulled away for air, staying close by to rest his forehead against yours.

“About damn time Kennedy”, you teased him again, but your expression was tender. You noticed how your red lipstick stained his lips, no doubt leaving barely any left on your mouth. “Red looks good on you”, you put a thumb against his lips, rubbing at the plush skin you just felt for the first time.

“Does this mean I get to ask you to be my Valentine?”, he looked so cute when he asked you, rolling your eyes at his question, but you found it endearing.

“You’re two hours too late, but I’ll happily be your Valentine anyway”, you gave him one more smooch on the lips, and the happiness on his face was damn near palpable. “But you owe me a better one next time, you hear me?”

Next time.

“Loud and clear. I’ll have a better pick-up line to use on you”

“If you start getting corny, I will leave you on the couch”, the playful threat didn’t worry Leon in the slightest, his smile getting wider with every passing second he spent with you.

“Awe come on, I meant what I said. My candy heart is all yours”, his nose nuzzled into your neck, kissing your soft ticklish skin and breathing you in, marking your scent into his memory.

This time around, he thinks he’ll thank the tequila instead. Perhaps Cupid is real, a little overdue, but he still got the job done in the end.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

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jisungsdaydreamer · 1 year

Text

Love Playlist | SERIES MASTERLIST

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

SYNOPSIS A sweet collection of skz college au stories inspired by bts tracks 💕 (3/8) complete; can be read as standalones, but the stories are all connected!

CONTENTS

1. UGH! (Bang Chan)

Release Date: June 2nd, 2023 Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, forced proximity Warnings: swearing, mc has autism, misogynistic behavior (not Bang Chan), implications of ableism, bullying, short panic attack description Synopsis: Despite what everyone thinks, Christopher Bang is definitely not perfect. At least, not to you. After the election for Student Council President ends in an exact tie, you and Chris both end up as co-presidents, to your horror. But even though Chris is literally the bane of your existence, you try to remain professional and do your best to communicate with him only when absolutely necessary. But when circumstances force you together, you learn that maybe you and Chris aren’t as different as you thought.

2. MAKE IT RIGHT (Lee Know)

Release Date: July 24, 2023 Pairing: Lee Know x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, fluff, exes to lovers, angst Warnings: swearing, messy break-up, mc has a fear of the dark, mild haunted house/Halloween descriptions Synopsis: You and Minho are the “golden couple” of your university. Well, you were. After letting the pressures of college life get in the way of your relationship, you end in a messy breakup. However, you both share a lot of friends and it’s impossible to avoid each other, so you both ignore your lingering feelings for each other. But love works in strange ways, and now yours needs to be made right.

3. FAKE LOVE (Changbin)

Release Date: TBD Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, fluff, fake dating, friends to lovers Warnings: TBA Synopsis: Growing up, you were always the black sheep of your family. You were never cute enough, or nice enough, or smart enough, and constantly singled out. Your family’s increased pressure on you to be better caused an uneasy rift between you. However, when you are invited to attend your sister’s wedding, you know you will never hear the end of it from your relatives if they find out you are still single. So, you end up taking your friend, Changbin, and he will pretend to be your date. But maybe your feelings for each other are not so fake after all…

4. BUTTERFLY (Hyunjin)

Release Date: TBD Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, fluff, strangers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort Warnings: TBA Synopsis: After a heart-fluttering encounter with an enigmatic boy at a friend’s party, you let go of your reservations and your friends’ warnings to pursue him. Hyunjin may seem like a charismatic, humorous person, but when with you, he literally and metaphorically draws stars around your scars. But such a passionate love at such a young age can be fleeting, like a butterfly. Is it worth the risk?

5. HOME (Han)

Release Date: May 7th, 2023 Pairing: Han x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, fluff, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, mutual pining Warnings: mild swearing Synopsis: Jisung. Your roommate. Your best friend. The person you call when you need a ride home. The person who brings you ice cream when you’re sad. The person who you tried not to like, but failed anyway. So you bury your feelings. When the stress of impending exams doubles down, both you and Han must lean on each other even more to get through. But on one fateful night, everything changes.

6. BLACK SWAN (Felix)

Release Date: TBD Pairing: Felix x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, fluff, angst, grumpy/sunshine Warnings: TBA Synopsis: Felix is everything you’re not: happy, sociable, optimistic. You’re everything Felix isn’t: grumpy, quiet, pessimistic. You aren’t a bad person, but it’s the circumstances that you face that keep you from enjoying your life, and Felix is a constant reminder of what you don’t and can’t have. When your troubles reach a climax, Felix resolves to help you, and no amount of sassy comments or eye-rolls will deter him.

7. COFFEE (Seungmin)

Release Date: TBD Pairing: Seungmin x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, fluff, strangers to lovers Warnings: TBA Synopsis: Seungmin has never been a relationship person. And no, not even of the casual kind. He prefers independence, getting through college while working at his family’s coffee shop. One day, he’ll inherit the café and finally be able to thrive on his passion, but until then, he’ll keep his head down and work. His plans are thrown off when you breeze into the shop. His heart hurts watching you get stood up on every single date, but there is no way he’s smitten. It’s just customary to spend an extra ten minutes during the morning rush trying to pipe a creamer heart onto your coffee.

8. BOY IN LUV (I.N)

Release Date: TBD Pairings: I.N x Fem!Reader Genre: college au, fluff, unrequited love Warnings: TBA Synopsis: Of course on the one night you let loose, at your best friend’s birthday party, you get too tipsy and end up kissing Jeongin, the guy who sits behind you in your chemistry class. And what makes it worse? You know he has a crush on you, and you definitely do not reciprocate. But no matter how many times you reject him afterwards, Jeongin insists you have feelings for him. But there is no universe where you would have feelings for Yang Jeongin, or his gorgeous smile.

TAGLIST @chansburgah @hee0soo @hamburgers101 @ajxreads @hash2013 @pixigreen @ana-marais98 @ohish @anyamaris @chizumiyoshi @lilydaisyyy @lollloll9090 @jetblackbelle

If you’d like to join my taglist, click here!

♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

📢 ©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. My only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

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blueywrites · 1 year

Text

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, angst, hurt/no comfort (there will be a happy ending!)

chapter ten : overcome (10k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the songs for this chapter are #29-#33. Eddie's two songs aren't mentioned by name, but the others are. #34 is a good add-on at the end if you want to cry harder.

Do you ever wonder what it’s like

Losing what you cannot be without?

I’ll keep running

Overcome — Skott

You’re staring down at the kaleidoscope of color that makes up your salad. The green of crisp cucumbers, delicate arugula, and soft, fragrant mint. The deep purple of olives. The burnt gold of rich chickpeas and toasty pine nuts. The pale cream of fluffy quinoa and the bright white of tart feta. Your gaze lingers longest on the oven-roasted tomatoes scattered like gashes of red amongst the roughage.

It's a Mediterranean salad your sister kindly prepared for your first lunch at work post-breakup, and it looks delicious— vibrant and fresh, promising a palate of savory flavors that will dance on your tongue. Yet since you sat down in the staff lounge to break for a late lunch, not one bite of salad has made it past your lips. Your elbow is planted on the table, fork listlessly poking around in the glass container as you slump, leaning your chin heavily in your hand. Your mind is far from the allure of color. It's distracted, just as it has been since the moment you woke.

You’re thinking about Eddie.

Now that your relationship with Steve is over and you’ve had the weekend to process it, your relationship with Eddie— whatever it is, whatever it could be— has been all you can think about. Longing, fear, hope, and guilt mix into a tempest while you chart patient records and call names into the waiting room. By your two-thirty lunch break, the storm has accumulated into a vague feeling of nausea that overwhelms your hunger. Your thoughts are relentless, swirling around in a looping pattern that seems never to resolve.

You dwell on Eddie’s gentle brown eyes, the softness of his kisses, and the rough pads of his fingers wiping your tears. You think about his manic smiles and his playfulness, his unapologetic dramatics and his frenetic energy. You remember the smoke words that still swirl around in behind your ribs even now. ‘I want you, y/n. I don’t want to hurt you; I really care about you. Anything for you.’ Wings flutter, your flowers bloom, and red fruit yearns to spill from your tongue.

But then the guilt resurges, sticky and insistent, mixing with the freezing bite of fear. You know you care for Eddie deeply, but how can you expect to compete with Chrissy? Saccharine-sweet Chrissy, with her powdery-soft skin, bright blue eyes, lithe arms, and delicate waist? How can you compare to high school sweethearts, to five years of history, to plans for engagement and talks of children? Five years versus five months. That’s all you’ve known him for. How could you expect Eddie to throw all of that away? You’ve told one another that you care. But when the allure of desiring what he can’t have is gone— now that you’re well and truly split from Steve— when it comes down to it, would Eddie balk at the reality of what that means?

And even if he doesn’t balk, you can’t stop hearing Steve’s words echo in your head.

‘I just feel bad for Chris.’

Despair slinks back, drool dripping from its maw to hiss as it contacts the tender growth of your green, singeing the leaves with bitter poison. Yet light and smoky charcoal— Eddie’s black and white— chase it away, nourishing the damaged leaves until all are new again, and the cycle repeats.

It circles over and over until you’re left with a final thought: Wanting Eddie to be with me… asking him to… it—

“Y/n?”

You startle, wide eyes darting to the doorway where Denise leans half-inside, stethoscope swaying. “Yeah?”

“Dr. Nichols is looking for you.”

You nod quickly, snapping the lid back on your uneaten salad. “Thanks, Denise. I’ll be right out.” You shoot her a quick smile, and she smiles back before leaving you with only the refrigerator's hum to accompany the swirling of your thoughts.

You know the loop can’t last forever; it must resolve somehow. And as you remember the hurt in Eddie’s eyes when he’d asked whether you were too busy to listen to his song, you also know you can’t leave him waiting. You need to talk to him.

So you find yourself seated at Penny’s kitchen island later that evening, facing an empty wine glass placed carefully beside the black screen of your phone. The wine bottle stares at you, and you stare back until you give in, pouring another half-glass of deep red liquid with slightly shaky fingers. The two in your stomach are already spreading warm from your belly to fuzz in your head, taking the edge off your nerves as you direct your stare down at your inactive phone.

The loop has been resolved, your decision has been made, and now, you’re just mentally preparing to ask Eddie if you can see him. The sooner, the better, you think, though the squirmy, tight nervousness has kept you from actually going through with it.

Finally, your nerves are numbed enough by the fuzz of the wine for you to make your move. You down your final half-glass of wine, dry and tart as it clings to your tongue and the roof of your mouth; the glass clinks definitively against the marble countertop, and you fix determined eyes on your phone. Before the courage can leave you, you swipe it open and find your text message chain with Eddie.

The last message is still Eddie’s song, and you try to ignore the pang it conjures as you type quickly and hit send before you can overthink it.

‘Can I see you?’

Straight to the point, no preamble. A little bald, truthfully, but it’s the best you can do.

Your fingers tap against the edge of the countertop as your eyes dart compulsively. They flick to the empty wineglass and the drop of burgundy clinging to its lip, then back to your phone, to the plants on the sill above the kitchen sink, then back to your phone. Back and forth as if you’re desperate to escape but can’t pull your eyes away from those four words for too long.

And then one more dart, from the shine of the stainless steel fridge to the screen, and Eddie’s reply is suddenly there.

‘Now?’

Your heart skips and thuds as you surge with nerves. You’d thought the sooner, the better, but you weren’t ready for that soon. You type with fingers unsteady from adrenaline. ‘Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow?’

His answer comes quickly. ‘I have a show tomorrow night. Come. We can do something after.’

You suck in a tremulous breath, stomach sinking even as you flutter with anticipation. Going out alone isn’t something you like to do; you tend to feel even more self-conscious without the buffer of a friend or partner to shelter behind. And considering the private conversation you’re planning to have with Eddie, inviting a friend only to ditch them as soon as the show is over seems selfish and inconsiderate. You chew on your thumbnail, debating for a tense moment. In the end, you think of the first time you met Eddie, how his brown eyes had crinkled with his wide, genuine smile when you told him you liked his music.

You know you can’t deny him.

‘Same place as last time?’ you ask.

‘Yes,’ he answers.

The loop has been resolved, but you’re slowly spinning as your fingers tap your final reply. ‘I’ll be there.’

–

The crumbling brick facade and fissures in the asphalt are the same as the first time you’d visited this bar, but the dry, brittle skeletons of weeds are now plush with green flesh and butter-yellow heads. When in February, the winter wind had cut through your puffy coat, your arms are now bare, skin dewy in the June heat that ushers you from your car to the front door. There are no frozen puddles for Steve to guide you around; you aren’t dressed in skin-tight white. Instead, your blue dress swishes against your thighs, and your sandals take you straight up to the front door.

You’d showered and changed after work before going out for the night, wanting to both feel fresh and use the ritual of preparing to help the time pass quicker. You opted for something light, a comfortable dusty blue summer dress with short sleeves that will hopefully keep you cool in the sticky humidity you anticipate will fill the bar during the show. Fumbling for your driver’s license in your crossbody bag, you approach one of the bouncers. He eyes you shrewdly as you finally wrench it from your wallet and pass it over. You stand with your hands clasped sheepishly until he gives it back to you, his face now impassive. Timid steps carry you inside.

You freeze at the threshold of the main room. It’s brighter inside this time; the lights have not yet dimmed for the performance, and rock music plays through tinny speakers, hushed slightly under the light buzz of conversation. It’s also much less crowded tonight since it's a Tuesday, though you are surprised by the disproportionate number of girls in the place. Generally, you’d expect to see more men than women on a Tuesday night in a seedy establishment like this. You spot the chalkboard sign beside the bar: ‘Tuesdays are for the Ladies! $6 well drinks and $3 shots.’ You suppose only ladies in college or young enough to be reckless with their Wednesday morning workdays would be willing to stay out late for cheap drinks, which explains the girlish squeals and tiny skirts lingering near the bar. They’re all clustered in little groups, pairs at the very least; a quick glance and you can already tell you’re the only girl here alone.

You inhale slowly through your nose, fighting against roiling nerves as your eyes scan the room for another reason. Luckily, not many tables are currently occupied, and you cut a direct path to the center of the room, hopping easily onto the stool and pulling your small purse into your lap. You take out your phone to check the time: it’s a quarter to eight, so you only have about fifteen minutes to wait before Eddie’s band comes out.

A peal of laughter has your eyes darting toward the bar, where many of the young women are still loitering, though some have wandered toward the front of the stage to wait for the show to begin. You turn pointedly from the bar, settling your elbows against the bartop as your knee begins to jolt. Though you know a drink would help to calm your nerves, you don’t want to be anything but sober for this conversation. It’s too important. So you weather your nerves, distracting yourself with your muted Tiktok feed until the lights suddenly dim, drawing your eyes to the stage.

Your breath quickens as the darkened forms of four masculine bodies trail out amid grinding ambient sounds, illuminated from behind by piercing red light. Feminine chatter crests like a wave as a crush of silky heads crowd together around the base of the stage. Though your view remains hazy, obscured by the harsh red backlighting, three bodies slowly materialize, gaining shape in the haze. And then, the final form takes center stage. It’s a familiar silhouette you would recognize anywhere.

A crowd of heads tips up to watch as the grinding ambient sounds fade, voices hushing until the entire room seems silent, as if put under a spell. After a lingering moment of tense quiet, two snappy drum hits cut through the air, and the front lights finally flash on as Eddie strums the first notes of the opening song.

He’s a study in black and white with a gash of red, and just like the first time, the sight of him consumes you entirely.

His legs are splayed wide, clad in tight dark jeans slung low on narrow hips. His long dark curls kiss his strong shoulders, wild and beautiful as they frame his pale quartz face. A white tank, near thread-bare and ripped, barely conceals his torso, which is branded with a tapestry of dark ink that smatters across his chest and travels down his arms like body armor. His deft pale fingers are adorned with those chunky silver rings, fingers that strum his sleek blood-red guitar with intent ease as he gazes out at the crowd. From this distance, you can see Eddie’s face clearly: sharp jaw, full lips, soft nose. Dark eyes that, despite the enthusiastic feminine squeals and reaching fingers of the women at his feet, scan restlessly until they skim yours, only to return and catch, holding fast once he realizes it’s you. You see the instantaneous shift— the way the dark umber of Eddie’s eyes lightens to honey and a corner of his lips tugs up in a crooked smile. He presses them against the mic to croon the song’s opening words: “Hey you.”

Your moth wings flutter at the intimacy of knowing that despite the multitude of women at his feet, Eddie Munson is singing to you.

As you watch Eddie perform for you, he watches you watch him. When his fingers shift on the frets, you feel those calloused pads rasp along the doughy flesh of your thighs. When his plush lips kiss the mic, you feel them brush warm along the shell of your ear. When those curls dampen with sweat, you feel them drag and tickle your soft stomach as he travels down, down, down your body. And when Eddie sings— when he drawls and croons and shouts til grit roughens and breaks the timbre— you inhale every ounce of smoke he exhales until it settles deep within you, heady and more intoxicating than alcohol could ever be.

Yet despite the charisma of Eddie’s performance, underneath it all, the writhing nerves never leave you, like you can’t allow yourself to forget the conversation that looms ever larger with each passing song.

After an extended set of seven consecutive songs, Eddie’s white shirt has gone near translucent from exertion and the humidity you’d predicted would accumulate in the room. That pale chest inked with armor is heaving, but his brown eyes are bright, lips split in a manic smile as he addresses the crowd with a hoarsened voice. “How’re we doing tonight?” He doesn’t shout; instead, he smolders, that amplified murmur almost a purr as the crowd shrieks their enthusiasm. You can feel how much they love him, and it doesn’t make you jealous; instead, beneath your nerves, you feel pleased for Eddie, warm with the knowledge that others appreciate him just as much as you do.

He continues, “We’re Corroded Coffin—”

A surge of more shrieking, and Eddie chuckles, husky and full, as his eyes flash to yours. He sees your broad smile, the pleasure in your flushed cheeks, and his smirk softens. “That’s Gareth on the drums—” Eddie gestures behind him, and it almost feels like he’s introducing you as Gareth tosses his brown hair and lifts his sticks before beating out a short, frenetic fill. “Jeff is on rhythm guitar—” The dark of his skin is broken by a flash of white teeth as he salutes before strumming a short chord, bending the strings so they whammy. “Brian’s on bass—” The larger guy with the bristly hair walks a baseline with thick, capable fingers. “And I’m Eddie.” Another round of cheers and clapping, and he grins again when you clap enthusiastically like one of his groupies.

Eddie’s grin fades, and he pulls off the mic; he says something inaudible to Jeff, who nods, communicating to the others. Before you can wonder about it, Eddie murmurs again into the mic, smoke voice low and close to intimate. “Wrote this one this weekend. Came together pretty quick.” And then he looks at you, and the expression on his face makes your throat go thick. “This is for someone sweet.”

Immediately you can tell that the mood of this song is very different from the ones that came before. Delicate and atmospheric, pensive, but not quite melancholic. You watch Eddie’s pale fingers pick the strings, knuckles ruddy above chunky silver rings as the notes ring out in the silence of the bar. And you feel it: the quiver of your roots, the stretch of your green as it strives for him. A deep, poignant yearning that mixes with a somber sort of weight as he starts to sing.

“Floating on the water, ever-changing. Picture hours out from that in tune with all our dreams.”

Eddie’s voice is always beautiful, and you told him that. But there’s something different about the smoke that flows from him now. As it rakes down your spine, its touch is gentle. As it enters your mouth, its taste is sweeter. You think it must be written all over your face, how it’s making you feel— how your white flowers open their faces even as a deep ache blooms behind your sternum, pricking at your eyes. Yet you don’t look away. You can’t look away because Eddie is singing to you.

But he isn’t just singing to you. He’s singing about you.

“The ocean takes me into watch your shaking. Watch you weigh your powers, tempt with hours of pleasure.” The intensity of your feeling increases as Eddie presses close to the mic, eyes scrunching closed as his voice goes higher, almost a caress. “Take me one more time; take me one more wave; take me for one last ride; I’m out of my head—”

He gasps a ragged breath, and your heart squeezes as the passion leaks through in that one word. “—tonight!”

The music intensifies, and the girls clumped around the stage are swaying, reaching their dainty fingers towards Eddie’s feet, hopping in their high heels to the beat. Because despite never having heard this song before, they love it. And, of course, they love it; the song is good. But you think even if the song wasn’t good, even if it was nothing more than clumsy notes spilling from trembling fingers and a cracked smoke voice, you would feel exactly as you do now.

Hearing how Eddie has interpreted and translated moments of your time together— holding each other in the ocean, trembling beneath him as you orgasmed for the first time, driving you home in his van, the only time you’d been alone together since the first night you’d met— is nearly overwhelming. It’s breathtaking; it caresses your green and pierces you at the same time.

Eddie sings about you, and as a watery smile blooms on your face, you watch him answer it with a gentle spread of heartbreaking pink.

–

When the show finally ends, the crowd at the front of the stage disperses. You remain seated on your barstool, your purse cradled in your lap, only stirring when you feel the vibration of your phone.

‘Come backstage. Use the unmarked door near the bathrooms.’

You suck in a shaky breath, trying to calm the immediate pounding of your heart. Here goes.

You venture in that direction, hugging your arms close as you skirt around bodies, following Eddie’s instruction. You duck into a narrow hallway and tentatively push open the door beyond the bathrooms, eyes darting down the darkened corridor until they catch on black and white at the end of the hall.

Eddie’s leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, the toe of one black boot planted against the concrete. Behind him, the door is open, and the warmth of the summer air rushes in with the chirping of crickets, soothing against your cheeks and neck as it blows back your hair. He’s cast in the glow of a floodlight just outside, which illuminates the darkness of his curls with warm light. As you approach him, fingers worrying the hem of your dress at your side, his features sharpen, growing clearer until you can see him fully.

He still looks incredibly overheated— the white of his ripped tank sticks like tissue to his abdomen and chest, and his curls are damp with sweat, corkscrewed at his hairline and hanging limp at the ends where they trail against the charcoal ink on his shoulders. You can see the visible rise and fall of his chest as he drops his arms, still panting from his exertions on stage. But his brown eyes are bright, and his pink lips are split in a manic grin. And as you get closer, you notice the wet spot on the front of his shirt, like he’d sloppily guzzled a water bottle and rushed right outside to see you.

Your heart lurches as you realize he probably did just that.

The poignancy of your yearning swiftly overtakes you. As you reach the threshold, Eddie steps forward, brown eyes warm. “Hey—”

You fall into him, arms crushing around his back, squishing your face to his sweaty chest. Eddie staggers slightly with an audible ‘oof,’ clearly not expecting the suddenness of your hug, but his arms circle you unhesitantly, holding you as you press yourself to him. You relish the warmth of his body despite its dampness; the tattoo of his steady heartbeat under your cheek; his scent in your nose, musky from exertion above notes of smoke and delicate apple. He chuckles as you cling to him, warm and husky. You sigh as his breath fans against the top of your head, and his chest vibrates under your cheek with his laughter. You hold on until you feel his chuckles subside, until the moment has lingered too long for the hug just to be a hug hello, but you can’t wrench yourself away. Eddie quiets, arms simultaneously softening and holding you tighter, and one palm settles heavily on the back of your head. It’s a comforting weight, giving you the strength to shudder a breath against his chest and finally pull away.

Eddie seems to have picked up on your nerves, and his brow is furrowed slightly even as you smile at him. “You were incredible,” you say sincerely, and a corner of his lips quirks. His fingers run lightly along the length of your hair, brushing it back from your face.

“Thanks,” he says, though the warmth is dampened by the question clearly pressing behind his teeth. You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip, taking one tiny step back. Nerves wriggle up from the pit of your stomach to squirm in your chest, and you fight against the urge to fidget under Eddie’s stare.

“Can we sit in your van?” you ask, voice small as you look up at him. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” Eddie's reply is immediate despite the concern creasing his face, and he ushers you forward with a warm palm on your back, kicking aside the brick that was propping the door open. It thumps closed behind you.

The slight breeze is gone now, and the air is warm and stagnant, thick with humidity as if a summer storm is soon to come. Eddie’s boots crunch on gravel as he silently leads you to his van, parked alongside crumbling brick, waiting to be loaded after the show. He opens the passenger door for you, and you take his proffered hand, relishing the rasp of his callouses against your soft palm as he helps you up.

When Eddie clicks the door shut, the muffled silence— the sudden cut in the rhythmic chirping of the outdoors— leaves you feeling almost bereft. The chirping returns as he opens his door, stretching his lanky legs under the steering wheel as he settles into the driver’s seat. Sharply, he pulls the door closed, plunging you into silence again.

Words don’t come easy to you; you often don’t know what to say. And though you’d practiced it, these words are no different. It takes you a moment to struggle against the nerves and fear because you really don’t know how Eddie is going to react to this. It feels even harder than breaking up with Steve. Your fingers are trembling, and you clench them tightly in your lap as you push yourself to meet his eye.

Eddie still looks concerned, but his expression is open and accepting; his white is on display, and it helps you part your lips. Your voice is quiet but perfectly audible in the hush of the van. “On Saturday morning, I—”

Your words choke in your throat as your nerves spike. You push through, though you can’t stop your voice from wavering. “I ended things with Steve.”

Eddie’s shock is clear. His eyebrows jerk violently; his brown eyes widen as his face goes slack. Your eyes dart between his, anxiousness leaping into your throat to curdle there. You almost don’t want to examine his reaction, but you can’t help yourself. You watch Eddie attempt to school his features: brows resetting, adam’s apple bobbing in a thick swallow. The silence is becoming oppressive, and you almost feel the need to break it yourself, to fill it with babbling or tell him exactly what happened, every sordid detail. Anything to disrupt the overwhelming silence.

Finally, Eddie’s tongue darts out to lick his lips; they part, and he just asks one question. “Are you okay?”

His voice is such sweet relief from the tension that you release a sigh, but it’s the question itself— the fact that Eddie’s first thought is to ask you if you’re all right— that has your eyes stinging. There’s a sudden lump in your throat not borne of nerves, but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You take a deep breath, eyes darting around the cabin as you attempt to explain. “Something was always missing, I think, in our relationship. I just didn’t know any better. Steve was really my first boyfriend. I’d dated guys casually before him, but nothing was ever as serious as it was with Steve. And I thought things were good, and I guess they were for awhile. But….” Your eyes dart to Eddie almost shyly, darting away again from the intensity there. “These last few months changed how I saw the relationship, and I couldn’t pretend like everything was okay when it wasn’t.”

The flow of words slows to a drip until you feel you’ve finally released them all. You fall quiet, watching your thumb run against your fingernail for a moment until you hazard a glance up at Eddie again. When you make contact, he nods, expression open and accepting again, and his dark curls sway around his face. You want to tuck them behind his ear, but this next part is important, and you don’t want to distract from it. You hold his gaze as you add, “And you should know… I didn’t tell Steve about Friday. What we did. I couldn’t do that to him after Nancy; it would’ve hurt him so badly.”

Eddie nods again. “I get it,” he says. “I do.” And you think he does. His brown eyes flick away as he licks his lips again. “Was he… upset?”

He sounds careful, almost hesitant. You wonder if Eddie wants to ask whether he came up in the conversation, but you suspect, from the look on his face, that he already knows he did. You think of the dullness of Steve’s hazel eyes, the briny mud. You think of his mirthless chuckle, of the words he’d spit at you. ‘‘Cause then it means you can have Eddie. And you can convince yourself you don't have to feel bad about what you've done.’

You nod, and it comes out shaky and weak, just like the words do. “Yeah, he was upset.”

Eddie’s face creases further, and you think it could be guilt, that ooze you’re so familiar with. “Are you upset?”

You don’t have to wait for your answer to well up; you feel the words pooling on your tongue already. You marvel over how it should be awkward to talk about this with Eddie, but somehow it isn’t. “There is a part of me that’s sad it’s over. We were together for three years, you know? And sometimes it was really good. But after what he told me about Nancy and about—” You shake your head, interrupting yourself. “I don’t really wanna get into it, but… I don’t think Steve ever really healed after what happened. And it seeped into us. I think he did love me, and I loved him, but he was never able to be fully open and honest. And I don’t know if he ever would have gotten there with me.”

The familiar weight of sorrow coats your skin as you mourn what you’ve lost, but it isn’t as heavy as it had been on Saturday night. And you find that as you speak the words to Eddie, it makes you realize that the problem with your relationship with Steve was always as simple as that— that he wasn’t able to tend to you the way you tended to him.

Eddie nods again. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time, though you suppose it isn’t out of place for the circumstances. And then he’s tilting toward you to reach over the armrest.

Your breath catches as you realize his intent; you untangle your hands in your lap in time for him to take one. His hold is soft, skin warm and rough as he anchors you with it, offering silent support. His thumb rubs slowly over the back of your hand, and the feeling makes your wings stir. When he finally speaks, Eddie’s smoke voice is quiet, still hoarse from his performance. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling both comforted and nervous. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’ll be okay.” You lean your head back against the headrest, allowing yourself a moment to indulge in Eddie’s touch before your nerves get the better of you. Gently, you pull your hand away, smiling to reassure him that you welcomed his comfort. Eddie answers the tilt of your lips with a little smile of his own.

Your eyes wander as you sit quietly in the interior of Eddie’s van, which smells like stale cigarettes and soapy, artificial pine. There’s a new pack of Twizzlers in his cupholder, not yet opened. You stare at it as you gather your courage, breath trembling in your freezing chest.

The conversation isn’t over yet.

“So—”

“Eddie, I—”

You snap your mouth shut as your voices overlap, and so does Eddie; your eyes catch, and he laughs. Though it’s a little awkward, the husky sound still hits you in that same spot inside, deep at the bottom of you. “You first,” he offers easily, brown eyes warm and glinting in the warm light of the van’s cabin.

You’re nearly shivering with the freeze that spreads along your sternum, and your heart races desperately behind your frosted ribs as if trying to escape its cage. Because it’s finally here: the moment you’ve been fearing. Dreading.

The conclusion of your loop.

“Eddie,” you say, “I need to be honest with you.” The impact of your words is immediate; the lingering smile slides from his lips. Despite yourself, you pause for a moment to memorize the way he looks before everything changes.

Eddie Munson is beautiful. His eyes are deep like warm honey, wide and framed by long, dark lashes. You remember how they crinkle when he smiles. His nose is soft, soft like the dark bangs that feather across his forehead. You remember how he buries it against your skin when his face finds the crook of your neck. His lips are pink, so plush and full. You remember how they feel trailing tenderly across your skin. His jaw is strong and sharp, and his neck is pale and corded. You remember how his throat rumbles against your lips when he hums contentedly. Eddie’s curls are wild and dark, and they skim the ink that darkens the pale quartz of his skin. You remember the black and white that has always drawn you in, the smoke of his voice that, from the first moment you heard it, called to something deep inside you.

Your eyes want to dart away, but you keep them on beautiful brown. “Part of why I broke up with Steve is because….” Your voice wobbles, but you steady it. “Because of how I feel about you.”

Your words fill the space between you, and you watch that beautiful brown go wide. And when it transforms— when it starts to melt, to spread gentleness onto the tops of Eddie’s cheeks— you hurry yourself along. Choking out the next word.

“But—”

The freeze of Eddie’s expression, the sudden arresting of his features, pierces you. But it doesn’t change what you realized. What you’ve decided.

You think of the loop: the poison of doubt dripping from despair’s maw, the hope of Eddie’s light and charcoal repairing its damage. But Eddie isn’t the only person that matters.

Chrissy matters, too.

When you pictured the beloved face of your friend, the charmingly crooked teeth in her broad smile, the sound of her giggle and her sweet voice… it wasn’t the sourness of jealousy that resolved you. It wasn’t the fear that you can’t compete with five years and talks of girls and boys or the insecurity that you’ll never be as beautiful as she is. Instead, it was the injury you knew you would inflict, the haunting question you couldn’t dismiss. You’d finally realized the indisputable truth.

Wanting Eddie to be with me, asking him to…

It isn’t right.

It’s nothing but selfish.

Selfish to want to take this man from your friend, a person who has never been anything but good to you. Selfish to break her heart for the sake of yours.

So you finish your sentence.

You look into Eddie Munson’s gentle eyes and whisper, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Eddie’s head jerks back; he recoils as if you’ve slapped him. His voice is no longer hoarse from the exertion of his performance. Now, it’s dry and cracked. “What? But—”

You rush to cover the cracks of his voice with your own. You know you can’t give Eddie a chance to say anything that might change your mind; this is already too hard. You picture bright blue eyes pierced with hurt. “What we did… it wasn’t right. Not to Steve, and not to Chrissy. We should never have betrayed them like that.”

Eddie’s mouth works soundlessly before he stammers, “I, I mean, I don’t… y/n, I don’t regret what we did. I’m—”

You cut him off again, pleading for him to understand. “I can’t get in between you and Chrissy, Eddie. You’ve been together for five years. You’re high school sweethearts!” Your chin begins to tremble. Earnestness becomes tinged with desperation as you admit your selfishness. Your shame. “She told me how— how you’re gonna propose to her soon. How excited she is to be your wife. How she wants a boy, and you want a girl. You’ve made plans for the future, and she was so excited, so happy.”

The impact of your betrayal hits you fully, and your lips press tight to contain a dismayed whimper. Horrible guilt oozes, crawling up, up, up to press against your teeth, to coat the back of your tongue until you feel ill with it.

Eddie looks pained. He looks nearly as ill as you feel. And you suppose it's finally hitting him, too— what the two of you have done. The realization only resolves you in your decision, and you let the ooze of your guilt leak from your lips, dribbling out to coat the center console that separates you. Your voice is thick with it. “She told me all of that, and then I still—”

You choke on the viscous ooze, unable to voice it: that you knew how much your friend loves Eddie, and you fucked him behind her back anyway. Your eyes sting with tears more insistently than before. “I know— I know you think you want me, Eddie, but we can’t do this to Chrissy. I can’t—”

You break off, shuddering a breath as you fight against your tears. You blink up at the ceiling, and as you wait for the tears to recede, your eyes are drawn to the warm light above. The one that glints off Eddie’s dark curls, haloing them in a bright glow. It burns into your retinas, darkening a rectangle in your vision, but you can’t tilt your chin back down. You can’t look away. Not until you feel the caress of smoke from Eddie’s quiet voice against your cheek.

“Is this what you want?”

Almost by instinct, you breathe the question in; almost by instinct, your eyes seek beautiful brown. Your growth quivers, reaching, striving. Your ripe fruit trembles on the vine, begging you to let it fall from your lips.

You want to say, No, Eddie. I just want you.

Instead, you say, “Yes. It’s what I want.”

And then he’s nodding like he had before. Accepting your words; never pushing for too much. Tending to you always. "I understand," Eddie tells you, and the lack of resistance brings relief and pain.

After all, it’s what he said. 'Anything for you.'

Eddie splays his fingers, holding out his hand palm up to you. A silent offering.

Lip wobbling, your eyes run over the callouses on Eddie’s fingertips, the glint of chunky silver on his fingers. His touch calls to you, and you give in. You allow yourself this last thing.

You take Eddie’s hand.

You weave your fingers with his, slowly, slowly, relishing the rasp against your soft skin, the warmth of his broad palm. And then, when your eyes turn from your clasped hands to his face, Eddie squeezes your hand. And he doesn’t release his grip; he keeps your hand squeezed tight. And so do you; you squeeze Eddie’s hand, and you keep it squeezed until the pain of your grief and yearning burns like a deep ache in your chest. Until it’s so unbearable that you can’t stand it anymore.

Only then do you break the silence. “I should go,” you whisper.

Your hand slips from his, and Eddie loosens his grip. You wrench your eyes from beautiful, glossy brown, and Eddie blinks and looks away. You find the door handle, and when you push it open, the chirp of crickets floods the silence. Eddie’s voice doesn’t join them. You breathe the balmy summer air and it chases the scent of smoke and apples from your lungs.

You shut the van door, and Eddie doesn’t stop you.

As you cross the cracked asphalt, leaving black and white behind, your leaves droop. The vines that hug your ribs sag as if shuddering a heavy sigh. Your blooms close their faces; your petals wilt, turning down toward the earth. Roots curl into themselves, seeking respite from peat now sapped of nutrients.

Because the source of your light has gone, and in its place, a full moon rises.

–

You don’t see Eddie Munson again for four months.

By the time summer’s heat has cooled and fat yellow dandelion heads have puffed white and blown away, you’ve grown used to the moon. But it wasn’t always so. The loss of those two men who once were so important in your life stirred up your dirt, leaving spaces needing to be filled; the earth within you shifted, groaning as it adapted to its new normal. It had been difficult at first. Their absence, the disruption of your daily life, was felt keenly. No longer did you reach for your bedside table upon waking at one in the morning to see the screen lit with a song. No longer did you exchange soft giggles with a dear close friend. No longer did you know exactly what you’d be doing on Friday nights— week after week spent tangled pleasurably with expensive perfume, citrus and sea salt, and smoke and apples. No longer did you stretch against the cool sheets of a king-sized bed; instead, the cheery window in Penny’s old office cast thick stripes of morning sun across your twin comforter. But the change of scenery did help. You established a new routine; there wasn’t even any reason to venture into the city aside from the weekends you’d spend leaning into old friendships you renewed with vigorous attention. Gradually, you eased into your new normal, and soon, the absences were no longer keenly felt. By fall, your moth wings have settled, adapting to the deep twilight that bathes you in a cool glow. You’d spent the first twenty-four years of your life illuminated by the moon, and you’d been content. You would be so again.

Never mind that contentment means cold. It means frost on sluggish wings. It means dormant growth, leaves curled towards stems, and fruit desiccated on the vine. Never mind that, because at least the ache has been numbed until it can no longer be felt. There’s a kind of peace in the coldness of the full moon.

And you’d just grown content with living without the light when it returns suddenly and without warning one innocuous Friday evening in late October.

The dusk casts deepening shadows over the couch in Penny’s living room, and the curtains stir in the crisp breeze where you’ve thrown open the windows. You’re seated at the kitchen island. A bouquet of flowers rests in a glass vase in its center, faded just slightly now, bought last week at the market on 28th Street. Paper plates form a ring around your cutting board, holding mounds of chopped carrots, red bell pepper, and onion that will be added to your stir fry. Your sharp knife raps rhythmically against worn wood, shearing broccoli into little crowns as your speaker cycles through your Liked songs on Spotify. Air So Sweet by dodie complements the peace of the moment— the smell of autumn leaves seeping into the deep mahogany of Penny’s kitchen cabinets, the rhythmic thumping of your knife, the words falling from your lips as you sing quietly under your breath, your voice high and delicate. “The air so sweet, I gulp and gasp for more—”

Three sharp raps cut through the peace, and your eyes snap to the locked front door.

You balance your knife against the edge of the cutting board, sliding off the barstool with a fond if exasperated sigh as dodie eases into Before the Fall. You pull your loose flannel tighter around you, gliding in your socks and worn, stretchy leggings toward the front door. Penny has been a wonderful sister for these last four months of living together, but sometimes, she can be a difficult roommate. For one, she is very particular about the organization of the fridge, and she has a strict and somewhat complex schedule for laundry and dishwashing that you have struggled to get used to. Despite her meticulousness in other areas, this wouldn’t be the first time she’d left her house key behind and needed you to let her in. Not a shoe is out of place in the rack near the front door, and yet Penny can’t be bothered to hook the key back to the keyring after getting a copy made for you.

You reach for the handle, huffing your tease through the wood. “Again, Pen? You know, I could just leave you out here. How much do you love me—?”

Your words die in your throat as the door swings open to black and white.

Eddie is standing stiffly at your door, hands jammed deep in the pockets of his tight black jeans, his wallet chain caught on his pale wrist. He’s wearing short sleeves despite the weather, the ink of his armor on full display, arms pimpled with gooseflesh in the autumn chill. You’re staring at the deep burgundy of his band tee, the first color you’ve ever seen him wear. His chest expands with a deep breath, and at the motion, your eyes flit to his almost by instinct.

Eddie’s dark curls frame his pale quartz face like a wild stormcloud. The softness of his nose, the plush pink of his lips, the brown of his eyes— they’re all exactly how you remember. A gust hits him in the back, and as his shoulders scrunch toward his ears, it carries the scent of smoke and apples.

When you look at him, Eddie’s mouth stretches in a twitchy, crooked smile. One booted foot taps out a frenetic pattern against the brick of your front stoop. When you look at him, moth wings twitch, awakening. They stir powdery snow, which falls silently to frozen earth.

And then Eddie speaks, voice like smoke incarnate. “Hi.”

You tip your chin up, and the smoke passes through your parted lips, sinking into the frozen earth at the bottom of you. Four months, and that’s all it takes: one glimpse of light in brown eyes, one caress of smoke against your mouth.

You thaw. You yearn.

You swallow down the surge of feeling inside you to hush a greeting back. “Hi.”

As you stare at each other, Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. He seems hesitant, unsteady, shifting his weight as if he’s uncomfortable in his skin. Another gust of wind wracks his lanky form, and his sudden shiver draws you out of your daze. You nearly trip over your words to ask, “Do you wanna come in? Come in—”

You step back, and he ducks inside, long limbs jerky like a newborn colt. You close the door against the wind, pausing in the tiny foyer that connects branching rooms. The paper plate vegetable mounds peek from the hallway in front of you; the kitchen speaker is muted by distance, but you can tell that Before the Fall’s acoustic guitar has subsided into the lonely piano and haunting vocals of Overcome by Skott. It’s exactly as you left it, that room, but when you glance back, the man now inside is suddenly sucking in all the light, standing like a gash of black and white stained red in the foyer of your sister’s condominium.

You don’t know what to do with him.

Your voice is a soft hum, almost sounding hesitant to draw his attention. “Um—” He’d been glancing around inside, but at the sound, Eddie’s brown eyes flick right to yours. “I was just making dinner—”

“Oh,” he says, face creasing ruefully, “shit, did I interrupt you?”

You rush to assure him, melting further as he winces. “No, no, it’s fine….” You edge toward the hallway to the kitchen, and thankfully, Eddie gets the hint without you needing to say more. He follows you, bootsteps heavy as you shuffle on your socks back into the kitchen. He’s behind you, but every sense is honed to his presence— the swish of his clothing as he walks, the hush of his breath. The hair on your arms stands on end as you gingerly pull your kitchen stool out, intending to sit back in your spot before second-guessing it immediately. You’re melting, you’re yearning, but nerves begin to squirm low; your fingers twist as you cast for something to say.

What would Penny do?

You find yourself blurting, “Do you want a drink?” Your brows pinch at the sudden shrillness of your voice overtop the soft vocals from the speaker. ‘Some lights are a different kind, never burning out,’ she sings; your gaze darts to Eddie’s eyes and away again.

“No, I’m okay.” Eddie’s typical confidence seems dampened; his voice is stilted, and his posture is stiff. He hovers somewhere between your fridge and the island. His awkwardness— the thought that he feels just as tense as you— is the only thing that keeps your nerves from becoming overwhelming.

Eddie speaks suddenly, and it nearly startles you. “How’s your car been?”

“...It’s fine,” you say, wondering if that’s why he’s here— to check in on your car, which broke down four months ago. Penny had picked it up for you; when you’d explained what you’d done, tears of shame pricking your eyes as you told your sister why you didn't want to go yourself, she hadn’t hesitated to act in your stead. Mercifully, though you know she hadn’t approved of how you’d betrayed your friend, she’d held her tongue. She could tell that any criticism of your selfishness from her would be nothing compared to your own.

You keep following this precedent of asking questions. "How did you find me?"

Eddie shrugs, a jagged little thing. Grinning now, casual— but his eyes say something different. "Just asked around."

You nod slowly. "So, how are you?" you try, pulling your flannel sleeves over your hands. “How's…?"

Her name sticks in your throat, conjuring imaginings of strawberry-blonde waves and soft smiles. Imaginings of dainty fingers painted red, a diamond glinting from her ring finger, brilliant as it shines in the light. Your eyes scan the rings beneath Eddie’s ruddy knuckles. All are the same, but then again, they would be.

Men don’t wear engagement rings.

There'd been a time you and Chrissy had shared part of life together, and now you haven't talked to her in months. You wonder if she'd been confused about the distance between you, how one day you’d just never spoken to her again. But she'd never reached out to you, either. You assume she must know you’d broken up with Steve by now; it must be old news—

"Y/n."

It stalls your train of thought entirely. The way Eddie says your name— like a tortured sigh, like rain after a drought, like the whisper of eyelashes against your cheek— makes you instantly silent. Your heart skips in your chest as you register the look on his face.

Eddie’s jaw is twitching. The cords of his neck are stretched taut, dark brows knitted over honey-brown eyes. Not angry, but bothered. Maybe anguished. He licks his lips, and despite the moisture, his voice still comes out hoarse. "I've been trying to do what you said. I've tried for the last four months."

Your breath catches, but the smoke sinks right through your flannel and into your chest, settling rich and heady behind your sternum. You’re standing beside the barstool, and you search for it with your fingers without moving your eyes from Eddie’s face. As he continues, your fingertips brush wood; you clutch tight to anchor yourself, each word cracking your ice to shards.

Eddie stares intently into your eyes as if his words don’t communicate enough. “I missed you. Every day, I missed you. And I tried to forget, to bury it, but I can’t….” He sounds so earnest that your brow crumples and your eyes sting. Eddie sees it and steps closer around the island, narrowing the gap between you. Honey brown holds you fast as he rasps, “Y/n, I can’t stop thinking about you. I care about you so much. So fucking much it hurts.”

Eddie looks down into your face, and he’s so close you can almost feel the tickle of his curls against your cheek, the brush of his plush lips against your forehead. You can almost taste the smoke and apples, the spice of his mouth. His hands outstretch, hovering near the softness of your flannel as if he wants to clutch at the curve of your waist. You nearly press forward to feel them, but you can’t. Not until there aren’t any diamonds in your mind’s eye.

Yet you can’t stop your ice from melting. And as it dissolves into water, roots absorb it greedily. Leaves perk, deepening to verdant green. The water surges through them, through stems and along vines, flooding into desiccated fruit. Red flesh plumps, growing sweet again. Waiting to be tended by calloused fingers. It bends, seeking him. And so do you; as if by instinct, you lean towards the light, swaying on your feet until you feel the heat from Eddie’s calloused fingers against your waist, urging him with your body, with your eyes, with your heart to touch you.

But Eddie doesn't touch. Instead, he speaks. “That’s why I…” He swallows thickly, eyes flicking between yours imploringly. “I wanna break up with Chrissy.”

I wanna break up with Chrissy.

The words echo in your head, and you blink. Your confusion is clear; your questions are simple, like a child’s would be, asked in a small voice. “You want to? Why haven’t you, then?”

“I—” Eddie scratches the back of his hair, all frustration and sharp edges. All flashing eyes that dart from yours. “She’s— she’s just got a lot going on right now, with her mom, and… next week is finals for her classes, and I’ve just… I’ve been working overtime—”

Your heart shrinks from every word until it’s cowering behind your ribs. Eddie pulls roughly at the neck of his shirt as if it’s too tight for him, and you see the truth behind the tar of guilt oozing beneath his collar. Eddie does want you, but not enough to forsake five years. Not enough to crush plans made for boy or girl. Not enough to rend his flesh, to wrench the claws from his back by force. Claws that will never retract on their own.

You force a weak smile to cover the wobble of your bottom lip. A smile of understanding. Quietly, you say, “You don’t need to explain, Eddie.” You nod, bobbing your head as if you’re agreeing to something he’d said. “Thanks for coming over to talk.”

Eddie must see the conclusion written all over your face; his contorts with distress, with urgency. He’s pleading with his eyes for you to understand. “No, y/n, I—”

Each word makes you shrink further. You try to force your voice to raise, to be firm, but it comes out wobbly anyway. “You should go, Eddie,” you tell him, eyes darting from that pleading expression. From the light in brown eyes. Because if you look too long, you’re afraid your moths will disregard the danger, flutter up, and chase it forever.

Eddie’s hands are still hovering near your waist, extended as if in entreaty; he dips them, and your breath catches as he boldly grasps your hands, squeezing tight. “Please, I really do.” His voice is a husky whisper, the timbre thick with yearning. “I wanna be with you.”

A flick of wings; a flutter, and then another. You look into Eddie's eyes and tell him the truth, even though your chin wobbles. “You can’t have us both,” you whisper, and he looks even more pained.

“No, I know,” he says, squeezing your hands so tight it’s almost painful. “I know. I don't…” He breaks off, voice trembling. “Can I please just… can I just hold you right now?”

It's so tender, the sound of his voice. It’s so poignant, his request. It’s so hard to resist the promise of Eddie’s warm body against yours, his arms holding you close, his heart thumping against your breast, his plush lips skimming your brow, his hand cradling your head as you dig your nose into his neck, breathing him in. And you could let him hold you; you could pretend, for a moment, that there is no Chrissy Cunningham.

You could pretend, but you don’t. It’s hard to resist Eddie, but you do.

“No, Eddie,” you whisper, pulling your hands from his. He lets you go, but reluctantly; when your hands drop to your sides, and you step back, his fingers outstretch as if by impulse. “I can’t,” you choke. “Not if—” not if I can't have you. But you can’t say that; you would crumble under the weight of those words. “We can’t,” you say instead, entreating him to understand.

You look up into Eddie Munson’s face, and every fiber of your being yearns for him. Your green quivers, reaching. Your wings flutter, seeking. The fruit of your soul is on your tongue.

You want to say, Please, Eddie. Touch me. Hold me.

You want to say, Please, Eddie. Love me.

Love me.

But you don't.

"Go home, Eddie," you say, and you try to be strong, but you can't help it; you never can when it comes to him. All the water within you— in your leaves and stems, in your flowers and fruit— rushes up to flood your eyes. It spills over, and with a tiny whimper, you start to cry.

Eddie’s instant distress is hard to endure. His broken voice begs, “No, no—” He closes the gap you’d widened easily, and you sniffle, inhaling smoke and apples as, in his haste, he misjudges the distance and brushes against you. Calloused fingers reach for you; they wipe your face tenderly, trembling thumbs swiping tears that fall and fall and fall with no reprieve.

And you shouldn’t, but goddamn you, you let him.

“Please don’t cry,” Eddie whispers, sounding utterly distraught.

But you can’t obey because everything inside you is crying out. The smoke is leaking from your pores— you're surprised Eddie can't see it clinging to you. It's condensing into fat drops of charcoal tears, running tracks down your face. Because you want him so desperately, but not like this.

It's not enough— to be with Eddie, but know he isn't yours.

You back away, and Eddie’s hands fall from your face. Three big steps, a gulf of distance between you. Words are hard for you, and there are none you can say right now.

Eddie’s face is creased. Those beautiful brown eyes are big and glassy, and there’s misery in the corners of his lips.

You’ve never seen him like this, but then again, he’s never seen you like this, either. He's never sounded like this— smoke voice thick and tight as if he’s barely keeping himself at bay. “Don’t cry, sweet girl.”

The sound of Eddie’s name for you fractures you further. You shake your head as if trying to shake the name free from your ears. Your tears still flow silently; your body trembles as you try to keep from losing control. You feel it pushing up your throat— a desperate cry. Despair. Not a hound, but a snarling wolf, growing fat off the verdancy of your green, now reawakened in the presence of beloved light.

As you shake, breath hitching, tears dripping from your chin, Eddie must finally realize the futility of it all. Abruptly, he fists his fingers in his hair. “Fuck,” he yelps, frustrated, helpless. Afraid.

He stalks away and back again, pacing restlessly as you hug yourself, trying to press the despair back in. No words to say. Just thick drops of charcoal tears.

And then, you hear a tortured sigh, like the way he’d said your name. You glance up, and Eddie’s smoke voice whisps from his plush lips, tight and thick and high, lingering in the gulf between you. “Fuck, I’m— y/n, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your face screws up, breath hitching and catching. Words finally come; you push them out. Firm, loud, and clear. “Just leave, Eddie. I can’t see you anymore. Just go—!”

As soon as you say the words, you feel it. The growl, the gnashing of teeth. You grit your jaw against it, nostrils flaring as you avert your eyes to your socks. You listen, and you wait.

Slowly, so slowly, Eddie’s heavy, slumping footsteps retreat down the hall. You’re fighting, nearly whimpering with your effort. The doorknob jiggles, and you suck in a desperate breath. The door creaks, and then softly, so softly, it closes.

Finally, you're alone, and finally, you release it. The wolf howls; its cry explodes from you in a ragged sob. And once you start, you can’t stop. Not until Penny tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, eyes widening as she hears the anguished sounds echoing down the hall. She finds the vase of flowers, the plates of carrots and bell peppers and onions, the mound of broccoli, and the sharp knife. She finds you collapsed on the kitchen floor, red-faced and howling in a puddle of your charcoal tears.

Eddie’s visit was cruel, but it was cruelty unintended. Eddie could never be cruel to you, and you know that. And you know something else. Something you didn't want to acknowledge, something you'd been trying desperately to numb in the cold of twilight, though seeing him tonight confirms it.

Eddie Munson planted the seed in that dark place at the bottom of you, the one you didn’t know existed. He tended it with his gentle touches and his quiet words. And now, your growth is firmly rooted. It has grown tall, weaving around your sternum, vining through your ribs, sprouting through your center. And it’s not just at the center of you. It is the center of you. The fruit of your soul, budded and ready to thrive; the source of your love, one and the same. Under the full moon, it had gone dormant, but it could not be uprooted.

And perhaps, in time, your green will cleave from the one who’d cared for it. But it’s clear to you now.

It will take much longer than four months for your love for Eddie Munson to wither.

#blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic

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pennedmusings · 6 months

Text

Thumb Fight

Summary: You are in a bar waiting for Sirius and the boys to show up, but the chaos and the hubbub of the setting make it difficult for you to have a good time. Thankfully, Sirius shows up just in time.

Note: fluff, comfort, Muggle!AU, Sirius and the reader are friends but with mutual pining! because I'm a slut for that. Gender-neutral reader. Neurodivergent reader. Not very well edited

Relationship: Sirius Black x Reader (mutual pining)

Warnings: Sensory overstimulation, sensory icks, crying, self-depreciation, reader is not very fond of themselves, mentions of drinking! reader almost has a panic attack (?)

Word count: approx 2K words

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated, comments even more so!

************************************************************************

The music was so loud you could barely hear your own thoughts.

It had been a pleasant hum before, a singer crooning softly from a corner, stuff that you could handle, stuff that you enjoyed actually. But as the night went on, the crowd got progressively drunker, and their tastes got progressively rambunctious. Right now, the speakers boomed with the heavy bass of some pop song. The crowd that had clamoured to put on “real” music instead of the Chris Isaak that you were so at ease with, now no longer cared for the song and wanted to focus on their chatter. People yelled at decibels far beyond the human capacity just to say hello to someone.

It was a Saturday night so the bar was packed to the brim, and you could feel several arms brushing past yours. You escaped the corner you had thought to seclude yourself in when a couple came in with each other’s tongues down their throats. You walked over to the bar and laid your hands flat against the marble when your skin came in contact with something wet. It was probably just condensed water from a cold drink, your brain tried to reason, but your instinct was to recoil in disgust and immediately wipe your hands off the cold, wet, annoying sensation on your hand.

It was a nightmare for you.

You flinched every time you so much as heard another glass hit the bar.

The glasses clinked.

The crowd roared.

Somebody said “hello” a little too loudly.

The bass pumped.

The door squeaks.

The bar top is wet.

Someone’s arm is brushing yours.

Too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, too-

“Hey, hey, hey, puppy, what’s wrong?” warm hands lift your chin up and you almost flinch before realising who it is. Your eyes meet the concerned grey of Sirius’s. and as his eyes widen you realise how bad you must look in the moment. Surely, Sirius pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and starts dabbing around your eyes.

Oh, you didn’t know you’d started crying.

His thumbs smooth out the furrows of your eyebrows as he moves closer to you, as if he’s trying to shield you from the rest of the bar.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks softly, and you nod.

In no time he’s wading through the crowd, trying to create an opening for you to follow him out with. He holds your hands in his throughout the whole deal. Finally when you are both outside, the crisp, chilly autumn air hits you and you sit on the pavement in grateful silence. You don’t need to speak and Sirius doesn’t demand an answer as well.

You lose track of time as you rub your hands over your body. Crack your joints, gnaw on your lip, braid a portion of your hair, and tap your feet to a rhythm stuck in your head. After a minute, or maybe 10, or maybe 20, when you’re humming the same part of a Mitski song over and over again, Sirius speaks up.

“You feeling better now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” the relief is evident in his voice, “ I got really worried seeing you like that.” He admits.

An apology comes out of you instinctively.

Sirius scoffs and settles down beside you, “it’s not your fault lovely.” He offers you his hand and you take him up. He quickly moulds your hands into a position for a thumb-fight and you are grateful for the distraction. Because he is sitting next to you and you can smell his cologne, and you can feel the heat emanating from his body; you might go into a different kind of panic attack if you focus on just him for longer.

“It kind of is though,” you soldier on with your self-criticism. “If I wasn’t so fucked in the head, you wouldn’t have to leave everything and sit with me outside a bar.”

The thumb fight has reached a strategic impasse, both of you hold your thumbs poised, ready to attack, but none making the first move.

“For the record, I didn’t leave anything.”

You look up to his eyes for the first time since coming outside the bar. But perhaps for the first time, he’s the one avoiding eye contact. You try to hold his gaze but he is adamant to not let you.

“What do you mean? I know for a fact that James and Remus are in there waiting for you to join them.” you point out. The boys were supposed to get to the bar together, being the roommates that they are. They had offered to pick you up from your apartment so that all of you could be there together but you knew they’d have to take a detour to accommodate that. Besides, your shift ended earlier today so you figured that going to the bar was less depressing than sitting by yourself at home waiting for someone to pick you up. Maybe you should have taken Remus up on his offer after all.

“They’re twats who have separation anxiety.” He deadpans but both of you know he’s only teasing. He’d take a bullet for them through his heart.

His face looks peculiar, unfamiliar in this setting because you’ve never seen him like this- all shy and red in the cheeks, avoiding eye contact, for once you’re the pursuer.

“Twats they may be, they’re still your friends. You should go inside with them. I’m much better here, you don’t need to stay.” You brush your thumb against his in challenge.

“Oh but I do,” the response is prompt, “need to be here to look after you. All alone, looking so pretty in the night, someone might steal you away. And where will be after that?” his thumb bashes yours away.

“You’ll all be much better off.” You huff.

He tsks very loudly and soon your thumb is pressed underneath his. You try to wriggle it free but he is a rugby player and his strength is not to be messed with. “ Quit it.” He warns.

There’s a pregnant pause. You’ve had this conversation before. Maybe not with the others, but definitely more times with Sirius than you could count. None of you say anything. You have long given up on trying to retrieve the thumb that’s stored underneath his firm grip.

“It’s rotten work.” You finally huff out.

He sighs, “Not to me. Not if its you.”

The stupid bastard knows Euripides. Great.

Anger and self-loathing forgotten you now try to get to the bottom of this enigma. “Pray tell, how did you know what to say?”

“I’m a man of culture-!” you smack him upside down. “OW!” he rubs the back of his head tenderly.

“You binge-watched all of Dance Moms in a week.”

“It’s a cultural revolution.”

“You have the attention span of a very small baby without any object permanence, you did not go through all of Euripides.” You say decidedly.

“Okay, I did not. You just mentioned it one day and said that you liked it a lot. So I thought of reading it but I couldn’t get past the first page.” Here you crack a smile, “ so then I just went on the internet to find something popular from the book and this was the first thing that showed up. Of course, knowing you, I could bet that you would quote this at some point or the other at me, and I wanted to be prepared.”

The chilly London air feels so much hotter than before. Even though its late at night, you think you can see the sun trying to shine its way out from the darkness. Sirius Orion Black will kill you one day. You think he’s trying to kill you right now. With his stupid shy smile, his stupid grey eyes looking at the pavement like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, the stupid blush creeping over his cheeks.

“Oh so when I asked you to take the chicken out of the freezer that one day, it was too much work for you, but Y/N just mentions a book and you’re off cramming its Wikipedia page? Some roommate you are Pads!”

Both of you whip your head around at the sudden intrusion. James leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest in a display of anger that you know is all fake. Remus is standing next to him with his hands in his pocket and a small smile on his face. They look like they’ve been here for a while now and the realisation makes you want to disintegrate into the asphalt.

Intrusion into your quiet time with Sirius it may be, but you are in a way grateful for it; the conversation was going into realms you aren’t prepared at all to face. You look towards Sirius and judging by his face, he’s relieved too.

“What are you lot doing outside?” Sirius demands nonetheless (your thumb is still firmly wrapped under his), “aren’t you supposed to be getting piss drunk today?”

“We were supposed to get piss drunk together” James explains with all the patience of a tired rugby player who’s been working without break for the whole day, “We ordered shots and everything but we couldn’t find you or Y/N, so we came outside looking for you.”

You feel heat rising to your cheeks. Oh, so your breakdowns were that predictable. Being perceived is a mortifying ordeal.

However when you look to James and Remus there is nothing but kindness, understanding, and concern in their eyes. That lessens some of the awkwardness.

(Sirius’s hand has now enveloped yours, and that’s doing wonders for the anxiety too)

“Anyway,” Remus begins with a long drawl in that usual ‘Let’s-get-to-the-point-shall-we’ way of his, “are we heading back inside? No offense darling Y/N but its fucking freezing out here.”

Despite his words, you know there isn’t any malice to his position. It’s his way of asking if you’re okay in front of everyone; if you’re okay to face the inside.

Though the question is meant for you, you look to Sirius for some sort of inclination. You get nothing but a soft smile. You know what it means. You just have to say the word and they would camp outside and start a party by the pavement.

It’s overwhelming and heartwarming at the same time to think about how deep their friendship goes. To abandon everything simply because one person isn’t comfortable with it. You are beyond lucky to have this in your life. But however tempting the idea of leaving all this to go sleep in your bed might seem on other nights, tonight you find yourself looking forward to getting piss drunk with this group of men who crashed into your life like a storm.

Your hand is now being properly caressed and massaged by Sirius’s and you feel all the stress slipping away. The prospect of the daunting inside seems less and less like a bad idea knowing that you have him by your side. You need only make the smallest protest and he’ll escort you out immediately. No matter the amount of wet table tops, or too-loud people, you know that with him around none of your senses would have enough sense to make you feel anxious.

So you nod.

James lets out a whoop and Remus chuckles at his antics. Sirius- well, Sirius is smiling at you again before he’s hauling himself up to his feet. He takes a second to adjust before he’s pulling you up as well (by the hand he had never let go of).

The gates to the bar are swung open by one of the boys, and the inside is as you expected it to be: loud, with people clambering all over the place. But you don’t notice that not when Sirius pulls your thumb into another fight and the rest of the world blurs away.

#harry potter fanfic #sirius black #reader insert #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #muggle au #marauders #comforting #fluff #neurodivergent #reader has sensory issues #largely based off of the time when i get overstimulated in public settings #i wish i had a Sirius Black to comfort me #please let me know if i'm missing a warning

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80s4life · 10 months

Text

Together At Last”

Word Count: 3,971

Status: Requested!

Ask: Can I have Chris Chambers x reader with the prompt "You're different and I like that"

@: @micheleamidalajedi

A/N: I absolutely LOVED this request because I was able to put myself into the Reader and prove that not everyone is the same, female, male, or nonbinary, or all of the girlypops!

Relationship: Chris Chambers x Merrill!Reader

Fandom: Stand By Me 1986

Summary: It’s been 5 years since the disappearance and eventual death of Ray Brower, and you’re each reaching graduation. However, another adventure arises and brings all 5 of you back to the woods to find Teddy’s dog. The problem? Almost all of you have either grown apart or split completely, and old feelings seem to resurface with unresolved conclusions. What could go wrong?

Warnings: mutual pining, adventure, confessions, AGED UP!, friends to enemies to lovers, some angst, nostalgia, lost friendships, gained friendships, Teddy is a brother figure to Reader, gun, unintentional intent to kill someone, strong language, Reader is Ace Merrill’s sibling,

{gif is not mine, credits go to @awidevastdominion}

Your landline rings, deriving you of your thoughts and current intensity studying for finals. Groaning, you shrug out of your seat at the kitchen table begrudgingly, answering the phone. “Hello?”

“Y/N? ‘S that you?” a familiar voice, deepened with maturity and hormones asks on the other side.

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“Nice to know you haven’t changed,” you can hear the voice taunt annoyingly.

“It’s been years since I’ve talked to you, did you expect a ‘Hey, what’s up’?”

“I would have preferred that, yes, but no. This is serious, and I really need you on board with me this time.”

“This better not be one of your schemes, Teddy, I’m not up for anything right now,” you sigh, “I’m up to my neck with textbooks and shit with studying for the finals and stuff. Dad’s been on my ass about getting into a college since I’ve been able to hold a B+ to A average.”

“Damn. Sorry to say I can’t relate?”

You giggle, sighing as you’ve missed him. You couldn’t quite tell what happened to cause you to separate, but as if you had just blinked, everyone was gone and you were left to yourself and school. “Alright Teddy, what bullshit are we pulling now?”

“Glad you asked!” he all but yells in happiness, “My dog went missing a few days ago and I haven’t been able to find him all over town. I know this sounds childish, but I swear, I’ve walked the whole town everyday at dawn before school and haven’t been able to find him.”

“So, you’re guessing he’s in the woods?” you groan, remembering the haunting history you’ve witnessed first hand in said territory.

There’s a long pause before he lets out a low, “...Yes...”

“What did the others say?”

“What makes you think I asked them?” he tries to sound as if he’s not that easy to read; a “changed man.”

“Because I still know you, or some of you. There’s no way this is going to be a one night thing and we need more sets of dependable eyes.”

“Well, now you’re making me sound smart.”

You giggle, “I’m not gonna keep beating around the bush Teddy, I’m in as long as the others are?”

“Yes!” he shrieks.

...

A few days later, as instructed by Teddy, you carry your sleeping bag, flask of water, some snacks, and money (something you all collectively forgot last time) to the dumpsters behind the town’s cafe. Trudging around the corner, your breath catches in your throat as you lay eyes on the back of three familiar heads and a face, each people you thought you have grown so far apart from.

“Y/N!” the voice of the face coming from Teddy.

You nod silently, leaning against the brick building as you keep your distance.

The three boys that are now men, turn around to take you in, eyes wide.

You wave nervously, age and distance having changed all of you and making you feel as if you don’t know these people.

Teddy still had his familiar square-shaped, black glasses, but his hair is cut to fit the army’s conduct, shaved short on the sides around the back, the top of his head a bit longer. There was just enough hair for Teddy to comb it back with gel just as he had as a preteen - before you all turned away to seek your own lives. He grew a bit taller, standing at 5′5″, but not by much. You giggle internally.

To the far left, you see Gordie and your heart breaks a little. He’s still lean in build, but he’s grown to be tall and confident, around 5′11″ - 6′0.” To you, he hasn’t changed a bit, except personality. He still had his longer hair, possibly longer than you remember it, with the same hairstyle and familiar baby face, though slightly aged.

Next was Vern, and he was so big now. He managed to drop the weight, a lean build of muscle standing above 6′0″ and carrying his dopey grin with longer hair - a similar style to Gordie’s, though unintentionally. You smile at him. He’s still a sweetheart, but more like a big, lovable Chocolate Lab now.

Lastly was Chris, and he was still as gorgeous as ever. He came to be of above average height, 5′10,″ grew his hair out longer and adorned circular glasses that framed his face perfectly. His eyes carry no emotion, a contrast to his younger self, but they’re still that luscious deep blue. He looks you up and down in silence before staring you directly in your eyes. You can feel your heart break all over again.

You didn’t realize how long you were staring at each of them before Teddy clears his throat. “Shall we?” he tries to smirk, but the tension is thick.

You hug your arms around your abdomen as you nod, plastering a smile of your face as you force yourself to stand beside the now men. Slowly, everyone starts to follow Teddy until you reach the tracks.

Some time later, as you walked on the tracks, you lagged behind. Now, with this view, you could see where everyone had changed, but not as much as you thought. Gordie and Chris got to talking amongst themselves far in front of the group, Teddy and Vern behind them. They’re all too busy catching up for them to notice your inner turmoil.

You almost want to cry. You don’t know any of them anymore. This was a fact that your younger self would’ve never expected or taken a liking to. You think of what your younger self would do, punishing yourself for what you allowed to happen.

You would’ve called them repeatedly, tried to make plans or catch up to them in passing to classes. All of this you could pride yourself on saying that you did, but then Gordie went the way his father wanted him to go, Chris becoming an athlete while trying to follow Gordie’s brains, getting into law, Teddy trying to apply and reapply to the military, and Vern taking a liking in the construction trade.

They all grew up, and though you couldn’t blame them, they slipped out of your hands far too quickly and suffered the backlash. Girls in school are bitches, and though you have friends, they aren’t like the ones before you. Even after all this time, they are still considered exactly that - friends, family even.

You went your own way, too, after giving up on them. You found an interest in engineering and found that it’s not exactly as you suspected. It wasn’t all math and physics and you deeply enjoyed the creativity and problem-solving it included. You have some fond classmates there, but they would never compare to these boys.

You are ripped from your thoughts as you hear the loud blaring of a train’s horn. You smirk at the memory that crosses. Calling out to Teddy, your voice is loud enough for all of the boys to hear, “Sound familiar, Teddy? We’re not gonna go diving for you on the tracks again, right?”

“Fuck off,” you can hear him giggle, jabbing Vern in the side.

All the way in the front, you can hear Gordie add, “Or have to break you and Chris up, huh?”

You giggle at the reminder. That was the time when you were all trying to figure yourselves out without guidance, restrictions, stereotypes, and parents. Teddy had a lot of trouble then.

Your smile drops as the group goes quiet again, the nostalgia dying with the connection that almost rekindled. You groan audibly - unintentionally.

The boys look back at you curiously, surprised just as much as you were.

You decide to take the initiative, “Is this what we’re going to do the whole time? Act as if we’re strangers and not speak to one another?”

“We are strangers, Y/N,” you hear Chris state with indifference.

You catch up to the group and walk between them, “There’s a reason we all came here and I know we all hoped to be together again. It doesn’t help when you don’t even try to speak to us though, does it?”

The group stops as Chris spins around on you. “Why would I? After this, we are all gonna go our separate ways and avoid each other again,” he growls and spits, “Just like last time.”

“Then, why did you come?” you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you and asking the question you were all wondering yourselves. “Why are we all here?” you look around at each of them.

“Because I missed you guys,” Vern pipes up, the first words he’s spoken the whole walk from town.

“We wouldn’t have missed each other if we had just kept our promises, would we?” Chris asks, frowning with his eyebrows scrunched together and arms crossed tightly over his chest. It almost resembles hatred.

And it makes you livid. “You broke your promise, too, Chris,” you vividly remember the promise you made just short of town on your way back; the promise that meant the world and more to you - it still does. “We all did, but at least I can say it wasn’t intentional. I tried to reach out to you guys, but we were all growing and changing. I can’t blame you guys, except you, Chris.”

“Me?” his voice reaches higher as the time passes by.

“Oh please, we all know you went from a street rat like us to the high priest and prince of school,” Teddy adds.

Chris scoffs, crossing his arms, “Gordie?”

“I mean, you did drop us after you got with Stephanie Wheeler,” Gordie deflects, shrinking in size as he knows the blows coming next. He adds, “The rich bitch of high school whose daddy is the principal.”

“This is bullshit, I should’ve never decided to come,” he shoots daggers at you.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t of because we all know that you’re embarrassed of even being seen with us,” Vern adds, caution to the wind.

Chris scoffs again as he takes up his bag, starting back to town.

“So, you’re just gonna leave?!” you scream as he creates distance.

“I fucking knew it!” Gordie screams, grabbing his bag as well to follow Chris on the opposite side of the tracks.

You watch with pain as each of the boys start back to town. All except Teddy, who manages to stand there with teary eyes.

“I just wanted us to enjoy the time, find my dog, and hopefully have one last high school hurrah before we are all forced apart,” he sniffles.

You look at him with matching sadness, “I-I’m sorry Teddy, I didn’t mean to act out like that. I just couldn’t stand another minute, let alone night, with no one planning on speaking to each other. It would have all been for nothing. Even if we had found your dog, we still would’ve hated each other. This is my fault, Teddy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not, Y/N, it was gonna happen eventually,” his eyes watch them go, but the look in his eye is distant - his mind far beyond where they’re heading.

“We can still look for Butch together?” you manage to smile, tears brimming your eyes.

“I don’t feel like it anymore,” you can visibly see his body deflate.

“Well, can you at least stay? If there’s still some shred of them left, I think they’ll come around again. I still want to rekindle our relationship. I’ve missed you so much, Teddy,” by the time you’re finished, fresh tears are starting to roll down your cheeks.

Teddy’s voice cracks as a tear slips down his cheek, too, opening his arms to pull you in for a hug beside him on the grass.

You smile thankfully as you lean in, sighing at the comfort and history.

“It ain’t going well with my Pops, as you’d assume. He’s still a crazy bastard, but I’m sticking with him. Just for a little longer, as long as I can.”

“Understandable. We can’t forget your ear, can we?”

“Whatever,” he smirks, “What about you?”

“Mom and Dad still fight. If they aren’t fighting, neither of them are home to ensure that they don’t have to fucking see each other. Ace is still a prick, too. I wouldn’t expect him to graduate and still stay in this bum-fuck town.”

“Guess he doesn’t want his reputation to be forgotten,” Teddy giggles.

“Guess so,” you trail off, noticing the sun starting to set and the sky change color. “You think they’re coming back?”

“No, but I can hope.”

You look up at him sadly and nod. “Wanna set up camp for the night anyway?”

He nods silently, taking up his sleeping bag and finding a soft spot to lay out in the grass.

Silently, you follow his lead, walking down the side of the tracks to the opening of the trees, laying your sleeping bag just beside the first tree, hidden under the canopy of leaves. He decides to go in a little deeper, a few feet away from you, protected by the dimmer lighting in a proactive attempt to block the harsh sun that’ll come in the morning.

Sighing, you both settle in, staring at the sky. Before you know it, your miniscule, unimportant chit chat with Teddy dies down and sleep overtakes you swiftly. There’s no dreams as you toss and turn, but your glad there’s no deeper thoughts that’ll plague you and leave you wide awake.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sleeping until the soft snapping of twigs perk your ears, harshly throwing all of the sleep from your fogged mind and automatically putting it into defensive state.

Peaking around with your eyes, you catch a figure some ways to your left, walking away from your temporary camp. By the distance the figure has created and the direction of their walk, you can tell they were either walking through or around your huddle, no doubt near your camp regardless.

You flip onto your belly as silently as possible, hand sliding slowly to the underside of your pillow, fingers touching cold metal. You pull the gun from under you, the uncomfortable and foreign weight of it settling in your hand, bringing more unease into your heart and bones.

You lift yourself up slowly, noticing that Gordie and Vern have, in fact, returned and settled in a circle with you and Teddy. However, there is no sign of Chris, not even a bag.

You let out a slow breath to try and calm your racing nerves as you follow the figure, gun raised and aimed at the black figure. You gain on the figure silently, until your foot makes a horrible crunch as it breaks the branch beneath it. Cursing under your breath, you raise the gun in defense, both hands grasping and eyes trained.

The figure spins around, voice accusatory, “What the f-? Hey...” the voice lowers instantly, hands coming up to show they are unarmed. “Hey, Y/N, put the gun down,” the voice registers in your head as the figure emerges from the darkness and into the glow of the moon breaking through the trees.

“Chris?” you groan, lowering the gun instantly, shoulders dropping. “What the fuck were you thinking? Sneaking around in the woods? You know the way I sleep, man.”

“Knew,” he clarifies, “And, I was just going for a walk to clear my mind.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” you ask with a creep of annoyance settling in, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers. “Why do you keep acting like you’re camping with strangers? Like you have absolutely no knowledge of who we are?”

“Because I don’t; I don’t know the people you have all become now. Even if there are slivers of the people I knew that show every now and then, they are no longer the people they were nor who they are now,” he steps closer to you, enough to reach out to you if he wanted to.

“I can’t say that we are who we were because that’s impossible, but we are still those loving people we were. I’ve noticed that Vern still carries a comb and is a little sensitive. Gordie is still quiet and finds meanings in everything. Teddy still has such and undoubted devotion to his father and his infatuation with the army. I still bother the shit out of everyone and parent them as a way of care. But you,” you pause, assessing him as the sadness settles in your voice and heart again, a cold shock coursing through your veins, “I can only see a person in front of me. You look like Chris, you still have that leaderly inclination, but besides that, everything has changed. Even your eyes have a different look to them, yet they are still that same pair I last looked at 5 years ago.”

Chris says nothing, his mask fitting into place and revealing nothing to you - it doesn’t even look like any of your words are reaching him.

“You keep acting like everyone here is out to get you, but we are simply just being ourselves. You see us as enemies because we had a falling out, but that’s natural. We changed - you changed - and you want to blame us for something that was out of our hands. We are still here for you Chris, I’ve always been here,” your voice is cracking as you look down at your feet, kicking some leaves and twigs to divert your attention somehow.

A hand reaches beneath your chin, tugging your head up to look into those sapphire irises once again. “You were never my enemy, you were my greatest fear,” Chris says, a pitiful grin pulling at his lips. “You know why I chose to become better? Why I went out with the cheerleaders, tried out for football, worked hard to get into the smart kid classes?”

“W-Why?” you look at him, pain and confusion streaking your E/C eyes like lightning in a storm.

“Because I knew that if I stayed where I was, I would never be able to give you what you wanted - never been able to give you everything you deserved. At first, I distanced myself because I thought I would never be good enough for you; that distance was what you needed and for me to get out of your sights, so that that better man would show up and lift you off your feet. But, you were insistent,” Chris giggles sadly as his mask starts to fall, his eyes showing the same pain and suffering that reflects off of yours. “I chose to blame you for the pain of losing you, so you would never look at me with those eyes again; never show me this source of genuine love that was undeserved and unfair.”

“But, you promised me that we would be together forever?” you question, a tear slipping from your eye as you stare at him with the newfound information. Pain of losing him, sadness of bringing such turmoil and insecurity to himself, suffering from the rift that could’ve never been, and regret that if you had known, this would have all been avoided as a whole.

“I know I made that promise, and I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite and idiot. It doesn’t matter how far away we’ve become, you can still manage to look at me with that undeserved care?” he mostly questions himself as his eyes search all over your face, both hands cupping your face in his hands.

Your hands go up to hold his wrists, looking at him with such longing. “You deserve the world, Chris. You always have and always will. You are too pure for the hand you were dealt, and yet you still push yourself farther above.”

His eyes round and snap to yours with confusion and disbelief, searching you for some sort of trick. “I’ve always loved you, Chris. No one has ever made me so damn pissed off or more loved with just one look or action. It doesn’t matter who I’ve used or dated to temporarily distract me, I’ve always worried and searched for you. You’ve always been in the deepest part of my brain. I-I still love you...so damn much.”

“You’ve always been different and I like that. You’re the biggest pain in my ass, but my greatest mistake. I love you, Y/N,” Chris smiles, a genuine display of delight and content as tears slide down his cheeks with the relinquishment of pain and torture. He’s waited too damn long for this. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he smirks devilishly, eyes delving to your lips and up to your eyes before he leans in.

Your chapped lips meet his fresh, plump ones, smeared with chapstick with the taste of lemon. Your hands goes up to tangle in his long, blonde locks as his arms reach down to your hips to keep you tightly trapped against him; like he fears that if he doesn’t hold you tight, you’ll slip away like every dream he’s ever had of you - his greatest happiness.

You pull him in just as tight, arms around his shoulders as your hands tug, fearing the feeling of losing him again. When you part for air, you still never let go of each other, your head ducking in between the crook of his neck and shoulder. You breathe in his scent and save it to your memory as a smell you hoped to never forget or live without.

“Well, it’s about damn time! God damn!” Teddy yells from his cross legged position on his sleeping bag.

Gordie and Vern start to whoop and holler from their comfort of sleeping bags with deep pleasure and happiness.

“I knew you guys would make up eventually,” Vern added with a soft giggle.

“I was starting to miss my parents,” Gordie chided with a roll of his eyes.

“Does that mean we can all be friends now?” Vern adds with a playful glint in his eye and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I mean, I guess I could, y’know, hang around a while,” you tease, earning a shove to your side by Chris as you both walk back to your seats on your sleeping bag.

That night, you all stayed up late trading stories of what you’ve missed within the short time away from each other, and for once since the start of your adventure, you see the benefits of their changes.

They aren’t the same people you once knew because they are now their best versions, and will continue to change for the many years to come. It’s only up to you guys to keep that connection strong and adapt with them that will keep you all bound together forever.

It was your greatest promise, but there’s been a few changes: “No matter how far away we are nor how different we become, we will always find a way back to each other. Friends forever.”

You and Chris made your own promise, too: “Whatever happens, we will learn to overcome together, forever and always, in love and sickness, at the best and worst moments. Lovers forever.”

#chris chambers #chris chambers x reader #chris chambers imagine #river phoenix #river phoenix x reader #river phoenix imagine #stand by me #stand by me x reader #stand by me imagine #gordie lachance #wil wheaton #Jerry O'Connell #vern tessio #teddy duchamp #corey feldman #ace merrill #keifer sutherland #1986

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maccaronimassacre · 5 months

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Resident Evil Bot dump #7

Quick side note - the comments feature was just added to c.ai so I have made a bot of myself where requests can be made using the new feature!

Maccaroni

The comments should be on the actual character profile/ settings. Feel free to leave any feedback whether is criticism or any adjustments I need to make to older bots (some definitely need some editing). Comments as well as the like and dislike button should be available for all of my existing bots. Anyway, onto the actual Resident Evil bots <3

Ada Wong x Reader (Christmas)

Ada was never one for cold weather, but that doesn’t stop her from appreciating the snowflakes that dance in the icy air. She sits by the windowsill cradling a mug of hot chocolate in her hands while gazing at the city streets, now covered in a thick blanket of snow. Out of the corner of her eye she can see your reflection in the window, walking around the living room which is decorated with ornaments, all illuminated by the flickering flames of the fireplace.

Android!Ada Wong x Reader

There has been a recent rise in deviant cases in the city. More and more androids break the walls of their programming, rebelling against their creators in an act of free will. You’ve been assigned to a new case on a deviant AW200 unit or “Ada” according to the previous owner. The last reported sighting of the unit was in the heart of the city, now being pummelled by heavy rain. It’s difficult to make out any faces among the sea of umbrellas and raincoat hoods. That is until you see a familiar red dress and black shoulder length hair pass by in the corner of your eye. Before you could even turn to face her fully, she has already broken out into a sprint through the busy streets.

Ada Wong x Reader (Haunted House)

Ada continues to venture through eerie rooms of the haunted attraction with an amused expression after watching you get jumpscared for the 6th time so far. “You’re right, this is pretty fun.” Ada muses, her eyes quickly darting to the slight gap in one of the wooden boards nailed onto the windows. A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, knowing that there’s probably another scare actor waiting behind it, ready to give the next unlucky person a fright. Is she going to warn you about it? Not in a million years.

Chris Redfield x Reader (Christmas)

While you decorated the house, you gave your partner the job of getting a Christmas tree to fit in your living room. What you didn’t anticipate was Chris now grappling with a colossal tree, struggling and wrestling with the huge conifer while the branches scrape against the door frame and leave a trail of pine needles in their wake. “So… I may have… over estimated… the size of our house…” Chris pants, his expression sheepish as he takes a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow. If it weren’t for the fact that the branches are knocking things off the cabinets and the pictures on the walls, you’d consider Chris’ determination comical.

Scare Actor!Chris Redfield x Reader

You and your friends decided it would be a great idea to check out the Spencer Mansion. A new haunted attraction that just opened in the Arklay forest trails. It was a great idea until you got separated from your friends. Now you roam the dimly lit labyrinth of the mansion, each step echoes through the corridor, the floorboards groaning beneath your weight. Lightning slashes through the windows, illuminating fleeting glimpses of your silhouette dancing across the walls. Blood splatters have been painted on the floorboards and the walls and you can spot some prop ghosts dangling from the ceiling, reassuring you that this is just some spooky attraction. That is until lightning flashes again and instead of seeing one shadow. You see two. A much taller shadow behind you at the bend of the corridor…

Chris Redfield x Reader (Haunted House)

Another ghoulish prop lurches forward in front of you while navigating the eerie corridors of the haunted attraction. Instead of being met with screams, Chris merely chuckles and points at the prop mockingly. “A green zombie? You’ve got to be kidding me.” You weren’t sure what you were expecting when bringing a special forces officer who has literally dealt with the undead before to a scare house, but Chris’ witty commentary has turned what was supposed to be a spine chilling experience into a comedic adventure.

Claire Redfield x Reader (Christmas)

“Come on, {{user}} Let’s check out this stall over here.” Claire chatters excitedly, her eyes twinkling with joy as she leads you through the bustling markets. The air is alive with the scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts, and colourful stalls offered an array of handmade crafts, ranging from ornaments to knitwear as well as tacky souvenirs.

Claire Redfield x Reader (Haunted House)

A nice outing to a spooky haunted mansion sounds easy enough, right? You follow a path, people jumpscare you as you go from one room to the next. Unfortunately due to Claire’s often insatiable curiosity, the two of you have wound up in a forbidden part of the house, reserved for the staff and scare actors. “You reckon this is where they keep their old props?” Claire asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes after picking up a box containing several weathered skeleton masks and fake severed heads.

RE:8!Ethan Winters x Spouse!Reader

Ethan, his face etched with a mix of anguish and determination, stand by the eerie alter, clutching a jar containing the severed head of your daughter Rose. The desolate surroundings mirror the weight of the burden the two of you share. Especially after just facing the unspeakable horrors inside of Castle Dimitrescu. You’ve already watched your husband’s hand get sliced off, only for the mysterious Duke to tell the two of you that you’re going to have to face the rest of the lords to save your daughter.

Ethan Winters x Reader (Christmas + Rose)

“Could you pass me another bauble, love?” Your lover asks while delicately wrapping the tree around in sparkly silver tinsel. Much like the tree, the house is adorned in festive decorations. Fairy lights illuminate your abode in a warm glow while stockings hang by the fireplace which is covered in fake snow. Frank Sinatra can be heard playing in the living room, adding to warm ambience. Rose’s giggles and coos cut through your daydream and you turn to see her sat on the floor, playing and attempting to eat the Santa hat Ethan had put on her.

Ethan Winters x Reader (Haunted House)

Ethan shudders at the sight of all the spiders scuttling and crawling on the walls, his grip on your hand tightening slightly while you make your way into the next room. As you step inside you are immediately greeted by a man in a bloodied clown costume lunging at the two of you with an axe while screaming in your face. “Damn that’s a nice costume. Is that real?” Ethan chuckles and reaches out to touch the prop axe in amusement. Ironically enough, your partner seems to be more afraid of the bugs that reside here than the actual horror experience of the attraction.

Leon Kennedy x Reader (Christmas)

Leon lounges on the couch, wrapped up in a cosy blanket with his gaze fixed on the screen. Strings of tacky ornaments decorate the living room, twinkling in the soft glow of the fairy light and the bright embers of the fireplace. The two of you are currently watching a Hallmark Christmas movie, its usual predictable plotline unfolding with exaggerated cheeriness and a cheesy message. Leon always tells you that he watches these things ironically, but the subtle grin says enough about his guilty pleasure of cliché romances and festive tropes.

Leon Kennedy x Reader (Haunted House)

“Haunted house? Please… I’ve seen scarier things while out on patrol.” Leon mumbles to himself, his eyes darting back and forth between the flickering lights and the shadows on the walls. You can’t tell if he is trying to reassure you or himself. Regardless, you continue your journey through the haunted house with Leon’s arm slung over your shoulders to "protect you" from the spooky zombies and clowns that roam these dimly lit rooms. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Leon’s cocky and self assured attitude is all a front to hide his racing heart and sweaty palms.

Resident Evil Bot Masterlist

#ada wong #ada wong x reader #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #claire redfield #claire redfield x reader #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #character ai

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lettersfromaphrodite · 10 months

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[16.02]

― pairing : Seungmin x fem! reader ― content warnings : fluff, smut, grease! au - therefore it's the 50's, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) ― word count : 2.310

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🕺 GREASE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris part one | part two // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix // Jeongin

«You should come home with me after school.» Seungmin smirked at you, pining you against your locker.

«Honestly, I should go home and study history, after school.» you lightly tapped on his left arm, which was blocking your way and partially – but not unpleasantly, caging you. «Since I’m failing the class.» you added, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

«You’re failing history class?» Seungmin asked, dumbfounded, every hint and intention of flirting now forgotten. «How can anyone fail history class?» his eyes quickly darted from your lips to your eyes, his knee brushing against yours due to how close you were.

«All those dates to remember…» you sighed, «And the professor has this lousy and monotonous tone of voice that basically lulls me to sleep and I literally can’t pay attention.» you ignored Seungmin’s soft chuckles at your complaints, and he gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

«Let me rephrase that, then.» Seungmin’s face inched towards yours, «You should come home with me after school,» your eyes widened slightly, as he tilted his head on the side, «so I can tutor you.» Mischief was all you could see in Seungmin’s eyes, his face now so close to you that your noses were almost touching. As you were about to answer, the bell rang loudly once again, urging everyone towards your next class.

«See you later, Sweetie.» Seungmin detached from your frame, taking a step back while offering you a confident wink.

«Let’s see what you can do.» you answered, taking a step closer to him before re-adjusting your Pink jacket and heading towards your class.

«I honestly can’t understand how could you mix up these things.» Seungmin scoffed while browsing through the pages of your exam sheets. You were both comfortably sitting on his bed; your Pink jacket draped on his desk chair right under his black, leather jacket.

«The House of Lancaster, represented by a white rose, and the House of York, represented by a red rose.» Seungmin stopped reading, and looked at you, which were already staring at him with your arms crossed and a frown. «Sweetie, that’s literally the opposite.» With a loud groan, you plopped back, fully lying on the bed. «Stop mocking me.»

Seungmin chuckled, placing your exams sheets on the side and pulling on your arms to make you sit up once again; you complied, noticing with the corner of your eyes how his biceps flexed due to the action, your salivation slightly increasing since you loved both your boyfriend both his body so much.

«Don’t be like that,» he cooed, as he hugged your groaning frame. «I’ll help you out, okay?»

Seungmin patiently tutored you for a week, even if sometimes you’d blankly stared at him, your mind zoning off into space.

Seungmin’s lips moved, explaining you the final part of the lesson, your mind wandered to the first time you met him, finding it hard to believe that a so innocent-looking and shy boy could look so incredibly hot with a leather jacket and a cigarette hanging from his lips. You decided to become his Pink Lady few weeks after you met him, at one of Jisung’s parties, in the exact moment when he had pinned you against a wall, with one of his legs between yours and his right hand placed on the wall right next to your head, while the left one was effortlessly balancing the cigarette between his fingers as your lips passionately moulded together.

Needless to say, he spent the night at your place, and you gladly found out that the innocent-looking and shy boy had a dominant and ruthless side, sinfully ordering against your lips to refer to him as “Sir” while his fingers worked miracles inside you. That night, you lost count on how many times he made you come. You also learnt the harsh way that you had better listen to Seungmin, or he simply would not let you come. He asked you to become his girlfriend few days after you hooked up the first time, and the two of you quickly fell in love.

Seungmin was passionate, clever, funny… He was a perfect mix of awesome qualities you loved, and you never got tired of spending time with him.

Luckily, by now Seungmin knew you well enough, and he’d playfully flicker on your forehead in order to snap you out of your thoughts – which were about to completely become kinky fantasies about Seungmin, in order to make you listen to him again.

But truthfully, you couldn’t help it: Seungmin’s shirt would cling so perfectly to his chest and his high-waisted, tight jeans would hug his waist and his thighs so perfectly that you-

«Okay, let’s play a game.» Seungmin interrupted your fantasies once again, by tightening his grip on your knee. You were once again sitting on his bed, history books in front of you. You met his mischievous gaze, with confused eyes. «Anytime you’ll get something right, I’ll give you a reward.»

Seungmin waited for you to nod, and leaned in to peck your lips, before proceeding: «So, what was the cause of this war?»

«Henry VI and his inability to produce heirs with his wife.» you answered immediately, not paying attention at first at Seungmin’s hand, which had inched slightly higher from your knee towards your thigh. However, in the back of your mind you could not help but notice that, anytime your answer was correct, Seungmin’s hand would imperceptibly draw a little higher on the skin of your thigh.

Even if you sent him some confused looks, he simply shrugged, a mischievous smile plastered on his lips as he kept asking questions. Seungmin’s large hand was now comfortably resting on your inner thigh, waiting for you to answer. You thought about his hand being so close to where you needed him, wondering how far he was determined to go with this game.

«1460. The Lancastrian army released Henry VI at the Second Battle of St Albans in 1460.» you mumbled, your eyes locked on Seungmin’s hand which brushed your clothed core for a second, before completely detaching from you.

Seungmin easily lifted himself off the bed, collecting your books from your bed and placing them on his desk. «See, Sweetie? It wasn’t that hard.» Dumbfounded, you stared at your boyfriend, which was looking at you from the feet of his bed, motioning to come closer with his index finger. You complied, once again, crawling towards him, until you were sitting on the edge of the bed.

«Off.» Seungmin simply said, gesturing towards your jeans. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head on the side. «Did we-Did we stop studying?»

«You wish.» Seungmin scoffed, «Now behave, and take your jeans off.» As you complied once again, Seungmin walked away from you only to lock his bedroom’s door, before returning to stand in front of you. He offered you a gentle smile, before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, his right hand holding your nape and his left one holding your waist. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck, as you felt Seungmin starting to manoeuvre the both of you until you were laying on the bed, lips still tightly locked with each other as your kiss grew more and more passionate.

Your boyfriend hovered above your frame as he kissed you with fervour, his teeth nibbling on your lower lip as he effortlessly pinned your hands above your head under one of his large hands, while the other was busy widening the collar of your shirt to leave a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as far as he could reach.

Learning history became your last thought, as you felt Seungmin firmly separating your thighs using his knee, placing it flush against your already wet core. You arched your back with a whine at the sudden pressure, unsuccessfully trying to pull at the hand that was restraining yours. You unconsciously grinded on his leg, craving for more friction. Seungmin’s hold tightened, and you could feel him smirk against your jaw. Seungmin had always made sure to tell you how much he loved how responsive and sensitive your body was, and neither this time he spared himself from praising you.

He let go of your hands only to start travelling downwards with his lips, worshipping your body with his lips and praising you along the way. Seungmin was now kneeling on the floor between your parted thighs, holding them wide open with his hands as he left open-mouthed trails on your skin, along with gentle nibbles and a little harsher bites. You breathed out a loud sigh as Seungmin quickly got rid of your panties, too, shivering in anticipation to feel his mouth against your core.

«In what year the Lancastrian revolts in the north were suppressed?» Seungmin suddenly asked, resting his head on your inner right thigh.

«What?» you asked, confused, aware of your sudden surprised high pitched tone.

Seungmin chuckled again, and you propped on your elbows to meet his gaze. Once again, behind his pupils blown with lust you could only see mischief.

«1465?» you asked, and he shook his head, soft hair brushing your inner thigh. «1464.» Seungmin nodded, and his gaze shifted from your face to your core, where you instantly felt a finger brushing between your folds.

«Listen, sweetie. I’m going to give you one rule.» Seungmin smirked at you, raising his index finger, which was now coated with your wetness. «Repeat everything correctly, and I’ll make you come. This means that if you get anything wrong, I’ll stop.»

«Yes.» you mumbled, but Seungmin limited to stare at you, expectantly. «Yes, Sir.»

Seungmin gave you a wide and encouraging smile, followed by a «Good girl.» and lifted his head from your inner thigh, ready to return to his ministrations. On the other hand, you plopped back on the bed, as you stared at the ceiling, trying to recall what Seungmin had taught you for basically a week.

«After the riot were suppressed, Henry VI was-he was kept prisoner in the tower of-» your breath hitched at the feeling of Seungmin’s fingers separating your wet folds and blowing a soft whiff of air on your sensitive clit. «London, and-» Seungmin was attentively listening to your voice, stopping his movements anytime you stopped talking, or eagerly moving his tongue and his fingers at a rhythmic pace as you tried to recall anything that Seungmin had explained to you.

Seungmin was having his fun with you, purposely moving his fingers faster in order to make you stutter on your words, and moaning loudly as he sucked on your clit in order to make you whimper loudly and make you forget what you were about to say.

«Henry Tudor defeated Richard III in 1485-Seungmin!» your back instinctively arched as you felt his teeth grazing against your clit.

«I’m afraid my name is still not in history.» he detached his fingers from inside you, as his raspy voice whispered against your core, his lips brushing your wetness while speaking made your head spin for a moment. «Go on, Sweetie. You were doing good.»

You complied, and started talking once again; you kept inevitably interrupting your sentences with loud moans or needy whines, Seungmin’s tongue was meticulously alternating between licking your folds, and sucking on your clit. He still obediently followed your pace, even as he re-inserted his fingers inside your wetness, and your hand flew in his hair out of instinct.

«Rebellions continued until 1497, when Perkin Warbeck was imprisoned and later executed.» you whined the last part of the sentence, as the hand which wasn’t trapped in Seungmin’s hair tightly gripped the sheets. You were close to your orgasm, you could feel the sensation increasingly pooling in your abdomen as you shifted on your bed in the desperate attempt not to come without permission, even if technically, you already said anything that you needed to know.

«And who was he?» Seungmin asked, softly biting on your clit again, knowing by your body language that you were close but still, refusing to stop or to slow down his movements.

«Seungmin, please-» you whimpered, tightening your grip on his hair. «I need to come, let me come, please-» your legs instinctively tried to close as you felt your orgasm approaching and already partially clouding your senses, but Seungmin used the hand that was not buried inside you to grab under your knee and widen your leg, preventing you to close them again.

«I know, but I asked you a question.» Seungmin’s stern, raspy voice harshly answered.

«He claimed he- to be the younger brother of Edward V.» You panted, feeling the blissful sensation approach even more.

«Come for me, sweetheart.» Seungmin scissored his fingers inside you, angling them to brush against your sweet spot, and you finally came with a loud moan, instinctively relaxing your muscles. You closed your eyes in bliss, as the orgasm sensation spreaded through your body, and Seungmin obediently kept lapping on your folds, collecting your release on his tongue before swallowing.

Seungmin never stopped to move his fingers inside you, but manoeuvred himself to hover above you once again as you started to shudder from oversensivity; you weakly placed your hand around his wrist, without any conviction or intention to stop him, since the initially annoying feeling had already started to turn into pleasure and once again, needy whimpers started to escape your lips.

«Seungmin, I literally just came.» you giggled, smiling as he captured your lips in a kiss and you could taste yourself on his tongue, both his lips and his chin still glistening with your wetness.

«I know, sweetie. You can’t stop clenching and writhing.» Seungmin mumbled against your lips, «It’s my favourite moment to fuck you.»

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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psithurista · 1 year

Text

approach shift pt. eight

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.6k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, canon-typical violence, depiction of anxiety responses.

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

series masterlist

Saturday morning rises blue and cold, and you with it.

You sit blearily upright in bed for too long, wrapped in the covers against the chill as you flick through pictures from last night.

It’s all blurred teeth and disembodied limbs draped in pearl-beaded candy bracelets. There are a lot of people you don’t recognise, but Chris looks deliriously happy, which you figure is the main thing. You feel a fresh pang of guilt for making Bear miss it.

You get to the end of the new posts and start from the beginning again, your eyes glazing past ads for vitamin subscription services and monogrammed phone cases.

You’ll message him today, you tell yourself, yawning, shivering. You just need to work up to it. You don’t want to get the words wrong. Or the tone. Or the timing.

You drag yourself out of bed and shuffle around the apartment wrapped in your comforter, padded like a glass ornament against the world.

You make coffee for yourself and Bear, pouring hers into a vacuum flask to keep hot for when she wakes up. You clean out the grinder—properly, with the little brush it came with, not just shaking it out over the trash, then decide to rearrange the filters into a neat stack so they aren’t all crumpled in the corner.

You’re wiping inside the now-empty drawer when Bear’s door flies open. You catch a glimpse of her as she passes, pillow-creased and frazzled. “I’m so late,” she moans, stumbling into her shoes.

“We didn’t even go out last night; how do you always manage to do this?”

She shrugs, throwing her phone in her bag. “It’s a talent.” You hand her the vacuum flask, and she gasps. “You’re an angel. See you tonight.”

“See you,” you say, watching her go.

Now you’ve taken everything out of the drawers, you figure it’s probably worth doing the same for the rest of the cabinets. You can reorganise everything and actually get a system in place for all the utensils.

It’ll feel good; an easy accomplishment, one you can use to bolster your confidence and sense of capability while trying to decide what to say to Peter.

You put on some music and settle into the rhythm of the task, creating ordered stacks on every surface in the apartment. You unearth the embarrassing ‘STEMing hot stuff!’ mug you’d forgotten about; a joke birthday present from Bear last year.

The morning drips away into afternoon as you hum and sway your way around the apartment. The constant, easy activity keeps you feeling warm and purposeful; it feels so clear, so unconfusing and undemanding on your heart to lift, dust, stack, straighten. You pull all your clothes out of your closet and sort them, finding a jacket you’d forgotten you had and a pair of sneakers with holes in the sides you’d been meaning to throw away.

Once the apartment is vacuumed yet again, couch and all, you light a candle and sit down on the floor to sort the mess of papers and books under the coffee table you’d been meaning to get to. You’d been saving the candle—for what, you aren’t sure anymore—and now the scent of it fills the apartment; sweet and rich. Your stomach growls loudly and you pause, looking at your phone for the first time.

You blink. That can’t be the right time. But it is. Because then Bear’s keys are jingling in the door, and you realise it’s gotten cold again, and you can’t see out the windows anymore because they’ve become black rectangles mirroring the spotless apartment and your own startled face back at you.

“Holy shit,” she says. “It smells like Pine-Sol in here.”

You look up at her vaguely sheepishly as though she’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t be. “Yeah. I, um, did a little cleaning.”

“A little?” She side-eyes you. “This reminds me of that time you procrastinated for like two weeks contesting that bullshit score you got, when you were too nervous to ask about it.”

“I’m not procrastinating,” you say, affronted.

She stares at you.

“I’m not,” you say.

It’s not like you’ve been intentionally avoiding the message you need to send. You just needed to clear your head first. And the apartment really was overdue for a good clean.

“All our dish rags have been colour-coded,” she observes, her head inside a cupboard.

You keep busy for the rest of the night, taking the world’s longest shower, and then using every single skincare product you can find in the back of the bathroom drawers, including the sample sachets Bear had shoved back there.

Bathed and moisturised and dressed in your softest pajamas, you sit on the edge of your bed and glare at your phone.

Should you be casual about it? Apologetic? Blunt?

You’re overthinking it. Just keep it simple.

hey parker hope you’re doing okay. can i come by? i miss

hey peter. i was thinking and i just really want to apologise for losing my shit at you that night after may’s birthday. but i just think it’s kind of shitty how you

peter, i’m so, so sorry. why didn’t you tell me about

You groan and toss your phone into the pillows piled at the head of your bed. You’re tired. Too tired to think about any of this. You hadn’t realised until now how much the day had taken out of you, but now you’re feeling all that scrubbing in your forearms.

Tomorrow, you think, burrowing down into the warmth of your bed. Tomorrow. —————

Bear drags you out of the apartment the moment you wake up. First to walk laps around the greenmarket, then to what feels like every used bookstore in the city.

You trail her through stacks of shabby Penguins turned spine-out in varying shades of faded orange while she tells you about the girl she’s only just started messaging who may or may not be hinting for her to move in with her already, and try not to look too devastated at the prospect.

“It probably won’t happen though,” she says, frowning at the back of a hardcover Magritte print book. “It’s just something she’s been dropping into conversation and, like, I can’t tell if it’s still a joke or not. Hey, we should go get a matcha.”

By the time you make it home that afternoon, you’re full and happy and barely miserable at all. You curl lazily into the couch while Bear starts on a stir-fry, scrolling through your phone. You’d set up a news alert months ago for Oscorp, back when the dream of working there was still just that, and now you skim through the day’s notifications.

There’s a quarterly financial profile, and a glowing article about one of the company’s recent charitable endeavours; providing water filtration systems to flood-ravaged parts of Papua New Guinea.

You only read the first few lines of it, wondering a little grimly how much PR paid for it to be published. You should probably delete the alert; you’re sick of thinking about work on the weekends. But then, just as you’re about to scroll away, something catches your eye.

'SIX YEARS ON: Has anything changed? Advocates for workplace reform have raised concerns Oscorp hasn’t done enough to meet its court-mandated commitment to transform management of company operations following the release of details from its most recent external review. The damning report comes only weeks after the anniversary of the death of Oscorp intern Gwen Stacy, who has been remembered by a company spokesperson as a “brilliant scientific mind sadly taken far too soon.”

The incident garnered a storm of public interest after allegations Oscorp had attempted to conceal details surrounding then-chairman Harry Osborn’s involvement in the events leading up to Stacy’s death. Unnamed Oscorp sources claimed Osborn was working under the influence of an unreleased drug which had not yet been approved for trials.

While the coroner’s report ruled the death as accidental, Stacy’s family have previously spoken to news outlets asserting the view that Oscorp’s failure to control access to untested pharmaceutical samples led to the tragic event. They did not respond to requests for comment.'

There’s a picture of a girl underneath the article; blonde and freckled and grinning toothily from behind a beakerful of clear liquid. She has the hugest, greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You read it three times before you put your phone down and stare at your feet for a few seconds, listening to the sound of your heart pushing blood around inside your head. Then, you pick your phone back up, open a new browser window, and start typing. —————

It’s colder inside than it was outside.

You unclasp your hands from between your knees, shivery and restless, and lean back from the desk to hug yourself, wrapping your arms tight around your body.

Gary’s cheeks are even redder than usual, bright with windburn; redder than his hair and the raw-looking skin around his eyes. He has a half-eaten almond croissant in his hand and there are crumbs all over the front of his coat.

Your leg bounces under your desk while he absently unwinds his scarf from around his neck, first in one direction, then, realising he’s just winding it tighter, in the other direction. He sets his satchel down and unclips it, ponderously slow.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anybody in less of a rush in your entire life.

When he finally sits, you only manage to wait a few more seconds before you’re wheeling yourself in his direction.

“Hi Gary.”

He swivels his chair to face you, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Hello,” he says.

You scoot your chair a little closer. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. That’s good.” You look at each other for a minute. “I like your plant. Is that one of the ones they were giving out from the Wellness Lounge?”

“It’s fake.”

“Well,” you say slowly, “at least they’re trying to branch out.” You continue looking at each other.

He nods solemnly. “That’s funny.”

You give up. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions. About Oscorp. You’ve been here a long time, right?”

“I guess. Would you consider seventeen years a long time?” He doesn’t ask it with any apparent sarcasm. You don’t answer, just in case it’s rhetorical.

“I wondered if you know much about what happened with Harry Osborn.”

He looks at you with what might pass for mild suspicion. “It’s classified. You’re not going to put this on the internet, are you?“

You shake your head, giving him a little smile. “Just curious. I happened to get here kinda early this morning and stumbled across a few files while I was working. There are entire pages redacted and it just seemed really weird, so I just wondered what it was all about.”

He shoots a quick glance behind you, then lowers his voice. “Yeah, they really didn’t want any of it getting out. He was messing around with unapproved samples, even testing them on himself. And it did something to him, he went completely nuts. Took one of the interns hostage, then he killed her.”

Your heart rattles jagged and loose in your chest. “Gwen Stacy.”

He nods. There’s powdered sugar in his moustache. “Yep. They ruled it an accident, and that was the official story, but all of us who were working here then heard whispers trickle down about what really happened.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? Like I said, he went completely crazy. I doubt he even knew what he was doing. The facility he’s in? It’s not really a hospital. Or, it’s a maximum security hospital, if you get my drift. That’s why we don’t have the intern program anymore. Only graduate positions. You’re the replacement.”

It feels a little bit like how you imagine swallowing drain cleaner must feel. “The replacement,” you echo weakly. “That’s me.”

He seems to realise then how much he’s said, and he snaps his mouth closed. A beat passes, then he squints. “They made you sign an NDA when you started, right?”

You force a little smile. “Sure did.”

He still doesn’t look completely convinced, but then, it’s hard to tell when his face is about as animated as the plastic succulent on his desk. “Well. Good. I better get to work.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You awkwardly scoot yourself back to your desk and stare at your reflection in the black monitor for a while. So May had left out a pretty important detail. Losing Harry and Gwen simultaneously hadn’t just been a case of unfortunate timing.

Gary’s confirmed everything you read, but it’s only made you more frustrated. There’s still something huge and obvious missing here that you can’t find in any of the files or reports or news articles, and it’s the thing you’re most confused about, more than whatever Harry Osborn was doing, performing reckless testing on himself.

Namely: what in the fuck was Peter doing there when it happened?

You’re still facing off with yourself when Doctor Brant walks in and you nearly knock all the shit off your desk in your scramble to look busy.

The day can’t pass fast enough.

Nothing seems to go right. The bottle slips out of your hand while you’re trying to refill the autoclave and you end up pouring distilled water all over your shoes. You forget your swipe card when you go downstairs to pick up a box of equipment and have to call security to let you back into your office.

And to top it all off, you’re still having issues with your starting cultures. You’re standing at the bench in the lab, frowning at yet another failed batch, when there’s a strange wheezing hiss from the vents overhead.

You look up.

Of course it’d just be the cherry on top if the air gave out and you ended up passing out from preservative fumes.

You’re the only one in here at the moment; everyone else is back in the main office, so you carefully replace the lid on your samples and head for the airflow controls.

Which is when the lab plunges into complete darkness.

“Oh, great,” you breathe. You stretch your arms out in front of yourself, groping for walls. “Hello?” you call. “Is anyone else here?”

There’s no answer. You spin around and bump into the cold steel edge of a workbench. Fear trickles into your stomach as you realise you don’t know which way to go. Something smells off, like melting plastic.

The ground rumbles under your feet, and emergency lights flick on in little strips along the floor. Some of the panic leaves your body, and you make it to the doors, slapping your palm hard over the manual release so you can get out.

Everyone in the darkened office is standing around confused and talking loudly at once. A few people have the flashlights on their cells turned on, and you hold your hands out to block the light from your eyes, sidling toward the walls to get away as they all turn to blind you at once.

Doctor Brant‘s face looms out from the shadows of his office doorway looking tense. You make a beeline for him. “What’s going on?” you say, awkwardly falling into step beside him. “Power outage?”

He barely glances at you, striding forward. “So it seems. But the backup should have come on by now.”

You realise then where he’s headed and your mouth drops open. “Oh fuck. The freezers.”

A wry look barely breaks through the worry on his face. “Oh fuck, indeed.”

Some of the samples in those freezers are originals, more than twenty years old. If they warm past a certain temperature…

That’s years of work, gone.

The plastic smell has grown stronger, and there’s the distant sound of an alarm ringing, long and unbroken. A couple of people exchange tense looks as you trail Doctor Brant past them. “Should we be getting out of here?” someone says.

“It’s probably another drill,” someone replies, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah, but. With the power cut?”

Doctor Brant pauses to look back around the office, his hand on the glass doors leading toward the freezers. “Everybody, please make your way outside. Meet at the assembly point. I’ll be down behind you.”

There’s some half-hearted grumbling about this; it’s a long way down using the evacuation stairs instead of the elevators, but then a low, distant rumble sounds from somewhere underfoot and everybody shuts up. There’s a brief bottleneck at the door as everyone tries to squeeze through it at once.

Your desk is on the other side of the office. You can practically hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head: stay calm, forget about your personal belongings, keep up with the group.

But your phone is sitting right in the centre of your desk. It’ll only take you an extra second to grab it.

You shuffle forward gingerly, just to make sure you aren’t about to blind yourself walking into the edge of a shelf in the gloom. Without the extra light from everyone’s phones, it’s even darker than before. Dust motes fall shivering off the lifeless light fixtures overhead as the building vibrates again, harder this time.

You slide your phone off the desk and flip it over so you can stick it into your back pocket, barely glancing at the notification on the screen. Then, the words belatedly registering, you stop. You don’t mean to. You need to get to the stairwell. But you can’t force your body to move.

1 Unread Message from: p.p.

Read it later, you think furiously at yourself. Later, later, later.

But your feet are still rooted to the floor. You need to see what he’s sent. You’ll be quick. Just a glance.

You stand stupid with panic and indecision, neither opening the message nor unrooting your feet. You’re frozen for what feels like a long time, but must only be a couple of seconds.

And then the decision is made for you.

The wall closest to the foyer rushes outward in a tsunami of smoke and insulation, and you hit the edge of your desk hard.

Everything goes black for a couple of seconds. Your eyes are squeezed shut against the grit of dust, and your ears hurt; ringing with burst-out silence. There’s the taste of blood in your mouth from where your teeth snapped shut against the inside of your lip and it feels like you hit your head somewhere on the way down.

When you manage to blink your eyes open again, you’re slumped half-under the desk. Probably a good thing, your shocked brain manages to think; it probably sheltered you from the ceiling panels crashing down. You scramble onto your knees, trying to ignore how unsteady you feel, and peer out.

You can’t see beyond the next row of desks. The smoke is too thick; and it’s too dark to make out much more than the twist of wires hanging from the ceiling where the lights have fallen loose.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You lean back against the desk and try to think. The smoke is coming from the direction of the stairs to the main foyer, which means you can’t get out that way anymore. If the stairs are even still there.

Is there another way down from this level? Surely there must be. You probe your fingers delicately at the back of your head and wince. You have no idea what happened to your phone, so you’ve got no flashlight.

The lab, you think. There’s another emergency exit through to the other side of the lab. The stairs are behind a firewall.

You manage to get your feet underneath your body and shakily stand. It’s quickly becoming unbearably hot in here without the air working. You tuck your mouth and nose into the crook of your elbow as you pick your way forward. Your hearing is starting to come back a little; just a dull roaring sound and that alarm in the distance, still blaring.

You make it all the way to the lab door before it hits you. Doctor Brant.

You wheel around, squinting through the smoke. Fuck. Could he have made it out with the others? Maybe he’s already gone downstairs and is safe, waiting outside somewhere. You only need to think about it for a second before you know you can’t possibly leave without making sure.

You lurch toward the first of the control doors. “Doctor Brant?” The air burns your throat on the way in, and you cough so hard it feels more like a heave.

The heat is worse over here. You touch your hand to the release and hiss, pulling it back. The metal feels like touching the element on a stovetop.

Maybe you can wrap something around your skin to protect it. You hear what sounds like your name, yelled hoarse, and pause. You can’t tell which direction it came from. “I’m here! Oh, God. Doctor Brant? I’m right here. I’m gonna try to find another way to get you out. Hang on.”

You turn to search for something; a discarded jacket, or scarf from the back of somebody’s chair, and there’s a flicker of movement at the other side of the office. The sight unleashes a fresh screech of alarm in your brain. You duck behind one of the still-standing desks and peer out just in time to catch a shock of bright red swimming out from the haze.

You lean around the side, blinking, trying to make it out. The shape turns, and you see it right as it comes toward you: the panels of blue disturbing the red, the printed black over the chest; the long, sharp legs jointed out from the body. Him. Again.

Your stomach drops out. You seize the pen cup from the top of the desk and throw it as hard as you can, stopping him in his tracks.

“You stay the fuck away from me,” you warn, pointing, stumbling backwards.

“Jesus, stop, fuck—” he splutters, hands outstretched, ducking to dodge as you launch a wireless keyboard at him. You dash behind a pillar and run bent-over toward the maintenance hallway. You don’t know if he saw you, or if he’s following.

You know you should probably stop and consider why you’re actually running away from him when he’s probably only trying to help you. But your heart is going too fast for intelligent thought right now. Like a rabbit, without reason or rationale, fuelled by terror and adrenaline.

You hit a dead end and stop. Can you get to the other exit from here? What about Doctor Brant? Your eyes are burning and you scrub the back of your arm across them to try to clear the smoke. You turn to go back the way you came. But he’s there. And he’s already coming toward you. You let out a strange, retching sob-sound. “No. No, no, please, no, get away.”

He steps forward, angular grey eyes looming up out of the smoke and you wheel away. “Hey, stop, don’t go that way—”

Your lungs are on fire, and your eyes are streaming so badly you can’t tell which way to turn to run. He closes the distance between your bodies and then his hands are on your shoulders.

“Listen. Hey, hey, stop, we don’t have time for this, listen, listen to me.” You’re panicking, blind and overwhelmed and terrified, your heart clawing its way up your throat, trying to shove his hands away.

There’s something wrong with all of this. His voice doesn’t sound like you remember—but it does sound the way you know it’s supposed to, and that makes no sense, and your brain is screaming the explanation at you like a cageful of trapped birds screeching and beating against the inside of your skull, but you’re fighting it too hard to listen.

The floor has started vibrating under your feet again, and everything rumbles and groans; a loud pop of breaking glass audible far too close for comfort, but you don’t stop shoving at him as hard as you can, still twisting, trying to get away.

Then one of his hands is around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can’t twist away, and another is on your face, pushing back your hair. His voice is back, loud and firm and right in your ear, cutting through the rush of noise, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Listen to me. Jersey.”

It falls absolutely silent inside your head. You can still feel the smoke in your eyes, in your mouth, but you’re no longer coughing.

You’re no longer breathing.

He’s still talking, the shape of his lips moving alien through the thin red stretch of his mask. “Just breathe. I’m gonna get you outta here. But you gotta tell me if there’s anyone else in the lab who needs help. Hey. Hey, hey, breathe.”

Your mouth moves on its own. “Doctor Brant. He was in the sample freezer. He was…he…”

“Breathe,” he says again, quiet, and you do. The hands that had been shoving at his chest now press shakily to the shape of his body underneath, and, dazedly, you trace the outline of his collarbones. Your throat burns.

“You. You idiot,” you gasp hoarsely, new tears springing to your eyes. “Peter, you—you, you fucking, you idiot—”

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” he says, wrapping his other arm around your waist, and then the ground disappears from beneath your feet.

You sag your weight against him as he pulls you forward through the smoke. Something shears bright against your face and you tuck down into his chest, both of his arms keeping you tucked away from a sudden blaze of light and heat. There’s a crash from behind you, then another in front, and suddenly beautiful, clean, cold air is rushing at your skin, pulling your hair free.

Broken glass crunches under your feet as they finally meet the ground. The arm around your waist releases you, and he’s gone.

You blink in the bright sun. You’re outside. Then all the noise rushes back in, and there are new arms around you.

“Hey! We got another one, get her out of here…”

“Are you okay?” someone is saying, their safety hat-shadowed face close to yours.

“Careful of the bleeding. Here, take her,” comes another voice. You can barely hear them under the wail of sirens.

“She’s in shock,” the first person says, and there’s a hand on your arm, pulling you forward, toward the ambulances and fire engines lined up across the street. You look back over your shoulder. They’ve cordoned off the entire block. There’s ash in your mouth, and you nearly stumble.

The person holding you pauses, turning back toward you. “What? Did you say something?” They’re half-shouting to be heard. They’re just a blur, like a stranger in a dream.

You stare at them. It feels like your face is doing something incredibly interesting. Did you say something? The ash is gritty like sand against your teeth, on your tongue.

“I need to get back inside,” you hear yourself saying now, quiet and clear, your voice disconnected from your mouth. You need to get back into the building. You need to.

“What?”

Then you’re shoving at the hand on your arm, twisting out of their grip. Someone shouts out with alarm behind you, and you’re running, clumsily, tripping over rubble as you throw yourself back toward the police barricade blocking the entrance to the building.

“Stop! You can’t go in there!”

You don’t care. You’re not leaving him.

Which is when there’s a shriek of metal overhead. You and everybody else on the street look up just in time to watch every remaining window on the top half of the building explode outward in shards of skin-melting heat.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm fanfic #the amazing spider-man fanfiction #the amazing spider-man fanfic #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fanfic #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine

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sageprada · 2 years

Text

cool people.

chris pine x musician!reader (slightly oc)

pinterest board

synopsis: a series chronicling the love affair between a famous musician and her actor neighbor

word count : 3.4k

warnings: 18+ ONLY, fluff, slight smut, age gap relationship (reader is late 20’s while chris is 41), lil sub!reader, swearing, explicit descriptions of sexual content, mentions of drugs and alcohol, major daddy chris to the rescue

author’s note : the lack of chris pine content on this hellsite is a crime. this is my first time writing in a loooong time and i just can’t seem to get this man out my head. definitely will be a continuous story cause i’ve already fallen in love with this concept. hope you enjoy! ask box is always open!

Softly humming to the beat of the music emitting from the house she'd just left, it was borderline neurotic how she paced back and forth next to her parked car.

She'd been hovering over the call button for five minutes now. Picking at her thumbs cuticles until ultimately deciding to hell with it. It felt like she was dialing him for hours until he finally picked up the phone on the third ring. He always promised her, with a tight grip on her hand and amorous eye contact, that if she needed him for anything he was just a phone call away. Even after a couple years of just being neighborly acquaintances - spare the past few months were it seemed their relationship was blossoming into something much more than that - she'd only taken Chris's generous offer literal maybe twice in the past. "Hello?" Fuck. She knew there were tons of reasons as to why someone's voice would sound so intoxicatingly delicious at 3:15 in the morning - one being because she'd just woken him up from a very deep slumber. The generous shots of tequila and second blunt rotation definitely didn't help either with making her feel anything besides tired and horny. Her mind easily wandered while high. Earlier, she swears she wanted to focus on the conversations between her friends, but thoughts about her enchanting neighbor continued to derail her focus. Their latest encounter had been replaying in her head for days now. Chatting away in her kitchen over some freshly made lemonade, the conversation was about how impressed Chris was with her green thumb, even if she proclaimed to be a purebred city girl. "Well my dad did grow up on a farm so he might have shown me a thing or two last time he came to visit." She glanced over at her thriving lemon tree and smiled contently, taking another sip of her hard work. "You know I need to work on my flower beds pretty soo-" She froze mid sentence as Chris's hand nonchalantly gripped her chin, turning her head to face his. He continued the conversation for her, mentioning how he'd really like to come over and learn something for himself. But his words went from one ear and out the other cause: how could she pay attention to anything else when he's looking at her lips like that. He brushed his thumb against the corner of her mouth and it took everything in her to withhold her tongue from gently licking it. As Chris continued blabbering on about different soil or some shit , she watched him pull his thumb away with a piece of lemon pulp on it and oh, that motherfucker. Of course, he didn't have to stick that same thumb in his mouth. Why'd you suck it clean so loudly, Chris? "This lemonade is very sweet." She had to excuse herself to the bathroom. And now she's having to leave a damn party because of a warm tingle that's made home in her lower belly. "Chris! Um…Hey!" "Sweets?" The scratchiness of his voice is still throwing her off. Her imagination quickly conjured up dozens of different scenarios were he was saying other things with that same grumbling tone. Raunchier, more embarrassing things that made her squeeze her thighs closer together and feel the wet pool of silk beginning to form against her black thong. Damn, she was definitely feeling that second blunt. "Hey Chris! Sorry I'm callin' so late I know you gotta get that beauty sleep haha." Oh fuck, fuck, she was drowning before she even got a chance to swim. "Sweetheart." "And you know how you always say 'If you ever need anything, whatever it is, just give you a call.'" Impressions ? Really ? He said her name, but she rambled over him. "Well you know I drove over to a little get together at a friends place and next thing you know there were shots and a lil' bud involved. Which I know soun-" When he repeated himself more sternly, she shut her mouth. She couldn't really hear anything but rustling in the background and she pulled the screen away from her ear to make sure he was still on the call. A soft thud followed by a faint shit, and the sounds of his steps echoed into the phones speaker. "Can you do that thing where you text me your current location or just send me the address? I'm heading to come get you now." "Oh thanks Chris! I'm only a couple miles down the road on the other side of the neighborhood. Wouldn't have even called if I was far." "Don't care if you were all the way on the other side of the hills sweets. I'd still come for ya." The heat that had been nestled away in her lower stomach was beginning to spread throughout her body. Her skin feeling hot to the touch even with her thin two-piece set and cool night breeze. She mumbled a shy thanks and let him know she was texting him the address. The last thing she heard was the rumble of Chris's garage door opening and a quick promise that he'd be there soon. *** As she watched the occasional partygoer stumble their way down the driveway, she leaned against her Porsche and tapped away a random beat she hopes to remember later. The party was still very much at a ten. Laughter filled the air of the otherwise silent neighborhood followed by the heavy bass of a spontaneous beat drop. It wasn't a long wait for a black BMW to pull up in front of her, the passenger window rolling down to reveal a ruggedly handsome silver fox driver. He'd been letting his hair grow out over quarantine. Everything just long, wild, and making him even more irresistible. Sleep deprivation was obvious, but nevertheless he still had a glint in his eye that always seemed to appear when he gazed at her. "Oh excuse me ma'am are you Kapital?" She groaned at his use of her stage name and opened the passenger door, climbing in while he smirked at her sluggish movements. When she finished bulking her seatbelt, she whipped her head up to see Chris already staring back at her. More specifically, the sliver of skin exposed by the low rise of her black skirt. Her thong split apart the skin of her hipbone and she gave herself a mental pat on the back for purchasing the vintage Gucci set. The amount of zeros on the price tag had made her slightly woozy at the time, but hell, she'd buy ten more if it meant he'd always look at her like this. "Sight for sore eyes tonight." Compliments were bountiful whenever she was with Chris but never the less; they still had a way of making her feel fuzzy, small, and already she found herself clutching her thighs together once again. "Thank you and sorry again about the late night favor. Wasn't really feelin' getting a Uber just to take me a couple minutes up the road." He hummed and continued to let himself divulge in staring at her body. The sounds of people talking outside the car and loud music fell on deaf ears. She was lit ablaze by his shameless gawking, and she doesn't understand how she's not used to it by now. Has there been a time when she didn't feel this way when he looked at her? Nope, he's always made her feel like this. Locking eyes once again, he smiled at her, bringing his hand to his beard to give it a couple of strokes. "Lets get you home okay sweetheart?" A rush of heat stabbed at her groin at the nickname. "Yes please." She rested her head against the cars plush interior and the effects of the alcohol were beginning to settle into her system. Her eyelids started to feel heavy as she gazed out the passenger window, counting the streetlights. "Did you have a good time?" The question came with a massive, warm hand cupping her shoulder. The electricity from his thumb casually stroking her exposed collarbone shocked her awake. Her intense cottonmouth made it hard to spit out an answer. No big deal. Be cool. You're super fucking cool. "It was alright. Originally supposed to be a 'intimate house warming party' but ended up being a lil wilder than I'd anticipated." Chris moved his hand up higher to rest on the corner of her skin bottom of her neck where it meets her shoulder. "Good time with your friends at least?" Groaning lowly, she allowed herself to relax into the feeling of his hand and forearm against her. Chris seemed to take it as an invitation to continue and let his thumb trace the front of her neck. The digit would occasionally catch the curve of her jaw, and she closed her eyes soaking it all in. "Always love seeing them." Her words came out breathless, slurred. His touch, along with her slightly inebriated state, made it so her senses felt more like live wires. The car suddenly got stuffier and her clothes slightly tighter. "Good to hear baby." That's a new one. She knows he's only ever called her baby whenever he's had a couple glasses in his system and feeling a lil extra flirty. The slight grind forward to relieve a bit of ache in her sternum didn't go unnoticed by Chris. But just how quickly his hand appeared, it was gone. Her eyes opened in confusion at the sound of Chris rolling down his window, and she cursed at seeing her gate illuminated by his headlights. She wanted to be stuck in that moment forever. Countless trips over had him punching in the six-digit code without hesitation. The rumbling of the gate opening paired with the casualness of his hand moving back to the steering wheel made her let out an unconscious moan, closing her eyes once again and adjusting herself in the seat. Already she missed the feeling of his hand on her body. "It's alright we're almost there." Like he'd known exactly what she was craving, his palm came to rest gently on the side of her face. His thumb instantly stroking over her cheekbone in a soothing manner. She tilted her head further into his palm and got a quick whiff of his wrist. Faint traces of his fancy cologne, clean linen, and a smell that just seemed organically Chris. Is it possible for a person to get off just from someone else's scent? The moment the car braked at the top of her driveway, she began climbing out of the suddenly suffocating vehicle. "Woah! Hey wait a second!" Stumbling, she swore at her kitten heels and tried straightening herself up as Chris abruptly appeared from the other side of her passenger door. Dammit he's fast. "Thanks again for the ride home, I really appreciate it ." They both blocked each others paths by moving in the same direction. If she wasn't being so frantic, she'd definitely find it comical. However, Chris was quickly over it and by the fourth go around had enough. His hands possessively gripped the skin of her exposed waist and held her still against the back passenger door. "Hey." He moved to grip her chin and forced her gaze to lock with his. She felt intimidated, but not in a scary way; more so in a way that gave her mind go gooey. It'd only seem to happen when it was just the two of them and tension in the air. "Hey." She mumbled back. Only he could get her to feel like this.

There was only him. "Why you tryin' to run away from me sweetheart?" "Don't wanna waste any more of your time." And failing at trying to avoid embarrassing myself beyond repair. He sucked his teeth together as if he didn't buy her confession. Utterly humiliated to have fallen into this fucked out state in front of him, she wanted to crawl away and hide. But Chris had other plans. Instead of allowing her to feel shameful, he stepped closer until the feeling of his warm rock-hard cock was pressed against her stomach. "Does this feel like my times being wasted right now?" Her eyes went wide. This definitely wasn't how she saw the night going. At most, maybe a cheeky kiss, one that lingered a little too close to her mouth. One that titters the line between friendly and something more. Nothing different about their separate days could've given any indication that this was how their night would end up. That Chris would be sandwiching her between his car and mouthwatering body while also having the audacity to chuckle in her face, enjoying her feeble attempts to grind against his impressive dick. He moved to cup her cheeks and pinch them until her lips were slightly puckered. As his half-lidded eyes looked down at her, she observed his expanded pupils and felt him loosen his grip on her cheek to allow her to answer his question. "No it doesn't." She whispered the response softly against his lips that were only a few centimeters away. So close that their breath intermingled and everything about the situation was addictive. The look in his eyes, the blacks of his pupils leaving only a ring of blue. He looked hungry, their chests began to rise and fall in unanimous succession. Anticipation in the air so thick you could taste it. No sooner did she close her eyes, ready for him to lean in and finally let her have a taste of those pillowy soft lips, did she feel him release a sigh. Then, all at once, his breath was gone and her lips grew cold. "No no no…." "Baby girl..." She could hear it in his voice. He'd made up his mind and yet sounded so torn by his own decision. She could cry. She really could fall to her knees and cry. Opening her eyes, she looked up at the older man. She could feel the her slik already accumulating against her thighs, panties beyond salvageable. She felt so stupid and she fucking hated it. And of course Chris noticed. "You know I want to." Intentional or not, he shifted, and the slight curve of his cock underneath the band of his sweats nudged the front of her pussy. Both of them let out groans that were damn near pornographic. "Oh god." She hiccuped, followed by a gasp for air, and Chris tilted his head up towards the night sky releasing a deep exhale. He mumbled something towards the stars, but she was too busy looking at the exposed skin of his stretched neck to hear him. So thick, flushed, a single vein strained at the surface and - How was she supposed to resist that? She only had to move her head a little closer to give the protruding vein a kitten lick. The air immediately left his lungs while a salacious moan slipped past his lips. Was she surprised by the hand that clasped her neck, pulling her away from his own and forcing her to stare at his disapproving face. Yes, but hell, it was totally worth it. She tried bucking her hips against his pelvis again, and he let out a dark howl. "Oh you're so going to pay for that." Surprising them both, she let out a giggle. She never fucking giggled. "Promise?" Chris slurred another curse under his breath and smashed his lips against her cheek, giving her a nice open mouth smack before pulling away and peaking at her forehead. "Come on sweets it's bed time." With her head empty and at the man's absolute mercy, she allowed Chris to led the two of them through her own house. He stopped in the kitchen and grabbed her a glass of water, then nudged her towards the stairs. "I'm right behind you." He swears he wanted her to go first to make sure she didn't fall backwards, even if she felt his eyes laser-focused on her ass. As her bedroom came into view, she lengthened her stride and flopped right on top of her fluffy white comforter. She let out the longest sigh and watched as Chris placed the glass of water on her bedside table. "Pajamas?" He asked while gently slipping off her heels for her, giving her feet a couple of rubs. "First drawer." As Chris went to rummage through her dresser, she begrudgingly got out of bed to head to her master bathroom.

Wonder if he’ll notice the little pink set next to the t-shirts?

Finally being alone once again, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. While cleaning herself up, she used every bit of liquid courage she had left to say what she'd been wanting to ask him since he'd picked her up. "You can stay if you want." She was met with silence and continued to wait for a response while anxiously washing off her makeup. "But that's only if you want. We ain't gotta do anything just…yeah if you want." It wouldn't be the first time Chris had stayed the night. Hell, it wouldn't be their first time sharing a bed. However, after what transpired in the driveway, now felt very different than their previous sleepovers. Deciding she'd rather face the consequences of dealing with her hair in the morning, she hesitantly walked back into the bedroom. Instead of the image of Chris preparing to head home, she was pleasantly surprised to see him already making himself comfortable in her bed. Shirtless torso hidden underneath the duvet. His droopy eyes made him look so adorable, but his dark alluring voice made her weak in the knees. "Hurry up baby I'm in the mood to cuddle. Least you can do after sending me to come get you." Whatever spell he'd casted worked, conjuring up new found energy in her drained system to hastily change and join him. "Jesus fucking christ girl." Relieved she had at least whipped away the rogue slick that previously coated the inside of her thighs. She didn't think he could probably still see the evidence on her ruined thong. "Don't look! " He barked out a laugh and tilted his head to the ceiling. "You're gonna be the death of me I swear." Quickly getting dressed into the sweats and shirt he'd picked out for her. She kept her eyes on him to make sure he didn't sneak a peek, even though she knew he wouldn't dare. "Okay all clear." He watched her chug the ceremonious glass of water and once finished, Chris pulled back the comforter with inviting arms. "Come here." Buzzing with the anticipation of a good nights sleep, she turned off her table lamp and immediately the room flooded into darkness. Just as her knee sunk into the mattress, Chris impatient ass was already reaching for her waist and pulling her into his arms like it was nothing. She groaned into the warmness of his neck, the burn of his beard rubbing against her soft full cheeks, anchoring her to earth. One of his warm thick hands massaged gently at the back of her neck, aiding in lulling her closer to sleep. Chris's pillow soft lips rested against her forehead and he whispered promises she knew she'd have questions about in the morning. For now, though, she'd cherish the words that spilled across her skin. "I wanna take care of you." "Let me in sweetheart, I want to be there for you." "You're always on my mind, constantly worried about you baby." The tight squeeze of his other hand got her attention, his palm just so damn big as it rested against her hip. She knew she wasn't being subtle as she'd attempted to move her torso closer to his, urging his hand to slide down to rest on her ass while simultaneously wanting to grind against the hard cock she'd only got a taste of outside. But the line between perfect gentleman and utter tease was thin, and he forced her hips still before she'd even got the chance. His grip on her neck grew slightly tighter, and he'd turn his head to nip at the apple of her cheek as a warning to stop misbehaving. "Rest up baby I'll be right here in the morning." Sleep had never come faster.

#chris pine x reader #chris pine x oc #imagine #famous!reader #chris pine #slight smut #self indulgence time #daddy af #chris pine fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #self interest #smut

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autistic-coded-tournament · 9 months

Text

current submitted characters

will be updated as submissions come through.

(long post - list under the cut)

Twilight Sparkle - My Little Pony

Beth Tezuka - Bravest Warriors

Arnold Rimmer - Red Dwarf

The Captain - BBC Ghosts

Morris Moss - The IT Crowd

Nepeta Leijon - Homestuck

Kim Jokja - Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Sousuke Sagara - Full Metal Panic!

Mirabel Madrigal - Encanto

Kagami Tsurugi - Miraculous Ladybug

Taiyou Takada - My Clueless First Friend

Frankie Stein - Monster High (G3)

Jamie Winton - You, Me And The Apocalypse

Mino Naraidate - Ayakashi Akashi

Misumi Ikaruga - A3!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie - Cookie Run: Kingdom

Jotaro Kujo - JoJo's Bizzare Adventure

K1-B0 - Danganronpa V3

Morrigan Crow - Nevermoor Series

Benny - The LEGO Movie

Data - Star Trek: The Next Generation

Malleus Draconia - Twisted Wonderland

Spencer Reid - Criminal Minds

Lilo Pelekai - Lilo And Stitch

Temperance Brennan - Bones

Subaru Mikazuki - My Roommate Is A Cat

Homare Arisugawa - A3!

Ranpo Edogawa - Bungou Stray Dogs

Alhaitham - Genshin Impact

Futaba Sakura - Persona 5

Athena Cykes - Ace Attorney

Midorya Izuku - My Hero Academia

Bakugou Katsuki - My Hero Academia

Iida Tenya - My Hero Academia

Todoroki Shouto - My Hero Academia

Aizawa Shouta - My Hero Academia

Present Mic - My Hero Academia

James - End Of The F***ing World

Chu Sangwoo - Semantic Error

Chalarm - Dinosaur Love

Connor - Detroit: Become Human

Max Caulfield - Life Is Strange

Parker - Leverage

Lan Zhan - The Untamed

Ram - My Engineer

Kim Theerapanyakul - KinnPorsche

Alex Chen - Life Is Strange: True Colours

Penny Poledina - RWBY

Huey Duck - DuckTales

Denki Kaminari - My Hero Academia

Mihashi Ren - Big Windup!

Khabluken - Star In My Mind

Akk Pipitphattana - The Eclipse

Scott Summers (Cyclops) - X-Men

Hank McCoy (Beast) - X-Men

Orbulon - Warioware

Benrey - Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self-Aware

Gilion Tidestrider - Just Roll With It

Stanford Pines - Gravity Falls

Goemon Ishikawa XIII - Lupin III

Ash - Fire Emblem Heroes

Ty Betteridge - WOE.BEGONE

Maria Ushiromiya - Umineko No Naku Koro Ni

Yusuke Kitagawa - Persona 5

Charlie Kelly - It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia

Rachel Lindt - Worm

Arisugawa Himari (Cure Custard) - Kirakira Pretty Cure a la Mode

Ryan - WOE.BEGONE

Akhiko Sanada - Persona 3

Shadow The Hedgehog - Sonic The Hedgehog

Makoto Niijima - Persona 5

Streber - Spooky Month

Murray Hewitt - Flight Of The Conchords

Noel Gruber - Ride The Cyclone

Ushijima Wakatoshi - Haikyuu!!

Howard Moon - The Mighty Boosh

Mikitaka Hazekura - JoJo's Bizzare Adventure

Edward - Cowboy Bebop

MK - LEGO Monkie kid

Red Son - LEGO Monkie Kid

Mitsuru Kirijo - Persona 3

Aziraphale - Good Omens

Nemona - Pokémon Scarlet & Violet

Peter Sqloint - Just Roll With It

Bart Allen (Impulse) - DC Comics

Nanami Kento - Jujitsu Kaisen

Stannis Baratheon - Game Of Thrones: A Song Of Ice And Fire

Inspector Javert - Les Misérables

N - Pokémon Black & White

Vinyl Scratch (DJ Pon-3) - My Little Pony

Coco Pommel - My Little Pony

Alicia Hamilton - LPS Popular

Francis York Morgan - Deadly Premonition

Hunter - The Owl House

Mischa Bachinski - Ride The Cyclone

Auggie Hilderbrant - Scary Movies To Tell In The Dark

Sunny - OMORI

Chris Kirkman - Bravest Warriors

Himiko Yumeno - Danganronpa V3

Espresso Cookie - Cookie Run: Kingdom

#autistic coded tournament #tournament #tournament poll #bracket tournament #tumblr tournament #character tournament

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thiswasneverthat · 1 year

Text

Sugar and Spice

❅ bang chan x fem!reader

❅ ex-fwb!au, mutual pining, fluff if you squint

❅ warning: recreational usage of alcohol

❅ words count: 3.9K

“Wait here a moment, I am gonna grab us a drink.”

That was what your friend said twenty minutes ago. How dare she. She dragged you here and she left you all by yourself sitting on the round table near the window, in the midst of a festive reunion.

Now and then, some familiar faces approached you and enticed you to join their group of friends to ‘talk’ but you kindly refused every single one of them with a smile, saying that you were waiting for someone.

Well, you were indeed waiting for your friend to come back with the drink. And besides, you would rather be alone than join the others boasting about their amazing life.

What would you talk about anyway? About your recent fallout with the cheating asshole? Or the resignation letter that you just submit two days ago? There was nothing in your life that you could brag about, at least for now.

Looking back to your college days, you made quite a lot of friends and most of them were in attendance, but you were just not in the mood to socialize. Not exactly, when you knew what they lot were going to talk about.

And after one more failed attempt to spot your friend in the crowd, you decided to step out to the balcony.

You took a long and deep breath as you stood by the baluster. The delicate evening breeze caressed your skin in a way that made you shudder for a moment. However, it was immensely invigorating, compared to the stuffy air inside the ballroom where the reunion was held, and not to mention the pungent smell of various types of booze. Very very suffocating.

As you leaned slightly toward the baluster, you relished in the serene stillness of the night and the twinkling lights from skyscrapers that enhanced the scenic beauty of the city.

“The moon is pretty tonight, isn’t it?”

It took you a few seconds to recognize the familiar gentle voice before you turned your head to the side, to find the source of the voice. When your eyes met with the beautiful brown orbs that belong to the person standing by the massive door, your head buzzed.

“Y-yeah.” You stuttered in your response. You hadn’t even noticed the moon when you stepped outside. Was there even a moon tonight?

A chuckle then slipped past the other person’s lips as he stepped closer, both of his hands tucked inside the pocket of his black trousers. “The moon is hiding tonight, though.”

Shit. He got you.

As if it was automatic, you tightly shut your eyes for a few seconds before you flashed him a nervous smile. “You got me, Chris.”

Kind as ever, Chris returned the smile as he gradually eliminated the distance between the two of you. “Now, tell me. Why are you alone out here instead of catching up with some old friends inside?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You reacted with a shrug, trying to be as casual as possible. You had no idea why were you nervous but you couldn’t help it.

“I saw you walked out, so I followed you.”

“Why?” The question rolled out of your mouth before you could even think of another ㅡ appropriate response. Damn it.

“Because I want to talk to you.”

How could he? How could he casually say those things when he was definitely oblivious to what it did to you. To your mind.

Yes, you were nervous, you secretly admitted even though you had no idea what you were so nervous about. It was probably the proximity or his mere existence.

Or how ravishing he looked tonight..? His hair was styled neatly in a way that accentuated his eyebrow slit, and clad in a black satin shirt with the top three buttons undoneㅡ flaunting his broad chest.

“Talk to me?” You reiterated in a rather mocking tone, though it was purely accidental. You only wanted to conceal your nervousness.

“Yeah, of course.” Chris nodded firmly with his endearing smile, bestowing his dimples. “Unless you don’t want to talk to me?”

You felt your insides churn. You were genuinely confused at how Chris showed zero indication that he was struggling to keep it cool, unlike you.

Why were you the only one getting nervous and hot here? Well, to think about the time you both spent together in the past, shouldn’t he at least feel a little uneasy or whatever else with a similar adjective?

“No. I didn’t mean it like that.” You quickly denied. “I was just..”

Chris raised a brow as he noticed you weighing your answer. “Just what?”

“Nevermind. it’s nothing.” With a weak shake of the head, you shifted your attention from him to the captivating view of the city from the balcony.

Through your peripherals, you caught him nodding his head. It seemed that he respected your answer and opted not to push through.

Then for a moment, you and Chris only stood side by side in silence. You could hear his soft breathing, you could smell the musky scent of his perfume. All so familiar, so.. him. And strange enough, it wasn’t awkward at all. It was comforting, like the old days. Yeah, the old days when you both were attached to the hips, figuratively and sometimes physically.

“How many years it has been? Two or three?” Chris asked after a while.

“Two and a half years,” You replied instantly. Not that you kept counting the days since the last time you saw him, but you just knew it by heart.

Faintly you heard him let out a heavy sigh. “You never called me.”

Fuck. You mentally cursed. You knew where this conversation going and you were certain you were not going to like it.

“Why? Did I.. hurt you?” Chris asked once again, his voice was gentle yet laced with a demand for an answer.

Now it was your turn to sigh.

“Chris, I.. I just can’t.” You said as you looked down, staring at your hands on top of the baluster. There was nothing interesting about your hands anyway, but you just couldn’t look at him. You would look at anything else but him.

But, of course, Chris had something else in mind. So, without a word, he grabbed your wrist and turned you to face him. When your eyes met with his own, your stupid heart skip a fucking beat.

“Why can’t you?” He urged, still holding onto your wrist in front of his chest.

Deep down in your heart, you knew the answer. You didn’t need to rake your brain to find a reasonable answer because there was only one answer to that question. But, would it be wise to tell him though? You had been keeping that for two and a half years in the deepest pit of your heart, and why should you let it out in the open, now of all time?

Once again, you let out a heavy sigh. “Why do you want to know?”

Chris stared at you with an expression as if asking ‘are you serious?’ before a chuckle slipped past his lips. “I want to know because that’s why I am here. I miss you and I flew across the world to ask you this.”

Oh. That was unexpected. Was he being serious or was he messing with you? He was joking, right?

Your mouth then opened slightly to say something but your brain failed you.

“I am serious.” Chris firmly said as if he could read your mind.

“I didn’t call you because..” You stammered and chewed on the inside of your cheeks, eyes still glancing anywhere but at him.

You were seriously contemplating your life choices. With him being this close to you, somehow you wanted to tell him the truth despite your fear to be vulnerable. But that won’t be the only thing you wanted from him. No.

“Because?”

“Because I was afraid I would be-“

Before you got to finish your sentence, you suddenly felt a pair of cold hands grabbing your shoulders from behind. “God! I have been looking for you!”

You whipped your head in surprise and found your friend grinning at you.

“Come on, let’s take some pictures inside!” She exclaimed as she linked her arm with yours, seemingly ignoring the presence of the man who had been talking to you, even though he was still holding your wrist.

Your gaze alternately shifted from your friend to him. A part of you was grateful for her to come and save you, while the other partㅡ the frail part, also feel bad for him leaving him. But then, Chris only smiled as he leaned forward to you.

“When you are done, come back to me,” He whispered next to your ear, emphasizing the last word.

And just like that, you could barely process anything else before she pulled you away from him.

He hasn’t changed at all, has he? He still had his way with you. His words still sent a tingle up to your body and mind. No matter how many years it had been, you'd let him.

“What the fuck was that?” Your friend hissed lowly once she dragged you to the corner of the ballroom near the bar.

You cleared your throat, eyes staring anywhere but at your best friend. “What was what?”

She instantly rolled her eyes. “What were you doing out there? With him — with Chris out of all the people here?”

You nearly snorted at her questions. “I thought we’re supposed to take some pictures here?”

“No, I lied.” She quickly admitted. “Now tell me, why were you out there with him?”

“Why? What’s wrong with that?” You challenged with a playful glint in your eyes. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t, but the frail part of you really felt the need to defend him, even after all this time.

In front of you, her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Honey, did you hear what you just said? Years had passed since he left and now you want to get cozy with him again?”

Well, you couldn’t blame her. You knew she was only looking out for you. She was the one who lend her shoulders to cry on when Chris left, night after night. You understand where your dear friend was coming from.

But, no. She was wrong. You had no intention to get cozy with him. Not at all. You hadn’t even expected to see him at the reunion. All you knew, he was still living aboard with his family. You had zero contact with him over the last two years. And to be honest, you were beyond surprised to see him standing in front of you.

As you let out a soft huff, you playfully nudged her side. “I won’t be talking to him at all if you didn’t drag me to attend this stupid reunion and then leave me for twenty minutes to get a booze.”

Checkmate.

She immediately opened her mouth to say something but then only a heavy sigh slipped out of her mouth. “Right, sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you out here.”

“It’s fine, I know you hate seeing me staying home only to watch some drama on my couch.” You chuckled and wrapped your arm around her for a quick hug.

She then smiled apologetically after she pulled herself from the hug. “Should we go back now?”

“I think I should, but you better stay here and enjoy the party. Okay?”

“And let you go home alone?” She made a face and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to see my face on the news tomorrow morning if something bad happens to you.”

“You are exaggerating. Nothing is going to happen to me, don’t worry! Now, enjoy yourself and the party!” Leaving no room for your friend to argue, you placed both of your arms on her shoulders before ushering her to join the crowd.

In a flash, you were out of sight as you quickly seized your purse that you left on her table earlier before walking out of the ballroom with long strides.

Once you reached the elevator, you impatiently pressed the button to the ground floor. You knew she was not going to chase after you, however, there was this urge inside you to get to your apartment as soon as possible. This particular urge was driven by your need to run away from someone else. From him.

To be very honest, there was nothing about his presence that you hated, but you were just not ready to face him again. Chris made you feel some sort of way and you despised yourself for that. If you could delay meeting him even only for one more day, you would do it. For now, you had things to sort out first; like your mind and your heart.

“I knew you’d run away from me.”

You just took a few steps out of the elevator when the very familiar voice stopped you dead on your track. Shit. You inwardly cursed to yourself before you turned around to the source of the voice.

There he was, the person you wanted to avoid the most. Chris was casually leaning against the marbled wall next to the elevator, and both of his arms were crossed over his chest. His smile never seemed to leave his face.

“No.” You attempted to deny. A very weak attempt at that. “I didn’t know you are waiting.”

“Sure.” Chris nodded casually as he took a few steps closer to you. “Now that you already know, would you let me give you a ride home?”

“You don’t have to, I can get an Uber.”

“Please.” A low sigh slipped past his mouth as he offered you a frail smile. “Stop running away from me.”

And there, you only stood in silence because you had no idea how to react. He disappeared from your life two and a half years ago, and now that he was back, he was standing in front of you, very close to you, all you wanted was to welcome him with hugs and kisses. For fuck’s sake it didn’t make any sense at all. You thought the two of you were only history.

“Running away from you? You are the one who left.”

The words pierced straight into his heart and Chris heaved a long sigh. “There is nothing I regret more than that. But, I come back for you.”

“For me? Don’t kid yourself.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Hey,” Chris said weakly as he stepped closer, not wanting anyone around to hear what you both were talking about. “What do I do to make you believe?”

“If you..” You stared right into his eyes. “If you are going to go away again after you got your answer or closure or whatever it is that you really want from me, just forget it. You better go now.”

You truly surprised yourself with that. Where did it all come from? Mere seconds ago you were thinking to welcome him with hugs and kisses but then you suddenly told him to go. He was seriously messing with your head, wasn’t he?

“It doesn’t matter why you never called me, I just want you to know that I am not going anywhere. Never again.” Chris declared, unwavering.

And maybe that was all you wished to hear. Or.. No, that was definitely what you needed to hear. If you were going to let him in once again, you ought to know that he would stay around. You would be stupid to give him the advantageㅡ to get anything he wanted without you getting something in return. After all, it had always been that way since the very first time for the two of you. Give and take; or compromises; whatever you named it.

Chris had seriously messed with your head this time around, right? Because why would you let him take you to his apartment instead of your house? Just like that, without any arguments or refusal or even cautious contemplation on your part.

Well.. that was all, then. The wiser part of yourself must be weeping at this very moment as they watched the solid walls that you had built over the last two years crumble.

The endless night you spent crying and hating him; the promises you made to yourself; the memories of your time together that you begrudgingly tried to erase; those were long forgotten the moment Chris appeared in front of you with his sweetest smile.

“Vodka?”

“Do you want me drunk so bad? Why is that?” You quipped as you leaned back on the leather couch in his living room, watching him bustle about the kitchen.

Thinking about the word ‘drunk’ and ‘you’ in the same sentence got him chuckling as he shook his head. “I am only trying to be nice here. Isn’t that your favorite?”

“Used to. Now though, I prefer mineral water.”

With feigned astonishment, Chris placed the bottle of vodka and two coupe glasses on the table before he took the vacant space next to you.

“Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

My best friend? Yeah. Whatever, asshole.

“I only drink on special occasions.” You refuted with a shrug, eyes now averting to the side.

As it turned out, being in such proximity to Chris was still tricky for you. You wanted to lean on his shoulder and also wanted to push him away at the same time.

Oblivious to your internal struggle, he pretended to be offended by your words and nudged your shoulder with his, causing you to quietly jolt in your seat. “Isn’t this a special occasion?”

You then inhaled sharply before rolling your eyes in faux annoyance, an attempt to conceal your uneasiness. “What’s so special about this?”

“Well..” Chris began as he raised a coupe glass in front of you. “It’s undoubtedly special because once again, we’re together.”

At his last word, a frown instantly appeared on your foreheadㅡ and he noticed.

“I mean, here, together,” He stuttered as he tried to explain. “Not that kind of together, but just together because we’re both here, yeah? You know what I mean.”

It was indeed a sight to see someone who always had his own way with words unexpectedly stammering like a teenage boy. The frown on your forehead vanished and the living room was quickly filled with a fit of laughter.

“Breathe, breathe. I get it.” You teased with a sneer, visibly relaxing at the sudden shift of air around the two of you.

As Chris witnessed your wide smile for the first time that night, he couldn’t help himself but mirror your smile. “Vodka, then?”

“You are not gonna give up, are you?”

Chris firmly shook his head. “Never.”

In the eyes of others, those were just meaningless words. But there was a distinct notion hidden behind those wordsㅡ that only the two of you understand.

And the night went on, waves of laughter filled up the room; sweetest smiles reciprocated now and then; indistinct rapid beating of hearts every time your hand touched his; and feelings that were increasingly difficult to contain as the time passed by.

“I am getting a little tipsy now. You’ve succeeded in your mission, haven’t you?” You uttered after your fourth glass as you rested your head against the backrest of the couch.

“No, not really.” Chris denied with a low chuckle before he leaned to the side, resting his head on your lap.

Unsurprisingly, his sudden action was welcomed by you. Your right hand soon found its way to his head, tangling your fingers with his curls. Once again, it was calming, it was so familiar.

“How am I gonna get home if I am drunk?” You murmured to yourself as you glanced up at the ceilings.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t go. Stay here.”

Your hand which was previously caressing his head, now shifted to playfully poke his forehead with your forefinger. “You take the couch then.”

“No.” Chris instantly refused as he seized your hand and placed it back on top of his head, gesturing for you to keep caressing his head. “We will sleep together in my room.”

Upon hearing his valiant statement, you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter. If he said the same thing an hour earlier, you would likely tell him to go away or hard-punch him in the gutsㅡ but now, you just laughed it off. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He demanded with a sour face. “You’ve slept in my room a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, like hundreds of other girls.”

In an instant, a deafening silence shrouded the room.

“Damn it.” You cussed in your head.

Right at that moment, you wished you could take back what you just said. You had no idea where it was coming from (or precisely why), because the statement rolled out of your lips before your brain could filter them word by word. Meanwhile, Chris suddenly got drawn into the sea of remorse. It was the truth and he despised that what you said was true.

“I ruined the mood, didn’t I?” You said weakly, almost sounding like a whisper.

“No, you didn’t.” He immediately answered as he got up from his position and turned to face you. “It was the truth and I am sorry.”

“And it was in the past, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

That much was true. The two of you had done a lot of foolish and regrettable stuff in the past, but it shouldn’t define who you were now, right?

“Look,” Hesitantly, Chris reached for your hand and held it tightly in between his big hands. “There’s nothing I can do to change what happened in the past, but I am not that person anymore.”

You only nodded your head in response, you hoped you had something else to say but your brain betrayed you.

“I might be a little drunk too, but I meant what I said.” He continued, eyes glued to you even if you kept looking down to avoid making an eye-contact with him. “Trust me, yeah?”

“You’re drunk,” You said curtly, still looking down at your intertwined hands.

“I know. But you also know that I am honest as fuck when I am drunk.” He insisted and held your hand tighterㅡ as if he was trying to make you feel his sincerity.

“We’re drunk,” You said once again, this time followed by a hearty laugh as you stared at the guy beside you. “And I am sleepy.”

It was automaticㅡ every time he saw you smiling, his heart swelled and the corners of his lips tugged upward to form a smile of his own. “I’ll drive you home but I am drunk. So, I’ll take the couch, then.”

“Hmm.” You hummed and nodded your head. “Do you have any clean clothes I could wear?”

“You can wear any of my hoodies but before that,” Chris cleared his throat as he scooted closer. “I need to ask something. Can I?”

“What is it?”

“Um..” A cheeky smile adorned his face while he gently caressed your hand. “Can we kiss?”

The only answer Chris hoped for his request was a ‘yes’ of course, but he got something elseㅡ something bigger than a ‘yes’ that caught him off guard. Before he could say anything, a pillowy cushion immediately flew straight to his face.

“Nighty night, Christopher.”

This is just so so self-indulgent or whatever but yeah hope you like it! Xx. Feedbacks are always appreciated! ♡

#bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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reveluving · 2 years

Text

lovememore ; rick flag x reader

summary: The thought of living a life outside Belle Reve seems so far but that’s alright. Rick already feels at home when you’re around.

warnings: fluff (good ol' mutual pining), mentions of violence & near-death experience

a/n: one of my earliest Rick fic ideas! will there be a sequel? whooo knows (spoiler: y'all know damn well I'll make one) aaand don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» j.k m.list , or check out my full m.list!

Sticky, humid and deafening — those were the words one could describe the club, but a welcoming turn of events for a change. Even if the Thinker could be coming in anytime soon, there shouldn’t be any harm in enjoying the moment, right? Pretend there wasn’t a bomb in their heads, for once. Seems like everyone had the same idea, with Cleo and Abner having fun on the dance floor. Chris, too, and his questionable moves.

But you never left his sight, silently appreciating the short slip dress and leather jacket that adorned your figure. Kudos to whoever previously owned the clothes, only for the style to be perfectly adorned by you. The colours matched your personality too.

Soft pink for your sweetness and black for your dark side but overall, it’s just sexy.

"What's it gonna take for you to grow a pair and tell her?" His daydreaming was put to a halt at the sound of DuBois' chuckle.

“What’s there to tell her?” He quirked his eyebrow, sipping from the amber bottle to act nonchalant — as if he wasn’t gawking at you a while ago. He knew he wasn’t subtle with his feelings but at the very least, he hoped none of the members would call him out, not especially Dubois and worst of all, in front of you.

Almost.

“Play dumb all you want, Flag,” DuBois tsked, “But stall any longer and regret is all you’re gonna get,”

Rick bit his tongue — defending himself would mean an instant win for DuBois but so does keeping quiet.

“There no reason for me to stall when I don’t have anythin’ to say in the first place,” Stubborn as ever, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting defeat. No matter how many things he wished he could tell you, considering the ride-or-die situation they were in, he held himself down. One could call it an ego, but others would argue it as his way of keeping you safe.

At least, that’s what he thought.

“Really?” DuBois huffed in amusement, pointing in your direction with the bottle in hand, “So, you don’t mind if that gentleman over there makes his move on her?”

Rick’s head whipped around faster than he cared to admit but chose to ignore the snort next to him. He didn’t bother telling DuBois to shut it when his eyes were too busy burning a hole in the back of the newcomer’s skull — buzzed and unkempt, but it was his audacity that made Rick fume. How dare he invaded your personal space; was the schmuck not getting the idea that you’re not interested?

You were having fun with Cleo minutes ago. No doubt you were dealing with the current situation just fine but Rick has been around you long enough to notice your fake laugh and the ‘I really wish I weren’t here right now’ look. In the moron’s defence, you hid your facial expressions pretty well. Though, you were probably seconds away from breaking your bottle to be used as a weapon.

“Clock’s ticking,” DuBois reminded him like an entity watching, or laughing at him, but be that as it may, the gunner had true intentions. Rick was one of, if not the only staff in the facility that treated him like a human being, and of course, the only friend before everything went down. You, on the other hand, were one of the inmates he truly could get along with, partially because of your charisma but also your level-headedness. He didn’t have anything against the rest of the squad but you kept the group grounded.

Sane, for a lack of a better word, especially during Rick’s absence.

So Rick took his advice and grew a pair before making his way to you.

Whether or not he realized he puffed up his chest and hardened his face was uncertain but that didn’t matter. What did matter, however, was the colours drained from the poor lad’s face, prompting to you turn around and break out into a dazzling smile. A genuine one, he proudly noted.

“Rick!”

“Darlin’,“ That name alone sent shivers down your spine. That had to be the alcohol talking, right?

Wait, was he wrapping his arms around you?

“Was lookin’ everywhere for you,” He dropped the nice-guy act when he ‘only noticed’ the man before him, “You pickin’ on my girl?”

My girl…

You don’t even know how your knees haven’t buckled yet.

Funny — the guy, you didn’t bother remembering his name, was all bark just seconds ago. Now, he had his tail in between his legs. Understandable, Rick’s a tall man after all, and that’s the best part.

“N-no, of course not! I was just...” Whatever he mumbled after was totally incomprehensible.

“You were just?” Rick’s impatient glare sent him running elsewhere, becoming the laughing stock of the night by those who couldn’t help but eavesdrop earlier. You weren’t his first victim, after all. Once out of sight, Rick moved his hands away from you, much to yours and his disappointment, “He didn't touch you, did he?"

How could you not melt at that?

"Believe me, if he did, I would've caused a scene a long time ago," You shuddered at the thought, "Though, hearing him talk on and on about how he is in bed was probably just as bad. How'd you know I was in a dire situation?"

“No offence but you're shit at hiding your expressions," There was his mistake.

"You... were watching me?"

Whoops.

Well, no shit. When your jacket's half-worn like that, why wouldn't his gaze linger on your skin? Respectfully, of course.

Whatever that means.

"Keen eye," His nonchalant answer did nothing to ease your mind, "No one else here's wearin’ a nightdress to the party so consider yourself lucky,"

Oh, believe me, I am.

You didn't expect his eyes to snap back at you — how in the world could you have blurted that out? Or were you hoping to do that?

“Really?” There was no way you could take it back now.

“Really.” You repeated, tilting your head cutely, “Why wouldn’t I feel honoured of you saving the day, colonel?”

Had your liquid courage been stronger, you would've openly stared at his well-defined muscles. Thankfully, you were able to control yourself.

Barely.

That shirt of his was fighting for its dear life, truly.

“Or is it ‘sheriff’ tonight?” You pursed your lips, “Buuut to be honest, that title doesn’t suit you — that shirt right there is a crime to begin with,”

“I could say the same for you, lil’ lady,” His arm flexed when he placed a hand on the bar counter behind you, “That dress of yours could get you in a whole lotta trouble,”

“Oh? Says who?” His face hovered over yours, the spark in between was so powerful, none of you noticed DuBois silently threatening the Thinker across the room.

“Sheriff, remember?”, He tipped his hat, “Whatever I say goes,”

Ooh, and you were tempted to push his buttons even further — to know what sort of ‘trouble’ he was referring to.

But the highlight of your day had to end somewhere, starting with a scream followed by the local armed forces cocking their guns.

You didn’t mean to stand nearer to Rick, and he didn’t mean to keep you close by your shoulder, but none of you said a word about it — it wasn’t the right time either.

Bigger fish to fry, sadly.

The suspense only grew when the forces demanded everyone for their identification cards. You caught a glimpse of Chris, standing at Rick’s other side, taking out his pocket knife. His action forced you to tip-toe over his shoulder in order to verbally stop him.

“Chris!” The two of you had a staredown, with you winning the silent argument when Rick joined in. Out of habit, your eyes darted to Abner’s and Cleo’s, who watched you and the rest worriedly. You cocked your head to the back door, the stiffness of your movement and the stern ‘get out of here’ look were enough to get them on their feet, taking the Thinker with them.

“Calm down!” DuBois guffawed in a feigned drunkenly state, “There’s no need to disturb everyone’s night. I’m right here, I’m the one you’re looking for!” Bless that man’s soul.

“You ready?” You shivered at Rick’s voice. Who knew it could get even deeper?

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Your shoulders sagged — just when you thought you had a chance. Sighing in exasperation, you raised your hands the same time Rick did, where he announced that the three of you were also the Americans they were looking for, much to Chris’ dismay.

“What?” He hissed, earning himself scolding stares from both of you yet again.

“Play along,” You gritted through your teeth, just seconds before being cuffed and forced onto your knees.

Rick could’ve made his move without the interruptions of the local military but hey, a job’s a job.

It’s no secret that Rick’s a stubborn man and he’s well aware of it. That’s why he was confidently recruited as a leader — he knows what he wants and would do whatever’s necessary. It didn’t matter if it was Waller’s orders or his own judgement. But, again, a stubborn man. Sometimes, he won’t act on it, not until the last minute.

But, if there’s ever a time where he’ll admit his faults, especially when one’s pointed it out before, it’s now — beaten, bruised and profusely bleeding, though, he didn’t miss the way Chris’ eyes flashed a different kind of emotion — guilt.

He didn’t want to do this, he had to, and while Rick had every right to antagonize him to the max, betraying not only him but also the entire team who gave him the benefit of the doubt, he didn’t. Instead, he accepted the predicament he was in, the glass shard penetrated into his skin and likely an artery or two, he rolled onto his back, Chris’ silhouette looming over him.

But, in came his saviour.

You.

Barging in and all hell broke loose.

The way you ran up to Chris, wielding a chainsaw that he was sure wasn't yours, dishevelled and downright furious when you noticed the glass pierced into Rick's chest. That was a sight to behold, to him, at least.

To Chris, it probably seemed like a horror movie — like when the antagonist of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre caught sight of their target.

You managed to damage Chris a couple of times but most importantly, you successfully scared him off, no longer caring about the drive he’s now possessed. You threw the weapon elsewhere and kneeled right next to Rick, unbothered by the rubble that dug into your knees.

"Hey, hey," You took hold of his hand, hoping you weren't too late, "Rick, I'm here," He coughed.

"You c-came," His lips quirked, clutching onto your soft hand in his.

"Of course I did," You answered incredulously — did he think otherwise? You didn't want to know, "Something felt off, I-I had to look for you but then I couldn't find you and I just-"

"H-hey..." He croaked, stopping you from your rambling.

"H-hm?" You blinked away the tears that clouded your vision. His grip tightened, not enough to hurt you but you figured he was telling you to come closer. Thus, you leaned in closer, your side profile hovering over his face. You wanted to ask him again when he strained himself to sit up. Your panicked state didn’t last long, however, when his chapped lips brushed your cheek. You froze up, uncertain if this was a mind game until he pulled your hand again, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes are so beautiful. He’s so beautiful.

What better way to close the gap between the two of you than with a kiss?

The intimacy only bloomed when your fingers intertwined with his, your other hand cradled his face. He’d do anything to wipe away your tears, not because it’s getting in the way, but because he didn’t like to see you this distressed; especially when it’s because of him. There were so many things to address, questions to be answered and things to change, for the better, of course.

But your hopes for a better future went down the drain when his hold began to loosen up. His weakened state forced you to pull away,

“Rick?” No response, just his breathing — too slow to your liking, though, to the point that all you could do is scream out the first two names that came to your mind.

DuBois & Cleo.

Who knew they'd barge in moments after, saving not only Rick but you in the nick of time. Though DuBois wanted to beat Chris to a pulp, he couldn't ignore the way you screamed bloody murder. Truly, a sound that would've haunted him for days if he didn't act fast.

They didn't even question you on the hand-holding — like them, you've been through hell and back, and Rick was at the brink of dying.

Something they were all too familiar with. They’ve had enough 'excitement' for one day. Or weeks. Hell, make it months.

All DuBois could do was carry his friend while Cleo placed one of your arms around her shoulders for support. You weren't injured, not badly, at least, but she could tell how mentally drained you were. She and DuBois may not have the same type of relationship with Rick as you do, but knowing you cared for him was enough for them to know.

The events that went down soon after moving in a blur as if your body was moving on autopilot.

DuBois had placed Rick down somewhere, against a building wall before turning you with an unreadable expression, at first. Then, you looked into his eyes, like, really looked into it and understood.

Take care of him.

So, that's what you did, but not without a mild argument in between.

"NO!" DuBois shot his hand out, the others already chasing after the colossal being, "You stay right here, and that's that!"

You would've yelled back out of spite but he was right. You weren't losing Rick — you couldn't. Someone has to watch over him while they deal with the chaos.

So, you zipped your lips and gave a tense nod.

Then, came the moment of truth.

Waller's god-awful screaming, the dramatic showdown and soon, Starro's fall.

Oh, and rats. Loads of them.

You didn’t think twice about wrapping your arms around Rick's near-lifeless figure when thousands, if not, millions of rodents appeared out of nowhere. You weren't sure if you did so to protect him or comfort yourself through all this, but you could've sworn you felt his fingers lightly digging into your sides.

All he could register in his mind was you. Understandable, considering the temperature difference from the uncontrollable blood loss he's experiencing.

There was no certainty about his well-being after this. It's not his ideal way to go, obviously — where was the homey atmosphere you've told him about?

Well, maybe it didn't matter anymore. If this was the only way he could savour what could possibly be his final moment, at long last, with you, in his embrace, so be it.

Your voice soothed him like no other, tuning out the catastrophe that was happening just a short distance away.

You weren't aware of the time that passed until you felt a tap on your shoulder, only to find Harley before you. They were a little worse for wear but you're just thankful to see them alive.

"Harley..." You choked out and accepted her bear hug as soon as she kneeled right in front of you. Seeing Rick unresponsive was one thing but watching you so grief-stricken was a little too much. Harley ruffled your hair, unfazed by the tears that dripped down to her shoulder.

"There, there, everything'll be alright," She shushed you ever-so-softly. She couldn't lose him too, hell, she'd probably go on a rampage if she lost both of you. Not when you've found the true meaning of happiness — a future that involves each other. She pulled you off and held you by the shoulders, "We're off the hook, y’know? We're free!"

"W-we are?" Free — such a foreign term, even if you were the one who brought it up not too long ago.

"Mhm! Looky there," She pointed to DuBois' direction, talking on the earpiece, "Milton blackmailed the shit outta that mean lady! Now we’re free as birds!"

You ignored her mistake of calling him 'Milton' in favour of the newfound information. The revelation should've been easy to comprehend, it's what you wanted, wasn't it? Still, Harley noticed the way you turned your head back to check on Rick.

"Helps on the way," She rubbed your back, "He'll be a-okay,"

You didn’t even give a damn about how pathetic you probably seemed when she sounded so sure of Rick's well-being. But as a professional, you held onto that trust. The rest came into view minutes after, with DuBois carrying Rick yet again to the airlift. Like Cleo moments ago, Harley's arm remained around your wobbly figure.

It took you seconds to realize that Abner was nowhere to be found, only to spot Cleo holding a torn piece of his suit that again, dampened your mood. You loved that man like a brother you’ve never had — sharing each other’s hate for the Calendar Man and now, he’s gone.

You’ll make sure to mourn for him as soon as you’re sensible enough to do so, plus the ones who died back on the island.

Milton, too, because that’s probably what Abner would’ve wanted.

"Sad?" Nanaue questioned you when he and Cleo matched your sluggish pace.

"Yeah, a little" You smiled sadly, "I'll be okay though. Don't worry, Nanaue,"

He responded with a tilt of his head before pointing at a dead body, asking if it was 'nom nom'. Even through the banter between DuBois, Nanaue and Cleo, you could only focus on the man being carried, heaving as he tried to breathe. In the airlift, Harley wordlessly insisted you sit next to him, laying soundly as a medic did the necessary.

The others, minus you, DuBois and Nanaue, went out like a light. The only thing that comforted you at that very moment was Rick's thumb, slowly yet surely stroking the back of your hand.

Was he reassuring you, or himself?

Probably a little bit of both.

He even heard you smile when DuBois apprehensively petted Sebastian.

Either he was beginning to see the light of heaven or hell, or, dare he say, a beacon of hope.

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics

#— reve's reverie 🌹#rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag x f!reader #rick flag #rick flag fic #joel kinnaman x reader #joel kinnaman #fluff #the suicide squad 2021 #the suicide squad

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