#i am concerned for who i will be on friday
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Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Three
pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader
rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, Derrick shows his true self, Javier comes to the rescue, depictions of SA (minor, though proceed with caution), mentions of alcohol consumption
word count: 4.2k
series masterlist
Friday night marked not only the temporary break from having to see Dr. Peña every single day, but also your stupid date with Derrick. He’d been out of the apartment when you woke up, him and Nina off at the gym. Alondra crawled into bed with you, her laptop in tow.
“I don’t wanna go tonight,” you grumbled, drawing the blankets up to your face as she got comfortable beside you. “Just tell him I’m sick or something.”
“He’s been looking forward to this all week,” she reminded, pulling up Netflix. “Hell, for the last four years.”
“Yeah, well I’ve been dreading this for the last four years so where does that leave us?” you challenged. “I’m supposed to make myself uncomfortable just to make his little dream come true?”
“I’m not saying that,” she sighed. “I’m just saying what harm could come from going to dinner with him? He’s your friend, just pretend you guys are grabbing food or something casual.”
“But he won’t want casual,” you snapped, throwing your blanket back so that you could get up. “He’ll want the full treatment.”
“There’s worse men to pretend to like,” she said, closing her laptop as she watched you tug on a hoodie and sweats. “At least he’s good looking and harmless.”
“Harmless as a friend,” you pointed out. “Who knows what he’s like on a date.”
“That’s why you should go,” she urged. “To find out if maybe that’s what was missing—“
“There’s nothing missing!” you shouted. “I don’t want him, not because I just haven’t seen how charming he is, not because I haven’t given him a chance. I don’t want him because I don’t want him. End of story.”
“Then don’t go!” she shouted back.
“How? How am I supposed to turn him down when I’ve tried that for the past four years and he doesn’t give a shit. He’ll keep trying and trying until I finally cave, so I’ll fucking go tonight, but this is it. No more putting his feelings above mine.”
“Then I don’t know why you’re complaining.”
You took a deep breath, finding the patience you knew you possessed but seemed so far away in this moment. Out of all people, you expected Alondra to understand your side of the situation. She’d never spent a day in her entire life thinking about what a man wanted, what they were feeling and how she might accommodate for it. And yet, here she was demanding that you not only go through with this but that you shut up while doing it.
“I just want to be alone for a while,” you said, dejected and hurt. “It feels like the entire world is turning for him and I’m just here. You and Nina love him, I know, but what about me?”
“We love you,” she said, her brows furrowing. “It’s just that sometimes it almost feels like you avoid the things that you know will be good for you in favor of shit that’ll wreck you. We’re just trying to show you that Derrick is a good thing.”
You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m gonna be at the library until my lab. Tell Derrick I’ll meet him back here at ten.”
“Don’t be like that,” she coaxed, following you into your shared bathroom to watch you brush your teeth. “Don’t be mad.”
Spitting out the toothpaste, you tried to ignore her guilt tripping. “I’m not mad, I just want to be alone.”
“Fine,” she said, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Text me if you need me?”
“Mmhm,” you hummed, watching her leave the room knowing damn well she just earned a spot at the bottom of the list of people you’d reach out to.
Dr. Peña’s lab went by smoothly, the undergrads taking their first quiz of the semester in absolute silence as you got to work grading yesterday’s assignment. Dr. Peña had been taking careful glances at you, his brow furrowed with concern. Not that you could blame him. For the last two days you’d been dressing to impress, or more delusionally, to seduce, but today you’d shown up bare faced and in sweats.
Setting his pen down, he cleared his throat and walked over to your desk, causing your tired eyes to lift to his. “Everything alright?”
You nodded, giving him a forced smile that only managed to deepen that look of concern on his face.
“Just tired,” you lied in a whisper, shrugging your shoulders.
“I know these late night labs aren’t the easiest—“
“No, no,” you assured. “It’s not the lab. Just…personal stuff.”
He lifted his chin in understanding, his fingers tapping against the wood of your desk. “Well, if you’d prefer, you can finish grading those at home. They’re just going to be taking the quiz tonight, so we’ll be fine without our prized TA.”
You smiled at the compliment—or at what you assumed to be one. “It’s fine. Home’s not very appealing to me right now.”
“The offer stands,” he smiled, soft and almost unnoticeable before walking back to his desk.
Too bad you noticed every single thing he did.
After the lab, you headed home to get ready for the punishment that was an hour spent at the snobbiest restaurant in Austin with your not-so-friend. Derrick was locked up in his room, no doubt trying to overcome his jitters while you did the same. Only your jitters felt more like tremors, something deep in your soul cautioning you against going. Still, you persisted.
Slipping into a skirt and your favorite top that gave you the confidence necessary to walk into this situation with your head held high, your makeup flawless and subdued, your hair just the way you like it, you took a deep breath and opened your door to greet Derrick with a forced smile.
“You look…wow,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. While you smelled his clean scent, there was also a hint of something else on his breath—tequila, perhaps? “No one’s gonna believe you’re with me.”
You cleared your throat, glancing at Nina and Alondra who stood in the kitchen eavesdropping. “Let’s go. Don’t want to be late for your fancy reservation.”
He laughed, nodding as he held out his hand for you to take. You pretended not to notice it and busied your hands with holding your bag and phone, which…
Fuck, you forgot to charge your phone.
“My brother recommended this place,” he said, brushing off your rejection as he walked you out of the building and to his car. “It’s where he proposed.”
“Mm,” you hummed, still lost in your head.
“You like sushi, right?” he asked, opening your door.
“Yeah,” you nodded, slipping into the passenger seat. “We’ve been friends for how long now and you don’t know that?”
He chuckled, buckling his seatbelt. “I don’t pay attention to little shit.”
You stared at his profile with something akin to disgust, the realization that he’d never viewed this friendship in the same light as you finally dawning on you. “Friends usually try to pay attention to little shit like that.”
“Yeah, well we’re a bit more than friends,” he smirked, glancing at you before bravely moving his hand to your thigh. You jerked at the touch, pulling away from him to turn towards the window. “So, uh, how’s Peña’s lab?”
“It’s good,” you managed, counting the streetlights as they passed by.
“That’s shocking,” he chuckled. “What, he’s not a dick to them?”
“He is,” you shrugged. “But not to me.”
“For obvious reasons,” he chided. “Alondra told me about the whole don’t wear a skirt thing. Sounds like a fucking creep.”
“It wasn’t like that,” you argued, turning towards him. “And you can tell Alondra I’d appreciate it if she didn’t tell you all of my business.”
“She was just looking out for me,” he said, giving you a frown. “Can’t have your professor trying shit if we’re gonna give this a real shot.”
“Derrick, I don’t—“
“No, just…let’s keep this date free of all that pessimist shit,” he snapped, reminding you of his inebriated state. Fuck, and you were in a car with this shithead? “Tonight I want you to put all that trauma aside for once and keep yourself open,” he demanded, causing your heart to race.
What would happen if you didn’t? Would he hurt you? Would he shit talk you to all your friends? Would he make something up?
“Fine,” you managed, balling your hands into fists as they rested on your lap.
After a car ride spent listening to him detail his summer of luxury, the two of you found yourselves seated in the restaurant located on the opposite side of town. You’d only been out in this area once to celebrate your first anniversary with Micah, though that time you were forced to split the bill. Derrick wouldn’t have any of that, not with his trust fund and need to prove himself.
You didn’t speak much at dinner, not because you had nothing to say but because he wouldn’t stop talking. He’d covered everything from the first birthday he could remember to the day he first met you when you were both frightened freshmen on campus. Perhaps the trip down memory lane would’ve made you smile if it wasn’t for his wandering hands beneath the table.
When the bill was paid and the two of you were on your way out, you thought the terrible night had finally come to a close. But of course it hadn’t.
Derrick surprised you by pulling you into a dark alleyway, his hands greedy as he pulled you against his frame. You felt his lips on yours, taking and taking and giving you not a damn thing but a sick feeling of alarm in your stomach.
“Derrick, stop,” you hissed, pushing against his chest as he continued to lean in, caging you against the stucco wall.
“You want me,” he rasped, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as his liquor-scented breath flooded your nostrils. “You’re just scared of it ending badly.”
“No,” you protested, continuing to push him away. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t feel that way for you.”
“Yet you showed up wearing this.” You froze as you felt his cold fingertips graze the outside of your thighs, inching his way closer to the hem of your skirt. “Just…let loose for once. Let your guard down and I swear you won’t regret it.”
“I already regret it,” you hissed, shoving him hard enough to cause him to drunkenly stumble back. “You’re drunk and acting like fucking dick.”
He shook his head, chuckling at your words or the situation, you couldn’t quite tell. “I want you.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Four fucking years of waiting around, then you finally decide to go out with me, and now…what? You’re just gonna act like a tease?”
“I’m going to beat the shit out of you if you keep talking,” you warned, though you knew your strength was no match for his. Still, female rage and adrenaline fueled you, coaxing you into not giving a fuck about the outcome. If he pushed any harder, you’d gladly fuck around and find out. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”
“Stop,” he whined, grabbing your wrist to keep you from leaving. “Don’t be such a bitch.”
“I’m a bitch?” Fuck around and find out, it is. “I’ve been nothing but a good friend to you all these years, even knowing that you didn’t give a fuck about any of that. You’d rather I be in your sheets than in your life, that much is fucking clear now.”
“I’m just saying, it’s not cool to continue to give me hope—“
“I didn’t give you shit!” you yelled, yanking your wrist from his grasp. “How many times have we talked about this? How many times have you made me feel guilty for something I have no control over? I don’t want you, Derrick. I never have, and after tonight I certainly never will. Face it or don’t, but our friendship ends here.”
“We live together,” he reminded, stepping towards you. “You can’t avoid me like you avoid Micah.”
“Can’t I?” you chuckled, shaking your head. “You have no idea how easy it’ll be for me to pretend as if you never existed.”
He let out a huff of disbelief, shaking his head at you as if he had any right to feel disappointed. No, that right was yours alone in this situation. You thought you found a man who you could call a true friend, only to find out he was just as bad as the rest of them. Maybe worse given the way he manipulated you these past four years, all to earn your trust.
You took off down the street, not caring about the looks you received from passersby. You just needed to get somewhere safe and call—
Fuck. Phone’s dead.
With fear threatening to take over, you stumbled into the first open shop on the block, a very fancy looking cafe that was mostly stranded on the inside. Tugging down the hem of your skirt, you huffed a sigh in order to rein in the tears threatening to spill as you swung the door open.
“Welcome in,” the older woman behind the counter greeted, giving you a judgmental once over as your heels clacked against the hardwood floor on the way to the counter. “What can I get started for you?”
“I was just wondering if there was any way I could use your phone to call a cab? I promise I’ll buy something—“
“I’m sorry, we don’t allow customers to use our phones,” she frowned, a display of mock sympathy that threatened to wear down your last remaining nerve.
“I understand, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency,” you pleaded.
“I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am,” she sighed. “Phones are for employee use only. Perhaps you can find a payphone or—“
The woman was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name. Stomach sinking to the floor, you turned to find Dr. Peña sitting in a booth by the window with his laptop.
Fucking perfect.
“Dr. Peña.” You greeted him with a sigh and a forced smile, reluctantly heading towards his booth.
“Are you alright?” he asked, giving you a quick once over before lifting his eyes back yours.
“Yeah,” you lied, giving him a quick nod. He tilted his head and you and gave you a look as if to say liar. Letting out the saddest, weakest laugh you might’ve ever uttered, you decided to hell with pride. “No, I’m…it’s been a long night.”
He ticked his jaw as he considered you for a moment, leaving you in sickening suspense. “What happened?”
“You don’t want to hear about all that,” you assured, wiping a tear from your waterline.
“I do,” he insisted, nudging his chin towards the other side of the booth. “Sit down, I’ll get you a coffee.”
“You don’t have to—“
“Sit,” he ordered, that stern voice cutting through the clouds of self pity and anger still looming overhead. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black is fine,” you lied, slipping into the booth as gracefully as your skirt would allow.
It took him a few minutes to return, that time spent locked inside your head, watching a replay from an eagle's eye point of view. Derrick's hands on your body, his lips on yours, his vile claims and threats sounding over and over.
“So,” he said, handing you your cup as he sat down in front of his laptop before closing it. “What happened?”
“I don’t…I don’t want anyone to get in trouble,” you prefaced, earning a hesitant nod. “Derrick—
“Mr. Crawley?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “He’s been my friend for years now, we live together…but he has this really bad habit of not taking no for an answer.” Dr. Peña tensed, his jaw clenching. “That’s why I agreed to go out with him tonight, because I was just sick of having to explain that I only saw him as a friend. Thought I’d just get it over with, but that didn’t really go as planned.”
“Did he…try something?” he asked, his voice low and tense. You shrugged, questioning the entire interaction. If you hadn’t stopped him, if you hadn’t been brave enough to tell him no, would he have stopped? Did what he did really constitute assault?
“I don’t know. Sort of,” you explained, tracing the rim of your cup as you spoke. “Dinner was shit enough, but then he cornered me in an alley, trying to cage me against a wall and…touch me, but I stopped him. Then he turned into this entirely different person than I’ve known all this time, called me a bitch and a tease. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize my phone was dead when I took off down the block, and now I’m stranded on this side of town. And truthfully, I don’t even know if going home is a good idea.”
Javier leaned back in his seat, raking his hands over his face.
“I have a sinking feeling that if I go home, he’s just going to start shit again, which is the last thing I want right now.”
He nodded, understanding and sympathy in his eyes as he took a beat to think.
“Firstly, I’m incredibly proud of you for sticking up for yourself. It’s not an easy thing to do, and you did it.” You refused to keen under his praise the way your heart demanded to. “If I’d have just put up with it—“
“Stop,” he said, shaking his head. “You did the brave thing and the right thing. He’s too fucking old to not know the difference between a woman who wants him and one who doesn’t. This shit is on him, alright?”
You gave him a meek nod, still not able to look him in the eye.
“I know you said you don’t want anyone to get in trouble, and I’ll respect that, but know that if you decide to report him, I’ll back you,” he offered, his eyes rounding and voice softening. “I don’t think you should go home. I—“ He sighed, lowering his hand to rest beside yours on the table. “I can drive you to a hotel, and if you need me to pay for it, I will. That way I’ll know you’re safe, and you’ll have your own space for the night.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” you assured.
“No, it isn’t, but it’s late and you’ve clearly been through enough tonight,” he said. “But it’s your choice. I can call you a cab if that’s more comfortable.”
“Isn’t that…sort of against the rules? You giving me a ride?”
He let out a soft chuckle.
“It’s not ideal, but I don’t care about that right now,” he confessed, his pinky reaching out to brush against yours. “I just care about you being safe and comfortable.”
You bit your lip, eyes glued to his hand that seemed to be fighting an internal war over whether or not to reach out for yours. “I won’t feel safe and comfortable in a hotel. I’d just feel…alone.”
“I can’t,” he whispered to himself, moving his hand to his face.
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t do this,” he gestured between the two of you. “I can’t keep you company tonight.”
“I didn’t mean—“
“I know what you meant, and I’m telling you I can’t let a student of mine crash at my place,” he sighed, conflict weighing on his face. “I’ll take you to a hotel and you can call a friend to stay with you.”
“I’m not going to let you pay for my hotel,” you protested. “That’s not happening.”
“Then what?” he asked, dropping his hand to the table.
“I don’t know,” you snapped. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Here,” he handed you his phone. “Call a cab, they’re safer than an Uber.”
You stared at the unlocked screen, debating whether or not you truly wanted to handle things on your own or accept the help offered to you, even if it meant spending a night alone in a foreign environment, stuck with the flashbacks of Derrick’s hands on your body, his lips on your mouth. There was no safety in that, in being prisoner to awful memories you had no part in creating. The truth was that you needed him to distract you from yourself, and you didn’t care if you had to grovel or beg for it.
“I’m asking you to please just…stay,” you whispered, too close to tears to speak up. “We don’t have to go to your place. We can go to the library for all I fucking care, I just don’t want to be alone. All my friends are his friends and I know what they’ll say about tonight. Everyone loves him, everyone wants to be his friend, and I’m just…around. They won’t believe me, and even if they do, they won’t see it the way I do.”
Javier looked ready to tell me to fuck off and go find someone else to bother with all my problems, but threw me for a loop when he said, “Fine. Grab your coffee, and…here.” He held out a black leather jacket that smelled like him; whiskey, smoke, and warm spice.
“Where are we going?” you asked, standing and draping the jacket over your shoulders as he gathered his things.
“My office,” he said, his tone clipped and sharp. “It’s the only place where people won’t be around to see us. Not that I really give a shit, but you should.”
“You haven’t done anything but help me,” you offered. “I don’t care if people talk. You and I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“They don’t give a shit,” he countered, leading you out of the cafe. “Besides, we’re already breaking rules. Even if we aren’t acting on anything—“
“Is there anything to act on?” you probed, sticking close to him out of fear Derrick was still around searching for you. Dr. Peña shot you a knowing look over his shoulder.
“There’s enough to drive me fucking crazy,” he admitted.
You stopped in your tracks, shocked—and twistedly pleased—at his confession. He noticed your reaction, stopping to turn around and look at you with a pleading expression.
“I didn’t mean—“
“I know what you meant,” you echoed his words from earlier. He ground his jaw and looked down at the sidewalk for a beat before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. You watched his lips mold around the cigarette as he took a deep drag, his brows furrowed as if he was in pain.
“I’m not…” He shook his head again, looking up at the night sky. “I’ve been teaching now for five years. Never once have I done this shit. Never once have I let myself get involved. Until you.”
“Dr—“
“Javier,” he cut you off. “Call me Javier when it’s just us. It’ll make me feel better about how fucked up this is.”
“What’s fucked up about a woman in her late twenties and a man in his thirties talking?” you asked, stepping closer to him to feel a bit more of the thrill that did such a good job at blocking out all the bad shit going through your head.
“I’m your professor,” he explained, watching you carefully. “There are rules against me developing this exact infatuation I can’t seem to fucking shake.”
“You’re infatuated with me?” you chuckled, more out of shock than amusement. Though you’d obviously sensed he saw some sort of potential in you that caused him to act like less of a dick than he did with everyone else, you’d have never guessed in a million years that he was interested in you.
Javier chuckled darkly, stepping closer to you until you could smell his cologne. “Infatuated is an understatement.”
“And what would you say if I told you I was just as infatuated?” you asked, closing the gap between the two of you as you lifted your hand to rest on his chest. Not pushing him away like with Derrick, but beckoning him closer.
He whispered your name, sending chills down your spin. “We can’t.”
“We’re not doing anything,” you countered, sliding your hand up to the back of his neck just to feel those soft brown waves that have been calling your name this last week. Javier grabbed your hand and lowered it gently, his thumb smoothing over your skin.
“I’ll stay up with you tonight so that you can feel safe, but that’s it,” he whispered, his eyes darting across your face. “Okay?”
You wanted to frown, to throw a fit and beg him to not be such a stand-up guy, but that would be like asking a fish not to swim, the wind not to blow, a fire not to burn. He simply was a stand-up man and no amount of seduction could change that. “Okay.”
He let out a soft sigh, stepping away from you.
“You’re lucky I have shit to grade tonight,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. “You might consider helping me with some of that, TA.”
You chuckled, nodding. “After a nap.”
“Sure,” he chided. “Take it that’s code for hell no.”
“Would you look at that. You’re more clever than you look, Professor.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javier peña#javi peña#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña x reader#guilty as sin?
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8 days until JWCT
OH MY GOD NEW CLIP NEW CLIP NEW CLIP
youtube
I'd like to apologize in advance if this is a little hectic. I'm so excited and my mind is absolutely reeling and my thoughts are running around so if things are a little unorganized please excuse me.
So first things first, YASAMMY IS STILL TOGETHER. I'm so happy to see that. The moment where Yaz was like "ohmygosh are you okay?" was everything to me I'm actually dying inside. And it's confirmed. Ben saying, "Get in between two girlfriends?" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Yaz's "Tadaa" in the opening was so on point and in character. These characters still feel very much the same just older and I absolutely love them. They captured her adorable awkwardness perfectly. The background is absolutely gorgeous, I love these new urban settings. Sammy just trying to be a supportive girlfriend <3 I LOVE YOU SAMMY AND YOU LOOK DROP DEAD GORGEOUS
Big Ben is still a big dork <3. Him screaming from the hologram has me dying. The way Sammy is just shocked but Ben is being all extra throwing his legs up and doing another extra little scream. Oh Ben you big doofus I love you.
Ben is my reaction to all this Chaos Theory stuff and Sammy is everyone looking at me freak out w concern.
Along with this clip we have an interview with the showrunners.
"We really wanted to focus on Yaz’s emotional journey as she dealt with the PTSD she suffered from during Camp Cretaceous, and then on what her reaction would be once the dinosaurs made it to the mainland. We had always imagined after Camp C that she would go on to college and study psychology and use her empathy and experience to help those that suffer the way she did. We really liked the idea of her using cutting-edge “immersion therapy” technology to help herself and others like her in a controlled, safe manner."
This is what most stuck out to me about the whole thing. In the beginning I was worried that they'd neglect the trauma that these kids went through but I have to say that I am pleasantly surprised they're putting focus on it, especially with Yaz who we sort of first saw suffer from PTSD in CC. With kids shows, creators usually aren't willing to dive into deep subjects and they typically follow a "one-and-done" storyline as I like to call it. They have an episode that focuses on one thing and then the next episode is an entirely different thing. And while I understand that on an audience level--- kids have short attention spans and don't stay on topic---I'm glad to see that both CC and CT are paying attention towards (consistently) acknowledging the darker sides and the trauma. Also hearing about where her character went/is going is so incredible to see and it's crazy to say that I'm proud of a fictional character but I really am. It's concerning how much I love these characters but denying that would be denying an entire piece of myself. I need this show like I need air. Y'all better be ready for the longest ass posts I'm going to make next friday. Just 8 more days. Almost one more week.
One day if you're going to be watching the first episode tomorrow. After careful consideration I do think I will attempt to watch it tomorrow. I think deep down I knew this was going to happen however with the newly released clips it showed me that watching some of the show in advanced doesn't dim my excitedness and really it only amplifies it. Obviously, if you choose not to watch it, totally valid and I respect your decision. I will keep my account "spoiler free" in that if I talk about the first episode I'll use the keep reading feature and the spoiler tag out of respect for those who don't want to or can't see it yet.
So you will catch me on Roblox tmrw. If anything it'll probably be around 4:30/5:00 cst. I don't know if it's an all day thing but that's what I'm assuming it is. If you want to join me my acc is @/greekqueendemigod (don't judge I chose the name when I was like 12) and u can just send me a friend request and if you do lmk in the comments bc i'm not always checking.
#jwcc#jwct#jurassic world camp cretaceous#jurassic world chaos theory#jwct spoilers#sammy gutierrez#ben pincus#yasmina fadoula
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thinking about the fact that henry has to literally tear his gaze away from alex to say the word “casual” because he is already so in love and if someone like that loved him back it would set him on fire
#i am unwell because of these two#and like. this is just with the hardly five minutes of content that we’ve got#i am concerned for who i will be on friday#red white and royal blue#red white & royal blue#rwrb#firstprince#alex x henry#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#aishi.txt
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On a much more cheerful and somewhat silly note ..
The pink in my hair has faded considerably! I am genuinely wondering if I should dye it bright pink again or simply keep it like it is c:
My roots not included — currently I would call it a light blonde with a soft pink tint ? ♡
(This faded color is honestly *so* pretty I have not felt the urge to touch it up at all! I will put up pics if some would like and I feel well enough later maybe .. I am just thinking out loud and musing at the moment though!)
🎀 ⊹ * ˚ . 🤍
#♡#the little ones i nanny for enjoyed the bright pink !#however i think i like my hair as it is now c:#(for those who did not follow my last blog — i dyed over my highlights and it has been bright pink since january !!)#(a very fun little journey .. but i am not sure i should do it again ??)#thank you again for all the well wishes and kindness concerning my dad ♡#i have much to do and get back to here i realize but mostly i am tired and just taking it easy ♡#sending many warms hugs prayers and kind thoughts !!#take care and happy friday my friends ~ ! ♡#xo ! ♡#🎀 ⊹ * ˚ . 🤍
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i love meeting fellow students at uni who are like "oh yeah i've got a teenager at home" or "my son's four" or "i'm a doctor and i'm working on the side, but i wanted to study something else"
and i'm there like Hello I Am Nineteen Do You Want To Hear About High School
#my best friend at uni is 25#we were joking about how last week i went to a test and got the best possible grade#it was at 8 am on friday and he didn't show up because he had been out at a party until like four am#and then he asked this one guy 'hey did i do anything dumb that night?'#and the guy who he asked. i have The Biggest crush on him#so there he was laughing at my friend and gosh even his laugh was so beautiful. man#but anyway my friend thinks he may be a bad influence#i think my mum would probably be more concerned that hanging out with guys is making me think i'm one too so lol
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x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ
in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?
warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.
a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)
Alhaitham isn’t jealous.
The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.
“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.
“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”
“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”
“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh.
He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm.
“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.
How bothersome. What’s happening to him?
“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.
“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”
“The one for your elective?”
You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”
“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”
“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him.
(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)
“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.
You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”
“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse.
But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye.
(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)
“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.
Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.”
The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.
A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.
“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.
“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture.
The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.
(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)
You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug.
“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you.
“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”
“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”
“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”
“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”
“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”
Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”
A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.
Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious.
“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup.
“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”
The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.”
“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”
“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”
“I’m the only one who-”
“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.
Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”
“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”
“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”
A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.
The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”
“Hold on, what does the note say?”
Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?
“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“
Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”
“Sure, but why are you doing-“
“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”
“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.
So why weren’t you here?
“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.
You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?
“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.
“Whom?”
You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.
“What?” Alhaitham snaps.
“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”
“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”
Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.
“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”
“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”
“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”
“Because she was sick.”
“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!”
“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”
“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.
Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.
Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why.
“You’re not that special.”
A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.
“Listen to me!”
“Fuck off!”
“Y/n-”
You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate.
“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.
“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.
The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”
“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.
“Who pissed in your black coffee today?”
“No one. Now get lost.”
“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”
“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”
“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”
“-No, no, none of those!”
“Then what?”
Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”
“Huh? Why so annoyed?”
“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”
It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.”
“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love.
“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”
“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”
“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”
Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.
He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe.
You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar?
And why are you smiling so happily?
You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).
He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?
He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.
(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)
Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you.
“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”
You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over.
He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression.
“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”
“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”
“What guy?”
“Your project partner.”
“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.
He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.”
“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.”
“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.”
Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him.
Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?
Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.
“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.
Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-
“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?”
Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.
“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile.
“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”
“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”
“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.
“Nope,” you sigh.
“Why not?”
“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”
“An apology? Why? What did he say?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.”
“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”
“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”
“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”
Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.
“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”
“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?”
“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.
Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.
“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”
“When will you just confess to Y/n?”
The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”
“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”
“-what, when?”
“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?”
“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”
“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”
“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands.
“So why aren’t you apologising?”
“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”
“Jealous, much?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”
“But, we are just friends-”
“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”
The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in.
“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”
A sharp click rings through the room.
Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner?
(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.
What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?
Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.
“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.
He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.
“For me?” You ask.
“For you.”
“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest.
“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”
You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.
“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.
“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs.
“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”
“By your groupmate?”
“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”
“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party.
“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”
“We do, but I want to ask you something first.”
You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue.
“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”
A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad?
Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”
“Are you free right now?”
“I am. Why?”
“Let’s go out then. On a date.”
“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.
The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#i didn't edit this btw don't judge#alhaitham x reader#al-haitham x reader#alhaitham x you#al haitham x reader#genshin impact x reader#fluff#alhaitham fluff#al-haitham fluff#genshin fluff#genshin x reader#alhaitham fic#genshin fic
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Oh my god
#how to explain to mt neurotypical and abled sister that at the end of the day i dont have the mental energy to answer questions#like none#i have had a very long day of waking up early which (my intenstines make very clear is bad) and then being incredibly stressed at work#cause our fucking cash machine that handles all the cash in the store is broken and i have to balance the store and somehow fix thefuckedne#during which i didnt get time to eat anything till i got home at 2 (i wrnt in at 7 am)#then i get home and have an anxiety attack about my cat who has bladder problems and who could be obstructed again#cause we are rearranging our house for construction and he doesnt have his normal food to help reduce the likely hood#and then my mom is asking me to rearrange the furniture to make room for the window replacements tomorrow#i literally have no more mental capacity to make any decisions or wnswer anymote questions#it is just too hard to think about if im going to the beach with them on Friday#im overwhelmed and like anymore decisions or input is too much even like well meaning input#hhhhhhh#and i like dont have the ability explain this with worss cause when im overstimulated or having an attack i lose my ability to use my words#and i dtutter a dhit ton and it just stops being worth it to communicate that way#so no i want to sleep#also the way my mom is like its fine to be concerned about Lageos but you shouldnt 'let it ruin your ehole day' as if i have control over it#and dont have an unmedicated anxiety disorder and i cant just stop feeling emotikns also im autistic so like thats literally not an option#i litrrqlly cant stop being ancious about it no matter how much i understand it makes no snese
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panty stealer
DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023
summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.
request: yes!
words: 5.1k
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.
note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2
—
“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.
“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”
peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.
the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.
like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?
people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.
peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.
he did, right?
brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.
peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.
flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.
speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.
“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.
“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.
“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?
“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”
“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.
peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.
“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”
—
peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.
soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.
“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”
peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”
“oh, you’re so in for it.”
—
so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.
peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?
“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.
“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”
“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.
“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.
their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?
—
for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.
unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.
when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.
it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.
peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.
“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.
your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.
“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”
“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.
besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.
he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.
usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.
“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”
“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.
poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.
flash deserved it, though.
brad is probably getting one of their numbers.
peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.
“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.
“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.
how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.
peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.
“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?
“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.
“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”
your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.
“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”
“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.
“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.
he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.
he would say some of his confidence is back now.
he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.
peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.
“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”
“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?
his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.
“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.
“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”
you shake your head.
“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.
“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.
“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.
“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.
he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.
peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.
he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.
the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.
his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.
“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.
peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.
“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”
peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.
your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.
“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.
“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”
you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.
“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”
you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.
“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.
“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.
hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.
“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.
slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.
“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.
“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”
if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.
there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.
that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.
his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.
“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.
“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”
with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.
summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.
you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.
you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.
a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.
when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.
“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”
“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”
peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.
“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.
“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.
“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.
“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?
“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.
“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.
you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.
you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.
“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.
suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.
“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.
with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.
“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.
rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.
so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.
as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.
oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.
what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.
—
tags: @raajali3
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James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: James has been persuing you for years and you've never said yes, until now?
Genre: Fluff 😇🎉 (bc i love happiness, ur welcome)
Warnings: misunderstandings, lovesick!James <3
It's not James's fault he's been head over heels in love with you for longer than he can remember. And it's really not his fault either that he's spent years acting like a complete and utter fool just to have a sliver of your attention.
Talking the loudest in any room you're in? Easy.
"Accidentally" flying too close to where you're sitting in the Quidditch stands while he's supposed to be playing just so he can flip around obnoxiously? He's done that over three times now.
So, when he hears you'll be at the Three Broomsticks this evening, it isn't surprising to anyone that he convinces Sirius and Remus to accompany him.
The moment they walk in, their loud demeanor makes everyone turn their heads. It's no secret James, Sirius, and Remus are the handsomest guys in your year — so no one could blame you when you look up too.
Your friend digs her elbow into your side when James sees you looking and struts to your table. You sit up, taking a long sip of your pumpkin juice as James leans in and crosses his arms.
Sirius and Remus stand behind him, amused. "Ladies," James winks, his eyes focused only on you. "What brings you here on this lovely Friday evening?"
You turn your head, avoiding his gaze with a small smile that makes James lose his mind, "Nothing that concerns you, Potter,"
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, unfazed by your bluntness as he motions to your empty glass.
When you stand, James smoothly moves out of the way and you send him a look behind your shoulder. "Mm, no thanks. But if you want you can walk with me to order my own drink," you joke, not thinking he'll actually want to.
But, if James was a puppy, he'd be your puppy. You have him wrapped around your little pinky and the only person who doesn't see it is you.
"Gladly," The boy smirks and his arm brushes yours as he walks next to you. You frown a little but don't say anything. You've never minded James's attention, and you know he's been after you for years now, but still you can't wrap your mind around him being serious about it.
In your mind, the attention was always bound to fade with time, and you wouldn't be caught as the fool who'd fallen for it.
However, as you lean against the bar to order another pumpkin juice and you feel James's eyes glued on you, you start to wonder.
"So, when's the expiration date for this little game?" you ask, looking at him seriously.
James leans against the bar too and completely turns his body to you. "Hmm? What?" he asks with a smile. He tucks the loose strand of hair from in front of your eyes behind you ear, seemingly proud of himself when he can see you clearly again.
"This," you point at him, and then throw your arms up dramatically, "Whatever it is that you're doing."
James just smiles. He's not really catching on as his hand slides closer to yours on the bar counter. "What am I doing?" he whispers, leaning in. He has that look in his eyes, the one that makes your stomach flutter.
You move your hand away from his. You sound exhausted, "All this flirting! Aren't you done yet?" you say it a little loudly and the woman who hands you your drink sends you a glare. Your cheeks heat up and you mumble a small sorry as you slide her your money.
James catches your other arm before you can turn around and walk away from him. "Hey wait, what do you mean am I done? Do'you want me to be done?" he sound unsure and you can see his confusion on his face.
Now you're confused. "Are you not planning on being done?" you whisper.
James can't hear you over the loud music and chatter inside so he moves you outside gently and you don't have to time to wonder why you let him.
It's slightly dark but the air is warm and James can hear you now when you ask the question again. He looks you over, still extremely puzzled by the entire situation.
"Wait, done with what?" he asks.
You blink at him. "What?" you feel like you're losing your mind.
"Am I done with what?" he asks camly and you roll your eyes.
"Done with flirting with me!" you exclaim, running a hand in your hair, "I- I don't understand, James. Why haven't you moved on? Sure, it was funny for a while but it's been years, even you must find the joke stale by now?"
James mouth opens and closes like some kind of fish and then he stares at you like you have lost your mind. "Joke? What joke?" he says and walks a little closer to you. He sounds even more confused. "Y/n, do you want me to stop flirting with you?"
You bite your lip, "I mean, yes? Because, it's not really funny anymore. I didn't mind it, Potter, but —" you pause and then hold the drink in your hand tighter. "Okay, here. What if I say I like you too? Can we just have a good laugh about it and then it all be over?"
James's frown deepens and he waves his arms in the air. "Wait, you think I'm joking?"
You blink at him again. "You're not?"
James runs a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief, "Of course I'm not joking," he walks even closer and you feel his presence as your skin tingles. You look up as he brushes his thumb on your chin and then smiles warmly, "I'd never pursue anyone as a joke. If you said you like me, then I would say thank Merlin and then I would kiss you until you couldn't feel those gorgeous lips of yours," he says it so calmly but you almost drop your drink.
"Wait, so you actually, no-jokes, like me?"
"Oh yeah. Why would you think I was making that up?" James moves his thumb to brush over your lips now, a look of adoration in his eyes, "I'm not that committed to my jokes," he teases.
He pauses to think, "you think a twelve-year-old boy would write you cheesy love notes every class and actually send them if it was a joke? Or likewise, a sixteen-year-old would spend all of 6th year reading every single book you borrowed from the library just in case he had the chance to impress you? Or lose sleep over the way you wear your hair, or know that you change your nail-polish every week but you rotate the same colors since 4th year," James blushes a little at the admission and pauses, "and now I just sound like a creep, don't I?"
You laugh and the sound makes James grin. You hesitate but touch his cheek, tilting your head, "So, you meant every over-the-top gesture and every hilariously stupid pick-up-line?" you ask, "ever since 2nd year?"
James nods, leaning into your touch. "Mmm yeah, but we can pretend that I was joking about the pick-up-lines that way it's less embarrassing for me," he says sheepishly.
"But I liked your pick up lines," you pout with a smile, your shoulders relaxing.
James's eyes sparkle, "Yeah? You did?"
You smile at him. "No, but now it's funnier that you were serious about them."
James looks at you and he laughs. He throws his head back with a grin and your chest tightens even more. Has he always been this handsome or have you just never let yourself fully admire him? James looks at you again and his next words almost cause a heart attack. "Merlin, I've never wanted to kiss you as much as I do now,"
Your eyes flicker to his lips unconsciously and you realiz ehow close he is. You're nervous now and James can tell. Gently, he takes the drink in your hand and sets it on the small ledge of the building. It might fall but that's the least of your worries. For now, you need to focus on remembering how to breathe.
Something must be different in the way you're looking at him because James asks you if he can kiss you. Years and years of flirting and he's never asked you that.
You don't answer him and just when the silence starts to become awkward you take his cheeks in your hands and pull him towards you. Your lips hit his clumsily and you gasp into his mouth when his arm swoops behind you and he pulls you closer. James kisses you hungrily and you start to wonder why you hadn't done this years earlier.
When James disconnects his lips from yours and looks at you sweetly. "I didn't think you'd say yes," he whispers, "even less that you'd say it like that," his cheeks are tainted pink and your lip-gloss stains his lips.
"Neither did I," you admit and look away a moment. Goosebumps run across your arms and, because you don't know where to put your hands anymore, you put them in your jacket pockets. You frown and pull out the galleons you'd used to pay for your drink with your left hand. You look back at James and he looks guilty. "What's this?" you ask.
"I paid for your drink when you weren't looking. I knew you'd most likely say no again but I couldn't resist. I'm sorry," he holds his nape and sways on his feet.
You stare at him, slightly annoyed but also impressed that he'd put the money in your pocket without you noticing. You outsrech your open palm for him to take the money. "You'know, you make it very hard for me not to fall head over heels in love with you, James Potter."
James grins and closes your hand around his. "That the point, love," he says.
You roll your eyes, realizing if he'd gone behind your back to pay for you he'll never accept your money now. "So, are you gonna ask me out properly or what?"
James smirks, "Are you going to say yes this time?"
You grin, "You'll just have to find out now, won't you? Tenth times the charm?"
"I don't think that's the expression—"
"Just ask me already, you idiot," you giggle.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter fluff#marauders#james potter smut#marauders fic#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter x you#marauders imagine#james potter drabble#james potter x fem!reader#james potter fic#marauders harry potter#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#james potter x y/n#james potter imagine#maraduers harry potter#hp marauders#harry potter fanfiction#marauders fanart#aaron taylor johnson#james potter imagines#marauders imagines#james potter blurb#hp fanfic#hp#marauder james potter#harry potter
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The Pit
COD masterlist
Part 1/2 - Part 2
Ghost/Soap/female reader
6.3k words - AO3
Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.
Winter in the mountains can be cruel.
This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable.
Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.
There are predators who thrive.
“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles.
“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top.
“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod.
“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.”
“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.
“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts.
“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.”
Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights.
Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse.
The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one.
Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind.
An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.
Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded.
You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area.
You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling.
Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body.
It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm.
You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and-
You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath.
You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment.
Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding.
But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind.
Sleep.
You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.
There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.
You try to call for help, but you can’t.
You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.
You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.
Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel.
Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.
Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-
You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?
Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.
The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.
You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.
One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.
That’s when you see him.
A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.
“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.
“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.
“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.
“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.
It's snowing.
You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.
You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.
This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened?
And why do you hurt so fucking bad?
“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.
“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.
“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”
“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.
“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.
“Nnrgh-“
“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.
Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.
“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”
“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.
“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”
“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?
“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember?
“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.
“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?
“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?
“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?
“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.
“I don’t… why-“
“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.
“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate?
“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?
“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?
“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.
“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.
“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”
Oh. Oh no.
“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“
“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye.
“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.
“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip.
This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-
There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-
“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.
You sleep and wake in a haze.
You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.
You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.
You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.
You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.
You sleep.
You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.
You sleep.
You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.
“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”
“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.
“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.
“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.
“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”
“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.
“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”
“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:
“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.
“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down.
Still…
Didn’t Johnny kiss you?
The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.
The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.
“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.
“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.
You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.
You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.
“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.
“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.
Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.
“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.
You’re naked. They’re fully clothed.
“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?
“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.
“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”
“A treat?” You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.
“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones.
“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.
“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.
“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.
“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”
“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.
All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience.
“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.
“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.
“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.
“Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.
“Fuck.” You hiss.
“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.
You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.
“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.
What just happened?
You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.
The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.
“Sweet dreams, little dove.”
#peaches writes#dub con#ghost x soap x reader#soap x ghost x reader#ghoap x reader#john soap mactavish#ghost x reader x soap#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#Ghoap#soap x reader
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DpxDc AU: Soulmates only meet in the afterlife...And Danny is dead half of the time.
It was the general consensus that Soulmates did indeed exist, and that there were a couple of hints to know if your soulmate was, but you wouldn’t know for certain until you died. This was often devastating for widows of non-soulmates but... Widows could hear the voices of and feel the phantom touches of their Soulmates. That after their loved one passed away, they didn’t truly leave them.
Soulmates always traveled to the infinite realms together in a pair, unwilling to pass on without the other. This leads to the ghosts that seemingly never moved on and gave Danny so much grief, they needed to pass the time until their loved one died some how.
Danny dies and feels himself talking to himself more often while transformed into Phantom, kicking butt and taking names aside. Just small things to reassure himself, nothing more than an instinct to process the situation he was in with this insane life he was living.
I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get out of this.
I swear to all the ancients that Casper High better make a statue in my honor.
Mom and Dad don’t mean it.
The fundraiser to rebuild Poltergeist Avenue is going to be ridiculous.
Mom and Dad wouldn’t mean it if they really knew.
Nasty burger really should rebrand but my goodness is this the best shit ever.
It takes a few years to think about the fact that he might have a soulmate who could hear him- how unlikely would that be though? It’s not like he was haunting the person, so it probably wasn’t any big issue. Was there a proximity thing involved? Clockwork sighs and gives him no true answers.
...
Tim has been hearing the voice of his Soulmate for years. Not...All the time though. He’d mapped out the time frame by which he did hear the additional male voice, accumulated enough data to determine a general profile and geotagged a few of the landmarks mentioned to find the most likely town. Restaurants, street names, highschools, and notable names all help Tim to find what he’s looking for. The concerning amount of comments on his soulmates parents make Tim’s blood boil and motivate him all the more.
Thing is...Amity Park is under a complete media blackout. The challenge nearly makes him swoon, as if his dead soulmate were leading him towards his favorite hobby (taking down corrupt groups of assholes with too much power, cult or government, was his ideal pass time). He just wants to know who his soulmate was. He wants to know who is waiting for him.
Arriving undercover and unannounced as a random tourist, Tim cannot find his soulmates grave. Can’t find anything about the person who died all those years ago and had spoken in his ear ever since. He’s about to storm the Mayor’s office, his plans for the GIW already in motion, when a ghost attack begins.
Phantom arrives and suddenly Tim understands who exactly he’s been looking for. Getting into the crosshairs of the fight, Tim pulls a few RR moves and Phantom cautiously approaches him after capturing the assailant ghost.
“I’m here because you’re my soulmate, and it’s very interesting that you only talk to me during non-business hours. Care to explain what you’re doing between 9 am and 3 pm, Monday through Friday?”
“Uh... High school mostly. Wait you can hear me? You’re my soulmate?”
Cue Danny de-transformation, explanation of his death and ability to die on command, and Tim’s very softball interrogation with his presentation on how he found Danny through the small conversational phrases.
They kiss as the GIW headquarters explode in the background.
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc#dc x dp#dc crossover#dp crossover#danny phantom#tim drake#this could work with a number of other soulmates in the JL#It would be interesting with Jason or Damian also since they've died and come back#that got more complicated than i wanted to write tho lmao#soulmate au
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Need Help?
pairing: nanami x reader
summary:with the upcoming test you have for biology your boyfriend has quite the sly way to help you study.
cw:explicit content, edging, cockwarming, pet names, sexual tension, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, praise, teasing
a/n:here I am with some more jjk content since I've been lacking in my posting for the past few months with school and all, hope this is a read you can all enjoy as always ;)
You still can’t believe how you ended up here, but there you were nestled on Nanami’s lap at his place with his cock right there at the walls of your clenching wet pussy. There you sat with all your clothes strewn into some pile on the floor while he sat there practically half clothed giving you that ever so smug look while you mercilessly begged for his pleasure barely able to move with the tight grip he held at your waist.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
You had just left your last class for the evening on a regular Friday night, it was the perfect time to be hanging out with friends and probably even get wasted at a club or two. But, with your most recent grade in biology dropping down to a 50% you grew a little concerned with the possibility of failing the next assessment that would be just the following Monday.
‘I advise you get yourself situated with a tutor.’,was your biology teacher's last words to you as she handed out the papers on your way to leave the lecture hall.
“What an asshole”, you thought to yourself as you made your way from the train station as you texted your boyfriend furiously about your frustration with the professor’s attitude.
‘Omg Kento I can’t believe my professor and her damn attitude, I know I need a tutor with my grade and all but she doesn’t have to be in my ass about it :(‘. You texted him and like always you could already see he had read the message and was ready to respond in a matter of seconds.
‘Your grade? Are you failing a class?’, he had texted you, and you could already feel the overbearing concern from his side.
It had been known from the start of your relationship but your boyfriend Kento Nanami was a nerd, almost like the ones in movies. Constantly studying, always in the library, and you could never catch this man with a late assignment. Even if he was practically on his deathbed he would make sure he turned in that one history essay.
And funny enough the way you two first met had been through him as your tutor in the first place when through enough sessions together you found yourselves in a heated make our session somewhere buried in the back shelves of the college’s library.
‘It’s nothing, it's just a simple 50%. The semester only started so by my next exam I should be able to fix it’, you texted back trying to make excuses for your poor scores, but you knew Kento wasn’t there for that bull where you would constantly procrastinate.
As a new message flew into your inbox.
‘Cancel any plans you have, you're coming over to my place later to study’, he had texted back.
‘Take a nap or whatever you need to do, I want you over before 7’, Nanami added as well. It was a strange request that even made you a little frustrated at how he was trying to order you around.
Even so, you always enjoyed a good time at your boyfriend’s place. And, who knows, probably you’ll get something out of it by the end of the night ;).
So there you were just having woken up from a nap an hour prior as you began to get yourself ready. Luckily, you didn’t mind coming over either as you two lived just a block or two away as in just a matter of minutes you were already in front of his door ringing his bell.
“Hey”, he gave you a soft smile before wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in for a soft kiss on the cheek.
He may have been strict when it came to work and how he felt about grades but he wasn’t an asshole. He cared about you to the fullest extent he could at the end of the day
So As Kento was helping you with your jacket, put it in some closet nearby you could see he was clearly serious about studying. There across his coffee table in his living room was filled with worksheets, and even some books on the subject of biology. “Oh you meant actual studying?”, you whispered under your breath not even realizing he heard you.
“What did you think we were doing?”. He questioned taking a quick look over his shoulder as he was bringing you two drinks back over to the coffee table as he made himself comfortable next to you.
“No nothing Nanami”, you laughed softly which coaxed a small smile as well from his previously stern expression. “Well, have some liquids in your system I know we’re gonna be doing a lot of talking”, he jokes back as he hands you your drink.
“Oh shut up”, you teased back but taking the beverage even so.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“Nanamiii, can we go on break.”, you whined to him as you dropped your pencil on the coffee table sitting back to give Nanami your best puppy dog eyes. You were sitting beside him on the couch only an hour and a few minutes into the study sesh yet already on your 10th break. But come on it wasn’t your fault when your hot ass boyfriend was right beside you watching you keenly as you worked. Like how the fuck were you supposed to focus when all that fogged your mind was thoughts of him.
From the way his well manicured yet veiny hands ran over your workbook reading over your work. The way he would constantly reassure you as his fingers ran long and languid movements along your spine bringing an ache to your core.
All these actions left you with nothing but scenarios of him fucking you from behind right there on that couch, kissing down your neck as his hands ran along your thighs, anything would make you calmer if it wasn’t for how handsome Nanami was even minding his own business.
“Are you listening?”, he called out as his palm was over your thigh, pinching it softly to catch your attention. You could see on his face he was slightly worried but a bit of annoyance lied in his face as well. “It’s only been an hour since we started and at least 80% was spent on these breaks”, he frowned.
It killed you to see Nanami this way when the last thing you wanted to do was piss him off. “I'm sorry it’s just I can’t focus alright? From the worksheets to the flashcards, do you have any other methods?” You spoke up as you watched a small grin form on his face and even a suspicious bulge peeking from the zipper at his pants.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
So there it finally was as Nanami’s cock was buried deep within the brim of your walls. “So remind me what the calvin cycle is, hm?”Nanami whispered low as his finger took a casual flick at your aching clit that was begging for his touch as he continued to edge you even so.
“N- Namai?, please you know I-,” you whimper. This had been going on for a third of an hour or so. Nanami would ask you a question from your study sheet he had set up for you and you would answer. simple, right?
And without you even being able to finish your sentence another firm slap landed on your bare ass as he had slipped off your pants from earlier.
“Wrong”, he spoke cockily. You knew your boyfriend was more experienced then he put on, as even during your first time together you never expected all that he had done that night. But what was happening here was nothing compared to the original Nanami you saw in this bedroom. Usually he was such a caring lover as he catered to all your possible needs during your passionate nights.
Now a contrast was brought as Nanami was showing pure dominance not taking any of your whiny pleads as he brought another snap that you had mewling his name like a bitch in heat.
“Don’t act like you don’t like this, either way you better prepare yourself because until you can remember this entire sheet we’re gonna keep at this” he continued on forcing you to look right at him as if tears weren’t rolling right off your pretty little eyes. With his words you nodded as he gladly wiped your tears with a small comforting smile, “Good girl”.
“So tell me what's binary fission?”, he now asked as you tried your best even in your fuzzy thoughts brimmed with the feeling of Nanami’s member throbbing from inside you. “Um, does it have to do with things with a single cell”, you huffed out as you could already feel the way your legs shaked and quivered as you tried to hold yourself up with the firm grip he held at your waist, and you could already feel your eyelids grow heavy just the same.
Yet Nanami notices quickly moves his hands to your hips and pushes you up, so that you're around halfway down on his cock. you let out a small shudder, and you can tell your almost there just is not correct yet. “And, what else”, he spoke as he pulled your face in close with a firm grip on your scalp.
“Reproducing”, you answer immediately and almost just as fast you're rewarded. Nanami allows you to ride him again. you move up and down a little quickly, scared that your boyfriend will rob you of the feeling before it's even begun. And the entire time you watch as he eyes your eager appearance as he pulls you in from that pull he had on the back of your head for a sloppy and heeded kiss.
“Nanami~, I want more-”, you whimpered as you grinded up against him eagerly but the moment was quickly stopped as he grabbed at your hips again and brought a slap down on your ass once more. “Fuck-, just answer the next question and we can finish for tonight”, he groaned close to letting you keep up with your grind on his cock.
Nanami knew this was supposed to be a sort of punishment for your lack of focus but your pretty face ever so ruined by the smear of your runny makeup, your perfect bare body out in the open for him to use as he pleased, at this point fuck the work he wanted you right over this coffee table fuckong your brains out.
“Tell me what a cell is.”, he asked, simply giving you a confused look. “But, Nanami, that's not on the-”. Quietly your words are shut down with another smack as you whimper at the slam against your rear.
“Just answer the fuckin question”, he practically begged you, so once you dumbly stutter, genuinely unsure of the answer Nanami can’t even care if its right.
From there you’re bent over the coffee table as your eyes are drooping, body aching and face hot as you stutter out your dumbfounded words of pleasure.
:)
“We should study like this more often”, he chuckles as you curled up against his chest as you were watching some stupid movie on the tv in front of you two.
“I bet you remember way more now.”
#anime#fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk smut#jujutsu sorcerer#jjk fanfic#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami x y/n#nanami kento x you#jjk nanami#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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episode two: the mall rats
Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”
“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.
It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.
Summary: dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n
Words: 13.2k
Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !
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There are dandelions all around you.
Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.
You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.
The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.
You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.
Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.
“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”
It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.
Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.
Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”
“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.
“But why?”
“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”
You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”
“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.
“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”
Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.
“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.
–
Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.
“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”
“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”
Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.
Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.
You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.
As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.
“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”
He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”
You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”
“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”
“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”
“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”
You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”
“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”
“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”
Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.
As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.
Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.
As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”
“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.
It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.
“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”
His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.
The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.
It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.
Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”
Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.
“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.
Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”
“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”
Billy doesn’t say anything.
You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.
Neither one of you talk about this.
–
As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.
You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”
“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”
“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.
When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.
“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”
“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”
Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”
“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”
Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”
Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.
You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.
“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”
Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”
“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.
“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”
You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”
He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”
His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”
Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”
“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”
The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”
“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”
“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.
Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”
“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.
“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”
You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”
Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.
Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.
When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”
Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”
“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”
Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”
“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”
–
When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.
“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.
By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.
It’s the Henderson charm, really.
“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”
Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”
“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”
“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”
“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.
“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”
“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”
Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.
“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.
It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.
It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.
While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”
“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.
Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”
Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”
“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.
“Yeah, five minutes too long.”
“Your breath reeks.”
“You have a pimple on your chin.”
You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”
“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”
Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”
“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.
Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.
Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”
Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”
“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”
Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”
You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”
“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”
“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.
You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”
Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”
He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.
Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.
In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”
You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”
“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.
Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”
“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.
“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.
“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.
As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”
“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”
You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”
“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.
Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”
“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.
“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”
You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”
“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”
Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.
“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”
“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.
Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”
“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.
It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.
Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”
“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”
“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.
You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”
“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”
Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”
“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”
“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.
“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.
Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”
“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”
You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”
“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”
“Touche.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.
Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”
Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.
Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.
You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.
Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”
“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.
“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.
“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.
Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”
“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkin’s Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.
Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.
Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”
You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”
“It means that we can never catch a break–”
“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”
Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”
Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”
You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”
“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.
With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”
“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”
“With what?”
Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”
Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”
Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”
–
It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.
Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.
After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”
“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”
“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.
Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”
“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”
“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.
As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.
“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.
“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”
Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”
You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”
“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”
“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.
Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”
Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.
Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.
Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.
So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”
“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”
“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”
“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”
You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.
Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”
“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.
“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”
Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.
You wish you could tell her the truth.
“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.
“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”
Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”
“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”
Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.
Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”
“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.
Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”
“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”
“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”
Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”
“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.
Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.
Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”
You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”
“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”
Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”
Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”
“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.
You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”
Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.
–
True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.
With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.
“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.
You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”
“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”
“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.
“We’ve got our first sentence!”
You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”
“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.
Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”
Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”
“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”
“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”
And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.
“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”
The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or MIke, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.
“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.
Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”
You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.
El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.
You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”
Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.
“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”
Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”
You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”
“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”
Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.
“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”
You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.
There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”
When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.
You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”
“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.
You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”
“Sure, likely story.”
“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”
“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”
“Okay–”
Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”
“I think she looks nice–”
Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”
“What is she, your little pet?”
El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”
“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.
You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.
“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.
You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”
“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.
El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”
“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.
Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”
Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”
You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”
“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”
“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”
El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”
Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.
Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.
As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”
You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.
Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.
Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”
Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”
“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”
Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”
“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”
He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.
–
Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.
You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.
“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”
There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.
“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.
“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.
Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”
Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.
“Maybe it’s a code?”
“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”
“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.
Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”
You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.
It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”
“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.
“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”
Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.
“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”
“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”
Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”
“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.
Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”
“Like a super secret spy code.”
“That’s a total stretch.”
You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”
Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”
“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.
Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.
“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.
“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”
“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.
Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”
Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”
“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.
Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”
“Evil Russians.”
“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”
Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.
“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.
Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”
“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.
Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”
Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”
You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.
She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”
“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”
“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”
“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.
“Or a weapon.”
As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.
Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”
“I need–do you have a quarter?”
“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.
“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.
Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”
“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.
“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.
As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”
Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”
“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”
Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”
The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”
“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.
You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.
Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.
Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”
He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.
“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”
You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”
Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”
Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.
“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.
He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”
You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.
“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.
Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.
Somehow, you always end up here.
–
Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.
It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.
The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.
When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.
Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.
You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”
“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.
“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.
You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”
Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”
Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.
“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”
“Oh, of course.”
You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.
When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”
She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.
True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.
“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.
Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”
You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.
Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.
“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.
“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”
Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.
“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”
You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.
Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.
Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”
The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”
You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”
He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”
A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.
When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.
Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.
Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.
You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.
Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.
July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.
As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.
You hope it’s enough.
-
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#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#nya#m's writing#this one foreshadows loooooads#like so much#i feel so sneaky
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Gonna ask me to dance, Cowboy?
Jasper Hale X Reader
Summary: Reader was in an accident that damaged her spinal cord and left her temporarily wheelchair bound. It's during this time that the Cullens move to Forks, and she meets and falls in love with Jasper. A little bit of your story, wrapped up with a big surprise at the end. Requested by @twilightlover2007
Words: 2457
Note: Obviously went with Jasper and boy did this take on a life of its own! I hope you like it!!! It's a little cheesy, but that's what I like.
Disclaimer: I have limited knowledge of temporary paralysis and life with a wheelchair. If I'm wrong about anything, please let me know!
---
The accident happened before the Cullens moved to Forks. You don’t remember much of it, which the doctor says can be common given the head trauma you experienced. All you know is that you were driving home from a game and a drunk driver decided not to stop at the red light.
The accident left you with some severe damage to your spinal cord. Not irreversible, but enough to strand you in a wheelchair. It took almost two months alone for the fractures in your leg to heal, and then another to find a good physical therapist in Seattle who could work with you.
In the midst of this, the Cullens showed up. And you fell for Jasper like a newborn fawn trying to walk for the first time. A fitting comparison considering your legs worked just as well.
Your friends thought you were crazy. Afterall, he was the least…approachable of the group. Always frowning. Not at all talkative. Everyone thought he was a bit of a grouch. But you knew better.
You met the real Jasper the first Friday after they arrived. It was another game day, meaning your little high school was going all out cheering for the team throughout the day (even though everyone knew you didn’t stand a fighting chance).
You were making your way to the pep rally at the end of the day when someone jostled you from behind, sending your wheelchair right over the sidewalk’s ledge and into the grass. You cursed the school’s outdoor hallways so hard that day. It was raining, as it always was, and the moment your wheels hit the ground, you could feel them sink into the mud.
You were effectively trapped.
Or at least, you thought you were. Until a certain blond appeared out of nowhere.
---
“Are you alright, miss?”
You huff out a laugh, trying to keep a smile despite it all, “Yah, yes, I’m okay. Just a little stu-”
When you look up, the words get stuck in your throat. Jasper Hale. Jasper Hale is standing right in front of you, in the rain, hair already sticking to his face, and despite the concern dripping from his features, you can’t help but notice how absolutely gorgeous he is. How did you not notice before?
Before you can stop yourself, the thoughts spill out of your mouth, “Wow, you’re really pretty.”
Shock flickers across the blond’s face, though it’s quickly replaced by a soft smirk that makes his eyes crinkle just a little, somehow making him look more attractive. You blink. And blink. And blink. Until what you said finally sinks in.
Your face goes impossibly red.
“I am so sorry,” you squeak, eyes wide. His smile only widens when you continue to sputter, “I’m fine! Really. And um, I, you can, you don’t have to worry! I’ll just-”
You try to push yourself forward, anything to escape this moment, but your wheels just spin futilely in the mud. You’re not going anywhere, not without help, and Jasper seems to know that, his gold eyes glinting with amusement. You purse your lips, face only going darker.
“Would you like help, darlin’?” Jasper asks, voice low and honey-like, and wow - it seems so unfair for someone to look so handsome and sound like that too.
You cast him an embarrassed smile, “Yes please. If you really don’t mind, that is.”
The blond chuckles, the sound making your heart flutter. He makes it look effortless, the way he maneuvers you out of the grass and back onto the hallway sidewalk. You hum happily when you’re back on solid ground, wheeling back and forth a bit to dislodge the mud from your rims.
“That’s better,” you sigh, spinning back to face him, “Thank you so much.”
Jasper nods, “It was my pleasure, miss.”
You roll your eyes playfully, “Please, call me (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n). Miss makes me feel so old, and I’m like, a hundred percent sure you’re older than me.”
Something flickers behind his eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it came.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/n).” You narrow your eyes, but he only grins a little teasingly, which you refuse to admit makes your pulse race even more. “The name’s Jasper Hale.”
“Nice to meet you too, Jasper.” Officially at least.
“I suppose you were headin’ to the rally?”
Your nose scrunches,“Yep. Before the impromptu shower, at least.”
“Would y’mind if I accompany you?”
Blinking, you glance up at him in surprise. Jasper just looks down at you, face still set in a charming, calm smile, so different from the scowl you’d grown accustomed to in passing. He’s being genuine. Actually genuine. It makes your face go warm all over again.
“I think I’d like that.”
---
You don’t know what possessed Jasper Hale to help you that day, but he did.
From then on, you and Jasper became friends. He was still a bit odd, but his whole family was. And you liked them. Even Rosalie, whose bluntness was refreshing compared to most of the girls at your school. You befriended all of them, but you and Jasper were particularly close.
Falling for him was easy. Between the soft smile he seemed to reserve only for you and the way he always supported you, how could you not? You realized it after a particular hard day of physical therapy, when your legs were aching and it felt like you were making absolutely no progress. It was a day that Jasper offered to pick you up because your dad had to work late.
---
Jasper can tell you’re upset before he even reaches you.
You sit at the entrance to the rehab center, head ducked, fingers fidgeting in your lap. You see Jasper’s shoes first before he’s kneeling in front of you, honey eyes dark with concern as they flicker over your features. You look back at him, eyes blurry with unshed tears.
The blond’s gaze softens, “Oh, darlin’.”
And you break.
All the pent up frustration and guilt you’ve been holding onto comes pouring out. You manage to stay quiet, barely, but your whole body trembles with your tears as you collapse forward into Jasper’s arms. He holds you close, not saying a word, just humming softly into your hair.
The longer you stay like that, the calmer you feel. It’s like magic, the storm of your emotions calming to a dull roar, until you can take in a few deep breaths
It’s only when your hiccuping goes quiet that he draws you back, eyes scanning you again. You glance down, feeling too raw, too vulnerable like this, with his thoughtful gaze burning over you. But you also feel undeniably safe somehow.
“You’re doin’ so well, darlin,” he eventually murmurs, voice low, soothing your frayed edges. “I know you’ve been hurtin’ and you’re feelin’ like giving up, but we’re all so proud of you. Someday you’ll be back on your feet and I’ll be here ‘til that day comes. And long after it.”
It’s the most you think you’ve ever heard him say at once. His words ring with something so genuine, you can’t help but melt.
“Thanks, Jasper.”
“Always, darlin.”
---
It felt like more than a promise about that day. More than just a friend being there for another friend. And it was the moment you realized you really liked Jasper Hale.
It was only a matter of time before you learned about his world.
None of them told you, of course. They couldn’t. But the truth was hard to deny when a lone vampire came through Forks and almost killed you.
You knew it was a bad idea to go out by yourself. Even though your legs were getting stronger from your perseverance in physical therapy, you still couldn’t walk by yourself. Which made you quite the easy target.
Luckily, Jasper was just in time to save you.
After the shock, though, came all your questions. Why did that man try to bite you? How did Jasper throw him all the way down the alley? How did he know where to find you and that you were in trouble?
A silently distraught Jasper ended up taking you back to the Cullen house. The air was tense, except for Alice, who was more than excited. She foresaw it all, of course.
Carlisle explained it all to you as Jasper paced off to the side. A scowl lingered on his lips, his eyes set on something distant. The moment you felt a flicker of panic though, he was there, kneeling at your side, smoothing a hand over your shoulder. You covered his with your own, holding on so tightly that if he were human, he'd probably be hissing in pain. You had a good grip strength from wheeling around for a few months.
It took time to settle into this new reality. Jasper gave you space to process, scared to push you too hard, but you wouldn’t have it. Vampire or not, you couldn’t stand the distance. You hadn’t realized just how ingrained he was in your life until then. Whenever something happened, no matter how small it was, you wanted to rush to him and tell him everything. You hated life without him.
So you ended up asking him out.
Dating came as naturally as breathing. Nothing changed. He still drove you to physical therapy and walked you to all of your classes. Only now, he would press a kiss to your forehead when you parted ways and take you on dates after every p.t. appointment.
You had never been happier.
That’s when you came up with an idea for the upcoming school formal.
---
“You ready, darlin?” Jasper pauses at your side of the car, wheelchair pulled out and set up behind him.
You grin, squashing the nerves buzzing in your chest before he can sense them, “Yes! Now help me out of here, mister.”
The blond chuckles. He helps you down from the car, touch overwhelmingly tender, as if he’s scared of breaking you. Which, you suppose, he could. You settle into your wheelchair with practiced ease, your dress only causing a little trouble.
The night starts off perfectly. You take your pictures and meet up with his siblings inside the venue. Everything is beautiful. As usual, Forks high went all out with the theme. It’s something cheesy, like ‘a night under the stars’, everything draped in a deep navy blue, the ceiling decorated with shimmering stars.
When the dancing starts, you give Alice the cue. She sends you a little wink before dashing off to the dj booth. You catch Edward grinning out of the corner of your eye. It was impossible to keep him out of it, what with the whole mind reading thing, so you just shoot the man a playful glare. He stifles a chuckle, making an excuse to go get some punch, despite the fact he can’t drink it.
Sighing softly, you steel your nerves, spinning back to your boyfriend.
“Hey,” you call, catching the cuff of his suit.
Jasper’s eyes turn to you, and oh, wow, you’ll never get used to that. The way he looks at you, it’s like you’re one of the stars decorating the night. His eyes glow with an overwhelming warmth and something so so fond. All of a sudden it feels like you’re the only two in the room, everything else fading away.
“Yes, darlin?”He hums, slipping your hand into his to brush his thumb over your knuckles.
The touch sends sparks cascading over your skin, settling in your chest among the wild butterflies. You bite your lip to try and hold back a massive smile.
“You gonna ask me to dance, cowboy?” You tease.
A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.
Jasper makes a show of pretending to tip a hat, voice bright with amusement, “My apologies ma’am. I shouldn’t have kept you waitin’.”
“Mmm, I’ll forgive you,” you hum, biting back a laugh, “just this once, Mister Hale.”
“That’s very kind of you, darlin. Now, would you give me the pleasure of escortin’ you to the dance floor?”
“Why, of course.”
Jasper figures he’ll hold you up as you dance, or maybe spin you while you sit. Anything you want.
Except you do neither of those things. Instead, you gather every ounce of your strength, and shakily push yourself to your feet. Your wheelchair disappears (thank you Alice) and you stand there, all on your own.
After a few seconds, you’re certain that your legs won’t give out, and glance up at the blond expectantly.
Jasper stares back at you, eyes wide, brows arched. It almost looks like he’s forgotten to breathe, his whole body rigid. Shocked. Your grin finally breaks loose, so wide it makes your cheeks ache. Squeezing his hand, you take a tentative step closer. A little wobbly, but you stay standing. It’s only one step, but -
You’re walking.
In an instant, Jasper’s hands are cupping your face, and it’s only then you realize you’re crying. Tears race down around your smile and he’s quick to wipe them away, drawing you close so he can rest your foreheads together.
“My Lord, darlin-” He lets out a breathless laugh. “-you’re goin’ t’make this old man’s heart start again.”
You giggle, curling your arms around his neck, “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Been a long time since I’ve been surprised.”
“But I did?”
“Yes, you certainly did.”
Jasper leans down, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft, featherlight, and you feel like you’re floating. It’s perfect. Everything about it is perfect and so much better than you expected.
The vampire pulls back, just enough to whisper against your lips, “You’re amazin’ darlin. Absolutely amazin’.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you hum back, “Now, dance with me, cowboy.���
Your song comes on. The one you first danced with Jasper to in your kitchen, when he set you on his feet and held you close to support your weight. A knowing grin falls across his lips, his eyes creasing as he looks down at you.
“It would be my pleasure.”
Unlike that first time, you don’t have to stand on his feet. You don’t even have to clutch onto him to stay upright. Instead, you rest your hands on his shoulders, and Jasper traces his along your waist. The two of you move together slowly, perfectly.
By the end of it, you’re leaning against him, head tucked under his chin, just soaking in the feeling of his arms around you, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. Your legs are shaking, but you don’t care.
This is everything you could ever ask for.
---
I had fun writing this!! It came really clearly for me, though it ended up being a lot longer than I thought because I wanted to add so much exposition.
#reader insert#x reader#reader#jasper hale#jasper whitlock#twilight saga#twilight#jasper hale x reader#jasper x reader#jasper whitlock x reader#sorry for any mistakes#correct me if i'm wrong
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Sweater Weather | M.S.
summary: reader makes a crochet sweater for her boyfriend matt. she later sees him wearing it in their next podcast
pairing: matt x fem!reader
a/n: tbh i dont love this fic but i hope yall like it. a nick fic and a chris fic as well as a new chapter of lets trip are on their way so be on the lookout.
wc: 878
cw: fluff, that should be it
Matt had been your boyfriend for almost 2 years by now. You had been in plenty of videos and even a few podcasts and for the most part the fans really loved you. That had been a huge concern for you and Matt, so when the fans had an uproar of support and love you found yourself feeling much more comfortable.
On that specific day you had been crocheting while watching some of the triplets videos along with some of Larray’s. You had wanted to make Matt a sweater ever since you started crocheting but you had kept this little project a secret. Your phone began to ring and you looked down to see a facetime from Matt. Immediately you grabbed your phone and picked up, smiling at Matt’s face. “Hey baby” You smiled and waved at Matt through the phone, setting it up so he could only see your face. “Hi love, how’s your day been?” You continued to crochet the last few rows of the sweater, smiling down at your work. “Good, we just got done filming for Friday. How has yours been?” You shrugged and began folding the sweater. It wasn’t the best work but it looked good enough that you didn’t feel the need to remake it. It was blue and white and black, it was fluffy and had some skulls and hearts on it. “Good, I’ve been working on a little something for you actually.” Matt’s eyes grew wide and he made a small o with his mouth before smiling.” “Can I see??” You grinned and shook your head. “No but you can come over and I’ll give it to you.” Matt fake pouted before you heard some rustling. Soon after you hear a few keys jingling. “I’ll be over in 10.” You nodded, biting your thumb nail with a smile. “Ok, see you soon.” The call hung up shortly after and you turned off the TV before properly folding up the sweater and putting it in an old present bag.
After a few more minutes you hear your front door open and you walk around the corner to find Matt. You immediately give him a hug, burying your face in his chest. “Hey love, you miss me?” Matt chuckled through his question since you hugged him so harshly. You mumbled and nodded, smiling and looking up at him. “Yeah.” He smiled down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You wanna see your gift?” Matt eagerly nodded before letting you go. You grabbed his hand before leading him into your living room. You grabbed the little bag and handed it to him, smiling and watching him open the gift. He pulled the pale blue sweater from the bag and a big smile crossed his lips as he examined it. “Oh my god, did you make this?” You nodded with a sheepish grin across your face. “Oh my god, Y/N! I love it!” Your cheeks became warm and you moved to hug Matt who enveloped you quickly. He hugged you tight around the waist and picked you up, spinning you in a circle before kissing you. You kissed back, your hands finding their way in his messy hair. Soon you pulled away and smiled at the boy. Your forehead rested against his as you both caught your breath. "Are you gonna wear it all the time?" You asked, knowing your question came from a teasing place. Matt grinned wide, finally setting you down and allowing his hands to rest lazily on your hips. "Of course I am. I'm tempted to never take it off, baby." Your cheeks tinted pink at his reply, mainly because you knew he was dead serious. Your own lips curled into a smile as you wrapped your arms around his waist in a tight hug.
About 5 days later you got the notification that Matt and his brothers had posted their weekly podcast. You of course planned to watch it but as you went to click on the video you noticed what Matt was wearing in the thumbnail. It was the sweater you had made him. You smiled to yourself, biting the top of your thumb nail before pressing play on the video. You finished the video and started scrolling through the comments, a few were about Matt’s outfit which made you grin from ear to ear. As you basked in the glory of having both Matt and his fairly harsh fans like your sweater, your phone began to ring. It was a facetime from Matt. You picked up and smiled, “I liked your outfit in the podcast baby.” Matt grinned and moved the camera to show that he was still wearing it. “When did you guys film that podcast?” “Oh like, the day after you gave it to me.” You smiled, nodding in a sudden understanding. “Well I’m glad you like it.” Matt smiled, bringing his phone closer to him, as if he could hug you through the screen. “I love it baby, thank you so much for making it for me.” Your cheeks became warm as you mimicked his movements, holding the phone close to you. “I love you Matt.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love you too Y/N.”
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagines#bobawitch writes
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Who did this?
Harvey Specter x fem!reader
Masterlist
A/N: Wow another one? I'm going to do one more after this and then answer an ask and put all my harvey fics on one post. Then after that who knows. I have an awesome aragorn x reader fic I've been playing around with so I might work on that. Definitely going to try and do more one shots to improve my writing. I really enjoy it but depression makes it a tad hard.
Anyways! Enjoy!
TW: **This story focuses on the physical abuse between the Reader character and her boyfriend. I am not responsible for the content you consume so please be advised. There are explanations of abuse, but no explicit scenes of abuse occurring.** abuse (physical and emotional), hurt/comfort, Harvey being very sweet, mention of painkillers but I'm talking like 2 tylenol or ibuprofen or something
Word Count: 2.5k
You run across the street to the Pearson Hardman office building, just about soaking wet. All that protected you from the rain was a newspaper you bought right outside your building. You prayed all the way to work that it wouldn’t just completely break under the force of the rain. You had spent almost thirty minutes on makeup, twenty five more minutes than you usually spend. To go along with that, you couldn’t find an available taxi because of the rain. Not even the pain in your shoulder had let up, despite taking a couple painkillers.
Your boyfriend had gotten a bit angry with you last night after you went out socializing with some friends. It wasn’t your smartest move. You knew he didn’t like you to hang out with your guy friends without his permission. But you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The feelings of your heart conflicted with your rational mind. All you know is you love him and he loves you. Which is why he gets upset when you go out without him. But then why wouldn’t he make time to go out with me alone?
You shook those thoughts out of your head as you swiped your card into the building. You took the time in the elevator to dry off with your sweater. Which was consequently soaked. Curses rang out in the elevator- cursing the sweater, the weather, your boyfriend, you didn’t know.
You sat down in the chair next to Donna and exchanged greetings. “How are we looking today, Donna?” You smiled as you saw Harvey sitting in his office. The only person getting into the office earlier than him was Donna.
“Full day as always. Oh, Jonathan from accounting asked for Harvey to look at his expense accounts for this last month. He won’t of course- but as long as they get to Harvey’s desk, Jon won’t speak another word about it until the next thousand dollar dinner with a client.” Donna goes back to typing rapidly on her computer.
“And then the cycle continues,” You let out a hearty laugh for the first time since you left work last Friday. “I’ll get on that. Anything else while I’m in accounting?” You gather up different file folders that you need to take down to accounting anyway.
“Nope, say hi to Mr. Expense Forms for me!”
“Will do, Donna.”
You quickly walk to the elevator and down to the accounting department for Jonathan's expense reports. Harvey is still in the same spot as he was when you left as you open the door to his office. You make sure to open the door with your left arm, with the papers in your right.
“I got a delivery for Harvey Specter from Mr. Jonathan Expense Forms from accounting. Fuming as always. You might want to lay off the fancy dinners for a week.” Harvey rolls his eyes at the notion.
“Sweetheart, you think I’m that good at my job that I don’t need fancy dinners to win over clients? You must think very highly of me.” He chuckles smugly as he writes words you can barely read on a legal pad. You deal his snark back just the same.
“Of course I think you’re good. You’re my boss, I’m legally obligated to think so.” You both laugh until you reach with your right arm to set the folder on his desk. You let out a noise just loud enough for Harvey to be concerned.
“What happened to your shoulder?”
“It’s nothing, I just fell.”
At this, Harvey looks up. You were never one to be clumsy, let alone fall so hard as to hurt yourself. As Harvey’s eyes assess you, he notices a large dark bruise on your wrist- both your wrists in fact.
His silence worries you, and you follow his eyes to your wrists. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry-” You quickly try to pull your sleeves down to cover the spots. Remnants of rain water drove through the foundation.
Harvey takes a few deep breaths as you stand there in shocked silence. For the smallest second, you think he’s going to hurt you. Rationally, you know the notion is absurd, but the mind that has dealt with angry men keeps you silent.
Harvey finally speaks after taking a minute to process the information he’s pieced together.
“Who did this to you?”
You’re taken aback, that small part of your mind thinking he would call you unprofessional or weak. “My... My boyfriend. He just gets a little annoyed with me sometimes. It’s truly nothing. I’ll do better to cover them-”
“A good man being annoyed never results in bruises. How did this happen?” Harvey has to go against every part of his nature not to rush out and ask Donna everything about this man, then subsequently find him. He’s thinking that those boxing lessons are actually going to come in handy.
But he knows he can’t. He knows that if he moves like that, or moves at all, he’d terrify you. He can see how your eyes dart around. Towards the door, towards your wrists, and towards himself. He didn’t know how you would react if he even stood up.
“I fell into a bookshelf. He pushed me a bit and I lost balance.”
“You mean he shoved you into a shelf.”
The way Harvey phrased it made you feel uncomfortable. “That’s a bit harsh, but you could phrase it like that.”
He stared at you in disbelief. This wasn’t the woman he saw on a daily basis. The woman that dealt with almost every slimy man that came into the building. The woman that he had slowly fallen in love with since she arrived here.
The woman before him seemed like a shell of the woman he met three years ago, and he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next.
“Do you know how you sound? You should never be bruised, shoved, or red eyed if you’re in love. That’s simply not how it is, and I’m sorry you’ve been made to believe that.”
At this, the dam broke.
Tears had been pooling in your eyes from the moment Harvey saw the bruises. But at his last words you let out a pained sob. It hadn't sunk in just how bad it had gotten. Your boyfriend had done this a few times before, but had never gotten so harsh until last night.
All the pain from the last year had come rushing in, and you were about to break right in front of your boss. Heavy tears started to run down your face. It was at this moment you were glad you never wore heavy makeup. You did your best to stifle the sounds and cries that tried to escape, but outside, Donna still saw through the glass.
Immediately, Donna calmly walks in. She takes one look at you, then Harvey. With a single nod from Harvey, Donna lets out a quiet "Car is on its way."
Unfortunately that made you feel even worse. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. This is completely unprofessional-"
Harvey finally stands up and walks towards you. At this point, what you need isn't space. He places his hands as gentle as can be on your arms to coax you to look at him. And you do, but looking at your red eyes and wet tears streaming down your face up close make his heart break even more.
"I don't give a shit about professionalism. Donna is getting the car and my driver is going to take you home-"
"No! He's there, he's been trying to move in with me and doesn't have a day job. He's just been staying there..." Your sentence trails off as you’re trying to process what you’re actually saying. Are you really doing this?
"Okay, then my driver will take you to my place and give you a key. We'll talk about the next steps when I get home. I'll get you some things from your apartment, okay?"
The tears were gone purely by witnessing Harvey be so calm, and you nodded slowly. All you could do was follow the sound of his voice. Like a lighthouse in a raging storm.
Donna entered the room quietly, "The car is here."
"Good. Donna will walk you out." You nodded, not saying a word. You turn to walk out of Harvey’s office, but he reaches out for your hand. “You’ll get through this, alright?”
You give a small smile. However, your mental state did not display the same sentiment. Your mind was reeling from what had happened in the last- what, 10? 15 minutes?
Donna leads you out the back staircase as a gesture of mercy. She knew that you didn’t want anyone else to see you like this. Harvey wasn’t exaggerating his view of you. Everyone in the office saw you as an unbreakable force.
Harvey’s driver opens the door for you. You look back at Donna, who is smiling sweetly. “I promise, Harvey will take care of everything. The only thing you need to worry about is taking care of yourself, okay?”
You gave Donna the same small smile you gave Harvey. You were at the edge of your sanity at this point. Now that you’ve gone through all the sadness and shock of the... situation, you were embarrassed. Angry. Angry at yourself for letting a man put his hands on you for a full year. Angry at Donna for knowing exactly what was going on and getting exactly what was needed. Angry at Harvey Specter for being so goddamn perfect that you couldn’t help the butterflies that always arose in your stomach whenever he talked to you. Angry at the world for putting you in this position.
Wordlessly, you exited the car once it stopped in front of Harvey’s building. You reached his apartment without thought. You took your heels off, and put your purse on the closest counter you saw.
And you cried.
_______
Harvey exited the elevator with a large box held in his hands. It was purely full of necessities. A week's change of clothes, toiletries, some books he knew were your favorite. Everything else he could buy new. He looked down and saw your heels on the ground and your purse on the table beside him.
Once he set down the box on the floor, he saw you. You looked even worse than at the office. Your beautiful hair was frizzy and pulled in odd directions. The worst part was the absolutely destroyed look on your face. Eyeshadow and liner were smudged on your red tinged eyes which stared into space in front of you.
Harvey sees your body stiff as a board on the edge of his soft couch, seemingly ready to run at a moment’s thought. “Have you been sitting like that since you got here?”
“No. I’ve only just sat down.” Your arms leaned on your knees, hands folded in your lap.
Harvey tries to ignore the hoarse sound in your voice. “Well, you can relax a bit if you’d like. I got you some more comfortable clothes if you want to change.”
Your brows furrow as you think. “Did he give you any problems?” For the first time since he came in the front door you look at him. He was visibly more relaxed than he is in the office. His suit jacket was tossed on the coat rake next to the door and the sleeves of his dress shirt were neatly folded up his arms. He walked towards the kitchen to the freezer.
“He didn’t get a chance. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you again.” He walks over to where you’re sitting on the couch and sets down an ice pack. His shirt was obviously wrinkled, and his knuckles held the slightest tinge of blue. The thought of Harvey hurting someone made your stomach flip, but you didn’t feel quite so bad for the receiving party.
“Let’s get some ice on that shoulder, huh?” He could tell you were still sensitive, but it felt more subdued than the scared woman he saw in his office.
You nodded in agreement about the ice pack. You hadn’t really stopped to think about it until he said something. As you unbutton your shirt to reveal your nude colored undershirt, you wince. The swelling of the bruise had gotten worse since you hadn’t taken anything for it. You hadn’t noticed the pain when you were crying, but now it just felt terrible.
“Let me help.” You give Harvey a look when the words come out of his mouth, a glimpse of that fiery woman that he knows. But you sigh and relent. You managed to undo a few buttons at least before Harvey steps in.
He unbuttons your shirt down to your stomach and pulls the shoulder of the shirt down just enough to slide the ice pack onto the skin. As soon as it’s securely placed between you and the couch, you let out a groan. In relief or pain, you don’t know. All you knew was that the cold felt absolutely wonderful on your swelled skin.
You and Harvey stay like that for a while, the exact amount of minutes you don’t know and neither does he. Harvey is the first to speak.
“You’ve been awfully quiet.”
You give him a look that says “I wonder why, dumbass.” But you refrain. “I’m thinking.”
He finally sits next to you on the couch and reaches his arm to grasp the top of the cushions. In his mind he excuses it as getting more comfortable, but the opportunity to touch you is also a bonus. Harvey was not a man of wise words for comfort, moreso actions and touch.
In a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood, he says “Whatcha thinkin’ about.”
You smile a true smile and look towards him. Then the thoughts in your head come rushing in and the smile falls from your face. “I’m thinking about how I’ve been with him for so long that I don’t know how to live my life without him. So much of my life has been conforming to his ideals, his feelings. How am I supposed to love and be loved after him? After I’ve split my soul into so many pieces that I’ve lost track of where they all are?”
Both of you sit in silence, not sure what to say.
“I was definitely not expecting that.”
“I am... extremely sorry I said that, please just ignore-”
“I wasn’t finished, sweetheart. Firstly, I think you should see a professional about these feelings. But in the meantime, we can work on that together.” Harvey smiles, but then falters. “I- I mean, if you want. I’m not trying to get in your pants, I promise, all I’m saying is that I’m here whenever and you can stay as long as you want and-”
“Thank you, Harvey. It means a lot to hear you say that.” You laugh at the sight of a flustered Harvey Specter.
“To paraphrase, you're not alone in this. Not ever.”
You reach over with your good arm and pull him into as much of a hug as you can muster. In return, he pulls you close. Neither of you ever want to leave.
#xreader#harvey specter#harvey specter x reader#harvey specter x fem!reader#fanfiction#fics by foxbee#suits#fics#harvey specter/reader#harveyspecter/fem!reader#harvey specter/you
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