#maybe if he’d been a little bit braver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 9 months

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PROVE IT ───

jackson rippner ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “You think you are possessing me / But I've got my teeth in you.” — ‘Unicorn’, Angela Carter

pairing. jackson rippner x reader

summary. after breaking up with your boyfriend. you meet a handsome stranger at a bar. you tell him your cunt’s better than the girl’s your boyfriend cheated on you with; he tells you to prove it.

warnings. swearing, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, porn with some plot, impact play, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 3.6k

a/n. i seriously doubt i wrote jackson’s character accurately in this so please comment anything i can improve on LOL🙏

It’s not often you spill your entire life story to a stranger at the bar, but this one, this stranger with his watery blue eyes and plush lips, is oddly inviting; charismatic to a fault. It makes you want to give him everything, and absently, in your alcohol riddled mind, you think he’d make a good scammer.

Or, serial killer, whichever he prefers really.

But it's not entirely his fault; you’re stress drinking, downing too many shots in too little a time frame, and the alcohol’s already hit your system ten-fold.

You’re there because you’d broken up with your boyfriend the night before. You’d been dating just short of a year. He was required to travel a lot, mostly in Europe, as per his job, and you let him go each time without qualms - love them, let them go, right?

Wrong. He’d been cheating on you since he went to Copenhagen — four months, now — with a pretty little Dane that wanted to marry.

You were furious when he told you, of course, it’s fucking insanity for him to marry someone he’s known for four months, but you began seeing all the differences between you and the woman he cheated on you with: she, a perfect homemaker, you, a distressed professional he saw maybe once a month.

“Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up,” the stranger across from you said softly, breaking you out of your nostalgic stupor and back into reality. “‘cause he’s a right asshole. For cheating on you like that.”

The man had entered the bar hours after you did, housing a simple drink or two and absently watching the softball game on the bar TV, before you drunkenly inched closer to him, desperate to rant your dilemma to just about anyone who’d listen. He bit, and here you were now.

You peered up at the man, inspecting him. He’s gorgeous, definitely, but you can’t tell if you actually think that, or your foggy, not-been-fucked-for-months mind just wants him to rail you into next week.

No matter, you thought, downing another shot. It burned the back of your throat sweetly, fire trailing down your insides. “M’not beating myself up,” you protested weakly, “jus’ — m’just… wondering if her cunt was - so much better than mine,”

He laughed, boisterously, the kind of laugh you hear rumble out from a close friend while you detail every wrongdoing or shameful memory in your life: he’s comfortable right now, as are you.

“Well,” he inched closer, large hand sitting itself on your thigh and slowly inching upwards, “if it bothers you that much, why not prove it? That your pussy’s as good as you think.”

This wasn’t the first of his attempts to flirt with you: firstly he’d tucked a stray hair away from your face, later he swiped a drop of drink off your lip, then he’d clutched you by the waist, pulling you close to him when someone squeezed past you in the crowded bar. His brisk touch wasn’t unfamiliar by any means, but it did suggest more than the other ones, especially coupled with the lustful words he was purring in your ear.

Then, there’s a gap in your memory. One too many shots, a stranger toying with the hem of the skirt you donned for the bar, and his sweet voice in your ear was too much for your dizzy head, and the only thing you remember is this: one moment, he’s getting braver, rough fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and the next, you’re pressed against a bathroom stall wall, the handsome stranger’s knee pushing your quivering legs apart.

You’re trading wet, messy kisses, and his hands are sneakily climbing up your shirt till they reach your chest. There’s a sharp intake of breath from him: “Fuck, sweetheart, no bra? You really were looking for someone to prove you right,” he cooed, touching your breasts needily.

He’s kneading you artfully, fingers pawing at your flesh like he’s never felt something so soft, so plump. Your back arches as he does this; you’re practically putty in his hands.

It doesn’t slip past you that you’re being felt up in a bar bathroom by a gorgeous stranger whom you don’t know the name of, but you don’t care. “Please,” you beg, his name coming up completely blank on your tongue, “please.”

“‘Please’ what, honey?” The stranger says huskily, one of his hands moving from your breasts up to your jaw, pushing it to the side to gain access to your neck. “Please kiss me? Finger me? Fuck me?”

You’re too drunk - and fucking horny - to deal with his theatrics, so you whine instead of answering, your weak fingers carding through his brown locks.

“God,” he says, “How long has it been since you’ve been properly fucked? Just some touching and you’re already too fucking dumb to speak.”

His words make your cheeks burn with shame, but it also makes your core throb. The oh-so sweet stranger who listened to your problems all night telling you you’re just a dumb horny bitch is such a juxtaposition it's got you all hot and bothered.

“Please,” you beg again, more desperate than before, “I need you.”

The man let out an incredulous chuckle, head cocking back. “Baby, don’t tell me you like it like that. God, you’re such a fucking whore,” he said, before undoing his belt buckle and fly.

He had noticed how your legs clenched around his knee, how your breathing got sharper as soon as the words “dumb” and “whore” slipped out of his pretty mouth, how your fingers trailed his back needily, desperate for any kind of touch.

You bit your lip, watching the stranger through bleary, hooded eyes. He’d pulled his pants down just enough for his boxer shorts to be visible, before he grabbed you by the waist and turned you to press your face against the wall.

One of his arms then draped across your shoulders, pinning you down and arching your back, hard, making your ass press flush against the large tent in his underwear. You let out a small gasp at the feeling, and you could practically see the smirk curling slyly on his face.

He can’t be that big, right? It was just your drunk mind, making him feel bigger than you thought through his shorts. Plus, you hadn’t been fucked in over a month — you were probably just not used to it.

Because, that’d be totally unfair - he’s beautiful, charming, an amazing kisser, and has a huge cock? No fucking way — if he was all that, he’s definitely a secret terrorist, or something.

However, these days, you’ve learned that you don't have the best intuition. First, with your boyfriend, then again, with the man who just pulled out his thick cock, stroking it gently.

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed, head straining to look at him behind you. Unconsciously, you shyly closed your legs at the sight of him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man crooned, his other hand sliding between your legs and spreading them apart once more. “No take backs, honey. You did say you wanted me, did you not?”

The two of you were flush against each other, and you could feel his hard length resting between your legs. Just that, just him between you, already had you trembling in anticipation.

“Then fuck me already,” you bit back, feigning confidence. In actuality, you were thinking: how was all that supposed to fit? And, of all people, you, who hadn’t been stretched out to fit any cock at all, not since last month, when your boyfriend made his routine visit. You were a loyal girl, alright, and your fingers never went as deep as any cock could.

But the moment for you to reveal your worries passed, and he simpered. “So fucking eager.”

Then, his large hands smoothed down the swell of your ass, following the curve, before he lifted his hand up and came down on your cheek, making a loud noise reverberate throughout the empty bathroom.

Your breath caught in your throat, a choked gasp mixed with a tense moan coming out instead, and you flushed. Thank god you were pressed against the cold bathroom stall wall, for it provided a miniscule relief to your burning face.

He’d spanked you, and you fucking moaned.

“So you do like it dirty.” he cooed, fingers returning and hooking into the waistband of your panties.

“I bet,” he said, dragging the thin fabric down extremely slow, “that you didn’t come to the bar tonight to just drink,” he pressed closer against you, your folds now sitting right above his thick length, “you came, with no bra and a slutty skirt on, looking to get fucked senseless, didn’t you?”

He slowly slid in and out against your folds, his cock just barely grazing your clit, and you swore you could have screamed. The way he was teasing you was absolutely delectable and, in the same vein, incredibly torturous.

“Answer me, honey.” he hummed, free hand rubbing circles on the skin of your hip.

You let out an exasperated groan. “I - I came here tonight, to - ah!” you squeaked when the fat tip of the man’s cock poked your tight hole.

“You came here tonight to… what?” He said, nonchalant, as if he wasn’t slowly driving his large dick into you.

“I came here to…” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground your thoughts, and squarely not think about how mouthwateringly good the handsome strangers cock felt, “to get—“

Then, the loudest keen you’d ever heard tore out of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, when he suddenly shoved all of his length into your soaking cunt.

He bottomed out with a breathy laugh, watching your knees buckle and your mouth hang wide open. Then, once more, his calloused hand came down on your ass, a large crack sounding out within the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up, whore. Someone’ll hear.” The stranger said, as if he hadn’t just made a loud noise spanking you like that.

But the way he insulted, complemented, mocked and teased all in a few sentences had you shuddering; never in your life did you think such dirty words could make you so wet.

You barely kept in another whine, waves of pleasure ebbing throughout your body. The burning pain of the spank in combination to how your walls squeezed around his cock had you barely coherent, your face taut with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over my cock,” he whispered, leaning down for you to hear. As he did so, however, his dick pressed further into you, and another helpless groan rolled off your tongue.

“But you’re too goddamn loud.” The stranger growled, and the arm of the hand that was pressing you against the wall shifted, now covering your mouth.

Before you could protest, he slid out, then snapped into you. Immediately, you saw stars, and a muffled mewl slipped past your lips.

“Jesus christ,” he murmured, “your little fuckhole’s taking me so well.” He began to slide in and out at a fast, rhythmic pace, so fast you could barely comprehend the ecstacy you were feeling.

“Oh my god,” you barely stuttered out past his large hand. He was pounding in and out of you relentlessly, selfishly, no regard for your moans or helpless whines, merely focussed on thrusting his fat cock into your sweet cunt.

Then, the both of you heard the bathroom door open, and you froze. The handsome stranger moved quickly, grabbing you by the waist and planting you on his lap as he sat down on the toilet. His other hand, still trained on your mouth, gripped tighter than ever when he felt the groan bubble up from your throat: this new position of you on his lap had his long length pressed right against your cervix.

“Now you really gotta be quiet, honey,” he whispered, pressing his face into your neck. You shut your eyes helplessly, a dejected whimper exiting your mouth.

“Just be fucking quiet. You don’t want everyone in this bar to know what a dirty slut you are, spreading your legs for a fucking stranger in the bathroom, right?” He said, words foul and like poison, but actions completely stark to it: he was pressing sweet, chaste kisses on your shoulder, laying his head on your back.

The man in the other stall was taking so fucking long to finish, and, despite the stranger’s words, he began to slowly rut into you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips and help you slide up and down on his cock.

Your eyes widened. “What are- ah, wh— what are you doing?” you said, a stuttered, hesitant moan leaving your mouth, but you were completely without the motivation to actually stop him: the pleasure you felt earlier had increased immensely in this slower, riskier pace he took on.

“Shh,” was all you saw him say, as you strained your neck to look at him. He looked the epitome of smug, lips curled, cheeks flushed attractively, strands of hair falling down onto his forehead.

Without his hand to muffle your groans, you muffled them yourself, biting down on your tongue. One hand of yours gripped onto the stranger's thigh to keep your balance, and your other hand sneakily traveled down to your wet, hot mound, fingers beginning to rub at your clit.

He noticed this, however, hand gripping at your wrist and pulling you back to pin your arm behind you. “Only I get to touch you,” he snarled, “because this fuckin’ pussy’s all mine. Gonna be all mine.”

You let out a shaky exhale at his words, but you found your cunt more flexible than before, the soft slapping of your skin between each other sounding easier, wetter. Jesus, did you really get more turned on by what he’d said?

Finally, the person who had wandered in and entered the stall beside you exited the bathroom entirely, and you belted out a sharp moan with how the stranger swiftly picked you up and pressed you against the wall once more, this time facing him.

He plunged his big cock into you like nothing before, animalistically, nails digging so hard into your hips you swore he drew blood. His pace was stuttered, desperate, like nothing could distract him from pounding into you, not even a fucking meteor.

You, on the other hand, were arching, the pleasure taking your body over completely. Your hands carded through his brown hair, tugging when he hit that particularly spongy spot into you. He groaned, a rough and stuttered thing, feeling himself brush against that spot every time.

Your tight cunt was stretching and contracting around his dick, like you were made with his fat length in mind, and it drove you up the fucking wall: the pain in your hip, the cold linoleum wall, his cock thrusting in and out — it was all so much, and your orgasm began to spill out from under you. It was slow, like water coming out of an overfilled glass.

“You — god, you’re fucking coming, aren’t you,” the stranger said knowingly. Your cunt had gotten tenser, stickier, trying to grip at him like you were afraid he’d never come back to you.

You nodded rapidly, opting to do so in fear an unintelligible string of groans would come out instead of your words.

He grinned, and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, allowing his cock deeper access into you. Your toes curled, the new angle like being impaled, his dick easily slipping past your slick folds.

One of his hands lifted off your hip and trailed across your lower stomach, “Can you feel that, honey? Its my fucking cock, so deep m’gonna shoot my come right in your womb,” he purred, pressing the bulge.

Both of you were affected, a breathy grunt slipping past his lips, and you a feverish mewl. You couldn’t believe how big he was, large enough for him to be fucking visible on you from the outside.

Suddenly, you remembered the man’s name: he’d said it, offhand, to the bartender before you dragged him to the bathroom. He asked the bartender to put your drinks on his tab, under the name Jackson.

You face grew taut, your orgasm suddenly switching from a slow, sneaky drip to a hard smack, right across your face. “Jackson! Jackson, please,” you moaned at last, his name sounding right at home on your tongue.

“Fuck, honey, you remembered? God, that’s so hot,” He whispered sweetly, then dragged you through your orgasm, thick cock pounding in and out of your throbbing core.

It was like all the pleasure had steadily built up within your insides, all up into a big ball, then had suddenly burst, flowing throughout your entire body like you weren’t already being fucked relentlessly.

“Such a - fuck - tight and pretty pussy,” he said, leaning into rest his head against your chest. You were weak, sensitively riding out your high, but you knew Jackson wasn’t quite as close.

His thrusts began getting sloppier, harsher and focussed merely on feeling your walls against every inch of him. Your head rested beside his own, your eyes practically crossing with the overstimulation.

Despite your orgasm, your cunt was still soaking, definitely dripping and marking a wet patch on both your skirt and his pants. It made you tremble, thinking of you two tiredly exiting the bathroom, disheveled and having to cover the other up.

At this point, you didn’t know what kind of filthy fucking noises were exiting your mouth, with Jackson’s grunts and groans covering up your whines completely.

“M’gonna come,” he said a few long moments later, almost inaudible. “Say my name, say who owns this tight fucking pussy.”

“You do! Jackson does!” You exclaimed, his cock ripping in and out of you quicker and more jolted. “Jackson owns this pussy!”

Jackson grinned weakly, and with one final, harried thrust, he let go deep within you. He clenched his jaw, piercing blue eyes shutting tight and losing himself within the warm and wet feeling of your cunt squeezing him for every drop.

You were so fucking full, and even when Jackson pulled his softening cock out of you — which, was still huge despite its idleness — you felt stuffed to the brim.

His come dripped down your leg, and he promptly pulled your panties up, patting your worn out cunt as he did so. “You’re taking all my fucking come, so good honey.” he said, pressing a hungry kiss to your neck. “You were right: this cunt’s better than whoever your shit ex cheated on you with.”

“Told you so.” You gazed up at him through heavy-lidded, gleeful eyes. He was an absolute darling sweetheart, it seemed, switching from degradingly fucking you to romantically praising you. “Are you… up for round two?” you said, as he slipped his hand within your own, clasping tightly. You didn’t really mean round two - though, you wouldn’t protest it, especially with his delectable way of fucking you - you actually just wanted to go home with him… see where this relationship could lead you.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask. You’re comin’ home with me tonight,” he saw through you cheekily, pulling you close to him.

So, you did go home with him, and in the morning you laid beside him in the ruffled white sheets, counting the freckles on his face.

His eyes fluttered open when you shuffled. “Were you watching me?” he said, voice low and sleepy.

You nodded silently, your hand coming up to pet his skin comfortingly. After a beat passed, you asked the question that was bothering you all morning. “Jackson, you wanted to fuck me first, right?”

He blinked, tense for a moment, before smoothing out his expression. “What?” he opted on saying instead, sounding every bit clueless and entirely convincing.

Not convincing enough for you, however. “Baby, you think I didn’t notice the shots you were calling over and inching toward me? I was drunk, not stupid.”

“Are you saying I took advantage of you?” He said darkly, a side of him otherwise unknown to you ‘till now.

You raised a judging brow. “No need to be offended. I wanted to see where it was going to go: ‘did the handsome stranger want to fuck me, or did he want to kill me?’.”

He pulled you close to him, his arm snaking around your hips. “So, what are you saying?” he said, pressing a patronizing kiss to your forehead.

“Hm. Well, I jus’ wanna know if this is a one nightstand.”

“And you don’t care about the - drinks, the “taking advantage” part?”

You let out a laugh. “I was confident, darling; I keep pepper spray and a pocket knife in my purse. Even if you did - which you didn’t - I’d make it out alive.”

Jackson bit his lip, looking up at you. This had meant to be a one night stand, considering the job he had, but you were looking at him so sweetly, so accepting, like you secretly knew what he did for a living and wanted him despite it.

“Not a one night stand,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

You beamed, and, later, when you did find out what he did for a living, you merely cocked your head. Thought about it… outweighed the pros, the cons, (and the fact you were completely right: he was perfect, but also a fucking sociopath), and merely shrugged.

“Honey, you’ll never do anything to me. Why should I care what you do for a living? Just don’t,” you warned, staring at him like you could and would fucking kill him, “cheat on me.”

You didn’t have the best intuition. And, as it turned out, a great moral compass, either.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #jackson rippner #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #redeye

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readbyred · 4 months

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may i request how the dps boys would react to realising they have a severe crush on a, preferably shy, reader! tysm <\3

Oh, I've been waiting for dps requests! Sorry for my late replies everybody, I got demotivated again because tumblr deleted a few of my x reader posts (and a few others). But I'll try to not let that happen again if I can even help it

I think Knox would have such a silly time trying to approach you. Because we all know he’s awkward, but determined at best and, well… pushy at worst. I'm trying to go with the version I saw in a play, because thankfully they cut out the party scene which means he’s still delightfully insufferable but not awful. Anyways, he would jump on every occasion to talk to you. And then just. Stand there. He’d try to give you flowers and poems, everything really. But he loses brain cells every time he’s around you. At least you’re both equally stressed about social interactions. He gets a little braver when you give him a smile or any other sign you like him. Not less awkward, but a bit more motivated to go for it. His main problem is that he can't read you well and despite being big on feelings and all, he still has a hard time actually talking to you. Clumsily, he showers you with over the top things, that most would find cringey but you think of as endearing. And if he thinks there's a chance he’ll lose you, he’ll confess right away. I think he is brave and pretty open about feelings. Just stressed out

With Neil, it's not an issue at all that you're shy. He’s more so taken aback by his own strong feelings. Because he wasn't expecting to fall this hard. But give him like five work days to process and he’ll be all in. I feel like he would take his time to confess but he’d make it known that he cares about you. He’d be checking up on you every time he can, bringing you coffee, asking to practice lines together, go to the movies in town. Even before you two start dating you just wake up and half of his sweatshirts are in your drawer (he likes to borrow you his clothes if you’re cold) and your desk is littered with poems he shared with you. He’s a gentle lover, but he knows what he wants and when the time is right Neil has no problem confessing

It's much funnier with Cameron because this boy is in panic mode 24/7. At first he legit thought he was sick because he always felt dizzy and distracted around you. And he’s a traditionalist. Everything has to be perfect when you’re around. Like he beats himself up about every little mistake he made around you. But also makes a point to treat you RIGHT. If you’re shy he might not know how to approach you at first, because he’s not sure if you’re even interested. And how to make you like him. After much teasing (mainly from Charlie, of course) he gets fed up with his friends and decides to make a move. It might not be the most romantic when he does, but it's sweet and genuine

Another one that would take time to confess is Meeks. He’s pretty quick to accept that he’s crushing on you. He’s like, yeah obviously they are amazing, now what do I do with that? He tries to give you things. Small things. Like maybe he could borrow you a book that you’ve wanted to read for a long time of buy you a coffee/tea if you’re out in the town. He doesn't explicitly say that he liked you but it's easy to tell and he’s not one to be shy about it either. So when you guys do get together, you already know his more… romantic side

On the contrary, Charlie takes time to process his feelings. He had crushes before, but real feelings (strong ones at that) aren't the norm for him. Sometimes he catches himself losing his cool around you and it messes with him so bad. He would probably ask Knox for advice. Which is a bad move. But he figures that at least his friend is more familiar with having those sorts of feelings. Nothing much comes of it because I can't imagine Knox giving him any good advice on the subject, but after he was able to talk about liking you, he decides to just go for it. Well, in small steps. Primarily because he’s just not an intense guy, but also because he’s surprisingly mature when it comes to respecting your levels of comfort. Doesn't mean it gets boring though, it's Charlie we’re talking about. Once you get together there's not a one dull moment with him by your side

With Todd, it might be difficult at first. He’s overwhelmed by fis feelings and has a tendency to talk himself out of making any sorts of moves. Why would you like somebody like him? He tells himself he doesn't have a chance, surely. It only confirms his suspicions when you don't take initiative. It's only after he’s been moping around for a few days that Neil approaches him about it and proceeds to give him shit for not doing anything to let you know his feelings. He’s like, bro, so you care about them so much that you’d rather not have them in your life because you want them in your life so much??? Make it make sense. So with Neil's encouragement, he tries to at least talk to you and see where it goes from there. Still shocked when you end up returning his feelings. You’re in his poems now, even if it's not very obvious (he's not as straightforward as Knox, so it's not ‘i love (yn) and I want them to be mine’ kind of deal). This is the only one where I'm sure you might have to make some sort of a move. Todd’s like a spider - he’s more scared than you are and if he could, he would just silently hang out in the corner of the room you’re in. But he gets a little braver after he starts feeling more secure

Lastly, Pitts is not as bad as Todd, but still takes his time. He’s comfortable with liking you and he knows what he likes, but he’s not in any rush to make things official. So any time he has any chance to talk to you, he does and just wants to see how things go from there. He jokes around with you, asks to come study together, tries to be close. He does care, just in a more chill way than some of the other poets would. If you two have been talking for some time, he would have no problem asking you to go out with him, doesn't make you feel pressured or anything. If the others are cool with it he will do his best to have you come to their meetings at night as well. So you do not only get an awesome boyfriend out of it, but also a great friend group

#dps #dps x reader #charlie dalton x reader #knox overstreet x reader #neil perry x reader #todd anderson x reader #gerard pitts x reader #steven meeks x reader #richard cameron x reader

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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Hello helloooo!!! <3 could i request “your lips are so soft” and “i could spend the whole day doing just this.” prompt?? something a little bit long and maybe suggestiveness or spicy i’m kind of in the mood for romantic but smutty peter p.

eeeeeek, i don't write smut so this is.... new. but i mean, c'mon, this is perfect peter spicy.

just in case, nsfw content.

“Your lips are so soft,” you whisper the words against his mouth, the upper corner raises in a shy, yet confident grin. Peter doesn’t comment, he just brings his hand to the back of your head and pushes you back in. You’ve been dating for four months and you were rapidly approaching new territory tonight.

Straddling his lap and almost laying down on his chest, you’re all over him and mouth glued to his, following his movements and breaths. You’d spent the night and when you woke up you immediately rolled over for a morning kiss, it turned into a make out.

Peter’s fingers gently push up your shirt, it’s actually his but you stole it for the night. You can feel he’s hesitant to bring them higher, he’s had them under your shirt before, but you’ve never been without a bra either. You didn’t mind, in fact you’d gladly accept him touching you.

Peter grips at your hips, he doesn’t want to break it but he needs to breathe, so do you. When he pulls back you kiss over his jawline and down his neck, you’ve never been this feral before. Kissing down the middle of his throat you pull his hand higher up your torso, when he feels the puffy skin of your side boob he stops, he’s not pushing your limits, he’s never touched you bare.

Finally pulling away to look at him you rested your hand over his and cupped your right boob, Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, “holy shit,” you sat up fully on his lap and nodded down to your chest, “wanna involve the other?” Goosebumps rose up when he dragged his hand up your body, now knowing he has permission he takes his time to tease, his thumb brushes your nipple, if he was braver he’d play with it.

His hands jiggle them under your shirt, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “You have free rein and you wanna bounce ‘em?”

If Peter stares hard enough he may be able to develop x-ray vision. “If I never touch them again I’d be so disappointed I didn’t.”

You’re a little nervous for the next part, but he’s so nice to kiss and if he was that happy touching them, imagine seeing them, shirtless on his lap while he’s shirtless is brand new ground and you couldn’t wait to step foot on the land.

Peter’s too busy squeezing and running his hands over your breasts, he’s finally gathered enough confidence to pinch and pull at your nipples, if you didn’t want him to then you wouldn’t have invited him. He has to imagine he’s doing something right because you have bated breaths and you're rocking against his pelvis at certain points. He’s shirtless and in thin sweatpants, you’re in a shirt and underwear, it was about to come to a new length, literally.

You cross your arms at the bottom of your shirt and in one breath you tug it over your head, shaking your hair out from the collar. You look at Peter, he’s in shock. He’s staring at your chest, his cheeks are pink and he runs his tongue over his teeth. He’s stopping himself from taking a bite, you know it.

“Are you cool with this, pete?”

For the first time in minutes he looks you in the eyes, “cool, so, so cool.” You giggle then your cheeks turn warm, “if you wanna, like, kiss them you can.” Peter’s eyes shine, “really?” As you nod he leans in, a kitten lick then he encompasses your breast with his mouth, when he swirls his tongue around you can’t help but groan and tie a hand to the back of his head and keep him tethered there.

You grind down on his hips and he stops you when he holds your waist, things are getting harder, you can feel it. You’ve never felt him like this before, you should be more nervous but all you can feel is excitement.

“You know what you’re doing.” Peter’s voice is gruff, he places a kiss to your sternum.

“I do,” you hold his hands as you grind down, this time he groans, “so let me.”

Peter has the perfect sight right now, you’re sitting on top of him, shirtless and grinding down on his dick. And you want to, you initiated. He has no idea what he did to be so lucky, especially this early in the morning. He hasn’t had enough time in the day to woo you, you woke up wanting him.

New territory, but on the same page. Peter’s hands guide your hips, the tension builds. You can’t help but look down, you’ve never felt or seen it before. Peter pats your thighs, he thinks you’re freaking out, you watch as you grind down, he groans, his pants jump.

“So that’s what it feels like.”

Peter laughs loudly, “my dick?”

You nod, “is it as big as it feels?”

“I… I think so? I think it’s a what you see is what you get kinda thing.” Peter’s shy, he’s never had anyone comment on his size before. Granted, he’s never had someone see it before.

Your fingers tickle at his waistband, “I think I should see it, so I know what I’m getting.”

Peter breathes in deeply through his nose, “you’re dangerous.”

You place a kiss on his mouth, “I could spend the whole day just doing this.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #my writing

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trumanbluee · 2 months

Text

an encounter - matty healy

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

content; you meet a stranger in the bar after your breakup ;)

word count: 3271

warnings: somewhat dubious consent (reader is intoxicated), unsafe sex (wrap it b4 you tap it!!) dom/sub undertones, degradation, teasing. lmk if i missed anything! <3

a/n: hi !!! this is the first fic i'm ever posting!! eek! i dont know how many people are going to see this but please tell me if you like it!!!

It’s not often she spilt her entire life story to a stranger at the bar, but this stranger, with his head of ringlets upon ringlets of messy, dark curls, plush light-pink lips, and deep, chocolate brown eyes, was particularly inviting; charismatic to a fault. It made her want to give him everything, and absentmindedly, in her alcohol-riddled mind, she’d thought he would be a good scammer, or serial killer, whichever he prefers really.

But it's not entirely his fault; she’s stress drinking, downing too many shots in too little a time frame, and the alcohol’s already hit her system ten-fold.

She’s there because she’d broken up with her boyfriend the night before. They’d been dating just short of a year. He was required to travel a lot, mostly in Europe, as per his job, and she let him go each time without qualms - love them, let them go, right?

Wrong. He’d been cheating on her since he went to Australia — four months, now — with a pretty little Sheila that he wanted to marry.

She was furious when he told her, of course, it’s fucking insanity for him to marry someone he’s known for four months, but she began seeing all the differences between her and the woman he cheated on her with: she, a perfect homemaker, her, a distressed professional he saw maybe once a month.

“Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up,” The soft english voice of the man across the bar cut through the buzz of her hazy, drunken brain, bringing her back to reality. “Cause he’s a right dickhead. For cheating on you like that.”

The man had entered the bar hours after she did, housing a simple drink or two and absently watching the soccer game on the TV above the bar, before she’d drunkenly inched closer to him, desperate to rant her dilemma to just about anyone who’d listen. He bit, and here she was now.

She peered up at the man, inspecting him. He’s gorgeous, definitely, but she can’t tell if she actually thinks that, or her foggy, not-been-fucked-for-months mind just wants him to rail her into next week.

No matter, she thought, downing another shot. It burned the back of her throat sweetly, fire trailing down her insides. “M’not beating myself up,” she protested weakly, “jus’ — m’just… wondering if her cunt was - so much better than mine,”

He laughed, boisterously, the kind of laugh you hear rumble out from a close friend while you detail every wrongdoing or shameful memory in your life: he’s comfortable right now, as is she.

“Well,” he inched closer, large hand setting itself on her thigh and slowly inching upwards, “if it bothers you that much, why not prove it? That your pussy’s as good as you think.”

This wasn’t the first of his attempts to flirt with her: firstly he’d tucked a stray hair away from her face, later he swiped a drop of her Sex On The Beach off her lip, then he’d clutched her by the waist, pulling her close to him when someone squeezed past her in the crowded bar. His brisk touch wasn’t unfamiliar by any means, but it did suggest more than the other ones, especially coupled with the lustful words he was purring in her ear.

Then, there’s a gap in her memory. One too many shots, a stranger toying with the hem of the skirt she’d donned for the bar, and his sweet voice in her ear was too much for her dizzy head, and the only thing she remembers is this: one moment, he’s getting braver, rough fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and the next, she’s pressed against a bathroom stall wall, the handsome stranger’s knee knocking her quivering legs apart.

They’re trading wet, sloppy kisses, and his hands are sneakily climbing up her shirt till they reach her chest. There’s a sharp intake of breath from him: “Fuck, sweetheart, no bra? You really were looking for someone to prove you right,” he cooed, touching her breasts needily.

He’s kneading her softly, fingers pawing at her flesh like he’d never felt something so soft, so plump. Her back arches as he does this; she’s practically putty in his hands.

It doesn’t slip past her that she’s being felt up in a bar bathroom by a gorgeous stranger whom she doesn’t know the name of, but she doesn't care. “Please,” she begs, his name coming up completely blank on her tongue, “please.”

“‘Please’ what, honey?” The stranger says huskily, hot breath against her ear as one of his hands moves from her breasts up to her jaw, pushing it to the side to gain access to her neck. “Please kiss me? Finger me? Fuck me?”

She’s too drunk - and fucking horny - to deal with his theatrics, so she whines instead of answering, her weak fingers carding through his dark curls.

“God,” he says, “How long has it been since you’ve been properly fucked? Just some touching and you’re already too fucking dumb to speak.”

His words make her cheeks burn with shame, but it also makes her core throb. The oh-so sweet stranger who listened to her problems all night telling her she’s just a dumb horny bitch is such a juxtaposition it's got her all hot and bothered.

“Please,” she begs again, more desperate than before, “I need you.”

The man let out an incredulous chuckle, head cocking back. “Baby, don’t tell me you like it like that. God, you’re such a fucking whore,” he said, before undoing his belt buckle and fly.

He had noticed how her legs clenched around his knee, how her breathing got sharper as soon as the words “dumb” and “whore” slipped out of his pretty mouth, how her fingers trailed his back needily, desperate for any kind of touch.

She bit her lip, watching the stranger through bleary, hooded eyes. He’d pulled his pants down just enough for his boxer shorts to be visible, before he grabbed her by the waist and turned her to press her face against the wall.

One of his arms then draped across her shoulders, pinning her down and arching her back, hard, making her ass press flush against the large tent in his underwear. She let out a small gasp at the feeling, and she could practically see the smirk curling slyly on his face

He can’t be that big, right? It was just her drunk mind, making him feel bigger than she thought through his shorts. Plus, she hadn’t been fucked in over a month — she was probably just not used to it. .

Because, that’d be totally unfair - he’s beautiful, charming, an amazing kisser, and has a huge cock? No fucking way — if he was all that, he’s definitely a secret terrorist, or something.

However, these days, she’d learned that she didn't have the best intuition. First, with her boyfriend, then again, with the man who just pulled out his thick cock, stroking it gently.

“Oh, fuck,” she cursed, head straining to look at him behind her. Unconsciously, she shyly closed her legs at the sight of him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man crooned, his other hand sliding between her legs and spreading them apart once more. “No take backs, honey. You did say you wanted me, did you not?”

Completely flush against each other, she could feel his hard length resting between her legs. Just that, just him between her, already had her trembling in anticipation.

“Then fuck me already,” she bit back, feigning confidence. In actuality, she was thinking: how was all that supposed to fit? And, of all people, her, who hadn’t been stretched out to fit any cock at all, not since last month, when her boyfriend made his routine visit. She was a loyal girl, alright, and her fingers never went as deep as any cock could.

But the moment for her to reveal her worries passed, and he simpered. “So fucking eager.”

Then, his large hands smoothed down the swell of her ass, following the curve, before he lifted his hand up and came down on her cheek, making a loud noise reverberate throughout the empty bathroom.

Her breath caught in her throat, a choked gasp mixed with a tense moan coming out instead, and she flushed. Thank god she was pressed against the cold bathroom stall wall, for it provided a miniscule relief to her burning face.

He’d spanked her, and she’d fucking moaned.

“So you do like it dirty.” he cooed, fingers returning and hooking into the waistband of her panties.

“I bet,” he said, dragging the thin fabric down extremely slow, “that you didn’t come to the bar tonight to just drink,” he pressed closer against her, her folds now sitting right above his thick length, “you came, with no bra and a slutty skirt on, looking to get fucked senseless, didn’t you?”

He slowly slid in and out against her folds, his cock just barely grazing her clit, and she swore she could have screamed. The way he was teasing her was absolutely delectable and, in the same vein, incredibly torturous.

“Answer me, honey.” he hummed, free hand rubbing light circles on the skin of her hip.

She let out an exasperated groan. “I - I came here tonight, to - ah!” she squeaked when the fat tip of the man’s cock poked her tight hole.

“You came here tonight to… what?” He said, nonchalant, as if he wasn’t slowly driving his large dick into her.

“I came here to…” she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ground her thoughts, and squarely not think about how mouthwateringly good the handsome strangers cock felt, “to get—“

Then, the loudest keen she’d ever heard tore out of her, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, when he suddenly shoved all of his length into her soaking cunt.

He bottomed out with a breathy laugh, watching her knees buckle and mouth hang wide open. Then, once more, his calloused hand came down on her ass, a large crack sounding out within the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up, whore. Someone’ll hear.” The stranger said, as if he hadn’t just made a loud noise spanking her like that.

But the way he insulted, complimented, mocked and teased all in a few sentences had her shuddering; never in her life did she think such dirty words could make her so wet.

She barely kept in another whine, waves of pleasure ebbing throughout her body. The burning pain of the spank in combination to how her walls squeezed around his cock had her barely coherent, face taut with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over my cock,” he whispered, leaning down for her to hear. As he did so, however, his dick pressed further into her, and another helpless groan rolled off her tongue.

“But you’re too goddamn loud.” The stranger growled, and the arm of the hand that was pressing her against the wall shifted, now covering her mouth.

Before she could protest, he slid out, then snapped into her. Immediately, she saw stars, and a muffled mewl slipped past her lips.

“Jesus christ,” he murmured, “your little pussy’s taking me so well.” He began to slide in and out at a fast, rhythmic pace, so fast she could barely comprehend the ecstasy she was feeling.

“Oh my god,” she barely stuttered out past his large hand. He was pounding in and out of her relentlessly, selfishly, no regard for her moans or helpless whines, merely focussed on thrusting his fat cock into her sweet cunt.

Then, the two heard the bathroom door open, and she froze. The handsome stranger moved quickly, grabbing her by the waist and planting her on his lap as he sat down on the toilet. His other hand, still trained on her mouth, gripped tighter than ever when he felt the groan bubble up from her throat: this new position of her on his lap had his long length pressed right against her cervix.

“Now you really gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispered, pressing his face into her neck. She shut her eyes helplessly, a dejected whimper exiting her mouth.

The man in the other stall was taking so fucking long to finish, and, despite the stranger’s words, he began to slowly rut into her, his large hands coming to rest on her hips and help her slide up and down on his cock.

Her eyes widened. “What are- ah, wh— what are you doing?” she said, a stuttered, hesitant moan leaving her mouth, but she was completely without the motivation to actually stop him: the pleasure she felt earlier had increased immensely in this slower, riskier pace he took on.

“Shh,” was all she saw him say, as she strained her neck to look at him. He looked the epitome of smug, lips curled, cheeks flushed attractively, strands of hair falling down onto his forehead.

Without his hand to muffle her groans, she muffled them herself, biting down on her tongue. One hand of hers gripped onto the stranger's thigh to keep her balance, and her other hand sneakily travelled down to her wet, hot mound, fingers beginning to rub at her clit.

He noticed this, however, hand gripping at her wrist and pulling her back to pin her arm behind her. “Only I get to touch you,” he snarled, “because this fuckin’ pussy’s all mine. Gonna be all mine.”

She let out a shaky exhale at his words, but she found her cunt more flexible than before, the soft slapping of her skin between each other sounding easier, wetter. Jesus, did she really get more turned on by what he’d said?

Finally, the person who had wandered in and entered the stall beside the one the two of them occupied, exited the bathroom entirely, and she belted out a sharp moan with how the stranger swiftly picked her up and pressed her against the wall once more, this time facing him.

He plunged his big cock into her like nothing before, animalistically, nails digging so hard into her hips she swore he drew blood. His pace was stuttered, desperate, like nothing could distract him from pounding into her, not even a fucking meteor.

She, on the other hand, was arching, the pleasure taking her body over completely. Her hands carded through his brown hair, tugging when he hit that particularly spongy spot into her. He groaned, a rough and stuttered thing, feeling himself brush against that spot every time.

Her tight cunt was stretching and contracting around his dick, like she was made with his fat length in mind, and it drove her up the fucking wall: the pain in her hip, the cold linoleum wall, his cock thrusting in and out — it was all so much, and her orgasm began to spill out from under her. It was slow, like water coming out of an overfilled glass.

“You — god, you’re fucking coming, aren’t you,” the stranger said knowingly. Her cunt had gotten tenser, stickier, trying to grip at him like she was afraid he’d never come back to her.

She nodded rapidly, opting to do so in fear an unintelligible string of groans would come out instead of words.

He grinned, and lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, allowing his cock deeper access into her. Her toes curled, the new angle like being impaled, his dick easily slipping past her slick folds.

One of his hands lifted off her hip and trailed across her lower stomach, “Can you feel that, baby? Its my fucking cock, so deep m’gonna shoot my come right in your womb,” he purred, pressing the bulge.

Both were affected, a breathy grunt slipping past his lips, and her a feverish mewl. She couldn’t believe how big he was, large enough for him to be fucking visible on her from the outside.

Suddenly, she remembered the man’s name: he’d said it, offhand, to the bartender before she had dragged him to the bathroom. He asked the bartender to put her drinks on his tab, under the name Matty.

Her face grew taut, her orgasm suddenly switching from a slow, sneaky drip to a hard smack, right across her face. “Matty! Matty, please,” she moaned at last, his name sounding right at home on her tongue.

“Fuck, honey, you remembered? God, that’s so hot,” He whispered sweetly, then dragged her through her orgasm, thick cock pounding in and out of her throbbing core.

It was like all the pleasure had steadily built up within her insides, all up into a big ball, then had suddenly burst, flowing throughout her entire body like she wasn’t already being fucked relentlessly.

“Such a - fuck - tight and pretty pussy,” he said, leaning in to rest his head against her chest. She was weak, sensitively riding out her high, but she knew Matty wasn’t quite as close.

His thrusts began getting sloppier, harsher and focussed merely on feeling her walls against every inch of him. Her head rested beside his own, eyes practically crossing with the overstimulation.

Despite her orgasm, her cunt was still soaking, definitely dripping and marking a wet patch on both her skirt and his pants. It made her tremble, thinking of them both tiredly exiting the bathroom, dishevelled and having to cover the other up.

At this point, she didn’t know what kind of filthy fucking noises were exiting her mouth, with Matty’s grunts and groans covering up her whines completely.

“M’gonna come,” he said a few long moments later, almost inaudible. “Say my name, say who owns this tight fucking pussy.”

“You do! Matty does!” She exclaimed, his cock ripping in and out of her quicker and more jolted. “Matty owns this pussy!”

Matty grinned weakly, and with one final, harried thrust, he let go deep within her. He clenched his jaw, brown eyes shutting tight and losing himself within the warm and wet feeling of her cunt squeezing him for every drop.

You was so fucking full, and even when Matty pulled his softening cock out of her — which, was still huge despite its idleness — she felt stuffed to the brim.

His come dripped down her leg, and he promptly pulled her panties up, patting her worn out cunt as he did so. “You’re taking all my fucking come, so good baby.” he said, pressing a hungry kiss to her neck. “You were right: this cunt’s better than whoever your shit ex cheated on you with.”

“Told you so.” She gazed up at him through heavy-lidded, gleeful eyes. He was an absolute darling sweetheart, it seemed, switching from degradingly fucking her to romantically praising you. “Are you… up for round two?” you said, as he slipped his hand within her own, clasping tightly. She didn’t really mean round two - though, she wouldn’t protest it, especially with his delectable way of fucking her - she actually just wanted to go home with him… see where this relationship could lead her.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask. You’re comin’ home with me tonight,” he saw through her cheekily, pulling her close to him.

So, she did go home with him, and in the morning she laid beside him in the ruffled white sheets, studying the beauty of his face whilst he slept. After that, they made frequent visits to that pub, specifically to the final stall on the left in the mens bathroom.

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romancingdaffodils · 7 months

Text

Drunken Monologues

Certified Mind Blower

remus lupin x gender neutral!magical!reader

fluff fluff pure fluff with a tiny sprinkle of Remus being silly about his furry little problem.

Remus Lupin is the cutest cutie that ever did cute!

You fell asleep at his house, in his bed, beside him. Despite what your ‘drunken’ self may have wanted Remus just put you to sleep. Then, you wake up to the sound of his voice and to the scent of something sweet. Oh, and a splitting headache.

haii did you miss me i bet you did (lots of love lilac)

ps i think this picture is super cute because my best friend taught me how to play backgammon and i’m shit at it but it makes me happy :333 matt hitt is so cute

Remus Lupin has been and always will be unbearably pretty. So, when you woke up in his bed, it was a bit of a shock. However, that shock was soon overcome by the consequences of your previous actions. ‘Ow, my head.’ you thought, groaning once again. You were certain you hadn’t been that drunk, but maybe you were in denial. Not being that drunk should not warrant this awful headache. Suddenly, it dawned on you. You were alone in the bed. Surely Remus wasn’t the type to fuck off from his own house just because he wasn’t interested in you, right? Right? Sitting up, another sensation other than the splitting headache hit you. The smell of pancakes and the sound of Remus’s voice. Yum (for both). He’s talking, was he on the phone? You wanted to groan again, feeling like it was too much energy to move to the lounge. However, for more of Remus, you’d do anything.

“I’d say sorry Pads,” Sirius from last night, you remind yourself “But, I’m not sorry at all. They’re lovely, absolutely perfect.” he said, his voice muffled slightly by the walls. You can’t hear Sirius’s voice but you imagine he said something along the lines of ‘Honestly Moony, never expected that from you,’. As you had this thought, it set in he was talking about you. Fuck. Your face flushed and every single thing you’d said last night popped into your head. Late night slideshows of embarrassment now had enough fuel to last a life time. Padding out of the bedroom, you stood in the doorway to the lounge.

“Dunno why you’re so bothered, heard you went home with someone else anyway, Mckinnon was it? Or perhaps the bartender guy, who couldn’t leave you alone?” Remus said, chuckling down the phone. You were glad Sirius wasn’t bothered by your infatuation with his friend, seeing as he’d gone home with someone else. In front of him, two plates of pancakes were being coated in strawberries and chocolate spread. Sirius shouted so loud down the phone that you actually heard it this time.

“‘Cause it was a fucking betrayal Remus!” he whined and you couldn’t help but giggle at his remark. Immediately, the tall boys head whipped round and he flashed you a smile.

“Good bye Sirius.” he replied, hanging up instantly. “Made breakfast, how long have you been awake?” he asked, still grinning at you; you smiled back.

“Not long, thanks for breakfast. Looks good.” you said, trying desperately hard not to fumble over your words. Your cheeks were still flushed and your brain was still mush.

“You alright, love? Y’look- quite red. How’s your head?” he questioned, as though he could read your mind. The statement ‘you look quite red’ was obviously a teasing one. So, when you frowned up at him, his grin only grew. Stomach twisting, you tried desperately hard not to give him a reaction to his pet name.

“I’m fine, thanks. Plus, you’re completely and utterly awful.” you complained, still frowning up at him.

“I made you breakfast and I’m awful. You were a lot braver last night.” he teased, picking up the two plates and placing them down on the breakfast bar.

“I remember you being a lot less mean last night.” you complained, still scowling at him. Your false anger didn’t last long as you sat down and gave a big smile. “Thank you.” you added, tilting your head.

“ ‘m incredible, dunno what you’re talking about. And, you’re welcome. How’d you sleep?” he replied, sitting down next to you and stretching out his legs. He was so unbelievably pretty, even with messy hair and too big pyjamas - which consisted of a band shirt and joggers.

“Really, really well actually. You? Oh, by the way. Sorry about, you know, everything I said last night. I’m not normally like that.” you mumbled in between bites of freakishly good pancakes. Chocolate spread and strawberries were an unmatched combo (only lemon juice and sugar could beat it).

“Slept well too. Plus, quite enjoyed you telling me how, ahh what was it? Fucking gorgeous you think I am. But, seriously, no worries.” Remus teased, but his tone deepened at his last sentence.

“I feel like I forced my way into your home.” you giggled, smiling over at him sheepishly.

“I’m not complaining. Y’lovely. I know you heard me say that to Sirius, by the way. You don’t really have the whole poker face nailed, do you?”.

“No, no not really.” you mumbled, becoming flustered once again. Watching Remus, you admired his every move as he finished off the pancakes. Similarly, he couldn’t take his eyes away from you. “Let me help, like do the washing up or something.” you said, standing up as soon as you finished the food “I feel bad, you’ve been so nice.”.

“You really don’t have to, but, if you want to you can.” he stated, smiling over at you as you took the plate away. Quickly, you got to work on washing the plates. He laughed lightly as he watched you, shaking his head.

“Are you laughing at me?” you asked, feigning offence. Approaching you, Remus placed his arms on either side of you. You turned around, having finished with the washing up. His face was only a few inches away from your own.

“Would never.” he defended, looking down at you. Remus Lupin was ridiculously tall, pretty and charismatic. He dressed like a loser, but was in fact - in your eyes - quite the opposite. Right now, he was all you had ever wanted.

“Hi.” your mind was at a complete blank and the fact you had even formed a word was impressive. Your body felt like it was on fire.

“Hello, dove.” he purred, trying hard not to laugh at the look on your face. As calm as Remus presented himself, he had a dead giveaway. A tell. White knuckles. He was gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles had altered into a pale, almost translucent white.

“You didn’t kiss me yesterday.” you stated, feeling it rather appropriate for the situation. He smiled. You swallowed, hard.

“No, I didn’t. You were quite drunk. However, it would be awful of me to not kiss you today.” he murmured in response, leaning closer in. Your mind was filled with a repetitive sequence of two words. Kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. His teasing was criminal. He was driving you insane within the first day of knowing him and you couldn’t imagine the solace his kiss would bring.

“So awful,”. You had to bite your tongue to avoid begging him to kiss you.

Moving even closer towards you, Remus’s tight grip on the sink never once faltered. And, finally, sweet relief. He kissed you like you’d never been kissed before. Soft, sweet and somehow it held a passion that sent your brain into a wicked frenzy. When he pulls away, you pant.

It was good. Too good. Far too good.

“You’re so pretty, ‘s unfair.” he cooed, releasing the sink and running his hand through your hair. Tenderly, he tucked the majority of your unbrushed hair behind your ears. Remus didn’t really seem to mind the mess.

“Ha-ha. Haha.” you said. Yes, you spoke the sounds “Ha-ha.” Sounding somewhat like a maniac, all you could do was look up at him with pure adoration.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head. Once again, he was trying desperately hard not to laugh.

“Perfectly- Um, perfectly fine.” you confirmed, nodding your head as you spoke. Once again, the broken record spinning that was in your mind began its maniacal chant. ‘Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.’ you begged, silently.

“Still not got a poker face, dove.” he observed, leaning back in. Connection. Morning breath and all. Connection. You were praying you wouldn’t collapse of the sensation of it all. Your hands shakily found their way into Remus’s hair. Carelessly, his hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer.

In books it’s common for the writer to describe the characters emotions whilst kissing; it emphasises how good the sensation truly is. However, right now, you were going against all laws of literature. All you could think, feel or live was Remus. One day was all it took for you to be whipped. Truly, taken. One day.

With your head tilted upwards and your body pressed flush against the brown haired man’s, you could’ve died. Unfortunately, he pulled away. Taking in slow deep breaths, he peered down at you. The look in his eyes was different. He had attraction and affection, sure. But, there was something else there. His expression changed, now matching the look in his eyes. It looked like he was fighting some sort of battle with himself.

And, honestly? Remus was fighting a battle. He liked you, from what he could tell anyway. He liked you a lot. However, Remus Lupin was burdened with a curse he wouldn’t dare admit to anyone bar his closest friends. His so called furry little problem actually turned out to be a rather large problem. Especially when it came to people like you.

Famously, he was promiscuous. God knows the number of people he’d been with. But, those hookups could be reduced to a number. Someone like you couldn’t be inconsequential. In fact, he was of the firm belief you were going to be quite consequential in deed. Reducing you to another quick affection fix would be doing you a great disservice, so Remus thought anyway. So here he was, in his own kitchen, desperately pleading with his own brain to let him take you out. You kissed like some sort of God and you begged like a desperate follower; his body couldn’t decide which part of you he liked the most. In turn, that was what led to the ultimate decision to ask you out. Reminding himself of James, Sirius and Pete’s never ending pep talks, the lanky man understood his lycanthropy did not make him any less worthy of what he wanted. However, trying to act on that was an unbelievably difficult task for Remus. The typical excuse of chronic pain won’t cut it in a serious relationship, when he disappears for days. And, he felt a pang of guilt already fiddling with his intestines for any pain it would bring you. Making his mind up was proving to be far more difficult than he would’ve liked.

His heart won the fight, for once. Foolishly, he had put his logic driven brain aside and let his heart do the talking. (He’d soon come to realise it wasn’t foolish at all).

“Do you wanna go out, this week sometime?” he asked, continuously taking the lead. Grateful, you smiled up at him.

“Yeah, actually. I’d really, really like that.” you affirmed, once again nodding your head like a babbling idiot.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #remus x you #sirius black #james potter #marauders era #let me out #i’m dying #i hate writing

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clusterbuck · 1 year

Text

if you never try, you’ll never know

another 6x11 coda (eddie’s version | buck’s version)

his son is braver than he is.

it’s not something eddie wants to admit to, but—

christopher keeps begging to go see buck, and eddie is terrified of walking into that room.

they’d all been in, at first, when buck had been wheeled into his own room, but then visiting hours were over and the doctors’ patience was beginning to fray, and eddie had to get home to christopher.

they’d come back the next morning, at christopher’s insistence, but there’s no kids in the ICU. so eddie sits in the waiting room, and he goes on coffee runs, and he tries his best to answer all of christopher’s questions about lightning strikes.

every time, he thinks about the fact that buck would know the answer.

carla comes by with lunch and more coffee, and offers to sit with christopher while eddie goes to see buck. and he makes up an excuse, lies right to her face, something about tests or scans or some other good, medical reason why eddie can’t get to his feet and walk fifty yards down the hallway of first presbyterian to see his—

to see buck.

there is no good, medical reason, and by the look carla gives him over the top of christopher’s curly head, he thinks maybe she knows that. but she lets him hide within his own cowardice.

he just—he can’t see buck. not like this, not small and pale in a hospital bed with half his blood volume in plastic tubing. because if buck—if this is it, that can’t be his last memory of him. eddie needs his last memory of buck to be a good one, like when he’d let the words alright cowboy slip out of his mouth and buck had grinned his weird little bashful grin, and the electricity sparking under eddie’s skin had nothing to do with the storm gathering above.

if buck doesn’t wake up, it’s the only way he’ll be able to go on.

the hiding works, for the first three days buck is in the hospital. everyone is so distracted with worry that no one notices eddie is always the one getting coffee, always the one sitting with christopher and watching jee-yun if maddie and chimney are both in with buck.

it works, until christopher becomes so desperate to see buck that eddie can’t tell him no anymore.

(and it’s in him, too, the itch. the urge to round the corner and sit by buck’s bed, to hold his hand and hear the steady beep of his heart on the monitor and now that for now he is still alive. to squeeze his hand as if he can somehow donate some of his own life force, whatever it takes to get him to wake up.

it’s in him, too.

but the fear is stronger.)

christopher walks right up to buck, but eddie hangs back in the doorway. he knows there are tears streaming down his face, but when hen glances up at him, all she does is nod in greeting.

there are dried tear tracks under her eyes, too.

buck lies motionless in the bed, just as he had the last time eddie had been in this room. christopher is talking, but eddie can’t make sense of the words. it’s just a hum of white noise in his ears, static, because the picture in front of him is so wrong that nothing seems real.

eddie comes back to himself just in time to hear the last words christopher says. “you have to come back.”

please, buck, he thinks. you’ve never been able to deny him anything. please don’t start now.

—

buck gets out of the hospital, and for three days eddie doesn’t go and visit him.

it’s because his parents are there, he tells himself. he doesn’t want to overwhelm buck, he tells himself.

but the truth is, he doesn’t know if he knows how to look buck in the face now that he knows what it feels like to nearly lose him. he doesn’t know how to begin to explain to buck how it felt.

he doesn’t know how to explain to buck what he thinks he’d known all along, but now knows for sure.

so he stays away. he gives buck space. and every day the thought of going to see him gets a little bit harder, until—

on the third day, buck knocks on his door, and eddie moves to hug him before he even knows what he’s doing. buck knocks on his door, and the second eddie sees him he knows none of it matters.

it’s buck. everything else is going to work itself out.

#911fic #911 spoilers #911 6x11 #buddie #buddie fic #shush emma #emma writes #idk what got into me today but here we are

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toburnup · 2 years

Note

I HAVE A PROMPT

Eddie asks Steve on a date but Steve doesn't know if it's a date date or a date

I'm writing a fic on this but I want to see your take hehe

took this in a bit of a different direction!! hope you like it my dear duckie 💙 i thought it would be fun to write about steve making the assumption that he's being asked out on a date when eddie is doing no such thing. this is another 20 minute sprint fic!!

“Want to go see a movie? Friday?” Eddie asks Steve as they're walking toward the door and Steve stops in his tracks.

“Friday?”

“Yeah. Unless you’re busy.”

“No, no. Friday is good for me.” Steve says, makes himself sound casual - can't help but feel stunned that Eddie is doing this here, dropping the words without hesitation. “I can pick you up.”

“Sure?” Eddie gives him a look, a little confused. Steve thinks that perhaps Eddie had been about to make the same offer and he'd beaten him to the punch.

“What time?”

Steve wears his nice jeans, and a shirt that a girl complimented once upon a time. He’s sort of surprised Eddie went for it - he’s been twiddling his thumbs, trying to figure out exactly when the best time to ask Eddie out would be - but he just did it. No hesitation. Maybe Eddie wasn’t giving himself enough credit, because he was a little braver than Steve when it came to this kind of thing, apparently.

Steve picks him up, gets out of the car and everything. Goes around and holds the door open and Eddie just shoots him a smile, climbs in, has the same confused expression as before as Steve jogs around the front of the car to get back into the drivers seat.

“Someone’s feeling chivalrous.” Eddie remarks and Steve shrugs, because like, yeah. Maybe a little.

At the theatres, Steve waits to see if Eddie will offer to pay. He does (“I asked you, so, my treat.”) and Steve offers to buy the popcorn. Eddie smiles, and honestly, Steve ends up paying more for all their snacks than Eddie does for the two tickets so he’s happy, because he normally doesn’t go Dutch on first dates. Usually treats the girl. But - he isn’t quite sure what the etiquette is for two guys. Maybe going Dutch is just the way dudes do it.

“Where do you like to sit?”

Steve always sits near the back on dates. Always. Prime spot for making out, but Eddie has already walked a few rows down, so Steve points at random and Eddie turns in. They’re about two thirds back and it’s honestly not even a great spot because they can just hear the sound of a couple in the far corner making out. The light smacking sound of lips makes Steve’s ears prickle, and he holds out the popcorn for Eddie.

“Thanks.” Eddie goes to take the bag but Steve holds on, so Eddie takes a handful and grins. They share the snacks, Eddie tilting the little package of chocolates into Steve’s palm, Steve even throws a few pieces of popcorn and Eddie manages to catch them all in his mouth.

When the snacks are gone, Eddie’s arm rests on the middle armrest and Steve wonders if he should go for the hand hold. He always holds girls hands during movies, is pretty sure that’s half the reason scary movies were invented in the first place. But Eddie doesn’t seem scared at all, just watches the screen with his big dark eyes. Steve edges his arm closer on the armrest and Eddie glances down, maybe sees him encroaching because he shifts his arm away.

“Sorry.” He whispers, like he’d been taking up too much room.

“No, it’s fine.” Steve says, moves his arm away. Frowns a little. Maybe Eddie doesn’t like holding hands. Or maybe he’s just not scared.

Steve watches the movie, tries to focus, concentrate on the screen. In the second half, things finally pick up and he finds himself flinching at the loud sounds, the screech of the music. Eddie’s fingers dig into his arm just once, like a reflex, his fingers wrapping around Steve’s wrist. But he only holds onto him for a minute or two before letting go and he actually moves his hands back to his lap after that and Steve can feel himself frowning again.

He tries to watch the movie, he really does.

After, he suggests they go up to the quarry. He always takes his dates up there after a movie, especially if they couldn’t get into much of anything during the movie itself. And maybe Eddie didn’t feel comfortable holding his hand, even in the darkened theatre.

But the quarry - dark, isolated. He could see Eddie holding his hand there.

Steve gets the car door for him again and Eddie climbs in, doesn’t comment on it this time. On the drive over, Steve lets Eddie pick the music. Usually girls coo over his stereo, but Eddie just complains about his lack of variety and spends most of the drive swapping tapes in and out, barely letting a song play all the way through. Steve’s a little relieved when they make it to the quarry and he parks at the top of the dark hill. The moon is out and it’s a little creepy, but Steve climbs out and leans against the front of the car. Eddie hesitantly draws closer, sits on the hood of the car beside him.

“Is this like, your spot?” Eddie asks, gestures to the open quarry in front of them.

“Sort of. It’s nice and private.” He hints, but Eddie just nods, looks around. And then he pulls a joint out of his chest pocket and holds it up.

“This kind of private?”

“Oh, sure.” Steve fumbles for his lighter, flicks the wheel and Eddie’s hand stills, returns his own lighter to his pocket. Steve lights the blunt in Eddie’s mouth, catches Eddie’s gaze on him.

Eddie inhales once, twice, sharp to get it started. Then holds it out for Steve. Steve hasn’t smoked a joint with someone on a first date before, but he can make it work. He inhales deeply, blows the cloud out in front of them. Barely holds back the cough that tickles the base of his throat.

“Oh, you’re showing off, huh?” Eddie remarks, swipes for the joint but Steve just holds it up to Eddie’s mouth. He slowly leans in and lets Steve put it between his lips.

“We could share.” Steve suggests, raises his eyebrows and Eddie looks genuinely confused.

"What?"

“Uh. Nothing.” Steve says, digs his heel into the ground at their feet.

Steve feels embarrassment tug at his chest, didn’t mean to fumble it like that. Eddie passes the joint over so Steve can take another puff, and Steve coughs, hard. Has to give Eddie the joint back so he can lean over the side of the car and spit onto the ground, coughing and choking and it sounds like he's trying to hack up a lung.

"Jesus. Seems like you're out of practice." Eddie laughs, smacks Steve hard on the back and Steve wants to die. Wants to curl up on the ground because Eddie seems to have no interest in him. And his cough sounded nasty so who'd even want to kiss him after that?

The drive back to Eddie’s is a little quiet and Steve wonders if he’s lost his touch. There’s only a handful of dates he can think of where he didn’t get a goodnight kiss. And this might be one of them, because Eddie just stares out the window, watches the passing scenery.

When Steve pulls up outside Eddie’s trailer, he clears his throat. Turns off the car and they're sitting in the dark and it makes it a little easier to speak.

"Hey-"

“I’m uh, sorry. If I did something wrong.” Eddie says quietly, and Steve’s head spins. "You seem annoyed."

“You didn’t do anything. I thought I did something wrong.” Steve says.

Eddie slowly turns and meets his eyes. “What do you think you did wrong?”

“I mean... I’ve had a few bad dates in my life, but this is probably up there. Not - not that it was your fault, but, y’know. Bad movie, and the quarry was probably a stupid idea. Almost puked. It adds up.”

Eddie’s face is blank and he blinks once, twice. “This was a date?”

Steve’s heart sinks. Plummets so fast that he thinks he might puke for real. “Well. I mean. You asked - you asked me to see a movie.”

“Because I thought you’d like to go? You mentioned it a few weeks ago.”

“I mean... the tickets. The popcorn, everything.” Steve grasps at straws and Eddie is just blinking again, this time with confusion lacing each word as he speaks.

“Sorry. I wasn't thinking about it like that at all. I thought we were just hanging out.”

“Fuck.” Steve looks forward, feels himself sinking into the seat. “This is a first for me.”

Eddie laughs. “Me too. I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me out before.”

Steve wants to pitch himself out the car door. Wants to tuck and roll, never to be seen by anyone again. They sit in silence until Steve finally frowns in Eddie's direction.

“This is your fault. Why can’t you just ask someone to see a movie like a normal person, if this wasn’t a date?”

“I did ask you like a normal person!” Eddie says, then laughs again. “Not my fault if you assume everyone is asking you out.”

“It's usually true.” Steve mutters.

“So, this was a date." Eddie hits his shoulder gently, looks expectant. "Now what? What’s the next bit?”

“I mean.” Steve turns in his seat to face him. “If you’re about to get out of the car, this is when I’d make my move.”

“Okay, let’s see it.”

Steve shakes his head immediately. “You don’t deserve to see it.”

“C’mon. Lay it on me.” Eddie leans in a bit, half smiling. Goading.

"Do you actually want me to?" Steve asks, doubtful now. Eddie nods, but his smile is still a little too smug for Steve's liking.

"Fine." Steve clears his throat, faces Eddie head on. Reaches up and smooths his thumb along Eddie's jaw, slides his hand back to rest on the side of his neck. He catches Eddie's eyebrows go up, just a little, and his smile wavers.

"So. End of the date." Steve says softly, other hand mirroring the first. He can feel Eddie's pulse. "Usually, we've already kissed. But a certain someone was playing hard to get."

"I was not-"

Steve adjusts his hand, runs his thumb along Eddie's bottom lip instead and his words halt, looks a little trepidatious as Steve leans in.

Steve brushes his nose against Eddie's and doesn't miss how Eddie has stopped breathing, holds his breath in the quiet of the car. "People have said I'm a good kisser." Steve says softly, and Eddie breaks into a smile.

"What, like your calling card?" Eddie finally says, and Steve can almost feel his lips.

"Something like that." Steve says, then leans in, kisses him gently. Holds Eddie's face there and moves his lips only a little, waits until he feels Eddie relax against him, one of his hands coming up to grip Steve's forearm, before Steve leans in more. Tilts his head and kisses him properly, shows him a real Steve Harrington goodnight kiss.

Steve's hand goes into his hair, gets a little tangled in it, but uses it to pull Eddie closer and he hears the creak of the car seat that means Eddie is leaning in, shifting his weight closer.

Finally, Steve pulls away, and Eddie's eyes stay closed for a long moment before he opens them.

"Okay. I get it." Eddie says, pulls back. "I see what the fuss is about."

"Good."

The car is quiet except for their breathing, both looking at each other. Finally, Eddie cracks a grin, his hand winding its way into the front of Steve's shirt. Pulls him in like he's thinking about kissing him again.

"Now that I know what you're after, can you take me on an actual date next time? None of this movie and creepy pit in the forest nonsense?"

"Yeah." Steve laughs, lets Eddie tug him closer. "You've got it."

#thank you for the prompt!!#sorry this took forever #steddie fanfiction #steddie #sprint #vio writes #assassinduckie #i just like to embarrass steve i think

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renecdote · 1 year

Note

For the character and word, Maddie & ocean?

buckley siblings feelings for all your buckley sibling feelings needs 🥰

[Read on AO3]

The night Buck comes home from the hospital, Maddie watches a documentary about the ocean. A couch has been ordered, but it won’t arrive until Wednesday, so she’s sitting up on the other side of her brother’s bed, absently playing with his hair while a beluga whale dives deep in the cold Arctic Ocean.

“I didn’t know they were such social animals,” she says, more caught by the documentary than she thought she would be when she sat down on top of the covers with her phone and a cup of tea.

Buck’s eyes are closed, curled on his side with his head not quite touching her hip, but he’s too still to be sleeping. Close to it though, maybe, because his reply is little more than a mumble when it comes.

“Guess the ocean gets lonely.”

Maddie doesn’t shiver, but the feeling sits beneath her skin, more sensation than cold, and she reaches for her tea to ward it away. She wonders, sometimes, if Buck ever would have forgiven her if she hadn’t fought her way back out of the ocean that day. If he ever would have forgiven the ocean. She thought for a long time that the tsunami had already broken that bond between her brother and the water he loved so much, a heartbreak more swift and cutting than Abby ever was, but Buck has always been braver than she gave him credit for. Braver than she thinks he should be, some days.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, fingers still moving through his hair. He hasn’t complained, but by the time she managed to convince their parents to go back to her house for the night, he’d been squinting in a way that meant headache. Probably a whole body kind of ache as well.

“‘M okay,” Buck answers, but he sounds too tired for it to be convincing. “You didn’t have to stay.”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “You just got out of the hospital, Buck, of course I’m staying.”

It’s a familiar kind of argument, more easily won this time than it has been in the past. Maddie still isn’t sure if she should be worried about that, or just happy that Buck is willing to accept her help. He hadn’t even asked any questions when he saw the overnight bag she dropped at the bottom of the stairs. Hadn’t asked when she shut the door behind their parents. Hadn’t protested, even when she looked him up and down and said, “okay, time for bed,” in the same kind of decisive tone she uses with Jee when she starts getting overtired and cranky.

In return, Maddie didn’t argue when Buck flipped through Netflix to find a documentary he was already halfway through. Not even when he rolled onto his side only a few minutes in, tired eyes sliding closed, giving up any pretence that he was actually watching it. Ever since he was a kid, he found it easier to sleep with noise. Maddie used to read to him for hours when he was young. Used to worry about him strangling himself with headphone wires when he got her hand-me-down portable CD player as a teenager.

She still worries. Maybe more than she did when he was a kid. Less about him strangling himself in his sleep, but more about whether he’s sleeping at all. Whether he’s hurt. How he might get hurt. He’s not a kid anymore, but he’ll always be her baby brother. She doesn’t think she’d ever stop worrying about him even if she could.

On the TV, a baby whale is calling for a mother who drifted too far away, and Maddie bites her lip, feeling teary and a little bit ridiculous for it.

You’d tell me, right? she wants to ask. If you weren’t okay?

But she’s scared that the answer is no. She’s scared that it’s something she might not be able to fix.

So she just keeps running her fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and when the baby whale has been reunited with its mother and she feels a little less like she might cry, she says, “I love you, Evan.”

There’s just enough of Buck’s face visible in the ocean-blue light from the TV to see him smile as he replies, “Love you too, Mads.”

It’s enough. For now, it has to be enough.

The documentary slides into warmer waters, the sun bright and sparkling as a bale of turtles pulls themselves out of the ocean and onto the beach to lay their eggs. Maddie watches them carefully dig their nests and lay their eggs, then leave them there to incubate and hatch. She watches baby turtles claw their way out of the sand and down towards the water, fighting for survival from the moment they draw breath. A gull circles low, cawing, and she looks away right as it swoops, unwilling to watch as it captures its prey.

Beside her, Buck’s breathing is slow and even, the tension in his body softened as he sinks into sleep. There’s an air mattress downstairs, tucked into a cupboard after being borrowed once and never returned, and Maddie really should have set it up earlier so she could sneak back down and into her own bed for the night as soon as Buck fell asleep. But she didn’t, and she finds herself lingering now, reaching for any excuse not to be as far away as even the bottom of the stairs.

What if he has a nightmare? What if he has trouble breathing during the night? What if he wakes up and needs her?

(What if she wakes up and needs the reminder that he’s alive?)

In the end, she doesn’t even turn the TV off. She just stretches out on the bed, still on top of the covers, and lets the blue ocean light and her brother’s steady breathing lull her into dreamless sleep.

And when Buck does startle awake in the middle of night, woken by the conjurings of his own mind, she’s there to reach out and lay a hand on his chest, rubbing soothing circles while she murmurs, “You’re okay, it was just a dream, go back to sleep.”

He takes a troubled breath, shaky in the darkness, and when he shuffles closer, Maddie thinks it’s for her as much as for him. They haven’t done this since Buck was a kid—not when his leg was crushed, or that embolism almost killed him, or any of the dozen other too-close calls he’s had—but she pushes back the covers now, just far enough to climb under them, and she wraps her arms around her little brother.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers against his hair, hand moving on his back. “I’m here, you’re okay.”

Maddie doesn’t know if he believes her. She doesn’t know if he is okay. But she’s here, she’s got him, and that has to be enough. For now, it has to be enough. She holds him tight, holds him safe, and sooner than she thought he might, Buck drifts back into sleep. Maddie presses a kiss into his hair, and lets her own eyes fall closed, and when she sleeps, she dreams she’s a turtle, drifting through the warm ocean currents.

#Maddie Buckley #Evan Buckley #911 Fox #fic

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mirisss · 25 days

Text

Cuddling with Ampers&One

Ampers&One x reader

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Wordcount ≈ 923

Warnings: None I think

Na Kamden

Kamden is the type of guy who would always have an arm around you. Walking on the street? Boom, he has his arm around your shoulders or your waist, sometimes when it’s more convenient he’ll hold your hand. Movie night with the friend group? Kamden’s arm is around you. It brings him comfort to hold you in his arms, knowing you’re close and can’t be separated.

When it’s just the two of you, home alone, on the couch, Kamden loves to cuddle with him laying on his back and you on his chest. He will run his fingers through your hair and every now and then, he will strain his neck to give you a kiss on the head.

He Brian

Brian is more for subtle touches in daily life, no more than holding hands out in the open. Walking beside each other, only your pinky fingers touching each other as the two of you share nervous smiles. It doesn’t matter if you have been together for only a week or 5 years, you’re both as innocent as ever.

Though when you are home alone, in the comfort of your home, Brian loves to hug you, back hugs are his favorite as he whispers in your ear or sings your favorite song lowly as you dance around the kitchen. In bed, Brian is the type to rest his head on your chest as you fall asleep, his arms tightly wrapped around you as he listens to the beating of your heart.

Choi Jiho

Jiho is a wild card when it comes to cuddling or skinship in public. Some days he will keep an arms length between the two of you no matter what and other days he will be hanging on to you as if he would die without having you pressed against him.

In the safety of your home, Jiho will be all over you. If you’re in the kitchen, he’s back-hugging you, if you’re brushing your teeth, he’s back-hugging you, any time he can he will be giving you a back hug. In bed, he will love spooning, but also sleeping in the sweetheart’s cradle. Any position where he can hold you in his arms, he loves.

Yoon Siyun

Siyun will be a bit more reserved in public, however, he will hold your hand. It feels safer that way, especially if you’re out walking on the street, he has to hold your hand or he will worry that the two of you will become separated. In front of the boys, he can hug you and maybe a quick kiss every now and then.

At home, Siyun is still a little more reserved than some of the others. He wishes he was as bold as Jiho or Mackiah but it feels weird to be so clingy, but eventually as your relationship grows he will become braver and more comfortable. When sleeping, he prefers the two of you laying beside each other and just your hands touching.

Choi Kyrell

Kyrell will be really shy at first but try to act bold. He will watch different romance movies and series to try and get some tips on how to act romantic with physical touches. Each movie and series will give him a number of moves to try, however whenever it comes to it, he always gets to nervous to actually try it. One of the few things he managed was the “helping you reach something on the highest shelf”, it wasn’t intentional though but when he came into the kitchen you were trying to reach a certain mug that Kamden accidentally put on the wrong shelf, so Kyrell walked over and reached over you to get the mug. You were in awe of his action but Kyrell only smiled and handed you the mug.

Even at home alone, when it comes to sleeping, Kyrell is a bit shy, so you often have to initiate the cuddling but once you have initiated it, you’re stuck. Because he won’t let go until he truly has to. He will lock you in his arms and keep you there until the morning.

Mercer Mackiah

Mackiah is similar to Kamden, he must have some sort of skin contact at all times. Mackiah will hold your hand wherever you guys are, have an arm around you, and drape himself over you from behind, he’d put you in his pocket if he could.

When the two of you are lying in bed, about to sleep, Mackiah has to spoon you because he can’t sleep unless he’s holding you tight and close. He will also give you about a thousand kisses on the neck and the head before falling asleep.

Kim Seungmo

He’s the youngest but one of the boldest when it comes to PDA, he just doesn’t care what others think. If he wants to hold your hand, he will, if he wants to hug you, he will, if he wants to kiss you, he will. The only time he is embarrassed is around the other boys, mostly because they tease him, but he still holds your hand/hugs/kisses you.

When it comes to sleeping, Seungmo will either fall asleep on top of you, spooning you, or in the sweetheart’s cradle. He loves falling asleep on top of you, with his head on your chest and with one of your hands scratching his head.

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rangerdoubt · 18 days

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY

@glitchy-npc and me sneaking in on PST… brother. i haven’t done anything in a while. SO:

tagging @redwayfarers @thenightdayblogger @emeraldgreaves and like, anyone else who also wants to do it! it’ll be a wip whenever though bc it’s like six to midnight for me 🥲

miscellaneous stepverse/crime family au, because i like making my steps argue:

“I thought you didn’t drink,” you say when he raises a lazy hand in greeting.

“I don’t. But you do.” A flat little smile, all dimples and no teeth. He narrows his eyes at you and folds his hands around–

“Is that a Shirley Temple? Are you six?”

“Seven, actually. Order what you want. I’ll get the tab.”

You point an accusing finger in his direction and he raises his eyebrows in mock-surprise. “Don’t think you can start being nice to me now,” you grouch, but he waits until you sidle back from the bar and take a sip of your vodka Diet Coke before making his reply.

“Better?” You keep your grunt noncommittal and he wrinkles his nose. “I worry for you, that’s all.”

“How sweet. Wh–” You take another long sip. He manages to keep the benign little smile, but the furrow between Miguel’s eyebrows gets a little deeper as he waits for you to come up for air. Whatever. Good. You’re feeling a little better already. Calmer. Braver. Maybe this won’t go as badly as you suspect it might. “What’s wrong this time?”

the migjulia that i forgot about!

Julia traces a finger over the bare skin of your back. You swallow hard, and keep your eyes on your phone to keep from shivering.

“You know,” she says wonderingly, “I never—are you playing sudoku?”

You do your best to squint back at her but it cricks the hell out of your neck. “It’s a crossword. They’re completely different grids?”

“Oh, because that’s so much better. Is this, like, your equivalent of a cigarette or something?”

“Fuck o—kay.” You take a deep breath, stuck somewhere between an argument and laughter. “And if it is?”

“Then you’re a bigger nerd than I thought you were. Which says a lot.” Julia tucks herself tighter against your back, sticking her chin into the crook of your neck.

“You weren’t supposed to be in a position to find out,” you say dryly.

“Mmm,” you can hear the smile in her voice, smug and fond at once, “But I am.”

a bit of original fic that i’m still trying to wrangle:

It is—suffocatingly awkward, now that there is only two of them. And the angel. Always the angel.

“Will—how is he going to go—“

“Shut up,” says Tam stiffly. The leather of the steering wheel is squeaking in her hands, she’s squeezing it so tight. Max sinks deeper into her seat.

“Okay.”

It doesn’t sit right to have just—left Gavin there. He’d been—kind, almost. Sad in his own way. It made something turn in Max’s stomach to watch him just recede into the distance, like he’d given up as they pulled out of the gas station.

ALL IS AS IT SHOULD BE, MAGDALENE, says Melpomene in the rearview mirror. It’s humming again, blindfolded eyes turned toward the window. Its pair of lion’s claws are folded over each other, like any kind of house cat.

“Right,” says Max. She’s given up on correcting it. A name for a name, she supposes. “If you say so.”

#auden writes

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inevitablysomber-dark · 1 year

Text

Shackled (Chapter 9)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader

Warning: There are some intense, dubiously consenting and nonconsensual sexual themes in this series, MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You hate Outer Banks with a passion and are working hard to get out despite all the obstacles in your way. Rafe himself eventually becomes one of those obstacles after a night of low impulse control. Will you be able to overcome him or with you have no choice but to submit.

Slow Burn

Series Masterlist

It’s been 6 weeks since you’ve last been home, and your weekly schedule has completely changed.

When Rafe comes to pick you up on Mondays, you do all necessary errands, chores, and repairs (it's why it’s his second most hated day of the week, the first being Friday). Bringing laundry over to his house to use his washer and dryer, then bringing it back over Tuesday morning.

Rafe usually insists on getting breakfast, maybe chilling at the beach or country club, or hanging out with Kelce and Topper, who were wary of you but eventually learned to tolerate your presence. It helped that Rafe got a little snippy whenever they copped an attitude with you.

Mary tried to contact you twice, but her passive-aggressive speech withheld a response from you.

But Ether seemed a bit more genuine; it looked like she got over the idea of you and Rafe being together and wanted the details of how it came about. You ignored her the first few times, but she was persistent, so you eventually gave in.

Since your rendezvous at the beach, Rafe had gotten a tad more clingy, constantly touching, holding, and kissing you as often as he could.

You have to beat him off with a bat to let you go to the mainland on weekends. He concedes but not without some kind of resistance. One week he threatened not to drive you to the ferry, eventually yielding when he realized you were willing to walk to the bus stop to get there.

He’s also gotten a bit braver with his public affection for you. He must have thought it was ok since the prominent people you were hiding from, Mary and Ether already knew.

You got a nickname from the younger pogues on the cut: Wannabe. The kooks just call you a gold digger. But not in front of Rafe, never in front of Rafe, considering how feral he gets whenever anyone insults you.

You can’t say the attention you’ve managed to garner up until this point wasn’t expected. However, you were still very much uncomfortable with it.

Since the beach, you’ve sort of just accepted everything that happens.

In very few words, Rafe admitted to being in your corner on this miserable island. Although you weren’t sure how much of that sentiment you could trust, you were willing to ride the wave until you fell off.

It was Tuesday, and Rafe was pulling into his driveway. You had just dropped off laundry at your father's house, surprised to find him on the couch snoozing, but you managed to get in and get out without waking him up.

The last time your father has been on the couch mid-morning, he’d just been fired by Ward Cameron, Rafe’s father. You were hoping that history wasn’t repeating itself.

“I was thinking we could order in some Chinese?” Rafe opens the front door allowing you to walk in ahead before closing it.

You shrug your shoulder, indicating your indifference, heading towards the kitchen for a drink of water.

“Hey,” he pulls you by the waist before you can get past the kitchen island to reach the fridge. “What's wrong?”

“My dad was home.” your voice low unsure of what to make of the situation.

Rafe cocks his head to the side in confusion “ So what?”

“Last time he was home Midday, he lost his job,” you clarify.

Rafe nods his head in understanding before lifting your body to place you on top of the island.

“Don’t worry, you could always stay with me?” he moves to situate himself between your legs.

“Can my dad stay with us too?” you ask, playfulness in your voice.

“No,” he said it with such finality you didn’t know how to respond.

His face softens before he moves to plant licks and kisses along your neck. His hands creep around your waist before he squeezes and pulls you closer. Shifting his mouth down towards your cleavage.

You can feel the mood accelerating before something catches the corner of your eye. It was a bookbag, covered in sparkly accessories, sitting on the sofa in the living room. It could blend in with the modern decor of the space it occupies.

The bookbag could be considered juvenile, and where there were youthful objects, there were juveniles. You could feel a drop in your stomach when you realized what might be happening.

“Rafe,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention.

He moans before moving his fingers underneath your top.

You place your hands over his own to stop him.

“Rafe!” you repeat. “I think someone is here.”

At this, he lifts his head, and you point in the direction of the book bag. It takes him a minute before he notices his fingers twitch against your skin as if contemplating whether or not he should continue.

“She could’ve just left her stuff and gone back out.” he shrugs.

“No, she’s home,” an unknown voice chimes.

Rafe quickly removes his hands from under your shirt but doesn’t move to let you off the island.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school in something?” waving a hand around to emphasize the disruption of her attendance.

“ School let out early today,” she says. “Hi, I’m Wheezy.” she holds her hand for you to shake.

You awkwardly grab it, responding with your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Wheezy.”

You’ve never met with Rafe's family; you only ventured to shared spaces when they weren’t home. Otherwise, you were a recluse, coddled in the corners known as Rafe’s room.

“You’re Rafe’s girlfriend, right?”

Before you could fix your mouth to say no, Rafe quickly responded with a Yes. You almost get whiplash with how quickly you turn your head to look at him. But he pays you no mind as his youngest sister has most of his attention.

He finally backs away, pulling you off the island and letting go once you’ve settled on your feet.

“People have been talking about you a lot,” she says. “I never thought Rafe would be into pogues.”

“Wheezy!” Rafe hisses.

“Honest;y, neither did I, but here I am” you take a peek at Rafe, and it looks as though you offended him.

You give him a look before turning back to Wheezy, “so we were about to order some Chinese. Did you want some?”

“For Sure. Get me some extra wontons please,” she smiles before heading into the living room “can we watch a movie while we eat?”

“Whatever,” Rafe responds.

Wheezy hops on the couch, grabbing the remote and shifting through the apps on the television. You turn toward Rafe as he pulls out his phone, searching for the restaurant number.

“Why did you tell her I was your girlfriend?” your voice lowered so Wheezy couldn’t hear. You needed to know Rafe's reasoning before you embarrassed him in front of his little sister.

“What? Was I supposed to tell a 13-year-old that we’re fuck buddies?” he says

“No, but you didn’t have to lie and say we were in a relationship either.”

“Two randos just making out on a fucking island,” he dials the number putting the phone to his ear “trust me, it’s easier this way– Hey, I’d like to put in an order” Rafe walks away, making the order.

You look back into the living room to catch Wheezy staring at you before she quickly turns her head back to the TV.

You sigh.

It could be easier this way. It’s not like you bothered to correct Mary and Ether when they called you out at the country club. And people seem to be getting those vibes from you anyways. As long as Rafe knew what it was, you’d didn’t see a reason to correct it.

—

When it rains, it pours.

Wheezy seemed a bit wary of you at first but eventually warmed up to you throughout the movies and Chinese food.

Before you know it, Ward, Rose, and Sarah are walking in through the front door, and like a deer caught in headlights, you stand there waiting for someone else to make the first move.

Ward clearly isn’t happy, asking who you were and what you were doing in his house. This seemed to offend Rafe as he again claimed you as his girlfriend. The look on Sarah’s face should have been documented and placed in a museum labeled ultimate confusion.

Rose didn’t seem to mind you, though, asking you to dinner. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you respond with “Sure.”

What have you gotten into?

#Dark!Rafe Cameron #Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader #Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader #Dark OBX #Pogue! Reader #Pogue Reader #dark fics #Rafe Cameron c Reader #Outer Banks #series #Shackled #Shackled Series #dub con #dubcon #dubious consent

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jwonsociety · 1 year

Text

lovestruck // chapter 6

pairing ➼ brother's best friend!niki x fem!reader

genre ➼ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, kind of crack because y/n's internal narration is very silly, sunoo is y/n's older brother

word count ➼ 3.9k

warnings ➼ a little bit of angst this chapter but DONT WORRY, everybody is so so so stupid, profanity

synopsis ➼ As the younger sister of the smart and popular Kim Sunoo, you’ve gotten used to living life as a background character. You mostly keep to yourself, you don't go to parties, and you most certainly do not have a boyfriend. One day, Sunoo brings home one of his friends and encourages you two to get to know each other… the fact that said friend is extremely cute definitely won’t be an issue, right?

taglist!! ➼ @kaal-ee @naexity @sd211 @yenqa @justbored48 @nomurahayami @seeuuns @666eren @mklhyvn @annoyingbitch83 @f0rlov3rs @wanna-live-yn-life @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @han8ul @ahnneyong

a/n ➼ i cant believe that this series is already over!! thank you all so so much for reading and enjoying this mini series <3 it truly means the world to me. this story has been so fun to write!! i hope you all enjoy this extra long chapter!! love you all~ mwah

˚₊· ➳❥

Your whole life, romance was something you had only experienced vicariously through movies. It was a little embarrassing to admit, but you were a sucker for a good rom-com; from Love Actually to 27 Dresses to The Princess Bride, you had truly seen it all. Countless nights had been spent curled up in your bed with only potato chips and Julia Roberts to comfort you.

Despite your obsession with these films, you had always insisted that you did not care for anything related to dating. Boys were not a priority. You had a less-than-thrilling social life, but you had a good group of friends and good grades. You weren’t anxiously waiting for a prince charming to come knocking on your door. And, honestly, you simply never thought you would ever experience that. You sincerely could not imagine someone liking you enough to sweep you off your feet with a grand romantic gesture. Nobody would stand outside your window with a boombox, or serenade you with a marching band accompaniment. You were okay with that. At least, you had been.

You weren’t sure what exactly it was about him. Maybe his eyes or his hair or his smile… at a conventional level, he was cute, that was obvious. He possessed all of those attractive qualities, yet that’s not why you fell for him. It was his dorky laugh and his little habits and his perfect rendition of any SHINee choreography. Yes, you had been content with a life devoid of a fairytale ending. Then Niki entered the picture and fucked everything up. He fucked everything up in the best possible way.

Some braver, more courageous person possessed you the moment you leaned in to meet Niki halfway. You honestly don’t know what came over you. You weren’t the daring type. But with his eyes looking at you so fiercely, confession still fresh from his lips, how could you not? You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, anxiously waiting for Niki to push you away and change his mind.

Instead, instead you felt soft lips against your own. A gentle hand gently rested on your waist, pulling you in ever so slightly, and another cupped your cheek. Holy shit. You were kissing Niki. And he was kissing you back.

Your heart thrummed hard in your chest -- harder than it ever had in your whole life. You were so nervous. You had never kissed anyone like this before. So carefully, so meaningfully. Legs trembling, your hand grabbed Niki’s shoulder as an anchor. You could feel the raven-haired boy smile softly against your lips. He hugged you just a little tighter and somehow, you felt less scared.

The familiar scent of Niki’s cologne seemed to envelop you completely. It was clean, rich, and delightfully him. You wanted to breathe in it forever. If time could allow it, you sincerely would.

Wrapped delicately in Niki’s arms, you felt so safe. He’d always had the incredible ability to make all of your worries melt away, like a warm sun thawing a frozen river. Time stood at a standstill as you stood in the middle of the room, kissing him like you would never get the chance to again. This was so much better than any rom-com you had ever seen.

“What the fuck?”

At the sudden interruption, you sprang off of Niki, whirling around to discover the source of the sudden interruption. You were met with the sight of your brother standing in the doorway with an expression of pure horror on his face.

Shit.

“No, seriously, what the fuck?” His demeanor seemed to be a combination of shock and exasperation. His gaze flicked between the two of you. You opened and closed your mouth, searching for a response, but failed. This was not good. Actually, scratch that -- this was a literal waking nightmare. God, what were you thinking? When has anything romantic ever worked out for you?

Niki, sensing your petrified state, took a step towards him. “Sunoo---”

Sunoo backed away warily. “Niki…” he started, but trailed. He looked away, the awkwardness off this situation visibly taking a toll on him. He cleared his throat. “Niki, I think you should go home.”

“Wait, Sunoo,” you pleaded, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“Please.” His voice was very small. “Just go.”

After a moment’s pause, Niki brushed past Sunoo and left the room without saying a word. The tension was so unbearable it neared torturous. You stared at the picture frame on your desk that you had been laughing at just minutes before. The only sound to be heard was Niki descending the steps, grabbing his coat, and eventually exiting through the front door with a faint thud. You forced yourself to look at your brother.

To your surprise, he was already looking at you. His eyes brows were pinched in a way that you could only describe as apprehensive. Or on the verge of vomiting. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint it.

“Sunoo, I promise there’s an explanation for this,” you whispered, trying your hardest to stifle the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

“Y/nnie…” he started. He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m just going to go to my room.”

He turned away and stepped out into the hall, and in a second, he was gone.

➽──────────────❥

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“I can assure you, it was.”

Yoon sighed, clearly wanting to say something else but choosing to bite her tongue. You continued.

“It was completely moritfying,” you insisted, hands mindlessly forming braids in your friend’s hair. You were sitting at a picnic table in your school’s courtyard, legs facing outward, and Yoon sat on the ground in between them as you practiced your stylist skills. Eunchae sat to the left of you, legs tucked up to her chest. It was Monday, lunch, and naturally you had called for an emergency meeting to discuss the events of the past Saturday.

Eunchae was clearly invested. “I mean, how mad is Sunoo, really?”

“He’s fucking pissed, Eunchae,” you groaned. You began to braid a little faster. “He’s barely spoken to me since it happened! I’ve tried talking to him, but it likes trying to reason with a brick wall. All it’s been is dirty looks and the silent treatment and now I’ve completely destroyed the relationship I have with my brother beyond repair and--”

“Ow, ow!” Yoon hissed, reaching up to seize your wrist. “You’re pulling!”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, releasing the iron grip you had on her poor hair follicles. “I just really don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe he just needs time,” Eunchae suggested. “I mean, in his defense, he did walk in on his best friend sucking face with his little sister. That’s probably a big shock.”

“We were not ‘sucking face’.”

“Fine. You were ‘smooching’ his best friend. That doesn’t make it any better.”

You pondered her words for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you’re right… but was kicking him out really necessary? Niki hasn’t texted me once since then! Maybe he regrets it.”

“He’s probably just scared, Y/nnie,” Yoon said, resting her cheek on your knee. She gave you an assuring smile. “You should go talk to him!”

“Speak of the devil,” Eunchae gasped, pointing to the other side of the courtyard. You followed her extended finger to find Niki, hair shining in the sunlight, carefully considering all of the beverage options in one of the vending machines. “Now’s your chance!”

You grimaced. “I don’t know.”

Yoon rolled her eyes and gave your leg an urgent shake. “C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen? I mean, the dude kissed you, so he obviously doesn’t hate you.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of still processing that,” you snorted, swatting her hand away playfully.

“Honestly, me too,” Eunchae confessed. “Since when did you become such a player, y/n?”

With a laugh, you pushed yourself off the bench and turned to face your friends. “I’m not a player!” you giggled. “But alright, I’ll go talk to him.”

With an encouraging thumbs up from Eunchae and a dignified salute from Yoon, you mustered all of your courage and set off towards Niki. The boy in question seemed seriously focused on deciding between Pepsi or Mountain Dew. As you got closer, regret began to slowly creep into your mind. Was the school courtyard really the best place to have your first conversation with him since… the incident? You had mentally dubbed it that because it was definitely a milestone in your life in terms of personal mortification. Before you could change your mind, Niki noticed you approaching.

“Y/n,” he said. You searched his expression for any trace of annoyance or apprehension, but didn’t discover anything of the sort. Maybe you it was wishful thinking, but he honestly seemed happy to see you. “Hey.”

“Hi, Niki,” you replied, voice tense. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” he replied, lips quirking into a smile, and motioned towards the vending machine. “I’m just getting a drink. I think today’s more of a Mountain Dew kind of vibe.”

You giggled, furrowing your brows at him. “What exactly defines a ‘Mountain Dew kind of vibe’?”

“I can’t really explain it. I can just feel it in my soul.” He clutched his abdomen dramatically, gazing off into the distance like he was the protagonist in a thought-provoking artsy indie film. It made you laugh harder.

You shifted you weight between your left foot and your right, searching for a way to appropriately change the topic from carbonated beverages to what you really came over here for. “So, we’re good, right?”

He blinked. “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“You just haven’t texted me since Saturday, so I was beginning to think you… you know, regretted it.”

“No, no, I promise you I don’t,” he insisted fervently. “Honestly, I thought that maybe you regretted it, because of Sunoo seeing us.”

You quite literally convulsed at the mention of your brother walking in on you two. Ashamed, you buried your heads in your hands. “Oh my God, please don’t bring that up. That will go down in history as the most embarrassing thing to ever happen in my life.”

“It’s not the worst,” Niki chuckled. “I’m sure something more embarrassing will happen to you later in life and you’ll forget all about this.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “That’s not really comforting.”

“Sorry.”

“Have you spoken to him since then?” you asked, dropping your hands back to your sides.

“I tried,” he said, “but he’s been avoiding me like his life depends on it. I can’t tell if he’s mad or just feels severely awkward.”

“I think it’s a mix of both,” you joked, but a sad undertone edged your voice. You sighed. “He hasn’t spoken to me either. I don’t know what to do.”

Niki looked crestfallen. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have suddenly done that in the middle of your room.”

You chuckled. “Are you forgetting it was me who kissed you?”

A soft pink blush crept up Niki’s neck before blossoming across his cheeks. You had come to discover that you rather enjoyed seeing him embarassed. “Well, yeah, but I was the one who… said all those things.”

“What, your confession of undying love to me?”

Niki smiled, cocking an amused eyebrow at you. “I don’t really remember it happening like that.”

“Well, whatever the case, I don’t regret it,” you assured him. “Do you?”

Niki placed a gentle hand on your arm, your skin tingling under his warm touc, his eyes soft. Your proximity was suddenly a lot closer. “I definitely don’t regret it, Y/nnie. I promise.”

Your face burned. “‘Y/nnie?’” you repeated, dumbstruck.

He smiled. “What, isn’t that your nickname? It’s cute. Like you.”

“Oh my God, stop,” you laughed, pushing him away. “I might die from the sheer corniness of what you just said.”

“I’m just trying to be a chivalrous gentleman.”

“Please take your chivalry somewhere else.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. With Niki, you didn’t need to speak. It was easy to just quietly enjoy each other’s company. You took some time to admire his outfit; he was wearing a white band tee and baggy grey sweats with a silver necklace adorning his sternum. You loved the way he dressed. You were coming to realize that you loved most things about him.

“Forgive me for being so cliche, but,” you ventured, “what are we?”

He grinned, tilting his head at you like you were the funniest thing. “Well, I was kind of hoping that you’d be my girlfriend, y/n. If that’s okay with you.”

Any attempt to remain nonchalant instantly evaporated. The widest, giddiest smile stretched out across your face, the kind so big it turned your eyes into little crescents. Girlfriend.

“It’s definitely okay with me, Niki,” you breathed. You felt like you were dreaming. “Wow.”

“‘Wow’?”

“Don’t tease me, I’m just surprised!”

“How are you surprised? We kissed in your bedroom two days ago!”

You rolled your eyes, but that stupid smile on your face didn’t budge an inch. Being Niki’s girlfriend was already something you were very much relishing in. Of course, you realized there was still the issue of your brother, which sorely needed resolving.

“Listen, before we start dating officially or anything, I should probably work things out with Sunoo,” you explained. “He deserves some sort of explanation.”

Niki nodded in agreement. “I totally get that. Honestly, I should probably talk to him too.”

You sighed, long and heavy, rubbing your neck. “How do I talk to him though? He’s avoiding me like the plague.”

“Maybe you just need to corner him.”

“Corner him?”

“Yeah, like get him in a situation where he can’t leave and he has no choice but to talk.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because that’s totally non-threatening.”

“Just a suggestion,” Niki shrugged.

Honestly, that idea didn’t seem to bad. In fact, it may be your only option -- Sunoo’s evasion of you was becoming so precise it was baffling. Seriously, your house wasn’t that big, yet somehow he managed to always avoid you. This dilemma needed to be dealt with once and for all.

“Niki, please tell me everything is going to be okay.”

He smiled. “Y/n, everything is going to be okay.”

➽──────────────❥

“Y/n, let me out right now!”

“Sunoo, this is for your own good.”

“How the hell is locking me inside a bathroom for my own good?”

Honestly, you probably could’ve gone about this in a less serial killer-esque way, but at this point, you were desperate. After you and Niki’s conversation earlier that day, you had been determinedly brainstorming ways to confront your brother. Then, that evening, you spotted Sunoo going into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and before you knew it you were following him in and locking the door behind him.

Again, there was probably a better way to do this.

“Sunoo, will you please just listen for a second?”

“Why should I? I’m being held captive by my little sister!”

“S-Sunoo, please,” you squeaked, voice quivering. “You’ve been avoiding me all week, I just want to talk to you!”

Sunoo crossed his arms. “I don’t really have much to say.”

“But I do!” you exclaimed. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? You won’t even let me explain myself!”

“Overreacting?” Sunoo repeated in disbelief. “I walked in on you kissing my best friend! How do you think I feel? This whole time, I thought me and Niki were really becoming close, just for me to find out he’s only been coming over to see my sister!”

You paused. Is that really what he thought? “But that isn’t true,” you insisted.

“How am I supposed to know that?” Sunoo, who had been furious just moments before, now seemed overcome by sadness. It was a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in him since you two were kids; his eyes watering and voice weak. He looked at the floor. “Kissing each other is one thing, but straight up lying to me? That’s what I’m really upset about.”

“Sunoo…” An immense amount of guilt settled on your shoulders. You hadn’t even thought about it like that, from Sunoo’s perspective. Now you understood why he was so upset.

You drew in a deep breath and released it, taking a second to steady your breathing before you spoke. “I want to make it very clear that me and Niki have not been sneaking around behind your back. What happened on Saturday was… spur-of-the-moment.”

“Okay,” he said, but he still seemed tense. “But then why did you kiss him in the first place? I knew you and Niki were friends, but I had no idea there might’ve been something more.”

“If I’m being completely honest,” you began, but hesitated. God, this was so embarrassing, but it was the truth. “I’ve liked Niki since I met him. But I genuinely didn’t think he was interested in me like that anyways, so I just tried my best to ignore my crush on him because I knew it would bother you.”

Sunoo didn’t say anything, so you continued. “We got closer as we hung out more and it was purely platonic, but on Saturday we both ended up admitting our feelings, and… well, you know the rest.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Sunoo quipped. He was looking at you with close attention, but he didn’t seem upset anymore. He was just listening.

“I feel so shitty about it. I really do. We shouldn’t have done that when you were right down the hall and I should’ve communicated with you about my feelings because I knew it would put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m sorry, Sunoo. I’m sorry that I made you feel lied to.”

Sunoo remained quiet for another beat, staring into you like he could see into your soul. You swallowed nervously. Eventually, he spoke.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, y/nnie,” he said, mouth turned upwards in a small smile. “I think I was just really shocked more than anything. I had no idea what to think.”

You giggled, your face turning a little red. “Well, in your defense, I think that would shock anyone.”

“Yeah you might be right,” he laughed.

“I know you must feel a little awkward though. I mean, Niki’s one of your closest friends.”

“Yeah, I do feel awkward, I won’t lie about that,” he admitted. “But you can’t control who you like. Besides, I’d rather you be with Niki than some weirdo. He’s a great guy.”

You snorted, looking at him with hopeful eyes. “So, we’re good?”

He rolled his eyes, but a grin adorned his face. “Yes, dummy, we’re good.”

He pulled you into a tight hug and you felt the anxious knot in your stomach finally come undone. You threw your arms around Sunoo and buried your head in his shoulder. Finally, you had your best friend back.

“So, does this mean you and Niki are gonna get like, matching heart lockets or something?”

“Ew. What?” you laughed, poking your brother in his side.

“Just a question!”

➽──────────────❥

For whatever reason, the entirety of your decision making skills left your brain the moment you had to choose an ice cream flavor. There were the basics like chocolate and vanilla, and they were reliable. But what if you were feeling adventurous? Maybe rocky road was a better choice, or even cookie dough… jeez. You genuinely believed you would have an easier time naming your firstborn child.

“It’s not a life or death decision, y/nnie,” Niki teased. “Just pick one.”

“It might as well be,” you grumbled as you continued to scrutinize the menu with serious contemplation.

“If you don’t choose something in the next five minutes I’m leaving you here.”

You shot him a glare, but there was no real malice behind it. Soft house music filled the small establishment, as well as the quiet chatter of other patrons. Niki stood behind you, looming, yet his presence was always comforting. This had been his idea, of course. After what had been a rather tiresome day at school, Niki had insisted that you two do something ‘fun’, and before you knew it, he had grabbed you by the hand and brought you here. You were happy. You just wish picking a flavor wasn’t so impossible.

Niki squeezed your shoulder, leaning in to talk to directly in your ear. “I can just choose for you, if you want,” he offered, his tone affectionate and warm.

“...That actually sounds like a good idea. Thanks.” You smiled, leaning back into him ever so slightly. You couldn’t see him, but you could tell that he was also smiling, probably finding your indecisiveness throughly hilarious. With a gentle pat to your head, he stepped past you to order at the counter.

“May I please have a scoop of double chocolate chip with melted fudge--” he briefly glanced at you, then continued, “--and a scoop of matcha ice cream please? Thank you.”

You pursed your lips, intrigued by his choice for you. Niki began rooting through his pockets and you grabbed his wrist.

“I can pay for my own, Niki,” you insisted.

He removed your hold on his arm, smiling as he gazed down at you. “Don’t worry about it, y/nnie.” He cupped your cheek in his hand, eyes gleaming with a fondness you couldn’t quite place, and your heartbeat stuttered. “Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t buy a treat for my girlfriend?”

A fierce blush spread across your face. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. You were never going to get used to that. Clearly proud of himself, he smirked and turned back towards the cashier to hand him the cash. After successfully retrieving the ice cream, he handed you yours.

“C’mon,” he said, jerking his head towards the door. “Let’s sit outside. The weather’s nice.”

Ice cream in hand, you followed him towards the exit. Niki pushed the door open with his hip, holding it there and motioning for you to go ahead. Grinning, you obliged, brushing past him and immediately being greeted by the crisp weather. The door closed with the happy jingle of its bell. The two of you decided to situate yourselves on a nearby bench, content to eat your ice cream while partaking in some good old-fashioned people watching.

“You know, I’ve never had matcha ice cream before,” you commented, carefully observing the green scoop nestled in a waffle cone.

Niki looked over at you and grinned. “Well, I hope you like it then.”

You carefully tasted some of the ice cream, Niki watching you expectantly. After pondering its flavor for a moment, you looked back at him and nodded in approval. “Wow, it’s actually really good! How’d you know I’d like this?”

He smiled. “I just know you better than anyone, huh?”

You smiled back at him and scooted a bit closer so that you were comfortably nestled into his side. Even though you and Niki were dating officially now, the flustered butterflies in your stomach were still very much present. But now, they weren’t as much nervousness as they were adoration. Everything about Niki was just so lovable. And, in addition to his cute smile and sense of humor, he made you feel so secure. Truly, he was your safe place.

“You okay?” Niki asked, voice concerned. He must’ve noticed you spacing out.

You smiled at him reassuringly. “Yeah, I’m just… really happy.”

Niki beamed. “Me too, y/nnie. Me too.”

He looked at you, expression soft, his nose slightly brushing yours. With a small smile, you leaned in and met him in the middle. And this time it wasn't sneaky or scary. It was perfect.

#niki x fem!reader #niki x reader #niki x y/n #enhypen #enhypen x reader #nishimura riki #niki #fluff #crack #enhypen au #enha

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mostthingskenobi · 2 years

Text

TRUST THE FORCE

SUMMARY: Years ago, Jyn Erso's mother tied a kyber crystal around her daughter's neck. Little did she know, this small act would save her daughter's life.

Ever since rewatching Rogue One in the theater as a preamble to Andor, I’ve been a bit obsessed. The scene of Jyn and Cassian on the beach is one of my favorite moments in Star Wars (and possibly all cinema!). I heard a head canon years ago that suggested maybe Jyn’s kyber crystal protected her and Cassian and brought them into the afterlife or preserved their spirits or something like that. I’ve always LOVED that idea, and was very inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by @sempaiko

I don’t really add anything new to the scene…but I felt a strong need to write this. So here you go! LOL! Enjoy this arbitrary retelling of my fav scene FULL OF PAIN 😭

Trigger warnings: nothing graphic, canon compliant sadness and pain

Rating: general

——————–

The light was almost beautiful, a pale orange-white streaking across the sky. But nothing could quite capture the horror those colors represented. A wall of water, steaming vapor, and pure energy moved toward them at a steady rate. This time no one was coming for them, no last-ditch efforts, no running away.

Their chances were spent.

And they both knew it.

Jyn and Cassian knelt in the sand at the water’s edge, watching their fate rushing towards them across the sea. Deep down they had known it would end this way. As K-2SO had used his last moment to smash the data consul, protectively sealing them in the vault, they knew their deaths were inevitable. Accepting that hard truth gave them the strength to carry on. Resisting the Force would only have gotten in the way.

They had both given so much, lost so much, been denied so much. Throughout their lives Jyn and Cassian had gone from one pain to the next, never stopping long enough to let the truth take root, for the truth was too ugly to face. But now, sitting in the sand next to an equal, having a partner that understood, was somehow a gentle comfort. They didn’t know each other, not really. But what was there to know? Favorite foods? Spiritual beliefs? Coffee or tea? None of that mattered. What Jyn and Cassian did know was how merely surviving could eat at your soul. Loyalty could be brushed aside by those in power, as though your sacrifices meant nothing. They understood how picking the lesser of two evils killed a little piece of who you were. They understood the fear of becoming a shell, of being lost to themselves—a result of drifting from one disparate, brutal task to the next.

As Jyn and Cassian looked into each other’s eyes, they felt certain that at least now, in this moment, their humanity was alive, their sacrifice counted for something. In this moment, they existed more deeply and more purely than they had ever existed before. Cassian existed in Jyn and Jyn existed in Cassian.

They were equals.

They intrinsically knew each other’s truth, not by a lifetime of friendship and minute detail but by this horrific moment distilling them both down to their rawest state. There’s no hiding who you are in a moment like this.

“Your father would have been proud of you, Jyn,” Cassian said gently, his steady gaze matching his unwavering voice. He knew how hard this whole experience had been for her, forcing her to relive heartbreak that she pretended didn’t affect her. She had proven to be more honorable and more dedicated than many Alliance members. He felt proud to fight by her side.

She smiled sadly. She knew Cassian was right, her father would have been proud, and she loved him for saying such a kind thing with his last few breaths. Jyn reached out and took his hand. They were in this together, all the way to the end. He’d been difficult to read at first, but she’d gradually come to see that Cassian was braver and more capable than most people. There was a gentle goodness buried under layers of ruthless grit. She understood him.

Jyn was scared, she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t. The wall of death moving toward them was getting larger, taller, picking up momentum. She hoped it would be over fast. She looked at Cassian for reassurance. His gaze shifted back to the horizon and his eyes flashed with fear for a fraction of a second. He looked back at Jyn, his expression tight with the realization that there was nothing he could do to protect them.

They reached for each other at the same time, coming up on their knees and wrapping their bodies together. Cassian’s hand clutched into the back of her vest, holding her as tightly as he could, grounding himself as he squeezed his eyes shut. Jyn wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tightening against his back as tears welled up in her eyes.

Their bodies pressed together, their throats tight with emotion, as the air temperature grew warmer and warmer around them. Jyn began to tremble, her breath ragged as she clenched her teeth against a sob. Cassian’s grip tightened around her, responding to her fear. “I’ve got you,” he whispered into her ear over and over. He just kept repeating it, he didn’t know why. He knew he couldn’t save her, that holding her tightly wouldn’t stop what was coming. Jyn leaned her head against him, one last breath freezing in her chest. Cassian felt it; the roaring energy cloud was upon them and his eyes opened wide in fear right at the last moment.

——————–

It was like being plowed over, smashed, ripped, pulled backward and sideways at the same time. Everything evaporated into white, then red, then ruddy orangish-brown before going black.

After the initial violent shock, everything went deathly still, but then a strangeness took over, a sense of floating, of buoyancy lifting upward.

Cassian realize his eyes were squeezed shut, his body’s natural reflex, trying to protect itself. The fact that he even had eyes, or, for that matter, could construct thoughts, suddenly struck him as unusual. He extended his fingers but felt nothing, neither temperature nor sensation. He took a slow breath and opened his eyes.

What he saw overwhelmed his emotions.

Jyn floated across from him, seemingly unconscious. Beyond her was the galaxy’s vastness, empty and black, with distant stars glittering like fireflies. And there, floating between them, glowing with a gentle, warm white light, was the kyber crystal Jyn wore around her neck. It floated between her and Cassian, still tethered with the leather chord her mother had tied around it decades ago. An energy bubble encompassed their bodies, thrown out by the tiny gem. Somehow, the Force had protected them, transported them. Cassian didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to. He stared in awe, trembling with shock, his body weathered by what it had just endured. Everything he had suffered in his life, every pain and fear and heartbreak fell away. He intuitively knew that none of it existed anymore.

He watched as Jyn’s eyes slowly fluttered open, the curve of her mouth giving a slight flinch, as she sleepily regained consciousness. He watched fear flash over her face before her gaze settled on the kyber. Her chest heaved, tears falling down her cheeks as she realized her mother had saved her somehow. Cassian watched as she reached for the crystal, her fingers delicately outlining the ball of radiant energy without actually touching it. Then her eyes lifted to his, growing wide and gentle as she registered for the first time that he was there with her.

Jyn reached for Cassian instantly, their hands locking together, pulling each other close. He cupped her cheek in his right hand and wiped away her tears with his thumb. She clutched her fingers around his arm pulling him closer in an iron grip. “Don’t let go,” she whispered, her usually piercing gaze now unsure, yet still brave.

“I won’t,” Cassian said with conviction.

Her grip tightened, a sign that they shared the same sentiment.

The kyber still hovered between them, a beacon of protection in this strange in-between space where they floated. The Force was leading the way, slowly and steadily moving them toward someplace new.

They didn’t know where they would end up, but Jyn and Cassian took comfort in the certainty that at least they would be there together.

——————–

READ IT ON AO3 - Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

Likes and reblogs welcome here on Tumblr 💜

Thank you for reading.

Much love!

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faofinn · 7 months

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No.13 "It comes and goes like the strength in your bones."

@whumptober-archive

Cold Compress | Infection | "I don't feel so good."

Kieran woke up feeling not right, confused and shaky. He couldn’t work out why - had he had a bad dream and not remembered? His heart felt like it was pounding, and he whimpered, curling in on himself. He tried going back to sleep, but he really didn’t feel good.

“Alfie?” He whispered to his brother. “Alfie!”

He didn’t wake up, grumbling and rolling over in bed. Tears threatened to fall, his lip trembling, and he grabbed his little cat toy, his mind made up. He stood up on shaky legs, feeling dizzy and weird, but padded down the hall, pushing the door to his Dads’ room open.

“Dads?” He called out into the darkness.

It was Tai who woke first, groaning softly before sitting up. “Kit? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel so good.” He whimpered, padding over.

“Oh, Kit. Do you feel sick?”

“No. I just feel all wrong.”

Tai nudged Harrison next to him, helping Kieran up onto the bed and into his lap. “Can you try and use your words? Do you feel all dizzy? Like you’ve been spinning around in circles? Or do you feel all sweaty and hot?”

“Yeah dizzy.” He mumbled, burying his face in his Dad’s chest.

"You're absolutely drenched, Kit." Harrison rubbed Kieran's back.

“Don’t feel well.”

And of course they were still waiting for his monitors, his having come off during rough play with his brothers. "Tai, can you get your kit?"

“Yeah, course. You go cuddle with dad, Kit.” Tai said, gently moving him over. He reached for the kit in his drawer, digging around to find it.

"Oh, kiddo." Harrison took Kieran, bundling him in his arms. "You must feel rubbish."

He nodded. “Mm.”

"You're gonna be okay."

“Don’t feel well.” He whined.

"Can daddy borrow your finger?"

He nodded again, stretching out a shaky hand.

“Thank you, kit.” Tai said, grabbing the lancet he needed. “Little poke, okay? It’ll hurt but only for a second. Ready?”

When Kieran made a small noise, Tai quickly did what he needed to, glad he’d flicked the light on by the bed. The glucose monitor beeped as it did its job, and Tai let it read as he fussed over his son.

“Well done.”

"You're being so brave."

“So, so brave. Braver than me, for sure.”

Harrison leaned over, impatient. "What is it?"

“Uh, 3.2.” Tai murmured. “You’re a bit low, Kit.”

"Why don't we get some juice?"

“Yeah, some juice and maybe some toast?” Tai said. “You cuddle with Dad and I’ll go get it. Do you want jam?”

“Yeah. Strawberry?”

“Of course.” Tai said, kissing the crown of his head.

"You're gonna be okay." Harrison held him close. "Well done for coming and waking us up."

“I tried waking Alfie up but he was asleep.” He grumbled.

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angstyaches · 1 year

Note

couldn't resist sending you a few prompts from that list, what yummy dialogue!! i'd love to see some sick Donnacha and caretaker Henry (i adore their dynamic, it soothes my soul) maybe using "you're still alive, right?" and "shit, i've never been this sick in my life." i'm also fond of "i hid the car keys. you're. staying. home." but tbh flick everything you write is pure gold so please go for whatever prompts tickle your fancy <3

Anon asked:

yay! i wasn’t sure if you were so i didn’t want to make a request without checking first. from the question ideas #15 post that you reblogged, would you be interested in writing something for donnacha around the “bad day?” prompt? i’m kinda obsessed with the platonic caretaking between him and henry. i’m also really interested to know if donnacha will continue to explore his sexuality beyond his kiss with henry (without actually involving henry in the experimentation) and how any potential realizations will make him feel

Quotes are from this prompt list.

Thank you for the opportunity to expand upon Donnacha's bisexual journey because I've actually wanted to do that for ages.

CW: anxiety, slight (bisexual) panic, coming out, nausea, stomach ache, emeto, platonic caretaking, implied potential sc*t,

Word Length: fucking long.

___

11:36pm

When he walked through the hallway and into the living room at this hour, he didn’t expect to find the room filled with basically everybody he knew – besides his family and his rugby mates.

Donnacha froze, feeling like he’d just stepped off a plane. Or a merry-go-round. Somewhere he didn’t quite feel like himself, where the rules of life sort of went out the window, and existence itself shifted a little bit.

All the nerves and adrenaline and sparkly feelings that had filled his night all left him at the same time, dumping him right back in the thick of reality.

His stomach took a particularly low dip as he noticed Payton on the couch, their arm draped around Autumn’s shoulders. They both stiffened when they saw him, but they didn’t disentangle from each other.

“Hi,” Autumn said. Her hair was longer than the last time he’d seen her.

“Hiya,” Donnacha mumbled.

Payton didn’t greet him. He’d been cold with them for so long now that they barely bothered anymore. Donnacha’s stomach twisted with guilt, as well as a hint of victory. An empty sort of victory, but still.

Lucy was sitting on the couch too, in pyjama bottoms and a hoodie, one knee pulled to her chest. She looked up briefly from her phone. “Oh, hey, Donnacha.”

And then Henry fixed him with a look, and Donnacha felt like he could breathe again. He was sitting at the dining table, with his worn copy The Catcher in the Rye and a cup of tea.

Tea sounded fucking lovely, actually. The cocktails had been yummy while he’d been drinking them, but he would appreciate something to wash the sickly-sweet aftertaste out of his mouth and settle the burning upset in his belly.

“How was it?” Henry asked him, ever straight to the point.

That snagged everybody else’s attention more than Donnacha’s initial arrival had.

God, he loved Henry, but he could kill him sometimes.

“Oh, shit,” Lucy exclaimed, eyeing Donnacha’s jeans – his nice jeans, not his everyday jeans – and shirt. She let her phone rest on her knee. “Did you have another date tonight?”

“Yeah, I did,” he responded weakly, focusing on her rather than letting his eyes trail towards Autumn. “It was kind of a... last-minute thing.”

“Another date,” Autumn repeated. She was braver than him. Always had been. Ran headlong into things with a smile on her face.

Donnacha gritted his teeth and tried his best to look casual as he met her gaze.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.” She looked genuinely happy for him, which Donnacha silently resented, and resented himself for resenting. Payton shifted their weight, and for once, Donnacha couldn’t even bask in their discomfort, because this was extremely uncomfortable for him, too.

“Two someones, actually,” he blurted out. The words immediately tasted horrible in his mouth. He had no desire to make Autumn jealous, so what was this burning need to prove something? What was he even trying to prove?

“Two?” Henry’s interest was renewed. “You weren’t out with the same person as yesterday?”

Donnacha forced a smile, promising himself he wouldn’t get mad at Henry. But Christ, he just wanted a cup of tea, not an inquisition.

“Nope,” he said.

“Okay, so, how was it tonight?” Lucy wanted to know. She propped her fist under her chin and leaned onto her knees. “Was she pretty? Nice?”

“Um...” Donnacha felt a tickle of a laugh rise in his chest, despite everything. His hands and his voice were trembling, which was mildly ridiculous. “Actually, he was... cute.”

The room fell silent, and his unsettled belly was suddenly flooded with an anxious buzzing. This wasn’t the fluttery anticipation he’d felt at the start of the night, like he was a teenager about to step onto the field for his first under-20s game. This was despair, like fumbling the ball and costing his team the winning try during his first under-20s game.

It sank in all at once, what he had just done. Jesus, what a way to come out to two of his roommates and his ex-girlfriend as... whatever he was. He probably should have at least waited until he had a word for it.

“He was a polite sort of lad. Pulled my chair out for me, which has never happened to me before, actually,” Donnacha chuckled, mainly because nobody else was saying anything. The only person whose gaze he could bear to meet was Henry’s, and when he did, Henry gave him a little wink of approval.

And then Donnacha got his breath back.

He could kill Henry sometimes, but he loved him.

Lucy looked the least surprised out of the other three, but she still squinted at him like he was a maths test and she’d slept through the last ten lessons. “Okay, sorry, but... yesterday, it was a girl, right? You showed me a picture. She had long, brown hair, a tattoo on her neck –”

“That was, um, a genderqueer person, actually.” Donnacha rubbed the back of his neck. He wished he could stop saying ‘actually’ so much; he butchered it with his accent every time, and it made him feel like he was being insincere when he wasn’t. “Not a ‘she’.”

“Oh,” Lucy exclaimed. “Oh, sorry.”

“And... how did that one go?” Payton’s voice was low and somewhat deliberate. It was probably the first time they’d spoken directly to him in a week.

“Ve was very nice.”

Even Henry looked shocked and impressed this time; he’d surely assumed that someone like Donnacha wouldn’t even know what neopronouns were, let alone manage to use them in a sentence. It seemed like a silly thing to feel smug about, but Donnacha couldn’t help it. He barely recognised himself these days; it almost felt necessary to let some other people in on the craziness.

“But m-maybe a bit too intellectual,” Donnacha went on, despite the swelling discomfort in his stomach. He was over-sharing. He had never been like this. Maybe he’d always talked things out with Autumn one-on-one, and now his ramblings needed other outlets. “I think ve would get, um, bored of me very quickly.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Lucy frowned.

Donnacha shivered, breathing hard against a wave of nausea. What the hell was wrong with him? Henry and Lucy were both gay, Payton was nonbinary, and Autumn was... well, he wasn’t entirely sure, but she was clearly attracted to someone who wasn’t a man, so not necessarily straight. This was the safest room of people he could be in.

So why did he feel like he was going to faint, or throw up, or both?

“Anyway. Cuppa?” He skimmed his gaze over Payton, Autumn, and Lucy. “No? Hen?”

Henry shook his head. “No, thanks, hon, I’m still nursing mine.”

“So you are.” Donnacha snapped his fingers in the direction of Henry’s mug. He’d never snapped his fingers before pointing at anything before in his life.

Before he could do or say anything else weird, he turned towards the kitchen. His knees threatened to sag while he was putting water in the kettle, ears straining towards the living room. It felt like he’d just let off a slew of random fireworks and then left. He wondered if they would talk about him now, while he was out of sight.

Sweat crackled on his forehead. What whispers would Autumn and Payton be sharing? Donnacha wondered – again – why he even cared. His feelings for Autumn were in the past. If she broke up with Payton and asked Donnacha to take her back tomorrow, he would say no. He knew that, as certainly as he knew Henry’s favourite chocolate was 70% cocoa with sea salt. His feelings for her had changed. That was what his kiss with Henry had taught him.

He slapped a dry teabag against the back of his hand while he waited for the kettle to finish boiling. His cheeks puffed out under the force of a slow, lazy belch that crept up from his gut. God, those cocktails were not sitting great. Donnacha’s throat felt sticky, as though he was still sipping one. Now that his mood was dipping, he couldn’t help thinking that the fried chicken they had ordered to the table had been a little hard to choke down. He wasn’t used to deep-fried food, and he could feel how his belly was gurgling away trying to digest the greasy coating and the stringy meat.

At this point in time, he remembered the unpleasantness of the food, and the shifting of his stomach, more than he remembered the face of the man that he’d shared it with. Although, that might have had to do with the fact that he felt like he was suffocating right now.

Do you know what? Tea, be damned. Who could be arsed standing around, waiting for a kettle to boil, when they were embarrassed and not feeling well?

Donnacha skulked back through the living area, slowing down but not stopping.

“I’m off to bed, actually,” he said. Actually. He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze this time. “I’m wrecked. I’ll see yous tomorrow, or...” He broke himself off with a nod as he ducked through the archway and bolted for his bedroom.

11:58pm

He sat and fidgeted with his phone for a couple of minutes. He had texts from both Josh and Willow, but every time he thought about composing a reply to either of them, it felt like they were both in the room, standing over him with their shoes pressed against his chest. Josh with his brogues, Willow with ver knee-high boots. Josh, smelling like musk and molasses; Willow, smelling like an ocean breeze. Both of them fantastic and gorgeous and, apparently, waiting for texts back from him because they liked him.

So why couldn't he stop focusing on the looks he might get if he walked about town with either one of them on his arm? Why, instead of giddy and excited, did he only feel this sickening dread?

“Donnacha!” Henry’s voice said sharply on the other side of the door, as though they’d been in the middle of a conversation and Donnacha had said something outrageous.

His skin prickled, hot then cold. He got up, stomped over, and opened the door. “What?”

Henry made a face and shut his eyes, like he was rebooting himself. When he spoke again, there was something a little more fragile about his voice.

“Bad day, was it?”

“No! It was fine! I told you.” Donnacha sat down on his bed again. Standing was doing his stomach no favours.

Henry paced in behind him.

“Maybe our personalities didn’t click very well,” Donnacha shrugged. “Maybe he reminded me a bit too much of myself. And I might now know who or what I’m interested in, but I know for a fact I’m not interested in going out with myself.”

Henry nodded as though what he was hearing wasn’t the ramblings of a slightly drunk man having a crisis.

“And, of course, I was nervous,” Donnacha murmured, lowering his chin slightly. “You know? I’m twenty-five and casually dating for the first time ever. And it was a lad, hen. And this... the lads thing, it – it still feels weird, actually.” Actually. “But I was... no, I was the normal amount of nervous. It was a normal kind of date. Just normal.”

Henry shifted his weight from one leg to the other, cane tilting with his hips. “Donnacha, I... asked if you had a bad day. Not a bad date.”

Donnacha swallowed, this time tasting the chicken grease right in the back of his throat. He folded his arms over his middle and leaned forward, testing how the pressure felt against his stomach. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Misheard ya, then.” Donnacha sniffed and cleared his throat. And then words came out of his mouth in a dizzying rush. "Bad days, I-I've had any amount of those recently."

"What?" Henry asked hoarsely. "And... you didn't think to say anything?"

Donnacha shrugged. He noticed that Henry’s glasses were slipping down his nose, just a bit, but he was eyeing the way Donnacha was sitting, hugging his belly.

“Are... you feeling sick?”

Instead of a verbal reply, Donnacha hiccupped, the pain cutting so deeply through his chest that he made a choking sound like he’d been punched.

“You gonna be sick?” Henry asked, casting a glance towards the hallway as an afterthought, presumably wondering if Lucy’s ears had pricked up at his words.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, Hen!” Donnacha was raising his voice now, and he either didn’t care, or cared immensely. “I – I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Donnacha’s face burned as the words escaped him.

Jesus Christ.

He’d never been this moody and self-indulgent, but it felt as though he’d stumbled across this beautiful, yet painfully delicate, thing inside of him, and the thought of exposing it – allowing it to be observed, critiqued, potentially broken – to the world made him want to scream.

Back home, he’d have sent his old man into absolute uproar if he’d come out with a line like that, accusing him of having too much time on his hands. His secondary school coach would have asked him if he’d rather join the drama society (ironically, of course, since his school hadn’t had a drama society). Even the lads on the current team would probably chuckle at him, or, at best, nudge him in the direction of a counsellor rather than have him bang on like this in front of them.

Henry didn’t ridicule him. He didn’t accuse him of being soft.

Instead, Henry hobbled forward to stand next to him, combed his fingers through Donnacha’s hair, and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. Donnacha sighed – or was it a little sob? – and tilted his head against Henry’s stomach. It felt good to have a body so close to him. This was more physical contact than he had experienced on either of his two dates, and that thought was so confusing that it made the knots in his stomach pull even tighter.

“You don’t have to know,” Henry whispered. “You don’t have to know anything. Your story belongs to you, and no one else.”

Bile rose in Donnacha’s throat. “Bit late for that now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I... made a show of myself, didn’t I?” Donnacha flicked a hand in the general direction of the living area, as though the scene where he’d announced his sexual fluidity was still taking place out there, in open defiance of him and his current feelings about it.

“You didn’t make a show of yourself. Donnacha, what are you on about?” Henry tilted his head and brushed a tear away from Donnacha’s cheek with his thumb. His hand was a little cold, thanks to his bad circulation, “Exactly what do you think you did wrong?”

“I... I don’t know. I thought talking about it would be easier, is all,” Donnacha said on a trembling sigh. His stomach cramped, but the pain felt secondary to the panic that had wound its way around his chest. “It felt weird, a-and... it felt like stripping down to the nip and waving my arse in the air, with all of you watching me.”

“That’s...” A smile, both wry and fond, crept through the lines in Henry’s features. “Unfortunately, that’s what coming out often feels like. I mean, maybe it was too soon for you, and you took yourself by surprise. You sure as fuck took me by surprise.”

Donnacha chuckled drily, and Henry kissed his head again.

“But I was so proud of you, hon.”

A spark of warmth circled Donnacha’s heart.

“Hope you know that.”

Donnacha tried to swallow around a hiccup, not wanting to ruin what felt like a tender moment, but he failed spectacularly and ended up belching instead.

“Thank you," he mumbled. "‘Scuse me.”

"We'll chat more tomorrow. I think you should try to get some sleep.”

“I will, if you get out of my room, you weirdo,” Donnacha mumbled. He reached up to squeeze Henry’s arm before sinking back a little on the bed.

“Rude.” Henry finally adjusted his glasses. He glanced towards Donnacha’s bedside cabinet. “You never made that cup of tea, by the way. Do you want me to bring you one?”

Donnacha curled his lip, rubbing one hand over his middle. “Nah, my stomach really doesn’t feel great.”

Henry nodded, eyeing him warily again. “Well, I’ve been having atrocious insomnia, so let me know if you need anything.”

12:21am

Jesus, but these cramps were getting brutal now.

Donnacha was relieved that Henry hadn’t decided to spend the night in his room, because as soon as he had laid down, it sounded like a lawnmower engine had started up in his belly.

He had resigned himself to sleeping on his back, which he didn’t usually do. Acid sloshed into the base of his oesophagus, thanks to the heartless bitch called gravity, but it was the only position he could find where he could cradle his sore, gurgling stomach with both hands. He woke a few times to find his hands had slid to his sides and had to readjust them.

4:07am

A car horn blasted him fully from his sleep.

Donnacha groaned in pain (Oh, sweet Jesus, my belly hurts) and confusion (who the hell is sitting on their horn at this hour?!). He was starting to think he’d never get used to living in the town. Back home, the most he’d ever be woken up by was a crying fox, and even that used to be an exciting affair that he’d share with his parents and sisters over breakfast. (Did any of yous hear the fox last night?!)

He sat up in bed, and as he did, his belly growled like he was starving, when he was in fact the opposite. Its contents went tumbling over into a heavy pile. Donnacha let out a hiccup-belch, his throat too tight to release enough air to relieve any of the pain.

He planted a hand on his stomach, flinching when the pressure stirred up more pain than he’d expected. His belly was pushing out, taking up more space inside his old jersey than it usually did, and the surface of it felt stretched and tight. He frowned. He hadn’t exactly gone overboard last night, and none of his drinks had been carbonated.

Must’ve been that chicken, he thought. Saliva flooded his cheeks even as he recalled it. A gurgle wove its way through his gut, accompanied by a clenching, slithering pain.

A bead of sweat chased another bead of sweat down his back.

He shot to his feet and moved as fast as he could without bouncing himself up and down. His stomach was jostled nonetheless, and he burped and hiccupped and gulped convulsively all the way to the bathroom.

When he reached the toilet, he was drooling and gagging, ready to get this over with. Donnacha cringed and braced himself, but it wasn’t enough to lessen the unpleasantness of experiencing that sticky, greasy chicken in his mouth all over again, this time mixed with acidic juices.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and look forward to the relief he knew he’d feel later, when the food was unable to torment his stomach anymore.

He retched hard, throat constricting around strangled groans.

It was down his shirt, he realised when the retching slowed down and he opened his eyes. One of the hiccups in the hallway must have brought something up with it.

Shit. He needed to go check that he hadn’t left any on the floor. If Lucy saw that, she’d –

“Urrgggghhh,” Donnach moaned as sharp pains wracked his belly. He’d made a bit of a mess on the floor, too, somehow, but he’d had to deal with that later.

The next wave was coursing up his throat, filling his mouth all the way to the backs of his teeth, before spilling into the toilet bowl. He couldn’t remember throwing up this thickly, this immensely, since he’d been little. He could almost feel the chill of the farmhouse bathroom – which was very different and much fresher than the chill that plagued apartment blocks. He pictured his mother fussing over him, checking his forehead with her hand, tutting as she went looking for the cordless landline so she could call his school. He could almost taste the 7Up that she would stir the bubbles out of, because flat 7Up was the cure for everything in those days.

As he choked up a mouthful of yellow fluid that stuck to his lips on the way out, Donnacha couldn’t remember if stomach acid and flat 7Up tasted much different.

Ew.

He retched again.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent in front of the toilet, but eventually, Donnacha noted that he needed to pee. Too exhausted and nauseous to stand, he peeled himself up off the floor and sat on the toilet seat. He couldn’t have said how long he spent like that, hunched over so that his head nearly touched his knees, arms gripping his cramping belly. All in all, this was a relatively safe spot for him to be in, especially if things went south. Well, further south. Based on how things were progressing, he wouldn’t have been surprised...

Donnacha sat up, propped his elbows on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands.

5:27am

The front door slammed.

Donnacha jumped. Shivered. He was still sitting on the toilet, and he felt dizzy. Had he dozed off? Or just spaced out for a second? He blinked and glanced over at the thin light white streaming through the bathroom window.

It had probably been Lucy, he thought blearily, leaving for classes a lot earlier than usual. Made sense that she’d want to get out of the house, if she’d caught wind of any of Donnacha’s troubles in the night.

Donnacha would probably feel bad about setting off her phobia later, but right now, he didn’t have the energy to feel any worse than he already did.

5:38am

Whether he’d beaten his insomnia or not, the front door slamming must have gotten Henry out of bed. He must have seen Donnacha’s bedroom door swinging open, and his empty bed, because Donnacha’s ears were suddenly prickling from the gentle taps of his cane as he came down the hallway towards the bathroom door.

He didn’t knock. He just gently called out, “Donnacha?”

Donnacha squeezed his eyes shut. Bad idea. His head immediately started to spin and his upper body started to sway.

“Hey, hon?” Henry called out a little more sharply. “Still alive in there, aren’t you?”

“Just about,” he croaked.

“Want me to come in?”

Donnacha looked down at his sick-stained jersey. He was still sitting on the toilet. He and Henry might have been close, but… not this close. Donnacha wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be this close to anybody.

“No,” he muttered.

“You coming out soon?”

Donnacha groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Just go away and give me a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

5:45am

“Jesus…”

“Come on,” Donnacha murmured, reaching for Henry’s hand and attempting to turn him around. “You don’t want to be near that bathroom for a while.”

Henry was inclined to believe him.

“How did... I didn’t think you were that drunk last night.” Henry frowned. If he’d known this was going to happen, he could have left a bucket in Donnacha’s room. He’d seemed upset after talking to everyone in the living room, but Henry hadn’t thought he’d been hammered. Who got drunk enough to make themselves puke on a first date?

“I wasn’t,” Donnacha whined. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his belly as they walked towards Donnacha’s room. “I think it was the food at the cocktail bar.”

“Why, what’d you have?”

“Ugh, this horrible, greasy chicken.” Donnacha’s cheeks puffed out a little, and his hand pressed further into his middle, as though his wrung-out stomach could barely take the mention of said chicken. “Ugh. Gave me this fierce belly ache last night.”

“Or,” Henry ventured, “you were coming down with a bug.”

“No. Nope.” Donnacha shook his head and let go of Henry’s arm as they reached his bedroom. “See, I had that one a few months ago. You remember it.”

Henry stood still, frowning as hard as ever, while Donnacha lowered himself onto the bed. The duvet was ruffled from the night before, but he made no effort to pull it up around himself.

Henry blew a gentle raspberry with his lips. “You don’t – you can’t just, like, get one tummy bug and then be immune to all of them. It’s not like the chickenpox –”

Donnacha whined, making a face like a child who was about to be lectured. “Ssshhh, Hen.”

Henry bristled slightly at being told to sshh, but let it slide seeing as Donnacha wasn’t feeling well. He eyed him as he settled down on his side, face pressed into his pillow.

“Going to sleep?”

“I’m actually just... gonna rest my eyes for a minute.”

“Or you could go to sleep.” Henry reached for the duvet and started to pull it up over Donnacha’s side.

“Can’t.” Donnacha's voice sounded ragged. “Training at half eight. Have to shower.”

Henry snort-laughed. Donnacha lifted a hand to try to push the duvet away from his shoulder.

“Match next week,” Donnacha croaked, tucking one arm under his head and curling the other around his belly. For someone who didn’t want to be tucked in, he sure looked like he was getting comfortable. “Can’t skip.”

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Henry froze, still holding the corner of the duvet so that it made a tent shape over Donnacha’s upper body. He didn’t want to laugh again, but one was bubbling in his chest. “You’re hardly going to training, hon.”

“I’m grand,” Donnacha told him. “I’ve got – gotten it all up. And… out. Out of my system. Should be fine now.”

“I thought you might say that, so, actually –” Henry said.

He swore he heard Donnacha mutter under his breath, “Actually.”

“– I’ve taken the liberty of hiding your car keys.”

It seemed to take a few seconds for the words to filter down through Donnacha’s tangled, exhausted thoughts. Henry used that time to lower the duvet and tuck him in, ignoring the twinge in his hip as he leaned.

He hadn’t really hidden Donnacha’s keys – they had probably walked past them in the hallway on the way back from the bathroom – but Henry was relying on the fact that Donnacha seemed way too shattered to get up and investigate.

Donnacha glared up at him from the bed, with all the ferocity of a puppy waking from a nap. “No, you bloody didn’t.”

“Bloody well did. I know, I know.” Henry gestured lightly towards his own collarbone and let his voice drift towards Lavender’s, just for the theatrics. “I always have been a criminal mastermind of the highest order.”

“I can walk,” Donnacha threatened, stifling a yawn, “if I leave right now.”

“Dear boy, you’ll get blown down by the smallest breeze,” Henry relished telling him, “before you even get out of the driveway.”

“You know that I can take you, don’t you, Hen?”

“Oh, yeah?”

Donnacha hummed in the affirmative, wrapping the corner of his duvet around his hand and pulling it in close to his chest. “Yeah. I can make you give me my keys and spill all your secrets.”

“Usually, yes, but you couldn’t even take a bit of tall grass right now. Will you listen and get this through your head?”

Henry leaned forward on his cane, so his face was a little closer to Donnacha’s pillow. His hip twinged a little less this time.

“You’re. Staying. Home," Henry said, his stomach twisting with each word. He hated having to be stern - he had a fundamental aversion to it - but sometimes Donnacha could be so stubborn that he was a hazard to his own health. Henry reckoned he would never understand it himself, the way that Donnacha devoted himself, as well as the majority of his free time, to the rugby team.

Henry righted himself, sighing, when Donnacha's silence indicated that he'd won. “You can beat me up over it when you’re better.”

“Probably a good thing,” Donnacha slurred. Henry was almost sure that he’d just started to drool against his pillow. “My belly hurts something fierce."

Henry raised his eyebrows.

"I don't... mmm." Donnacha gulped, his hand tightening around the corner of his blanket. "Shit. I don't think I've ever been this sick in my life, actually.”

“Donnacha. Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“And... you still needed me to stop you from going to training.”

Donnacha hummed in the affirmative, and Henry wondered hopelessly how someone so consistent could ever feel as though they didn't know who they were.

He reckoned he'd spell it out for him later, though, since Donnacha seemed to have fallen asleep and was - indeed - drooling on his pillow.

#Lucyverse Donnacha #Lucyverse Henry #sickfic #emeto #emeto sickfic #stomach bug fic #stomach ache fic #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort #platonic caretaking #angst fic #angst

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insomniacwriter17 · 10 months

Text

Saved from the Flames - Chapter Eight

“When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it's not.” --Richard Kadrey

Billy Hargrove is 9 years old. He tries his best to be the son his father wants him to be - quiet, respectful, and obedient. But Neil just pushes harder and harder, all in the name of raising a "strong man". When Billy is removed from his father's custody and placed in foster care, it takes some time for him to realize his world is no longer burning around him. New experiences, new people, new opportunities all make Billy realize there's a whole lot more to life than respect and responsibility.

AKA: The story of how Bob Newby became a real life superhero for one little boy who needed saving.

Inspired by this post I saw from @connordax

read on ao3

After a quick lunch, Billy scurried off to his room to play with his new toys. “Remember, Ms. Gabby’s coming by in a little bit to check in!” Bob called down the hallway after him. “She’ll want to see all your new toys.”

“Yes, sir!” Billy called over his shoulder, already busy tugging all of Mr. Potato Head’s accessories out of the package so he could build the toy. For the first time in a long time, Billy felt content. He was still scared that his dad was in jail, but so far, Bob hadn’t been that bad. He wasn’t scary, his house was nice, and Billy actually maybe kind of liked it here.

Three meals in a row now, Bob had asked Billy what he wanted to eat. When Billy said he didn’t like tomatoes, Bob simply…didn’t put them on his sandwich. He just asked if Billy wanted something else on it instead. And Billy tried pickles for the first time today, and he really liked them! Bob had put them on his sandwich and even gave Billy a small bowl of them on the side for him to snack on after he finished his sandwich.

Billy had toys in his room to play with, but he knew he wasn’t stuck in here. His door was open and he could hear Bob doing dishes in the kitchen. Billy knew that if he walked in there to ask Bob a question, he’d simply get an answer; no yelling, no punishment. It was a new feeling, like Billy could breathe.

He looked at the clock on his bedside table. 3:49 PM. He’d normally be getting on the bus right about now to come home from school. He did still feel a little guilty for missing school today when he wasn’t sick, but he’d gone to the doctor, so he guessed Mrs. MacDonald would understand why he wasn’t there.

Billy was busy assembling his Mr. Potato Head when he heard the doorbell ring. Perking up, the blonde scrambled to gather his new toys into his arms. Gabby had just stepped into the foyer when Billy appeared, a smile on his face and the toys cradled against his chest. “Hi, Billy!” Gabby greeted, smiling at him. “What are all these?”

“Mr. Bob took me to the toy store after the doctor,” Billy explained proudly. “I got stickers, too!” He looked at Bob with a hopeful smile. “Did you tell her I did good?”

Bob chuckled good-naturedly. “I hadn’t gotten the chance yet,” he told Billy. “You came crashing in to show off toys before I could tell her!” He’d meant it as a joke, but clearly it didn’t land that way. Immediately, Billy seemed to deflate, his cheeks turning pink as he looked down at his socked feet.

“Sorry,” Billy squeaked. The two syllables landed hard and Bob felt himself scrambling to fix the situation.

“No, buddy, it’s okay!” Bob promised, reaching out to pat Billy’s shoulder. Neither adult missed how he initially flinched away from Bob’s hand before seeming to relax. “I was just teasing you, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” When Billy looked up but didn’t say anything, Bob continued.

“Yeah, Gabby, you should’ve seen this guy. Even braver than G.I. Joe here,” Bob told her, pointing to the action figure in Billy’s arms. “He answered all of Dr. Luke’s questions, let him listen to his heart and lungs, all that stuff without any kind of fight!”

Billy bit his lip as he thought back to the car ride to the doctor when he yelled at Bob, but he didn’t mention it. If Bob was happy to overlook it, so was Billy. “He even asked me what medicine my daddy gave me and I was able to tell him,” Billy added shyly.

“My goodness, it definitely sounds like you earned those toys, Billy,” Gabby chuckled. She smiled down at the blonde, still reeling from the information she’d read from the doctor. How anybody could look at that sweet face and want to hurt him, she didn’t know. “Why don’t you and me go play with those toys for a bit, hm?”

Billy’s eyes widened and a grin pulled at his features as he gasped, “You came to play with me?”

“Of course I did!” Gabby replied, gesturing for Billy to lead the way. “Can we go play in your room? Is that okay?”

Billy nodded before pausing, looking to Bob for permission. But the man was nodding his own encouragement, saying, “Go on, I’ll entertain myself out here, don’t worry!” So with his arms full of toys, Billy shuffled back down the hall with Gabby.

It didn’t take but a moment for them to settle on the floor, Billy holding the stuffed bear in one arm while he played with the Mr. Potato Head. Gabby sat across from him, pushing a few toy cars around as she asked Billy some questions. “It looks like you got all your stuff unpacked!” she commented. “How does that feel?”

Billy shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess,” he replied. “Have you gotten to talk to my dad? How long is he going to be gone?”

Gabby gave Billy a soft, apologetic smile. “I did talk to him this morning,” she told the boy. “But I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone,” she admitted. “Your dad is going to have to talk to a judge before they make any decisions. Do you know what a judge is?”

Billy was quiet for a moment, popping Mr. Potato Head’s hat off the top of the toy’s head. “Kind of,” he replied. “We talked about it in class. They decide when people are in trouble and what they have to do to get out of trouble for breaking laws and stuff.” Confusion crossed Billy’s face, the boy’s eyebrows raising as he looked up at Gabby. “Did my dad break the law?”

“He did.” Gabby nodded but offered no further explanation, instead pointing at Billy’s shirt. “Are those the stickers you got from the doctor?”

Billy had been ready to ask how his dad had broken the law, but Gabby’s distraction worked incredibly well. “Yeah!” he grinned, pulling on his shirt so he could see the stickers. “The lady at the doctor said I did good enough that I could have both stickers! So I got a giraffe and a motorcycle!”

“Awesome!” Gabby smiled. After the room was quiet for a few moments, she chanced the big question. “So, are you settling in okay with Bob? How are you liking it?”

Billy didn’t look up from his toys, too busy rearranging Mr. Potato Head’s face with a new pair of eyes. “It’s good.” He didn’t want to say it was better than living with his dad, but he did have to admit it wasn’t terrible here. “You were right, Mr. Bob’s really nice.”

Gabby watched as Billy continued to play with his toy, not looking up at her. “He is nice, isn’t he? Do you think that you’d like to stay here while your dad is away?”

Billy was silent, his hands stilling and Mr. Potato Head had no ears. His vision blurred with tears as he stared at the toy, suddenly realizing once more what was happening. “Is it gonna be a long time?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Gabby admitted gently. “I wish I could tell you.” Billy looked up at her, his blue eyes teary and piercing. She wanted to wrap him up in a giant hug and promise everything would be okay – but she didn’t know that. She couldn’t promise that.

Billy looked back down at the teddy bear in his lap, biting his lip to keep from crying harder. This wasn’t home. This place was unfamiliar and Billy still felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yes, Bob made him food that he actually liked, and told Billy he was brave, but Billy hadn’t figured out what set him off yet.

There had to be something, and until Billy knew how to keep Bob happy, he was going to be nervous. He’d rather be home. “Billy?” Gabby’s voice was soft. “Everything okay?”

Billy’s eyes looked up at Gabby finally, but didn’t focus on her. Instead, they focused behind her. On the still open door.

On the door that stayed open last night, into the morning, and hadn’t been closed since Billy had gotten here unless Billy had closed it.

He wasn’t home, but Billy felt a little lighter here. He felt like maybe he was just a little bit in control. “I wanna stay here until I can go home with my dad,” he finally told Gabby, looking back at her again. “But don’t tell my dad I like it here, okay? I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Gabby just smiled sadly, picking up the abandoned Mr. Potato Head ear and handing it to the boy in front of her. “You are such a good son, Billy,” she complimented with a smile. Billy brightened under the praise, taking the toy from her with a bright grin.

They played together for a few more minutes, Gabby letting Billy lead the conversation. Therefore, there wasn’t much to be said because Billy was too busy playing to talk. And then Gabby handed G.I. Joe back to Billy and said, “I should probably go talk with Bob for a minute, just so he doesn’t feel left out. Don’t you think?”

Billy took his toy back and nodded to Gabby. “Are you gonna go talk to him because you’re friends?” he wondered softly. “Because friends have to be nice to each other.” Gabby chuckled, nodding.

“Yeah, Bob and I are friends,” she agreed. “Do you want to come talk with us or keep playing?” Billy looked a bit conflicted, so Gabby added, “No one will be mad if you want to play! I’ll make sure to come see you before I leave, okay?”

Billy’s cheeks tinged pink and he grinned sheepishly at Gabby before snuggling the teddy bear closer to his chest. “I’ll be back,” Gabby promised, standing and leaving Billy to play. As she made her way down the hall, she could hear Billy moving around the room, presumably to gather more toys.

In the kitchen, Bob had brewed coffee and was waiting for Gabby. They’d done this “post-placement debrief” a few times now, and he knew she liked her coffee with sugar but no cream. Wordlessly, he slid the cup to her as she took a seat at the table. “Thank you,” she sighed, taking the cup and gesturing to Bob. “Tell me all about it. How’s it going?”

Bob took a sip of his own coffee before he answered. “It’s going well. He’s still a little strung-out, but that’s to be expected,” he shrugged. “He seems like a really sweet kid.”

Gabby nodded. “His teacher and his counselor had nothing but good things to say about him,” she told Bob. Then she smiled that knowing smile Bob recognized, and he knew she was about to say something he wouldn’t like. “He said he likes it here with you, but not to tell his dad. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Bob shook his head, a frown pulling tight at his lips. “Oh, that’s so…” he sighed, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug. The warm glass burned his hand as he tried to figure out what to say. “Do you think he’s going to be able to visit his dad?”

Gabby tried to hide the disappointment in her voice as she replied, “Probably. Supervised, definitely, at the DPS office or the courthouse. At first, at least. We won’t start those for a week or so, if I had to guess.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Luke’s report…I just…” she shrugged. “Insane.”

“I can’t think about it,” Bob admitted. “He made it sound so normal. He asked me if I’d give him the medicine next time.”

Gabby’s face fell at Bob’s statement. “Oh, bless him,” she sighed. “Did he really do okay at the appointment?”

“Oh, yeah!” Bob insisted with a nod. “We had one little meltdown in the car on the way, but I admit I may have pushed too far. He was a trooper – didn’t fight us once.” Gabby could tell Bob was proud of the boy by the distant smile on his face, and she had to say it.

“Don’t get attached, Bob.”

Bob didn’t even try to argue that he wasn’t, because he knew it was fruitless. Every foster parent training told him not to get too attached when a kid is placed in his house, because it hurts worse when they leave. But in Bob’s mind, if he wasn’t attached, he wasn’t doing his job right. As he saw it, these kids deserve someone who cares about them enough that it hurts when they left. It always hurt, at least a little, because Bob cared so deeply for the kids he took care of.

And he could already tell it was going to hurt like hell when Billy left. “You and I both know it’s too late for that, Gabby. You’ve known me long enough.”

Gabby shrugged in defeat and took another sip of her coffee. She had a million things to do, a thousand papers on her desk to sort through, but for now, she didn’t want to leave. Bob’s house had become her favorite assignment, because the man just oozed fatherly comfort in the best way. “You’re right, I have,” she laughed. “Which is exactly why I knew you were the one for this job. Billy needs someone to be attached to him.”

Something about that statement didn’t sit right with Bob, and he gave Gabby a curious look. “You don’t think his dad’s going to try to get him back?” Gabby sighed, shrugging as she swirled the coffee in her cup.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “He’s been nothing but antagonistic today, according to the warden. The guards can barely keep him in check. They wouldn’t let me see him, and they hardly ever deny CPS caseworker visits this early in the case.” She shrugged. “His first court appearance is Monday.”

Bob took a deep breath and crossed his fingers. “Maybe he just needs the weekend to cool down.”

Gabby didn’t think that was the case, but she nodded in agreement anyway. “And until then, Billy’s got you,” she smiled.

Bob nodded, holding up his coffee cup in a half-hearted cheer. “Until then.”

#stranger things #billy hargrove #ao3 #insomniacwriter17 #bob newby #sftf #cw: child abuse #foster care au #bob newby deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better

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