#technically it's my birthday in 1 hour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

healmyhrt · 1 month

Note

could you do Matt x reader smut where reader wears something showy to her friends birthday party and Matt gets like turned on and you can take over the rest!

⌗ crush, m. sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: matt has had a crush on you for the longest, and you’ve had strong feelings toward him too. after a summer fling with him, things turn awkward, and you both have a feeling of relief thinking that you’ll never see each other again… until your best friends birthday party.

disclaimers!: flirting, heavy making out, thigh riding, alcohol consumption, cursing, and use of y/n

a/n: guys question, is it technically “aftercare” if u don’t fuck??? like if you just js did oral shi or something idk 😣 anywho enjoy babes

i slowly creep into the dark entry way, removing my jacket as quietly as possible. i feel a hand tap my shoulder and i grip the fingers, trying to recognize who it could be.

“y/n?” a voice whispers. it was nick.

i reach in and hug him, squeezing tightly. i can feel him smiling against me. “hey, how are you?” i whisper back.

“good, you?” he replies, holding my hand and leading me through the dark hallway. “eh, so-so. is she here yet?”

a few friends and i were throwing a surprise party for my best friend, mia, she’s turning 21.

“she’ll be here in a few, but come on, everyone’s in here.”

i enter the dining room, seeing a crowd of some familiar and unfamiliar faces, candles lit in front of them.

i scan the group, looking at everyone, when my eyes come to an abrupt stop. there he was, matthew.

his blue eyes glistened behind the candlelight, and he stared right through it, straight at me. fuck.

i tap nick as he swivels around, handing me a candle.

“what the hell is he doing here?” i question. nick looks over at matt, then back at me. “um, he knows mia?”

i roll my eyes. nicks face changes and he raises an eyebrow. “have you two still not talked since the summertime?” i shuffle in place, looking at the floor.

“no…”

nick groans. “jesus. just—sort things out tonight, okay? you two can not ruin this night for mia. got it?” he says.

i nod, and glance over at matt, who was still staring.

chris sprints into the dining room, and catching his breath before speaking. “guys, they’re here!”

we all become quiet as the front door creaks open. i look up at nick who’s looking at me, trying not to smile.

mia slowly enters the dining room, a white blindfold tied gently over her freshly curled hair. she begins to untie it, and nick looks at everyone, holding up three fingers.

“3…”

“2…”

“1…”

“SURPRISE!” we all shout, seeing mia’s face. she immediately smiles, and holds her hands to her face.

“you guys!” she beams.

everyone rushes over, hugging her uncontrollably. i step back into the hallway, freeing myself from the crowd.

i sigh, looking over and seeing matt. he gives me a small smile, and i look the other way, turning toward the stairs.

it had been about 2 hours since we surprised mia, and now the entire house was packed. the small gathering had turned into a big party.

i had stayed holed up in mia’s room, drinking, as friends came and went, bringing me more and more.

now, i wasn’t drunk. they only brought me cans of sprite with a little bit of vodka in it. thats it.

and ive only had like 3 or 4 of them.

but i knew after a while id have to pee, and eventually leave mia’s room, placing myself back into the craziness that was downstairs.

i patt my hands dry on my favorite cardigan, shutting the bathroom door behind me. stepping down the steps into the chaos, i pass by multiple people making out on the steps.

i see mia at the bottom of the steps, and it gives me a sense of direction. she sees me and smiles immediately, running into my arms. “y/n!” she beams. i grin back.

“god, i feel like i haven’t seen you all night!” she grabs my forearm, dragging me into the living room. we stumble across a couple making out on the couch.

“can we sit here?” mia questions, with a smile.

they move over, and continue. “mia, im not sitting next to a horny ass couple.” i groan. she pulls me down next to her, and displays her legs across mine. “sooooo…”

i raise an eyebrow. “so, what?” she giggles, biting her bottom lip. “did you see him?” i cross my arms.

“you invited him? god—mia!” i scoff.

she laughs. “y/n, you two need to sort things out. tonight. okay? i can’t have two of my closest friends not being able to stay in the same room as one another.”

“you sound like nick.” i reply. she smirks. “well, yeah. it was our plan all along.” i playfully push her away with a little smile.

“look, please just talk to him.” she says, giving me a look.

i sit in silence fidgeting with my fingers. she places a hand on my fingers, and i look up at her. “okay.”

she claps enthusiastically, standing. “yay, y/n!”

i laugh. “im gonna go find myself another drink. want anything?” i shake my head. she blows me a kiss, and walks off, her dress swaying gracefully with each step.

i sigh, standing up. i look over at the couple next to me.

“you guys can—y’know—do your thing.” i gesture to the sofa. they give me a thumbs up, and immediately lay down, continuing. gross.

i make my way outside, onto the front porch.

i sit, flinching at the cold pavement against the back of my thighs. my skirt was very short, and i didn’t have any tights.

the door opens and shuts behind me, and i turn around to meet a very familiar face. “matthew.” i say. “y/n.”

he walks past me, and unlocks his car. i watch him stop, and turn around. “wanna—come with?” i give him a confused expression.

“we need more ice. im just gonna run to a gas station.”

i shrug, and stand, walking over to his car. matt opens the door for me, and i give him a small smile, stepping in.

after waiting in the car for a while, matt finally exits the gas station, carrying the last bag of ice. about time.

he gets in the car, wiping his now wet hands against his jeans. “took you long enough.” i tease. matt chuckles.

“i know, usually doesn’t take me that long to get my hands this wet.” he smirks. i shake my head, looking out the window, attempting to hold my laugh in.

“let’s just go.”

the drive back was silent. (minus the ice tumbling around in the backseat.) we caught almost every red light, and matt and i would just shift in our seats, trying not to make eye contact with one another.

as we pull in the driveway. i unbuckle my seatbelt, trying to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

“so, we aren’t gonna talk about it? at all?”

i knew it.

i turn around, and sigh. “fine. let’s talk, matt.” i say with a long stare. he clenches his jaw, and rests his hands on the steering wheel.

“we had sex. big deal.” i throw my hands up in the air dramatically. matt scoffs and looks at me, almost as if he was about to cry. “it was a big deal to me.” he stares.

i purse my lips together. “well, it doesn’t seem like it, seeing as you lack common communication skills.”

“i wanted to text you, or call you—just hear your voice at all after that night, but i was too afraid.” matt looks out the window beside him, and gently taps the steering wheel with his fingertips.

my face softens, and i slowly reach out to the place a hand on his. but before i even reach him, i pull away.

“why were you afraid, matt?” i question. i was genuinely curious to hear his answer, too. matt had gone full no contact with me after that night, all because he was afraid? it just didn’t make sense.

“because i like you.”

my eyes widened as the words left his mouth. i didn’t know what to say—how to even respond. it was insanity.

did i like matt? i mean, i guess.

no—sure—yes.

yes, i do like matt. i just get my feelings mixed up and lost in my mind. i mean, could we really work?

“y-you do?” i stutter out. matt turns around, and im left to drown in his eyes. he softly nods, and i form a smile.

i look down at my hands and begin to fidget with my rings, swallowing before i speak. “i like you too.”

i look up to see a smiling matt, and i grin back.

i sigh, looking out the window. “look at us, using the word ‘like’ to describe our feelings. what’re we, five?” i laugh, making him chuckle.

i turn back toward him, and matt immediately smashes his lips onto mine. i lean in, him caressing my cheeks.

matt swings an arm around my waist, fully pulling me onto his lap. i smile against his lips, reaching down and unbuckling his seatbelt beneath me.

matt bucks his hips up at the feeling of my fingers on him. i feel his bulge rub against my bare thigh, and he pulls away.

“s-sorry. is that weird?”

i shake my head. “not at all. it just shows that you really do like me.” i say with a smile, placing a hand on his jaw, and pulling him into me again.

matt takes off my cardigan, tossing it in the passengers seat. he places his hands on the seam of my miniskirt, and stops, pulling away. “can i?”

pushing my lips back onto his, i mumble “yes”, and matt pulls away again. i sigh irritably, and he gives me a look.

“use your words if you want this.”

i bite my bottom lip, matt’s eyes on them. i bite the inside of my cheek, and look out the window. matt places a soft hand on my jaw, turning me to look at him.

“hey, if you don’t want to do this, we can just head back inside. i’ll just be glad that we’re good again.” he smiles.

i nod, and he raises an eyebrow. “i want to do this.”

matt’s smile turns into a smirk, and he pulls my skirt up to my waist, places both hands on my ass. i smash my lips back onto his, smiling against him.

matt tightens the grip on my hips, leading them. i slowly begin to grind against his clothed bulge. matt pulls away, breathing heavily against the side of my face.

i continue, matt now kissing down my neck, struggling to contain himself. he’s practically digging his fingers into my skin, guiding my hips.

i pierce my lip with my teeth, trying to stop the moans that threatened to escape my mouth. “matt…”

“almost…” he pushes himself against me, making the sensation even more intense. my panties are probably a leaking mess on him as my eyes begin to water from the stimulation.

matt slows to a stop, and he catches his breath. i breathe heavily into his neck, my mascara smudging on his skin.

he pulls me off of him to take a look at my face.

“are you okay? was it too much?” he questions, genuine worry taking over his expression. i wipe the smudged mascara off of my face, smiling at him. “i’m okay, matt.”

he pulls me in, hugging me tightly. “i’m so glad we’re good now. i’ve missed you so much, y/n.” i grin widely.

i pull away, sniffling. we just stare at eachother, and i look down, my skirt still at my waist. “we should probably fix ourselves before we go back inside.” i say through a breathy chuckle.

“yeah.” matt replies. i climb off of his lap, pulling down my skirt in the passenger seat. matt looks down at his jeans, a wet spot on his crotch. i stifle my laughter, matt turning to look at me.

“i can’t go inside like this.” he says through a laugh.

“at least they’re dark wash denim.” i shrug, still laughing. he scoffs, and attempts to wipe it off.

“matt, it’s not going anywhere. it’ll be fine, it’s pretty dark inside anyway.” i reassure. he looks up at me, a small smile on his lips.

we climb out of the car, matt grabbing the slightly melted ice. “probably could’ve chosen a better time to do that.” he jokes.

we enter the foyer of the house, mia meeting us at the door. “soooo, are you two good now?” she asks eagerly.

i look at matt, and he gives me a smile.

“yeah, we’re good.”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matt x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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navstuffs · 11 months

Text

Nude painting class

Pairing: RookieRE2!Leon x BustyF!Reader

Summary: You and Leon continue meeting in weird circumstances.

Warning tags: au, written with busty/curvy reader in mind, but anyone can read it, SMUT MINORS DNI, nudity, blowjob (m receiving), mask/hidden identity, cum, nudity, tiny cum play, deep-throat, switch!leon, leon loves your tits, ingrid is my oc

Author's Notes: hiiii! my husband gave the ideia (again) for the second part of traffic stop (spoiler alert: he gave the idea for the third/final part as well and it is THE BOMB!!). HABEMUS smuuuuuut! which i want to remind you all, i am no expert, and i hope to continue improving (since for the final part i will def need it)! hope you have fun reading it!

part 1 | my leon's masterlist

"Nude painting?"

Your friend Ingrid nods her head, excited. You look at yourself: short floral dress, make-up-ready. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when you came all the way from Raccoon City to celebrate Ingrid's birthday. You came to have fun, get wasted, and end up in some strange man's arms. Not to paint.

"What happened to the Ingrid that loved drinking and partying?" Ingrid simply shrugs, resting against the passenger seat from the rideshare app. Well, it is her birthday, not yours.

"What about you? When are you leaving Racoon City?"

It is your time to shrug now. You decided to stay when Ingrid and most of your friends moved at the end of high school. You never thought of moving away.

"I love you, but Racoon City has nothing in there. It is a small town everyone leaves as soon as they can. What possibly can keep you there?"

A sudden pair of blue eyes crosses your mind, and you feel your face heating up. Ingrid opens a smirk, holding you in the arm.

"Wait, wait, there is someone?" You bite your lips, shaking your head.

"No, there is no one!" Ingrid holds into your arm, pressing you to tell her.

No, there wasn't. You only met Officer Kennedy once and never saw him again. It is not like you were looking hopeful at every police car that passed. Which you weren't. Or wondering if Leon was thinking as much of you as you thought of him.

You try to take Officer Kennedy out of your head for tonight. He is probably five hours away, doing who-knows-what. You are there to have fun.

-x-

Chris crosses his arm, watching Leon walk back and forth, both already dressed in robes. Chris has a malicious smile on his face: he was the one who convinced Leon to do this. Leon needed the money to help pay for his college anyway.

"I swear, you are fine! We are like, what? Five hours away from Racoon City? Who the fuck would see you? And you are going to be wearing a mask anyway!"

Leon knows this. He knows he is very far away from his workplace, yes, he would be wearing a mask to hide his identity. All of that should serve to ease Leon, but it doesn't. He has this strange feeling inside of him, growing since he arrived.

Before they leave their locker area, Leon is handed a black full-face Venetian mask. He has his hair back with gel, making it all spiky. They are taken to the paint room, Chris giving a thumbs up before they enter the main room.

Leon is trying hard not to place his hands in front of his dick when he gets to the room, although he is still technically covered. There are around twenty to thirty women in front of blank canvases, all eyeing them up and down. His job is to pose and maybe walk around. Easy peasy, Chris mentioned, and you don't even have to talk.

Leon lets his eyes glance around the room. Most women are excited, talking with each other. That's when Leon notices a woman he never thought he would see right here, his heart beating fast against his chest. One that has not left his mind since the traffic stop.

Leon could not believe his bad luck.

-x-

Ingrid is vibrating with excitement when the models start to come out. You warn her to ease on the wine, but Ingrid says it is her birthday, so she can do whatever she wants. Your eyes went from the stronger one with dark hair to the leaner blonde one, hair pulled back with gel. Why did you feel like you knew him?

"Can we touch them?" Ingrid interrupts your thoughts, excited.

"We can NOT touch them, Ingrid! Not if you want to get kicked out of here!"

You hear screams and claps around, and when you turn back, they take their underwear off. Well, great you lost the strip tease. Your eyes go from the brown-haired one to the blonde. Well, it seems he was hiding some muscles in there.

Your eyes go down to his abs, and it stops just above his pubic hair. Should you dare to look more? Oh, fuck it. It is Ingrid's party, you are there to have fun, you remind yourself. You look down at his cock, and you gulp, staring at it a little longer than you should.

"Okay, I get the brown-haired one, you get the blonde one," Ingrid whispers, startling you.

Your stare finally crosses with the model, and he is highly interested in you. You immediately look away, cheeks heating up, focusing on your canvas. You grab the first brush and paint you find and start painting.

The following two hours feel long for both you and Leon. You must look to draw your model, but if you had glanced three times during that time, it would have been too much. Ingrid, half drunk by now, kept her eyes focused on him every time he passed. You barely moved, his leg brushing lightly against your back.

"I think he likes you," Ingrid whispers, covering her mouth.

"Ingrid, he does not!"

"He keeps passing here, staring at your tits. I think he is getting hard as well."

"Ingrid, he isn't staring at my tits!" You say more loudly than you should. Ingrid slowly turns away, and when you go back to your side, Blonde's cock is literally inches away from your face. You don't move, paralyzed, analyzing from the corner of your eyes. He has some pubic hair in there, not entirely shaved (which gave him more charm). You watch as it suddenly twitches in your line of vision, making you lick your lips.

You hear a low clearing of the throat, and you look up, a very intense blue eyes staring at you right back. With your cheek heating up, you lock in his gaze, wondering what would happen if you shove his cock down your mouth.

"And class is up! Let's see what you did, people!" The teacher announces, waking you and the model for your trance.

He quickly moves away from you as you stare at your horrible paint, half of what was supposed to be a human body done in there. Ingrid's paint looks much better.

"Hey, yours look good!"

"You can focus more when you aren't flirting with your model!"

"I was NOT flirting!"

-x-

Leon slams the locker door open, frustrated. It is far away from Raccoon City, Chris said, you will be fine, he said. And yes, Leon would have been fine if he didn't find himself in front of the woman who had been pestering his mind for the last couple of months. Leon had lost count of how many times he fapped for you, your boobs on his mouth, your tits around his cock, as you took him in your mouth, your boobs bouncing as you rode him.

"...bathroom? Oh, shit, I am so sorry!"

Of course, it had to be you, lost on your way to the bathroom and entering the model's locker room instead. Blonde has his back turned against the door. You can't see his face, but you notice as he quickly grabs the mask before him in the locker. Your eyes start going down to his jeans pants and the line of his underwear. Neither you nor he move until you mutter, embarrassed.

"I am really, really sorry."

"I don't think it was an accident. You came here looking for something, didn't you?" Leon tries to mask his voice, going deeper. Inside, he is freaking out. What if you run away screaming, pervert? He is a cop, for Christ's sake! He has stopped you in traffic before, this would be so unethical in levels he didn't even know of.

You stay quiet until Leon hears the door closing and being locked. He turns around, and you look timid by the door, looking anywhere but him, rubbing the front of your dress with your hands.

"Come here. Sit." Leon says, pointing to the bench in front of him. Leon is thankful you don't look up as you sit. You would notice his nervousness, even through the mask, his hands shaking.

He first looks at your cleavage, a tiny part of your green bra poking. Leon wants to touch and grope them, feel them against his hands, but he holds himself back. Leon gently grabs your chin to look at him.

"I saw the way you looked at me in that class. I know you want me, don't you?" You nod, forgetting about Ingrid outside or that you could get in trouble for this. Leon opens a smile, but you can't see it. "Then come on. Open your mouth. "

Leon doesn't have to say twice. You open the button of his jeans, pulling down his underwear with your shaky hands, causing it to fall altogether. He is hard already, leaking. You waste no time shoving down your mouth.

"Shit. Fuck. Li-like that," Leon groans. Not even in his wildest dreams he thought he would have your pretty lips around his cock. And it feels much better than he imagined in any of his fantasies.

You start to move your head down Leon's length as you go deep into your throat, and Leon thinks he can't survive much of this. Leon looks down at you, pulling your dress down and your bra up much rougher than he intended to expose your boobs. Surprised, you moan as Leon places his hand on the top of your head, keeping you moving.

Your boobs are finally in his view, and he can't believe it. They are exactly as he remembers. Leon watches you rub your legs against each other when he gropes one of them. He could cum like that.

Leon starts bobbing your head up and down, trying to keep his moan as low as possible. The small locker room is filled with his whimpers, and you know you will never forget about them. He is rough but gentle at the same time, making sure you are not gagging and leaving you space to breathe.

"I am clo-close. So close," Leon stutters, and you think you heard that voice somewhere before. "I want to cum all over your boobs."

You nod, your wetness asking for your attention, but focusing on Leon for now. When Leon thinks he is close, he pulls his dick out of his mouth with a plop, and Leon releases his cum all over your tits and bra. You watch, astonished, as the man in front of cums, moaning loud. The only thing you can properly see is his blue eyes rolling, making sure he covers your boobs with his cum.

When he is done, he looks down at you, his breath noisy against the mask. Leon's breath hitches when he sees your index finger pass on top of his cum and take it to your lips, licking it clean.

Oh, you wanted to kill him.

With a sudden shot of lust into his blood veins, he lifts you up and makes you turn around. On all fours for him, legs spread apart, your hands support themselves in the walls before you. You are soaked, Leon notices, soaked because of him. When Leon places a warm hand against your ass, a sudden knock on the door makes you both jump.

"Hey? Is someone here still?" The voice of the manager of the place sounds curious by the door.

Silence.

You hear the insistent knock, looking at Leon over your shoulder. He lifts his hand up, motioning for you to stay silent.

"Still here," Leon answers.

"Going to lock the building in less than ten minutes, man! Hurry up!"

"I will be out soon!" Leon answers.

The steps start going away, and you suddenly remember Ingrid. Has she even left? With all strength in the world, you straighten up, your hands going to your bag. There were at least three missing calls from her and five text messages wondering where you are. Decided, you start organizing yourself, not even looking at the man before you. You look around for a towel or anything you can clean yourself, and Leon offers you one.

"Thanks." You clean your boobs, deciding what to do about your bra. With a sudden decision, and to make you remind you of him, you take it off, placing it on his hand. You smirk as he stares at you. "So, you can remember tonight. Remember me."

You pull your dress up, and Leon watches as your nipples hard against the fabric. He doesn't want you to go, he wants to touch you more, but Leon occupies himself, pullings his underwear and jeans up. You two stare at each other for a moment before you nod.

"Well. It was nice, mhm fun."

Say something, Leon. Say anything. Don't let her go like that. Leon doesn't say anything, simply watching you leave, a little disappointed, the door closing behind you with a click.

Leon throws the mask away, finally giving a good breath. His forehead is sweaty, and he could barely breathe on that thing. The back against the cold locker calms him. Leon finishes organizing himself, feeling a little sad you didn't recognize him from before. How would he be if he was wearing a mask? Leon didn't want to be recognized. Leon shakes his head, ignoring the sad feelings on his chest. He let himself go too far.

It is time to forget you.

-x-

Ingrid is sitting down by the parking lot alone. You apologize a hundred times, and she is furious, thinking you got killed or kidnapped before she calls the rideshare app. You promise you will pay her back when you see a motorcycle coming out at the side of the building.

The man wears a dark helmet, and you just know by the clothes that this is the model you gave a blowjob. He seems to stop, watching you two alone in the parking lot, his leg on the ground. Again, that familiar feeling is in your chest. He seems to be waiting on something, his stare focused on you and Ingrid. Like he is keeping an eye on you and Ingrid, all alone in that parking lot, late at night.

"Come on, it is here! No more letting you out of my sight tonight!" Ingrid grabs you by the arm. You shot one last look at him before getting into the car.

With a sudden realization and the motorcycle passing fast in the opposite direction, you remember why you felt so familiar: the model had the exact eyes of Officer Leon Kennedy.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x female reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy smut

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whyse7vn · 8 months

Text

MESSY -

[ot7 x reader]

LAYOVER OUT NOW!!

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jin: guys i kinda feel like the tae hate train is so forced spent 24 hours with him and he’s not even that bad

y/n: pretty sure this is what people call stockholm syndrome. wishing you a speedy recovery 🙏🏽

tae: i could cry jin wow thank u for this 💜

jimin: savejin2023

namjoon: wow

hobi: i think i’m about to get jumped

yoongi: be safe

hobi: that does not help me at all

yoongi: never being nice again hope it hurts real bad and ur in hospital for 7 weeks

namjoon: why would people want to jump you?

hobi: idk namjoon let me turn around and ask them

fucking BITCH

i hate you

namjoon: ok then

y/n: where is ur security at??

hobi: toilet

y/n: yikes

gl !!!!!

tae: do you need me to come help?

you know i can get down and dirty

real dirty

jimin: tae stfu

someone record it

tae: say the word hoseok and i’ll be there

hobi: saying no words

tae: be like that then

jin you would let me save you right 🥺

jin: no

tae: wtf????

why not

jin: stop speaking to me

tae: I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS?

jin: i said you weren’t that bad not that we were friends

chill out

tae: I WILL NOT “CHILL OUT”

you fucking BITCH

jin: excuse me????

you better watch ur mouth

y/n: ladies that’s enough break it up!!

jin: he fucking started it ugly slut

tae: DID YOU GUYS HEAR THAT HE CALLED ME AN UGLY SLUT

UGLY SLUT

HES CROSSED THE LINE

LET ME AT HIM

jin: COME AT ME THEN

jimin: he’s asking you to cum that’s crazy

yoongi: gross as hell

hobi: i was not jumped

yoongi: shame

hobi: shame?

yoongi: shame.

tae: i do not fuck with you like that jin what the hell

namjoon: where is jungkook?

jk: i’m busy

i just ate glass by accident

namjoon: you what

jk: pls leave me alone

i ate glass

y/n: he’s bleeding

jk: i ate glass

tae: something is telling me jungkook ate glass but idk

jk: i did just eat glass

tae: no way lol

jk: yes way

leave me me now

hobi: he ate glass?

jin: lol

jk: yes

bye now

jimin: is he like ok??

y/n: he’s bleeding i said this already

yoongi: how do you accidentally eat glass?

y/n: beats me

tae: JUNGKOOK BEATS YOU???

WITH GLASS?

y/n: what

jimin: anyways

can we find out what the fuck namjoon is training for

why is he always working out?

should i be prepared to the end of the world or something

what does he know that we don’t

y/n: think he’s just a slut tbh

namjoon: ?

jin: be honest namjoon

are you working for the government?

namjoon: technically we all work for the government

jimin: ur so annoying

yoongi: “technically we all work for the government” 🤓☝🏼

hobi: who is we????????

i know i don’t work for the government

i work for the people

y/n: right like tf is he on about?

tae: why has no one congratulated me

jin: are you pregnant?

jimin: congrats!! boy or girl??

tae: nvm

namjoon: btw i’m not having a party for my birthday this year

yoongi: thought ur birthday passed already?

namjoon: no?

hobi: what year were you born joon?

namjoon: 1994

tae: CRAZY

namjoon: we are 1 year apart?

tae: 1 year it’s a long time

y/n: you’re so old omg :( hope you don’t die soon

namjoon: i’m not old

jimin: see how jin and yoongi aren’t speaking rn

says a lot doesn’t it?

yoongi: maybe i don’t like you?

jimin: maybe ur old as hell?

jin: age shaming is real guys

i’m done fighting this battle

tae: age defeated you?

jin: don’t start with me again

y/n: he’ll ask you to cum again

jin: right

wait no wtf

I WILL NOt

hobi: ewww jin is so gross

jin: IM NOT

hobi: EWWWWWWWW

jin: STOP IM NOT PLS I SWEAR

jimin: i’m asking this not because i care but cuz it would be real funny if the answer was yes

did jungkook die??

yoongi: let’s pray

namjoon: are you friends with him now?

yoongi: LOL

i’m praying that he’s dead

y/n: be nice yoongi

yoongi: never :p

jk: raise ur hand if you also think the jungkook hate train is forced

jimin: *cuts off both hands*

tae: don’t think he died

yoongi: no shit

tae: i’ll raise my hand for you kook

jin: i take back my my opening statement

gf was right it was stockholm syndrome

jk: GF??????

yoongi: don’t call her that

y/n: told you

jin: thank god i’m cured now 🙏🏻

tae: all men do is lie…

y/n: real

tae: PICK A SIDE

y/n: FUCK YOU

tae: you about that freaky life lol??

we can if you want lol

😝😏😚

jk: you will be the next glass victim

tae: woah????

namjoon: jungkook how did you end up eating glass?

hobi: or did the glass end up eating you?

jk: lightbulb in my mouth

jimin: ??

jk: i put a lightbulb in my mouth

namjoon: why…

jk: leave me alone pls

yoongi: stupid

jk: ur stupid

jimin: i’m gonna kill myself in front of tae and jungkook to forever change their bond and the trajectory of their lives

tae: wtf

hobi: NO CUZ IF I WAS A CAT AND HAD 9 LIVES I WOULD USE ONE TO SHOOT MYSELF IN THE HEAD IN FRONT OF THEM

namjoon: okay!

jk: i don’t like that

jimin: that’s the point

tae: be honest i’ve been getting better like i’m better honestly like before i was a little bit gone but i’ve changed fr

jin: me trying to convince the nurse to let me out the psych ward

y/n: tae literally explained the whole omegaverse in detail to me yesterday

what about that screams better?

tae: ok so i wanted to share some knowledge with you i don’t see the issue..

namjoon: omegaverse?

y/n: DONT ASK QUESTIONS JOON IM BEGGING YOU DO NOT OH MY GOD

tae: i’ll tell you namjoon

i’ll share my knowledge

step into my office

namjoon: um

jimin: you do not have an office

hobi: lowkey olive oil and carrots taste good af

y/n: ew??

jin: gross

jk: not true it tastes like a tesla model x tyre

namjoon: that very specific

like VERY specific

jimin: jungkook why do you know what that tastes like?????

jk: i be in situations

yoongi: have you ever experienced serious head truma?

jk: i had a dream namjoon spiked me and ran my head over with a motorcycle once

namjoon: oh

y/n: my little vivid dreamer >3<

jk: hehehe yeah >3<

jimin: ur a 26 year old man

never fucking hehehe in this chat again

y/n: why can’t 26 year old men hehehe what is this discrimination???

hobi: born to hehehe forced to lol 😂

jk: i’m so upset now

jimin: good

tae: call me ben cuz all my bitches 10

y/n: what?

jin: 10?????

namjoon: ???

jk: ben

hobi: yikes

jimin: get the police on the phone

tae: WAIT

THAT DID NOT GO THE WAY I WANTED IT TO

yoongi: flop

tae: what if we all just started a yoongi hate train

what could be do to stop us

absolutely nothing

yoongi: what if i took a ss and sent that ben line to the police

jimin: he got you

y/n: crazy

tae: nvm lol

namjoon: jungkook don’t go on twitter

jk: DISPATCH SAYING Y/N AND SCOUPS ARE DATING

namjoon: too late

jk: THERE ARE PHOTOS OHMYGODIDJ

OHMYGO72&&3:&:&:&

OHMUSHEEINGODODSKSKDJDJJ

££&&&&@@@‘mmmm

HKEODH

WHY IS SHE KISSING HIM

OHBMY GIF

WHY IS SHE KISSING HIM

yoongi: wait what?

jin: no way they caught her like that

jk: IM GINNA PASS OUY OH MY GOF

jimin: didn’t that man just have surgery?

y/n leave that poor man alone!

tae: THIS IS FEMINISM

no i lied

nvm i don’t like this at all

i tried to be happy for you but i just can’t

what can he do that i can’t

hobi: rap idk

tae: hobi can you shut up pls

hobi: zipped it locked it and i’ve put it in my pocket

jk: TELL ME ITS FAKE TELL ME ITS FAKE OHMYGOD

yoongi: wow she really is kissing him in the picture

that’s insane

wow lmao

that’s crazy

y/n: it’s a kiss on the cheek?

jin: why the hell is he in a wheelchair

hobi: maybe her kiss made him weak in the knees

he’s so real for that

tae: YOU DID NOT ZIP IT YOU LIAR

hobi: 🤐

y/n: it was just after seungcheol left the hospital

after his surgery

jin: wow not the first name

that’s crazy

jk: OHMY HOD YOUVE KILLED ME

IM DEAD

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KILL ME

IM GONE

y/n: ur still talking to us

you are in fact alive

jk: hello are you a friend of jungkook

this is his mother he’s dead

my baby is dead

jimin: how long have you guys been fucking??

y/n: i have not been fucking that man

yoongi: but you’ve been kissing him

y/n: ON THE CHEEK

this is NOT a big deal

like at all

namjoon: i agree

tae: i’ll slit your throat

namjoon: what

tae: i will cut your throat open

never agree with her again

jin: he lowkey a slut cuz how he let you kiss on him in open like that

sounds like a set up to me

he wanted the people to know

y/n: there is nothing to know

seungcheol is the bff

nothing more

jk: IM THE BFF

I AM THE BFF THATS SICK WHAT IS UR ISSUE

WE LIVE TOGETHER WHY IS HE THE BFF YOU SEE ME EVERY DAY NOT HIM

y/n: thought you were dead?

jk: hello this is mother jungkook was my son not ur bff??

jimin: mother jungkook?

tae: as ur bf i don’t agree with this kiss it was really crossing boundaries pls apologise and give me his address so we can talk man 2 man

y/n: shut up

tae: ok lol you want me so bad

namjoon: she literally did not say that at all

tae: if you want to keep ur throat together shut the HELL UP

yoongi: are you dating him?

y/n: no

hobi added seungcheol to the LAYOVER OUT NOW!!

jimin: NO WAY

hobi: whoops!!!!!!!

jin: THIS IS INSANEEE

namjoon: let’s not fight pls 😕

tae: YOU

seungcheol: Hello?

jk: omg he has auto caps on i’m gonna throw up

yoongi: back off

y/n: pls ignore them cheol and feel free to leave!!!!

jk: OH MY GOFD THE NICKNAME IM GONNA STABMYSELF OHMYGODIDJDKDNJFJFKFNFMFMCKFJFJFK

seungcheol: Should i be worried rn lol?

Also hi everyone ☺️

hobi: hiiiiiiiiiii

jimin: so ur y/n’s bff right?

seungcheol: Yup

tae: KILL YOURSELF

namjoon: he didn’t mean that

tae: I DID

namjoon: he didn’t honestly

yoongi: what’s ur address?

y/n: do not answer that

jin: did you see the dispatch photos?

seungcheol: I did i was about to call y/n

can’t believe they caught us like that 😭

jimin: wow today is a great day

yoongi: wdym caught?? you two aren’t even dating so they caught you guys doing nothing

like that was nothing

jk: 2&&2838;8;:7:&:&;&:&38293@:@.@:@@;9.&:&:&:&:&:&:&&.&:@/&2&3&3&:&:&,&:&:&:&&.&:&:&:&&:&:&:&:&:&:&:&:&:&&:&:,&;&&:&:&:.&&.&.&:&:&:&.&.&.&.&.&:&:&:&:&&..&£,’xjxxjjdjjxjsmnzjjdjdjzjsidiididiidicidididididsidjdjdjdjdjdjjdjdjdjdididididididjjxixididididididiidjdjdjdjxjdjdkmdkdkxkxkxkdkjjdxjjdjxjxjcjxjxjxjxjxjxjxjdjdjdjdjdjdjjxxjxjxjjxxjxkjxxjjdjjdjdjxjdjdjdjxjxjxjxjxjjxjxjsjdjxjxjjddjjdjdjxj

seungcheol: Is he ok?

namjoon: yes

jimin: no

tae: SCOUPS IS A SHIT STAGE NAME BTW

hobi: urs is literally the letter v

jin: is she a good kisser?

seungcheol: The best ☺️

y/n removed seungcheol from LAYOVER OUT NOW!!

y/n: THAT IS ENOUGH

tae: WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THAT

yoongi: add him back

jimin: MESSYY

jk: where to purchase gun

sorry this isn’t google

hobi: wow that was intense guys

y/n: never speak to me again hoseok

hobi: 🥺

ily

namjoon: i’m sure this will die down in a few days

tae: ur throat is not safe

namjoon: ???

are you trying to fuck me rn

354 notes · View notes

allysunny · 4 months

Note

Hi Ally!! (Can I call you that?)

First of all,

*ahem*

CONGRATS ON 200 FOLLOWERS WOOOOOO✨️🩷🎉

I know that every single one is deserved, and I'm proud to be one as well 😌

I saw that you were doing a lil event to celebrate, so don't mind if I do!! 👀

I'd love it if you could write some much needed luv with Brucey! I picked 25+1 + g!

Imagine that Bruce and reader are just watching the stars, maybe either in the gardens of Wayne Manor or on top of Wayne Enterprises, and all Bruce can think is how beautiful reader looks under the shinning stars 🥹

Basically, Bruce is infatuated and he's smiling like an idiot!

You can add, take away stuff as you please, of course!

I'll wait as long as you need, so no pressure!

I'm excited to see what you come up with!!!

Much love,~ Fi 🐝

"You look stunning" / "You don't look so bad yourself" + "I love you" + Stargazing x Bale!Bruce Wayne

Words: 4k words

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, friends-to-lovers, Bruce is a big sap and he's very much in love, stargazing and talks of stars (nothing too technical). This is extremely sweet, very corny and sappy and I live for it! Written with a female reader in mind, I'm sorry but I don't yet write for GN!Reader.

A/N: First of all, thank you very very much for the kind words!! YES, you can absolutely call me Ally! Everyone can! I agree that we need some love with Bruce because this man needs happiness pleasepleaseplease...

This was my first 200 Followers Celebration entry (which is still open and you can participate!), and I'm so happy that I got to write this scenario! We don't often get to see Bale!Batman being happy, so I hope I did him justice, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Took me some time because I had to sort out some uni stuff, but it's done and I really had fun with it!

I hope it is to your liking!

⁽ᵃˡˢᵒ, ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᶠᵘⁿ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ, ⁱ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵃᵍᵍⁱᵉ ᵍʸˡˡᵉⁿʰᵃᵃˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ˢᵒ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʳᵃᶜʰᵉˡ, ⁱ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵏᵃᵗⁱᵉ ʰᵒˡᵐᵉˢ 😭⁾

Parties at Wayne Manor could be oh so dreadfully boring.

Bruce didn’t particularly enjoy them, nor did he even want to throw them, but he knew it was necessary to keep up appearances. Tonight, he celebrated his birthday.

The evening had been filled with fake smiles, polite nods, firm handshakes. “Happy birthday, Mr. Wayne”s here, “You’re looking more and more like your father each day”s there, “What a spendind party this is, Mr. Wayne!”s in the corner, and, if he was feeling particularly unlucky, a few “Ah, what a lovely Manor you have, Mr. Wayne. Such a shame you’ve been keeping its beauty from the world…”s somewhere.

He’d downed one or two glasses of champagne in a few gulps, finding it harder and harder to stand the people all around him, fake leeches who hung on his every word and command, enthralled by the promises of what his money and wealth might mean to him.

Well, all except for one.

You.

You’d been friends for a while. Bruce can’t pinpoint exactly what made him think of you as his best friend other than just a regular acquaintance, but he knew he would never give you up. You were the only person who saw him for he really was, who refused to kiss his ass and baby him, who told him things as they were instead of coddling him simply because his name implied he was to be so.

He felt disarmed when he was with you, able to say anything that went on his mind. He could be himself. Could crack terrible jokes that would have you throw pillows at his face, could drop the eccentric billionaire façade and be an annoying nerd (as you so often put it), just looking for some friendship. He could talk to you for hours on end about topics that weren’t his last name, his family, his money, or his status. He could ask you for book recommendations and be told he’d enjoy this one silly adventure book about spaceships and planes, as opposed to the boring non-fiction and autobiographies usually gifted to him, “a man of culture”.

He could ask you for good restaurants and you’d take him to small, barely noticeable cafes and places that served homemade food, instead of being offered reservations at Michelin worthy restaurants. He could be a regular person.

Every time he felt himself loose grasp of his identity when adorning the black suit, he was reminded by you of who he was. You didn’t know of his secret identity but could sense when he was particularly tired or trained and were always able to put a smile on his face and return his grip on reality.

He needed you by his side. You calmed him down. You cheered him up whenever he felt upset. You made him laugh whenever all he wanted to do was cry. You didn’t question him whenever he told you he needed space, instead providing him with just that. And as days went by, Bruce Wayne was not sure if he saw you as a mere friend anymore.

After all, friends don’t linger their gazes on each other’s lips for more time than deemed appropriate. Just friends don’t make up fake problems or fake dilemmas just to get the one to visit them (let’s be honest – “I don’t know where I put my remote” was a pretty pathetic excuse and Alfred mocked the hell out of him after you’d left).

In conclusion, he needed you. By his side, to cheer him up, to get him out of boring situations, close, smiling, laughing, happy, to hug him, to be with him, etc. He needed you.

Which was why he’d invited you to celebrate a date as important as his birthday.

Bruce never really minded his birthday. He usually spent it at work during the day, politely accepting the nice words people gave him, then got home, ate his favourite dish cooked by Alfred, and left right after to protect the city of Gotham.

But unfortunately, he just had to celebrate his birthday this year. He’d been cornered by a few Wayne Enterprises associates and tricked into throwing a hell of a party in his Manor. He just sighed and filled Alfred in on the conversation he’d had at work, instructing the older man to take care of the preparations.

And of course, he’d invited you. If there was anyone that could make this dreadful celebration just a bit more bearable, it’d be you. He invited his childhood friend Rachel Dawes as well, but she’s just announced her engagement to District Attorney Harvey Dent, and while they remained friends, he did not expect her to dedicate him all of her time (especially when everyone kept asking to see her ring and tell the wonderful story of how they met).

But the problem was, you were nowhere to be found.

He knew you had arrived, Alfred had told him so, but just as he was about to chase you down the huge area that served as a ballroom, he was interrupted by a few family friends. Seeing as these were some of the few families that were in genuine good terms with his parents, and not simply greedy leeches, he decided to chat with them, smiling genuinely at their compliments and quips.

But now it’d been a few hours, and he couldn’t find you. And the combination of all of the unwanted people, the general chatter, and the lack of the one person he wanted by his side were getting to his head. And perhaps the champagne as well, even though he hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be the slightest of tipsy. What if Gotham needed him?

“Ma’am, I’m sure your quest for the very much secret next Fabergé Egg is quite intriguing, but I have a few guests I need to tend to. Everyone wants a piece of the host, what can I say? Birthday boy privileges.” He charmed the woman with one of his most dazzling smiles and pried away from her gloved grip, looking around for his knight in black and white armour.

Quickly replying to every guest that throwed a comment his way, he reached Alfred, who was standing in the corner of the room, silently accessing the party.

“Another useless conversation with any of these bloodsucking idiots and I’m killing myself,” he muttered, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing maid, and chugging the whole thing in one go.

“And here I was thinking you’d probably die at the hands of some unruly criminal, wearing the cape and cowl. All that training and fighting in some remote location only for you to die at the hands of Gotham’s wealthiest?” Alfred said, his voice laced with sarcasm and brow quirked up.

“Well Alfred, get me out of this and I might just be able to die the way you envisioned me doing so.”

“By my hand, Master Wayne?”

“Exactly.”

The two men chuckled, and Bruce took another look around the room, before turning to his butler.

“Have you seen – “

“In the gardens.”

Bruce was halfway across the ballroom, shouting “Thank you!” before Alfred could say anything else.

It took a while for him to find you.

After all, the gardens were filled with people talking, catching up, and the occasional couple slobbering all over each other’s mouths, apologizing profusely once they saw the Manor’s owner stride past them.

“Bruce?”

He turned around and was met with Rachel’s smiling face.

“Running off so soon?” she asked, Harvey Dent’s unmistakable figure walking up next to her right after.

“Yes, well, one can only get so much attention before they start getting bored of it.”

Rachel gave him a sympathetic look, and shook her head, nudging it towards Harvey.

“You don’t have to pretend with us.”

With these words, a weight was lifted off Bruce’s shoulders. His posture wasn’t perfect anymore, and the charming, cocky smile left his lips.

“If I have to talk to one more person who wishes to know who the hell decorated the living room…” Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“I get it,” Harvey said, shaking his head. “If only people were interested in something other than how much I spent on Rachel’s ring, I’d feel more inclined to interact with them.”

Bruce nodded and smiled in understanding, before looking around. He thought he’d glanced at a very familiar face, but unfortunately, it wasn’t you.

“Looking for someone?” Rachel asked with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, actually, have you seen – “

“She was near the apple tree in the back.”

“Thank you.” Bruce nodded and all but sprinted towards the place, leaving Rachel to giggle with a rather confused Harvey.

“Who’s he talking about?” he asked.

“A “friend” of his,” Rachel replied nonchalantly.

“He seemed rather eager to see this friend of his. Surely that’s not all there is to her.” He chuckled; brow quirked up.

“And that, Harvey, is what everyone else but the two of them have figured out.”

Bruce did not hear what his friend had said, but if he did, he’d have gently corrected her.

Because he had, in fact, figured out whatever he felt about you.

Mostly.

He knew he liked you, that’s for sure.

He liked your smile. He liked your personality. He liked how your nose wrinkled up whenever you were cooking. He liked how your eyes sparkled whenever he gifted you a new volume of a book series you’d been collecting, or the way your laughter resonated across the Manor whenever you beat him at videogames. He liked how you always stopped to pet cats and dogs on the street, and how you made funny faces at babies in the supermarket.

He liked how his Manor, although big and empty, seemed full of life with you in it. Even if you were cuddled up on one of his couches, watching a movie, he always thought of it was warmer and more inviting just from your mere presence. He liked it when you massaged his head, thumbs circling his forehead so gently that he often found himself falling asleep in your lap. He liked your touch – found it addictive. Pulling you close to him on the street to protect you from traffic, hugging you every time he saw you, having you throw fake punches at him whenever he told a terrible joke.

He likes you. That much is clear.

But why was it so damn hard admitting that to you?

His steps slowed down as he approached a very familiar apple tree. Wayne Manor had plenty of beautiful plants and trees, much more so than this one. But there was something about it that always caught your eye. Not to mention, it was near a secluded area of the gardens, and you had always been fond of hiding in there. “It makes me feel at peace”, you told him.

Sure enough, that’s where he found you. Staring at the night sky, pretty locks of hair carefully styled with a few flower clips, hands resting one on top of the other behind your back.

You turned to him, shaken up by the sound of footsteps, and he took you in.

And, wow.

To say you looked beautiful would’ve been a crime - such a word couldn’t do you justice.

You wore a sparkly silver gown that pooled softly at your feet, your form modestly accentuated. Two silver straps held it at the front, coming together in a flattering cleavage. Your back was on display, and Bruce had to control himself not to touch it with his bare hands. You looked lovely, your silhouette shining beneath the stars. Their gentle glow was casting a perfect light on you, making you look even more like the celestial bodies you were admiring.

“Bruce?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Bruce shook his head, grounding himself.

“Yes. Hey – hey.”

“Cat got your tongue? I said happy birthday,” you smiled and walked up to him, silver dress twinkling with each step you took.

It was as if all of you were made of pure, sheer, dazzling starlight.

“Won’t your guests miss you?”

Bruce approached you halfway and gave you a shrug.

“Probably. Doesn’t mean I’m going to miss them.” This earned a smile from you, and Bruce found himself smiling too. His gaze lingered on your face for a while, before descending once more and taking your lovely figure in again.

“You look stunning,” he said, and you seemed to blossom at his praise.

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” And he didn’t. With his black tux and matching bow, he was the picture of elegance and charm. And that disarmingly charismatic smile of his was helping him a long way. There was a reason of course, women fawned over his good looks.

“What are you doing out here?” Bruce asked nodding his head towards the night sky, the one you had been looking at.

“I couldn’t take it in there anymore. It was way too loud, and everyone was way too fake,” you rolled your eyes and sighed. “And the sky is looking far too beautiful tonight. At least here I won’t be disturbed.”

“Well, I did just disturb you, so I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“I wouldn’t call it disturbing. Your presence is always welcome.”

For a while, the two of you stood side by side, just watching as the sky glittered above. It was peaceful and quiet, and everything Bruce had wanted for his birthday. A nice, uneventful evening with you by his side.

“I can’t believe you can actually see the stars tonight,” Bruce mumbled, genuinely impressed. Usually, as the industrial and active city it was, one never got to see the stars thanks to smoke, lights, or other manmade obstacles. But tonight, the sky was clear and bright, and no clouds were in sight.

“Right?” you smiled, pointing at the sky above you. “Look over there – see that one?”

“Which?” Bruce squinted.

“That one – the kyte.”

“Ah. Yes. I do.”

“That’s the Big Dipper.”

“And the other one next to it?”

“That’s the Small Dipper. Can you see that bright star at the end of it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Polaris, the Polar Star. It’s supposedly the brightest star in the night sky.”

“I can think of something brighter,” he muttered stealing a glance at you.

You leaned against him and spoke of constellations and stars to him. Told him the myths that surrounded each one, how far they were from the Earth, how they’d come to be discovered. The party had been long forgotten by the two of you, and after a few minutes of discussing each constellation and their origin, you fell into a comfortable silence, just happy to listen to the happy sounds of crickets and the soft wind brushing against the trees.

“I got you something,” you said, breaking the silence after a while.

He turned to you as you opened your purse and pulled out a small, rectangular object carefully wrapped in golden wrapping paper.

“I know it’s not much – “

“[Y/N]”

“Shush! I know it’s not much, but I worked hard to find it.”

You handed him the small package and he was careful to not rip the whole thing open. Bruce carefully removed a book from inside, and his eyes widened.

“The Great Gatsby?”

“Open it.”

He did, and his eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline.

“Is this?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce carefully touched the inked paper, eyes going over F. Scott Fitzgerald’s words over and over again.

“Where’d you find this?” he asked with a smile.

“That’s a secret. But it’s been quality checked a few times, and I can guarantee it’s the real deal.”

“So, with “It’s not much”, you meant you were giving me a signed copy of The Great Gatsby?”

“You deserve more than that, Bruce.”

In a heartbeat, he had embraced you tightly. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around him. Overcome with joy, Bruce spun you around once your twice, and you laughed loudly, holding onto him for dear life.

“Be careful Bruce – shit, don’t drop me!” You protested in between giggles.

Bruce came to a stop, and looked right into your eyes, the world’s biggest grin playing on his lips. It’d been a while since you’ve seen him laugh so freely. Such occurrences were rare – Bruce wasn’t one to smile, not really. But when he did, it was a lovely thing. Not one of his fake smiles, the ones practiced in front of a mirror to impress rich folks and Gotham socialites – the real ones, the ones he gave you in special, true moments like these.

You’d do anything to see him smile like this more often.

“I’d never drop you,” his voice dropped to a whisper, and he swore he could see one hundred stars in the spark of your eyes. In fact, the stars in the sky did not hold a candle to your beauty, no celestial body would ever be more fascinating than your eyes. He was sure astronauts had to be wrong – how did they want to explore the galaxy, when there was one right here, staring into him?

“I know,” you whispered back, hands still on his chest. “I trust you.”

He waited for a minute, eyeing the contours of your face, memorising the way your mouth parted and how soft strands of hair fell on top of your forehead. You stood still, still observing the smile that never left his lips.

“Do you?” He broke the silence.

“Hm?”

“Trust me.”

“Of course I do. I’ll always trust you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, Bruce. Always.”

“Please remember those words after I do what I’m about to do.” He chuckled and leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a silent request. Your breath hitched and you looked up at him, to find his eyes closed. You were inches away from him, and yet, he refused to move any further.

“Tell me it’s not just me,” he whispered. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, and it sent goosebumps all over your body. “Tell me the way I feel about you is not one-sided. But if it is – “ and you swore you felt him tense, “I’ll leave it alone. We’ll forget this ever happened; we’ll go back to being friends. But please, just tell me.”

You took shaky breaths, still feeling dazed from being so close to him.

Bruce remained with his eyes closed – he didn’t have it in himself to look at you, not right now. He was far too scared of what he might find in your eyes. Regret, disgust, hate. He couldn’t deal with it.

But the worst thing was the silence. Weren’t you going to say something? Were you going to taunt him forever? He could feel your body against his hands, soft skin sending shivers down his spine, so he knew you hadn’t left yet. Why weren’t you replying?

He got his answer when you pressed closer against him, and he felt your lips on his.

Bruce had fantasised about how his first kiss with you would be, but nothing prepared him for this moment. It was as if you were made for him, slotting perfectly against your body, hands on the small of your back, bringing you closer while your hands rested on his cheeks. Your lips moved in unison, as if speaking a language of their own, and Bruce felt slightly lightheaded.

You tasted sweet – probably from the chocolate covered strawberries you’d no doubt been stealing inside, and wanted to savour them, savour you, for as long as he could.

When you two parted for air, he pressed his forehead against yours, finally opening his eyes. The view was breathtaking; your lips were puffy and parted, your eyes were big and wide, pupils dilated and sparkling in the moonlight. Bruce swore you’d never been so beautiful.

And then he smiled, widely, and burst into chuckles like a lovesick teenager.

“You look beautiful. Have I told you this yet?”

“You have,” you replied, caressing the skin of his cheek. He leaned into your touch, pressing a tender kiss on your palm. “You do too. I love to see you smiling. You should smile more often.”

“Like this?” he asked, pointing at his grin.

“Yes – exactly like that. I could see you smiling more often. And I bet Alfred could too.”

Bruce grinned and kissed your forehead. After, he kissed each of your cheeks, and then the palm of your hand, and then the back.

“As long as you’re by my side, I’m sure I’ll smile much more often.” He confesses.

“Well,” you brought his body closer to you, and all Bruce could think of was how stunning you were, how beautiful you looked, how lucky he was to hold a star in his hands. “I don’t plan on leaving, Birthday Boy.”

It was so uncharacteristic of him. He never smiled this often, and certainly, never for this long, but Bruce couldn’t help it. He was happy. He had you, right there and then with him. Everything was well – more than well, everything was perfect. So why wouldn’t he smile?

His heart was getting fuller and fuller, and he blurted out the next words, without giving them much thought.

“I love you.”

You stared at him, eyes wide, surprise written all over your face.

And Bruce kept speaking, because for once, he was not at a loss for words, he knew exactly what to say.

“I think I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you. I love you and the way you brighten my days and make me feel like something when I can barely get out of bed. I love how you always manage to pick up the pieces whenever I’m shattered and never make me feel responsible for it. I love you. I love your beautiful face, your bright mind, your kind soul, your feisty spirit. I love you – I think I have for a long time, but I’ve never had the courage to tell you. But tonight – this party – you – it's made me realise something. This is Gotham. I could wake up tomorrow, and you’d be gone. I’d be gone. Anything could happen in this city. And I can’t let them happen without you knowing how I feel about you. I’m not expecting an answer back; I know this is a lot of information. And I know I come with a lot of baggage. There’s a lot about me you don’t know, and I haven’t told people to keep them away and keep them safe. But, if you’ll have me, I promise to spend the rest of my days making it all worth it. I will love you and take care of you forever, I promise. I love you, [Y/N].”

You looked at him, and Bruce saw your eyes sparkle with unshed tears. Had he scared you off? Were you upset? He reached out to hold your face, ready to wipe the tears away should they fall.

“I’m sorry. That was too much, wasn’t it?”

“I… I think I love you too.” You replied. The tears did not roll very far down your face, because Bruce was there to wipe them away. And in that moment, you knew he would always be there, be it to catch you, or wipe away your tears, or hold you close. “I really do.”

Bruce’s smile only widened, and he picked you up once again, spinning you around in the darkness of the garden. Your dress floated around you, like a shooting star’s trail, and he laughed loudly. He hadn’t felt this happy, truly happy in a big while. You joined him in laughter, and he put you down carefully.

“Thank you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“For the perfect birthday gift.” Bruce bent down to capture your lips once more, and stare into your eyes. “You look like starlight tonight. You look perfect. And I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He smiled and kissed you again, because the stars were shining, and you looked beautiful, and his heart was full.

Bruce Wayne didn’t smile very often. But how could he not, when you rivalled the stars up above, and were his, and made his heart burst with joy?

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys liked it! I'm afraid it was a tiny bit rushed - please do tell if it was. I hope it lived up to the expectations!

Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you have an amazing day ahead!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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double-hoe-seven · 7 months

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Belated Birthday Present

Summary: After missing Jamie's birthday, you begin to make it up to him. Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader Word Count: 1,100 Warnings: Smut, m receiving oral, blowjob, slightly blink and you miss it subby Jamie.

A/N: It has been far too long since I've written smut and I did it on 4 hours of sleep. Definitely not me compensating for missing Jamie Tartt's birthday yesterday. This man just deserves a nice blowjob.

1:47 AM. That's what time your phone said it was when it automatically adjusted the time zone while you waited by the carousel for your luggage. You were supposed to be home yesterday morning, but a technical issue delayed your flight by a day, making you miss your boyfriend's birthday. After grabbing your suitcase, you head out to the pickup area where an Uber was waiting for you. The ride to your home was long and quiet as you fought yourself to stay awake. When the driver finally pulled up to your curb, it surprised you to see the lights on. After thanking the driver, you walked inside to find Jamie lounging on the couch in his sweats. "Hey babe, welcome home," Jamie says with a tired smile. "Jamie, what're you still doing up?" You question, locking the front door behind you and taking a seat beside him. "I wanted to make sure you got in alright." He yawns, planting a quick, gentle kiss to your lips.

Jamie held you against his side for a few minutes, giving you both time to enjoy each other's proximity again after five days apart. "I'm so sorry I missed your birthday, Jamie." You apologize with a slight frown. "It's not your fault. I know you would've been here if you could." He hums. "Your boss is a fucking twat, though, for making you travel so much." He jokingly adds. "Trust me, everyone knows Billy's a dick." You agree with a chuckle. "Have you heard back from any of the places you applied to?" He asks. "A couple." You tell him. "That last place I interviewed with ended up wanting me to relocate to fucking Birmingham." "I thought they had an office here," Jamie says. "They do but they lied about which location they were hiring for." You explain with an eye roll. "What dicks." Jamie scoffs. "I certainly know how to pick 'em." You joke. "That's alright, babe. Even if you pick shit bosses, you still picked me and I think I'm pretty great." He boasts jokingly. "You are pretty great." You say genuinely. "You're fucking amazing, Jamie." "I'm just trying to be the best me I can be," Jamie says with a soft, almost bashful smile. You just smile and snuggle into his side, taking in the smell of his body wash and letting it relax you.

"So, what happened to my super secret, super special birthday surprise you were so excited about?" He teases with a grin. "I was gonna take us out of town for the weekend to this romantic little Airbnb I found." You answer. "It was this very cute little place with a hot tub and it's right next to a little pond, too. I thought it'd be a nice, brief escape from the chaos." "God, that does sound nice," Jamie admits. "Roy's been on my fucking ass for weeks." "You did ask the man to train you." You remind him. "Yeah, I know, and now I'm paying the price." He jokingly grumps. "Poor baby." You mockingly coo. "I know!" He pouts. "Let me make you feel better." You hum, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline. Jamie lets out a couple of softer hums as you kiss down the column of his neck. "I also got you a few things I know you've had your eyes on." You hum vaguely as you trail kisses down his chest.

When your lips reached the waistband of his pants, you looked up at him with a smile. "Do you want your birthday gifts first or my very sincere apology for missing your birthday?" You ask him. "Apology." He says immediately. Instead of making a joke about how quickly he answered, you pull his sweatpants down until his member was free of the cloth constraints. He audibly gulped when he saw you lick your palm before wrapping your hand around his base. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it back home to celebrate your birthday with you, Jamie." "I might be able t-to forgive you," Jamie says with a slightly shuddered breath as you kiss the crown of his member, licking up the bead of pre-cum already forming. "Fuck, I missed you," Jamie moans as you slowly take his tip into your mouth. "I missed you too, love." You hum after pulling off of his length, using your spit as lubricant to stroke him.

This time when you leaned forward and took his length back into your mouth, you took as much of him as you could. "Jesus Christ." Jamie hisses when he hits the back of your throat. His moans get louder the more you find your rhythm, resting a hand on his thigh as you lavish his length with attention, teasing the vein that ran along the underside with your tongue. His moans fill the living room of your home, echoing off the walls of the space as his head falls back in abject bliss. When he starts getting close, he tangles the fingers of one hand in your hair while his other hand grabs the arm of the couch in a vice-like grip to keep himself up when he feels his knees almost buckle. As his breathing becomes more ragged, you double your efforts to push him over the edge, bobbing your head just a tad faster and reaching up to massage his balls. The moan that follows comes from deep in his chest as he spills his release down your throat.

When his orgasm subsides and you've swallowed every last drop, you carefully pull off of him, looking up at him through your lashes as you lick him clean. "Apology fucking accepted." He jokes with a breathless chuckle, offering his hand to help you back up after tucking himself back into his sweatpants. "I love you, babe," Jamie says sweetly, pulling you into a quick, gentle kiss before the two of you head to your bedroom. "I love you too, Jamie." You hum happily. While he pulls the covers back, you change into your pajamas, grabbing a couple of gift bags from the back of the closet. "Here are your birthday gifts by the way." You tell him with a sheepish smile. "What's in the pink and white one?" He asks, doing a poor job of masking his lust as simple curiosity. "Something I picked out for this weekend with you in mind." You answer vaguely, a teasing smile on your face as you crawl into bed with him. You set the gift bags in his lap and smile, pecking his cheek. "Happy belated birthday, my love." You hum as you watch him impatiently tear into the pink bag first, completely ignoring the other one.

Dedicated to the people who have yet to give up on me: @bdffkierenwalker @anarchistbeauty

#Jamie Tartt #Jamie Tartt x Reader #Jamie Tartt Smut #Ted Lasso #I am my own target audience

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nightshadow1607 · 1 year

Text

Aizawa: I'm not mad, I just want to know why you two need a fake ID?

Midoriya: *mumbles*

Aizawa: What was that?

Shinsou: *sighs* You need to be over 18 at PetCo to hold the puppies

Izuku: *does something reckless*

Iida: Midoriya, how could you do this? You are so reckelss!

Also Iida: *goes after Stain to murder him*

Kid Izuku: So I have this nice rock

Kid Izuku: Kacchan gave it to me

Kid Bakugou: I threw it at you

Kid Izuku: Kacchan is so cool

Vigilante/Villain Izuku, rolling down the car window: What seems to be the problem here, officer?

Tsukauchi: Get out of my car

Shigaraki: Time for plan G

Mr. Compress: Don't you mean plan B?

Shigaraki: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties

Himiko: What about plan D?

Shigaraki: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago

Twice: What about plan E?

Shigaraki: I'm hoping not to use it. I die in plan E

Dabi: I like plan E

Sero: Why are you smiling?

Bakugou: What? Can't I just be happy?

Kirishima: Midoriya tripped and fell down the stairs

Vigilante Izuku: Physically I'm here but spiritually I'm lying in a Waffle House parking lot somewhere, slowly bleeding out from several stabbing wounds

Vigilante Shinsou: Mood

Bakugou, angrily: ARE YOU-

Todoroki: fucking

Bakugou: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Todoroki: fucking

Bakugou: IDIOT

Uraraka: ... what was that?

Todoroki: Aizawa-sensei banned Bakugou from swearing, so I volunteered to help him out

Hizashi: WHY AREN'T THERE ADULT-SIZED PLAYGROUNDS?!

Nemuri: Like, everything is the same as kids' playgrounds but bigger! Why don't we have those?!

Aizawa: Theme parks. Just theme parks

Hizashi: but you have to PAY for theme parks!

Aizawa: That's the adult part

Young Aizawa: I want to be a caterpillar

Young Oboro: Elaborate

Young Aizawa: Eat a lot, sleep for a while. Wake up beautiful

Young Hizashi: You know that they have a lifespan of like two weeks, right?

Young Aizawa: That's another highlight-

Young Oboro & Hizashi: Shouta, NO--

Hizashi: Truth or Dare?

Shinsou: Truth

Hizashi: How many hours have you slept this week?

Shinsou: Dare

Aizawa: Go to sleep

Shinsou: I don't like this game

Izuku, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, parental figure

Aizawa, not looking up from his coffee: Good morning, problem child

Jirou: You remind me of the ocean

Shinsou: Because I'm deep and mysterious?

Jirou: No, because you're full of salt and you scare people

Dabi: Here's a funny idea: We hang a mistletoe, bit instead of kissing the person underneath, we have to fight them.

Kurogiri: We are not doing this

Himiko, nodding: Mistlefoe

Magne: Don't encourage her!

Vigilante Izuku: *breaks a window while Shinsou is sleeping*

Vigilante Izuku: Hey Toshi, I-- Stop screaming, It's me-- I need help

Bakugou: Did you guys buy the eggs I asked?

Mina: Even better!

Bakugou: ...what did you do?

Kaminari, holding a chicken: Here!

Mina: Her name is Kyle!

Immortal Izuku: Fuck, I wanna die!

Aizawa: Language

Immortal Izuku: Hickity heck, I crave death

Yagi: Aizawa-san, call the kids. They're not listening to me

Aizawa: I'm not their dad

Yagi: Just do it

Aizawa, to Class 1-A: *sigh* Okay everyone! Line up, we're going back to the dorms!

Class 1-A: *immediately following like ducklings*

Yagi:

Aizawa: NO! listen, LISTEN, I'm not their--

Aizawa: Hello, people who don't live here

Hizashi: Heya!

Nemuri: Hi!

Tensei: Hello!

Aizawa: I gave you the key for emergencies

Hizashi: We were out of food

Vigilante Izuku, talking to Shinsou: If I run and jump at Eraser, he will definitely catch me

Vigilante Izuku: *runs at Aizawa*

Aizawa: KID, NO, I'M HOLDING COFFEE--

Aizawa: *drops coffee to catch Izuku*

Shinsou: *recording videos with Class 1-A* I have no intentions of being friends

Shinsou: *playing videogames with everyone* You're all stepping stones to my success

Shinsou: *baking a cake for Kaminari's birthday* Friends are a distraction

Shinsou: *in a group hug* Disgusting

Vigilantes Izuku and Shinsou: *watching the neighborhood kids play*

Vigilante Shinsou: Look at them. They're having so much fun. They're so happy

Vigilante Izuku: Yeah

Vigilante Izuku: How long do you think it'll be until they lose their will to live?

Vigilante Shinsou: I don't remember ever having one

Vigilante Izuku: Yeah, those kids are doomed

incorrect quotes because why not? (part 6)

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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

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i don’t need wings to help me fly, pt. 1

Steve still vividly remembers the day his grandmother had flown in to Indianapolis when he’d turned sixteen years old. He’d never met her before but his constantly-traveling parents weren’t around, so he’d been tasked with airport duty and delivering his grandmother to the best hotel in the city.

His grandmother had turned up her nose and sniffed the minute she’d walked off the plane in head-to-toe pink Chanel.

“Your parents let you live here?” She’d asked in a posh British accent, not a single hair out of place even after an 11 hour flight from Europe.

“Oh, we don’t live in the city,” Steve had told her, smiling and taking her bags from her diamond-encrusted hands. “We live an hour away from here.”

His grandmother had done a double-take at that. “You don’t even live in the city?” She’d sounded so appalled as Steve led her through the airport, her eyes widening as they’d passed the food court and she saw the McDonalds and the Dunkin Donuts. “Is this what you eat here?” She peered at someone’s tray as they’d passed with their Big Mac.

All Steve could do was laugh and accept his grandmother’s invitation to eat dinner with her in her penthouse suite at the hotel, where she’d hired a private chef for her week-long stay in the city. It was actually more of a command than an invitation, anyway.

That night, Steve had laughed as his grandmother had told him he was the Crown Prince of Genovia.

“Shut up,” Steve had laughed, dropping his fork with a clatter on the fancy porcelain of his plate.

“Shut up?” His grandmother had repeated, sounding aghast.

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean, like. Stop pulling my leg. That’s very funny, grandma.”

“I’m not joking, Steven. You are Steven Pierre Harrington Renaldi, Prince of Genovia.”

“Grandma,” Steve had said, still smiling. “I couldn’t even tell you where Genovia is on a map.”

And the rest had, as they say, been history. There had been a few bumps in the road and he’d almost abdicated his throne once or twice, but after spending every summer in Genovia for the past five years, he’d come to love his country and its people. Now, with his twenty-first birthday just one week away, he’s finally moving to Genovia’s Royal Palace full time.

When he’s brought into the palace from the private royal airport, he’s told that his grandmother is in a meeting with representatives from Genovia’s parliament. Since Steve hasn’t been crowned king yet, he’s technically not allowed to sit in on those types of meetings, but when he’d been exploring the palace when he was 17, he’d found a passage that ran directly behind his grandmother’s public state rooms where she met with foreign dignitaries and domestic politicians. After being delivered to his room by palace staff, Steve quickly changed from his airplane clothes and made his way to the passage. As he unlocked the tiny gate that would allow him to see and hear what was happening in the room, he hears his grandmother’s raised voice.

“You cannot possibly be serious!” She says loudly and it’s the first time Steve has ever heard his grandmother come close to yelling. “That piece of legislation is absolutely archaic!”

“Archaic though it may be, it still exists,” the man across from where his grandmother sits says smugly. Steve does not like the condescending way the man looks at his grandmother.

“We’ve never enforced the law before,” his grandmother insists.

“We’ve never needed to,” Prime Minister Motaz concedes reluctantly from Steve’s grandmother’s side. Steve watches as she turns to him in shock.

“And we don’t need to now!” Steve thinks his grandmother might be coming close to slamming her fist down on the table.

“Steven is young. He has no experience,” another voice comes from someplace in the room that Steve can’t see. “It’s not a bad idea to give him as much support as he can possibly have.”

Steve goes hot all over, flushing with indignation. His throat burns. He wants to defend himself, but he’s technically not even supposed to know who’s in this meeting right now.

“And forcing him to marry would be our way of giving him support?” His grandmother sounds incredulous. Steve’s mouth goes dry. Marry? Him? He’d only just graduated college

“No one’s forcing anything,” the smug man across the table from his grandmother says gleefully. “He’s allowed to pick whoever he wants. As it happens, I have the perfect candidate in mind.”

“If you’re talking about your deadbeat, drop out of a son, then this meeting is officially over,” Steve can practically hear the way his grandmother rolls her eyes at the man. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as he hears her.

“I’ll have you know that Eddie has returned to school and is currently at the top of his class in the comparative literature program,” the man says haughtily.

“Oh, perfect, his ability to analyze Chaucer will be the perfect addition in running the country to Steve’s expertise in international relations and political science from his accelerated dual masters program,” Steve’s grandmother replies sarcastically.

Steve practically fist pumps in his hiding spot. His grandma is so badass.

“Your Majesty,” the prime minister cuts in reluctantly. “Now that Viscount Mabrey has brought the marriage clause to our attention we have no choice but to bring this to a parliamentary vote. The entire body is meeting tomorrow morning; we’ll cover it then. You are, of course, welcome to attend, but you mustn’t interfere with the vote.” He glances across the table at the smug man who is apparently Viscount Mabrey. “Either of you.”

Steve can tell that the meeting is clearly wrapping up and it’s only a matter of time before his grandmother comes looking for him, so he quickly latches the little window and hurriedly leaves his hiding spot behind. As he’s glancing down at his clothes, brushing dirt and cobwebs from the fabric, he bumps into someone as he rounds the corner of the main hall. The stranger grasps Steve’s elbows, keeping him upright. Steve raises his gaze and meets a set of intense, deeply brown eyes. Pretty, Steve thinks.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the stranger smiles and Steve registers the rest of his face. He takes in the dimples and the long curling dark hair falling around his shoulders. Pretty, Steve thinks again. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No, uh—no worries, my fault,” Steve stammers out, before clearing his throat. “I’m Steve.”

The stranger tilts his head. “Yeah, man, I know.” His smile widens. “I’ll see you around, Prince Steven.” And then, without another word, he continues his way down the hall, in the direction Steve had just come from.

~*~

“I don’t get it,” Steve says to his grandmother, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I spent all this time studying and reading and interning and now they’re telling me I can’t be king unless I’m married? What kind of old-fashioned, ancient law is this?”

“Honestly,” his grandmother replies, “the law, sadly, is not even that old. It was ratified only 75 years ago. I’m not sure why, as it’s never been enforced until now. We’ll have to keep a keen eye on Viscount Mabrey and his no good son, though. They’ve got to be up to something.”

“Who’s his son?” Steve asks.

“Oh, I don’t remember his name. He’s completing a degree at Oxford—though between you and me, he’s dropped out twice already, so who knows about all that,” his grandmother waves a dismissive hand through the air.

“Grandma,” Steve says reproachfully, but even he can’t help but laugh a little. These people are trying to steal his crown, after all.

“Oh, Steven, I wanted your birthday week to be perfect for you,” his grandmother turns to him and grasps both his hands in hers, her eyes glassy. “I know this isn’t what you expected to come home to, but there’s nothing we can do until Parliament casts its vote in the morning. So let’s just focus on your birthday ball tonight, shall we?” She squeezes his hands in hers and then let’s them drop. “I’ve flown Paulo in to help you dress for the night.”

Steve groans. The last time he’d seen Paulo, the stylist had leaked his identity as the long lost prince of Genovia to the press. But he’s so good at what he does, his grandmother had apparently found it in herself to forgive him. And honestly, the leak had been somewhat of a blessing in disguise, one that allowed Steve to embrace both sides of himself: the small-town Indiana boy-next-door and the European royal with the world at his fingertips.

“Time to get ready for your ball, Steven,” his grandmother tells him happily.

~*~

Steve always feels strange when he has to dress up for a big event. He doesn’t hate it, exactly—he actually kind of likes it—but he still feels a little like he’s wearing a costume and he knows occasions like this are going to be even more frequent after his coronation in a month and a half.

Steve makes his way into the ballroom and let’s himself be announced to his guests. The ball has already started and he crosses the dance floor to greet his grandmother.

“Ah, Steven,” she greets him, kissing him on each of his cheeks. “You look beautiful, my darling.”

“Thank you, grandma,” Steve responds, glancing down at his tux. “You look gorgeous as ever, of course.” And she does. Her dark hair is curled and piled on top of her head, artfully arranged around her shining diamond and pearl tiara. Her deep violet gown flares out at the waist and brings out the emerald green of her eyes. She’s stunning and regal, all the things a queen should be. Steve’s going to have a hard time filling her shoes when he’s crowned king.

“Happy birthday, my love,” his grandmother says, hugging him to her. “Go have fun. Dance. Eat cake.” She gently pushes him toward the dance floor and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He wanders over toward the buffet table full of cupcakes and cookies, his giant green and gold birthday cake in the center. His mouth waters slightly just looking at the flowers of spun sugar decorating the top. He knows it’s chocolate with vanilla frosting, his favorite. He’s so intent on getting himself a piece of his birthday cake that he misses the person crossing his path.

Steve bumps directly into a hard body for the second time in one day. He’s usually not this clumsy. A large, ringed hand flies out to grasp his bicep, keeping him upright.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” a familiar deep voice says, laughter lacing the words. Steve stares up into now-familiar deep brown eyes.

“Oh, you—sorry,” Steve replies, smoothing his palms down the front of his tuxedo jacket. The stranger from earlier stands in front of him, wearing black on black on black, polished and pressed and just as beautiful as before. His curly hair is tied in a neat low ponytail and his mouth is curved into a smile, once again showing off the dimples Steve hasn’t stopped thinking about since this afternoon. His eyes are sparkling.

“Not at all,” the stranger shakes his head. “My fault entirely, Prince Steven.”

Steve clears his throat. “You don’t have to keep calling me that. You can call me Steve.” He’s glad he doesn’t stutter this time, his voice coming out smooth and clear, regaining some of his Indiana charm.

“Steve, then,” the stranger’s smile widens.

“And you are?” Steve prompts.

“And I… was just about to ask you to dance,”the stranger says, holding out his hand.

Steve is… completely charmed. Sure, he doesn’t know this man’s name, but he’s beautiful and charismatic and Steve only has a few friends his age here in Genovia, so he takes the stranger’s hand and let’s himself be led out on to the dance floor. The stranger must be in the high ranks of Genovian society to have even scored an invite to tonight’s ball and Steve racks his brain to remember if there were any sons of Parliament members he hadn’t met yet. He doesn’t think so.

Once they’re on the dance floor, Steve’s breath catches as a strong hand circles his waist, another entwining their fingers together. Steve feels himself being twirled around the dance floor and it’s dizzying for more reasons than one. The stranger is captivating, his gaze magnetic.

“Okay,” Steve says after a few minutes of dancing. “You have to tell me your name, man.”

The stranger smiles again. “You can call me Eddie.” The song they’ve been dancing to comes to an end. Eddie raises Steve’s hand to his lips, brushing his mouth across Steve’s knuckles. “I hope we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Steve.” And then he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving Steve dizzy and blushing on the dance floor.

#here have this thing!!!#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie au #steddie princess diaries 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #royal!steddie #like please this dynamic is so perfect #sorry if it's shit please don't hate me lololol

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potatomountain · 4 months

Text

"Spoiled Mommy"- WY oneshot

Pairing: Single mom reader x babysitter WY. Genre: Fluff/smut Warnings: use of Mommy in a sexual way- typical smut warnings. Word Count: 3k network: @pirateeznet

This is technically a day late but this is for the wonderful @daesukiii for their birthday yesterday (1-16). Also big thanks cuz she was technically my body double for it so I hope you love it!!

Ever since your kid was born, your own birthday was usually just another day. That’s just how things were as a single mom, your life revolved around your child. You were expecting this year to be the same, even if your son was now in preschool.

You didn’t mind, you loved your son, and your routine gave you some balance to your life. The little boy woke you up with morning kisses and hugs and wished you a happy birthday. You wondered where he had learned what today was, but thought you just said something about it. Morning love turned to getting him ready which he insisted on doing himself- even if that meant the shirt was on backwards and he wouldn’t let you change it.

You just let him have it, not wanting to argue as, for once, he seemed to be in a rush to get out the door. That meant your appearance was still a bit disheveled as the two of you rushed him off to preschool.

Teacher Seonghwa greeted you both when you walked up, your son happily bouncing around him and into school while you watched a bit taken aback. Now why was he excited to leave you alone? It was always the opposite.

“Happy birthday Miss.” Seonghwa offered with a gentle smile. “Are you picking him up today or is Wooyoung?”

You physically winced. “I can’t imagine what my son and his babysitter are planning… especially since Wooyoung was given today off.” Wooyoung- a tenant in your building and the beloved babysitter to your son for three years now. He’d often pick up your son in your place as you worked midday roughly.

“I will be, I have the day off today surprisingly. Um, Seonghwa- did I mention it was my birthday?”

He shook his head. “No, Wooyoung and he has been talking about it all week, planning something.”

Seonghwa just shrugged, turning his attention to another kid and mother. “Relax while you can, and see you later.” He waved as you walked off.

Whatever Wooyoung and your son was planning, it was gone from your mind when you crawled back into bed when you got home. Sleep pulled you under in minutes.

Your sleep was quite rudely awakened a few hours into your door being slammed open and someone calling your name. “Come on get up! It’s time!”

“It’s time for more sleep to go away-” You buried yourself deeper into the blankets, groaning as your curtains were pushed open. “For fuck’s sake-”

“Come on birthday Mommy, it’s time to get your present.” Wooyoung roughly pulled the blankets off, tossing them to the floor and then scoping you up bridal style. “You can’t waste the day away. I have plans, you’re going to get spoiled!”

“Woo- I gave you the day off.”

“And this is what I want to do with my day off.” He smiled down at you, carrying you out to your living room and setting you on the couch. You noticed the place was almost spotless, throwing your mind for a loop. “I cleaned, lunch is on the stove, and later I’m treating the three of us to your favorite restaurant and ice cream.” He stood up and stared down at you, wearing your pink frilly apron and hands on his hips. “Is that a problem?”

You often forget that Wooyoung had feelings for you, especially since he rarely brought it up. He had confessed a year ago but you had turned him down at the time because your son was your priority and you didn’t want to date anyways. He was understanding, and very little had changed between you: some light touches here and there, moments where you swore he might kiss you followed by disappointment when he wouldn’t.

You huffed, crossing your arms like a child and narrowing your eyes up at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why? Because my favorite hardworking mother deserves to get spoiled for once and I think I’d be jealous if someone else did it.” He said in a singsong voice, making his way back to the kitchen. “Now you’re going to eat and then get in the bath. I’ll run one for you, with all these nice bath salts and stuff I got.”

Sighing, you stared at his back a bit forlorn, wondering if you had run out of chances.

The fact he brought you one of your favorite home cooked meals had you questioning that, as well as the way he smiled at you with all the stars in his eyes as you took the first bite, melting into the taste. “Are you trying to seduce me Woo?”

“Mmm maybe- depends on if it’s working.”

You nodded without question, shoveling another bite. He looked as attractive as ever and you were still in half your disheveled clothes from earlier, pants having been discarded before your nap, and yet you doubted he saw you as a mess. “Very much so.”

His ears and apples of his cheeks darkened in color, a bit flustered as he giggled behind his hand and surged to his feet. “Bath time, and then I’ll work those hard mommy muscles out of your body.”

You nearly choked on your food but he was long gone by the time you could breathe normally.

He didn’t come back out until your food was almost gone and your stomach was full, the previous comment forgotten. “Bath time Precious.”

You thought about it all in the bath, a nice one with bubbles and a scent you adored. Your skin felt soft and smooth, hair rejuvenated, and your mind made up. Opening the bathroom door in just a towel, you looked down the hall. “Wooyoung?”

“Is this how you spend time with my son? Are you treating me like him right now?” You let him take the dishes to the sink, stretching your arms above your head and standing up.

“Absolutely not, that’s my little buddy. You’re mommy, you get adult treatment.” He hummed out, clearly pleased with your flustered state. “Go take your bath.”

You mumbled your protests, his flirting becoming more and more brazen than normal but you blamed that on the fact you weren’t turning him away. When was the last time you had been alone with him? When your son wasn’t around or your focus? When had you been the focus? When could you focus on someone else, in the way you were beginning to focus on Wooyoung?

“In your room!”

You made the short distance in seconds, peering into your bedroom to find him making the bed with fresh sheets and laying a towel down. Heat flooded you and you held the towel tighter. “I just finished making your bed so come lay down. San showed me some massage tricks to really get out some muscle kinks and I bet your back is worked up.”

You stepped inside, a bit of disappointment budding in your chest as you realized what you had been thinking wasn’t what he had planned. Softly you chastised yourself, making a mental note that maybe it was beyond time to try and get laid. Yet when Wooyoung turned to look at you when you didn’t answer, that disappointment was gone.

The way he looked at you set your nerves on fire, made you feel wanted down to your core and his reaction to your state had you wanting him just as much. The flustered cheeks and your name stuttered out, his hands adjusting his pants as he had to force himself to look away only to continuously look back.

“What? Did I steal your tongue away?” You teased, walking over to the bed with a bit more sway to your hips as your resolve was once more ignited.

“I- fucking hell you can have my tongue anytime you want.”

You knew he had said it low in hopes you hadn’t heard, but how could you deny how much you wanted him now? How could you say no when that was exactly what you needed. “Well it is my birthday, that sounds like a great way to be spoiled.” Crawling onto the bed, filled with a boldness you hadn’t felt in awhile, you let the towel fall off, your backside on display for him as you laid your stomach on the towel he had set out. “Spoil me Woo?”

You pretended to give it some thought with a head tilt, enjoying the way he was beginning to squirm next to you. “Or you can do the massage like you promised and maybe I’ll give you a reward. You’ll be a good boy won’t you?”

“Fuck-” You felt the bed dip next to you in a rush, his shadow looming over you, drawing your attention. “I don’t think I want to give you that massage right now.”

You pouted up at him, stomach twisting with butterflies at the way he licked his lips, sharp jaw tight as he lazily ran his heated gaze over the curves of your body. “But you said you’d spoil me. Don’t you want to give Mommy what she wants?”

He cursed again, hands gripping the sheets next to you as his breath hitched. You had no idea what had prompted you to refer to yourself like that but his reaction was more than worth it. “I’ll give Mommy anything she wants- you want to be spoiled, I can do that with more than a massage. Won’t you let me?”

Whatever leash the sexual tension between you had been on was snapped off in seconds, Wooyoung quickly straddling your thighs and running his hands down your back. He pressed down where he felt the knots. “I’ll take care of you…”

You relaxed under his touch, arms at your side and head falling against the bed. “You did pick up some tricks.” His hands felt amazing on your back, working your muscles easily.

“I told you.” His hands kept working, relaxing you into the bed and truthfully sending shivers down your spine. It felt so good.

Then he was working you back up in another way, his legs shifted forward so you could feel his thigh against the curve of your ass. No- not thigh, but his hard-on through his jeans.

The soft sounds you had been making changed, no longer could you focus on his hands but instead the hard length he gently pressed into your flesh, only his jeans keeping it contained. As his hands moved to your lower back, he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. “Can I have my reward now?” The question was accompanied by the softest thrust of his hips, pressing firmer into your cheek.

“What do you want your reward to be?” You gasped out, apparently more out of breath from his touches and teasing than you thought.

He kissed lower down your back, his hands full on massaging your ass cheeks now and working towards your hips. “Want to touch you-”

“You are.”

Truth be told if he didn’t touch you, you might actually go insane. “Y-y-yes… oh!” The word was barely out before he was hoisting your left leg up on the bed and covering your now exposed pussy with his hand.

“More. Fuck, want to taste you. Want to make you cum. Please Mommy?” He bucked his hips into your thigh, taking the small inches you were giving him and running a mile with them.

He whined out, two fingers rubbing your wet lips before pushing in. “Holy fuck you’re soaked for me.”

You could imagine it going to his head, your hands now above you, gripping the sheet for something stable. “I-It’s been years Woo.”

“Such a shame- I’ll spoil this pretty cunt of yours every fucking day and night.”

Now his words went right to your head, just as his fingers went right to your g-spot, rubbing it with ease. “T-then you should prove it.”

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you every night Mommy? Be your good boy and fill you with my cum?” His breathing was getting heavy, fingers pushing in and out of your tight hole with vigor.

“W-Woo…” You squirmed beneath him, grinding your hips back against his hand as he used his thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. You couldn’t answer, and so he slowed his pace, making you whine.

“Answer my question and you can cum.” He gripped your hip to keep you from squirming, but he was breathing just as heavily as you were.

His tongue replaced his thumb, pressing up on it with enough pressure from his fingers that you came undone with ease. His fingers didn’t stop even as his face got soaked with your juices, a low drawn out whine leaving him as he slurped them up.

You were desperate, wanting so badly to cum, but you wanted what he promised as well. “Y-yes! Fuck Woo, I want you to spoil me every night like this. Mommy wants to spoil you too.”

Pleased with your response his hands started up again, groaning as your pussy walls fluttered around his fingers. He pushed in a third, eager to make a mess of you. “Right now is about you. So cum for me Mommy?” You felt him shift on the bed while pushing your hips up more and arching your back up.

With one push you connected your hips with his, his head falling back with the most sinful and delicious moan you perhaps ever heard. It had been so long since you’ve done this but that didn’t matter- Wooyoung’s cock throbbing inside you was a new high you didn’t think you could ever achieve without him.

Only when you came down from your high did he pull away, gently lowering you and giving you space. “That’s got to be my new favorite treat and now I get it anytime I want?” He turned you over so he could see your face, looking over your body but mostly just gazing at your face while you were attempting to catch your breath. “You looked so fucked out-” He brought his fingers to his lips, making you watch as he licked them clean. “You want to go again? I can use my tongue, really get a taste for you.”

You shook your head, having something else in mind entirely. You reached up, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him down and on top of you. You kissed him with every ounce of emotion you felt, rolling him under you and straddling his waist as your hands moved faster than your brain. “Want you. Want you inside of me- now Baby.”

At your plea he was pulling off his clothes with the same frenzy you were. He lifted his hips and roughly pushed his pants and boxers down, kicking them off while keeping his lips on yours. He was as desperate for you as you were him, clouding your judgment and thoughts as you reached between the two of you, gripping his cock and guiding it to your entrance.

Urged on you sat up, twisting your hips to feel him move and touch every inch of your insides. He gripped your hips to stop you, eyes glossed over and mouth hung open with soft pants and you wondered if your own expression mirrored his. “E-easy please, y-you feel so good…”

“So do you Baby boy…” You hummed out in an almost sultry manner, snapping your hips just to watch what it did to him and you weren’t disappointed.

“Fuck yes.” He pushed up into you, a bit sloppy at first, but a few more harsh thrusts and he found his rhythm. His hands ran up your sides to cup your breasts, softly pinching one peak before he pulled you forward so he could latch his mouth on one. You easily got lost in the pleasure, the change in angle hitting harder as you held his whimpering head to your chest. He chanted out your name, followed by Mommy as his thrusts and your own moans grew sloppy.

Wooyoung was vocal, and not in the grunts and groans but the whines and whimpers and hard pants. It went straight to your head and resonated with his cock inside you as you kept moving and twisting your hips that he tried to desperately still. “P-Please Mommy, I-I want to spoil you.”

“You are baby, you can buck those hips up. Make me bounce.”

As if it was an afterthought he rolled you two back over onto the towel, bed shaking from his thrusts as he lifted himself up, determined to watch you come undone on his cock. In fact he begged.

The second you were squeezing down on his cock with your release he pulled out, pressing himself into the towel and spilling his cum there. Your walls fluttered and pushed your own juices out, feeling empty without him inside.

Seconds turned into a minute before he collapsed on top of you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your chest. “I can’t believe I just did that-”

“Woo-” You gently prompted, still attempting to capture your breath while your hands found home in his hair. “You have a promise to uphold now, every night you said. That’s what a boyfriend does right?”

His head shot up, emotion shining in his eyes as he gaped like a fish. “Really? You mean it?”

You frowned, processing what he meant when it dawned on you. He really roped your son into asking you to be his girlfriend again? Well, at least you didn’t have to worry about his approval.

“Mhmm.” You smiled sweetly at him, caught off guard when he showered you with kisses. “So what were you planning with my little boy now?”

He grinned, suddenly bashful. “Doesn’t matter, you already said yes.”

#pirateeznet #wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfic #wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #mommy reader #mommy k!nk #babysitter wooyoung #ateez

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yesimwriting · 2 years

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Final Girl (Part 2)

Final Girl Series Masterlist (currently updated parts 1 - 9 and extras)

A/N this one’s a bit of a filler but it’s needed and i’m looking forward to part 3!! a scene in part 3 inspired this entire fic :)) also i love feedback!! comments make my day and motivate me to write :)) so if you’re so inclined,, i’d love to hear your thoughts :)

also lmk if you’d like to be tagged!!

Fandom: (original) Scream

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The only good thing that’s come from Casey’s murder and your injuries is that your good friends Billy and Stu are determined to help you.

also i made the reader’s birthday Halloween bc it helps the plot and i love halloween and am so jealous of fall birthdays!! So on the really good chance that your birthday isn’t on Halloween, just go with it!! Also I named the mom character bc the reader’s connection to her mom is kinda specific and relevant for plot and that felt easier lol

Warnings: maybe a tiny bit too fluffy in some parts but there’s a reason for it!! also gaslighting and the beginning of emotional manipulation (it’s billy and stu, y’all should’ve expected it lol)

----

I’ve always hated hospitals. Waking up with bandages I don’t remember getting placed on me just to receive the news of Casey’s death certainly hasn’t made me grow fonder of them. If anything, each additional second I spend in this hospital cot adds to the agony in my body.

“Miss L/n, are you feeling any better?” Nurse Samantha’s voice is cautious and smooth, but not overly peppy like Nurse Molly’s.

In another life, in another situation, I might have really liked Nurse Samantha. She gave me extra Jell-O when she noticed that it was the only thing from my tray that I picked at. She was the only one willing to be honest about Casey’s death with me. But this isn’t another life or situation, so when I look at her, all I can think about is what it felt like to wake up here. Alone.

But that’s not her fault, so instead of attempting to get out of this damn bed again, I just nod slowly. “A little.” My voice is so hollow and hoarse that it sounds wrong in my ears.

She waits for me to clear my throat before speaking again. “Your boyfriends are here to see you, but if you’re not up for visitors--”

“Boyfriends?” My voice is slightly less gritty than it was when I first spoke. “I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone a plural amount of them.”

Nurse Samantha’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, my apologies,” she then tilts her head slightly, leaning against the doorframe of the hospital room. “But you might want to consider breaking that news to the two boys that have been harassing our receptionist since a little after you arrived.”

My eyebrows draw together in confusion. What is she--

“You said she was awake, which meant she could take visitors, so take us--”

Yeah, even in my state, that voice cleared everything up. “Billy.”

He’s close enough to Nurse Samatha to tower over her, but when he snaps his head in my direction, all sense of anger is gone. In an instant, he’s in my room. I must be more out of it than I thought, because I’m slightly surprised when Stu comes in right behind him.

“Visiting hours are technically over, but considering what you’ve been through and the late time you were brought in, I can make a bit of an exception. If you need anything, press the call button.”

I nod again, a little more grateful for Nurse Samatha than I was before. Not only do I love the idea of not being alone here, I’m also glad she decided to let Billy and Stu in before they got irritated. I know I haven’t known them that long, but I think Billy has a bit more of a temper than he’d like to let on, and Stu takes not getting his way personally.

“Okay, thank you.”

She disappears down the hall after a quick nod of her head.

Billy has pulled forward one of the hospital room’s chairs so that he’s sitting as close to my bed as possible. He grabs my hand as soon as he’s settled. His fingers are squeezing mine so tightly it’s slightly uncomfortable. “Hi.”

His greeting is oddly hesitant, maybe even a little nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Billy this unsure before. “Hey.”

The silence that falls over us after that is serious. Much too serious for Stu to just stand on the sidelines in silence. Actually, it’s weird that Stu’s on the sidelines at all. What’s his deal? He never needs an excuse to be touchy and now that I actually need a hug, he’s choosing to keep his distance. Where was this restraint when I made eye contact with a cute boy during lunch and Stu decided that that’d be the perfect time to rest his head on my shoulder?

I tear my gaze away from Billy’s hard stare, ready to call out Stu for being so weird. But then I see his expression. His face is oddly pale and his eyes are wide and kind of blank.

“Stu, I’m fine, you can’t catch a concussion.”

Instead of taking the out and making some kind of joke, Stu’s expression falls even more. “A concussion?”

Oh. Maybe Stu’s more worried than I thought. “Relax, we don’t know anything for sure. Concussions can take up to days to form, it hasn’t been long enough.” He doesn’t seem eased. “Would you stop looking at me like that? I’m fine, Casey’s the one that--” My voice catches on itself. Nope—still can’t even say it. “Would you please just come over here and be normal? I’m tired and I-I really want to pretend that I’m not in a hospital and I can’t do that with you staring at me like I’m on death’s doorstep.”

His eyebrows draw together, but all he does is shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Stu,” Billy’s voice comes out so low and harsh I find myself gaping at him. “Y/n is asking you for one thing. For you to be normal.”

On a normal night, I’d brush off their tension with some kind of joke or laugh. It’s not the first time I’ve ever witnessed the way they disappear into each other. A slightly longer than average glance or a simple sentence is all it takes to initiate one of their silent exchanges. Whenever they get like that, I can’t help but wonder what they’re like when they’re alone.

Stu nods once, the motion oddly stiff, but then his eyes move so that he’s looking at me. And just like that, they’re back. Stu shuffles towards me. He moves like he wants to hug me but can’t figure out a tactful way to do it with all the wires connected to me. He settles for a gentle, barely there shoulder squeeze. It’s so awkward and unusually gentle I find an unexpected fondness tugging at my chest.

He lets go of me, his hand moving forward to allow the knuckle of his pointer finger to graze the edge of the cotton bandage on my forehead. “It’s okay, Stu.” When he doesn’t ease, I continue, “No stitches. Doctor said it won’t even scar.”

With that, Stu softens completely. He grabs the hand that Billy isn’t holding. “Won’t even scar, huh?”

His easiness is infectious. “Nope.”

“Good thing, too,” Billy says, “Wouldn’t want anything hurting that pretty face.”

My eyes widen slightly, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Shut up, I’m a total mess right now. I’m literally in the hospital.”

“And you still look like an angel.” If I thought that the earlier comment had me struggling to form a coherent thought, this is something else. I hate how stunned into silence I am, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s totally reveling in my reaction. “Don’t even think a scar could make you less pretty.”

Weakly, I try to cover how sentimental I’m feeling. “I almost got murdered, you have to be nice to me.”

Billy exaggeratedly frowns. “I’m always nice to you.”

I pretend to contemplate his words. “Mm...nice-ish.”

There’s something oddly comforting about Billy’s mock gasp. It’s a display of the softer side of him that I’ve only ever caught glimpses of. “Now who’s mean?”

“Still you.”

Billy rolls his eyes at Stu’s reply. I turn, expression easing at the look on Stu’s face. “You’re on my side?”

“Always,” he hums pleasantly, thumb running along my knuckles. He’s definitely lying. Billy and Stu seem to understand each other in way that I’ve never seen between two people, but the gesture is still nice.

The realization that I’m really glad that they’re here settles into me comfortably, in a content sort of way. “I’m happy you guys are here.”

Stu tilts his head, his free hand moving to gently catch my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. I blink, eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. He’s staring, analyzing me with a focus I didn’t think he was capable of. “You’re cute when you’re high.” My lips part in protest, but before I can get any words out, Stu continues, “You probably watched your friend get gutted, they definitely gave you something strong.”

I frown, sinking further into the hospital bed without thinking about it. Noticing my reaction, Billy throws a dirty look in Stu’s direction before leaning over me in order to punch Stu’s arm. “Shut up.”

“What? She knows I didn’t mean it in any bad way.” He then turns to look back at me. “You know that, right?”

I’m not exactly in the mood to brush off Stu’s insensitivity the way I normally would, and I don’t think I have the energy to humor him--but I also can’t bring myself to alienate them. I nod once, the motion tired and vague.

Billy runs his thumb over my knuckles gingerly, brining my attention back to him. “You did say you wanted him to be normal.”

At that, I almost laugh. “Yeah, that’s on me.” A moment of silence passes, and for whatever reason, I don’t like it. “Y’know, I didn’t see anything. I-I was knocked out before it happened.” I can’t believe I’m talking about this. “I didn’t even know what happened to Casey until one of the nurses told me so that I’d cooperate with police questioning.”

“The police already questioned you?” Billy’s question comes out too fast, too urging. “We’ve been waiting to be able to see you for hours, we didn’t know if y--”

“Billy.” Some hard to name aspect of his personality takes on a darker shade, but he does stop ranting. So much for getting used to slightly more lighthearted Billy. “If it makes you feel any better, I was asleep for most of the time. One of the nurses had to borderline sedate me because I kept trying to pull out my IV and disconnect the heart monitor.”

Instead of finding humor in my admission, the corner of Billy’s mouth turns downwards.

“Why?” Stu asks Billy’s silent question before tacking on something to ease the tension, “This stuff looks important.”

My nose wrinkles. There’s no good way to describe the panic I felt when I woke up here. No way to summarize the need I felt to be anywhere but the hospital. The desire to see Casey and be told that everything was just a bad dream. “Just didn’t want to be here,” I explain weakly, “I didn’t know what was going on and I freaked.”

Stu’s eyebrows draw together. I’m too tired to hide the way I study him. It’s not that he’s never serious (though it is kind of rare), but there’s something strange beneath the way he’s looking at me. His eyes seem dark, tired and emphasized by the bruise forming near the top of his cheek.

Now it’s my turn to frown openly. Slowly, I pull my fingers from his grasp. Stu lets me move my hand towards his face with no reaction until my fingers just barely graze the line of barely formed purple.

He catches my wrist between his pointer finger and thumb, his grip just a little too tight. “You okay, angel?”

The nickname leaves my face a degree or two warmer. Stu grins in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Your face is bruised--what happened?”

“You’re in the hospital and you’re worried about me?” He lets out a breath, demeanor shifting back into something easier.

I roll my eyes, glad that his strange worry is passing. “Shut up.”

His hold on my wrist loosens. Stu twists my hand in order to press a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist, right above my pulse. “Billy and I were going to watch a movie. He threw the tape at me a little too hard when I wasn’t paying attention. Between you and me, I think he did it on purpose.”

Billy sighs, throwing a mean look in Stu’s direction. “I told you I was going to give it to you right before--”

“Yeah, give not throw--”

“You were right next to the VC--”

“Guys.” My interruption isn’t particularly loud, but they both instantly shut up. On a normal night, I really doubt that would have worked. I guess being in the hospital has its perks. “I’ve dealt with enough conflict.”

After a second, Billy concedes, “You’re right.” He squeezes my hand once, eyes softening. “I can’t believe the police questioned you right after you woke up. You must have been so confused,” his thumb runs up and down my knuckles, “Probably still are. You can’t be sure about anything you picked up on.”

An uneasy feeling I can’t name settles in my chest. The police were the ones that insisted on speaking to me as soon as possible, but if I accidentally gave them anything that leads to an inaccurate lead, I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive myself. “It was a man, I know that. I know that I wasn’t confused about that.” That was something I told the officers confidently. The voice on the other line was masculine and distinct and my attacker was too large and tall to likely be a woman. “I didn’t really remember anything else.”

The memories of right before are seared into my mind perfectly. Casey and her polaroid camera, the phone, the popcorn. Or--or was it the other way around? Did I make the popcorn before or after the phone call? Did Casey come in with the movies before or after she took those pictures of me?

What were her last words?

I can’t remember them and for some reason, that makes me feel guilty. He wants to talk to you. That’s when she gave me the phone for the last time. The phone I threw at the killer’s head. Did it hit him? And then she screamed. Wait, no, she clasped her hand over her mouth. She didn’t scream until the glass broke. And then...there was a second scream much later, a much more pained, animalistic sound.

My mouth goes dry. That might have been the last sound Casey ever made. I heard it, but I was too busy trying to escape the killer to pick up on it. Which would mean she was killed while I was being attacked. Which means...

“Hey, don’t think about it too hard. Don’t think about anything too hard, you said it yourself, you hit your head.” Billy’s voice is soft yet assured. He’s right, I know he’s right, and yet I can’t snap out of it.

“I,” my throat aches, a part of me regrets sending away the nurse before she could bring me ice chips, “I think there were two of them.”

The admission is so slow and unsure I instantly feel the need to defend it. “Maybe. I-I mean, I don’t--” I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly all I can see are stars that turn my stomach. The sharp ache in my head is returning. “I didn’t remember before, but now that I’m thinking about it--Casey ran while I was being attacked and I heard her scream. And not just a scared scream, it was the kind of scream that victims in a scary movie let out right before they die. I think what happened to Casey happened while I was still awake. Which would mean there were two of them.”

The two gape at me before glancing at each other. Their silence feels like some kind of reproach that tears at my insides. Stu breaks the quiet with a laugh. A loud, free kind of laugh that’s usually only ever used after the kind of inappropriate joke that earns him some kind of scolding from Tatum.

“You’re cute,” Stu hums with the kind of fondness a parent would use towards a child that proudly declares insanely unrealistic goals. Sure you’ll be the first president in space, here, have a gold star for being so creative. “This isn’t one of those books you read or a project for newspaper. This is about a real murderer that probably got hard watching you try to fight him off of you and finished to the feeling of killing Casey.”

I flinch. A full body, knee jerk reaction that has me pulling both of my hands away from them. Blinking, I cross my arms across my chest. I’m tired and the irritated frustration and embarrassment running through me aren’t making things easier.

The look on my face is probably only making me look more childish. I’m only a grade behind them, but it’s come up before. Only in a semi-joking way after a particularly naive reaction to something. Like the time Stu made a vague sex joke that everyone rolled their eyes at but I missed. Need me to explain it, kid. Stu had said, emphasizing the nickname to further embarrass me before Tatum smacked him in the arm. If she’s a kid, then that was a total pedo move.

Billy punches Stu’s arm again. This time he’s harsher. “You’re an asshole.” Billy then looks at me, expression placid with understanding. “Do you really think there were two of them?”

“I--” Now my already rickety train of thought feels even more unsteady. “I don’t know. It was just a thought. My memory of right before has been kind of iffy.” I scratch the back of my wrist, eyes focused on where my skin meets the plastic of the IV. “But shouldn’t I say something? Just in case? The police said that if I remembered anything a little more I should call.”

“You’re the one in AP Psych--aren’t most serial killers loners?”

The urge to rip off the tape that’s holding the IV in place leaves my fingers itching to do something. I tap my nails against thin hospital sheets. “We don’t talk about that kinda stuff, but yeah, I guess.”

Billy’s gaze flits away from my hands and towards my face. “So that means it’s unlikely for there to be two of them.” That’s a fair point, or at least, a point that’s a lot fairer than Stu’s. “You can say something if you want, but they’re so desperate for leads they questioned you right away. And we both know that police officers aren’t necessarily the most driven.” He’s gently referencing my mother’s boyfriend, who’s a cop and the bane of my existence. Billy and Stu both know exactly how I feel about him. “What if it does more harm than good?”

I frown, letting his words slowly sink in. Maybe if my head felt less sore and my body less far away, I’d be reacting a little more. “Yeah,” I mumble, “I’ll wait, see if it’s something I actually remember or not.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. “Good, would hate to throw off your step-dad.”

My glare is violent, which only fuels his smile. “That man is not my step-father. You know that.”

“Leave her alone, Billy,” Stu mumbles. I turn my head forward, gaze shifting upwards. Stu’s eyes are softer than they’ve been all night. He reaches for me, expression falling when I pull my hand back at the last second. “Aw, baby, don’t be like that.” My hand stays near my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for laughing, I’m sorry for what I said about you and your friend.” I try to glare at him through my lashes, but the look feels like more of a pout than anything. “Don’t give me that look.” He moves his hand again, placing it on my cheek before I can protest. “C’mon, hurting your feelings is like kicking a puppy.”

Some instinct forces me to ease into the contact. Even though my shift is small, Stu picks up on it, because of course he does. My reaction unfortunately encourages him. His thumb gently brushes up and down my cheek. “Then don’t be mean.”

It’s a sad attempt at holding onto my anger, and I’m sure all three people in the room know it. “Promise,” Stu nods, “Anything you want.” I thought he was laying it on thick as some kind of joke, but when I look into his eyes, I don’t see anything that indicates his usual brand of teasing humor. “I’ll even watch one of those lame chick flicks you’re always talking about with the girls.”

A small, awkward noise that’s a hybrid of a scoff and a laugh escapes me. “Clueless may be my guilty pleasure, but it is not lame.”

Stu kind of smiles, but he’s still stiff. “Still. I’ll watch it, whatever you want.” His touch loses all sense of hesitance. “You know I’d-I’d never hurt you. Not really hurt you.”

“Stu.” Billy’s voice comes out a little too heavy, but I can’t look away from Stu.

“I’d never do anything to really hurt you, angel, you know that, right?” There’s something urging about the way he’s speaking. He’s waiting for an answer.

I think of Stu, who I’ve only known for a little while but also forever somehow in a weird way. Stu, who’s always throwing an arm around my shoulders. Stu, who seems to know when I’m getting nervous before I do. Stu, who is always willing to hold my hand or say the wrong thing when I need a laugh. Stu, who’s always touching me but I’ve never thought twice about it until right now because he’s like that with everyone.

Still, though, there’s usually something a little strange about the way his touch feels. More often than not, there’s a tension I don’t understand beneath his fingertips. Like he’s almost always trying to restrain the urge to hold on harder, to squeeze tighter, to keep pushing.

I don’t know what that’s about, but I know that he always stops. That he’s never caused me any real pain. For all I know, he’s just so energetic that he has to constantly remind himself of his own strength. “Yeah, I know, Stu.”

My words are too honest. Something in Stu relaxes and that’s when I realize he wants me to be sure enough for the both of us. It’s an incredibly unfair--and weird--thing to ask for.

Something flickers across Stu’s expression, but it’s quickly replaced by a grin. A genuine one. He leans down, pressing a shocking kiss to my forehead. My gaping doesn’t take away from his enthusiasm. “Does this mean I’m going to actually have to watch that movie?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. No chance of getting out of it. Billy too.”

Billy’s eyebrows draw together. “I didn’t make you any promises.”

I feign a hurt look as best I can, turning my head to better face Billy. “I, your friend, was almost murdered and you can’t put aside your surprisingly good, but let’s admit it, pretentious taste for one movie?” He gives me a hard look, but it lacks any bite. “You know, if the killer comes back for me, you’re going to feel so guilty about saying no.” Billy must feel a little bad for me in some sense because at least he’s letting me continue this rant. “It’ll haunt you--I’ll haunt you.”

He tilts his head downwards, the front strands of his hair falling forward. It’s an attempt to distract from the fact that he almost smiled. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “That was like the least important part of my argument.”

“It was the main part of your argument.” Billy ignores my extremely pointed sigh. “Fine, compromise: a movie I pick, and then after, we can play your movie.”

Biting my tongue, I fight down a grin and force myself to narrow my eyes. “Nothing too gore-y or stab-y.”

“Deal.” He sighs the word like he can’t believe what he’s been conned in to.

The feeling of having enough influence over these two to get them to agree to something like this leaves me beaming. They’re likely going to complain the whole time, but still, it’s the thought that counts. “No take backs, even when I’m out of the hospital.” A subconscious part of my mind begs me to yank out the IV and try to get out of here. “Which should be as soon as my mom gets here.”

My mom and Wells were on a date--a show and a fancy dinner somewhere two towns over. The nurses and police assured me that my mom had been contacted, and that she was doing all she could to get here as soon as possible. But with traffic and the amount of time it took for them to get ahold of her, I’m not surprised that Billy and Stu beat her here. Actually, no, it is a little surprising. We didn’t have plans together that I missed and I’m not sure they’ve ever called me unexpectedly. Who told them I was here?

“How’d you guys know I was here?” The question is just as unexpected to me as it is to them.

“Stu was over when your mom called me,” Billy says, ignoring the way I raise my eyebrows, “She said she still had my number from the time you called me from her phone when we were working on that history project, remember?” I nod, still in disbelief.

Billy has been in my house twice. Both times were to work on the same project. My mom spent both of those times watching him like he was a danger to my entire future. I think in her head she was being subtle, but I can’t blame Billy for noticing.

I give him a semi apologetic look. “You’re making it sound like my mom hates you.” He gives me a look that silently asks if I’m kidding. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“Really?”

“She doesn’t!” I sigh once, my face already feeling warm as I struggle to figure out how to best word my thoughts. “She doesn’t hate you, she just--” Ugh, there’s no non awkward way to say this. "On Halloween, I’m going to be 17. That’s the same age she was when she had me. She just worries and she’s going to keep worrying and giving any guy I’m friends with a hard time until I’m in college.”

Billy pauses, letting the implications of my explanation sink in. With no warning, he pulls the sheets down just enough to expose a bit of my thigh. “So she’s worried that I’m gonna knock you up,” he teases, punctuating the comment by quickly pinching the newly exposed skin.

My face has never been this hot in my life. I laugh, the sound somehow both lighthearted and nervous. “Shut. Up.”

Another rough yet brief pinch to exposed skin leaves me almost jumping out of my skin. I look up at Stu, glaring as he barely attempts to fight down a laugh. “Stu!”

“What? I could knock you up just as easily.”

I let out a sound that’s basically a snort. "That’s such a weird thing to want to be included in.”

Stu half shrugs, placing a hand back on my thigh. Instead of pinching me again or doing something brief, he comfortably moves his hand up and down the expanse of visible skin. “The process would be fun.”

He’s joking, He’s joking. This is Stu--he’s definitely joking. Snap out of it, don’t be weird. I blink, coming to some sort sense. Pulling my legs forward, in an attempt to brush him off, I force myself to meet his gaze. “Fun for you maybe.”

“I’d rock your world, babe.” I’m ready to roll my eyes, but before I can Stu moves his hand, pressing it firmly into my upper thigh. He slides his hand forward, his fingertips digging into the start of my inner thigh. I struggle against the instinctual need to press my thighs together. “You’d be begging to go again before we even finished.”

In all fairness, I should have known better than to challenge one of those kinds of joke coming from Stu. He doesn’t know when to stop and doesn’t feel satisfied until I’m flustered. My brain must be as mushy as it feels, because I find myself digging my heels into the sand. “Pretty sure you’re all talk.”

He tilts his head downwards, eyes darkening. “I’ll prove you wrong right now.” His fingers press even deeper into my skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found small, fingerlike bruises on my thigh tomorrow.

“Mhm,” I manage after a long second, “There’s a supply closet in the hallway, give me a second to disconnect from all this and I’ll meet you there.” His expression is too good for me not to laugh. “Relax, I’m messing with you.”

“Haha,” he mumbles dryly, but makes no attempt to move his hand. And for some reason that I’m sure is head trauma or pain killer related, I don’t do anything to get him off of me. “You’re hilarious.”

I poorly suppress another laugh. Stu frowns. Oh my god. There’s no way he’s going to be a baby about this. He’s the one that found a reason to put his hand between my legs and I haven’t smacked him upside the head for it. “Don’t pout. You had to have known I was kidding the entire time.”

“Yeah, if she wanted to go to the supply closet with anyone, it’d be me.” I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by Billy’s comment or the way he says it. He’s much more evidently joking than Stu. The look he gives me after makes that clear.

But there’s still something pointed about the way he said it. Pointed in a way that’s not meant for me. It’s another thing between him and Stu. I know I should make some kind of equally teasing comment just to keep everything normal, but I can’t help but sneak a glance at Stu. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something distinct about the turn of his head. More pressure is added to my thigh. Okay--that’s starting to become uncomfortable.

“Alright,” I finally decide on, forcing a partial laugh into my voice, “We are dangerously close to either a bunch of threesome jokes or another one of those play fights over me.” I grab Stu’s hand by the wrist, moving it off my thigh before relaxing my legs. “And I do not have the energy for either.”

Stu turns his hand over in order to press our palms together. I let him link our fingers. “You brought up threesomes pretty quickly.”

My mouth falls open. “What?”

“Fantasy or--”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Stuart.”

He holds up his free hand in defense, but he doesn’t have a chance to make some kind of comment.

“Oh my god!” I’d know that panicked gasp anywhere. It’s been the same my entire life. One of my earliest memories includes that exact same shout, a bloody knee, and a tricycle that let me fall off the side walk and onto the (thankfully empty) road.

Mom! “Okay, i know--”

“Don’t you dare try to calm me down!” She reaches me in a flurry of motion that’s so her I can’t help but feel comforted. Stu steps out of the way after a second and my mom closes the distance between us, her fingers gripping the bed’s railing. “Oh my god, a concussion? You could be one of those professional football players--don’t they all have to retire early?”

She presses the back of her palm to my forehead like I might have some kind of fever. I actually wouldn’t be surprised if she demanded the doctors perform more tests on me because something about me didn’t feel right. “Mom, be serious. Since when do you know anything about football?”

Ignoring my response, she moves to cup my cheek. “I am so sorry it took me so long to get here. We were in the theatre when they first called and our cell phones were completely off. Never again.”

There’s so much emotion in her eyes I find myself feeling a lot less calm about everything. “It’s fine, how could you have known?” She’s still staring at me with so much maternal concern. Being so directly motherly is rare in our dynamic. If anything, I’ve spent just as much of my life parenting her as she has raising me. “I slept for most of the time, and when I woke up I had good company.”

At that, my mom looks at Stu, analyzing his appearance. I’m ready to squirm for him. She then shifts her gaze to Billy and I bite my tongue to resist making some kind of joke.

Her lips part and I fight the urge to interject, but then all she says is, “Thank you. I-I couldn’t think of anyone else I could call so late that knew her.”

Billy’s expression is blank, but his silence lets me know that he’s as surprised as me. “No problem,” he finally settles on, “Wouldn’t have wanted her here all alone.”

My mom nods once. She then looks over at Stu, “We haven’t met. I’m Gloria, Y/n’s mom.”

I have spent my entire life dealing with reactions to people finding out my mom is my mom. I love her to death, but I don’t always love the way guys my age react. She’s pretty, I can’t be mad about that, but she’s also young and cool and I’ve had guy friends be super weird about it in the past. And she’s wearing a date night outfit. A dress that’s just a little too short that I’m pretty sure she stole out of my closet.

And I know Stu. I know that he rarely filters through his thoughts before speaking. “I’m Stu,” he says normally, “I was over at Billy’s when you called.”

My mom nods, processing the information before turning her attention back to me. I draw my eyebrows together, giving Stu a look. “Did they run tests on you?”

“Yeah.”

Answering was pointless, she’s already turning towards the hall. My mom waves down some poor, unsuspecting nurse. “You--I’m her mother,” she points back to me, “I want-I want her chart read to me, and I want every single possible test you could run done.” The doctor blinks. “If it’s something that could have been harmed, I want it checked out, I don’t care how unlikely--”

“Ma’am,” the nurse finally says, “I can personally assure that your daughter received excellent care. I worked with her myself and her vitals have been regularly checked. I understand that this is an emotional time, but--”

“If you tell me to calm down, I will sue this entire damn hospital and then find a way to personally sue you.” She takes a breath to prepare for her upcoming war path. “So go get a doctor. Now.”

The nurse’s tired eyes widen before he scurries off. “Mom!” She turns to me, giving me a look that’s barely apologetic. “Relax a little, okay? They ran like a thousand tests on me already. They even said that if you approved, I could leave tonight.”

“No way,” she gasps the words like the thought alone offended her. An instinctual, embarrassing whine escapes me. “Sorry, kid, complain all you want but you’re overnighting it.”

Even though Billy and Stu are literally right here, I pout. “That’s so unfair! When you had complications after getting your appendix out, you signed yourself out even though everyone thought it was a bad idea.”

“Totally different situations and you know it.” I glare at her. “Look, I know I’ve made a point of not doing this too often, but I’m pulling the mom card.” She ignores my frown, “Wells is already making calls and seeing what he can do--and do not roll your eyes, he is not some ‘monster that’s trying to ruin your life’.”

“I only called him that once,” I mumble petulantly. “And you’re in my dress.” It’s a stupid thing to point out, but she’s being completely unreasonable.

“You left home this morning in my skirt.” Ugh, why does she always have to have some kind of point? “I’m going to tell Wells that we’re staying.”

Leaving no room for argument, my mom turns on her heels and leaves the room. Once it’s just the three of us again, an unfamiliar shyness rises up my chest. I know feeling awkward is such a small thing compared to everything else, but Billy and Stu are definitely thinking and analyzing that entire interaction. Their silence is starting to unease me.

“Okay guys,” I say, eyes focused on the hands in my lap, “Let it out. I know you’ve got some kinda rea—“

“Your mom is hot!” These kinds of reactions aren’t unfamiliar to me, but from Stu, it kind of bugs me more than I thought it would. I don’t know why--I mean, he’s the exact kind of person to react like that. “I totally see where you get it from, babe. Amazing genes.”

My eyes widen, “Stu, I get your sense of humor, but my mom doesn’t.” I drop my voice as I whisper, “Cool it with the nicknames as long as she’s in the same building.”

“So now you’re embarrassed of me? I’m not good enough to bring home to mom?”

I might kill him. “I’m serious--try anything and I. Will. End. You.”

“You threatening me is really getting me going.”

Rolling my eyes, I don’t even bother replying to that comment. I then turn towards Billy, who seems a little too amused by all of this. “I feel a little better about you, but same rules apply.”

Stu gives me a particularly hurt look. “Him you trust?”

“He’s met her before!”

With a sigh, I sink further into the hospital bed. They’re both being quiet. Stu made a comment about my mom, but I honestly expected more. I was mentally preparing myself for jokes about me being a mama’s girl or a little kid. Stu’s expression is something I don’t understand and Billy isn’t looking at me. He’s staring ahead, face stoic. He’s somewhere else now.

“Billy?” My voice is soft, hesitant.

He blinks, the corner of his mouth pulling downwards as his head turns. “Yeah?” His voice reveals nothing.

I didn’t think ahead enough to have a question to ask him. He doesn’t seem like the type to want anyone noting his feelings. “You okay?” I regret my awkward phrasing instantly. “You um...for a second looked kinda,” my noise wrinkles as I struggle to think of the right word that won’t offend him, “Wistful almost?”

He side eyes me and I can’t even blame him. “I look wistful?”

Billy nearly smiles at the look on my face. That alone makes my embarrassment worth it. “I said looked--past tense.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes a little darker than before. I don’t break his stare until the sound of footsteps entering the room becomes impossible to ignore. A nurse has entered the room, likely due to my mother’s insistence. “It looks like you’re going to be busy, Stu and I should go.”

Oh. I don’t know why that makes my heart sink the way it does. It’s logical--my mom’s here now and she’s going to force them to scan me with every single machine in this hospital. Maybe it’s because they calmed me down or maybe it’s because they’re the first familiar faces I saw, but the thought of them leaving bothers me.

Stu squeezes my shoulder, his fingers lingering as he pulls away. “Yeah, babe, you don’t need us around while they poke and prod you.”

The description of what I’m going to be doing makes me frown. They’re approaching the doorway. “Guys,” my voice surprises me. They both turn to look at me, and once again, I don’t know what I want to say. Do I want to ask them to stay? There’s no way that’s normal. My mom’s here--it wouldn’t work out anyways. “Thank you,” I mumble, “Thanks for coming and staying with me and making sure I didn’t have a complete meltdown. I appreciate it.”

Billy’s looking at me in that way that makes me want to shrink into myself. Not that there’s anything particularly wrong or uncomfortable about the way he’s staring, it just feels so sharp and analytical. “Anytime, angel.”

“Yeah, couldn’t leave you here all alone,” Stu says, “Call me when you get out, okay?”

I nod, smiling a bit. “Duh--don’t think I’m going to forget about the movie promise you made me, and you can’t back out because hospital bed promises are like way more serious than regular promises.”

Billy throws me a look I can only think to describe as ‘bitchy’ and Stu rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” Stu mumbles, “Take advantage.”

They manage to leave me grinning as they disappear out of the doorway. I don’t know what it is about them, but they always manage to make me feel...safe, I guess. I can’t remember the last time anyone made me feel like that.

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream imagine #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader

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notyour-valentine · 1 year

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A Secret, a Fear and a Hatbox ~ dad!Tommy Shelby (Fluff)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: With his wife away, Tommy feels more helpless than ever at the change of behaviour in his children

Note: Written for @look-at-the-soul and her 900 follower celebration: I hope you enjoy!

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: unrealistic dog behaviour

Wordcount: 3076 words

Of course, Tommy thought.

Of course, something would be wrong with his children in the one week of the year when his wife was out of the house, worse: un - fucking - reachable.

Ada be damned, for wanting to take all the women of the family minus Linda over to America for a week.

They were on their way back now, but that didn’t help.

While she was on that boat, Tommy couldn’t reach her and ask her if (1) she knew what was up, (2) how he could find out what was up and (3) how he could resolve whatever was up.

And that would be another three days, eight hours and forty-seven minutes, at least according to the advertising of the cruise company.

He shut the lid of his pocket watch with a sigh and slipped it back into his pocket.

Maybe, he thought as he reached for the whisky, he was simply overthinking.

He had never been alone with the children before, well technically he wasn’t now, with Frances and the maids, but he was the only parent around.

Despite their astronomical rise, she had resented the idea of a nanny, and shuddered at the thought of a nursery maid, and Tommy had agreed.

He didn’t mind other people cooking his food and ironing his shirts, but a near stranger holding his children, changing them, bathing them, rocking them to sleep?

Someone who wasn’t blood? Who wasn’t family?

Occasionally, he could tolerate the thought, but as normality?

Absolutely not.

Something tribal in him prevented the entertainment of such an idea, but that left him in the tight spot of now shouldering the responsibility for the two in her absence.

For all his faults, he had noticed the change in his children.

It had started well enough, but after a few days, it had all shifted.

Usually, Betty would be the essence of decorum, more perfect in every way than one of the children in the catalogues, as if she was born in a place like Arrow House and not, unlike her brother, in Watery Lane.

But she wolfed down her food like her little brother did, and requested to leave the table while still chewing.

That had never happened before, even at Christmas, or on Birthdays.

And little Georgie, well, usually it nearly took force or bribery to get him to stay indoors, always climbing trees and tending to the horses, but now he was his sister’s constant shadow, and as silent as one too.

His head snapped up as he heard the rhythm of little feet on the grand staircase which led right past his office, and hushed voices too, even though they were too soft for him to make out the words.

With a sigh he pushed his chair back and crossed his office in long strides. When he pulled the door open, he saw both Betty and Georgie already halfway though the entrance hall - with Betty carrying a large white box in her hands.

When Georgie saw him, he gasped and grabbed his older sister’s arm, his eyes wide in horror.

Betty turned, saw him, gulped and then offered him the sweetest of smiles.

“Hello Daddy!”, she chirped as bright as the early summer sun. “I’m so sorry if we were loud. We were just going outside for some fresh air.”

“And what’s that then, eh?”, he asked, nodding to the box.

It seemed vaguely familiar but on closer inspection, he remembered that the dark green accents were that of the London Hatmaker he had sent her to before taking her to the races a few years back.

“Are you playing with your mother’s clothes?”, he wanted to know.

“I’m sure she won’t mind!”, Betty said at once, her hands tightening around the box.

“Oh she’ll mind when you get stains on it.”

That hat had been expensive, paying not just for the craftsmanship or material, but double for the name.

She had been furious about the price, he remembered, but it had been worth it. They were moving up in the world, and that meant moving on beyond the little shops at the Bull Ring in Birmingham.

“I’ll take great care.”, Betty promised. “Goodbye now.”

With that, for her, the conversation was over.

Tommy shifted, glanced back at his office door and cleared his throat.

“I’ve got a few more papers to go through and then I can join you.”, he suggested. After all, he had hoped to spend some time with his children while their mother was away.

“Take out the horses, or the cart, how about that George?”

He could see it already, him and George driving that cart up and down the roads leading to and from Arrow House, with little darling Betty lounging beside them in one of her mother’s gigantic hats. That is, until she’d get the idea to jump on a pony’s back and try to outrace them.

To his surprise, George shook his head. “Perhaps some time else.”, Betty agreed.

That stung more than Tommy thought it would, and so he tried again.

“Why’s that then, eh?”, he wanted to know, cautiously coming closer.

“We’re very busy.”, his daughter said sharply. “Busy?”, Tommy asked as his brows threatened to vanish in his hairline.

“What have you two got to be busy about?”

George looked caught out and stared at his feet, but Betty was unfazed.

“Children’s matters, Daddy. You wouldn’t understand.”

With that, she turned, her hair and the ribbon that held it in place, fluttering behind her.

“Come along now Georgie.”, she instructed, and with that off they went, leaving Tommy alone in the hall.

He watched them leave and tried to ignore the ache in his chest as he returned to his office.

He knew he worked long and hard, but he did it to give them everything. Still, every single time his wife had reminded him he ought to spend more time with them, with his family, rattled around in his head, as memories of every event, excursion or trip he had cancelled his participation in came back to haunt him.

He was there, for every birthday, for Christmases and Easter, even if he occasionally slipped away to his office for some work, and almost every performance?

He taught to ride and how to care for horses.

He kissed them goodnight every time he could and didn’t shy away from embraces and hugs.

Still, what if it wasn’t enough to make up for all he had missed.

What of all the family memories they had acquired were less due to him and solely due to his wife? That picnic at the lake? That trip to the sea?

In truth, he had expected that with their mother away, the children would flock to him the way they did when he returned from work, wanting to spend as much time with him as they usually did with her.

He had thought he would have to distract them in order to get a few moments alone in the office and not that his seven year old would order his return there to be rid of him.

But perhaps his children had gotten so used to his absence that his presence no longer made a difference to him.

That idea hurt, and he wished more than ever to pick up that stupid telephone hearer and demand his wife be summoned to the other side. If he couldn’t feel the warmth of her hands and the softness of her embrace to soothe his worries, her voice alone would have to do.

Three days, eight hours and fourteen minutes.

No, he would try again, he thought and hurried outside.

The swing was empty, the trees void of all invaders, and the green without anyone playing croquet or catch or hoops or anything, really.

And when he’d ask a gardener, he was told that Betty and George had formed a procession all the way behind the hedge, stayed there for a moment, and then returned to the house the same way they had done.

“Well, not exactly, Sir.”, the gardener had told him, rubbing his sun-tanned forehead. “They took the servant’s entrance, they did.”

That was the one that didn’t go through the hall and thereby avoided passing his office.

Fuck, Tommy thought and lit a cigarette on the way back.

In the coming hours he couldn’t focus on the reports, the letters and papers. He couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that his children clearly and undoubtedly were avoiding him, and that at a time when they should have come running.

When Frances asked him if he would like to join his children at their dinner, a formality, since he usually tried to if he could, he declined.

After a whole case of cigarettes, his appetite was gone anyhow.

That made him feel like a coward.

He should talk to them, should try to do better, to make up for the lost time, but a debilitating weight had draped over his shoulders and the one person to lift it was still on a boat crossing the Atlantic.

Three days, four hours and two minutes.

She’d know what to do, how to fix it.

She always did, like with Georgie’s ear infections of Betty’s coughs, or his own headaches. From somewhere in the back of her mind and the depths of her cabinets, she’d find a magical cure to make things right.

But until she returned, he was all on his own and he had never felt lonelier.

When Frances told him the children were headed for bed, it was as if he had been called to his own execution.

He knew that feeling, had felt it more than once, so it wasn’t an exaggeration.

The night nursery was right next to their shared bedroom, something they had both wanted, for their children to be close.

When he entered, they were already tucked in, Betty on the right, Georgie on the left.

“All ready for bed?”, he asked.

Both nodded.

“Would you like a story?”, he asked, glancing over his shoulder to the bookshelf, his eyes lingering on the Tales of Robin Hood - Georgie’s favourite.

For a split second he saw a glint in his eyes, but then he slammed his jaw shut and shook his head.

“No thank you!”, Betty said, leaning forward and presenting her cheek to him.

With a sigh, Tommy leaned in and kissed her goodnight, proceeding to do the same with Georgie.

At the door, he turned, and looked back at them both who were watching with wide eyes, as if they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

“You know,”, he mumbled, his hands clutching the door knob until his knuckles turned white, as he tried to find the words.

It wasn’t too difficult, he thought, just tell them you love them, Tom

Whether it was his voice or his wife’s, he could not say.

But before the words had a chance to pass his lips, he heard a shuffle.

Then Betty was on her feet. “Right!”, she said loudly, giving him a gentle shove. “Goodnight, Daddy, goodnight!”

This insistence was new, and he didn’t know what to make of it, so he just stared.

Then he heard it again. The shuffle.

But it wasn’t coming from Georgie’s bed on the left, nor her now deserted bed on the right, but from the wardrobe across from it.

“What’s that?”, he asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“What’s what?”, Betty asked, batting her eyelashes.

At the same time, Georgie said: “It’s nothing.”

When they realised what they had done, Betty blushed and Georgie paled.

Slowly, Tommy looked from one to the other. “You’ve got to the count of three to tell me what’s in there!”, he demanded, seriously considering if he could head back to his bedroom and reach for the bedside drawer to retrieve his gun.

Neither one of his children made a move to speak and so the three counts passed without a reaction.

“Daddy!”, Betty warned, tugging at his sleeve as he pushed past her and towards the wardrobe.

He opened it and was met with - clothes.

Betty’s dresses and skirts, all hanging in a neat, tidy row, an explosion of pastels and floral prints.

Then he heard it again, the shuffle and scratching and when he looked down, towards the boxes of shoes and hats, he noticed one large one atop a smaller one, the lid slightly ajar.

With one flick, he sent the lid flying, ready for anything.

“Fu-”

He caught himself just in time as he saw the content.

It was a dog, he realised after staring at it for a few heartbeats, even if it was in size far closer than a cat, and even smaller than one too, with pointed ears and dark, clear eyes.

He looked away, then down again, before turning to his children.

“Why -” the absolute fuck “is there a dog in your nursery?”

“Mummy!”, Georgie quickly said.

“Mummy?”, Tommy asked.

Georgie nodded, but he didn’t miss the way Betty stared at him in surprise.

That told him it was a lie, but Georgie went further.

“Daddy, you know Mummy doesn’t like the horses as much as we do, so we thought a dog will make her happy.”

Another lie, or rather an impressively tall tale to cover up, but it didn't change the fact that he was staring at a dog, small or not, who was very much alive and who's mere existence in this moment required a reaction.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn't holding the box, he sat down on the foot of Georgie's bed and stared at the intruder.

"And instead of asking for a dog,", he sighed, "you two…nicked one? Stole one?"

He wouldn't put it past them. Georgie had the guts and Betty the wits to pull it off.

Made evident by the fact that they had snuck it past him for the devil knows how long.

"Oh don’t be silly Daddy,", Betty giggled. "There was no time to ask."

Wasn't there, Elizabeth Shelby? He wanted to ask, but Georgie came to his sister's defence.

"When I found him he was all wet and shaking and he crawled into my coat, right here!"

He rubbed his side where his upper arms brushed against the side of his torso.

"And when was that?", Tommy wanted to know, sounding as tired, old and helpless as he felt.

Georgie looked to Betty who gave a shrug of resignation.

"When we were at Uncle Charlie's. We were playing Coppers and Blinders and I found him tied up in one of the caves."

The pup wouldn't have been put there by Charlie or Curly.

Charlie had his faults, but he preferred animals to humans and Curly, well, he couldn't harm a fly even with a gun to his head.

And the caves, as Georgie called them, were the places they stored boxes of goods before sending them up it down the Cut.

But that time at Charlie's Yard had been two days ago.

"How has he not made a mess yet?", He asked, seriously hoping that they wouldn't stumble on a far worse surprise under a carpet or in the corner of a cupboard.

Then he realised - the hat box.

The children must've smuggled him in and out time and time again, right under his and all the servants' noses.

Betty sat down next to him, covering his hand with her little one, soft as rose petals.

"He's been so very good and he hasn't even disturbed you with barking, has he?", She asked, batting her eyelashes up at him. "No trouble at all."

Tommy sighed, already knowing where she was intent on going.

"You can't keep a dog in the nursery, Elizabeth."

Besides, he'd probably have lice or worms.

Fuck

If his wife came back from America and the children had lice, there’d be hell to pay.

Betty stroked his hand again.

“We’d be ever so sad if we’d have to give him away now.”, she told him. “We’d cry for days and days, won’t we Georgie?”

“I don’t cry!”, he argued, puffing up his chest.

And yet when his sister glared at him, he quickly shifted gears.

“But I-I would, if you’d make us give him up.”

That appeased his sister, who gave him a pleased nod before turning back to their father. “So either a sea of tears, Daddy, or we take one my prettiest ribbons and tie it around his neck and make Mummy the happiest Lady in the whole world when she comes back.”

Tommy rubbed his temple once more.

Although he was beyond relieved that he found the reason for his children’s shift in behaviour, this caused a whole host of problems.

He didn’t want a dog.

They didn’t need a dog. Besides, this wasn’t even a proper dog who could guard a house, chase away an intruder or catch a rabbit.

But he also knew that the threat of tears wasn’t just an empty promise.

Knowing Betty and her antics, she’d probably throw herself at her mother’s feet the moment she came into view, and that Georgie wouldn’t be far behind.

And as a betting man, he knew his way around odds.

“No.”, he said, looking from one to the other.

“What?”, Betty gasped, her large eyes filling with tears, while George erupted into a cascade of protests.

He raised his hands for silence, but struggled to get it, and when he did, both his children pouted.

“You’re not putting this on your mother.”, he said sharply, pointing at them both. “If you want this dog to stay, he will be your responsibility and you’ll take care of him. You will walk him. You will wash him. You will feed him and if he pisses on the floor, you will clean it up, is that understood?”

George nodded eagerly, but Betty hesitated. “But we will have help, no?”, she asked. “After all, he’ll have to go to the vet some time and Georgie and I can’t drive. And we aren’t allowed to touch the cleaning products either.”

Sneaky menace, Tommy thought, not without pride.

She had inherited his wits and his wife’s way with words and always found a loophole in absolutely anything, and she had caught him out once again.

He nodded.

Betty looked to Georgie, who was grinning from ear to ear and nodded eagerly.

Then, on behalf of them both, she spat into her palm and stretched it out to him, a triumphant smile on her lips.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Daer Mar, I hope you enjoyed this story! Once more congratulations on your milestone and celebration and all my best to you and your little friend!

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Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik @elenavampire21 @evanore

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secretlywritingstories · 3 months

Text

"You look at my face a lot" | Phan one shot

Summary: Phil has a pretty new eyebrow slit but Dan decides that he could use a little make-up to highlight it. They end up in bed with Dan hovering close to Phil's face trying to do a good job while he's also trying not to ravish him or get (too) sappy.

Tags: 2024!phan, established relationship, domestic fluff, homoerotic make-up application

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: This fic is inspired by two things 1) Dan and Phil's birthday charity livestream where Dan manhandles Phil's face to give him the eyebrow slit and 2) this photo of lesbians doing each other's make up

Read on AO3 or below

The charity livestream for Phil’s birthday had gone much better than any of them had ever anticipated, even with all the technical issues. It was a good thing that their audience knew to expect chaos for them and hopefully found it endearing.

Still, Dan felt like he’d underestimated just how impactful their audience could be. He almost felt bad to have forgotten about it, when he got all wrapped up in his own head. But they’d reminded him so graciously in the last few months and tonight had just further cemented that.

He was happy to be back online, making videos regularly and he was hopeful for more live content too. Phil had dragged him back to the internet, and while he hadn’t been kicking and screaming, he had been digging his feet in. Now he was letting his heels rise and just enjoy it.

Last night had been fun and they’d both been riding that high for several hours afterwards. It had made it hard to get up for a tour meeting the following day, when he’d rather just stay wrapped up in bed with Phil or have a lazy breakfast together while they watched anime. Before he had slipped out of bed, he’d reached over to touch Phil’s face, and swipe a thumb across the new eyebrow slit. It really did suit him well, and Dan was quite excited to be matching with him soon.

He made himself leave the house. The we’re all doomed tour was important to him and it was time for the grand finale. It would be good. Less scary now that he’d dragged Phil into helping him with the live premiere. Unlike the other way around, there had been no need for dragging of any kind. Just a question and a quick agreement. Dan would never stop loving that aspect of Phil.

The meeting dragged on but he’d gotten a lot of questions answered and stuff planned. It had been months since the last show and he was worrying that the two shows would feel like starting over again. He was about to grab a taxi and head straight back home when he spotted a Sephora and had an interesting thought. A pull, if you will.

Something that might help bring Phil’s eyebrow slit the attention that it deserved. Give the blond hairs at the end a little bit of a lift.

He stuffed his purchase into his coat pocket and headed home to Phil. When he got home, Phil was in meercat mode, trying to avoid the never-ending builders in their home. Dan was very ready to have their home all to themselves, but they’d agreed to stick it out until everything they’d wanted was done. And between delayed materials and conflicting schedules for the workers, it had just taken ages.

“I’ve got a surprise for you later when we need to film later,” Dan had told Phil when he’d found him pretending not to be hiding in the office.

Phil had perked up. “Delayed birthday present?”

Dan had chuckled but shook his head. “Yesterday wasn’t enough?” he asked.

“You can never have too much birthday fun,” he countered and tried to wiggle his eyebrows.

It was about as successful as he was trying to wink, but it only made it the more endearing. It also drew attention to that eyebrow slit. Dan knew his eyes lingered on it.

“You really like it, huh?” Phil said, turning his head to give Dan a better view.

“Still a little emo kid at heart,” Dan muttered.

He did feel like that sometimes. As if he’d never really grown up, despite all that he’d done and all of the adulting he did now. So many responsibilities. Enough to overwhelm him at times. It was good that he shared most of those with Phil. It helped when they could share the weight.

“Should we be worried you’re entering your crisis twink era? About to break out the bleach?”

“I thought I wasn’t a twink anymore?” Dan teased. Phil had told him that last time he’d been on Dystopia Daily.

“Wasn’t that me?” Phil asked and there was a bit of a glimmer in his eyes.

If there weren’t builders in the house, perhaps Dan would have done something about it. Moved close and showed Phil that he was just as attractive as when they’d been young, if not more.

It was a gift seeing how they were changing. Phil letting his grey coming in should not have been as attractive as it was but Dan loved that he wasn’t hiding it anymore. In December when they’d looked back at themselves for the first decade of their relationship through the pinof videos, he’d not recognised himself at first. They were so different now, but they’d grown together. Hand in hand.

It wasn’t until their house was blessedly vacant of strangers, they’d devoured the Indian takeaway for dinner and they were about to set up to film a gaming video that Dan went to retrieve the item from his coat pocket.

“What’s that?” Phil asked, tapping away on the keyboard to bring up their recording software. “A pencil?”

“Yes,” Dan said twirling it between his fingers. And nearly dropping it. “Eyebrow pencil.”

That caught Phil’s attention and he moved up from his seat at the desk. “You bought an eyebrow pencil?”

He nodded and handed it over to Phil who was already making grabby hands.

Dan had felt wildly out of his depths as he’d stood staring at the rows and rows of make-up products. He didn’t know enough to make an informed decision but asking someone had also felt too daunting. He’d eventually caved and asked for help, only to be asked about the colours was of the person he’d be buying for.

He wasn’t confident enough to whip out a picture of Phil, so instead he’d tried to fumble his way through explaining the natural colours of Phil’s brows. It was a good thing that he had a lot of practice looking at Phil’s face. His eyebrows especially last night. Beautiful high arches, hair lightening from the middle out to the tails.

“Are you dissing my eyebrows?” Phil asked, removing the cap from the pencil and looking at it with suspicion.

Dan rolled his eyes, as if he’d ever diss anything about Phil’s face. Anything about Phil at all. It was his favourite face. He knew he was happy to wake up to it every day. He would however jest and play around nonetheless.

“Not my fault your hairs are so pale,” he said with a smirk and then a hyena laugh escaped him at the mock offended expression on Phil’s face.

But he could see how Phil was studying the pencil with genuine interest and he was glad that he’d given into the impulse purchase. He loved when Phil was feeling himself. There was nothing hotter than when Phil realised that he was a fucking catch and looked good. Dan had known forever but it was different hearing it from someone who loved you and thinking it yourself.

“I’ll be right back,” Phil said, pencil clutched in his hand as he walked out of the room.

Dan took over at the desk, checking their camera was set up correctly and opened Steam on Poppy Playtime. They knew it would be a long video since they were going to do the whole chapter in one go. It was time to settle in for a long haul. Proper gaming YouTubers.

Phil was missing for longer than Dan had anticipated, so he went searching for him and he was surprised that he was in the bedroom in front of the big mirror rather than going to the bathroom and getting proper lightening.

“What are you doing?” Dan asked, leaning against the doorway to just observe. “That’s terrible lightening.”

“I think I’m going to mess it up,” Phil said, still staring at his reflection. “And I don’t like putting a pencil near my eye.”

A ploy. Phil wanted help. He wanted Dan to offer help. If his heart wasn’t so fond, then he’d perhaps laughed at him. He could just have asked but this was more of Phil’s style.

“You put contacts in at least a couple of times a week,” Dan reminded him as he walked into the bedroom. “Shouldn’t your fingers going into your eye be more scare than a pencil on your eyebrow?”

“Yes,” Phil conceded but he was already wearing his pleading expression. “But I have practice with that now, and the finger is not going into the eye. I hated it at first too. Might never have gotten used to it, if I hadn’t thought glasses looked too dorky.”

“I love your glasses,” Dan said, and walked up behind Phil to grab around his midriff. Pull him back against his chest and stare at their reflection together.

Phil snorted. “You didn’t see the first pair I got.”

No, he hadn’t. Whenever Phil mentioned something about himself that Dan didn’t know, or didn’t have been a part of, there was a little tug. Curiosity to learn more about him. Even after all this time, there was always more and he always wanted to know.

“I haven’t seen them in pictures?” he asked, hooking his chin over Phil’s shoulder and slumping against him. Just because he could.

“No, I think I made mum burn all of them,” Phil said and met Dan’s eyes in the mirror. “Help me with this?”

He wiggled the eyebrow pencil. And there it was. Dan had just been waiting for him to say it.

Dan hummed in agreement and grabbed Phil’s arm to drag him to the bathroom to get good lightening. He had almost pulled them out of the room before another possible location hit him. The bathroom was undoubtedly the most practical, but the other option would be more fun. Dan changed directions and dragged Phil towards the bed.

“I thought we were filming?” he asked, a laugh barely off his lips.

Dan resisted the urge to kiss it right off him.

“We are,” Dan insisted, even as he pushed Phil onto the bed. “Scoot up, head close to the headboard.”

Phil looked at him with narrowed eyes but complied all the same, moving the pillow up with him and lying down. Dan didn’t waste any time straddling his torso and he delighted in the way that Phil’s breath hitched. Just a little. Almost enough to distract him.

Almost.

He reached for the lamp above their bed and twisted it until it was all up in Phil’s face. He winced, shutting his eyes and throwing a hand over them.

“Warning next time? You just made me blind.”

“You were already blind.”

“Well, I’m double-blind now. I’m going to start to see black spots and rainbows,” he said moving his hand and turning his face away from the light as he started to blink rapidly.

“Black and rainbows, huh? You and me?”

“Shut up,” Phil said and slapped a hand against the outside of Dan’s thigh.

It was so easy to laugh and lean closer. He’d sat too far up on Phil’s torso to do this without breaking his back. He scooted down until he was sitting across Phil’s hips. Phil looked one second away from bucking him off judging by the playful expression in his eyes.

“Come here, you’re the one who wanted help,” Dan said and leaned down with the eye brow pencil poised.

“And this was the only way?” Phil asked, amusement in his face until the pencil came close to his eyes and he let them fall shut.

“It’s the only way,” Dan said insistently, as he reached for Phil’s chin to keep him from moving. Phil’s face moved under his touch, lips curving into a smile. “Stay still,” he ordered.

Dan didn’t really have that much experience with make-up either but he had dabbled here and there with his costumes. He always leaned into a more smudged on purpose look, but it was in part because he didn’t have the steady hand or patience to do anything too clean. And he knew himself, he’d be smudging it instantly anyway. It was fun but it was also an effort that he wasn’t sure he’d go through on a regular basis.

He was still happy when he thought about all of the hours that he no longer spent frantically straightening his hair. What a waste of time trying to conform and hide himself, even if he’d needed it back then. He hadn’t been ready but he got there.

He was gentle with the pencil at first, going to the eyebrow that hadn’t been slit. The employee from Sephora had said that the pencil shouldn’t be too dark, if the eyebrows were light, or it would look weird.

The colour was coming off, darkening the brows little by little. Dan focused on the end of the eyebrow where the hair turned the lightest.

“Aren’t you doing the wrong one?” Phil asked, eyes still closed.

Dan moved from grabbing his chin to kind of cradling his face as he gently moved Phil’s head to the side and back to see if he was happy with his work.

“It would look stupid with just one done,” Dan insisted, “you’ll have to do both.”

Phil’s eyes fluttered open and Dan hadn’t realised how close he was leaning in to be able to see properly. It really wasn’t fair that Phil was still able to knock the air out of his lungs after all these years, just as effectively as when they’d first fallen in love.

Dan hadn’t noticed that Phil had let his hand linger on Dan’s thigh, so used to having him close and touching but he noticed now when Phil’s other hand drifted up now in a mirrored position. Holding onto Dan on either side. A familiar look flickered in his eyes and this one wasn’t entirely playful.

“We need to film,” Phil said, even as his eyes darted down to Dan’s lips. It sounded more like it was a reminder to himself than to Dan. Just for that Dan wanted to lean closer and close the distance. But there was something about this too. The tension in the air between them. So close and touching but not there.

“I’m going to do the other one,” Dan announced, and he would have thought that Phil would close his eyes again but he was surprised when they stayed open. Attentive in a way that saw straight through him.

He was more careful now, mindful of avoiding the slit he’d shaved into Phil’s eyebrow just last night. It had been a little nerve-wracking to do it on camera, even if it was by far not the most stupid thing, they’d done on camera together. He’d wanted to make it look good, more focused on being precise and doing a good job, not even caring as he turned his back to the camera.

But this was different. There was no camera right now. Only the two of them in their home. In their bedroom. Dan really had brought this upon himself. There was no desire to perform to keep him in check.

He carefully swiped across the eyebrow on either side of the slit, watching the colour take. He did it gently with all of his focus, even if was much harder now that Phil seemed unable to look away from him.

Dan wasn’t entirely sure what Phil saw as he watched his face. Concentration. Determination. Love.

Dan had never quite been able to stop himself from letting it leak out whenever he was with Phil. He couldn’t even start to try and put it into words. He’d hit some pretty good metaphors for their relationships through the years but it was always just a little part of it. A quick glimpse into what they really were to each other. All of the different ways that they loved each other.

Phil still hadn’t been able to convince Dan that they were soulmates, because for that to happen soulmates had to exist, like something predetermined. He didn’t like that. They had found each other and fought for each other. He didn’t want to give fate credit for having them stick together.

No, that was all on them. He was sure of it.

Phil’s hands were warm on his thighs and he could feel him breathing calmly under him, moving both of their bodies a tiny bit with each inhale and exhale. Dan’s lower back hurt a little in this position, and he had a feeling the elbow he was leaning on was going numb but it didn’t matter.

They were suspended in that moment. Just the two of them, only the sound of their breathing and the gentle scratch of the eyebrow pencil.

He wanted to stay in the moment, but he wanted to do a good job more. He wasn’t going to overdo it. He pulled back, breathing deep for the first time in minutes as he tilted Phil’s head towards the light to survey his work.

It made a difference. The slit really got to have a moment to shine now that the hairs on either side was more defined.

“Good?” Phil asked, still lax in Dan’s hold.

“Yeah,” Dan said and his voice came out with a little grumble. He cleared his throat. “You look good.”

Phil was looking at Dan like he knew exactly what he was thinking. He let his hands trail up Dan’s thighs, going towards his ass. Dan was prepared for a grope. He was not prepared for Phil to grab his hips and toss him onto the mattress instead.

Dan let out an undignified squawk, bouncing on the bed while Phil got up, almost stumbling as he was laughing too much at Dan’s reaction.

“Traitor,” Dan grumbled, crossing his arms. “This is what I get for helping you!”

“You have to be nice to the birthday boy,” Phil said and walked over to the mirror.

“Your birthday ended yesterday,” Dan reminded him.

“We still have that party on Sunday, so it’s not over until then,” Phil reminded him, which really was only Phil logic. “Wow, it looks nice!”

And with that one comment, all of the fake annoyance at being tossed away rather than having his ass grabbed evaporated. Dan sat up and got up from the bed.

“Yeah?”

He hadn’t meant to latch onto Phil again, like he’d done before they’d gotten onto the bed, but it was instinct. If Phil asked, he’d just claim it was to see better, even if he didn’t need to wind his arms around Phil for that. Phil would see through it, but also allow it.

“Really good, I’m hot,” Phil said, with a grin and Dan snorted, trying to hide in Phil’s shoulder as he was shaking with laughter. “Don’t laugh!”

It didn’t stop Dan’s laughter but it did make Dan lift his head. “You’re always hot,” he said, breath hot against Phil’s neck just to be mean.

They really had to film but this was fun. Maybe Dan finally understood the inherent intimacy of doing someone’s make up. The couple of times that they’d been putting stuff on each other’s faces, they had usually been blindfolded and drawing cat faces or just slapping make-up on.

Though he guessed that when they were drawing whiskers on each other’s faces came close. Not exactly because they had been on camera and they were in the very chaotic mindset that those videos required. They’d drawn whiskers on each other for each TATINOF performance and removing them too, but that had been rushed, almost frantic while they were high on adrenalin.

Nothing quite like this. Quiet. Intimate. Between just them.

“You’re going to look good with one too,” Phil said, holding onto Dan’s arms around him, giving him a little squeeze. “I almost regret stopping you on the stream.”

“This alternate is better,” Dan said. “You get to have all the attention now, and I’ll get it on the 25th.”

“You were always going to get all the attention then,” Phil said with a soft laugh and he was swaying them a little from side to side. Like he was listening to a song only he could hear. Through their movements, Dan could almost hear it too. “It’s your big baby. Your show.”

Dan hummed. It had been his big baby and he had been happy about it. The tour itself had encountered issues here and there, things he’d rather not think about but he was happy with what he’d made and how the audience had reacted to it.

It had been exciting and he’d been looking to prove something for himself. He could do it on his own. He didn’t need Phil.

But he wanted him.

He wanted him so much.

The tour had only proved that further. He’d missed him at his side. It was maybe one of the reasons it had been easier to lean back into the gaming channel together. They were good. They’d always known that but to see that they hadn’t lost their touch was incredible. If anything, Dan felt like they might be better than ever.

They were out now. All of the gay jokes they’d previously passed up or edited out was included. There was a deep understanding with the audience. It was so much fun.

“Thank you for helping me,” Phil said, speaking so softly in the quiet room. Like he’d sensed that Dan’s thoughts had drifting off for a moment and he was gently bringing him back to shore before he drifted out too far.

Phil never needed to thank him for that. Dan would do anything for him.

“Let’s go film,” Dan said, reluctantly pulling away from the warmth of Phil’s body. “And then afterwards, I’m going to show you just how hot you look and get all up in that slit.”

He wiggled his own eyebrows and dodged out of the way as Phil pulled a disgusted face and tried to hit him. To pacify him, Dan grabbed Phil’s face in both hands and as expected, he went still at the touch. Let Dan hold him, even with the mirth still shining in his eyes.

Dan was never going to tire of looking at this face, even with every change it might go through. Aging, modifications, anything. Phil’s face and gazing into his eyes would always be home.

“Come on,” Phil said grabbing Dan’s wrist and then intertwining their fingers. “If you’re looking at me like that, we’ll not be able to film.”

Dan chuckled, shaking his head in disagreement, even if he knew Phil was right. The urge to toss him back on the bed ran deep and he should rein it in.

He let Phil drag him down the hall, as always trusting Phil whenever he dragged him anywhere.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phandom #my stories

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