#why would they have eye shines if he wasn’t
Note
I crave Sanji angst 😝
here, my humble offering
Human
Sanji x reader
angst/comfort, gn reader
In which you find Sanji chopping vegetables at 2 in the morning
Masterlist
A shiver ran down your spine making you shift in your sleep, hands looking for your lovers warmth only to be met with an empty side of the bed. Your heart stops and you jolt up to double check, you look out the open window, by the position of the moon it could not be pass 2 am
Where was Sanji?
Worry washes over the sleepiness making your body stand up, put on your slippers with the mission of finding that damn cook. He wasn’t on night watch, his breakfast prep didn’t started in a couple of hours, the sun was still wrapped under the covers of the night sky and the tie calm lulling the strawhats to sleep soundly
Walking down the hallway you peek trough every door and window of The Sunny, being met with dark empty rooms or your crew mates fast asleep, snoring the night away. Suddenly you hear the familiar sound of chopping coming from the kitchen, the light shining warm illuminating your way trough, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and growing worry
It had come up to your attention that Sanji was used to have anxious fits and sleepless nights were he’d found his mind steering him awake, memories of his past turning into nightmares that haunted him. Regardless of how torturous some nights would feel, shoulders heavy, eye bags hanging, head spinning, Sanji would rarely talk about this fits, saying “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours with me, my love” brushing the matter off only for you to end up holding him tight as he poured his heart out with salty tears on your shoulders
You wished he hadn’t allowed it to get so bad tonight
Carefully you cracked the door of the kitchen open, Sanji never leaving his position, eyes fixed on the vegetables being chopped not noticing your form by the frame of the door
He looked tired
A sigh leaves your mouth as your heart clenches in pain, wondering why weren’t you blessed with a devil fruit or a power form above that could take that pain of his away; all you could offer him right now, was your presence and an ear to listen
“Sanji?” You break him away from his task, his eyes opened wide as they scanned you now approaching the counter, sitting in front of him
Sanji’s body language shifted the instant you entered his field of vision, but you know him well enough to know this is just a facade, noticing the redness and puffiness around his eyes, his stare shattered while he paints a sweet smile over it
“My love, hope I didn’t wake you up” and just like that he’s back to chopping the broccoli, hands moving fast, with an earned precision. You stay quiet, a small fiber of your being hoping he’ll drop this act and just come forward with what’s plaguing his mind, but even if he doesn’t its ok, you’ll be here regardless
“It’s 2 am Sanji, what are you doing?” his movements slow down, his eyes still zeroed on the vegetable
“Thought i’d get started on the food prep early”
“Sanji…” your tone becomes a little heavier, you hated speaking this way specially to him, but you knew if you didn’t press at least a little, the cook would stay the whole night up chopping and preparing food until he’d passed out on the stove
It was rare to see Sanji’s hands tremble, but when he felt your body get up from your seat and walk towards him, it was impossible for them to not to. His breath hitches as the deafening sound of your step getting closer and closer froze him, tears already threatening to spill out of his tired eyes
One of your hands settled on top of his, while the other discarded the knife, instinctively you pulled him closer embracing him in a tight reassuring hug that had him breaking down on you almost at the touch. His hands held you back as he sobbed in the crook of your neck, soothing circles going up and down his back as you whispered
“It’s ok, let it out”, “I’m here”, “Everything’s gonna be fine”
Your sweet voice fell on his ears making him melt even more, sobbing turning into intense crying that had you now sitting on the kitchen floor, his tired legs giving up on him
“I’m sorry” he says, voice broken in barely a whisper that breaks your heart, but you pull yourself together, for him
“Don’t say that, there’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable, I’m always here for you” is in these moments Sanji knows there most be a heaven, a guardian angel that send you his way, to hold him and protect him, to love him unconditionally and be so gentle, a word he had never really understood the extent of the real meaning until you had held him close to your heart
A silence falls like a warm blanket on top of you, his crying ceasing, breath calming as his eyes finally meet yours. There’s a certain embarrassment behind Sanji’s eyes that you still cannot concoct into the correct words to express how it shatters you, all you can say is
“Don’t be ashamed to be human, Sanji” your gaze never wavers from his, speaking every word loud and clear making sure he gets it, and he does
He feels undeserving of such love and care, anyone that has known the both of you could see it in his everyday devotion to you, breaking himself apart for you to feast, being on your call and foot every hour and moment of his days, simply noticing the way he looks at you. Pure adoration he offers you, but now as you walk back to your dorm beside him at almost 3 in the morning, tucking him in your bed his head in your chest as you kiss him good night, he knows adoration is not enough of a word
He loves you
#one piece#sanji oneshot#sanji imagine#vinsmoke sanji x y/n#vinsmoke sanji x you#vinsmoke sanji x reader#sanji x y/n#sanji x you#sanji x reader#one piece sanji#one piece vinsmoke sanji#vinsmoke sanji#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#one piece x reader#x reader#one piece fanfiction#fanfic
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𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢....
if the sun refused to shine…baby, would i still be ur lover?
a/n: my first angst, no judgement pls >.<
⋆.ೃ𐦍*:･⋆𐦍.ೃ࿔*:･
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
18+ !! MINORS DNI
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
cw: angst, troubled love, established relationship, mentions of past intimacy (sexual & emotional), slight cursing
tags ✮⋆˙ oneshot, angst, distantlover!zoro x y/n, gn!reader, falling out of love trope,
now playing: intro (end of the world) - ariana grande
“Do you love me?”
“What?”
“Do you love me like I love you?”
He couldn’t lie when he felt surprised hearing those words out of your mouth, “Yea, why?”
You sighed, “I’ve been thinking…we’ve been distant recently and it’s making me question our relationship.” You sat next to him as you laid back on the cushioned seat. The somber blue tint illuminating on both your faces as you guys sat alone in the aquarium room. It’s quiet.
He went silent for a minute before letting out a soft chuckle, “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t ya?”
“I’m not joking, Zoro.”
The way you said his name struck a nerve in his body. He wasn’t used to this type of confrontation, rather, he wasn’t used to feeling this type of way at all. He hated it. It was like his heart strings were tugging at him as if it purposely made him uncomfortable.
You huffed, “Five weeks…” You felt your lips quiver as you swallowed the lump in your throats. You wanted him to understand, “That’s how long it’s been since we’ve held a proper conversation, since you’ve kissed me on the lips, since you told me I love you.”
“Babe-“
“Don’t mess this up, please.”
His mouth went dry at your words. He has so many questions pooling in his head. Yet, he couldn’t find the right words to answer you. His mind went blank.
He choked on his words, “I guess I’ve just been really busy training.”
You looked up at him with saddened eyes, “Is that really it?”
Fuck. The realization hit him like a truck. He questioned his inner monologue, did he really love you? You’ve been together for a year now. It felt like forever ago when you first became a part of the crew, you automatically clicked with everyone with your bubbly personality and generosity. The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but be drawn to your aura in a different sense. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way your eyes locked with his; It drove him nuts. You were just so alluring the swordsman couldn’t understand the feeling forming in his stomach. Was he nervous?
During those two years, his feelings only grew even more for you. Everything was all confusing. He was a swordsman for christ’s sake, he don’t have time for sappy love. Yet, you lingered in his mind like a treadmill. He wanted to pull on the emergency stop so badly, yet…he still kept running.
The day you asked him out, he couldn’t help but feel his heart explode into pieces. You were just so beautiful/handsome, he felt like he didn’t deserve you. The devil on his shoulder was practically yelling him to run away, yet his conscious was practically telling him to say yes. You both shared your first kisses that day.
“I love you.”
“and, I love you.”
The months turned into a year, you experienced everything together. Sure, there were moments were you both had alone time for yourselves. Pretty arguments turned into “make up and forgets.”
But, this time felt different.
Whenever you kissed his lips, his heart didn’t flutter like it used too. He stopped initiating sex even in times when he needed relief. It was like you just became a blur in his mind as he started feeling himself slip away from your embrace. He wanted to love you back…but he just couldn’t. Each day felt like his grasp was slipping away from you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it.
“I’m tired. I’m tired of waiting, avoiding the truth, running in circles for you.”
“We’re 21, not 19 anymore…For fuck sake, Roronoa, I just want you to hear me like I hear you.” Your lips quivered as you choked back tears.
“No, [name], listen. I do love you, I just got caught up with bulking up I just unintentionally isolated myself.”
Slap
The sound of the hard contact of your hand to his face echoed before the sound of water bubbling in the tank continued.
“I’m- I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”
He rubbed the impacted area, “Heh, I guess I deserved that.”
Even in times like this, he had to still be a bit humorous…You hated it.
“The faster we talk about this, the faster we resolve this.”
He gulped, “If I tell you, you would hate me.”
“I will hate you more if you don’t tell me.
“…As you wish.”
It was taking everything for you to not tear up from anxiety.
“I feel as if our paths are just too different.”
You knew it. You fucking knew it.
“Was I not good enough for you? Was I lousy in bed? Did I do something to piss you off?” You spoke in a panicked tone as you held his hands.
He gently squeezed your hands, “No, [name]. I just…I just don’t feel anything for you….not anymore”
You felt tears fall down your cheek before wiping it. It was like the world stopped hearing those words. Deep down, you wanted to beg him to take you back…But all you could do was just lightly punching his chest as you sobbed your feelings out.
“I hate you, I hate you so much.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sighed as you halted your light punches to his chest.
“So you don’t love me anymore…”
He gazed into your eyes with a gentle look, his voice had deepened, “Of course I love you, but just not the same way.”
You went silent as you decreased the pressure of your hands in his grasp, “You’re right…”
“We’re just on two different paths…”
You stroked his cheek with a smile, that same smile that was plastered on your face the moment you said your first I love you, the moment when you first stepped onto the Thousand Sunny’s. A smile that made him fall in love with you.
“I want to ask you...”
The room had become silent. Not even the ambience sound from the aquarium tanks could reach your ears. The sound of your heart pounding screaming in your ears as you coughed up your words.
“If the crew splits up permanently or if we move on…Hell, if we’re on the brink of death, old age or not,”
“Would I be the one on your mind?”
His eyes widened at your question. He felt as if his thoughts were running laps in his head.
He scoffed, “Of course, you were my first.”
You smiled, “Lemme ask you this again: Do you love me…like I love you?”
The knot in his stomach tightened as he contemplated his decision. No more kisses, no more dates, no more intimacy, no more i love you’s.
“Even if the sun refused to shine, I will love you forever and always.”
You wiped your wet tears and snot, “If the moon ever goes dark, I’ll love you back.”
You kissed his cheek before walking out the aquarium and headed to your cabin.
As he heard the door close, he couldn’t help but drop to his knees as tears fell onto the cold floor. For the first time, the swordsman felt vulnerable to his emotions and it was burning him deeply. He caressed the scar on his torso, before muttering curses to himself.
———
“Luffy, calm down! The food isn’t gonna run away, you know!” You snatched the plate from the hungry boy.
“Come on, [name]! It’s not my fault Sanji’s cooking is delicious!” He used his rubber powers to steal the plate from your hands and ran out the dining room with it.
You laughed at your captain’s actions when suddenly, you felt hands snake around your waist. As you turned around to see who was the culprit, you yelped as you felt soft lips touch yours.
“Ignore that idiot, my love. I’m surprised he doesn’t have diabetes yet.” He shot you a cheeky smile which caused your face to heat up.
“Sanji, I’m gonna dump you.”
“NOOOO MY SWEET [name]. I’LL GIVE YOU A THOUSAND KISSES IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER,” He starts to cling onto your leg like a kid throwing a tantrum.
You laughed before kissing his cheek, “Oh don’t worry, baby, you can make it up tonight.” You wink at him jokingly.
Oh man, the mess you’re gonna have to clean up from the amount of blood he let out hearing that…
“Christ, how are ya’ll this loud at this hour,” the hungover swordsman yawned.
“It’s noon, mosshead,” sneered at him.
“Whatcha say, curly brow?!”
You facepalmed before slapping their faces to shut him up.
“This is getting old, guys,” you nodded your head in disapproval.
They both apologized before they went back to glaring at each other to which you gave up on.
———
As you finish cleaning up, you turn to face the green-haired swordsman, “Oh, and Zoro.”
He felt his heart stop for a moment before replying back to you, “Uh- yea?”
“Don’t drink too much, I don’t want you dying of alcohol suffering,” you jokingly giggled before taking the sake bottle from his hand.
He laughed before shooting you a smirk, “Trust, Il be fine.”
You smiled before the cook wrapped his arms around your shoulders, “Come, Mon Cherie, let’s get away from this evil ogre-”
“SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU CURLY BROW ASSHOLE-”
“Ooooookay this is our cue to leave,” you laugh awkwardly before pulling your blonde boyfriend out of the dining area.
Zoro felt his smile fade as he watched you look at your new boyfriend with loving eyes. The same eyes he would gaze upon when you both were still together.
He grabbed another bottle of sake from the cabinet before chugging it down like water. The thought and sight of you with another man, especially with one of his crew mates, was like getting stabbed with his own swords. Maybe those feelings didn’t go away like he said that night.
All he could do now was stare at the ceiling while swishing the alcoholic beverage in his hand. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you go like that he thought to himself.
Will I still be on your mind?
He chuckled to himself before finishing the remnants of the bottle, “Dumbass, if she’s moved on then…maybe it’s time I move on.”
Maybe there was another universe where we got married and had kids, maybe there was another time where I didn’t lose feelings for you.
Maybe there was another time where the sun did shine…
Maybe in another lifetime…
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man of war
simon riley x f!reader, comfort
🌺
soft cries fill your room in the safe house, the salty tears stinging at your rosy cheeks as you weep feebly. the guilt was overwhelming. why were you put on this job? out of all who work for HM’s treasury? it felt unfair. cruel, perhaps. you were assigned to a task force a week ago, mostly made up of british personnel, to track their spendings of the treasury’s money to make sure it’s adequate. it was proving to be a much harder job than you thought it’d be.
“shoot,”
the gruff soldier spoke urgently, unarmed, holding down the writhing body of a target under him. your hand softly shook as you pointed the handgun at the struggling, sweaty man, your heart beating rapidly, pumping your red blood ferociously around your body. blood stained the hotel stairs where they had fought and you had ran, the enemy wielding a machete before he was apprehended by the masked spectre.
“close your eyes, y/n, and pull the bloody trigger!”
he strained, his opponent matching his physical strength as ghost held him down with brute force. you shut your eyes tightly and reluctantly obey, the shot reverberating throughout your whole body as you open your eyes to see a limp body and a red-hot pool of blood under him. your chest heaves up and down and you drop the gun on the floor, pushing it towards ghost with your foot, as you lean against the wall of the hallway. you gaze at the lifeless corpse, your pillowy lips parting as you take in the sight. ghost looks up at you for a few seconds, still on the floor next to the dead body, his expression hidden behind his mask before he reaches for the gun and quickly runs back up the stairs, multiple threats near your hotel room.
your silky hair is messy when you look in the mirror opposite your bed, taking in your disheveled appearance and glassy eyes. you feel dirty, even though your disturbed shower lasted two and a half hours. you feel a shot of pain in your chest when you remember that the dead body, the body that is dead because of you, will be cool to the touch in 6 hours and cool to it’s core in 18. price made you a cup of tea after he drove you to the safe house, but it’s untouched and since gone cold. you hear rustling from downstairs and around your room, but you pay no mind to it, various personnel returning from various places, the skies dark.
a few minutes pass before you hear a melodic knock at the door. you assume it’s john, here to give you an update or perhaps another strong cup of tea. your assumptions are proven incorrect when you hear a husky voice.
“y’alright?”
his voice is blunt. almost humorously blunt, and you would tease him if you didn’t just kill a man. you don’t reply, the words not forming in your throat, your knees pressed to your chest and your head pressed into your knees as your luscious hair sprawls out over the entirety. two minutes and a half passes before you hear the door squeak open, the soft light from the hallway shining into your dark room. you can almost feel his eyes and imposing presence, the sudden feeling of scrutiny causing more tears to wander down those porcelain cheeks. please don’t let me be misunderstood.
you wonder why he’s doing this. you don’t think he’s a bad man, he’s just… closed off. and this seems a little out-of-character for a person like him. perhaps that’s just what he wants you to think. hm. an elusive man with an elusive presence, you can’t tell whether he’s standing at your door to comfort you or to tell you you should’ve pulled the trigger faster. he takes your silence as consent and steps in the room, closing the door gently behind him. actually, it wasn’t that gentle. does a man like him have the capacity to be gentle?
you hear the spectre walk towards where you sit on the floor, your body leaning against the bed as your head stays between your knees. he grunts as he sits down next to you, his beefy, muscular legs a stark contrast to yours.
“shunn’t ‘ave made you do that. we shunn’t ‘ave put you in a situation where you had to do that.”
you raise your head, your eyes still glassy with tears, your cheeks rosy, and your locks disheveled. you look up to meet his dark eyes, in this light they looked like coal. he still wore a mask, but not the one you’ve noticed he wears usually. you can make out more of his face, the shape of it, your thighs mere metres apart. the delivery of his words is awkward and rough, but it sounds like he’s trying his best not to be. a tear wanders down your cheek as your eyes stay on each others, and you quickly wipe it away, breaking eye contact and looking away from him in shame. you can’t help but feel humiliated.
your body runs cold when you feel a gentle but firm hand cup your head, the sensation from the touch causing sobs to rack your body. you close your eyes as his thumb strokes your hair, the hand careful, as if he’s holding fragile ceramic or running a brush across a cat’s soft fur. you can feel that it’s reluctant, almost timid, but he pulls you effortlessly into an embrace. the tears still fall, and the hug only amplifies your big and overwhelming feelings. his hand still stays in your hair.
“want some water or anythin’?”
his throaty voice asks, and you shake your head into his chest. you can hear the drum of his slightly sped-up heartbeat, and the sound slightly brings you back down to reality. he’s alive. he’s alive. the blood pumping through his veins distracts you from the problem at hand, and you begin to feel drowsy, the tears stopping and the feelings fading as your eyes flutter shut once again, this time more peacefully as he rocks you back and forth, his strong grip steadying and grounding as you gently glide into a deep sleep, the abyss washing over you like a cool wave.
🌺
the sun peeks through the curtains as you open your eyes, your hair sprawled out on the pillows as you wake inside your bed, the covers tucked gently and carefully over you.
#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#call of duty#cod mw2#cod mwii#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost x y/n#task force 141#task force x reader#samuel roukin#comfort#ghost call of duty
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Day 14 - Kiss on a dare
Characters: Belphegor x male!MC
25 kisses challenge Masterlist
Main Masterlist
CW: none, they're just teasing each other a little bit. Pre-established relationship
A/N: thanks to those who said they liked Day 13, it made me feel better :)
.
MC didn’t understand why no one would wake up Belphie during classes. Finals were right around the corner and the teachers demanded more effort than ever, not caring about their baggy eyes or their stressed behaviour. It reached a point were some of the students were crying in the hallways, one of them even using his shoulder as a tissue. The poor thing was so distraught that MC couldn’t find himself to be upset about his ruined shirt.
Good thing he had Satan as a tutor. He’d have to make sure to treat him for a coffee as a 'thank you' gift.
Looking at his side during those dreadful classes and seeing the demon peacefully sleeping the hours away made him feel extremely guilty, even if it wasn’t his responsibility. He tried waking him up once and Belphie only looked at him with blurry eyes for a second before going back to slumber.
“Don’t worry about me, MC” he had said that night with a pleased smile, delighted at his concern “I’ll pass the exams with no problems. You should worry about yourself instead”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t be mad, I’m just joking”
Belphie laughed at his defensiveness, nuzzling the crook of his neck. The close contact made MC’s limbs tingle in excitement and he wasted no time in hugging him back, even when his words offended him.
“Well, you should know I’m studying as hard as I can and even more”
“Okay”
“I will pass”
“Sure”
He was teasing him, which was the norm coming from Belphie, and maybe it was MC’s lack of sleep compared to the demon’s nonchalance, but it still riled him up.
“Wanna bet?”
Belphie scoffed, sinking further into the mattress.
“Who do you think I am? Mammon?”
“Just say you’re scared of losing, Belphie. It’s okay, I won’t judge you”
He pulled away, equally insulted, leaving a cold spot beside his body.
“I’m not scared”
His frown twisted his face, but MC couldn’t help but laugh, which only aggravated him further.
“Fine, then! Let’s bet! If you pass, I’ll take you out for dinner”
The proposition surprised him, but not as much as the blush across his face did. Even in the dark of the attic, Belphie was so pale it made the red of his cheeks extremely noticeable. A few seconds passed in silence before MC finally opened his mouth, but he was interrupted.
“And if I pass… You’ll give me a kiss”
His voice was low, but firm. He clearly knew what he wanted, but MC wasn’t sure how to feel. Belphie looked so serious, but how could he get the necessary grade when he didn’t even pay attention in classes? On the other hand, he offered a dinner in case he passed. And what if they both did? Would that end up being a date?
Not trusting his voice, MC ended up nodding and Belphie finally laid down again against him before quickly falling asleep.
He had been too distracted to study the next day, thinking about the bet and Belphie’s flustered expression the whole time, and Satan was quick to notice his behaviour.
“May I remind you, MC, we don’t have time to spare. If you have something in mind, say it; otherwise, focus and listen to me”
He could notice his entire body buzzing in expectation, vision blurring the paragraphs in the textbooks and reorganizing them to form Belphie’s offers. His face was engraved in his mind, the shade of red and the purple of his eyes shining in the darkness.
MC would rather spill his guts and die of mortification than make Satan angry for wasting his time.
To his surprise, however, when he explained the whole situation, the first thing the blond did was laugh at him. It was a mixture of pity and amusement that confused MC.
“Don’t you know Belphie is a top student?” he asked, obviously enjoying himself “He’s able to listen and memorize while sleeping. Obviously he’s going to pass!”
He laughed again, delighted at his embarrassment.
MC felt like a fool. An excited, smitten, blindsided fool, but a fool nonetheless.
“And he knows you’re also going to pass thanks to my help” Satan continued speaking as if it was an obvious fact “Seems to me you’re both going to win the bet”
Studying for the rest of the evening after that was proved to be impossible, not with his heart beating so fast it was making him feel sick.
In the end, it did look like he was going on a date with Belphie after all.
Nice.
.
.
Taglist: @ourfinalisation @owlisbuffering @chizukimp4 @ravenredwine @darkflowerav @beatlebeesstuff @mehkers
#obey me#obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date#om! swd#obey me x reader#obey me x male reader#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me belphagor x reader#obey me belphie x reader#belphegor x reader#belphie x reader#obey me fluff#obey me writing#obey me drabble#25 kisses challenge
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I’M LOST IN ADMIRATION, COULD I NEED YOU THIS MUCH? | PROLOGUE
chapter warnings; does not follow ST timeline, eddie being slightly sour, a creepy boy, eddie is a knight in shining …. metallica tee?, no appearance spoken about (i try to be inclusive for everyone to read) - but if there’s anything besides accidental pronoun drop, please feel free to let me know!
an; super excited to tell eddie’s story for my au and for all of you to read! i’m slightly hoping people will ask me questions in my inbox for this story like i’ve seen others do on other blogs (a girl can dream). but to those who take time to read and who ever is excited - thank you so much. i adore you forever.
JUNE 15TH, 1987.
𖡡 AGUSTA, INDIANA.
Eddie is starting to regret showing up to a concert that Steve had drugged both him and Robin to - Tears For Fears concert at that.
Robin was beaming - bouncing on her toes, blue eyes scoping the top of everyone’s head, hands clasped together in front of her chest. “Eddie, quit being so sour. You’re gonna bring down my mood.”
“It’s hot out here,” Eddie complains. “My hair is flat to my head now because I’m all sticky. I need a drink too.”
“Do you want a snack too?” It’s a rhetorical question Steve asks. But Eddie smirks and looks at him.
“Yes. Yes, I do. When we get in there you're gonna give me some cash and I’ll go get us something from the bar.”
“Me? Why me?” Steve is baffled by Eddie’s suggestion as if he wasn’t the one who wanted to come.
“Because I barely have any money and you drug me here,” He points his thumb towards Robin. “She wanted to come. That’s a different story.”
Steve grumbles and pulls his wallet from the front pocket of his jeans. Eddie’s brows lift slightly, head tilting up slightly to take a quick peek into the wallet.
Steve narrows his eyes and quickly shuts his wallet as he hands over two twenty dollar bills.
Eddie takes it from Steve’s hand. “Thank you, rich man.”
Steve opens his mouth to speak but Robin is squealing. “They’re opening the doors!” She claps. “Maybe we can bulldoze over a couple of people to get close to the stage.”
Eddie and Steve glances at one another - they know Robin would not have that in her, especially in one’s anxious nature.
There’s a stamp placed on each of their hands when they step close to the guard up front. Robin steps inside, looking around the lobby area with wide eyes and parted mouth. “This is so tubular.”
It’s been a saying she’s added into her vocabulary. Along with ‘veg out’.
“Dustin is gonna be so jealous,” She then looks at Steve. “Kind of feel bad for the strange boy, matter-of-fact.”
Steve rolls his eyes and places his hands on his hips. “He’ll be fine.”
“He threw out your hair supplies when he found out, Steve.”
“Well…” Steve thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “He’ll be fine eventually. I didn’t even know he liked Tears For Fears! I would’ve brought him instead of tough guy over here, all brooding and mysterious.”
Eddie smacks the hand of the pointing thumb, mocking him before slapping his forehead as he walks past. “I’ll find you in the crowd, peasants.”
Steve huffs, pointing at him. “I better get my change back, Munson.”
Eddie waves a hand and glances over his shoulder watching as Steve and Robin make their way into the arena. Letting a small sigh out, he slips out of line.
He wanted to look around first. Wanted to get a feel of what it’d be like to perform somewhere like here. It’s still in Indiana, but some place better than Hawkins.
He’s cooled off tremendously, but his hair is still flat to his head which annoys him to no end. His scalp itches from how much he had sweat from waiting outside. He should’ve worn something way different besides black.
He has color in his closet, but waking up at the crack of dawn to go on a small road trip with two chatterboxes was not ideal - especially ones who would not let you go back to sleep.
He's caught off by the sound of a pinball machine and the multitude of ding, ding, dings that leave the open room and float down the hallway. There’s a neon sign that glows red and stretches across the carpet that beckons Eddie to an arcade room.
An arcade room!
The cash in his pocket feels like it’s burning a hole through his pocket but he knows if he comes back empty handed - snacks, drinks, and cash back - he’s a dead man while Curt Smith and Roland Orzabal sings the song that has a strangely upbeat sound but sad lyrics.
Mad World if you will.
He could just look. That’s it. No playing. Just peeking at all the high scores that he knows he could’ve beat with the eighty bucks right now.
He might’ve lied when he said he barely had any money. He had twenty to spare.
His smile doesn’t falter as he walks down the row of machines, letting out a whistle at one of the high scores.
“I’m really not interested. I’m sorry, sir.”
Eddie’s brow lifts slightly as he stops by a machine that’s close to the register.
There’s a couple of chuckles that have him turning his head and investigating what’s going on behind him. There’s a group of boys against one person behind the counter - you.
You look tired and fed up with the antics that you had put up with the whole day.
“Sir…A good one who uses manners - that’s rare,” Eddie rolls his eyes, shaking his head. If that kid thinks that was a pick-up line, he’s grossly mistaken. “Anyway. I just think maybe you should—”
“She told you, she’s not interested.” It slips before Eddie can catch himself and he’s gritting his teeth together and clamping his eyes shut.
He can hear the scrunch of new shoes as they make their way over. When he’s opening his eyes, they’re met with pristine Nike’s that has a red swoop on each shoe with blue lines.
“I don’t think anyone was talking to you.”
Eddie lets out a defeated sigh - he lets the words slip before he could stop them and that’s a price he has to pay, especially if it takes their mind off of you for a while.
“And you’re bothering someone with a gross pick-up line while they’re working after they told you they're not interested,” He shakes his head. “I know there’s nothing much that rattles around up here,” The tip of his finger taps at his own temple.
“But you do know what no means, right? Or did you forget the basic definition of that because you always get what you ask for?”
There’s a second Eddie feels like he’s lifted from the ground, but he’s wincing when his back is slammed into a machine. It shakes with force and there’s a small ding sound - he almost laughs from the sound.
“Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“No,” Eddie shrugs slightly. His rings pinch at his palm when he grips the polished edge of the glass. “Oh, wait, you don’t know what that means, do you?”
His shirt is bunched up when he feels the grip loosen. “Oh, you’re a mouthy one, huh?”
“Occasionally.”
Eddie’s digging himself deeper in a hole that, again, he never meant to start first and now he’s about… twelve feet down.
The boy in front of him chuckles. Eddie lets out a small laugh because he realized how incredibly stupid this whole thing is. And maybe because he’s nervous as well.
“Brian!” The boy flinches and looks over his shoulder. Eddie glances at his knight-in-shining-uniform. “I told you to leave my workers alone and not to come back here. I could call the cops if I wanted to. Leave.”
Ah, so this has happened on more than one occasion, has it, Brian.
Eddie looks back when blue eyes connect with him again. “Watch your back.” To make it seem good, he’s pushing Eddie back into the machine again.
Yeah, well, good thing for Eddie, he doesn’t have to watch his back. He doesn’t even live here.
The man follows behind the group of boys, giving you a small nod. You give a quick nod back and a little thumbs up. You then turn and look at Eddie, tilting your head slightly.
He watches as you walk closer and bend at the waist before coming back up, holding up two folded green bills. “Dropped this.”
“Oh,” He’s suddenly flushed and he nods a bit, grabbing the cash from your fingers. “Thanks.”
“Well, thank you. For, uh, taking up for me. Not a lot of people have the courage to do that.”
“Yeah, well,” Eddie stands straighter when he notices that he’s still leaned against the machine and smooths out his shirt. “Guys like that are annoying to people. You’d just have to keep on repeating yourself.”
You give a small nod and a small smile, eyes glancing down at his shirt. “I like your shirt.”
He glances down because he momentarily forgets what shirt he’s wearing. “Oh, thank you. You listen to Metallica?”
You laugh softly. “They’re a big band. But, yes, I listen to them. Got tickets for July.”
“Wait, really?” He lifts his brows. You nod with a small mhm. “I’ll be there too.”
“Well, uh—”
“Eddie.” He says his name all too eagerly when he realizes he hasn’t even given you his name - what a ditz.
You smile softly, glossy lips shining from the neon red that catches and mingles. “Eddie,” It’s soft and sweet and smooth the way you repeat his name. “I…might see you there, then?”
“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I’ll look for you…” He pauses when he realizes how creepy that sounds. “You can look for me.”
You snort. “We can both look for one another. How does that sound?”
“That sounds great, yeah.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to the concert, which I’m totally jealous about, by the way. You can see and hear them loud and clear. I get to hear a muffled version.” Your face scrunches a bit as you shake your head.
He didn’t want to say how sour he was the whole way here - he’ll spare that. Instead, he says - “I’ll enjoy it for the both of us.”
You smile at him again, nodding. “I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”
Nodding, he’s walking out of the arcade, only glancing back until you’re out of view. He’s just realizing how much time he’s spent in the arcade and curses quietly to himself, stepping into the arena, eyes squinting to see if he can make out a screaming rasping girl and a head full of hair.
Cutting through the crowd, he finally catches a whiff of Steve’s cologne and glances over. “Steve!” He's making his way over, before stopping beside him.
“You didn’t get anything?! What were you doing this whole time?!”
Take a wild guess.
“Uhh … Bathroom. I decided to just come here when I got out!”
Steve rolls his eyes and grabs the money from Eddie’s hand that he hands back over. He flinches when Robin grips his forearm, jumping as they fade into a new song.
Only then does Eddie realize…
He never got your name.
— @joshlmbrt 2024
#joshlambrt presents…#ILIACINYTM?#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fanfic#joseph quinn x reader#jospeh quinn x reader
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Isn’t it funny how the only time Spacekid has eye shines (something that happens when someone is looking at something they like) is when he’s talking about space (his MAIN interest) and Neil? Just food for thought
#he’s gay#sorry#he is#why would they have eye shines if he wasn’t#it is legit only to Neil#no other character just Neil#not super serious#don’t kill me#camp camp#campcamp#spacekid campcamp#cc space kid#campcamp ship#neil camp camp#cc neil#neilsquared#neil x spacekid#neil²#spaceneil#rooster teeth is scared to make them cannon
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suguru would lay between your legs and then slowly start caressing them, and when you noticed and shooed his hands away, he'd revert to kissing your legs, and the next thing you knew, your thighs were pushed back against your chest, and he was eating you out like a buffet.
there was something so sneaky about the way he did things, yet you just let him do them time and time again.
laying down on your inner thigh while scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up at you to see if you notice, and when he sees you’re distracted, he’ll start kissing them.
“you’re so pretty,” he’ll say time and time again while simultaneously kissing up your thigh a little more until you can feel his breath hitting your core.
he loved teasing you and watching your face scrunch up with reactions as he did these things, but the overall goal was to get you not to push him off, and it worked every time.
“i just want to taste you, please,” while pulling down your shorts at the same time. no day passed by where he wasn’t tongue-deep inside you.
you’ll look down at him and see his dark eyes shine while rubbing up and down your thigh, and you’ll just let him go because, why not?
he does it so well anyway.
what man was going to lay in between your legs every day and beg to eat you out and make you feel good? the pleasure he gave you was so great that you couldn’t even complain.
even when he didn’t explicitly ask you, he knows that you’ll say yes, like always, because who else is going to make you feel that good?
pushing your legs back and slipping his fingers in and out of you with ease as moans slip out of your mouth and lumps get stuck in your throat from choking out your words.
if there was any chance he could have laying in between your legs, then he was right there; he didn’t care; it was easy access to him and extreme easy access when you had on shorts or a dress.
feeling you up, telling you how pretty you were, and roaming his hands over every inch and crevice of your body was his favorite pastime. time, if he wanted to eat you out because of how pretty you looked, then that’s what he was going to do.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#x reader#jujutsu suguru#getou suguru x y/n#getou suguru x you#jjk suguru#suguru geto smut#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#geto suguru#jujutsu geto#geto x you#geto smut#geto x reader#jjk geto#geto x y/n
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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 03:12 A.M 」
tw: pregnancy. just a little something based on ask~ gojo annoys you on daily basis, so now you return the favor and he can't refuse it bc you're his baby mama😋
a part of gojo's love entries
“satoru— your baby is hungry,” you pouted, poking his cheek repeatedly. “sa-to-ru!!”
it was 3 in the morning, and ideally, you would have been sleeping... only that suddenly you were awoken by rumbles from your growing belly.
yet your husband was still sound asleep without any care in the world, prompting you to poke him until you succeeded in making him hear you out.
satoru begrudgingly cracked his eyes open, still having his face tucked under the blanket and yawning. “ngh, sweets… what is it?”
his sleepy voice was thick, low and raspy. usually you’d swoon and leave a hickey or two on his neck but not now, as the overwhelming hunger made you almost curl.
“baby is craving mochi,” you said, eyes shining up to him ever so innocently. “get it for me, satoruuu.”
“oh?” if he wasn’t awake before, now he was after hearing your nagging tone drawling his name. he faced you and drew you closer. “what do you want again, hmm?”
“ice cream mochi!!”
“oooh that.” satoru scratched his head at the memory of him eating the last of it yesterday. “but we ran out of them, sweetheart… wait till morning, yeah? i’ll go to market to get some.”
“but...”
“can’t baby wait a few more hours, hmm?”
“no! want it— now!”
satoru blinked at your insistence. you looked positively adorable while sulking at him too.
“why mochi all of sudden, huh?” he decided to humor you. “you used to say they taste bland.”
“that’s because of your sperm infecting me,” you sullenly accused. “and don’t pretend you haven’t been feeding me mochi for weeks. baby likes it more than i thought.”
“hey! don’t bash my sperm! they did no wrong and completed the deed splendidly!”
“you’re just a one-time donor, don’t be smug.”
he whined and you huffed, before suddenly your stomach grumbled loudly and you curled up. “mmhm.”
“hey… what’s wrong?” satoru quickly sat up and placed his hand on your baby bump. “really hungry? wait, i’ll get you something to nibble on first.”
he rummaged through his work uniform and found several bite-sized chocolate bars he brought around, and unwrapped the foil. “here.”
you immediately devoured the treat to sate your hunger, but still, your baby longed for more—
“mochi…” you mumbled despondently, your expression turning heartbroken. and one second later satoru realized how much he wanted to squeeze your cheeks, and relented.
“okay, okay, sweets~” he gave your head several comforting pats, making you look up. “i’ll go and get the mochi, yeah? you stay put and wait for me, 'kay?”
“yay.” a little smile bloomed in your face and satoru chuckled, finding you so unbearably endearing.
and so, for you, he ventured out to the closest 24-hour convenience store, picking up some ice cream mochi along with other treats to replenish your stock, before teleporting back home.
he was expecting that you'd still be all sulky while waiting for him, but instead, he found you peacefully asleep, hogging his pillow.
each breath that caused your chest to rise and fall made you appear all the more vulnerable and soft in his eyes.
you looked so irrevocably precious to him. his sweet little wife... in that moment, satoru felt like he was the luckiest man alive, getting to have you as his.
“you naughty girl.” he let out an amused laugh before reclaiming his spot next to you. the hold you had over him— you made him go through the cold night air, and now you were monopolizing his pillow and he had to resume sleeping without one at all.
and yet all he could feel was love. for you and your baby, as he pulled you close to his chest.
“both of you sure love teaming up against me, huh?”
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk crack#gojo satoru#satoru x reader#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru fluff#jjk fluff#gojo x you#satoru gojo fluff#jjk x reader fluff#gojo fluff
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[3k] too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it's just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.
series masterlist
.
RING! RING!
The first thing you were painfully aware of was the annoying shrill of your phone echoing from some distant corner of the room.
RING! RING!
The second thing was the fact you had forgotten to close the blinds last night, meaning the blinding rays of the Nevada sun were doing their best job in dragging you out of your comforting slumber like irritating parasites.
RING! RING!
And the third thing was that whoever was trying to call you was seemingly very insistent to get in contact with you, if the three calls in a row (that you were so far aware of) were anything to go by.
RING! RING!
“Oh my god,” you groaned as you pulled the edges of the pillow over your ears, hoping it would muffle the ringing shrills. But when the phone continued to ring and the noise only seemed to get louder, you were forced to throw your hand out and blindly try to grasp the cursed device in hopes of making the noise stop.
Your fingers wrapped around the buzzing phone, your eyes still firmly kept shut as you kept tapping the screen until the ringing stopped before you brought it to your ear. “You better have a good fucking reason for calling me.”
“I hope you are doing something you enjoy.”
You frowned, your brain taking a few moments to process the voice coming through. “Arthur?”
“Like, I hope you are fulfilling your lifelong wish right now.”
“What the fuck are you on about?” You grumbled, exhaustion hitting your body just as badly as the rays of sunlight shining through the open blinds were. “It’s too early for your riddles.”
“I am just saying that I think you should be doing something you love before Charles kills you.”
You let out a non-committing hum. “And why would he kill me?”
“Many reasons but I think getting married in Vegas last night is easily the top of the list right now.”
Your eyes shot open when you heard the words leave Arthur’s mouth. It felt like ice had doused your entire body as you quickly sat up in the hotel bed, now painfully aware of the pounding headache that only tequila could give you.
“WHAT?”
“Congrats, by the way. I do pity the poor guy you locked up though.”
Now painfully aware of the situation, your eyes grabbing onto any detail that would hopefully prove your brother wrong. Unfortunately, all you seemed to find was evidence that he was telling the truth if the white dress, the horribly large costume jewelry ring on your finger and the abandoned veil with ‘NEW BRIDE’ on the floor were anything to go by.
“Oh my fucking god,” you breathed out, feeling though as you were going to empty your stomach’s contents any moment now. “How do you know? Why didn’t you stop me?!”
“I wasn’t with you! I just opened Twitter and found pictures of my sister outside a wedding chapel and all over some random guy!”
“I married a stranger,” you hissed out, your lips parting in shock. Tequila made you do many questionable things, but even this was bad for you.
“He’s your husband, it’s a bit offensive to call him a stranger.”
“Arthur, I swear to god—” You cut yourself off as your eyes fell on the large lump in the bed next to you. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise it was another human. It took you even longer to tear your eyes away from the cheap suit he was wearing before you looked up at his face. “Oh my fucking god.”
“What?”
“Charles is going to kill me,” you breathed out, your heart pounding like it was lodged in your throat.
“Yes, we established that when I called you—”
“Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I married Max,” you continued, lost in your own daze that you barely acknowledge your spluttering brother on the other side of the phone.
“YOU MARRIED MAX VERSTAPPEN?!”
Unfortunately for Arthur’s sake, you quickly hung up the phone. You could barely process the fact the Dutch driver was currently passed out on the bed next to you, let alone doing so with your brother screeching in your ear the whole time. The phone was abandoned on the bed as you stared at the Dutchman, your brain working on overdrive as you tried to work out what to do next.
So, you did what any reasonable person would do and shoved him off the bed.
“OW!”
You froze for a moment before you crawled over to the other side of the bed, peaking over the edge and down at Max who was currently groaning on the floor from his impromptu wake up call.
“What the fuck was that about?” He grumbled, blinking a few times before he realised who was hovering over him. “What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?”
“This is actually my hotel room,” you replied.
“Oh,” he muttered. “Then, what the fuck am I doing in your hotel room?”
“Well, it’s what a married couple do,” you commented.
Max’s brows furrowed together. “What?”
You lifted your left hand, the ring now on display and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the realisation hit him. “Do you think this counts as our honeymoon?”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
...
...
“How did this happen?”
“Tequila,” you muttered with your nose scrunched in disgust as you watched the Dutchman begin to pace the hotel room. If you cared enough, you would be concerned about him wearing down the carpet. Though as of the current moment, your priorities were currently elsewhere.
Max turned to look down at the certificate he had found stranded beside your veil on the floor, your names and signatures clearly printed on the piece of paper—which took out the small piece of hope that this was just some elaborate prank set up by Arthur.
“How did we get that drunk though?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together. If he wasn’t so confused, he would be more embarrassed at the fact he clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol as well as he once could.
“Well, it’s your fault,” you commented casually, which had the boy whirling around to face you.
“How is this my fault?” Max scoffed.
“You made the bet!”
Max’s frown deepened. “What bet?”
“At the hotel bar,” you stated like it was a basic fact he should have remembered. “When I bumped into you—”
“We bumped into each other,” Max chided.
“—you were the one to suggest shots,” you pointed out.
Max gave you a look. “How is that a bet?”
“Because you said I couldn’t outdrink you. I said you would be a sore loser. And then you bought us ten shots each.”
He blinked. “Huh.”
“I’m pretty sure it was also your idea to go to another bar afterwards when we got kicked out the hotel bar,” you said in a sing-song voice.
Max scoffed. “Absolutely not. You were the one that said only losers go to bed after one bar.”
You shrugged. “I stand by it.”
Max let out a laugh, a little breathless like he was trying to hide it. He shook his head, glancing down at the certificate one more time before shrugging. “It’s not really that bad, to be honest. A bit embarrassing, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them.”
Your expression turned sheepish. “About that…”
“Who knows?” He asked in a blunt voice.
“Well, Arthur knows,” you started.
“That’s not that bad,” Max scoffed, his shoulders relaxing. “Wait. Charles doesn’t know, does he?”
“Not yet,” you said before quickly continuing. “But he probably will because the paparazzi caught us last night and now the pictures are all over the internet.”
Max blinked. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO START WITH THAT?”
“You’re grumpy when you wake up!” You defended, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at you.
“The whole world thinks we are married!” Max countered before sputtering out a laugh. “Well, we are married. Or we aren’t. I’m still not totally sure but I don’t need your brother chopping off my balls over it!”
“He wouldn’t!”
Max shot you a look.
“Okay, he would,” you grimaced before giving him a shaky smile. “But he doesn’t know yet so we should be in the clear—”
BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!
...
...
“Okay, I have good news and bad news.”
Max looked at you expectantly. “And?”
“Bad news: Charles now knows,” you said with a shaky smile. “Good news: he doesn’t know it’s you!”
Max pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to rub soothing circles. “Fucking hell.”
“But also bad news: he is coming here right now as we speak so we should probably—” You started, fully set on grabbing what you needed and hiding out somewhere else in the hotel until Charles calmed down. However, your plans were put on hold when you heard a groan from the bathroom.
“CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP?”
Your gaze caught Max’s as you stared at each other, both with expressions mixed between confusion and surprise. A few seconds passed before you were both clambering off the bed, heading towards the bathroom where you threw the door open and scrambled to turn on the light before you both froze in the doorway at the sight in front of you.
“Now that was unnecessary.”
You gaped at the sight of Yuki curled up in the bathtub, dressed in a similar looking suit to the one Max was wearing along with what you were certain was the shower curtain placed over him like a blanket. He had a pillow behind his head and sunglasses over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he looked fairly comfortable.
“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “I married two drivers last night?!”
“I hope you at least married me before Yuki,” Max grumbled, only to let out a small wince when you elbowed him. “God, you’re a difficult wife.”
“Kinda going through something,” you snapped back before your eyes moved back to the Japanese driver. “I can’t believe I married you and Yuki.”
The driver in the tub let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Please, you didn’t marry me. You’re not my type.”
You blinked, unsure whether or not you should have been offended by his comment.
“The ring on your finger says otherwise, mate,” Max commented, the ring a matching one with the one that was currently on your left hand.
“I married someone but not you,” Yuki said as he waved you off, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. “And our wedding was much classier than yours.”
“I—” You frowned. “You remember?”
“Yeah, you said you wanted witnesses,” Yuki grumbled, bringing the shower curtain up until it was tucked under his chin. “You also dragged Lando out so he would take your photos.”
Max gaped. “Lando was there? Lando knows?!”
“Yes, now can you please go bother him?” Yuki muttered under his breath. “And turn the lights off as you leave. Only wake me up when you order food.”
...
...
“Don’t make me an accomplice in your crimes.”
“Shut up and let us in.”
You weren’t surprised to find that Lando and Logan were already in the room, both with looks of amusement on their faces as they watched you and Max wander in—still dressed in your wedding clothes from the night before.
You wanted to slap the smug looks off their face.
“Is it really a good idea to hide here?” Max asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though the headache pounding through his head had nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed last night and more to do with the mess you both had created.
“It buys us time,” you insisted.
“On the chance that Arthur doesn’t rat you out,” Logan added.
“You told Arthur where I was?” Your eyes widened before you turned to look at Oscar. “Do you want me dead?”
“You know, something about the way you’re wording that makes me feel like it’s a trick question,” Oscar commented with a suspicious look on his face.
“Oh my god, I’m going to die today,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head.
“It’s kinda romantic that you guys will die together,” Lando chimed in as he grinned between you and Max.
“If I survive today, I’m going to run you over,” Max threatened with a strained smile on his lips.
Lando snorted, shrugging. “Yeah but the chances of that happening are low so…”
“Your brother doesn’t even know my room number,” Oscar pointed out. “It will take him ages to convince the desk to give it to him or even hunt—”
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“This is what English teachers meant when they taught us poetic irony,” Lando laughed, all giddy and happy.
“Like you paid attention,” you grumbled, eyes narrowing on the boy before you turned back to the door. “Don’t answer it.”
Oscar’s eyes widened. “I can’t not answer it.”
“Yes, you can,” you said bluntly. “Just don't open the door.”
“He knows we are in here,” he hissed.
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“OPEN UP! I CAN HEAR YOU! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—”
“Even more reason not to open the door,” you said, pressing your lips together to hide the wince that you wanted to let out as Charles thumped on the door again.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Max grumbled as he quickly stood up, ignoring your pleas to just pretend your brother didn’t exist. He reached the door, yanked it open and braced himself for the wrath of an angry Charles Leclerc.
Much to his surprise, the Monegasque barged straight past him and headed straight for Oscar instead.
“You!” Charles gritted out through clenched teeth as he reached to grab Oscar’s collar, firsting the material in his hands. “What do you have to say to yourself?”
Oscar’s eyes widened as Charles backed him into a wall. “What?!”
“Marrying my sister in Vegas? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Charles continued.
It didn’t take long for Lando to descend into a fit of giggles, practically on the floor if it weren’t for the fact Logan was keeping him on the bed. Somewhere still standing by the door, Arthur stood with an amused look on his face that only grew wider when he saw your confused and shocked expression too.
“I didn’t marry your sister!” Oscar said to him, trying to push the boy away but he was latched on tightly. “I was literally in bed by nine!”
“Loser,” Logan grumbled under his breath.
Charles faltered, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”
“I wasn’t the guy to marry your sister,” Oscar repeated, finally managing to pull Charles’ hands off him. “I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world for me to do that.”
“First Yuki and now him,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
“If you didn’t marry her, then who did?” Charles questioned.
It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned to look at Max, who was still standing by the door and looked like he was contemplating just dashing out the room.
“You,” Charles muttered out, his eyes narrowing on the Dutchman.
“In my defence,” Max started as he gave the boy a smile, though it didn’t seem as confident as he was hoping it would be. “I didn’t know I married her either.”
“I am right here,” you huffed. “Jesus Christ.”
“I am going to—”
“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing,” you jumped in, taking a step so you were blocking his line of vision of Max. “It’s just a…phoney, fake marriage. It’s not that big of a deal, Charles. People will forget by next weekend anyways.”
“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat. “It’s actually very legal all over the US and in some other places—”
“Shut up, Logan.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Charles narrowed his eyes on you. “You’re not allowed to marry him.”
“I already did,” you pointed out with a sheepish expression.
“I don’t care.”
“Charles,” you stepped towards him, though the boy still looked like he was contemplating parading into the paddock with Max’s head on a stick. “Charlie, please. Don’t do something stupid because you’re annoyed.”
“I want to cut his dick off,” Charles told you.
“I know.”
“And you can no longer have alcohol unsupervised.”
“That’s a tad dramatic.”
“And no consummating the marriage.”
“That would be difficult to do if you cut off his dick anyways.”
“Can we stop talking about my dick?” Max chimed in with his hands locked in front of him, almost protectively.
Charles sighed. “But I promise I won’t kill either of you. Today.”
You grinned as you reached towards your brother, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”
“You should tell Maman before she finds out through the internet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Maybe shower first. You stink of tequila.”
“That would be kinda hard to do considering Yuki is currently asleep in my bathtub,” you commented.
Charles opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. “I’m not even gonna ask.”
“Good, because I don’t have answers,” you murmured with your lips turned down. “And he’s really snappy when you try to get them from him.”
Charles snorted.
“So, that’s it?” Lando suddenly spoke up from behind you both. “God, that was not worth getting out of bed for. I expected more drama.”
“I’m still pissed at you,” you told the Brit, who just grinned.
“I’ll send you the photos later, don’t you worry,” he said like he didn’t just hear the words that left your mouth. “Maybe one of them will inspire angry Charles again.”
“Please don’t,” Max grumbled.
“It won’t be necessary because we are finding a divorce lawyer,” Charles stated simply, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he began making his way to the door, nodding for Arthur to follow him. “Both of you get dressed. We are leaving in an hour.”
Both you and Max gaped at the boy, but he didn’t notice.
“And someone take one for the team and wake up Yuki. I vote Lando.”
Lando frowned. “Woah, wait a second–”
“ONE HOUR PEOPLE!!”
...
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 133,728 others
yourusername call me mrs verstappen
view all 12,892 comments
oscarpiastri sometimes i wonder if you just enjoy pushing charles over the edge
yourusername yes
user WHAT
user it was real?????
user oh my god IT WAS MAX?
user someone sedate me
user this is some wattpad level stuff wtf the book tropes????
user i need to know how charles reacted when he found out
arthur_leclerc badly
maxverstappen1 i mean it was an accidental name but i guess it suits you
yourusername you like meeeee, admit it :)
maxverstappen1 i think i legally have to agree because you're my wife
yourusername damn don't sound too enthusiastic about it
user i just know charles lost years of his life over this
landonorris uh photo creds?
yourusername no
landonorris rude
charles_leclerc take this down
yourusername no
charles_leclerc you are a leclerc, not a verstappen
yourusername the marriage certificate says otherwise
charles_leclerc please stop reminding me
pascaleleclerc welcome to the family maxverstappen1
charles_leclerc MAMAN?????
maxverstappen1 thank you? i think?
pascaleleclerc dinner will be at 6 when you are back in monaco
maxverstappen1 yes ma'am
charles_leclerc MAMAN WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON????
.
#max verstappen#formula one#f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fic#max verstapppen one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!
warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.
summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!
it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do.
satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself.
he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen.
he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?
that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure?
this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.
your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand.
“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this.
“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?”
you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means.
but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders.
“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?”
“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?”
“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod.
“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings.
he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?”
you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago.
“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair.
“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason.
he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body.
“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men.
“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion.
“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.”
you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed.
“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway.
no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.”
“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start.
“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real.
“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.”
you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”
“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.”
your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?”
“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but.
but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you.
you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention.
though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.
his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams.
“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously.
“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it.
in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his.
“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again?
your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how.
you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command.
“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it.
“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue.
your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”
“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname.
“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy.
“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight.
“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.”
your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious.
you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife.
#kishibyesredditcollab#dark content#x female reader#gojo x reader#kyleewritesjjk#jjk x reader#gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen smut
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Begin Again
an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.
Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.
CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)
Word Count: 24K
Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.
Breakups suck.
That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule?
Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else.
You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.
You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’
She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips.
“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-”
“Why do you have a lighter?”
Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“
The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.
It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours.
A supercut of every moment.
You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay.
Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called.
“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?”
Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close.
“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.”
You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..”
You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.”
You snort, “for breaking my heart?”
Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.”
Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy.
Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements.
A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall.
For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed.
Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks.
Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere.
You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion.
“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?”
Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.”
“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.”
Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?”
Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve.
“Six weeks, starting today.”
You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan.
“Six weeks.”
It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold.
WEEK ONE.
Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path.
“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.”
“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”
“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.”
You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again.
If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen.
“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?”
A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.”
For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there.
Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying.
You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face.
“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?”
“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.”
You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call.
“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-”
Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second.
“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.”
Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.
He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt.
Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt.
“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.”
Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.”
It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back.
Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts.
You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent.
“Sleepy?”
Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join.
“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?”
Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.”
Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.
“Make sure he gets home for me.”
Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores.
The birds were screaming the earth back awake.
At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable.
There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene.
“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.”
“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it.
“I think… I think I’m doing okay.”
Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.”
After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea.
Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen.
You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?”
“Noon thirty.”
Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself.
Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines.
Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”
You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily.
“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.”
You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?”
“Have you ever-”
Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues.
“Who’s-”
“Did you-”
You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door.
“What do you want, penis?”
Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies?
Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes.
“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.”
Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot.
“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-”
The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.”
You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.
“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-”
“Is that Peter B. Parker?”
Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin.
The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew.
“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.”
Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying.
“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.”
She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.
“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!”
You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately.
Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?”
You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.”
His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.”
You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite.
“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…”
Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now.
“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.”
His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.”
Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.”
It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor.
Too bad you’re more guarded than ever.
“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.”
Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection.
Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.
Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.
On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat.
“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?”
Deny till death.
“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.”
Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”
It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth.
You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.”
Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.”
Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite.
“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?”
You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings.
“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.”
Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.
One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet.
“What if you talked to him?”
Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?”
Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet.
“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.”
You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it.
“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.”
She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline.
“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.”
Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.
WEEK TWO.
Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school.
Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out.
“Hey.”
You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change.
“How are you doing?”
You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled.
“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.”
Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?”
Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage.
“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around.
“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.”
Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?”
You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.”
You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!”
This was it.
This was your worst nightmare.
Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop.
“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together.
Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat.
“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?”
Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath.
“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be.
You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death.
Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.
It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out.
You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales.
When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb.
“I, um, I still have those cookies?”
Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much.
You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you.
Tonight, you were full of surprises.
“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.”
You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding.
You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago.
You do a double take, five months?
He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst.
You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door.
Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall.
“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.”
While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.”
Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look.
“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.”
You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him.
“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle.
“Harder,” you test it.
“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good.
“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier.
“Harder, don’t be so weak!”
He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls.
You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow.
“Fucking!”
“Piece!”
“Of!”
“Shit!”
You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?”
You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.”
Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit.
The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter.
Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid.
“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.”
Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.”
It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.”
You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind.
“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more.
“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’”
There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.
Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much.
“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it.
“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?”
No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible.
Still, you find yourself agreeing.
“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.”
It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up.
“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.
“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.”
Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’.
“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively.
You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe.
Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that.
“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up.
For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great.
WEEK THREE.
Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips.
“Let’s fuck some shit up.”
Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy.
It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?”
You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer.
It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him.
“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch.
It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone.
May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.
“Hi, May. Is Peter home?”
She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better.
“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.”
You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves.
You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary.
“Uh huh.”
“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”
Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.”
You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity.
“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.”
May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.”
The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently.
“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!”
You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick.
You don’t think you could ever love again.
Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not.
“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at.
Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.
“I’m sure.” Because, you really are.
Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did.
It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt.
A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.”
Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.
Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours.
For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s.
You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”
You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it.
“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”
The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.
“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.”
Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows.
“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too.
You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.”
You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.”
Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time.
Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.”
Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours.
He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him.
“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.”
Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”
For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.
Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.
“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.”
The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less.
“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen.
He would send you things he found funny.
Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny.
“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification.
‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’
You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.”
“Have fun on the trip!”
A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing.
Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.
“Hi.”
Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along.
“Okay, okay, so what did she say?”
Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate.
Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.”
You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.”
Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary.
“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass.
“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus.
He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you.
“Is that a good thing?”
You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off.
“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step.
“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement.
“And very nice curls.”
“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.”
Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought.
“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.”
You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue.
“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place.
“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started.
You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.
“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream?
It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.
It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing.
It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer?
What are you doing?
His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission.
You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him.
With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect.
You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do.
You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him.
You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner.
In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get.
All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.
He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt.
Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right.
Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life.
Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth.
“Oh, wow!”
Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.
Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!
“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?”
Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.
“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart.
Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-
“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!”
It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling.
“Are you gonna hide from me forever?”
If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.”
He’s perfect.
“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”
You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.
It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.”
May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips.
It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave.
You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.
“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.
“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like.
“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.”
Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.”
“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner.
“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue.
“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him?
“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.”
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself.
“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.”
The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him.
Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk.
You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t.
Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare.
“Butter, please?”
You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit.
“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard.
“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.”
Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.”
You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human.
“Oh? I thought after-”
Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.”
May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?
Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks.
“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.”
Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks.
“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?”
You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable.
“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.”
May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.”
You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?”
A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.”
“Scars don’t.”
Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?”
May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon.
“They do.”
WEEK FOUR
Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that.
You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk.
Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning?
“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?”
The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.”
Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.
“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.”
“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him.
“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.”
You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?”
“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished.
“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”
Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.
“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.”
A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school.
“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation.
“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”
“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.”
You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.”
“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy.
“You’re in denial.”
Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.”
You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks?
And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass?
Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak.
You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.”
Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks.
How long has he liked you?
It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart.
“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.”
“But was it worth it?”
Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?”
Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?”
You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever.
If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble.
It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same.
“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer.
“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown.
“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.”
“Can’t is a funny word choice.”
“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.”
Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.”
You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that.
“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea.
“Break up with me.”
Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?”
“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick.
“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.”
“No.”
“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.”
“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation?
You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”
“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not.
A laugh, “then break up with me.”
You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do.
Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.”
Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.”
Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.”
It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.”
Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?
If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe.
“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it.
You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.”
Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.”
You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.”
A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.”
It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns.
“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”
You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself.
Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again.
“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.
Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart.
This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s.
It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it?
It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor.
It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more?
Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t.
You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door.
It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power.
Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you.
If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?
Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers.
When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you.
“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you.
You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?”
Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned.
“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice.
Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one.
“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.
Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic.
You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him.
“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out.
You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling.
“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you��re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out.
You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced.
“Do you see where I’m sitting?”
Peter nods, “I do.”
Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.”
You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?
“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit.
“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this?
“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it.
“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind.
You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”
“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.”
He has a very fair point.
“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.”
You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want?
“How do you know I don’t want this?”
“Because this isn’t you.”
You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.”
“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.”
Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine.
“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?
“You mean when you had a boyfriend?”
Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?”
Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever.
“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?”
You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him.
You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls.
“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you.
Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too?
“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind.
“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.”
Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?”
“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks.
“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.”
Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.
He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful.
The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter?
Would it feel like an agonizing death?
Would your wings ever be patchable again?
Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing?
It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry.
Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t.
Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it.
“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.”
Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading.
It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object.
You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.
It’s Peter’s fault.
“Because you made me want to.”
WEEK FIVE.
It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.
“Good morning.”
You nod your head, “penis.”
And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed.
You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks.
It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works.
3:02, you hear his window.
3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.
3:07, you’re dozing off.
3:10, you’re asleep.
It wasn’t fair.
Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow.
Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest.
If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked.
“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.”
Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.
"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."
Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.
“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”
When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands.
He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed.
“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.
“Peter.” You need his focus on you.
He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work.
Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly.
“Oh, good. You’re up.”
Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time.
“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.”
“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit.
“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst.
“You passed out on me last night.”
Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.”
You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex.
Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?”
“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?”
“I think another water and some advil might kill me.”
“Perfect, coming right up.”
Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.”
Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.”
Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes.
“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown.
“Does it hurt?”
Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.”
You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart.
“Guess we’re twinsies now.”
If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused.
“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products.
“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them.
“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing.
“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth.
“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed.
“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter.
You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him.
“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.”
It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds.
“Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”
“Sure. Go shopping for me.”
You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion.
Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high.
A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is.
It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard.
Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress.
Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy.
“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down.
No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right.
“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him.
“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree.
“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.”
Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t.
“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.”
“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good.
He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man.
“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way.
“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man.
You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”
Now or never.
You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him.
Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours.
You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold.
You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself.
You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk.
Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss.
Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”
There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows.
“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much.
“No.”
He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing.
“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you.
Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.
“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you.
“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?”
You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?”
“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter.
You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth.
“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him.
“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm.
“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.”
“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.”
And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it.
“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.”
No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated.
When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening.
WEEK SIX.
You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.”
You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused.
You think you broke him.
“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible.
“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it.
It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore.
“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.”
She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”
“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.”
Well, when she puts it like that…
“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did.
“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.”
“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.”
You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.”
You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.”
You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip.
Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months.
When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself.
When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call.
Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too.
And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined.
When he stumbled up the steps.
When he hit his head with his locker.
When he stepped on his glasses.
When he was tackled in flag football.
When he tripped over his shoelace.
When he got glue in his hair.
When he winced while dissecting a frog.
When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind.
When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it.
When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired.
When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back.
“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying.
It’s worth it.
“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.”
Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back.
Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel.
Step two: See above.
There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do.
One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt.
A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly.
“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.”
“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?”
May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it.
“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay.
A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.”
You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts.
Is this an asshole move? Yes.
Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly.
Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that.
“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?”
You hear something drop inside his apartment.
“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?”
A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.”
Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.”
There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it.
“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know.
“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.”
You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-”
“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it.
But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet.
“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?”
Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed.
“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.”
“Did you just call me a normy?”
“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.”
There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it.
But it’s all in the timing.
“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.”
“Miserable? What, about the breakup?”
“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference.
You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him.
But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday.
You’re in love with Peter and only Peter.
“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.”
Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”
He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no.
“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him.
Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate.
You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened.
But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite.
“Do you still like me?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-”
“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm.
“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.”
Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness.
“Can you call me sweetheart?”
“Is that the one you like?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
It’s so much sweeter than you imagined.
You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting.
May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone.
Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company.
Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were.
“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo.
“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much?
But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day.
You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter.
May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you.
Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.”
“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them.
“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.”
“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think.
“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn.
Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last.
“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.”
May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?”
“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.”
Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet.
“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck.
“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.”
“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.”
“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.”
Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention.
“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention.
“You said I was never properly loved.”
Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-”
“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.”
Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-”
“If you’d be my boyfriend.”
You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever.
“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!”
“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.”
“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.”
It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs.
“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-”
“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand.
“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.”
Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either.
It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter.
You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard.
‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night.
Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies.
Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies.
Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.
You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks.
After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling.
But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you.
“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.”
A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-”
“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.”
“I don’t hate you anymore.”
“Spoiler alert, you never did.”
You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug.
“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?”
“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.”
“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.”
The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor.
And you watched love begin again.
“Anything for you, girlfriend.”
----
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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort
word count: 4.9k
summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.
warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)
a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it
a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕
Joel was never that into gambling.
Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy.
He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it.
Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way.
However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up.
One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs.
Liam folds.
A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants.
“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat.
Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.”
“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.”
Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak.
“You still have that pretty girlfriend?”
Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.”
“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins.
“Fuck you, Miller.”
“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.”
Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes.
“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.”
“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.”
You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.”
That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?
“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.”
“You should’ve thought of that before.”
“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.”
“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?”
“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.”
“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.”
You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.
“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.”
“You can’t leave, where would you go?”
The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world.
And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes.
You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing.
Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color.
Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded.
The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate.
You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart.
You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything.
And it seemed like you were no exception.
Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners.
You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear.
“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.”
Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there.
And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam.
It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much.
And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self.
The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another.
You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel.
There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down.
“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.”
After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you.
“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.”
He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?”
“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.”
“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”
Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow.
Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.”
“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.”
Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue.
He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?”
“God, yes.”
You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard.
Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.
He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most.
Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh.
“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.”
Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion.
Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed.
“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?”
It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?”
“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.”
The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage.
“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue.
Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight.
After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin.
“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.”
He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?”
“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.”
You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”
Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely. “Don’t make me say it again.”
You sink to your knees immediately after that.
He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek.
You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks.
“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.”
You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.”
“Get on with it then.”
Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock.
“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth.
“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”
Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.
“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.”
As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass.
“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—”
His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses.
“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.”
Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts.
“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.”
“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.”
“Is this pussy mine?”
“Yes, it’s fucking yours.”
Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning.
He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?”
“Yours! It’s fucking yours!”
Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking.
You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger.
“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?”
“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust.
“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words.
His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously.
“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?”
“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.”
His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.”
Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him.
With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.”
“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.”
Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!”
You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you.
“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!”
“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself.
“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.”
You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful.
You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone.
“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—”
Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out.
If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips.
“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls.
“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.”
“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss.
Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss.
“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?”
“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you.
Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm.
Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides.
Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together.
“I think he left, sweetheart.”
“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.”
Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfic#tlou fanfic#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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Of Oblivious Minds (4)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst
a/n: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think ❤️
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
~~
You were leaving today, and suddenly—with your bags at your feet and the air around you filled with stagnant silence—a few days seemed so juvenile. So… inconsequential in the grand scheme.
You would leave, and when you returned everything would be the same. Azriel would still love another and you would still be left with the bleak realization that you had spent the last few centuries denying a love that you knew to be fruitless.
Nothing would change if you were to be gone only a few measly days.
But if you were to be gone a month? A year, even?
Much of your work for Rhysand could be done from afar, especially with the library in Day Court. Helion wouldn’t mind; he’d asked you to consider an extended stay in the past. And maybe there could even be something there, something to take your mind off of your true home.
The home that wasn’t Velaris.
You saw him every time you closed your eyes. His rare smiles, his even rarer laughs; you saw the way his watchful eyes skated across every room you entered and reminisced on each twitch of his hands—the way you could feel it against your fingers when you grabbed for him in the busy streets of Velaris.
Azriel was inescapable, even when you battled against your vision and attempted to drift to sleep.
He was everywhere, everything.
But he wouldn’t be in Day Court, and although that wouldn't stop your thoughts, it would be something. It would be distance.
With a flick of your wrist, you sent your bags away to Day Court and heaved in an uncomfortably large breath. You knew he would do little to deny you, but you still needed to ask Rhys. He was your High Lord and employer, above all your friend, and you knew it would take a little persuading.
Maybe tears. Yes, tears were very moving and equally as conjurable at the moment.
It only took one step before the knock on your door left you still. Your shoes made a dent in the carpet and you could hear him breathing on the other side of the ornately carved wood. You could always tell when it was Azriel.
You shifted your weight from one knee to the next, gripping your skirts at the thigh. Azriel knocked again, this time in a faster pattern—more rushed.
You bit into your lip. You hadn’t planned to see him again, not before you left. You would deal with the repercussions of such an act later on, but not now. Not when you had finally gotten your emotions under control for long enough to have a conversation with Rhys.
It made sense to you now why you had repressed this for so long.
The sound of your voice was startling. “Come in.”
The door creaked, but the sound was overpowered by Azriel’s boot clicking against shining marble. The shadowsinger entered before his shadows, but the wisps followed close behind, quickly abandoning their master in favor of darting toward you. They twisted up your legs and elbows, rolling into your hair and dancing along your fingertips.
Something like fear, love, crushing defeat tugged and tugged at your chest.
“Azriel,” you greeted, aiming for a surprised tone and failing. “Have you come to see me off?”
The spymaster didn’t smile. “Rhys sent me. He said you might have a message for him.”
That cauldron-damned meddler. Of course he somehow knew about your reservations. You doubted he knew exactly what you had to say, but you had been dragging your feet all morning and were currently about an hour late for your own departure.
And of course he had sent Azriel of all people.
“Oh! Well, I suppose I could go and—”
“Why is half of your vanity gone?”
You blinked, startled by the words. If Azriel was anything, he was polite and never one to cut someone off. You went to search Azriel’s expression but found him zeroed in on the table pushed into the corner of your room.
“What?” It was all you could think to formulate.
But Azriel was quick to respond. “Almost all of your things are gone. Your perfumes and the pots of cream you keep on the side. You’ve only left the items you don’t use anymore.”
“How do you know—” you cut yourself off this time, ignoring the glaring question that tried to blind you. “Azriel, I’m going away… to Day Court. You know this.”
But Azriel only shook his head, stalking over to the table and yanking the drawer open so harshly it shook the mirror. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he went to your closet, throwing open the door, shoulders rising and falling with more effort.
“Azriel—”
“You’ve packed too much.” He turned to you, some of his shadows returning to wind around his chest. “You’ve taken most of your clothes.”
“You know I always overpack,” you laughed, but the laugh sounded fake, painful.
You fought the urge to cower under Azriel’s scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he was on fire, as if he was aflame and filled with something that had been pent up for far too long. If someone, anyone, were to look inside of you, they would see the same thing.
Which is why you needed to get far, far away from this situation. Away from him.
But the longer you looked back at him—the longer you tried to slap that easygoing smile on your face—the longer he stared back with the same steady intensity.
“Is something the matter?” you tried.
Azriel’s hand twitched.
That feeling crept along the edges of your ribs once again.
“Is something the matter?” he parroted, jaw so impossibly tight the words came out pinched.
You finally looked away, playing with your fingers. “Yes?”
He started laughing. But it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel light. It didn’t fill you with pride for eliciting such a sound from him, nor did it make you want to laugh in return. It made you feel dark; as Azriel laughed, you wanted to heave the sound back within the depths it flowed from.
“There are several things that are the matter, y/n, but I’d say the most pressing is that you have been avoiding me for weeks. That every moment I’ve tried to spend with you has been promptly evaded and now you’re leaving and you had no intention of saying goodbye.”
“I was going to—”
“Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft yet so achingly desperate. “Don’t lie to me. Not right now.”
The indent in the carpet was becoming permanent; you couldn’t seem to move.
“I’ve been… I’ve been going through a hard time. Leaving seemed like it was the best for me. Just for a little while. Just until I could sort a few things out.”
“For how long?” he asked, voice cracking along the precipice of the last word.
You paused then, staring hard into his eyes. “A while.”
A shaky breath left the shadowsinger, his chest reflecting the sound. He ran a hand into his hair and tugged at the roots, an action you hadn’t seen him do in years. A sickening sort of pity ran through you—a sort of responsibility.
Because Azriel was your friend, and he was going through something, too. You had no idea if his mate reciprocated his feelings. You found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t love Azriel, but the conversation you’d overheard last week gave nothing away.
Maybe Azriel hadn’t told her yet because she didn’t love him. And maybe you were being a bad friend by not being there for him.
Tossing your hurt to the side, you took a step forward. Azriel watched the movement, eyes flickering behind you to catch the previous imprint of your feet on the carpet.
“I’m sorry,” you began, resolute. “I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me. And that you’ve been… having a hard time. I know I’m not leaving at the most opportune time, but you can write to me and I can help you.”
Some of the brokenness on Azriel’s face morphed into confusion. “Help me?”
“With your mate.”
And it was as if Azriel had been shot. He physically recoiled, his right foot coming down to catch him as he fixed his imbalance.
“I know you wanted to keep it private, but I overheard. Azriel—” You swallowed. Hard. “—It’s so wonderful that you’ve found your mate.”
Something was set in motion, and Azriel was shaking his head. His gaze was fixed on you and his eyebrows were pushed together in a painful expression and he just kept shaking his head as your chest caved and it became hard to breathe. Something pulled from within and it felt like your heart was unraveling.
Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it took from you just to acknowledge that he was destined for someone else?
The shadowsinger seemed unaware of your inner turmoil, instead taking long steps across the room until he reached you. He leaned down, brought his hands up to your face, and he broke another piece of you as his forehead touched yours.
He was whispering something, words so low even your fae ears couldn’t catch them, but you knew they were fast. Fast and incoherent and you weren’t even able to find their meaning in his expression because his eyes were squeezed so tightly.
“Please, just notice. See it, angel, it’s there.”
Your jaw quivered. He was so close to you. The few words you were able to make out were confusing.
“My oblivious girl. Please.”
“Azriel—”
When he opened his eyes, the world fell off its axis. The fear in your chest—the feeling that had been unraveling you and leaving you weak—alighted. It pulled and pulled but this time it didn’t hurt. It no longer left splinters embedded in your ribs or took the breath from your lungs.
As you looked up at Azriel, it was only soothing and warm and—
Mate. Azriel was your mate.
You pushed back from him, stumbling and catching on the rug as you went toppling down to the floor. There was no pain from the fall; a numbness overtook your body where the warmth once flowed.
“You’re my—Azriel, you—”
There were no endings to the sentences you began. Azriel tried reaching a hand down, but when you wouldn’t take it he joined you on the floor. He sat with you between his legs, bringing you forward until your knees curled against his chest. And then he wrapped you in his arms and then his wings, taking calming breaths as yours ran rampant.
“I am your mate,” he finished for you, so much more soothing than you had ever heard him speak.
“But Elain,” you gasped out, finding solace against his chest. You leaned your forehead against him and relished in the heat.
“What of Elain?” Azriel asked, bringing a hand up against the back of your head.
“You love Elain.”
“I do not love Elain.”
“And Mor?”
“I do not love Mor, either.”
You nodded against him. This would take longer for you to come to terms with later, but only simple answers were getting through to you now. And the bond—the bond—sang as you touched Azriel. The bond didn’t care if you were confused or hurt or disbelieving.
Your mind swam as a new influx of emotions filled you, but there was a distinction to them and you knew they weren’t your own. At first, it was hard to pick through them all; there were so many that they all blended together. There was an obvious tender love, but also a crippling fear that mingled with a darkness you couldn’t place. There was adoration and hopefulness and a sense of peace that lay at the bottom of all else.
But you could tell this peace was new. It wasn’t as deeply ingrained as the others.
Azriel leaned back, craning his neck down to catch your gaze. “Do you feel that?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “Those feelings have always belonged to you. All of them. I know there is not a lot of proof of that, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that, but they have always belonged to you.”
“Have you always felt mine?” you asked, voice sounding unused.
“Since I’ve felt the bond,” he nodded.
“How long have you…”
Azriel sighed, but it wasn’t out of irritation. The bond told you as much. “Months.”
Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Then why did you never—”
Azriel shushed you as your voice cracked. He ran both hands behind your head and held you steady as his lips pressed to your forehead.
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
Throat still closed, words still choked, you replied, “That is idiotic.”
This time, when Azriel laughed, you felt that pride spark up in your chest. “I know, angel. Gods, do I know that.”
There was a brief pause, a respite to the revelations and emotions in the room. You counted your breaths as you pressed against Azriel, and he ran his hands up and down the length of your spine, chaste kisses pressed to your head as the minutes ticked by.
“Don’t leave.” Azriel broke the silence. “Stay. Please.”
When you didn’t answer, he kept talking.
“You don’t have to love me. I know that is a lot to ask and there are still so many questions left unanswered. But, y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I couldn’t bear it if you left. It has been difficult to even function this past week with you avoiding me. If you were to leave—”
“I only avoided you because I thought it wasn’t me,” you interrupted, pulling back once again to meet his gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me and I couldn’t stand it, so I wanted to leave.”
A grim line set into Azriel’s mouth. The desperation returned to his eyes. “We have wasted so much time.”
“I wouldn’t say wasted. Not when you were here. Not when I was still with you.”
“Angel.” The word came out like a plea, and then his lips were on yours. His hands pressed you closer and his mouth was hot against yours and it was everything you’d spent three centuries ignoring. You loved him, gods did you love him, and in this kiss was every proof that he loved you.
You tangled your fingers in his hair, musing the already displaced strands. His wings quivered as you kissed him more, the action sending little pools of light into the bubble he had created. They felt warm against your eyelids, and when you pulled away to see the cause, Azriel moved his attention to your jaw, your cheek, your neck.
“You are my mate,” he affirmed against your skin, low and gravelly. “Mine.”
You pulled his head away, leaning your forehead against his own. “And you are mine.”
“I love you,” he said.
And you couldn’t say it back, not yet. Azriel seemed unperturbed by this and accepted your small smile as a reply, reciprocating it tenfold. His smile shone in the pockets of light created by his wings and his eyes no longer looked sad. It made you want to say it back.
When that guilt flooded you and your mouth parted, there was a tug at the bond instead. You gasped at the feeling, blinking up at Azriel with owlish eyes.
“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he admitted, smile softening as he ran scarred fingers along your cheeks. “Every time I felt your doubt or fear. I figured I could startle it out of you.”
You rubbed at your chest. “It feels warm. And…” You couldn’t find the words.
“It feels good, angel. This bond was cold and it hurt, but it—it feels good. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
A breathy, awestruck laugh escaped you. “You know, I still have to go to Day for the weekend. It’s court-appointed.”
Azriel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Then I will come with you,” he grumbled, words muffled against your skin.
“You cannot. But you can wait for me to return and I will come right back here.”
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fanfic#azriel spymaster#acotar fanfiction
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pairing: alpha!soulmate!jeno x afab!omega!reader
words: 2.9k+
summary: your first meeting with the notorious lee jeno sends you spiraling into heat.
genre: smut
warnings: a/b/o dynamics, knotting, breeding kink, cunnilingus, degradation, mating, some public sex
“You’re coming with me to the Governor’s Ball tonight.”
Your eyebrow raises at Hyewon, who is eagerly sitting across from you, practically jumping out of her seat. The Beta in her is naturally timid, so she must be extremely excited to be acting this way.
“And why would I do that?” You ask, displaying no interest in the event. “It’s just going to be a room filled with rowdy Alphas.”
“That’s why we’re going, duh,” Hyewon says as if you’ve lost a few brain cells. “It won’t just be an event with any regular Alpha — these Alphas will be the most handsome and richest of all!”
Hyewon comes from an affluent family that has an expectation of her to marry wealthy. You know she has been trying for years to pair with any man who has millions in his bank account, yet none of them can match her standards.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about finding an Alpha to mate with. You’ve always envisioned yourself with a calmer Beta, someone who had realistic goals and expectations and wasn’t driven by the feral nature of their genetics. Alphas are known for being possessive and dominant, and it just doesn’t seem like an ideal relationship for you.
“Hyewon, I really don’t think that’s my scene.”
“Come on,” she pouts at you. “Do you know how lucky you are to be an Omega? I would kill to present like you and have every Alpha bend to my whim.”
The statement is slightly exaggerated but not entirely untrue. As an Omega, you do recognize that you have more of a leverage with Alphas as your scent is naturally more alluring to them than a Beta’s. However, you have always opposed the idea that Omegas are solely born to satisfy Alphas. They see you as nothing but a hole to fill and a neck to be marked.
Hyewon clutches to your wrist and pleads loudly, drawing looks from other students lingering in the cafe.
“Please, please, please-“
“Okay!” You huff, withdrawing your hand and looking down bashfully. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”
She throws her arms up and cheers happily.
—
Hyewon wraps you in a stuffy, form fitting dress which is covered head to toe in expensive crystals. She insists you have to shine at the event in order to stand out from all the other Omegas in attendance tonight. Despite your indifference, you let her play dress up as she wants.
She tugs you into the lavish Governor’s Ball, where most of the political leaders of your town are gathered. Hyewon’s eyes lock into the Lee family, the most influential household in werewolf existence.
You don’t know much about the Lee family despite their powerful presence, but Hyewon is quick to fill in the gaps. “That’s Lee Taeyong,” she whispers to you as she points to the stoic man standing across the room. “He’s the oldest, and he’s actually nicer than he looks. The one next to him is the middle child, Lee Mark.” The man she points to has a similar bored expression painting his face, slowly swirling his champagne glass to find a source of amusement. You can tell from the lilt in Hyewon’s voice that he is the Alpha she has her sights set on for the night. “And that guy is the youngest, Lee Jeno. Don’t even try with him, he’s a waste of time.”
Your eyebrows furrow at the Alpha, who appears angrier than any other male in this ballroom. You can practically feel his disdain coursing through your veins.
“Why is he so… grumpy?”
She laughs at your question. “I told you, he’s a waste of time. He’s always pissed off at these events for no reason and hates it when any Beta or Omega tries to make conversation with him. He’s the worst Lee brother to mate with.”
Hyewon soon leaves you to your own devices, heading off to try and win Mark over. You awkwardly make conversation with a few other Omegas around you, but they seem more interested in gathering the attention of the Lee brothers than actually engaging with you.
Midway through the event, you head to the bathroom down the corridor to freshen up. You gasp when you turn the corner and suddenly ram straight into someone’s chest. Your champagne glass falls to the floor and shatters across the marble, but that is the last thing you’re concerned about.
Your body suddenly starts to feel like it’s on fire, heat spreading through your core rapidly. You choke and clutch your stomach, glancing up to see the reason behind your misery.
Jeno stands in front of you, eyes blooming red as he drinks you in. You pant and take a step back from him, recognizing the signs of your approaching heat.
But that can’t be possible — your heat isn’t due to come for another few weeks.
“W-What did y-you do-“ You wheeze, embarrassed by the slick dampening your panties.
“Omega,” Jeno says, stern glare painting his face as he reaches for you. “Calm down.”
His fingers brush by your mating gland and you gasp. His touch feels like someone rubbed a match and lit a fire against your skin. You turn and run as fast as you can, reentering the ballroom and darting straight for Hyewon’s figure. Every Alpha’s head turns at the scent of your growing heat, baring their teeth at your lewd display.
“Hyewon,” you beg, clutching her arm. “You need to take me home.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
As a Beta, Hyewon can’t smell your growing arousal or detect the signs of you going into your heat. All she sees is her friend with a desperate look on her face. Mark, who is standing across from her, shifts his predatory gaze to you. Hyewon notices the change in him and she quickly pulls you behind her.
“A-Are you going into heat?” She asks quietly.
You nod and whimper. She asks no further questions, wrenching your figure close to hers and locating the nearest exit. She shoves you into the first limousine in the parking lot and shuts the door behind her, shouting your address at the driver.
You grasp her elbow and cry. “Hyewon, this is a strong one-“
A wave of arousal shoots down your spine, causing you to fall deeper and deeper into your subspace. If Hyewon doesn’t lock you in your bedroom soon, you’re afraid you might offer yourself to the first Alpha you see.
“Why didn’t you say you were about to go into heat?” She chastises, grabbing a tissue to dab at your sweltering forehead. “Let me call Jaemin.”
You stop her from taking her phone out of her purse. “N-No, don’t call him. I don’t want him.”
“What? You always use Jaemin for your heats.”
“No,” you shake your head, still unsure of why you’re denying her. She’s right — since your first heat, you have always asked Na Jaemin to come over and take care of you. He was a family friend and never took advantage of you at your worst. However, there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that’s telling you Jaemin is the last Alpha you want to see right now. “Just get me home.”
You barely register Hyewon helping you into your apartment, faintly remembering her guiding you to your bed.
“W-What should I-“
“Please leave,” you say, writhing and desperately pulling at the zipper of your dress to get it off you. “Trust me, you don’t want to see me like this.”
She frowns, her voice filled with concern. “But-“
“Please, Hyewon,” you plead. “Thank you for getting me here but you need to leave.”
You hear the front door close just as you fling your dress to the floor, quickly locating your vibrator in your nightstand. You pull your panties to the side and sigh in relief when you sink the toy into your heat. It only quenches your pain slightly, but it’s enough to simmer down the fire in your belly.
You’re unaware of how much time has passed when there’s another knock at your door. You’re writhing on the bed sheets, begging for another orgasm as your hand has grown tired of lazily pushing your vibrator in and out of your dripping pussy. Your fingers circle your clit slowly as you plead for the moon to end your misery.
You miss the sound of your door rattling off its hinges, mind overtaken by a cloud of fuzziness. Loud stomping echoes throughout your apartment and a large figure invades your room, growling when he sees the sight of you hopelessly twisting your hips to gain any sort of comfort.
A hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, forcing another gush of arousal to leak down your thighs.
“What do you think you’re doing, Omega?” His voice scarily questions, nearly spitting in your face. “How dare you touch what’s mine?”
They used to spread stories of true mates when you were in high school — stories of how when an Alpha meets the destined Omega they were born to be mated with, it would immediately send the Alpha and Omega into their corresponding ruts and heats. You always thought it was some odd wolf propaganda created centuries ago to carry on the belief that true mates still existed. However, as you look at Jeno hovering above you, there is no doubt in your mind that he is your true mate.
The fuzzy parts of your brain start to clear. “J-Jeno?”
He grins, leaning down to lick at the shell of your ear. “That’s Alpha to you. Present yourself.”
You scramble to follow his order, shoving your head into the pillow and arching your ass up in the air. He clicks his tongue mockingly.
“A pretty, submissive Omega. You know, I always wondered what cute little thing I was destined to end up with. I never thought the moon would grant me a beautiful mate like you,” he hums, digits collecting the remnants of your orgasm across your thighs. He groans as he licks the taste of you off his fingers. “You want your Alpha’s knot, baby?”
You nearly unravel at the thought of him filling you deep with his cum, giving you so much of it that it spills out of your tiny pussy.
“A-Alpha,” you whine. “Please Alpha, please knot me.”
You hear the clink of his belt buckle and your body thrums in excitement. He plants his knees down on the mattress, shrugging off his slacks and throwing his stuffy blazer to the side. He ducks his head to lick a stripe up your folds.
You shudder, bunching the sheets in your fists and practically sobbing at the need to have his cock inside of you. You’ve never felt this hopeless during your heat before, never craved another Alpha’s cock like this.
Jeno’s hands tighten around your hips as he laps at your cunt, groaning at the sweetness of your taste. It only takes a few seconds for you to gush into his waiting mouth, the sounds of him eagerly swallowing your release filling the room.
Your body slumps on the mattress at the weight of your orgasm. You barely have time to recover when you feel his tip prodding your entrance.
He growls. “Beg for my cock, Omega whore.”
“Please, Alpha, please fuck me. I want your knot to fill my pretty pussy, want you to mark me and make me yours-“
The thought of you being mated to him is what sends Jeno feral. He pushes his cock inside your waiting hole, slick dripping down your thighs and giving him easy access to slide in. You sigh in relief when he’s finally deep inside you, quelling the fire in your stomach that was pleading for him.
He doesn’t waste time — ramming into you at an inhuman speed, hands angrily digging into your sides and slapping your ass until his palm is imprinted on your backside. Your head lolls to the side, officially giving Jeno complete control to use you as you wish.
Just like with your other heats, your body throws you into climax after climax until the pleasure molds itself into your skin. Jeno is still spitting the most filthy, degrading words at you as his knot slowly approaches.
“Look at you, silly Omega. Offering yourself up to the first Alpha you see. Would you have given this cunt to someone else, hm? Let them take what’s rightfully mine?” At the shake of your head, he smirks. “That’s right. Pretty Omega’s pussy is made only for me. Designed for my knot, designed to breed for my future pups.”
The thought of him impregnating you with the future of the respected Lee line prompts you over the edge again. Jeno hisses and grabs the back of your neck, hoisting you up easily to his chest as you hear the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt forcefully.
“Gonna keep cumming around your Alpha’s cock? Never had a heat like this one before, have you, baby? That’s because the moon has finally brought you to your true mate, and you never have to spend another heat without me again.”
You cry in pleasure at the thought of being able to spend every heat with Jeno. You never minded Jaemin being your heat partner, but this satisfaction and connection is something you’ve never felt with anyone else. You genuinely think you’ll die if you go through another heat without Jeno beside you.
“A-Alpha,” you whimper, steadily holding onto his arm that’s securely wrapped around your middle. “Please knot me, Alpha. You’re the only one who can.”
“Yeah?” He groans at how desperate you sound for him. “Want your Alpha’s big knot? Want to be bred like a good little Omega?”
You nearly sob. “Y-Yes! Yes, please!”
He tilts your head and exposes your neck. His fingers carefully run over your mating gland, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
“And this? Is this for me to mark, Omega?”
You frantically nod. “Yes, Alpha. Only for you.”
You know it’s a big step, a permanent marking that would tie Jeno’s Alpha to your Omega forever. Your mind screams at you to reconsider this decision when you have a clearer head, but your heart tells you that there’s nothing to mull over — Jeno is your Alpha and you need the whole world to know.
As his knot begins to swell inside you, his teeth sink into your mating gland, uniting your souls into one. Every feeling Jeno’s ever had courses through your veins, multiplying your pleasure tenfold. Your thighs begin to shake at the amount of gratification flowing through your body.
You almost pass out from the overwhelming sensation, and your body goes slack in Jeno’s hold. His cum shoots deep into your womb, filling you and marking you as his until his release is leaking down your thighs.
You both collapse on the mattress, with Jeno pulling you close to ensure his knot stays rooted deep inside you.
Your head starts to free from your subspace temporarily, and you carefully scan your room as he licks at the wound on your neck to clean you up.
“Did you- Did you break my door?”
Indeed, you can see your front door laying flat in the hallway, nearly shattered. Jeno hums softly.
“It was in my way.”
You think about how your apartment floor must’ve had to evacuate from the profound smell of your scent mixed with Jeno’s. You would feel guilty about it but considering Jeno has no shame over it, his emotions overpower yours.
“Want to fuck you again, Omega,” he hisses against your skin. “Love being mated to you.”
His honest confession forces another wave of arousal to spill from your pussy, leaking around his knot.
“Yeah, Alpha?”
He grunts and starts thrusting into you again, only being able to move a few inches as his knot is still plugging his cum into you. You gasp and pull him down to kiss you.
“My friend-“ you murmur in between moans. “My friend told me you hate Betas and Omegas.”
“Of course I do,” he hisses, propping your leg over his hip so he can push in deeper. “I hate every Beta and Omega who thinks they have a shot at being my mate.”
“You looked so grumpy when I first saw you.”
“I am grumpy,” he mumbles, hands darting to knead your breasts. “Grumpy for everyone except you.”
He grins when you squirt around his knot, your cunt sensitive from the constant rounds of fucking. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at your unexpected orgasm, body twitching in your Alpha’s hold.
Jeno fucks you until the sun rises to indicate the start of a new day. You two barely sleep, exploring various positions throughout your apartment and even the hallway of your complex, ushering more and more residents on the lower floors to evacuate from your scents. Their dirty looks are quickly changed when they see the notorious Lee brother claiming his new mate for all to see.
His cock doesn’t allow your pussy to rest until he’s sure you’ve been impregnated.
When you finally come to, you’re sprawled on your living room floor with a mix of your slick and Jeno’s cum surrounding you. He continues to lick at your skin as if he’ll die without fully receiving his taste of you.
It’s odd since despite only knowing him for less than a day, you feel like you’ve known him your whole life.
“I want-“ you pant, trying to regain your breath. “I want to fuck you forever.”
He chuckles. “Is that so, Omega?” He raises his head to see you, a predatory gaze lingering in his eyes. You wonder if you have it in you to go another few rounds.
“Lucky for you, we’re mated for life. I’m not going anywhere.”
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Thinking about how OPLASanji is a more closeted pervert than an open one. (Part 1)
IHadTo.
Blk Fem Reader x OPLA Sanji
CW: Sanji has tattoos(🌚), Suggestive, Kissing, Touchy Touchy Sanji, ….please read his dialouge in his voice. No smut BUT next time will be filthy smut<_< just setting up the plot here okaayyy i havent wrote in a while.
“So fucking pretty..”
“You say ‘sum Sanji?”
“Nothing, madam.”
Sanji was relentless. Him so new to the crew you and him managed to get pretty close quite quickly. It’s been a few weeks now and Zoro has pointed out about 15 times already how touchy and —in his words “Freaky” he is towards you.
“Either you’re that dense or just as perverted as him because how can you not feel his dick against your ass when you both are—“
“Zoro.” Nami cut him off with a stern tone, you blink at them both on the deck. “Enough, okay.”
“Somebody had to say it,” Zoro took a sip of his drink, settling back down on the chair, “It’s been constant dry foreplay from you both and it’s annoying—“
“…Sorry.” You murmur, not really sure how to answer to him, he looks at you, scoffing. “I don’t think sanji is intentionally being like that he just—“
“Well he is. A blind man can see how he fucks you with his eyes.”
Slightly confused as to why Zoro would even think Sanji is a pervert. He isn’t. He can’t be??
He’s so sweet, and charming, you can’t deny he was one of the few men you met that have caught your attention; his dimples exposing themselves when you make him smile, his pretty delicate hands that grabs ahold of yours when he kisses your knuckles, his pretty jewlery, and when he speaks in your ear, that fucking accent of his—-
…maybe him being a pervert wasn’t too bad.
I mean, he wasn’t hurting you nor ever made you uncomfortable? You both are adults.
And adults have needs.
And if two adults have attraction for one another then…well…it shouldn’t matter much?
You shook off what Zoro said and headed back to the kitchen, maybe he was just teasing you again.
But if he wasn’t…you could possibly make use of this new information.
——-
“Y/n, my love, how are you babe? Thirsty?” Sanji smiles at you, already preppping for dinner you grin warmly back at him and take a seat at the table, his eyes follow your figure, trailing down to your waist, and glued to your ass until you sat down.
For a moment you were quiet, not responding yet to his question, but admiring Sanji’s hands, how quickly he can chop food, how pretty his fingers are, you nearly nip at your lip when you notice him roll up his sleeves and see—-
“Oh!” Your eyes widen mindlessly, you walk towards the large kitchen island and lean over, “You have tattoos?”
How could have you not notice? it’s been almost a month being together and you never peeped? He had a half sleeve done and honestly it looked so..
“You like?” Sanji’s chuckle makes you break out of your daze. “I got my first one when i was 16. And then well, it became a slight addiction.”
You stare back at his forearm again, the pretty art marked on his skin, noticing the veins complimenting it made you nip at your lip again. He smiles, your pretty round eyes watching him as he cooked, but again.
Sanji’s eyes wondered.
You were in a trance at his tattoos, trying to count and see every detail of them you didn’t even notice your breast spilling out of your low cutted tank top onto the counter.
Your pretty brown chest, literally shining from a mixture of a bit of sweat and lotion you put on earlier with your small gold necklace dangling in between your clevage, Sanji tries to tear his eyes away, but he can’t help it.
You’re so fucking gorgeous. He seen you and Nami and he was already infactuated with you both, but you seemed to be more open to entertaining his flirtatious advances than Nami so he started to fall for you a bit more.
Hugging him at Arlong Park really got him going, your breast pressed against his, the way you kissed his cheek, and you were just so happy to see him he almost felt his pants get tight from that alone.
He wanted you bad it was almost admirable and pathetic.
“I have more tattoos. Y’know if you ever wanna see ‘em.” He teased, knowing damn well he was serious.
“Hmmmm.” You walk around the counter to face his side, finger tracing the rim of the counter top. “Well maybe….where are the others?”
“I have one on side, one on my shoulder, on my back—“
“Your back?” Your eyes lit up. “Can I see?”
Sanji started to stammer, “I— um… Really? You sure?…..okay just…give me a moment.”
You giggle at his urgency to clean up his mess, putting the roast in the oven he walks towards the kitchen door and locks it, his mind running a mile a minute he turns to face you to see you happliy sitting on the counter smiling, “C’mon lemme see! I love back tattoos!”
Sanji exhales, unbuttoning his shirt he feels your gaze, once his shirt is fallen to the ground he turns, you nearly gasped seeing the huge tattoo on his spine.
His very pretty spine.
“woah.” Sanji hears your footsteps approach him, he hisses slightly at your touch, you did always have a habit of touching when not asked. “It’s so pretty.”
Your hands start to move around the outline of the art, also noticing the small scars and bruises he has gotten in past fights. You lightly touch one, and he immediately turns around, causing you to jump, “Oh. Sorry.”
“No, it’s alright. You like them?”
“Mmhm…” you land your hand on his shoulder tattoo, not even taking note to how closer sanji approached you.
You both stare at each other for a moment, it was only 2 seconds but it felt like an eternity until Sanji decided to close the gap between you both.
His lips were so soft against yours you couldn’t hold in any moan you had released, you felt his hand cup your cheek, moving you backwards onto the counter, the kisses started to get more intense the more access you allowed him into your mouth.
Nothing but the sounds of water crashing, usopp and Luffy outside playing and heavy breathing filled the kitchen. Sanji just couldnt help himself—-
His mind was fuzzy, he knew in the back of his mind he shouldn’t have been so bold with his actions but to feel your body weight against his,
a slap or two was worth it, but it never came.
Sliding his tongue inside your mouth he pushes his leg in between yours, you really don’t know why you haven’t stopped him yet, maybe it’s the way he so easily picked you up by your ass and sat you on the counter, or maybe it’s how his hands are squeezing your breast, but you knew eventually you had to—-
“Okay!” You pulled off, both of you trying to catch your breath, “Wait…I….Sanji…”
He stared at you like a lost dog, damn near ready to get scolded with his pink puffy lips, you giggled. Holding his cheek, “I’m..sorry.”
You knew he shouldn’t have been sorry, he only did what you allowed him, and luckily he was a great kisser so it wasn’t anything you technically regret doing.
“Sorry for what?…I liked it.” You took his hand and teased, “Unexpected, but…I like it.”
You brush his hair back, going in for a slower and deeper kiss, your felt his cold palms rub the sides your your bare thighs, pulling you closer so you can throw your arms over his shoulder.
You nor him haven’t had this kind of touch from another person in a long time, and you both were clearly attracted to each other …so…why not bite the bullet?
“Let’s go to my room, Sanji…”
#TimikosSanji#one piece#black reader#one piece headcanons#one piece x female reader#one piece smut#sanji#sanjionepiece#one piece x black!reader#sanji imagine#sanji x black reader#sanji one piece#vinsmoke sanji#opla sanji
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Eyes
Dp x Dc Crossover Writing Idea
“Red Robin!”
When he backtracked to find the owner of the voice he was a bit surprised to find a young boy, maybe eight years old if he had to guess, dressed in a red sweatshirt that dwarfed him and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.
Not many Gothamites called out to the vigilantes, a silent agreement to stay out of their way and not to look too closely. This kid however stared up at him with bright blue eyes unafraid of getting the Red Robin’s attention.
A fan?
Before he even opens his mouth, the kid gives him a small, hopeful smile, eyes shining with something that reminds him of himself when he was that age and following Batman and Robin with his camera around his tiny neck.
“I brought you a gift,” the boy say with nervous excitement. He enthusiastically swings off the backpack he had on to dig through the contents, taking his eyes off the vigilante and showing his unwavering trust that nothing bad would happen to him while Red Robin was here.
The boy pulls out what appears to be a jar wrapped in newspaper, the worn page ripping in some spots to show the clear glass underneath. Small hands present it like it’s Red Robin’s birthday (which it wasn’t).
He takes it cautiously, the kid hasn’t been hostile but this was still weird, and pulls it closer with enough space so if it’s a bomb it doesn’t blow up in his face.
It’s got weight to it and the slight sloshing tells him it’s filled with liquid. He carefully unwraps the ‘gift’, keeping his eye on the boy who stands waiting anxiously.
Tim almost drops the jar as soon as he sees what’s inside. Only his reflexes from over the years held on and his expression turned neutral.
A pair of eyes sit at the bottom of the jar. The orbs were crudely extracted, tissue floating around them like a mane of hair around a head.
He turns the jar to see the irises and… he knew these eyes. The slimy green is filmed with death, but he recognized these eyes from the number of times the owner locked them onto him, the cruel possessiveness they possessed when they gazed at him. Never again apparently.
Tim doesn’t speak for a while, not knowing what to say, but also thoughts racing too fast to form any proper sentences.
“Do you like it?” The small, nervous voice interrupts those thoughts.
What an innocent question on an equally innocent looking face.
“How did you get Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes?”
The teasing chatter over the comms immediately hushes into shocked silence.
“I took them from his body, so you knew he was dead. I burned the rest so you don’t have to worry about him coming back again. The Pit there is gone anyway,” the child explains easily, not fazed in the slightest from the words he speaks.
“Grandfather is dead?” He hears Damian whisper over the comm.
So many other questions were flying through Tim’s head. He looks the kid over again.
Black hair and blue eyes. In any other situation the kid might have been a possible Wayne adoptee. He’s not a clone from what he can see though. Despite the coloring he doesn’t really look like any of them. Pale skin like Tim, but has freckles. The same kind of nose as Damian, but wide, round eyes. Jaw kind of like Jason, but his body shape is too narrow. Bright, almost icy blue eyes like Dick, but eyebrow shape is flatter. Lip shape like Bruce, but from the kid’s anxious lip biting he could see the faintest trace of dimples.
“Who are you?” He asks instead of the other million and one questions.
The boy blinks almost like he wasn’t expecting the question. He’s cheeks color pink with blush as he grins widely.
“I’m Danny!” He introduces cheerfully like he didn’t just hand a vigilante a jar of eyes.
“Hi, Danny,” Tim greets almost dumbly. “Want to tell me why you gave me this?”
Danny scoffs his shoe against the pavement in what appears to be embarrassment.
“Well, I know when you ask someone for something, it’s nice to give a gift or something. Like I did something nice for you so maybe you’ll do something nice for me?”
He takes a moment to absorb that child-like reasoning.
“So you want me to do something for you and you thought I would like Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes in exchange?”
Danny studies him and fidgets with the large sweatshirt sleeve.
“I just thought you would like proof. Like the whole ‘bring me the heart of my enemy’ kind of thing. Do you not like it? I couldn’t just take a picture ‘cuz I didn’t have a camera with me, I know you like photography. I can do something else for you if it’s not enough,” he offers worriedly.
Tim freezes.
“How do you know I like photography?” He demands.
Danny tilts his head curiously.
“Because Tim Drake likes photography,” he says like it’s obvious, “and you’re Tim Drake.”
Well. This is less than ideal.
“Red Robin, take him back to the Cave,” Batman instructs over the comms.
Yeah, he was getting there.
“Do you know the other’s’ identities?”
Danny nods and hums affirmatively. Tim waits.
“Oh! Yea. Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne. Red Hood is Jason Todd. Nightwing is Richard Grey-“
“Okay. That’s enough.”
Tim glances around the empty alley they were standing in, checking to make sure no stray people heard. Luckily they were truly alone.
“Danny, do you want to come back with me?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. The kid was coming back regardless, it would just be better if he went willingly.
Unsurprisingly, the kid lights up like a little sun at the offer.
“Really?” He nearly shouts in excitement.
“Yeah, kid. I parked my bike a few blocks from here. You ever rode a motorcycle before?”
Danny shakes his head, nearly bounding on his toes.
“Not in this lifetime.” And wasn’t that odd wording? “Are we gonna grapple there?”
“Think you can hold on?”
“Yeah!”
He kneels down so the boy can climb onto his back and lock his arms around his neck and hook his feet together around his torso. Danny is worryingly light as he stands.
The kid is the picture of an excited and overeager child as they carefully fly over rooftops and then drive back to the Cave. Even when they park inside the safety of the Batcave, Danny’s eyes are filled with child-like awe and wonder, so curious and chattering with questions and wild imagination. It would be cute, endearing even, if the jar of eyes wasn’t sitting heavily in his pocket.
Alfred came down not too long after their arrival with a tray of healthy snacks and some waters. Danny happily munches on the apple slices as he wanders around where Tim can see him.
The rumble of the Batmobile can be heard almost an hour later after Tim has to tell Danny not to touch the weapons for the fourth time. The kid’s attention is drawn to the sleek black vehicle as it parks by Tim’s bike. He trots over with wide eyes as the doors open and Robin exits, then Batman.
Unfortunately, Dick is in Bludhaven and Jason is visiting Roy and Lian this week. Cass and Steph were gone as well and Duke was sleeping. It was just the three of them and this kid with Alfred as the only buffer.
Danny stares openly, curious, as the duo makes their way over to the computer where Tim has claimed his sit.
Tim turns the jar that he set on the table so the eyes are facing them and slowly leans back again, suddenly very tired. Damian flexes his hands into fists tightly while Batman is very still.
“Hi,” Danny chirps like nothing is wrong, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Batman takes a measured breath. Robin glares down at the child, but remains silent for now.
“Who killed Ra’s Al Ghul?”
Danny blinks blankly.
“Nobody.”
“You’re saying he just dropped dead?” Damian sneered in sarcasm.
“Death took him,” the child says simply as if that explained everything.
“How?” The word is demanded and emphasized.
“Like Death takes everyone. His expiration was overdue.”
Bruce frowns and Damian almost snarls.
“I demand you start making sense!”
Danny glares back in offense.
“I’m being very clear! Maybe you should ask better questions!”
The twelve year old growls at the smaller child and Batman has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking.
“Danny?” Batman questions after a tense moment.
The boy’s arms are crossed in irritation, but he blinks out of his glare to stare up at the man.
“Yea?”
“How do you know our identities?”
“Oh, memories.”
Danny looked like everything he said made sense and it was driving Tim up a wall.
“Memories,” Bruce repeats.
“Uh-huh,” Danny nods confidently. “From the Lazarus Pit.”
A jolt goes through Tim as he recalls what the boy said earlier about the Pit.
“Didn’t you say the Pit was gone?” He asks before Bruce could continue his line of questioning.
Danny turns with a bright smile as if he was proud Tim remembered.
“Yea! Well, gone from this world anyway.” Tim was concerned. “I took the memories from it before sending it back where it belongs.”
“Okay. How did you know how to ‘take the memories’ and send it back? Back where?”
“I was born from it. Duh. It went back to the Realms or I guess you’d call it the Afterlife,” Danny actually rolls his eyes as if they should already know this.
“Born from it?” Damian asks with a wavering voice, hidden well from the child but not from them. “Nothing has ever been born from the Pits.”
“That you know of.”
And wasn’t that the kicker.
“So, to clarify, you come from the Pits. You know who we are because you took the memories from said Pits. Death took Ra’s because his time was up. And you took the eyes from his corpse to give to me because you thought I would like it as a gift so I would do something for you.”
Danny positively beams.
“This is why you’re my favorite!”
Damian grinds his teeth harshly.
“What is it you want Red Robin to do for you?” Batman asks in strangled hesitation.
“Oh!” Danny perks up like he remembered and hops over to Tim with pleading hands. “Can you please make me an identity? You’re really good at all that stuff and I was hoping you could find me a family. Someone to adopt me. A nice family, with a bed and family dinners and a dog. I always wanted a dog.”
Tim has the sudden urge to scream.
#Danny is born from the#lazarus pit#memories are left in the pits after use#which is why people lose themselves like Jason#Danny is the Balance#living between Life and Death#he just wants to be loved#he just wants a family#let the boy live#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#tim drake#red robin#batman#dc robin#story ideas#thoughts#bruce wayne#de aged
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