#he tried to swipe my spoon out of my hand while i was eating ice cream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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counter point, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You enrage your perfect boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, by being overtly sexual and inappropriately licking your kitchen counter. Why? Because you can and he's going to get horny regardless. He's going to chase after you with a spoon, so you better run!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; shower smut (fem reader, handjob, thigh riding, nipple play, marking / scratching, fingering, multiple orgasms, one pussy slap); too much wasted water, RIP; non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts; please help Jungkook, he's just trying to eat shaved ice, not pop a boner (he does anyway)

yes, the title is a pun it's the best laid plans couple and they're crackheads no need to read the first one, but it's there if you want more

“Don’t.”

You grinned at your boyfriend (Cheshire-cat-style, but make it sexy).

“Listen to me, do not do it.”

You extended you tongue (lizard-style, still sexy).

Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend currently making shaved ice, narrowed his dark brown eyes at you and barked your name sharply (angry-mother-scolding-their-child-style, but make it the hottest man on the fucking planet who you were down to get railed by every second of every day). His ash-blond hair flared out around his strong features, adding to his (horny) fury.

He could pretend to be mad, but you knew better.

You licked the kitchen counter.

“Fucking damnnit!”

You cackled as you licked the fallen syrup and ice combination that was on the kitchen counter, slurping up the fallen solider (a valiant fight, but Jungkook had missed the bowl by accident and he deserved an honorable death).

“I told you I was getting a towel!” Jungkook hissed furiously, shaking the white towel with the cute pink bunny character on it. “Don’t be a nasty heathen!”

“What’s nasty about our kitchen counters?” you countered (ey, yeah, see what happened there). “We clean them all the time.”

You leaned down again and licked the counter, pressing your tongue flat against the granite and making Jungkook growl, to which your responded with wiggling your eyebrows. He shook the towel at you again, but didn’t advance.

“Back, you fiend.”

You straightened and grinned, sauntering over to him and the towel he was using like a rosary and you were the demon he was trying to exorcise (he wasn’t pure enough to be a priest, but then again, that might be your fault).

“But I need the towel to clean up the mess,” you chirped, grinning cheerfully as you closed your hand around the cloth, holding it for a little too long, letting your eyes linger on his tense face, taking in his chiseled jaw, shapely lips, and flashing dark brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You smiled.

Ran your tongue over your upper lip.

“Like what?”

Jungkook looked like he wanted to murder you and fuck you.

(Not at the same time; that would be some serial killer shit.)

“Stop fucking teasing me when you’re not gonna do anything,” he grumbled, pouting slightly as you snatched the towel from him and wiped the counter that you had already licked clean.

“Who, me?” you replied innocently, grabbing the sponge to clean off the granite before wiping the spot once more. “I would never, ever tease you, Jungkook.”

He narrowed his eyes at you until they were lines and jammed his spoon into his shaved ice. “You never wanna fuck right after I work out.”

“Speaking of working out.” You pointed to his large bowl of shaved ice covered in syrup. “Should you have sweets right after working out?”

He clicked his tongue. “I drank my protein shake and I’m hot. Leave me alone.” He shoved a large spoonful into his mouth, still glaring.

(Oh, you’re hot, all right.)

“What a coincidence.”

Jungkook’s eyes shifted in suspicion as you spun around him. “Do I wanna know what’s a coincidence…?”

“I’m also hot.”

And you grabbed the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt (it was his) and pulled it up and over your head, leaving you in your underwear. You threw it at Jungkook’s crotch before prancing out of the kitchen.

“Alright, first of all–”

“Lachimolala,” you sang nonsensically, heading off to the bedroom. “I thought you wanted to be alone?”

Jungkook stomped after you, clutching his bowl and still shoving shaved ice in his mouth as he very loudly put in his two cents and pointedly ignored your comments (a skill he developed while dating you, mysterious why that would be).

“I know you’re hot, you’re insanely hot and that’s not fair, and, second, you can’t just take off your clothes and expect me not to follow you, and, three, let me fuck you, damnnit!”

You stuck your head out of the bedroom door and your tongue out of your mouth. “No. You stinky.”

Jungkook looked livid, still holding his spoon and bowl. “Don’t make me put this spoon down, woman.”

“Oh nooooooo, Jungkookie has a spoon, oh nooo!”

“Gimmie those titties! Get your ass over here right now!”

You ran to the bathroom and turned the water on, throwing off your underwear in record time, only for Jungkook to show up and get smacked in the face with your bra and panties (awesome, your aim was improving, all those hours playing FPS games was a sound investment).

Jungkook snarled and shook his head, blond hair flying everywhere, holding his bowl of shaved ice protectively as your underwear scattered around him. He looked ready to scold you, only to freeze and see you standing at the open glass shower door, fully naked.

Grinning.

(Checkmate, he totally wanted to bone you. His shorts were doing nothing to hide his massive tent.)

“See ya.”

And you slunk into the shower and hot water, snapping the door closed behind you, Jungkook fuming and crossing the space in two steps (damn, can you say legs, holy shit) and yanked open the shower door.

“You fucking brat–”

You smirked, water running down your body, tipping your head back to soak your hair, reaching up to slick it back with your tits up. His dark brown eyes ballooned to the size of Dragon Balls (those are pretty big balls, no cap). His shaved ice was rapidly melting from the steam.

A full ten seconds past.

(Kinda cold, bro, please close the door.)

You maintained your smirk, rolling your shoulders to cascade water down your body, down your breasts, dripping off your nipples, curling around the curve of your waist, streaming in rivets across the expanse of your thighs and ass, doing a little half-spin. Jungkook choked a little, eyes completely fixated to your body. You (completely unnecessarily, of course) placed a hand in between your breasts, splaying out your fingers, gliding it down your stomach, making a detour for your hip, sinking your nails into it (his bowl was tipping very dangerously now and the ice was half-gone), curving back to the inside of your thigh and squeezing your thighs around your hand.

(Okay, for real, you can close the door now, Jungkook.)

“Your shaved ice is melting.”

Jungkook started, picking up his jaw off the floor, and whipped his head to his bowl of now sweet ice water. He closed the shower door (finally!) and you breathed out a sigh of relief, finally wiggling under the showerhead to wash away the goosebumps and your frozen tits (you suffered for a good cause, but still), hearing your boyfriend straight-up slurp the rest of his shaved ice (it was practically a drink by now anyway). You pumped some shampoo in your hand and casually started working it into your hair before half-screaming as the door opened again and a very naked, very horny Jungkook invaded your personal space and pinned you against the shower wall.

(You weren’t expecting his speedrun of stripping, that must have been a fucking record!)

You blinked rapidly, trying to swipe the water out of your eyes.

“Jung–”

You didn’t expect to get anything out but you said one syllable before his lips crashed onto yours, spraying water everywhere as he half-entered the raining showerhead (still a bit stinky, tsk tsk), pressing his body against yours, jabbing you with his rock-hard dick (rude). You yelped in his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care (probably thought you deserved it, rude), taking your tongue and sucking on it, making you moan, driving his thigh in between yours and pushing it up, water suddenly gushing onto your heat and then hard muscle, you gasping at the contact, tipping your head back with a soft whimper.

Opening your eyes to a slight sting and Jungkook’s half-wet hair, dark silvery-blond curls around his smirking face, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Not so high and mighty now, hm?”

(Fuck, he’s so fucking hot.)

Your eye began to sting very badly.

(Shit.)

“There’s shampoo in my eye,” you choked out.

“Oh shi–”

There was a brief intermission of water torture as Jungkook shoved your head under the showerhead and you did the awkward dance of one eye half-open, half-closed, rinsing out the soap residue while holding your breath and trying not to drown (beauty, grace, and blindness, the trifecta, right?). You yanked your head out with a gleeful sucking in of air, pushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked worriedly.

“Why is no-tears shampoo only for babies?” you complained, wiping your eyes. “Don’t they know horny adults get accosted in the middle of showering sometimes and need that shit? They need to put a warning or I’ll sue.”

He laughed, rich, full, and wonderfully sexy. “I don’t think you’d – ah!”

The second Jungkook let his guard down, you grabbed his dick (sucker), and started pumping him with a flick of your wrist, grinning wildly. He gasped and tried to back up, but you pinned his thigh in between yours and rubbed your slick pussy on his muscle, causing him to sway slightly and plant his hands on the wall beside your head, gasping your name.

“O-oh, fuck…”

You used your other hand to grab his chin and pull him closer, kissing him hungrily, a slightly awkward angle but it didn’t matter because you had him in the palm of your hand now (literally), jacking him off with one and the other stroking his jaw, shuddering at his tongue flitting in your mouth, snaking your own out to meet his, fuck, such soft lips, and he still tasted a little sweet from his icy snack lingering on his tongue. Your hand slid back and cupped his head, fingers in his wet ash-blond hair, rolling your hips on his leg and pumping his swelling length in the other, getting him extra hard again, both of you moaning at the lovely pop of the head being squeezed by your thumb and index, before going right back to furiously kissing as you increased the speed and pressure.

Jungkook always complained about how you never worked out with him, but you always rebutted that said workouts never started because you two were too busy eating face.

(Also, why work out when you can fuck? More fun, more pleasure, less hating yourself as you complete the thirtieth sit-up. Clearly, your boyfriend failed to see the logic.)

“Jungkook, ah…”

One of his strong hands around your waist, arching your back, kissing down your neck, matching your pace with his hips, moaning into your skin, raising his leg even higher as he leaned down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Now the angle was really awkward, but you refused to give up, readjusting slightly, faster, harder, his mouth all over you, sucking hard, whimpering your name, your arm burning (and he wondered why you had biceps, sheesh), and you clamped his thigh in between yours, the real pleasure being how Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, your name tumbling from his lips, so sexy with his dripping blond locks stuck to his cheeks, tendons standing out on his neck with the strain, thrusting into your hand to increase the pleasure and your arm was going to give out any second now but you just couldn’t, not yet.

“So fucking sexy,” you panted, your free hand tracing his jaw, shoving your thumb into his open lips, sinking your nails into his cheek because he was yours, all yours, and he didn’t care if you marked him up, his eyes rolling back, loving your roughness, wanting it. “Cum for me, come on, Jungkook,” you growled, even faster, even harder, thumb pressed into his lolling tongue and he whined, deep and feral, a mixed gargle of your name and pure ecstasy, cock jerking in your hand, spilling out over your thigh and the shower wall, hot sticky strings before being washed away, you dragging his face to yours, removing your thumb to kiss him again, sighing in relief now that you could slow, squeezing his twitching cock, feeling it drip down your fingers and smearing it all over his now-sensitive skin.

“So good, fuck, you’re so good…”

His hands all over your back, running his nails up and down, ravenous, messy kisses. Your hand stilled, arm burning, but somehow it didn’t matter, adrenaline and lust too much, and you wanted to hold him too, snaking your arms around his waist and digging your nails into his broad back, both of you moaning in unison as your ran lines of pleasure across each other’s backs, hips to hips, wet bodies rolling into each other, your drenched pussy on his hard thigh and his spent cock against your soft thigh.

“My arm almost died,” you gasped, his nails raking down to your hips, sinking into your ass.

“Heh, sorry,” Jungkook snickered (you suspected he wasn’t very sorry). “That’s what you get for teasing me.” (And you were right, hmph.) “This is why you should work out.” (This guy…)

You raised an eyebrow. “So I can make you cum in literal seconds? Your funeral.”

He paused, shifting his eyes. He seemed to be mentally struggling with the idea. “You look so fucking hot in workout clothes though,” he pouted, leaning down to press his chin against your breasts.

Uh oh, Jungkook was giving you puppy eyes now.

“I can wear workout clothes without actually working out,” you frowned. “And you never let me work out anyway because you’re too busy ogling me, and then you jump me mid-squat.”

He groaned, kneading your ass in his hands. “Your ass just looks so fucking good in leggings though… and the way your tits bounce, fuck…”

(Hello, Jungkook? You could, maybe, just look at the naked wet body in front of you right now instead of fantasizing about working out. What is your malfunction?)

You yelped as he buried his face into your tits, tongue snaking out and drawing thick, saliva-covered stripes over your breasts that were quickly washed away, whimpers in your throat once you saw the hungry look in his eyes, his pink tongue now circling your nipple, lowering his leg from between yours, your hands flying up to hold his head onto your chest.

“Ah, Jungkook, please…”

His lips closed in and his fingers grazed your slick slit, pressing circles of pleasure into you, leaning your head against the shower wall, back arched to give more to that perfect mouth, moaning his name, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing it slowly, working you up, sucking your nipple and flicking it with his tongue, waves of pleasure and hot water enveloping you, pushing his wet hair back to look into those dark chocolate orbs, clouded by lust and his desire to make you feel good, already knowing that when you rocked your hips you wanted more, already knowing that when your noises became shallower, more needy, that you needed it harder, closing your eyes, faster, hot and warm from Jungkook and water.

“Yes, fuck, yes, so close, so good, Jungkook, ah, Jungkook!”

You felt the flinch of overwhelming ecstasy, immediately trying to close your legs but he blocked you, planting his thigh between yours to prevent them, your moan turning into a feverish whimper, clutching his shoulders.

“J-Jungkook, w-wait, oh, f-fuck…”

He wasn’t waiting, still stimulating your now throbbing clit, lifting his head to press his lips to yours, whispering hotly, you’re so sexy, so beautiful, I love you to so much, fuck, your brain barely computing language, w-what, oh fuck, yes, don’t stop, Jungkook, I love you, fuck, so good, his soft smile on your open lips as your moaned once more, ramming your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back, pleasure shooting up from your core, and Jungkook’s fingers plunged into your wetness, moaning with you, stuffing you with three because you were so, so wet.

“Fuck my hand, come on, wanna feel you…”

You heard hand (seriously? alright, your funeral, Jungkook), and enclosed your fingers around his now hard-again cock.

“Wait, w-what – ah, fuuuuuuuck…”

Your misinterpretation seemed to be a welcome development, your hips moving on their own, pussy clenching around his fingers, your hand a vice around his hard, swollen length, his hips thrusting into your closed fist, and now both of you just chasing pleasure, wet, loud, and hot, the water adding to the noise, skin on skin, your pussy making embarrassing sucking, squishing sounds paired with the rapid slap of your vicious pumping of his cock, feeling so good it was hard to speak, but it didn’t matter because your lips found his lips, and you could tell by his trembling inhale and soft whimpers that he loved you, and he could tell from your breathless gasps and desperate whines that you loved him, and all that made it more intense, better, sexier, perfect.

Your name in that silvery, needy tone, followed by, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

His name, followed by, “Shit, me too, fuck!”

(Maybe not your best work, oh well.)

You slapped your hips into his hand, burying his fingers all the way to his knuckles, and groaned, scorching ecstasy overtaking your veins, sparking up your spine and into your head, squeezing your thighs together powerfully, clamping his wrist in your softness. His cock jerked, his gasp in your face as he spilled again, all over your hip and thigh, jamming the throbbing head into your skin and moaning as his orgasm continued spurting out, pulsing, his moan turning into helpless cries as you rubbed the tip on your skin, smearing his cum onto you, his scent so strong you could still smell it despite the water washing it away, loving the way his hard, muscular body felt against you, shivering and vibrating with pleasure, unable to help himself, practically humping your leg to prolong the sensitivity.

Heavy, shuddering breaths.

Water tumbling down, somehow far too hot even though it was getting lukewarm.

(Rest in peace the water bill.)

“Uh… my hand…”

You tensed around it. “I like it here.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I’m getting a hand cramp.”

You bit your lip and clenched your core muscles, making him gasp.

“Fuck, I love how tight your pussy can get. Feels like you’re going to break my fingers.”

You relaxed, laughing. “That’d be a fun trip to the emergency room.”

He snickered and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

You relaxed your thighs and he pulled his fingers out. “I love you too, Jungkook.”

You squeezed the head of his dick mid-kiss and he slapped your pussy in response, making you gasp.

“Brat.”

(Hello, you two, you’re wasting water… aw, shit, here we go again.)

2021.09.01 - birthday drabble

in which jjk attempts to direct porn and you proceed to clown him until he shuts you up by fucking your brains out well dressed

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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leavin-likeafather · 3 years

Text

Truth or Dare? ★ Dennis Hauger

warnings: unedited

word count: 1060

Dennis shifted in his position on the sofa so he could see you better as you handed your phone over to Angelina so you were not distracted during the video.

“Ready?”

You nodded, trying to ignore the small fluttering in your stomach at the smile he flashed you, and he turned to face the camera again, “Hey guys, it's Dennis Hauger.”

He gestured to you and you introduced yourself with a small wave and a smile you pointed towards the camera, but you looked towards him to make sure he was looking while you did it, “And this is truth or dare.”

“Truth or dare?” Dennis asked you while reaching for the paper in front of him, his tongue darting out to swipe across his lip.

“Dare.”

He chuckled, “Put three ice cubes in your mouth until they melt.”

You groaned and looked at Angelina, “Really?”

Dennis smiled and grabbed the bowl from her facing you again, leaning around the glass that separated you he held the spoon full of ice towards you, “Open wide.”

“No, wait, wait, you know I have sensitive teeth.” You said quickly and moved away from the spoon.

He shrugged, “Truth or dare rules, come on.”

Sighing you let him put one of the ice cubes in your mouth before taking the bowl from him and trying to fit the other two in right after.

Your cheeks puffed out and you tried opening your mouth to release some of the cold.

Closing your eyes you shook your head and shivered, Dennis giggled and took his phone out, calling your name softly you turned to look at him and he snapped a picture of your shocked face.

“We’re gonna have to wait,” He said, “She can't talk.”

Raising a brow you tilted your head back so the ice cubes wouldn't fall out while glancing at him in the corner of your eye, “Truth or dare?”

"Truth."

“Which Prema driver would survive a zombie apocalypse and which one would be the first to die?”

“Arthur.” You both said at the same time before laughing.

“I don’t even think he’d realise there are zombies, he’d just be wandering around like, ‘Olli? Olli? Where’s Olli? Chickens!”

“Who would survive though?”

“Robert.” You once again said at the same time.

“Dennis, truth or dare?”

“Dare, that's the funnier thing.”

You picked up a card and read from it, “Eat a snack without using your hands.”

You groaned as you threw it down, “It better be a cold snack, I still can’t feel my tongue.”

Angelina placed an apple in front of him and he sighed as he leaned over he took a few bites of the apple, his hair falling in his eyes and silver coin necklace getting in the way.

He sat back as he chewed on it, taking a small break, ��The whole apple?”

You leaned forward and grabbed the apple, holding it out for him. You helped him finish off the last of it without actually using his hands.

“That's not cheating, I didn't use my hands.” He defended looking up as you leaned back over to place the apple back onto the plate.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” You decided.

“Let the rest of the group DM someone on your Instagram.”

You shook your head, “No, do I have to?”

Angelina passed your phone over to Dennis who leaned back so you couldn’t see, “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Half the F1 grid follows you.”

“Do not DM any of them, I don't want them to think I’m crazy before I even get a chance there.”

“I won’t,” He promised scrolling through your following list, “I won't.”

You watched as he finally decided on someone and began typing out a message. He giggled to himself quietly before hitting send, “Wait, no, let me read it first.”

“Too late, already sent.”

“Dennis!”

You grabbed your phone from him and then threw your head back, “He messaged Oscar.”

You read the message out slowly, ‘Hi, Oscar. Just want you to know I’m a huge fan, growing up I had your poster on my bedroom wall, it's a great honour to be working with you this year, but stay behind Rob please.’

“He is going to know this isn’t me, I only message him on WhatsApp.”

“You use WhatsApp?”

Rolling your eyes you handed your phone back to Angelina and huffed as you sat back, “Next one truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

You laughed as you read the card out, “What?”

Shaking your head you looked over at him and tried to contain the large grin on your face, “If you had to choose who would you kiss in this room?”

His face flushed red and you laughed as he sunk back into his chair trying to avoid the stares of the camera crew, “Uh, I don't know…”

Fanning him with the card you tried to hold back the small grin, “Getting a little hot there, huh, Hauger?”

He pushed your hand away, “Who would you kiss?”

“Well, I guess, uh…” He looked over at Angelina for help who shook her head with a knowing smile, “There's no one in here I would rather kiss.”

“Really?” Your face dropped and you shifted in your seat.

You thought something was there between the two of you, an unspoken thing of sorts. The reason both of you always ignored the people who’d flirt with you in bars, the reason you both stayed single for so long.

“Yeah.”

Trying to hide your hurt, you cleared your throat and shook your head, “Are there anymore?”

“That was the last one.”

You both quickly did the outro of the video together and then you got up quickly to leave the room, “I’ll see you later, Angelina.”

Dennis got up quickly to follow you out, calling your name as he jogged slightly to catch up with you, “Hey, hey, wait.”

“What?”

He was taken aback by your harsh tone and stepped back slightly to look at you better, “I just…”

“You just what, Hauger? I’ve got stuff to do.”

He opened and closed his mouth and you rolled your eyes turning away but he grabbed your arm, “You.”

You raised your brow, “What?”

“You’re the only person in the room I’d want to kiss, the only person I’d want to kiss, ever.”

“Truth or dare, Hauger?”

“Dare.”

“Kiss me.”

#dennishauger #dennishaugerxreader #dennishaugeronehsot #premaimagine #dennishaugerimagine

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itsblissfuloblivion · 3 years

Text

Prompt #69 for @clarensjoy‘s Hinny FicFest 2021: "His pickup line wasn't as good as mine. Just saying"

Ao3 // FFnet

hey, tis us, last kids joining the party. hopefully it’s still alright!

It’s a Tuesday, so the din of the pub is a bit muted in comparison. Loud and full enough that nobody will get ideas about getting to know their table neighbours, but quiet enough that you don’t have to shout to be heard. Harry’s boot sticks to the floor as he steps inside and for a moment he’s about to let loose some colourful swears about arseholes who don’t understand that spent gum belongs in a bin, but his attention is quickly pulled away by another arsehole at the bar trying to flex his flirtation muscles.

If Harry reads the bloke’s mark’s facial expression correctly, said flex has been wholly unsuccessful so far. And Harry’s made his own study of the current focus of said bloke, since Sixth Year in fact, so Harry’s comfortable saying he’s something of an expert on Ginny Weasley.

Slowly - with a slight drag on his gummed left heel - Harry picks his way through the shadowy bits of the pub towards Ginny as she continues her valiant attempt to scan the menu. Soon, Harry’s close enough to join Ginny’s ‘enjoyment’ of her current companion.

The bloke is mid-build, just shy of Harry’s height, and almost as into his boy band hair as he is to excessive use of perfume. Things he apparently is not into include reading body language, accepting personal space boundaries, and wearing hats correctly. Harry winces - half for Ginny’s nose and half for whatever this stranger is about to have done to him - when Perfume Lover leans in closer to Ginny. “Hello, beautiful! No need to check that out, I already know what’s on the menu - me ‘n’ you.”

Harry’s suppressing his snort, and a bit of horror, at the line when Ginny leans in close, eyes sharp. If Boy Band knew what was good for him, he’d pay more attention to Ginny’s blood thirsty look than the fact that she’s drawing close. But honestly, Harry can’t fault him too much - for getting distracted that is - because one whiff of her hair and the simple warmth of her as she draws near still sends Harry’s heart pounding. That’s about where Harry’s ability to relate to Ball Cap begins and ends.

As expected, the content of Ginny’s low whisper is less ‘want to get out of here’ and more ‘guts for garters’ because the pick up artist is soon backing away with a shocked expression, stumbling over barstools and an innocent busboy.

With a grin, Harry steadies the busboy on his feet and swipes a paper napkin to drag the bulk of the gum from his boot. He doesn’t break stride as he tosses the napkin in a bin and makes his way towards Ginny, who has returned her attention to the menu and the tiny red straw between her lips.

Somehow, he doesn’t end up sprawled on the floor when she twirls it, or when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, or even when the waitress returns with a new drink. Instead, he keeps pace to end up with one arm draped around Ginny’s shoulders just as she’s left alone at the high top table. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?”

Ginny snorts, nose crinkling as she stabs at the ice with her straw. “Reckon I’m sticking with the other bloke tonight.”

Harry frowns even as he claims the free stool closest to Ginny. “His pickup line wasn’t as good as mine,” he swipes her drink, ignoring her indignant ‘Oi!’ and takes a sip, “Just saying.”

“How about get your own drink, Mr. Just Saying?” Ginny grumbles, though the blow of her grousing is softened by the quick press of her lips to his.

“I can’t decide between the burger and the stew.”

Harry raises his hand in the hopes of beckoning someone with relevant resources to bring him a pint. He receives a nod from behind the bar and soon turns his attention back to Ginny. “Is the new Firebolt nearby?”

Ginny tears her eyes away from the menu. “Pardon? No - we’re on the Cleansweep - ”

“Oh,” Harry shakes his head, “Must’ve just been my heart taking off.”

“If you promise to shut up I’ll do that thing you like so much,” Ginny manages to mutter with a roll of her eyes, pausing only once the waitress arrives with Harry’s drink. He takes a long sip while Ginny orders - apparently having decided on the burger. When the waitress turns to him he gets the same - though changing medium rare for medium well. Plus he adds, “And can we have the stew to share? With some bread.”

Once they’re alone again, Ginny nudges his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“You got me all hyped for it too,” he shrugs and slips his arm back around her, “Besides, I’m not above asking for a takeaway box.”

“Glad you seem to know the real path to my affection, that line was bloody awful. Time to move on,” Ginny winks, “I’ll keep my promise.”

“No, no. You said Boy Band had better lines than I do and now I’m proving you wrong,” Harry takes another swallow and swipes at his upper lip. “I’ll earn that thing I like the real way.”

“Which is?”

“Wooing.”

Ginny sighs. “You won’t let it go, will you?”

“Nope,” Harry pops, sitting a little taller in his chair.

“Anyhow,” Ginny says, fiddling with his fingers, “How was the meeting with Kingsley?”

“Relatively unnecessary,” Harry shrugs, “At least I think so. But you know how they like to get input and whatnot. Which means lots of almost shouting and then Kingsley puts on that face and says, ‘You’ve all given me a lot to think about.’”

“Does he change his mind much, pre to post meeting?”

“Depends who offered alternatives,” Harry answers, taking another swallow of his ale. “Which is for the best. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit people say.”

“What did you ever do to make Robards hate you so much?” Ginny asks with a chuckle when Harry’s forehead connects with her shoulder.

“I dunno, but he must. Either that or he really values my ability to half take notes and mostly doodle magical creatures.”

“Do you take requests? I want my face on the body of a harpy.”

The din of the crowd briefly increases and Harry leans close enough that Ginny’s soft flowery scent overcomes the smell of stale beer and miscellaneous fried foods. “Gin, your face is already on the body of a Harpy.”

“Har-har, you know what I mean.”

Harry shakes his head and tips so his nose nearly touches Ginny’s. “There’s something wrong with my eyes,” Ginny perks up, rapidly searching him for any injuries she neglected to notice and he continues, “There must be. Because I can’t seem to take them off you.”

She groans, shoulders slumped back against her barstool. “Harry, you have terrible eyesight. And that might have been the worst line yet.”

“Noted,” Harry nods like she’s just given him a tip on a case, “I’ll keep trying.”

“Please don’t.”

“I love a challenge.”

The waitress returns with their admittedly overdone dinner order and Ginny nearly spears Harry with the prongs of her fork. “Do not make me sick up, this smells too good to waste.”

Harry scofs. “Right. We both know you’re tougher than that. Should I remind you that your secret weapon was the Bat-Bogey Hex - a hex largely based on snot?”

“And it still is,” Ginny grins after she swallows an impressively large helping of her food. “Talking about gross, though,” she follows, eyeing Harry sideways, “any specific plans for my brother’s stag do? And don’t tell me you’ve cracked under pressure and let George organise it.”

There’s something very Molly Weasley-eque in her expression as she says it, freckles alight and splattered over her cheeks and nose in a way that always has Harry’s insides twisting and burning, without failure. So he smirks, leaning in closer.

“Which brother is that?”

Ginny kicks at his shin, wobbling on her barstool. “The one with the big nose and lanky limbs?”

“Oh, that one,” Harry widens his eyes in mock realisation. “Right, yes. No, I’m doing it."

“And?”

“And?” Harry parrots, sipping another spoonful of stew.

“Remember the bogeys, Harry,” she scowls, huffs away a red strand of hair falling on her cheeks.

His elbow planted firmly on the bar, Harry offers her his most dazzling smile, green eyes glinting mischievously behind his round glasses. “Aw, Gin, it’ll be nothing much. Just your regular boys’ night out - a little bit of getting pissed, a little bit of going to a strip club.”

Ginny laughs throatily, her head leaned back and her long, red hair grazing over her waist, eyes closed shut. “Can’t wait to read Skeeter’s take on you visiting a strip club. Honestly, Harry?”

“Nah. But we will get pissed at George’s though.”

“Figured. Good for you, you deserve it,” Ginny smiles and tops it off with a bite of warm bread. “Thanks for the laugh.”

“I aim to please,” Harry smiles back and, for a while, they both eat in contented silence, the pub’s buzz fading in the background as they enjoy each other’s presence and the feeling that they’re safe, and seen, and loved.

Later, there’s a clatter as Harry pushes his empty plate further up the bar and scans Ginny promptly before he says, “Alright, hear me out - one last try.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, bored, swishing her spoon in his direction. “Shoot.”

Harry clears his throat.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but Snape was so fond of me he tried to adopt me, right?”

Ginny’s forehead promptly connects with the bar top.

“That’s it,” she grunts, ginger hair pooling over her arms, spread over the black countertop, “we’re leaving. Check, please,” she raises her head to speak, voice heavy with distress.

“Women,” Harry pretends to roll his eyes, “nothing ever pleases them.”

Ginny sticks her tongue out in response. She then hops off and strides towards the loo, hair flicked over her shoulder.

Harry shakes his head, grinning; he rummages through his pocket, thumbs brushing over the hardwood of his wand, feels the cold metal of the coins piled in there. Five silver ones rattle along the counter and the barman nods his thanks.

A whiff of flowery scent floats near him, her lips suddenly close to his ear as she whispers, low, “You must be absolutely knackered, because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

Harry dips his chin slowly, green eyes connecting with her mischief-laden brown ones, a wide, playful grin on her face. “Ginny Weasley, was that a pick-up line?” Harry whispers back.

“Sue me,” she winks.

“No way. I’m rather turned on, actually.”

“Good,” Ginny follows, evilly, her lips still close to Harry’s ear. “Bathroom? There’s a private space in the very last one.”

“Fuck yes,” Harry exhales, as though he’d just received a punch to the plexus, and lets her drag him after her.

#clare's hinny ficfest #hinny #harry x ginny #canon compliant #banter & flirting #conversations at the countertop #hinny being hinny and loving a challenge #itsblissfuloblivion writes #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves

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yunhoiseyecandy · 3 years

Text

✕ 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞; 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

✕ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

✕ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 ◆ 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✕ 𝐰/𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 𝐧𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐚��

✕ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥- 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞

[𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭]

happy birthday, @hanatiny !!! a big thanks to @barnesbabee for giving me the plot for this story

─────

it was like a constant cycle

he goes to work, deems his workers' articles unworthy of being published, and then drives home late in the night only to be greeted by the emptiness of his home.

and he was starting to lose his mind

he needed a change in his schedule, like an escape from the real world. it’s normal to grow a need to leave a place you’ve grown to get tired from after so long.

the only thing closest to an escape for him would have to be sarah, his assistant at work. but he can’t remember the last time she’s made him feel something.

it started out as fuck buddies, but hongjoong soon got bored of her. she wasn’t into the things that he was, which made hongjoong confused because she said she liked it rough.

and it’s not like he did anything that she wouldn’t want, he made sure to respect her boundaries. but he was tired of being vanilla, so he opted to do the one thing he never thought he’d do,

“mingi, are you sure this is a good idea?” hongjoong said, his thumbs swiping up and down the screen of his phone. they’ve had no luck so far, only finding sketchy accounts that seem to be run by bots. “Yeah, I mean I got olivia from this app.”

“that doesn’t mean shit, dude.” san chuckled, slapping mingi upside the head. online dating is one thing, but finding a sugar baby who only really wants money is another.

it was hard finding someone who wasn’t only there for money, and he knew it would probably take a while before he found someone, considering money is the only reason they even had an account.

he wanted someone to take care of, to get his mind away from work and only focus on the way she felt wrapped around him, focusing on the sharp gasps for air that left her mouth.

“guys, I think we should just give up alread-”

san snatched hongjoong’s phone from mingi’s hand, motioning towards him with a wide smirk on his face. “I think you’ll like her. read the description.”

hongjoong laughed, surprised at how excited san seemed to be. he looked down at his phone, mouth agape at the words on screen. he’d never seen someone as intriguing as you, and the white lace you had on only made it harder for him to not press message right then and there.

introduction

hey baby, my name’s rose. are you my next sugar daddy? I’m 22 years old, and I’m looking for someone who always has time for me.

what are my interests?

I love painting, and photography is a close second on my favorites. I’m open to just about anything, so I don’t mind it if we have different hobbies.

hard no’s in bed?

nope, I’m open to anything and everything. maybe even a little bit of pain..

"you can breath if you want." san said, and hongjoong scoffed at the younger ones words.

he couldn't peel his eyes away from the screen, you were just too pretty. and he knew he had to have you.

"you guys can leave now, I think we're done here."

—

as soon as he saw you walk into the restaurant, he knew this was going to be a long night.

you had on a black dress with small slits on the side of it that made him want to bend you over the table you two were about to eat on.

he stood up from his seat to greet you, pulling out your chair and gesturing you to sit. "you look beautiful, rose."

he really didn't know what else to say, and the words left his mouth so effortlessly.

you couldn't lie that he looked more than handsome, and you felt slightly intimidated by the look in his eyes.

"thank you. and you look really nice, too."

it was a long and comfortable evening, but you couldn't help but tease him every now and then.

sometimes by going to "grab a napkin", but just using it as an excuse to show off your cleavage. or even going as far as to flirt with the waiter, slightly touched their arm when they would bring a new glass of water.

hongjoong lost it when you both had ordered dessert, and you decided it would be a good idea to suck the chocolate off the spoon while looking right in his eyes.

you loved his reactions, and you could tell you'd be in for it tonight. but after all, that was your whole plan.

this seemed different than all of your other sugar daddy's. he was genuinely interested in you, and not only for the sex. even though, you wouldn't mind it if he was.

"I can tell what you're doing, and you might want to stop while you can," he said, leaning in towards you.

you smirked at him, tilting your head to the side. "I don't think I understand what you mean, hongjoong."

scoffing, he waved down the host to bring the check. "I doubt that, sweetheart."

—

maybe teasing him was a bad idea. because as soon as you walked through the front door of his apartment he had your clothes scattered across the floor, already leading you to his room and on the bed.

“what’s your name, baby?” his voice was deep as he whispered into your ear, biting down on the shell of it as he sat you on his lap.

you leaned back, hands resting on his chest. “rose, I thought you knew?”

he chuckled, “no, you’re real name.”

you didn’t know what to say to him. no one has ever asked you for your real name, let alone care enough to ask if rose was your actual one. you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when he brushed his hand against your cheek, feeling the warmth through his actions.

you hesitated, leaning back into his touch. “it’s y/n..”

your lips brushed against his as you spoke, and you could taste the chocolate ice cream from earlier on them.

he hummed, his hands running up and down your body before he placed his thumb on your lip, trapping your jaw between his pointer finger and thumb. it was a soft movement, and it took your body by surprise when he tilted your head to the side so he could place wet, hot kisses all over your chest.

no one has ever done that before, and you loved the rush it gave your body. you tried your hardest to keep your legs from closing around his waist, but your underwear was starting to rub against you in a way that had your mouth closing to keep any noises from escaping your mouth.

“mhm, y/n,” he groaned into your skin. it was a beautiful name, and he thought it fit you all too well.

maybe it was the way he felt your wetness when you brushed against his shirt that had him flip you over, or it could’ve been because of the lingerie you had on. but he needed to hear you, taste you, anything that would have you screaming his name over and over again.

you gasped when he un-clipped your bra and pulled it off, tossing it on the ground and getting on his knees in front of you.

“I’ve been trying to picture how you’d look like this,” his hands ran up your legs, pushing them apart, “but nothing that I’ve imagined could ever compare to the view I have right now.”

your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as you took in everything. his lips as he dragged them up your thighs, the way his fingers teased the hem of your panties. and the way his eyes never once left yours.

“hongjoong,” you moaned as you felt him pull your underwear from your body as he returned back to his previous place. “please just do something already.”

he teased you, kissing right above where you needed him the most. he'd usually tease you since that's what you'd done to him. but right now there's no time for that.

he pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, flicking up into it and moaning around you. your head dropped back, and you couldn't help the whine the left your mouth.

"fuck, right there."

he made sure to take his time with you, wanting to make you come more than once tonight. his movements were slow at first, but they got faster with every moan you let past your lips.

his lips parted from your core, slipping a finger in you and groaning at how wet you were. "you taste so good,"

he felt you clench around him, and he easily slipped in another finger while watching your mouth drop open again.

his mouth found its way back to your clit as he sucked on it hard, curling his fingers to push you over the edge.

"h-hongjoong!" you clenched one last time around his fingers, feeling yourself tense up when his teeth grazed your clit.

he sat up slowly, enjoying your fucked out face more than he should. and as pretty as you looked right now, he wanted to see tears streaming down your face while making you come.

you were already tired and he hasn't even fucked you yet, so to say you were excited would be an understatement.

without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach and spread your thighs apart, pulling his boxers down.

his hand grabbed the base of his cock and he dragged it up your core, his knees digging into the matress behind you.

he pushed in slowly, making sure you were comfortable and not in pain. your eyes fluttered closed at your good he felt, and you clenched tightly around him when his finger moved to draw circles around your clit.

just like earlier, his strokes were slow. but with every passing moment his hips seemed to have a mind of their own and his place quickened.

you felt one of his hands press on the small of your back, pushing you into the matress.

the angle that you were at now had you screaming his name, and you could feel his cock hit all the places your fingers never could.

he made a warmth spread through your body when he angled his hips a certain way, hitting that one spot inside of you that made a silent scream come out.

"you close, baby? gonna make a mess on my cock?"

you couldn't tell if it was because of your previous orgasm, but you came as soon as those words left his mouth, nail ripping the bed sheets as you came around him.

hongjoong's head fell back as you came, his bangs sticking to his forehead from all the sweat he's built up.

it wasn't long after you came that he pulled out, ropes of his cum lining your back as he took in the view.

you slumped onto the bed legs giving out while he went to the bathroom and turned the shower on.

never in his life has he ever taken a shower with someone, only grabbing a wet towel to clean them up. but this felt different, and he felt the need to pamper you after all the stress he's put on your body.

"can you walk, baby, or do you want me to carry you?"

─────

#hongjoong smut #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst #ateez scenarios #kpop boy group #kpop fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez #kpop #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #kpopidol

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bokubear · 2 years

Text

osamu miya sighed, he had insisted that you help him make halloween desserts if you were so excited.

it seems you’d seen a compilation of videos and photos covering the topic, from extravagant pieces to those just covered in candy.

no, if the miya knew one thing it was how to cook. not desert making. but he would try, he would try this with you, for you.

“we put ice cream in it?” he wrinkled his nose, disgust ebbing closer.

“yes we do! it makes it more flavorful!” you gawked, swiping your finger in the ice cream and smudging it on his nose. he sat shell-shocked for a seconds time and sprung to his feet, chasing you with a tainted spoon.

not to long after, the kitchen was more of a mess than expected, completely covered with flour, icing, candy, ice gram, skittles, m&ms and much more. sugary things.

an hour or so later, the masterpiece was finished. caked in candy and icing, not bad to you. on the other hand your dear boyfriend stared at it in disgust, gagging at the sight.

“we tried!” you high fived osamu happily, osamu repeating your words less cheerily.

“you don’t like it?” titling your head at the piece, you leant into his side.

“it’s to sweet.“ he grumbled, causing you to burst out laughing. patting his side dramatically you doubled over, gasping breathily for air through each laugh.

“it’s supposed to be sweet you dork.” he stuck his tongue out teasingly at your words.

“wanna try it?”

“no.”

“well you don’t have a choice!” you gripped his hand, leading him to the countertop where the absolute putrid desert sat. handing him a spoon, you took a piece, watching while he measily spooned a bit, eating it in unison. his expression contorted indifferently to his emotions beforehand.

“it’s actually.. kind of good.” osamu chuckled, the mixture was more mild than before.

“see! our creation is ultimate!!” you huffed proudly.

“mhm mhm. i’ll keep that in mind.” he grinned, cupping your face and kissing your lips.

“i got a lot of ice cream in my bite, can you taste it?”

-mack

plagiarism, repost, and editing is prohibited

#🌾🌼#🌱#maakwrites.#osamu miya #hq #hqxreader #osamuxreader #osamu miya x reader #haikyuuxreader

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ri-ahhh · 3 years

Note

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment.

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again.

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip.

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin.

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink.

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

#the relief i have in finishing this lmao #im sorry its a day late this took way more effort than i thought it would #dolan twins #grayson dolan #smut #blurb #g blurb

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

Sweatpants SZN (Miguel Edition)

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader (Reader used from Wild Child)

Summary: The reader gets the rare sight of Miguel in sweatpants

Warnings: Smut, knife play, a lil violence

A/N: Shoutout to @thesandbeneathmytoes sending me this video that inspired this fic.

“Marcus, where’s my husband?” You just gotten back from work and were eager to see Miguel. “He’s downstairs training with Nestor, Mrs. Galindo.” When you heard the word training, you took off and ran for the gym, Marcus’ laugh getting fainter with each step you take.

The reason for your Usain Bolt run was that it wasn’t often that you got to see Miguel train aka see him in gray sweatpants. He only wore them when he was in the gym because he didn’t consider them proper loungewear (like he has time to lounge anyway).

You got there out of breath, but you were there just in the nick of time. Miguel was sparring with Nestor in the ring. As the boss, there was no need for your husband to get his hands dirty but he always needed to stay sharp. It was a great turn on to see him this way. Primal, swift, and strong. An alpha.

He was keeping up with Nestor which was no easy feat. That man was military trained and a top-notch killer. “Alright, good job Mikey.” Nestor patted his friend on the back and jumped out the ring. “Y/N,” he acknowledges you on his way out.

“You’re either getting slow or he’s getting good,” you nudged him the ribs. “Watch yourself.” He nudged you back and ruffled your hair.

“Mi amor.” He came out of the ring and kissed you. “Nestor’s getting slow or I’m getting good? I don’t know if I should be insulted or proud.”

“How was your day,” you ignored his comment and changed the subject. Miguel smirked at you, knowing you were avoiding the subject of his fighting capabilities. “Actually good, Agro project moving on and the other world is quiet.”

Miguel kept talking, but you weren’t listening. You would give the mandatory ‘mmhmm’ and look in his eyes for a bit, but your eyes always made it back to his dick. It really was a shame he wouldn’t wear the sweats more often. Or maybe it was a good thing, because nothing would get done if he did.

“Baby,” Miguel lifted your chin with two of his fingers. “My eyes are up here.”

“I know that.” You pulled away, feeling a bit of shame at being caught. “They’re just sweats. Nothing special. I don’t get why you get all hot and bothered.”

“Same reason you bend me over when I wear those green shorts,” you whispered in his ears as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “But they make your ass looks so delicious.”

“And these,” you gripped his dick, “makes you your dick look scrumptious. Makes me want to slurp it like an icee.”

“Mujer tonta (Silly woman), anyway how was your day?” You tried, you honestly did, but you couldn’t continue talking to your husband without looking at his crotch. Miguel was tired of it, so he decided to get your attention. He swung at you, knowing your reflexes were quick.

Blocking his punch with your forearm, you threw your own only for him to block it. “So that’s how its gonna be?” You kicked off your heels and threw off your suit jacket. “Si, let’s see if Nestor is getting slow or if I’m getting good.” Smiling you circled around Miguel, planning your attack. “I’m putting my money on Nestor getting slow.”

Your tactic, wait Miguel out. Being weaker than Miguel meant that you had to use his body as leverage. “Come on, Miguelito. Show me those killer moves,” you taunted him.

At first, Miguel got a couple of licks in. He was definitely getting better, but you wouldn’t let him know that. Spinning your leg around, you went to kick him, but Miguel caught it. “Really, honey? You go for that every time.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” Using your free leg, you swiped Miguel’s leg from under causing him to fall on the mat. Quickly, you got on top of him. “Pinned ya again,” you smiled down at him.

Miguel couldn’t be mad that you bested him, because the view he got was breathtaking. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He stroked your cheek. “Hmmm, I believe you told me when I was on my lunch break.”

“That was too long ago, so I’m gonna tell you again. The moon, the stars, the universe couldn’t contain my love for you.” Leave it to Miguel Galindo, ruthless businessman and cartel boss to make you all soft and gooey inside. “I love you too, Senor Galindo, but if you wanted pussy all you had to do was ask.”

Miguel laughed as he pulled you down to kiss him. The kiss started off innocently, but as it went on it gained heat and you began grinding on Miguel. His hands went for the buttons of your blouse, but than Nestor ran in. “Nestor no!” You pointed at the man to leave and take whatever bad news with him.

“Sorry, Y/N/N. Mikey, it’s an emergency.” Nestor informed Miguel and then left, not wanting to see anything explicit between you two.

Pushing Miguel’s shoulder, you picked up your discarded shoes and jacket. “You just had to jinx it.”

“What?” He asked, somewhat jogging to the room so he could shower quickly. “Earlier you said there was no problems in the other world and now look there’s a problem.”

Miguel pulled you by the hips and smirked down at you. “So, you were listening?”

“Of course, I was listening. I can multitask. Now shower so you can leave and come home faster.” Miguel followed your orders and promptly left the house, making you promise not to stay up for him.

Boredom struck. The boys were helping out with Miguel, so you couldn’t go to the clubhouse and hang with them. You already visited Felipe, so you didn’t want to bother him. Your girl friends all had their own boos to snuggle up to and you weren’t in the mood for tv. What you were in the mood for though was teasing.

Typically, you wouldn’t tease Miguel when he had a work emergency, but your body was still revved up from early. A little teasing wouldn’t hurt. Quickly you shed your frumpy clothes and put on the green booty shorts Miguel loved, a white lacy bra, and halfway zipped hoodie. Standing in your full body mirror, you took a couple of photos until you were satisfied with them.

Sifting through the photos, you finally choose the winner and sent it to Miguel. He responded quicker than you expected him to.

Miguelito: What is wrong with you? I’m working!

You: I just wanted to show you what you have waiting for you at home. It was a onetime thing.

Miguelito: Well, now I’m unsuccessfully hiding a hardon from your friends.

When Miguel told you that you switched to the group chat and threatened your friends.

You: Leave my husband alone or you can’t come over for Sunday dinner.

Coco: My bad!

Angel: Damn that’s cold!

Gilly: Angel started it!

Angel: Snitch!

You: Children. I’m friends with children.

You left the men alone, knowing they had work to do.

That text held you over for a couple of hours, but boredom hit you once again. One more picture couldn’t hurt, and it would be less harmless. Taking a lollipop out of the candy dish, you unwrapped it and placed it in your mouth suggestively, taking selfies of the lower half of your face.

You: Last one, I promise.

Miguelito: You don’t know how to fucking listen. Wait til I get home.

Hoe well, you thought and didn’t bother to respond.

Soon, you found entertainment elsewhere making time fly by. You were sitting on the island swinging your legs while eating cookies and cream ice cream when Miguel finally came home. “Didn’t I tell you not to wait up?”

“Yup,” you emphasized the ‘p’, licking your spoon clean. “But when do I ever listen?”

“True,” Miguel took the spoonful of ice cream and put in his mouth. “Hey, that’s mines!” The thief didn’t care. He kept on eating your ice cream like it was his.

Enough was enough. Grabbing one of the kitchen knives you swiped at Miguel, but he dodged it. “You sure you want to do this, sweetheart?” Miguel grabbed a knife of his own and twirled it around. “Yeah, we both know you’ll end up on your back with me pinning you again.”

“You’re too cocky, mi amor.” Miguel swiped at you and your knives clashed. The two of you fought throughout the kitchen. If you weren’t busy protecting yourself, you would’ve admired your man, but right now he was the enemy and you had to kick to his ass.

Miguel was gaining on you. You didn’t expect him to have this kind of energy after the day he had. He should’ve been more tired than this. Maybe he is actually getting better.

Using a random kitchen towel, you tried to twist the knife out of Miguel’s hand, but he must’ve been hitting the weights because his arm wouldn’t budge. With his other hand he twisted your arm, taking your knife and holding in under your hair in the back while his is at your throat.

For awhile both of you stood there, staring at each other. Miguel with smugness and victory and you with shock and lust. “You should’ve known better, mi amor. Knives aren’t your strongest suit, you should’ve stuck to guns.”

“I guess you are getting better.”

The knife Miguel had to your throat was lightly trailing your skin. Your breath quickened as the metal went down to your clavicle and to your chest. Miguel cut through your bra, shorts, and underwear. “Hey!”

“Shut up,” Miguel backed you into the counter. “I’ll buy you more.” He dropped both knives and caressed your body with his hands instead. “So beautiful,” he stroked the edge of your hair with his pinky. “My little wild child of a wife. What am I gonna do with you?”

Pulling the collar of his shirt, you bent Miguel down to kiss you. “Whatever you want, my dear husband.”

“Whatever?” He raised his eyebrows at you and backed away to the refrigerator. “Whatever.” You leaned back and spread your legs wide open to expose your dripping folds.

Miguel took an ice cube and crunched it in his mouth. His cold kiss on your shoulder caused you to hiss at the beautiful sting it caused on your body. “I really should punish you for those pictures earlier, but I got this beautiful body in front of me and now I want you crying from my cock. Do you want that, baby?” Miguel tugged on your bottom lip while he scissored two fingers inside of you.

“God, yes,” you groaned, throwing your head back. “Look at you,” He drew out his fingers from you, your stick essence clinging them together. “So needy and desperate because some of goddamn sweatpants. You’re my little slut, huh?”

“Yes, Miguel.”

“Uh huh,” he seized up your neck. “Wrong name.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Better,” he harshly grabbed you by the neck and kissed you. Eager to get things moving along, you started unbuckling Miguel’s belt and pushing down his slacks.

“Clam down.” Miguel ordered you when you groaned when he had to stop kissing you to take off his shirt. “Can’t even stop touching you without you having a damn fit.”

Kissing along his neck, you dug your fingers in his hair. “I can’t help it, daddy. I’m your little slut.”

“Damn right,” Miguel growled, slamming into you. “So, fucking tight. You were made for me.” Miguel was fucking you just like he was fighting with you earlier. Sharp, precise, and fast. This time he was hitting his target, making sure you felt every little thing.

“Daddy, please,” the tears were running down your face. It was too much too fast. “Daddy please what?” Miguel mocked you, leaning his forehead against yours. “Its getting too much for you?” He led you into a false sense of security, because in your drunk state you thought you could push him away. Miguel took your offending hand and twisted it behind your back. “See, that’s not what you’re gonna do. You’re not gonna run from this dick after you were acting like a damn fiend today.”

“But daddy,” you tried to kiss Miguel, but he pulled away and darkly chuckled at you. “That’s not nice, daddy.” You pouted, disappointed that Miguel denied you a kiss.

“It wasn’t nice when you doubted daddy’s fighting skills today. It wasn’t nice when you sent those pictures knowing I had a work emergency.” Once again, Miguel wrapped his hand around your throat but with much more pressure. “Actually,” he whispered in your ear like you two weren’t in the comfort of your home. “I’m quite merciful,” he slowed down significantly, making you feel the drag of his dick and miss it when he pulls out all the way. “I’m allowing you the pleasure on my cock, but I need one thing from you.”

“Wha- wh- wha- what is that?” You stumbled over the words, ready to do whatever your man says.

“Beg.” He enunciated perfectly, still keeping up with his slow pace. The thought to say no crossed your mind. Oh, how you loved to but the need to cum was overwhelming and you could always act up later and lure him into thinking you were going to be compliant for the night. This was just the first of many rounds for the night. “Daddy, pretty please let me cum on your beautiful cock.”

“There’s my good girl.” Miguel smiled and kissed you as he pulled you closer to drill into you. His name left your mouth repeatedly like a fervent prayer.

“Keep squeezing me just like that.” He panted in your ear, grabbing a handful of ass.

“Fuck. Fill me up, let me make you a real daddy.” Miguel came to a complete stop. “You’re serious?”

Cupping his face, you gave him a million little kisses. “Yes. I wanna make my daddy a daddy.” Expanding your family has been weighing on your mind heavily lately. Baby fever was getting to you and you couldn’t wait anymore to have some with Miguel.

Miguel snapped his hips into yours, resuming his brutal pace. “You’re gonna look exquisite with carrying my babies.” He whispered softly, contradicting from how hard he was fucking you. “You’re not working though.” He added, knowing you were just as much as a workaholic as he was.

“Debatable.” You weren’t about to get into this argument with Miguel while he was balls deep in you and you weren’t even pregnant yet.

“You can never just agree with me, can you?” Miguel didn’t give you a chance to answer, he just went harder of that was even possible. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll fuck it out of you tonight.”

You couldn’t do much, but you managed to roll your eyes. Good luck with that, you thought.

Miguel bit into your shoulder. “A fucking brat until the end.” He pummeled into you, triggering your release and his.

Both of you stood or rather Miguel stood there with you wrapped around him, covered in sweat. Kissing the spot where he bit you, he asked, “You were serious right? That wasn’t just heat of the moment dirty talk?”

“Yeah I’m ready to start a family…well only if you are.” You quickly added, suddenly nervous that Miguel changed his stance on kids. “Of course, I am,” he smacked your ass. “I get to tame your wild ass down.”

“Never! Imma have a mini-me and we’re gonna run you ragged,” you cackled, thinking of all the ways of you and your future child will terrorize Miguel.

“Typical.” Miguel shook his head as he walked the both of you to the bedroom. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Let me slurp you like an icee?” You bat your eyelashes at him. The corner of his mouth ticked before he rolled his tongue around. “Yeah something like that.”

Welp, looks like you were about to get that punishment.

Tagging: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @starrynite7114 @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jassydwill11 @otomefromtheheart @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl

#black!reader #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fandom #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"And then he said he— he missed me. And then he just hung up."

Max, who had been pacing for as long as El had been telling the story from her bed, pauses briefly.

"He's a piece of shit." She says, resuming her angry pacing.

"What?"

"Mike doesn't have jackshit to do today, and his Nana obviously isn't sick," she stops again, a strained grin growing on her face. "And I guarantee him and Lucas are playing Atari right now,"

A sigh comes from Y/n, who sits up against Max's headboard, one leg dangling off the bed and the other propped up next to El. A similar expression to Max works its way onto her features as she looks between the two girls.

"She's right," she shakes her head, cupping her glass of f/d in her left hand even tighter. "I was with Will earlier and he told me he and Lucas were meeting at Mike's house,"

Growing visibly confused, a wounded expression comes over El's face as she looks between them.

"But... friends don't lie."

"Yeah, well boyfriends lie." Max fires back. "All. The. Time."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"She knows I'm lying. She knows I'm lying!"

Mike paces his basement floor, his heart hammering in his chest just at the thought of how deep he was into trouble. Lucas sits on the recliner, just feet away from Will who was setting up the campaign Y/n had helped him to plan.

"I don't even understand," Lucas says. "Why lie?"

Will looks up from the D&D board he was setting up.

"Hopper," Mike answers. "He threatened me,"

"Did he say he'd kill you?"

Mike stops, looking at Lucas baffled. "What? No!"

"So what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that if I don't do what he says, he's gonna stop me from seeing El. Like, permanently,"

"Did you try telling her the truth?" Will asks. "You, know tell her what Hopper wants?"

Mike shakes his head, seeming eager to dismiss the thought. "No, she—" He sighs, running a hand over his face. "She wouldn't understand. She wouldn't take it the right way,"

Will makes a face. "I think you're underestimating her,"

"It wouldn't matter anyway," Mike says, clearing beginning to get worked up again. "You don't understand," he looks again between his two friends with a frantic look in his eye. "Neither of you understand. Hopper's crazy. He's lost his mind. I had no choice. I really had no choice,"

"You could have told her the truth," Will tries again. "That was an option,"

"So was consulting me first," Lucas chimed in, causing Will to roll his eyes and return to his game. "Because, the way you handled this..." he shrugs. "You're in deep shit,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"You're gonna stop calling him," Max says, growing stern. "You're going to ignore his calls. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't exist."

"Doesn't exist?" El gaped.

"Or you could call him out," Y/n adds. "Confront him. Work it out?"

"Bullshit! He treated her like garbage," Max says, turning back to El. "Now you're gonna treat him like garbage. Give him a taste of his own medicine."

El nods stoically as the works soak in.

"Give him the medicine,"

Y/n smiled to herself down into her drink at that before taking another sip.

"Mm-hmm," Max nods, proudly. "And if he doesn't fix this? If he doesn't explain himself? Dump his ass."

Both El and Y/n's eyes go wide.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Arhhgg!!!"

Mike slaps his hands against his forehead after collapsing into the couch with an aggravated groan.

Lucas winced beside him.

"I'm not gonna lie. It's gonna be bad,"

"ARGHH!"

Lucas draws in a deep, thoughtful breath. "But, you can fix this." He jumps to his feet. "It's just one little mistake. I've made hundreds. Thousands!"

Will looks up from the D&D board again with a frown.

"Are you guys really this bad at relationships?"

Lucas looks over at him and scoffs. "I wouldn't call Me Winning Max Back Five Times being bad at relationships," he boasts, turning back to Mike.

It's Will's turn to scoff. And he does so while placing another character on the gameboard as he mutters to himself. "I would,"

"That's right," Lucas continues, not having heard Will's little remark. "Max has dumped me five times. But what I have done? Huh? Have I despaired? No. I've marched back into battle and I've won her back every freaking time."

"I don't think that's a good thing, Lucas," Will tries again, but is again, ignored.

"How?" Mike asks.

A grin stretches across Lucas's lips. "I'll show you." Lucas makes a break for the stairs, gesturing for Mike. "Come on,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Come on," Max says, pulling El and Y/n up to their feet.

"Where are we going?" El asks.

"To have some fun," she answers, pulling them both to the door. "There's more to life than stupid boys, you know."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Mike jumps from the couch and follows Lucas closely on his heels, leaving Will without warning and no time to follow.

"Wait, guys!" He calls, peering over the table and up the stairs where they have already disappeared. "I'm still here!"

The only answer he receives is the muffled sound of the garage door opening and closing upstairs.

"Guys?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Another plastic spoon dives into the sea of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, scooping up a taste for Erica Sinclair. Robin reluctantly hands the spoon over to the young girl who waits eagerly with her posse of friends. She gives the taste a moment of thought before licking her lips and discarding the spoon.

"Hmm, can I try the Peppermint Stick?"

"Haven't you already tried the Peppermint Stick?" Robin asks tiredly.

"Yes, and I'd like to try it again,"

Fighting a losing battle with a sigh, Robin turns to the closed window behind her and gives an exasperated cry.

"Steve?"

On the other side of the window, Dustin is seated at the break table with an open copy of Russian to English translation while Steve paces the floor and eating a banana.

"Поездка в Китай звучит хорошо, если действовать осторожно... Неделя длинная."

"So what do you think?" Dustin asks, pausing the tape he had gotten of the broadcast the previous night.

Steve nodded, shoving another piece of banana in his mouth. "It sounded familiar."

"What?"

"The music," he answers through stuffed cheeks. "That music right there at the end,"

"Why are you listening to the music, Steve?" The boy asks, growing aggravated. "Listen to the Russian! We're translating Russian!"

"I'm TRYing to listen to the Russian—"

-"Alright!—" Robin comes lumbering through the door she had just thrown open.

-"but there's music—"

"—babysitting time is over." She orders, her sudden appearance sending Steve stumbling back in shock. "You need to get out there. Hey, my board!"

Robin gestures angrily to the YOU WIN | YOU SUCK whiteboard that had now been wiped clean and replaced with the Russian to English Alphabet from the book.

"That was important data, shitbirds,"

"I guarantee you what we're doing is way more important than your data," Dustin says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, and how do you know these Russians are up to no good, anyways?"

Dustin gapes up at Steve, looking dangerously close to livid. His voice lowers in a not-so-quiet whisper that only entertains Robin more.

"How does she know about the Russians?"

"I don't know!" Steve whines, once again through a mouthful of banana.

"Did you tell her about the Russians?"

"It wasn't me," he says, through puckered lips.

"Hello, I can hear you," Robin says, pulling their shared gaze over to her. "Actually, I can hear everything. You are both extremely loud. You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country on tape, and you're trying to translate but you haven't figured out a single word because you didn't realize the Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do."

She looks between the two gaping boys and quirked a brow.

"Sound about right?"

Robin knows to take their silence for a yes and grabs for the tape. But Steve is just a bit quicker and swipes it out of her reach.

"Woah, what are you doing?"

"I wanna hear it,"

"-Why?"

"Cause maybe I can help," Robin shrugs. "I'm fluent in four languages, you know,"

"Russian?" Dustin asks hopefully.

"Ou-yay are-ay umb-day,"

"Whoa-ho-ho-ho!"

"Holy shit!"

"That was Pig Latin, dingus,"

Steve whacks Dustin on the arm, "Idiot!" He hisses.

Robin takes a seat across from the Dingus Duo, lounging back.

"But I can speak Spanish, and French and Italian and I've been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me,"

Steve gives a nervous laugh, the beginnings of 'I don't know...' dying on his tongue. The shrill cry of the customer bell ringing loudly from out front and Robin jumps in.

"Come on, it's your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate. I don't even want credit," She flops over the table, reaching for the tape in Steve's hand. "I'm just bored."

Steve has only a moment to think on it before the sound of the bell returns. Erica wanted more samples. Steve didn't want to go out and work, but he couldn't deny Robin's credentials. And so with a begrudging look, Steve hangs up the tape for a scooper.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The bus doors swing open with a squeak and out spills a small group of mall-goers. In that bunch, is Max, Y/n, and El.

El's jaw goes slack when she takes in the sight of Starcourt Mall.

"So, what do you think?"

It was wonderful. And wonderfully terrifying. It was exciting and new but it was also extremely intimidating. El hadn't seen a building this huge since the lab—apart from Chicago—and as she stood here now under the gaping mouth of the archway she couldn't help but feel like it was ready to swallow her whole, never to be seen again.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Max asks.

"Too many people," El answers sadly. "Not safe,"

Max chuckled. "Seriously?"

"You have superpowers," she whispered excitedly, giving her a nudge. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I think you just answered your own question," Y/n laughed.

But truthfully, every possibility of disaster popcorning in her brain was lulled to sleep by the idea of sharing a day showing El a well-deserved day out.

And seeing the yearning growing in El's eyes as she gazed upon Starcourt's walls—a look she hadn't seen on the girl since the snowball—was all the persuasion she needed. It was time to make new memories.

The three of them.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Starcourt Mall was brimming with activity that day, most like it had any other since its grand opening. The entrance swallowed whole gaggles of citizens at a time, the outer rims of its halls pumping life all throughout, but none more so than the heart. It was here the neon azure sign bearing its name shone brightly even in the waterfall of sunlight pouring in from the roof of skylights. The yellow and blue hands of the clock telling everyone the warm morning had leaked into a toasty afternoon.

There is joy and plenty of unbridled fun being had by all who attend, and yet they all seem to pale in comparison to the new trio bounding in.

A grinning Max and Y/n have hold of either of El's hands, only releasing when the three of them have reached the very center of the mall. Joy fills their lungs as they watch El, silent and slackjawed as her wide eyes drink up everything around her.

"So," Y/n gave her friend a light nudge, unable to wipe the painful smile off her sore cheeks. "what do you want to do first?"

Max gave another chuckle. "You've never been shopping before, have you?"

El's still shocked face comes to look between her friends, and she shakes her head.

Max and Y/n share an elated look and turn back to El, knowing they were thinking the same thing.

"Well then I guess we're just gonna have to try everything," Max says, spreading their infectious smile to El.

Y/n's eyes widened with delight. "I think I know where to go first,"

Seizing the hands of her best friends, the three of them took off, disappearing into The Gap, unknowingly missing their respective significant others only just.

"I just... I don't understand what we're looking for," Mike sighs, two of his best friends in tow.

"Something pretty and shiny that says 'I'm sorry.'" Lucas said, eyes already scanning the mall for outlets that might cater to their needs.

"What, just something that literally says 'I'm sorry?'"

Will laughed and Lucas threw his hands to his face in agitation.

This wouldn't be easy.

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drabbles-mc · 4 years

Text

Rough Week

EZ Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of depression

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: EZ is my emotional support character lmao 😂😂 Whenever I’m going through it, it’s just going to turn into a fluffy EZ fic and I’m totally okay with that. So, enjoy EZ being the sweet, caring guy we all know he is 🥺🥰😍

You knew that if you received one more piece of bad news it was going to send you into a full-on breakdown. Every single day this week something else had popped up and given you more problems to deal with, more bad news. Your heart was heavy and you couldn’t take it anymore. You figured it was Sunday, the end of one week and the start of a new one, and you could start fresh on Monday.

And then your phone dinged. You picked it up excitedly, hoping for some good news after your interview a couple weeks ago. You’d had a really good feeling about it, and the team that you would be working with seemed to love you. You swiped the email open and you got two sentences into it before your heart sank. On top of everything else, you weren’t getting your promotion. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes and you fought the urge to start sobbing. This alone wouldn’t have been enough to break you, but everything else this week had gone wrong and you just wanted to fucking sob.

You exited out of the email and found EZ’s number, hitting the call button without a second thought. It rang a few times before you finally heard his voice on the other end of the line. You tried to keep it together as you asked him, “Hey, can I come over?” your bottom lip trembled, “I really just…don’t want to be alone right now. I need a break.”

“You want me to come to you?” you could hear the worry in his voice.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have to drive all the way out here.”

He chuckled, “You only live ten minutes away, Y/N, it’s not a big deal. Sit tight, I’ll come over with some stuff, okay?”

You sighed, knowing you didn’t have it in you to argue with him, “Okay. Thank you, EZ.”

He said you’re welcome before hanging up the phone. You melted back into your couch, not wanting to move. Maybe it was better that he was coming to you, because you had no interest in moving. You had spent all day in a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra and you had no intention of changing just because EZ was coming over. He was your best friend—he’d seen you at your worst. Nothing was going to surprise him at this point.

You were still curled up on the couch as he walked through the door of your apartment. He had a bag dangling from his hands. He saw you lounged on the couch, staring off into space, and his expression fell. It wasn’t often that you called him sounding so sad and defeated.

“I brought ice cream,” he offered up with a small smile, “And wine.”

“Just bring the bottle over,” you sighed, looking at him with tears in your eyes, “I already called off for tomorrow.”

He put the ice cream in the freezer and, despite your request, brought over two glasses for the wine. He had no doubt that you could finish off a whole bottle, but he still wanted you to pace yourself. He sat down close to you, handing you a glass before opening the wine and pouring some in. he held out his arm and gestured for you to come and lean against him, and you did.

As his arm fell protectively around you, the tears in your eyes started to spill over. You weren’t sobbing, but you couldn’t stop the flow of them from running down your cheeks and onto his shirt. He ran his hand up and down your back affectionately, waiting for you to be ready to talk about whatever was going on. He was glad that you felt comfortable enough to come to him when you were feeling this way. As much as he hated seeing you so discouraged, he was glad that you weren’t making yourself go through it alone.

“I just want a fucking break, EZ,” you finally managed to force out, your voice hardly above a whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“What isn’t?” you sat up a little, wiping the tears from your face, “I got injured at work this week,” you gestured to the bandages that were wrapped around your arms, “My car is still in the shop after they’ve had it for a fucking week when I was supposed to have it by Friday, my depression is flaring up like you wouldn’t fucking believe, and on top of it all,” your lip started to quiver again, “I got passed over for that promotion.”

You threw a lot at him in a short span of time, but it felt good to just rant and get it all out. Your chest felt a little lighter. You took a long drink from your glass and leaned back against EZ’s side with a sigh.

He squeezed your shoulder lightly, “Sounds like you’ve had a really shitty week. I’m sorry, Y/N. You deserve a break,” he pulled away from you slightly, “Go crawl in bed and put your favorite show on. I’m gonna get my boots off and I’ll bring the ice cream in and we can just hang out. You can be sad and stuff your face with rocky road while we watch cartoons. Deal?”

A small smile spread across your face, wondering how you got so lucky to have him as your best friend, “Deal,” you scooped up the wine and the glasses and wandered off to your bedroom.

EZ watched you walk away, his heart heavy at the sight of you. He loved being your best friend and the person that you turned to for comfort. He couldn’t pretend, though, that sometimes he didn’t want more. You had never seemed interested so he never pushed it, not wanting to lose you, but sometimes he almost didn’t catch himself before saying something to you about it. He shook his head at himself as he toed off his boots and grabbed two spoons for the pints of ice cream he had brought over. He took a deep breath before following your path to your room.

He stood in the doorway for a moment and his breath got caught in his throat. Obviously he hated that you were feeling so drained, but even when you were contorted across your mattress in a pair of sweatpants, you still looked beautiful.

“Got any room for me on that bed?” he chuckled as he walked over.

You managed a smile as you scooted over to one side so that he could situate himself next to you. He sat upright with his back against the headboard. He laid on top of the blankets on your bed, not wanting to seem like he was being pushy about anything by tucking himself in next to you.

He handed you your pint of ice cream and your spoon, managing to make you smile for a moment. You nestled up against his side as well as you could while still allowing him to use both arms to eat his own ice cream. He chuckled when he saw the show you put on.

“How many times do you think you’ve watched this?”

“It’s my emotional support show,” you chuckled a little despite how rough your mood had been, “Don’t judge it.”

“I just mean, you could probably recite this to me and I wouldn’t even have to watch it. Right?”

“Not everyone has a memory as good as yours, EZ,” you nudged him playfully with your elbow.

He laughed, shaking his head, “Fair. But in my defense, you quote it half the time we watch it anyway.”

“Maybe so,” you laughed before settling back against him again.

The both of you managed to finish off your pints of ice cream. You expected it from EZ, after all he had to eat something to keep his arms as large as they were. But you surprised yourself a little bit when you found your spoon hitting the bottom of the ice cream container. You handed it to EZ who set it on your bedside table. Now that his hands were free, he comfortably wrapped his arm around you, letting you rest against his side and chest again.

“I shoulda brought four,” he chuckled, not taking his eyes off of the television.

“Mm, maybe,” you were started to feel tired and your voice reflected it, “Next time I have a shitty week we’ll have to remember that.”

He heard the softness in your voice and glanced down at you, smiling at the sight of you trying to keep your eyes open. He gently ran his fingers through your hair that was still damp from the shower you had taken before you had gotten the email and called him. Without realizing it a small hum of approval escaped you and you settled against him even more. He felt your head lean more and more onto him as you drifted closer and closer to sleep.

“I can head out if you wanna go to bed,” he said softly, “I know you gotta be exhausted.”

“No,” your eyes were hardly open, “you can stay. I don’t have work tomorrow anyway,” you patted the blanket, “Get comfy.”

He hesitated, knowing that you were just feeling down and wanting the company. But he knew how he felt about you, and it made him feel skeevy. He stayed put the way he was, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. He felt your breathing slow down and he knew that if you weren’t asleep already, you would be soon.

“Your neck is gonna kill in the morning if you stay like that,” you mumbled, half-asleep.

“You sure you want me to stay?” he knows that it wouldn’t be the first time you slept over at each other’s places, but usually it was in separate rooms. Or you passed out on opposite ends of the couch during a movie. This felt so calculated and intimate.

“Please,” you couldn’t force your eyes open because you were so tired.

He wasn’t going to fight you on it, and he wasn’t going to break your heart anymore by leaving you alone when you clearly needed the company. So he carefully slid underneath the blanket next to you and let you slide up next to him. He laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You positioned yourself against his side with one arm draped over his chest. You thought you felt his heart beating fast but you couldn’t be sure as you drifted off to sleep. EZ heard your light snoring and looked down at you with a small smile. This was everything he could’ve ever wanted, he just wished you wanted it when you were happy, too.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up the next morning to find that at some point during the night, the two of you had shifted into a spooning position. His heart ached at how well your body fit with his. He squeezed you lightly to him, wanting to soak all of it up before you woke up and it all got ripped away from him. He could still smell the shampoo in your hair, and the warmth from both of your bodies was trapped beneath the blanket keeping you both cozy. He sighed, thankful that for all of the things he wished he could forget, this was one memory he’d always have.

You started to stir, mumbling nonsense as you subconsciously snuggled back against EZ. You heard him chuckle and that was what actually started to wake you up. As you started to come to your senses, you started to realize all of the sensations around you. He had his arms wrapped around your waist, and you could feel his breath lightly against the back and side of your neck. Your feet were barely touching his. It felt so right and you didn’t know what you thought about that.

You turned so you were facing him, and you had never been so close to his face before. Your noses were practically touching.

There was a soft smile on his face, “Morning.”

A tired laugh slipped out past your lips, “Good morning.”

“You sleep okay?”

You nodded, “Uh, yea, I think so. You?”

“Yea,” he smirked, “Aside from your snoring.”

You laughed, trying to push yourself away from him, “Shut up!”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you to stop you from being able to squirm away. In the process of that, your foreheads ended up being pressed together. Your breath got caught in your throat and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing that you were: this is how it’s supposed to be.

“Y/N,” his voice was almost inaudible.

“Yea?” your eyes were locked on his.

“I really wanna kiss you.”

You smiled, still wrapped tightly in his arms, “Do it.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you completely melted into him. You managed to snake your arms around his neck and keep him pulled up against you. His fingertips pressed lightly into your sides as he continued to keep his lips locked on yours. He nipped lightly at your bottom lip and you giggled, making sure not to break your kiss.

Finally, he pulled back just enough so that your lips were separated and he could look in your eyes. You smiled at him, tracing your fingers delicately down the side of his face, “I’m really glad I took today off.”

He smiled, giving you another quick, soft kiss, “That means we get to do this all day?”

You nodded, not saying anything else as you pulled his lips back to yours.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes fanfic #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes fluff #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #ez reyes drabble

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robinalaptop · 3 years

Text

Moments Fit Together Like A Glove | Frankie Morales x Reader

Fandom: Pedro Pascal - Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader ( written with a female reader in mind, but no mentions of the readers gender are made so I guess it could be for anyone )

Summary: You and Frankie take your dog, Churro, out to the park for her third birthday.

Warnings: None. Just a lot of fluff.

Word count: 1335

A/N: Hi! This is my first fic that I’ve written in a while. It’s also my first reader insert fic, first Frankie fic, and the first time I’ve written something of a substantial length in second person. Basically there’s a lot of firsts in this so please be friendly :D. I am considering making this into a series of drabbles with Frankie, Reader and the dog, so please leave some feedback if you’d like to see more. Also feel free to send asks with ideas/suggestions for other ideas :)

(Title from the song Good Day by Surfaces)

You’re humming to yourself as you bustle around the kitchen. You’ve already tied an apron on, and you’re mixing up ingredients for some dog-friendly cupcakes. It’s Churro’s third birthday, and you and Frankie are taking her to the park.

Churro, who sits under the table in the kitchen, is a large, fluffy german shepherd, lovingly named after the second food item you and Frankie bought on your first date. You went with the second food item because Frankie refused to name the dog Chicken.

Frankie walks into the kitchen as you’re taking the cupcake trays out of the cupboard, and he helps put the liners into the tray.

“What are you making?” He asks, swiping his finger along the side of the bowl and tasting the batter. He hums in approval. “It’s good, whatever it is.”

“Thanks,” you say with a grin. “They’re dog cupcakes.”

Frankie freezes and looks up at you with his mouth agape. “You mean I just ate dog food? And said it was good?” He asks, reaching for a glass of water.

“Well, they’re dog-friendly cupcakes. We can eat them too, but I made sure the ingredients are safe for dogs as well.” Frankie seems relieved as you show him the cover of a cookbook that reads Tasty Treats for Happy Dogs.

“Churro will be a happy dog if you feed her anything,” Frankie says with a laugh. Churro, hearing her name, lifts her head from where she is lying under the table.

“True, but she’ll be even happier when she eats these dog-friendly cupcakes!” You say, as you finish spooning the mixture into the tray and slide it into the oven.

* * * * * * * *

The cupcakes are iced, packed up and placed in the picnic basket, along with some sandwiches, water bottles and a thermos of orange juice. Frankie packs the camera into a bag, as well as plastic bags, a ball, a picnic blanket, a few party hats, and anything else you might need for your day in the park.

You put Churro’s harness on and get her into the car, followed by the picnic basket (far away from Churro), and the backpack. You hop in the passenger seat. Frankie drives.

* * * * * * * *

You spread out the blanket. Frankie immediately sets the basket down at the corner and lies across the middle of the blanket. He pulls his cap down over his eyes and tucks his hands behind his head. You smile at him and sit down, opening the basket and grabbing a sandwich.

Churro sees you taking food out and leaves the garden bed she was exploring. She trots over and steps squarely on Frankie’s stomach before sitting in front of you.

Frankie groans in surprise and props himself up on his elbows. He adjusts his cap and squints at Churro, feigning anger. You take a piece of ham out of your sandwich and give it to her as a reward. You’re scratching between her ears by the time Frankie sits up to hit you playfully on the arm.

“You can’t reward that kind of behaviour!” He says indignantly, but he’s smiling around the eyes and you know he’s not being serious.

Frankie opens a bottle of water and takes a sip, before lying back down on the blanket. You take a piece of ham out of your sandwich for Churro and hold it over Frankies stomach

Churro steps on Frankie again, and he lunges at you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pushing you playfully to the ground.

Churro gets distracted by the half-eaten sandwich that has fallen from your hand.

You get distracted by the kisses that Frankie is peppering all over your face and neck.

* * * * * * * *

Churro doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the party hat that Frankie has placed on her head, which surprises both of you.

Frankie dangles a treat over the camera as he tries to take a photo of you and Churro wearing party hats. The dog, however, is suddenly interested in everything else but the food; she turns her head around to look at people wandering past and stands up to sniff the grass around the mat.

“Churro!” You call, trying to get her attention. “Come here.” You say, tapping the blanket next to you. She comes and sits next to you.

“Oooh, quick, take it now!” You say as Churro finally looks at the camera. Frankie rapidly presses the button and snaps a few pictures before her attention is on some birds that have landed behind him.

You move closer to him as he lowers the camera from his eye to check the photos.

“Hey, these are pretty good!” Frankie says, tilting the camera for you to get a better look. They’re a little blurry, but they’re far better than any other ones you’ve gotten. “You happy with those, babe?”

“Yep.” You smile and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before taking the camera. “Now you go sit with her.”

Frankie gets up and calls Churro back to the blanket and when she comes he sits cross-legged next to her. You hold the camera with one hand and dangling treats above the lens with the other, and take some photos.

“Hang on,” Frankie says and takes the party hat off Churro. He puts his cap on the dog’s head and places the party hat on his own. “Now go.”

Churro seems very interested in Frankies hat, looking up as if she’ll be able to see it before it falls off. Frankie fixes her hat, and you snap a quick picture of them both looking at the camera before she turns and starts licking Frankies face. He laughs and tries to shove her away, and you snap a few quick pictures before he takes his hat back and Churro runs off again.

The photos with Frankie turn out good, and they’re all clear, except for one where they’ve swapped hats. This photo is a little blurry in places and neither are looking at the camera. Churro is too busy trying to lick Frankie’s face. Frankie is too busy laughing.

This photo is your favourite.

* * * * * * * *

You and Frankie take turns throwing the ball, and Churro chases it and runs back to where you’re waiting every time. She drops it in front of you and sits, ready for the pets she knows are coming.

You pick the ball up and throw it again, and this time Frankie chases after it as well. Churro is delighted by the new competition. Her ears flatten against her head as she outruns Frankie easily.

Churro starts to run back to you, and Frankie steps between her path and crouches down with his arms outstretched. She knows what this means, and she runs to Frankie and drops the ball. She sits and her tail thumps against the grass with excitement as she waits for a scratch.

But Frankie grabs the ball and takes off towards you. Churro jumps up and immediately begins chasing him. Frankie is shouting and waving the ball above his head as he runs back to you.

“I win.” He says breathlessly, dropping the ball.

And then he tackles you to the ground, and you’re laughing as he rips up handfuls of grass and sprinkles it in your hair with a grin. You roll around for a little, trying to get out of his grip. You don’t really care when you don’t succeed.

Churro notices the two of you on the ground and immediately bounds over, tail wagging as she tries to squeeze her way between you and Frankie. She gets a few good licks on Frankie before he rolls onto his back and moves one arm to push the dog out of his face. You reach out to scratch behind Churro’s ear and she sits squarely on Frankie’s stomach. Now he’s laughing just as much as you.

And the laughter makes your stomach hurt, but the sun warms your skin and he warms your heart, and you are warm.

And life is good.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #reader insert #my fic #triple frontier #fluff

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whump-town · 3 years

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Prof of Law Aaron Hotchner

Warning for violence, stabbing, nightmares, an anxiety attack, and drugs (the prescribed kind)

Aaron Hotchner is a retired Federal Persecutor-- just an AU where Hotch is a law professor for fun and angst!!

Bouncing Jack on his hip, Hotch smiles as he stands over Haley’s shoulder. He pulls his hand back from the cake, wincing when Haley smacks his hand away. She’s a perfectionist and having the smear of his finger through this cake is going to heavily disrupt her otherwise perfect spreading.

“Oh come on,” he pouts, he turns his body so she can see Jack. “We just want a little,” he attempts. Rousing his son, he jogs the boy up a little more in his arms. “Tell her Jack, tell Mommy, say only a little.” Despite being very much daddy’s little boy, Jack smirks and turns his head away. Giggling and babbling nonsense into his father’s shoulder. Wiping his face on Hotch’s shirt.

Hotch plays along. “See,” he offers, “just like he said. We only want just a little bit.”

Haley rolls her eyes, smiling at his antics. She reaches around the cake to the mostly empty tub the icing had come in. “Go,” she instructs, handing it to him. “Get out of my kitchen Aaron Hotchner before I beat you with this spoon.” She searches across the counter for the wooden spoon she’d used to keep the green beans on the oven stirred.

He smiles and kisses her head, avoiding the spoon when she tries to jab at his side with it.

As he’s walking away, egging Jack on in his triumph of obtaining the icing, there’s a knock at the door. He’s still talking to the baby, so stepping away from the cake she moves so she can see down the hall from the kitchen. To see if he’s getting the door. “Aaron--”

He steps into the hall and winks at her, “I’ve got the door.” He curses softly, pulling his hand away from Jack’s mouth. He’s swiped a finger into the container before coming to the door. Jack mercilessly chumps down on his fingers and regardless of his absent teeth it still hurts.

“Hey--”

Hotch lands flat on his back. The world a dark haze and a strange eerily painful chill in his side. Pain like he’s never felt before. Touching his side, he lifts his head off of the floor and stairs in shock at his hand. The dark, thick crimson of his blood. So much blood.

“Aaron!? Oh my God!”

Choking, Hotch tries to move. Mouth open and back arching, he kicks out blindly. The pain creating a black haze around his vision. Coughing and turning his head as he wheezes around the obstruction in his airway, his own blood, he can hear more gunshots. Jack screams, wailing, and sobbing on in distress. There is one final gunshot and the crying stops. The house falls silent.

“Jack,” he tries to move but his arms won’t hold his weight. “Jack,” he calls again, panic rising. “Come on, buddy,” he cries. “Where--” blinking the blood from his eyes he looks up and into the face of someone he hasn’t seen in a decade. George Foyet.

Leaning down, Foyet places his foot against Hotch’s throat. He presses down just enough to cut off the rest of his oxygen, smiling when Hotch uselessly tries to push him away. “Remember me, Aaron? Aaron? Aaron! Aaron--”

“Aaron! Easy, easy.”

He’s in bed. His grey t-shirt slick with his sweat and practically glued to his back. He’s safe. Looking around he can slowly start to piece together where he is. Dave’s house. Well, his house too but it’s Dave’s house.

“Woah,” perched on the corner of his bed is David Rossi. As silly as the older man looks in his matching pajama set (from probably the eighties) Hotch can’t spare the breath to do much more than lean into his embrace. “You’re alright,” Dave assures him, rubbing his back and cupping the back of his head. “Just breath for me kid,” Dave keeps Hotch pulled close, glad that he’s not trying to wrangle away just yet.

“Dave?” Hotch can feel himself shaking, his eyes pinched shut. He’s terrified, honestly. The nightmare had felt so real. So much like the real day. George Foyet had come into his home and-- “I need… Jack?” Hotch pulls away just enough to catch his old mentor’s eyes. Waiting to find the truth there. Because he can’t remember. His brain is split. Had he buried his son that day too? Is Jack… Is Jack dead too?

Dave smiles, it’s sad but it’s not mournful. “He’s sleeping in his bed,” Dave promises. “I checked on him before I came in here.”

Hotch can feel the hitch in his chest as he lets out a relieved breath. “He’s okay?” Hotch asks, he needs the clarification.

Dave nods, “perfectly content.” That’s the easy part about being a baby when the world goes to shit. Jack will never know his mother but he’ll also never have to wake, like his father, in cold sweats shaking from nightmares. Terrified and alone.

“Okay,” Hotch pulls back, scooting back in the bed so he can cross his legs and rest his head in his hands.

Watching him with an air of concern Dave sighs. He looks at the clock and shakes his head. It’s four in the morning and there’s no way that Aaron’s going back to sleep now. “You good,” he asks. As much as he’d like to stick around and make sure Hotch gets back to sleep… that’s futile.

For the last few years, they’ve been working on getting Aaron through the night. Whether it’s nightmares or insomnia he can’t seem to get a break.

Hotch nods with his face covered by his hands.

Dave stands and looks back over his shoulder one more time. “Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“Try and get some more sleep, alright? You can’t afford to lose anymore.”

Hotch doesn’t look up but hums in agreeance. Already he can feel the low throb at the back of his skull. If he starts drinking coffee now maybe he’ll make it through his first few classes without passing out. In the vending machines outside his office, they sell these little bottles of five-hour energy.

He’s a little too old to go chugging those but he’s not going to go canceling his class over a little missed sleep.

It’s been a long time since he even thought about consuming this much coffee.

By six a.m. he’s consumed four cups.

“How long have you been up?”

Hotch blinks sluggishly despite the warm fifth mug of coffee in his hands. “Hmm,” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Directing Jack down the hall, hand over the boy’s head like a claw, Dave looks Hotch down. His posture is awful, bent over himself, with dark rings under his eyes. “I asked how many cups of coffee you’ve had but I’m afraid I don’t want the answer.” Pushing Jack along, the boy scurries into the kitchen. Buzzing past his father to make a B line for the milk and cereal.

“Don’t spill the milk,” Hotch mumbles, watching Jack fumble with the carton.

It’s been nearly three years since George Foyet’s attack.

The man was released from prison for “good behavior” as young, white men tend to get off. It seemed as if the two young women he’d killed were brought to justice in the ten years he spent in prison. How easy it must have been for the justice system to see the opportunity in a man like him, while ignoring the ones he’d taken. A misguided youth and a tragic backstory only adding to their empathy.

The atrocities he’d committed were not of his own accord, of course not. It’s always so much easier to blame those young women or perhaps his mother. If those girls had not been out so late at night, if they hadn’t worn skirts and frilly tops then he would have never noticed them to begin with. If his birth mother had loved him more...

None of that matters now.

They considered Geroge Foyet “cured” and released him back into society.

Where his first stop was to a library, where he found the address of the man who put in prison. Federal Prosecutor Aaron Hotchner.

This is the part the dreams never get right. Foyet didn’t have a gun. He had a knife. A single pocket knife that he stole from a junkie in an alley. It had been late and Haley had answered the door. Hotch hadn’t even heard her cry out for him. He’d been wrangling Jack out of the tub, the little boy a mess of squirming limbs and very upset with his father for making him take a bath.

They’d been in Jack’s room when Foyet found them.

He’d had his back turned to the door, shushing the crying baby as best as he could while trying to get a diaper around his kicking legs. The first stab had been so quick… by the third he was on his knees and unable to do anything besides keep falling.

On that floor, George Foyet stabbed him six more times. Jack had screamed and cried the entire time. He’d been too young to understand, not even a full year old, but he knew something wasn’t right.

In the dreams, Foyet always kills Jack too. The harsh, overwhelming sound of silence those little cries silenced. There one moment and gone the very next.

He can’t remember much of what happened.

Foyet had moved to Jack, picking the boy up and shushing him. Hotch had watched, immobilized and too weak to even beg for his son to be spared. So he’d watched, choking on his blood, and slowly losing his battle with consciousness as Foyet settled down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and rocked his son. Soothed him.

A neighbor would walk by and see Haley laying in the hall. The blood…

Hotch had died on the operating table, a fact that Dave would later inform him of. He can’t remember recovery all that well. Clouded with drugs and grief, he… There was once, he remembers this clearly because it had only been a short time after he’d woken up, they’d brought Jack in. Dave and the nurses had been trying everything to calm him but he wasn’t sleeping or eating. He’d cry and cry and cry until he made himself puke or passed out.

The moment they placed Jack in Hotch’s arms, the baby had stilled. His pained cries dying to whimpers as he looked up at his father.

Hotch had been propped up with pillows. Too weak to even lift his own head but they’d stacked pillows around his sides and arms. He couldn’t fight the exhaustion weighing his body down but he clung to Jack. Waking from his sleep in a panic each time, watching the room’s other occupants in case they might try to take Jack from him.

After all the time he’d been nearly unresponsive to them, if having Jack around would keep his heart rate up and his oxygen intake steadily improving no one was going to complain. Several times he woke to his gown being moved so they could place Jack against him. Skin on skin therapy does wonders on humans of all ages. Recovery had been easier with Jack there. The baby stripped to his diaper and nestled against his chest. Little fingers grasping onto him.

It’s been three years and George Foyet follows him everywhere he goes.

“Professor?”

He makes his own lesson plans. He knows which cases come up when. “Who--” he makes the mistake of looking at the screen and his heart stills in his chest. Swallowing thickly around the obstruction in his throat, he looks down to the floor forcing himself to take in a steadying breath. “Who, um, can explain why this case can’t be dismissed on the grounds of Gamble v United States?”

He doesn’t need to call on a student. There’s only about ten kids in the class and it's a ridiculously easy question.

“It’s two separate accounts,” someone speaks up. “Same thing, sure, same crime even but that’s not how double jeopardy works. Besides, you’d want to look more into United States v Felix. Um--” The hard sound of one of the automatically folding chairs shutting in on itself sounds out through the room. “Sir?”

“Sir, are you okay?”

Hotch grips the edge of the desk tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “I’m--” his knees buckle but he forces his weight to his arms. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. “I’m okay,” he manages.

A student, he can’t tell which one, cautiously approaches his side. “Sir,” he calls. The student, Carter one of his more extroverted and adventurous students, squats down by his side, hand on his back just above his belt. “Not to alarm you,” Carter says, “but I think you’re having an anxiety attack. Do you have any medicine? Is there something we can do?”

Hotch squeezes his eyes shut, trying to work against the tears rapidly falling down his cheek. “My--” he grabs frantically for his tie. The knot against his throat tightening steadily to a noose until he can’t stand it. His hands are too weak to pull the material away but graciously, his useless fingers are pushed aside. Carter undoes the knot quickly and Hotch is suddenly very thankful that Carter’s pompous, cocky agenda brings a tie into his little aesthetic.

“In my office,” Hotch rasps, his hand twisted around his dress shirt. “It’s--” he sinks to the floor, head between his knees. “... a few,” he manages, “in my office.”

Carter turns over his shoulder. “Billy!”

Hotch looks up and watches Billy meagerly rise from where she’s called. Billy, while a great student, is riddled with social anxiety. Despite having taught the young woman all three years he’s been employed at the university she can’t meet his eye when they talk. And she always makes great haste in avoiding him. He’s never bothered to figure out if she’s got issues with authority, a problem with her father, or if she just hates him that much.

Carter turns back to Hotch, surprised by the startlingly vacant look in the man’s eyes. His eyes just watch Billy where she stands anxiously waiting to find out what awful thing she’s going to be asked to do.

“Sir,” Carter shakes Hotch a little. Smiling reassuringly when Hotch’s bloodshot eyes meet his. “I’m going to send Billy to get Professor Prentiss, is that okay? Billy is going to get the professor and we’re going to head to your office, alright?”

Hotch nods.

“Can-Can’t someone else go?”

Carter helps Hotch to his feet, graciously nodding his head to another student who slides under Hotch’s other arm. “No, Billy. Now go.”

Professor Prentiss is a notorious hardass. Her students love her but everyone else is terrified to even cross her path. She’s like a black cat, bound to be bad luck. It did not help Hotch’s already scary demeanor to befriend her. To spot the two of them coming across campus, Emily always professionally dressed in slacks and a dress shirt and Hotch in his standard suit and tie, they’d built a good rapport for being scarily mysterious.

Despite how frequently they could be spotted in the campus café laughing over a cup of coffee. Their human moments always outweigh their harsh ones. In fact, Emily Prentiss has only ever come down on a few students. The ones dumb enough to try and fool her. Hotch has never raised his voice to a student and is surprisingly lenient for a law professor or even just a professor in general.

For goodness sake, Emily stops to talk to the campus cats.

Hotch wears a little beanie with a red knot at the top Professor Garcia made him two Christmas’ ago and spends the spring semester chasing his son around the quad. (Garcia made him the beanie so she could recognize him easier in public. There are way too many tall men in suits around but the red little knot makes him easily detectable)

That’s not to say they’re still not intimidating.

“Pr-Professor Prentiss?”

Turning slowly from her chalkboard, Emily faces the weary voice. First of all, this is a senior advanced level Arabic class so there are only five students present and she knows each and everyone one of them. Well enough to know that whoever just called out her name is not one of her own. Nevermind they never break from Arabic during class time. Under her breath, in Arabic, Emily mumbles, “freshman.”

Yet, the young woman is dressed surprisingly professional.

“What is it,” Emily asks, crossing her arms. She pushes her glasses down her nose, moving the reading frame out of her sight. Looking down the length of her nose, raising an eyebrow at the girl. As if interrupting her class wasn’t bad enough, she’s not trying to waste instruction time on some undergraduate student roaming where she shouldn’t be.

The student steps in a little more, chest heaving, breathless, and looking anywhere but at Emily, stammers her way through an explanation. “Uh,” she wets her lips. “Um, Prof--Professor Hotchner he, um, he was-- he was taking us through, um, a criminal law case and he was…”

The half-amused smirk on Emily’s lips placed there in the humor of what she thought was going to be some silly mistake or a prank from a coworker is wiped away. Penelope has sent mischievous students her way in the past, to knock them down a few pegs or remind them who's in-charge here. Derek’s sent way too many kids over, a whole class once, instead of doing his job. It’s becoming very clear this is not a joke.

Tossing her glasses on her desk, she demands, “where is he?”

The girl takes two steps back, not liking Emily’s shift. “He, um, Carter took him to his office, ma’am. He--”

Emily turns to her students, “class is canceled. I’ll send you a text this afternoon to make up for class.” Then with a nod, takes off up the catwalk, shoes sounding sharply against the tile. “We’ll facetime!” Motioning the girls to follow, “you, with me. Let’s go.”

She sends Dave a text, nothing complex just “Aaron, SOS”.

Hotch’s office is down the same hall as his favorite auditorium to lecture in. She’d bullied him pretty hard upon finding this fact out. It sounded very, very nerdy. And it is. What kind of normal person has a favorite lecture hall? Let alone a favorite room? Just as promised, that’s where he is.

He’s on the floor, stripped of his jacket and his shirt thrown open to reveal his white-shirt. His head is in between his knees and a young man, Carter, Emily presumes, is struggling to open the orange bottle of Valium. People go broke buying the stuff from drug dealers and Hotch will refuse one up until he’s breathless and shaking.

“Get out.”

The boy stops, “what?”

Emily nods her head out the door, “both of you, out.”

They share a look but neither student puts up a fight.

Emily cracks the bottle open with a single twist, pouring a pill out into her hand. The only thing she has around to drink is what looks like either tea or coffee from (nothing him) days ago. He doesn’t use creamer but there’s still probably something toxic in their brewing. “Here,” she kneels down beside him.

He looks up, face broken out in sweat and cheeks flushed, and takes the pill from her palm.

“You okay,” she asks, rubbing his back. She watches her friend carefully, studying him.

He takes a deep breath and holds it, ticking the seconds away in his head. Nodding, he closes his eyes and hangs his head back limply between his knees. He lasts only a moment, eyes flying open she finds nothing but pure terror in his dark eyes.

“Hotch,” she calls, unsure if he’s even here with her right now. “Hotch, calm down. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, “hard to breathe…” His hand comes to his shirt, gripping the white material tightly. “Can’t-- Can’t get enough… not enough air.”

She nods her head, sounds about right. “You’re okay,” she promises. “You’re completely safe right here with me, okay? We’re in your office and you’ve taken a Valium.”

He nods. Right. His office. He can feel the rough mug and smell the old books.

It’s hot. “Off,” he rasps, tugging harshly on his shirt. “Off. I want it--” Too hot and too tight and all over him and--

“Okay,” Emily stops his frantic movements, his hands tearing at his dress shirt. “Okay,” she grabs his left hand by the wrist, easily pulling the shirt off his shoulder and moving his arm out of the fabric. He’s already calming back down, sinking forward as she works his right arm out.

He’d been trapped. Hot and trapped and his brain isn’t working right.

“That’s better,” Emily whispers. She moves closer to him, sitting between his legs and hesitantly pulls him into a hug. He goes where he’s pulled, letting her guide his head to her shoulder.

He sniffles, unable to stop his tears. “He was there,” he whispers. “I saw him.”

She soothes him but she has no idea who or what he’s talking about it. All she knows is that three years ago Dave dragged Hotch here and had a look around. He’d been a mess then. Hair windswept or maybe just unkept and leaning heavily on a cane while Jack had circled them excitedly. She’d shaken his hand and greeted him because Dave is her friend; he'd introduced Aaron as an old friend. He’d looked haggard and disheveled but that hadn’t bothered Emily too much. He’d intrigued her.

Aaron started in an introductory course that fall. Predictably, Dave had allowed him into their trusted group of friends. He’d been removed, at first. Distant and didn’t speak much. Not that he speaks all that much now but it was so much worse back then. Whatever he’d needed that cane for, whatever had driven him from prosecution, whatever had made him a widower and single father that remained his secret. A part of him so guarded only Dave knew and, as she suspected, he would be the only one to ever know.

“Good Lord,” Dave appears in the doorway, shaking his head at the sight before him. “You look like hell.” He leans against the frame of the door, arms crossed. “You know,” he informs them casually. “The two of you have officially ruined your image around here. How’s anyone going to be afraid of you if they walk past this door and see the two of you cuddling on the floor?”

Emily scoffs but doesn’t move away. She keeps moving her hand up and down his back. His breathing has calmed back down but his heart is still racing. “Shut up,” she grumbles. “At least, my reputation isn't being a sleaze bag.”

Dave sucks his teeth, frowning at her. “I am not a sleaze bag,” he defends. He’s not. His reputation for sleeping with the faculty does preside him but it’s horribly honorable that he stays away from the students. They all know coworkers not upholding that standard.

“You okay,” Emily directs her attention back to Hotch. He squirms out of her hold, shakily forcing his feet back under his body and standing.

“Hey,” Garcia knocks on the door and squeezes in beside Rossi. “Everything okay in here?”

Hotch turns his body away from her, scrubbing his face with hands.

“Yeah,” Emily assures her with a smile. It’s obviously not the truth. Hotch is standing in his white undershirt, dress shirt and suit jacket on the floor. His tie not even on the same half of the room. There’s a pill bottle knocked over on his desk and his hair, from what can be seen from the back, is crazy. “We’re good, Pen.”

Garcia nods her head, skeptically. “Okay,” she smiles, eyeing Hotch. He glances over his shoulder at her and she can see his red rimmed eyes and wet face. It’s okay if he doesn’t trust her with this kind of stuff just yet. She understands. “I’ll see you guys at lunch?”

Hotch nods, “we’ll see you there.” His voice is surprisingly rough but she leaves without comment.

Emily reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Why don’t you stay here, alright?” He’s still shaking and looks rather awful. “I’m going to send your class home. Take a nap or something, you look like a train wreck.”

Hotch just hums, lifting his his hands to his face. The feeling of his body is yet to return. His arms don’t even feel connected to his body. Rubbing his hands across his face he can hear Emily and Dave whispering behind him.

“See you at lunch, Hotch.” Emily says as she steps out of the room.

Leaving Dave and Hotch.

“Are you ever going to talk about it?” Dave asks.

Hotch sighs but doesn’t turn to face the man.

“Come on,” Dave sighs. “It’s been years. If you don’t get it out, it’s going to kill you.”

George Foyet going to kill Aaron. Maybe not today but it’s a matter of time.

“Not now,” Hotch mumbles, turning his attention to his desk. He brushes the spilled pills into the bottle. Ignoring the careful way Dave regards him. He knows he has to eventually work out these stupid nightmares. It’s one thing to find himself trapped there in that house at night. It’s another when the nightmares work their way into the light.

“One day then, hmm?”

Hotch freezes, his anxiety sky rockets just thinking about it. They’ll have to institutionalize him first. Drug him up and throw away the key before he finds the words to describe what happened that day. Mentally, he’s not even sure he’s strong enough to think about it for too long.

Clearing his throat Hotch nods, “right.” He takes a deep breath. Lawyers are blood sucking liars, right? Well, he hopes this once Dave believes his bluff. “One day.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #jack hotchner #canon divergence #crimimal minds au #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareua #haley hotchner #george foyet

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ppoquita · 3 years

Text

He Walks in Starlight

Tags: bong jaehyun x reader, vaguely Star Trek inspired, mostly just a sci-fi au

Length: 2.1k words

First time writing a scenario/imagine so excuse my amateur writing. I really just wrote this for fun lol

Your eyes felt blurry as they struggle to open while you hear the tone of your alarm go off. It felt cold and all you wanted to do was lay under your blanket where it was warm and cozy. You sighed as you turned off your alarm. You looked at the calendar displayed on a screen. Star date 21499.2. You flattened down your disheveled hair before getting up to get ready.

The Compass was business as usual. The ship's bustling crew members were all at work. You went down to the records department to start your day of organizing files and data logs when you saw a rather tense figure standing at the door. It was a young man your age. He stood rather agonizingly. Once he got a glimpse of you he looked like a deer in headlights. Confused, you walked over to unlock the records lab. “Excuse me,” he said with a surprisingly deep voice. “Are you in the department of records?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” you said after swiping your card. The door automatically slid open and both of you walked in. You sat and turned on the computer. He only stood in front of the desk where you were stationed.

“These are my files, I’m new.. just transferred from the Miracle.” he explained while handing over some rectangular discs. You took the discs from his slender hands and put them into your computer for analyzing.

[ Bong Jaehyun

Age: 22 Earth Years

Birth Place: Seoul, SK, Earth

Specialty: Geography and Cartography

*** ]

You looked at his photo and then looked up at him. Spitting image, no doubt he was legit. He’s quite handsome in your opinion. His eyes looked like shiny glass. They were pretty, almost like tiny galaxies were hidden in them. You looked away to finish the processing. You took his discs and filed it under Crew Members subsection ‘B’. “Alright, welcome to our ship, you’re officially part of the Compass now.” you gave him a slight smile. Jaehyun’s lips also curled into a smile.

“Thank you.” he said. He made his way to the door and promptly left.

***

Records were extremely flooded that particular day. Your fingers moved quickly as you processed files and organized discs. Dwarf Planet ZETA110 was being explored. Many records of the flora and fauna were piling in. Not only that but information the planet's makeup and natural climate came in as well. You felt exhausted as you moved back and forth between your computer and the filing wall. Thankfully, it was almost break time. You could almost taste that roasted chicken breast. The thought of food alone made you salivate. You stretched as you got up from your chair. Just then your shift relief came in and you grabbed your keycard and walked out. You tiredly rubbed the back of your neck as you made your way to the elevator.

The dining room was half full. You groaned and weaved through the amount of people sitting. You entered your card into the ordering machine and tapped your choice. It was only a moment's notice until the food came out. You looked around for an empty seat and saw Jaehyun again. He was sitting alone, still with that anxious body language from before. He looked like he was spacing out to a far off world. You hesitated, you weren’t really one to make acquaintances. Yet, you sympathized. Space was lonely and cold. It felt empty and void. When you didn’t have someone to really confide in, it felt even worse. Almost as if you’ve been exiled to a blackhole of self-pity and bitterness.

You walked over and sat across diagonally from him. You glanced at his plate to make conversation. “Spicy pork belly stew, nice choice,” you commented rather nervously. He looked over at you and perked up a bit.

“Hi.” he said, smiling a bit. His eyes glimmer and twinkle. You feel breathless for a moment.

“Hi,” you repeated back. “Are you settled in yet?” it had only been a few hours since you last saw him but you figured to ask anyway.

“No,” he sighed. You watched as he moved the handle of his spoon. “Had to beam down and take a look at the planet’s landscape.”

“How is it?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. You never really got the chance to go to other planets. Most of your companions were people who work on the ship and had no business being on the ground.

“Humid,” Jaehyun replies. “It’s so humid, like a jungle, but there’s not that many trees. Everything just feels heavy...”

You started to eat your food. After eating you got up to put back your tray and utensils. Jaehyun got up as well. You felt shy as you walked beside him. You wondered if it’s okay to open up more. “Hey, when will you be done for the day?” you asked.

“Not sure,” he replied. “Why?”

“Well, if you’re up for it, I’ll be in the break room. We can play a game of 3D chess if you’re interested. Or maybe a friendly 1-on-1 on the arcade machine if that’s more your style.” You suggested. Jaehyun blinked before smiling. He shyly looked away from you. You only took a moment to appreciate his side profile.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He said.

“Well, duty calls, I’ll see you later.” You excused yourself from him.

***

Jaehyun’s presence was almost intoxicating. You wondered if it’s an effect due to the planet’s troposphere. Nonetheless, as the two of you stood together hovering the arcade machine, you felt warm. The both of you were focused on the game quietly. At one point you felt your hand accidentally brushed up against his.

Afterwards the two of you moved on to 3D chess. You tried to make conversation asking things about him. You found out that he’s a picky eater, he likes music, and fantasy movies. Much like yourself you enjoyed a good movie. The conversation then spiraled into the best movies made in the 21st century.

“Check,” you said while moving your piece to the second level.

“I’m not good at games, huh?” He joked.

“I mean, you’re not awful.” you assured him. Jaehyun held his chin thinking for a moment before making a move.

“Checkmate,” you laughed as you captured his king. He lets out a disappointed sigh before sitting back in his chair. You look over at the clock at the time you usually go to bed. “Well, it’s quite late isn’t it? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I guess so...” he said before getting up from his chair. Almost immediately he loses his balance. You stood up quickly to hold him.

You put his arm around your neck. “Hey, Jaehyun, are you okay? Jaehyun?” You looked over to see his face had grown pale. His eyes looked dull, it no longer had that shine.

“Head...hurts… so bad…” he groaned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you to the medical bay.” you comforted him.

In the medical bay Doctor Lee was busy taking care of two others. You were instructed to help Jaehyun onto one of the beds. You wondered if you should stay with Jaehyun. You obviously worried for him but maybe this was too much. You turned away from him but before you could move you felt a hand grab your wrist. Jaehyun’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist weakly. You looked at him softly. “Stay, please,” he croaked. His cheeks blushed red and he looked anxious. You only stood by him unsure of your ability to comfort him.

Thankfully it wasn’t dire. It turned out that several of the crewmen were affected by the planet’s air quality causing them to have hypertension. Jaehyun was fine. He’ll be back to normal by the next date. You let out a big sigh of relief as you lied in bed.

During your break you decided to visit him. When you entered the medical bay you saw Jaehyun sitting upright. His eyes were looking sparkly again. He almost resembled a puppy who was happy to see its owner. “Hi.” you greeted.

“Hi, good to see you again.” he smiled. He seemed to be in better condition.

“Status report?” you asked.

“All good, blood pressure back to normal, should be able to retreat to my quarters within the next hour or so,” Jaehyun reported. The two of you laughed as you looked into each other's eyes. “Once I’m out of here there’s something I’d like to show you,” he said. You lifted an eyebrow at him. “Meet me in the botanical lab when you’re free.”

The rest of your shift felt painfully slow. You were too curious about what was going to occur later. While your relationship with Jaehyun wasn’t extremely close yet it often felt intimate at times. You sighed as you organized the incoming discs. Everything felt like walking on thin ice. You never knew what exactly to feel other than attraction.

You promptly met Jaehyun in the botanical lab. He was sitting among the countless native flora of different planets. “Hi, again.” you greeted. Jaehyun stood up and signaled with his hand. You walked over to where he stood. You looked in the same direction as him and saw the most stunningly vibrant red plant. It was crimson red and it’s leaves were olive green. You stared for a moment then looked at Jaehyun.

“They call it a Carmesí Florera,” Jaehyun plucked a petal and sniffed it. “It smells like fruit punch,” he held it to your nose and you took a whiff. It really did smell like a fruit punch. It made you feel a little nostalgic. “And they say,” Jaehyun grabbed your hand and put the petal in the palm of your hand. “If you give a petal to someone, they’ll be with you for a long time...” you looked up at him as he gently closed your fingers into a fist. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. His ears were as red as the flower petals.

“What are you trying to say?” You questioned.

Jaehyun only shrugged. “You’re a great companion,” he said. You frowned a little. Part of you wished this could be a fairytale where next he’ll sweep you off your feet. But this wasn’t a fairytale, this is a science fiction that somehow became reality. However, this gesture was too strange. It didn’t make sense. Jaehyun was staring softly. He worried that he might have said something wrong. You clutch your flower petal and sighed. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t understand,” you said honestly. “What do you mean with this? We may be miles and miles away from Earth but this sentiment can be seen as a romantic gesture from any planet, I’m confused...”

Jaehyun looked scared for a moment. As if you said something awful to him. He seemed appalled but then something changed. He straightens out his back and looks you in the eyes. “Okay then, I’ll be honest, I like you, I have a fondness for you, I… want us to be closer, and maybe in the near future we can be more than that.” he admitted.

You blinked a few times. It was a romantic gesture. Jaehyun made a romantic declaration. Your relationship was, in part, intimate. Your face was red at that point and your heart was beating quickly. It happened too fast and you’ve never really felt like this before. You were smiling without noticing.

“I like you too.”

***

Bong Jaehyun walked in starlight. He was as bright as the sun but can feel cold as the moon. Behind his eyes was the universe’s tiniest galaxy. It twinkled and shined for the world to see yet it was tucked away for only the brave to explore. Just when he felt unreachable, he held out his hand just enough for you to reach. He was almost undetectable yet his gravitational pull left you no choice but to adore him. There may be thousands of galaxies out there to discover but you were glad to have discovered him.

Even though the two of you laid flat on the cold observatory room floor staring at the endless void that was space, he was still more breathtaking than the billions of stars littered around them. You stared at him wondering what he was thinking about as he looked up at the vast sky. Was he also comparing you to a star?

Slowly you inched your hand close to his. You wondered if it was okay. Your pinky finger shyly bumped into his. You felt his hand touch yours almost as if it were asking for an embrace. Your fingers interlocked with his and you couldn’t help but smile. Jaehyun turned to look at you. He looked with a certain tenderness that makes your stomach flip. In that moment, you concluded that out of all the stars in the universe he was the brightest.

#golden child #golden child imagines #golden child scenarios #bong jaehyun x reader #bong jaehyun

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papermoonish · 3 years

Text

when the weather changed

"Wait for me!"

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

autumn brings weather changes and simple sweetness. for kirishima and bakugou it comes first in the shape of friends and then each other

read on AO3 or keep reading here

Kiri is on the roof of the school building. There are mesh fences keeping the small spot up in the air secluded - safe. He's sitting on the floor, his back to the wall hiding the staircase, eyes closed and head leaning against the concrete.

The air tastes like crisp autumn, fresh and cold with the promise of warmth tingling. Maybe tomorrow, maybe later. The door opens and Kirishima straightens up, opens his eyes and reaches for his water bottle. With two quick movements he looks busy. Nothing weird going on here.

"Hey man," he smiles, and Denki waves back.

"Yo dude. I was looking everywhere for you."

Denki drops besides him, loose and easy. His shoulder brushes Kirishima's as he’s reaching for the food in Kiri's lap, stealing a small piece of pre-cut sausage. He's warm, body slumping against his friend with a content sigh.

"Ah sorry! What's up?”

Denki pops his lips, pulls up his phone and scans the screen quickly before tapping away on it. He's sitting cross-legged, his knee occasionally bumping against Kiri's thigh. He steals another piece of sausage and chews it a little too loudly but it’s okay. Kirishima appreciates the company.

"Didn’t see you at lunch and thought you might've run away with a hot girl into a future unknown.”

Kirishima snorts and shakes his head, red hair doesn’t move an inch. Next to him Denki cracks his knuckles, but only the ones on his left hand.

"In the middle of a Monday?”

"Who am I to question the timely manners of love, bro."

"Bro."

They laugh and the wind picks up a bit, messing up Denki's hair. As he tries to fix it he lets out a loud groan. Kiri reaches up to tuck a few strands back with the others.

"Nah dude, I'd never leave you behind."

"You better won’t. Blasty would have my ass if he heard you got away and I knew."

There’s an implication between the words, simmering right in the space left after them. Kirishima blinks and shakes it off, smiles until the dimple on his right cheek shows up.

"He has your ass for everything. He owns it."

"HE DOES NOT OWN MY ASS!"

Kiri giggles, downs the rest of his water and rubs his nose. The movement causes Denki to sway a bit, still leaning on his friend. He catches himself and sits up, wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's gay," he snickers.

"Denki-"

"No Ei,” he raises his hands in defeat, pouting, “I simply do not wanna think about Bakugou in a sexual way."

"That’s not even close to what I said."

"It was IMPLIED!"

"IT WASN’T!"

They’re shoving at each other now, laughing and the water bottle drops, rolls away across the deck. The rest of Kirishima's lunch nearly falls too, but just at the last second he remembers and puts it aside. Seeing an opening, Denki throws himself at Kirishima and they both topple over. Denki is snorting, Kiri is chuckling. The sun shines.

"EW, DUDE!"

The wet stripe Denki licked across Kirishima's palm glistens in the autumn weather and Kiri is fast to wipe it at Denki's dress shirt.

"You're so gross."

"Excuse me? You have a crush on Bakugou, that's nasty!"

"Ughh,” Kirishima hides his face in his hands, “don’t bring that up."

"You can't censor me, this is a free country."

Their laughter fades at the same time as the sunshine, covered by a few thin clouds moving across the blue. Lunch is coming to an end and Kiri hears Denki's bones pop from stretching his hands. A rumble in the sky makes a few birds fly up and the boys look up.

"I- … uh-"

Denki rolls onto his side and makes a whole show of getting up, like standing is a dance he owns. He cracks his neck and Kirishima cringes at the sound, worrying his lip.

"I won’t tell him. Drop the pout, lovebird."

He reaches out a hand and Kiri grabs it quickly, and then he gets pulled up from the floor with the sun reappearing. Warmth immediately spreads across their skin.

"Thanks, man.”

Denki waves his hand, grins mischievously.

"Bro, you've got so much more dirt on me. This is self-protection.”

"Bro I’d never tell any of them anything."

"I know, I know. You’re just good like that,” he laughs. "One day either Shinso, Jirou, Sero or Tetsu will notice me. I'm not giving up yet."

"You're helpless," Kirishima shoos away a mosquito. “You should pick one of them to work your charm on.”

"I’d go for you, but your little monkey brain is already wired in the wrong direction, babe."

Kiri fake gags and Denki shoves him, hard. They gather their stuff - meaning Kirishima grabs all his things and Denki starts breakdancing next to him. Denki opens the door and bows, giving him the, "After you, good sir." and Kiri bows right back with a, "Oh my, thank you darling."

The door falls into its lock and clicks shut. A gust of wind picks up and moves the water bottle Kirishima forgot on the deck. It clatters against the mesh fence and rolls a few feet across the floor. It’ll be found later by someone else, surely. Not everyone has a bright red metal bottle with multiple stickers of pictures of his friends. They get back to class and the sun still shines.

* at the same time *

The cafeteria is too loud. There's laughter and screaming, talking, shuffling, things dropping and people running. For Bakugou the cafeteria hurts, it rings all the way through his ears to the bottom of his brain and he furrows his brows while poking chopsticks into rice.

"You want a spoon for the rice soup you’re making there?"

Bakugou flinches, knuckles turning white before the colour slowly creeps back, blood flow released.

"Watch your mouth," he barks into the direction of the person sitting across the table.

"Can’t, I'm eating. You should try it, it’s supposed to be good for you."

"I fucking know, Tapeface. What’s your issue?”

Sero grins before digging back into his chicken, his legs long under the table right under the window. His feet knock against Bakugou's ankles. Neither of them moves.

"What's yours? You're usually not that grumpy at lunch."

Bakugou looks at him for a few seconds, like he's considering, waging something in his head.

"'s loud here," he finally settles on.

"Oh."

Sero blinks, then he grabs his backpack and tray and Bakugou flinches again at the speed of it.

"What are you-"

"Come on big guy, grab your stuff."

"Huh?"

"There's tables outside, next to the gym building."

Oh. That’s right.

When they settle again Bakugou's forehead is still crinkled and Sero pokes him, index finger smudging against his skin. The wrinkles smooth out a bit. Sero puts his phone on the table, screen up. Bakugou can see the small notification LED blinking yellow.

"Ya still look grumpy."

Bakugou shrugs, finally eats his rice like a normal person. Sero hums, low and deep, then rustles inside of his bag and pulls out a juice pouch. There's a drop spilling when he puts the straw in a little too forcefully and Bakugou hands him a napkin.

"I have a goddamn headache."

"Ah."

The wind picks up and the sun vanishes behind thin clouds. The building casts enough shade to cover them and their table fully now and it’s a little colder.

"Maybe Ei can do his magic hands thing later. Doesn't he help sometimes?"

Bakugou shrugs but he averts his eyes, dipping his rice into sauce before shoving it into his mouth. He knows Sero can see through it but he also knows Sero is gentle. He hums again and Bakugou breathes.

"Yeah.”

Sero finishes his food and sips his juice, offering it to Bakugou but obviously being declined. He just shrugs.

"Denki texted me he's on the roof if ya wanna go up and ask."

Bakugou shakes his head, puts the lid back onto his bento box. He catches the way Sero checks at his phone, types away an answer to a message that made him smile.

"Lunch is over in a few anyway."

"You have some rice on your shirt."

"Ah shit."

The sun comes back out and Sero's phone chimes. He glances at it and sighs, swiping the little alarm notification away.

"Back to class then, wonder kid."

"You're on thin fucking ice, Hanta."

"Aw with the first name? You make me blush today."

"Bitch."

"No need to sweet talk me after you had a lunch date with me."

"Oh my fucking god I despise you."

He grabs his bag and then puts the trash from Sero's tray on his own, sliding them together. He carries both. Sero holds the door open for him and Bakugou grunts a thank you. The wind starts howling and the cafeteria is still filled with laughter when they enter.

*later*

The school day ends and the sky is grey. There are dark speckles between heavy clouds and the light turned a muddy yellow. The sun isn't visible and you can’t feel it either, all the warmth traveled further away into other days, future hours. Bakugou's kicking the door to the sky deck open with his foot, the sole squeaking against the heavy metal.

"Fucking bullshit."

There’s a rumble and then rain hits his face and there's a giggle right behind him, echoing in the halls of the stairway.

"Wait for me!"

Bakugou keeps the door open with a snarl.

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

Bakugou looks at him, getting soaked more every second, hair slowly plastering itself against his forehead. Water gets caught in his lashes and drips into his shoes. His socks get wet. He blinks once and Kiri rubs his blushing neck, laughing.

"Yeah," his lip pulls upwards, "wouldn't fucking want that, hah?"

Kirishima bolts out into the rain, Bakugou looks after him before following. There are small puddles on the floor and Kiri steps into them intentionally, grinning as he notices his boots are waterproof enough for his shenanigans.

"All right, where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are," Kirishima sing-songs.

"You're so stupid."

"Shhhh maybe it's hiding from us."

"Your water bottle?"

Kiri nods. “Maybe it feels your negative vibes, bro."

"Maybe I’ll make you feel a negative vibe in a second, bro."

It’s an empty threat and Kirishima laughs.

He keeps running and the sky doesn't split open to let light through. Bakugou licks his lips, rainwater on his tongue, and walks towards the fence to the south side. It’s like Kirishima forgot where he sat with the way he's buzzing through the rain, arms spread and face tilted towards the sky.

Bakugou spots his bottle immediately, picks it up with his pinky hooking through the loop on the cap. He inspects the stickers and none of them are peeling. When he turns, Kiri is standing still, looking up at the falling rain, hair bending and bowing under the weather.

"You done with your moment?" Bakugou yells over the noise.

"It’s so nice."

"The rain?"

"Hmh."

Bakugou comes up next to him, holds up the bottle but Kirishima’s eyes are closed. So he bumps the cold metal against the exposed skin under Kirishima’s rolled up sleeves.

"Got the goods."

"Ah! thank you, Blasty."

"You'll never drop that name huh?"

Kiri shrugs and Bakugou watches his shoulders move.

"It’s a good name."

"It’s old as shit. Come up with something better."

"Stop exploding into our faces then," Kirishima turns his head and grins.

"Never."

"That’s what I thought."

Kiri's quiet until Bakugou pulls up his nose. The sky keeps making noises that hint ever so closely at a thunderstorm coming.

"Ah shit, okay let's go back inside. You're soaked!"

"Duh."

"Thanks for coming to look with me though."

They both know Kirishima would’ve found his bottle on his own. They don’t address it though and somehow the knowledge settles between them in the form of physical contact. Bakugou simply accepts the wet arm that’s thrown over his shoulder, it soothes the tension built up in his muscles.

"You can thank me by doing your hand thing."

Kirishima’s head snaps towards him, eyes big and round. There are water droplets in his eyebrows.

"You have another headache? Man, why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Kiri grabs his bottle from Bakugou, their fingers touch. Kiri smiles and walks towards the door. His hand reaches for the handle and it creaks under the movement.

"School," Bakugou says, voice calm while he shrugs.

"Let’s get dry and then I can come over? Whatcha say?"

Bakugou nods, brushes past Kirishima holding the door open. The arm that was around his shoulder slides off and it’s immediately cold where it lay. It’s now freezing in the hallway, especially dripping wet.

"D’you think Sero has a crush on Denki?"

Bakugou huffs, towel rubbing over his ears. They’re in the baths, air warm from their recent shower. The mirror Bakugou stands in front of is fogged up and Kirishima reaches over, hand smearing across the glass until his image is visible.

"I don’t care."

"Come on, gossip with me," Kirishima pokes his finger into Bakugou’s shoulder and the blond doesn’t even turn to look.

"No."

"But you always have the best takes."

"Shut up."

"Katsukiii please."

The towel drops. The sky breaks open and a few late sunbeams work their way through the clouds, illuminating UA in the softest glow. The boys are inside though, the warm bathroom shielding them from the outside, they can’t see.

But Bakugou looks at Kirishima and he simply knows, knows the grey is making space for evening blues and purples, knows the muddy yellow will turn into clear orange.

"I won’t spill Tapeface's secrets."

"Not even to me?" The puppy eyes get ignored.

"Especially not to you, you can't keep your big mouth shut ever!"

"That’s not true! I never spill secrets."

Bakugou unlocks his dorm room door and watches Kiri walk in before him. Bakugou smells his shampoo, it’s a mix of something woody and sweet.

"You're spilling right now."

"Yeah but to you, that’s different."

He sits down in the desk chair, swiveling around a bit. Digging the heels of his feet into the beige carpet. He’s barefoot in Bakugou’s room and it feels intimate. Bakugou snaps a laugh, it’s dry. Kirishima perks up at it.

"It’s not different, you’re making shit up."

"Uh yeah? I like sharing with you?"

"You like talking to everyone."

He drops himself on the floor, back pressed to Kiri's shins and tipping his head back over the redhead’s knees. It’s a bit uncomfortable but it gives Bakugou enough control over the situation. Not that he’d need it here. Kiri's hands gently weave themselves through towel dried blond hair, fingertips pressing against his scalp.

"I like talking to you most though," he says simply.

"Ew."

Kirishima laughs, Bakugou closes his eyes. He lets Kiri work his fingers through his hair, lets his nails scrape and scratch in all the right places and with every minute passing by he feels the headache less and less.

They're quiet for a bit and then he goes, "Hanta's whipped as fuck."

"I KNEW it!"

The ceiling light bathes them in warm white and the sky outside is hidden behind curtains.

#krbk #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #krbk fanfic #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #kiribaku fanfiction #no hurt just comfort

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shadow--writer · 3 years

Text

When You're all Alone I will Reach for you, When You're Feeling low I will be There too

title

Maeve x Lucas. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. 4.6k

TW: heat exhaustion, passing out, a bit of blood, a lecture.

@dela-png

Lucas was stumbling a lot. Dizzy in a way. He had to keep pausing what he was doing to hold his head and lean against something.

Checking in on him had become a habit, one he kept waving off. With a smile, a shrug, and then him getting back to work. His brows furrowing a little as he focused on something.

She was starting to worry about him. He looked a bit more...gaunt. Okay, sure, gaunt Lucas still looked healthier than gaunt Maeve, but he looked so...pale.

And that was odd.

She tore her gaze away from Lucas for the fourth time in ten minutes. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but they were both working in some way. The others he was working with didn’t seem to notice so maybe he was fine. Maybe the sun was just washing him out.

But now even Will looked worried.

She was currently trying to work on a new spell, taking a break from the clinic. It was so fucking hot outside and inside it was miserable. She wished it would rain already or at least be cooler out.

Now she wasn’t as focused on her spellwork, and more focused on Lucas. His brows were deeply creased as he focused on walking right.

Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what.

She sighed, looking back at her notes and the old book she found in a back alley bookstore. The spell work was fascinating, but she just couldn’t...bring herself to keep reading.

Lucas caught her eye again, her eyes softened with a question and he only smiled in return.

A weak smile.

His cheeks were redder now. She pushed herself to her feet. The fact she could see how bright his face was from here was concerning.

Not a cloud in the sky.

He turned away from her as she closed her book.

Then slowly, he began to fall.

It all felt...so dreamlike. So unreal.

Her chair fell as she ran to him, the things he was holding spilling out on the dock as his fever got the better of him.

It was like her world was falling down around her as her blood ran hot through her veins, the snap of him passing out enough to make her eyes and body glow like she was on fire.

The chatter of the other workers went dead silent as she skidded to a stop.

She knelt down, pushing his hair back from his face. His skin was hot under her hands. Goosebumps erupted along her arms as the panic started to set in.

“Lucas please,” she whispered, pushing his shoulders back so he’d be laying on his back. His face was red and he was burning up.

She guessed heat exhaustion.

But something else.

She didn’t have time to figure it out, she needed to get him inside and out of the sun.

Her eyes watered. “Please help me,” she whispered, to anyone who was listening. To no one listening. A few tears slipped down her cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He just…he just…”

She clenched her jaw. “I’m a doctor for goddess sake! Why can’t I help him? I can’t…I can’t get him home.”

She needed to get him out of the sun, but with him on his back she couldn’t very well carry him. She was strong for someone her size, yes, but she wasn’t that strong.

But she had to try.

Trying to keep her breathing calm, she pushed him to sit upright, and she swung him over her shoulders.

She breathed in, holding her breath as she slowly stood up. Gods, stars and spirits he was heavy. And warm. He was almost too warm.

Huffing, she stumbled forward. She isn’t going to make it back. She knew she wouldn’t make it.

But she had to try.

“I…hate you,” she wheezed, new tears falling down her face. “I can’t get you home.” She let out a tiny sob, stumbling again.

“I just want you to let me help you,” she snapped, it was useless she was talking to nothing.

Then suddenly he wasn’t as heavy anymore.

And then he wasn’t on her shoulders.

Her hands grew hot as she whirled around, but the person standing next to her only adjusted Lucas on their back.

“You’ll pass out too at this rate,” they said, voice gruff. “You won’t be any help if you are.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “I wouldn’t have made it home.”

They smiled at her, it was a nervous fluttery smile, as they shifted Lucas again. “It’s no trouble. I’m surprised you managed to make it to the end of the dock with him on your shoulders.”

“I left my book and notes.”

“I can bring those by later, if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

“If it gets me out of work for a little while,” they joked weakly.

She only grimaced back, the air crackling with an almost palpable nervousness. They were only helping in a distant way. Not because they really cared about him. She appreciated the help, but they were so skittish.

“Can I ask why you chose to help?” she whispered. Their head snapped up as she met their eyes. “You just...look like you want to be anywhere but here.”

“He’s a hard worker.” It sounded like they believed it, it was true. But they wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Shy as the devil, but a hard worker. And if someone passes out and you watch this tiny lady try and carry them off, no offense, wouldn’t anyone help?”

“Only you did,” she said softly.

They sighed. Everyone who worked at the dock was so...tall. None as tall as Lucas as far as she could tell.

But she was just...almost like nothing.

She really was more of a burden than a help. She wondered why Lucas liked her so much. She was useless.

She blinked back tears.

“Its rumours is all. He’s nice but people are scared of guys who have the resting face of a guy who wants to kill ya.”

“He does?”

They looked at her funny. “Well, have you seen him?”

She wilted. “He’s just...a sweetheart though.”

“I’m sure he is but that face is something most people don’t get past. Paired with the rumours it’s no wonder people are skittish of him.”

Rumours?

She stared at Lucas, he had a sunburn on the back of his neck and his breathing was a bit huffy. She needed to make something for him to eat and get him water.

But there was so much he wasn’t telling her. She knew that.

She knew it from the day he paled at her mentioning the blue paint.

Her eyes narrowed and she walked ahead. It didn’t take long for them to get Lucas home and inside. The person helping her from the dock only nodded and left.

Leaving her alone.

In the stifling silence of his home, with the curtains drawn shut to cool the house down as much as she could.

Working quickly she filled a basin with water and tucked it under the bed where he was asleep. Wringing out a cloth over the basin, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Fever. She was right about the heat exhaustion.

The way he was shaking...something else was happening as well.

Judging by the lack of...activity in the kitchen, he wasn’t eating right as well.

Blinking back more tears, she stared into the empty kitchen. She hated this. She hated it so much. He left her no choice but to try and cook for him. He needed to eat something, even if it was her shitty cooking.

Letting out a deep inhale, she got to work.

“Fuck!” she screamed, hurling the spoon she held at the wall. Her latest attempt at making something edible fell through. Latest attempt out of what? Five? Six?

“Fuck,” she whispered, pressing her palm to her eye. She felt her nose burn as she teared up. She hated this. She hated not being able to help him. She was useless.

She sunk to the floor, crying softly as she watched the spoon slide off the wall and leave behind a smear of failed soup.

“I can’t do anything right,” she sobbed to herself. His home was eerily quiet with him asleep. It felt eerily quiet with her there alone.

Eerily quiet with no talk to fill the space.

She scrubbed at her eyes, drawing her knees up to her chin to make herself smaller. What was she going to do? It was too late now to go to the market to get something, and she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want him to wake up alone in the dead silent house while she just...failed to be of any use.

She couldn’t even make soup right.

She slowly got to her feet, sniffling and rubbing her tears away. She could do this. She had to try.

She just couldn't do anything fancy. She couldn’t do anything he might do. She could...make one thing. Terribly, but she could try.

He was going to get the talking to of the century when he woke up.

She looked around in his ice box, thankfully she hadn’t tried to use any of the meat yet. Her vision was blurred with a never ending stream of tears.

She was just so...angry. Angry and upset and...scared. She could feel the deep fear curdling in her gut as she seasoned and prepared the meat, cutting it up slowly.

She sliced her finger again, spewing curses through sobs. “Fucking idiot,” she yelled, kicking the cabinet with her bare foot. The sound echoed through the silent house as her toes throbbed from the pain.

Blood slid down her finger as she popped it into her mouth, looking for something to bandage it.

She dug through her bag by the door, sticking an adhesive bandage on the cut.

Dejectedly, she made her way back into the kitchen.

She took her anger out on vegetables. Also taking out her fingers as she cut, but she wasn’t paying attention, trying to quiet her sobs.

After many. Many. Many, tries of cutting vegetables up and then bandaging most of her fingers, the stew was simmering.

Finally something that she’s made hasn't failed.

She shuffled over to the couch. There were so many things cluttered on it. Books, papers and other trinkets. They looked like they were moved recently, but the build up of dust on the couch was...not a good sign.

Her body trembled as she just grew colder and colder. Why did he have to be such an idiot?

And why did she have to be so in love with him?

She bit her lip so hard it started to bleed as she carefully moved the books and papers off the couch and onto the floor. She coughed as she kicked up dust, swiping angrily at her tears. Fuck him. Fuck this all. She hated it so much. She hated how depressed his house felt. She hated how terrible he was to himself.

She hated how much she cared.

Why did she have to care about it so much? Why did he just have to be...such an idiot. An idiot who was self sacrificial and stupid.

And she had to go out and fall in love with him.

She flopped onto the couch, sneezing so hard her body shook as she curled up. She needed to wait for the stew to simmer for a bit.

And she was just…tired.

Breathing softly, she fell asleep.

It was the smell that first dragged her from her bleariness.

Dadí must be cooking then. But it was their beef carrot potato stew. Only made for a special occasion. What...was he making it for…?

She opened her eyes and the events of the last day hit her at full force.

Lucas. Exhaustion. Overworking. He passed out. She cooked.

She was alone.

She looked down at her hands. They hurt. They hurt a lot. Blood beaded up as she curled her hands into fists.

Pushing herself off the couch, she rubbed her arms. The house was cold. It was cold without him laughing. It was cold without his voice.

It was cold without him.

She walked into the kitchen, checking on the stew. It should be ready. She peaked out the window by the countertop, the world bathed in starlight and old street lamps. The daylight world was asleep now.

She scooped a little of her misshapen creation into a bowl, digging around his kitchen for another one and some spoons. She didn’t have the stuff needed for the broth, so she had to improvise.

Finding two spoons from two different silverware sets and an old clay bowl, she dropped them on the counter by the stove. She grabbed a spoon for herself, and tried some of her stew, wallowing in self pity.

It...wasn’t the most terrible thing she had ever made. It was a far cry from what Lucas or hell, even what Aislin could make, but it would do.

It didn’t inspire the joy it did when her dad made it, but the familiar taste brought a little comfort to her as she felt her stomach warm.

She scooped more into a bowl, her footsteps soft against the worn wood flooring as she made her way to Lucas’ room. He was still asleep, but she didn’t care. He had to eat something. Along the way she swiped his canteen, feeling the water inside swish with her movements.

Her anger made her hands shake.

She set the bowl on his bedside table, grabbing a chair from the kitchen and bringing that in as well.

She tapped his cheek once, and he let out a low whine.

“Wake up,” she said. Her tone was flat and empty. Just like the house.

She poked his cheek again and he cracked one eye open. He looked around blearily as she grabbed the bowl of stew.

“You’re an idiot, you know,” she said, the anger barely being contained in her tone. She scooped some beef and a carrot onto the spoon, blowing on it softly. “And you scared me.”

She held the spoon to his face, helping him eat it. She wiped the excess broth from his chin with the corner of her dress, repeating the motion.

He only watched her, silently eating what she fed him. The way his face twisted let her know how bad it tasted. Sure it was fine to her.

But he had a…refined sense of taste.

But he didn’t say anything, probably to spare her feelings. She didn’t want her feelings spared, and the sparks at her fingertips made her flinch.

She gripped the spoon tightly, trying to calm her erratic breathing. She would not hurt him in an outburst. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did.

“You...you have the gall to lecture me on my eating habits and then you turn around and pull- pull this bullshit!”

She was going to cry again. She didn’t want to cry in front of him but she didn’t know if it could be avoided.

“You’ll work yourself to death at this rate,” she whispered softly, brushing his lower lip with her thumb. “You need to eat. And you need to take care of yourself.”

“I do eat.” His voice was rough and hoarse, breathing softly. His cheeks were still red but his fever had gone down a little. “Too much.”

“And then not at all.” He refused the spoon. She pressed it against his mouth. “You are going to finish this whole bowl,” she ordered. “You are going to finish this whole bowl and then you and I will map out an eating plan.”

He opened his mouth to protest, she shoved the spoon inside, her expression making it clear she was not in the mood for arguing.

“We’ll make an eating plan,” she continued, scraping the bottom of the bowl. “And I’ll leave little reminders for you. If you want I can help you make meals to keep in your ice box so you have those ready if you don’t want to cook.”

She held the spoon to him again. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, taking the bite. “It’s not like I’ve done much for you.”

She chased the last bit of beef with the spoon, blinking away tears. “Yes, you have,” she said softly.

“Yeah, sure.”

She held the spoon up to him. “Last bite.”

“What have I done to help you anyways? Feels like you’ve been-”

“Last bite,” she said firmly, cleaning the broth off his chin again. He took the bite and she set the bowl down, grabbing the canteen. She held it up to him and watched him drink for a moment.

“You’ve done plenty,” she started, brushing his hair out of his face. “You’ve brought me flowers. Made me lunch.”

“Well I make lunch for everyone.”

“And the flowers?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Just...for you.”

She let out a harsh breath. “You helped the kids make my new handkerchief. You helped me when my…my clinic was robbed. Lucas, you don’t have to do much for me at all.”

“Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t. I like spending time with you because I like you, isn’t that enough?” Her eyes snapped up to meet his.

“But you...you’re always helping me. Taking care of me like you are now.”

She curled his hair around one of her fingers. “Well I’m a doctor, that’s my job.”

He wouldn’t meet her eye. “Maeve why can’t I...why can’t I do the same for you?”

“Currently because you overworked yourself on no food, with heat exhaustion, collapsed, forcing me to face my mortal enemy in the kitchen and destroy my hands,” she said, letting go of his hair.

He looked at her bloodied bandaged fingers, eyes widening. “Oh Maeve I am-”

“Don’t you apologize,” she hissed, her eyes flashing. Her anger coiled in her gut and then she exploded. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize to me. I want to see you do better. I want to see you take care of yourself like an actual fucking human! Not like you’re...you’re...a working machine!”

She was crying now. Tears slid down her cheeks as she pressed her fists into the sheets beside him. “I want you to do better because I care about you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Maeve don’t cry…” she swatted his hand away. He let it drop.

She was seething. “You listen here to me, Batsaikhan Karimov,” she hissed, jutting a finger at his nose. He flinched at the use of his name. “I will cry if I goddamn want to! I will cry all the fucking time if I so see it fit! You have no right to tell me not to cry after the BULLSHIT you just put me through with your shitty fucking work and eating habits!”

He was shocked into silence. She was going on a tirade but she didn’t care.

“You’re going to listen to me, and listen to me good,” she growled. “We are going to figure something out for you. And if it means putting me on an eating plan as well because goddess knows I fucking need it so be it.” She was yelling. She probably sounded hysterical. “And for the love of all the stars and spirits you need to clean up your house. Sentimental value does not mean catching some sort of sinus infection!”

His eyes widened again, and he looked ashamed. “But-”

“No,” she snarled. “No buts. I will help you clean. We will find a place for everything in this house, we will dust this house. We will clean, sweep and mop. You sir, are now stuck with me. And guess what? It means I’m not going to coddle you at every turn and I'm gonna help you get your shit together. You hear that? No more fucking moping!”

He blinked rapidly, her chest heaved.

“You...done?”

“Yes thank you.”

“Maeve I haven’t cleaned since the last of my family died. I don’t want to.” His eyes were hard as he looked at her. “It’s what I have left of my family.”

“Too fucking bad.” He flinched at the venom and weight of her tone. She ran her hands through her hair, shaking as she grew colder. “We…we aren’t going to throw anything out, but we are going to make this place livable again so I don’t break my fucking arm every time I decide to visit!”

“What...what do you mean by that?”

“Guess what, shitface! You’re now stuck with me! Like it or not I’m going to be stuck to you like a leech.” She scrubbed at her eyes, she just needed to stop crying.

“But what if you leave?! Where does that leave me then?” he snapped.

“Well if you ever decide to kick me to the fucking curb you’ll bounce back. I will make sure of it.”

“Kick you to the curb?”

“Yeah, like every other fucking person I know,” she groused. “Even if I do go, you’ll wallow for a bit but your house will be clean, there won’t be dust, and you’ll have hopefully started healthier eating habits.”

“What if I don’t want you to go?” he asked softly.

“I’d say ‘good’ because I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon. I’m not here to fix you but the way you’re living now terrifies me. It scares me because I see myself in it. I see how I acted in you and I don’t want you to go down the same path,” she sniffed, balling the sheets up in her hands as she trembled.

“Same path?”

“I almost fucking killed myself in the plague due to not eating right. My house was a mess and I was depressed. I am not going to watch you spiral the same way.”

“What if I have?”

“Then I’ll drag your ass back kicking and screaming if I have to. I’m not going to fix you. I can’t do that, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to date you only to become your nanny. But I’ll be here to at least help you and be someone you can depend on.”

“Maeve-”

“Don't ‘Maeve’ me, asshole.” She glared at him, his eyes were open in shock. She let out a frustrated scream before smashing her lips against his. He made a startled noise at the kiss, hand coming up to tuck against the back of her head as he kissed her back with the same passion.

She pulled away after a moment, the angry press of lips making hers tingle. She rubbed her lips with the back of her head, looking away from him. “Don’t get a big head about it,” she sniffed, brushing his hair back and checking his temperature again. “I’ll go...clean up the mess I made.”

She turned away, trying to calm her erratic heart. Her skin was warm still, she fought to cool off and fight her magic off. Evil. It was all evil.

His hand wrapped around her wrist. “Stay,” he whispered.

She stopped. That one word sent her spiraling again. The one word made her love for him come bubbling to the surface. It was too much.

She looked at her feet, turning around to look at him. His hand trailed down her arm and he gently intertwined their fingers.

“But you need to cool down,” she murmured, moving closer to brush his hair back. The cloth on his forehead was still cool.

“I don’t care.” The look in his eye was stubborn as he tugged on her hand. The force had her leaning into the touch. “Stay. Please.”

She was still mad at him. Furious.

She brushed his hair back, kissing his forehead. He was cooler under her touch now. “Okay.”

His arm immediately wrapped around her as she climbed over him and tucked herself into his side.

She buried her face in his side. “I’m still mad at you though,” she muttered. All this time she thought she was the self sacrificing idiot. But nooo she just had to fall in love with one who was almost worse. “But I don’t want to leave the dumbass who passed out while working. Big idiot is my big idiot and he worries me.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

He chuckled softly, shifting over so she was buried in his chest. He was comforting, strong, and warm. She felt new hot tears fall down her face as she shivered. A fresh wave of cold washed over her body, eating her from the inside out. He was warm and he was okay. He was okay now. He was safe now. She helped him. She was still here. He was still here.

She sneezed into the silence.

He broke it, inhaling softly. “Did...you mean what you said?”

“About what?” she sniffed, rubbing at her eyes. She was starting to feel the effects of inhaling too much dust. “I said a lot of things.”

“About not leaving.”

“You’d have to drag me away.”

His hands tightened around her as she moved to take her socks off, throwing them to some corner of the room. She lifted the covers up and snuggled under them, her hair fanning out on the pillow behind her. She was starting to shiver violently.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Your freckles dimmed.”

“They do that when I’m upset.”

He kissed both of her cheeks gently, his breath warm against her skin. “I think they’re beautiful.”

She moved away from him. She didn’t want him to get any sicker. Lucas, she loved him, but he had other ideas, wrapping her up and keeping her close. She couldn’t fight it, he’d sulk. She knew it. So she gripped the fabric of his shirt like if she let go he’d fade away. “Don’t say sappy things. I’m still mad.”

His arms relaxed around her when he realized she wasn’t going to fight to leave. He played with her hair. “Mad mad?”

“Extremely mad mad. We start cleaning tomorrow. In the kitchen. I kind of made a mess.”

He laughed, it made his chest vibrate. His heart was a steady thump under her ear. “Of course you did.”

“You left me no other choice, dipshit,” she muttered to his chest.

“You’re very creative with those insults.”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say, mo grá.”

“And what does that mean?”

She would never tell him. No. She couldn’t tell him. Not with the idea of him leaving hanging over her. She needed to give it time.

So she lied.

“Moronic idiot.”

He chuckled again, kissing the top of her head. “Whatever you say, Thumbelina. Get some sleep now, you look like you could sleep through a hurricane.”

“Oh wow that was very nice of you.”

“You just spent the last ten minutes insulting me.”

“Well you deserved it. Scared the shit outta me.”

He rubbed her back gently as she settled into his hold. He was warm. It was one of the only things she could focus on with how cold she was becoming. He tilted her head up to kiss her softly. When they parted she buried her face in his neck, waiting for his breathing to slow and become rhythmic.

“Grá geal mo chroí,” she whispered, kissing the crook of his neck. His breathing was so soft, his heart steady. She blinked away more tears. “I love you.”

#the arcana #the arcana game #maeve #lucas #maeve x lucas #maevas #my writing #ah #two idiots in love #and im dying #soft #lmao I don’t like some of this BUT IM POSTING IT ANYWAY BECAUSE [insert profanity that will get me shadow banned from the tags here] THAT #if I didn’t post everything I wasn’t quite happy with #I would be posting NOTHING #anyways here’s some angst

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