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yuna542 · 1 year

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Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 7<-

Part 8

Pairing: Chan x reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Smut, under 18 DNI!, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, unprotected sex (just don‘t), daddy kink, praising, pet names

Word Count: 3.8k

(Had to reupload this part, cause Tumblr wouldn’t let me edit it)

Note: Here you go, you thirsty little creatures! God I love my readers xD hope you like my twisted little fantasies. I love reading all your comments and requests. Also suddenly I‘m married to several people because of this story. So thank you… I guess ~much love!

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

"Did you see that, hyung? That asshole just wanted to get into her pants!", Seungmin snapped as Mr. Jang left the room.

You were still packing up your things and waiting for someone to pick you up to be taken outside. As soon as you had been alone, Seungmin had jumped up and his suppressed anger had just poured out of his eyes.

"It's okay, guys. He will fund your project and that's the most important thing", you dismissed it and shoved your Ipad into your bag. You were just tired and disgusted. But you had reached your goal and that's what you were here for.

Briefly, you looked at the card in your hand, which had the rich man's number on it. But before you could put it into your bag, Chan snatched it out of your hand.

"No way! We'll get the money anyway. You won't sell yourself for it!", he said, and now the friendly mask fell. You only now noticed how angry he really was.

His hand was clenched into a fist and his jawline twitched tensely as he had to restrain himself from smashing any of the ugly decorations in the room into a thousand pieces. Chan was incredibly intimidating when he was angry, you just realised.

"Maybe he really just wants to drink coffee and talk about business", you tried to calm him down, but Chan shook his head and his eyes shot lightning bolts. That protective side to them both made your heart flutter.

"Didn't you see him staring at your tits the whole time? He wants you naked in his bed, nothing else", Chan spat out and you couldn't help but stare at him. His muscles tensed dangerously under his shirt as he tore up the card and threw it emphatically into the trash can right next to the desk. He was incredibly sexy when he was angry, and that realisation was a bit strange.

Seungmin also ran a tense hand through his hair and growled: "That fucker... I would have loved to punch that asshole in the face when he stared at you so greedily."

"Let's just get out of here", you said, now that you were getting heated by their protective presence. The way the guys cared about you was way too attractive and you automatically imagined Seungmin choking your neck with his bare hands instead of the back of the chair and immediately your knees went weak.

On the way back, Seungmin's hand was on your thigh again, only this time not gently and lovingly. His grip was harsh and he grabbed your inner thigh so tightly throughout the ride that it made you dizzy.

Only when you got out of the Uber you could breathe a sigh of relief. His fingers had left red marks on your leg. as well as a burning sensation in your lower abdomen.

Just as you walked through the entrance of the JYP building, you got a call from one of the company's executives.

Nervously, you answered the phone and indicated to the guys with a wave to go ahead without you.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Y/L/N. We already heard that the conversation with Mr. Jang went very well."

The older woman's voice was unfamiliar to you, but you knew exactly who she was. Mrs. Chung was a very big deal at JYP and mainly handled the hiring and matters of the staff, as well as all social media matters.

„Yes. He even plans to fund more projects as well", you said, stopping in front of the elevator so you could speak in peace.

"That sounds like a big success. Very good! But I'm actually calling about something else. Could you come to my office on floor three?"

Your heart slipped into your pants and you nodded until you remembered that she couldn't see you.

„I'm already in the building. I'm on my way", you said and by then she had hung up.

You went up to the third floor, your heart pounding, unable to imagine what she wanted to discuss with you.

In front of the office you took a deep breath and knocked. Immediately you were called in and the woman, who reminded you strongly of a librarian with her kind eyes and pinned up hair, smiled delightedly.

So it couldn't be anything too bad, could it?

After a brief greeting, she offered you to sit down. She closed the laptop that was in front of her and folded her arms on the table. Then she pushed her black glasses on her head and said:

"Have you settled in well with us yet?"

"Yes. I really like it a lot."

"That's nice. I hear you're a great asset to Stray Kids. There haven't been any problems since you've been here."

„I try my best!", you assured her, almost bursting with curiosity by now.

"Were there many problems before?", you asked curiously and she chuckled slightly.

You know the boys by now. So far no one has been able to tame them...“

She sighed like an overworked mother and shook her head.

"I saw that you're a talented dancer and have done a stream about that with Hyunjin“, she began then and you restlessly kneaded your hands in your lap.

"I'm very sorry if I wasn't allowed to do that... We thought the fans would like it."

Quickly, Mrs. Chung waved a hand in the air as if to scare away the misunderstanding like an insect.

"Oh it did! We had four times the number of viewers and got many new followers in addition just because of the stream. Also the little private moments in the videos and vlogs that go viral between you and the guys inspires speculation. That polarizes and brings attention. It's beneficial for JYP and Stray Kids as long as it doesn't get too much."

The last sentence was accompanied by a warning look and you pressed your lips together.

"Understood."

Of course, they were going to use the attention you brought them. Obviously, it was your luck that the fans reacted so positively to you and shipped you with the guys rather than hating you.

"But that's not the point at all. Bang Chan approached us with a request and we decided to give you a platform."

"What?"

Completely irritated, you clawed at the tabletop.

"You are allowed to upload streams or dance covers as part of JYP and Stray Kids, if you want to. It's really important to us to promote talent."

She pulled out a sheet of paper and placed it in front of you with a pen. It had your name written on it, and it was actually an employment contract. You could hardly believe your luck. This had always been your dream.

What had Chan done now? How did he know that you always wanted to share your talent with the world? This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"If you sign the contract, we'll cover all the costs for future projects."

"Projects?"

You were starting to feel stupid for all the questions, but it was too surreal to believe.

"The fans want to see more of you. So we're giving it to them. JYP gets 30 percent of the revenue, and in exchange you get to publish through the official channel, as well as your own JYP Instagram account that we give you. What you do with that is up to you. However, it must not affect your work as the manager of Stray Kids.“

Now you were speechless.

"Are we agreed?", she asked with an amused smile.

"Yes, thank you very much. I don't even know what to say", you said, unable to suppress the wide smile.

"Don't thank us. Bang Chan brought it up to us and pointed out what an advantage you would be to JYP entertainment if you were allowed to show your face. And of course your skills."

This man always managed to surprise you. Without further ado, you signed the contract and clarified a few more questions. You would receive access to your account in the next few days and if you wanted to release a dance cover, you simply had to send the video to Mrs. Chung and she would publish it on the official JYP Entertainment YouTube channel.

Completely flabbergasted, you walked out of the room and without another thought, your legs carried you to Chans studio. Your heart almost burst with joy and you pushed the door open without knocking.

You couldn't wait, you had to see him and thank him. Actually, you had no idea what you were about to do. Your mind went blank and you just wanted to see his face.

Alarmed, he jumped up from his chair. He was working on a beat again and looked at you in amazement when you just came rushing into the room.

"Y/N? Are you all right?", he asked, unable to get another word out as you had already thrown yourself at him. He stumbled back a few steps as he caught you, but then held you tightly as you pressed your lips wildly to his.

The kiss was messy and you pulled his body closer to yours. Immediately his hands were on your hips and even though you completely surprised him, he kissed you back with the same intensity.

Your hands wandered into his hair, running through his curls and tugging lightly on them. His cinnamon-y smell mixed with his spicy cologne completely filled your perception and you immediately wanted more.

When you broke away from him, he looked at you like a deer in headlights.

"What was that for?", he asked with a puzzled look on his face, not letting go of you.

You clasped your hands in his neck and he warmed as you looked at him through your thick lashes with those sparkling eyes.

"I just went to Mrs Chung.... Why are you always so damn nice to me?", you asked desperately, pressing your body against his.

You could feel his strong torso against your chest and wanted to explore each of his muscles with your fingers.

He enjoyed your body heat and casually let his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your dress.

"Because you deserve it."

"Channie this has always been my dream. To dance and show it to the world.... How did you know?"

An embarrassed laugh escaped him, and his dimples charmed you all over again.

"Hyunjin told me how good you are at dancing, Felix and Jeongin came up with the idea. I just made it happen."

You realized once again how lucky you were to have gotten this job. To meet the boys who made your life so much better.

He dreamily examined your body and enjoyed how you trembled under his touch.

All day long he had wanted to tear your dress off and when the rich asshole had stared at you so lustfully, he would have loved to fuck you on his desk in front of his eyes so that the guy would understand who owned you and what he would never get.

These extreme thoughts had surprised him himself, but when you were around, he just couldn't help himself.

"I want to show you how grateful I am", you suddenly said then, pulling him closer by his belt.

Chan watched your expression as you seductively bit your lower lip and undid his belt buckle. It was too much for him.

Your dress hugged your breasts perfectly and your pretty face, with intense eyes gave him the rest. Before he could stop you, you pressed your lips on his again, sliding your tongue into his mouth and he jumped at it like a needy puppy.

Your fingers undid the buttons of his shirt so quickly that he exhaled loudly as your cool fingers suddenly stroked his bare abs.

He hadn't expected you to be so boisterous and dominant, and it only fueled his lust for you even more.

While you slowly slide to your knees, you spread kisses all over his firm abs and his skin tasted addicting. It tasted deliciously sweet and savory at the same time.

Immediately he threw his head back and enjoyed every touch of your full lips on his skin. When he managed to look at you again, something exploded in his head.

You on your knees, in that tight dress, looking at him through your thick lashes with that greedy look on your pretty face, made his length in his pants become painfully hard and by now he couldn't stand the friction against the fabric of his pants.

"Really? Here? With me?", escaped him and you smiled such a beautiful smile that he had to control himself not to bend you over his table immediately.

"As the leader, you have the right to claim me first."

'I'm the first of us?", he asked with a calm rasp, in his voice. You nodded and stuck your fingers in his waistband.

"The first to fuck me. I want you to be."

"God…“

That sentence with your soft voice was enough to make his impatience win.

"Shit, babe I can't wait", he hissed as you pulled down his pants.

He grabbed you by the sides to drag you back up to him. Even though he would have loved to feel your lips around his hard cock, by now he was sure he wouldn't last that long.

He lifted you onto the edge of the table with ease. He pushed your legs apart and pulled you closer again by your face before kissing you.

The kiss was more sensual and deeper than anything you had experienced before and you melted in his firm grip.

He slid your dress over your hips and then took it off completely. Briefly, he took a few seconds to just look at you.

"Fuck... You're so fucking beautiful."

His voice deepened with each word and the excitement in his eyes gave you goosebumps.

Immediately he kissed your neck, sucked on it and cupped your breasts with his big hands until you whimpered with desire.

He looked up at you and put a hand on the clasp of your bra.

"May I?"

You nodded, your head already spinning and he was still the respectful gentleman. With a tight smile from him, your bra landed somewhere in the room and he took one of your nipples into his mouth.

He kneaded your other breast until you couldn't take it anymore and rubbed your soaked core against the bulge in his boxers.

He let his fingers brush over the wet spot in your panties and expelled his hot breath against your skin.

"You're going to keep that pretty mouth shut. Understood? Otherwise we will be caught."

He pulled back, looking at you nod furiously.

You were still at the company and if you would get caught, you would probably loose your job and Chan would be in big trouble.

Unfortunately that risk made it even more exiting.

He turned you around, pushed carelessly his holy laptop and the recording equipment away and bent you over his desk in one swift motion. Slowly he circled your clothed clit with his thumb, what made you whimper underneath him.

"Fuck you're so soaked...“

He grabbed the flesh of your asscheek with one hand and pushed his thumb even harder onto your clit.

Immediately you moaned and arched your back.

"What did I say?", he questioned, covering your mouth with one hand and bluntly pulled your panties to the side pumping his finger into you making you gasp against his hand. Electric shocks pierced your body with each reentry of his finger.

"Already this loud with just a finger? How am I going to fuck you?", he groaned into your ear.

His raspy voice sent chills down your spine, you've never seen this side of him before. So dark and dominant. It made you even more aroused.

"Channie, please...", you whimpered with your fingernails digging into his desk.

"Do you want me to fuck you, babygirl? Say it!"

His demanding tone made you squirm and you pushed your throbbing core at him.

"Yes, please. Fuck me, Channie!"

"Good girl", he smiled, as he ripped down your panties to the ground.

He lined himself up behind you to enter you. Teasingly he slid his tip along your folds and you rubbed yourself against him. With one hand he pushed you down to the table and the other hand grabbed your hips, as he moaned, pushing himself in:

"Fuck you're tight."

You gasped, as he stretched you out and clenched your teeth, as he didn't slow down while pushing his length into you.

Because at this point there is no doubt about it. Chan doesn't just have Big Dick Energy. Oh he is big.

So big that you almost fainted. And he knew exactly how you would feel it all.

After he managed to bury himself entirely into your pussy, he began to shove himself into you. After a few thrusts, that made you feel like he would rip you apart, the sensation was feeling more pleasure than pain, although he slid every time deeper inside you.

He soon speeded up his pace, hitting all your sweet spots making you pornographically moan.

The room was filled with the sounds of your whimpers, his growls, and the slapping of skin, as he pushed your hip with each thrust rougher against him and fucked you hard against his desk.

You could see your reflection in the dark screen of his computer and almost blushed because of the fucked out expression on your face.

He carried on fucking you senseless from behind and didn't stop a second. You moaned his name several times, which made him slam even harder into your wet core.

You whined, as your body began to tense around him.

"Are you going to cum?", he asked grabbing your arms and pushing them behind you to hold your wrists with just one hand fiercely pressed against your back.

"Not yet!", he ordered, as he managed to fuck even deeper inside you. Without your hands you were completely at his mercy and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you tried to stop yourself from coming.

"Channie, please... I can't... You're so big...“

Slowly tears were welling up in your eyes and oh he loved your desperate begging.

"Please. Daddy."

The words escaped you with a sob unaware and released by Chans dominant behaviour.

"Holy fuck...", he let out and you obviously found a secret trigger that made him go feral. Grabbing your hands tighter he slammed into you and pushed you up the table. He watched your boobs bounce with every move.

"You want to cum for daddy, babygirl?", he growled at you.

"Yes", you cried.

"Daddy, please! Let me come!"

Just as you thought, that was enough to push him over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

His thrusts became sloppier, dick twitching inside you.

"Come with me, baby!", he let out before he spilled himself inside you. And you did. Your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami and left you with trembling legs and faltering breath.

As you both came down from your high, he pulled himself out of you and turned you around, to lift you on the table again. He grabbed a tissue box and cleaned you and himself up.

"Are you okay?", he asked and the sweet and charming Chan was back. You had now idea what just happened.

Exhausted you could only nod and Chan smiled softly as he gave you a sweet kiss on the lips and gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

"Your fucked out face is so pretty", he teased and pulled you into his arms until he was sitting in his chair again, you on his lap, stroking your back affectionately.

You locked at him with a wondering smile.

"Never thought you would be so dirty... Daddy", you teased him.

"Hah", he chuckled and wrapped his big arms tighter around your body.

"Just a little."

Oh after what you just experienced, he wasn't just a little dirty. That boy had a kink that you wouldn't have expected. And of course he fucked you better than anyone before.

Later that day, after you've gotten dressed again and slipped into your office like nothing ever happened, Chan joined the others in the dance studio to practice the choreography.

He was the last one and started to sit down on the floor next to Lee Know to follow his example and stretch.

Jeongin and Hyunjin were already standing in front of the mirror going through the first steps, while Han, Seungmin and Changbin sat on the couch, talking quietly and waiting until they could finally start.

Felix came over to Chan and offered to help him and so they stretched together, Felix pushing Chan's legs apart with his.

"Why are you so late? We wanted to start an hour ago", Hyunjin asked and Chan tried to avoid eye contact and focus on the pain in his legs so as not to give himself away immediately.

The conversation between Han and Seungmin fell silent and Chan only said:

"I had something else to do.“

Then Han and Changbin suddenly giggled and poked each other as if they were sharing a naughty secret.

"Oh you definitely had something to do!", said Han with a grin. The others all looked at him now.

"It definitely sounded from outside the door like that too!", added Changbin and both giggled again.

That's when Chan slowly realized it. He remembered the message from Han on his phone, where he had written to him that he would not come to the studio beforehand.

The message came while he was busy fucking you from behind, so he didn't think much of it.

As Chan still stared in confusion, Changbin began to moan in a high-pitched voice:

"Daddy, please! Oh, fuck me daddy!"

Han immediately joined in by slapping his hand on his thigh to imitate the sound and also repeating the naughty words Chan had heard from you only minutes before.

"Chan fucked Y/N in the studio?", shouted Hyunjin and by now Han and Changbin were holding their stomachs laughing as Chan buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

The others also smirked and couldn't help but tease their leader as well.

As Han slowly regained his breath, he explained:

„We went to pick up Chan, and just as we were standing right outside the door, that's when we heard how hard he was really working.“

The sarcasm was unmistakable and Felix now had to hold a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Even Jeongin couldn't help but annoy Chan:

„The walls are probably not as soundproof as we thought.“

"I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff, Hyung", Seungmin chuckled and Lee Know joined in with an evil grin:

"Or should we call you daddy now too? Would you like that, hyung?"

By now his face was burning and he just wanted to run away.

"Can we just start practicing? Please?", Chan asked sheepishly, and they did.

However, not without teasing him about it all evening.

->Part 9

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Taglist (closed):

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estrellami-1 · 11 months

Text

(Push Away the) Lonely Times

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Hopper sighs after his phone call with Jim Bronsaw. He does that a lot, after a conversation with him. He rubs his hands over his face, desperately wishes for a cigarette, and decides on one on the way to the Harrington house.

He gets there in record time, even with the lights on his cruiser off. He parks on the curb and spends a minute just looking at the house.

It’s a nice place, all things considered. He sees a four-car garage, which makes him want to roll his eyes, and a flowerbed that’s obviously someone’s pride and joy. He wonders, briefly, if Melissa Harrington has ever gardened, or if she pays someone to do it for her. If she has flowers in the front of her house because that’s how houses are supposed to look. The yard itself is well-kempt, save for one stray wiffle ball.

He steps over it on his way to the front door. Knocks. Waits.

The door cracks open after a minute. “Hello, Chief,” Steven Harrington says.

Hopper smiles. “Hi, Steven. Are your parents home?”

Brown eyes widen. “Uh. N-no, sir.”

“That’s alright. Do you know when they’ll be home?”

“No, sir.”

Hopper sighs and gently asks, “Steven, can I come in?”

“Oh!” Steven opens the door wider. “Yeah. Sorry.” He bites his lip when Hopper’s inside. “Um. Can I get you water? Or something?”

“Water would be great,” Hopper says, understanding the need to be doing something. He follows Steve to the kitchen, watches as he stands on tiptoes to reach the glasses, then moves to grab a pitcher from the fridge. It’s obvious that it’s a little heavy for him, but it’s also obvious that Steven has had practice. He pours without spilling a drop, puts the pitcher away, and hands the glass to Hopper. He takes it, then looks at Steven. “I know your parents are out of town, kid.”

Steven blinks. His eyes shift from side to side, like he’s trying to find a way out. “I-I- um. It’s. It’s really okay, sir, they don’t ever leave for very long, and I’m old enough to take care of myself anyways, and-”

“Steven,” Hopper interrupts, “I’m not mad at you.”

“Y-you’re not?”

“No. Your parents, maybe, but it’s not your fault they left. Can I ask you for a favor, though?”

“Of course,” Steven says, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Let me know when they’re gone and when they get back. I’d like to keep an eye on you.”

“Oh. That’s really not necessary, sir, I can handle it-”

“I know you can,” Hopper says, then sighs. “How about this? I understand it could be weird, talking to the chief of police. You know my friend Jim, over at Melvald’s?”

Steven nods. “Uh-huh! He gave me a Snickers!” Immediately he shrinks, like he realizes telling the chief of police his friend had stolen wasn’t the best decision.

Hopper chuckles. “He would. Would you be more comfortable checking in with him, instead?” Steven hesitates, so Hopper adds, “Whatever you want, Steven. Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

Steven nods, but won’t look at him. “Yes. Please.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know. But remember, I want you to let him know when your parents leave and when they get back, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright then. Thanks for the water, Steven. Have a good afternoon.”

“Yes, sir. You too.”

Hopper leaves, not looking back.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

#stranger things #steve harrington #Jim hopper #Jim Bronsaw #(push away the) lonely times #kid fic #as in Steve is a kid in this one #starambles

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wren-kitchens · 2 years

Text

a party goes awry (in the best possible way)

TW: alcohol, suggestive (kind of, like there’s no sex or anything), making out

hey guess who learnt how to use ao3 links properly

anyway i’m mentally ill over flower ranchers and this took me a week so please reblog lmao

scott is lost in his thoughts again. it seems to be happening a lot recently, now everyone is back together. without the existential threat of permanent death looming over them, he has more time to actually think about things.

and boy, are there a lot of things to think about.

the one he can’t seem to shake is the question that’s been bugging him for most of the past year and a half: feelings? he doesn’t quite know if he still likes jimmy— having your stomach do somersaults every time you see someone probably means you still like them, right? — but recently a new problem has arisen. tango.

jimmy and tango definitely like each other. and, maybe, scott has found himself watching tango for a little too long to be considered friendliness.

but he can hardly help it. everyone is in their server’s skins, not the life series’ ones now, and god . no one can blame him for staring, not when tango is in blue and black robes, a dark metal crown and black eyeliner and lipstick . and scott thought his own lipstick was cool.

scott is spending a lot of time alone now. not on purpose, but he just can’t find the energy needed to hide his feelings, and honestly, blushing and stammering all the time is just embarrassing.

on the third day, grian (the creator of the life servers) hosts a server-wide party, mainly to remind everyone of the funniest deaths and mishaps over the past 3 games.

nearly everyone looks very different than they did on the life games. of course, there are some people who dress the same no matter what, but for the most part, everyone is looking around at everyone else (mostly the empires members) with surprise.

scott has spent most of the party wandering around, carefully avoiding tango and jimmy, and taking pointed sips of his wine every time one of them looks up at him. until, that is, cleo grabs his wrist and pulls him into a corner, ignoring his yelp of shock.

“are you just gonna ignore them this whole time?” she asks. “because it’s starting to get painful to watch.”

“that- well, that was the plan .” scott says, greatly surprised that he hasn’t spilled his wine. “I avoid them, tango goes back to hermitcraft and I can go back to empires. jimmy lives, like, a thousand blocks away, i’ll be fine.”

cleo raises a disapproving eyebrow. “and you think that’s healthy ?”

“it can’t end up too bad.” scott says.

“I think very much it can.” cleo says. “have you seen grian and scar?”

“shit, are they still not together?” scott asks.

“nope.” cleo says. “and that’s exactly what people will be saying about you-“ she jabs him in the chest. “-if you don’t get your crap together.”

“ they’re together, cleo.” scott says. he glances briefly at them, and regrets it immediately. they’re dancing together, jimmy’s arms around tango’s waist, tango’s head resting on jimmy’s shoulder. his heart plummets.

“see.” he gestures towards them, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“scott-“ cleo’s voice is gentler now.

“i’m gonna go get a drink.” scott says, putting his wine on the closet table. they’ve just kissed. “something stronger.”

as he reaches the bar, he finds grian there, bottle in hand and looking as bad as scott feels. his wings are massive compared to the fledgling size they usually are on the life servers.

“evening.” scott says.

“hey.” grian’s voice is flat and he’s looking at something. scott follows his gaze at his eyes land on scar, talking animatedly to mumbo.

scott sits on the barstool next to grian. he orders a beer then says, “you too then, huh.”

“yep.” grian says. “who is it for you?”

“probably the two in the strongest relationship on this server.” scott says, nodding in thanks to the bartender and taking his drink.

“shit.” grian says sympathetically.

“doesn’t look like you have it much better.” scott says.

grian gives a humourless laugh. “oh, definitely not. god, why do I fall for the most unattainable people.”

“i’ll drink to that.” scott raises his bottle.

grian clanks his own bottle against scott’s.

“this,” pearls voice says. “is a very, very sad sight.”

“oh, leave us be.” grian says as scott takes a gulp of beer.

“let us wallow in self pity. as a treat.” scott says. his thoughts are starting to feel a bit fuzzy around the edges.

“hear, hear.” grian agrees, who, by the looks of it, is also starting to get a bit drunk. his eyes are slightly crossed.

scott watches as tango spins jimmy around. they’re both laughing, their eyes crinkled up, smiles wide. they’re everything.

“-cott? scott!”

scott starts a little and looks up at pearl. “hi.”

“you were just zoned out.” pearl frowns. “did you hear anything I said?”

“no.” scott says.

“I said that if you two carry on drinking like this, you’ll not be able to remember the past year.” she says appraisingly.

“ good .” scott says and takes another drink.

“you’re meant to be running an empire when you get back.” pearl says.

“oh, I don’t care .” scott waves a hand clumsily.

“yeah, let the man be sad in peace.” grian says.

“you shouldn’t be drinking either.” pearl rounds on him. “remember what happened last time?”

“no one cares how many eyes I have.” grian says, slurring his words ever so slightly. “it was fine . everyone’s here, aren’t they?”

“honestly..” pearl mutters. “fine, you two drink yourselves to death, i’m going to the snack bar.”

scott shrugs and returns his gaze to jimmy and tango. the song has changed, and now they’re stood and talking to scar.

scott grins. “hey, they’re talking to each other.” he elbows grian.

“do you reckon we can make ‘em jealous by, like..” grian trails off, frowning. “what can we do?”

“we could dance together.” scott suggests.

grian takes another drink and spills a bit on his jumper. “can you dance?”

“no.” scott scoffs. “who cares?”

“I like your style.” grian nods at him.

scott slides off his barstool with less grace than he’d prefer, leaving his drink on the bar. he offers grian his hand. “shall we?”

grian’s grin is lopsided. “we shall.”

what they quickly learn is that, whilst they’re bad at dancing at the best of times, they are abysmal when drunk. they stumble, and crash into each other, and grian has smacked scott with one of his wings at least 3 times, and it’s so much fun.

them both being drunk definitely helps, but after a minute they’re nearly collapsing with laughter, their original purpose almost completely forgotten.

almost completely forgotten.

as the second song fades out, scott spots scar moving towards the bar, a very miserable expression on his face.

scott leans in to grian. “call scar over to dance.” it’s not quite a whisper, but it was meant to be.

grian turns around, his grin widening as he sees scar.

“scar!” he waves, jumping up and down. “scar, come dance with us!”

scar’s expression visibly changes to excitement in a second, and he quickly walks over, almost disregarding his cane.

“yay!” grian hugs scar once he reaches them.

“oh, hello.” scar chuckles. when grian stands back again, scar surveys him. “you’re drunk?”

“very drunk.” grian giggles. “I missed you!”

“aww.” scott grins. “you two are the best couple.”

“we’re, uhm. not- not a couple.” scar’s face is bright red.

scott frowns. are they not? he definitely remembers something about them dating. or was it them liking each other? it’s a bit fuzzy. “really? you should be.”

“yeah we should.” grian nods. “you’re handsome.”

“I- you- um. what?” scar stammers.

“can I kiss you?” grian asks.

scott doesn’t reckon he’s seen a man look more flustered than scar does right now.

“you’re- but you’re drunk, you might regret it.” scar manages.

“well that depends on if you love me too.” grian says.

“I- god, you - really ?” scar says.

“I need a yes or no.” grian says. “to both.”

“yes.” scar says. “yes, to- to both.”

grian doesn’t waste any time. he grabs the collar of scar’s shirt, pulls him down and kisses him. they kiss for just enough time for it to have embarrassed scott if he was sober, before grian pulls away.

“i’m gonna go now, plan worked.” grian tells scott.

scott grins. “oh yeah.”

“plan- what?” scott hears scar say as grian and he walk off, towards the door.

scott moves back over to the bar. jimmy and tango are dancing again, so his part of the plan obviously didn’t work. ah well, one out of two ain’t bad. is that how the saying goes?

he orders another beer, starts to watch jimmy and tango again, and..

well, that’s where everything goes fuzzy. the alcohol starts to get the better of him, and he can’t seem to keep everything straight (ha).

one minute he’s at the bar, the next he’s by jimmy and tango, and the next..

—-

scott’s skull has been smashed in with a hammer. it must have been — there’s no better explanation for how much it hurts. he registers the feeling of a duvet over him, and he’s definitely wearing less clothes than he last remembers. his shoes, hat and coat are gone, at least.

he opens his eyes, and luckily the room is dark enough for it not to make his headache worse. he still has to squint though.

“christ alive.” he mutters. his throat is hoarse and scratchy when he speaks. “what even..” he turns over and nearly jumps out of his skin.

next to him, is jimmy’s face, looking worriedly at him.

“jesus-!” scott scrambles back slightly, then winces as his head throbs in protest.

“sorry, sorry.” jimmy says, stepping backwards hurriedly. “um. how are you feeling?”

“like someone’s cracked my head open.” he groans, sitting up. “what even happened?”

“you don’t remember?”

the door opens and tango walks in, turning the light on. the sudden light makes scott’s head feel even worse, and he scrunches up his eyes in protest.

however, after a second, he realises that there is red and black lipstick smudged on jimmy’s face and neck. with dawning horror, he looks over at tango to see his own lipstick smeared, with the unmistakable red of scott’s accompanying it.

“oh no.” scott mutters.

“you were,” tango grins as he sees scott’s face. “ extremely drunk last night. not that i’m complaining.”

scott decides he’s spent too much time sitting around, as he finishes his 3rd beer. he stands up, stumbling, and walks determinedly over to tango and jimmy.

“i’m gonna be honest here,” scott says, startling the two a little. “you are the most handsome people i’ve ever met.”

“you-“ jimmy’s face goes pink. “um. thank you.”

“you’re kind.” tango chuckles, blushing. “are you drunk?”

“mm.” scott grins.

his thoughts are all sloshing around in his mind, but the only one he can grasp is that he really wants to kiss these two people.

it all goes a little blurry, and scott isn’t quite sure how it happens, but the next thing he knows he’s backed up against the wall, kissing jimmy. they both have smears of black lipstick on their necks.

scott pulls back from the kiss to mouth down the side of jimmy’s throat. jimmy makes a noise that’s somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

suddenly, he’s kissing tango, and his brain feels like mush. his legs turn to jelly as tango’s teeth graze his bottom lip, and he has to lean against the wall for support.

both jimmy’s and tango’s lips are on his neck now, and scott might be about to die. this theory is proved when he feels teeth against his skin and he practically collapses, groaning.

***

“oh, god .” scott buries his face in his hands. “i’m never getting drunk again.”

“you’re a good kisser.” tango smirks. “jimmy’d said, but I never knew how good.”

“why did you get so drunk?” jimmy asks, briefly glaring at tango. “you never really did before.”

“it’s stupid.” scott looks up again. “i’d spent the past few days avoiding you because i didn’t want to make a fool of myself, and then there was the party and you were dancing together and kissing and- ugh, I was jealous.”

“aw, you were jealous?” tango says. “oh my god, wait, that’s why you were avoiding us?”

“yes.” scott blushes. “it’s embarrassing now .”

“you’re adorable.” jimmy grins. “what was up with you and grian then?”

“a series of drunken decisions.” scott says. “grian was at the bar when I was there, and we both got equally drunk, and decided to dance together on the off-chance it made you guys and scar jealous.”

“you did that on purpose?” tango exclaims.

“it worked on you?” scott asks, surprised. “I thought it was just scar.”

“yeah, well.” tango is blushing. “he was the first to go to the bar. we assumed there was nothing between you after grian kissed scar.”

“I still consider that my finest idea.” scott says. “just how long have we been waiting for them to get together?”

“too long.” jimmy shakes his head solemnly.

“so, um. what does that make us?” tango asks.

“well, i mean,” scott says, suddenly nervous. “i’d like to be.. well, more than friends. only- only if you guys-“

“I think we’re okay with it.” jimmy says, looking to tango.

“yeah. definitely okay with it.” tango nods.

“boyfriends?” scott asks, failing to disguise his excitement.

“boyfriends.”

—-

word, it seems, has gotten ‘round, and in the afternoon everyone meets up to discuss the happenings of the night prior. a few people look a bit hungover, but no one as much as scott and grian.

grian looks both proud and incredibly embarrassed, and he keeps pulling up the collar of his jumper. scar is wearing a turtleneck, talking to mumbo.

scott grins and walks up to him. “so, you guys had fun last night?”

grian huffs. “yeah, well. we were.. a little tired of pining.” his eyes land on something on scott’s neck. “looks like you did too.” he smirks.

“oh, that’s just from the makeup wipes.” scott says, but when he holds a hand against his neck, his fingers press on a bruise, making him hiss with pain.

“i don’t think that’s makeup wipes.” grian smirks.

scott’s face burns. “oh my god.” he mutters, trying to pull his coat’s collar higher on his neck. with increasing horror, he glances behind him at tango and jimmy, and realises that they have very similar bruises on their own necks.

grian cackles. “oh my god, did you not know?”

“it was- they were covered with makeup!” scott says, hurriedly feeling for any more, and finding at least 2 more. “the wipes- it usually makes the area sting a bit, I just thought-“

he turns around and gestures urgently for jimmy and tango to join him. they do, and scott hurriedly tells them. it gives him some reassurance that they’re as panicked as he is. jimmy ties his bandanna higher on his neck, and tango pulls his hood around his.

“oh, hey guys.” scar says cheerily, walking to them. he slips his hand into grian’s, who in turn blushes. “aw, you keep doing that.” scar grins, looking down at him.

“leave me alone, this is new.” grian says.

“what do we say to scott for getting you together?” scott grins, thankful for the change in topic.

grian rolls his eyes. “thank you.” he drones.

“I still can’t quite believe you’ve liked me this whole time.” scar says. “like, it’s been-“

“years.” scott, tango and jimmy finish in unison.

“you all knew ?” grian exclaims.

“you think you were subtle?” tango says. “the only people who didn’t know were you guys.”

grian scoffs and looks up at scar. “can you believe this?”

scar shrugs. “yes. I didn’t realise you were my soulbound until the second time you dropped dripstone on my head.” he laughs as grian slaps his arm. “well you asked!”

“how did you guys get together then?” grian asks.

scott feels himself blush. “well. I don’t really remember how .”

“you came up to us, drunk as anything, and called us ‘the most handsome people’ you’d ever met.” tango grins.

“then you started talking about how much you wanted to kiss us.” jimmy adds. “it sounded more like you were just voicing your thoughts, actually.”

“oh, kill me now.” scott buries his face in his hands.

“and then-“

“no, I remember that bit quite well.” scott says quickly.

grian laughs. “oh, i’m sure you do.”

“shut up.” scott says. “don’t think I didn’t notice scar’s turtleneck; you usually have to tell him to put his shirt on every ten seconds.”

“alright, alright, i’m sure both of you got a nice amount of hickeys.” cleo’s voice cuts through, embarrassingly loud. “you don’t have to compete, it’s okay.”

“ cleo .” grian hisses, pink again.

“oh, come on, you five are the topic of the server!” cleo grins. “i’ve won so much money since yesterday, it’s amazing. so please, keep talking incredibly obviously about you making out last night.”

“I did tell you not to get so drunk.”

scott yelps in shock, jumping sideways. pearl has just appeared next to him.

“jesus!” scott says.

pearl laughs. “it is not hard to overhear you.”

“i’d say it was worth it.” tango says to scott.

“i’m just hoping you don’t have to be drunk to do that again.” jimmy smirks.

scott turns bright pink. “I can’t believe I fell for you two.”

“but you did~” jimmy singsongs.

“oh, I really did.” scott smiles. he nudges jimmy. “I never knew you had a thing for ice wizards.”

“oh shut up.” jimmy blushes. “it’s a coincidence .”

“someone has a type~” tango teases, in the same tone as jimmy.

“I do not .” jimmy protests.

“is it the blue hair?” scott says.

“I reckon it’s the blue hair.” tango nods.

“you were blonde when I started dating you.” jimmy reminds him.

“yeah, and I wasn’t an ice wizard when you first dated me .” scott says. “it just happens.”

“hey, maybe jimmy doesn’t have a type, maybe he just bestows ice powers onto whoever he dates.” tango says.

“ooh, yeah!” scott says. “I already had the blue hair, maybe that just comes with the ice.”

“ guys .” jimmy says. “I don’t give people ice magic when I date them.”

“aw, really?” tango whines. “but that’d be- mmph!”

jimmy has interrupted him by kissing him. “shush about the ice magic.” he says.

tango blushes. “yep, will do.”

scott laughs. “i hope you do, though. maybe i’ll get the magic again, that was fun.”

jimmy makes an annoyed noise, before grabbing the collar of scott’s shirt and kissing him, hard. scott’s brain short-circuits, and now all he can think is how much he missed kissing jimmy.

“I think you’ve effectively shut both of them up.” grian’s voice says from a distant world that isn’t this kiss.

jimmy pulls back, grinning.

“jesus.” scott mutters to himself.

“hear hear.” tango agrees.

grian bursts out laughing. “oh my god, you guys are made for each other.”

scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

#writing is fun #I like writing #flower ranchers #rancher duo #flower husbands #trafficshipping #ft.#scarian #wow omg #who’d have thought #tw alochol #tw suggestive #trafficblr #hoax writes

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rottencaniness · 5 months

Text

// forever trusting who we are, and nothing else matters //

— for bastiel, @derailedangel —

rating: teen & up || word count: 1.5k+ || ao3 link

tags: samjess, christmas, swearing, weirdcest, dean coded jess, kissing, Stanford era

It’s their first Christmas together, Sam’s all but shaking with nerves for how the night will go, Jess had to drive down to her parents place for Christmas Eve and is just now getting back to their apartment. They moved in together only a month ago, supposedly way quicker than they should’ve according to Brady, but Sam and Jess both knew it’s what they wanted.

And now, sitting in the apartment that’s freshly decorated to the best of Sam’s ability, hearing the lock jingle open, Sam’s really happy to have the space for just him and Jess. He knows Brady would’ve been making things ten times more chaotic and none of the decorations would’ve been up as neatly as they are now. Sam took his time placing things prettily around the apartment, a small Christmas tree by their couch, garlands draped over their mantle and tops of their cabinets in the kitchen, Christmas lights hung in almost every room, a pine scented candle burning, and Jess’ present wrapped neatly and placed next to the couch.

“Sam? I’m home.” He watches with a smile how the blonde kicks her converse off and drops her duffle bag to the floor— it’s actually Sam’s duffle bag, the same one he moved to Stanford with, the same one with anti-hex bags sewed into the pockets and sigils embroidered onto the bottom— which Jess blissfully ignored and just thanked him for letting her use it for her trip.

“You decorated.” The delighted smile Jess has as she walks over to where Sam is makes his whole chest feel warm.

“Thought it’d be nice for our first Christmas.” She hums along, coming to press a soft kiss to Sam’s lips before turning back to the door to grab something out of the duffle bag. It’s hidden behind her back before Sam can get a good look at it.

“I know we said gifts weren’t necessary since we spent so much money on the apartment, but, I wanted to get you something anyways.” A small box gets handed to Sam once Jess sits beside him on the couch, her eyes briefly flicking to the box wrapped by his feet with a small laugh. They both broke the ‘no gifts’ rule, to no surprise.

Sam pauses looking down at the present, it’s wrapped in newspaper. Just like Dean would when they were growing up— given Jess’ wrapping job is a lot more meticulous and there’s sparkly red twine tied in a bow around the box— so it’s different, but the same. His fingers twitch over the twine, part of him doesn’t want to unwrap it and ruin how nice it is, the other part of him is telling him to unwrap it before he starts to think about Dean too much.

“Sorry, the newspaper is kinda janky but I didn’t have any wrapping paper.” A hand reaches to rub at the back of Jess’ neck as she grimaces before Sam’s shaking his head as fast as he can.

“No, no, it’s beautiful. I um- I actually used to get presents wrapped in newspaper growing up.” Something he thought he left behind in that mildew smelling motel room he walked out of before catching a bus to California, the yells of his name that Dean let out before he left ringing in his head the entire drive, the burn of anger he felt towards John for not supporting him, the ache in his chest when he looked back at Dean one last time— fuck. He left that all behind, he has Jess and Brady, they’re his family now.

“Oh thank god, I was worried you were one of those people that had extravagant Christmas’s growing up.” Sam laughs, he’s shared enough about his family with Jess that she can’t have actually thought that. He told her how he moved around a lot as a kid, sleeping in hotel rooms and in the back of cars, how his brother was his parent for the most part, he never tells her what type of work John did that required them to move so much but Jess never pushes. Ever, on anything, she’s perfect.

“Please I was lucky to get an extra can of Spaghettio’s for Christmas.” And that was a stretch some years.

“Well it’s not canned goods but I hope you like it.” He gets the hint and starts to untie the twine, peeling the paper back to reveal a cardboard box that’s filled with— cassettes. Metallica, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Kansas, and Van Halen. It’s all of Dean’s favorite tapes, Sam’s whole chest goes tight as his mouth falls open only to close without saying a word.

“You’re always humming Metallica and I overheard you talking to Noah about what the best rock band was. Don’t worry I went through all your tapes to make sure you didn’t already have them.” The heated discussion with Noah from psych class about rock bands had been one of the only times Sam consciously took time to think about that genre of music, he hadn’t realized Jess had heard him, or that he’s been- apparently- humming Metallica just like Dean.

“Th-thank you, I don’t know what to say. I haven’t listened to this stuff since getting to Stanford.” He’s purposely avoided that station on the radio and the old playlist still sitting in the files of his laptop.

“Well we should listen to some.” Jess grins and plucks the Metallica tape from the box, walking over to the radio they keep on the mantle and turning the volume almost all the way up.

Her head bobs to the music the second it starts, face scrunching the same way Dean’s does when the guitar gets heavier, green eyes nearly closed and hand coming to play air guitar. God she looks like a girl version of Dean. The loose gray t shirt, the mannerisms, her jeans are worn down on the knees like Dean’s always were, blonde hair shining under the Christmas lights, even the lopsided smile she gives reminds Sam of Dean. His heart beats two times too fast with the thought, quickly grabbing the box he wrapped for Jess and holding it out towards her. Just desperately trying not to think about how his girlfriend is an odd half-clone of his brother.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” What the gift he got her hits Sam all at once— it’s a necklace. On a black rope, with a gold pendant. Jesus Christ he’s going to hell for this shit.

“Sam it’s gorgeous!” It’s a simple gold heart locket with a picture of them in it, it’s one Brady took, Jess is laughing while Sam looks at her with an absolute lovestruck expression. It’s his favorite picture of them.

“Let me.” His hands ties the black rope of the necklace around Jessica’s neck from the front, face suddenly blushing red when he realizes how close they are and how beautiful Jess looks like this.

“I love this song.” She says softly, Enter Sandman filling their apartment, Sam’s heart skipping a beat for what feels like the millionth time today.

“You usually listen to Fleetwood Mac, I didn’t know you liked rock.” Jess loops her arms around Sam’s shoulders and settles into his lap, pushing them both farther into the couch.

“Lot you still don’t know about me Sammy.” The thick swallow he does might’ve been audible to Jess— Sam can’t help it, not when Jess has that tone of voice, and that grin, and that look in her eye, and that fucking nickname.

“I love you.” It falls from Sam’s mouth before he can think it over for even half a second.

They’ve never said that to each other before, sure they live together but Jess didn’t have the most loving parents and Sam sure as hell didn’t either so they’ve been taking it slower when it comes to things like pda and words of affirmation. He can’t believe he just said that without any build up, he had planned on saying it over a nice dinner, making it memorable, not sitting in their apartment on Christmas with his brothers music playing and half of Sam’s mind distracted thinking about his brother.

“I love you too.” No hesitation in Jess’s voice and she leans to press a small kiss to Sam’s lips to almost solidify the moment.

“And just so you know, I grew up with this type of rock. My dad and me would sing it in his car before he’d drop me off at my mom’s, she was the Fleetwood Mac fan.” Part of Sam briefly wonders if his mom would be a Fleetwood Mac fan too, maybe he would’ve listened to them before meeting Jess if Mary was still around. It’s a dumb thought, a useless one, he brushes it off as quick as possible. Thinking about his family never leads to anything but him feeling guilty over leaving and missing Dean.

“We should order takeout, for a Christmas feast of course.” Jess’s voice takes Sam from his thoughts and he nods, opening his mouth to reply but-

Before Sam can respond the guitar solo of Enter Sandman starts to play and Jess leans back in his lap to strum her fingers to the music and he can’t suppress his bright laugh. He really does love her, he thinks he wants to marry her. Maybe Dean will show up for the wedding, maybe him and Jess will get close, maybe he can have them both.

#sam writes #moodboard #samjess #weirdcest #stanford era #sam winchester #jessica moore #samjess fic #🔪 folder

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sollucets · 1 year

Note

I warned you, should you open fic requests I’d be coming straight for your inbox with AkkAyan. I’m obsessed with on our way up/the sky full of stars and I wondered if you’d be willing to write something of it we didn’t get to see like their cooking date from chapter 4 or dinner at Akk’s house from chapter 3

tiis do you know i love you dearly

context from my fic on our way up:

The thing is, he and Akk had spent last night doing crimes against the culinary arts (jointly trying to make stir-fried basil pork in the tiny dorm room kitchen in a small disaster that ended in takeout) + The disaster at his dorm had been almost entirely Akk’s fault, and he’ll die on that hill.

so! as requested i took this briefly referenced incident and proceeded to project my personal (lack of) cooking skills on akk for about 1k(?? these things happen) of fluff. this ficlet brought to you by my best friend thaicookbooktv (and my milestone event. i guess)

💜

"Can I trust you with that?"

Akk glances up from the two eggs he's just started frying to glare at his boyfriend. There's a smug look on Aye's face as he leans against a counter on the other side of the cramped dorm kitchen (and thus within potential grabbing reach) and uses a little bowl to crush up some garlic and peppers (making grabbing probably a bad idea). "I know how to make eggs, Ayan."

"If you say so," Aye tells him, singsong. "I've never once seen you cook."

"That doesn't mean anything." Returning his gaze to the pan, Akk startles to see them more cooked than they should be and hurriedly, awkwardly gets them flipped before Aye gets to pretend it's evidence.

If it'd been anyone else, Akk might have admitted to the truth, which is that he does (sort of) know how to make eggs, and he can grill meat if he's invited to barbecue, but much more is beyond him. He thinks he could be good at it, with time, but he’d never learned to cook much at home, and at school he’d had so much to do that it had always been faster and easier and cheaper to have cafeteria leftovers or something instant.

But it isn’t anyone else, it’s Aye, and when he’d asked all earnest if they could cook together when he visited, Akk had gritted his teeth and then spent most of last night and the part of the bus ride over that he had decent data on looking up recipes.

So it’s particularly infuriating that Aye seems to have figured him out right away anyway. Akk scowls down at his eggs.

“All set over here,” Aye says, then snorts audibly. “What’s that look for? Did the egg insult your parents or something?”

“Shut up.”

Aye brings his bowl over to Akk’s side of the kitchen and sets it next to the other ingredients on the counter to the right of the stove. He’d only been banished over there in the first place for being distracting; Akk probably should’ve known he’d manage it anyway.

A moment later, there’s a light breeze against the back of his neck, and Akk jerks against the tickle, barely suppressing a yelp. He’s not actually holding the pan, just his spatula, so the worst that happens to the eggs is them getting slightly jostled, but he aims a blind elbow in the direction of Aye anyway, making contact with his ribs. “Jackass.”

“Violent authoritarian,” Aye responds, cheerful if slightly strained. “Those look good."

Once the eggs are safely off the heat, Aye hands him a larger pan, shuffling some things around on the little counter once there’s enough space. “Turn the heat up a little higher and put a little oil in there, okay?”

Akk glances over for the bottle of vegetable oil and grabs it. His recipe-searching had turned up the idea, but Aye isn’t using one, and Akk does not know how much ‘a little’ is. He sighs, sends a sideways look at Aye where he’s putting the egg pan in the sink, and tentatively pours some oil in.

“More than that.”

Frowning, Akk does as told. When he checks Aye’s reaction, he finds his boyfriend leaning on his hip against the counter and holding the bowl of vegetables again.

“Were you nervous about this?” Aye asks, tone a too-familiar combination of fond and condescending.

“Why would I be,” says Akk, too quickly. Always too quickly. That’s something Aye’s pointed out before, he should know better.

“‘Cause you wanted to impress me? I understand.”

Akk rolls his eyes, keeping his attention on the oil where it’s heating up. “You’re extra annoying today. Is it a special occasion?”

“Of course it is,” says Aye, tone gone painfully sincere. “My boyfriend came to see me.”

When Akk reacts far too late to keep a smile off his face, Aye pokes his cheek. “I’m happy, too,” he coos. “Now scoot, please. This next part has to happen kind of fast.”

Akk shuffles out of the way, letting Aye move in front and pour his little bowl into the pan, and sends a baleful look at Aye’s back. He’s looking far too cool in this situation; it has to be fixed.

Decided, Akk moves until he’s right behind his boyfriend, then hooks his chin over his shoulder, looping both arms around his waist, and glances down at the pan. With the bowl poured out, something looks a little suspicious in the garlic-to-chili pepper ratio. “Aye,” Akk says, trying to make sure his breath hits the skin of Aye’s neck over his t-shirt, “Did you put enough spice in?”

Annoyingly, Aye takes this without much in the way of reaction, only leaning back into Akk’s hold, and doesn’t even flinch. He reaches out for the bowl of meat and says, amused, “The neck is your weakness, not mine, Bigfoot.”

“That’s not an answer."

“Hey, who's the one of us that actually knows how to make it?”

“I could figure it out,” Akk says mutinously, dropping his face all the way to Aye’s shoulder in defeat and speaking into his skin. It’s not his fault Aye is apparently some kind of cooking expert who’s never needed a recipe in his life.

Aye laughs, just audible over the suddenly-loud sizzling sound of what Akk assumes is him adding something else to the meat. “I’m sure you could, baby, you’re smart. You just haven’t had much practice.”

“I help at home,” Akk retorts, offended.

“I know, I know.” Aye’s shoulder moves, presumably stirring, as he continues, “You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll cook for you, so long as you always do the dishes.”

Squeezing Aye’s waist just that bit too hard in retribution, Akk scoffs. “As if. I’ll practice more. I’m not doing your dishes for the rest of our lives.”

The sizzling gets a little louder, and Aye doesn’t respond. Akk blinks, lifts his head, and sees Aye frozen over the stove, one hand out on a bottle of soy sauce and the other not moving a spatula at all. “What?”

“You said—” Aye starts, sounding awed. “You said ‘the rest of our lives’.”

“Oh.” Akk swallows on the impulse to deny it and just— lets it sit. Hides his face in Aye’s shoulder again and leaves it there, feels his ears heating up. What can he say? They’ve made the joke before, about their pins and wedding rings. It’s stupid, they’re teenagers, they’ve gone too fast, and he meant it, or it wouldn’t’ve slipped out.

Gratifyingly, Aye seems just as unable to speak for a moment. Eventually, he stutters, “I— that— sounds good to me,” and then, “I love you,” and then, “Oh, shit, the pork.”

#the eclipse #my fic tag #s: tsfos #arbitrary milestone prompts #tiis <3 #whenever i write about cooking something i feel like i am pretending to be a scientist. i barely know anything #in any case if you're wondering the recipe gets fucked up at the part where you're supposed to let the meat brown in the soy sauce #the meat is supposed to stick to the pan a little. it sticks a lot. aye is too distracted by the Proposal that just happened behind him lma #other implied / bts things here: i brought back my oowu decision to make aye bad at spicy food (crimes against thai people i'm sorry)#aye is not using a recipe on purpose to seem impressive. he used one to buy the ingredients #akk does in fact work on getting better at cooking (at christmas he handmakes their lil picnic date snacks)#i actually have a Lot of thoughts about aye/akk's relative cooking proficiency #and aye cooking with his mom (and before with uncle di) as a bonding activity is in oowu already #ok i'm gonna shut up or i'll talk forever

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thelittlepoetprincess · 2 years

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𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 Part 2

How I imagine Dottore during his Akademiya days with a hint of unrequited love. Spoilers ahead!

Warning(s): One-sided love, romantic undertones, mentions of death and abuse, character death(not u), blood and gore if you squint.

Word Count: 1.97k

Part One

Word quickly spread about you and him, many of them saying he’d brainwashed you to see if it’d work then used it again on his underclassmen. Those quickly dissipated once you graduated, however. You couldn’t help but be slightly worried about him, or rather your relationship with him. He was never the type to reach out first and with Sohreh being close it made sense.

You laughed as you ran behind your many peers to take a peek at the list of who’d be advancing their work after graduation. Zandik and Sohreh were close behind, hanging about since he didn’t like crowds. “They’re rather eager, aren’t they?“ She remarked while watching you climb over shoulders and respectfully butt heads to see properly. He folded his arms as he supervised, his familiar scowl on as he observed you, or rather the glowing white gem on your hip. Your face got frustrated and it briefly turned that typical shade of green Anemo visions possesses. His eyes tightened as he watched the breeze carry you just enough to let you skim the list. His focus was more on the way the wind faded just as the color did rather than the way your face fell at the results. You came back over to them with a defeated grin. “I didn’t make it to the elemental study team but I made it to the ruin research squad.“ “I’m sorry you didn’t make it. The good news is you made it onto one of the teams so you can still stay here. With us!“ Sohreh grabbed both of your hands, giving you her usual smile. You squeezed hers back with renewed vitality, pumping yourself up for the number of expeditions you’d have to take now. It’d be a lot of walking, exploring, and other things but you’d get used to it. You looked at Zandik, who was grinning ear to ear. Never a good sign. “This means you’ll be going to investigate those fallen ruin guards and machines, correct? I expect you to bring me back maps and journals from your expeditions. Even show me there?”

He leaned over really close, which always sent you into a frenzy. At this point, he’d begun doing it just to get you to do what he wanted it was a dirty trick of his. “Okay! I’ll think about taking you along. If my superior allows it.” He grinned as Sohreh chuckled while insisting on taking the three of you out to celebrate. He always had better things to do so it’d just be you and her yet again.

Dinner wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t overly friendly. You two spent most of the evening getting to know each other past what Zandik told each of you about each other. She was a sweetheart, and very lovable. You almost almost felt terrible about being wary of leaving her with him. She very obviously had a crush on him and he very clearly didn’t care but also you knew better than anyone what type of man he was. A womanizer, not in the typical sense either. In the sense, they never really made it out in one piece.

You laughed as you downed the dandelion wine, a joyous chuckle following. Perhaps you should’ve become an adventurer for the guild that way you had a reason to go to Mondstadt and enjoy the drinks. The familiar buzz settled in which let you know to slow down, opening up the door for more conversation. “You and Zandik seem close. I’m honestly a little envious of you, (Y/N). He’s cold and never smiles, he always complains when I’m around but he never turns away your company.” You chortled as you pulled her into a reassuring hug to try and combat her bad mood. Truthfully, you cared about her and wanted to see her happy, even if it was with him. Not that he’d accept either of you anyway. His true love was always and forever his research. Perhaps she knew this too and that’s why you were able to find solace in one another. “It’s part of his appeal I guess. Mr. Handsome but not so popular. I understand, I’ve tried wiggling my way into his heart but... well. You can see how that ended up, I’m stuck as his glorified research partner.” She sighed deeply as she nestled up to you, a kinship between you formed at that moment. In your heart, you wanted her to give up there and yet another part of you said she could give it another try. Just because you failed didn’t mean she would. “You could still try, better to know and move on than to live life and think ‘What if’?”

If only you hadn’t said that. Maybe she’d still be here, maybe Zandik wouldn’t have left with the Fatui. Perhaps you wouldn’t go to sleep every night listening to her phantom haunt you about what you’d done. If only. He’d gotten comfortable dragging you out to show him the ruins and their secrets. You wished today you hadn’t followed him.

You huffed as you passed out on your bed, settling down in the mango and Vanilla scented sheets, letting yourself drift off and rest your heavy worn muscles. Just as you began to slip into sleep you felt someone lay down next to you. A swift movement to roll over sent you face to face with him, who was grinning ear to ear and bearing all those pretty fangs for you to see. His scarlet eyes seemed to look through you as he inched closer. “Don’t even try it, Zan. What do you want?” He groaned in defeat, getting up to move away while you settled back into the middle of your bed to calm your thundering heart. Apparently, he and Sohreh were going to go behind your team to investigate a particular ruin that interested him. He just came for the map. You hated the fact you were jealous of her but set it aside to give her the space to confess. Or at least that’s what you said for 2 hours until you went after them. You kept telling yourself that it was to prevent them from getting hurt but you knew why you followed them. You just wanted to see if she’d succeed where you failed. That’s when you saw it. Everything was so red, she was everywhere. Parts of her dripped from the machine but what was most jarring was watching him. He loomed over her the same way he did you with one of his hands painted red and chunky, feeling around in her disfigured torso. You took a step back, you’re panting loud enough to alert him of your presence. He was on you before you could scream to cover your lips with his clean hand, hushing you. The scent of his mint and cedarwood cologne was masked by the smell of blood, it was too much and you ended up blacking out. When you woke up you were home but not alone.

It didn’t take long from then for the word to spread. Of course, they couldn’t prove it was him but they didn’t need the evidence to spread rumors. The sights, sounds, and smells, linger in your mind even to this day. The towering man that recruited him plagues your vision like a shadow, threatening to consume you if you looked too long. Prompting you to forget him, Zandik, and Sohreh. Forget the ruins and all that happened in them.

“No, no, no , no. I can’t no. You... you.” You backed away from his open arms, away from the man who’d taken your friend from you. Even the thought of the scene before you made you want to vomit. They couldn’t get him properly convicted but everyone knew what he did. You knew what he did. His words rang in your ears, something about human enhancement again and divine power. You’d shy away until you were cornered, your head was aching so much. That’s when you noticed he stopped getting closer. A golden geo shield was blocking him from taking another step. Your necklace was glowing the same color as the shield and he looked satisfied. “I knew it. All those times a cold breeze came by, my flowers would grow back somehow, or a chill in the air would send my oppressors running. It was all you. You’re not a proper vision bearer, are you? I wonder what would happen if someone found out about this?” ”Leave. I’ll keep your secret, you keep mine. Just go. Please.” The words left your lips like a plead rather than a threat. He leaned back, seemingly content with that answer and he left. You wanted to scream, cry, throw something, anything at him as he strode out. Your body was too weak, even more so under the intense gaze of the man he followed. Something about him scared you, as if you were in the presence of a beast of legends. You huddled in the tree, watching him leave with the stranger from the Fatui. Your head was still spinning as you rested your cool hand against it, glaring at him from the branches. Good riddance, you just wished Sohreh didn’t have to. . . didn’t end up. . . A sick queasy feeling overcame you when you thought about it.

He’d once heard the term ‘Let sleeping dogs lie’. He supposed that’s what this case would be. Something about you wouldn’t let him put it to rest. It wasn’t the threat of being caught nor the interest in your unique skill set. Perhaps it was the way you passed out in his arms, defenseless to the point it took all of him not to dissect you then and there.

“Are you sure they won’t be a problem?“ The jester asked him while he swirled the familiar blue vial between his fingers. He shook his head, arms folding behind him with a sinister chuckle. “Not yet, maybe in the future. By then, though, I’ll be able to handle them on my own.“ He watched you glare at him from the comfort of your treehouse and Sumeru, his old home. He briefly remembered all the moments you’d make your affections for him obvious, the way your ears flushed when he got too close or whispered a double entendre in the heat of the moment. It made him shiver when you passed out before him or used his exam table as a bed, taking all his self control not to take you apart and put you back together. Even now, watching you slowly disappear as he got further away, he wanted so badly to wait until you slept to kidnap you. Your abilities hadn’t fully fledged yet. He needed to wait, oh how he hated waiting! He’d bide his time, wait for the perfect moment. Then, and only then, would he strike. “You’ll need a codename now, since you’ll be one of us. Il Dottore, The Doctor, shall be yours.” How ironic. He couldn’t help but laugh, much to Jester’s dismay. “What is so funny?” “Nothing nothing, I just find it ironic. Afterall, I was trying to save Sohreh. In my own way.“ It reminded him of a memory. He’d spent the whole day patching up his mother, the two chatting about her life in Fontaine when Father returned home. Another failed attempt apparently, from the way he slung his gear to the floor. Young Zandik, the little fool, crept out to try and placate his father with his latest invention. This only earned him a fresh bruise and more bitter memories in which would fester into his reclusive personality and obsession with improving mankind. With such a frail mother, he was dedicated to creating a man to rival even the Archons and Celestia. ‘Her little doctor’ That’s what she’d call him. “Je reviendrai, ma divinité.“

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fatui #genshin x you #fatui dottore #dottore #fatui x reader #this man is so fine #i would sell my soul to see him playable

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cyberrat · 2 years

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60th Batch Of Fics: 8th Fill

Hanzo/Cassidy – Trucker AU – Part 4 – Things look different in the light of day... but they won't for long.

---

“So… how old’re ya?”

Cole peers over toward the kid who had been sitting there sullenly for the past hour they’ve been on the road. He’s leaning against the door, basically leaning as far away from Cole as physically possible. Someone doesn’t take it well when they don’t get their will, it seems.

Hanzo peers at him but does not immediately reply. He’s pulled his hood up so Cole can barely see his face; merely the tip of his nose is visible most of the time.

“You got any ID on ya?” he asks with a sigh, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He’s looking out for a place where he can get them something to eat.

“No.” Well at least that’s an answer. He scratches his chin through his beard as he thinks this through, then shrugs with one shoulder.

“Figures. Pray that we won’t get pulled over by the cops, then.”

That makes Hanzo shift a little and look at him, his eyes narrowed with distrust. Before he can ask anything, Cole elaborates: “You’re 21. For anyone askin’. An’ if they wanna see papers, you’ll just hafta use yer charm or somethin’.”

When no reaction comes, he briefly peers over again. The kid is now looking at him proper, his face dark with anger. He looks different in proper lighting. Really pretty. Cole hadn’t even noticed it last night; no wonder with all the shitty illumination on that parking lot.

“Don’t lookit me like that. S far as I know, you done much worse things than suck dick to get outta trouble, hm? Least with a cop you know they probably showered that day.”

Hanzo just stares daggers into the side of his face for a few moments longer before slumping back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. It really makes him wonder how old the kid is. There’s a timeless beauty about him; he’d believe any age he’d give him at this point.

After a few more minutes of angry silence, Cole leans turns on the radio, bent on ignoring the little whore until he wants to use him again. He went through the trouble of taking him along even though he swore himself not to; he should just stop worrying and enjoy it while it lasts.

He has no idea whether Hanzo even enjoys the music, though in the end that’s not really important either.

What is important is that he’s starting to get really hungry so when he sees a sign for a rest stop a few more minutes down the road, he turns the radio down again to talk to the whore he picked up.

“So. You remember what I told you last night? About ridin’ with me.”

“Yes,” Hanzo replies sullenly.

“Tell me. So I know you understood.” He has no idea what’s going around in the bimbo’s head but if he’s as dumb as he’s pretty – which seems very likely at this point – Cole wants to make sure that the rules are crystal clear.

“No valuables. No buttons.”

Cole hums. He focuses on turning off the road, still no more enlightened as to how clever Hanzo is.

He parks over one entire lane of parking slots; he won’t be long anyway and there is only one other car on the other side of the lot for now.

“Good. No buttons. That’s the important thing here. Keep yer li’l hands off the dashboard and we’ll get on fine.” He grabs his wallet off said dashboard where he always has it in sight and it won’t annoy him in his pockets. “Anything particular you wanna eat?”

Hanzo shrugs one shoulder. The kid is already reaching for the door release on his side, but after tugging on it twice with no avail, his head snaps around to stare daggers at Cole. To be honest, he don’t quite appreciate the attitude going along with the little slut.

“That door’s busted, sweetheart,” he drawls. “You also should just stay in here. Stay outta trouble. Be a good girl and set the table.”

The kid expression, which had become progressively stormier, clears up suddenly in confusion. Cole gestures vaguely to their sleeping area.

“Figure it out.” He pushes his door open and hops out. Just before closing it again and locking the kid in he calls: “Gonna use ya after breakfast. So get cozy with that thought, baby girl.”

.oOo.

Hanzo glares at the opposite door. Part of him thinks about just breaking out – he’s a trained criminal, that wouldn’t be hard – but in the end he’s kind of glad to stay inside. He has no idea whether his father’s men have seen him slipping into the truck. They might have followed them here and out in the middle of nowhere it’s just too dangerous to wander about.

So he looks around the cab to get a feel of the place. He hadn’t been able to see much last night; in the light of day he can see that he’s been right: the sleeping place had been artificially made smaller by a piece of wood that the cowboy had put up like some kind of wall right behind the mattress.

It does not take a genius once he peered around it, to figure out that he can pull the wood out and lay it over an empty crate to make a makeshift table right there. He does not want to be impressed, but he kind of is regardless.

He leaves the table where it is and keeps looking around. Every few seconds he twists to peer out of the windshield and see whether the fat guy is lumbering his way back already.

There are quite a few compartments which he pops open to peer inside, but there is nothing too interesting for the most part; just clothes and papers; empty bags of snacks and empty cans of soda and beer.

Just when he thinks that the bastard might have told the truth and there really are no valuables on board, he catches sight of a thin line in the rug just next to the unmade bed. Kneeling down, he tries to fit his fingers into the crack, wondering how the asshole with his fat fingers gets it open. The panel pulls out comparatively easy, though, showing off a tiny secret compartment, barely big enough to hold two items: a picture and something that reminds Hanzo of the old Sheriff stars cowboys wore in the wild west… though he is not sure if that actually happened or was just a thing in the odd Western movie he had watched with his brother when they were children.

He grabs the picture first and, after another hectic glance to see whether the bastard is coming back, he holds it into the light as to see better.

On it he can see two people standing in what looks like an office. There is a rather handsome black man who has taken off his cap and put it against his chest as he solemnly peered into the camera. His arm is curled around the shoulders of an equally tall young man in much the same uniform as him.

He’s much more fit and put together with his beard nowhere near as bad as it is now, but it occurs to Hanzo after a moment of staring, that he is looking at a younger version of his current ticket to Vegas.

#cyberratting writes stuff #hanzo/cole #trucker au

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ghoulishpencil · 2 years

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Mr. Fischer stood a bit awkwardly in the background. “I’ll uh — I’ll just leave you to it then?” He backed away, joining the background noise even as the doctor brought his daughter back into the little bare room for privacy. He sat with her, reaching out to close the door.

“N-no, don’t.” She grabbed at it, panic briefly overwhelming. What if it locked again? She started looking for her hairpin, heart in her throat.

“Hey, hey, Cassie, it’s okay.” A warm hand found her face, drawing her to look back to her father. She sniffed, holding onto his hand tightly, trying not to break out into fresh tears. “Where have you been lovey? I can’t believe I’ve misplaced you for so long.”

She shook her heard. “I can’t tell you Papa,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so, so much.” She clung to his hand, failing to hold back further tears. He brought her back into his shoulder, his head a warm, safe pressure against hers.

The second time her crying slowed, she fumbled for a handkerchief, only for Dr. Marcadet to have his at the ready, wiping her cheeks and nose like he’d done when she was a child. “There we go. Let me look at you. You’re covered in all sorts of cuts and bruises Cassie. What’s happened to you?”

“I don’t know how much I can explain?” She watched him draw his bag over, opening it and pulling out a fat brown glass bottle and a roll of cotton gauze. She couldn’t help but make a face when he opened it, the smell of antiseptic strong. “Papa,” she said. “Most of it’s nothing. I don’t need that.”

“Shush now. We have a long talk and you know I’d rather keep my hands busy while I work. Let’s start with this — why are you in a dress? It looks like a costume.”

She flushed, dropping her gaze even as he pressed the soaked gauze to a cut on her cheek. It burned, but she dug her thumbnail into her arm as she started to explain, slowly, haltingly, about the things she’d learned about herself while living with the beast.

“A woman huh?” Dr. Marcadet had her turn around, checking her scalp for any injury. “Well, I guess I always said you took after your mother. Never would’ve guessed by how much.”

“You’re not mad?” she asked in a small voice.

“Mad? No! You’re hardly the first person like this I’ve met anyway.” When she started to turn, he smacked the back of her head. “Hold still — what’s wrong?” She had let out an unintentional yelp of pain, cringing away.

“It’s nothing, nothing,” she said, straightening up as quickly as possible to act like nothing had happened. But she was a terrible liar, especially where her father was concerned. He dragged her back down, inspecting just where he hit her before letting out a low, soft groan. “Oh Cassie — sorry. What was it now?”

“Aster.”

“Ah, another flower. I have a proper bouquet between you thr — four. Part your hair for me, like this.” She was made to hold her hair over the front of her head, trying not to flinch when Dr. Marcadet gingerly poked at her scalp with an instrument. “What’s wrong?”

#story #fic #romance #paranormal romance #fantasy romance #unplucked

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pedropascalsx · 2 years

Text

A Frankie Morales x F! Reader birthday drabble.

Can be read as a standalone one-shot or part of the Build Me Up Buttercup series.

Warnings: P in V sex, oral (both M&F receiving), dirty talk, fingering, public sex, birthday sex, shower sex, a lot of sex, some fluff and swearing. 18+!

Word count: 6.5k+

Summary: It’s Frankie’s birthday and you spend the day together.

The sunlight streamed in through the slight cracks between the blinds, and warm air filled the room comfortably. Your head nuzzled into that crook in Frankie’s neck that you always seemed to find without trying. Watching the rise and fall of his chest was mesmerising. The comfort in being wrapped in his strong arms paired with his soft snores reaching your ears - the greatest feeling in the world. You didn’t want to move, but you wanted to make him breakfast in bed.

You’d hidden the gifts you’d spend hours searching online for under some blankets in your car and you had already decided that you were going to make sure everything was set up for when he was awake, but right now… being here and having to physically rip yourself from him? Proving more difficult than you had anticipated.

But you wanted today to be special. You wanted to shower him with affection and show him how much he had grown to mean to you the past month or so.

You gently remove his arm from your waist and move your face from his neck, every movement slow and calculated as not to disturb him. You stand up quietly and pull on a fresh pair of panties before quietly padding across his chestnut-coloured flooring and slipping out of the door.

His shirt is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn, you admire the way you look in it briefly as you pass his full-length mirror in the hallway on your way to the kitchen. Powder blue in colour with a floral print in an even lighter blue covering it. He was wearing it the evening before, paired with some comfortable jeans and his beloved hat, he looked delicious. You’d come straight from work as promised and the sight of him stood at his doorway, made you salivate. He’d heard your car pull up and pounced across the room to open the door for you and stood watching lazily leaned up against the door frame, beer in one hand and the other nestled into the pocket of his jeans.

The bright smile spread across his face as he greeted you with your favourite hey baby made your heart flutter. You grabbed your night bag from the trunk and made sure to keep his gifts hidden from view as he started to stroll over to take it from you, he placed a simple kiss on your cheek before strolling back inside to pour you a glass of your favourite Moscato, which he now always kept a bottle of in his refrigerator.

“How was your day, baby?” he asked before gesturing to his sofa, wanting for you to get comfortable, “I ordered Chinese food.”

“I love Chinese food,” you replied with a grin, “And it was good! Busy, went by quickly. Better now I’m here with you. How was yours?”

You reached up and took the large glass of wine from him and he sat down next to you, gently wrapping an arm around you to pull you into his chest, “Was alright. Better now.” He agreed with a wink. “What do you want to watch?”

You had let him decide - knowing that you weren’t really going to pay attention anyway. You find it hard to focus on anything else when you’re with him… he’s almost intoxicating. You think about the way he commands your attention without realising it, even if it’s just by his comforting grip on you or the way his hands find their way into your hair with ease as he plays with it with the gentlest of touches.

You leaned further back into his chest, and he rewarded you with a peppering of kisses on your scalp and you can almost feel them right now. The sound of birdsong abruptly pulls you out of your reminiscing and you’re pulled back into the present. Ready to begin your tasks.

You figure since it’s still pretty early out, that you can risk the trip to his driveway in your current attire. You sneak a look out of the door and when you’re certain the coast is clear you make a run for it. Quickly opening your trunk and moving the blankets from the three giftbags you’d packed with presents, grabbing them and the paper bag filled with banners and streamers before retreating indoors arms laden with all the birthday supplies and gifts.

Hanging the ‘happy birthday’ banners was the first task on your to-do list. You placed one on his front door, the living room wall and the last on the big French windows leading out onto his patio, next was streamers and balloons. You chose more muted colours – black, gold and silver.

Once you had finished decorating you moved onto breakfast, freshly baked cinnamon rolls, bacon, eggs, breakfast sausage and fruit. Enough to feed at least six people but you were pulling out all the stops today, and nothing was going to stop you. After beginning to brew the slightly overpriced coffee you had bought specifically for his birthday breakfast, you begin to take your time plating up both of your breakfasts. Pouring a glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee each and placing the few daisies you had hastily picked from his garden moments before in an empty jam jar on the centre of the overflowing tray.

You stand in the doorway of his bedroom for a few seconds, he’s still sleeping, looking as peaceful as you’d ever seen him. A slight smile across his cheeks as he dreams steadily, you almost don’t want to wake him. But the idea of feeding him cold eggs making you inwardly cringe. Instead, you walk over to the bed and place the tray on the side he now affectionally refers to as ‘yours,’ before teetering around to his side and waking him up with gentle kisses on his forehead. Cupping his cheeks as you affectionately whisper his name into his ears, ‘Francisco, wake up, birthday boy.” and you gasp as two strong hands come up to press against the backs of yours.

“Mhmm, I was dreaming about you…” he murmurs voice still thick with sleep.

You giggle at his adorable admission before dropping a lazy kiss to his lips, “I made you breakfast.”

A happy murmur escapes his throat as he slowly sits himself up, watching as you move back down to pick up the tray. “Breakfast in bed,” you announce with a smile, “A nice surprise?”

“The best surprise. But honestly, the plan was always to eat something before getting out of bed this morning.” he says with a wink.

“Always so quick to make it dirty, Morales.”

“Your fault,” he counters back before stuffing a whole cinnamon roll into his mouth and groaning in delight at its taste, “Holy shit, baby.... you made these?”

You nod happily at him, and you almost want to say aloud how glad you are he’s enjoying them because you’ve baked enough for the next week or so. Instead, you sit back quietly watching him eat and murmur happily, whilst sipping your juice and occasionally taking a lazy bite of your food.

“So, where are you taking me today?” he asks after popping the last forkful of eggs into his mouth.

He’d agreed to let you plan out the day after having no clue how he wanted to spend it, and unbeknownst to him, you’d be revealing a side of yourself he’d yet to have seen. Birthdays, Christmas, Easter… Any sort of celebration to plan and you were in your element!

“You’ll see, baby,” you say before leaning over to give him a long giving kiss. Tasting the orange juice and sweetness from the cinnamon rolls off his lips and moaning into his mouth as he palms your breasts over his shirt, “We should get up, baby,” you murmur directly into the plush of his lips and he shakes his head slowly.

“Not until I’ve finished eating,” he says with a smirk as you glance down at his empty plate.

“Oh,” you blush as you realise what he’s hinting at.

“Oh, indeed,” he agrees as you carefully pushes you down onto your back, “Best birthday ever.”

He eats you out for ages. Taking his time to taste every part of you. Taking his time to tease your little bundle of nerves before moving his tongue down before you can cum, not wanting you to finish too quickly. He chuckles as you start to plead, but he’s not ready to relent. He loves it. The way you squirm underneath him, the soft moans that escape you, the way his name becomes the only word you’re capable of speaking as he works your pleasure out of you, the sweet yet tangy taste of you coating his tongue, the way you make his lips and chin glisten as he laps up every drop of your arousal and the way your hands tangle in his hair and how you pull his face closer into you as you ride out of your orgasm.

He loves every part of being intimate with you – from simple touches, kisses and to fucking you into his mattress and watching your face contort with pleasure… but this is by far his favourite. Savouring your taste, and having you come in his mouth over and over is his favourite. He’d do it for hours if you’d let him, he’d wake you up every day with his mouth over your sex if he could.

“Baby, please” you beg as he works his magic on your now very sensitive clit, “Please let me cum, Frankie.”

He moans into your clit at the sounds of your soft begging and finally relents, flicking his tongue up and down over it with perfect precision, groaning in approval as your fingers grip his hair in delight as you finally cum in his mouth, body convulsing beneath him with pleasure.

“Happy birthday to me,” he grits out as he pulls himself up to look down on your sated body, “You are so fucking beautiful… Come on, you can take a quick shower with me.”

Your quick shower wasn’t exactly… quick. The moment you were under the refreshing spray his mouth found yours and he was pushing you up against the cool tile, before flipping you around and pressing his hard cock into you. Thankful that you were still dripping with arousal and wet enough for him to work his way into you with ease. The stretch of him stinging but the pleasure drowning out the slight pain instantly, you attempt to grip at the tiles in front of you as he begins fucking you with a delicious intensity, filth rolling off his tongue as he commands you to be loud - to fill every corner of the room with your moans.

One of his hands reaches up to squeeze your tit as the other continues to dig into your hip, hard enough to leave little bruises as he pounds his way into you. Slapping into your ass as he rips your second orgasm from you, continuing to let filth roll out of his mouth as you clamp down around his length, walls fluttering as you choke out his name, “Oh, Fraaaankieeeeee.”

He resumed his gorgeous pace the moment your grip on him lessened and his hand moved into your hair, and he fucked your rough and hard until you came a third time and moments before he spilled into you. Pulling out of you to spin you around and pull you into his chest, so you could regain your strength by enveloping you in his. You murmur happily into his neck as he praises you for taking his cock so well, and for giving him the best start to a birthday he’d ever had. All whilst gently kissing your forehead between his gentle words.

“Uh, baby, what is ALL of this?” he mumbles whilst gesturing at the three giftbags on his kitchen counter.

You smile sheepishly back at him and then you can’t help it, a huge smile breaks out across your face as you reach out to boop his nose, “They’re presents, Francisco!”

“From whom?” he says his lips turning upwards into a shy smile.

You walk over and grab the one in the middle before pushing it across the counter to him, “Me. This one first.”

“Shouldn’t I open the small one first?” he says gesturing to the one on your right.

“Nope. That one is for later.” You say with a wink.

“My birthday, my choice?” he counters back, having clearly clocked into what may be inside that bag, “Later is too far away.”

“This one, please,” you say with your softest smile “Card first!”

He removes the four neatly wrapped gifts to find the card hiding at the bottom, and you watch as he carefully tears open the envelope and smiles at the picture on the front. You had it made from a website you’d found online – you chose a photo of you both together, you are nuzzling your face into his cheek as he smiles wide into the camera with Happy Birthday, Francisco – printed above the picture. He grins up at you staring over the top of the card before he opens to read it.

To Frankie,

Feliz cumpleaños, Mi Amor.

I hope your day is as wonderful as you are, and I hope that this is one of many I get to spend next to you.

I know it’s only been a few weeks since we started dating, but they have been the most magical weeks of my life and I hope I’m able to add some more of that magic for you today.

Love, love, love,

Your buttercup.

XXXX

He closes the card and gestures for you to walk around to him, and the moment you’re close enough he pulls you in for a massive hug. Nuzzling his face into his cheek as a large palm settles on your small on your back and the other on your nape, “Now what did I do to deserve such an angel?” he murmurs before kissing your cheek.

You lean into him and stay buried in the comfort of his arms for a few moments before glancing at the time and realising that you’re booked entry to his first surprise of the day is rapidly approaching.

“Baby, you have time to open these presents and then we’ve gotta move,” you mumble before slowly unwrapping yourself from his grip, “This one first!” You say as you slide it into his hands.

He unwraps the soft medium sized package to reveal a blue shirt by his favourite brand and you relish in the smile across his face, it’s covered with bright colourful species of fish… “Do I get to fuck you whilst you’re wearing this one too?” he asks with a smirk, referencing the night before when you took him by surprise and wrapped yourself in his shirt before whispering in his ear that you wanted him to fuck you in it.

You giggle and shake your head, “We’ll see. Put it on. It’s perfect for our first stop of the day,” and he does just that. You watch in delight as he unbuttons the shirt he’d already put on and gently pulls it off of his broad tanned shoulders, biting your lip as he reveals the body that you love so much.

He catches a glimpse of you staring and tilts his head, “Like what you see, baby?”

You nod in agreement before handing him the shirt, “Get dressed, we don’t have time for more distractions.”

“Shame.”

“Get dressed, Morales.”

He opens the other gifts a bottle of his favourite cologne, a bottle of his favourite whiskey and the third one that makes him giggle – a ‘cap buddy’ giftset for his beloved standard oil cap, the same cap he made sure to pull on before locking the door to his house and leaving.

He rolls his eyes at you as you gesture for him to climb into the passenger of your car, “You can’t drive if you don’t know where we’re going, baby,” you tell him as you climb into the driver’s side.

You drive out of the driveway and start cruising towards your first destination, his hand resting heavy on your thigh after starting out on your knee. “You look so fucking beautiful, baby,” he lulls out whilst rubbing circles into your soft fleshy skin, “This dress… wow.”

Knowing how much he loves you in a sundress you had ordered a few more a few days before and you were delighted this particular one had come in time for his birthday, purple in length, short enough and the material clung to your curves in the most delicate way. Highlighting your body in the most beautiful light, and his jaw dropped the moment he saw you in it. A memory you’d keep forever.

“Behave, Morales,” you whisper as you feel his fingertips trail the thin material of your panties, “Baby.”

He chuckles as he moves his hand back down a little lower, “Can’t help what you do to me, baby girl. So… are we close?”

“Mhmm, you were a beacon of purity before you met me, huh?” you giggle, “And yes. Only a few moments away.”

“I was. Where are we going, baby?”

“You’ll see.”

“The aquarium?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, “I-uh, I’ve never been to this one. Haven’t been to one since I was a kid.”

“Figured since we couldn’t spend the day fishing, we’d see some fish instead. If you want? Or we can go somewhere else.” You reply with a slight shrug, unsure how to gauge his reaction.

“Fuck, no! Let’s see some fish, baby,” he says with a grin.

“Let’s go!”

You walk around slowly, enjoying the peace and quiet. You didn’t expect it to be just you and Frankie, but the place was empty, the lady who scanned your ticket offered to get you a personal tour guide but you both politely declined. Preferring to walk around slowly, and at your own pace. This particular aquarium was small. It was part of a large marine life sanctuary that opened a few years back and donations had been exceedingly rare – they had opened a small viewing area that had recently expanded to display what marine life they were currently studying or taking care of before returning it back to the ocean.

One of the pulls of this place is never knowing what you’re going to see and knowing it’s unlikely that these species will still be here if you return again.

You walk around slowly, enjoying the colourful fish and marine life, listening to Frankie talk fondly about many of his past fishing trips, making sure to include the time that one of his friends – Tom - had been thrown off the back of the boat and no one had noticed for a solid fifteen minutes, and they had to turn back to find him. He was extremely pissed off and soaking wet. He giggled like a little boy telling that one, the fine lines of aging disappearing as he fell into a fit of giggles, he didn’t speak to us for a week after that he said with a grin.

You made it to the end of the tunnel, and you must have taken three hundred pictures. Frankie had slightly groaned a few times when he caught you snapping a shot of him admiring the fish in front of him, and then relented, smiling happily back at you as you photographed the birthday boy. He pulled you next to him for a few photos yourself; loving one so much that he immediately made it the home and lock screen on his smart phone.

The tunnel led you out to the final room of the aquarium, an almost pitch-black room with a large glass tank on either side of the room. Both filled with almost fluorescent fish. The sight mesmerising as they swam past you, mouths opening and closing, blissfully aware of the two adults gawping at their beauty.

You don’t know how long you stand there, taking the occasional picture and trying to count the assorted colours in front of you.

Plush lips quickly ghosted over your right shoulder as his hands wrap around you, pressing himself up against you as tightly as he can… “You look so good like this,” he mumbles into your soft skin, “You’re perfect.” A soft moan escapes your lips as you feel his half-hard cock pressing into your back, “Always teasing me with these little dresses,” he nibbles gently on your earlobe, “Always looking so fucking good.”

He walks you forward, so you’re almost touching the glass before moving a hand down to lift up the front of your dress. “Frankie,” you whimper as his fingers find the delicate lace of your panties yet again, his mouth gently sucking bruises into your neck as he slips a finger inside of you. Pumping it in and out whilst you whimper quietly into the back of your hand.

“Always so fucking wet for me, baby... You want another?” Frankie whispers into your ear and you nod your head, ignoring the slight panic in your tummy that anyone could walk in. He adds a second finger and a desperate mewl leaves your throat when his thumb starts rubbing circles against your clit. “Going to make you cum all over my hand, and then again on my cock.”

“Someone… co-could walk in?” you grit out.

“Let them.” He growls into your neck as his fingers curl up against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

You gasp out his name as pleasure pumps through your bloodstream, his free arm holding you up as your legs shake underneath you, “I’ve got you, baby girl, let go.” He murmurs into your ear as you cum hard for the third time today.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you say as you grab on to the arm holding you steady, “What are you trying to do to me?”

You hear the sound of his zipper being ripped down as he cock springs free behind you, your panties are still hooked to the side when he lifts your dress up a little more and bends you towards the glass, your hands instantly reaching behind you to grab onto him.

“You ready to take my cock right here, baby?” he growls into your ear.

You nod ferociously, desperately to be filled up by him again. And you press up on to your tiptoes as he lines himself up with your entrance, “Wait… What if there’s camera’s in here?” you choke out as he notches the head of his leaking cock inside of you.

“You want me to stop?” he asks quietly, briefly pausing himself from filling you deeper.

“No.”

And without hesitation after hearing your answer, he sheaths the rest of his throbbing length inside of you. Rocking his hips back and forth, you bite down on your lip to suppress the moans escaping through them as he builds up his pace, “Need to be quick,” he grunts out, “Need you to cum on my cock, baby… Rub your clit for me.” You reach down and start to rub your fingers in circles against your slightly overstimulated bundle of nerves, as his pace becomes harder and harder, chasing his relief whilst making sure you get another orgasm in the process. His thrusts become sloppier as he threatens to spill inside of you. He pulls your hand away to replace it with his, working faster on your clit – not wanting to cum until you have, his fingers work like magic, commanding your pleasure to come forth immediately as it rips through you, your walls clamping down around him as you milk his cock dry in the process. “Good fucking girl,” he grits through his teeth, “Want you to feel me dripping out of you for the rest of the day.” He pulls himself out of you and you reach down to adjust your panties as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

“You ready to go get some food?” he asks with a wink, draping his arm around you and rushing you towards the exit and through the gift shop.

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Sitting back into the drivers’ seat of your car, you take a few moments to admire the ugly little catfish plush you had spotted before exiting the aquarium. He rolled his eyes at you as you almost jumped up in down in delight after spotting it.

“Now, I can always have a catfish in my bed… even when my favourite one isn’t with me,” you say with a grin, “I love him.” You notice a smile break out across Frankie’s face as he grabs the plush from your hands… despite being his birthday he had point-blank refused to let you pay for it and insisted you deserved a gift on his special day too.

He suggests pizza and a beer for lunch, you’d decided against picking out a spot for lunch when planning your day as you’d figure letting him pick what he was craving on the day would be a better idea.

His hand found yours the moment you stepped out of your car, and he kept a tight grip on it as you walked into a little bistro. You ordered a coke, and you shared a large pizza, and you listened in awe as he talked about a birthday he had as a child in his mother’s home country. Tears sprung up in his beautiful eyes as he spoke so fondly at that particular memory.

“You don’t talk much about your childhood,” he remarked after finishing his story, “I mean… Benny has talked a bit about your family. Will doesn’t say much, but yeah… if you ever want to share anything I’d happily listen.”

You nod your head, and he reaches over to hold your hand, “I will… I will tell you about things and share stories. But not today, I want today to be about you.”

“Of course, baby. No pressure… So, what’s next on the agenda?”

“Remember when you told me that you’re the greatest bowler of all time? Yeah, we’re putting that to the test.”

The rest of the day went by wonderfully, he much to your slight annoyance (okay more than slight), turned out to be a fucking incredible bowler. No one is supposed to get that many strikes you had groaned at him with a smile as he hit down the skittles with ease. After bowling you walked around the mall, ate ice cream, and then proceeded to have a filthy make out session in the parking afterwards, after reminiscing about the first time you had gotten ice cream together… and not eaten it.

You returned home after stopping off to pick up the rest of the supplies for the BBQ planned for this evening. His friends Santi and Tom coming along with your brothers Will and Benny and all of their respective partners – Frankie being volunteered to man the grill at his own party, which he agreed to without hesitation.

“I’m going to freshen up.” you announce as he steps outside to fire up the grill, and you make sure to wiggle that giftbag in front of him as you walk away.

“Fucking tease.” he calls out after you.

“You love it, Morales.” You tease back.

And he does. He stands there prepping the grill and making sure the mountains of meat surrounding him are ready for cooking, loving that he can still feel your lingering kiss on his swollen lips as he blushes at the memory of you palming him through his jeans as you made out like horny teens in your car before Benny calling her phone had pulled you both out of your trance.

He did love it. He loved it all. And after the past month or so, he was convinced… he loved the girl.

He watched with a grin splashed across his face as she bounced back over to him; fifteen or so minutes later.

“Hi baby,” he grinned at her.

“Hi yourself,” she smiled back.

You peeled the sundress of your shoulders and admired the small love bites littering your shoulders and neck, you adore the gentle ways in which he loves to mark you. To place reminders of him across your body, and make you think of him when he’s not around. You love it. You love the easy back and forth you share, the touching, the lovemaking, the fucking… and fuck you love him.

You step out of your underwear and unhook your bra, taking a few moments to freshen yourself up and using a wet cloth to remove the dried cum that had leaked through your very thin panties and down your thighs for your aquarium rendezvous.

You unwrap the lingerie from the gift-wrapping paper and inhale. It’s a bit more risqué than you’re used to. You put it on as delicately as you can, before pulling a slightly warmer dress than you had worn earlier on top of it.

He’s staring in your direction as you stroll with a little bounce in your step over to him, you match the large goofy smile he’s adorning on to your face and stifle a giggle as he greets you and you greet him back.

“They know to come in through the back?” you ask as he drags you in for a long-heated kiss.

“Yes, baby.”

An outrageous amount of food, washed down with a bottle of Moscato later; you’re perched on Frankie’s lap, watching Santi and Benny arm-wrestle because one of them had made a quick quip about being the toughest of their friendship group and the two most immature had decided amongst themselves to battle it out.

Molly was unfortunately named referee by a very adamant Benny, and you can’t help but giggle as she searches everyone’s face with face with a silent plea to get her out of it.

“What did you two get up to today, then?” Will asks after taking a large sip of his beer, “She treat you well, Fish?”

“Pretty fucking well,” he answers with a nod, “We had a proper go of it.”

You take a gulp of your wine to hide your blushing at his purposeful choice of words, you’ve been teasing him all evening about what’s waiting for him after the guests leave and now, he’s punishing you the best he can.

“What did you do?” Molly asks with a sincere smile, before Benny lightly yells at her to concentrate on the pissing game in front of her.

You interrupt him before he can get whatever filthy retort, he has teetering on the edge of his tongue out, “I took fish to see some fish!”

“You went to the aquarium?” Benny squeals as he whips his head around to face you both, “Without me?!”

Frankie groans into your ear as the fit of giggles your older brother’s reaction sends you into makes you rub up and down on him lap, the sound of your infectious laughter going straight to his cock, paired with the feeling of you unintentionally grinding against him, making him grow hard underneath you. “Keep this up and you’ll really need to worry about being seen, sweetheart?” he growls quietly into your ear, and you respond by rolling you hips into him purposely this time.

The rest of the evening rolls by uneventfully, Frankie wrapping a tight arm around your waist to hide his ‘excitement’ and eventually the guests start to say their goodbyes. Pulling you both into a hug and wishing Frankie a final happy birthday before making their way home.

Benny, Will and Beth are the last to leave and Will checks in with you about whether you’re staying, and you roll your eyes before nodding at your brother.

You wave them off next to Frankie, before he leads you back inside the yard before locking the gate and waving off your attempts to start clearing up the mess in front of you, “Leave it, baby, it’ll be here when we wake up in the morning.”

“You want to go to sleep?” you ask with a smirk on your face, and the minute the doors are locked behind him – he’s walking towards you with pure determination etched across his face, you yelp in delight as he wraps you in his strong arms and starts to lead you to his bedroom.

“Fucking tease,” he repeats as he strongarms you onto the bed, “I think you’ll find you still have another birthday gift to show me.”

“I think you’ll find a whole bunch of unopened gifts on your kitchen counter, Mr. Morales… including another giftbag from yours truly,” you counter back, aware that he’s moments from ripping your pretty dress to shreds to see what’s waiting underneath it, “Why don’t you rip one of them open?” you quip suddenly wanting to feel his strong arms tear the clothing from your needy body.

Moments later he’s granting your wish, his calloused hands coming down to rip open the front of your chiffon sundress. The deep V cut of the dress being ripped deeper and deeper as he the material shreds easily under his grip. “Fuck,” he growls as he gets sight as the lingerie, you’re draped in. The lush red fabric pushing your breasts together, and the tiny matching thong making him salivate.

“Do you like?” you whisper at he looms over you, chest heaving up and down as he takes in your body. You lick your lips as he reaches down to palm his clearly already rock-hard cock.

“I fucking love it, baby.” He murmurs down at you.

You reach up to unbutton his jeans, and free his straining cock. You dip your fingertips into the top of his boxers to pull them down at the same time, biting your lip as his heavy length springs free inches from your face. He steps out of his jeans and begins to unbutton his shirt, taking his time as not to ruin his gift from you. He looks down at you as you lick the palms of your hands and wrap them around his cock, “Shit!” he hisses as you start to stroke him. Your pace slowly at first before increasing as he takes a step closer to you, “Suck it,” he orders gruffly from above you and you nod your head before swiping your tongue across his leaking tip, moaning at the salty goodness of his pre-cum.

You take him as deep in your mouth as your able to. Hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your hands stroking the area you can’t take in. He places one hand at the bottom on the bottom of your chin and tangles his other hand in your hair, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. “You going to let me fuck you mouth, pretty girl?” he stutters out between grunts, and you nod your head in confirmation, “Good fucking girl.”

His hips start to move faster and faster as you take him in deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks and digging your fingernails into the plush of his ass as he does. You look up at him, staring directly down at you, his eyes almost black with desire as he watches you take him in to the back of your throat, gagging slightly as the sparse hairs at the base tickle your nose, “Fuck, stay like that baby, just a little longer,” he grits out as tears start to fall free from your eyes, “Fuck,” he grunts before you pull back and let him spring free from your mouth.

“Good girl, baby, fuck…” he chokes out, “Fuck. Need your pretty pussy now. Going to fuck you so good, baby.”

He drops down to his knees as he reaches back to unclasp your new bra, biting his bottom lip as your breasts bounce free. He cups your face and brings it down to meet his as he kisses you hard – his lips splashing over yours in hungry desperation as licks his way inside, before pulling back to take your bottom lip between his teeth.

“How do you want me?” you ask as he rests his forehead on yours, an unexpected gentle touch despite the desperation between you both.

“On your back, baby, want to watch that gorgeous little face as you cum on my dick.”

You scoot further back on the bed and then lean back on your elbows as he spreads your legs wider, keeping his eyes locked into yours as he licks a wide stripe through your folds, “So fucking wet just from sucking my cock, baby?” he says lips still touching your soft skin. He laps his tongue over and over your clit, you arch your back up and gently rock your hips as he drawls another orgasm out of you.

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His pace is relentless, he fucks into you like a man possessed, watching your face intently as he fucks you into his mattress. Letting your whimpers and moans spur him on further, licking his lips as your sweet face contorts with pleasure, “Frankie, please, baby,” you choke out.

“Please, what, pretty girl?” He repeats back to you with a smirk on his face.

“Please,” you gasp out unable to say anything else.

“Let go, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

His pace slows a little as he fucks up in that spot inside of you, watching as your breaths become increasingly ragged and your mouth drops open into that sweet little ‘o’ shape he loves to see.

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” you chant throughout your blinding high, thighs shaking and your pussy gushing around his cock.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps out as your orgasm inspires his, and he paints your walls with his spend, words falling clumsily from his lips “Fucking pretty girl, pretty, pretty, girl. Always taking my cock so fucking well.” His seems to last forever, his thrusts sloppier and sloppier as your tight clench cunt milks him of every last drop.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you onto your side, so he can face you, his softening cock still inside of you.

“Did you have a good birthday?” you whisper feeling absolutely sated.

“Best fucking birthday of my life, sweetheart.” He says directly into the soft plush of your lips, before kissing you with as much intensity his thoroughly fucked out self can muster.

“Good, thank you for asking me to spend it with you.” You say as you pull the blankets over you both, nuzzling your face back into the crook of his neck, where you now feel most at home.

He chuckles and peppers a kiss on your scalp, “Thank you, baby. Get some sleep.”

“I love you, Frankie,” you whisper in the soft skin of his neck, unable to keep those three words from tumbling out of your mouth, “Goodnight, baby.”

He swallows at your admission, and a warmth spreads across his chest as he holds you tighter, “I-uh, I wanted to say that first,” he drops another kiss onto your head, “I love you too, baby. Goodnight.”

You stay wrapped in his arms all night, sleeping sounder than you have in months. Two happy little fools in love.

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #will ironhead miller #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #my fanfiction #my fanfic #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales

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the-writer-ofthe-fandoms · 3 years

Text

Kill For You (Poly! Ghostface) (Part 1)

Pairing: Stu Macher x GN!Reader x Billy Loomis (Billy and Stu already established)

Words: 3.8K+

Warning(s): Bullying, fighting, blood, self-consciousness, swearing

A/N: I hope you enjoy the fic! Its been sitting in my inbox for a bit. Sorry! Also I love the second gif so much

Edit: I forgot i was making this a 2 parter oops, fixed now

Request: can i request a poly ghostface fic where reader is getting bullied for being close friends with stu and billy and they comfort her (or them idc)?

PART TWO

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The sound of your alarm clock blaring woke you up from a dreamless sleep. Groaning you reach over to shut the clock off, missing a few times before finally shutting the damn thing off. You slowly raised from your bed and swing your legs over the edge, sighing at the prospect of school. Despite being extremely close with two amazing individuals, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, you still face bullies. They maliciously pick at anything they deem a flaw and would constantly smack you in the back of the head when no one else was looking. They consistently and relentlessly tore you down in anyway, and you would be lying if you said it didn't hurt or affect you. Billy and Stu didn't know, of course not. You didn't want to appear weak in front of them, nor did you want to get them involved.

You shook your head and slowly stood up stretching, your bones let out soft pop noises as you did. You continued with your morning routine of getting ready and went to your kitchen for some breakfast. Eyeing the clock, you fixed yourself some cereal and whatever juice was left in the fridge. You looked to the side of the refrigerator and saw a note written by your mother. That typically means your parents will be gone for a few days.

Stu and Billy usually picked you up for school and they were due in 20 minutes. As you ate your cereal, you relished in the quiet home. Both your parents were out for work and you were home alone, like most days. It was fine, it allowed you more freedom as they weren't here. That allowed Billy and Stu to come over whenever and allowed you to stay at their homes whenever.

As you finished your bowl you hear the loud rumble of Billy's car out front. Not wanting to have them waiting you quickly place your bowl and cup in the sink, turning on the water to briefly rinse them. After drying off your hands you grabbed your keys and bag and quickly left your house. Locking the door behind you, you jogged to the car and slid into the back seat. Billy was in the driver seat and Stu was in the passenger. The tall blonde turned in his seat and faced you with a grin.

"How was your weekend, (Y/N)? Sucks we couldn't hang out." He spoke, forming a fake pout.

"Yeah, what a shame. We watched some good movies." Billy added, taking off from the curb in front of your house and in the direction of school.

"It was okay, sorry about not coming. My parents were home a for the weekend and they wanted to spend time with me." You say.

"They out of town again? I didn't see their car?"

"Yea, they left early this morning according to the note mom left."

"Sweet! We can come over and hangout after class then." Stu jumped in the conversation, practically jumping out of his sit.

"Calm down, idiot!" Billy took one hand off the will and pulled Stu down, making him face the front. "I don't need a fucking ticket."

You chuckle under your breath as you watch the two 'argue', your eyes softening. Yea, your inner self doubt shamed you for having a crush on them both, but you couldn't help it. They were both great in their own ways and were always so nice to you. It was a shame that they probably only see you as a friend. With the self doubt festering in your brain you didn't think you had a chance. You hardly felt you had a chance with just one of them, let alone the both of them. Your mind kept wandering and focusing on self-deprecation.

"Earth to (Y/N)." Stu's hand waved, causing you to blink rapidly. Stu and Billy were looking at you in the now parked car. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah. I didn't get much sleep last. I'm a bit out of it." You chuckled. It wasn't much of a lie, anxiety about returning for classes did make it troublesome to sleep.

"If you need a nap, let me know. I'll give you the keys to my car so you can sleep." Billy gave you a genuine smile, something only you and Stu got to experience.

"See ya after school (Y/N)." Stu winked and gave you a side hug.

"Thanks Billy." You returned the smile before exiting the car, the duo following suit. The three of you walked towards the building, you were flanked by your two friends. Stu had his arm resting loosely around your shoulders, which made it hard to walk. As you walked to class, you noticed the two girls that bully you were eyeing you with discontent. Thankfully you three had the same three classes so they wouldn't try shit with Stu or Billy around, but unfortunately the last two you spent alone.

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"Meet you at my car?" Billy asked, his eyes squinting at your face. "You good?"

"Yeah like I said, just tired." You smile sheepishly. You hoped that excuse would still cover the anxiety you were feeling. He went to dig for his keys in his pants but you held up your hand. "Its just the last two classes, I'll be fine."

"Whatever you say." He didn't seem to fully buy it but he let it go. The two said their 'see you later's before they turned and went their classes.

You sigh and turn into the classroom, taking your usual seat. Before you could get out your necessary supplies an eraser hit the back your head. You don't have to even look to know the two culprits were Kristie and Suzzan. You sigh through your nose as you dug through your bag.

Another eraser hit your head.

You glance over and see Kristie saunter up to you, using your desk to lean against. She eyed you, her face was one of disgust.

"You thought you were hot shit today with Stu all over you huh?" She snarled. You opted not to reply. You recognize it gets you no where with the two. "They probably keep you around because the pity you. Your ugly face must make them sick by the end of the day."

You didn't reply.

"Cat got your tongue, freak?" She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to keep on her verbal assault, but the teacher walked in.

---

Your eyes lit up when your last teacher of the day said he was letting class out 10 minutes earlier. All you had to do was make your way to Billy's car. The two bullies wouldn't dare risk being seen tormenting when those could possibly see. You made your way out the classroom, heading down the hallway. Your heart fluttered at the prospect of hanging out with Billy and Stu for the rest of the day.

That happiness dwindled quick when you felt an arm on both sides of you forcefully.

"Hey (Y/N)." Both Suzzan and Kristie said. They turned you to the right and pushed you inside the bathroom. They both stepped in, Kristie turning around to lock the door.

"You thought you could get away?" Suzzan snickered.

"Can't you both just leave me the fuck alone?" You rolled your eyes.

"We will once you get through your thick fucking skull that you are worthless, and that you should leave Billy and Stu alone." She growled.

"Ah I see, you both are just jealous. That's why you have been tormenting me these past few months. I'm sorry they don't want to hang around two stupid cunts." Venom laced your voice, you were at your limits with them. They both looked at you in shock, anger quickly appearing on each of their faces. "Nothing to say now-"

Pain blossomed across the side your face, your head was forcefully turned to the side. Now looking at the mirror, you saw red on your face and there were thin lines from your brow and down your cheek. The bitch clawed you.

Your nostrils flared as you returned the favor, although you were delivering a punch straight to Suzzans nose. She stumbled back with a cry, her hands cupped her nose while blood seeped through her fingers. You take this opportunity to kick her in the shin while she was occupied with the pain of her nose. She let out another cry and you went in for another kick but Kristie rushed up and shoved you, causing you to fall on your rear.

Before you could get up she got down and straddled your hips.

"You asshole!" Kristie hissed and gave you a painful punch in the nose.

"You hit like a fucking child." You jabbed, trying to land hits on her but she blocked your attempts. She grabbed one of your arms with a tight grip and used her free hand to land another punch on the side of your head. With enough vigor you jabbed her in the gut making her double over. Taking this opportunity you shove her off you and attempt to get up, but Suzzan kicks your side, effectively kicking the wind out of you. Your body slumps on your side as you wheeze, regaining your breath. Another kick landed against your head and another kick it your ribs.

The school bell rung, causing the physical abuse to stop abruptly.

"C'mon, I think the freak has had enough." Kristie gathered her friend in her arms. "Let's get your nose looked at." You heard their footsteps retreat to the door before leaving the bathroom. You stayed on the ground for just a few moments to just be able to breath regardless.

With a grunt, you push yourself off the ground. You staggered for a moment, gripping the closest sink. You glance up and see your face a bloody mess. From your hairline, you assume from the kick, was a cut slowly leaking blood. Your nose was in the same bloody state but at least it stopped bleeding and nothing looked broke. You cringe at the view.

Tears stung your eyes, you weren't sure where were from; the physical pain, the emotional pain, or the humiliation.

"Fuck..." You hissed. You leaned down and grabbed your bag that had fallen off. You preemptively pulled over your hood and put your head down as you exited the bathroom, maneuvering your way through the crowd of students. You couldn't see Stu or Billy looking like this. You warped mine figured they would scoff at you for allowing yourself to get beat and wouldn't want to be seen with someone looking a bloody mess.

You exited the main building and cut through the school lawn, not going anywhere near the car, heading to your house. You knew they would look for you there but at least you would have sometime to clean up.

----

Billy and Stu were leaning against the car, watching as other students exited the building. They got out from their last class a little late but you knew to wait by the car for them. They exchanged worrying glances; Billy was chewing on his bottom lip.

"You don't think they left us?" Stu asked, a hint of sadness was in his voice.

"I don't know." Billy kept scanning, hoping to see your face in the crowd. He couldn't spot you and that made his anxiety worse.

"Do you think we did something upset them? Oh god do you think they found out about our plan today and didn't want to deal with us or-"

"Dude chill the fuck out." Billy snarled. He didn't mean to get angry at Stu but his anxiety was out the roof. Growling he turned and opened his car door. "Get in. We'll go to their house."

Billy's tires squealed as he left his parking spot, heading in the direction of your house. His hands gripped the steering wheel tight while Stu was fidgeting with the edge of his shirt.

"We can't lose (Y/N), man." Stu mumbled. "Not when we haven't told them we loved them."

"I know."

----

It didn't take much for you to recognize the rumble of Billy's car. You just kept your head down, hands in your pockets, and hoped the duo wouldn't recognize you. You knew it was in vain, those boy's would recognize you but just maybe they'd drive by and you could be alone. Alone to deal with the blood and injuries. Alone to deal with the pain. Alone to deal with the many emotions coursing through your body.

"(Y/N)!" You heard Billy and Stu shout. You didn't have to look to know Billy was keeping his car at the same pace as your walk.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Stu whined. "Are you alright? Why did you leave without us?"

"Let me drive you home. at least, even if you are upset with us." Billy chimed in. You kept your pace and kept walking, not answering them. You felt like shit doing this to them but you didn't want to face even more humiliation from the two. You'd hope with the vocal silence from them they were about ready to leave you to trek home.

You flinch slightly when you hear one of the car doors slam closed and you heard the car stop. You kept walking, even when you heard footsteps behind you, keeping your head down. One of the boys were able to get into front of you, causing you to bump into who you assume was Stu. His hands grabbed your upper arms to steady you.

"(Y/N) sweetie, what's going on?" His voice was soft, it made your eyes sting with fresh tears. You heard another car door shut and soon felt a hand placed on your upper back.

"Don't shut us out. We tell each other everything, remember?" That comment from Billy with a rare, gentle voice made the dam break. A sob escaped your lips, your hands gripping Stu's shirt. You tried to calm yourself, sucking in shaky breaths while hot tears slid down your sore face. You mustered up some bravery to face the two and lifted your head, making eye contact with the two.

Stu gasped, his face in pure shock at the cuts, scratches and bruises on your face. Billy's nostrils flared, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were wide with rage. Neither of them had expected to see you in such a state. The taller one was quick to pull you into an embrace, not caring about your warnings of drying blood getting on him. Billy was tense but he knew you needed comfort from the both of them right now. He wrapped one are around you, most of his chest pressed against your back while his other arm wrapped around Stu. He was absolutely seething on the inside that someone dared to harm you. He glanced to Stu, who was resting his cheek against your head, and they both knew that who ever did this will get a visit from Ghostface.

------

The boys thought it best to get you home and get your wounds taken care of before you told them what happened. When you got home they had you immediately sit down om your couch, Stu off looking for the medical kit and Billy getting you a glass of water and a damp towel to wipe off the crusting blood.

The darker haired male sat next to you and lifted the towel near your face. He looked at you expectantly and you nodded, giving him permission to touch and clean your face. Gently, he began wiping away the blood from under your nose, carefully avoiding bumping it. He tilted your head back slightly with his other hand holding your jaw to get some of the blood that dribbled down and under your chin. It took a few minutes to get it off before he moved to the blood from the cut along your hairline. Stu was back, coming down stares with the red box of needed supplies. He sat on the other side of you and watched you both intently and silently.

"Unfortunately, this cut was on the same side as the scratches. Let me know if it hurts too much." Billy said, barely over a whisper. You nodded again, allowing him to angle your head for the best view. He flipped around the towel to the cleaner side and got to work. He carefully removed the blood closest to the cut, not causing too much pain. He bite his lip in concentration as he worked around the tender scratch marks, apologizing whenever he had to go over one. "There. I got it all." He smiled and stood up to get rid of the towel.

"Alright, my turn to play doctor!" Stu chuckled, alleviating the tense mood. He opened the kit and preemptively pulled out some items that were needed. Billy returned again and you felt his body pressed against yours as you faced Stu. "The ointment is going to sting like a bitch."

"Figured." You chuckle and let him start. He dabbed a gracious amount of the healing ointment on the tips of his long pointer and middle finger before carefully rubbing it on the cut. You winced and he apologized, taking away his hand. "If its needed keep going." He gulped but did so quickly. He rubbed his fingers against his pant legs and pulled out some butterfly adhesive bandaids, peeling them back. He placed them properly over the cut with care before closing the box.

"Now," You felt Billys arm slink around your torso. "Tell us who did this to you." Stu joined him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"It was Kristie and Suzzan." You sighed. "They've been messing with me for months in my last two classes. They were just telling me things like I am disgusting looking, calling me a freak, and saying you both were my friends out of pity. And they were throwing erasers at me." You kept your eyes on your hands, recalling all they did to you. "Today I guess was the day they got physical. After class they managed to shove me into a bathroom to torment me more. I don't know if their original plan was to jump me or if they decided to scratch my face after I stood up for myself. They did it out of jealousy I think, always saying I should stop hanging out with you guys."

"Those fucking bitches." Billy growled. He knew the two girls who did this, always disliked them for their 'better than everyone else' attitudes.

"First off. You are not disgusting, (Y/N). You are amazing in many ways. And secondly we are your friends because we genuinely enjoy spending time with you. You're like the only one at that school who is genuinely a good person." You felt him press a kiss against your head. Billy followed in suit.

"I feel like a shitty friend. I let their words get to me and I genuinely felt like all the things they were telling me were true. And the way I ignored you guys-"

"Shut up. Don't even worry about it. Besides you couldn't get rid of us even if you wanted to. You're stuck with us." Billy said. "Now get on some comfy clothes, we brought some in our bags so don't worry, and we'll pick out a movie to watch."

You smiled and stood up, "Thanks guys, for taking care of me." And you made your way upstairs.

Billy and Stu sighed and leaned back on the couch, craning their heads to look at each other.

"Let's hold off telling them our feelings for a few days until they get better mentally." Billy spoke quietly and quickly.

"I wanted to cuddle tonight." Stu pouted but nodded, understanding you may need a few days to recuperate from today.

"I said don't say our feelings not drop hints. We have all cuddled before."

Stu opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself hearing you come down stairs. You were wearing a thin long-sleeved shirt and some comfortable, loose shorts you liked to sleep and relax in. Both of the boys felt their breaths catch in their throats at the sight of your exposed legs.

"Fucking Suzzan and Kristie left these two bruises on my torso." You walked over to the couch and stopped in front of them, lifting your shirt just high enough to show them the slowly forming bruises to your ribs and side. Billy's face felt on fire, composing himself, while Stu stared at all the exposed flesh. Yes they have seen your stomach and legs before, but now they were fully in love with you. "Thought you guys were going to change too-"

"Right!"

"Right!" They both said in unison while getting off the couch, grabbing their bags. Billy went to the downstairs bathroom while Stu made his way upstairs. He came back half way down the stairs. "We picked Nightmare on Elm Street for the first movie!" Before dashing back upstairs.

-------

It was close to midnight, and the movie Poltergeist was coming to an end. The three of you were relaxing on the couch. Billy was situated in the middle, you were leaning against him desperately trying not to fall asleep and Stu had his arm around Billy's shoulders, with his head leaning against his boyfriends also falling asleep. Billy glanced to you and saw you struggling to stay awake, a smirk tugged on his lips.

"Let's get to bed, we've seen this movie a bunch to know the ending. Both of you are falling asleep." He spoke, turning off the T.V.. The tallest stood up and stretched, letting out a soft whine as his arms fully extended above his head. You stumbled and cover a yawn with the back of your hand. You felt a hand stable you around your waist and a chuckle from Billy. The three of you made your way to your bedroom with you in the lead.

When you arrived you ungraciously flopped dead center into your bed, Stu following suit on your right. Billy shook his head at the sight before joining the two, taking his spot on your left. You rolled onto you back and let out a soft sigh, sleep still fighting to overtake your consciousness.

"Ya'know..." You mumbled, your eyelids droop closed. "You both are too good for me."

"Nah sweetie, its the other way around." Stu hummed, drooping an arm across your collarbones. "Ain't that right, Billy?"

"Right Stu." He draped his arm carefully over your waist.

"Too bad..." Your voice slightly slurred as sleep was winning. Both of their heads perked up, their eyes going to you and to each other waiting for you to finish that thought. "Too bad you guy's don't love me like I do you both." And with that slurred, mumbled sentence you fall asleep. Their eyes bulged out of their heads, now feeling awake hearing a love confession.

How were they going to sleep now?

#stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy x reader x stu #Stu Macher #billy loomis x reader #Billy Loomis #poly!stu x reader x billy #stu macher x reader x billy loomis #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface imagine #ghostface imagines #ghostface x y/n

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 2 years

Text

Night In (Starlord x Reader)

Summary: Romance in the way only a Peter Quill can.

Word Count: 3,687

Warnings: None!

A/N: I listened to a lot of Moulin Rouge! songs while writing this and the campiness may have bled into it juuust a little bit, lol.

Ko-Fi | Commissions

~~~

The Benatar was usually lively and chaotic 24/7, so coming back to the hangar that your crew had docked at to see it completely dark and empty was a little jarring. You pulled out your communicator–an augmented phone-like piece of tech that you snagged off a random person on a random planet after losing your phone–to check the text that your partner, Peter Quill, had sent you about preparing to take off. After confirming that Peter had in fact told you to come back to the ship, and glancing between the message and the ship a few extra times, you put your communicator away and replaced it with a quad blaster.

You slowly neared the ship, keeping an eye on your surroundings as you reached the ship’s entrance. After a quick inspection, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but that wasn’t a word that could normally be used to describe the Guardians anyway. Plus, Peter specifically was always getting into weird trouble, so you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if you made it inside and found him being held captive by solid matter-phasing goo-people… or something.

Made it inside you did and things were still deathly quiet but after sneaking around the ship and finding nothing dangerous or interesting, you started feeling like maybe you were the crazy one. Then your communicator beeped and your response was to scream, so you were sure you were.

“Oh my fucking god, you hear a beep and you scream? This is how you deal with your problems? How the hell am I one of the ‘Dangerous: Most Wanted’ criminals on five planets but I hear my phone go off and want to throw my gun at it, what in the galaxy…” You continued grumbling as you put your weapon away and retrieved your communicator again, unlocking the device and checking your messages.

✨Peeber Quibble✨ 💝: R u here yet?

You leaned against the wall as you responded, ARE YOU???

✨Peeber Quibble✨ 💝: Omg was that u????

You groaned. Maybe.

✨Peeber Quibble✨ 💝: 🤣 🤣 🤣 Babe I’m in the kitchen

You hooked your communicator onto your belt and made your way there. As you reached the main hall leading to the ship’s cramped kitchen area, warm light greeted you along with soft music and your boyfriend’s off-key singing. Wandering in, you were greeted with the surprising sight of a makeshift romantic dinner setup on the kitchen’s small island–said island actually being a couple of large crates of equipment that everyone pretended didn’t exist most of the time so no one had to move it. You were also greeted by Peter himself, who was shimmying with his back to you as he sang and hunched over a small stove that was probably older than the entire ship.

“You text like a teenager,” you said to announce yourself. You walked over to the counter to lean against it as Peter spun to face you, though he didn’t pay much attention to you other than singing into his spatula at you for a few bars. He briefly threw the spatula into your face to encourage you to sing with him but you grabbed his hand and gently bit it as your defense.

“I text like a me, thank you very much,” he said finally after his song ended, wagging an accusing finger at you. He spun again, back to the stove to move whatever he was cooking onto one of two mismatched plates, which he then shimmied three steps to set with the rest of the fancy setup. He went back to the stove once more to turn it off and toss the spatula on a still-hot burner–you quickly moved to remove it to prevent the plastic handle from melting–before turning to you with a grin, a pair of jazz hands, and a “Ta-da!”

You snorted and took a better look around. Old Valentine’s Day decorations in the form of shiny red and pink hearts were hanging from the ceiling and taped to various parts of wall and cabinet. The “island” was covered with a red plaid bed sheet with lit candles, chipped mugs of red wine, appetizers of breadsticks and salad that Peter definitely stole from someplace and didn’t make himself, and the two plates of what looked like slightly burnt stir fry. An old school radio that usually spent its time in the bathroom entertaining people while they showered–or other business–was sitting on the kitchen counter close to Peter.

Peter himself even looked more dressed up than normal. Instead of his usual red jacket, he wore one of black faux leather over a mildly wrinkled but nicely-fitting red button-up shirt. On his bottom half, he wore a pair of gray slacks and dark, shiny shoes that you knew hadn’t belonged to his wardrobe until today. His hair was styled and pushed back in a way that was a little out of his style–not that everything else going on around you wasn’t already–and he’d clearly spent a lot of time trimming and grooming his facial hair; he even opted for no stubble, which was a rare decision.

“You look like a dork and this whole thing is a fire hazard,” you pointed out but the goofy smile on your face and red-tinted cheeks told Peter otherwise. You took a couple of steps to him and he grativated the rest of the way to you, immediately melting into your touch as you took his face in your hands and pulled him into a kiss. It was soft and sweet and lasted for a bit; when you pulled away, Peter nuzzled his nose against your hairline and you wrapped your arms around him and asked, “What’s all this for?”

Peter shrugged and leaned further into you as your hands affectionately roamed his torso between the layers of leather and cotton. “I don’t know, just thought it would be nice. We’ve been going on a lot of missions and stuff and no one on this ship has any boundaries. Especially that Thor guy.”

You swatted him lightly on the back but then pressed a kiss to his shoulder to make up for it. “Be nice. He’s recovering.”

Your partner briefly grumbled something about Thor and an angel baby under his breath before leaning back from you a bit. He gave you a slow look-over, which had you blushing a bit again, then fixed a giddy but charming grin on you. “Anyway, I kicked everyone off the ship for a bit. We have the whole place to ourselves for… at least a couple of hours… while they’re on the hunt for a golden turkey with a really cool mechanical wing.”

Your hands found his face again and his hands mimicked yours, finding a cozy place on your hips. “And where on this world did you come up with that?”

Peter quirked a brow at you. “Isn’t that what that kids’ story is about? The golden turkey? The mechanical wing was for Rocket purposes.”

“You mean the goose that lays golden eggs or whatever?”

He pretended to rethink his scheming choices, then shrugged and smirked at you. “Same difference.”

It really wasn’t at all but then Peter was kissing you and you were too busy to complain. As you kissed, you felt Peter pulling you forward, so you followed, cautiously so you didn’t ram into some piece of equipment or a counter corner. You were stopped when, assumedly, Peter had you where he wanted you and he pulled away from you completely to strike a dramatic pose while gesturing to his dinner setup.

“May I introduce you to… food!”

“Why hello, food,” you said, leaning against the crates and flirtily walking your fingers up the length of a breadstick, “How pleasant it is to meet you.”

You plucked the breadstick from its bowl covered in rainbows and took a bite of it. After a moment, you glanced around the area again. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“Knew I was forgetting something.” Peter replied after a long moment of staring at the lack of chairs in the kitchen, “Hang on.”

You happily munched your breadstick while Peter disappeared down a hall. It didn’t take very long for him to find a pair of folding lawn chairs and carry them back, and you two were quickly seated to eat.

“Wow, okay, damn,” you mumbled around your fork as you took the first bit of stir fry on Peter’s request, “this is actually really good.”

“Thanks, I think?” While he pretended to sound offended, though, he was clearly pleased by the compliment by the way his shoulders and chest puffed up.

You still couldn’t help teasing him anyway. “I once watched you and Rocket try to make toast with laser guns.”

Peter pouted. “That was one time!”

“Peanut butter and jelly cannons?”

“Okay, two times!”

Banter and conversation flows easily during dinner but this is how it always was for you and Peter. You were overly sarcastic and teasing in nature, which either meshed well with or combatted Peter’s overall chaotic menace-ness. Either way, the two of you left the many annoyed groans of your crewmates in your wake.

When you weren’t chatting, Peter was breaking into song between bites of food. Over time, your resolve began to wear down and you eventually started joining in, which then led to a full-on kitchen concert–until Peter accidentally knocked over a candle. You were quick to save it from catching the ship on fire but it still resulted in a charred breadstick basket as well as a burn mark on the plaid sheet. It was at this point that most of the food was gone, except for your and Peter’s breadstick microphone and the rest of the bottle of wine that the two of you were now sipping from, mugs forgotten.

“We should clean up while we’re at it,” you said from your place at the counter where you were completing your new task of extinguishing the rest of the candles as Peter threw away the burnt basket.

Peter replied after taking a sip of wine straight from the bottle, “Couldn’t agree more.” Then you watched, dumbfounded, as the man pulled the four corners of the sheet up, tied them together like a bindle full of dirty dishes and picked up the entire

“Peter Jason Quill, don’t you dare!” you warned. “Do you know how hard it was for me to collect enough dishes for this place? You guys used to eat exclusively tupperware and takeout containers. Which were scattered everywhere all the time, by the way.”

“‘Tis the nature of a pirate,” Peter goofed. Instead of heading to the garbage chute immediately, though, he paused to stuff a hand into the bag.

You replied, “I don’t think you can call yourself a pirate when your team is called the Guardians and you’ve saved the universe at least three times now. Like, legally.”

Peter just chuckled and dug around in his makeshift tablecloth bag. Then, one by one, he pulled your mugs, plates, and eating utensils out and put them on the counter next to you. He freed his hand once more and shook it free of droplets of spilled wine and a couple of stir fry noodles, then gave you another cheeky grin. “There.”

Just to be as juvenile as he was, you made a face and stuck your tongue out at him. You moved the still-warm candles to a safe spot on the counter until they could be properly put away and then turned to the dishes. Before moving them to the tiny sink, you put a plug in its drain and turned on the hot water. As you grabbed some soap and squirted a good amount into the water to get it soapy, you suggested that you wash the dishes while Peter dries.

Your brunette boyfriend walked over, dinner bindle in tow, to give your temple a kiss. “Sure. I did this whole thing, though, I’m washing.”

“Works for me.”

“And then… we dance!”

“We dance?”

Your gaze followed Peter as he walked out of the kitchen and down to the ship’s main garbage chute until he was enveloped by shadow, shaking his hips and doing funky arm and feet movements as he went. “We dance!”

You snorted out a laugh as he then burst out into screaming the lyrics of a song currently playing on the radio. “If you dance with me like that, dear god, I hope not.”

You diddled around the kitchen a bit while you waited for Peter to return. He did so a few minutes later, now jacket-free, probably because he’d shoved his leather-sleeved arm into a bag full of dinner mess. The two of you comfortably squished into the corner of the kitchen where the sink was and Peter started washing. He handed dishes to you, occasionally bumping hips or shoulders and serenading you as he did so, and, with there being no drying rack, you dried them with a rag and tucked them away in the baby-proofed cabinets. Traveling in the Benatar could get a little chaotic and incredibly messy, so you and your teammates didn’t worry too much about nice things and just did your best trying to take care of what you had, hence the baby-proofing.

Also, Rocket had a surprisingly hard time handling the baby-proof locks, which was just an incredibly amusing bonus.

With how small the load of dishes was, washing them took no time at all. You probably could have managed on your own and still have been done in a timely manner but it was nice spending mundane, intimate time with Peter as opposed to the ship’s usual bustling… Guardian-ness. By the time the two of you were finished, you were lazily leaning on each other and swaying along with the radio as he drained the sink and you hung your drying towel to dry. Even when that was done, you found yourself snuggled up to Peter’s arm, which found itself around your shoulders, as you both simply enjoyed each other’s company for a bit.

“So,” you said after a while, to which Peter responded by humming and leaning his head against yours, “where do you expect us to dance?”

Peter suddenly went from zero to 100 and you ended up watching him for several minutes as he tried to force the crates that you’d previously used as a table to one side of the room. From your position of sitting on the edge of the countertop, you gave him an occasional clap or encouragement, such as the one you gave him now. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Peter let out a huff that was equal parts tired and annoyed as he stepped back from the crates. Kicking the lowermost one, he exclaimed, “What is even in these? How long have they been here? Are they glued to the ground and we just forgot about it?”

You answered unhelpfully, “Sorry to burst your bubble, babe, but your guess is as good as mine. They were here when I joined.”

Peter huffed again and placed his hands on the corners of the top crate, then crouched down and stared at it like it had eyes and he was going to intimidate it and others into submission. Then he turned his stare at you for a moment. Turned it back to the crates. Turned it back to you. This went on for another several minutes until you eventually coaxed him to speak again with an arched eyebrow. He hopped back up to standing and made an arm movement in your general direction. “Come here.”

You slipped off the counter and joined him but before he could give you orders, you pointed a finger at him and said, “If I blow my back out and not for fun reasons, I’m going to be pissed.”

Standing closer to him now, it was clear that he was desperately trying to keep a straight face and, to your pleasure, your comment made him break into a smirk for just a moment. He quickly recovered, though, and without any warning, he picked you up by your hips and plopped you onto the stack of crates. You eyed him incredulously as he took a step away and looked you over, scratching his chin like he was a very deeply thinking scientist making a breakthrough and muttering under his breath, “Hmm. Yes, yes, very good.”

As Peter continued with whatever the hell he was doing, you felt a little bit of yourself die. This was a long-term bit, you could tell, and you weren’t sure that you were ready for the ride. You finally gave a little exasperated flap of your arms in his direction. “Okay, man, you gotta clue me in here. How is me sitting on the crates gonna make–”

Luckily for you, the bit quickly ended as Peter’s lips met yours in a deep kiss. Peter’s smiling lips moved perfectly against yours and you let out a relieved little hum, although you were sure whatever he had been doing would come back into play in a few minutes or so. For now, you hooked your arms around his neck and enjoyed the feeling of his teeth teasing your bottom lip.

It wasn’t long until you were tangled around your partner in tongues and limbs, which apparently was Peter’s chosen time to strike. His hands left your body and found the edge of the stack of crates again and he groaned– No, it wasn’t so much a groan but a grunt, and it certainly wasn’t because of the makeout session. This you pieced together in seconds as you felt the crates begin to move underneath you, and you and Peter with them.

You broke the kiss with a cackle as Peter heaved the crates out of the center of the kitchen. While you were still laughing and throwing giggly expletives at him, he managed to push the crates against a far wall, revealing a discolored rectangle of floor where the crates had once been; this you could barely see out of teary eyes.

“Pet-er-Quill, you absolute menace!” you yelled at him, propping yourself up with one arm and wiping away laugh-tears with the other, as he danced away with a clap of his hands and a grin.

Peter laughed back as he strutted around the kitchen, waving and flexing his arms like he was a pro wrestler who’d just one a huge fight. In a booming voice he said, “I am the almighty Starlord, crates are no match for me! Thanks to my secret power source of sweet kisses, no obstacle is too powerful for me to face!”

“Is that what that was?” you asked, “Is that all I am to you? A sweet kisses storage unit?”

Peter responded quickly, “No, of course not. You’re amazing. Very important to me. Very powerful. Buuut not as powerful as me! Call me the Opposite Hulk because I get strong and red when I– You know what, I probably shouldn’t say that since I know the guy now.”

As he twirled and broke into a giggle, you snickered as you hopped down from your crate throne. “Horrible. Nightmare. I love you.”

“And I love you.” Peter turned back to you and you could see him visibly relax as he shimmied over. By the time he reached you and took you in his arms, no longer was he the cocky goofball but rather the cuddly teddy bear of a man whose facial hair tickled your cheeks and forehead as he peppered your face in kisses. His arms trailed up your back until they reached yours shoulders, where they changed directions and slid down to your hands so he could intertwine his fingers with yours.

You smiled and lightly bumped noses with him, but couldn’t help teasing him once more, “You’re a child. That joke was awful.”

Peter grinned back at you as he countered, “I’m only a child because you make me feel young.”

He snickered again as you rolled your eyes. You caught his face in your hands and nuzzled your face closer to his but were careful to avoid your lips touching his outside of the lightest of brushes. Peter’s own slowly chased after them but they didn’t properly meet until after you mumbled, “You’re also extremely cheesy.”

Any other conversation was turned to pleased hums as Peter’s lips melded against yours. Once again, your arms found his neck while his found your hips and the two of you slowly swayed in a random dance as the sweet kiss continued. At some point, your fingers found Peter’s hair and you were quick to ruin its sculpted style with ruffles and the occasional tug. Peter responded with fingers playing with the hem of your shirt and his tongue exploring your mouth.

Eventually, the need to breathe reared its annoying head and two of you parted, panting softly. You pressed a couple of extra kisses against his neck before burrowing your face into his shoulder and hugging him close. Peter kissed the top of your head, your temple, briefly nipped at your earlobe and made you giggle. You remained squished cozily against your partner until he saw an opportunity in the dance for a twirl or a dip or a subtle step change; otherwise, the rumbling from Peter’s chest as he hummed to whatever song was playing combined with you being enveloped in his arms left you feeling tingly and warm.

Then a certain song came on and forced you out of it.

“Peter,” you whispered, “we’re slow dancing to Jimmy Buffett.”

Peter hummed. “It’s fine. It’ll change.”

“Yeah but… now I want margaritas.”

“Really?”

“Kinda.”

Peter leaned back slightly with a thoughtful sigh as he glanced around the kitchen. Without breaking your swaying circles, you did the same, eyeing a particular cabinet that was designated for various alcoholic beverage ingredients. “Do you think we have margarita mix?”

“Margaritas and movies?” Peter suggested.

“Woo,” you hooted quietly, “margaritas and movies!”

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noctumbra · 3 years

Text

𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆

summary ─ he couldn’t say anything. his brain was screaming at him to say something, but his tongue wasn’t cooperating. the lump in his throat wasn’t helpful, either.

pairing ─ fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ angst, ANGST, implied smut, language, alcohol consumption, reader is drunk, phone calls, emotions are bitch is the short version lol

a/n ─ henlo, i’m back but without a smut this time because something like this was mandatory lmao hope you like it! please let me know if you do and what you think about this, thank you <333

the (after) party [part one] ─ loft music [part two]

Bucky frowned deeply as he lifted himself off the bed and ditched the condom. The brief satisfaction and relief came with the sex had already washed away from his body, leaving him with a miserable feeling that he desperately tried to ignore but failed almost all the time.

He reached for his jeans after ditching the condom in the trash he spotted in the bathroom and cleaned himself with a couple wet wipes. His t-shirt was thrown over the chair at the corner of the room, so Bucky walked there to get it. He vaguely remembered his shoes being discarded at some place that was close to the door, but he had to find his socks before he got to his shoes.

“You’re leaving already?” He heard Dot ask. Her voice carried the typical disappointed tone. Bucky nodded instead of answering verbally, his eyes were searching for his socks ─ they were on the ground by her closet. Bending down, he grabbed and put them on. “I thought we could cuddle a bit,” she whined. Bucky barely surpassed his eye-roll. He didn’t like very much when women he had been with whined other than having sex.

“Got things to do,” he murmured distractedly. He checked for his wallet and phone by patting his jacket’s pockets. Both were there, so he only had to get his shoes and he could leave.

“You always say that,” she whined again. Bucky sighed harshly but stayed quiet. He pulled his jacket on and briefly ducked into the bathroom to fix his hair. When he decided that he didn’t look debauched anymore, he walked out.

“Because I have things to do,” he gritted through his teeth. As he walked out of the room, he heard the rustle of the sheets and her soft but stubborn footsteps.

“Can I see you again?” Dot asked, moving in front of him before he could open the front door and sneaked out. “I really had a good time, baby.” She batted her lashes, gave him a sly smirk, mischievous sparks were going off in her eyes. Her hands grabbed front of his jacket, and she lifted herself on her tiptoes; now they were nose to nose. “Like tomorrow? Can I see you then?” Bucky shrugged, making her hands fell from his jacket and he took a step back.

“No,” he said. “One night stand term means one night,” he added, practically hissing. He made a move to the door but froze when he heard her.

“Then why did you fuck Y/N for months?” Dot snarled. “Everybody knew, knew that you fucked her for months and saw her again and again─” Bucky turned his body to her. In a blink, he was in front of her and crowded her against the wall. She looked at him, fear all over her face.

“You’re not her,” Bucky hissed. “You’ll never be her. Talk shit about her like that again, it won’t end pretty for you, baby.” Bucky looked at her for another couple seconds and then stormed out of the apartment.

As he walked down the empty street, his body was strangely cold. His chest was heaving with harsh breaths, his eyes were stinging and he had to blink to clear his sight before he realized that he had fucking tears in his eyes.

He sniffed as he wrapped his jacket around his body and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Shoulder up to his ears, Bucky walked down the street with his eyes stinging from the tears he’s been desperately trying to hold back. He didn’t remember a time where he wanted to cry, where he felt… vulnerable. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way, couldn’t see any reason for it, except─

Bucky sighed. The words he said to Dot filled his mind. Shit, he thought. Dot was so going to tell that to everyone. When Bucky took a moment to think about that, that Dot telling everyone what he said to her, he found himself not giving any flying fucks about it. He didn’t care. She could tell anyone she wanted to, Bucky didn’t care.

Because it was the truth.

Dot was not you, would never be you, not in a million years. It really wouldn’t end pretty for Dot if she were to continue talk shit about you ─ which Bucky assumed Dot was going to because she’d most likely to be jealous now. Good, Bucky thought. Dot was great in bed, Bucky liked how vocal she was and how she told him whatever she wanted at that moment, but she wasn’t a very good person other than that. He could care less.

Bucky took a deep breath. There was a lump sitting in his throat, eyes stinging still, and his nose was burning a bit. He wanted to let go, but he didn’t know how. He never let go before.

Just as he sniffed and blinked a couple times to get rid of the tears, he heard his phone going off in his pocket. Pausing for a second on the sidewalk, he pulled it out only to see your name flashing back at him on his phone screen. Bucky frowned. The worry filled his chest, and whoa, it never happened before, and he accepted the call.

“YN/?” He said, the frown still visible on his face, and his eyes were still teary but there was worry in them, now. “Are you okay?” He didn’t hear anything for a short while. There was no sound, no background noise or your voice ringing in his ear. Frown deepening, Bucky pulled the phone off his face to check if you were still on the line, and you were. “Y/N? Are you there?”

“Why didja hav’to fuck me up like t’at?” You finally said, words slurring. Bucky blinked. Were you drunk? You never slurred unless you were drunk out of your mind.

“Y/N, where are you?” Bucky asked immediately. His mind was going off places where you might be, and some terrible imaginative scenes were playing in his mind. “I’m comin’ to pick you up,” he said. “Where are you, baby?” He didn’t mean to call you that, but it became a habit after all the time he spent with you.

He heard you chuckle adorably in his ear. “I love when you call me that,” you said, making him smile faintly. The worry was still there, though. “Makes me feel like ‘m somethin’ precious.” Bucky swallowed the words ‘it’s because you’re’, only to make the lump sitting on his throat bigger. “Why didja have to do it?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked right back. He had no idea what you were talking about and figured if he made you talk, you might tell him where you were. He heard you sniff and some glasses clinking. There was a faint cheering sound on the background. “Baby, where are you?”

“You made me fall in love with you,” you murmured, and it was the most sober you sounded since he picked up. Bucky froze. His somehow already cold body was even colder now, his lungs were rejecting the oxygen and he felt his eyes burning even more. The muscle in his jaw clenched. “I loved you, but you walked away. Why did you do it?”

What could he possibly to say to that?

Because I was scared that I love you, too?

Because I’m a fuck up, and you deserve better?

Because I love you so much, I’d kill for you?

None of the answers would justify what he did, he knew, but goddammit, he was fucking scared. He didn’t want to get hurt again; he went through that heartbreak once and it was enough for him for a lifetime. After that phase of his life, he became cruel to his partners, he knew this, too. He took his pain and anger out of them most of the time, and the thought of he might have fallen in love again was terrifying.

“You left me behind at that party,” you continued. “I know we broke up way before that─” You cut yourself off with an emotionless laugh that sounded much more like a sob. “Did we even have a relationship, Bucky?” You sounded so upset, so small and sad, all Bucky wanted to do was to reach out to you through his phone and give you a big hug. “I always thought we did, but I knew you never see me in that way. I know I’m not enough.”

Oh, it hurt.

It hurt like motherfucker.

Bucky felt his heart skip a few beats, seizing up in its small cage, as the tears in his eyes finally rolled down his cheeks. The tears burned their way down his frozen face, his tingling nose was a great company to its burn. He couldn’t say anything. His brain was screaming at him to say something, but his tongue wasn’t cooperating. The lump in his throat wasn’t helpful, either.

“I loved how special you made me feel,” you murmured with a small voice, it felt like you were smiling. Sniffing lightly, you continued. “I liked how you got to know me so well. It made me feel like I was being cared for, like someone was finally giving their attention to me fully.”

Bucky tried to swallow the lump so that he could say something, but it didn’t budge. His throat was burning with the urge to scream; tears still rolling down on his cheeks and wetting his face, his body was an ice cube, but your voice warmed him up a bit.

He knew he had to come forward with his feelings, he had to face with them, but he was scared; so scared that it was making him slowly lose the best thing in his life.

“You broke my heart, but I love you anyway,” you whispered. “Why I love you still, Bucky? I don’t want to. It only hurts me more.” Bucky’s chin trembled. You didn’t want to love him, and he made that. He caused that. He hated himself for it. He hated how fucked up he was to make you hate to love someone.

Sniffing, Bucky cleared his throat. “Y/N,” he started. “Where are you?” He heard you sob, more glass clinking and suddenly, all the noise was cut off. “Y/N?” Please, he thought, please tell me where you are, please.

“It hurt me to kick you out the other night,” you said instead. Bucky closed his eyes, sending another wave of tears down his cheeks. “All I wanted to do was to snuggle with you like we used to, but that night at the party… You hurt me so much, James.”

Fuck, Bucky forgot how much heartbreak could hurt him, how much pain it had brought with itself. His heart was skipping beats, his body felt cold and strange to him, his hands were trembling and his eyes kept producing more tears.

Bucky was hurting. He was hurting so much.

He hated himself for being a coward.

“Y/N,” Bucky said. “I’m begging you, please, please, tell me where you are, baby. Please.” He listened to your sniffs and soft sobs for a minute. He waited patiently for you to answer him. His head was buzzing, a headache was slowly tearing its way through, his eyes were hurting from all the silent crying he was doing and he was cold.

He craved your hug. They always made him feel warm.

“Transviolet,” you whispered. “I don’t wanna see you, though. Just makes me wanna cry.” Bucky sighed. He knew where you were now, and even though it was going to hurt you to see him, he had to make sure that you were alright and safe. Taking a deep breath, Bucky looked around. Surprisingly, he was very close to Transviolet.

“Five minutes, baby,” he said. “I know you don’t wanna see me, but I wanna make sure you’re alright. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” Bucky quickly crossed the street, using his long legs to his advantage; he started to take big steps, almost running. “Stay with me. Stay on the phone.” He heard your soft hum of approval.

“Dunno if I ever stop,” you murmured when he round the corner to the street that led to the bar you were waiting for him.

“Stop what, honey?” Bucky kept the conversation going, he had to. He couldn’t let you go non-verbal on him while you were this drunk. You could go as much non-verbal as you wanted to when he was near you.

“Loving you,” you answered him, and Bucky stumbled over his next step. All this time, Bucky somehow always knew that you were in love with him, but hearing it was a total different experience. He didn’t know hearing it could get addictive, though, it was new.

Clearing his throat lightly, Bucky carefully voiced his words: “Do you want to? Truly, I mean.” You hummed. Bucky started walking again, and he could actually see the sign: Neon purple color was winking at him in the middle of the night. His feet quickened their pace.

“No,” you murmured. “But I should.” Bucky felt his heart break into the nth piece with your words, but he deserved them. He deserved to hear those words, but he did not deserve you. He sighed. “You hurt me so much, but make me feel like I’m someone who can be loved. It’s weird.” Bucky faintly smiled at your whiny voice.

“Is it?” He said, just to keep you talking. He was so close now, and he could actually see you standing in front of the bar. You were against the wall, arms folded against your chest, and you were trembling slightly. Bucky frowned. “I’m almost there, honey,” he murmured. You hummed again. Looking around, Bucky started running towards you when he didn’t see any cars on the street. His arms were itching to wrap around you.

Bucky ended the call when he stepped onto the sidewalk you were standing on. You lifted your head and looked at him a little sleepily. “Hey there, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered. You smiled widely. Bucky smiled at you right back. Scooping you up in his arms, he held you against him tightly. “Let’s get you home, alright?” You nodded, leaning into his touch. He called an Uber while never releasing his hold on you. You probably had your coat and bag inside, and he had to get you your coat, you were freezing. “C’mon,” he murmured as he led you inside. You shivered when the warm atmosphere of the bar hit your frozen body.

Quickly finding your bag and coat, Bucky put them on you but slung your bag over his shoulder. You were leaning into him fully, now, totally taking advantage of his newly renewed body heat. Your hair smelled like your shampoo, and Bucky felt tears collecting in his eyes again. He blinked them away. To distract himself, he pulled out his phone and opened his group chat with his friends.

what would y’all say if i were to tell you that i’m in love? pls answer honestly, he pressed sent and saw Steve and Sam writing their responses.

i would say you’re bullshitting me, Sam said, and Bucky rolled his eyes. you don’t love, barnes, he added.

ditto, Steve sent. you only make them fall in love and just walk away. that’s your brand, pal. Bucky felt the hurt poking him harshly again, and he closed his eyes for a second, focusing on your sweet scent to calm himself down. His phone pinged. It was Clint and Loki.

you usually just fuck them, man, you don’t love, Clint said. Ouch, Bucky thought.

sometimes you drive them to the brink of suicide, too, Loki sent, and Bucky clenched his jaw. He could see Steve, Sam and Clint objecting immediately, but it was true. It had happened once. Biting his lip, Bucky wrote a reply with shaky hands.

i do, though. i really love her, he sent. The other immediately started writing something back. i’d die for her, y’know. i really would. The ‘writing’ thing disappeared. Bucky heard a honk and looked outside. gotta go, he sent quickly and locked his phone.

“Come on, honey,” he murmured softly to you, and you whined. “Home, love, we’re going home.” You looked up at him, sleepy expression all over your face. Bucky smiled. His fingers fixed your hair with gentle moves. You closed your eyes and nuzzled his hand when it cradled your cheek.

“Mmm,” you purred adorably. “Love you,” you whispered. Bucky surpassed the soft whimper that almost crawled out of his mouth. Instead he kissed your forehead and led you to the Uber waiting for you guys outside.

Once inside the car, Bucky cuddled you against his body. Your sweet scent filling up his lungs, body next to his, he relaxed a little. You were almost asleep when he whispered: “I love you, too.”

You just hummed, burying your face into the crook of his neck while holding onto him tightly. Bucky placed another kiss on your forehead and rested his cheek on your hair.

Then, Bucky took a deep, deep, breath and let go. He let the hurt and tears mix as he cried and cried silently all the while holding you against his chest, cradling you in his arms as if you were something precious.

“I love you so much, too,” he whispered again just because he could and buried a soft sob into your hair.

It hurt so much, the pain was leaving him breathless most of the time, but Bucky was used to it.

He had been used to it for a long time. He could handle it like he did before.

He just wasn’t sure if this time he would be able to survive it.

#bucky barnes x reader #fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader #fuckboy!bucky #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #valerie

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littlefreya · 3 years

Text

Bark at the Moon

Summary: Walter always comes to you when he needs a hard release. Tonight he seems to need it more than ever.

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word count: 2K (WTF it was supposed to be a drabble)

Warnings: 18+, sex, lycanthropy, supernatural themes, no strings attached, vaginal fingering, oral performed on female, primal play (slight biting and scratching), cockwarming, slight denial, angst, fluff and romance.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: Not me naming my AUs after Ozzy Osbourne songs/albums. Following my post from October I am trying to follow up. This one-shot is also inspired by A Company of Wolves and @fishcustardandclintbarton moodboard. Many thanks to my beta and muse and dear friend @agniavateira for all the help.

Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed 🖤

Title: Bark at the Moon

Muddy Timberlands dragged across the worn doormat as the large detective sought to rid himself of the dirt caking his soles. Black and soft, the dark mane of curls hung loosely above his forehead, a pale blue sheen cascading over each ringlet that concealed his face while he kicked his feet like an unruly child.

An instinct within pressed you to reach a wandering hand and entwine your fingers between those healthy locks. But ironically, touching Walter screamed ‘taboo,’ as if he wasn't going to finish wet and messy inside you anyway.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been here.

"Rough evening?" you murmured, taking a long whiff of air. Traces of coffee drifted from his breath, mingling with the brisk November chill that wafted over your face.

It's not that you didn't enjoy his company; it's just that Walter left you with nothing but bitemarks, bruises, and dirty sheets. A foreigner to this country even after all these years, Walter was much like the salty rocks from the islands that bred him: hardened and crude, yet smooth at the edge where the water licked the stone. Some evenings he wouldn't even speak; the moment his boots made it past the doorway, all civilised manners flew out the window, luring the beast to wander. Shredding your outfit, he’d fuck you to tears, shaking you the way a canine carnivore stuns its prey and then unload himself into you until you ached and begged him to stop.

Once stripped off his uniform, the sullen cop was no different than the deviants he shoved behind iron bars. Little did it matter, you loved him enough for the two of you, and though you knew you were a toy to pass the time, he always crawled back to you with that deprived agonised sparkle staining his gaze.

After what seemed like an endless battle between his shoes and the bristly rug, he finally paused and slowly lifted his chin. Marine-blue irises peered below thick brows, and a red rim of weariness perfected his customary scowl.

"Yeah," he drawled with indifference, "got any beer?"

Observing him for a moment, you studied the sharp ridges of his furrowed brow and nodded, turning to let him in. Despite his heavy frame, he followed with lithe stillness, stepping into your house without making a sound while you advanced to the kitchen.

Whatever happened tonight must have left another dent in the coarse material that made this man. You often mused on the things he must have seen and found out it’s better not to ask.

You reached for the fridge when his arm wrapped around your waist by surprise and snatched you back, hauling you flushed against his broad chest. Briefly, he nuzzled your nape, his parted lips huffing hot against your skin. His breath carried the pained melody of a sad longing animal, an ache so great it seeped through the pores of your skin and infected you with his grief.

You weren’t afraid of the beast but felt sorry for it.

“I need to feel you,” Walter rasped, a timbre of plea in his baritone. Palm swiping greedily at your breast and his cock hard and hungry, he ground his hips at the cleft of your ass. Like the black, shaggy dog that he was, he sniffed the air and then rubbed himself further against your jeans, seducing the wanton animal within you to come out of its hiding.

“You want me too, I can smell it, I can smell your cunt.”

Where was the lie?

With a guttural growl, he turned you to face him, skilful hands already making tatters of your clothes and his fangs nipping your throat. Caged in his grasp, you hissed and shuddered out of fear and lust. A part of you was always frightened that one night Walter will pierce an artery by mistake at the heat of the moment whilst another, more archaic urge, called for the sweet passion that was your Thanatos.

Succumbing to both urges, you forced his cable-knit sweater off, exposing his muscular, beefy torso and splaying your hands down his flexing pecs to feel the soft, dark fur that covered his chest and belly. Everything about Walter was large and charged with virility, twisting your moral compass and making any argument weak in his presence. Staring at the bulge in his trousers, you gnawed your bottom lip, giving to the pang of hunger that shot through your clenching core while your wicked fingers began to fumble with the clasp of his belt.

With a low roar rumbling in his chest, he scrutinised you as if this was a trial, his eyes flashing, anticipating you to reach and grab his large cock.

“Fuck…” his sonorous voice caressed your ears. He quickly slid his hand down your trousers, grabbing a handful of your ass before gliding his fingers to feel between your engorged petals.

A tempest of moans unfurled from your clenching throats once you squeezed his shaft in your palm, choking around the veins adorning the meaty girth.

“You are always so wet for me, always so ready,” he uttered and licked your cheek.

“Walter, please!”

At your plea, his fingers slipped deep inside your burning cavern. Back and forth, he probed your little slit, spreading thick wetness across your mound and further up your virginal ass to taunt you.

Before you met Walter you vowed that you’ll never be into that kind of debauchery. But whenever the bulbous crown of his cock accidentally teased your puckered hole, the only thing you could muster to think of was how much you wanted him to fill every empty inch within you.

Long, nimble fingers dug deep, parting your sealed walls asunder in an endeavour to find the small heap of pleasure that regressed you to savagery. You were nothing but an instrument of pleasure, gyrating to the melody he composed by the rhythm of his thrusts, following every note. He made you shudder, made the earth below split in half and all the while, he held back and watched. A sick mist of curiosity hovered over the frigid ocean that was his glance, mindful of how logic and reason drained from your face, leaving you utterly incoherent and primal.

Just as he was.

He crooned at your whimpers and nodded at the desperation dripping from your gaze. Hips swaying, you wriggled against his hand in a frustrated attempt to reach for the tendrils of ecstasy that loomed inches from your grasp.

“You want to come, love?” he asked, almost patronising. His brow lifted, and his eyes flared with what you could only describe as pity.

“Yes! Please! Please make me come!”

His fingers tore from your sleek with a sudden haul, leaving you a trembling, outraged mess. Yet you had no time to curse him for denying your pleasure. Moving faster than your thoughts, Walter stripped your trousers and slammed you rear onto the counter. Kneeling between your spread legs, his strong hands gripped your thighs and dragged your cunt into his bearded jaw.

“Fuck!”

His mouth wrapped around you in a lover’s embrace, his silky tongue plunging between your lips to savour the honeyed nectar that dripped from your tightening core. Thoroughly devouring your cunt, Walter hummed. Raw, unfiltered, and unbound, he laved every inch within as if he was dining at Olympus and feasting on ambrosia for the first time. Arching back, you dared to entangle your fingers in his curls and ride his bristly face until you succumbed to the furious, quaking bliss that spasmed within your womb and consumed you into rapturous euphoria.

Engulfed in a veil of blissful darkness, you continued wailing, heaving, and slumping on the counter. Puny jitters of aftershock trod upon your throbbing flesh while Walter finished his feast with languid laps of his tongue.

Once you blinked your eyes open, Walter stood straight between your legs, now fully naked, peering at you quietly. His eyes were aglow with all the conundrums he could never speak. Still hazy from your ecstasy, you stared back with awe, drinking each taut bulging muscle and worshipping the feral, beastlike entity that he was. Not even the scars on his body could steal away his unspoken pride.

Reaching a hand for his imposing cock, he crept closer and glared straight into your soul as he pressed himself into your tight little entrance. A loud groan thundered through your kitchen as he pushed in, erupting into the most melodic war cry which never failed to astound you once he penetrated you. Still clenched from your orgasm, you gritted your teeth and whimpered in pain, not quite ready to have all of him at once. Yet Walter wasn’t keen on stopping and continued delving deeper and deeper, despite your nails tearing fresh new trails of blood down his shoulders.

“Wait!” you pleaded, yelping when he suddenly bottomed out inside you.

An arduous gasp tore from his lips, and his forehead dropped on your shoulder. Stilling inside you, he breathed in the mien of a wild creature, trying to regain his composure for a brief moment as he timed his assault. Fingers etched below your thighs, he pulled you up with ease and carried you through the apartment whilst still buried inside you.

Confused by his actions, you hung your arms around his thick neck and clung to his body, welcoming the soft brush of his hide against your naked breasts.

Soon, you found yourself on your bed with him seated beneath you while your legs enveloped his wide waist. Nestled between your cinching walls, his cock throbbed full of rage, desperate for the unbridled friction that Walter forbade as he refused to move. Milking every drop of his self-control, he vigorously fought to dominate his desire.

With his shaft pulsating hot and buried completely within your womb, your previous orgasm felt like a distant dream and a fresh new need soon awoke, begging your body to writhe on top of him and take what you were promised by force. But Walter was in no rush to unmake any part of you just yet. Securing one arm around the small of your back while the other held your jaw, he made you stare directly into his eyes.

Bare more than ever, he allowed you to glimpse through the cracks that creased his beautiful blue eyes, showing you the pure terror harbouring the heart of darkness that lived within him.

Perhaps, a part of him desired you to break and cast him away from you, to say ‘nevermore.’

Mercy softened your face instead.

Enamoured and embroiled with curiosity, you allowed yourself to roam freely, gliding both your eyes and fingertips to descend the delectable plains of his body. Tender and careful, you stroked a soothing touch over the elevated scar tissue the way one pets a wounded creature, your gentle caress painting over the large claw mark that marked him years ago and left him cursed.

Walter followed the movement of your hand. His chest sinking with a low roar, his cock twitched and swelled inside your protesting canal while he remained immobilised and kept himself sheltered in the warmth of your sanctuary.

“Last night,” he finally spoke, his voice soft yet drenched with hesitation while his eyes dropped to stare into nothing for a shy moment. “Last night, when I turned... I… killed someone…”

Your heart clenched in anguish along with the seams of your cunt. All the hurt that flowed in Walter’s blood now mingled into yours, ascending your body from the spot where you were coupled.

What you wanted most of all was not to run. No. You desired to suck the poison tainting his veins and swallow it instead, unable to bring yourself to do anything but love him more than you did earlier.

Spreading your legs further to each side of his hips, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him. Nails biting into his muscular back you clutched him tightly, making a firm statement of your unwillingness to spite him for his actions.

Because, even a beast needs to be protected and cared for.

* Disclaimer: I don’t own Night Hunter/Nomis or Walter Marshall * Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #walter marshall #Werewolf!Henry Cavill #night hunter #walter marshall x reader

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mara-xx217 · 3 years

Note

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.

#Halloween #Michael Myers #Michael Myers x reader #og michael myers

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