skykizzz

[johnmulaneys]

back from the dead to say: i watched it 2x now and that was some of his best material, he is one of the best storytellers of this generation and although this is a much more “thematic” special (which might have left some critics displeased), his style remained the same. he was honest about his struggles but didn’t go down a style of misery-comedy that was never his (he didn’t try to please the kids by being bo burham). he is still at the top of his game when it comes to being a performer, he owns the stage and controls the crowd brilliantly like he’s always done. i’m very very pleased

[ebongawk]

ok ok ok ok ok HOW ABOUT a drunken kiss with hellcheer 👀 and if u make it sad so help me god i WILL fly to u and beat ur ass

4. A Drunken Kiss

They were playing fucking spin the bottle.

What kind of full-fledged high school seniors played spin the bottle? Wasn't that reserved for, like, thirteen-year-olds? But Stacie Mancini had drunkenly shouted, "Oh, my God, we should play a game!" and someone had suggested this, so now a bunch of almost-twenty-somethings were gathered in a half-assed circle as an empty bottle of vodka spun around and around.

Stacie landed on Andy Fuckface, and she looked mildly disgusted, which. Good for her. She still sucked his face for a solid five seconds. Andy landed on Tracy Mathews, Tracy landed on Jason Carver. Jason didn't even look at his fucking girlfriend before he stuck his tongue down Tracy's throat.

Chrissy, for all intents and purposes, looked like she didn't even want to be there. She flinched when Jason leaned toward the center, but otherwise made no show of being an active participant in the game.

And Eddie, with his front row seat to the action from the dealer's perch in the corner, had to wonder why no one seemed to fucking notice how uncomfortable she was.

Staying sober for these gigs was a goddamn chore. While it used to be fun to watch the chaos and debauchery unfold, being privy to the disgusting nature of inebriated human teenagers got old.

Maybe he was a little cynical. Because this shit had stopped being fun around the exact same time he caught the aforementioned Ball-Fondling Carver sneaking upstairs at a different party with Theresa Peretti.

It was the first and only time he'd ever considered getting involved.

Like, okay, so maybe sometimes he felt a little bad when he caught people who had significant others mackin' on those who were not the aforementioned significant others. But fuck it. Not his circus, not his monkeys, right?

He'd ruined that little unspoken rule of his that Monday at school. Seeking Chrissy out, small and drawn and sad as she was, and had straight up told her what he saw. No beating around the bush, no bullshitting.

Whether or not that had anything to do with the fact that Chrissy treated him like an actual human being was meaningless.

She'd just blinked at him. Then, instead of the anger or upset he'd been expecting, she let out this vague little laugh.

"Oh. Um. Thanks, Eddie, but... Could you maybe keep this between us?"

"What? Did you hear me, Cunningham? That asshole--"

"No, I know. And, truly, I appreciate you telling me. Just... Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

He'd wanted to scream. To rip his own hair out and throw it at her like that would lift the starry-eyed curtain she was clearly hiding behind. But that was, like, two months ago, and he still saw her tucked under Carver's arm day in and day out, so Eddie had resigned himself to bearing witness to her silent suffering on the off chance he caught a glimpse of her in the hallway or any of their shared classes.

Why the fuck anyone would stay with a whole ass cheater made no sense, so Eddie stopped trying to understand the popularity masses.

"Oh, shit, that's pointing at the freak," someone whispered, drawing Eddie's attention out of his own head and back into Chance Kinicki's hazy basement. He blinked, meeting Chrissy's gaze from the other side of the room, and put the pieces together.

It had finally been her turn to spin the bottle, and it had landed between two of the nearer bodies and was trained on him.

Which. What the fuck.

"Nah, man, let her spin again," Carver slurred, waving a loose wrist in the air. "She's not gonna lock lips with trash. Right, babe?"

Oh, he was such an asshole. Eddie wanted to knock him down a peg or five. Preferably while sober, so he wouldn't have the excuse of his intoxication to blame getting his ass handed to him by quote-end-quote trash.

Chrissy said nothing. She just stared at him, wearing something in her expression that Eddie couldn't identify. After a few tense, quiet seconds, Chrissy stood, stumbling a little through her own drunkenness, and made her way across the room. Shaking off Jason's grabby hands as she stepped around people and bottles before coming to a swaying stop directly in front of Eddie.

"Hi," she muttered, looking down at him with ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes.

Shit. Shit. What the fuck was happening? Eddie's hands twitched where they were sitting on his thighs, staring up at her like she was an angel come to deliver some new commandment.

Thou Shalt Not Lust After Unattainable Girls Who Are a Little Too Intoxicated to Make a Rational Decision. Or something.

"Uh," he managed, the word strangled up from his throat like she'd wrapped her dainty little fists around it. Like all of his oxygen already belonged to her. Fuck, all the oxygen in the room belonged to her. "Hey, Cunningham."

"'M supposed to kiss you," she continued, tilting her head to one side as her eyes wandered along the grooves of his face. Settling on his lips once she'd taken her fill. "The game says so."

"I wasn't playing the game, princess," Eddie reminded her gently, glancing around her to see the audience watching them with rapt eyes.

Chrissy just shrugged. Like that was enough of an explanation.

"That's okay," she answered. "The bottle knew, Eddie. Right? It knew that I..."

Then, before he could react or breathe or fucking think, she was petting his hair back from his face, leaning down, and pressing a slow, soft kiss right to his lips. Like a fucking deer in the middle of the road, he froze, unable to parse together half a thought that wasn't whoa.

Fucking fireworks.

He finally got enough wits about himself to pull away, because she was drunk and he wasn't and none of this was right, which wasn't fair but that was neither here nor there.

"Oh," she breathed, blinking at him, some of the haze in her eyes clearing. Her cheeks had gone even pinker, lips still half-puckered like she wanted to lean back in and taste him all over again.

"Hey!" Jason barked, struggling to stand from the floor, blazing eyes staring daggers at Eddie. "Get off her, freak!"

Dude, he wasn't even touching her.

"Shove it, Jason," Chrissy responded before Eddie could ask him if he was serious. She leaned toward Eddie, half-shielding him with her body, and he really thought she was gonna fall into his lap, she was so goddamn unsteady. She managed to stay firmly planted, using a hand on his shoulder to keep herself straight, and actually stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend.

Eddie wanted to die, it was so fucking cute.

"Babe--"

"I'm dumping you."

The fucking gasps that erupted across the room were actually comical. Eddie couldn't have stopped himself from laughing if he'd tried. Which, he did not, because it was too goddamn funny. The cackle he let out drew the attention to him, but, Jesus, fucking worth it.

Before he realized what was even happening, Chrissy was taking his hand, pulling him along behind her as she escaped up the stairs. Her considerable strength barely gave him a moment to grab his box of tricks as she hauled him from his gig as the weekend fun-bringer.

Why he was part of her little storm-out, he couldn't explain. But he wasn't exactly unhappy about it, either. As it was, for effect, he raised a devil horn at Jason's flabbergasted glare on his way out.

"Wow," Chrissy said as they escaped into the chilly April night. "Wow! I just did that!"

"Yeah, uh––"

"Oh, shoot, we gotta get outta here," Chrissy stated, glancing back over her shoulder. Grimacing and rushing him toward his van just as the front door of Chance's house swung open, an absolutely irate Carver standing in the muted light.

They ran, Chrissy surprisingly steady on her feet, and laughed the whole way to his van. He unlocked the passenger seat, diving across the center console and yanking Chrissy in after him. Carver had slipped at one point, the alcohol probably rushing around painfully in his head, and was struggling back to his feet just as the rest of the laundry basket team finally came out. Chance and Patrick were both obviously trying to hold back their laughter, but Eddie didn't bother finding out what happened next.

He started the van and peeled the fuck outta there.

Chrissy was still laughing, although it was much quieter now. No longer filling the night air with little tinkling notes of her joy, it was more like the soft music of wind chimes outside. Following them as they ate a few miles of concrete in the otherwise sleepy town.

"So, uh. You want me to take you home, or––?"

"No." He kinda expected her to be staring out the windshield or her window, but instead she was looking directly at him. Not offering him a modicum of relief from the weight of her gaze. "I do not want to go home like this, Eddie."

"Uh..."

"Can we, like, go to the lake or something? Please?"

Well, how the fuck was he supposed to say no to that?

The back of the van was stuffed full of blankets, pillows, a mattress from Gareth's younger brother's bunk bed and a few couch cushions off the spare couch on the porch, because he and the guys had gone down to Indianapolis to see Metallica during the week and had slept in the van instead of coughing up the dough for a motel room.

Chrissy made herself right at home, making the bed until it was nice and soft before throwing open the back doors of the van where he'd parked at Rick's house. Staring out over the lake as it twinkled with starlight. Like a bunch of white Christmas lights were hidden beneath the lapping waves.

He sat next to her, trying to breathe around the way she cuddled into him like she fit right in the circle of his arms. Which. Yeah. She did, but if he thought about it too much, he'd drive himself crazy, so.

They talked a little bit about how she'd just publicly dumped her boyfriend. About how relieved she was, now that the farce was finally over, because she'd been wanting to do that since way before he told her about the cheating. How happy she was to be there with him.

Which. He didn't know how to comprehend that, really. So he let it sit in the air, soft and gentle as the breeze that made music of the leaves outside, and breathed it in. Pulling it into his lungs like her little admission would coast through the oxygen in his blood and make itself part of his fucking DNA.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

God, how was she so cute? The sleepy cadence of her tone, still slightly slurred with alcohol.

Shit. Denying her felt stupid as fuck.

"Ask me again when you're sober, yeah?" he said, desperately playing at lighthearted. "Might change your mind in daylight."

"Mmm," she hummed, her voice so fucking adorable. "Doubt it."

Hand to God, he hadn't fucking meant to fall asleep. He didn't know where Chrissy lived, exactly, but he figured he'd let her sleep off the drunk for a little bit before he roused her awake and got her address.

Yeah. Stupid move on his part, awakening when the sun hit his eyes first thing in the morning.

Because now he knew, intimately, the way Chrissy blinked back into consciousness in the morning light. The way the sun's rays, just barely peeking up over the wooded horizon, hit her hair and made it glow like fire. The way she sniffled, looking around in confusion before her eyes landed on him.

The way she smiled, bright enough that her eyes slipped closed and her nose scrunched up.

"Morning," she breathed, rolling over from where she'd been plastered to his side so she could stretch. Said so casually, like she wasn't ruining his entire fucking life just by existing.

"Uh," he started, his voice gravelly. Half-choked and terribly embarrassing. "Morning, Cunningham. Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Chrissy hummed, finished with her stretching. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she rolled right back into him. Tucking her face into his shoulder for effect.

Yeah. He was dead. He'd, at some point between school yesterday and Chance Kinicki's house, died, and now he was having those crazy imaginations where his unstated dreams were coming true.

"'S'okay," Chrissy mumbled into his chest. Prompting him to wrap his arms back around her. Because why the fuck not? "I, um. I definitely didn't mind."

Yeah. Heart attack. Stroke. Car accident. Something.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yep?" God, the way his voice broke, you'd think he was going through fucking puberty again.

"Can I kiss you again now?" A breath, like she heard the way his goddamn heart skipped a beat, before she added, "I promise I'm sober now."

Oh fuck him.

"You, uh––" He coughed, clearing his throat. "You actually want to?"

Shit, she giggled, and he fucking felt it against his ribs.

"Yeah," she said, easy as pie. Easy as Sunday morning. Easy as anything. "Yeah, I've, um. I've wanted to for, like, a while now."

He would've sworn he felt Cupid's arrow hit his blackened little heart.

"Chrissy, you can kiss me whenever you want," he croaked. "Like, uh. Now, later, tomorrow. Y'know. Open real estate here for you."

Christ, that giggle. He wanted to swallow her whole.

She tilted her chin back, that gorgeous grin lighting up his dingy van better than any spotlight ever could.

"That's good," she murmured, staring up at him. "'Cause I get the feeling I'll take you up on every offer."

Jesus Christ, he hoped so.

(And she did.)

kiss prompt!

(and a very happy birthday to @astorytotellyourfriends 😘🩷🖤)

[izzysarchivedblogs]

SIX YEARS WAS LONG ENOUGH. Six years was the decided CUT OFF for one Clinton Francis Barton. No more will Leonard put up with his shit! No more will he live in UTTER FEAR. No today was the end, so maybe Leonard had pulled a few strings, and maybe forged one or two signatures (one of them being Clint's) but WHOSE TO SAY.

It all was worth it, or at least THAT WAS THE HOPE. That was the thought as he walked into morning yoga (late.) with TWO dogs in tow rather than the usual one. Right behind Luna was another dog, who almost seemed to KNOW who he belonged to and came wandering it's way over to Clint.

It had been a hard year, and Clint was STRUGGLING and Leonard had never been a fan of feeling HELPLESS. So he had taken upon himself to do whatever he needed to do to get Clint his own fully trained emotional support dog.

// i'm still sleepy so the tone is all over the place but listen listen listen. I just decided that with post beyond Leonard is just finally like NOPE NO MORE U NEED ONE so clint gets a dog because i said so.

@thefleetsfinest

The feeling still wasn't right to get up in the morning, as he tries to get back into the routines and the things that helped him before he fell, and that was a hard fall to handle. SIX YEARS. He was still too stunned with the fall that he hasn't managed to scrap himself off the ground yet.

It's with guilt that he was here, and he still hasn't been able to quit again. That seems to be a lot harder than he thought it was going, but he hates it. Hates every single long night that he can't handle it and swallow down the feeling dry and remain sober. Last time they docked anywhere he had smuggled his own finds in and the fact that his boyfriend knew all the hidey holes was no longer fun.

It was no longer kissing spots, but where he could hide his shame and wallow. Clint know how hard it was, and than when he had finally managed six months, it turned to a year and six years later. That was hard, and right now as he was sitting and staring at the wall?

Getting back on, and putting himself together. Going more than a week, more than two weeks and than even trying to get back to what he had managed. IT ALL SEEMED DAUNTING. So much more daunting the black emptiness of space, the one that caused shivers down his spine, space the thing feared by him and. . . . Where was he?

They had been over this before, over the years when it was their days, yoga and mediation days, that sometimes other things and other people came up. That he couldn't. . . . ASSHOLE MADE HIM GET BACK INTO DOING THESE ⸻ And he isn't even showing up.

Clint's about five minutes away from doing anything, stewing in bitterly about Leonard not making it. He barely even hear the door slide open, he rarely did anyways and Clint scoffs ready for whatever excuse was coming.

EXCEPT ⸻ there's Luna, which is absolutely one of the better perks about his friendship formed with the chief medical officer. He suppose there are other benefits, but point stands. He missed dogs and Earth ground. Dogs, and than there's another one. A small-to-medium size black and white dog, looks like border collie, following and. . . .

He doesn't know what to thinks or say, ❝ I definitely got some sleep, so I can't be hallucinating. ❞ Not the best thing to say, but there were no illusions to be had here. He was trying, and it was hard; and he had to be honest before he got worse, had to quit, before it caused him real trouble. Before he created more trouble for himself.

❝ Who is that? ❞ ⸻ Clint knows that Leonard cares about how he was doing, let him get away with a few things, and it's not because of the doctor thing. It was the friend thing, the sobber buddy thing which he wasn't sure when he's not what hi sober was suppose to look like.

He definitely feels himself start to choke up as the border collie goes right up to him, and the dog is happy as can be, licking his hands and face; and it's kind of overwhelming in that way that dogs could be and loving/accepting in that immediate way.

Clint swallows, and if he thinks Leonard say what he is about to say he may cry. And he has managed to keep a minimum of who he cries in front of and how often, to which that minimal was one maybe a once a year.

[stormwinddeliveries]

Day Two 5/14

Journal Entry: *Noodles hand writing is immaculate. Near calligraphy.*

Today, sucked. Not only was I moody, and achy, and sick, and likely out too much, but I...well no that was all basically it. I felt like shit and everything seemed to be going to shit. A general negative mind space that wasn't corrected by going out and doing anything. Or being around people, even people I love. I got moody and honestly kind of mean with Jasper. I snapped at some fellow who I don't really know all that well because he was annoying me. Told him to shut the fuck up and that I didn't like him, right to his face! Today feels like a day that I would have drank if I was drinking to lighten the feeling of all these emotions. Mostly the bad ones that are making me feel heavy, more achy, slow...Like rocks are tied to my wrists and they're pulling my entire soul down towards the floor. 

I didn't, though. Drink. Likely because I didn't allow myself to be alone. Even if my company was kind of shit and I mostly just fretted about upsetting Red, my friends put up with me. Olive really came in clutch about the entire thing. She was the one who picked out and paid for Jaspers flowers that he seemed to like quite a bit. Then she tried to encourage me on how to talk to him about all of this. Though none of them really have stable...Relationships. Or relationships to begin with. 

After all the friend hanging out, and flower getting, and gift talking about? Jasper finally pulled up from the thinking or working he was doing at the time. Which is where things got worse before they got better. When we went inside we were both really mopey. Likely because we've both been rather sick and drained. He's just carrying it all better than I am. Or hiding his symptoms from me so I won't worry.

When we got in the house I kind of got overly frustrated, cried and raised my voice, paced. I could tell it was bothering him that he didn't know a solution to my problems. Nor that he knew how to help me right then. But, it wasn't his fault. All the stuff I had been bottling up for the last few days kind of exploded without an alcohol buffer there. We talked, finally, about all how I had been feeling. About how I missed him, how all my emotions were so intense, how I didn't know what to do. I didn't speak about sober doubts that I can recall now. 

All that matters is that after I got it all out? I really did feel better. So much better, in fact, we chatted afterwards. About a few random bips and bobs, before I asked him if he'd teach me how to crochet! 

And, damn. That mans amazing. How he's able to take just yarn and weave it into shapes. Or things! With nothing more than his fingers and a little hook is...is...a magic in of itself. I told him to his face and I'm writing it here that I'm rather certain he's a witch of sorts! I don't know how long I had been actually practicing myself before we got distracted, but he made it all look so easy! Maybe one day I'll pick it up again and see if I can't, oh, I don't know...make an actual square or something! Like he did! Granted he whipped one out in like a minute, maybe. But he has been doing this quite a bit longer than I have.

Then the funniest thing happened. We started kissing, as adults do, along with almost another...progression in our consenting adult intimacy. When MORRIGAN woke up! We don't think she saw anything or even registered what was going on, but. You should have seen the look on HIS FACE. The sudden terrified awkwardness that flourished over his features. By the Light I was absolutely positive I'd cease through laughter right then and there. 

The poor thing had a stomach ache, but. It was an oddly...Funny and wholesome way to end the evening. Even if she had seen the two of us kissing, along with Jaspers hand...somewhere. I wouldn't change the interaction or the ending to tonight for the world.

At least through all the chaos happening, I didn't even register it was mothers day. Blessings come in painful packages sometimes, I guess. 

Lynn

[mercy-burning]

Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

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[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

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[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 11*

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

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@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

Alright this one is kinda short but I needed a cliffhanger, and I need to get to fifteen now. Also, I had to write the ending of this in the car and it's difficult so I ended it where I did. Plus I love watching y'all squirm. SUFFER.

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Rafael hadn’t texted you back since you told him you didn’t care whether he believed you or not, maybe he had gotten the hint and decided to leave you alone. Why didn’t that make you feel any better? You knew what you had told Sonny was true; you couldn’t be in any kind of relationship with anyone but alcohol. 

You’d never admit it to Sonny since he was so proud of you lately, but the monster inside you may be present more than you let on. It wasn’t big things that set you off sometimes, sometimes it was just one bad grade on a test, or being lonely. 

You knew you needed to reach out to someone, anyone other than Sonny. Get some friends of your own, people you could talk to. But you were too ashamed of your problems and your life to ever approach anyone. Even when students in your class would ask you to go out with them after school, you’d always decline in fear of what you might do while you were out. You could keep yourself from having more than one drink on your own, but the social pressure of being around other people drinking made you just want to keep going. And you knew where that led. Where it always led. 

You had kept the monster at bay for so long, it was exhausting most days. And now that you had fed it and let it loose, you were too tired to even try and reign it back in. So here you were, practically unable to move from being so sick from drinking fucking mouthwash rather than ride out your cravings. 

You looked up at the sky and began to pray for God to just take you right there and then, just so you would have to stop feeling like this. Not just physically ill, but completely devastated and heartbroken that the one time you had ever opened yourself to someone, opened yourself to love, the monster inside you killed it. Just like it killed everything. Now you just wanted it to kill you. You were just about to grab some pure rubbing alcohol from under your bathroom sink to drink, you knew it was lethal if you drank about a capful. You had it up to your lips when you heard a banging on your front door.

“Y/N! Y/N open this door!” 

Were you still that fucked up or was that actually Rafael banging on your door? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? You decided it was worth at least checking, if you had hallucinated it you could always come back to the bathroom. You forced yourself to stand up and hobbled towards your front door, still afraid to open it. If it really was him, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Your t-shirt was covered in bright green vomit stains, your hair was messy from puking, your hadn’t checked but you figured your face was probably disgusting. 

“...I’m not home!” The words came out before your sense kicked in to tell you that was literally the most idiotic thing you could say. Clearly he’d know you were fucked up now.

“I’m not kidding! I’ll break down this door, I swear to God,” His voice was angrier than you’d ever heard him. Well, that wasn’t saying much considering you hadn’t known him that long but still. 

“Uh...okay, just a second!” You called nervously, doing your best to quickly change your shirt and fix your hair. 

You grabbed a semi clean t-shirt laying on your couch and threw your hair up in a messy ponytail, wiping the dried vomit and drool from your face. You glanced in the mirror, you looked messy but just messy enough you were pretty sure you could pull off “I’m emotionally destroyed because of you” not “I’m totally trashed and fucked in the head because of you,” You tried walking as straight as you could to the door and softly opened it a bit, not letting him inside.

“Hey…” You gave him a sheepish smile. Wait, weren’t you supposed to be mad at him? Don’t act nice now just because you’re trying to act sober. 

“I mean...that’s a pretty lively looking corpse there, counselor,” You smirked. 

“...What?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you the one who said you’d never be caught dead in Jersey?” You smirked harder. Damn, even when you were on the verge of dying you were smooth.

“Let me in,” Rafael said flatly. 

“Uh, no,” You said mockingly. 

“Let me in,” He repeated more sternly. 

“Do you have a warrant?” You asked with an amused smile. 

“Dammit Y/N don’t make me shove this door open,” 

“Oh okay so now you’re threatening to break into my apartment? Why don’t you yell that a little louder, maybe my neighbor will call the cops,” You yelled at him while gesturing down the hall. 

“...Please let me in?” His voice lowered, his eyes softened. You were a sucker for those eyes, no matter how mad or worried about appearances you were.

“...Fine,” You sighed and released your hold on the door and walked away quickly to sit on the couch. You didn’t want him to realize you couldn’t stand without holding onto something. 

“Fuck, I knew it…” He muttered as he glanced around your apartment, then focused on you.

“Knew what?” You crossed your arms, playing it cool. 

“You’re drunk right now, aren’t you?” He looked at you pitifully, not livid like he was a minute ago. 

“What?” You kept your composure. “Uh, I’m sorry Rafael, do you see any empty bottles here? Any FULL bottles for that matter?” You gestured around your apartment while acting offended he would even think that.

“My dad was an alcoholic, Y/N,” He said softly which made you angrier, why was he doing this? 

“Um okay, so that has to do with me why--?”

“Tell me right now if I smelled your breath that it wouldn’t be overwhelmingly ‘clean’,” He talked over you.

“....What?” You blinked, trying desperately to act oblivious. 

Fuck, why did he know that was a thing? Well, obviously he just said it. If you weren’t so angry or out of your mind right now, you’d feel absolutely terrible for being like this around him now that you knew he’d been through this before.

“So it’s a crime to have dental hygiene now?” You smarmed.

“Dammit Y/N I know what you’re doing!” Now he was getting angry again, he couldn’t stand that you weren’t taking this seriously. He couldn’t stand watching another person he cared about completely shit faced in front of him, acting as if he was the one in the wrong. 

“And what am I doing, Rafael?”

“Sonny might be naïve, but I know what it looks like when an alcoholic is hiding their drinking!” He accused you.

“God dammit…” you muttered. 

So many things were buzzing in your head at that moment. One you now felt ashamed that he was seeing you like this, two you were upset that he knew all your tricks, and finally you were somewhat happy and hopeful that he cared enough to come for you. 

“Did you have an actual reason for coming over here, or did Sonny just send you to lecture me because he’s tired of doing it?”

“...Can you drink some coffee or something?” 

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?” 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” 

“What? Oh suddenly I must be out of my mind trashed because I’m mad at you? Guess what Barba, this is 100% snarky sober me,” You lied. 

“Mad at me?” He laughed. “Why in God’s name are you mad at me?!” 

“After the way you treated me--”

“The way I treated you?!” He cut you off angrily. “I treated you with nothing but caring and respect, Y/N. Even after you sat there in my apartment throwing a temper tantrum like a petulant drunken toddler!” 

“You--” You were livid at him calling you a toddler.

“Just because Sonny told you what I usually act like towards-- lovers, doesn’t make it true with you. Did I ever, ever act like you were some ‘conquest’?” He asked you.

“...No,” You bit your lip nervously.

“Did I ever make you feel cheap, or unwanted?”

“No…” You looked at the floor.

“Didn’t I tell you that you were different, that you meant something to me?”  He gave you a sad look, as if he was crushed that you didn't believe in him.

“But how do I know that wasn’t just a line?!” You protested.

“Because I’m here!” He gestured around your apartment. 

“And why are you here?” You pressed him.

“I don’t know!” He put his hands over his head.

“...That’s not an answer,”  You crossed your arms.

“It’s the only answer I can give you, Y/N,” He finally sat down next to you on the couch. 

You curled up your knees to your chest instinctively, still trying to hide your inebriation and the smell of your breath; even though you knew it was futile at this point.

“So, you come all the way here to bang on my door and yell at me, but you have no idea why?” You continued to be defensive, trying to keep him off your scent.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? Huh?” He threw up his hands. 

“Do you want me to say it’s because I’m in love with you? Because for the first time in my life I found someone that I want to be with all the time, because you make me the happiest I’ve been in a long time, maybe ever?” 

“Uh no,” You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to lie,” 

“...I’m not lying,”  He looked at you very seriously, trying to take your hand.

“Yes, you are,” You shook your head and pulled away from him. “In fact I know exactly why you’re here,”

“....What is happening right now?” Rafael asked himself softly. He had just sat there and poured out his heart to you, and you were dismissing him completely. This is exactly why he should have just let you be.

“What’s happening, is that you-- you feel bad that you couldn’t... I don’t know, ‘deal’ with your Daddy issues," You air quoted Daddy, making him shift uncomfortably.

"That is so--" He tried denying it.

"True?" You gave him a look. "Let me guess, you couldn't 'save' him as a kid, right?"

"...That wasn't on me," He muttered, looking at the floor.

"You don't believe that," you scoffed. "I know you don't."

"And how do you know that?" He looked at you skeptically.

"Because I feel like I failed my parents, and they were the shittiest people on earth!" You exclaimed.

"How did you fail them? You weren't even--"

"By being born, Raff," You clarified.

"Carino, don't--"

"Look, my point is you've got this 'white knight syndrome', but you know what I learned? You can't save everyone, so you shouldn't even try,"

"That's a great philosophy," he scoffed. "So you don't even try?'

"Oh fuck off," You rolled your eyes. "I can't even save myself, let alone anyone else,"

"That's not true," he protested. "You saved me,"

"Oh my god," you made a fake gagging noise. "You're just saying that so it'll appease some kind of guilt,"

"I have zero to feel guilty about," he shook his head. For some reason that made you even angrier. 

"Alright well good! So you can leave,"  You pointed towards the door.

"No I'm not leaving, not until you acknowledge what I said," He crossed his arms.

"What? About you being in love with me?" You scoffed. "I told you that's a load of shit."

"And why do you say that?" He asked.

"For one, because you don't fall in love with someone just because they're good in bed," you gave him a look.

"That's not why--"

"And for two, nobody can be in love with a monster," You finished over him.

"You're not a monster--" he tried pulling you towards him but you stood up.

"Yes I am!" You screamed.

Well that was a bad idea. All of a sudden it was as if the chemicals from the mouthwash were sizzling around your insides. You doubled over in pain, the room was going dark. 

"Y/N? Oh my god, baby hold on--" he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap while he dialed 911.

"It's okay, you're okay...just...just hold on, please…" he pleaded with you while stoking your hair and kissing the top of your head, gripping you as if you were going to disappear if he let up.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

[hot-wiings]

Abuse Trigger Warning.

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Requested By: Wattpad User

Edited: 11-26-2020

You felt exhausted as you unlocked your front door. You had a fairly shit day, and you knew it was bound to get worse. Your shit day started with you being late to class, this wasn't the first time it happened and it resulted in detention accompanied by a phone call to your father. You couldn't be mad at the school, not really, they were just enacting the school policy. You had no one to blame but yourself.

You knew your father was fairly pissed at you, he always was. You knew the minute you opened that door he was gonna start the same old pattern. He would yell, he would get angry, he would hit you. You would either stand up for yourself and get beat worse or take it quietly and let it be over with. With a deep breath in and out you opened the door and closed it behind you quietly. You hoped that if you were quiet then you could sneak past your drunken father who spent most of his time wasted on the couch. Your hope was diminished as you saw him standing before you, semi-drunk, sober enough to walk and be cruel. Sober enough to hurt you. 

"You're finally home."

"Hey."

You barely had time to place your bag on the ground before he gripped his hand in your hair and pulled you away from the door and closer to him. 

"Don't 'hey' me, you're in so much trouble."

His hand squeezed your jaw, making him grip your cheeks hard. You knew there was going to be light bruises formed on your face later. 

"Your school called me, they said you received detention. You little shit! I'm paying for that school so you can become a hero, not so you can fool around." 

Before his words registered in your head, his hands were on your body. He slapped you, he punched you and hit you until you were on your side. On your side, he kicked you and kicked you until you begged him to stop. He didn't stop until you heard a crack and you were simply positive he broke something. All he did was grin down at you sadistically, happy he caused you such permanent pain. 

"Go to your room you worthless excuse of a hero. You're lucky I pay for that school."

You weakly pulled yourself up and limped your way upstairs to your bedroom. You closed the door before slumping yourself on the bed. You let the tears escape. A downpour of feelings on your cheeks as you tried to muffle your sobs.

You hated him so much, and you hated him even more for leaving you with this feeling. You wanted to get help, help from your teachers, help from your boyfriends, but you couldn't. He was right, you are a poor excuse of a hero. How could you ask for help when you shouldn't need it? Why didn't you defend yourself? Why didn't you ever fight back? Katsuki and Eijirou we're such strong heroes, they should be ashamed to have you as a girlfriend.

You tried to quell your sobs as your cell phone rang. You picked it up quickly, hoping your dad didn't hear it, and looked at the caller ID. Eijirou <3. You were glad he hadn't face-timed you, you didn't want him to see you in such distress, you didn't want him to see you so weak.

"Baby, what's up?"

"Hey sweetheart, I was just calling to see if you needed a ride to Katsuki's house."

"A ride..."

"Yeah, a ride. He invited us to his house for Thanksgiving, remember?"

You scowled as you pressed a hand to your swelling ribcage. You hadn't remembered, you tried not to remember the holiday as it was. Thanksgiving was a depressing time for you. It was your mother's favorite holiday. She died when you were young but you still had the distant memory of her dancing around the kitchen making a perfect holiday feast. You and your father tried to avoid it, avoid the memory.

"No, no. Of course, I remember. I'm... I don't think I need a ride."

"Are you sure...? You sound upset, are you okay?"

You bit your lip as you let another lie tumble from your lips.

"I'm fine babe, just a little cold from the weather. I'll see you and our other babe when I get there later."

"Okay... We'll be waiting with warm arms and kisses."

"I love you... Bye."

You sighed as you pulled yourself from the bed. You had to cover up these wounds, and find some advil for the pain. Maybe you even had time to take a cold shower to take down the swelling.

"Well... Now I know why you got detention. Of course, my daughter has been working herself out to multiple boys."

"I- I- I-"

"Your mother would be ashamed of you... The only reason I'm not bashing your head in now is that people would notice, but I guarantee you, I'm pulling you from that shitty school and placing you in a conversion institute."

He snatched your phone from you and place it in his pocket before leaving your room and latching the door, leaving you with no means of communication or escape. No one to call. No one to save you. You had enough. You couldn't take another minute of it. You couldn't handle the anxiety of not knowing when he would decide to beat you, the horror of waiting for him to strike you with his fist. You could bear the pain, but everyone had their limits. You wouldn't let him change you. You wouldn't let him take away Eijirou. You wouldn't let him take away Katsuki.

You frantically dove into your closet for some clothes that would cover your entire body. Your jeans dug into your bruised side but you didn't let yourself dwell on it. You found one of Katsuki's hoodies and quickly slipped it on, you needed something to cover your arms, the smell of his sulfur and cinnamon brought comfort to yourself.

You didn't give it a second thought as you slipped one leg out of the window and slowly brought out your other leg. You turned your body so it positioned you with your body facing the window and slowly lowered yourself down as far as you could reach before you jumped. You landed on your side, knocking the wind out of your lungs. You let out a string of coughs before pushing yourself up and running straight to Katsuki's house. You didn't pay attention to the pain in your chest, or the fact that it had begun to rain down on you. You just ran. 

You left a string of frantic, hard knocks on the door of the Bakugo residence. Although the Bakugou family had been expecting both you, Katsuki's girlfriend, and his boyfriend, Eijirou, that wasn't until much later in the evening. You received no answer to your knocks and as you looked in the driveway you noticed no cars. Nobody was at home.

This day reached its climax and it couldn't possibly get worse. You were all bruised up from your father, he wanted to send you to a conversion camp, you had no phone, you were soaked to the bone and the rain just turned to hail. You slid your back down against the Bakugou's door and you pulled your legs up to your chest in a bent position. You let little sobs out as you formed your body into a ball to try and create heat.

You spotted a car pull into Katsuki's driveway and you tried your best to smile and perk up. You tried your best to make it seem like your father hadn't beat the shit out of you, like your skin wasn't oozing black and green colors. You tried to make it seem like you were happy and normal.

Masaru Bakugo walked up to his front door with an umbrella in one hand and his keys in the other. There was confusion placed on his face when he saw someone balled up against his front door, but that confusion morphed into worry when he saw it was you slumped up against his door.

"[Y/N]...? Is that you? C'mon, Let's get you out of this horrendous weather."

You were quick to stand up and move to the side as Masaru fumbled with his keys and unlocked his front door. Once inside, you felt bad that you were dripping water all over their home floor. Shy and embarrassed, despite being in the Bakugo home many times, you looked at your feet and mumbled out an apology.

"I'm sorry for getting your floor dirty."

"It's fine! Let me go find you some towels and some dry clothes."

A warm feeling spread in your stomach as he walked off. You loved Masaru. Katsuki had been out to his parents for a while now, and they'd known you and Eijirou for a decent amount of that time. Masaru was so nice, so kind, and he never made you feel bad about your sexual orientation. He treated you like an addition to his family, he treated you like a daughter and it made going back to your own father hurt so much more.

Katsuki's father came back shortly with towels and some of Mitsuki's old clothes in hand. He smiled at you as he handed over the items. His smile was warm, it made you think of the small, soft moments you shared with Katsuki. Everyone said he resembled his mother, but you could see the small attributes he got from his father.

"Mitsuki took Katsuki to the store with her. They're probably gonna be there awhile knowing how stubborn they are, they're probably stuck in the stuffing aisle arguing over what brand to get. If you ever come over and we're not here you're welcome to use the spare key. It's under the rock by the azalea bush."

"Thank you, it's very nice of you."

You smiled as you took the clothes from Masaru and headed off to the bathroom. It was a pair of leggings, a tank top, and a couple of towels. As you dried off and put the fresh clothes on, you grew nervous. You could see some bruises peeking out, and there was a handprint on your arm. You just needed to get to Katsuki's room and steal one of his hoodies before Masaru got a chance to notice the bruise.

You walked out of the bathroom with your wet clothes wrapped in a towel, you tried keeping it to your arm to hide the bruises. As Masaru took your clothes it was all for naught.

"I'll put your clothes in the washer so you can take dry clothes home."

You knew he saw it. His eyes lingered for too long, and his tone changed, yet he didn't mention it. Once Masaru left to take your clothes to the washroom you made your way upstairs to Katsuki's room and slipped on one of his hoodies before going back downstairs. Unbeknownst to you, Masaru made a concerned phone call to Mitsuki while you were putting on one of Katsuki's hoodies.

"You're probably cold from being outside so I made some tea."

"Thank you."

You smiled at Masaru as you took a seat on the cream-colored sofa across from him and picked up your cup of tea. You took tiny sips as Masaru tried to word out and voice his concerns to you.

"I noticed a bruise on your forearm, how did you get it?"

The shame and embarrassment of the truth flooded your face – not to mention if you told him, then it would somehow get back to your father. He would hurt you worse. Like you've done to your teachers, and many others, you lie to your boyfriend's father.

"Oh, that? I was sparring with someone from school."

"If hypothetically, someone was hurting you, it would be okay to tell me."

"No one's hurting me."

"[Y/N]... It's not just your arm. You have bruises forming on your face, Katsuki spars and he doesn't get hurt like that. It's okay to tell me... Even if it's someone like Katsuki, I know he can get rough sometimes... I would believe you."

Masaru knew it was wrong to play into your feelings for Katsuki like that. He knew his son would never hurt you, he might have been a handful, but Masaru raised him right. Masaru needed to play into your feelings to get you to fess up on who was hurting you. Masaru reached out and grabbed your cold hands. He looked at you, practically pleading you to tell him the truth. Masaru had a way of talking to you that made you want to be honest about it and hearing him toss out Katsuki's name hurt you. You broke down, tears streaming down your face, as ugly sobs escaped you.

"No, Katsuki would never hurt me. It's--It's my dad. He can get mean sometimes, and he got really mad..."

Masaru took your teacup and placed both yours and his on the table before he pulled you in his arms as you spilled and blabbed about all your father did to you. It was so foreign to you, the feeling of being in a man's arms, a father's arms. To be held and comforted without being hurt. You couldn't remember a moment where your father held you and said everything was gonna be okay.

"He found out about my sexuality. I can't- I can't go back."

"It's okay, it's gonna be okay. You don't have to. What your father does to you is wrong. It's not right. I'm not gonna let you go back there, okay?"

"Thank you."

Your words came out in choked up sobs, but it didn't stop Masaru from keeping a tight hold on your body. It didn't stop him from rubbing comforting circles in your back, something he did for Katsuki when he was sick as a young child. Once your sobs quelled Masaru pulled away and looked at you earnestly.

"Why don't you go rest in Katsuki's bedroom. I'll send him up once Mitsuki gets home."

"Okay... Thank you, Masaru."

As you laid in Katsuki's bed you felt overwhelmed. Anxiety and dread coursed through every vein, cell, and fiber of your being. You didn't want Katsuki to come home. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want any confrontations. You didn't want to see the pity on his face when you told him your dad beat you, you didn't want to see the disgust on his face when he realized what a shitty hero you are.

What kind of a hero can't even protect themselves from their father?

You didn't want to have to tell him, that was if Masaru hadn't already contacted Mitsuki and Katsuki at the store. You didn't want to have the conversation you knew you would need to have once he got home. To top that off, you didn't want to tell Eijirou. How could you face him? How could you tell him that your father hurt you? He was going to beat himself up for it. He was going to be mad that he didn't protect you. You could already envision the teary-faced he'd give you, and it filled you with such dread. You never wanted to fill your partners up with such sadness. You never wanted your partners to feel such hurt due to the expense of your hand.

You weren't sure how long you lied there in Katsuki's bed. The scent of his shampoo lifted from his pillow, and the smell of his nitroglycerin filled your lungs as you laid buried in his blanket. Sometimes you would even get a whiff of Eijirou's shampoo, residue from late-night study dates, and cuddle sessions. It was all very comforting, as you laid there motionlessly. Even as you heard the door creak open, you didn't move from your spot to see who it was. Even when you felt a big, warm hand placed on your hip you didn't lookup.

"Hey." 

Once Katsuki's rough voice made contact with your ears you rolled your body over so you were on your back, groaning ever so lightly as your bruised back made contact with the mattress. Gazing up into the red eyes of your rougher lover, you tried to make your smile reach your eyes. 

"Hi, how was the store?" 

"Don't do that."

To anyone else, it would have sounded like Katsuki was being hostile, like he was being rude and gruff. You heard differently. You could hear the pain in his voice, you could hear the worry and fear laced in his rough demeanor. As Katsuki dropped to his knees and grabbed your hand you could see the way this bothered him, you could see the way he was worried and the way this tore him up. 

"My dad called my mom, don't pretend everything is fine when it's not. Don't pretend that your not hurting. Don't pretend with me."

"So he told you everything?"

"Just that my dad saw some bruises on you, said' you should tell me yourself."

You squeezed your eyes shut to prevent the tears from leaking out, to prevent the tears from falling into a downpour. Katsuki moved his other hand up to your face and cupped your cheek in his warm hand making you feel secure.

 "Just tell me. It's gonna be okay, I'll make it okay, I'll make it better."

"My dad hurts me Katsuki. He psychically hurts me, and now he knows about you and he wants to send me away." 

The tears poured out of your eyes, they streamed down your cheeks and dripped down onto your shirt as little sobs clawed their way out of your throat. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you and tugged your body close to his, with his face in the crook of your neck, he buried himself in you. If asked he would have denied it, but Katsuki let his own tears fall. 

"I'm not gonna let anyone take you from me. I won't let anyone take you from me and Eiji."

When Katsuki pulled away you felt a pain in your chest. It was sharp and strong, Katsuki barely noticed as you placed a hand on your chest. He barely noticed until you began coughing. Your little cough turned into a fit, and little bits of blood came out with each burst of air out.

"Katsu, I don't feel so good."

"Fuck, [Y/N]... It's-It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay. Just stay awake." 

As Katsuki scrambled to pick you up bridal style, it felt like your lungs were on fire. You were light-headed as your head rolled against his shoulder, and the last thing you registered before your head went dark was the sound of Katsuki begging you to stay awake. 

All Katsuki could do was pace the white floor in the hospital room. His hands came up and tugged at his blonde roots as angry, volatile thoughts raced through his head. He paced, and stomped around, and tugged to keep his tears at bay. He barely paid attention to the voices in the room telling him to calm down, all he heard was the heart monitor. How could they expect him to just sit? How could they expect him to be okay when you were the one in the hospital bed? 

“Katsuki, you need to sit down. Pacing and getting worked up isn't going to help.”

“I know that! Do you think I don't know that? I know it isn't going to help, I know nothing I do is going to help! I couldn't help her, that's why she's in here!”

His words came out harsh and rough. They were sharp and all Eijirou could do was frown at his hands. He knew all the emotions Katsuki was feeling. He knew them all because he was going through the same thing. You didn't tell them what was going on at home, you didn't tell them and they didn't know. They didn't know and didn't help you. They couldn't help you and now you were in the hospital. 

All Eijirou had in his head was every interaction with you, maybe if he had noticed it, noticed the signs, he could've helped. He had noticed the way you made sure you were home by a certain time. He thought you were a good girl. The way you always asked your dad for permission for things, no matter how small and minuscule. He thought you were a daddy's girl. You always wore hoodies. He assumed you liked wearing what was his. He was so wrong.

“I couldn't help her, and you couldn't help her either. It's not your fault she's in here.”

“But I should've! I should've seen the signs!”

Eijirou pulled himself up from the stiff hospital chair he was sitting on and walked over to Katsuki. He pulled Katsuki against himself and murmured sweet words into Katsuki's ear as he let him pour his heart out. He let him flurry his heart out, he let him cry. 

“I should've helped her, I should've helped her.”

“I know... I should've helped her too, but all we can do is hope she wakes up.”

It was as if a miracle happened at that moment. Amongst their crying, despite the slim chance of survival, your eyes fluttered open. They fluttered open and your hands moved out, reaching for something, for someone. Your head hurt, and the last thing you remembered was being carried away by Katsuki.

“K-Katsuki...?”

You tried pushing yourself up into a sitting position but Katsuki and Eijirou were quick to get to your side. Katsuki gently placed a hand on your shoulder, keeping you down as he had reached out for your hand. 

“Don’t move, it’ll hurt.”

“What happened?”

Eijirou pulled your hand he had gripped up to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. Your heart broke at the sad expression he gave you. It tore you up to see such pain and agony on his face. 

“Your dad... he broke your rib, and it pierced your lung. It caused you to get internal bleeding, had Katsuki not been there when you were coughing, you might not have made it.”

“You know? Who told you.”

“You passed out, you almost died! Was I not supposed to tell him, you dumbass!”

“Don’t yell at me!” 

“[Y/N]... You almost died. The doctor was barely able to fix your lung, you waking up is a miracle in itself, and you're still going to need more surgeries to fix your lung.”

You squeezed your boyfriend's hands in understanding. You had worried them. This incident wasn't like when you were eight and your dad gave you stitches, or when you were ten and he broke your arm. He almost ended your life. 

“I’m sorry... I should've told you.”

“Why didn't you? Did... Did you not trust us? We would never hurt you, we would've helped you.”

“No, I trust you. I do! It's stupid...”

“I don’t care if it's stupid, I've spent the last four hours in this goddamned hospital for you, you could at least tell us why you kept it a secret.”

You closed your eyes and tried to stop the tears from falling. You pulled your hands from theirs and buried your face in your palms. 

“I’m so fucking pathetic! That's why I hid it... I didn't want your help, because I should've been able to handle it myself. I'm supposed to be a hero, but I can't even stop my father from hurting me, it's so pathetic. I'm pathetic.”

Katsuki pulled your hand against his lips and his other hand wiped away your tears. Eijirou was quick to follow suit. They desperately wanted to pull you against themselves, to hug you tightly as if you'd disappear, but they knew it would hurt you, they knew you were still too fragile 

“You're not pathetic. You're strong, you're so strong.”

“Fuck, you're strong. You handled him by yourself for so long on your own, but you're not on your own anymore. The cops got your X-rays, between your broken ribs, and old healed bone fractures, it's enough evidence to put your father in jail for a long time.”

A smile spread across your face as Katsuki spoke his words to you. You dreamed of the words for such a long time. You dreamed of the day you no longer had to endure him. You dreamed of it, you yearned for it, and now it was here. 

“My mom and dad want you to live with us. You'll, come, right? You have to, my parents love you. I’m gonna smother you with my love, and Eiji's gonna be over every day. We're gonna take good care of you.”

“I will, I'll be over every day, and we'll watch your favorite movies, and eat your favorite food. We’ll take care of you.”

“I’ll come. I’ll come live with you Katsuki.”

“Fucking good, I need you to be close. I need you to be close and safe.”

As Katsuki kissed your forehead, Eijirou left kisses up your arm. Your fears of telling them about the abuse were far from your mind, as was your father. You were ready to start your life with your boyfriends, you were ready to move in with the Bakugo’s, a couple who would love you like a daughter, the right way. You were ready to start this peaceful chapter of your life.

[jessica-doom]

Draco had trust issues. He was prone to jealousy and could be, admittedly, a bit psychotic. He was definitely also a clueless git. He had issues believing anyone could love him for the person he was. He had issues. That was the plain and simple of it. And those issues caused likely irreparable problems.

"Do you ever even listen to me?"

It wasn't the shouting or raised voice that caused Draco to flinch. It wasn't the fact that his eardrums were ringing or that spit flecked his face. It was the words. It was the pure hate hiding behind them. It was the way they made him feel deep in that crevice where the jealousy and the issues and the problems lived. He flinched because he felt those words hit him right at the center of everything. And he felt that center feasting on the one good thing he had left in his life – tainting it until it was something he no longer recognized.

It wasn't until he registered the slamming of the front door that Draco fully realized he'd lost the fight. And, potentially, more. With that door closed so resolutely between them, he'd lost the chance to plead his case. To defend himself and swear up and down that he did listen. Of course he listened.

How could he not listen when passion laced every breath Harry Potter ever spoke? How could he not want to train his eyes on those lips, memorizing every syllable that passed through them? Even when the words were nothing but drunken babble, they were still laced with everything Amortentia smelled like.

There really was no telling if Harry was ever going to come back. He had no real reason to.

One of his jumpers was still in Draco's wardrobe, but that was something he could probably live without. Even if Draco couldn't because it reminded him of the night they both slipped on ice while coming home from the market. It reminded him of the deep red blush on Harry's face as they watched cans of soup roll out into traffic. It reminded him of the dopey smile on that man's face as he tried to gather the rest of the food, shoving it in the pockets of the jumper. It reminded him of that deep-bellied laugh Draco earned when he tried to 'help' by loading up the hood with now-bruised apples.

Harry had a toothbrush by the bathroom sink, as well. It was green – an intentional choice made by Draco. The green of the man's eyes was ingrained behind his own closed lids like a permanent background to his everyday thoughts. The bristles of the brush were fanning out, flattening from vigilant use. At first Draco had found it insulting that Harry would always go for the toothbrush after they'd been intimate. It felt like he was trying to scrub clean some sort of dirty feeling Draco left within him. But the longer time stretched on and the more he saw the ritual, the more comfort it instilled within him personally. He would lie back in his bed, fresh with their mingled musk, watching it unfold through the open door while his mouth watered for the minty kiss that would soon follow when Harry climbed back in beside him. Nuzzling into him like there was nowhere else he would rather be.

The only other notable thing Harry left in the small, cramped flat was the ghost of himself. Every crack and corner of Draco's home was filled with the memory of the man he had come to love more than anything he could remember even dreaming for his life. Memories of where he'd sat, where they'd shagged, where they'd sunk to the floor in the kitchen and just…talked about absolutely nothing and everything all at once. Draco couldn't even grab a mug from the cupboard without some wanton thought pushing its way into his mind.

Draco didn't know if Harry was ever coming back. He didn't know if he was ever going to get a second chance. And he would rightly deserve it if he didn't. He had always been and would likely always be at least a bit of a prick. It was coded into his genetics. But he was trying. He was trying so. Damn. Hard. He'd never tried harder at anything he'd ever done than to be the kind of person Harry Potter could be proud of.

"He's probably not coming back," Draco muttered. The universe had been hanging in a precarious balance since the two of them even thought about dating. Just tipped enough to allow a glimpse into a reality that should never exist. Just enough for a taste. Just enough for Draco to get his fill of 'what if's and 'maybe's. Just enough for him to taste it and crave more.

All before everything tilted back to normal and everything he'd grown comfortable in was ripped from his grasp.

"For Salazar's sake, Malfoy, stop being so dramatic," he countered with and pushed up from his collapsed state on the sofa. "If he comes back then fine. Fine. If he doesn't…. You'll deal with it. But if he comes back…." If Harry Potter decided Draco Malfoy was miraculously still worth his time, Draco wanted to show him everything. Everything. And he wanted it to be perfect. So to fill that growing, consuming void inside, Draco set himself to work.

It was nearing on midnight when Draco finally heard the knock on his door. The weight of an entire bottle of merlot made him reluctant to answer at all. But his hard work nagged at him and he honestly didn't know if he would get another chance if he screwed this one up. Swaying just a bit, he pulled the door open and tried to very casually lean in the doorway. The wine in his bloodstream, however, skewed his execution. Instead of leaning, he practically fell against the frame. Massaging his shoulder with a mild blush, he found it rather difficult to meet Harry's waiting eyes.

"You're drunk."

With mild confidence and a bitten back smirk, Draco pulled in the familiar stench of Canadian whisky. "As are you…." With just the inkling of an upturned lip, Draco chanced a glance upward. Harry wasn't smiling and a second later neither was he. "Why'd you come back?"

Harry shrugged, his body language matching his fixed frown. "We didn't finish our fight."

"You finished," Draco said slowly, stepping back to allow the other entrance into his flat. "Will you allow me the chance to have my say?" Neither of them would have been humbled enough to allow this sober. That was likely a red flag they were both pointedly ignoring. But since they were both rather gone, Harry stepped in with a proud nod and Draco slowly closed the door behind him. His nerves were dancing, even though he had been working towards this moment for hours. "It took several warming charms, but I think everything is still ready," he muttered, trying to funnel Harry toward the dining table.

"I'm…I'm not really hungry?" Harry replied, looking absolutely confused even as he settled into a chair. On the table were no less than ten plates of food all covered in magical bubbles. "Your side of our fights doesn't usually come with a menu."

Sitting as far across the table from Harry as possible, Draco reached into the center and poked the bubble covering one of the dishes. It dissipated with a flashy billow of smoke, filling the room with the butteriness of hot water crust pastry. "I'm not fighting. Not really. The only fighting I plan to do is for you, I suppose…." Again, if he had been sober, such corny words would never have come out of his mouth. "Pie and mash from Broadway Market."

For a moment, Harry merely blinked. His mouth flapped open and closed, but he didn't take his eyes from the platter. "Why?" was all he could say and even that barely squeaked out through obvious emotion.

Draco's merlot-slicked lips finally quirked into a comfortable smile. "Because I listen, Potter. When you were young, your aunt and uncle couldn't get anyone to watch you for one of their long weekend trips to London, so they had to take you along. For lunch one of those days, you all went to Broadway Market and as a joke, your cousin made you eat pie and mash without telling you what it was. You ended up being allergic to eel. It was an eventful trip, to say the least."

"So you listened to one of my sad childhood stories. Am I supposed to give you some sort of prize for that?"

With how badly he'd messed up, Draco wasn't really expecting it to be that easy. But the crass way in which Harry spoke still stung. Sighing softly, he reached out and popped another bubble. "Treacle tart."

"Everybody knows it's my favorite dessert."

"But does everybody know you ate two entire tarts on your twentieth birthday? Or that you vomited it all up after getting sloshed on shit vodka?" Harry stayed silent, probably running through his mind whether that was public knowledge or not. Taking advantage of the silence, Draco continued on as he continued to pop more bubbles. "I know you don't like peanut butter because it gives you gas. And I know you think the white parts of candy canes taste better for some reason. I know you lost your virginity to the little Weasette shortly after she graduated and afterward you cried in the bathroom with an entire pack of Walker's because that was supposed to be the one easy thing in your life and even that wasn't right. I know your favorite foods and your favorite brand of toilet tissue. And I know you hate the Prophet with your life even though you still read it every morning – but only because I pay for a subscription anyway.

"I knew about your promotion. And I knew about the ceremony. I know you wanted me to be there. I also know that absolutely everyone who is important at the Ministry was also going to be there. And that all of those people do not like me or the fact that we're dating. I know all of this because I listen to you. And I know…that if I had gone to that ceremony, everything would have become about me…when it should have been about you. So that's why I didn't go. Not because I don't listen to you, Harry, but because I was trying to be…nice. Or considerate.

"I listen to you. It's important to me that you know that."

Harry's face remained stoic. He didn't flinch past the initial confusion and Draco was honestly certain he might not care. That his being here might just be a matter of drunken circumstance. Their whole relationship started off as such. Harry never would have given Draco a chance in the first place if it hadn't been for the pliant effects of alcohol. It only seemed fitting that alcohol should be there for the end of them, too.

The silence stretched on too long. Long enough that Draco just didn't think he could stand it any longer. And that was humiliating. Deciding to call it – his grand gesture being nothing more than a fruitless effort – he stood, chair legs screeching on the wood floor and echoing the turmoil he wanted to scream out. He couldn't find the words any longer. All he could muster was the will to walk past Harry, saying goodbye to the best thing in his life with a casual swipe of his fingers through the man's ever-messy hair.

"I love you, too, Draco."

That happy smile pushed itself back onto Draco's face before he could even think about stopping it. And all he wanted for the rest of his life was to listen to this man say those words over and over again.

[readingwritingcrying]

I HAVE A PROMPT FOR YOU! If you don't like it, I can try again! what about Klaus with a very high fever thinking he's talking to a ghost but he keeps losing track of what he's saying or where he is, and eventually whoever is with him (one of his brothers? I'm a sucker for Five, but whoever you want!!) connects his inability to focus with the fact that he said he wasn't feeling well earlier? :)

THANK YOU!! I loved writing this, it’s not super long but I hope it’s okay! 

Klaus was utterly disorientated when he woke up. That muchwasn’t very new. From years of drugs, trauma, and never staying in one placefor very long once he had run away from the Umbrella Academy, he was prettyused to a bit of confusion in the morning. Or, well, afternoon as it usuallywas.

But as he sat up, Klaus realized the fog spinning in hishead wasn’t going to fade away. “Oh, shit…” he groaned, smushing his cheeksaround as if it would do much help.

“Yeah, you sure look it,” chimed in Ben. Klaus hadn’t been payingattention to him in the first few moments of his consciousness, so he pausedmid-cheek-squishing to stick his tongue. He knew that only looked more ridiculous,and Ben’s eye roll proved him right. Klaus swears that even if he didn’t see Ben,he’d still be able to sense his brother’s expressions. He’d rarely been highenough for that. Oh, being high. Now that was a thought…

“Klaus, no. That’s a bad decision face, and you said youwere going to be sober.”

Klaus lets out a dramatic groan, swinging his feet over theside of the bed. He knows that he knows, but it’s still tempting. He was waytoo sober to feel this… out of it. But it wasn’t so bad. Ben hadn’t even caughton yet! Well, he kind of had, but only a little so it didn’t count.

He pushed himself out of the bed but stumbled. Ben rushed towardshim instinctively to catch him, but all it accomplished was making his ass’sreturn to his bed a little chillier.

Well. So much for not worrying Ben.

“Shit, man.” Ben pulled his hands away, suppressing a bit ofa shudder. Klaus had to do the same. It was weird when they forgot they were separatedlike that. It was weird. Klaus felt weird. “Are you sick? I know you didn’t takeanything since… right?”

Klaus shook his head. “I wish… but I am unfortunately sober soyour first guess is the winner!” He smiled ear to ear before returning his headto his pillow. “Whatever. They won’t really need me and for now, I am stillhealthy as a fiddle!”

Ben sighed. Klaus didn’t turn to look. “You know it’s fit asa fiddle or healthy as a horse right? You can’t just…” Klaus was sure there was another eye-roll, but theamused breath Ben let out was much nicer. And Klaus could very well do whateverhe liked. Which right now, was resting his eyes before one of the othersdragged him out of bed for some “productive” activity…

Klaus had barely let his eyes rest again when a knock thuddedon his door. “Klaus! Klaus get up! We need you down here and it’s already two!”

He let out a groan. Out of all his siblings to disturb him, itwas Luther. He was using his Number One voice, which meant there was probably somemeeting that if he wasn’t there for, Luther would just drag him down himself. Hetried that once – not ideal. Luther wasn’t the gentlest of their siblings.

Klaus got up this time, slower than the last. He managed notto stumble this time but fuck was everything worse. His head pounded and lungsfelt heavy and slow. And he was freezing. Way too cold…

He decided to put on his fluffiest jacket, and call it aday. Klaus made his way down the stairs tenderly, ignoring Ben’s constantglances of concern. He entered the living room, unsettled to find more facesthan just his siblings staring at him as he entered. With careful practice,he let his eyes slide over the bodies of the dead and on to his more lively audience.

“Well. I feel like shit, but since I love you all so much,” he dragged out, fauxsweetness dripping from the words, “I am here for this very important meetingwhich I’m sure I will have many things to contribute to.” Klaus slid into hischair at the breakfast table and tried not to look too relieved at the notionof not standing.

“Alright, if Klaus is done being Klaus we can finally begin,” Luther said, never one to hidehis annoyance. Ouch.  His face wasstrong, focused. Still, the leader daddy dearest wanted him to be, Klaussupposed.

Allison and Diego were listening fairly intently. Five lookedat him calculatingly, and Vanya- sweet Vanya – almost looked a bit concerned.

Klaus sat back in his chair, closing his eyes. He suddenlyfelt even more exhausted just trying to observe them. He tried to make an effortto listen, he really did. He was sure it was important. But no matter what, thewords just stopped connecting. He let himself drift in a daze until-

“Klaus? Klaus!” his eyes opened, and he turned to the voice.“Hm?” He mumbled. Strangely aware how out of it he sounded. “Klaus, you shouldrest, tell them you’re feeling worse!”

Oh, Ben. He let his eyes slide closed. That not what Benwanted, clearly, he kept repeating his name, but Klaus didn’t want to move.Then again, was that just Ben? It seemed like it was more than him.

“Hey Klaus? Klaus, come on. Klaus! KLAUS!”

He jolted back, chair screeching, his head turning insluggish horror. There were ghosts when he got there right? Why was this one so persistentnow? Was he shaking or shivering – it must be the former, he could feel the sweaton his forehead, he couldn’t really be this cold. He couldn’t take his eyes offof the woman in front of him now, her skin a sickly blue color and horriblyswollen. He wasn’t sure how long he stared like that, it couldn’t have been thatlong but his mind wasn’t processing anything else.

“Klaus?” He felt a hand on him, another body block the imageof the woman. He let himself blink. “Did you… you know, take something?”

“No I… I don’t think so? I feel…” He wasn’t really sure whathe was going to say.

“Jesus, he must’ve. What was it, Klaus?” This voice wasdifferent. Harsher.

“I-I don’t know, what do you want?”

“It’s okay, you just need to help us, Klaus.” Help us. Helpme. Why did they always want that? He didn’t know what to do. There was reallynothing he could do.

“Please…” he whimpered, “Just leave me alone….”

“Guys? Something’s not right. He said earlier right, he wasfeeling,” A small, cool hand pressed against Klaus’s forehead, and he tried tomove away. “Just like I thought, sick, he’s burning up!” The voices still hurthis pounding head, he tried his best to plug his hands with his ears, but theywere caught before he could.

“Hey, Klaus, listen. It’s Five. Nothing else. You probablycan’t think for shit, but you’re safe. It’s… it’s okay. Let’s get you back tobed.”

A hazy part of Klaus wondered if he’d imagined Five’s voiceor the uncharacteristically quiet tone it held. He couldn’t remember much otherthan that, which really was too bad, because his siblings could use some beingmade fun of for being so practically caring, even loving. But when he finallycame to with a little more awareness, and a considerably lower fever, he waspretty damn sure he saw Five hurry quickly out of his room.

[imhereforthetryus]

Love is Hate and there no other way

(Anti Harringroves pls do not intereact with thid fanfiction your welcome to talk about anything else but this fic yes dont worry about the title i just do dEeP 💩 )

Tags: @thelonious-jagger-smitten @i-am-church-the-cat it glitching and so u might have to use the link

Tw: for abuse and panic attacks i apologize deeply i dont know how to do the read more thing im so sorry

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911385

I be like we self projecting 👋🤦🏼‍♀️😂 noises

(Why get therapy when u can get bad coping methods 😎)

Words:7,932

Billy's eyes were blue kind of like his mother's blue but not really sure he had the paleness blue of his mothers but her eyes were just different he took a lot after his mother, the same not same eyes and bright blonde curls that seemed to grow a foot a month.

He figured that why Neil hated him so much Neil and his mom relationship was weird, in a way not just the whole abuse thing but that Billy could never really tell who was the victim and who was the aggressor.

Sure sometimes it was obvious when Neil was towering over his mother as she stood on the floor tired and hurt but then there were times when both were yelling at each other and trading insults, or his mom eyes pale and blue filled with rage would hit a plate against Neil, clawing at him and screaming truth be told at first it was amusing but he found himself laughing less and more just watching the scene unfold.

“My little Isla...Don’t cry everything is fine...let me tell you an old story of mine...about the necklace” then she would start weaving tales endlessly he would laugh and she would smile she was always a great storyteller she always wanted to be an actor it was kind of ironic how she was acting all the time … acting like everything fine “Is my bunny happy” he would not and hug her and everything would be fine but it wasn’t and maybe it would never be.

Like how if he had just been able to keep his mouth shut about the new boy at school. Who played with Billy the only child to not shun him, and who drew him a picture and how cute he looked and how he was going to marry him one day his dad anger wouldn’t have increased tenfold forever. His mom wouldn’t have left angry at Neil unacceptable of him but then if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have had his mother there to kiss his bruise stinging from Neil fist and the tears from the word faggot he didnt know what it meant but he knew it wasnt good, but she was there she was awalys there to tell him there was “nothing wrong with loving a boy that love is just loving and wherever and whoever you find it with loves you back and that the only thing that matters Isla”

He missed being a child but was he ever a child he was grown up before he knew it. He forced himself to stop thinking about everything focus on something else,...your eyes he had just noticed that his eyes well they were always blue but their not really blue if that made sense they sort of changed blues but to his drunk mind taking dangerous trips fueled by chugged countless cheap beers at Tommy H. Party it didn’t matter.

If he was drunk or sober one thing that stayed the same was he fucking hated this day...hated how his mother had left him and how she loved him she awalys used to say how much she loved him while hugging him gently like it would make Neils slaps , his red cheeks and tears disappear, as if her overwhelming love bundled with hugs and kisses would make up for it, but all it did was make Billy confused if she could love him so easily why couldnt his dad and then she came back.

Like as if she couldn't bother leaving him alone without the emotional damage of coming back she had only done it a few days at a time after years of hiding away with the words or letters getting fewer but then she had ghosted him a year later but he still remembered that day.

He remembered being thirteen his favourite toy bunny the one his mother had when she was a child and the one he spelt with to protect him from the monsters under the bed when she couldn’t sleep with him that beautiful bunny disposed and ripped to shreds it white fur blood-splattered and it head gone all because “he was too old for them” sitting on the floor of his bedroom just praying every night for his mom to come back and take him with her, and trying to lock himself in and saying his prayer faster as if to make her appear right there and then...and she did eventually on the eve of his fourteenth birthday there she was in the flesh, sneaking through the tiny window and grabbing Billy.

She shushed his protest and laughed at him but she was happy so he was happy and very confused But isn't that the life of a child, to be one without power or choice, always going with the change in the wind and praying for a safe harbor? .Wasn't that always his life going with the wind and following the “adults” he was sure they never grew up his mom was still a believer in hope even in despair while that was surely a good thing for her. it wasn't for Billy nothing was ever good for him. He was a ping pong to his parents, a useless fix it child.

They demanded him to pick a side many times even when there was no fight to be won it was a never-ending war to win his love they bad-mouthed each other constantly but he just stood there trying not to intervene in their war of hate, but he had too sometimes when he didn't want to or else he would be the target they desired to know who he loved more, but in truth there is no such distinction. They asked and should the “right” answer not arrive there is anger, swift and brutal in the form of his mom shunning him and his dad hitting him.

So even when his mom came it wasn't for him but just to win another point to piss off Neil, but he was used to the bribes. it wasn't too bad though he could get used to the perks he decided he would make the best of it as his mom carried him on her slim shoulders, he would admire the stars from above to him she stood like a giant.

Or maybe that the way he envisioned her he couldn't help exaggerate her tiny height even when he was boarding on it. he held on close afraid she disappear again just to let him calm his nerves she let him touch her hair curly, long and blonde a shining clone of his and play with her necklace. She had told him the story about how her grandmother had made the necklace from the last of their metal as a birthday gift many times usually with Neil letting a murmur of disapproval fall from his lips but this time it felt different maybe even magical. As they were walking along the boardwalk his socks light against the board, as his mom flowered him with Ice-cream galore. It was his favorite Strawberry and five scoops high he smiled happily letting the dark light shine across his face and the pools of ice cream melt onto his clothes.

They had come across an abandoned climbing place, an adventure playground of sorts, it was dark and quiet but his mom said it was okay and encouraged him to climb the fence.

She had done it too her heels landing against the sand she had laughed so he did, running up against the wooden structure which reeked of paint but she was giddy like a child taking him everywhere. At some point they ran onto the cold wet damp grass in the rain barefoot, her colorful dresses always finding a way to light up in the darkest nights, the light green still stood out even amongst the grass and as they laid there. His mom rubbing his hair and pointing at all the stars and telling him about it like a well of infinite knowledge.

“You see William that star right there” he had nodded hesitantly she rarely called him William, only when she wanted his attention, she usually called him Isla or Bunny and while he protested those pet names as long as he had been living she had just laughed and just pulled him closer he never thought he miss those names so fucking much. before you get the wrong idea she wasn’t dead but it was like that she was a ghost now refusing to acknowledge Billy but this time there were no secret trips to wherever, maybe Billy just outgrew them or his mom outgrew him he wasn't sure which possibility was worse.

As his bruised muscles cracking with pain,up against his hard mattress nothing like a beating and shitty necessities not like Neil gave a damn to his comfort after all, he give him a semi comfortable bed because “cost” but Billy knew that was bullshit.

Neil would do anything to see Billy suffer it was practically his favourite hobby when he wasn’t gutting the insides of fish but it was practically the same Neil would rail in the fish with bait or in Billy cases kind words and flashy gifts. Then he would wait a bit till the fish took the bait like Billy would let his guard down a tiny bit.Then go in for the kill using his fishing pole and fist to kill the fish slowly and painfully like he would to Billy and he knew for a fact that not only were these mattress so stiff and hard. They cost way more for whatever reason rich people like hard mattresses. but it could be worse his dad could have not given him a room at all yeah it could be worse it was something Billy always thought about him finally getting away from Neil not by his own choice but by cps he tried it before but Neil was so charming and Billy wasn’t ten and a half anymore, his mom wasn't there to challenge Neil and to protect him.

He couldn't risk a visit now so it would never happen not by any fault of his own at least he knew Neil could predict most of his movements.

He heard the horror stories he wasn’t going to subject himself to any more shit and while his dad was shit he was still legally required to provide for him otherwise how else would he use that line in his next argument, to justify his parenting methods and to complain about how hard it was raising a useless piece of shit like Billy and to think of it his father sure loved to complain about useless shit.

But he couldn’t complain he never could without a slap against his cheeks or his dad's famous speech scientifically designed to make anyone who hears it feel like shit which Billy already was, but hey the speech is such a great deal for shitty dads everywhere who wouldn’t love to mentally toture their child when their fist became too bruised to hit them.

And in all honesty Billy loathed that speech more than he loathed himself, more than he loathed his dads fist, more than he loathed girls how he hated to fuck them and go out with them and even more than he loathed Harrington.

Stupidly perfect Harrington who made Billy heart skip and leap, who made Billy blush at an insult who made Billy nervous and not just out of fear, he made Billy scared way too scared.

He could not be with Harrington even if he wasn't straight which he couldn't be because almost all the gays in California used Farrah Fawcett Hairspray it how they found each other.

Not like Billy ever went as far like that even then he was too much of a coward, his pale blue eyes glanced at the alarm finally calm for once because this was his favourite part of the day, when he could just lay in bed and glanced up at the ugly peach ceiling letting his thoughts flowed like a river stream quiet yet loud.

He pulled the wool cover closer shivering in his empty room another form of sadstic toture if Neil wasn’t beating the shit out of him he was fucking up Billys air and heat supply. He never knew when he would be hot or cold plus it was just another way for Neil to keep him on his fucking toes.

Like he didnt do that every single fucking day, with Neil mood deciding if Billy could only get away with a slap and a walk outside in the snow and how he hated the cold, he wasnt used to it . Ofcourse, he was a California Baby he could stand hot weather but not cold especially when he only had one blanket to protect himself. Because everything belonged to Neil if he pissed Neil off too much his belongings would be gone because they were never his , Neil spiteful face popped up and he imagined another cruel smile as he “grounded” Billy.

“You need to learn a lesson about Respect and Responsibility” he saw his dad, felt him “punishing” Billy, he felt his tears and struggled to get out of this hellish nightmare, his breath heavy, breathe breathe don't be such a pussy his panic attack was stopped by a knock on his door he opened the door angrily.

“What the fuck do you want M-..” his father stared at him stone cold and hard like he awalys was calculating watching Billy squirm.

“Is this how you talk to your sister” he grabbed Billy chin and squeezed it tight.

“No sir” Billy tried to make himself shorter, trying to disappear into the wall but it never worked, no matter how he wished it did but his father was in a good mood suprisngly so he let Billy off with a slap and a spilt lip, and Billy could thank him right then and there for not beating the shit out of him for being so rude and disrespectful, but the stare of disappointment and the glare was more painful than the backhand.

Billy forced himself to go downstairs dreading every step to eat with his “family” as far as Billy was conserend his mom was his only family but all his stubbornness did was put Neil in a bad mood.

“You’re Mother is gone Billy suck it up” he would say chewing his steak and despite Billy hating eating breakfast with Susan and Neil , being under his dad microscope was irritating and annoying but he knew if he didn't eat all his food, thank Susan, and be quiet and not exist then there wouldn’t be any food to digest, because Neil had done it before It was either eat everything Susan made no matter how much it taste like horseshit or not eat at all or even worse eat the way Neil wanted him too and while Billy personally thought both options were cruel and unusual toture and neither qualified as the best option but he still needed food to survive so he ate it all.

Every last spoonful in fear for Neil trailing eyes on him, his back arching aganist the chair, eating softly and trying not to throw up watching Max shoveling burned eggs and bacon into her mouth, his mom food was way better.

He glared at Susan subtly as he thanked her how he wanted to go off on her but he wasn't in the mood to skip school today and be bruised. so instead he took his anger out on Max he yelled at her to get up, which resulted in her eating her scrambled eggs slower then finally getting up and taking forever to get ready, grabbed Max by the elbow when she wasn't moving fast enough. he hated running into Neil in the morning who was less of a morning person than Billy and he grabbed her hard enough to bruise but not enough to get shit from Neil.

He ignored her screaming at him to the point where she was being a cocky little shit, and had the nerve to put her disgusting mud covered red shoes on his dashboard, with a little grin that stupid brat and when he told her to knock it off she flipped him off. so he drove like a manic letting his hands off the steering and speeding up just to see the fear in her eyes and dropped her off to the stares of the middle schoolers.

He drove back even faster it was the only way plus he couldn't miss getting ready for his favorite class of the day aka Bothering Steve for 40 minutes, he stood against his Camero letting cigarette smoke fill the air, then he went inside shoving a couple of kids who dared to look at Billy in anyway no one was that stupid to do it on purpose but still he had to install fear or he would be scared.

He wasn't always mean he used to be kind but kindness never got him anything but a broken heart and fag screamed at his face by older boys, a shove to the ground and the laughter of his classmates it never gave him anything but humiliation.

So He hid behind a charming carefree smile and reinvented himself, learning to keep his feelings inside to stop thinking about boys that way. The hurt lodged in that sweet heart like a slow acting poison and before long he became a “problem child,” destined for a life behind bars. He hated his “parents,” hated the system, hated the government and the whole damn world he had to or he would hate himself.

The hate It burst forth in his speech, his actions, his attitude. He got close to people just to hurt them, power at last. Nothing pleased him more than to walk away from a new lover ripping their valentines while they whimpered and ran, To shove a kid down and make him cry to spit the word fag in the kids fave.. To Billy people were “bad, dangerous, and they deserved what they got." Because he deserved what he had gotten.

Steve loathed first period, not only because it's English Class but Billy who made it his personal goal to harass Steve anytime he could which meant every class they shared together. Because Billy obviously didn't think his crude and sexual teasing,his fists and trips down the hallway was enough time to toture Harrington and fortunately for Steve.

There were only four classes but that meant Billy had to make an impression so Steve sighed as Billy came in late what a surprise , came up to him, knocking his books down against the floor, Mrs.Ava looked like she was going to say something but the look Billy gave her shut her up Steve reisted a snort great everyone was intimidated by Billy.

As the minutes of the lesson passed, the ceaseless buzzing of the classroom grew quieter watching them it was no secret that Billy and Steve weren’t pals but a look of shock always seemed to come on their face watching their interactions a quiet glance from Billy made the chatter started up again and they pretended to be talking about something else and looked away.

“Hey Prettyboy” Billy licked his lips at him, slamming into the seat next to Steve, Billy smiled at him.

Steve rolled his eyes trailing the pencil in between his fingers, he was way too tired to deal with Billy “Don't you have someone else to bother” .

Billy pouted giving him a small smirk he even makes puppy eyes look evil Steve sighed.

“But you’re my favourite Stevie” Steve kicked Billy from under the table.

“Fuck off” Billy just laughed and reisted the urge to whimper why was he being so weak it was just a little cut there Billy felt himself ponder looking at Steve who was trying very hard not to look at Billy and to focus on the lesson which Billy should be doing to, but Steve and his perfect lips and how much Billy wanted to kiss them, his soft hair i wonder what it would feel like oh how he wanted to kiss Steve, shove him against a wall, fuck him and punch him all at the same time why do you have to be so damn amazing Harrington.

“Ouch you really hurt my feelings Harrington..I think i just shed a tear” Billy smiled oh how he loved first period plus steve was so cute when he was annoyed FAG his mind screamed he reisted the urge to punch himself, Steve gave Billy a small smirk.

“Bullshit you dont have feelings” Billy chuckled slowly unbutoing his top not like it was open anyways but cmon if he didnt give the cows here a show people might think he a fag which he is , he winked to Steve.

“You’re right about that Pretty Boy” Steve glared and turned towards the window suddenly interested in the blue sky and clouds that dotted the sky. The bell rang finally freedom Steve thought he was one comment away from shoving his pencil up Billy ass.

why does he have to be such an asshole even worse a cute one and yeah it was pretty cliche of him to have a crush on his bully. but like can you blame him Billy was hot and straight his mind screamed at him it was too risky plus he didnt think he could handle Billy disgust more than his fists but Billy was so hot and an asshole but hes a hot one.

Steve groaned in frustration stupid horny brain but this felt weird and different he didnt like boys right i mean, and if he was gay which he wasn’t wasnt he liked nancy for a long time goodness sake then couldn’t he atleast have a crush on a boy who isnt an asshole, but what was he, after all if you weren’t straight then you were gay but he liked both he couldn’t possibly be gay and straight at the same time, there had to be a word and Steve had to investigate it for his sake so on he went after Mrs. Ava class to the library.

-

Steve ducked from Nancy and Jonathan he felt bad about missing lunch but if they even knew where he was going they would ask questions he wasn't ready to answer yet when he saw them leave he sprinted towards his car driving to the town library which was well not im Hawkins but the next town over he couldn’t bare to see anyone he knew. He opened the doors to the library entering he was hit with a cloud of dust, and started to look around.

Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, fiction section arranged in alphabetical order, young adults section, comfortable chairs, tables for quiet study, muffled stillness.

He took a breath walking up to the resident sub librarian Mrs. Mervil the hawk who stood about 5’4 her lip always tight and pressed as if she was simply always waiting for disappointment as if she never bothered to smile, her eyebrows and eyes were thin and like her whole self her clothes reflected that always dread and uncolorful, so professional and tight. It made Steve parents outfits look casual and who despite Steve best try hated him for whatever reason, maybe it was the blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes those combinations always seemed to despise Steve or just everyone but mostly Steve.

He gave her a false smile “Hi Mrs.Mervil” she turned towards him. her eyes cold and bored she took off her silver rimmed glasses for a young woman she sure acted old she put down whatever book she was reading he examined it, she slammed it before he could see the title but it was a space book for sure.

“What is it Steven” he sighed and gave her a smile he hoped his face wasn't giving away anything.

“Mr.Harrington if you’re just going to stand there and go dont waste my time” he bit his lip and shoved his hands deeper in his cardigan. He couldn’t do this she already hated him she could tell everyone, or even worse whatever worse was. But he needed to know this more than he needed to breathe, he could wait but he wasn't willing to wait.

“I need to find a book...to tell me about my sexuality” at that her face and demeanor softened a bit like she was remancissing she gave him a small smile and lead him towards the shelf her heels dragging along the whole way.

“Alright come along Steven I don't have all day” he sighed in relief and walked up with her, he tried to make conversation as she rustled through the books.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ ROJO ❜

Songfic with ‘Rojo’, J Balvin.

Translation of the lyrics.

with Nestor Oceteva.

Request #1: Can you maybe do a Nestor imagine where you're Emily's cousin or half sister and you're living with Emily and Miguel temporarily. You've been flirting and teasing him and it finally comes to a head. Smut involved please?

BY ANON.

Request #2: hi hi! I have a steamy request~! (If it's not a bother, of course) Nestor + reader are at a club and they keep teasing him,, maybe you can include lines like “shit, mami, you made a mess” and “you just want the others to hear me fuck you, huh?” 😗👉🏼👈🏼 thank youuu c:

BY @glitchinqhoul.

Warnings: nsfw, smut.

Word count: about 3.6k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on google.

Masterlist.

A quién le mientes si en tu soledad quieres verme otra vez. Por ti respondo lo que tú me das, lo que nadie sabe…

Being Emily's half—sister hasn't been easy. She was a good student, the modelic daughter, always being kind, correct and polite. You used to be like the day and the night. But you supposed that this has to be with the fact that your blood isn't the same. She's american, and you're half—mexican. Different cultures, different cities, different people… Different lifes. But that wasn't a problem to adore each other. Emily and you have been best friends since ever, and even if you're the wild side she doesn't have, you admire her temperance.

When your college in Mexico told you that you could do the MIR at Santo Padre, you both were screaming by the phone for two minutes non-stop, until you heard Miguel telling you to stay at his home. That wasn't a bad idea, keeping in mind that you also could see Nestor every day, for the next six month. That man drives you insane since you met him, and he isn't very sane either.

You're checking the hour on the clock of your car, almost reaching the border with California, checking again that your passport and your papers signed for the University are on the copilot seat. So, when you stop at the frontier, you just have to roll down the window and offer them to the agent. Once that you're actually in American territory, you speed up by the empty road a little confused from not seeing any cars. Actually, you're just tired after almost two days driving. Because yes, you could have flown to San Diego, and rented a car. But you like your old Mustang. He has been with you since seven years ago. Coming back to reality, you see through the rearview two big black SUVs coming closer until one of them places itself after you, making you a signal to stop.

Stopping by a side, you step out of your car as Emily does, both running to each other to collide in a happy hug, screaming again and almost jumping.

“Look at you, doctora!” She says laughing and holding your hands, pulling herself away some seconds, before hugging at you again. “C'mon, let Frankie drive your car, so you can rest a little in ours”.

To your surprise, Nestor isn't the one who is driving, supposing that he's in the other black car before yours. But you're sure he's as excited as you are, waiting to have five minutes alone.

Me decido por ti, te decides por mí, a la misma hora. Me dan ganas de ti, te dan ganas de mí, a la misma hora.

Miguel has organized a party with his sober friends. And you're not in the mood to partying, but the tequila helps a little. You're jumping from senators and other politicians, to lawyers and other rich men, just because your brother-in-law is proud of you. And that makes you feel good, but it's kinda boring. So, when you find a space to disappear, you do it at the speed of the light. Finding shelter in the big garage between expensive cars of different sizes and kinds. Resting your back against the classic red Porsche, you light up a smoke among your lips to take a deep drag. You appreciate all the love that Mikey feels for you, and all the help he always gives you, but you're not the kind of girl who has these kinds of parties.

Turning around for an instant, when you hear the door getting opened, to watch Nestor walking towards you. Rolling your eyes, you smirk at him.

“Ay, ya, no me digas que te pusieron en modo perrito guardián, flaco”. (C'mon, don't tell me that Miguel made you be a guard dog). You laugh shaking your head.

“Más o menos”. (More or less). He says taking you off the cig to smoke from it.

“Okay, ládrame, ándale”. (Okay, bark at me, go ahead).

“Soy más de morder”. (I'm more into biting).

“Mírale… Isn't too early to start with that game?”

“Nah”. He replies bowing to the floor to leave the cig, before placing both hands on your ankles, pulling up the long white skirt of your dress too slowly.

Your eyes are fixed on his, getting somewhat darker as his fingertips touch slightly your skin, until he's able to settle between your legs, that you have been opening for him unconsciously. Soon, his lips find your neck, twisting it enough to give him all the space possible. Your hands go to his head, uttering a soft moan when he nails his hands on your ass under the dress. This is your game. You have it since you met, and it's one of your favorite things. A tug of war to see who gives more.

“Fuck, Nestor”. You mutter biting your lower lip, at the same time his teeth catch your skin, putting himself somewhat closer.

Te quiero sentir aquí. Me dan ganas de ti, te dan ganas de mí, a la misma hora.

“Hey, teens in heat, we're going to serve the coctel!” You can hear Emily's laughs from the other side of the door, making you feel your cheeks burning.

“We're going!” You reply a little loud, with Nestor chuckling against your neck.

Pulling him away to put on your dress well, you arrange your mane behind your shoulders before starting to walk back to the house. But when you're about to open the door, he grabs your wrist to make you turn around. Crashing your mouth with his, the man kisses you trying to hide how much he has missed you after five month without seeing each other. Even so, it becomes softer, slow, as if you have all the time you need. His arms surrounding your waist, and yours the back of his head. You're sure that he has never kissed you like that, but it feels too good. Nestor's touch has been ever so warm that could melt the coldest heart, actually, more or less like yours.

Tres y cuatro de la mañana, ven, mata estas ganas. Vamos a llegarle a mi cama, que todo lo he ignorado por ti, todo ha sido por ti. Mi cuerpo sin saber te llama.

You like to eat. You enjoy eating, and that coctel wasn't enough for you. So, waiting by reading some emails until the family is already sleeping, you step out of your new room silent like a cat. Going downstairs, you walk towards the kitchen to assault the freezer.

“Bendito Miguel”.

You whisper finding all the chocolate ice cream he has bought for you. Grabbing one of the tubs and a big spoon, you sit at the island in the center of the kitchen, with the lights off. And you were so concentrated on your task, that you didn't hear Nestor coming. Not even noticing his presence until he nails a second spoon into the tub.

“Shit! Nestor! Fuck… You're gonna fucking kill me one of these days”. You mutter, placing both hands on your chest, with the covered inside your mouth.

The man chuckles almost in silence, having some ice cream.

“Seriously, you need to stop of being this fucking silent”.

“Yeah, I know you like me being loud”.

Raising your eyebrows, you finally shake your head before such an occurrence.

“What about the kiss?”

“What kiss?” He asks a little confused. “Oh! Ya. What happens with that? It was just a kiss?”

“Yes, for sure”.

“I was just happy for you being here. We're friends, it's been five month since we met last time”.

Right in the friend-with-benefits zone, while you were thinking that finally he was catching the same feelings you have for him.

“Cool”.

“Cool?”

“What?”

“It sounded as if I just stabbed you”.

“Why would my friend like to stab me?”

Y estas no son horas de llamar, pero es que el deseo siempre puede más. Podemos pelearnos y hasta alejarnos, pero cuando llega la hora.

You didn't know that Miguel was a friend of the director of the hospital you're going to work at. And he settled a dinner to meet him. Another boring one, and you start to think that your brother-in-law wants to kill you and doesn't know how to do it. You love your work and what you do, but the work stays in the hospital, and you were too distracted about Nestor's words last night. You have been avoiding him the whole day, not even looking at him in the dinner, placed some meters away from the table studying the perimeter. And you know that he's getting more nervous as the hours pass by.

After finishing the meeting, you finally can breathe again inside the big car, checking some messages from your father asking how everything is going. You better don't reply. Keeping it inside your small bag, before leaning towards the front seat with both arms on them.

“Hey, Cartel daddy”.

Your sister breaks into laughs because of the sophisticated name, while Miguel turns at you frowning.

“Listen. Why don't I pull out the stick inside your ass and we go to a real party, ah? There's a new club some minutes ago from Santo Padre, and looks cool”.

“Did you ca—”.

“Hey, Pocahontas, that's the address”. You say to Nestor, offering him your phone to grab it.

Emily is drowning with her own laughs by your side, making you laugh too, when she remembers that you're not allowed to drink red wine because of this. You have the mania of giving funny names to everybody around you.

“What? Cartel daddy and Pocahontas. Sounds like a bad netflix tv-show I would watch”.

Tratan y se caen de la mata, quieren comprarte siempre con plata, pero ese tesoro tiene pirata. Me voy a toda por ti.

While the men prefer a reserved, watching the whole dancefloor from there, and talking about business and appointments, Emily and you enjoy a bunch of mimosas among the crowd jumping and having fun. You really needed it. And you're aware that she already knows that something is happening between the head security and you. Something bad. She doesn't have to be the most intelligent person of the world.

“I would tell him what I feel!” Your sister says, trying to make you hear her above the noise.

“He kicked my ass to the friend zone last night!” The blonde wrinkles her nose confused, seeing you nodding and drinking by your straw.

“Are you kidding me?! He was super excited to see you again! Like super excited!”

“Yeah! He kissed me! But he kissed me like Miguel kisses you! Then he told me it was just a kiss!”

“He's in love with you!”

“No, sista! He's only in love with your husband and with himself!”

“Tell him you don't want to be just his friend!”

“Me?! Oh, no, darling! I'm not gonna humiliate myself like that!”

“C'mon! You fucking pendejos!” She pouts at you.

“You just want Nestor to have a girlfriend, so you can spend more time with your husband! Bitch, I know you better than anyone!”

“I want my little sister to be happy!”

“You want your Cartel daddy!” Breaking into laughs, you place an arm on her shoulders to come back to the reserved.

“What's so funny?” Miguel asks pouring some champagne on two glasses.

“Your wife wants to settle me on a blind date”.

Me decido por ti, te decides por mí, a la misma hora. Me dan ganas de ti, te dan ganas de mí, a la misma hora.

“I'm not going to let you go on a blind date”.

You were refreshing your nape and wrists with water, when you heard him coming closer after locking the bathroom door of the reserved Miguel rented. Looking at him through the mirror, you give him your back to grab some paper and dry your hands. Throwing it into the bin, you turn around to face him.

“Why?”

“It's dangerous”. He just says, tangling his hands on a fist under his abdomen.

“You stabbed me last night, and I survived. I'm pretty sure I will survive to a blind date”. Good point, taking the advantage to pass him away.

But he stops you with an arm surrounding your waist. His chest meeting your back, while his free hand wraps your throat. You're feeling the characteristic heat that Nestor produces in you being so close, running up your legs to your low belly. His thumb caresses your skin, over the jugular vein, leaning towards you to kiss the line of your jaw. Biting your bottom lip, wrapping his wrists letting the free hand goes down by your stomach with a clear destiny.

“We are made for each other”. Nestor mumbles into your ear with a horse tone of voice.

“Yes, to be friends”. You tease him, grabbing his wrist to make him stop, wanting to hear the reality coming from his mouth.

“To be together”. He corrects you then, without a single doubt hitting his vocal chords and turning you under his hands.

Crashing his lips on yours, he makes you walk backwards until your body finds the cold wall. He's as eager as you are, lifting up a leg to surround his waist, while his hand toures your skin until being able to squeeze your ass with a warm growl dying inside his throat.

“I want you in all the ways possible, (Y/N)”. He mutters, trying to hide the anger he feels imagining you with another man. “I want you with me. Only with me”.

Pulling him to the black and golden velvet armchair, you watch him undoing his belt and his pants zipper, noticing the rock under his clothes. Seeing him rolling them down his legs to his ankles, while you take off your dress to leave it over the sink, to sit over his lap with his body between your legs. You haven't taken off the white lace panties, because you know how much he likes the friction of them in every move he does, on a side of his sensible skin. While one of his big hands massage your breast with some strength, the ringed one strokes his needed cock, lying back on the couch.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” You whisper into his mouth, unbuttoning his shirt to stroke his bare chest.

“You don' know how much I need your pussy, cariño”. He just says, looking at you with parted lips grabbing his erection between your fingers.

“I don't think that's enough”. Teasing him, you guide his throbbing and warmth glans to your folds, pressing it against your wet clit and swinging softly your hips.

“I've been waiting five months for you jumping over my cock, mami. You know I am fucking desperate for your soaked pussy suffocating me and pushing me into the limit”. Nestor almost begs, placing his hands on both sides of your waist. “Ride your cock, baby. Look at how hard it's because of you. It fucking painful”.

“And what if I punish you about what you said last night… putting my clothes on again and leaving you there alone, ah?”

“Don't do that shit, (Y/N). I fucking implore you”. He quickly complains pecking your lips with short kisses. “You're already fucking killing me”.

Leading a little back his hardness between your legs, you dig it into you slowly, feeling every inch of his erection pressing your tight walls. He's thicker than you can remember, having passed too much time since the last time, needing some seconds to mold your body to his. A soft moan escapes from your mouths when his glans pushes your g-spot, urging you to spread more your legs forcing you to feel him completely. And you can't describe that sensation.

“Tell me you didn't miss my cock…” He chuckles, erasing that fancy smile from his lips by swinging your hips just one time.

His growl echoes throughout the bathroom, before catching your lips between his to bite them, making you dance on top of him. The pleasure is immeasurable, bouncing over his hard rock once and again. Once and again, arching your back under his arms, while his mouth now devours the skin of your neck, wetting it with his saliva and marking every inch with his teeth. The pace becomes rough and faster, slapping your ass with both hands to squeeze your buttocks so needed that you're desiring to feel his cum filling you up. But you like his cock pounding you.

“I'm going to make the others hear you being fucked by me, mi amor…” He bellows, making you beg when pulling out himself from you to get up.

Guiding you quickly to the sink and giving him your back, placing a hand on your nape, he makes you lean over the sink before putting aside your panties to thrust his soaked cock back to your pussy. The scream you utter when his pelvis hits you so rough, isn't normal. Being sure that your sister and Miguel already heard you. His hands nailed on your hips make each lunge deeper, watching him through the mirror the pleased look on his face, while his gaze is fixed in your. He enjoys seeing you bite your bottom lip and closing your eyes, every time he slaps you with his ringed fingers, knowing that this pleasure it's going to fuck you up tomorrow. But you love the way he has to uninhibit himself, after being the whole day following orders.

“Shit, baby… I want you all my fucking life”. He gasps leaning his head back with closed eyelids, impaling you against the marble counter of the sink.

Maybe you should have taken off the heels to not lose the balance, but you didn't think about it, and now you're fighting against your shaky legs.

“Look how good you take it all… my fucking god, (Y/N). You're fucking drenching me”.

Yes, you can feel it. You can feel your juices and his slipping down your thighs, producing a soaked dirty sound every time his body collides with yours so hard. Urging you to incorporate your chest from the sink with a hand grabbing your throat and the other arm surrounding your waist, Nestor arches your back, placing his face on your shoulder.

“Drown my fucking… dick with your cum, mi amor…” He begs you, biting your love, without removing his darkened orbs from yours, through your reflections.

“Shit, Nestor…” You're not sure when you start to cry because of the pleasure, needing more, needing to reach the orgasm. “Fuck me harder, I fucking beg you… Por favor”.

You can't barely breathe when his finger finds your clit, stroking it with the same pace he's embedding you against the furnishing. Your moans dance all around the bathroom, while he's gasping over your ear how much he wants to fuck you for the rest of his life, everywhere, at anytime you want it. And by crying out his name and clinging to him, a lash of heat evolves you, making your pussy twitch uncontrollably as the tears fall down your cheek. Your palpitating walls clenching his cock, making his vocals get louder as long as he continues diving his warmth hardness into you, closer from his own ecstasy.

You don't need to tell him that you want him to cum inside you, mixing it with yours, because he already has other plans. Pulling himself out and jerking off his dick, he spills his seed over your wet panties, bathing them on it as his throat collapses because of the pleasure. But don't waste time putting them to the side again to pound you again, pressing his body against yours as much as he can, holding your anatomy into his arms.

Te quiero sentir aquí. Me dan ganas de ti, te dan ganas de mí, a la misma hora.

It's four am and you can't sleep thinking about what he said to you. Sighing, you sit up on your bed, curling your knees against your chest and surrounding them with both arms. He already told you that he wants you, but was he talking or his jealousy? You're doubting about going to his house, or texting him, or doing anything. Grabbing your phone from the nightstand and a cig from the packet, you step out of your dorm to walk downstairs towards the terrace. Sitting on one of the sofas outside, you light the smoke to have a drag, unlocking your phone. Your trembling fingers touch the screen over the keyboard; writing and deleting, writing and deleting. But you're unable to send any message. Feeling stupid, you finally write him that you can't sleep, listening the ding of your own notification so close that makes you frown confused.

“Me neither”.

With your lips pursed and a leg curled over the sofa, you turn ashamed towards him. Nestor is wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white big shirt. You're sure that you have never seen him before without wearing a suit. And you are falling loudly for him much more than ever. Putting out the cigarette, you stand up on your feet to lead them towards you.

“Stay with me, at least tonight”. You mutter, tangling your fingers with his.

“But move with me tomorrow”. Nestor asks you then, before hugging you as close as he can.

“Deal”. You reply, placing your chin on his chest to look at him, receiving some short kisses all around your face that make you laugh.

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