#gonna wait two hours before i rinse these bad boys off and the ones in dirt i left outside | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Mean (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️✴️🔞

💸 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

💸 Genre: Mafia!AU, Single Parent AU!, Angst, fluff, Smut

💸 Warnings: bad language aka cursing, mentions of cheating, mentions of illegal business, manhandling and not the nice kind, tsundere Jungkook, it’s not like he likes you duh, guns, description of violence, restriction of movement and not in a kinky way, protected sex because dude he’s got one kid okay that’s enough, unconventional romance, choking, near death experience, angst did I mention angst

💸 Summary: Jeon Jungkook was kinda cute, you had to admit that- but he was also a massive douchebag with his head up his ass. And a cute kid.

A/N: First of all, I want to apologize to anyone I might dissapoint with this. I've changed up the story concept numerous times- and the first trailer is in no way a proper teaser anymore, since it has nothing to do with this story anymore. I somehow hope you still enjoy the story however. If not- I hope you'll stick around for future content!

Taglist: @drumsofheaven @yzkyzkuniverse @strwberrybtch @kirbykook @teresaisla @park-hera-gi @justzeera @taestannie @bambuzlee (there were several people I couldn’t tag- I’m sorry about that!)

Jeon Jungkook was facing his worst enemy.

Now, considering his work and all those rumors going on about him, this could be anything really; from an entire army storming his house, to readying himself for waterboarding. But no, this enemy he was currently standing across from was way more vile and difficult to get under control. The situation was slowly growing desperate on his side- this was a life and death situation.

"Mina, come on now." Jungkook pleaded as the toddler vehemently refused to raise her arms properly so he could slip on her dress for the day. He could understand her, to an extend- he wasn't a morning person either, but he had to overcome this in order to be successful- and she had to as well.

Well, success was not really that important at her age, but getting her to daycare definitely was.

"Mina I have a meeting soon and if you continue to be a brat I can't send you off again properly." He tried, knowing how much she hated him leaving in a rush like usually. He'd promised her the day prior as he'd tucked her into bed that he would, this time, at least stay until her friends had arrived, yet he couldn't have known that this situation would occur the next morning.

Sometimes being a single father was way worse than anything he was facing at his actual job.

"There we go!" He cheered as she finally caved in, pouting a bit before she giggled at the silly face her father was making in order to get her to smile. He hated sending her off in a foul mood, knowing that she could be an absolute devil's child if she felt like it. In a way, she was very similar to him, which was to be expected with her mother not being in the picture. He didn't mind it much, however- a cheating spouse was not really what he wanted by his side, if he was being entirely honest with himself. It was enough already knowing that almost all of his 'friends' and 'business partners' were shameless liars. He didn't need to live and raise a child with one as well.

"Tiger!" The young girl cheerfully exclaimed, as the both made their way into the kitchen. It wasn't just a random comment from her side, because her chubby hand already pointed at the cereal box designed with colorful images on the counter, way too high for her but perfectly reachable for her father as he chuckled, balancing her on his hip as he prepared a small bowl for her.

"No funny business though, young lady." He said, as he sat down with her at the table. "We don't have to hurry, but we can't waste time either." He explained, as he watched her eat her breakfast with a concentrated face. He smiled at the picture, sometimes wishing this would be how his days would always start. Sadly, that wasn't the case- most of the times really, her nanny took her to daycare.

Which was another problem.

Her nanny had recently filed in for her termination, her age getting to her as she finally made the decision to settle down for her last years of life, she'd said. He accepted it without much resistance, having build too much respect for the elderly woman over the course of time by now. It left him with a gaping hole however, one that he knew he needed to fill.

But with who?

He couldn't just hire anybody for Mina at this point in his life. People needed to be fully trustworthy to be even given knowledge of his child at all. Most didn't even know she existed- the public unaware of her relation to him. He kept the facade up that she was merely the child of a close friend, just to keep her out of range of any potential enemies he had gathered over time.

His life really wasn't fit for a child at all, but what was he supposed to do?

"Y/N!" A small voice exclaimed behind you, making you look around from where you were cutting apples as the small child appeared.

"Mina!" You answered just as brightly, picking her up as she giggled excitedly. "Did you have breakfast yet?" You asked, as another daycare worker came inside.

"Yeah!" She said, and you looked at her surprised. "Daddy and I had breakfast!" She explained, as you placed her back down onto the ground. "He'ven brought me here today!" She said, and you hummed affirmatively,

"That sounds awesome!" You said, as she beamed up at you. "Why don't you go sit at the table, we're almost having our morning snack. You think you can eat some apples?" You asked, and she proudly nodded, before zooming off, stumbling a bit as she missed the slight gap of the door.

"He didn't come inside." Jenny said, as she watched the little girl sit down next to a boy her age. "I saw that he was sitting in his car, but she got out herself." She explained further, as you continued cutting the apples and making some cuts to have them resemble a bunny. "I swear to god-" She started, as you cut her off.

"We don't know what his life is like, Jenny." You said, as she huffed. "It's not our kid, it's not our life. She isn't unhappy, she's healthy, she's not mistreated. Case closed." You explained further as you discarded the scraps of apple unneeded in the trash, before rinsing the knife you'd used. "I'm not too happy about it either, but we're not her mother." You said, as you dried your hands.

Jenny sighed. "I know, but like-" She said, walking over to you to help you place the banana slices and grapes as well. "She's such a sweet kid. I don't know, but he seems like such a dick honestly. Like, have you heard his phonecall last week?" You snorted. Everyone did at this point.

Mina had had a minor incident, when she'd stumbled and fell. She'd scraped her knee, cried a little, but after a moment everything had been fine again. He however, had been livid upon finding out his daughter had been hurt, even though the scratches didn't even need a bandaid. Even though he'd only been on the phone with your superior, he'd made such a scene out of it that it became like local news around the daycare.

"I still don't know what the fuck that was about." Jenny exclaimed, taking a sip of her coffee as she kept an eye on the kids in the main room. "Like, yeah, she fell, but nothing happened." She said, and you agreed.

Shrugging, you grabbed some plates and napkins, and looked at Jenny. "Again." You reminded her. "As harsh as it sounds, you know me." Jenny sighed.

"I know."

You took back everything you had said this morning.

This prick had the audacity to keep you waiting for more than two hours now, without reacting to any amount of phonecalls you'd done by now. Mina was almost asleep on your lap, and you were angry to say the least. This was supposed to be your last day of work for a week, you were supposed to be curled up on your couch in nothing but underwear and fluffy socks, hidden by a blanket and eating icecream while watching netflix. You were definitely not supposed to sit here at your daycare until even the janitor was about to go home. "Fuck it." You mumble, carefully balancing the young girl on your hip as you grab your bag and keys.

You wave the janitor and cleaning staff goodbye on their way out, and take out your phone for a bus or subway that could drive close to where Mina's address is- but you notice there is nothing in her jacket written that you could use as one. You instead simply call the number written down for emergencies, and wait as it rings.

once.

twice.

"Hello?"

You are a bit taken aback by the voice on the other line, masculine, but clearly not as old as you'd thought he'd sound. "Uh, yeah, this is Mina's daycare, you mind picking her up these days, or not?" You casually say, Mina moving around a bit as to bring her thumb close to her lips. You internally coo at her.

"Shit! Fuck- I, where are you?" He asks, and you furrow your brows. Where the hell does he think you are, or does he seriously not know where his daughters daycare is? Wait, is that even her father?

"I- listen, am I even talking to her father or who is this?" You ask, and suddenly you feel extremely uncomfortable. This was a bad idea, what if this isnt her dad at all? You could loose your job for this!

"Yeah, yes. Listen I'm gonna send someone to pick her up alright? Should be there in an hour or so." He says as if frustrated, and you scoff, making him question you on the other line as if he was just struck by thunder. "Excuse me?" He says, voice low, but you're not intimitated.

"First of all, I'm not convinced. Second of all, and pardon my french, but are you nuts?! It's already way too late for her to be up, and I've finished my shift hours ago!" You complain, and he clears his throat over the line, clearly unhappy about your lack of understanding.

"Jeon Mina has a small beauty mark underneath her lower lip, she hates strawberries for some reason, and her biggest secret is that she is actually scared of unicorns. There, happy?" He grits out, and you chew on your lip. He was good. "Second of all, Miss." He makes sure to pronounce every word. "You're getting paid to look after my kid. If that's all you want I'm paying you extra for the inconvenience-" Oh boy, there we go.

"If I cared about your stupid money I would've called authorities hours ago, S.I.R." You start, careful to tone your voice down as to not wake her up. "And you know what, thats a great Idea actually! Let me just-" You begin, but he cuts you off with a sound that sounds awfully like a door closing.

"Fuck you, I'm there in 20." He says.

Jeon Jungkook was not too fond of woman.

That much was clear ever since he'd been cheated on and left with a kid, but it had always been like that. It wasn't like he was afraid of them, or didn't like them, it was more like, during his life, woman had been the reason for heartbreak and bad news all along. His mother had been an alcoholic, his dad desperately trying to get her back on track. His sister had been involved into shady business early on, a wild child that would do anything to get on peoples nerves. His aunt, which only ever visited to gain money. Women were bad news.

So his own surprise had been very prominent when he spotted you on the bench with his kid in your arms,her chubby arms clinging onto you like a koala. You seemed to be reading something on your phone, careful not to point the device too close to Mina so she wouldn't be disturbed. You were pretty, he had to admit that, even from far away- and you seemed like a confident person, from what he'd heard over the phone. You suddenly noticed him as he drove a bit closer, car tires crunching the gravel and snow underneath while his headlights shut off, to not blind you both. He stepped out, as you woke Mina up to announce to her that her father had finally arrived.

"Daddy!" She screached sleepily, running towards him with stumbling legs. He picked her up with a smile before he turned around, having every intention to buckle her up in his backseat as you came closer.

"Huh. Mind telling me why I shouldn't inform authorities about this?" You asked, and he huffed out a breath with a roll of his eyes, pulling out his wallet. You simply stood there, arms crossed, not at all fazed by the amount of money he held in front of you- you simply raised your eyebrow. "I mean, if money could talk I'd ask your bills, sure. But that right there isn't an answer." You replied, and he gritted his teeth, jaw clenching. Why were you being so difficult.

"Okay, how much?" He said, and you suddenly moved, shifted, as if absolutely offended by his offer.

"Do I look like a streetworker to you sir?" You said, and he closed his eyes for a moment, until another car seemed to pull up.

"You're getting picked up." He says, ready to step into his car as you look at him with confusion. "You don't know them?" He asks, and you shake your head, having every intention to check as he notices something familiar peeking out of one of the car windows. As if on autopilot, he rips his passenger side open, pushes you in, and runs to get inside the drivers seat.

There are shots fired, Mina is holding her hands over her ears as she simply stares at you, who is absolutely shell-shocked.

What the hell just happened?

So yeah, that's how you got here-

In a room that looked awfully like the interrogation rooms in your late night netflix crime shows. There was someone sitting in front of you- Mina's father, watching you, like you were going to do anything. But you were as quiet as a mouse, not saying anything.

"So you didn't know them? At all?" He questioned for the second time in the past ten minutes, and you shook your head. "Hard to believe. Then again, why would you ever tell me that your Dad's brother was sentenced to two years for escorting drugs- only getting two years because he snitched." He said, and your eyes widened.

"Okay what the hell-" You started, but he cut you off.

"Oh, I hit a nerve-" But you weren't having it.

"Oh an I'm gonna hit your pretty nose if you don't stop cutting me off!" You said, making him smirk. For some reason, this was quite entertaining to him- the only woman he ever had in here were so keen on keeping up that shy and innocent facade, that you were a breath of fresh air. "Listen, I don't know why you decided to dig up things that happened when I was literally a TODDLER- or how you even got that information - I swear to god I will really break your nose!" You ended as he had tried to speak again, making him chuckle.

If you weren't being held captive after getting your night ruined you might as well would've thought that was pretty hot.

"I was five years old- I had nothing to do with it, and my dad had no contact whatsoever with his brother after what had happened." You explained. "If you can find that, you can also find that I haven't had contact with my family in years either." You said, leaning back, as he spoke.

"I did. Which is quite confusing to me." He said.

You suddenly went stone cold on him. "It really isnt that deep." You said.

"Were you avoiding them?" He asked. "Because of what happened? Or because your dad got involved into something?"

"Because they're dead." You said.

Well. This was something that made him actually stop and think for a second. He did dig into that nasty part of your family, but he never looked further- their death was something he had overlooked. And by your reaction as you said it, the way you said it, he knew that you weren't lying. "Alright." He said. "But you do realize that I can't just let you go like that, right?" He said.

"Figured." You said. "So, should I stand facing against the wall or with my back against it so you can aim better?" You said, and he took a deep breath. Technically, yes, that would be a logical outcome.

"Neither." He said, and you raised your eyebrow. "I have an offering." He said, and your entire body went stiff, arms crossing in front of your chest. A pure sign of whatever he was going to say, your first reaction would be no. "I need a nanny for Mina." He said, and your lips parted, confusion clear on your face.

He almost thought it was kind of cute.

"You what?" You said.

"I need a nanny for Mina." He repeated. "It's a win-win situation for both of us if you think about it. You get to- in a way- keep your job and a bonus in terms of payment, and I will have someone to take care of Mina. And I also don't have to put a bullet into your pretty little head." He said, leaning forward with the last words.

"This isn't really a question, isn't it?" You said, and he laughed.

"You're smart- I like you."

„But that’s not how daddy does it..“ she wonders, as you tie her shoes for her, before looking up into her eyes. She really does resemble her father. Well, a more innocent version, that is.

„Well everyone does it differently.“ you say, well aware that there were numerous ways to tie a simple bow. „Your daddy probably has learned it from someone who does it like he does. I learned it from my dad.“ you explained as you went to pick up her backpack, carrying it for her as she took your hand.

„yours looks prettier tho!“ she exclaimed happily, a skip in her step as she kept looking at her shoes with a smile. You grinned, a sense of pride filling you. „Daddy‘s always looks crooked on one side-„ she said, before a voice broke through the sweet moment.

„You hurt me Princess. You always said they look nice.“ he hummed from his spot in the doorway, leaned on the frame, looking at you with something you could only describe as unsatisfied, while shooting his daughter a smile.

What the hell have you done wrong now?

This had been something going on for months now. Ever since you started working for him as a nanny, Mina had been nothing but a ray of sunshine- but he, he was not even a raincloud. He was the angry grinch miltiplied by a hundred, ready to piss everyone off twenty-five-eight. Somehow everything you did wasn't up to his standards; the way you cooked for Mina, the way you dressed her, hell, even right now with the way you tied a fucking bow.

You really hoped next time he washed his hands, his sleeves would roll down.

"There's an emergency gun underneath the back-" He started as Mina was out of listening-reach.

"I won't use it." You said.

Jungkook had tried to get you trained at least in the basics of guns- but you practically had an allergy to it, refusing to so much as touch one. He didn't quite know what your problem was, but after a while, he had given up on it- simply sending one of his guards with you whenever he could. By now, you were an easy target as well if found alone, so you had joined him in his place, occupying one of the larger guest rooms. He had said that it was to keep an eye on you, but internally, he simply didn't want you to get hurt.

And yeah, at first that was because he didn't trust you, at all- but by now, somehow, you had sneaked your way into his heart, in a way. Even though he himself would always grumpily comment on it, he loved how you made Mina smile and the entire mansion light up. Things felt a little brighter, a little less tense, and a little less lonely with you around. It felt as if you were an actual family.

And that scared the shit out of him, because in no way was he going to fall for his daughters nanny.

And, after all; you hated his guts.

If Jungkook knew the situation you and Mina had gotten yourselves into, you don't know if he would be proud of her or kill you.

Turns out that the guard Jungkook had sent you out with wasn't actually following his orders at all, but words from a different person entirely- you imagined they were highly likely the one's out to shoot you back when you first met the tall mafia boss and father. Now, the only thing they definitely did not get right however, was that you were Mina's mother- and someone Jungkook valued enough to give up his safety. This was true for Mina; the young child was his everything, and he'd cut off his limbs just to know her safe and sound- but you? That was just absolutely stupid. Sure, you've been living together for quite some time now, and he stopped trying to mentally push you down the stairs every morning as well. But there was nothing more than a mild case of friend- and partnership. You weren't being emo; Jungkook had, after all, said it again and again that he had crossed out the dating game. He's got enough trouble with Mina and you, he had said.

Well, seemed like one of those issues would solve itself.

"Again, what're you gonna do?" You say, as Mina looks at you from out of the vents above you had helped her into seconds ago.

"Crawl where the nice air is, call daddy- and don't look back." She repeats proudly, but you can see it clearly that she's just as scared as you are.

"Exactly, good job princess." You praise, and she nods with a pout. "Once daddy gets you, you'll be safe." You promise, and she wants to complain- but you don't let her, closing the vent again as you hear her shuffling away. This was fine. Mina would be safe, Jungkook would have one person less to worry about- he could move away, bring her to a different part of the country where no one knew her, and she could simply go to school next year and forget all of this ever happened.

You were just a bit sad that you'd never get to see it.

Of course you weren't her mother- but it was hard not to let her inside your heart, with the way she was. The charms her dad didn't have, she got them times ten. She was just so sweet, and you were around her all the time, it was hard not to somehow grow fond of her. You just hoped she'd be alright.

"Where's the kid, whore?!" A guard yelled after noticing you were the only one left in the room. You simply smiled, not answering, before he grabbed your neck, pulling you up as much as he could as he fumed. "Save that stupid grin for your son of a bitch at home." He barks, and you desperately try to breathe- unsuccessfully so, until he forcefully pushes you back down, the back of your head hiding the concrete floor with a sickening crack. You squealed out in pain, holding onto the spot for dear life as if that would somehow help it- but it didn't. "I knew sluts like you have to be tied up. You're all just trouble." He says, pulling you by your legs as another set of people come in, binding your legs and hands. You can already feel your fingers getting cold from how tight your wrists are tied- but you black out from the kick to your stomach before you can quite dwell on it.

"Fuck!" He yells, before he gets up, hands in his hair to somehow help himself not punch the laptop on his table. He's seen it, seen it all- from the moments you would shield Mina like a fearless lioness, the second you had lifted her up into the vents even though he knew your shoulder had to be in horrible pain, to the very moment you had faced the consequences of your actions. He hated that he had to wait, that he had to simply sit here in his office like a coward just to watch you take the beatings.

Because here was the thing with Jungkook; even though he liked to portray himself as someone who always takes the upper hand in things and troubles, when it came to his own personal life far away from his criminal business he ran, he couldn't seem to ever make up his mind. It was like a repeat of his past love affair- but instead of his ex-wife cheating and leaving him with a child, there was you, in some way fighting like a true lionness in order to keep said child safe and sound, even though you didn't even had to. Technically, this would've been the perfect opportunity for you to finally get your freedom back in a way. Because without Mina, there was no use for you being in his grasp anymore. Without her, there was no agreement between the two of you.

And yet there you were. And yet again, he simply watched, simply did nothing.

The entire mansion was already on high alert by now; his most trusted friends Seokjin and Yoongi already out to your location- he could wait. He could wait. He could wait.

Everything would somehow turn out to be just fine by the end of this day. He would successfully take his daughter into his arms, Yoongi and Seokjin would get you out of there, and after a good nights sleep and some first aid for you, things would just return to normal.

But what was normal at this point?

He didn't want things to continue like they did currently. He wanted change, for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you about his inner thoughts, about his desires concerning you and his future. He wanted to tell you that he didn't just want you to be at his home and with him and his daughter just because of some stupid agreement. He didn't want you to stay with him because he forced you to.

His phone began to chime, your face greeting him as the caller ID as he accepts it. "Daddy-" His heart sinks down to the floor as he hears Mina sniffle on the other side of the line. He has to wait, he thinks, repeats like a mantra. He has to somehow calm her down, tell her everything's alright- "They're hurting mommy!" Mina wails, and somehow, those words make him snap.

Fuck waiting.

In a way, Mina was a smart kid. She had been nothing but understanding when Jungkook and her mother had broken up- divorced, and fought until she eventually left for good. She had been a little sad for a long time, thinking it had somehow been her fault; but he had assured her, and later on, explained, that Mommy simply didn't love Daddy anymore. In Daycare, she was one of the most well behaved kids ever encountered- careful, and calm. Of course she got excited and happy and sometimes made a mess; but she also was very careful who she interacted with, what kinds of friends she made, and how much she talked about home. She never complained, never threw public tantrums.

Jungkook truly was lucky- that the only thing left of his shattered marriage had been her.

He never had relationships after that- never dated, never truly searched for someone. No one, in his eyes, was worth the risk- and even after meeting you, that was his opinion. But as cliche as it sounded, you were quite different from anyone he'd ever met before.

You spoke your mind; always saying what bothered you, never beating around the bush. Yet, you weren't being a bitch about things. No, you actually could be pretty cute if you wanted to be- be it the moments he had caught you and Mina sneak a taste of her birthday cake in the middle of the night, or the one time he had been sick.

You had been such an angel to him.

Helping him towards the bathroom, never even scrunching your nose in distaste whenever he had to throw up. You simply rubbed his back, helping him towards the sink to rinse, just to lead him back into his bedroom. You had aired the room out, made the bed, made sure that he was staying hydrated and at least tried to eat every day- all without any complains.

Maybe that was the moment his perspective of you shifted into dangerous territory.

He had somehow become hyperaware of the things you did. How well you got along with Mina, how easy going you were becoming with him- how confident yet nurturing and sweet you were, gently scolding him sometimes to not overwork himself. You always made sure his kid felt happy and was healthy, never so much as whined about your past friendships lost; you had simply accepted the new situation.

In a way, you were what he silently dreamed of at night.

Because as much as he loved the sight of you holding Mina whenever she had a nightmare and couldn't sleep, he somehow also craved to be held throughout the night by your arms. Just like he held his daughter in that moment after she had climbed out of the vent into his arms. He could make out some of her words as he simply let himself feel her tiny body in his arms for a moment. Just to make sure she was really there, really alright, really out of harms way. She kept on crying out for you, for him to help you, to save you-

So it was only natural for him to jump out of his car and run after Seokjin, Yoongi, and their squad, as they entered the building.

Sometimes at night, when you got aware of all the different sounds of the room, you heard the blood rush inside your brain.

Just like now; but now, it was so loud that you could barely hear anything else. Things seemed hazy, fuzzy, your ears stuffed with cotton wool drowning out any sounds might happening around you. Your eyes stayed closed, light way too bright for your raging headache- and the stale metal taste on your tongue wasn't helping either. Your hands had started to tingle long ago, and your knees were hurting from being in the same position for this long. But the moment someone touched you next, it wasn't forceful. It was so gentle, and almost- scared?

You couldn't hear, but you could feel. How the rope was cut, blood rushing painfully into your hands and legs again, pins and needles making them hypersensitive as you were suddenly held- moved, carried?

It smelled like home, that was something your dizzy mind was able to properly make out. It smelled like Jungkooks mansion, and a bit like his office- a faint vanilla hitting your senses, making you faintly smile as your hand reached out, unknowingly grabbing his shirt, holding the fabric as tight as you could as you moaned out in pain when he placed you down again, warmth surrounding you.

Maybe you were dying?

Or maybe not.

Because after some hazy and confusing dreams, you slowly came back to your senses. Eyes opening slowly, there it was; the curtains you knew so well, the balcony opened, air crisp and fresh around you as the door opened. You wanted to move your head, but the fear of triggering another headache was too big.

"Y/N?" Jungkooks voice asked, warm, and almost hesitant. You hummed, and he snapped his head around, noticing that yes- after days of sleeping and slipping in and out of consciousness you were actually awake again. He walked into your field of vision, looking so casual; his white button up undone at the first two buttons, sleeves rolled up as he sat down close to you, palm on the blanket covering you as he-

smiled?

"W-" You had to cough a bit before clearing your throat. "Who are you and what have you done to Jungkook?" You said, and he chuckled, sighing in relief- you had, after all, not lost your charm.

"I think past Jungkook had a moment of self-reflection." He said, watching you as his hand placed itself onto yours, warmth spreading over your skin. "I'm glad you're okay." He admitted. "And thank you. For keeping.. Mina safe." He ended, and you smiled.

"That's literally my job." You said, and he got more serious.

"No, and you know what I mean." His voice was deep and rough, yet held no authority like usual. "You had chances to tell them who you were. That you had no connection to me other than through her; yet you didn't. And we both know why." He said, and you looked at him.

"There are more reasons than just one." You said, eyes drifting to his now empty ring finger on the hand resting on his thigh.

"Does it matter which one I mean?" He asked, and you wanted to scoff.

"It does to me." You said, and he shifted closer after a second, properly holding your hand now as he looked at yours- still a little scratched, but nothing that wouldn't heal.

"You did it because that's the reason you live here." He said. "You also did it because you adore her just as much as I do. And you.." He began, but grew unsure.

"And I?" You smiled, and he looked at you with his typical seriousness.

"And you somehow got stuck in an emotional mess." He explained. "You somehow, deep down, wanted it to be true." His thumb moved over the back of your hand as he spoke. "You wished that.. maybe there was more to it than just, partnership." He said, and you still smiled gently.

"Did I now?" You teased, but to your surprise, he was still looking straight at you.

"I know I did." He humms out. "I still do."

"You're stupid." You said, and he laughed bitterly, taking your words the wrong way as he slipped his out of yours.

"I know." He said, getting up to leave but stopped as you spoke.

"Good." You said, chuckling before coughing. "What, no kiss for me after all I've been through?" You giggled as his wide eyes stared at you. "Rude." You said, and he suddenly realized that no- you weren't rejecting him. You were accepting.

You felt the same.

Noticing his own awkwardness, he leaned over, hands supporting his body as he leaned down, properly placing his lips onto yours. You had never imagined what kissing Jungkook would feel like, but you certainly would've never guessed how gentle and absolutely loving it would be. One of his hands moved towards your cheek, holding it, as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

"Mommy!" Came Mina's excited voice, cries instantly noticable as she jumped onto the bed, burying her head into your chest as you held her, a few tears in your eyes from her jumping.

"Mina baby, be careful okay?" He said. But your words were the reason that he ended up tearing up, at the end.

"Mommy's still hurting baby." You said. "But she'll get better soon."

Not even during the first few magical months of being together with his past ex, had it ever felt like this.

He was euphoric almost; with the way you felt, moved, breathed. It all felt like so much to him, made him feel so.. He couldn't explain it. He had his hands on your hips, fingers careful not to press too hard, but having enough force to move you back and forth over his lap- his length moving in and out of your heat, making you whine, as he watched your breasts in front of him. You fit so perfectly like this, felt so amazing, managed to make him feel needy instead of the other way around.

He turned you over slipping out of you sloppily as he moved positions, now above you as he spread your legs, entering you again easily. He pulled you by your thighs, holding you in place as he began to thrust again, your eyes closing with every movement of his hips.

He loved the sight of it.

Deep down he wanted to take the condom off; he wanted to fill you up, cum inside over and over and over until your cunt would overflow. Not only just to claim you in a weird animalistic sense, but to also make his family complete. He had cut his ties to his illegal activities by now, had settled down with you- and he knew, there was no other person he'd ever have a child with again than with you. "I want to cum inside." He said breathlessly, making you whine in return. "Hm, you'd like that?" He asked teasingly, his thrusts gaining more strength as if to underline his statement. "Stuff you full of my cum, make you leak it and mess up the sheets.." He continues, hand reaching between the two of you to find your clit. "just to make love to you over and over again. I wanna make you cry." He gritted out, suddenly moving you around face down. He pulled up your lower body, entering you again, gliding in easily with the amount of slick you were leaking. "And you'd take it wouldn't you?" He asks, making you nod and groan out as he grows more desperate, faster, harder- throwing you off the edge but never stopping. "You're gonna take it until I cum, don't you dare move away from me." He scolds, holding you tightly, making you gasp out in overstimulation as he continues on, chasing his own high.

He reaches it with a loud groan, burying himself deep inside as he holds you, peppering kisses onto your spine. "I love you, hm.." He whispers out. "So good, so pretty.. all mine.." He huffs, simply falling onto the mattress with you in his arms, cock still buried inside you.

There was a moment of silence, until he spoke again. "I really do mean it though." He said earning only a tired humm from you. He simply chuckled at that, holding you close as he decided to maybe bring that topic up when the timing was a bit better.

For once, he felt like a normal person. Right next to you, in your arms, as you turned around to pull him close, burying your face into his chest.

Right where he belonged.

#jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jk imagine #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #mafia bts #mafia jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut

1K notes · View notes

princesimp · 3 years

Text

Yan!Helen Otis/Bloody Painter x Reader

I used a prompt by @bowtied-pasta for this one! It's my first writing piece in YEARS so I'm a little rusty, but I hope you guys enjoy! Any constructive criticism or comments are welcome!

Light yandere obsessive type, I wanted to give my boy Helen a little attention cause I think he's underrated and pretty swag so here ya go, if anyone wants this one to continue I might make a pt 2 ☺️

Prompt; You didn’t think leaving your window open would be a bad idea last night. The air was cool and the sounds of your neighborhood were familiar to you, so you knew you would be able to fall asleep. You didn’t think anyone would be in your room when you woke up, but the figure in the corner proved otherwise.

You stayed silent for a while. You knew you’d had a… ‘secret admirer’, let's say, for the past few months. They left a few notes, a gift or two, ordered you a damn doordash meal one time with a note saying to “look after your delicate health”, but for some reason you hadn’t expected them to be in your fucking room. You couldn’t make out their form; they had thick layers of clothing on, and the shadows warped around them to hide most of their face. Could that be a mask? Fuck if you were gonna keep looking to find out, you had a will to live. How could they even stand wearing so much anyways? It was cool at night, sure, but it was still summer, and a heat wave was still going through. You were surprised they weren’t passed on your floor.

You went over the options you had in your head. You didn’t know what the person in your room wanted; if they were angry and out for blood, if they were just a little too infatuated with you and just wanted to see you, if they just wanted a quick fuck, you knew nothing. You didn’t know how much stronger than you they were either, though you could take an educated guess as to how they’d square up against you based on the fact they were ballsy enough to be in your house.. You really didn’t wanna piss them off, they were obviously dangerous, or at least unhinged, but they were In. Your. God. Damn. Bedroom.

Rage was slowly bleeding into terror, now. There was a pocket knife on your dresser. You thought about grabbing it. That’d be a shitty fucking decision though, you had it for opening shit and to intimidate anyone from bothering you, that didn’t mean you knew how to wield a knife in a fight. Maybe you could pretend to fall back asleep and see if they left in the morning? You were shaking like a fucking leaf, they’d call your bluff. On the verge of tears, trembling like a leaf under the covers. They definitely knew you were up, and they knew you were scared, oh god what if that's what they wanted? That’s why they’re here, to scare you, so you wouldn't find help, and they were going to kill you, weren’t they, and, and-

Stop. Now isn’t the time to panic. You did your best to slow your breathing. To not whimper. Not sniffle. To not make a single noise. You heard shifting, and a light thump against your doorframe. A light huff followed soon after, but it didn't sound annoyed; Amused, maybe? No, that wasn't right either- you didn't dwell on it for too long. Their eyes pierced into your soul, you didn’t need to dwell on that to feel it clearly. This went on for a while; you almost work yourself into a panic, manage to calm yourself, they give a (maybe it’s relieved? No, that's not right either, it sounded too relaxed, too content-) huff, rinse repeat. You slowly felt your courage come back to you when you saw it was almost dawn. Your neighbor worked early, you could scream for help if something went wrong. Why haven’t they said anything? It felt like it'd been at least an hour now. You’d think an intruder that knew you were awake would say something, anything.

“Are you the one that’s been leaving me notes..?” you asked, barely above a whisper, bracing yourself and tensing up to prepare for a violent response that never came.

“I am.”

Their voice was a bit deep, a little raspy, and you almost didn’t know what you should’ve expected. They were quite straightforward. You turned your head to face them, waiting to see if they continued.

“And the gifts?”

“The small stuffed bear and the cloud necklace, yes.”

“And that doordash order?”

“You were so stressed that week. I felt you needed a little something nicer to eat.”

You sniffled a bit. They turned their face to you. You were able to get a good look at them now. They did, in fact, have a mask on, white with black eyes and a red smile painted on. They looked... Sophisticated. Terrifying, still, they were so calm and collected, like they'd done this hundreds of times before. Like this was routine.

He tilted his head. You were terrified. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he didn’t know why, but he could still hope to calm you down. “My name is Helen.”

It was a nice name. A name put you at ease. Someone planning something more dangerous wouldn’t give their name out like that, would they? “Please don't hurt me, Helen.”

“I won’t, If I’m given no reason to.” Reasonable. In your head, you correctly translated that to “Do as I ask and don't scream”. That will to live firmly intact, you slowly nodded and sat up, pulling the blankets up with you both for some sense of security and because you felt like you were freezing because of the anxiety and adrenaline running through you. “What do you want?”

He dropped a bag that was on his back that you hadn’t noticed in your panic before, before he started walking towards you. He was slow, like he was approaching a hurt animal, like he didn't want to scare you, like you were a delicate prize. You scooted all the way back, your back squishing your pillows against the headboard as you flattened yourself against it. He paused, until your expression softened a little, from exhaustion or from you calming down he wasn't sure, before he approached again, sitting on the edge of the bed near you.

“You’re so delicate. Beautiful. A lovely muse. I’d just like to observe you. Create beautiful art pieces in your image, maybe show you a few works I’ve completed. Make you the perfect subject, the perfect muse.” He reached out to run his fingers through your hair, not hesitating even as you flinched.

You were confused. That didn’t sound right, there had to be a sinister meaning behind those words, and yet he said them so innocently, so politely, sugar lacing his words, like all he truly wanted was an art subject. “Is.. is that all you want?”

“For now.” He huffed again (Admiration? Is that it?) before pulling his hand away, trailing his fingertips, gloved in black leather, across your jawline, gently tipping your head up. “I can be gentle, kind, even, with you. If you do not force my hand.” You couldn’t even attempt to force yourself to pull away from him. His presence and actions had become alluring; Terrifying still, yes, but you felt yourself entranced by his calmness and by how politely he spoke to you.

He suddenly stood, retrieving his bag and starting to leave quickly through the still open window. He paused for a moment, looking back at you.

“I truly don’t wish to hurt you, Y/N. Try your best to calm yourself.”

He ducked out the window, and in the three seconds it took for you to gather your wits about you and dash to the window to see where he went, he was out of view. You closed your window and sat down right there on the floor, going over what in the everloving fuck had just gone down in your head. Jesus, that… that was a fucking rollercoaster. You brought your hand up to your jaw, tracing where he’d traced, and sighed out a shaky breath. You got up and got back into your bed, attempting to sleep to try and collect yourself.

Fuck it. You’d call out of work for the day later and say you were sick or something.

#helen otis #bloody painter #creepypasta #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x reader #bloody painter x reader #helen otis x reader #creepypasta writing

142 notes · View notes

write-like-wright · 3 years

Note

since you did the prosecutors before can we get exes headcanons for them (like what they would be like if they were ur ex LMAO)? if this is too broad u can pick ur favorite aspect of it (u dumping them, them dumping u, seeing them in public one month later 🥰 etc)

skjdksfnfjnf this is so funny yes!

Being their ex: Ace Attorney rival prosecutor edition

Miles Edgeworth

if you thought he was awkward while you were dating, wait until you see him after your breakup

he does NOT know how to behave around you at all anymore

mostly attempts to avoid you

may or may not pull another one of his "prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death" stunts

goes to Europe for a few months to compose himself and figure out how to proceed

he's especially stumped if you are somehow obligated to interact, either through work or maybe if you live nearby

tries his best to be civil and gentlemanly, but it's painfully obvious he'd rather be anywhere else in the world at that moment

I imagine you'd have mutual friends, so before every group outing he asks if you're going to be there

something may suddenly come up if the answer is yes

*cough, cough* "I can't, I'm sick"

"boo you, Edgeworth"

I'm assuming you broke up either because of how much he works or because he fears for your safety because of your relationship

maybe it was just a heated steel samurai discussion taken too far

Franziska von Karma

oh boy, this is not gonna go well

so cold to you in the public

throws around a "foolish fool" or two your way

grips her whip so tight her knuckles turn white

cries when she gets home

absolutely cannot forgive herself for allowing someone to know her so intimately and see her in her vulnerable moments and then they're just... gone

probably puts her off dating for a while

if I had to guess why you broke up, I'd assume it was due to her intensity or competitive nature

Diego Armando/Godot

this man has many, many exes

not much changes in his demeanour towards you

he's as cool and as smooth as ever, but is careful not to cross over into the flirty territory

you're either addicted to caffeine or absolutely repulsed by it at this point

walking by a coffee shop makes you uncomfortable

don't know why you broke up, but you get back together at least twice before separating for good

Klavier Gavin

Klav remains his good old, friendly self

will drop an album about your breakup

expect a lot of hate from his stans

the media hounds you

you get invited to participate in a few reality shows probably

he feels bad and tries to defend you

offers to make it up to you by taking you out for dinner

you hook up

you break up again because you can't stand the constant scrutiny and him being away for long periods of time

rinse and repeat

Simon Blackquill

there are so many potential reasons why you could've broken up

too intense? scary at times?? manipulative without even realizing it??? spends half his life savings on a fancy katana???? who knows with him

goes full emo

do you guys know that canonically those marks on his face are from crying so much in prison? yeah (they're apparently starting to heal too, good for him)

acts all tough at work, goes home and cries to HIM - Gone With The Sin blasting at full volume

flip-flops between being a gentleman and a jerk should you meet in public

makes a few snarky comments about you and your relationship to hurt you, then has a minor freakout when realization.exe kicks in and he notices you actually are hurt

apologises by sending you cute bird pics

"Look at what Taka did today."

"He's wearing the bandana you bought him :)"

"Please respond I'm so sorry don't block me"

You eventually remain friends so you can get bird visitation rights

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi

acts polite and smiles sweetly, but occasionally ends the conversation with "I will pray for you", not unlike a hostile southern lady

you miss him and his expensive haircare and skincare products

you can definitely live without the 8-hour sermons

perhaps the cultural differences were too hard to overcome? or maybe it was the constant travelling? in either case, you mutually decide that ending your relationship would be for the best

I imagine dating literal royalty would be exhausting

Barok van Zieks

make no mistake, this WILL cause a scandal

no matter the reason for your separation, get ready to deal with some serious gossip

everywhere you go, you notice people whispering about you

"I hear they ended their betrothal with Lord van Zieks."

"Well, I say! Can't imagine dealing with the Reaper myself."

everyone wants to hear your side of the story and any potential dirt you may have on him

Barok acts as gentlemanly as ever, as befits a man of his standing

he's a solitary man, but his solitude soon leads to loneliness and resentment

his consumption of fine vintages increases by tenfold

whatever it is that happened between the two of you must have been major

betrothals are not lightly ended, especially with the heir of a powerful noble family

might not even be your doing, perhaps family got involved

perhaps, his family reputation has been besmirched? ahem

Bonus: Kazuma Asogi

poor Kazuma can't catch a break

Ryu gets a tear-stained letter written on 18 sheets of paper, front and back

"Oh, dear," Susato sighs. "I suppose this means the wedding is off."

while he's no lord, he is a prosecutor in the service of Her Majesty and the news of a courtship ending would be scandalous

perhaps, for that reason, and fearing how the public would react to your relationship (it is Victorian England we're talking about after all, Van Zieks' views are far from unique), you chose to keep it a secret

at first exciting, your secret meetings and whispered words soon become tiresome

the fear of being caught is always gnawing at you

he may lash out initially when you leave him

offers to make your relationship public, to hell with the society

you both know it's a bad idea

"This is all your fault." he sighs as he pours himself another chalice of Van Ziek's fine vintage.

"My fault? How is your poor performance today in court my fault, my Nipponese friend?" Barok spits out. "You have been distraught for days now, man! Pull yourself together!"

"Not you specifically," Kazuma brushes off. "Your kind."

"My kind?"

"Stuck up posh twats."

Gina walks in just as they're about to draw their blades

listen babes I'm a Kazuma simp this is the only way i could envision dumping his ass

#miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #godot #diego armando #klavier gavin #simon blackquill #nahyuta sahdmadhi #barok van zieks #kazuma asogi #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #dai gyakuten saiban #aa ramblings #anon #request #ask #this was so much fun to write i hope you enjoy!!!

76 notes · View notes

neon-junkie · 3 years

Text

The Workhorse

Summary: Once a prized pony, Arthur has found himself single-handedly carrying the entire camps weight, and it's finally worn him down. Disgusted by how the gang treats him, you drag your sweetheart out of camp for a weekend away, spoiling him to many things: a hot bath, dinner, a massage, and a strap-on.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Word Count: 3507

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Pegging, dom!Reader, sub!Arthur, Established relationship, Praise kink, massage.

Notes: me?? writing Arthur content?? I know I rarely post about him, but I do love Mister Morgan, enough to peg his ass

Here he comes, your other half, trailing back into camp with heavy bags under his eyes; you may be on the other side of the camp, but you can spot how exhausted he is from a mile off. Arthur's back is hunched over, his mouth slightly parted, and the grunt he makes as he forces himself off the saddle makes your heart shatter. Your poor lover, your sweetheart, your darling Arthur, as you like to call him. You've told certain gang members off before, for making Arthur do all the heavy work whilst other capable members lie back and relax. It's manipulative, conning Arthur into doing all the work simply because he struggles to say no. Well, enough is enough. You're trailing over to him now, ready to take his saddlebags off him and shoo him into your shared tent. As always, he protests the second you reach out for the bag, but you gently swat his hand away, and poor Arthur doesn't have the energy to refuse again. "Thank you," he replies, barely above a whisper, and takes your hand as you trail him over to your shared tent.

"It's so unfair," you begin to grumble on the walk, hoping that the camp members can overhear you. "Making you do all the work, sweetheart, you're so visibly tired," you sigh. "It's alright, darlin', I've just had a rough couple of days," Arthur replies, removing his hat as he enters the enclosed tent. "I'm not having it! not any more!" you grunt, placing Arthurs saddlebags down where they usually go. You turn to Arthur, whose looking down at you with tired eyes. "We're going to get away from here for a few days, somewhere relaxing," you begin telling him as you undress him. Arthur allows you to, knowing he'd happily collapse from exhaustion in his dirty clothes, if you'd let him. "You got anywhere in mind?" Arthur questions, shrugging his shirt off, followed by kicking off his boots and pants. "I've seen a cabin not too far from here. It's secluded, surrounded by a pretty landscape, and seemed deserted when I passed by," you explain. You dip a rag into some water, rinsing it before approaching Arthur. In the few seconds that you've turned to get the wash rag ready, he's sat down on the cot, looking like a sad puppy in just his briefs. "When did you find it? you ain't told me about this place before," Arthur asks, his head lifting as he speaks to you. "Whilst you were away," you explain. "Oh," Arthur sighs, watching you slide the cloth across his arm, attempting to clean him from his many layers of dirt. "Must'a been gone for a while." "Just under two weeks, I was ready to go looking for you," you tell him as you continue to bathe him, trailing the cloth over his other arm. "Did Dutch ask you to do that?" "No, I was going to leave on my own accord." "Was you gonna tell him?" "Of course." Arthur seems happy with your answer, his eyes following you as you rinse the cloth, watching the water turn brown within seconds. He straightens his back as you clean over his chest, trailing down his stomach, and gliding over his thighs. Once you stand back up, Arthur lets out a yawn, and you tell him that you're almost finished. He lets out a sigh of relief when you tell him to lie down on his front, letting out a hum of appreciation as you wipe the dirt off his back. Arthur's clean, or as clean as he can be with a wet rag. You can tell how exhausted he is as he shuffles about in your cot, rolling onto his side to free up your side of the bed. You two don't exchange any words, considering Arthur is already fast asleep as you pull the covers up over both of you, blowing out the lantern and curling up behind Arthur. Your arm wriggles beneath his head, your other arm wrapped around his waist, spooning him tenderly for the first time in days.

----

Dutch received an earful when he tried to protest you taking Arthur away for a relaxing weekend. "But I need him to-" he attempted to say, only for his face to turn white when you snapped, chewing him out, intentionally loud enough for everybody to hear. "Alright, whatever Arthur needs," Dutch eventually agreed, but only because you'd forced him to. It's unbelievable that his boss, his mentor, his somewhat-father-figure is against Arthur having some time off, a well needed break. Dutch makes passive comments here and there about how tired Arthur constantly looks, and you're surprised he's never suggested that Arthur relaxes, even briefly by the campfire. No bother, you've taken him out of camp to a remote cabin, one that you've spent the last week scouting out. The cabin is perfect, picturesque and somehow in decent condition. You spent a few days camping nearby, sitting, watching, waiting for anybody to come by and claim it as their own, but no owner showed up, so you're borrowing it. It overlooks a scenic landscape, a view that Arthur enjoyed as he laid back in his bath; the tub is small, but then again, Arthur is a big boy. He laughed for the first time in weeks as you scrubbed his hair, making playful comments here and there, leaving kisses on his temples after giving him a well needed head massage. Arthur attempted to wash the rest of his body, but you removed the bar of soap from his hand, and told him to enjoy his relaxing weekend. "My weekend? you really are spoilin' me, ain't you?" Arthur asked with a laugh, and didn't bother protesting. It's clear that Arthur feels guilty, not wanting his weight to be on anybody's shoulders, but he knows you well, and he knows that you won't take no for an answer, not when it comes to caring for your sweetheart. The only thing Arthur did protest was you drying him off. At first, he was fine with it, until you started drying his bum playfully, to which he swatted you away and reminded you that "I'm a big boy, I know how to dry my behind." Finally, Arthur is clean, relaxing in the nude on the double bed. He looks like a slob, sprawled out across the covers with a tin of peaches sitting on his chest. Every so often, Arthur picks a peach slice out, and slops it into his mouth, gobbing away and letting out a tired sigh. "What are you sighing for again?" you question, peering your head over your shoulder. You pause your current task, prepping dinner, to speak to him, not wanting to accidentally slice your fingers. "I just ain't used to relaxin', that's all," Arthur replies before eating another peach slice. "Well, you'll have to get used to it, cause I ain't lettin' the camp run you dry any more." "Oh, you gonna put your foot down with them?" he questions, letting out a soft laugh. "I am," you nod, before turning back to your cooking. "It ain't fair on you, Arthur. I don't see anybody liftin' a finger around that-" "-Darlin'," Arthur cuts you off. "It's alright, I know what you're sayin'. And like you said, maybe I should start puttin' my foot down with 'em too. Sayin' 'no' and all that. It just... it ain't like me," he sighs. "I know, Arthur. You've got a heart of gold, even if you won't admit it." Arthur mumbles something under his breath, and you assume it's along the lines of "no, I don't." Typical, of course he's going to reject praise. Arthur's had it drilled into his head from such a young age that he's a bad man, a killer, a thief, and so on, but you see so much more than that, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to help him at least see a peak of the good man that he truly is.

Dinner is slid into the oven, and you've got at least an hour to kill, possibly more, depending on how old and unkept this oven is. Your shoes were kicked off long ago, and now you're slipping off a few items of clothing, peeling the layers down until you're in just your undergarments. "More treats for me?" Arthur flirts as he watches you undress. "I'm afraid I ain't wearing the nice lingerie, Arthur," you reply, shaking your head softly. "All your lingerie is nice! how many times have I gotta tell you that?" "Oh, I see how it is!" you laugh. "So, you won't let me tell you that you're a good man, but you expect me to listen when you say all my lingerie is nice?" you question, playfully pointing out his hypocrisy as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees beside him. "That ain't the same," Arthur murmurs, tilting his head to look away from you. He finishes off his final peach slice, placing the empty can on the bedside table, and turns to face you. "So, what now?" he asks. "Now, you let me give you a massage," you say with a smile. "A massage?!" Arthur blurts out. "You really are doing everythin' for me this weekend," he laughs, but doesn't protest. Instead, Arthur shuffles down the bed, rolling over onto his front. He bunches up the pillows beneath his head, his broad arms wrapping around them, snuggling down into the feather pillow. Arthur looks just like he always does - covered in bruises and cuts, his skin worn and flaky, peeling in some places from sunburn that he's caught out on the road. He's truly a rugged, classic cowboy, although Arthur doesn't always like the term. It's been drilled into his head by Dutch that 'outlaw' is the proper term, which is correct, considering Arthur doesn't herd cows for a living. You reach down over the edge of the bed, fishing into your rucksack for the bottle of massage oil you've brought specifically for this occasion. Arthur has a perfect, peachy behind, that you straddle and sit on, then begin getting to work. The oil is warmed up in your hands before smearing it all over Arthurs back; your hands trail up to his shoulders, coating them with whatever oil is left on your hands, before focusing on the massage. To nobody's surprise, he's tense, full of knots, lumps and bumps. Arthur reminds you of a workhorse, one that has been left in his harness for far too long; he's not been brushed in a long time, his coat now sticky and matted, and his hooves are overgrown and causing him pain. If only there was a way to shame the camp for what they've done, to make it clear just how much they've worn Arthur down, far beyond his bones. Thankfully, Arthur lets out sighs of relief, pleasant hums, small words of appreciation like "right there," and "oh, another knot?" His eyes are shut throughout it all, complimenting his relaxed face, but on the odd occasion, Arthurs brows do furrow as you work away another knot. You continue your trail, over his arms, down his shoulder blades, along his spine, and without thinking, you start massaging his bum. At first, Arthur laughs, and thinks you're joking. "You want me to stop?" you question. "...Nah, it's quite nice, actually," Arthur encourages, and chuckles to himself as you continue, playfully kneading at each of his cheeks. You shuffle down the bed as you go, spending far too long on his thighs; they're solid, as hard as his biceps and chest, and you question if he could crush somebody's skull between them. He continues showing his appreciation through the same small comments and pleasant sounds, but does grumble as you defeat a knot in his calf. Your hands trail up his body again, much quick this time, and return to playfully massaging his bum. "You really like m'peach, don't you?" Arthur says with a laugh, his eyes still shut, not paying much attention to your playfulness. "I do, you must do a lot of squats on your travels," you reply. "I guess I do, between everythin' else." Jealous is an understatement, it's downright unfair that Arthur Morgan has an ass this fine. However, as you're massaging away, an idea crosses your mind. You can't deny that you didn't prepare for this, wanting to be ready for whatever Arthur needs this weekend, so why not give it a try? You continue massaging away, innocent as always, but you slide the pad of your finger between his cheeks, making sure it trails over his entrance. Arthur doesn't react, and you assume he thinks you made a mistake, so you slide your finger over again. This time, Arthur lets out a hum, and that's it, that's all you manage to draw out from him. He'd tell you to stop, if he wanted you to, but he hasn't, so you continue. You eventually put your focus on his entrance, momentarily moving away to slick your fingers up in oil. Arthur lets out a deep exhale as your damp fingers press against his entrance, rubbing over his holes in circles, testing the waters before dipping in. Arthur lets out a sigh as you start pushing a finger in, only sinking your finger down to the first joint. You pause, and check to see how Arthur's doing; he's golden, a soft smile across his lips, and you're happy with how willing he seems. You then push down to the next joint. To your surprise, Arthur pushes his hips up, rutting against your fingers, pushing your finger into him until he reaches your knuckle. His hips return to resting on the bed, and he lets you take the lead, slowly working your single digit in and out of him. Arthur lets out the softest sighs you've ever heard, barely above a whisper, clearly enjoying the special attention that you've giving him. Once he feels ready, you begin slipping another finger in. This time, Arthur moans, his eyes remaining shut as you begin slowly fucking him with your fingers. "Damn," Arthur whimpers as you reach your knuckles. "This alright?" you question. "Yeah, real alright," Arthur moans. "Although, this ain't what I expected when you said you were gonna take care of me," he says with a soft laugh. "You let me know if you want me to stop," you reassure him, but your words are cut short as Arthur protests. "I won't be needin' to do that." "Oh? I think you forgot something, Arthur," you tut. Your voice is firm, a tone that you only use when needed, and Arthur picks up on it straight away. "I'm sorry... Miss," he sighs. "That's better, good boy." Arthur begins gripping at the pillow, bunching the thick fabric up in his fists, his head burying into it as you begin scissoring him, preparing him as much as you can. It's been so long since he received this kind of treatment, always so busy with work, always away on his travels, resorting to using his own hand whenever he can. It's rare that you two are left alone, and even rarer to be in a quiet and comfortable setting, so you might as well make the most of it.

"You feel ready, Arthur," you comment as you roll onto your side, relaxing on the bed beside him. Arthur finally peeks up, his eyes meeting yours, blown and hazy, entranced by your magic. "Ready for what, Miss?" he questions. "How's about I show you?" you suggest, tilting your head to latch your lips onto Arthurs. He kisses you tenderly, as always, his lips trailing over yours as light as a feather. Arthur lets out a whimper, crying into your mouth as you begin moving your fingers again; he continues his attempt at kissing you, but can't help the mewls that escape his lips as you continue toying with him. You break the kiss, your eyes meeting Arthurs; he's gazing at you lovingly, with a layer of lust drawn over him. "Please show me, Miss," Arthur begs. A soft kiss is placed on Arthur forehead as you slip your fingers from him, wiping yourself off on the covers before shuffling back up onto your knees. "No peeking," you order, and you watch as Arthur turns his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes. You don't take too long to get ready, knowing exactly how to fasten this strap on. It always feels a little odd at first, foreign and somewhat sin-worthy, as you know neither of you should be doing this, but who's going to arrest you? God? You return to straddling Arthur, your cock slapping his butt cheek as you settle down. Arthur instantly knows what's in store for him, "I knew it," he mutters under his breath. "Don't get cheeky with me, boy," you teasingly prod. Arthur lets out a soft chuckle as he replies "I won't, Miss." You use some more oil to slick your cock up, adding a generous amount, before lining yourself up against Arthurs entrance. Slowly, you begin pushing in. Arthur deeply exhales as the tip enters him, his sigh turning into a long, drawn out moan as you sink deeper. Once fully sheathed, you hold yourself there, letting Arthur relax around your length. He's already panting, his eyes scrunched shut, his forehead slightly sweaty. Within time, Arthur calms down, and gives you a small nod to indicate that he's ready. You take it slow, watching as your cock disappears, then reappears. "Good boy," you coo, placing a kiss on Arthur shoulder blade. His cheeks are turning redder by the second, and he shifts his upper body upright, lying like a sphinx; it's the perfect position, you're able to thrust your cock down into Arthur, whilst having easy access to his neck and shoulders, soon to be covered in kisses. After some time, you pick up the pace. Arthur begins moaning, babbling out phrases like "thank you, Miss" and "yes please, Miss." "This is exactly what you need, isn't it?" you comment. Arthur's about to reply, but you slam your cock sharply into him, cutting his words short as he falls limp against the pillow. He stutters a few times before managing to show his appreciation, "it is, Miss." "And you look so pretty, as always, Arthur. Such a pretty boy, taking this strap for me." You feel Arthur tense up at your comment; he's fighting the urge to reject your praise, constantly thinking he doesn't deserve it. Arthur licks his lips before replying, "I am, Miss." "Good boy," you smile, dipping your head down to kiss his cheek. "My good boy," you correct yourself. "Your good boy," Arthur nods in agreement, before burying his head in the pillow, his hands gripping at it yet again. The pace you're going at is comfortable, not too slow, and not too fast; you're not being a tease, nor are you breaking a sweat, but it seems it's enough to make Arthur begin hitting peak. He always lets out specific moans when he's about to cum, only you're not ready for this to be over, not just yet. "Don't cum yet, sweetheart," you order in a soft and sweet tone. "M'tryin', it's just... it's been so long," Arthur whimpers. His head turns slightly as he talks, showing off his vibrant cheeks, and the glow of sweat painted across his face. "I know, Arthur," you sigh, kissing his shoulder. "But we've got all weekend to catch up," you smile, and return to your steady pace. Arthur's practically melted on the bed, sandwiched between you and the mattress. He already looks debauched, no doubt he'll need a towel bath before bed, if the bed is still sleepable, as you're almost certain Arthur has left a puddle of pre-cum atop of it. Oh well, you brought spare blankets for a reason. "M-Miss... I can't," Arthur pants. "You gotta... you gotta let me," he pleads. Arthur sounds like he's about to burst into tears, and you accept his plead by slipping out of him. "Roll over," you order, and Arthur flips over milliseconds after you order him to, eager as always. You shuffle down the bed and wrap your lips around his cock, to which Arthur practically sobs. He cums instantly, his hand resting on the back of your head, not pushing you down, but relaxing there instinctively. Arthur lets out a trail of sighs and moans, thanking you over and over. You milk him for all he's worth, running your tongue along his overly-sensitive shaft before sliding off him with a 'pop.' You've barely swallowed when Arthur grabs you, pulling you up against him. "Your turn, Miss," he blurts out, rushing to slip his hand between your legs. He dips beneath your strap, sinking his fingers into you, and curls them, rutting them perfectly. Arthur knows what he's doing, he knows your body better than you do, and you feel yourself tightening around him moments later, squirming against him as you cum. Near the end of your orgasm, Arthur catches your lips with his, and uses his spare hand to pull you down into a deep kiss. You're both starving, letting tongues slide against each other, noses bumping slightly, moans and groans escaping between kisses. Eventually, the kiss relaxes, as well as your bodies, falling limp atop of him. Arthur slips his fingers from you, wiping himself off on the covers before wrapping his arms around you. "God damn," he mutters, then places a kiss to your temple. "I needed that, I really needed that... thank you." "You ain't gotta thank me, Arthur," you reply as you trail your fingertips across his chest. Arthur doesn't verbally reply, instead, he gives you a slight squeeze during the cuddle. You're both exhausted, drained on the first day of your weekend away, but you'll probably be refreshed by the time morning rolls around, ready to wake Arthur up with another surprise. The silence is soon broken as Arthur sniffs the air, his nose scrunching up at the scent. "You smell somethin'?" he questions. "Shit, the dinner!!"

#rdrwriting #the workhorse #fem reader #nsft #female reader #f!reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #estabished relationship #smut #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr fanfic #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic

254 notes · View notes

cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Returning the favor

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Minho, Jisung

Caregiver: Chan

Sequel to 'Right here'

Prompt: "Contagious" @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Somehow, Jisung had managed to sleep through the rest of the night without being sick again but he was completely knocked out, not even stirring when Chan and Minho got up to get ready for their day ahead. While they were getting ready, they explained what had happened to the rest of the group. All of them agreed that it didn’t seem like a good idea to leave Jisung behind at the dorm alone. At least one member should stay to take care of the sick rapper. The decision who would stay back was easy, as Jisung was the most comfortable with Chan and Minho. As the leader, Chan’s presence was of utmost importance at the company building, which left Minho to care for his sick dongsaeng. Bidding the other members good bye, the dancer changed back into sweatpants and a t-shirt before making himself some breakfast. He also started some porridge, in hopes it would go easy on Jisung’s stomach. Halfway through his breakfast, Minho felt cold and went back to his room to throw on a hoodie over his t-shirt before finishing his breakfast and washing the dishes. It was still considerably early, so he didn’t expect the younger to wake up anytime soon. Soon the porridge was ready to be reheated and Minho went to his room to watch a movie till Jisung would wake up. He made sure to move around the dorm as quietly as possible, not daring to wake the rapper earlier than necessary. The boy needed rest, as much as he could possibly get. When he was asleep, he couldn’t feel the discomfort. Minho’s heart still broke when he remembered how afraid the boy had been last night, how adamant that he wasn’t going to throw up. The least he could do to help his dongsaeng was let him sleep.

At some point during the second half of his movie, Minho felt cold again. Since he couldn’t put on a second hoodie, he adjusted the air conditioning and pulled his blanket over his legs, drawing them closer to his chest. Somehow his breakfast wasn’t sitting right and he could feel it shift uncomfortably in his stomach. It took another hour for Minho to feel really unwell. His stomach had started cramping up and being rather noisy in general. He wasn’t sure whether he had just made a bad food choice or if cuddling Jisung last night had been the wrong decision. With another turn of his stomach, Minho started to sweating and anxiously rushed to the bathroom. This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t afford having two members sick. He carefully closed the door behind him, hoping he’d be able to stay quiet enough to not wake his sick friend. Hugging his sore middle, he knelt down in front of the toilet and stared down into the undisturbed water. Minho groaned when his stomach twisted, making his mouth water. It wasn’t like he wanted to be sick but he was desperate for some relief, so after taking a few deep breaths, he pushed his hand against his abdomen. Gagging softly, he brought up a small wave of his breakfast and cringed at the taste. Just looking at it made him retch and he strained to keep quiet.

After twenty minutes in the bathroom, he had barely brought up anything. His stomach was still upset but he wasn’t on the verge of throwing up anymore, so he flushed the toilet, washed his hands and rinsed his mouth. Shuffling to the kitchen, Minho decided to make himself a cup of chamomile tea, in hopes of soothing his stomach. As he waited for the water to boil, he leaned against the counter and sighed. What was he going to do? He couldn’t be sick, he had to take care of Jisung. Yet his stomach had other plans. With another clench of his stomach, the dancer stumbled over to the sink, heaving forcefully. Though it grated at his already irritated throat, nothing came up and Minho, snuck his hand under his shirt to palm his upset tummy. When the water boiled, he poured it over the tea bag and took the cup over to the coffee table. Curling up on one side of the couch, the dancer debated his options. Chan had asked him to call in case something was wrong and he knew the leader would be home in an instant, if he told him he was sick too. Minho however, knew that his hyung was needed at the company, though it wouldn’t be impossible for him to leave, it would certainly be inconvenient. He was an adult, he should really be able to handle himself. He just hoped Jisung would be feeling better today because he was way too queasy himself to watch the younger be sick again.

Minho slowly sipped his tea when he heard shuffling behind him. A moment later, Jisung plopped onto the couch beside him and the older tried his hardest to look casual. Putting on a smile, he greeted: “Good morning, Sungie. How’re feeling?” The rapper just shrugged, cuddling into his hyung’s side, making the dancer tense. Minho tried to relax and brushed Jisung’s hair from his forehead, resting his hand there instead. “I don’t think I have a fever anymore. Your hand doesn’t feel cold”, the younger hummed, closing his eyes. Biting his lip, Minho lied: “Yeah, that’s good.” He knew full well that the rapper couldn’t tell a difference because he was running a fever himself, so Jisung probably still had a fever too. “I made you some porridge, do you feel up to at least trying to eat something?”, the dancer offered, noting that it was already close to lunch time. Furrowing his brows, the rapper pouted: “Could I just try some water first? I’m still kinda queasy and don’t want to… yah know.” – “I know. You know. Lee know”, Minho joked, earning a small smile from his dongsaeng. The thought of Jisung throwing up again while it was only the two of them home, had sent a shiver down the dancer’s spine, so he tried his hardest to laugh it off. “Let’s get you some water”, he smiled, untangling himself from the younger’s arms before getting up to get a glass of water. When he returned, Jisung was pouting at him with big puppy eyes, frowning: “Hyung, you can’t just leave me here like that.” – “Now, what else was I supposed to do, you big baby? I just went to get you a drink. Here, try to sip this slowly and if it doesn’t sit well, stop”, Minho rolled his eyes, handing the glass to his dongsaeng.

The pair sat in silence, Minho finishing his tea and Jisung hesitantly drinking his water. When the rapper placed the glass down on the coffee table, it was still half full. “I-I think that’s all I’m having for now”,Jisung muttered with a shaky laugh, making his hyung squirm in his seat. ‘Please don’t be sick, please’, Minho pleaded mentally as he studied the younger’s face. The boy was still concerningly pale but his face was lacking the greenish tint it had held last night. Groaning, Jisung curled himself into the older’s side. Trying to keep his breathing steady, Minho ran a shaky hand through the rapper’s messy bed hair and hummed: “Deep breaths, I’m sure you’re gonna be fine. Just relax and let it settle.” After a few minutes of silence, Jisung dared to sit back up and finished the rest of his water. Minho’s breath caught in panic when he watched how fast the boy gulped down his drink. Was he trying to make himself sick on purpose? “I kinda don’t feel that great anymore”, the rapper choked out before scrambling to his feet. Cursing his dongsaeng’s stupidity for drinking that fast, Minho got up too and anxiously followed the younger. He found Jisung kneeling in front of the toilet, retching harshly. The sound was enough to make the dancer’s own stomach turn but he knew how much the younger hated it, so he pushed back his own discomfort. Sitting down with his back against the bathtub and legs drawn close, Minho placed a shaky hand on his dongsaeng’s tense back and drew comforting circles over his shoulders. Jisung kept dry heaving for a bit but didn’t really bring anything up, which didn’t make much of a difference to his hyung, who had turned ashy-pale solely from listening. With his stomach slowly calming down, the rapper panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. He wouldn’t try having food anytime soon. “Sorry but no food for me”, Jisung whispered hoarsely, unaware of how he was pushing Minho by also mentioning food now. Taking a deep breath, the dancer agreed: “I don’t think so either. Do you want to go back to bed?” The younger nodded and allowed his hyung to pull him to his feet, oblivious to the older’s pained expression and unnatural skin shade.

Minho helped his dongsaeng back to bed and tucked him in, pulling the bucket closer to the bed. “Bucket’s right here, yell if you need something. Here’s your phone if you want to listen to some music”, the older instructed, handing Jisung his phone and earphones. Holding onto the dancer’s wrist, Jisung pouted: “Can we cuddle, hyung?” Sweat trickled down Minho’s back and he was in a hurry to leave for the bathroom, so he promised: “In a second, yeah? Hyung needs to get a few things, so you can listen to some music and I’ll be here in no time.” The younger nodded and put in his earphones, while Minho tried to exit the room as casually as possible before dashing down the hallway and to the bathroom. He barely managed to close the door behind him before crashing to his knees in front of the toilet, a big wave splashing into the once clear water. Squeezing his eyes shut, Minho shuddered and gagged again. He really should have known better than to go after his friend but he couldn’t get his broken look from last night out of his head, so there was no way he could leave the younger hanging. Though Jisung was wearing earphones, the older still tried to stay as quiet as he could, bracing his hand against the rim of the bathtub as he strained his throat. It burned but Minho couldn’t help but choke up more. The dancer was so in his own world, that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

Chan had decided to use his lunch break to check on Jisung and instantly picked up on the muffled coughs and gags coming from the bathroom. Hurriedly kicking off his shoes, he strode down the hallway and pushed the door open. “Aish, Sungie … Minho-yah?”, he frowned confused. The only reply he got was Minho burying his head further in the bowl and the sound of liquid hitting liquid. Though shocked, he was quick to crouch down and pat his dongsaeng’s back, as the dancer coughed. When Minho lifted his head, silent tears trailed down his pale face. Chan gently ran his hand up and down the boy’s back while using the other to feel his forehead, clicking his tongue: “Caught it too, hmm? You’re burning.” Nodding defeated, Minho sniffled: “Started to feel a bit unwell after breakfast and later threw up, though only very little. Then Sungie woke up and made himself sick by drinking his water too fast. He didn’t really throw anything up but the sound-“ Cutting himself off with a retch, Minho shook his head to try and forget about the sound stuck in his head. It kept replaying over and over, causing him to throw up again. “You’re okay, just try to breathe and not think about anything”, Chan comforted, “Mate, don’t strain like that. You can be as loud as you want, don’t hurt yourself just to be quiet.” – “Don’t wan’ Sungie to worry or feel guilty”, Minho panted when he got a break. Helping the dancer take his sweaty hoodie and t-shirt off, the leader sighed: “He’ll find out that you’re sick too, so don’t make yourself suffer more.”

They waited for Minho’s stomach to calm down a bit and Chan hung a towel around his shaking dongsaeng’s shoulders. He felt guilty for making him take off his shirts but they were damp and not really doing much to keep him warm anyway. “Here, wash your face a bit and then you’re going straight to bed”, the Aussie instructed calmly, handing Minho a cool washcloth. The boy was pretty out of it and almost fell asleep right there, when Chan pulled him to his feet. He shakily made his way down the hallway, heavily leaning into the older’s side. When they passed Jisung’s door, he insisted: “Promised Sungie cuddles an’ said I’d be back quick. It’s not like I’d have anything to lose anymore.” Chan quietly opened the door in case the rapper was sleeping but he blinked at the two of them confused, not having heard the oldest come home. “Hey, how’re you doing, Sung?”, the leader asked carefully. Sitting up, the boy shrugged: “I’m okay, still sick though. Is Minho-hyung okay?” Minho nodded but betrayed himself by almost falling if it hadn’t been for Chan’s strong arms around his waist. “He’s sick too. Aish, what am I going to do with you?”, the Aussie sighed.

Tugging on the older’s sleeve, Minho reminded him what they were there for in the first place: “Sungie-cuddles.” Chan helped him over to the bed and Jisung was quick to scoot back to the wall, so his hyung would fit into bed next to him. “I’m sorry I got you sick, hyung”, Jisung whispered, pulling the blanket over the dancer’s bare shoulders. Minho shook his head and pulled the younger into his side, insisting: “I was willing to take that risk when I decided to cuddle you. It’s alright.” – “Okay, so… I’m just going to call the others and tell them I’ll stay back with you two. Be back in a minute”, Chan announced, leaving the two sickies to themselves. Jisung still felt guilty, mumbling: “I know it feels awful. Would it help if I rubbed your stomach?” – “It’s okay, Sung, you don’t have to.” – “You did the same for me, so it’s only right I return the favor. Just relax, hyung!”, the rapper smiled, gently placing his palm on the other’s bare abs and feeling his tummy rumble under his skin. As Jisung started to draw soft circles, Minho closed his eyes and let out a sigh. It really did feel better this way. The dancer relaxed and soon felt so drowsy that he didn’t even notice his hyung returning and sitting down on Jeongin’s bed to keep an eye on them.

#stray kids #skz #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #sicktember2021 #fluff #comfort #emeto #minsung #han jisung #lee know #lee minho

41 notes · View notes

letsgivethisonemoreshot · 3 years

Text

BruiserMates

Word Count: 4,644 (it's a long one)

Warnings: Sexual Situations, banter, there's some fluff in there somewhere.

Summary: The British Bruiserweight is more grumpy than usual. But his friends and a co-worker think they just might know a way to fix it. (Also, I tried to make an attempt to keep true with accents for the first time. So I apologize if it's horrible!)

The lukewarm water rushed out of a shower head in the back of the arena. The water pressure in these showers were never that good, but it was early and Lauren had the whole locker room to herself. She had the curtain drawn for privacy, just in case anyone else arrived early. Mostly because she was in the men’s showers. And just as she was rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, she heard several voices from the locker room echo into the bathroom.

"You could've stopped to get breakfast first." A British accent rang out.

"They 'ad food at the hotel." The familiar accent of Pete filled the room.

"Not anything for a vegan. And ya know that." Another voice argued.

"I don't know every damn vegan place in tha country." Pete spat back.

"Uh guys, just so you know you're not alone in here." Lauren informed them.

"Who in the bloody hell is that?"

"Lauren. I'm a backstage interviewer here. I really needed a shower after my workout before I got ready to work and they were cleaning in the women's locker room when I got there. No one was in here so I ran in. I'll be quick." She explained.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, she works here." He vouched, recognizing her voice.

"Ah. Alright then love. As long as you work here. I'm Tyler by the way."

"Trent." The other voice rang out.

"You guys are here from NXT UK for the tag tournament, right?" Lauren asked.

"You got it love." Trent answered as he turned on a shower on the opposite side of where Lauren was. "And you don't 'av to rush. We don't mind if you don't."

"As long as you stay on that side of the curtain." Lauren responded in a joking but friendly way.

"Great." Pete murmured.

"What's wrong with you?" Trent asked him.

"He's still sore about his girlfriend messin' around on him." Tyler answered getting ready to get a shower himself.

"Tell my business to the whole locker room, why don't ya." Pete said annoyed.

"She's the only otha one in here. And she sees ya more than us. I'm sure she's noticed you're grumpy."

"No more than usual." Lauren said as she conditioned her hair.

"Aw piss off all of ya."

"See? He's always this pleasant."

"I thought you said you were gonna be quick." Pete pointed out.

"I was, until Trent was nice enough to tell me I didn't have to. So now I'm taking my time."

Pete let out an aggravated grunt. "I can't shower with 'er in here."

"Relax Pete, I'm almost done. What brings you guys in here so early anyway?"

"Time change. Kind of has us messed up. And Pete just doesn't sleep." Tyler replied. "What about you? And working out nonetheless. I’d think you’d moreso be off writing questions."

"How else am I supposed to fit myself into those tiny dresses they want me to wear?" Lauren partially joked, causing two of the englishmen to chuckle. "I have a few interviews I have to do for some social media shows before the actual show tonight. This was the only time I could fit in a work out. I was going to shower real quick then get to work, but the women’s bathroom was closed, so I that brought me here. I guess it’s just bad timing.”

"Ah, I wouldn't say that love." Trent said.

"Well maybe not on my part. Anybody could walk in here. So many people have probably had fantasies that start like this. But apparently, it’s bad timing for some of you.”

"Would any of those fantasies include any of us by any chance?" Trent asked in a joking tone.

“Trent, ya can’t just ask a woman ya just met something like that.” Tyler chastised.

“Why not? I’m just joking.”

"Hm, some just might." Lauren answered.

"For fucks sake…"

"Jesus Pete calm down, I'm done. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." Lauren said as she turned off the water and wrapped her towel around herself.

"Yeah relax mate. We're just messin' around." Trent said to his friend.

"You need to get laid." Lauren stated.

"Excuse me?" Pete asked, sounding offended.

"We've been telling him that the last two weeks love." Tyler said to her.

She pulled open the curtain and stepped out of the shower stall. "Take it from someone who pushed away a lot of her friends by being a negative mope after going through a rough breakup. If she's gonna fuck around, then so can you. Try smiling, go get laid, and live. See ya later boys. I believe I'll be the one interviewing you later!" Lauren called out before walking away.

Lauren left them alone in the men's locker room and walked back to the women's which was thankfully now able to be occupied. She walked quicker than she planned seeing as how she couldn't get dressed there with the guys there. So she was running around in just a towel. No one had really showed up to get ready yet, but she still had to go over interview questions, get dressed, and was expected by the stylists soon. She was rummaging through her bag when there was a lock at the door. She dropped what was in her hands and curiously walked over to the door. Upon opening it she saw an annoyed Pete Dunne standing there. He was still in his trousers, nice button down shirt, and vest. His hair pulled back. Obviously he still hadn't gotten into the shower yet.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you? Miss me already?"

Pete held out a plastic bag with tiny bottles inside. "Ya left your crap in the shower."

"And you're such a gentleman you brought it back to me?" Lauren joked.

"I drew the short straw."

"You sure it doesn't have anything to do with what I said?" She asked as she took the plastic bag from him. “Because my fantasies about you usually start with me still dressed and you ripping my clothes off me, but if this is how it happens I’ll take it.”

“No, it’s because I was the only one who was still dre…wait, what?”

Lauren smiled "Thanks for bringing my stuff back Pete. I forgot it in all the conversation. And if you’re just here to drop it off, I really need to finish getting ready. I need to be in make-up soon. I’ll see you around later.”

She closed the door, leaving Pete standing there dumbfounded at the interaction he just had.

Lauren had gotten dressed and was sitting in the make-up chair. She had decided on a short black off the shoulder dress. Even though the shoulders were bare, the dress had long sleeves, making a bit more acceptable in the workplace. The strappy heels that she had on also made it a bit less casual. She already had her hair done. She chose to leave it down since it was only shoulder length, but add some waves to it. Pete had wandered over to the area as Lauren was laughing while the make-up artist applied the dusty pink lipstick. Lauren was deep in conversation with the artist. She got along with everyone. Well, mostly everyone. She was easy to talk to and calming, which was a plus with her job. The interviews always flowed nicely and never seemed forced. She never really had any real problems with anyone she worked with. Pete leaned against a wall off to the side watching her talk. He had his wrestling gear on now, and had his long hair dangling down over half of his face.

"Alright, all set. How's it look?" The make-up artist asked as she held up a mirror.

"It looks great! Thanks Rachel!"

"Awesome. If you need a touch up just let me know."

"I will. Thanks!"

Lauren checked in the mirror one last time, pursing her lips together, before jumping out of the make-up chair and leaving it for someone else. She walked away from the styling area and right passed where Pete was brooding.

"Lauren."

"Hey Pete." Lauren replied as she walked by.

"Hey, hold up."

"What's up?" She asked as she stopped and turned to him.

"You tell me." Pete stated.

"Is this about what I said earlier? I’m sorry for getting involved in your business. And I never would have said anything had we not already been in the middle of a conversation. But I’ve been there, and I didn’t want you to end up pushing your friends away with your bad attitude like I did.” She explained.

"Not that. After. At the locker room." Pete said in a much lower voice.

Lauren smiled and crossed her arms. "What is this? When is Pete Dunne so timid?"

Pete rolled his eyes. "F'get it."

"No I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself." Lauren said reaching out to grab his arm. "I'll be good. What did you want?"

"You to stop being intimidating for a moment would be good."

"I've heard that once or twice before, but not from anyone like you."

"What you said earlier, did you mean it?" Pete asked changing the subject.

"That you need a good lay to forget about her? Absolutely. Your friends seemed to agree."

"No. That you've 'ad fantasies about me." He said as he took a step closer to her.

"Maybe a few times." She answered, surprising him by the serious tone in her voice. He stood there not quite sure how to follow up while Lauren opened the small bag she had with her and looked through it. "Listen, I really have to go and interview Daniel Bryan. But if you want to take my advice, I would love to be the girl that gets under you to get over her. Room 308 if you're interested."

She slipped her spare hotel key into his hand before turning around and continuing to walk down the hallway. Later on that night Pete sat in the back watching the show on a t.v. He was watching Lauren interview his two best friends while he spun the hotel key around in his fingers while being lost in thought. He pulled it together to go out and put on a good show, like he always did. All of his cockiness and aggression was on display. Lauren had been watching his match extra closely that night.

After the show Lauren was sitting alone in her hotel room. She hadn't made any plans for the night in case Pete decided to show up. After about an hour of waiting, she decided to change her clothes and get comfortable. She had the television on and was laying down in the bed, trying to relax, but she found herself not paying attention to it and trying to figure out what reasons Pete could have for not showing up. After driving herself crazy for some time, around 11:30 she realized she was being silly. His good friends whom he hadn't seen in months were in the country for a bit, so he was going to be spending time with them. Plus with all the joking around that she had done with him that day he probably didn't even think she was serious. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested and didn’t know how to tell her in a nice way. Lauren grabbed her phone and laid down on her bed to play some games until she got tired. Only a few minutes after she relaxed herself for the night, there was a knock at her door.

Lauren put her phone down and got out of bed. She walked over to the door curious of who could be there this time of night, especially without texting her first. She looked through the peephole and saw Pete standing on the other side. She quickly opened the door.

"You do realize I gave you a key so you wouldn't have to knock and wait in the hallway, right?"

"I didn't feel right usin' it." Pete told her.

Lauren opened the door wider and stepped aside inviting him in. He stood near her as she closed the door.

"I see you stayed dressed for me." Pete joked as he looked at her in her pink tank top and black yoga pants.

"I could say the same for you." Lauren retorted noticing Pete was in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"It's not m' job to look pretty." Pete stated.

"Good thing I'm off the clock then."

They hadn't really talked much before now, other than just a hello or exchanging pleasantries. Maybe being involved in the same conversation as a group of people. Mostly that was because Pete kept to himself or only really talked with the people he was close to, where as Lauren would talk with everyone and insert herself into others conversations. But Pete definitely took notice today that not many people were able to throw back at him the way that she did, and he liked it.

"So did you just come here to criticize my clothes or…" Lauren trailed off.

"Actually, I wanted to talk." He answered.

"Oh, uh okay."

Lauren definitely hadn't been expecting that. She lead him into the room a little bit more and she sat down on the edge of the bed. Pete took one of the seats that were in the room and placed it in front of her before sitting down as well.

"So?"

"I've been thinking about what ya said. And you're right. If she's gonna bang a bunch of guys and not care, then I should too. Well, ya know."

"So what's the hold up?" Lauren asked.

"I don't want pity sex with someone just because they feel sorry fa' me. Especially if it's someone I 'av to work with."

"I can understand that. I'm not really one for random hook ups either." Lauren agreed.

"But then why did you…"

"I like you Pete." Lauren told him.

"Why? I'm kind of a bastard." Pete asked confused.

Lauren laughed. "Yeah, most of the time. I've watched you. You're grumpy face and your angry promos. But I've also seen the way you joke around with your friends. I've seen how interact with kids. I know how much you care about animals. There's a sweet guy behind that whole bruiserweight thing."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Your best friends. Those goofballs wouldn't waste their time with a complete asshole." Lauren answered with a smile. She reached out and placed her hand over top of his. "I'll be honest. I've had the hots for you since you started coming around. And then when I actually learned things about you I had a crush on you. And seeing you laugh with your friends, I've wondered what it would have been like if we had that kind of relationship."

Pete couldn't help but flash a genuine smile that he usually kept hidden. "Why didn't ya eva say anything?"

"You had a girlfriend, remember?"

"Right. Right. Forgot about that."

"Well that was the plan." Lauren giggled.

"So girls really dig the whole aggressive arse thing huh?" Pete asked amused.

"Oh yeah. There's something wired wrong in our brains. And the accent doesn't hurt either.”

Pete leaned back slightly in his chair and chuckled.

"Did I just make Pete Dunne laugh?" Pete didn't even try to hide it this time after she pointed it out. "Up until now I think I've only made you scowl."

"Yeah yeah, just don't spread it around."

"Don't wanna ruin your unlovable reputation, huh?"

They both sat in awkward silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say next. Pete fidgeted in his chair slightly before standing up. Lauren promptly stood up along with him. He reached out and pulled her to him so her body was flushed with his, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. The act took her by surprise.

"Thanks." He said into her ear.

Lauren put her arms around her torso returning the hug. But her senses perked up. He was still holding her, his head down and his nose grazing her neck. The thought of his mouth that close to her, with his history of biting, sent an electric wave through her nerves. She tried to push those thoughts out of her head and hugged him tighter.

"Anytime Pete." She said lightly.

Pete broke the hug and stepped aside looking down at her smiling. She gave him a half hearted smile. She was glad that she was able to be there for him, and it seemed like there was a friendship forming between them. But she was a little disappointed that it wasn't going further. And embarrassed that she told him how she felt, and now she had to deal with him at work all the time with him knowing that. She didn't say anything as she followed him as he walked to the door.

"I'll see ya around, alright?" Pete said as he put his hand on the doorknob.

Lauren nodded with a smile. She closed the door behind him and leaned it against it sighing. She felt like an idiot. She was just hoping he wouldn't make a big deal about it at work. She began walking back to her bed. When she was a few steps away, she heard the door click. She turned around and saw the knob turning. It pushed open and Pete walked back inside.

"Hey. Everything okay?" She asked confused.

He slammed the door behind him and walked towards Lauren, throwing the room key onto the bed as he passed it. He made it to where she was and placed his bands on her hips and pushed her up against the wall crashing his lips down onto hers. Lauren put her hands up on his shoulders, bracing herself at his actions. He moved his hands from her hips up to her sides all while continuing kissing her neck. He traced along the top of her tank top before grabbing it with both hands and ripping it down the middle. Lauren gasped into his mouth. Pete didn't give her any time to adjust to what he was doing before his hands traveled back down her body and behind her thighs picking her up and pressing her against the wall. He tore his lips away from hers to slowly lick down her chest until stopping at her partially exposed breast. He lightly licked around her nipple a few times before taking it into his mouth. Lauren ran her fingers through Pete's hair, softly moaning. When he lightly bit down she moaned deeper and arched her back off of the wall. Pushing herself even further into him, she became even more aware that her legs were spread around him and she could feel herself getting wetter every time he nibbled.

Pete pulled her away from the wall and carried her over to the bed. Lauren laid on the bed looking up at him trying to catch her breath. He was looking down at her with his signature cocky smirk. He reached out and lightly grabbed the waistband of her pants before yanking them off and crawling on top of her. Pete nuzzled into her neck kiss and biting causing her to arch her hips up and feel the large bulge in his sweatpants. Lauren slid her hands under his shirt and scraped her fingers down his chest bringing a low growl from him.

"You are wearing entirely too many clothes." Lauren informed him.

Pete chuckled, but it wasn't the light hearted one from earlier, there was a deeper tone to it. There was something sexy in that chuckle. He leaned up onto his knees and peeled his shirt off.

Lauren took the moment to just look at him, kneeling in front of her with his hair hanging down partially in his face. Watching his eyes in the light. He could see her eyes glancing up and down his body.

"Is this what ya wanted?" He asked.

"Fuck yes." Lauren answered out loud, instead of in her head like she planned. "But this was supposed to be for you."

"Does it seem like I'm not enjoyin' it?"

"Well yeah, but what is it you want?" Lauren asked.

"Haven't been asked that in a long time. Honestly?" Lauren nodded. "I want someone to want to be with me. Not just use me ta get off and pass out. Someone who enjoys being with me. To feel loved."

Lauren leaned up so she was sitting up in bed facing him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Sounds stupid. I guess when ya with someone for so long those things kind of become lost."

"No Pete, they don't." Lauren said as she placed her hand on his face. "That's what happens when people stop caring."

The words hurt Pete, but deep down he knew she was right.

"Lay down." She told him.

"What?" He asked confused.

"Take your pants off and lay down. Let me take care of you." She said it in such a calming tone, you'd forget they were just dry humping each other.

He complied with what she asked. Lauren removed her underwear and straddled him. He rubbed his hands on her thighs She pulled off what was left of her shirt. Pete unknowingly bit his lower lip upon seeing her naked in front of him.

"Like what ya see?" She asked with a coy smirk

"Damn love."

"You sure you wanna do this?" She asked him.

"Love if you don't get on me right now I'm going to push you down and get back on top of you."

Lauren smiled and moved to slide herself down onto his dick. She gasped as she slid down. She could have guessed the size of it based on what he wore in the ring, but she didn't think it was as thick as it was. Pete hissed as she began riding him.

"Fuck babe. You're so tight." He commented.

"Yeah, it's been a while." She replied as she rolled her hips.

"You're so wet." He stated.

"I told you, I like you. Now are you gonna do commentary the whole time or just enjoy it?"

"Oh I'm enjoying it love." Pete said as his hands slid up her legs. He groaned as he saw her bouncing on him, her breasts bouncing along with her. He ran his hand along her body and brushed his finger onto her clit causing her to yelp. He liked the sound that she made and continued to rub along her clit as she rode him.

"Fuck Pete if you keep that up I'm not gonna last long." She warned him.

"You keep makin' those sounds I won't eithea."

Lauren pushed his hand out of the way and brought her upper body down so she could kiss him before moving to his neck. She began kissing and sucking on his neck like he had been doing to her earlier. Pete reached around with both hands to grab her ass. She was moving at a slow and steady pace, keeping with his grunts of pleasure. She would bite down on his neck every once in a while hoping to catch him off guard. He would squeeze his grip tighter pushing her at a different pace causing her to moan.

"Wait, Lauren stop." Pete said suddenly.

Lauren stopped and sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I wanna be on top." He told her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Lauren wanted to stay on top and take care of him, but it's what he said he wanted to she switched positions with him. She had to admit having Pete in between her legs staring her down was something she had thought about several times. He began placing kisses down her collar bone as she ran her fingers through his hair again.

"Mmmm Pete, please." Lauren begged bringing a smile to his lips.

"Please what?" Pete asked as he ran his length along her entrance, teasing her.

"I know I'm being selfish at the moment but please, I need you." She moaned as she tried to push herself closer to him.

"Baby, I love hearing you beg." He said as he entered her starting slow at first.

"Pete, faster please."

Pete grunted before speeding up, loving the feeling of her needing him, He began to thrust harder as he sped up. Lauren wrapped his leg up around his waist to give him better access.

"Oh God Pete, I'm so close." Lauren said as she scratched her nails down his back.

"Let go for me love." He rasped into her ear.

Lauren grabbed onto Pete's face to pull him into a passionate kiss as she came. Pete finished shortly after her before collapsing next to her. Their session was relatively quick, but emotional and intense. They laid next to each other trying to catch their breath.

"Well, that was unexpected." Pete stated.

"Yeah, definitely didn't think that was gonna happen when I woke up this morning." Lauren agreed as she laid next to him.

"I'm sorry it wasn't really what ya wanted." Pete apologize.

"What do you mean?"

"Ya said you wanted aggressive, and ripping clothes off, and all that."

Lauren leaned up on her elbow and turned to face him. "That's one of the things I've thought about, but I really just wanted you Pete."

He responded by lightly placing his hand on her head and pulling it down to rest on his chest. Lauren laid there cuddling on Pete, which is something she never would have expected from him, and soon found herself falling asleep.

Around three in the morning Lauren jerked awake. She didn't mean to fall asleep. She didn't even realize she was that worn out. Or maybe just comfortable. The room was now all dark, Pete must have turned the lights out. She couldn't see anything but she felt over to the other side of the bed and it was empty. Of course it was. He came for what she said she'd give him and then left. He wasn't looking for anything beyond that. Lauren knew that when she offered him to come to her too, but she didn't think it would hurt that much when he was gone. She laid back down in her beg and pulled the covers up feeling pretty stupid. Just then she heard the toilet in her bathroom flush and the door open. Pete walked out of the bathroom and back over to the bed.

"Pete?" Lauren asked.

"Hm." He replied.

"I thought you left."

"Why tha hell would I do that?" He asked as he pulled up the covers and got back into bed next to her.

"You were gone. I thought you got what you wanted and left. Especially after I fell asleep on you."

"I believe you're tha one that wanted this love." He reminded her. "You’re the one that offered."

"Well, yeah…"

Pete wrapped his arm around her waist and held her hand, lacing his fingers in with hers. He nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck.

"I'm pretty glad you did though." He admitted. This was the most love he had felt in a long time. He really felt like the person he was with wanted him, needed him. That she was focused on him, and it made him want to be focused on her. He felt an actual connection, which is something that he had been missing.

"I'm not goin anywhere for awhile love." He said as he squeezed her into hug, pulling her body to his. "I loved those sounds I heard earlier. They drove me crazy. I look forward ta havin' ya make more."

Lauren giggled as Pete kissed the back of her neck. Neither knew what the future would hold, but right now they were both enjoying the moment.

#pete dunne #pete dunne one shot #pete dunne fanfic #pete dunne imagine #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #mustache mountain

89 notes · View notes

mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

I loved your childhood friends ask! I have a headcannon that when they grow up and get to high school, Billy has a hard time because Steve is seeking out girls whereas Billy just wants him. Billy would definitely cry to his mom about it, especially when Nancy comes into the picture, his head in her lap as she plays with his hair and tries to soothe his broken heart and sobs. How could he fall in love with his straight childhood best friend?

it wasn’t steve’s fault.

billy had to keep reminding himself that it was in no way steve’s fault.

but as he sat in the camaro, waiting for steve to get out of his house, billy could see steve twirling the phone cord around his fingers while he blushed and talked to someone.

billy had been there for almost ten minutes. and steve had seen him, even waved at him, and was usually so punctual about leaving the house.

but it took a total of 25 minutes for steve to hang up the phone and come out to billy’s car.

“nance was talking to me about that party friday, you know the one? but yeah she wanted us to go together and so...”

“so you wanna drive her to the party. steve, she’s your girl, you gotta take her,”

steve sighed out in relief, “we’ll go to the next one together, b, alright?”

“of course,”

they hung out that afternoon but billy didn’t feel as up for it as he was when he was getting ready.

steve was constantly talking about nancy or the party and what he should wear. billy wanted to beat his face in.

it wasn’t for any other reason than he was being annoying. steve and billy were hanging out. that was the plan. it wasn’t steve, billy, and the constant thought of nancy wheeler hanging out.

they drove around for a while, which was nice, and they sang to music, and billy felt settled by steve’s semi-raspy singing voice.

he felt a bit better about losing steve to nancy until he went to drop steve off. it wasn’t anything that happened, just what he said:

“thanks for being so cool about the party. maybe nance and i can introduce you to heather, she’s super nice and i think she likes you!”

billy forced an easy smile on his face while he looked at steve, “sure, t, that would be nice,”

then steve left and billy waited until he got into the house before driving off like a bat outta hell.

he didn’t go straight home. he went to the gas station, filled up the tank, bought three packs of cigarettes, and a candy bar before driving around for the remainder of the night, until about 12.

steve never listened anymore.

in the car, billy had been talking about how he had found a second job at the pool and his coworker, heather, was really sweet.

then steve brings her up at the end of the night like he came up with her out of nowhere? did he not listen to a word billy had said all night?

and nancy. nancy prissy-motherfucker wheeler.

who does she think she is? ramming her way into their group, pretending to be all shy and sweet and cutesy when she just wants steve.

and the way she thinks she’s better than everyone because she’s taking next-grade level clases.

well guess what, wheeler, so am i!! you’re nothing special!!

as billy finished off the last cigarette of the second pack, he reached into the passenger seat to grab for the third pack when he realized how shaky his hands were.

glancing around the car, he noted that it was 11:45, three and a half hours since he’d left steve’s house. and he was going 94 on a shady backroad.

billy loved the feel of speeding, but knew his mother would whip his ass if he did.

rather than open a new pack, billy decreased his speed (to 70, but it was better than 100) and started driving home.

he rolled all the windows down completely, hopefully getting some of the smell out.

when he’d pulled into his driveway, his mom was standing on the porch, trying to shove the key into the lock while balancing her purse, diner leftovers, and another bag in her arms.

billy quickly got out of the car, leaving the pack of cigarettes in there and grabbing the candy bar before walking up the steps and taking the takeout boxes out of her hands.

“thank you, sweet boy,” she smiled as she finally got the key in the lock

they walked into the house quietly, setting all of their stuff down.

billy discarded his jacket in the coat closet while she had gone to change out of her diner uniform into comfy pajamas.

billy moved to the kitchen to take plates and cups down, setting them on the dining table suit for three people, maximum.

he opened the take out boxes and moved each of their dinners onto plates before filling the glasses with ice and water.

“thank you, baby,”

she pecked him on the forehead as he sat down at the table, then took her normal seat and began eating.

“how was your day?”

“better than yours,”

billy’s face scrunched up a little at her comment as she took a bite of her burger.

“you still smell like smoke, plus you were meeting with steve at 6, so you’ve been out for quite a while...”

“it’s nothing to worry about,” billy kept holding his burger rather than take a bite out of it, the smoking having ruined his appetite.

“billy,”

“promise, it’s nothing to worry about,”

“alright. don’t you both have that party friday?”

“why does everyone care about this stupid party!?” billy said, louder than he meant to.

“who’s ‘everyone’?”

“nobody, mom,”

“oooh, you’re all grumpy, calling me ‘mom’ and shit. why don’t you check the attitude by tomorrow morning, mkay?”

billy nodded and took a bite of his food, “sorry,”

“it’s alright, but you can’t get angry at me for something i didn’t do, billy,”

billy nodded and she got up to clear her finished plate, rinsing it then coming back to where billy was still eating.

she held his face gently in her hands and placed a long kiss on his forehead, “try to get a good nights sleep, hon,”

she walked to the back of the house, where her bedroom was, and shut the door, leaving billy with most of his dinner still on his plate and heaviness in his heart.

billy made it through the rest of the school week. the weather was warming up, nearing the end of the school year, and the days were pretty easy.

but he was avoiding steve. well, really, he was avoiding the priss, and since she was always with steve, he was avoiding him by default.

and it didn’t feel any better avoiding steve when every time he did see him, he was holding flowers for her, or picking her up from behind, or talking real close to her face all sweet.

the worst part was that steve didn’t seem all to fazed by not seeing billy those four days.

and it hurt. it hurt that, apparently, steve meant more to billy than billy meant to steve. it hurt that the priss could replace billy so quickly.

and so billy was getting agitated. his mom kept working late shifts and billy was working on training for his lifeguard job and homework and it all felt like too much was going on and he didn’t have steve there to distract him.

so, by complete accident, he got into a fight. a big one. with a senior.

for a junior, billy could probably pass as an actual adult, and had the muscles and fighting skills to prove it.

the senior wasn’t too far off either, though.

billy got knocked into (by accident) in the hall while he was watching steve and the priss and just... snapped.

he and the boy were both losers of the fight, neither looking better than the other and neither having been declared winner. plus, they were both marched off to the principals office at the end of the day.

billy, out of the corner of his eye, saw steve watching him get marched off to the front offices, but didn’t care to look and see his face.

more so, the disappointment that would be there. steve hated when he got angry and fought. he hadn’t gotten into a fight since freshman year, so what happened now?

billy’s mom, having been called in from work, seemed as if she was on fire when she came into the building.

she was a taller woman, had broad shoulders and a glare that rivaled billy’s. in short, she was intimidating as fuck (even in her cute 50s work uniform)

billy couldn’t look her in the eye.

after they’d finished with the principal (two day suspension for both boys), billy and his mom walked out to his car.

“where’d you park?” billy grumbled.

“i had christopher drop me off so i could make sure that you would be going straight home after this,”

they made it to the blue camaro, both standing on the drivers side door.

“mom—“

“keys!” she held her hand out and billy stared at her, “now!”

he fumbled in his jean jacket pocket before handing her the keys, walking around to the passenger door and getting in.

they drove the speed limit the whole way home, not talking and not listening to music. just the rumble of the engine as they sat in silence, both seething with different types of anger.

they pulled up to the house, both getting out and going to the door, unlocking it and billy tried storming off to his room before he was called back.

“what!”

“first of all, loose the ‘tude,” she gestured for him to sit on the couch as she walked back and forth in front of the coffee table. “second of all, no party friday.

“now, what the hell is wrong with you? huh? i didn’t raise you to punch a kid for accidentally bumping you in the hall and i most definitely never taught you to talk back to me!

“i get it, billy. we all have bad days or weeks or whatever but we don’t scream at other people or start fights because we feel angry! do you understand that?”

“yes, ma’am,”

“now, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been all ‘hormonal teenager’ for the past week. well, the past month you’ve been weird, so start from the beginning,”

billy took a few deep breaths, “mom, i really don’t wanna—“

“no, we’re gonna talk. i took the whole day off work so we could fix this, so we are gonna talk and we are gonna figure this out, because you’re not you, billy. you are sweet and smiley and funny and you’ve been a little shit recently,”

billy smiled a little bit at his moms crude language, something most parents would frown upon.

“i’m pretty sure that steve and i aren’t really friends anymore. not like we used to be, at least,” billy scrunched up his nose, a tell that meant he was pretending he wasn’t about to start crying.

“why do you think that? you and steve are inseparable, have been since the day you met,”

“he got a girlfriend,” billy was staring just over his mom’s head, pretending he was looking at her. “and he hasn’t been...”

“hasn’t been what?”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m gonna sound like an asshole,”

“you are a little asshole, just say it,”

“he doesn’t pay attention to me anymore. all he talks about is the priss and how their relationship is going. i love him, mom, you know i do, but i can’t hear another word about her! i hate her!”

“why? is she mean to steve?”

“not mean mean, but, like, i talked to some of the guys we hang out with and they think steve’s been weird recently too. he doesn’t do anything without her and he’s different. i can’t explain it, he’s just not the same steve,”

“billy, it’s his first love, he’s gonna be all sappy for her and forget about his friends, it’s just how it is most of the time,”

“no! it’s not ‘just how it is’ because steve and i aren’t just friends, we’re closer and she’s just pulling him away! he doesn’t even care that she is!”

“billy,”

“you don’t understand!”

“i do, i get it completely, but you’re teenagers and you’re gonna get upset. i’m surprised you and steve have made it this far without having a big fight yet,”

“but we aren’t supposed to have big fights! he’s supposed to listen to me and i’m supposed to listen to him! we get each other and he knows me better than anyone! he’s not like my other friends, he’s—he’s steve—and i can’t loose him, mom,

“he was the first kid i really got to hang out with when you kicked dad out, and he helped me through that. we’re close! i can’t just lose him now, after everything!”

“billy, baby,” he looked up to her, teary eyes and all, “what are you really thinking about right now?”

“i think... i think i like steve, like, i like like steve,”

“i know, baby,”

billy’s head shot up to look at her eyes, “you—“

“billy, you’ve loved steve since the day you met, it’s harder not to notice,”

billy starts breathing deeper then, and his mom moves to sit on the couch, pulling him into her chest as she plays with his hair while he cries quietly about losing his best friend and crush.

“it hurts so bad, momma,”

she shushes his broken voice and continues to play with his hair, “i know, baby, i know,” she tears up along with him.

they stay like that until the school day ends, then when the sun goes down.

billy ends up falling asleep on the couch that night. she gets up to get the knitted blanket off of an adjacent chair and drapes it over his body, not being able to cover all of his legs, but staying there with him all night.

it was hard, as a mother, to watch her son break into so many little pieces. but it was even harder when she almost felt her heart break with his.

she knew steve, knew he would make whoever he ended up with a very, very happy person. he was sweet and went out of his way to make others happy.

and a selfish part of her really wanted steve to end up with her billy, for him to be treated right by the only person he’s been in love with. the person who he’d unintentionally pined after for years.

she just wanted to see her boys happy.

#ooh this was angsty #let me know if you want a second fluffier part #stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy’s mom #billy hargroves mom #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing

89 notes · View notes

another-tmnt-writer · 4 years

Text

The Quarantine Chronicles

Turtles x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Prompt: There were a few of you that asked for being quarantined with the turtles, so here you go <3

Note: There’s one part for each turtle <3 Thanks so much for 3.5k!! I love you guys!!!

Warnings: Mentions of quarantine/the virus, but other than that, none??

Word Count: 1.5k

Intro

“Well, it’s confirmed.” Donnie pulled his goggles up onto the top of his head, his brothers looking at him, anticipation in their eyes. “We can’t contract or carry the virus.”

“We’re immune?” Leo checked.

Donnie nodded, typing rapidly into his computer. “Not only that, but we don’t have the ability to infect anybody either. Which means…”

“Yep, I’ll call her.” Raph dialed your number to deliver the good news.

“Hell yeah!!!” Mikey cheered skipping out of the lair.

***

It took about an hour for you to gather all of the things you’d need during quarantine and head down to the lair. The boys were waiting anxiously for your arrival, all of them sad about the circumstances but glad that it meant you got to spend some quality time with them. If there was anything they knew how to do, it was pass the time. After all, they’d basically been quarantined for the better part of fifteen years before they were finally allowed on the surface.

The boys set up a nice little bed for you. It was an air mattress, but Raph had knitted you a big red blanket during some of his time in the hashi, and it was warm and cozy, and Donnie had gathered a bunch of pillows, so pushed up against the wall, it was a perfect little cozy corner for you.

Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but you knew that in the lair, you’d be safe.

Leo x Reader ~ Stress Baking

“Ooh, that smells good. What are you making?” Leo had followed his nose to the kitchen, only to find you sitting on the counter wearing an apron.

“Oreo cheesecake cupcakes.” You replied, looking up at him and smiling, your legs kicking from your spot on the counter. “One of my favorite recipes.”

“You’ve been doing a lot of baking since you got down here. Are you…alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding. “I call this: controlling what you can when things feel out of control.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Stress baking.”

“Yes. Stress baking. Instead of writing my essay for Human Origins.” You shrugged. “I’ll do it when these are done.”

“I keep forgetting you’re still doing school stuff with all this going on.” Leo walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter opposite you, crossing his arms. “That’s rough.”

“It really is. I’m making it work, though. I’m fine. I’m…I’m making it work.”

The oven dinged, so you hopped down from the counter and slipped on your oven mitts, pulling the tray of cupcakes out of the oven. They looked perfect. Now, they just needed to chill in the fridge for a few hours.

“Hang in there, okay?” Leo tilted his head, a concerned look in his blue eyes. “You’ve got us if you need any help with anything. I’m no expert on evolution or anything, but I’m sure Donnie is.”

“I’ll make sure to let you know if I need any help.” You nodded. After you turned the oven off, you turned to Leo and gave him a hug, which he gladly reciprocated, holding you tight in his arms. “Thank you.”

Leo rested his head against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. “Any time.”

Raph x Reader ~ New Hobbies

“Okay, so stick the needle in. Yep just like that. And then loop the yarn around. Yep, good job. And then…uh…here, let me see what you did…” Raph held up your knitting project, spinning it around to look at it. “I don’t know why it looks like that…”

You’d never seen him so patient before, but when you’d asked him to teach you how to knit, he’d been more than willing. Excited, even.

“Sorry I’m so bad at this…”

“No, yer not bad, believe me, it took me a long time to learn. It just takes practice is all.” Raph reassured you. “Why don’t…Hmm…”

“What?” You chuckled at the focused look on his face as he fixed the mistake you’d made.

Raph handed you the knitting needles and then sat crisscrossed on the floor. He patted his legs, motioning you over. “Come here, shorty, I think I know how to teach you.”

You crawled into his lap and he picked you up and repositioned you so that your back was against his plastron. He positioned your hands correctly, taking your little human hands in his giant green three-fingered ones. He walked you through the motions slowly, sticking the needle into the loop, wrapping the yarn around the needle, making the new loop, and then dropping the old one.

“Ohhhhhhhh that makes sense.” You nodded, everything finally clicking into place. “Could you do that one more time for me?”

“Yep. Like this. In, around, through, and off. In, around, through, off.” He did it a few more times so you could get used to the motion. “Alright, now you try.” He took his hands away, leaving you to do it on your own.

“In…around? Through…” you moved the needles, manipulating the yarn carefully. “Off. Like that?”

“You did it! Good job!”

“Thank you for teaching me!”

Raph hugged you, his arms wrapping around your waist. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek. “Anything for my favorite student.”

Donnie x Reader ~ Bleach and Dye

“Okay, so the box says you shouldn’t leave it on for any longer.” Donnie read the label on the box of bleach for the thirteenth time. “Ready?”

“Yep.” You leaned back in the chair you had pushed against the sink, and Donnie helped rinse the bleach out. Next, he helped you blow-dry it. You looked at your reflection, tilting your head. “I think it’s cute.”

“It’s a good look for you.” Donnie agreed, still uncertain how you’d roped him into this crazy scheme of yours. “Are you sure you want to go further?”

“Yep. I want to be purple.” You slid the little container of dye to him and his eyes widened.

“Well, alright…” Donnie exhaled, shaking his head. He read the instructions on the dye container and then started brushing it onto your hair from the tips to the roots. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Nope. But everyone on TikTok is doing it, so it was about time.” You shrugged, grinning as Donnie very carefully brushed the dye onto your bleached hair.

“I mean, if it makes you feel better with all this going on, then I guess it’s worth a try.”

“That’s my logic exactly.” You grinned and took a sip of your chai latte. You held it up to him so he could take a sip, and he did.

At first, Donnie had been a little squeamish of sharing straws, but since you had been around so much offering him sips of every frozen coffee or iced tea recipe you came up with, it didn’t bother him anymore.

“That’s good. Soymilk?”

“Vanilla soymilk.”

“Mmm, interesting.” He grinned.

The two of you sat around talking for a while before his timer went off and it was time to wash the dye out. He helped you rinse it out once again, drying it off with a blow dryer until finally, you straightened up to look at in the mirror. You squealed, beaming.

“It looks so good!!! Thank you Donnie!!!” You jumped up and latched onto him, your legs wrapped around his hips.

He grinned and grabbed onto your thighs, securing you in place better. “Of course, princess. Glad I could help.”

Mikey x Reader ~ When All Else Fails…Art

“So you take the Ziploc bag and you color on it with the markers you want like this.” You showed him, scribbling a random shape onto the clear plastic with an orange marker. “And then you pick another color, so pink.” You colored some more surrounding the orange blob, but not touching it. “And then I’m adding some yellow.”

“Okay…” Mikey watched intensely, very interested in the art technique you’d found on the internet. He was using some blue and green on his bag, and once you were done with the yellow, he used some of that too. “Now what?”

“And then you dip your fingers into the water and flick it where the marker is.”

“Alright.” Mikey nodded, dipping one giant finger into the water and copying you, flicking water onto the places where the color was.

“And then you mix it around like this.” You smudged the color with your fingertip, smearing it and blending the spots between different colors.

“Okay…” Mikey still wasn’t sure what this was supposed to accomplish, but he did it anyway.

“And then…and this is the cool part. You flip it onto the paper and press down.”

“WOAHHHHHH THAT’S SO COOL!” He exclaimed, spreading the color out on his paper. “Where did you learn how to do this, dudette?”

“On the internet.” You smiled, peeling the bag off of your paper and admiring your pseudo-water color masterpiece. It looked like a sunset. You handed it to Mikey. “For you, sir.”

He held a hand over his heart, gasping. “For ME?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m gonna frame this and put it on my bunk.” Mikey tackled you in a bear hug, pressing a dozen kisses to your cheek. “Thank you, angelcakes. I love it.”

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt imagine #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #donatello x reader #michelangelo x reader #leo x reader #raph x reader #donnie x reader #mikey x reader

1K notes · View notes

zmediaoutlet · 3 years

Text

in support of Texas relief, @romancewritingandwinchesters donated $20, and requested Sam and Dean waiting out a Texas storm with no electricity. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

When the snow starts coming down, Dean's not yet worried. He's driven the whole country at least five times; he can handle snow. It's when the temperature starts dropping fast that he pulls up, at the closest gas station, and fills the tank, and sends Sam inside for a few gallons of water and whatever food they don't have to cook. "I told you," Sam says, which frankly Dean thinks is a very smug and unattractive way of looking at the situation. "Remember, that front I was telling you about?"

"Yeah, but who thought it'd get this cold in Texas," Dean says, watching the numbers tick up on the pump. Shit, this is gonna be expensive.

"Oh, you know," Sam says, arms folded tight over his chest, stamping his feet by the car's rear door. "Meteorologists. Climatologists. Just that level."

Dean rolls his eyes, but Sam's turned away luckily and can't see it. Turns out Sam gets a little bitchy when it's this cold. They didn't really pack for it—this was supposed to be a low swing south to check a few harmless jobs, stuff that'd take Sam's mind off the whole soulless thing, a couple of easy wins and some weather a little better than February in South Dakota, but it's not working out that way. Fourteen degrees, according to the display on the Shell sign above their heads, and it's only nine at night.

The snow's already piling up, on the parking lot and in the street, making the nice local El Paso people drive under ten miles per hour and making the world seem—not-right. Alien. A cactus planted in the median glints with ice and Dean sucks his teeth, shivers hard. When the car's full up he recaps the tank and sets the nozzle back in place and then looks out at the frosted world. The black shine on the asphalt. "I don't like the look of that road," he says, after a second, and Sam follows his gaze and nods, immediately. "Tonight's not the night to get out of town."

"Texas blizzard on the highway?" Sam says, a little sarcastic, but shakes his head, more serious. "Yeah, it's gonna get a lot worse." His nose is pink from the cold. "Too cold for the car. Even if we still had that—remember, that awful pink blanket?"

"The one you totally ruined?" Dean says, and Sam grins, even if he shudders after. Sam ruined it by getting clawed up by a ghoul when he was twenty-three and trying to protect Dean from something he didn't need protecting from and then bleeding all over the damn blanket when Dean put him in the backseat to race him to the ER. Dumbass, Dean had called him then, but honestly not much has changed. Dean shoves Sam's side, shaking his head. "Why are we standing around here in the cold? Get in the car, let's go."

"You're the one who took forever with the gas," Sam argues back, but he gets in the car, so. Win for Dean. Beyond the win of having this Sam, this right good Sam, in the car in the first place—whole again, with the soul to make a context for the memories that make him Dean's brother.

They're not far off the highway so there'll be motels. The issue hits when they're driving—slow, painfully slow, crawling behind snow-caked Texas plates that don't know how to handle the weather—and the street goes suddenly dark, the lights crashing off in the fast food places and gas stations lining the road. "Shit," Dean says, checking the rearview, but luckily the truck behind him hasn't slammed its brakes and they're not about to be involved in a black-ice skid.

"You think—" Sam says, but cranes around and it's obvious. Some part of the grid, failing, and that's going to mean some panic and it's going to mean some accidents and it's also going to mean finding a place to stay just got a hell of a lot harder.

The kid at the motel they pick clearly has no idea what to do. It's a shithole, which is why Dean pulled in, and clearly there weren't too many customers to begin with. The lobby's dark other than a flashlight the kid's waving around while he explains in a panic that their electricity is out—"I can see that," Dean says, trying to be patient—and Sam finally leans over the counter, takes the flashlight out of the kid's hand, and sets it upright on the counter so it acts like a shitty lantern, filling the room with grey.

"Oh," the kid says, eyes gleaming big in the suddenly stable light. The kid—the boy. He looks barely older than Ben.

"Look," Sam says, while Dean's trying to shake off that thought. "We get that there won't be cable. We just need somewhere to weather it out."

"My register doesn't even work," the boy says, and Dean reaches into his wallet and peels out two hundred bucks and lays it fanned out on the counter. More big eyes—the room rate on the sign outside is forty-nine a night. "Oh," he says, again.

"Just give us keys, okay?" Dean says. "You can explain to your manager in the morning. How these weirdos paid a hundred, cash."

A blink. Maybe he's too young to realize he's being bribed. Sam sighs, and leans over the counter again. "We're taking room 13," he says, coming up with a key in hand. A physical key—Dean was right about the kind of dump this is. The boy opens his mouth and closes it, and Sam jerks his head at Dean before he gives the boy a half-smile, fake as hell. "Try to stay warm in here, okay?"

The Impala's already inch-thick with snow, outside. "Why the hell did that take so long," Sam mutters.

Dean snorts. "Thirteen?" he says, and Sam nods, folding himself back into the passenger seat for the short drive over—"Center room, more insulation," he says—and when they pull around to the odds side of the building he's right. The city's blanketed in dark and weirdly quiet, with the muffling of the snow, so it feels almost like opening up some hidden hunter's cabin as they unlock the room, unpack the car inside. Sam bought jerky, chips, iffy-looking gas station fruit, and Dean still has one lantern and two spare d-cells and a bottle of whiskey that's almost entirely full, and the water, thank god, is still running. "For how long, though," Sam says, so Dean drags a hand over his face and zips his jacket closed and goes down the row of rooms in the freezing dark to the one that's marked PRIVATE, and breaks in to find cleaning supplies that… clearly haven't been used in that long. Buckets, though, that he rinses out and then fills in the utility sink. Spare bedding on shelves above the laundry machine and he picks out two blankets, the shitty supersoft microfleece kind that have always been his favorite.

When he gets back, burdened like a mule, he finds the room—weirdly sort of homey. Sam's got the lantern on the rickety little desk and it's blasting white light up that wall, but he's lit their spare ritual candles, too, and put them on the nightstand, on top of the blank TV, the minifridge crammed up in the corner by the bathroom. It's warm inside, especially once Dean's got the door kicked closed behind him again, but it won't stay that way for long. "Laundry?" Sam says, and at Dean's nod he disappears outside too, and comes back with a pile of the thin towels in his arms, and packs them in against the bottom of the door, the base of the single-pane windows. The water heaters might be gas but they might be electric, too, and with no way of knowing they take turns in the shower, cleaning up fast. The water's still hot when it's Dean's turn and he luxuriates, for a minute that he counts off in his head, letting the weak stream melt over his shoulders and put heat into his bones, where hopefully it'll stay a while.

The bathroom's steamy when he gets out but it's already cooling fast. Not much insulation in the walls. He dries off scrupulously, trying to get off every bit of damp he can, and redresses by candlelight. Smells like beeswax, the hippie natural candles Sam always picks when they restock their kit. His soulless self didn't bother with that. What a weird thing to turn out to miss.

Back in the room, Sam's made a pile of their food on the desk by the lantern, and lined up the buckets of water by the door. Dean checks his watch: ten o'clock, and they're packed into this room like a bunker. Safe, as warm as they can be, clean and healthy and food to hand. Now there is, truly, nothing at all to do but wait.

"Not even wi-fi," Sam says, under his breath like he had the same thought. Dean huffs. Sam's mouth lifts on one side, wry. He sits on the end of one bed, hands folded between his knees, and gives a shrug. "Well. We got a night off."

They did. About time, too, with how they've been running lately. Sam making up for every bad thing his soulless self ever might've done, and Dean just trying to hold onto the bar so he won't fly off. First time in weeks that Dean's had Sam to himself without Sam searching for another job or trying to pin down his own sad timeline or his brain melting out his ear, and he almost doesn't know what to do with it. A bit of silence, between them, that stretches. Dean licks his lips. "Wanna play charades?"

Sam snorts. "You'd cheat," he says, and Dean smiles his most honest smile, and that makes Sam roll his eyes but smile a little, too. "How long do you think we have until it gets really cold?"

Dean tips his head back and forth, thinking. "It's—what, fifty degrees in here?" Sam shrugs. "I don't know. It'll be friggin' cold in the morning, but we won't freeze."

"Guess not," Sam says, but he's still just sitting there. His eyes on Dean, his body quiet. Dean pours them both cups of the whiskey and sits on the other bed, and Sam rotates to face him, and they toast each other with a rasping papery excuse for a clink and take a swallow each, and it sinks down to Dean's gut like fire, welcome with how chilly it is in here, and Sam's just… still looking at him. Like he's something worth looking at. Dean feels his face go warm and wonders if he can blame the whiskey.

"Hey," Sam says, cup held easy between his knees. "Tell me something."

Dean leans back. "What, truth or dare? We're a little old for that, don't you think?"

His legs are kicked out into the space between the beds. Sam shifts and their boots knock together. "Maybe you are," Sam says, and Dean makes a face at him. Sam smiles and takes another sip, watching Dean over the top of his cup, and after the slight pull at the sting he's still smiling, small. "This last year. Did you ever think about…" He shakes his head, looks down at his cup. Dean nudges his ankle to get him to keep going and Sam looks back up, his hair hanging a little in his eyes. "Did you ever want to sleep with—him?"

Dean's lips part but nothing comes out. He's genuinely surprised. Sam's eyes tighten, a tiny shift that's almost not visible in the dim combination of candle-and-lantern light. "No," Dean says, after a pause that's too long. Sam's head tips back, assessing. "No," Dean repeats, firmer. "It wasn't—right."

Sam hmms and Dean takes a drink. Truth or dare, he really ought to do his forfeit. It's not a lie, not really, but it's not—completely true. Robo-Sam never seemed interested and Dean was still half-caught with Lisa and Dean's a lot of things but a cheater's not one of them, and he'd thought—he didn't know. That Sam didn't want it anymore. Whatever fumbling they'd gotten up to, their drunken stupidity, the almost violent way it'd get sometimes, the way Dean would sink his nails into Sam's back and Sam would bite his throat and then the way, after, sometimes, Sam would look at him in the dark and Dean would think, god—

His cheeks are flushed, hot enough to feel in the cool air. "So," Sam says, after the moment's stretched out, "we never—even when I came back—"

"Not exactly trying to make it with my long-lost brother when my creepy resurrected grandpa's breathing down my neck, no," Dean says, and Sam grimaces but then laughs, and then bites his bottom lip. Still looking at Dean and Dean takes a breath, deep, and thinks, jesus. Eighteen months, more, since the last time, most of it with Sam walking around with no soul, and Dean caught up in a relationship that crashed and burned, and it feels—different. They're both different. Happened somehow when Dean wasn't looking but here's the evidence, in how calm Sam is, in how they're just—quiet, here, together. Something building slow, in the cold, with the snow sifting down outside.

Sam lets his lip go, slow, his teeth dragging white. His eyes drop to Dean's mouth, and lower. "I've got lube," he says. Dean blinks. Sam lifts a shoulder, almost apologetic. "Don't know from what, but it's in my duffle. I've been—wondering."

"Jeez, Sammy," Dean says, and has to laugh, too, kind of breathless. It's hot. Jesus, it's hot, hotter than it should be, to just have Sam say it flat out like that. Asking. "What, you want to huddle for warmth?"

Sam raises his eyebrows, glances sidelong at his bed. "I mean," he says, and Dean has to laugh again. "If there were ever an opportunity—"

Dean leans in and gets Sam's jacket in one hand, and pulls. Sam scoots forward easy, his knee sliding up against Dean's inseam, and it's—easy, weirdly easy, easy in a way it never was, to lean in and press his mouth to Sam's and have Sam just—kiss back, pressing Dean's mouth open right away and brushing his tongue over Dean's lip, slick and hot, his breath warm on Dean's cool skin. "Damn," Dean says, soft.

Sam smiles against his mouth and kisses him again, puts his chilly fingertips against Dean's exposed throat. "I mean, we don't have anything else to do, right?" he says, pulling back an inch.

Dean rolls his eyes and says, "You really gotta learn some better lines."

Sam presses in, kisses him again soft on the mouth. God, Sam's mouth. "I don't think I do," Sam says, hanging there, and Dean groans, pushes Sam's face away, thinks: yes. Yes.

He goes to the bathroom. Takes his time. The toilet, thank god, is still flushing, so the water lines haven't yet gone down. He runs the sink and wets a washrag and cleans up, and washes his hands, and then he licks his mouth wet and looks at himself, in the spotty mirror, the candlelight flickery and making his face strange. When he comes out Sam's stripped the bed closer to the door and the other one is spread with that bedding, the blankets Dean stole, and Sam's in the middle of taking off his belt, standing in his socks with his shirt off and his chest bare and his hair a little ruffled, and he looks up at Dean in the bathroom doorway and smiles, and lays his belt on the bare bed, and says, "C'mere," and Dean comes.

Sam's hands are cold and Dean bitches about that, immediately. "Shut up," Sam advises, and Dean says, "Oh, if anyone needs to—" and Sam kisses him, like Dean knew he would, so that's okay. Together they get Dean's jacket off, his flannel, his t-shirt, and he shivers but Sam's hands drag down his arms and that's so warm Dean can hardly stand it. He drags his fingers through Sam's chest hair—hair, when Sam had been so sleek before—and Sam kisses the top of his ear, weirdly affectionate in a way that makes Dean's chest hot—and then his fingers go for Dean's belt, his jeans, and Dean pushes him away an inch, then, taking a second to breathe.

Sam's—christ. Hot. His nipples pebbled up tight and his cheeks a little pink, even in the candlelight. "Gotta get my boots off, man," Dean says, and Sam looks down like he's surprised that an impediment to getting in Dean's pants might exist, and Dean grins, sits back on the bed. Okay, so. Sam's not suddenly a pure sex god. Somehow that's as much of a relief as the breathing room was.

He works at the knot of his laces. Sam takes the opportunity to strip off his jeans, and then there's his bare long legs, his boxer-briefs. His dick's thick in them, obvious, but while Dean's tugging off his second boot Sam skims them off and down and then he's just—naked, nearly all the way except his stupid black socks he always wears, and Dean huffs and says, "Sexy," dry, but then Sam's kneeling down in front of him, sliding his hands up Dean's thighs, and—well. Truth or dare. Dean wouldn't have to take a drink, this time.

The corner of Sam's mouth lifts and he unzips Dean's jeans, and then tucks his fingers into the waistband, and Dean lifts his ass up and lets Sam pull and Sam—takes his time about it, damn him, pulling down Dean's underwear too so the cold air ripples up goosebumps all the way down Dean's legs, freezing. Sam kisses Dean's chest, his nipple—Dean grabs Sam's head, surprised—and then ducks down, kisses the root of his dick and then sucks in the head, soft and warm, slick, so abrupt that Dean slams a hand down onto the edge of the mattress and his head falls back, his hips lifting. Christ, Sammy. A big hand circles around Dean's calf and Sam sucks, soft, while Dean's dick rises so fast he gets dizzy—and then Sam pulls away, the cold air hitting like a hammer, and lifts up with his mouth pinked-wet and says, "Get in bed," and Dean stares at him like a lunatic for a second and then, jesus, scrambles to obey.

He scooches in to the middle. The blankets are ridiculous, double-weight and heavy, but the sheets are chilly even through his socked feet. Sam climbs in after him and pushes right up against his back, his dick swelling up against Dean's ass, his body a hot shock among the cold. "You're a friggin' furnace," Dean says, and Sam snorts, bites soft at Dean's bare shoulder. There's a second of separation—Sam stretching away—and then Sam's back, under the blankets, kisses under Dean's ear, slides his hand over Dean's hip, down. Dean's breath hitches and he slides his leg forward. "Yeah?" Sam says, the idiot, and Dean says, "Duh, bitch," and there's a huff and then a muffled click and then Sam's fingers are slick, sliding up against his ass, pushing in.

Oh—god. It's been—since the last time. Dean turns his face against the pillow and pulls his leg higher, makes room. Sam's fingers, wet-thick, and the strange uncertain feeling of being broken open, how it pulls and worries, his body barely remembering what to do. Long time. Sweat breaks out at his temples, the middle of his back. He drops a hand to his dick and squeezes, letting it know something better's coming.

"You're tight," Sam says. Unnecessarily, in Dean's opinion. "You really, you never—?"

"Some things should be kept between a man and his hour-long showers, Sammy," Dean says, light, and it's not really true but Sam huffs another little laugh and kisses his ear, and Dean pops his leg up instead even though that makes a cool cavern of air under the covers, giving Sam the room to work him. He pushes back, pulls at his dick, works it fat, and against his ass Sam's dick feels full, ready. He always liked this part, the part where he made Dean want it. He turns his head and says, "Sam," and Sam lifts up and kisses him just like he wanted, his chest warm against Dean's shoulder and his fingers spreading deep, pushing the slick inside where they need it, and while he's kissing Dean and relearning every molar Dean feels the fingers slip out, rubbing instead at Dean's hole where it's hot now, wet, flexing. He drags in air through his nose and reaches behind himself, finding Sam fat and heavy. Thick. Jesus, he could never forget how thick.

"Ready?" Sam says and that's a stupid question. Dean tugs the blankets higher with his free hand, covering his shoulder against the cold, snubs Sam up against himself and then lets go, finds Sam's hip, pulls—and Sam takes over, holding Dean's belly as he pushes inside, and Dean tries to contain the flinch but can't and Sam kisses his temple, soft, and his ear, and his neck, and doesn't stop, bulling open that place for himself, splitting Dean wide. His pubes press against Dean's ass. Dean grips the pillow and lets his knee sink down and immediately what's already tight is tighter, closer. Sam grunts against him, slides his hand down to find Dean's half-wilted dick. "You feel—" Sam starts, but he squeezes Dean's dick instead of saying, and Dean's fine with that, he doesn't need compliments when he just needs Sam to—

"Move," he says, and Sam moves.

It's slow, from being on their sides. No real force behind it. Dean knocks Sam's hand away from his dick and Sam squeezes his balls instead, and then slips a hand to the inside of his thigh and keeps him close that way, locking Dean in place to be fucked. He's still tight but he's loosening up, from the thick rocking churn of Sam inside him, buried up to the root half the time, flexing in and making Dean stretch for him, forcing in that deep good ache of being open, slick for it. With the underhand grip on Dean's thigh his thumb slots in right at the base of Dean's dick, a soft dragging pressure every time Sam squeezes, and Dean can hardly think for how good it all feels. For how much he missed it and pretended for so long he wasn't missing it. Sam's other arm is tucked under the pillow, under his head, and he manages to shove the pillow away enough that he gets bare skin and bites there, soft in Sam's bicep, and Sam drags in air through his teeth and pushes in harder, the wet drag enough that Dean shudders, shoulders to hips, and Sam squeezes his thigh so hard that it hurts.

If it weren't so damn cold Dean would want to throw the blankets off—get on his back with Sam between his legs—lift up, ride, to remember the way Sam's eyes went so dark and hot and intense from seeing Dean get off on him. As it is he feels it building slow, the sweat between them starting to get oppressive, his throat a little abraded from the way Sam keeps dragging his teeth over it, his breath hot there where Dean's skin's so wet. He clenches inside, as much as he can when he's split wide like this, and Sam grunts, warm burst of air against the back of his ear. "Fuck," Dean says, squirming back. He presses his knees together and Sam feels even thicker, his hand caught between Dean's thighs. "Fuck, Sammy—"

"God, I want to come," Sam says, and Dean jerks, caught against him, his dick spitting. Sam worms his hand out and cups Dean's nuts, rubs warm at the root of his dick, his lips smearing against Dean's neck. "God, you're—are you close?"

"Out of practice," Dean says, breathily light, like that's even fucking remotely true. "Can't you tell?" Sam's hand pulls up, fisting his dick, and Dean arches as much as he can, shoving down onto Sam, his teeth floating on this feeling. His gut's molten. "Fuck—Sam, if you—"

"I have to," Sam says, thin, and pushes—Dean tips over and Sam slides, god, out, but in a second he's covering Dean's back and Dean's spreading as wide as he can and Sam slots right back inside, hard, and Dean drags in air against the mattress but doesn't really care, doesn't need it. Sam's pumping inside, fast and deep, the jolting drag of it sliding all over exactly where Dean wants him, and Sam's hands slip from Dean's sides to his hip to his shoulders, holding him in place, and Dean worms a hand between the bed and his dick and lets Sam shove him into his own grip, the rhythm perfect, perfect—Sam's mouth hot against the knob of his spine—and Dean comes pulsing into his own hand, his toes curling and his lips spread against the sheet and his whole body locking up, it feels like, tense, unloading—and Sam groans, shoves his hand between them to feel the mess Dean's making, says, "Fuck, you're—fuck, you're so hot, Dean, the hottest I ever—" and gets a hand on Dean's ass and pulls it wider, shoves in harder, for a shocking minute where it almost hurts except that Dean's so floaty and satisfied he'd take a knife in his flesh and wouldn't mind—and when Sam finally comes he presses right up inside and pumps it deep, forcing it in, and Dean sighs against the bed, overheated and wet, and lets go of his own dick enough that he can tangle his fingers with Sam's, slick, crumpled, bone to bone.

Sam's a deadweight on his back. Dean turns his face against the sheet and gets a pocket of slightly cooler air, content to take it. He squeezes Sam's fingers and in response Sam squeezes his hip, and then slowly, slowly, his lips brush the back of Dean's ear, and then Dean's cheek. "Wow," Sam says, quiet, and Dean snorts. A shift, inside, that makes Dean open his eyes wide—oh, he's open now but it feels—and one of Sam's knees slips over to the outside of Dean's, different leverage, as he pushes in again on all the wet he made, and in again, still thick. Dean licks his lips and it's so quiet he can hear the wet noise it makes—match, to when Sam pulls out—a spill, trickling down over Dean's balls—and then the squelch as he pushes back in and makes Dean grip the pillow, makes his nuts pulse in heated shock.

"I could go again right now," Sam says, low against his ear, entirely honest.

Dean has to take a deep breath. "Don't press your luck," he says, raw, and Sam laughs quiet, drags out again—still hard, christ above—and tugs at Dean's shoulder, and turns him over in a messy sheet-tangling pull, and gets them the right way around to kiss, full, open, Dean's hands on Sam's waist and the bed smeary and disgusting, between them.

When Dean pulls away, Sam's got his fingers curled around the back of his ear, his dick warm and full up against Dean's hip. He smiles, looking back at Dean in the barely-light. Dean smiles back, kind of helpless. "We really wrecked this bed," Dean says. Just for something to say.

Sam's shoulder lifts. "Heated it up, though," he says, and, well. He's not wrong.

The candles are still lit, and they'll have to take care of those so they don't burn the damn room down. The lantern, too—they shouldn't waste the batteries. There's a slit in the blankets somewhere, cool air pouring in over Dean's back, and he tugs, and Sam gets it and helps him smooth them out, making a cocoon for the two of them. The discarded lube bottle ends up under Dean's back and he slides it up under the pillow, for hopeful future use. Their socked toes bump together. Sam's nose is cold, where it bumps Dean's cheek, but that's all right. Dean's not in a state to mind.

"It's gonna suck to dig out the car in the morning," Sam says, out of nowhere.

Dean closes his eyes and pulls at Sam's waist, getting him closer. Sam's knee slides between his thighs. "That's what I missed about you, man," he says, drowsy. "You always know what to say to get me hot."

Sam snorts. His knuckles drag over Dean's jaw, safe and warm.

#ffcc #wincest #bedsharing #huddling for warmth #my writing

80 notes · View notes

bokutosworld · 4 years

Text

tonight | akaashi k.

pairing: akaashi keiji x f!reader

wc: 1.9k words of fluff and love confessions. written in 3rd pov.

summary: a typical college au where akaashi finally confronts his hidden feelings for his roommate.

it wasn't unusual for akaashi to spend his weekends at the apartment. especially now that he was a college senior, he spent extra time on his studies and internship work. he recently signed up to be a junior editor for a known publishing company, and because of his natural knack for writing, his superior trusted him with more transcripts to review and edit.

usually, he would be holed up in his room, seated on his desk for hours as he read through pages and pages of words. whenever he was in the zone, he had a bad habit to forget eating or drinking water. and if it weren't for his roommate who was always generous enough to check up on him, bug him to take a break, and bring him deliciously-cooked food, he was sure that he would have passed out sooner.

however, tonight was different. final exams in university just ended and all the students apparently made plans to take the night off and head to the bars.

'hey, keiji, are you sure you don't want to come with us,' she plumps down to his bed, swinging her socks-covered feet over the floor. he swivels his chair to look at her and sees that she has dressed up for the evening. and for a minute, he swears that his breath was caught in his chest as takes in her appearance. after being so used to seeing her in hoodies, shirts, and sweatpants in the dorm, he was always struck with her beauty when he saw her prepped in outside clothes.

'i'd love to come with you, y/n,' she lights up at his answer, however, sensing that he was about to follow up his statement with a but, she lowers her head in defeat and raises her hands. 'no, don't say it. you're gonna turn me down again, aren't you?' at this, he smiles, 'i am swamped with deadlines for my internship and i want to finish it as soon as possible.'

she sighs and stands up, making her way to his desk and ruffles his hair. 'alright, just don't forget to eat dinner and text me if you need anything.' with a final nod from his end, she retreats to the living room where she picks up her bag and shouts a goodbye to akaashi. this is going to be another long and lonely night, he thought.

11:51 pm, at club evanescent

the girls were currently having the time of their life, dancing the night away to the tunes played by club's dj. admittedly, y/n has had one too many drinks of alcohol that she feels more confident to sway to the beat and laugh freely with her friends. from time to time, she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket, feeling giddy inside as she knows it's probably her cute roommate checking up on her.

back in the dorm, akaashi has just finished his mountain of work and was currently pacing around his bedroom as he waits for a reply from y/n. whenever she was enjoying a night out, she never failed to send him messages, updating him of her whereabouts, and sometimes even sending photos of whatever she found amusing at that time. he didn't know why, but he always appreciated these texts as it put him at ease. but now, she wasn't texting him, not one mail since she left the dorms and it was putting him on edge.

akaashi lays down on his bed, tossing and turning around for a few times as a voice nags him in his mind. why do you care? it's not like you're her boyfriend. this was an internal debate he's been having for the past year. often, he would rebut himself and say that he's just doing what every other nice and kind roommate would do. it's not like he has actual feelings or anything.

but somehow, somewhere in the constant visits to his room, lingering glances shared in the hallway, and unplanned all-nighters watching studio ghibli movies in the living room, a seed of emotion has been planted in both y/n and akaashi's hearts - only he was oblivious to it or so he forced himself to believe.

'y/n, i dare you to get a guy's number tonight,' her friends laughed in harmony around her, their eyes full of playfulness, teasing her as if she couldn't do it. she snickers, 'what? you think i'm gonna back out from this dare?' immediately, she scans the dimly-lit place, searching for someone who looks friendly enough not to reject her. she pauses and gasps when she thinks she spots a familiar face. her friends don't miss this and look over to where she was staring, 'what's got you looking like a deer caught in headlights? did you see akaashi here?' another fits of giggling erupts from them and she stands astonished.

her friend nini speaks up, 'you don't have to deny it. we know you like him.' in an instant, she is flustered, hands waving around in the air as if to fan the hotness in her cheeks, 'i don't know what you guys are saying.'

'please, y/n. we haven't missed the way you've been looking at your phone all night and grinning when you read his message,' another friend pipes up. 'honestly, we're surprised you guys haven't confessed to each other yet, after living together for so long.'

she thinks it was the alcohol. she blames it on the way she's let herself drink too many vodka on the rocks, because now she was trying to stop her tears from falling as she thinks of her crush on the said boy. her friends became frantic, surprised to see that she was a cryer when drunk. 'i don't know what to do. he's always so busy, and honestly, i admire keiji for being a hard worker but sometimes i wish he would rest and spend time with me, you know,' she was now bawling, almost screaming as she lets out her frustrations about him. her friends found it amusing, if they were being honest.

they all exchange a glance, knowing the fun night has come to an end and that they needed to get their friend home. as they waited for a cab to take to her apartment, she continues her outburst of emotions, 'you know, akaashi's a good cook.' she smiles as she clings to nini, telling her stories about him. 'one time, when i was sick, he made me a porridge, and it was so delicious, i felt my fever go down in an instant.' silly girl, nini thought, look how lovestruck you are.

on the taxi ride home, she calmed down and lay quietly in nini's lap. she was y/n's designated caretaker as they both lived in the same apartment complex. as nini stared idly at the window, she was stroking her friend's hair to bring her comfort. this gesture seemed to put a content smile to her face, but what shocked nini was what y/n muttered, 'that feels nice, keiji.' she couldn't wait to drop her home and tease him.

12:58 am, at the apartment complex

the incessant buzzing of the doorbell seemed to wake akaashi up from his nap. he looks at the time on his desk clock and sees it was almost one in the morning. the ringing continued as he made his way to the door, revealing a sleeping y/n leaning to her friend, who he recognizes as nini for support.

'what's up,' she greets. 'sorry, did we wake you up? your roommate here enjoyed herself too much and drank more than her limit.' akaashi makes a move to hold her by the waist as the two of them bring her to the couch. 'thank you for bringing her home safe. i was getting worried when she wasn't replying to my texts,' akaashi said as he bowed in gratitude to nini.

nini chuckles, 'if you were that worried, you should have just come with us, akaashi.' she reaches out to his shoulder, 'y/n would've liked to have you there.' he looks over her peaceful figure and lets out a subtle smile, 'i'd have liked it too.' and though he thinks he was being discrete with his feelings, nini notices this and takes it as her cue to leave. 'well, i should get going. good night, and good luck with your mutual feelings.'

akaashi hears this and was about to say something when the door shuts close. he tries to wake her up, hoping that she can at least change out of her clothes before dozing off for the night. he shakes her lightly, 'y/n, wake up. you'll have neck pains if you sleep here in the couch.' minutes pass by before she stirs awake, akaashi exhales and helps her sit up. he gives her a glass of warm water to help ease her hangover for tomorrow.

'can you walk to your bedroom,' he asks. still out of consciousness, she looks at him and blinks once, twice. without a word, she raises her arms up like a child and akaashi assists her in standing up. the walk to the room was quiet and he swears he can feels his heart beating at their closeness - with her arms wrapped around his torso, his on her waist as he tries to steady her. he sits her down on the bed and brings a change of clothes from her drawers. 'hey, change into your pajamas for me, will you? i don't want you sleeping uncomfortably.' thankfully, she nods and akaashi quickly makes a beeline to the bathroom to give her privacy and as well get her some mouthwash.

he returns to see her still sitting on the bed, slowly nodding off to sleep. he quickly catches her just before she falls face down on the floor, calling her name sweetly, 'ok, just one more thing before you sleep. can you quickly rinse with this mouthwash?' she nods and lifts her head to let akaashi give her the mouthwash. she rinses for a few minutes before spitting it back in the glass. like a good friend, he doesn't mind it and retreats to the bathroom to dispose it.

when he comes back, she was already lying down, her head resting in a weird position on the pillow. akaashi notices this, and proceeds to tuck her properly to bed. when he wraps the blanket around her, he lets himself adore her for a few minutes, staring at the way her eyelashes fall on her face and how her hair covers her forehead. unconsciously, his hands move to brush away some of the loose hair, moving to caress her cheeks, and he misses the way she opens her eyes and looks at him.

'your eyes are beautiful, akaashi,' she mumbles quietly that he almost misses it if it weren't for the fact that that they were a breath's away from each other. he was so lost in her gaze that it takes him by surprise when she says, 'i think i am in love with you.'

and in that moment, everything finally clicks to akaashi. he finally gets why he would feel warm inside whenever the both of them would cuddle on the couch, he finally gets why he would smile and laugh at the most mundane things that she would do, he finally gets why he would always look forward to her daily reminders for him not to overwork himself, and he finally gets why he felt worried and empty the whole time during this particular night.

he hopes she'd remember this when she wakes up tomorrow morning. but even if she didn't he wouldn't mind repeating it until his feelings were conveyed, 'i'm in love with you too.'

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #akaashi x reader #akaashi scenarios #haikyuucreations #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #akaashi x you #hq x you #hq fics #haikyuu akaashi #hq akaashi x reader #so i got way too engrossed in the thought of college roommate akaashi #please the things i'd do to be roommates with him then kiss kiss fall in love with him #also honestly the title has no relation to the story omfg i had a hard time thinking okay SKKSKSK

229 notes · View notes

dcforts · 3 years

Text

[day 11: sharing is caring]

That’s just what they need.

It’s not enough that they’ve been digging up graves in the snow and that they’re dirty and tired and aching – the weather had to play its part and send them a storm.

From where they’re stuck in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin, home seems far, far away.

“Do we know anyone around here?” asks Cas from the passenger seat and Dean closes his eyes and sighs.

“Yeah,” he says disheartened, “We know Garth.”

It’s not that Dean doesn’t like Garth. In fact, he likes him very much. And he’d be happy to see him. It’s been a while and his warm smile it’s never a bad sight.

It’s just that – he’s a lot. And he brings up some stuff.

He may pretend like it never happened but Dean remembers how he first reacted when he’d found out that he’d been bitten and how he acted around his family. And then there’s the fact that Dean doesn’t like bothering hunters who got out of the life. He feels that who he is and what he carries with him, it’s something that they’ve put behind them and don’t wish to see again.

Not to count the bitter feeling that surges in him everytime he’s reminded that Garth not only managed to retire and have a normal life, but he double did it. There are not many hunters, or werewolves, or hunter-werewolves for the matter, that can say that. Dean certainly can’t say that.

Still, when they call him and Garth says he’ll be happy to have them, Dean feels relief flooding over him, if not for the prospect of a warm and dry place to rest for a few hours, just enough to wait for the storm to calm down.

He can manage.

Or at least that’s what he thinks until he and Cas are huddled together on Garth’s front porch and even above the wind Dean hears Christmas songs blasting from the inside.

His eyes find Cas, who’s looking back at him, alarmed, but the doorbell has already been rung and it’s too late to back out. Garth opens the door with his patented smile.

“Guys!” he shouts above the music, “You made it!” he hurries them in the tiny entrance and closes the door.

Dean finds himself enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and lovely aroma of pine wood and cinnamon. His cheeks and hands tingle and he lets out a sigh.

Garth comes back into his view; Dean opens his mouth to speak but he has already wrapped his arms around him. “It’s so good to see you,” he says in his usual cheerful tone. He moves on to squeeze Cas into a similar hug and Cas stiffens and tentatively pats his back. Garth gives out a little laugh, “That’s it, buddy,” he encourages.

“Hello, Garth.”

Alright, Dean thinks, maybe it’s gonna be a little funny.

But then he notices the two-feet-tall inflatable Santa that’s bumping against his shins and when he looks up he’s stunned into silence. It actually takes his eyes a moment or two to register what’s surrounding them: the garlands on the doors, the tinsels around the banister, the baubles hanging from the ceiling all above them. Judging from the giant Christmas tree he can spot in the living room, he’s pretty sure the rest of the house isn’t in much better condition.

Garth himself is wearing an bulky red knitted cardigan with reindeers all over it. Seeing that, combined with the songs and the decorations, Dean feels the need to ask, “Uh – Garth? Are you guys celebrating something?”

Garth slaps him on the shoulder and laughs like he’s made a great joke. “It’s December, Dean-o! Every day is a celebration. The most magical time of the year, right?” he says beaming “You’ll have to wait for the carols but you’re right on time for hot cocoa!”

Dean feels dread creeping in. He takes a step back, “Wha- Garth, no – we don’t mean to -”

Apparently Cas is on the same page as him because he also starts saying, “This is your family time,” and steps back with him. “We don’t want to intrudr –“

Garth shakes his head vigorously, “Guys, guys, guys,” He holds up his hands to shut them up, “It makes Bess and I very happy to have you here to share it with us. Sharing is caring. And we happen to care a lot about you two,” he says making a silly voice and pointing a finger at them.

Yeah, nevermind, this was a terrible idea.

Cas throws him another freaked out look Dean can’t help but reciprocate, but Garth pays no mind to their lack of enthusiasm and shepherds them cheerfully into the living room. Dean feels even more out of place among the pastel walls and the embroidered pillows, the toys and the dolls. He tries to make himself weight less so that he doesn’t leave traces of dirt on the carpet. Everything seems soft and cozy, which is a real change from the hard leather seats and the icy wind.

“So, how was the journey?” Garth is asking Cas, as if they’re coming back from a cruise. “It’s been so long, man. Just the other day I was thinking ‘When I’m ever going to see them again?’ and then - ”

Dean gets distracted as he feels something tugging at the duffel bag he’s carrying and when he lowers his gaze there’s a blond head and two little hands trying to hold on to the fabric. “H-hey,” he says, shifting back a little to get out of his reach. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea to have clean, innocent baby hands near a bag that was in a graveyard an hour ago. But the kid takes an unsteady step forward and grabs it anyway. “This is – no, no – uh, G-Garth?” he calls, horrified.

Garth stops drowning Cas in questions and shifts his attention to the ground. He laughs and picks up his kid, totally unbothered, “Sammy, these are not toys for you,” he shakes his head, “He’s such a curious kid.”

Bess comes down the stairs right in that moment, wearing a green cardigan that matches Garth’s. “I thought I heard you two!” she says, even if Dean is pretty sure they’ve barely said a word since they’ve come in. “Garth, why don’t you bring their bag in the guests’ room? I’ll be right out with the drinks.”

There’s another round or “No need -,” and “This is really not necessary -,” and “We don’t want -“ before Garth yanks the bag from Dean’s hold with one hand.

He always forgets how strong he is.

“Of course you’re gonna stay. There’s no way I’m letting you leave in the cold and the dark. Come on! You know me,” he disappears down the hallway shaking his head and saying, “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

Bess gives them an encouraging smile, “Relax guys, take off your jackets, sit on the couch.”

So they do. Sit on the couch.

They both let out a sigh when they sink into the cushions and Dean would call Cas “old” if he hadn’t made the exact same sound.

“This was a bad idea,” whispers Dean.

“You think?”

In the sudden emptiness of the room, with It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year in the background, and the giant Christmas tree twinkling in the corner, it’s weird to just - sit there.

Dean is dirty and smelly and feels marginally better only when he looks over at Cas who seems so much out of his comfort zone that he might as well be a tropical bird.

He takes a hopeful look out of the windows behind the couch but the weather seems to be even worse than it was five minutes ago.

“Are you still cold?” asks Cas.

“No.”

“Good.”

They look away from each other again.

In the last few weeks they’ve settled in a pretty hectic routine. Find the case, drive to the case, work the case, drive home, rinse and repeat.

It’s a well-oiled machine, but that doesn’t leave much time for – well, anything else. Definitely not sitting around and relaxing – and it’s just awkward all of the sudden to be alone in a place that is not a sticky diner, or a dusty motel, or a morgue.

It sounds depressing but that’s the hunter life for you. Without even noticing you become your job and it gets easier to just put your head down and work.

After three hunts in a row, Dean realizes this is the first time they’re actually taking a break. He looks over at Cas, his messy hair and the hands folded in his lap, and he feels the need to say something conversational.

What comes out is, “Last time I was here, Garth fixed my teeth.”

Cas’ face scrunches up in confusion but then Garth comes back.

“Have you seen Cas?”

Dean blinks at him and then slowly and dubiously points at his right.

“No, I mean,” Garth laughs, “The little one. I’m so excited for you to meet him,” he says, leaving the room again.

“How do you lose a kid?” Dean asks under his breath, looking around. His attention is drawn to a group of pictures on the little table beside the couch. There’s a bunch of the family on holidays, and then a bunch of the kids. One of the frames says Castiel and, on the bottom, Always our little boy.

“Hey, Cas,” he picks it up to show it to him, “Want me to get you one of these?”

Cas glares at him and doesn’t dignifies him with an answer.

Dean smirks and shrugs, “Fine, we’ll get the one that says Sammy. Can’t wait to see his face on Christmas morning.”

Cas doesn’t look at him again but Dean sees the corner of his mouth stretch a little so he calls it a victory.

Then Garth comes back and finally sits down in the armchair across from them. “He’s asleep. I forgot he was asleep!” he rolls his eyes at himself, “Cas,” he says, clicking his tongue, “he’s the best. He’s got this look, you know?”

“Wait, who are we talking about now?”

“Him. No, uh -” Garth laughs and bangs a hand on his forehead. “Sorry, I keep getting confused. Alright, alright, lets call our Cas 'Little Cas' and we’ll call you, 'Big Cas'.”

Dean stifles a laugh.

"I don’t think-" starts Cas, but it gets drown out by Bess coming back with a tray.

From the steaming mugs comes the rich smell of chocolate and on the surface Dean can see mini marshmallows shaped like little trees. He watches as Bess and Garth pick up their mugs and toast before taking a sip and notices with a smile that even their mugs are matching. Bess’ says “Mine” and Garth’s says “Yours”. He thinks it’s cute, whatever.

But then he looks down at his own mug and realizes that there’s something written across it too. It says “Perfect” and when he dares to look in Cas’ way his whole body blushes when he reads “Together” on his.

He takes a sip of chocolate and tries very hard to avoid Cas’ eyes and stop blushing. He fails on both fronts and burns his tongue.

At least it tastes great and the sugar warms him up and makes him feel much more comfortable.

Cas drinks it too without making a fuss over molecules and Dean wonders if it’s because he’s very polite or if he’s a pain in the ass just when they’re alone.

Finally Cas meets Little Cas and Garth keeps telling them how smart he is, because apparently he’s learned how to use the remote.

Dean snorts, “That’s already more than Big Cas can do,” and Cas shoots him a deadly “Stop calling me that,” that shuts him up for five minutes. Dean agrees it was a bad idea anyway.

Kids love Cas, for some reason. Little Cas stretches his arms towards him the whole time he’s in the room and Cas just pretends he can’t see him, as if avoiding eye contact is enough to make him stop. It amuses Dean greatly.

Even Gertie, when she comes in with a gingerbread cookie, looks between them and chooses to give it to Cas.

“I only have one,” she tells Dean, who is totally not offended.

But then Cas says, “It’s okay,” with his soft voice, “We’ll share it.”

And for some reason that makes Dean’s heart flutter. It’s something in the way he casually snaps the cookie in half and hands him a piece.

Somehow it’s different than sharing a car, a motel room, a bed, all kinds of weapons and bags and just space, in general.

Dean doesn’t know what it is, but somehow there’s a difference.

Garth is fairly disappointed when he finds out that angels don’t know Christmas carol by heart just because they’re angels.

At some point he just starts playing the piano and expects Cas to start singing along.

Dean says it was a hard blow for him as well, knowing that he couldn’t play the harp, just to enjoy the way Cas rolls his eyes with his whole head.

“What about Holy Night?”

“I- I don’t know that one,” says Cas, for the thirteen time in a row and Dean would love to stay on the couch and watch him awkwardly handle the situation if he wasn’t afraid Garth would eventually try and bring him into it.

So he jumps up at the first occasion to follow Bess into the kitchen right under Cas’ betrayed look.

“What songs do you know?” Garth’s voice carries through the walls.

“Uh, I know Led Zeppelin?” says Cas and Dean almost drops the mugs as his heart expands.

Now he kind of regrets having left the room but then Garth is saying, “Oh no, silly, I mean Christmas songs,” and Bess is asking him, “Do you play any instrument?” so he focuses back on her.

Dean puts down the mugs in the sink and opens up the tab, “Uh - just the guitar – a little bit. Never had much chance to practise.”

“Oh, you should. Then you can bring it up here sometime and play for us at the church.”

Dean scoffs, “You sure they’d want to see me again, after last time?” he asks and can’t hide the genuine uncertainty from his voice.

Bess rests a hand on his arm, reassuring, “Well, it’ll be different. Last time we said, ‘This is Dean, he’s a hunter’. This time, we’ll be saying, ‘This is Dean, he plays the guitar’.”

It’s such a simple concept but it hits him like a brick. He needs a moment to try and see himself from another point of view and he really doesn’t know what to say. Bess doesn’t seem to mind. They dry the mugs in silence and when Dean looks up to smile at her, she smiles back.

Dean, he plays the guitar. It could work.

They go back to the living room and Bess and Garth duet over Silent Night and it’s only a little embarrassing.

It gets dark pretty soon after that.

Before they bring their kids upstairs they all take part in the traditional – apparently daily – lightning of the tree. They turn off the lights and when Garth says “Ready?”, Gertie says “Yes!” and he lights it up.

Only, in the dark Cas gets really close to him and when Garth says “Ready?” Dean can hear him too say “Yes,” and so he turns towards him just as Garth plugs it in and his breath catches in his throat as he sees his face light up with the colours dancing on his skin.

Bess turns on the lights again and Garth puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder and it startles him.

“Amazing, right?” he says, “Gets me everytime,” and only then Dean realizes that he’s missed the whole thing.

“Yeah,” he says.

Watching them at the table is always a jarring experience.

But just a "How’s the – dental practice going?" is enough to kick off the longest most absurd recount of Garth’s last few years and Dean finds himself laughing heartily with a hand on his chest, having forgotten all about the raw cow hearts on their plates.

They talk about things to do in Winsconsin and Dean tells them about that one time when he was a kid and got sick on cream puffs at a fair. Even Cas talks about Claire non-stop for a solid minute an a half, which is honestly impressive.

Bess and Garth want to know all about Sam and Eileen. When Dean says they’re splitting up more these days, Bess nods and says, “Yeah, I imagine you all enjoy a bit of privacy.”

Dean hears loud and clear the implication that him and Cas are like Sam and Eileen but doesn’t really know how to correct her, so he doesn’t.

He knows he can’t blame her. He’s not totally oblivious to the way they look from the outside. Working together, living together - just that would be enough to assume. But Dean hasn’t looked at anyone else in years either so – yeah. He knows how it looks.

Cas doesn’t say anything either, and doesn’t show any signs as to whether he’s picked up the implication but Dean can never really be sure with him.

That’s about around the time Dean realizes he’s shifted towards him and has an arm draped on the back of his chair.

Cas hasn’t said anything about that either. Dean doesn’t remove it.

Garth proposes a toast to Bobby and Dean loves him a little bit more and then Bess asks them what they’re doing for the holidays and looks shocked when he says that they haven’t really thought about it yet.

“But Christmas is in two weeks!”

Dean is about to say that they never really did holidays and they’re always on the road anyway, so it doesn’t matter and they don’t care, but for some reasons he settles for, “I guess – if we’re not working – then we’ll get Sam and Eileen and just -”

He doesn’t know what they’ll do.

Garth makes that face he makes when he finds him adorable.

It makes his skin crawl.

“What would you like to do?” he says and Dean feels hot all of the sudden as Cas looks his way as well.

“Nothing,” he blurts out, feeling his face reddening, “I mean, just stay at home, relax. That’d be great.”

Bess smiles, “That doesn’t sound like such an impossible plan now, does it?”

Cas softly says, “No, it doesn’t,” and Dean’s heart starts pounding.

“Next year we could get the families together,” jumps in Garth and that makes him laugh again.

From the fact that he doesn’t think right away that it’s the most horrible idea that Garth could possibly have, he realizes he’s having a good night.

And even later when he brings to the kitchen the last of the plates and sees Garth and Bess share a kiss and a laugh over the sink, he smiles. He’s careful not to make any sounds as he puts the plates down on the counter and tiptoes back to the dark living room.

Cas is standing near the tree, looking at the decorations and Dean silently joins him.

They smile at each other briefly and go back to watch the tree.

Considering how they’ve started the day, Dean thinks it’s not a bad way to end it.

The guest room is – well, like the rest of the house, colourful wallpaper, soft carpets, floral-scented bedsheets. And a Santa on the nightstands with cheeks that light up. Dean puts it under the bed first thing cause it creeps him out.

Garth says, “Are you gonna be alright in here?”

“I don’t sleep,” reassures him Cas and Dean wants to retort that for someone who claims he “just lays down” he sure knows how to steal the covers.

“Yeah, Garth,” he says instead, “We’ll be up early and leave through the backdoor.”

“Well, guys,” Garth says on the door, his eyes swelling up, “It’s been so good to have you here.”

“Yeah, thank you for everything, Garth,” Dean says and he really means it. “We had a good time.”

Garth shakes his head. “You guys make me cry.”

He pulls him into a hug and then moves to do the same with Cas.

“Come back, whenever you want. And have a very merry Christmas.”

Dean closes the door behind him and leans his back against it with a deep sigh. “If I’d walked home instead of coming here I’d be less tired, I think.”

Cas huffs a laugh as he unties his shoes.

They undress in silence and slips under the covers.

Dean turns off the lights and looks up at the ceiling.

"It’s nice,” Cas says unexpectedly in the dark, “what they have."

A weight drops on Dean’s chest.

"Yeah,” he agrees in the end, “it's nice."

After a moment, Cas speaks again.

“Dean?”

“Mh?”

“We don’t have to – go home straight away,” there’s a pause. The familiar shape of Cas shifts next to him, “We could find some cream puffs for you to get sick on.”

“That’s sweet,” Dean huffs a laugh. “I appreciate it, Cas.”

He settles more comfortably against his pillow.

“I mean it,” Cas keeps going, and his whisper is a lullaby, “We don’t have to find another case. We could just go meet Sam and Eileen in Illinois. Drive home together.”

Dean likes the idea very much.

“Yeah, we could do that.”

He feels his eyes falling shut.

“We could make it home in time for Christmas,” Cas’ voice is saying.

Dean’s lips stretch into a smile.

“Yeah, let’s do that, Cas.”

He falls asleep.

joining @bend-me-shape-me in doing this!

#SPNAdventCalendar2020 #deancas #destiel #deancas ficlet #destiel fanfic #3.6k #garth fitzgerald iv #holiday time at garth's house #fluff #this one exploded on me #but i had a lot of fun #i love these prompts !!!!#they light up my brain #domesticity is my vocation #my writing

146 notes · View notes

kenanda · 3 years

Note

For the smut prompt a lonelyeyes mix of 106, 111 and 127? If you want only.

This took a while, but it was just too good a prompt not to give it my best shot. I hope you enjoy it.

Happy belated birthday!! Consider this your gift from moi <3 🎁🎉

prompt 106. “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, i was just..” “Want some help?” prompt 111. “You have no idea how much I want you.” prompt 127. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

CRAVING Rating: EXPLICIT Words: 5,7k Pairing: LonelyEyes Characters: Elias Bouchard; Peter Lukas; Tim Stoker; Martin Blackwood; Gertrude Robinson (mention); Jurgen Leitner (mention). Tags: Established Relationship; Parenthood; Smut; PWP; Mutual Pining; Fluff; Sweet; Masturbating; Cock sucking; Handjobs; Scent Kink; Fingering; Anal Fingering; Anal Sex; Dirty Talk; Banter; Wearing the other's clothes; Doting Parents!LonelyEyes; unbeta'd; Tim and Martin are their kids AGAIN

Disclaimer: These characters AREN’T mine. They belong to Rusty Quill’s The Magnus Archives. Warning: This work ISN’T SUITABLE for minors. It’s a NSFW piece of slash fiction. Therefore, if you’re a minor or in any way squicked by what’s in the tags, DO NOT READ!

Filthy, FILTHY LonelyEyes below the cut, my beloved. It's official, this is now a Verse.

Ever since they became parents, Peter and Elias haven’t known what alone time is anymore. Life is a jolly mess most of the time, with all things required for the rearing of two children. Even if the boys are now a bit older and can shoulder small responsibilities, it still seems like too much is going on at once.

Some days are more hectic than others, which often sends the two men to bed at 10PM feeling like they could sleep for days. Work hasn’t been any better in allowing for a break — Peter’s schedule has him away for months every now and again, and Elias can hardly ever catch a break from the Institute (he’s the Head, after all).

Needless to say, it all takes a toll on their love life. They can count in one hand the number of times they’ve had a weekend for themselves in the past few years. When they want sex, it’s always rushed and quiet, afraid that one of the kids will wake up because of a nightmare and ask to sleep with them.

Elias misses the days when he and Peter would go on long dates and weekend trips; catches himself thinking about those every once in a while, of how they would spare a day to stay in their room talking and getting each other off. They aren’t that young and horny anymore, but there’s still enough of that old spark that Elias will sometimes get turned on merely watching Peter doing mundane stuff, like doing the dishes.

To think that they didn’t get along at first. Elias chuckles whenever he remembers the first time they were together. Peter had been a cocky bastard, but Elias had been cockier and given Peter one hell of a show. Elias still has the eye tattoo on his stomach, but he had removed the nipple piercings once he’d started working. Peter had been so impressed by them, he had played and pulled on them with his teeth once they actually went on a proper date.

Elias lets out a nostalgic sigh.

“Everything alright?” Peter asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Elias breathes. “Fine. Just reminiscing about stuff.”

“Such as…?” Peter rinses a bowl of oatmeal.

“That time you used to be more of an insufferable arse.”

Peter snorts. “You’re one to talk, love.”

Elias can’t help a smile. “We turned out alright. Sometimes though, I miss those days.”

Peter’s disbelief is visible even from his back. “Really!? We used to be swamped all the time, and there was that professor, Jonah- Wouldn’t leave you alone. I think he wanted to — what was it he used to say — see you.”

Elias shudders with a disgusted noise and gets up. He circles Peter’s waist and hooks a chin over his shoulder, pressing their bodies flush enough that there’s no mistaking that he’s half-hard. Peter drops a spoon in the sink with a clatter.

“Oh, wow, hello there.”

Elias giggles. “I miss you,” he whispers. He gives Peter’s nape a slow, open mouthed kiss, causing the larger man to shiver.

“Elias…”

“I know, I know.” Elias pauses, buries his nose into Peter's neck, where his silver hair has grown past his ear. He smells so good. “I could take a day off tomorrow. We could ask Gertie to keep an eye on the boys over the weekend. She’s always delighted to see them.”

After the beach incident in which they had met, Gertrude Robinson had become a dear friend of the family. She and her husband (an old scholar with a booming voice and a gentle face called Jurgen) had a massive library and a collection of items from all over the world. The boys always returned home with strange facts about books and places of which neither Peter or Elias had ever heard. Gertrude also had a grandchild a year older than Martin, Jon, whom Martin had (at the tender age of seven) sworn to marry.

Peter thinks about it for a moment, but doesn’t sound too hopeful in his reply. “They’ll need me at work tomorrow. I already said I’d be there, and it could take a while.”

“Can’t always have it all...”

Peter turns around and holds Elias’s face to give him a kiss. Elias struggles at first because Peter’s hands are covered in suds, but eventually gives in. The kiss is slow and warm; if he isn't careful, Elias can easily get carried away with it. Peter’s growing beard is ticklish, but when it slides down his jaw and neck, Elias has to stifle a whimper.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Elias shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

That’s not to say Elias’s body will just quit the yearning — it becomes quite self-evident when Peter pulls away and Elias is half-tempted to chase his lips.

But then one of the kids calls him and he needs to go. It's like that the whole day.

Elias only gets some blessed alone time with his husband before bed. Peter pulls him into a hug and they kiss until they have to stop before it gets too hot to ignore. Elias grabs Peter’s hand when it slides between them, because one thing will certainly lead to another.

“Pretty please?” Peter pouts. It looks outrageous on him and Elias barks out a laugh.

Peter smiles, but it fades into something else — something charged. They are kissing again before they know it, and it’s insane how well Peter fits between his legs. The weight of his larger body on top of him, pressing down where it feels so good, has Elias wrapping both legs around his waist and using them for leverage. Peter hums in approval.

At least, Elias is not alone in his lust. Peter is usually quieter about his wants and needs, but once he’s into it, he’s ready to go all the way. Perhaps Elias should’ve been more careful, because now he has to live with the knowledge that Peter is right there and that he wants it just as bad as Elias.

They are humping through their clothes and Elias is ready to make a mess of his pants just like that when there’s a yell from down the hall. Elias’s head snaps up and he all but tosses Peter off of him to leap up and grab his robes.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Is it Martin again,” Peter rubs his eyes tiredly, pulling a pillow over his clothed erection.

“Coming! Daddy is coming!” Elias yells back.

Afterwards, they cuddle in shared frustration until they fall asleep. When Elias wakes up the next morning, Peter’s boner is poking his arse, so he gives it a wistful little press. Peter groans and holds Elias there with an arm around his waist. Peter grinds up and Elias huffs into the pillow.

“Wanna finish what we started?”

“Be late for work,” Elias points out. Peter swears, but lets him go.

They’re out an hour later; Elias drops the kids off and heads to work. Heavy clouds of sleep deprivation and sexual frustration hang ominously above his head.

Thankfully, work is something he can lose himself in. He’s good at what he does and there’s something soothing about all those Excel sheets. Coupled with the steady hum of the AC, they almost make Elias forget his troubles.

But then he sees the flyer for this new jazz café that had opened a few months ago, where he had intended to take Peter on a date but never managed to make time, and his face falls. Damn, he misses his husband’s presence, his silly jokes and ridiculous sailor stories.

Lunch hour comes in a blink; Elias is poking a fork into his salad with an utter lack of enthusiasm when his phone chirps with an incoming message. He wipes his mouth and sees that it’s from Peter.

It’s a picture of Peter standing in front of a tall restroom mirror. He’s wearing the big old ratty coat he’d left with this morning, but it’s pulled halfway to the side to reveal Peter’s hand clutching the sizable girth of him through his grey slacks.

Elias chokes on lettuce.

What’s the meaning of this???

Been thinking of you. A lot. — is Peter’s swift reply.

Well, Elias has too, but not to this extent. Can I call you?

Peter calls him instead. “Hey.”

“Are you mad!? I’m in the middle of work!”

Peter laughs. “You talk as if you don’t have a cushy office all to yourself to play as you wish.”

“Yes, at least I can say that. You on the other hand, you’ve got a bloody crew swarming you every day.”

“I’m not on the ship right now. And there are stalls here.”

“You’re hiding in the loo?!”

“Had to. Wouldn’t stop thinking of you. Now, do you want to play?”

“You can’t be doing what I think you’re doing. What if someone comes in?”

There’s something hot and heavy about Peter's chuckle that makes Elias shudder. “A while ago, you’d be the first to say fuck it.”

“Well, apparently one of us has grown past that.”

“I bet you wouldn’t refuse if you could see how hard I am right now.”

It’s a bait. Elias knows it’s a cheap bait and that he’s gonna fall straight for it if he isn't careful. When he reaches down, he notices that he’s hard too. Shit.

“I’m not gonna do this. Bloody hell, not in the middle of work. Fucking Rosie could walk in. Did you know I have a reputation to maintain?” Elias pinches the bridge of his nose. “This can wait until we’re home.”

“We won’t have time then,” Peter replies. “And I miss you too, you know.”

Elias makes a pained little noise. “You have no idea how much I want you right now. But this will wait. We’ll figure it out.”

“How much? Show me.”

"Peter," Elias warns.

Peter gives it up with a breathy laugh. "Okay," he whispers. “See you at home. Love you.”

“You too.”

Apparently, Elias’ ability to stick to reason is intact even with his horny-addled brain. He lets out a deep exhale after the call is over.

The next ten minutes are spent willing his boner to go down by and focusing on work. It’s uncomfortable, but he manages. It gives him a headache for the rest of the day and much to think about — and even more to look forward to.

Unfortunately for both, Peter shoots him a message later on telling Elias that he will be home late and not to wait for him. The boys are disappointed, because it was film night and Peter had promised to watch Return of the King with them. Elias is sad, too; Peter had come back from three months at sea not a week ago, but again they have to be apart.

Elias helps the kids with homework and gets on a work call that drags on for an hour, which only serves to worsen his headache.

During dinner, Elias is taken aback by how observant his youngest is. Martin’s Daddy must be wearing his sourest look, for it prompts the boy to pat Elias’ hand (exactly how Peter does when someone’s upset) and tell him:

“Don’t be sad, Daddy. Dad will be home soon and then you can complain to him about work.”

Elias nearly chokes on food the second time that day. Tim chimes in.

“Yeah, dad. Don’t worry about it. The old man knows what he’s doing.” And without missing a beat, with those big brown eyes of his. “Can I play before bed?”

“Definitely not. You’ll wake up cranky tomorrow.” Tim pouts, tries again, but Elias’s word is final (even if he feels soft after their comforting words). “Thank you, boys. I know how much you look forward to movie night. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

Tim shrugs, digging into his pasta. Martin is quick to come up with a solution.

“Can you read for us, daddy?”

That catches Tim’s attention. Elias crosses both hands over the table.

“Oh? What would you like me to read?”

Martin leaps out of the chair and thrusts a tomato-sauce covered spoon up in the air. “The adventures of the incredible Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End!” he roars.

Tim rolls his eyes.

It doesn’t take them long to sleep with Elias reading The Hobbit. Well, it doesn’t take Tim long to sleep (he’s heard this story countless times before and it's a favourite, even if now he says it's for babies) — Martin is paying close attention and interrupting Elias every now and again to ask questions. When the youngest finally drifts off, Elias tucks him in and puts the book back on the shelf.

Tim is almost as tall as Elias now, but Elias can still pick him up from Martin’s bed and carry him to his own bedroom. For someone who wanted to play video games and rolled his eyes at their book choice, his oldest fell asleep very swiftly.

Elias clears the dinner table, does the dishes and puts the rest of the food away. It’s a little past 10PM now and Peter is still not home. Elias only hopes nothing bad has happened (especially after today’s surprise).

Elias finally has a chance to shower and spends five minutes just letting the hot water spray massage his back. He considers touching himself — the awareness that he could use an orgasm and that now is the perfect time to achieve it is very present within him — but before he comes to a decision, he’s already stepped out of the bathroom.

Peter’s sleep t-shirt seems to eye him from the bed as Elias pats himself dry. Should he? After all, why not? He misses the old fool.

Elias pulls the t-shirt on and has to suppress a laugh at how silly he looks, greying brown curls plastered to his forehead and lean body looking too small in that tee — Peter is many sizes larger than him, so the item reaches halfway down his thighs. Elias pulls on some underwear and crawls into bed with a book. The t-shirt is so large that he has to keep adjusting it lest it falls below his shoulder.

For the first hour, Elias tries to read. He really, really does. But perhaps wearing Peter’s clothes hadn’t been his brightest idea. The item is soaked in Peter’s scent, which is positively distracting. Elias catches himself reading the same line three times and lets out a frustrated groan.

“Okay, fine! Fine, I’ll do it!”

Elias shoves the book onto the bedside table and ducks beneath the duvets, lying on his side. He’ll make this as quick as he can and then he’ll go the fuck to sleep.

He runs a hand down his chest, but it feels more perfunctory than pleasant. When it's Peter doing it, it has Elias shivering in no time. Elias closes his eyes and tries to relax, tries to think of how it feels when Peter rubs a rough palm over his nipples and kisses his belly until he squirms.

Elias has left the door open and his ears peeled to any sounds of little steps in the hallway, so it takes a while to concentrate on the ways his body is reacting.

Eventually though, it becomes easier — there have been no steps, no sounds but the soft little puffs of air that he’s letting out. One of his hands is rubbing a nipple through the t-shirt and the other is cupping his cock. Pleasure finally takes over when he presses that hand down his pelvis and a shiver runs up his body, arching his back.

Elias slips a hand under the waistband of his underwear and wraps it around his cock to pull back the skin. It’s getting hot and damp under the duvets, but Elias doesn’t plan to make this long. Just a bit more and he’ll come.

A twist of his wrist has him shuddering and letting out a breathy curse. Elias pulls the too-large shirt up to his nose and takes a big inhale. His mind is filled with Peter and he darts a tongue out for a taste, but gets none.

Still, he has had Peter in his mouth times enough to remember his taste. It makes Elias wet at the tip. He’s so close, so fucking close — but he’s also tempted to keep edging himself; keep thinking of all the things he wishes Peter would do to him. It’s been too fucking long, and he knows that if he doesn’t give his body what it wants every once in a while, it will just keep coming back to bother him.

But then again, the mess… And he’s so close, so, so close. Just a bit more, just drown out everything else.

Elias is so lost in his chase that doesn’t hear it when the front door clicks open; nor when a heavy coat is hung on the hallway pegs; doesn’t notice some of the lights being turned on and off, and is completely oblivious to the figure standing on the threshold and the socked steps that carry the man inside.

Elias only notices that Peter has arrived home when the duvet is gently pulled back and Peter’s smiling face pokes into his line of view — but by the time Peter has let out a soft “hey darling, what are you doing” Elias has already let out a blood-curdling scream and punched him in the face.

Peter falls flat on his bum with an expletive. “Jesus! What the fuck, Elias!”

Elias clutches his chest, breathing hard. “Oh- Oh Lord Jesus. My heart, my poor heart.” He turns to Peter with murder in his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking in like that?!”

Peter gets up, rubbing his sore bum. “I didn’t exactly try to sneak in, maybe you just didn’t hear me. I wasn’t particularly trying to be quiet. What the hell are you doing still up anyway?”

Elias ignores him. He snaps his head to the hallway. “Do you think the kids heard it?”

Peter shrugs, still sore.

“Get on!”

Peter grudgingly goes to check on the kids, but comes back shaking his head. Elias falls back into bed with a relieved sigh. Peter takes up a spot near the edge.

“What are you doing up? It’s way past midnight.”

Elias then remembers that his (now very much limp) dick is still out under the duvets. “Nothing much, I was just reading.”

“You were reading under the covers in the dark.”

Elias nods.

Peter isn’t convinced, but that gives way to a confused frown. “Hold on, is that my t-shirt?”

Elias looks down as if he hadn’t realised he had been wearing it. “Huh. I guess.”

Peter’s frown deepens. He touches the duvet. Elias clutches it and holds it down on reflex. Peter’s mouth opens in an accusing “oh!”

Peter can be very stubborn when he sets his mind upon something. This time, said something happens to be getting the covers out of the way.

Elias curls in on himself and burrows deeper into the duvet, but Peter (the cheap bastard that he is) resorts to tickling. Elias muffles an ugly laugh into the pillow. Peter is laughing too.

“Stop! Fuck, I’ll show you, stop!” Elias wheezes. Peter’s laughter dies off. He combs Elias’s damp hair backwards and kisses his cheek.

Elias sits up and pulls the duvet aside, feeling completely undignified. His cock is poking out above the underwear, but at least the t-shirt is covering it.

It’s enough for Peter to put two and two together.

“Were you masturbating?”

“No. Like I said, I was reading.”

Peter reaches for the hem of the shirt. Elias grabs his hand. “I said I was reading.”

Peter drops it, lets his hand fall to Elias’s thigh. A moment later, he gives it a squeeze. “Want some help?”

Elias narrows his eyes at him, then glances at the clock. Way, way past midnight.

The squeeze is back, travelling upwards. In spite of his better judgement, Elias’s legs fall open to give it more access and he sighs in defeat. So much for a steely resolve.

Peter slides a palm under the shirt but doesn’t get the item out of the way. Rather, he caresses Elias’s stomach and lower pelvis. Elias shivers deliciously; he’d been dreaming of this all day.

“You’ve been holding back a lot today,” Peter points out after Elias gets hard with just some light teasing. Peter hasn’t even touched his cock.

Elias wiggles to get Peter to touch him, slides down the bed. The invitation is clear enough, but Peter seems to be waiting for a verbal one. “I was being a sensible adult.”

Peter smiles. “Thought you’d like a bit of sexting. You used to love it back in uni.”

Elias had always been weak to Peter’s eyes, especially when they’re looking at him as if he’s something to be slowly savoured and then swallowed. Elias rolls his hips, staring at Peter’s hand on his inner thigh. The movement almost makes it touch his cock, but misses it for a few inches. Elias huffs in frustration.

“Thought you said you were going to help.”

“I can only help if you tell me what you want.”

Elias rolls his eyes at him. Peter waits happily.

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

“My cock.” Elias wants to punch him when Peter merely raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Touch my cock, please?”

If that doesn’t do it, Elias is getting a divorce. To his delight, it awakens something in Peter that makes his eyes go dark with lust.

“Fuck, yes. But it’s too dry- Where’s the-” Elias passes him the lube before Peter finishes the sentence. “Love you.”

Peter squirts some lube onto his palms and rubs them together. They’re cool when they touch Elias’s inner thighs and drag down, massaging the region and getting it all wet.

Elias sighs, eyes fluttering momentarily. He can’t help but roll his hips to ease some of the tension. He’s so hard and Peter is taking so long — but when he finally does it, Elias hisses through clenched teeth.

“Feels good, love?”

Elias bites his lower lip, chin tucked to his chest as he watches that big fist pumping wetly around his cock. Only the glistening head is visible, hot red and ready to shoot. Peter rubs a thumb under his frenulum and Elias sees stars.

“Ah, shit,” he sobs, grabbing fistfuls of the too large t-shirt and fucking into Peter’s fist, because the squeeze is so damn good.

Will Peter mind if Elias sniffs his shirt? Fuck it. Elias balls up some fabric and pulls it to his nose. The action doesn’t escape Peter; in fact, he seems entertained by it.

Elias notices his husband’s amusement only through half-lidded eyes, because every single part of his body feels like molasses right now.

“Look at you, ’s like you’re drunk in it.” Peter licks a finger and presses it up Elias’s perineum.

The pressure sends a thick dollop of pre-cum leaking down Elias’s cock. Elias’s eyes roll back into their sockets. Peter taunts him further.

“Want me to put my mouth on you or do you want something better to sniff on?”

“Fuck you and your dirty mouth.”

Peter laughs. “You can, baby. Always loved the way you shiver when you come down my throat.”

Elias points a weak finger towards the door. “Close that first.”

Peter goes and Elias hears the unmistakable sound of a lock falling into place. Peter sheds his shirt and trousers on the way back. Elias can see the outline of his cock against his underwear and makes grabby hands at it.

Peter chuckles and stands next to the headboard. “Can’t decide?”

Elias forgoes the shirt in favour of leaning over the edge and burying a face into Peter’s groin. He takes a deep inhale and mouths at it, dragging his tongue all the way up.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”

Peter moans above him and cradles his nape, pulling at the fine hairs there to make Elias shiver. Elias gives his own cock a few lazy pumps while his mouth is busy getting Peter’s underwear all damp.

Elias steals a glance at the digital clock again and whines. Peter asks him what’s wrong.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now, but look at the time.”

“I am looking. It’s working fine.”

Elias swats at him. “I’m serious!”

Peter lets go of Elias’s nape to cradle his face, guiding him upwards. Elias follows it, standing on his knees.

“I’ve bought Red Bull,” Peter confides, and that’s the most beautiful thing to ever come out of his mouth. Elias melts a little just then.

Peter grabs his arse and pulls him to himself. The feel of his underwear is rough against Elias’s cock, but Elias ruts into it. The hand on Elias’s face has now slid to wrap loosely around his neck. Elias pulls Peter’s underwear down and Peter wiggles out of them.

Peter’s cock hangs heavy where it’s nestled amid the thick silver hair on his groin. Elias’s mouth waters at the sight of it, but he eagerly presses them together. The hairs on Peter’s chest and lower abdomen feel coarse against his skin, but Elias loves every second of it. It will leave him tender and pink tomorrow, but he doesn’t care.

Peter pulls him into a kiss that is everything Elias has been craving all day — it doesn’t stop at his mouth, but drags down his jaw and neck, making him pliant. Peter moves his face from one side to the other to nip under his ear and suck bruises onto his collarbones.

“Got rubber?” Elias asks. Peter growls affirmatively.

It’s been a while, but they know how the other likes it. Elias is dripping wet with lube while Peter preps him. Elias would usually prefer his own fingers (much slimmer than Peter’s) at first, but right now he’s turned on enough that the slight burn of the stretch feels perfect. Elias lies on the pillows and lets Peter work his magic.

Peter kneels between his legs and fingers him as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, curling up his fingers to milk Elias’s cock. Elias arches his back and watches dollop after dollop of pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Peter, I swear- to God… If you make me come like this-”

Whatever Elias had thought of saying is completely wiped from his mind when Peter leans down and gives his cockhead a gentle suck, as easy as someone scooping some ice-cream with their tongue.

Elias swears at Peter, but he can’t do much else besides clench his hands and teeth and try to keep from coming. He was so close just now; only a brief touch of Peter’s tongue and his cock is now throbbing, legs shaking so hard he has to suck in his stomach to not orgasm right then and there.

“It would be a sight to behold. You are a sight to behold.”

“Cut the crap, please cut the crap and just fuck me. Fuck, I’m so hard it hurts, you bastard.”

“Then come, love.”

“I don’t wanna come without you inside me.”

Elias should be embarrassed to find that his eyes are glistening with moisture. These can’t be tears. He refuses to believe that he’s crying during sex.

Peter wipes the corner of his eye, boops Elias’s nose with his own and gives him a gentle peck.

“Okay,” Peter whispers.

Peter rolls condoms on himself and Elias, then arranges a pillow under Elias to prop him up and slides home. The size of him fills Elias up so good, so perfect — all the way down to those wiry silver curls. Sure, topping Peter also felt brilliant — but if he’s true to himself, Elias rather likes it up the arse.

They fall into a nice rhythm — whispering disconnected praises and curses. Elias keeps a hand on the headboard for leverage, rolling his hips to meet Peter’s own, re-learning where it feels good. He reminds himself that this is supposed to be quick, just a bit of rough friction before they can’t hold it anymore.

But feeling Peter’s hand clutching his waist, relishing in the delicious push and pull, seeing Peter’s fuzzy pecs flex with the easy effort of taking him — it all has Elias clenching around Peter’s cock and reaching out to trace the lines of his chest.

“Fuck, I should be telling you to go faster.”

“Do you want to go faster?”

“No… I want to keep taking your cock until sunrise.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to stop at some point for rest, but if you’re up to it, I’m all yours.”

Elias smiles, but his eyebrows twitch when Peter finds that spot and fucks into him, pressing right up against it.

“You see I want that, but when you do this… I want you to leave me all sore.”

“You’re a man of many wishes.”

Elias grins. “Think you can answer them?”

Peter pats his leg. “On your hands and knees, then.”

Arse up in the air, Elias stifles a laugh when Peter squirts more lube onto his hole and drags his cock over it.

Peter pushes back in with a smile. “What is it?”

“Just remembered something. When we first-” Elias hisses when Peter spreads his legs further and angles his thrusts just right. “Yeah, right there. Fuck… When we first had sex. I couldn’t believe you were just bringing people to your room and never doing this to them.”

Peter holds his hips like his hands belong there, finally giving it to him hard and fast. Elias has to clutch the sheets, but damn, that’s more like it. The t-shirt has balled up near his face and he keeps breathing in Peter’s scent.

“Uh- yeah. Hah, that was a long time ago. Is this OK, love?”

Elias nods. “Yeah. Bit rougher would be even nicer though.”

Peter grunts and his hands slide upwards. “Don’t want to hurt you, but if you say you can take it...”

Elias’s waist used to be so lean that Peter’s fingertips almost touched circling around it. Now that Elias is a bit better padded, they grab his flesh with a bit of loving violence while Peter ruts into him. Elias prays that this million pound house has thick enough walls that the noise of skin on skin won’t bleed out.

Elias wraps a loose hand around his cock, but that mere touch is enough to bring him closer to the edge. The fact that he feels so wonderfully used for Peter’s pleasure also does things to his head, because every grunt of Peter’s feels like a small victory.

Peter continues, fondly. “You used to be so fucking shameless. I’m still sad you had to remove the nip piercings.”

“It was easier- Oh, oh! Yes, just like that!” Elias presses his face into the bed, panting open-mouthed against the mattress. “It was easier- Easier,” he tries to continue, but Peter is fucking him so good that he can’t complete his line of thought.

“...that way?” Peter supplies.

Elias nods. He feels half out of it already. “I think- Gonna come. S-so good...”

Peter’s approving hum is followed by him dropping part of his weight onto Elias’s back, which forces Elias flat into the mattress. Elias gasps, loud and breathless and more in love with Peter than ever before. His husband knows that he’s a sucker for a bit of choking and is giving him exactly what he needs.

Peter thrusts harder, deeper, and it only takes a moment of Elias to come — the pressure and the friction too good to resist. Peter has to wrap a hand over his mouth to quieten his moaning. Elias shudders with the aftershocks, Peter’s still moving inside him almost too much to bear.

“God, you squeeze me so good every time,” Peter breathes into his nape. “I’ve missed this.”

Elias can’t breathe; tears gather freely on the corners of his eyes, but Peter doesn’t get off until he comes, too — it feels like orgasm drags on forever in an agonised bliss.

Elias shivers when Peter pulls out. It always gets a bit dry towards the end, but the burn and the stretch leave Elias tingly and sated — and now, completely boneless.

Peter eases him onto his side and removes the now damp t-shirt, chucking it aside; he then ties off both their condoms. The one that Elias has been wearing has almost slipped off; his flaccid cock now covered in spunk. Peter kneels between his legs and takes him into his mouth, causing Elias to seize with oversensitivity and nearly pull off chunks of Peter’s hair.

Peter pulls off of him with a wet pop, looking like the cat that got the cream. Elias sags and drapes an arm over his head, damp chest going up and down.

“Feeling better?” Peter asks. He caresses Elias’s thighs gently, barely even there. It makes pleasant goosebumps rise on Elias’s skin.

“God, you’ve ruined me…” Elias croaks. “You’ve fucked my brains out, Mr. Lukas.”

Peter chuckles. “Good.” He kisses Elias’s knee, his belly, his chest. Elias buries his fingers into his hair. “Gonna get something to clean you up.”

“Wait, just. Just stay like this for a bit.”

“Feeling like some post-coital cuddling, Mr. Bouchard?”

“Ugh,” Elias untangles his fingers from his perfect silver hair. “Now you’ve ruined it. Just go.”

Peter gives a rumbling chuckle that resounds through Elias’s chest. “No, thinking about it, I rather like it here. I get to see all your freckles.”

“Hm. Have you finally managed to count how many of them there are?”

“Nope,” Peter kisses his stomach, over the Eye tattoo. “But I’m still on it!”

Elias yawns. “Good- Good luck.”

“Gee, I really ought to get something to clean you up. At this rate you’ll end up sleeping.”

Elias snorts with his eyes closed. “Already am.”

Peter kisses his nose and leaves him be. When Elias wakes up the next day, he notices three things: one, Peter actually did give him a wipe down; two, he is very much aware of all the sleep he didn’t get last night; and three, he’s got an easy smile on for the rest of the day that he can’t deny.

#my fic #nanda's ramblings #lonelyeyes #lonelyeyes fic #lonelyeyes fanfiction #peter lukas #elias bouchard #martin blackwood #tim stoker #gertrude robinson #jurgen leitner #tma fic #tma fanfiction #do not archive #peterelias

45 notes · View notes

peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

hc of amy having a bad day and struggling with mac? say he’s very clingy or also upset

Guess what, this accidentally turned into a fic too. And it kinda shifted into 'Jake and Amy having a bad day and struggling with Mac for very different reasons'... I hope you still like it!

(read it on AO3)

It had become evident pretty early on that when Mac got sick, he gravitated towards Amy much more. Sure, Jake was also sometimes good for snotty cuddles and cough-soothing baths, but at some point he would call for his mom, or whine and spread his arms towards her with his legs kicking in frustration, and it said a lot about how much Jake has grown that he didn't even hesitate to hand him over without acting hurt. Maybe the blissful calm washing over Mac's face as soon as Amy was hugging him helped with that, too. It was such a wonderful thing to see after hours of crying, coughing, sneezing, whining and general sad pouting that only a Peralta-baby is capable of, Jake barely had the energy to worry about how it felt to be so blatantly rejected by his little boy.

It'd also become evident that Mac’s clingy phase had started a bit earlier than most of their parenting books prophesied. If Amy was home, he wanted to be on her lap, or in her arms, or wrapping his little arms around her leg as she tried to work in the kitchen. Jake got “NO!”ed and waved away far more often than he was asked for a hug himself, and again, it took a lot of newfound maturity not to let that get to him - and maybe he did not have enough of that yet, because it absolutely got to him in quieter moments.

(He knew it’d pass, like any phase in a toddler’s life passes at some point. Like the phase of Mac refusing anything but that one specific carrot puree passed, or the phase of him being unable to sleep anywhere except cuddled in between them, waking up as soon as they tried to carry him back to his own bed.)

The real trouble starts when both these situations collide.

-*-

Mac woke them up at 4:30 sharp, two hours before Amy’s first alarm, crying so hard it almost sounded like screaming. When Jake tiptoed into the nursery, he had to ignore the frustrated shouts of Nonono and Mamam that he was almost used to by now, to actually check what was wrong. Probably another ear infection, he realised after seeing the symptoms they’d become very familiar with during the last time they’d battled through one of those. They had to bring him to the doctor to be sure, but he already knew they were looking forward to at least two days of unsoothable crying and fussing.

He also knew that things would be hell for Amy.

In theory, it would make far more sense for him to call in sick to take care of Mac. As much as he loved his detective work, the simple fact that his wife outranked him (and thus outdid him in both salary and responsibilities, obviously) meant that if one of them had to take a few days off, it should be him first and foremost. In practice, however, Mac was going to be even more insufferable than just from his sickness if left alone with him at the moment. He was still crying for Amy as Jake lifted him out of the cot - he would be screaming bloody murder if she closed the door of the apartment behind her.

“Earache?” Amy asked already as Jake stepped back into the bedroom, Mac’s wailing lessening only slightly as he stretched his arms out toward her. She pulled him to her as Jake sighed and nodded.

“I think so. I’ll take him to the doc when they open.” He tried to offer, but he knew Amy would refuse it anyway.

“No, I can do it. I’ll call in sick - you get back to sleep for work.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed again as he dropped onto his back while Amy was sitting up to sway Mac, who’d actually quieted down into little sobs and sniffles in her arms. “I’m sorry, Ames.”

“It’s nobody’s fault he’s sick, especially not yours.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could help more. If he wasn’t- you know.”

“I know.” Amy let her free hand not holding Mac drift through Jake’s sleep-messy curls. She knew that, as much as he tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, he secretly hated the thought of his son rejecting him in any way, even if it was as nonsensical as a clingy toddler phase.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to actually fall back asleep with her hand in his hair, and she carefully wiggled out of bed to let him rest while settling down with a still crying Mac in his nursery rocking chair.

-*-

They got to get ready together as they usually did in the morning, at least - even if Amy was only getting dressed to drive to the pediatrician and straight back again. She’d already called Holt and explained the situation before Jake handed her a mug of coffee, and Mac had been, at the least, not crying for the last ten minutes while sitting in his playpen in the living room. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as last time.

“I can pick up whatever the doc prescribes on my lunch break.” Jake smiled at her, ruefully, and she considered telling him again that it was okay, that she could do it - but something told her to keep her options of at least a few minutes not alone with a sick toddler open.

She desperately needed that option when lunchtime came around.

Doctor Maurice had quickly confirmed their suspicions and told her that there wasn’t much more they could do than wait it out, keep an eye on his fever and medicate with ibuprofen and warm compresses. Not that any of that had helped. When Mac wasn’t crying, he was screaming, and when he wasn’t screaming, he wanted to be close to her, but he couldn’t lie down without the pain getting worse, so simply plonking down on the couch with him was out of the question. She’d let him breastfeed far more than had been their norm now that he was slowly getting weaned, because it seemed to give him some relief at least, as well as quieting him for a blissful moment. But then the infection had travelled to his stomach as well, the same way it had last time, and he staunchly refused any and all food or milk. She’d seriously started considering foregoing the diapers completely and just letting him play in the empty bathtub so she could rinse him off from time to time, because five dirty diapers in under twenty minutes had to be some sort of new record.

So when Jake texted her he was on his way, with a picture of another box of ibuprofen and that herbal steam-bath mix that had helped last time, she sent a silent thank you prayer to anyone who wanted to listen. And she mumbled a not quite as silent thank you against Jake’s lips before he could even get his shoes off at the door.

“I got you one of the good bagel sandwiches for lunch, too.” He said as he hugged her and combed through her messy hair.

“I love you so much.” She hadn’t even realised that the only thing in her stomach so far was still the cup of coffee he’d made her this morning.

He grinned as he put the deli paper bag on the kitchen counter and went over to Mac’s playpen, to say hello to a currently only softly whining toddler smacking an innocent teddy against a pile of soft fabric blocks. Amy followed to wrap her arms around his waist from behind and rest her head against his back, taking in a few deep breaths of Jake, of something that didn’t smell of diarrhea, moist compresses, milk-hiccups and spit up.

“Also Holt gave me an hour for lunch, so if you want to take a nap or something-”

“God.” Amy groaned with pure happiness as Jake turned around in her embrace. “Marry me, Mr. Perfect.”

“Any place, any time, babe.” He kissed the crown of her head while returning her hug, sniffing her hair with a chuckle. “But maybe a shower first before the big day.”

“Rude.” Amy mumbled with her face pressed against his chest. “I rescind the proposal.”

His chuckle turned into a laugh at that, and he slowly unraveled her arms around him. “Nap first, then shower, how’s that sound? Then a bagel. I’ll give Mac his lunch.”

“Good luck with that.” She sighed before giving him another quick kiss and making a beeline for the bedroom.

-*-

She’d hopped straight from bed into the bathroom later, relishing in the feeling of the hot water washing away any aches left over after that much needed nap. Alas, when she stepped out of the oh-so-peaceful bathroom, she was met with a wall of sound.

Mac was wailing, hard, as Jake swayed him back and forth, holding another warm compress against his little ear, and trying to make soothing noises despite the shrill screams of No and MAMA! straight into his face.

“Shsshhshsh, hey, it’s okay, bud, it’s okay. I know you don’t like me much at the moment, but it’s gonna be okay, and mom is coming back soon-”

He stopped as he noticed her stepping into the room, giving her an apologetic smile as she took Mac from him. The wailing turned into regular crying at least, albeit still loud.

“I’m sorry babe - did he wake you up? He won’t eat either.”

“I set an alarm, actually. So you won’t be back late.” Amy sat down on the couch and pulled up her shirt (freshly changed after the shower, and god had that felt good as well). Mac latched onto her breast almost immediately, and a wonderful quiet settled across the room, only his little snuffling and suckling noises breaking through.

Jake’s face was unreadable before he turned towards the kitchen to plate her bagel, but that stoic, almost empty expression told her enough anyway. She grabbed his wrist as he set the plate down on the couch table, pulled softly until he sat down next to her, running her fingers through his hair again to comfort him.

“You know it’s not true, right?”

“Hm?” Jake looked up at her after watching Mac, who finally seemed to calm down completely in her arm, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“It’s not true that he doesn’t like you. He loves you just as much as me. It’s just a difficult phase.”

“I know that.” Jake’s attempt at a smile was still sad enough, and she wiped across the corner of it with the soft tip of her thumb.

“And I love you too. So much.”

“I know that.” And this new smile seemed to turn out right, at least. “You wanna re-marry me, after all.” He teased as he leant his head against her shoulder, looking down at Mac again with a much less forlorn expression.

“Hey, I rescinded that proposal!” She quipped back, falling into their usual banter easily now that she was rested enough and sure that Jake felt better as well. “But I might consider re-re-proposing again if you promise to pick up Polish for dinner.”

“I knew you only wanted me for all the free food delivery.”

“I also need you for other things.” Amy said as she sat up a bit straighter to finish Mac’s feeding, Jake’s head lifting off of her shoulder with the movement. “Like burping your kid. I really don’t want spit-up down this fresh shirt.”

“Aye aye, Sergeant.” Jake joked, already scrabbling for the burp cloth thrown over the armchair next to them and taking Mac out of her arms.

She watched him as he expertly settled the little, squirming bundle against his chest, the swaying and patting motion almost second nature by now, ducking his head down for a quick sniff of that perfect toddler hair scent. He’d have to leave for the precinct soon enough, and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the afternoon probably being a reprise of her entire morning, and she didn’t even want to think about the night or next day to come.

Life with a toddler was unpredictable. Almost nothing was in her control anymore. But, as she’d learned over the years, as long as she was with the right people, she could handle anything. And Jake Peralta proved, again and again, that he was the right person for her.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #baby mac #mac peralta #fic #my writing

36 notes · View notes

babyurthendofjune · 3 years

Text

onding

onding (n.)-a heavy fall of rain or snow (in this case snow!)

this was inspired by this request and I thought it would be perfect to include in the A Very Merry Styles Fic Challenge! I cannot take full credit for this one as @tbslenthusiast helped guide me as my wonderful creative director, @taintedwonder was my amazing editor, and @bfharry was my lovely beta reader! honestly owe the title to miss tanya @sunflowers-styles cause she was a huge help with that! I appreciate you all so much ❤

hope you all enjoy!!

word count: 1.6k

writing tag | masterlist

Snow falls rapidly from the sky as you and Harry drive to your destination, neither of you noticing just how fast at first. You were both too excited at the idea of getting away from your busy schedules to celebrate the holidays with Harry’s family for the week.

His hand rests on your leg as he drives, fingers tapping along to the Christmas music playing from the radio. Occasionally offering a gentle squeeze to your thigh and a sweet smile; relaxation already flowing through his body and wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

The snowflakes seem to get larger and fall faster as you get closer to your destination and, as much as you don’t want to burst through his bubble of contentment, you begin to worry about the quick escalation of them. Your mind starts running through all the many possibilities that could go wrong at the idea of the weather worsening the further you travel.

“Harry..are you sure we shouldn’t stop for the night? It’s getting a bit late and those snowflakes aren’t getting any smaller..”

He ducks his head down slightly to look out the windshield and a deep sigh falls from his lips as he returns to his upright position. You don’t miss the way his fingers grip the steering wheel a bit tighter when he says, “Hate to admit it but, maybe you’re right.”

He still hums along to the songs filling the space, but there’s a significant drop in his mood as he takes the next exit with the most promising hotel options. Your hand trails upwards to work over the knot you can already feel forming on the back of his neck from the stress of the situation as he decides which place would be better suited for the two of you to stay in.

You know his source of frustration only lies with the fact that you’re supposed to be at Anne’s house for Christmas dinner the following evening. You can only hope that the weather permits you to be able to still make an appearance on her doorstep at the time she requested you be there. You know she would be just as happy to see her baby boy a day later than he promised, but it would hurt Harry’s heart deeply not to live up to his word.

The clerk flashes Harry a knowing look when he hands over his card and tells him he only needs one bed for one night. It has Harry’s own smirk returning to his face and a blush spreading across yours at the implication. You suppress a giggle as the rest of the transaction is processed, but it bubbles up out of you the second you’re in the elevator on the way to the 4th floor where your room waits for you. Your laughter rings through the tiny space and only stops when you let your head fall against his chest. He loops the arm that isn’t supporting his duffel bag around your body to pull you even closer, smacking a kiss to the top of your head.

“Someone’s sleepy,” He mumbles into your hair, “Y’only get this deliriously happy when you’re tired.”

You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Or when I’m spending the weekend snowed in with my rockstar boyfriend.”

“Y’really think we’ll get snowed in?”

You shrug, “Maybe. Would it be so bad to be stuck here together for a few days?”

He scrunches his nose at you, “Nah..we’d miss dinner and presents at Mum’s though.”

“Anne’ll forgive us.”

He nods in agreement, “Yeah, know she would. Can’t control the weather, can we?”

You try to restrain the yawn that creeps up but you fail miserably and cover your mouth as it stretches across your face. It had been a long day; an early morning flight and the new international time zone making your eyes drop closed just until the ding indicates you’ve reached your intended floor.

You keep yourself pressed close to Harry’s side as you make your way down the hallway to your room. He fiddles with the key for only a moment before you almost tumble through the open door and his hand catches your waist quickly to steady you. Luckily the bed is close by and you plop down across the bottom of it, your own duffel tossed aside on the floor, arms extended wide across the cream colored duvet.

He tugs on your wrist and you quietly whine before you peek one eye open to look up at him. Before he can say anything, your stomach growls, outraged at the idea of not being fed since the quick lunch you’d been able to grab much earlier in the day.

“M’hungry, Harry, think we could find some dinner before we crash for a few hours?”

“Doubt anything’s open this time’a night. Let’s do a shower first and then we’ll raid the vending machine, yeah?”

You’re both too tired to do anything much more than actually get clean under the spray of the hot water. It feels like a blessing on your skin and you let it rinse away any worry you might still have about the weather outside. His long fingers work over your scalp to ensure all the suds from your shampoo have disappeared and your eyes droop closed without your consent. You have to splay one hand firmly on his chest to keep from falling into him and knocking you both down in your exhausted state.

He steps out first, careful to keep his eyes on you as he works a towel over his body to dry off, grabbing another one off the small shelf mounted on the wall to wrap you in before he lifts you lightly up and over the edge of the tub.

“Arms up.” He’s already dressed himself quickly in a loose pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt and you silently curse yourself for being too tired to enjoy the view. He gently assists you in completing your own nighttime ensemble by slipping your oversized night shirt over your head and guiding your arms through. You sink into the soft piece of clothing as your fingers dance across the hem of the shirt.

“Hey. Y’forgot something,” He chuckles when you look down at your outfit, confused by what he means. “Up here, love. Kiss?” He requests and bends down so you don’t have far to reach up and indulge his offer. It’s a quick peck, mainly to the side of his mouth, but he doesn’t complain; fingers gently guiding your chin to center his lips over yours, a satisfied hum vibrating through his chest just before he pulls away.

You’re more alert now as you make your way to the small vending area that the two of you had passed earlier on your way to the room. He digs some change from his pocket with the hand that isn’t laced with yours, transferring some of it over to your free hand, before jingling his portion around while he surveys the options in the machine. You’re already loading your coins in, poking the numbers on the keypad, and you eagerly await your snack as it makes its way out of the coils to drop down into the slot.

“Knew you’d go for those.” There’s a lazy smile working its way over one side of his mouth as he watches you bend to retrieve the bag of pretzels.

“They’re my favorites,” You mumble and you tear the bag open, unable to wait until you get back to the room. You rest your head on his shoulder while you wait for him to decide on his own snack, “What’re you gonna get?”

“Well seein’ as you snagged the last bag of those, ya g’nna hafta share.”

“Gladly.” You pluck one from the now partly empty bag and bring it to his lips. He bends to accept it, crunching as he finally adds his coins in the machine.

“I’ll get somethin’ sweet for us to split, how’s that sound?”

You hum in agreement, exhaustion working its way through your body again, your brain too tired to form words at the moment. The coils around his selection unwind, dropping it with a clatter, and you move with him when he bends to collect it.

You’re again thankful for the short distance back to the room and a whispered “oof” falls from his lips when you trip over nothing but your socked feet. His hand loosely clutches a handful of the fabric of your shirt to help steady you until you’re falling back on the bed and scooting up to the top. You tuck yourself under the heavy layers of the sheets and duvet and don’t bother waiting for him as you burrow as deep as you can to get warm.

You don’t make it to dessert, passing off the now half eaten bag of pretzels to him, preferring the comfort of the pillow against your cheek over the bite of chocolate he offers you.

“Reckon y’were right about us stopping when we did,” He mutters as he stares down at his phone, the weather app casting a glow onto his face in the now dimly lit room, “Pretty big snow storm blowin’ through. We might be here a lil’ longer than one night.”

“Hmm.”

He knows you’re mostly gone, sleep overtaking any conscious response you may have been able to provide, and he shakes his head at the sleepy smile on your face. Just as your soft snores fill the space between you, his heart swells at the sight of you resting peacefully; knowing there’s no one else he’d rather be snowed in with than his sweet, sleepy girl.

#averymerrystyleschallenge #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #sorry it’s so short!#hopefully will have a couple of other things done for y’all later

124 notes · View notes

teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.34

Word Count: 2,657

Characters: Derek Hale (mentioned), Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent (brief), Cora Hale (brief), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, bad writing

A/N: i’m mad at most men for existing

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell us that you two broke up?” you sighed deeply, hearing Stiles’ voice on your phone.

You sat on your bed, rubbing your head. It was 8 in the morning, and you needed to be on your way to school.

“I don’t know, Stiles. Can you just drop it?” you asked.

“No. What happened?” he asked again.

“Things weren’t working, okay?” Isaac already left for somewhere, some time ago. He became distant after Boyd’s death, as did everyone else. You hadn’t seen Cora in some time either. Stiles and Scott seemed to be the only ones talking to you.

You hadn’t slept in days, as you kept thinking back to your conversation with Deucalion. Your eyes were black, it was harder to control your powers.

“But what things?” you jumped as you heard the door open, Stiles and Scott walking in.

“What the… how did you get in?!” you exclaimed, putting your phone down as you stood up.

“I made a copy,” he held up his keys as you grabbed them from him, pulling your key off.

“This is an invasion of privacy. What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Trying to talk to you! All you’re doing is avoiding my question!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Because it’s none of your business, Stiles!” you yelled, as both boys fell silent.

“What Stiles means to say, is that we’re sorry, and if you ever want to talk, we’re here,” Scott said in a calm voice, standing between you and Stiles.

“Get out,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Wait, we got you coffee. Well, we made it,” Stiles handed you a cup, as you raised an eyebrow.

“You made me a coffee? Why?” you immediately got suspicious.

“Because we’re good friends, a-and we give friends coffee,” Stiles answered nervously.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip while the two of them watched you carefully. You immediately gagged, running to your bathroom as you spit it out in the sink. There was black coffee, with small bits of mistletoe inside it.

“Did you put mistletoe in this?” you coughed, rinsing your mouth before leaving your bathroom.

“Oh… how did that get in there,” Stiles said softly, unenergetic.

You rolled your eyes, picking up your phone before throwing Stiles’ keys back to him.

“Next time you try to poison me don’t make it so obvious,” you hissed, leaving Stiles and Scott in your apartment, slamming the door behind you.

“So, she’s not the darach. I’ll text Allison, Scott said, pulling out his phone, while Stiles continued to look at his keys, slightly in shock.

“Stiles? What is it?” Scott turned to Stiles, who held up his keys, all of them twisted and bent.

“She broke my keys,” Stiles said, baffled.

Scott looked at the keys, in shock.

“Uh, sorry about your keys, man,” Scott said.

“No, that’s not the problem... I mean I have an extra pair of all the important ones… Something’s wrong, she might not be the darach, but something’s definitely wrong,” Stiles said.

“Or maybe you just pissed her off,” Scott shrugged.

“Look at the freaking keys, Scott. A pissed off human doesn’t have the strength to disfigure keys like this, and I didn’t hear (Y/N) say or do any spell,” Stiles pointed out.

“I-I don’t know. Let’s just go,” Scott suggested.

Stiles nodded, opening the door as the two of them left.

---

“There are five different groups. Virgins, Healers, Warriors, and now Guardians and Philosophers. It can be represented by this Celtic symbol. It’s a five-fold knot,” Chris explained, picking up the map from his table, to show the symbol below it.

“How do you… how long have you spent researching all this?” you asked, leaning against the table.

“My dad knew most of it, so not as long as you think,” you tensed up, giving Chris a look.

“You mean Gerard’s alive?” you asked, surprised.

“Well, what did you think happened to him? I can’t seem to be able to put him 6 feet under, no matter how much I want to,” Chris replied.

“Give me one hour, I’ll do it myself,” you clenched your jaw.

Chris gave you a look, putting the map of Beacon Hills back onto his table.

“As I was saying, someone else was taken. Her name was Tara, she was a police officer, but before that, she was a teacher. The next group he’s going after is philosophers,” Chris said.

“Why are you so sure it’s a he? What if it’s a woman?” you asked.

Chris laughed softly, looking down.

“Is something funny?” you raised an eyebrow.

“No… with questions like that, you remind me of your mother,” you exhaled sharply, running your fingers through your hair.

“My question still stands. Each murder is planned out exactly. There’s no room for error. It’s not the alpha pack, we know that. They have claws, and they would definitely be messier and want to have more fun. The problem with men is that they’re arrogant, and they get cocky. They would torture their victims first. There’s no evidence of torture on any of the bodies,” you explained.

“But…” Chris started.

“Statistically, it makes more sense if the killer is female,” you said.

Chris stayed quiet for a moment before replying.

“What field of work are you going into?” Chris asked.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I might drop out anyway. How is that relevant?” you raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not, I just think you’d do well working for aw enforcement,” he shrugged.

“That’s not… let’s get back to the murders,” you said.

“Right, okay. Well, if she’s sticking to her original schedule, that means that Tara is already dead, and she’s going after the next victim,” Chris said.

“So what do we do now?” you asked.

“We can’t do anything. Just wait, in a few hours or so, another victim will be taken. We don’t know how she’s picking her victims or from where. But, they each have a few hours before they die. That’s when we’ll look, we’ll find this next victim, and find the darach,” Chris explained.

“Darach? What’s that?” you asked.

“That’s the person who’s making the sacrifices,” Chris said.

“They’re druids, or were druids at least. You kill them with silver, mistletoe is like their mountain ash,” Chris said.

Your mind drifted back to Stiles and Scott this morning as you sighed.

“How sure are you that Allison and the rest of them don’t know anything about this?”

----

“Everything seems to happen at abandoned warehouses and buildings,” you sighed, sitting next to Chris in the car.

“Well, they’re secluded areas, it’s easy to not get caught. The next sacrifice should be here,” Chris opened up the map, showing you.

“So, what are we gonna do? What’s the plan?” you asked.

“Well, I have some guns in the back. Silver bullets filled with mistletoe,” he explained.

“Okay, how do we know when the Darach’s coming back to sacrifice him?” you asked.

“We don’t, that’s why we have to wait it out,” he grabbed two guys from the backseat, handing one to you.

“Don’t miss,” he said.

“I never miss,” you scoffed, getting out of the car.

—-

You poked your head up, staying quiet as you gripped your gun tightly, hearing voices.

You stayed hidden, behind a pillar, Argent on the other side of you.

You motioned to him, as he shrugged. The voices grew familiar, as you raised an eyebrow. It was Isaac and Allison.

What the hell are they doing here? you asked yourself.

You felt a shiver down your spine, hearing a low moan. You turned to Chris, knowing he heard it too.

“Allison, wait!” you heard Isaac scream.

“Get down!” Chris yelled as the two of you turned around, aiming behind the teacher as you shot.

You saw the Darach standing behind him, her face was slashed up, wearing a black cloak.

She ignored the two of you, as she tied a garrote around his neck, strangling him.

You ran to her, keeping your gun aimed at her while you continued shooting. You felt a weird sense of familiarity wash over you, as she looked into your eyes. Something about her was familiar.

You aimed for her leg, shooting it as she screeched in pain, retreating back.

“Occidere,” your eyes turned black, as you looked at the Darach. You heard her whisper something. There it was again, that familiar feeling.

You felt something painful hit your stomach, as you dropped your gun. You dropped to your knees, gasping for air as you put your hand on your chest, seeing blood seeping through your clothes As you looked up, she disappeared.

“(Y/N)?” Chris ran to your side, throwing his gun down.

“She reflected the spell… how did she do that?” you wheezed as more and more blood dripped from your wound.

“What the hell just happened?” Allison and Isaac ran to the two of you.

“We need to get you to a hospital… or something,” Chris said, wrapping his arm around your back.

“No, I-I’m fine. J-Just give me a minute,” you exhaled sharply.

“(Y/N), you’re bleeding a lot. Y-You can’t heal yourself,” Isaac said frantically, holding your hand.

“I said I’m fine. G-Give me your scarf,” you turned to him.

He quickly took it off, handing it to you. You pressed it against your wound, wincing.

“H-He’s dead. That means there’s only one more sacrifice,” you said.

You stood up shakily, using Isaac for support.

“I’ll take you home,” Isaac said.

“I just need some bandages, it’s not that bad… doesn’t the school have some performance tonight?” you asked, taking deep breaths.

“Yeah, they do. (Y/N), you’re really hurt,” Allison began.

“Okay, so we just need to get to the school, and keep our eyes on all the teachers,” you explained.

“Isaac, get her help. (Y/N), you’re going to bleed out,” Chris said to you.

“I said I’m fine. M-Me and Isaac will meet you at the school,” you leaned onto Isaac, as he gave you a soft look, walking with you.

---

“Stop here,” you said, feeling yourself get slightly dizzier.

“No, we’re going to the hospital,” Isaac shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road.

“No, we’re not. We need to get to the school. Pull over. It’s a drugstore,” you pointed out.

You sat slumped in the seat, barely sitting up, pressing Isaac’s scarf against your wound.

“(Y/N), no. You’ll bleed out! You need help!” Isaac yelled slightly.

“Isaac, pull the fucking car over!” you yelled, as he slammed the breaks, turning to you as his eyes were bloodshot.

“No! I-If you bleed out, if you die,” he started.

“I won’t, Isaac. Please, pull over,” you said, voice lowering.

“What if you die? Please, let me take you to the hospital,” he said softly, eyes watering.

“I’ll be dead by the time we get there. You need to go into that drugstore, get a gauze pad, get some bandages, the wrap-around ones, get tape, get alcohol wipes,” you said.

“A-Alcohol wipes?” he questioned.

“Just do it, and do it now,” you winced slightly.

“O-Okay,” he nodded softly, quickly running into the store.

---

“You’re fucking insane,” Isaac whisper-yelled as the two of you walked into the school.

“It works, shut up,” you replied.

“You still have blood all over your clothes. And your hands,” Isaac pointed out.

“Give me your jacket,” you said.

He took off his jacket, handing it to you as you put it on, zipping it up.

“You’re too tall for your own good,” you said.

“Don’t even joke around right now, I’m pissed at you,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, walking into the gym, immediately met with Chris’, Allison’s, and Scott’s glances.

“Just look around for anything suspicious,” you whispered to Isaac as he nodded.

You looked down at your phone, receiving a text from Scott.

“Text me if anything happens. Scott thinks Lydia’s in trouble,” you whispered to Isaac, leaving the gym, Scott behind you.

---

“Do you see anything?” Stiles said anxiously, biting his nails.

Scott looked around the outside of the school, using his werewolf eyes to try and find Lydia.

“I-I don’t know,” he said.

“You think she found a body?” you turned to Stiles.

“I-I don’t know, but she can’t just disappear like that,” he replied.

You heard someone screaming, as your eyes widened, looking back

“T-That’s her. That’s Lydia!” Stiles yelled.

The three of you ran back into the school, tracing Lydia’s voice to Jennifer’s classroom. You tensed up, clenching your jaw as the door slammed close in front of the three of you. She pushed the desk toward the door, blocking it, as you saw the same garrote she used to strangle the other teacher around Lydia’s neck.

Scott’s eyes glew yellow as he pushed the door trying to open it. You tried to keep your focus, knowing your stitches had opened back up slightly, feeling your head aching.

“M-My dad…” Stiles said.

You looked up, looking inside the classroom, seeing Noah bent down on the floor, a knife stuck in his arm.

“Platentibus,” your eyes were black as you recited a spell, pushing open the door. You ran inside the classroom, Stiles, and Scott behind you. You looked to the side, seeing the broken window, Noah and Jennifer were both gone. Lydia cried softly, her arms and legs strapped against the chair.

“You couldn’t have done that 10 seconds earlier?!” Stiles yelled as he turned to you.

Scott ran to Lydia untying her as she leaned against him.

“I’m sorry, I..” you started.

“She took my dad! S-She’s gonna hurt him!” he continued to yell at you.

“We’ll find a way to save him,” you tried to speak.

“We’ve been trying to save people, (Y/N)! Everyone’s dead! Everyone died! My dad’s gonna die too, and it’s gonna be your fault!” he yelled.

You could feel your vision blur slightly, as you stumbled back a few steps, slightly hearing Stiles and Scott yelling at each other. You immediately knew that Derek needed to know, as you turned to the two of them.

“Where’s Cora. She can tell Derek, she’ll warn him,” you said.

Scott paused, looking at you.

“Cora’s… Cora’s in the hospital,” he started.

You felt your heart ache as your eyes immediately watered.

“W-What do you… What happened?” you asked.

“She went after Aiden for killing Boyd, and he hurt her,” Scott explained softly.

“New plan then. You two go tell Derek, you have to get to him before Jennifer does, okay?” you asked.

“Wait, what about you? You’re not going to come with us?” Stiles turned to you.

“No, I-I’m gonna take Lydia home and then go to Cora,” you shivered slightly.

Scott frowned, sniffing as his face went pale.

“You’re bleeding,” he said softly.

“No, it’s fine, I’m okay,” you shook your head.

“What do you mean you’re bleeding? What happened?” Stiles asked anxiously.

“I said I’m fine. We don’t have time for this! We have to go now,” you held Lydia’s arm, walking her to your car before driving off.

---

You tapped your foot anxiously, sitting on a chair next to Cora’s bed while you held her hand. As you walked into the hospital, Melissa immediately noticed your bleeding, helping you. You sniffled softly, eyes watering as you closed your eyes softly.

“You look worse than me,” she croaked softly, as you immediately looked up at her.

“H-How are you feeling?” you asked softly.

“It hurts,” you could see her visibly sweating.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you heard her voice crack.

“Why did you go after him?” you whispered.

“He killed my friend. I wasn’t gonna leave him,” she replied.

“It was stupid,” you sniffled, running your fingers through your hair.

“Y-You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out,” you bit your lip.

She hummed softly, closing her eyes once again. You continued holding her hand, stroking it softly.

133 notes · View notes