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#this has got me in such a shitty mood now god fucking dammit

mpathicoracle · 6 months

Text

(rant)

someone explain to me why job hunting is so goddamn hard

honestly just *getting* a job that'll respect me, that's suitable to my financial needs, and doesn't pay a shit wage

in VA $15/hour is not a livable wage. on average, to be able to afford a standard 2 bedroom apartment you'd have to get $26/hour. which isn't fucking possible. i fucking wish it was but it isn't

i've been out of a job for over a month now, because my interviews go so amazingly well just for them to deny me and tell me they gave the position to someone else. like damn if you're gonna fake that shit with me at least say it to my fucking face

i've applied to about 100 total jobs in the past month. about 1/8 of that i get interviewed, and then denied. or i never hear back from them again. all the other jobs either flat out tell me no or they don't say jack shit at all

i have over Six(6) full years of customer service experience, primarily in various retail and hospitality industries. i've worked a receptionist job that i really loved but couldn't stick with because the workplace was unsafe and i was severely underpaid (was only getting $12/hour).

asking for a reasonable starting pay of a MINIMUM of $18/hour for receptionist/front desk/admin assistant jobs makes the most sense. it's what those positions are worth, in my opinion, and what *i'm* worth.

but apparently that's too outlandish for places around here. i cant find any fucking remote jobs that don't require lots of experience or a fucking degree.

i've been doing DoorDash but it only limits me anywhere between 30mins to 1 1/2 hours per Dash. and bc theres so many fast foods around here it's not like that really pays much. just enough for gas, i guess, now that i'm not worrying about groceries since my parents returned from NY last week.

i was doing housekeeping the past year, bc the yr prior it was the only job next to 9 different receptionist jobs that got back to me instantly, since i had quit zero-notice from the underpaid-and-unsafe receptionist job prior. was only getting $15/hour, ended with $15.71. because that industry is severely underpaid too. the stress housekeepers have to deal with, whether in the AM shift or PM shit, is not worth that fucking pay. fuckit, if they offered to pay me more i would've stayed. but no. apparently HR was unable to comply with that option solely bc all the other hotels in the area, including the ones outside the chain i was working for, pay about the same too. which is fucking bullshit

just...

someone explain to me why getting a job is so goddamn difficult. i just need a good, healthy job that fits my needs (i'd love to do receptionist/front desk full time and long term, just not in retail and hospitality bc fuck that stress) and pays AT LEAST $18/hour in northern VA. make it fucking make sense. please. bc christ this is just getting ridiculous

#im so fed up with this bullshit #and im starting to get shit from my parents now primarily my mom bc shes a raging bitch abt it apparently #on one hand they dont know its been a full month #but i cant even pay my fucking rent to them bc i havent had an income #this is just getting so fucking stupid right now #christ on a stick #rant #vent #money issues #i wont take any less than $18 #$17 if i really have to #but anything lower is out the fucking window even if the interview goes really well and they outwardly like me a lot and want me to start #this has got me in such a shitty mood now god fucking dammit #hate this shit

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washa · 6 months

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I listened to The Summit audio and here’s my favourite personal comments/thoughts! (IM STILL IN SHOCK WHAT TEH FUCK)

HELP OF COURSE ASHER LOST A FUCKING SHOE

David’s gonna whip your ass Ash

WHY ARE WE ROASTING ASHER SO BAD

Milo being a fashionista cannon

“Good thing belts don't correlate to height.” DAVID

Ash, Baabe, get a fucking room

Sweetheart i’m crying please give a man some dress socks

---------------------

Vincent sounds so anxious

AWH NO WILL COME ON MAN NOT THE ASSISTANT

Vincent baby… 😕

“I can't control how people are acting but I can control how I react.” PREACHHH VINCENT

Mhm run past me. OOH MUSIC FUCK YES, THE DRACULA MUSIC I LOVE IT 🙏

Surprise??? He’s spoiling Lovely so bad

I'M SCARED IS IT GONNA JUMP AT ME LIKE THOSE PLASTIC SPIDERS

A CROWN?? NO NO NO THAT’S SO FUCKING SWEET

THE SAME CRAFTSMAN AND EVERYTHING I CANNOT DO THIS😭

Wait, does Sam have a crown too?? Like being a duke

HE CALLED US BABY I CANNOT

-----------------------

Shit these sound effects are FIRE

Yo Sam wassup my guy.

Oh Porter. Hi dear ☹️

Sam is literally the opposite of me I love small talk and big events lmfao

“Good people” He’s so salty lmfao

There’s no way Darlin’ isn’t smoking hot rn

AY ICE CREAM TUBS, Mint chocolate chip for the win 🙌

I imagine them going hand in hand, like elbows connected.

--------------------------

Porter being a smooth bitch. (as usual)

Vincent is surprisingly kind abt this, well as nice as he can

IS TREASURE NOT HERE?? DID PORTER GASLIGHT ALL OF US.. 😰

That went well. Lovely calm your boyfriend before he pulls out his hair

Nah let like Sam punch him it’s funnier.

Are these other vamps that bad oh my god

Ooh business deals?? Yes make that moolah.

Eccentric?? Tf you mean eccentric. I don’t think David can handle more eccentric people in his life.

HELP NOT ASH PICKING UP ON VINCENT (unrelated but can we just acknowledge how emotionally mature and smart Asher is?)

WHAT DID ASH DO?? TEAR DOWN A WALL???

Oh god Bennetts?? They sound pleasant.

Wait wait, House of Baz were allies, and but every word out of Deon's mouth was to diss William??? WHAT TYPE OF SHITTY ALLIES

I want those two to die, for all of their house to run into the sun.

-----------------------

ALEXIS HOLY SHIT AH

Latest conquest?? Come here let me rip you up

JESUS WHAT THE FUCK ALEXIS?? SORRY I'M NOT IMMORTAL GOD DAMN.

I don’t wanna fight you lex. YOU GROW UP?? PETTINESS IS CHILDISH.

You selfish little bitch. I’M GONNA BITE HER URGHSHSHGY

Porter thank FUCK YOU'RE HERE

YES YES YES PORTER OH MY GOD GO PORTER, Thank you Porter 😭

Alexis can suck my dick.

“Like a proper family” That's an interesting view on what your idea of a loving family is Porter.

Sammy BOY??? HELP IM CACKLING

Surprisingly Porter is in the right here.

WOAH SHOWDOWN SHOWDOWN WOO

WAS PORTER JUST LEFT THERE

-----------------------

Oh god what fucking now, i cannot DEAL with anymore self centred fuckers.

Is he warning us? What’s happening.

OH MY GOD ADAM I FORGOT ABT HIM.

Ykw he’s got a point here, a REALLY good point. CONSIDERING THE HOUSE OF BAZ THING.

ALEXIS SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR WRINKLED SQUEZZED GRAPE ASS LIFE

Sam :((( yes Sam you deserve that.

-----------------------

Asher and Milo bring up the mood woop woop

HOLY SHIT JUMPSCARE

Good lord Porter has a bad rep already w them

Investor gadget woop woop, investor gadget bam bam bam bam go gadget go bup bam bam bam badum badump.

?? CLOSEKNIT?? GOD DAMMIT FUCK CAN WE GO ONE VIDEO WITHOUT REFERENCING THEM

Milo clamp your jaw for a sec

OH MY GOD THE BENNETTS SUPPLIED CLOSEKNIT??

PORTER YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD THANK YOOU FOR THE LORE DROP.

Wait wait we’re doing it now? OH GOD WE’RE GONNA INVESTIGATE NOW AT THE SUMMIT.

Sam said a lot of things..

WAIT NO ONE ELSE BUT DAVID KNOWS WHAT MILO DID?? Even after 2 years??

No Sweetheart think abt this please what if ya get caught.

GO BETA GO BETA FUCK IT UP WOOAHH (i’m sorry i'm so stressed.)

-----------------------

You should’ve punched her Sam, you should’ve.

Sam and Darlin’ needed better taste in vamps ffs

Sam therapy time 😇🥳 (as required in every Sam video)

YES SAM STAND UP FOR YOURSELF

God Sam and Darlin’ are so fucking sweet URGDHAKDA

-----------------------

Is Angel stuck talking there or??

Imagine talking to someone for like 15 minutes and come back to find your friends stalking a head of the house. David needs a panadol for the headache coming up.

-----------------------

OOH ARE WE EAVESDROPPING.

Well nobody wants to join a cult tbh, like that’s so suspicious.

This is a surprisingly civil argument, i was expecting someone getting thrown through a wall

UH OH WE ALMOST GOT CAUGHT??

-----------------------

WHY ARE THEY FIGHTING WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

What’s up w the king

HUH HE’S DEAD????? WHEN I SAID I WANTED HIM DEAD I DIDN'T MEAN ACTUALLY DEAD.

TAH’S IT TAHT ITS WAHTD THE FUCK? DID SWEETHEART KILL HIM? DID CHRIS DO IT HOW DID ALEXIS KNOW, IS THAT WHY PORTER PICKED A FIGHT??? TO CREATE A DISTRACTION??

So no ice cream?? 💔

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elegantmusicdragon · 1 year

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Nameless

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Part 7 of Love, Animals, and The Stolen Goat

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x AnimalHandler!Reader (f!Reader; nicknamed Panda)

Rating/Warning: M! Language - a few f*bombs. REALLY crude references to sex - the word blowjob is used once. Making fun of celebrity names.

-------------------------------------------------------

You still didn’t know Dieter’s real name.

Like, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t really THAT important. But it was the principle of the thing! The two of you had had sex at least sixteen times at this point - listen, rocky road ice cream has magical properties and it may have lead to the best four rounds of sex you had ever had back to back. Dieter was a freak in the sheets and you were grateful for it.

You just wish you could be grateful for his REAL NAME.

And you had tried to pry it out of him - like you pulled out all the stops. The funniest jokes you ever heard -

“PANDA JESUS CHRIST DON’T MAKE ME PEE MY PANTS!”

Buster snuggles -

“Aw, who’s a good boy? Who wants chin scritches? Is it you? Is it you??”

Margie knee mashing -

“Margie for the love of all that is holy stop. That hurts!”

Lingerie -

“Good god, Panda. Are you looking to give me a heart attack? Get on the bed before I kick it in the best way possible.”

And the absolute best blowjob you had ever given in your entire life -

“Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no.”

You still didn’t know why he started saying that right as he came, but you decided that some things were better left a mystery.

And now you were curled up on your couch with Dieter’s head in your lap, Buster’s head in his lap, Margie snoozing in her portable bed, and Simon (the menace) sitting on the cushion behind you and attempting to whack your hair.

“Simon, I swear to god if you don’t knock it off I will sell all of your mice toys and force you to eat wet food when we all know you hate it.”

Simon meows in retaliation, but stops. He knows the stakes here.

Dieter glances at Simon.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll just have to get you some more dangles to play with so you stay away from your mom’s hair.”

He looks up at you and winks.

Aaaaaaaaand your tummy is full of butterflies - dammit.

NO. NO. NO PANDA. FOCUS. NAME.

You clear your throat and begin to gently rub Dieter’s arm, tracing over his triangle tattoo.

“When’d you get this?”

Dieter snorts.

“Hell if I know, Panda. Cocaine fucks you up.”

“Oh.” You nod, a frown framing your face. Defeat. Damn.

Dieter sees the dejected look on your face and grimaces. He clears his own throat and attempts to not make himself look even more like an asshole than he thinks he has.

“Uhhhh. So despite my constant use of cocaine, I’m pretty sure I got this in Morocco. We were filming Desert Evening and a bunch of us decided to get tattoos because why the fuck not, y’know? Anyway, this guy Mo and I decided it would be cool to get triangle tattoos since it’s the most underrated instrument. Again, want to reiterate I was COMPLETELY high on cocaine when I made this decision but…it’s grown on me.”

You smile.

“That’s a fun story, Deet.”

“I mean, I look like a moron in it but I’m glad my cocaine stories amuse you.”

You laugh, and he starts laughing too once he sees your mood hit an upswing.

“Why you so interested in the tattoo?”

You gulp. Fuck. You didn’t expect him to go straight for the jugular, immediately. FUCK.

“Well….you mentioned when we first started to hang out about your name…and-”

The deepest look of fear flashes over Dieter’s face instantaneously. RETREAT. RETREAT.

“Butifyoudon’twannatellmeit’sfinejustforgetIsaidanythingwowlookathetimeit’s-”

He sits up so fast, Buster gets knocked off his tummy. Dieter puts his hand over your mouth. You see Buster in the corner of your eye on his back, staring at Dieter with fiery betrayal in his eyes. He whines, rights himself, and trots to Margie’s bed where he gets in and snuggles with her. Where is your camera when you need it?

Dieter sighs.

“I know the hand over the mouth thing is super shitty, but what I’m about to tell you will shake you to your very core and I’m not exaggerating when I say that, Panda.”

You nod, his hand still over your mouth.

“Mppph, mpph, mph.”

He smiles at you.

“Okay. Thank you for understanding.”

Dieter takes his hand off of your mouth. You stare at each other. Nothing like awkward silence to fill the void. Dieter clears his throat.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

You nod as solemnly as you can.

“I promise.”

He sighs.

“Benicio Barros Ribeiro.”

You blink. Wait, what???

“Benicio?? Like Del Toro?”

“YES like Del Toro, why do you think my stage name is Dieter??”

“I HAVE NO IDEA! WHY IS IT DIETER?”

“I LIKE MARLENE DIETRICH! SHE IS A VERY FINE ACTRESS AND I ENJOY HER WORK!”

“OKAY THAT’S A VALID REASON!”

“OKAY THEN CAN WE STOP YELLING??!”

“OKAY!!”

You look around in your post yelling haze. Buster and Margie glare at the two of you with bleary eyes. How dare you wake them up from their cute snuggly slumber? Simon has fucked off to who knows where; you’re pretty sure he’s in what he thinks is his super secret hiding spot - directly under your bed. Dieter’s face is beet red in what you’ve deemed to either be embarrassment or irritation. Deciding enough is enough, you shove him back down onto your lap and start running your fingers through his hair aggressively. If you can’t pet Margie to calm your nerves, you WILL pet your boyfriend, dammit!

It’s uncomfortably quiet for the next six and a half minutes before -

“Hey,” Dieter starts and clears his throat, “Sorry for shouting. Didn’t mean to scare you or the babies…my name is hard to talk about.”

You nod smally.

“I just don’t understand why you’re embarrassed about the name Benicio…”

Dieter chuckles.

“Oh it’s not the Benicio part that I find embarrassing.”

NOW you’re even more intrigued. You gently tug on the strands of hair you have gripped in your hand, eliciting a small moan from Dieter - you grin smugly. Now’s your chance!! Go for the finishing question!

“Which part is?”

Deet is so lost in your meticulously orchestrated hair playing, that his next words just slip out.

“My middle name is Engelbert.”

You stop, shocked. Dieter moans in frustration, oblivious to what he’s just revealed to you.

“Engelbert?”

The spell is broken. Deet’s eyes widen in abject horror before they meet yours.

“You mean, like, the singer?”

He covers his eyes before shouting -

“MY MOM LOVES ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK!! AT LEAST IT’S NOT FUCKING ELVIS!”

Well, he has a point - you have to give him that. And you add, just to hopefully make him feel better about his ridiculously hilarious middle name -

“It could be worse - it could be Meatloaf.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Part 7.5/Interlude: Bravo, Bravo, Bravo

A/N: This was a word vomit chapter written in two days and good golly gosh am I proud of this one. A lot of different sections literally made me laugh out loud! Only about 3 more parts to this story! I’m sad to say goodbye to Panda and Dieter but I have the perfect ending for them in mind! Thank you all so, so much for your continued interest in this story! It’s so fun to write - I really enjoy getting to flex my comedic muscles in this type of writing!

P.S.: My Aemond Targaryen fic only has one more part coming so if you’re interested in arranged marriages and falling in love despite that, go check it out! I’m also currently working on an Almost Famous inspired story featuring our boy - Jack “Whiskey” Daniels! Shout out to Blue and Amneris (tagged below) for expressing interest! It’s gonna have a more serious tone compared to this series, but I’m enjoying planning it out. Love you all like peanut butter loves jelly!

Tags!!

@blueeyesatnight

@amneris21

@oonajaeadira

@apsiringghostmusicians

@a-trial-run-on-paper

@grampsgirl14

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x animal handler #fanfiction #fanfic #elegantmusicdragon #the bubble #the bubble fanfic #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic

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pinkdoodoofart · 3 years

Text

I Just can’t Anymore Bakugou Katsuki x Black!Reader x Izuku

Summary: You couldn’t handle Bakugou’s yelling anymore

Type: Angst + Fluff + Slight Sexual Content

⚠️CURRENTLY BEING EDITED ⚠️

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To say things with your boyfriend was an absolute dream, was an understatement. He wasn’t the nicest guy or the most caring, but in private he tried his best to be. Bakugou Katsuki was his name. Labeled as the loudest, rudest, and arrogant guy in Class 1-A. Originally, you hated his guts a lot. Especially when he would insult your performance in class. You honestly never even imagined yourself dating a guy like him, but here you were.

Now you don’t exactly regret being in a relationship with Katsuki. He can genuinely be a good guy. Whether it be paying for something for you at the mall or helping you study for upcoming tests. Or even just regular dates. The dude wasn’t that bad. Until later in your relationship it started to plummet.

It was only after a few months of dating, you noticed Katsuki acting a little stranger. In the beginning on your relationship, Katsuki did yell at you. Though it was more in a teasing way rather than in a rude way. Though the longer you were together his yelling would get worse. You genuinely couldn’t tell if he was joking anymore.

It got to the point where he would start ignoring at school and call off dates constantly. It was starting to frustrate you. Though you chose to leave it alone for a little and give the guy some space. Hoping things would get better.

They didn’t.

He still ignored you during the day and called off the dates. It started to really hurt now. You didn’t know if he wanted to still be in a relationship. The amount of nights you cried yourself to sleep and the state you were in every morning, was noticeable to many of your classmates. Most of them hoping Katsuki would do something and help, only for their hope to be crushed. Like yours.

Just like any other day, your hope was crushed even more. This time though, your hope has completely shattered.

As you entered the classroom, most of your classmates were there. Only missing not present. One of those students who were present was your bitter and loud boyfriend sitting at his desk, feet kicked up on top as usual. Smiling, you make your way over to his desk and give Katsuki a quick kiss on the cheek. He swiftly turned his head towards you with a scowl. As it was no secret that you were in a relationship with Katsuki, public affection was a big no no in his book. You were treated as if you were a stranger.

It sucked…

“The fuck are you doing?” He asks irked by the sudden kiss.

“I can’t give a kiss to my boyfriend?” Clinging to his arm trying to be cute. That was your first mistake. Instead of giving affection in return like he would do in private, he pushed you roughly off of him. Feeling a sharp pain in your back, you fell back onto the floor against the desk. You looked up at him in shock. He has never done that before.

Ever.

The worst part was that he didn't even help you up. He just looked at you before turning his attention to the front looking at nothing. Instead, Deku came over and gave you a hand. As thankful as you were, you wished Katsuki helped you instead. As he was your boyfriend.

Deku quickly asked to make sure you were alright making you slightly blush. Izuku was always so helpful to everyone. Especially you. He had always had a big crush on you. Everyone knew... except for you of course.

You quickly thank the boy before hearing a quick scoff next to you.

“The hell? Why are you touching my girlfriend you damn nerd?”

“I-I was just h-helping her up K-kacchan…. something you should have done…”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” Katsuki grabbed Deku’s uniform collar and began screaming in his face. In a panic, you quickly tried to peel Katsuki off of Deku before he does anything worse. That was your second mistake. Not only were you feeling pain in your back, you felt a sharp pain on your cheek. Holding it you look at your boyfriend in shock.

“Don’t touch me you bitch.” Your eyes widened at the derogatory name towards you. “God why do you have to cling to me like a little kid? Its fucking annoying. Not to mention letting this shitty nerd help you up. You are useless if you can’t get up on your own.” He says with annoyance. “Jeez are you actually crying, you need to man up Y/N,” the continuous bashing only dampened your mood even more. Hands by your side start ball up into tight fists as you look at the boy with such hatred.

Dating a guy who's the biggest asshole at school. But he isn't always like that. When alone with you, he can be pretty soft. Even secretly makes you snacks. You really did love him, but being yelled at in front of everyone everyday is not something you love. So here you were, tears pricked in your eyes while your body shaked tremendously. Even embarrassed by the amount of eyes on you and your boyfriend.

And before you knew it, you snapped.

“How about you stop yelling all the fucking time huh? You act as if you are some God when you're not Katsuki. You're a student at UA training to be a hero,” you respond angrily. Not caring that he looked at you with shocked eyes as well as other students. You have had it. “Quite frankly, I don’t see you as a hero at all. You would be more fit for a villain.” After the last words left your mouth you immediately ran out of the classroom with tears in your eyes.

Landing on the steps to the entrance of UA, you sit and cry to yourself wondering why you started to date such an asshole. What happened between then and now? He was a lot sweeter earlier in your relationship, what changed? These thoughts continuously raced through your mind for what felt like hours. After crying for a little longer, you felt yourself calm down and decided to just skip school and head back to the dorms.

You opted to stay in your room until you felt better. Laying in your bed feels like you have entered a threshold of tranquility. You sadly, did not fall asleep as fast as you hope. Negative thoughts continue to plague your mind as you lay there hopeless of ever rekindling your relationship. Soon you felt your eyes close and fell into a dreamless slumber.

The sound of continuous knocks on your dorm door woke you up. Whoever was knocking really needed to talk to you. Immediately, you shot up. In hopes that it was Katsuki ready to apologize. Quickly you open the door, and to your disappointment but also……. happiness? Standing there was Izuku Midoriya, fumbling with his hands and green eyes averted from yours.

“H-hey Y/N…. you never c-came back to c-class…,” he stutters out. Looking down your negative thoughts from before came back, souring your mood. Noting your expression, Izuku impulsively grabs your shoulders asking if your okay.

“No, I’m not… can you please stay with me?” After receiving a nod in response, you grab Izuku’s hand and pulled him to your room.

“Hey… Y/N don't listen to kacchan… you are not useless at all. You are an amazing girl that I am so glad we are friends,” Izuku says warmly. Feeling your heart flutter a bit, tears began to fall from your eyes. Immediately panic set into Izuku. He started flailing his arms wondering whats wrong before feeling arms wrap around him. You were hugging him. You. Were. Hugging. HIM!!!

“Thank you Izuku, that means a lot to me.” Soon, he wrapped his arm around you to reciprocate the hug. The hug had such a lovely warm feeling to it. It reminded you of the love you felt with Katsuki. But the more you thought about it, the less it bothered you. Letting go, you both look into each other's eyes for a second.

Were his eyes also so beautiful. That thought rang through your head before you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

After a little more cuddling with Izuku, he unfortunately had to leave to do homework. “Thank you again Izuku, you are a great…… friend,” you say with a slightly fake smile. His smile fell but was quickly regained.

“Mmm no problem Y/N… I'm glad I could help.”

After he leaves, you immediately head over to your bed to pick up your phone. Looking through your contacts, you find the one person you definitely need to talk to.

You hit the call button and wait for him to answer. After a few rings you hear a gruff what be uttered.

Sighing you respond coldly, “I’m coming to your dorm. We need to talk, now.” Not bothering to hear a reponse, you end the call and head over to his room.

Knocking on his door a few times, you waited for him to open up. Instead of the door opening, you met with silence. Annoyed, you knock again hoping he would open up. Again no avail. Your knocking became more furious and consistent, similar to Izuku’s knock but alot more harder. Soon you heard a growl and loud footsteps approaching the door. Slammed open in your face you see your boyfriend looking at you with an empurpled look.

“Jesus fuck, you’d think you would be smar….. never mind come in.” Katsuki says not looking you in the eye before moving to the side to let you in. You enter quickly and sit at his desk, while he sits on his bed.

“I came here to talk about this mornin-“

“Why the fuck did you not come back to class?” Pissed you looked at him with an irritated look.

“Because I felt I don’t know… sad? Sorry I’m sensitive?” Sighing, you close your eyes for a second before opening to look at Katsuki. Jesus, he's already looking at you. “Look I apologize for what I said earlier this morning. It was uncalled for and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Yeah i forgive you….. I’m also sorry I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I was pissed off that morning and you clinging to me didn't help.” Looking down you bite your lip nodding.

Well here goes nothing…..

“Katsuki we need to break up…” As the last word left your mouth, he immediately stood up and grabbed your wrists in his hands with such displeasure.

“Dammit Y/N! I apologized isnt that enough. You don’t need to break up with me over a bad morning.”

“Katsuki its not just this morning. You always treated me like a stranger out in public and even called me useless more than once since we’ve dated. I really did like you Katsuki but now this was the last straw.”

Staring at you in disbelief, Katsuki let go of your wrists and turned away from you. “Look Katsuki we can still be frien-“

“S-SHUT UP! S-SHUT THE F-FUCK UP!” His voice cracked significantly with small whimpers following suit.

Is he crying? Slowly, you walked around to see his handsome face to see tears streaming down it. Slowly you wrap your arms around him in a way to comfort him. Thankfully it worked. But you didn't feel the loving you used to feel when you hugged him. That feeling was lost more than a week ago.

That’s right. You lost that fluttery feeling for him awhile ago. The more he yelled and called you useless, the smaller that feeling was till it disappeared. “I’m sorry,” he says weakly. You nod into his shoulder as a way to say it was okay.

You two finally break apart and look at each other for a little while. His eyes were still a pretty crimson red, but they weren’t as pretty as Izuku’s pretty green eyes.

Your eyes widened. Why were you thinking about Izuku? Flushed you quickly leave your exs to head to Izuku’s dorm. Damn… it already feels so weird to call him your ex.

Knocking on his door a few times you waited patiently for him to answer. Barely a few seconds had passed before he quickly opened the door to see you eyes bright with excitement.

“H-hey Y/N! What’s up? Do you need somethi-mmph!”

You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him to kiss him. Your smooth plump lips against his chapped but slightly smoothed lips moved in sync with each other.

Slowly you both walk backwards until he is laying on his bed with you on top of him straddling his waist.

“I like you Izu. I haven’t even realized it till now.”. Staring up at you with wide eyes, Izuku quickly pulled you by the neck with his arms to kiss him again.

“I like you too Y/N…. I’ve always had. I was always jealous and pissed by how Kacchan had you but also how he treated you. You needed to be treated like a Queen.” Smiling at him you slowly lean down and kiss his neck, emitting a small moan to go past his lips.

Here you both were… Naked in Izuku’s bed.

“I will never treat you the way Kacchan did Y/N,” Izuku says while nuzzling your neck.

“I know Izu, I believe you. Can I please stay here tonight and cuddle?” Giggling, he nods and holds you close to him.

The next day everyone was shocked by the sight of you and Izuku holding hands and close to each other. Of course, Katsuki was pissed, but he knew Izuku would treat you better than he could. As for Ochako, she was also jealous, but if Izuku was happy she was happy.

“Thank you Izuku…” He looked at you slightly confused.

“For what?”

“For helping me realize that I’m not useless.”

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Word Count:

Okay was working this for like a week or two but i hope you guys like it

Also didnt proof read but ill do it later :3

#bakugou x reader #poc friendly #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x black!reader #bakugou x black reader #angst #fluff #izuku fluff #izuku x reader lime #bnha

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twokinkybeans · 3 years

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Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

-

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career.

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

-

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty. “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

-

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had.

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface. “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

-

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

-

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

-

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment.

-

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

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wintrcaptn · 4 years

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It’s You Ch 2 | Chris Evans 🖤

Summary : moving to a new place, not knowing a single person, wasn’t what you had in mind. But wanting a fresh start was the main goal. Little did you know, you were now living next door to none other than Chris Evans.

A/N : I am glad you all enjoyed the first part! It really means the world to me! I don’t know where Chris lives or if he even has nearby neighbors but it’s called fan fiction for a reason. Lol. Please don’t be afraid to leave feedback! Good or bad!

Also, sorry if there are errors. I’m writing on my phone and I’m too lazy to proof read my stuff 😩 I do this to myself. Anyways, ENJOY!

Part One

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It’s been months since you moved into your new house, and thingns we’re finally coming together, just the way you wanted it.

Moving to Boston was something you were nervous but also excited for. You were tired of your hometown, tired of seeing the same faces and being reminded of past loves who only ended up hurting you.

So you wanted to start a new chapter in your life. Find passion in yourself again and just be happy with being alone. Something you haven’t felt in such a long time.

But then Chris came along.

As hard as you tried to focus on your life, you couldn’t help but constantly think about him. Think about the way he licks his finger after playing with the rim of his cup when he comes over for coffee on your days off. Or about the way he sings off key to Disney songs when you both get drunk and have a marathon at his place.

Your feelings were growing deeper and deeper and it was beginning to scare you. But of course, your mind would start to work overtime, and you would begin to overthink everything. Wondering why he would waste his time with someone like you when he could literally have any one else. Maybe because you were there? Living next door, made it convenient for him?

Whatever it was, you tried to enjoy it either way. Before it was over.

Chris liked spending his time with you.

Sure, he thought you were attractive but actually getting to know you, made you even more attractive.

Being with you wasn’t hard. It wasn’t scripted or felt forced.

It was as if he had known you all his life.

Then out of nowhere, one day when he was over, spending a casual Saturday at your house, he finally realized this was more than just platonic....

“Okay, so it’s my turn to cook for you!” You exclaimed, walking over to your kitchen.

Chris followed in pursuit, watching you with a soft smile on his lips.

“I don’t think I want to die tonight.” He teased.

You stopped in your steps and turned to face him, with your eyes so big, trying hard not to laugh.

“Excuse me, I’m one hell of a chef. Thank you very much.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He walked over to the sink, to wash his hands. “I’ll help—“

“Nope! I got this.”

You scrunched you’re nose at him before turning your back to him once again. That little banter was one of the things Chris loved.

Even though, it had been months of hanging out with Chris, it was still so surreal to be around him. Around the guy you had loved watching on movies, and hoped to one day meet.

Your life was a literal fan fiction, but you didn’t seem to mind.

Even though it all felt too good to be true, you wanted to bask in every moment of it.

You looked over the recipe and grabbed what you needed, except for the salt.

Chris thought it would be funny to put it on the top shelf in the cupboard every time he came over, so you had to climb up on the counter to get it.

Letting out a sigh, you looked at him and all he could do was smirk.

“I’m tired of this shit, Chris.” You chuckled. “Come over here and get the damn salt.”

His soft laugh, the one that was barely loud enough but still able to reach your ears, always made you swoon.

“Wait, are you asking me for help? Is this really happening?”

“Chris, you know damn well that if the salt was in the right place, I wouldn’t have to ask.” You muttered, pulling your hair up into a messy bun. “Now please, walk your giant ass over here and put it where it belongs.”

Chris had a rag in his hands to dry off the water from washing his hands. He tossed it over to the other side of the kitchen, before walking over to you.

Once he was by your side, he caught your attention. “You said you got it—“ he muttered as he placed his hands on either sides of your hips, forcing your breath to hitch to the back of your throat. “So get it yourself.” He whispered.

Before you knew it, your feet were off the ground, and You were now able to reach the salt. With Chris holding you up, you knew at this very moment, you were screwed.

The way his fingers curved around you, and how your body leaned against his, it was almost like torture.

You were fighting yourself from giving in. Fighting to keep your fantasies to a minimum and not let any emotion show.

Once you grabbed what you needed, he carefully put you down, not taking his hands off you. But you were so close to each other, you swore you could hear his heart beat.

His gaze held yours, making you feel like he could undress you with those eyes of his.

It was beginning to make you hot just by the thought.

You were able to snap out of it, and clear your throat, breaking the tension between you.

Chris realized he made a tricky move, something that could have made things worse.

He took a step back, to lean on the counter and control his thoughts of you.

‘Keep it together’ he repeated to himself.

“Now stop moving my shit around.” You forced out, glancing at him.

Chris nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Yes ma’am.” His voice was low.

‘God damn it. Keep it to-fucking-gether!!’

A few hours had passed. You were both laughing once again, not letting that moment from earlier ruin the night.

Things were back to normal again.

Scott decided to join the two of you, which he did almost every other weekend, even if Chris couldn’t make it.

He became someone you could trust. And that was hard for you.

“I swear Chris had no secrets with our mom. He literally ran home to tell her he lost his virginity.” Scott cackled, before taking a sip of his beer.

“I was excited!”

“Aww that’s so cute! You were such a mommy’s boy.” You teased.

“Were? He still is.”

Scott looked at his phone and couldn’t believe the time. “Shit, it’s already midnight!” He exclaimed. “I have to wake up in a few hours for my flight.”

With that, he propped up to his feet and gave both you and Chris a quick hug, before walking back to Chris’ house.

“I didn’t realize it was that late.” You yawned, walking the plates over to the sink.

“Guess you lose track when you’re having fun.” Chris said, helping you with the dishes.

You stopped and looked over at him, your eyes slightly bloodshot from exhaustion and the alcohol.

“I need to get this off my chest because it’s been killing me.” You muttered, feeling a bit delirious.

Chris cocked his brow, and focused his full attention on you. “Is everything okay?”

This was it. Word vomit. The thing you did when you had no control over yourself and acted before you thought it through.

“I’ve read fan fiction about you.” You confessed. “And I know that makes me sound like a stalker or whatever, but I promise you that I never in a million years thought I’d be living next door to you.”

Chris stood there, baffled and slightly amused as you went on.

“Yes I think you’re attractive, but I didn’t buy this house because of you. I honestly didn’t even know where you lived!!” You said. “I’ve had shitty relationships and shitty friends and—I just needed a fresh start. My job was able to transfer me out here and this was the second house I looked at and just fell in love—I promise—“

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I believe you.” He chuckled. “I have never thought of you as a stalker or creepy. Weird? Yes but that’s okay.”

You could tell he was trying to lighten up the mood.

But once the realization of what you had just said, dawned on you, you were mortified. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

Chris belted our into laughter, as he pulled you into him. His arms curled around your waist while you laid your head on his chest.

This was the place you loved being in. Being in his arms, it felt like nothing could ever hurt you again. And it was honestly exactly what you needed.

“So—“ he drawled out. “Do you still read fan fiction about me?”

You took a step back to lock your gaze with his. “Out of all the things I said, that’s what you cling on too?”

“I’m just curious!” He chuckled. “Were they dirty stories? Or—“

“I’m NOT telling you! It’s bad enough that I embarrassed myself telling you I read anything at all!”

Chris could only laugh, clutching his hand over his chest.

You playfully swatted his arm, trying hard not to laugh with him.

“I hate you.” You said, hiding your smile. “This stays between us! If you tell anyone, I swear I will kick your ass!”

“Can you even reach my ass?”

“Are those fighting words, Evans? Because I can throw hands, real quick.”

He took a short step closer to you, his eyes looking darker than usual, with desire. He glanced down at your lips, then back up and locked his gaze with yours.

“I’d like to see you try.” He whispered.

‘Is this really happening?!’

You wanted to kiss him right there and then. To grab his collar, pull him in and taste those plump lips of his that you had been craving to taste.

But you were frozen, lost in his trance.

It wasn’t until The sound of Chris’ phone going off, you were finally able to snap out of it.

It was a text from Scott, asking where he had put the suitcase.

“I got to go.” He muttered, looking slightly bummed about having to leave. “I’ll come over tomorrow to help you with your new book case.”

You swallowed hard, and nodded. “Sounds good. Give Dodger a kiss for me.”

“Will do.” He pulled you in for a tight hug, which lingered longer than it should have. “Good night Y/N.”

Chris turned on his heels and started toward his house, leaving you speechless yet again. He always knew how to do that to you.

“Dammit Y/N.” You mumbled to yourself. “Why don’t you ever learn to keep your mouth shut.”

As Chris walked into his house, all he could think about was you. And even after blurting out everything, it didn’t seem to faze him.

“Oh damn.” Scott said, catching his brothers attention.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Nothing, I’ll tell you when the times right. But for now, please help me find that damn suitcase! This is what I get for packing last minute!”

——

Chapter Three

#i hope this was okay #if not then oh well i tried lol #marvel #chris evans #steve rogers #marveledit #marvel imagine #the avengers #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu imagine #andy barber #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #cevans #defending jacob

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eryiss · 3 years

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Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hi everyone. It's time for one of the most important chapters. Prepare yourself for more dreams, more unfortunate situations, and some real conversations! Hope you all enjoy. Also, there's mentioned homopobia in this chapter, so be aware before you progress.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Seven - Resting

Day Six: Saturday

Metalicana had often talked to Gajeel about the culture of Dragons. He has explained folklore, rites of passage, and the day to day lives of people of the time. One such aspect of his culture which had always stayed with Gajeel was the Draconic perception of a soulmate.

Minn Maðr. My Person.

Gajeel had been told that every person had a specific group of people who they were destined for. A group of people linked to them by fate. Unlike other interpretations of soulmates, the Draconic culture didn't limit their relevance to a romantic partner. They could be a lover, a friend, or an enemy. Their influence on the person's life was only rivalled by the passion they would feel for each other. A Minn Maðr was someone who brought your emotions to a boil, and made your mind explode.

Everything about Freed had brought out the intensity inside of Gajeel. First, it had been rage. Then, something new. Something unfamiliar. Something that made Gajeel take note of Freed's smile, that made him worry about the demon living in his soul, that made him able to perform a fucking unison raid!

Maybe Metalicana was right? Maybe Freed was a Minn Maðr.

But they'd only really know each other for a week. Half of that week, they'd both been unwittingly influenced by a demon that was meant to make their moods shitty. He couldn't be sure of his own feelings. He couldn't be sure of anything when it came to Freed.

He really should listen to his own damn advice and not think too much about this.

Like that was easy! His magic had merged with a stranger, and left Freed covered in piercings. Gajeel hadn't exaggerated when he said he wouldn't be able to remove them; they looked like they were merged with his skin. Sure, Freed claimed he had a weird sense of excitement at what had happened and Gajeel felt the same way at the runes now on his body, but he couldn't know how Freed was actually reacting. Unless he was pushed to his limits, Freed was a pretty closed book.

Fuck, this wasn't helping. It was three in the morning, Gajeel was thrumming with energy even after doing sit-ups and push-ups for nearly an hour, and his mind was a mess. He jumped up from the floor, rolled his shoulders back and walked to the standing mirror and assessed his new look. He couldn't help but smile.

Did the runes mean anything? Did it matter?

Metalicana had also told Gajeel about his inner dragon. It wasn't a literal thing, like Freed's demon, but it did exist. It was like a voice in his head, or a gut instinct. Gajeel had learnt that he should listen to the dragon, and right then the dragon was preening with delight at the runes. Every time he looked at the runes, it felt like he'd been wrapped up in a blanket and given a mug of tea, but also like he'd had the best, roughest fuck of his life. It wrecked his body in an indescribably amazing way.

Standing naked, he wondered what it would be like if his whole body was covered in runes. It would be like Freed's magic was coiling around him, sending an undeniable message that he and Freed were linked. That thought was too damn appealing, and he would look hot as hell.

Maybe Freed would do it. Maybe he'd let Gajeel cover him in more piercings. Gods, the thought of getting more of his iron in the man made his cock pulse with excitement.

Fuck! How the hell were his feelings for Freed such a mess so suddenly?

Sleep would solve it all. He was tired, on a magic high, and it was messing with his mind. It didn't help that he hadn't jerked off in over a week, which was probably why his thoughts were so fucking horny. He just had to sleep, get himself off in the shower tomorrow morning, and deal with the issues as they came. That's what they said they would do, and if a guy like Freed - who Gajeel expected would overthink everything - could do that, then so could he.

As he patted his slightly sweating body down with a towel and slipped on his briefs, he looked to the overflowing bookcases that occupied his room. Freed really must have a lot of books, because he definitely had a study full of them and still had wall to ceiling shelves in his spare room, and Gajeel decided at least one of them would lull him to sleep.

One book, well worn and without dust, caught his eye.

It was a gay romance novel, and Gajeel smirked a little. Not only did it basically confirm Gajeel's suspicions that Freed liked men, it also told Gajeel that Freed was into the cheesy, cliche page-turning crap that was at odds with Freed's persona. That would be fun to piss him off about; just because they might be soulmates didn't mean Freed didn't need to be knocked on his ass from time to time.

He'd look fucking cute blushing. Gajeel wanted to make him blush. Make him squirm just a little. Then kiss him and make it all better.

That was a train of thought he couldn't explore, so he walked to his bed, got under the covers and started reading the well-worn book. He tried not to think too hard about the man gently snoring on the other side of the wall, and allowed the story printed before him to fill his mind and distract him from everything happening.

——

When Gajeel eventually woke, it was to three sharp raps on his bedroom door.

It took him a moment to remember where he was, and why. The comfortable mattress and pleasant natural light slipping in from the closed curtains certainly didn't belong in his dingy, back-alley apartment. He pushed himself off the too-comfortable pillow and looked around, the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee filling his senses and making his stomach grumble a little. He blinked away the sleep and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, then walked to the door when he remembered someone had knocked on it.

When he had gotten to sleep, it had been filled with dreams about Freed. Maybe reading a romance novel before bed, because his mind had been swimming with romantic cliches that his sleeping mind put Freed and him into. He'd dreamt about going to dinner together, dancing together, living together.

He'd been given a glimpse of what a life with Freed might be like, and it seemed great.

Not all of the dreams had been good, though. In one - nestled between the good dreams - he had been trapped in Freed's runes, unable to escape. Magnolia was nothing but rubble, with the bodies of his guild-mates scattered around in the destroyed buildings. Only a handful of the wizards remained, and they were all attacking Freed, trying to kill him.

Freed had been taken over by his demon. He had no control, and Gajeel couldn't help. He was trapped, forced to watch as the demon killed and destroyed. The remaining Fairy Tail mages were doing what they could, but they couldn't stop Freed.

Gajeel knew he should have been helping, but couldn't.

He wanted to break down the damn runes, smash through them and help Freed, because he was still in there dammit! He was trapped in his demon and scared and trying to fight back and if he could just get to him then Gajeel knew he could help. But he was trapped and forced to watch, unable to do anything no matter how much he was trying to destroy the walls around him.

Just before the dream had ended, the demon looked right at him. It smiled a sadistic smile, blood dripping down it's body, Freed's clothes torn off his body. They were all that remained of Freed, and it made Gajeel sick to watch.

"He's mine," The demon growled. "And I will have him."

Before Gajeel had been able to say anything - to tell the demon that there was no way in hell he or anyone in Fairy Tail would let it take Freed's body and use it for destruction - the dream ended. There was a moment, unknowable in length, where Gajeel still slept but didn't dream, and felt as though he was going to hurl. The darkness of his subconscious felt all consuming, and was suddenly replaced by a dream of him and Freed cooking side by side. The emotional whiplash would have fucked Gajeel up, but he was so desperate to forget the horrors of his dream that he buried himself fully in the dream and Freed's charming comments as they cooked.

Rather than allowing himself to drown in the implications of all those dreams, Gajeel shook his head awake and gently patted himself in the face. It was probably Freed on the other side of the door, and he couldn't see how messed up Gajeel was. More awake now, he opened the door.

Freed was crouched down, placing a plate of food and a mug of coffee on the floor. When he looked up, he was eye level with Gajeel's crotch, and Gajeel quickly realised he was wearing briefs and nothing else. If Freed's blush was anything to go by, he had noticed it too.

The blush was cute.

Fucking emotional whiplash. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this shit?

"Shit," Freed whispered, standing up again with the food still in his hands. He really did look good with a blush. Especially with the piercings. "Sorry. I didn't mean to- I made you breakfast."

"Thanks," Gajeel said, taking the food offered. "We ain't eatin' in the kitchen again?"

"I assumed you wanted some time alone," Freed's voice was intentionally calm, but his cheeks still tinged red. "Since you've been awake before me all week, I thought that you needed some time to yourself. I didn't want to intrude so I was going to leave it here but, well, you opened the door and so… well, you saw what happened, didn't you?"

Gajeel wanted to tease him, but instead said, "I ain't avoiding you. Just slept in."

"Oh, right," Freed said, voice a little quiet. "Perhaps I should have guessed, given-"

He cut himself off, and the way his eyes quickly roamed over Gajeel's sleep worn and half naked body made the dragon slayer smirk. It was clear he'd just gotten out of bed with how much of a mess he looked, and that was the point Freed probably wanted to make, but it was much for entertaining to imagine Freed had gotten distracted by his body.

Well, maybe he had, because his eyes were lingering on the arm with his runes on it. Gajeel couldn't pass up the chance to have a little fun, so flexed his arm as he ran his hand through his hair. Freed followed the movement, and turned red again when he noticed Gajeel smirking at him.

Oh yeah, he was gonna be making Freed a lot from now on.

If they spoke after the week ended. Gajeel hadn't considered the possibility that they wouldn't.

"Well, I should leave you to your morning routine," Freed spoke up again, gazing at the door frame rather than on Gajeel. He was biting his lip, and Gajeel grinned. "I'd recommend eating before you have a shower, I don't expect it would taste good cold. Although, don't feel the need to rush, we've pushed ourselves a lot this week and we will again tomorrow, so I thought today could be a rest day."

"Sounds good," Gajeel nodded a little. "If we ain't in a rush, I can eat with ya. You ain't eaten yet, right?"

"No, I haven't," Freed answered.

Gajeel reached for one of the robes hung on the back of the door and wrapped it around him, tying it tight around his waist. He made sure not to cover too much of his chest, just in case Freed wanted to sneak a peek at any point. He pulled a hair tie from his dresser and wrapped his mane up in a high ponytail, and stepped out of the bedroom, holding his plate of food again. Freed seemed a little shocked by Gajeel's actions - hopefully by his lack of clothes, too - but quickly recovered.

They started walking down the hallway, and Gajeel was given an unhindered view of Freed's ass. He filled his pants out excellently, and Gajeel couldn't help but keep looking back. He wondered what it looked like out of the clothes. Perfect, Gajeel was sure of that.

He really should have jerked off last night.

Still, it was too late to change things now, and given that it was right in front of him, he allowed himself to indulge. It was slightly humiliating when he was too engrossed by checking Freed out that he shoulder-barged a wall because he wasn't concentrating. It was even worse when he looked at Freed to see the man smirking at him, clearly amused. Had he caught him out?

That thought made Gajeel blush a little. He couldn't find the energy to be bothered by that.

They walked to Freed's kitchen, where another portion of eggs and bacon was sitting on the small table beside a mug of coffee. Gajeel placed his own meal at the seat opposite and sat down, his inner dragon almost purring at the intimacy of Freed sitting across from him. This really was a pretty sweet situation. Freed was a damn good cook, too.

As he ate, he kept glancing towards Freed. The man was fighting back yawns in an annoyingly cute way, while eating and sipping his coffee with a straight back and perfect posture. Perhaps Freed was showing manners because he had a guest, but Gajeel hoped that was how he always ate; Gajeel liked a man with quirks,

The overhead lights glinted on Freed's piercings, and Gajeel smiled. This was a pretty nice end to a week that had started off so shittily. Breakfast with a handsome man who was decorated with his iron, with the two of them just existing together.

He could get used to this.

——

"You wanna tell me where yer taking me," Gajeel asked, with a towel over his shoulder.

The afternoon was turning to evening, and Freed was guiding Gajeel through his back yard. They were going further than they had when fighting the mimic, and towards the mountains that the property backed on to. Gajeel had no idea where he was being taken, nor did he know why he needed a towel. Freed had been oddly evasive about what was happening.

All Gajeel had wanted was a bath. He didn't have one in his en-suite, so had asked Freed if he had one in the main bathroom. Freed had told him to follow him, and Gajeel had trusted him. Now, he was simply confused as to what was happening.

"You'll see soon enough," Freed said, still not answering the question.

He didn't push the subject, and frowned a little when Freed climbed some of the rocks, and squeezed himself between two boulders. Gajeel followed him, grunting a little as he pushed the two rocks aside and followed Freed through a small passage in the rocks, which was illuminated by the runes plastered onto the walls. He saw Freed ahead, and decided to remain quiet.

Before a minute had passed, they reached a clearing in the cave, and Gajeel halted a little in shock. The cave was as large as Freed's expansive yard, and most of it was submerged in water. Crystals decorated the walls, and when he looked up Gajeel could see through the mountain to the sky. It was an underground lake, but it felt almost ethereal in nature. Gajeel looked around in wonderment, taking steps forward.

"It's not exactly a bath," Freed said, and his eyes glowed. Runes that were planted around the lake came to life, and the water began to warm. "But it's close."

"You own this?" Gajeel asked, looking around still.

"Not technically, no," Freed laughed, and the gentle sound echoed through the cave. "But the only way in is part of my property, so I see it as mine."

"Fuck," Gajeel chuckled, which also bounced around in an echo. "Yer team are idiots," Freed frowned at that, and Gajeel grinned. "Yer house is amazing, you've got a space to train, and you've basically got a hot spring in yer back yard, and they didn't wanna live here? If I were them, I'd be beggin' ya to let me stay."

Freed smiled an honest smile, if only for a second. "They don't actually know about it."

"Really?"

"I quite enjoyed having the place to myself," Freed shrugged. "If they knew about it, they'd always be here. No doubt I'd always find them sneaking around my yard trying to come here without me knowing. Or maybe they would insist on being here when I wanted some time alone."

"Why d'ya show me then?" Gajeel frowned.

"I don't know," Freed thought for a moment. "Perhaps I'm a hypocrite."

"Maybe you are, but I ain't gonna complain," Gajeel grinned.

"I'll leave you to it," Freed said, apparently feeling like he had been dismissed. Gajeel didn't like that.

"I wouldn't mind some company," Gajeel shrugged. "If you ain't planning on doing something."

Freed considered. "I would enjoy that."

"Great," Gajeel grinned.

"I should get a towel, then," Freed shrugged. "It shouldn't take long, if you'll excuse me."

Freed walked towards the corridors, and once he had turned a corner a light purple lit up the space. Gajeel was pretty sure Freed had teleported back into the house, and grinned a little. Maybe he was wrong, but he was pretty sure that Freed was enthusiastic about this. Gajeel was too.

He removed his clothes pretty quickly, placing them on a dry stone before walking to the lake. He placed a foot in - the temperature was incredible - then climbed in entirely. There seemed to be natural seating carved into the stone, and he sat with his chest under the water.

Fuck, this was good. He was gonna have to convince Freed to let him do this again.

A minute or two after Gajeel had climbed into the water, Freed returned with a towel. He was still wearing his full outfit - coat included - and Gajeel pouted a little. The pout went away when Freed unbuckled the belt of the coat and removed it. Good, he hadn't changed his mind then.

As much as he wanted to watch the man strip, he wasn't going to be that much of a creep. He kept his eyes on the rocks opposite him, even if the sound of rustling fabric was torture. His resolve didn't last long, and he glanced towards Freed only for a second.

One mystery was solved. Freed's naked ass was fucking indescribable.

He looked away before Freed turned, and kept his gaze away from the very naked man as he climbed into the water. When he let out a satisfied groan, Gajeel had to clench his fists to stop himself from reacting. Freed naked, groaning and about ten feet away from him was too much temptation for any man. Gods, he had wanted a bath to relax. This was making him more tense, and he needed to distract himself from the naked man of his desires.

"Why d'ya dress like that?" He said before his better sense told him not to. Great, he'd insulted the man. Before Freed could get pissed at him, he continued speaking. "It ain't a bad look, you pull it off. Just meant it seems kinda restrictive for fighting," What a shitty excuse. "Sorry, I didn't wanna insult ya. It's just-"

"I'm not insulted, and you're not the first person to ask," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel turned to see the man looked quite amused.

And naked. Fuck, his muscle definition was to die for. Gajeel wanted to lick it all over.

"As for why I dress like I do, the simple answer is that I like it," Freed shrugged a little, lowering himself in the water so his shoulders were covered. "You can probably guess I grew up in aristocratic circles. I didn't particularly like my life when I was part of the elite, but I did enjoy the clothes. For a while, after I ran away, I dressed more conventionally. I saw it as rebellion, you see. But eventually I decided that I liked formalwear - that the clothes I left home with were some of my most prized possessions - and that I wouldn't allow my parents to take something else from me because I wanted to spite them."

"Makes sense," Gajeel agreed. He was quiet for a moment, but spoke again. "You don't sound like yer fond of yer parents."

"I detest them," Freed said with feeling. "They're bad people, and have done many bad things," He was quiet, before looking to the surface of the water. When he spoke again, he sounded sad. "They're the reason I was possessed."

"They possessed you?" Gajeel exclaimed, shocked.

"Not intentionally. Honestly, it's rather a funny story," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel looked at him as if he had grown another head. "Perhaps funny isn't the correct term. But it was a farce."

Gajeel wasn't sure how to react, so he stayed quiet.

"When I was fifteen, I met a boy. Charming fellow, a little rough around the edges at the time, but I fell head over heels for him," Freed chuckled, looking into the middle distance. "He would sneak into my house whenever he could. We started to date, you see. I suppose we were one-another's first loves, so we couldn't get enough of each other. We tried to keep our relationship a secret, but we got sloppy about it. My parents walked in on us kissing in my bedroom, and they weren't best pleased."

"Shit," Gajeel whispered. He couldn't exactly sympathise; Metalicana had stated often that a connection mattered more than a gender when it came to finding someone to love.

"They were religious, to an extreme degree," Freed explained, still looking away. "We had a chapel in the home, so the Gods would be present with us always. Well, they saw their only son with a man and saw it as an atrocity. They were cliche, almost. They spoke to our town's priest, who convinced them I had been possessed by a demon, and that I needed an exorcism."

"And he was right?" Gajeel asked.

"No. It was all bullshit. But this is where the farce comes," Freed laughed spitefully. "You see, an exorcism is like opening a door. If a demon lives in your soul, you open the door to shove it out. The issue is that, if a demon isn't living in your soul, you've opened the door for no reason. And that open door can allow something to slip in."

"So, they tried to exorcise you, and they let yer demon get inside you?" Gajeel summarised, and Freed nodded. "Fuckers."

"I suppose they didn't know what they were doing," Freed smiled ruefully. "Not with the demon, anyway. They seemed all too happy to bind me, cut me and burn me in the name of their faith," Gajeel gaped at him, and he laughed. "Exorcisms are rather brutal."

"Bastards," Gajeel growled.

"They are," Freed agreed. "The demon seemed to think so too, if it's any consolation. It took control immediately, you see, and attacked. It killed the priest, paralysed my father from the waist down, and blinded my mother in the right eye. It would have been a lot worse if it knew how to turn my body more demonic, as it was unfamiliar with how to control a human."

"Shame it couldn't kill 'em all," Gajeel grunted, but regretted it. He shouldn't have said that, but Freed didn't seem too bothered by the words. "You fight back against it?"

"I tried, but had no idea what to do," Freed sighed.

"So it took yer body on a rampage?"

"It would have, but it was stopped," Freed explained, absently playing with the water. "At this point, I should tell you that the boy I was seeing was Laxus. He had come to my town on a mission, we had met by chance and he visited most weekends. When my parents walked in on us, he refused to leave the town because he saw their reactions. He sensed the influx of magic so ran to my house to see if I was okay. He saw the demon and I suppose his instincts took over. As I said, the demon wasn't able to control a human body very well, so Laxus managed to defeat it before it could hurt anybody else."

"Were you okay?" Gajeel asked. "After it happened, I mean?"

"It was unusual. I was completely drained of magic so I didn't wake up for weeks. Laxus brought me to Fairy Tail, so Porlyusica was tending to me. She realised that the demon needed to feed off my energy, so stripped me of all the energy I didn't need. Essentially I was kept on the brink of death for a week," Freed looked a little sad. "They considered performing another exorcism, but with the lack of energy it might have killed me. And it was an untested treatment that could make things worse, so they didn't know what to do.

"Eventually they turned to the Wizard Saints, who said runic magic might help. The rune army came, wished to take me away but Makarov wouldn't let them. They wrote runes on my soul meant to suppress the demon. Eventually I was allowed to wake up, and the demon couldn't break free of the runes. Tentatively I was allowed more of my energy, and the demon still couldn't break out. When I was allowed to use magic again, I decided to learn runes so I wouldn't have to meet with the army weekly to replenish the spell. Slowly, I got used to it, and it became part of my life. My parents found me at some point, paid me to disown me and buy my silence, and I began life at Fairy Tail. Eventually, it became normal."

"Fuck," Gajeel breathed, not sure of what else to say. That was a lot of information Freed had trusted him with. He needed to be tactful, but that wasn't his expertise. "Must've been rough."

"It was, but then it got better," Freed shrugged, skin shimmering in the moonlight. "Sorry, I've rather brought down the mood, haven't I?"

"Ain't a problem," Gajeel assured him on instinct, because Freed was hurting and he didn't like that. Freed was still looking at the surface of the water, sad. He couldn't accept that, so spoke again with forced teasing. "So, you and Sparky were together, huh? You still screwing?"

"Gods no," Freed laughed at that, and it seemed genuine. "No. When I was recovering we didn't think it wise to be anything intimate. When I was at a place where I could try something, we had created a friendship we both cherished. We're better platonic than romantic," Freed glanced to Gajeel, smiling a little. "He wasn't my type, anyway."

"What's yer type?"

"Strong willed, principled, powerful. Essentially, I want a man more exciting than my job," Freed shrugged, then looked back to Gajeel for a moment. "A man who's able to set my world on fire."

"You ever found a guy like that?" Gajeel asked, voice a little hopeful.

"I could hardly tell you, where's the fun in that?" Freed laughed, spreading his arms against the edge of the lake. He didn't look away from Gajeel this time, and he was pretty sure Freed was checking him out. "What's your type?"

"Smart, capable, a guy with a great ass wouldn't hurt," Gajeel looked shamelessly at Freed, eyeing his abs through the rippling water. If Freed wanted to drop all pretence of not finding him hot, then he'd do the same. "Maybe a man who knows how to keep me in line when I'm being a dick. But I don't want a square."

"That's rather a contradiction," Freed smirked a little, and his tongue poked out for a moment. Gajeel decided he was going to pierce that tongue one day. "It'd be awfully hard to find a man like that."

"They're rare," Gajeel agreed.

"Have you ever found a man worth your time?"

"I ain't telling you if you ain't telling me," Gajeel laughed, crossing his arms and flexing his biceps.

Freed seemed to think for a moment, and Gajeel grinned. The energy between them had changed yet again, this time charged with a sexual edge. Maybe the change from the seriousness of their conversation to this was drastic, but it was also perfect. Gajeel was sure that Freed didn't tell people about his life if he didn't trust them, so him explaining his past was an expression of their relationship. It was Freed taking Gajeel's advice, accepting the unconventional nature of their relationship rather than thinking things through. He trusted Gajeel for no real reason, but the trust was there no matter what.

This was how the week was destined to end, Gajeel realised. The tension between them at the start of the week hadn't left, it had just changed. Their antagonist side had been replaced with desire. Desire for more, for something intimate and primal.

"What if I showed you?" Freed offered.

"Showed me?" Gajeel quirked an eyebrow. "How d'ya plan on doing that."

Freed didn't speak, but he stood up. Gajeel swallowed, breathless as he looked up at Freed's naked body. He was illuminated by the moonlight, looking beautiful in his nudity. His muscles rippled, hair clinging to his back and he slowly walked towards Gajeel. He was transfixed by the man, unable to look away from the ethereal draw the man had on him.

With slow, teasing movements, Freed lowered himself again. Gajeel let out a shuddering breath when Freed straddled him, cupping his jaw gently. They stared at each other for a moment, wonderstruck.

"You sure this is what you want?" Gajeel whispered.

"Yes," Freed whispered in return, smiling so beautifully that Gajeel couldn't look away. "So very sure."

They moved towards one another at the same time. Their heads tilted and their lips pressed together in a slow, perfect kiss. Freed's lips were rougher than they looked, and the way he melted into Gajeel was incredible. His movements were slow and addictive, and Gajeel wanted more.

His inner dragon was practically purring in delight, and Gajeel could feel his magic running through the runes on his arm. This was right. This was natural. This was inevitable.

His hands laced into Freed's hair, grinning when a little tug got Freed to moan. Their bodies were pressed tight, and Gajeel felt Freed's hand on his lower back, pushing him closer. They leaned further into the kiss, as close to a single being two men could be. Gajeel's eyes had closed in pleasure as he ran a hand down Freed's spine, and cupped his bare ass.

"Gods," Freed gasped when they pulled apart. "That was… Gods."

"Fuck I wanted to do that since the moment I saw ya," Gajeel said, and he wasn't lying. He hadn't realised it was what he'd always wanted to do, but it was obvious now. "Fuck yer amazin'."

"You're beautiful," Freed responded, still breathless.

They looked at each other for a moment, grinning at one another. Freed felt just as explosively alive as Gajeel did, the dragon-slayer was sure of that. This was how they belonged, and all of the fighting and posturing and self-doubting was just a bullshit distraction because they didn't know how to deal with the overwhelming need for each other.

Freed was his Minn Maðr. His person.

"If you'd like, I bet I can teleport us both to my room without breaking a kiss," Freed offered with a mischievous smile that sent Gajeel's blood alight. Gods, this man!

"Fuck yeah!" Gajeel said, unashamedly grinning.

As runes covered their naked bodies, Gajeel felt an overwhelming sense of rightness. As they hit the mattress, he let out a small 'Gihi.'

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #freed justine #Gajeel Redfox #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Multi Chap #Chapter Seven #Word Count: 5.4k

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The Long Ride (John Kennex x GN!Reader)

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Pairing: John Kennex x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: E for Explicit but also for Emotional Words: 2026 Summary: John has issues with his synthetic leg. You want to help him, but you can’t if he stays in denial about having a synthetic leg in the first place. Oh and you ride him to show you can have a good time without the leg. The sex is very emotional. Note: Ok I know the request said smut and there is smut, but I also have so many emotions when it comes to John Kennex. I would die for this man. I mean look at him. Fluffy hair and puppy face and that body hgdjksgasflsjfk Tags: Emotional sex, psychological rejection of his synthetic leg, communication, riding, protected sex (AS IT SHOULD BE), hurt/comfort, angst, swearing and idk man I got carried away

“God fucking dammit,” John cursed as his synthetic leg ran out of batteries, making him lose his balance and slip. You closed your eyes, but your boyfriend was dexterous enough to push himself out of the way, causing him to fall face-down next to you rather than on top of you. A string of curses left him as he struggled to change his position.

“Relax, it’s been a long day,” you reassured him as you helped him getting in a sitting position against the headboard. “We should’ve charged it over dinner, but we’ll do that next time, yeah?” You smiled at him as you sat on your knees in front of him. He looked beyond angry and you knew it was not a mild inconvenience that got him riled up like this. You never complained about your sex life, but it was less than ideal half the time. John’s leg had a record of acting up, but as long as it had battery life left, John tried to ignore it and muscle through. It was a huge mood killer.

John pretended like his synthetic leg was a real one and he was not disabled, so you tried playing along. The truth was, he was disabled. He did need special care and you didn’t mind that. What you did mind was pretending he did not need special care, just to stroke his ego.

“Sorry, tonight’s a bust,” your man muttered, not even looking you in the eye. You kissed his cheek. You tried to keep it at that, but he pulled you back in for a kiss on the lips. You loved how he kissed you. John was not short on passion. He was known for his passion for his job, but even that was nothing compared to how precious and loved he could make you feel with just one kiss. Your hand ended up on his chest as he ravished your mouth. It travelled lower, resting on his lower abdomen, afraid that he didn’t want to do anything anymore tonight and that you were pressuring him into more.

You had a feeling you were right when John took a gentle hold of your wrist and lifted your hand away. You pulled away, your other hand cupping his face. “There’s lots of things we can still do, love, but we don't have to do anything if you don’t feel like it,” you whispered. Your smile disappeared as John’s face turned sour. Sometimes it just was too easy to say the wrong thing to him.

“Don’t treat me like I’m fucking made of glass. This stupid…” He pushed you aside to forcefully remove his leg. You wanted to help him, but knew that he did not want help right now. “Leg! Isn’t even made of… Fuck!” He leaned back and covered his face with one hand, when he failed to get the thing off. You wanted to get it off for him, but John was pretty clear on how he felt about his leg, even though you never talked about it. He always kept your hands away from it by either changing positions or holding your hand.

“John, don’t take your anger out on me,” you warned him. He let out a grunt in response. You sighed and moved to get off the bed, but John had taken a hold of your hand in a second.

“I’m not angry at you.”

“I know you’re allergic to apologies, but just say you’re sorry and look at me.”

John sighed, removed the hand from his face and looked at you. He looked older now, tired, a little resigned. “I’m sorry.” You had hoped for more, but it was a start. You shifted on the bed, showing you were no longer leaving, but John kept a hold of your hand, his eyes trained there to avoid looking at yours. “I know our sex life sucks, so I kind of hate it when you pretend it doesn’t,” he confessed.

You chuckled. “The only sucking our sex life is doing is how often I got your dick in my mouth,” you joked. John finally looked at your face, probably trying to guess if you hated sucking his dick or not. “The rest just has been… inconvenient,” you placed a hand on John’s thigh, but far enough above the line where it was no longer organic, “but that’s because you try to act like your leg is normal.” John looked hurt by your words and you felt sorry to break the news to him. “I know you hate the leg, but pretending it works just as fine as your other one is just not working. I don’t mind the leg, but you got a shitty attitude about it.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “So what you’re saying is the problem is not the leg, but it’s me?” You winced. That’s what you said, but you didn’t mean it like that. “No, it’s okay baby. I get it. I just… I want to do right by you. I don’t want you to feel like I need special care.”

“But you do, John!” You groaned in frustration. “That leg needs special care to work properly and if you don’t give it that care, it will work like a shit machine. I’m not gonna carry you around, but maybe let me help you remind charging it, cleaning it and maybe rub in some oil from time to time. I would just really like it if you just stopped blaming the leg and start looking at how you take care of it.” You didn’t mean to rant, but the frustration was up to your head to the point that you didn’t realise you were still naked, until John casually pulled the sheets towards you. You took them, covering yourself a little.

“Okay, noted,” John sighed, clearly doing some mental work to not throw a tantrum right now. There was an awkward silence between you. Things were said and you both needed to process a little. John ended up breaking the silence. “Could you… help me getting the leg off?” You were surprised that he was just ready to let you touch it out of nowhere. You hummed and pushed the sheets off his right thigh, your fingers gentle but quick to remove it. You’ve seen it often enough to know how it should be done… and you asked Dorian. Either way, it required the gentle touch John never had with it.

The leg came off smoothly and you discarded the sheets to get up and put it on the charger. You admittedly stuck your ass out a little more than needed, knowing John liked looking at it. “You know… I am still a little loose and slick from our foreplay,” you mused. You couldn’t help it. Your favourite detective was naked in bed and had prepped you earlier to get his dick inside you. It was a waste to just ignore that effort.

“Babe, I love it when you get me off, but I wanted you to have a good time tonight.” You crawled onto the bed, smirking in his face.

“I will, if you let me ride you like this.” You saw John swallow heavily, the idea rolling in his mind.

“Grab the lube and condom,” he ordered and you happily obliged. You wanted to take care of everything, but John insisted on getting himself hard and ready to fuck himself. You sighed, before leaning back, shamelessly watching him. “Not complaining now you get to enjoy the show, are you?”

You huffed. “Two can play that game, detective.” You leaned back on one arm, your other travelling down your body until you reach your crotch. You briefly remove your hand to stick two fingers in your mouth. You got as much saliva on them as possible, before slipping one finger inside you. It met with little resistance, so you joined the second one immediately. You lifted your leg, giving yourself a little more room to finger yourself. The sight certainly helped John. You were just about to enjoy yourself, when your boyfriend was ready to go. You eagerly straddled him, using your clean hand to pull him into a hungry kiss. John ravaged your mouth. You reached behind you, guiding his cock towards your hole. You rubbed it over your entrance, your breath getting heavier.

“Stop teasing,” John grunted, his voice always ten times sexier when he was turned on. Usually you would challenge him, but he was right. You pressed your hips down onto his cock, shaking when the head entered you.

“Oh fuck you feel so good.” You put your hands on his shoulders and rode the head of his cock. He kissed your neck, sucking and biting a little, leaving small red marks that would be gone by morning. You needed more and pressed down further, moaning when you got his entire length inside you. John was not particularly big, but he had a delicious girth. Your hole was tight around him, dragging over his cock as you rode him.

You were enjoying yourself, your head thrown back while you fucked yourself on your boyfriend’s cock with abandon. John could never do a very fast pace, because his leg never cooperated, but you were not limited by that. “Fuck, baby, slow down,” John groaned, his fingers finding your ass and digging into the soft flesh there.

“Don’t want to,” you replied, every word a moan. You whined when John lifted you off his cock with his strong hands on your ass.

“Stop being greedy, baby,” he warned, making you moan at the voice he used. You nodded, knowing you had to agree or he would keep you there, all empty, for longer than you wanted. He stopped keeping you up and lowered you back down on his cock. You rolled your hips, keeping a slower pace. “That’s good,” John praised, his eyes locked with yours, “you’re so sexy and,” he stopped to let out a small moan himself, “I love you.”

You cried. He had said it before, but it felt different after the emotional debacle from earlier. “I love you too,” you said, before grabbing his face and bringing your lips together. You stopped moving for a moment, his cock balls deep in you as you kissed him as if you hadn’t done so for months. “I love you so much, John, and I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy so much.” Emotions poured out and John led you through them, his hands and lips reassuring, letting you have your moment, before wiping your tears away.

“I hope I can make you happy,” he whispered. You continued to move, your hips moving slowly over his cock, making you feel every inch of it entering and pulling out of you. You rested your head on his shoulder and he kissed yours.

“You do,” you told him, your hips gradually moving faster. You went back to your original fast pace, making yourself see stars on John’s length. “I want you to cum while inside me,” you whispered in his ear. He groaned, his hands on your hips and helping you. He came first and you rode him through it. One raspy whisper in your ear and you came undone as well, his cock all the way inside you and not a single need for anything but that to make you see stars and cum.

He held you in the aftermath, listening to you rambling how much you loved him. You knew he probably did not know how to deal with your words, but he would have to figure that out himself. Once you stopped, he helped you get off him. You plopped down beside him, resting against his shoulder and hugging his arm. He complained as you made tying off the condom hard. He tossed it onto the floor to be dealt with later. His head came to rest on yours and you could not feel happier.

“You should ride me more often.”

You laughed.

“I will. After all,” you snuggled against him, “I’m with you for the long ride.”

#john kennex x reader #john kennex #john kennex x male reader #almost human #karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #reader insert #amputee #karl urban x gender neutral reader #bottom reader

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ghostly-cabbage · 3 years

Text

Frigid (Chapter 4)

Genre: Horror, Angst, Enemies to Friends

Chapter Rating: M (Language, Mild Violence)

Word Count: 7,699

AO3 FFN

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Shit, shit, shit. Of course this would happen; a ghost attack two days in a row. Danny's luck was continually getting worse. Maybe someone cursed him. He should ask Sam about that.

She'd probably know.

The soft soles of his sneakers smacked against the linoleum floor as he ran. The halls were deserted, thank God. The likelihood of the alarm being pulled was reduced by at least a little bit.

First thing's first: he had to get the thermos from his locker. He transformed as he ran, the cold passing over him. He felt lighter, leaning forward into flight and zipping through the halls. He put on the brakes as he reached his locker, pushing an intangible hand through the metal to retrieve the thermos.

Energy buzzed through him, filling his ears with its dull roar. It was like adrenaline, pulsing through him, ectoplasm bursting to life to supply his core with power.

It was a familiar feeling—a sensation that used to leave him shaky and weak in the knees but now, he felt it sharpen his mind—power roiling underneath his skin, begging to be released.

Which ghost was crashing the party this time?

"I am the Box Ghost!" Echoed down the hall from around the corner.

Danny's shoulders slumped, and his head lolled back. Seriously? The Box Ghost? He heaved a sigh. Whatever; at least it'd be over quick.

Hopefully.

He flew down the hall and rounded the corner, coming face to face with the self proclaimed "Ruler of Boxes" and "all Square Shaped Containers".

"Why not make this easier on both of us and just surrender for once?"

"I will not do that! Never will the might of the Box Ghost quiver before a simple teenager!" He shook his fist like he was in some cheesy play.

Danny had to focus on not crushing the thermos in his hand like an empty soda can. At this point he had to wonder if the Box Ghost just did this because he was board. Ha, get it? Like cardboard? Bored?

...Nah, that needed more work. He was running out of puns for Boxy at this point. It'd been two years for fuck's sakes.

"Fine. The hard way then. Let's at least move to a more appropriate arena." Danny sprang to action. He flipped forward, bringing his heel down on top of Boxy's head. The force of the kick slammed the ghost straight down through the floor with a cry of surprise. Luckily he'd gone intangible so there wasn't a gaping hole in the floor of the hallway.

Danny wasn't some weak fourteen year old anymore, and if the Box Ghost thought he was going to hold back, he was grossly mistaken. He was having a shitty day, and ghost fights were always the perfect way to blow off steam.

Danny went intangible and followed Boxy down through the floor and into the basement of the school.

The Box Ghost was lying dazed in a small crater of broken concrete as Danny bared down on him. He somersaulted, aiming to slam feet first in the center of his foe. The Box Ghost yelped and went intangible just in time to avoid getting smashed further into the cement foundation. It shook the ground and sent cracks spider webbing several feet from the point of impact.

Boxy rolled away, and Danny had to dislodge his foot from the ground, floating above the rubble. He clipped the thermos to his waist, and pushed energy into the palm of his hand. An ecto-blast hissed and illuminated the dark underbelly of the school in green. The ecto-blast felt like a caged animal in his hand, a nocked arrow quivering against its string in anticipation of being shot.

The Box Ghost scrambled into a floating position himself, and flung an arm in front of him.

"Fear the wrath of… A—Ama… The Amazon?" Following his gesture, a wave of glowing Amazon boxes flew towards Danny. He kept a firm hold on the wild energy, focusing it to a single point and letting it go as a laser rather than a single blast. The beam sliced through the boxes like butter. Danny went intangible as the remnants of the boxes and their contents scattered past and through him, carried on by the inertia.

Whoever took care of the school supply budget probably wouldn't be too happy about that. Whoops.

The Box Ghost grunted with effort and sent more levitating boxes hurling at Danny.

Danny lifted his hand, palm flat. Instead of forcing the energy outward like a projectile he guided it to take shape in the air. A shield spread out in front of him, a wide, flat disk of swirling caustic green. The boxes slammed up against it with no hope of weakening its integrity. Danny rolled his eyes.

He was getting detention for this?

Boxy moved again, trying to come in from the right side with more boxes.

Danny abandoned the shield, dropping to the ground and ducking. The side swipe of cardboard whipped above his head but left him untouched. He shot into the air, rocketing towards his most annoying enemy.

Boxy tried to reel back, get out of range, but Danny was too fast. He caught the side of the other ghost's face in a right hook. The power behind it sent the ghost sailing to the left and into a giant fuse box on the wall. It had already been dim in the basement, but the damage to the electrical box plunged them into total darkness. And with it probably the whole school.

Dammit.

The only light came from the cold glow of their bodies. Danny watched the Box Ghost peel himself off the wall. He glared at Danny with fire in his eyes and with a scream he flung himself back into the fight.

It was like fighting a human. Seriously; Dash hit harder. And Valerie harder than that. Then again, with her suit Danny didn't think it really counted, calling her power equal to a human's.

Danny dodged blow after blow, slipping past the ghosts wide swings and clumsy blasts. He was hardly breaking a sweat. He'd fought the Box Ghost since he was fourteen, at this point he could do it in his sleep.

Boxy let out a frustrated cry and tackled Danny, gloved hands gripping him by the shoulders with a vice like grip. The two of them tumbled backwards, flipping end over end in the air a few times. Anger flared in the pit of Danny's stomach.

"Get the hell off me!" Danny tensed his lower body, coiling up and then snapping like a taut rubber band. He kicked the Box Ghost with a force that would have shattered ribs if ghosts had any. He followed it up with a blast that caught Boxy in the shoulder and sent him spinning away.

"I will not be defeated again by you, Phantom. I'll have your respect and then all of Amity Park's." Boxy sent box after box hurdling at Danny.

It felt like some sort of mini-game, blasting the glowing boxes out of the dark air one after the other. They exploded in flashes of green, cardboard pieces littering the ground, smouldering with red embers.

"Why don't you pick fights with someone more on your level." Boxy was floating closer to the ground, unsteady, and Danny could tell he was spent. He floated down towards him, clenching his hand into a fist and extinguished the burning ecto-energy.

"I'm not in the mood for this anymore. You're pissing me off." The temperature of the air plunged, and his words fogged from his mouth. "Go back to the Ghost Zone, Box. Before I make you." His words were rigid with the threat. He loomed over the Box Ghost, the blue glow of ice building in his hand.

The other ghost held his gaze at first, before it faltered and flashed with fear. Boxy knew he was no match for him, he could see it in the Box Ghost's eyes. As delusional as he was, or pretended to be, he knew.

The Box Ghost turned and fled, holding his wounded shoulder as he shot through the ceiling.

The threat was gone. The space fell silent, but Danny remained rigid, his arms stiff at his sides. His breath clouded the air in front of him in short shallow puffs. The blackness of the room vibrated like white noise around him.

He still felt like a coiled spring, a trap ready to slam shut. He had to go back, he knew he did. Face the screeching music that was his fucked up life.

Was this really it for him? To get detention, to fail classes, to always be in danger? To be pushed around, called a loser by people who barely even fucking knew him? Risking his life for people who didn't give a shit? People that spit in his face the next day? Was he destined to be alone? To never be enough? To be something he couldn't change? Something his parents would never fucking love?

Emotion swelled in his throat, constricting his breathing. He was shaking but not from the cold. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He screamed and fired a blast of ice with everything he had at the nearest wall.

The impact rattled the room and felt like it shattered the air itself. There was the harsh sound of creaking metal at different points all across the room.

He dropped to the ground, his hands coming up to fist in his hair, chest heaving. He stared at nothing, listened to nothing. If time stopped he wouldn't have known it. All he knew was that his chest ached and his head was pounding.

He still had energy. So much sometimes he felt like there was an ocean inside him, sloshing and raging. When he first got his powers, he had gotten worn out in ghost form so easily.

But the numbers and his parents' ghost equipment didn't lie. The more he fought, the more he grew, the stronger he got.

He hated it. What if one day he woke up to find he'd destroyed everyone and everything he ever cared about? Even after everything he'd done, everything Clockwork had done, was Dan still his future?

The sound of the basement door creaking open made Danny freeze. Reality snapped back into place as the rays of a flashlight caught him in its beam. He must have looked like a deer in the headlights, wide eyes snapping up to the person coming down the stairs.

"P—Phantom? That you?" Danny knew that voice. It was Rob, Casper's custodian. He was probably here to check the breaker box. He was a sweet old guy who sang to his dead wife when he thought no one was in the halls. She followed him around, a meek and quiet spirit, hardly visible and with no obsession other than standing next to the love of her life.

Danny winced, glancing around at the sorry state of the place. This wasn't the first disaster he'd left for the poor guy to try and clean up and it wouldn't be the last. He never seemed to hold a grudge though. Especially after the time Danny stopped Bertrand from eating him alive.

Danny held a hand up to shield his eyes from the flashlight. "Yeah. Sorry," he croaked. He floated back up into the air a few feet.

"What— what the devil happened in here, sonny?" He moved the flashlight from the huge crater in the floor, to the cardboard strewn ground, and the huge pile of ice on the opposite wall. But it didn't stop there; Danny watched as Rob's flashlight illuminated pipes all over the room covered in a thick layer of frost, some of which looked like they'd burst at the seams, the water that gushed out having frozen. They looked like some sort of cave feature or icicles formed in freezing rain.

"Ghost," was all Danny could muster.

Rob frowned and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. "An' why's everything frozen? Feels damn near twenty below in here."

Danny smiled weakly at that. It probably was.

He didn't answer, just drifted up through the ceiling, his tail following after him in a gentle streak.

The halls were dark, but not empty. He turned invisible as he emerged and glanced at a clock. It was around the time sixth period let out. He'd been down there longer than he thought.

He sighed, making a girl start and look around.

He bobbed towards the chem room, hoping to snag his stuff without Mrs. Merriweather seeing one Danny Fenton, who was probably in a heap of trouble. He poked his head into the classroom. It was mostly cleared out, a few stragglers still cleaning up their lab equipment. The class wasn't as dark as the halls were, the huge windows letting in daylight.

Mrs. Merriweather was sitting at her desk, organizing papers with a pinched look on her face. He stuck close to the wall as he slunk towards his seat, third table from the front. His stuff was still exactly the way he'd left it.

He reached for his book, turning it invisible as soon as his fingers brushed its surface. Danny tucked it into the corner of his arm, and went for his binder next. He lifted it, strangling back a swear as it sent his pencil rolling off the table. He lunged for it, but missed. It clattered and bounced against the hard floor. He cringed as everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look.

Nice one. He'd been like this for how long now and he couldn't even manage to pick up three things unnoticed? Idiot.

Mrs. Merriweather stood up from her desk and walked over, brows furrowed behind her coke-bottle glasses. He made himself intangible, floating backwards and holding his breath. Merriweather stooped down to pick up the pencil, examining it, and then looking down at the now empty table. He pleaded silently that she would just shrug and think nothing of it like a shitty video game character AI.

The other students had already gone back to their own business, eager to get out of class. Merriweather lingered, a hand going out to touch the place his stuff had been piled.

Shit.

She looked up and around the room, her eyes sliding harmlessly over his invisible form, none the wiser. She glanced towards the door and then back to the pencil in her hand. She snorted, clenching the pencil in her fist and went back to her desk, her heels clicking on the floor.

He let out the breath he'd been holding, wiping away cold sweat from his forehead. That was way too close. He really needed to get his shit together.

Danny glided towards the white board, sinking through the wall into the next classroom. He kept going straight, headed for the nearest bathroom. At this point he knew exactly where every bathroom and supply closet was in the school from any direction and through any wall. He probably knew more about the inner workings of the place than the people who'd built it.

The restroom was pitch black, no outside windows or skylight to let light seep in. He floated near the ceiling, listening for any sign that someone else was still in there. There was only the distant clamour from outside.

Satisfied the coast was clear, he touched down softly in a stall, and let the warmth of his human side surge inside him. He closed his eyes against the blinding light of his transformation. Slowly the sensations of being human came back to him, the heaviness of gravity pulling on his limbs. The general ache of having a physical form.

He swayed on his feet, slumping against the stall wall for support as tiredness hit him like a train. It was all catching up to him: the exhaustion, the hunger, the sharp pain pushing at the back of his eyes. He should have eaten more at lunch

His ghost half didn't suffer much from lack of sleep or food. He had his core and the surplus of ectoplasm and didn't have to feel how heavy and shaky his body was. How fragile. How weak.

Danny stayed like that for a few seconds, mentally preparing himself to leave, for people to see him.

When he'd built up the nerve, he walked out. Like always, he went to his locker. Sam and Tuck were waiting there for him.

"Box Ghost?" Sam asked, amusement coloring her voice. But when she looked at him closer, her face fell. Worry was a familiar look on her. "Are you okay, Danny? What happened?"

"Yeah, you look like shit dude."

"Gee, thanks." Danny stood in front of his locker and dropped his forehead against its cool metal surface with a thunk. He hadn't been ready to come out after all. Weirdly, he wished he was back down in the basement, where it was cold and quiet and he wasn't under anyone's scrutiny.

"It was just the Box Ghost though, right? He's all the scanner picked up. Well, other than you, obviously," Tucker said.

Danny didn't answer right away. Instead he closed his eyes, focusing only on the place where his head pressed against his locker. He took a deep breath. Tried to get his mind to stop whirling. He just had to push through it like he always did.

A hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down slowly, reassuringly. He turned his head and opened an eye to see Sam looking at him. Her eyes were troubled and a frown tugged at the corners of her bold purple lips.

"Did the power outage have anything to do with the fight?" Sam asked.

"It's fine guys. Promise. Just Boxy. We played the game, I kicked his ass, he went home with his tail tucked between his legs." He shrugged and leaned away from his locker. He started spinning the padlock. Sam removed her hand.

Danny put the thermos on his shelf and forced a laugh. "Yeah, uh… Kinda punched Boxy into the breaker box. Like, really really hard. The thing is probably so fucked."

"Dude, nice! Hopefully they'll release us early because of—"

"There you are, Fenton."

It wasn't Dash, but Danny still stiffened. He turned to see Wesley Weston storming up to them. Even in the dim emergency lights, he'd know that stupid redhead anywhere.

"What the fuck, dude? Where the hell were you?"

Danny grimaced. Great, just what he needed. Another person on his case. "Uh, the bathroom?" Playing dumb was the easiest, most effective option. Sam and Tucker turned towards Wesley, a barrier of sorts between them.

"For like twenty minutes? Yeah, right, like I'd believe that." He glanced at Sam and Tuck, before his gaze landed back on Danny, eyes like flint. "I'm onto you," Wesley spat. For a second those words made his heart skip. "You ditched class just so you didn't have to do the stupid lab, didn't you?"

Oh thank God.

Danny said nothing, looking off to the side before looking back at Wesley. He was going for nervous, sheepish even, as if he'd been caught. It seemed to work. Wesley growled in frustration.

"Unbelievable. What's even the fucking point of skipping? Not like you can use the shit anyway, I'm the one that has to do everything." Wesley adjusted his grip on his books to rub his temples. "Listen, okay? I'm not thrilled to be stuck as your lab partner either. But unlike you, I'm not an asshole and I wouldn't just fuck off and leave you high and dry. So don't do it to me, got it? Great." Before any of them could say anything, Wesley Weston turned and walked off.

They all stared after him.

"Holy shit, what the hell's his problem?" Sam asked.

"No clue, but that dude's definitely got some major issues, man," Tucker said.

Danny shook his head. He didn't have the energy to deal with this. "Come on, let's get to class. I wanna go home."

***

They ended up getting released forty minutes early. The breaker box was beyond simple repair, which meant the whole building was without power until tomorrow at least. There was also the burst pipes. Danny told himself he shouldn't feel guilty, but he did anyway.

He got home and made his way up to his room, dropping his bag to the floor by his desk with a thud. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at his bag. His head was static. Without thinking, he pulled out his desk chair and rifled in his bag, pulling out whatever the fuck homework he grabbed first.

Ugh.

Algebra.

Whatever.

All he needed to do was put the pencil to the page. Just that. The first thing. Write his goddamn name. He knew that one, right? His eyes skipped down the page to the first question. The black text stood out boldly from the bleach white computer paper it was printed on. The numbers and letters swam in front of his eyes as he tried to make heads or tails of what the hell it wanted him to do. The longer he looked the harder it was to keep his mind on homework.

He wondered if the Box Ghost had listened and gone home. He hoped so, he had enough to worry about with the new ghost he'd failed to track down yesterday. With any luck she'd gone back too. It reminded him that he still had to empty that big cat ghost from the thermos back into the Ghost Zone. It wasn't anywhere near full capacity, but it was risky to carry around a ghost or keep one in his locker for extended periods. His eyes fell to the gleaming metal cylinder poking out from his bag. He would do it now, but his parents were down in the lab, probably working on their newest paper on the ghost threat level. He really didn't want to have to face the fifth degree for where, how and why he'd caught a ghost.

He stared back down at his homework. The same question stared back, taunting him. He scribbled down the equation, hoping it'd click if it was in his own handwriting. He gazed at the mix of rigid and heavy left-slanted variables of the expression in his writing. He still had no clue what to do next. That was fucking pointless.

He groaned in frustration, resting his elbows on his desk and holding his head in his hands.

Why did math have to be so fucking hard?

Ugh, fuck it. He'd just cheat off Sam's homework tomorrow.

Like always.

He leaned back in his chair, hanging his head back to look up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers stuck to his ceiling. A smile worked it's way to his face as he looked at them. The memory of the first stars to decorate his ceiling came to mind.

He was six and his Dad helped put them up. His parents knew how much he loved space, and even if it wasn't ghosts, they wanted to nurture his love for science. His Dad had hoisted him up on his shoulders, giant hands around Danny's ankles to keep him steady as he slapped the stars up with reckless abandon. He remembered bouncing around on his bed in anticipation of turning the lights off to see them glow.

He fell asleep under the stars for the first time that night.

These weren't the same stars. The original ones lost their glow after the years, pale green outlines that stopped sticking and fell down one by one in the middle of the night.

For his fourteenth birthday, Jazz bought him another pack. He hadn't put them up right away, lost under a pile of gifts, and forgotten in the bustle of summer fun and then starting high school a few months later.

Then he had his accident. Everything was different then. If he didn't have time to put them up before, he definitely didn't after he took on the role of Protector of Amity Park.

It wasn't until Danny was laid up in bed after defeating Pariah Dark, and Jazz took it upon herself to tidy up his room that she found them stuffed into one of his desk drawers. She hid them from him and excused herself to do some studying.

A few days later she returned, excited as could be with a gift in her hands. She dropped it onto his lap, and dismissed him when he tried to object to deserving a gift. He tore the wrapping paper off an clearly recycled shoe box. Upon lifting the lid he saw the bright glowing green stars. The light wasn't that of cheap glow in the dark plastic. It was radiant and bright, it almost looked like… He looked up at her, confused and delighted.

Jazz jumped at the chance to explain. She told him how she'd recruited the help of Sam and Tucker and a bit of their parents' technology to fabricate new glow-in-the-dark stars. Special ones, made especially to activate in the presence of ecto-energy. She excitedly reported that because they were powered by the nearest source of ectoplasmic energy, aka him, they would always glow, never fade.

Jazz would totally lie when asked and claim that he had started to cry, but what did she know? He was just squinting because they were bright. Crying? Not him.

Danny had been going crazy with nothing to do. He grinned, and tried to push himself up, wincing from the pain and dizzy from the effort. Jazz had put a hand on his shoulder and told him to tell her where to put them, and she would do it.

A few minutes later Jazz was standing on his desk chair, holding a star between her fingers, moving a few inches left to where he pointed.

He had his constellation map unfolded on his lap. She was placing the final star of Leo. With the help of his sister and under his direction, his ceiling and walls became a map of the stars. They only had room for his favorites though, Virgo was by his closet, Orion above his bed, Ursa Major by his door and Aries next to Leo adjacent to his desk. Jazz snagged three from the box and said it was about time Sam, Tucker and her had a fool-proof way to tell if he was sneaking into their rooms. Bed-ridden as he was at the time, there was little he could do but let it go. It would be harder to prank his friends sure, but it made him feel better. His friends had a "ghost sense" of their own in the form of a little star stuck to the wall in their rooms.

The memory felt warm in his chest as he stared up at the faintly glowing stars. He spun his chair in circles, stopping only when he felt dizzy. The stars glowed far brighter when he was Phantom or he used his powers, but all it took was a little practice and he learned how to brighten and dim them however much he wanted.

The buzzing of his phone inside his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. At first, he thought it was just a message in the groupchat—Tucker sharing a meme or something. But it kept going; a call, then. Danny reached into his pocket and pulled it out. The screen was lit up with an in-coming call from "Know-it-All". Danny smiled. Think of the Devil and she shall appear. He accepted the call, putting it up to his ear.

"Sup, Harvard."

"Danny!" Her voice was warm and full of life. She sounded happy. "I wanted to call and see how my baby brother was doing."

Danny snorted. "Oh you know, same ol', same ol'." He got up and closed his bedroom door. The line was quiet for a second.

"You sound tired, Danny. Have you been sleeping? Before I left, we had a talk specifically about the detriments to health caused by a lack of sleep."

Danny plopped back into his desk chair and gave it a spin. "Jeez, Jazz. Chill out, I know."

"Knowing and doing are two different things, Danny."

He couldn't fault her for caring. It was nice. In an annoying sister way. Still, discomfort prickled over his skin whenever people worried about him. He was fine.

"What about you? All settled into the big college life?"

Her voice went up an octave, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Oh, God, Danny. It's everything I hoped for and more! The library is huge and there's so much information and so many clubs! Believe it or not, there's actually a ghost and paranormal science club."

"Did you join it?"

"You kidding? You're talking to the new vice president, mister."

Danny chuckled. "Coulda guessed. How's your roommate? She hasn't tried to kill you yet, has she?" Danny pushed on the floor to continue the chair's turning.

"Why, pray tell, dear brother, would she want to kill me?"

"I don't know, prolly 'cause you're like the most annoying person ever." Over the past two years Jazz and him had really "grown and moved past the hurt feelings". That's how she phrased it, anyway.

"Meeean! Come on, I'm not that bad."

"Okay, agree to disagree. Have you psychoanalyzed her yet?"

"Danny!" She chided. "I can't believe you!" She was silent for a second. "Of course I have. Abandonment issues and most likely an anxiety disorder."

Danny's laugh came easy this time. Same old Jazz. He hoped she never changed.

"Damn, sounds serious, have you recommended that she get help yet?"

Jazz giggled. "I do have some tact, you know. I'm going to wait until we've known each other at least a month for that."

"Totally, don't wanna scare her off too soon."

"Exactly!"

The line dipped down into a staticky silence. Jazz cleared her throat.

"What about you? Any new friends added to your trio to take my place?"

"Psh, now you really do sound crazy."

"Danny, I mean it! Having a support network is really important, and don't get me wrong Sam and Tucker are great, but they can only do so much."

"Like anyone in that place would ever be seen with me in broad daylight unless they have to."

Jazz sighed. It was her "disappointed"/"you have to grow up someday" sigh.

Danny pushed a hand through his hair. "Listen, if it makes you feel any better I have made a new mortal enemy. So I'm feeling pretty good about that, a lot of potential there."

"Danny, why on earth would that make me feel better?"

"I dunno, because I'm gaining life experience? Well, half-life experience. Heh."

"I just don't know what to do with you." Danny could hear the smile in her voice. "So, how'd you make this new enemy?"

Danny groaned. He dropped his leg and caught the ground with his foot, the residual momentum of the chair tugging at him in protest. He stood and took the two steps to his bed. Danny let himself fall onto the mattress. His sheets smelled like fabric softener, and a mix of warm smells that he could only describe as "sleep".

"We're lab partners in chemistry. He's some jock B-lister guy and he hates me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Oh, I don't know, could be the fact that he marched up and called me an asshole right to my face today, or that from day one he saw how everyone else treated me and decided to jump on the bandwagon."

Jazz made a small sympathetic sound. "Oh, Danny, I'm sorry."

Danny pressed his face into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. The last thing he wanted was pity. Especially from Jazz. He was fine. Really, this was no different to any other year.

"It's fine," he mumbled, lifting his head from his pillow. "It's not like I suddenly care what people think. Guy's just a dick."

Before Jazz answered, the sound of someone talking to her filtered through. Danny couldn't quite make out what was being said.

"No, it's fine. I'll walk with you," Jazz said, her voice muffled. Her voice returned: "My roommate just got back, I've gotta go, but we're not done talking about this, alright?"

They absolutely were.

"Yeah, Jazz. Have fun going wherever you're going."

"We're walking down to get dinner. Which, speaking of! Make sure to eat dinner, okay? I love you."

"Ew."

"Danny."

"Uuuughhh. Okay, fine, I… I love you too."

She laughed, the line beeped, and then she was gone. It left an empty space in the room, in the house. Danny was no stranger to cold, it was part of him. But the past month had been a different kind of numbing ice. The sight of her door left sitting ajar at the end of the hall, knowing there was nothing but a dark lifeless room concealed within. It was an echo, a ghost in it's own right. An unyielding wall and even he had no way through. He thought he'd be glad to get her out of his hair. He didn't expect the jagged and torn space she'd left behind.

Danny wasn't used to missing anyone but himself.

He pushed out a breath, and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyelids. He didn't want to think about it.

Danny left his phone on his bed, and went down to see what Mom was making for dinner.

***

Danny stared up at the ceiling. The ecto-stars, as Sam called them, shed a constant soft green from their places in a sea of black above him. Ghosts loved three AM, for whatever reason it was always the time they liked to attack. Then again, there wasn't really a sense of time in the Ghost Zone, so it made sense that attacks happened at any time.

But tonight was quiet. There had been no chill up his spine, no ghost sense to pull him from the emptiness of sleep. So he was just staring, trying his best to not think about what happened at school. If Sam and Tucker would have been around maybe he wouldn't have lost it like that... Or maybe he would have and he'd have had to deal with the worry saturating their expressions, the fear on the edges of their words. Fear that they couldn't help him, couldn't save him. They would have made him come home, called Jazz and told her about what happened.

His sister doubling as his therapist was a conflict of interest, but he didn't dare tell her he felt that way. She was just trying to help, to be useful. They all were.

Tossing and turning, fighting his covers, flipping his pillow around to the cool side—nothing helped. He checked the time. 3:29.

Great.

Frustration ate away at him as the minutes pressed on, unforgiving and slow. It was torture, listening to his own sluggish heart beat. He was sweating, the back of his pajama shirt stuck to his damp skin. His room didn't feel as cold as it normally did.

He laid there until he felt like punching something. That's when he flung his covers aside with a growl. He forced himself up and trudged over to his door, leaving his room. He closed his door behind him, figuring he'd just phase back in whenever he'd decided to give sleeping another shot.

He meandered to the bathroom, rubbing a hand over his face. The door creaked gently as he pushed it open. He didn't flip on the light. The ambient brightness from the night light down the hall was more than enough. Another perk to being half-ghost: extraordinary night vision.

The water hissed as he turned it on and he cupped his hands underneath the cold stream. He splashed the water into his face, the sensation jarring him from his frustration and demanding his full attention. The water overflowed from his hands and ran in trails down the backs of his hands, following the downward slope of his forearms and dripping off his elbows.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. Rivulets of water dripped off his eyebrows and ran down over his flushed cheeks like tears. His hair stuck out at odd angles—a mess from not bothering to dry it before he went to bed. He raked his fingers through it, trying to get it to sit normally and not hang in his eyes. His bangs stuck to his forehead and against his temples, whether it was slick with water or sweat at this point he didn't know.

He leaned forward against the sink, examining the dark bags underneath his eyes. He looked about how he felt.

Shitty. Real shitty.

He yanked a fluffy hand towel down from the hook and pressed it to his face, dabbing off the water. He dried his hands next, then started to wipe his forearms. He dragged the towel over the skin of his right arm and moved to do the same to his left before he froze mid-way. His eyes were fixed to the usually covered skin of his forearm.

He could see them, he realized belatedly.

The wandering forked scars that snaked up his arm.

He set the towel down slowly and reached over to run his fingertips over them, entranced. The raised, ugly skin detailed the exact path the electricity had taken as it tore through his body. A single second in time tattooed permanently on his skin. The scars were lighter— a bit less visible in his human form as opposed to when he was Phantom. But still there nonetheless.

His breath stuck in his throat. The air was sticky. His stomach clenched and a wave of dizziness crashed through him. The room spun at the edges of his peripheral vision and he felt like he was being shoved through the Fenton Ghost Catcher. Like he was overshadowing himself, and as he pulled away he was forgetting what it was to occupy a body.

A pervasive numbness took up the space he'd previously been a part of. There was a soft pillowy comfort in the disconnect. He blinked down owlishly at his arm, like it wasn't his and he didn't recognize it. His hand moved and he traced the scar, up and down, faintly aware of the memories banging at the back of his consciousness like someone trapped under ice. It was muffled and distorted, the sound of someone screaming and a dryness in his throat.

Seeing them— the scars— It… It…

A deafening crack filled his head and his vision with white. The pain seared through him, consuming every nerve in its path. His heart seized in his chest, held hostage to the electricity overriding the signals of his brain. It was tearing him apart—It was hurting him—killing him, killing him, killing him.

Danny stumbled back, his back slamming into the wall and snapping him back into the present moment. His chest was heaving, his throat tight. His hands trembled and his eyes darted down. He half expected to see the cold steel of the lab's floor underneath his feet and feel Sam's hands slip through his vaporous form.

His heart beat so hard it hurt. With every pound it felt like needles were being pushed through his skin from the inside out. It ached, raw and unable to ignore. Zings of faint electricity zipped up his arm and across his chest.

Danny's knees shook and he slid down the wall. He choked back something that felt like a sob and he kicked the bathroom door closed before pulling his knees up to his chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Why the fuck did he do that? He knew better than to look, to linger on anything that—

Fuck.

He felt hot, like he was burning up on the inside. Shaking, he tried to reach for his core, to offer a path for the energy to flow. He wanted it to be cold, it had to be cold. The cold felt nice, the cold was safe. Cold didn't burn or thrash, it was slow and steady and everything the electricity wasn't.

He tried to coax the cold forward, convince the space around him to change with nothing more than his own will. It hurt, it felt like dragging himself through broken glass trying to get the phantom pains to fade into cool relief.

He huddled against the wall, twisting his fingers into the fabric of his sweatpants. His eyes stung and the breath in his throat stuttered painfully on every inhale.

The worst part of it was he had no one to blame but himself.

People at school assumed his switch to hoodies and long sleeve shirts was because Sam had finally gotten to him and turned him goth. The truth was: he hid his scars the way any other kid did.

He waited until the pain felt dull and distant and the air felt sharp. He tipped his head back, tired eyes roaming across the bathroom before landing on the frosted over mirror.

Two breakdowns in one day, huh? Not his personal record by any means, but it had been several months since he'd had one... So. That had to count for something, right?

Slowly, carefully, he started to reign back the cold in the room. When he stopped shaking, he pulled himself to his feet, a hand against the wall for support in case his knees buckled. He didn't wanna be in the bathroom anymore, it felt too small and confined. Danny had figured out one too many times in the Fenton thermos had a tendency to cause claustrophobia.

He opened the door and shuffled out into the hall, the cuffs of his sweatpants whispering across the carpet. His thoughts carried him past his room. Maybe a snack would help, or going for a quick flight around town.

He was debating it, when another idea murmured from the back of his mind. He started down the stairs, floating over a few of the steps that he knew creaked. The house was silent, his parents asleep. He walked through the dark living room, then the kitchen, bare feet padding over the cold tile.

He found himself at the top of the stairs, staring down into the dark basement. It was funny, basements were supposed to be scary. It was like his parents heard that and had to one up everyone else. "Oh, you have a basement where the light flickers and rusty nails poke up from the floorboards? Creepy! We have a portal to the literal dimension of the dead and ghosts crawl out about every twelve hours!" Hollywood would have a field day with their family if they heard about Amity Park.

Danny walked down the stairs, the metal cool and familiar. The lab was dark, the control terminal against the wall the only light.

The portal was closed.

He stood in the center of the lab, looking at the imposing octagonal outline in the dark. Even after so long, it still inspired wonder in some deep part of him. It made him feel like a kid.

He walked up to the control terminal, pressing his thumb into the biometric security pad. With a whirr the security system accepted his input and with a heavy mechanical sound the portal doors slid open.

Green light flooded into the lab, bathing every surface in its shifting toxicity. Danny took a few steps back, taking in the portal and its marbled surface. He looked at it like he was indulging, doing something he shouldn't.

The spike of ecto-energy in the room was almost palpable. He could feel it buzzing against his skin, floating in the air like static electricity.

Carefully, Danny lowered himself to the floor and sat down. He sat and basked in the light of the portal, the hum, the lurching and swirling.

Visiting a gravesite was a sacred thing, it was someone's place of eternal rest.

But ghosts proved that not everyone was at rest. Danny certainly wasn't, but that was pretty evident, he was still technically living after all.

Whenever he felt… disconnected like earlier, he liked to come down and visit the portal. It helped remind him exactly who he was. What he was.

It was like a tether, a point of reference. It was grounding for Danny; as much a reminder he was alive as he was dead.

The portal killed him... but it also brought him back.

The Phantom part of him saved his life. He wondered if that's why his obsession was what it was; saving others because he wouldn't wish the experience of death on anyone. It was both his obsession and his responsibility. He was the reason the portal worked, and he'd be damned if anyone else paid with their life for his mistake.

Sam still blamed herself. How could she not? He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him, the guilt squirming in their depths.

But he didn't blame her, and he figured as long as it stayed that way, eventually Sam would forgive herself.

If anything, he blamed himself for being curious, for being the son of the Fentons, for every time someone got hurt on his watch.

Danny watched the mirage of the portal, finding shapes in the swirls like a child looking at clouds.

He did it until his eyelids grew heavy, and he felt the tension in his shoulders slowly bleeding away.

Too lazy to walk, he floated up through the ceiling and into his bedroom. The stars brightened at his proximity, before dimming again when he stopped using his powers. He crawled back into bed and shut his eyes. Sleep came to him gently, pulling him down, and down and down...

#danny phantom fanfiction #Danny phantom #wesley weston #Sam Manson #tucker foley #phanfic #frigid chapter 4 #my writing #frigid #Danny fenton

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eagesoldartblog · 4 years

Note

“you brought starbucks to class and i literally begged you to pour some into my empty water bottle and thank you so much hey do you maybe want dinner sometime to make up for it no other reason” vithur maybe? :0c

Vivi was exhausted. She was awake all night, slamming her head against every book she had to read for class today. Chapter sixteen for astronomy, chapter four through six for English, three articles of some voyage in the pacific… all of the words wound up melding together in one big blur and by three am, Vivi called it quits and opted to look up the blurbs in the morning.

Well, it’s now morning, and she can’t even see straight. Trust her, she tried to absorb as much information from the summaries on the bus with. But the whiteness of the pages made her eyes burn and the abruptness of the rocky bus was more than enough to upset her soured stomach.

“How come sleeping can make you feel ill?” She whispers to herself, dragging her feet and climbing up the stairs of the highschool. Thankfully it wasn’t so unusual for a student to amble around like a zombie, but Vivi didn’t want to catch anyone’s gaze and risk being pulled into a conversation. It might wake her up a bit more, but honestly Vivi wasn’t in the mood.

All she wanted was to get to her class, and take a quick catnap before the teacher came in and put them to work.

And some coffee.

Coffee would be great.

Then again coffee was the main reason why she stayed up so late. Vivi reminisced bitterly. It sucked so much, but that’s what she gets for trying to choke down cold coffee at midnight to fuel her last minute escapade…

Pulling herself up the last steps, Vivi sighs with relief and plops down on an empty bench. Instantly her head and chest sag forward and if Vivi wasn’t gripping the bench seat, she would have toppled over.

Again, not an unusual sight, but she wasn’t in the mood.

Closing her eyes, Vivi takes a deep breath. Okay, class should start in fifteen minutes- probably. Don’t fall asleep.

Easy enough, just sit there with her eyes closed. Resting. It’s fun!

And for a moment, Vivi found her thoughts drifting into a dark… lovely abyss…

...

“Hey Vivi,” a hand claps against her shoulder and Vivi’s eyes shoot open with a jolt. Gasping- coughing as he whips her head to look at who the hell decided to wake her up-

“Oh,” she swallows thickly, “hey Arthur.”

Sitting beside her, in all of his gangly glory was in fact Arthur kingsmen, local insomniac and brainiac… and her class friend. Honestly Vivi wished they talked outside of class more often, but…

“How are you doing?” Arthur asks, taking a sip from his white cup thing- cup. Cup? Not answering his question, Vivi pointedly glances down at the item and squints her eyes.

“F-fine fine… whatcha got there?”

Arthur follows her gaze and laughs, “Damn I see, don’t wanna talk to me but take my coffee, Huh? Is that it?”

“No!” She spits back, glaring at him, before she falters and sinks back, “...Maybe.”

Arthur snickers, and hides it beside him, “I can’t believe this. And here I thought you liked me!”

Vivi blows a raspberry and crosses her legs, “Can you blame me? I didn’t go to bed until three am because of school.. I didn’t even finish half of the assigned reading!”

“Why’s that?”

“I… got distracted by a book about demons. Next thing I knew it was nine and I still was up to my ass in work.”

Another pat against her shoulder, and Vivi was half tempted to smack it away.

“Sounds rough… do you have an empty water bottle?” Arthur snags his cup and holds it up. Starbucks, wow decided to splurge, huh? “You look like you need it more than I do, so I can give you half, sounds good?”

Vivi wraps an arm around his chest and squeezes, enough to make Arthur cringe. “Yes, please holy shit, I need anything right now..!”

“Where’s your bottle then?”

“Locker,” Vivi’s voice is muffled against arthurs side, still hugging him.

“Well then get up,” Arthur jabs her head with his elbow lightly, forcing her to recoil loosely hug him, “Class is starting soon, cmon.”

“God dammit- always making me move- you suck.”

Vivi huffs bitterly, resetting the lock in a quick, overly rough motion that only seemed to highlight how tired she still was. All while Arthur takes an obnoxious sip.

“Its getting cold~”

“Throw yourself down the stairs,” Vivi hisses back. Behind her, Arthur snorts. Just in time for her fingers to cooperate and Vivi almost slams the locker open. Which in turn has several of her empty water bottles clattering out.

Arthur clicks his tongue as Vivi drops down to snag the bottle from rolling away, “Nice hoard.”

“Thanks,” Not moving from her knees, Vivi shoves her empty bottle against his leg, “Now be a dear~ I gotta toss some of these…”

Vivi tosses them quickly into a nearby trashcan, and returns to Arthur with a hopeful look in her eye, hoping Arthur could grant her this one wish and hurry the fuck up.

Making sure to avoid spilling, Arthur fills the bottle a little over half way. He glances up just in time to see Vivi slouching there. With bags almost as deep as his.

Only for her face to light up when he hands it over. Her exhaustion shifts to weary glee and Vivi immediately takes a swig back-

And chokes.

“Oh my god-” She’s muffled by her sleeve, covering her mouth as shock fills her face, “Arthur, what the hell are you drinking? This tastes like gasoline.”

Now its his turn to smirk, shifting his weight and taking another sip. “Its expresso.”

“God-” Vivi’s eye twitches, and she takes another drink, shuddering as it goes down, “How much did you even pay for this cr- this.”

“Too much. That's for sure..” Arthur says, sighing wearily. He rubs his eyes and suppresses a yawn.

Vivi huffs, choking back another god awful sip, “I’m gonna take you out, got it? Find you something better then just… expresso.”

“But I like it.”

“Well you’re a masochist. And because you are-” She falters the smallest bit, unable to tell if her brain is muddled because of the drink or sleep deprivation, “... tell you what! Come to my house sometime- maybe later? And I’ll make you something good and we can watch movies. I got an impressive set of horror films from my parents place and I’ve pirated a bunch of others-”

Arthur tilts his head, scratching his chin, “Don’t you have homework?”

“We can have it over the weekend,” Vivi shrugs, closing her locker, “...after I finish my presentation. I don’t think my guardian will be happy about me doing shitty.”

Arthur bobs his head in agreement, “I’ll talk to my uncle if he could drop me off then. Wanna give me your address now or-?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll make sure to jot it down.”

“Sounds like a date.”

Vivi snickers, her cheeks warming as she straightens up, “If you wanna call it that~ then by all means! Maybe you’ll even whisk me off my feet!”

“Psh, no, Lewis is more capable of that.” Arthur says, and the two start to amble down the hall to Vivi’s first class.

“But what if I don’t want lewis?”

“Then you should, you deserve better.”

What? Vivi’s mind freezes, preparing to ask him to explain himself.

But the bell rings. Arthur waves and is walking off, leaving her in the dust and glaring over her drink. Later…

Arthur cant escape forth period.

#mystery skulls animated #nemesis-is-my-middle-name #msa #arthur kingsmen #vivi yukino #eage fanfic #feel free to leave critque!#i need it hahah #ENJOY!!!

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imaginethathaikyuu · 5 years

Note

Your posts are like super good and I really enjoy them!!! So I have a request, and I'm not sure how many characters at a time you said you'd do, but I'll keep it to Oikawa, Kyoutani and Kuroo with some angst, if that's alright. I'm thinking maybe a fight between them and their s/o, (jealousy or volleyball or something). Maybe they make their s/o cry. Ending of your choice? If this isn't your style you can ignore this. Thank you!!

thank you for the request!

kuroo tetsurou

The clock strikes 1 am. The girl attached to your boyfriends hip has migrated to throwing her leg over his knee - and he still isn’t ready to go home.

The music is still loud. The party is still lively. You’re becoming more uncomfortable by the second - everyone was drunk but you, and drunk people have no respect for those who are sober. You already had to push two guys off of you.

You wade through the small crowd of people to get to Kuroo.

“Are you ready, Tetsurou?”

He holds a finger up to you. The girl next to him is in the middle of a sentence - apparently it’s important.

He laughs at her comment, and then looks to you with a bored expression. “What?”

“Just asking if you’re ready…”

“Don’t leave so soon, Tetsu!”

You raise a brow at her tone - you know he notices, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m ready to go home,” you say.

With a sigh, he looks to the girl next to him. “Y/N’s the boss.”

His expression had changed completely - as if he’d prefer to stay with her rather than go back home with you.

“Don’t let me ruin the fun,” you say. “I’m sure you could go home with any girl here, if that’s what you want.”

He says his goodbyes to the girl next to him, basically ignoring your words. When he stands, he scoffs at you. Your comment had soured his mood - the alcohol he had consumed was already putting a downer on him. He wished he could’ve had fun with you; instead, he just felt annoyed at everything.

“Don’t start. Are we leaving or not?”

You nod. You don’t bother saying goodbye to any friends there, but Kuroo is sure to make his rounds. Again, you have to wait - sitting at the kitchen counter - on him to start caring about what you want.

In that time, one of the guy’s you had turned down earlier came back. He draped his arm over your shoulders and his face was close to yours.

“You leavin’ me?” he stutters - you immediately smell the alcohol on his breath. His grip on your shoulders is tight - you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to push him off.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly.

“Come on, baby,” he says, “what do you say we go find our own room? There’s plenty -”

“I have a boyfriend,” you tell him, wincing at his close proximity.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!”

“Aren’t we leaving?”

Kuroo’s voice comes from behind you - but it doesn’t make the man pull away.

So you push him off, grumbling, “get off,” as sternly as you can muster, and wipe your face before walking with Kuroo to the door and ultimately to your car.

The car ride is awkward - the walk inside your home is even more awkward. But once you’re both in the foyer, he breaks the silence.

“Are you just going to act like that didn’t happen?”

“You’re mad at me because some creep was hitting on me?”

“Convenient excuse,” he replies, walking to the kitchen.

“You…”

There was nothing you could even think to say. You were confused and angry and sad, and you had no idea how to voice your thoughts.

“…you spent the entire party with a random girl on your lap! A girl you obviously would rather be with right now - and… and you’re angry that some drunk perv had his arm over my shoulder?!”

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system. Maybe he’d gotten caught up in the energy of the party. But it was only then, when he heard the sound of your cries and your broken voice, did Kuroo realize how much he’d fucked up.

“I’m an idiot,” he said with his head in his hands. “I’m stupid and I don’t deserve you and I shouldn’t drink alcohol.”

You don’t reply. You’re still crying.

“Baby… please stop crying and let me hug you and hold you all night and please rub my back when I puke later and I’m sorry.”

You nod. Kuroo takes a few steps towards you, holding his arms out.

“I love you,” he says before wrapping you up in his lanky arms. “I love you.” He kisses the side of your head a couple of times. “I love you.”

Again, you nod - and he knows you aren’t feeling much better.

“I know you don’t believe me,” he sighs. “But I love you. I only want you. You’re my better half. Thank you for being patient with my drunk ass. I need to throw up.”

When you laugh, he knows that’s his cue to pull away - and turn around to the sink and spill his guts. And you rub his back like he asked you to.

And afterwards - way afterwards, when Kuroo’s thrown up twice more and brushed his teeth three times, he holds you all night, like he said he would.

oikawa tooru

“Where are you going, Tooru?”

Oikawa stops in his tracks and turns to you.

“I… thought you were at work.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He sighs. “I don’t know, Y/N - where do you think I’m going with my gym bag and work out clothes?”

You give him a pointed glare, standing up from where you sat on the couch.

“We’ve talked about this -”

“And I told you I know what I’m doing.”

You scoff. “Just like when you knew what you were doing before you hurt your knee?” you look down to his leg, seeing it bare - yet again. “You aren’t even wearing your brace!”

“I don’t need it anymore! It was years ago - why do you always bring that up?”

“Because you aren’t being careful and it’s going to happen again -”

“I’ll never get better if I don’t work hard enough! Do you want me to be a shitty player for the rest of my life?”

“Tooru -”

“You don’t know what’s best for me - all you do is hold me back!”

He turns away from you and walks towards the door - and you notice it again.

You’d seen it when he got home from practice last night - you hoped you were just imagining it. But now, you know for sure.

So you walk up behind him quickly, putting a hand on his arm.

“Tooru, you’re limping -”

He jerks his arm away from your grasp.

“Shut up -”

“Tooru -”

“I said shut up!”

He drops his bag. His shoulders sink, his head hangs low. And that’s when he breaks.

“God dammit -”

Your heart is in your stomach, your eyes are watering, your fists are clenched. But you say nothing.

“I don’t need you saying I told you so,” he sobs. “I don’t - I just want to be a good player.”

You want to tell him that he already is a good player - the best player you know, even, but it’s no use. You know he won’t listen. He won’t believe you.

“I’ve already hit my peak and I should just give up,” he says. His body shakes. He can’t catch his breath. But despite that, he picks up his bag. “But I can’t.”

“I don’t care if you push yourself,” you say. You grab his wrist. “I don’t care if you want to risk hurting yourself even worse, I don’t care if we never stop arguing over this - but wear your fucking brace, Oikawa.”

He doesn’t move from where he stands - he doesn’t even turn to look at you.

“You’re throwing away any potential you ever had by not wearing it - you’re hurting yourself.”

He still doesn’t look at you as he pulls his arm from your grasp, but he turns and walks back to his bedroom. When he comes out, he’s wearing the familiar white brace.

He doesn’t say anything. He just walks out of the apartment, gym bag in hand. And you don’t know what else to do but call Iwaizumi - and make an appointment at Oikawa’s physical therapist.

And you prayed he’d start taking better care of himself.

kyoutani kentarou

Another day of your boyfriend hardly interacting with you goes by - and you can’t take it anymore. People hardly even realize you and Kyoutani were dating - today, Hanamaki told you he thought you were siblings.

And it’s all because Kyoutani rarely even looks your way when you’re in public around your peers. It hurt - it seemed like he didn’t want people to know you’re dating.

And when you bring it up to him, he always says: “Okay, I’ll do better…”

But nothing has changed.

He’s sitting on your bed with you now, on his phone and hardly noticing your existence. But he notices something is wrong. When he asks, you jump at the opportunity to discuss your feelings.

“I just… wish you… showed me more attention, that’s all.”

He sighs but he doesn’t reply.

“It feels like you don’t even really… want to be with me.”

“Why would I be here if I didn’t want to be?”

His words would have been calming, if it weren’t for his angry tone.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You bring this up all the time. I told you I’d be better.”

“But you haven’t been… I just want to feel like we’re dating instead of looking like strangers -”

“What else am I supposed to do?! I don’t know what else you fucking want from me!”

His voice was raised, he was almost yelling. You knew if he said anything else his voice would become louder - but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to raise his voice any higher to upset you.

You weren’t trying to make him angry - you just wanted him to understand.

But you’d done something wrong, apparently.

So you didn’t reply - you scooted away from him, hugged your knees to your chest, and tried not to cry too loudly.

He knew he’d made a mistake - he knew not to raise his voice at you. But he did it anyway. Just like he knew you wanted him to be better, yet he never changed a thing.

He’s only frustrated with himself and he feels so pathetic for taking it out on you.

He can’t even look in your direction - he just buries his head under a pillow to hide for awhile. He’s stuck with his thoughts and they’re intrusive and deafening.

If he was feeling like shit, how were you feeling? You were the one dealing with how bad of a boyfriend he is. You were the one he yelled at. So what right did he even have to be upset?

He wants to run out, get out of your bed and leave without even saying goodbye. He wants to get into his car and blast his music so loud he can’t even hear his own mind screaming at him.

But if he does that, if he runs away from you, he’ll lose you. And it’ll be the biggest mistake of his life. And Kyoutani is selfish and rude and mean and all of the shitty things people say about him - but losing you is the one thing he’ll never let himself do.

“Y/N,” he says loudly.

“What?”

Your voice is weak. It breaks his heart.

“Can you come here?”

You laugh a little and raise the pillow off of his head, then lay down next to him.

“I’m not a good boyfriend,” he says. His eyes are closed. “I’m bad at this. But we can figure it out. Talk it out. I just want to be making you happy.”

You nod, but he doesn’t see. All he hears are your sniffles.

“I know you probably hate me for yelling at you and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t,” you say. Your voice sounds so sad, and it breaks him to know he’s the reason for it. “I love you.”

He opens his eyes and looks over to you. It always made him impossibly happy to hear you say that to him, even though he didn’t deserve it. And he’d always say it back, no matter what.

“I love you too.”

got a request? send it in. i’ll write it.

#kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #kyoutani kentarou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #kyoutani kentarou x reader #kyoutani x reader #angst #haikyuu imagines #scenario #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu one shot

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aewriting · 4 years

Text

I forget where I saw someone say that their Roswell NM OTP is every main character and a good therapist, ha (edited to add - it was @soberqueerinthewild, THANK YOU!) but it’s soooo true, and it got me thinking. Full disclosure - Malex is my end game. I hope they get it together. But once they do, they have so, so much trauma and hurt and issues between the two of them that to have a real, healthy relationship it would take a lot of work. And so this little fic was born.

Warning for relationship strife.

(Also edited to now include a "keep reading" option, which I had NO earthly idea how to put in last night on the tumblr mobile app, ha)

Here’s the AO3 link, if you prefer.

***

Michael stumbles out of the bedroom bleary-eyed, out of sorts.

Trepidatious.

The tension eases, slightly, when he smells the coffee, freshly ground.

He hasn’t left.

Not, not that he thinks he would, really, not that he has for years, now, but he can’t help it if that’s where his mind still goes.

Prosthetic’s not on, and he’s moving stiffly, with the crutches. Michael feels a pang of guilt, then anger. It’s Alex’s own damn fault, stubborn ass that he is. Wouldn’t sleep in the damn bed with Michael, and wouldn’t let Michael take the couch. So yeah, he’s probably feeling it this morning. Boo fucking hoo. Maybe next time he’ll just give in...

Michael should have never let him sleep on the couch.

Should have, could have locked him in the damn bedroom.

Michael knows he can hear him - Alex is always hyperaware of shit like that. He probably heard him the instant his feet hit the floor. So it’s frustrating as hell that he’s made no move to turn toward Michael yet, that there’s been no acknowledgement of his presence.

“Hey,” Michael finally says. Loud. Probably obnoxious. He’s wearing only his boxer briefs (nice ones, an Alex purchase last Christmas), and god dammit he’s gonna use that, knows it’s always been one of the best weapons he’s had against Alex and his moods. He ambles over to the kitchen, overly loose. Casual. Leans back, hands on the counter, body on display.

Alex finally eyes him, swallows hard. “Here,” he says, placing a mug of hot black coffee next to Michael’s hand.

The corner of Michael’s mouth quirks up, almost sly. “Thanks.”

“Mmm hmm,” Alex says. He’s still not looking at Michael, not really.

Michael makes a show out of blowing on the coffee, sipping it. He sniffs the air, frowns. “What am I smelling?”

“We had some bananas going bad. I made banana bread. It’s in the oven now.”

Michael’s frown deepens. “How long you been up?”

A shrug. “A while.”

And Michael can’t help it. “Guess the couch wasn’t too comfortable, then?” He sees the slight shake of Alex’s head, the eye roll. Then the guilt comes back, full force. “Look, I’m sorry. About last night. I should have texted.”

Alex is still just looking down at his own coffee cup, face tense.

Michael heaves a sigh and pushes himself off the counter. Approaches Alex from behind, finds him overly stiff when he finally touches him. “I’m sorry, okay? Real sorry.” Skims his hands down Alex’s arms, to his hips, his thighs. “Come to bed and I’ll show you just how sorry.”

And normally, that would do the trick. Alex would fix Michael with one of those dark, intense looks of his, or maybe roll his eyes, even - bite back a smile. The sex was always good like that, too - a little wild, dirty. An edge to it.

This morning, though, Alex exhales. Shrugs off Michael’s touch. “I...” he starts. Then, “No.”

Michael’s eyes widen and he stumbles back, chastened. Scared, honestly. Because in all the time they’ve lived together, he doesn’t think Alex has ever turned him down, not quite like this.

He suddenly feels overexposed, shrinks back. Alex is wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt. Michael wishes he would have pulled something on before coming out of the bedroom.

And he’s pragmatic. Cause he’s had to be. Already thinking about next steps, the Airstream. Isobel’s got a condo now, a nice one - same developer that did Kyle’s, though Isobel’s is nicer, of course... there’s no way her Homeowners Association is gonna let her shady brother park his shitty Airstream in the damn parking lot. He’s saved up some money, though, in these past few years, living with Alex. He’ll, he’ll have more options now than he did at 28, at 17.

He looks at Alex warily, watches him sit down heavily at their little kitchen table. He hangs his head, grips his coffee cup. “Are... are we fooling ourselves?”

“What?” Michael folds his arms in front of himself, like a barrier.

Alex isn’t looking him in the eye. “I just... All those years, when things didn’t work with us, it was so easy to blame all the other shit. The big, external things.”

And shit... this, this might really be it, Michael thinks. He, he’s been waiting for this - like, it was always kind of there in the back of his mind, but it... it maybe, really being here is something different. He tracks Alex’s every expression, every movement with wide-eyed alarm.

“My dad. DADT. Just, like, the military in general. You being,” he exhales shakily, “being an alien. Us seeing other people. And everything with Caulfield, Project Shepherd.”

Alex purses his lips. “But... but it’s just us now. And, and what if that’s the common denominator? Like, what if we’re the problem?” He’s shaking his head, looking stricken. “Dad’s dead, Project Shepherd’s shuttered...”

Michael leans his head back, sighs deeply. “What do you want, Alex? Just, what is this about?” Their eyes finally meet, briefly. “This is more than me forgetting to text.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Alex’s brow is furrowed. “It’s... it’s all the texts, that you’ve forgotten.” Michael open his mouth to protest, but Alex barrels forward. “And it’s all the times I’ve gotten mad about them. It’s the way we fight about stupid shit, like keeping the cabin clean, or what we should do on the weekends.” He bites his lip. “It’s all the times one of us has slept on the couch. All the times I’ve thought you were out with someone else. Someone easier, less complicated. All the times you’ve thought I was leaving.”

He’s rubbing at his neck. “Like, do we really think we can do this?”

Michael’s whole body feels tight, coiled. “Do you?”

Alex’s shoulders slump. “I... I don’t know, honestly.”

“Fuck,” Michael mutters, looking away.

“And that’s not to do with you.”

“Bullshit it’s not,” Michael grits out. “Don’t give me this ‘it’s not you it’s me’ bullshit.” He shakes his head. “Not with me.”

“Fine,” Alex says. “But it’s both of us. Like, we’ve been through so much shit, Michael. So much. And the way we grew up...” Alex’s eyes narrow. “You know I don’t know a single couple I’d want to be like? Not a single one where I’m like, wow, that’s a great relationship. Maybe I can have that someday.” He gives a disbelieving little laugh. “Not one! And sure as hell not, not a queer one. Or...” There’s another nearly hysterical little laugh. “Or an interspecies one, for fuck’s sake.”

Michael licks his lips. He’s, he’s grasping for ways to talk Alex down. “Is this about the wedding? Like, second thoughts? Are you, are you not ready?” Michael swallows. “Like, if you need time, I’ll give you time.”

Alex is just staring at him, and Michael starts ticking through the boxes of what else Alex could possibly need, want right now. “Is it, is it the idea of being with, with just me?” And god, he hates what he’s about to say, but he says it. “Cause, cause fuck, Alex, I love you. God knows I, I had years to fuck around. And I know you didn’t get that like I did, with the military and your dad and shit, so if you want that -“

“What the actual fuck, Michael?”

“I, I’m just saying -“

“Have you heard anything I’ve just said?”

And now Michael’s hurt. Offended. “Of course I have.”

“And your first thought was, what, maybe he wants to open this up?” Alex is looking at him, incredulous. “Like, do you?”

“No!” Michael exclaims. “I just, I love you Alex. I, I want you however I can have you.”

“And that’s part of the problem!” Alex says, desperate. “You’re so... so damn self-sacrificing sometimes. And let me just put it out there, for the damn record, you have me. You’ve fucking had me since I was 17, and, and I think I have you, but is that enough?” Alex is hunched over the table now. “Like, I want this to be good for us. Healthy. But, but how can we even know what that looks like?” He shakes his head at Michael. “Like, healthy is not volunteering to have a god damn open relationship at the first sign of trouble. Especially when you don’t even want one, my god.” He blows out a breath. Looks down. At his leg. “And it’s also not, not being a stubborn bastard and ignoring your own health just to stick it to your boyfriend and sleep on the couch.” He curses low, under his breath. “We’re both the problem, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I...” Michael starts, then stops. Buffy chooses this instant to trot up to him, curl herself against his bare legs, and fuck, he can’t, can’t imagine leaving Alex, leaving her...

“I left a voicemail for Dr. Ling this morning. Told her I want to start up regular sessions again,” Alex says quietly. “And I think, well, it was her suggestion, actually, when I was seeing her before. She said that maybe we should consider couple’s therapy.”

Michael scoffs, at that. Rolls his eyes.

Alex sees, and his jaw tightens. “You know,” he starts. “ I think it’s more than a little - “ he breathes, regroups. “I think it’s telling that you’d sooner suggest that we fuck other people than actually talk to someone about this.”

And fuck if he doesn’t have a point, there.

The truth of it rattles Michael, and he finally sits down across from Alex. Sets the coffee mug on the table, a little too rough. “I don’t want to have to go in there and lie.”

Alex purses his lips. “I... I get that. I know you hate that. But, with this, I think we could still get something out of it. I mean, I have to lie. To Dr. Ling. About you.” He sees Michael’s face. “And I know that’s not the same. It’s definitely not. But, but I think it could help us, Michael. I mean, even if we never even touch the alien stuff, there’s so much else.” He pauses. “And maybe, maybe we could learn. Learn to really talk to each other. So that when we did need to talk, about anything - even the alien stuff, especially the alien stuff - we could.”

And Michael looks at him, really looks. He’s just this side of desperate. Almost pleading, but... but there’s still hope. And the hope does it. Because he wasn’t lying when he said he’d do anything for Alex, and he knows it says something really fucking strange about him that, even after all these years, he’d find it easier to, to take a goddamn hammer for him than to open up like this, in this way. But at his core, he knows he’s right.

He breathes deep and looks right at Alex. “If it’ll keep you off this couch,” he says, pointedly, “then yeah, I’ll go put in my time on a different one.”

And Alex, Alex looks so relieved. Reaches across the table and grasps Michael’s hand with his own, still warm from gripping his coffee mug. “Thank you.”

Michael leans forward, then - cradles Alex’s face with his other hand, and gives him a kiss. A real one. Not urgent. Just... genuine.

And Alex smiles, pulls away and looks down, almost shy.

“What?” Michael asks.

“I, I just...” Alex finally looks at him, quirks an eyebrow. “I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this, this morning, told myself that we were gonna talk, but, well... want to spend a little time on, on our couch, first?”

The invitation is clear, and now it’s Michael’s turn to be relieved.

“Yes.”

#my fic #malex #roswell nm #relationship drama #everyone on this show needs therapy

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ladynox · 4 years

Text

The Great New Mexico Fake-Off (2/?)

Summary:

Michael expands his 'clientele' to his siblings. Jury's still out on whether or not he actually tolerates them.

(Collab’d with the wonderful @beautifulcheat

Read on AO3 or below

The next cake he made was a dark chocolate mint cake, for Max. He laughed himself sick the entire time he was making it, because Max may finally be dating Liz but that didn’t mean Michael was going to stop making fun of him for being an utter dork.

He walked into the Crashdown a week later with a stupid grin on his face and plopped the cake box in front of Max. “Oh is this from that infamous baker you’re dating?” Max asked. “Yes--No! I’m not dating anyone!” Michael huffed, dropping down in the seat across from Max. “Who’s Michael not dating?” Liz asked, stopping in front of their table with a stack of dirty plates in hand. “Maria told me Michael’s got a not-girlfriend,” Max explained, absolutely delighted in, for once, being the annoying brother as opposed to being the annoyed brother. “Apparently she’s a fantastic baker and he keeps pawning off the cakes she makes for him to Maria, of all people. Total mystery as to why.” Max gave him a look that told him that there was absolutely no mystery there, at all. “Mikey!” Liz was aghast. Michael’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the use of that nickname.

“Right?!” Max agreed, gleeful. Apparently Max-with-a-girlfriend was just a pain in the ass. “There is no girlfriend! It’s just a client for fuck’s sake!” Michael was not making cakes for Maria so she could think he was a shit boyfriend. It took almost six damn months to prove that he was trustworthy after all the shit he pulled with Lindsay, and even though they’re not dating anymore. He hated the idea of Maria badly about him.That’s not what making those cakes was about. It was about-- He must have been pouting because Liz laughed and ruffled his hair with the hand not balancing the plates. “Give me a second and I’ll grab some plates and silverware. I have to try this mystery baker’s love confections.” “I hate you,” Michael said as Liz walked off, still laughing.

“We’re just teasing,” Max said, probably feeling a little guilty about the teasing. But Michael didn’t pay it too much mind because Liz’s words reminded him of what Sanders had said before.

“It’s something you do for the people you love. Or at least can fuckin tolerate.”

Liz returned a few minutes later with some plates, silverware and coffees, and sat down next to Max. They shared a kiss before Max opened the box. “Ohhhh yes dark chocolate!” Michael was pretty pleased with himself. He’d done a great job with the dark chocolate ganache. Yes dammit, it was ganache. He’d gotten it right this time - completely smooth all around the cake. There was not one bump to be seen. He’d also been practicing piping and made a few basic flowers out of whipped ganache, adding food coloring to make them green. He’d practiced the flowers a few times before putting them on the cake too. He could draw all right in a notebook but doing it on cake with a piping bag was something completely different. They still weren’t the prettiest flowers, to his critical eye. He would not have given this cake to Maria, but for Max? It was more than fine.

“Is that mint?” Max frowned, pointing at the green flowers. Thankfully Michael didn’t have to lie. Liz had swiped her finger over a fluffy bit of flower and popped it into her mouth, to check for him. Michael privately thought that the way Max looked at Liz while she sucked on her finger was pathetic. “No chocolate,” Liz said cheerfully. Max looked like he’d totally forgotten about the cake. “It’s really good too.” She swiped up the rest of the flower with another finger and Michael was starting to worry that the table would rise six inches -- or probably more on-brand and dramatically, every lightbulb in the place would blow.

And normally Michael would be disturbed by that thought, but it did mean that Max was too distracted by Liz to pay attention to the slice of cake being deposited in front of him. He just mechanically took a bite and... “Ugh.” “What?” Liz’s eyes were wide because Max was looking at her with such disappointment in his eyes. Like when you’re playing fetch with a dog and pretend to throw the ball but the dog realizes it. That kind of disappointment. “Not funny, Liz. You know I hate mint.” “It’s not mint!” Liz repeated in response to Max’s withering look. Which Michael is pretty sure is the first time Max Evans has ever looked at Liz Ortecho with anything but blind adoration. Would their relationship survive such a shock? Would Max go home now and flog a Scarlet M on his back?

“Oh my God, Max,” Liz was saying. “I didn’t betray you--” “Et Tu --” “Oh my God Max!” She repeated with more emphasis. Now she was laughing and Max could barely keep his frown in place. Michael grabbed a fork and took a piece of cake from Max’s plate. “No, that’s definitely mint Ortecho.” He grinned.

“You’re a dick.” Max complained. “Did you specifically ask your new girlfriend to make this trap of a cake?”

“My friend might have been taking a few pointers.” Michael grinned.

Liz looked like she was about to tear into him, when her attention was diverted, thankfully, by a new customer. “Alex hey!”

Oh, crap.

Liz got up, going to hug Alex. “Is it 3 already?” She asked, glancing at her watch. “Let me go see if your order’s ready.”

“Sure.” Alex was standing next to Michael, suddenly, looking down at them. “Another cake, Guerin?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Michael just shrugged.

“Apparently the mystery girlfriend shares Michael’s shitty sense of humor.” Max said, picking around the mint parts. Michael was going to kill Max for mentioning the girlfriend again. “Want some? There’s no way I’m going to be able to finish it. It’s mint chocolate.”

“I thought mint was your favorite?” Alex asked, picking up a fork so he could try it. Michael tried to perfect the art of staring at him intently but also looking extremely nonchalant. But of course Alex’s face didn’t give much away. He looked like he didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t any sort of pure pleasure, mind blown sort of look.

Liz laughed as she came back with a bag of food. “Max is apparently a romantic idiot who drank shakes he hated for over a decade just so I wouldn’t be embarrassed.” She said, leaning down for a kiss. “Minty. Stop eating it if you hate it.” “I don’t want it to go to waste.” Max complained. “It isn’t that bad.” The dark chocolate was still very good, Michael knew. Rich and a little cream.

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” Liz said, running her hands over Max’s hair… and leaning down to punctuate her words with kisses. “But you… are a weirdo.”

Alex laughed at them, setting his fork down. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Lemme ring you up.” Liz said lightly, pulling away from Max.

Alex nodded. “Tell your girlfriend thanks,” he said, with a glint to his eye that either meant that the jig was really close to being up or Alex was jealous.

He wasn’t so optimistic as to assume the latter.

But when Liz came back he did ask her, in the most roundabout way possible, what Alex had bought. He still ended up getting an ‘oh Mikey’ look for his troubles. When he finally made her a cake, he was gonna fill it with tartar sauce.

*** Since Alex remained a frustrating enigma, Michael needed to collect more data. And there was only so much in-person stalking Michael could do, both from a practical have-no-money standpoint and a definitely-gonna-get-caught standpoint. It was time, he realized, to start thinking outside the box, which is why he rolled by Prasong’s restaurant before they opened, during prep time.

“Prasong, my man.” He grinned at the owner of the Thai restaurant.

“Guerin.” Prasong looked wary. “I don’t owe you any freebies.”

Michael put on his very best smile. “I’m not looking for food. Just looking for information.”

Prasong looked suspicious, folding his arms, clearly waiting for Michael to spit it out.

“Rumor has it that Alex Manes comes here once in a while?” The suspicion didn’t fade… it just got thicker. “I need to know what he orders.” “The hell are you into, Guerin?”

“It’s just for a project Prasong. I promise I’m not some crazy stalker.”

Prasong snorted. “This is crazy stalker shit though.” He pointed out.

Michael sighed. “Look, I’ll take a look at that fryer of yours for free. I know it’s on the fritz.”

“Fryer is fine.” Prasong protested.

“Your egg rolls last week say otherwise.” Michael tried to keep the smirk off of his face. “Kinda soggy, you know?”

“My fryer is not responsible for you taking too long to eat.” He snapped, then reconsidered. “But… fine. You can take a look at it.” “You’ll tell me what Alex orders?”

Prasong rolled his eyes. “Fine. Not my fault if he takes out a restraining order on your dumb ass.”

“Perfect.” Michael said, turning to go.

“Hey!” Prasong called out. “Fryer isn’t going to fix itself.” Right. “Just getting my tools, man.” He called out over his shoulder. It was gonna be a long day. He hated working on fryers. ***

About a week later, Prasong was in the Pony. Michael even bought him a beer before grilling him, because he was in a giving sort of mood.

“Bro he's got a boyfriend.” Prasong started, without preamble, when Michael set the beer down in front of him.

Michael rolled his eyes. “I mean. For now, yeah.”

Prasong shook his head. “This is not a good road you're on bro. I know this kind of longing, but you gotta let it go. He don't want you, bro.”

”Well I hope you’re feeling better now that you’ve channeled Kyle Valenti during his frat boy days….” Michael said, dryly, taking a drink of his beer.

Prasong rolled his eyes a little. “Oh, like Thai guys can’t be in a frat? Sigma Chi for life.”

“Gross.” Michael laughed though. “Fine, can you ditch the bros long enough to give me the information I need or do I need to break into your place later and re-break your fryer?”

Prasong groaned, and looked at him with something approaching pity. “Look, drunken noodle on the house to ease the pain.”

“No takebacks Prasong.” Michael pounced on that, because he never, ever said no to free food. He also wasn’t about to be deterred. “Now, spill.”

Prasong sighed, deeply. “Green curry, spicy, and a beer. They split Khao Tom Mad for dessert.”

“Great.” He… honestly wasn’t sure how that was helpful. Maybe something coconut? Banana? No, that didn’t feel right. He’d have to think about it. Still, he got a free meal out of it, so he couldn’t complain too much. “So I’ll pick up that drunken noodle tomorrow?” Michael asked with a grin. “My heart is very broken.”

Prasong looked frustrated. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an asshole, Guerin?” “Every day of my life.” And Michael didn’t even try to keep the smirk off his face as he clapped him on the shoulder lightly and headed over to the pool tables.

This baking habit was getting expensive, after all. ***

He knew he had to walk a real fine line with Isobel. She had a great palate, but if he wasn't’ careful, she’d sniff him out like he was Tanqueray, and he was not ready to deal with her nosy sister bullshit.

But if he didn’t bring her anything, that would be just as suspicious. Especially after he brought Max something. Izzy’s page in his notebook was filled with things she liked. Sweet lattes, strawberries, everything citrus. He just had to figure out the opposite of that. Well, not the opposite in the sense that Max’s trap cake was, but something that wouldn’t ping her as being made for her.

He finally settled on cake pops. Well settled is the wrong word. Settled implied that Michael hadn’t chosen to make Izzy cake pops because he forgot to grease the pan for a lemon poppy cake he was making for Maria. Settled implied that Michael hadn’t been about to scrape the cake into the trash a moment before remembering that Isobel sometimes enjoyed buying cake pops at Starbucks with her overly sweet lattes.

And there was no way Isobel would know that he knew how to make cake pops. Well, he didn’t know. But how hard could it be? He understood the basics. Take a cake, smash it and blend it with frosting. He made a nice tart lemon frosting and spent what felt like eons blending until smoothed. While scrolling pinterest (another secret that couldn’t even be tortured out of him), he was inspired by lemon shaped pops. Izzy, like Maria, was all about aesthetics. The two of them were actually more similar than Michael cared to consider honestly. Trying to roll the dough into lemons was hard though and at first Michael thought he was just bad at it. But then he decided to try sticking the room temperature dough into the fridge for a couple hours. He was very proud of himself when his idea worked. The dough was much easier to manipulate once it was a little chilled.

Michael had no intention of buying fancy straws. He had a ton of paper straws in one of his junk drawers from the Thai place. Prasong was all about the environment. So while the dough was chilling in the fridge, he took some straws and cut them in half. He briefly considered trying to paint them but decided that was unnecessary and he was too lazy for it anyway. Instead he worked on some calculations for his console -- or at least tried too. He found he wasn’t quite in the mood to work on an escape plan. Instead he started watching another cooking show.

Never able to sit still for very long, Michael ended up making yellow sugar crystals with regular sugar and food coloring while watching the cooking show. It definitely made the cake pops look prettier when he rolled them gently in the sugar crystals. And finally with his make-shift ziplock piping bag, he was able to make a couple lemon leaves on each pop. Which -- if he were sharing this with anyone -- he could wax poetic about how much of a pain in the ass that was. At least 4 pops were destroyed in the attempt. But they were a delicious sacrifice.

*** Michael stopped by Izzy’s new townhouse the next day. It was in town and smaller than she was used to, but Izzy was already well under way into making it her home. This was his second time here and the interior design had already been updated -- new paint on the walls, a couple pieces of new furniture. The place was already a lot more authentically Isobel than the place she’d shared with Noah, brighter colors, funkier design. It was good to see. He’d never really liked that Stepford Wife place she had with Noah. Though he did notice the snake plant he got her for a housewarming present was, somehow, dying.

Before he could say anything about the plant, Izzy gasped, “I’m finally getting a “not” girlfriend cake!” Michael rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. With his annoyingly perceptive sister, maybe it was better for his secret if she thought there was another woman. He put the box on the kitchen counter. Instead of spending too much time eyeing Isobel’s large, comfy kitchen, he went to rescue the plant from certain death. Izzy realized what he was doing almost immediately, laughing. “Sorry Michael.” “You know I got this for you because you were saying you were interested in gardening.” He said, checking the soil. Bone dry. “I mean I am but I’ve just been busy with Blaire--” “Ok. No more details. And honestly, it doesn’t matter how busy you are, all you have to do is like water this once a month! Also this is a terrible corner for it. I mean, low light doesn’t mean no light.” Chiding her, good-natured.

“I meant to Google….” But she did stand next to him and dutifully listened to his lecture.

“Just try to be a bit kinder to it.” He said, shaking his head, eventually.

“Kinder?” Izzy laughed. “You’re such a dweeb.” “Oh, shut up and open the box,” Michael said and placed the plant in a better spot with bright light.

He turned back to her just in time to see her face grow into a wide smile. “These are adorable!” Her cellphone materialized in her hand and she took a bunch of pictures from all kinds of angles.

Michael tried not to grin too big. He was really proud of them, honestly. “She brought them over today, and I know you like lemon, so…” “Mmhm.” Izzy was taking a selfie of one of them up to her mouth, grinning… and then popping it into her mouth. “So good.”

“Yeah?” He stole another one of them, trying to feign surprise over how good they were. “Oh hell yes.”

Izzy laughed… and she was tapping on her phone, as she grabbed another one. “You should make us some lemondrops. Just complete the theme, hm?”

Michael laughed. “A little complicated. Maybe just a couple mimosas?” “God, Michael, you’re so boring. You dated a bartender for like a year, did you learn nothing?”

“Why don’t you put your phone down and help then?” He says, with a laugh.

“Hmmm. I guess. Think this is good enough to post? She turned her phone to show him the instagram post she was about to publish, that selfie with the pop, plus a bunch of others of the pops themselves. But what caught his eye was the caption.

Adorable cake pops made by my equally adorable brother.

Oh god damnit. Michael groaned. “Isobel, I’ve told you..”

“Please, Michael.” She cut him off, smirking. “How long have I fucking known you? You’re not a master secret-keeper. You’re actually terrible at secrets. Are you gonna fess up? I don’t jump into people’s heads anymore, but I have ways of making you talk.”

“What the hell, Iz, I’m awesome at secrets.”

To Isobel’s credit, she didn’t laugh. Much. “I won’t post it. But you could stop lying to me, you idiot.” She said, reaching for his cheeks. “I’m potentially the future mother of your children, you know.”

He grumbled. “Do not make fun of me for this.”

“Oh Michael,” she said, shaking her head a bit. “I’m your sister. Making fun of you is my universe-given right.”

“I hate you,” he said, batting her hands away from his face. “Also that’s a really weird thing to say right after saying you’re gonna mother my children.”

“Poor baby,” she says, laughing. “Booze will help.”

“Nothing hard,” he started. Isobel raised her eyebrow. “Trying this new thing where I don’t get wasted midday.” “Baking, gardening and temperance. You really are becoming domestic.” She smirked in response to the murderous look on his face.

“Champagne it is,” she said, lightly, whipping up a pair of French 75s, with a bit of a lemon nailpolish remover twist.

“You’re so pretentious.” He took the flute from her.

Isobel laughed, raising her glass to him. “There’s no shame in being a fancy bitch.” She took a sip, leveling a serious look at him. “Look. You can use my kitchen. I’ve got plenty of counterspace and a kitchenaid that my creepy alien sociopath of a husband bought me because he apparently didn’t know me at all.”

“Why didn’t you get rid of that, by the way?” He asked, looking over at it, all shiny and imposing on the kitchen counter.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, kitchenaids are expensive, and it looks cool…? Look, you can inexpertly psychoanalyze my trauma recovery, or you can just shut up and stop looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I…” Michael started. Frowning. It was one thing to admit he was baking. It was another to accept help from Isobel, but… he did want to get his hands on that kitchenaid. And her fancy oven that actually had accurate temperature control. And her stove which would be way easier to temper chocolate on than his stove.

He groaned. Her look was more excited than smug, which is the only reason he caved. “Okay fine.” At least now he could stop using his powers to blend shit.

#roswell new mexico #rnm #roswell nm #michael guerin #isobel evans #malex evans #echo #liz ortecho #alex manes #malexa #eventually #malex #miluca #i think that's all the tags in the universe lol

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slasherscream · 5 years

Note

billy x reader x stu moving in together w/ their s/o headcannons?

A/N: the sheer level of stress this would cause is incomprehensible.

billy loomis x reader x stu macher ft. moving in together

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——————–

Billy is the one who suggests it honestly. He’s possessive. He’s clingy. He’s insecure. Triple threat? Dream guy? Precisely.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you (or Stu) it just is what it is. So after you graduate high school he wants you all to move in together like …. yesterday.

You can resist him for a little while on it but he wants it so bad that he doesn’t instantly turn into a huffy asshole the first time he’s told no (even though this is his natural state).

Instead he dials his manipulation and charm up to a solid ten™. He’s gonna get what he wants and for something this big he's willing to play it sweet and understanding until he gets it. The bastard.

It's just as much about keeping an eye on you as it is just a regular, clingy boyfriend mood of always wanting you around. Stu agreeing with the idea so readily and eagerly is mostly due to the second reason because he does #Not have the same ...issues...Billy has. He is, however, just as needy!

Once you get worn down by the constant badgering and annoyance ahem TLC?? Get ready because you ain't seen nothing yet in terms of trouble coming your way!

Rich boy Stu is obviously going to pay for this. No apartment because of their little “hobby”. He’s an only child so he can just get whatever the hell he wants so y'all wind up in a rented house (he offered to buy it but that was just #Too Much).

Just picking the places to look at was a nightmare. Stu wanted something close to people, ever the extrovert. Billy wanted something as far away from people as possible since people are fuckers (he should know). Constantly driving to places they've each picked out and having to stop fights before you've even gotten out the car.billy: in the middle of downtown?? are you fucking serious?? stu, mockingly: in thE MidDLE oF DOwntOWN?? aRE YOu sERioUS?? and that’s just a disagreement in location.

You want to know what fucking HGTV shows they’ve been watching behind your back to make them so fucking obnoxious about this. Did Billy just say something about the lighting of the kitchen?? You're going to have a fucking conniption.

Eventually you get fed up with how extra they’re being about the whole process, which is already naturally stressful and time consuming, and confront them.

Determined to make you feel bad they reveal that they’re actually just stuck on picking the perfect place because this is such an important step in a relationship. It’s the start of a life together. Your first home (not a house a home). They want it perfect. As perfect as the future they can imagine having with you. Sappy?? Yes.

Stu did most of that admittance while Billy kinda looked out a window, busy grinding his teeth to dust at the emotional vulnerability pervading the room like too much perfume in a department store. This turns into sex which he is infinitely better at than talking. Also he admits to more shit (feelings) after sex like he can just pass off anything he says as?? Orgasm mush mouth?? Idiot.

Once you’re all on the same page you can work as the well oiled machine you truly are. It doesn’t take long to find a place after this.

Your suffering isn’t over by a long shot though. This is your first place together and other than clothes and personal items they want everything in the house to be brand new or new to all of you at least.

So now you have to fully furnish the place. Billy the edgelord surprisingly wants the place very cozy? Talking warm and bright colors. Soft throw pillows. Shit ton of trinkets. Picture frames. He wants your place to look like a family could live here. Wants it to look like it'd take forever to move out. The word minimalism (though he doesn't know it) makes him want to throw up.

Getting a mattress is bullshit because Stu likes his beds soft and Billy likes his firmer. It's like trying to pick a very permanent fixture of furniture with two equally annoying Goldilocks. The mattress salesmen wanted to die. You wanted to die.

You guys almost got kicked out because at one point to test the mattress you all made out on it? Also?? Jumping on them. Jumping on them like five year olds. How did Stu convince you to do it? Unknown. Billy sat on the bed dignified as you two did this. He’s being jostled but his face is absolutely impassive. The chaos jumped out. Stu tipped well at least.

They can both agree they want a TV in the bedroom though. Hooray for agreeing on something! But honestly? Don't let them do this. That means you'll never again know peace. Imagine knowing you have class tomorrow morning while Stu is sitting next to you in bed?? Spilling popcorn on the sheets and talking about the random final girl's breasts while Billy is telling him to not "get the fucking sheets dirty" while he is going off on a tangent about the unrealistic blood splatter?? Veto the bedroom TV.

Stu doesn't really care about the decorating much?? Because he's not uptight like Billy. He just wanted to get a really nice place for the three of you. Now you've got a nice place "Anything else is whatever man."

If pressed about something though he doesn't like white walls very much? Would rather some other color. Nothing crazy? Just ...not white. Light grey? Maybe a blue? Tan? Brown? He doesn't care! But if he's asked now he for sure wants to paint everything a non-white or only have white as an "accent wall" (seriously you're going to cry where are they hearing this shit??)

He starts to paint. Gets brushes. Rollers. Tarp. Tape. The whole nine yards. Gonna do this the right way! Doesn't even splash Billy with the paint more than twice (because he's an adult dammit ... and also because the second time it got too close to Billy's hair and the look on Billy's face was... scary).

He runs out of steam for this project so fucking quickly. Bless his heart. Admirably he probably gets one entire room done. Other than that? :/

The only things he doesn't half-ass are murder and loving you and Billy. He will never change! He will never improve! His brain power is limited and he's chosen his tasks. Like how you can only equip a Sims character with like three traits? That's Stu.

Doesn't just leave you and Billy hanging to finish it alone though (because Billy would literally stab him). He throws a "house party" where a whole bunch of his friends come over and help to paint. Then they get all the free booze they can drink and pizza they can eat while they watch whatever sports game happens to be on. You had to tell him booze comes specifically after the finished job because he doesn't have the foresight to know drunk twenty-somethings painting a house would be a nightmare. Crisis averted before it starts.

The house has all new appliances of every sort because Stu wants the best of everything and has no impulse control. He doesn't even drink coffee but you have a brand new coffee maker in your kitchen one day. Billy the rat doesn't let things go to waste so he starts drinking coffee every morning.

Are you into decorating? No? Better get into it! Stu did his one thing to personalize the house and you have to do something too. It's part of Billy's fucking...the word is anxiety but he'll never use it. He wants you to be so involved in the making of this space for the three of you like that would stop you from ever leaving it one day? Show visible enthusiasm or god help everyone. Can we get a therapist in here? Can we PLEASE get a therapist in here-

This is literally Stu annoying the shit out of you and Billy during the ikea trip. Stu wants so badly to get kicked out of IKEA just for the purpose of saying he was once kicked out of IKEA. Billy won't allow it because this is "fucking serious, Stu" and “we have shit to do”. Stu can thus only release his chaos energy with puns and he does it to the fullest extent.

Setting up/assembling the furniture literally gets put on pause so the two can go out and murder someone because if they don't?? They'll kill each other. "Did you drop the fucking screws for this somewhere?? Do you want me to stab you with this screwdriver?" and "You know what? This is why I laughed when that shelf you put up fell on you, you dick-"

They come back in the dead of night soaked in blood and you come out the bedroom squinting at them. The coffee table is now set up. Yay??

Honestly all the aggravation and tiny fights are worth it once you're fully settled in? There's a sort of peace to Billy that he'd been lacking before. You guys have carved out this little spot in the world that's distinctly the three of you and just for the three of you and he loves it.

He's much more confident about the relationship now than he ever was before. Let him make you a shitty cup of coffee in the morning and kiss your forehead only for Stu to grumble about how everyone should still be asleep because it's Saturday guys-

*cue sappy but quirky romcom music*

You're living a domestic fairytale that features a little bit more blood than average but hey? Isn't that a low cost to pay for true love?

——————–

#billy loomis x reader x stu macher #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #slasher x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #slasher imagine #scream #this was so fun adjkl #BILLY IS A DESPERATE FOR BUILDING A FUCKING PERMANENT LOVE NEST ASS BITCH #you CAN'T change my mind or buy my silence thank you very much #billy w/ a knife: we are all going to live in this house and be domestic or i will begin committing acts against god-#stu who just always wants attention: this will force you both to be close to me 80% more no matter how annoying i'm being welcome to hell-

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winecatsandpizza · 5 years

Text

Bunker Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: NC-17

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, protective!Dean,

Betas: @winecatsandpizza and @kittenofdoomage

Word Count: 4,669

Written for: @bamby0304 ’s Triple Threat Challenge

Prompt’s - A1: “Do you trust me?”, B5: “I haven’t slept in four days.”, and C2: “Come here.”

A/N: This is not my work. Jessy has asked me to post this on her behalf and I am doing so with her blessing and Amber’s acknowledgment on this.

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One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation.

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started. These weren't just any run of the mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went the sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy.

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly.

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with.

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows raising quizzically.

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.”

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table.

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer.

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes.

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I … well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again.

“I’m. Fine.

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them.

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence.

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings.

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves.

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep.

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted.

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door.

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet.

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you.

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit.

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features.

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks.

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes.

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being “just dreams”. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you.

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing.

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were.

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship.

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this... I'm pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm.

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued.

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot in the old floor.

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly.

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need too. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep yourself.

****

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbed into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.” The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flame and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird,” Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to - “Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning. Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photo shoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again. “Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light. Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss. “Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?” You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours. “You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his. Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breast and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one breast. “You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly. The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it. Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seep from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement.

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core. But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body. “Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust. “Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again.

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundles of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured, his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated that you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

*****

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Note

Mavin on n off relationship, fluff?

I’m going to make this FAHC because that’s the kind of mood I’m in at the moment?

Michael and Gavin meet when they’re just getting into the ~criminal life. This chance meeting at a bar or a club somewhere, a few drinks in them where they’re not quite drunk but definitely more likely to make a fuck it, why not kind of decision, right?

And they’re both a little lonely – and hey, that guy isn’t half bad looking and look at that smile, so one thing leads to another and they end up having a one-night stand. Gavin leaving before Michael wakes up because he has a plane he has to catch, but he leaves a note and his number. Little smiley face and an invitation to call him sometime.

And Michael, right.

He’s like oh, okay, right. Sure.

But then a few weeks later and he’s having A Night.

Maybe a little beat up and bruised after a shitty job and drinking himself stupid doesn’t seem all that appealing. And he’s just kind of staring around his dump of an apartment wondering what the hell he thinks he’s doing and notices his wallet fell on the floor, gets all annoyed for no reason in particular and picks it up and sees this little piece of paper poking out, and that makes him even more annoyed because now he has to straighten that shit out, right?

Opens his wallet and cleans out old fast food receipts and the whatnot and is about to crumple up that errant piece of paper when the handwriting on it catches his eye, makes him pause.

Fucking Gavin’s handwriting, that dumb excuse about needing to catch a plane and the stupid smiley face.

Paper a little worn, ink faded and smeared because there were other days, nights, where he thought about calling Gavin up, but didn’t. He’s a fucking criminal for God’s sake, and while he got the impression Gavin was hardly an upstanding citizen, he didn’t seem the type to get his hands dirty the way Michael has. (Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part because he doesn’t want Gavin to have to do the things he has, things he will do sooner or later, who knows.)

And Michael just stares at it for a long damn time before he has that fuck it, why not moment and calls the number Gavin gave him.

Half expects it to be a fake number, Gavin fucking with him or whatever, but after a few rings Gavin answers.

Sounds groggy as hell, like Michael woke him up or something, and just as he’s starting to apologize for bothering him -

“Michael?”

He still sounds a little out of it, but Michael swears there’s this happy little note to his voice that stops him from ending the call.

“Uh, yeah. It’s me?”

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but Gavin hasn’t hung up on him and it’s nice to hear a friendly voice.

So…they talk.

Michael finds out Gavin really did have to catch a flight that morning way back when. Something about helping his friend with a spot of trouble back in England – he’s still there now, which explains him waking the idiot up.

“Fuck, that’s – what time is it there?”

Gavin laughs him off, tells him it doesn’t matter because his sleep schedule is all fucked anyway (Michael’s words, not his), but when Michael presses Gavin sighs – all fond and shit. (Michael has this moment to wonder when the two of them had time to become fond of one another, but it’s not like he has room to talk, so…)

“A little after three,” Gavin tells him, sounding more awake as he does.

Michael listens as Gavin putters around on his end of the line. Hears water running for a moment and these little clinks and clatters, Gavin’s muffled dammit once when he spills something, and then Gavin’s asking him how things have been since they saw each other last.

Michael can’t exactly be like, “Well, I just fucking killed a couple of guys, and also may have broken my hand???” so he flips it back on Gavin, because no, he asked first.

He did not, but Gavin just laughs at him and tells him a clearly edited version of what he’s been doing. Mentions his old friend Dan and these…business associates of his and a deal that fell through. Gavin coming back to help him and somewhere in there a kettle whistles and Michael realizes he was listening to Gavin making himself some tea earlier, hears him muttering to himself as he doctors it up the way he likes and cannot fucking believe how British Gavin is. (Like, clearly he knew Gavin is British, but somehow it didn’t really click until just now.)

“Michael,” Gavin chides, smile in his voice, “don’t be mean, Michael.”

Michael starts laughing, because Jesus Christ.

They talk for a little bit longer, and that odd sort of restlessness, whatever that’s had Michael all wound up eases, and he tells Gavin a – clearly – edited version of what he’s been up to. Stumbles a little here and there because wow, yeah, and Gavin just listens. Makes these little noises every now and then, but doesn’t comment, doesn’t pass judgment, and it’s…nice.

Real nice.

When they run out of things to say they hand up, Gavin making Michael promise to call him again soon and Michael’s like oh, okay, right. Sure.

Laughs like an idiot when he gets a package with fucking tea inside, and a “proper” kettle along with this ridiculously painstakingly written set of instructions on how to make tea.

Calls Gavin up that night to call him and idiot and Gavin is like Michael, pls as he walks Michael through the process of making tea the way it’s meant to be made and they talk for hours about nothing. (Never stops to wonder how the fuck Gavin knows where he lives, because yeah.)

They talk a few times a week after that, and when Gavin sounds like he’s having A Night Michael makes tea – pretends he doesn’t remember how to do it right and gets Gavin rile up enough to walk him through it again.

By the time he’s got his mug of tea in hand, Gavin sounds little less down, or tense, or whatever he’s feeling that night and in a good enough place to talk about what’s got him so fucked up.

Then one day Michael’s on a job, misses a call and when he checks it’s Gavin, telling him he’s going to be ~away for a bit, that he won’t be available for their usual talks, but don’t worry – like that’s possible – he’ll call him when he’s done with this pesky little Thing.

Michael tries not to worry, but hey, it’s Gavin and of course he does. And just about the time he’s thinking about booking a flight to England – Gavin calls.

Asks if Michael would mind picking him up at that airport? He could take a cab or a rideshare, but -

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Gavin laughs, and it sounds tired, and Michael goes to get him.

Gavin sleeps for the rest of the day, and when he wakes up he gets this smile on his face when he sees Michael get up to make tea.

“Don’t look so smug, asshole.”

So they have tea and don’t really talk much – just a comment here, and observation there. Gavin mentioning that the Dan Problem is resolved, but there are new obligations now.

“Nothing to worry about, love,” Gavin says, and even though he still looks a little tired, he doesn’t look like he’s lying.

(Not that Michael would know what that looks like on Gavin, but he has a good idea of what it would sound like and this isn’t that.)

Gavin sticks around for a few days – and that initial attraction is still there so one thing leads to another again – and eventually Gavin has to leave.

“Obligations,” he says, awkward little twitch of his shoulder, and it’s not like Michael has any say in it, right?This time he drives Gavin to the airport, and bites back all the things he wants to say to him he shouldn’t.

“If you need help, for anything, fucking call me,” he says, because that at least is safe enough.

Gavin gives him this look, all soft and fond and things left unsaid and kisses him goodbye.

Michael goes back to his dump of an apartment that seems emptier without Gavin there, and throws himself into work for a bit after that.

They still talk on the phone, all these things they don’t say, and every so often Gavin comes to town and they make the most of the time they have before he has to leave again. (It gets worse each time, and by then Michael’s past denial because even he’s not that dense.)

During this he’s making a bit of a name for himself, gets hired on by the Fakes and moves up in the world.

Gets a better apartment and shrugs when Jeremy and Ryan are helping him move and he gets an odd look for the tea paraphernalia – various types and little gadgets and the whatnot Gavin sends him now and then – and is just like.

“What? Something wrong with liking tea?”

Before he gets the chance to tell Gavin about moving he gets a package. A new tea kettle and his favorite teas and a note with a smiley face on it. (He’s stopped wondering how the fuck Gavin knows the things he knows, figures it’s for the best in the long run, really.)

And then!

Geoff stats grumbling about the fact that the crew is limited in the jobs/heists they can pull without a hacker in their ranks.

Sure, Ryan knows a little something about them, but it’s not as enough for some of the things Geoff wants them to do.

Fortunately, though, Geoff’s Very Good Friend Burnie happens to owe him a favor or two, knows a hacker he can loan out to them.

Michael has no idea why Geoff looks so fucking delighted with himself when he tells Michael to go pick the new guy up at the airport, but whatever.

Jeremy and Ryan tag along because they’re curious about this guy, right? Geoff’s been talking him for a while, apparently he’s some kind of ~genius hacker and incredible thief and sounds way too good to be true.

So they’re waiting around for this asshole, Michael wondering what the fuck Geoff even meant when he said they’d know the asshole when they saw him. (The look he’d given Michael like he should just magically know what the fuck any of that meant.)

“Michael?”

Michael’s heart does this fucking weird little flip in his chest because okay, what the fuck – and turns to see Gavin standing there.

Looks like a idiot, wild hair and bags under his eyes, scruffy beard and tired.

“Gavin?”

Jeremy watching the two of them like this is the best shit he’s see in fucking forever.

Gavin explaining that he’s here for work as he gives Michael a pointed look, and Michael’s sudden realization that this is too much of a coincidence, and goddamn Geoff anyway.

Gavin laughing at him while they go to collect his bags and Michael scowling at him because Gavin obviously knew what was going on.

Ryan pulls up in the car and Michael is like yes because the idiot’s wearing his stupid mask. Michael’s expecting the usual response people have to meeting the Vagabond, but all Gavin does is smile like this is a pleasant surprise.

“Hi, Ryan.”

And Ryan, the bastard, he sounds just as happy.

“Hi, Gavin.”

Michael and Jeremy staring at the two of them who just shrug and tell them it’s a long story, and then they dive back to the penthouse where Geoff is smug as fuck.

Takes the time to explain that he and Burnie have both noticed a dip in moral within their respective crews as of late. (Looks right at Michael and Gavin who are maybe standing a little too closely together for people who have just met, which is what they would have been if their lives weren’t a fucking romcom without them noticing.)

This little conversation of theirs and ~ingenious plan to fix that shit when they realized what was going on, and Jesus fucking Christ.

Everyone thinking it’s the most hilarious thing in the world, and Michael being like, goddammit.

But, you know.

Gavin’s here to stay now, at least for a while assuming he doesn’t want to go back to the Roosters, so…

Yeah.

There’s a lot of Tea, and talking and things other than talking.

Gavin deciding he’ll stay in Los Santos after he’s been there for a while, because think of the money they’ll save on their phone bills now, Michael!

Michael is like, for the love of God shut up, you asshole, and kisses Gavin to make him shut up.

He has to get a bigger place because the one he has now doesn’t have enough room for his shit and -Gavin’s. (The strays they end up with thanks to Gavin and his stupid, soft heart.)

When Ryan and Jeremy helps Michael move they know exactly why Michael has a Thing for tea, and Michael hates all of them so fucking much, really.

#anon #mavin #fahc au #prompt fills #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #i hope this is along the lines of what you wanted anon :D??????#Anonymous #Replies

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