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pupkashi · 6 months

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pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from trying ever again

a/n: hi friends !! enjoy this little one shot inspired by somewhat of a true story, sort of meshed two things that happened to me together LOL hope u guys enjoy !! :3

wordcount: 1,470

masterlist

“‘toru? you home?” you ask, placing your keys on the keyholder and slipping your shoes off, sighing in relief as you walk further into your shared home. you can hear soft music coming from the kitchen as you step closer, smiling when it finally comes into view.

“well hello handsome,” you whisper, making him smile and turn around, flour on the tip of his nose. you wipe it off gently, kissing his nose right after you do.

“hey pretty,” he grins, catching your lips in his, dimples on full display from the second he saw you, “how was your day?” he asks, listening intently to your every word.

“what are you trying to make by the way?” you ask, brows furrowed as you see the packs of yeast and flour on the kitchen counter.

“pizza dough! i was thinking we can make it from scratch, have a little pizza date tonight?” the excitement in his voice is enough to make you perk up, grinning at the idea.

“that sounds amazing angel boy,” you smile, “let me change out of this and we can start, yeah?” satoru nods excitedly, continuing to set out the ingredients you two would need.

when you come back to the kitchen there’s three bowls full of cloudy water and no pizza dough in sight. instead there’s a defeated white haired man sitting on the floor, hunched over replaying a YouTube video.

“‘toru?” you ask, stifling your laughter as you walk into the kitchen. he looks up at you, blue eyes sparkling at you, a pout evident on his lips.

“it won’t bubble! i added in warm water and sugar and it’s not working,” he huffs, standing up and handing you the packet, “look they don’t even give directions!” he groans.

you inspect the packet closely, biting your lip to hold back a smile. “satoru this is active yeast, you know that right?”

“those words mean nothing to me, sweetheart.”

“you don’t have to add water to this, you just add this into whatever you’re making,” you state, watching as his frustration faded into one of astonishment and soon into a blushing mess.

“they should really put that on the packets,” he mumbles, throwing out the bowls of ruined yeast and changing the video on his phone to a different one.

“okay let me see how much flour we have to add” he mumbles, looking at the back of the bag before grabbing the scale. he’s cautious at first, adding bit by bit before losing patience. the scale goes from 30g of flour to 300g in a couple seconds.

“satoru!” you gasp, laughing as you attempt to put some of the flour back into the bag, satoru giggling as he adds the water into the flour.

“watch and learn angel boy,” you grin, grabbing the bag and pouring the flour in, stopping after a couple seconds, the scale reading an even 250g. there’s a smug grin on your face and satour wants nothing than to kiss it off your face.

he rolls his eyes, “yeah, yeah whatever,” he mumbles, adding the rest of the things he needed into the mixture before mixing with with a wooden spoon, following the exact movements on the lady in the video he was watching.

the soft music filled the comfortable silence between the two of you, only occasional comments or jokes being the conversation between the two of you as you covered the dough, setting an timer for two hours to let it rise.

the two of you plop on the couch, giggling when satoru pulls you into his lap with ease, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin.

“god i missed you,” he mumbles, voice a bit muffled by your shirt.

“i was only gone for a couple hours,” you smile, wiggling so you could face your boyfriend without hurting your neck too much. there’s a pout on his lips and you can faintly see his dimples.

“still too long,” he frowns, “wanna spend every moment of my life with you.” there’s no point in hiding the huge smile on your face as you raise your brows at him.

“do you now?” you giggle, he only smiles widely back, dimples on full display now, peppering kisses over your face as he hums in agreement.

“can’t imagine a life without you baby,” his tone is soft and comforting, you can’t help but melt at his words, kissing him softly.

you both smile into the kiss, giggles filling the room as he tells you of his day.

the two hours seem to fly by, your timer going off before the two of you knew it, heading to the the kitchen and rolling out the dough. you both mold the dough into hearts satoru arranging his pepperonis into a smiley face, grinning proudly as he showed off his creation.

you can’t suppress the yawn that escapes your lips, blinking away tears as you try and wake yourself up, willing yourself to at least finish off the toppings before you take a nap.

“go take a nap sweets, i can handle two measly pizzas” satoru smiles, “the ovens already preheated too!” you’re hesitant, satoru is quick to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, already heading towards the bedroom and paying you down.

“you do know which trays to use right?” you ask, worry etched on your face as he rolls his eyes. “yes sweetheart i know the ones.”

you’re about to open your mouth again when he’s placing a kiss to your lips, pulling the blanket over you and walking out, “have a good nap pretty!”

it takes a mere three minutes for you to knock out, deep in your sleep when you swear you smell something burning.

you try to ignore it, chalking it up to your paranoia. but the smell seems to get more intense as you stir awake.

you’re eyes are still a bit hazy when you sit up, rubbing the sleep out of them as you open the bedroom door, the smell hitting you full force.

“oh my god what happened?” you shriek, walking quickly to the windows and opening them full, trying your best to clear the living room out of the smoke.

“i may or may not have forgotten about the pizzas” satoru smiled at you nervously, the two burnt pizzas sitting sadly on the kitchen counter. no tray in sight.

“where’s the tray?” you asked, satoru’s eyes widened, face flushed as he chuckled.

“you look so beautiful today, did i tell you that?” he smiles. you only cross your arms over your chest, making him frown a bit as he points at the oven.

the tray he grabbed was not the metal one he thought it was.

the plastic was melted, the only parts not completely destroyed was the two areas where the pizzas had been. you couldn’t help but laugh a bit, your hand flying over your mouth in shock.

“i leave you alone in the kitchen for not even 30 minutes!” you laugh, shocked at the amount of tragedy that had taken place in your absence.

satoru can only smile sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, his black t shirt practically white with the amount of flour on it. you’re nodding your head, laughing as you rest your head on his chest.

“what am i gonna do with you, angel boy,” you smile, the two of you walking over the couch, sitting down in silence.

“we could always order in?” satoru suggests, grinning when you burst out laughing again.

twenty minutes later there’s a knock on your door, two boxes with perfectly cooked pizzas in them.

“next time ill definitely check them more often,” satoru mumbles, the words make you turn and face him slowly. you state state at each other, blinking slowly before you speak up.

“you’re banned from pizza making in this home,” you state, satoru’s mouth falls open, gasping at your words.

“it wasn’t even that bad!” he defends, watching you got up from your seat, grabbed one of the pizzas and knocked it against the counter.

“this pizza is harder than fucking diamond im pretty sure!” you laugh incredulously, “i genuinely think the pepperonis disintegrated in the oven.”

satoru pouts, “everyone makes mistakes, some worse than others.” he can’t help but smile, knowing there was no way he’d ever even try to make pizza again, not on his own at least.

“no yeah those are fucking terrible” he laughs, getting up and grabbing what was supposed to be his pizza. “oh my god you’re right!” his eyes wide as he realizes he can’t find any of his pepperonis.

satoru only tried to make pizza once after that, only to realize he liked Pizza Hut so much better, effectively giving up on his pizza making endeavors for good.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

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when-i-wake-if · 19 days

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It has been 18 years since humanity was brought to the truth that monsters, creatures and deities they were all too sure were myths are in fact real well most of them anyway with these new realizations comes new mysteries, problems and hope but dawn (MC 1) never paid too much attention to it but after the death of their father they have been sent reeling the perfect life they had crumbling slowly forcing them into positions they never would have dreamed of. their life colliding and slowly meshing into the unknown creature's deeper darker world. Across the city in a dingy alley badly hurt dusk (MC 2) awakes to no memories other than their name and something they were told that stung like a dagger in their heart for some reason. As Dusk tries to make sense of what is happening they somehow fall into a rabbit hole of crime, mysteries and dark truths all because they are trying to find out who they are and how they ended up in that alley

~Customize your MCs looks, gender identity, clothing style and name

~ Choose your legal job! (Dawn starts the game with a certain job but that job doesn't stay long)

~ Make deals that will change the course of your life

~Customize your room and apartment aesthetic style

~As Dawn manage the relationship with your mother, your ex your, past relationship and current feelings about your dead dad. As Dusk unravels your past try to figure out what happened to you or set It all aside and attempt to make a new life for yourself

~Romance 4 different characters for both MCs and hey if you want to romance a god as one or both MCs!

Dawns ROs

Xeno || Xe/Xem || 21 || Human

"Hellooo how is my favourite co-worker! I brought you your favourite drink, I'm amazing! I know~"

Description ~ Short coily dark brown hair, lean build with a Bronze complexion, dark green eyes, Nubian nose, Xyr height is 5’11, Xe has a full tattoo sleeve on Xes right arm and a tattoo on the side of Xyr neck when outside of work Xeno tends to wear ripped black jeans, no sleeve neck length shirt, runners and a bunch of rings, necklaces and one stud earring.

Selena || She/Her || ?? || Ghost

"Please! Don't be scared i mean you no harm le-let me explain"

Description ~ Shoulder-length ginger hair that is curled at the tips, She has a chubby build and pale skin, greyish blue eyes, a button nose, height if she could stand on the floor would be 5’3, freckles kiss her face and shoulders, she forever dressed in a light blue tea length swing dress and stockings with a pair of black flats, adorned in pearl earrings and necklace, to most she appears slightly translucent

Brier || He/Him or She/Her || Gender selectable|| 228 || Vampire

"Oh, sweetheart are you okay? please don't cry how about a rose? will that give you back your pretty little smile"

Description ~ Chin length afro-textured dark brown hair, Slim build and ebony complexion, Dark red eyes, button nose, height 5’7, outside of work they typically wear wide cuff pants, cropped blouse with a sweetheart collar, 4-inch heels or black dress shoes, round glasses, realistic heart shaped earrings, ruby necklace, silver rings

Míng || They/He || 30 || Dragon

"Well maybe if you watched or read the news more you would know how shitty it is, for people who aren't human like you."

Description ~ bleached white shoulder-length hair, lean build light brown complexion, black sclera and piercing yellow iris, flat nose height being 5'7, scales litter their body colours mainly being yellow and orange with some red ones sprinkled in, typically wears graphic tees , with a worn-out black bomber jacket, cargo pants and platform boots

Both MCs

Is || she/her, he/him or they/them || Gender selectable || ??? || Minor God of death {and dreams}

"Is it truly a lie or is it just not the truth you want to hear. darling, you have so much to learn"

Description~ Long straight black hair that reaches past their ass typically in some kind of intricate hairstyle with silver jewellery woven in, curvy build with a tanned complexion, pale white eyes, roman nose, height 8,5 when not forced to dress modestly they are always wearing a short dress with a marabou robe or a satin robe and six-inch heels, adorned in many silver bracelets, necklaces, rings and flower earrings and they have belly button piercing

Dusks ROs

Sire || He/Him || 26 || Kelpie

"you should watch where you going around here kid someone will end up killing you if you are not careful"

Description ~ Shoulder length wavy dark green hair so dark it almost appears black Sire's hair always seems to look wet/damp, he has a dad bod and Ivory complexion, black eyes, Greek nose, His height is on the slightly shorter side standing at 5’4, usually wearing black leather pants, dress shoes and a button up shirt that never fully buttoned up

Loralie || They/Them || 24 || Siren

"you are so adorable I could eat you up~ how about I buy you a drink gorgeous"

Description ~ Mid back length black goddess braids, Athletic Swimmer build and Dark brown complexion with dark blueish grey scales scattered about, piercing grey eyes, Flat nose, height 6’2, a large scar down the middle of their chest, gills most noticeable upon their neck, outside of work they typically wear cargo pants, muscle shirt, converse shoes, a gold locket, dangle earrings, spectrum piercing

Joshua || He/They || 20 || Werewolf

"Plan?? I never said I had a plan did I? ...oh well I didn't but don't worry I can get us out of this"

Description ~ Short messy dirty blonde hair, muscular build and tan complexion, amber eyes, Greek nose though it has obviously been broken in the past, scar along the right of their jaw, freckles speckled over his face, height 6’0, typically wears work boots, jeans and a muscle shirt with a flannel jacket

Z || She/He/They || ?? || Undead

"pay me back? how about you let me eat you and I'll take that as your repayment I'm quite hungry and you're starting to irritate me"

Description ~ Messy straight chin length black hair with strands of grey hairs throughout, skinny build and pale olive and appears slightly greeny yellowish, black eyes, hawk nose, the height of 5'6 the left corner of her mouth is carved away revealing most of their teeth and flesh and their left hands pinky and ring finger are just bone the surrounding area seems to have a hideous burn scar though he typically covers it up by wearing white gloves, black turtle neck, beige torn pants and two different pairs of dirty runners

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do you climb up from rock bottom what are you willing to do. to sacrifice. to find out the truth what will you do when you get those truths what if they aren't what you expected or wanted will you help others or push the world aside? how far is too far to achieve your goals

Demo: TBA || My other IF || Charater Portaits: coming soon

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angelkhi · 1 year

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love me, hate me - s.r

summary: steve rogers pisses you off, and you piss him off. but is it really ever that simple?

warnings: SMUT 18+ (MINORS DNI), p in v, switch steve & reader, face sitting, unprotected sex, talks of bodily fluids, enemies to lovers a little bit, slight hate fucking but also not?? feelings at the end sort of.

word count: 2.8.k

a little note: Happy New Year to you all! finished this at 4 am so not beta’d any mistakes are my own (seriously i just spelled mistakes as ‘mestayks’ so like sorry lol) half based on this request but also something i already had in the works that seemed to mesh xx

"Let's not forget who's doing who a favour." You chide, already irritated by presence.

"Please sweetheart, I'm doing you more of a favour than you realise."

"And how's that Mr Rogers?" You fix his crooked tie. Always picking up after him.

"You walk in there with me? There's no way you're going home alone tonight." He smooths out the collar on his shirt, checking himself over in the mirror. "Your little problem gets solved."

"My little problem?"

"Don't get me wrong, Yels, it's great doing it yourself but it would be nice for someone give me an orgasm every now and then."

"You fuckin pig! You were listening to my conversation?" You're embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed. If there's one person that doesn't need to know about your dwindling sex life it's Steve Rogers.

"It's kinda hard not to overhear yours and Yelena's screeching on girls night." Once again those fingers fly up into quotation marks and you have to blink yourself free from the daze you're slipping into.

Maybe Steve does have a point, you're significantly louder after a bottle or two of rose, but it doesn't give him the right to use your own words against you.

"You're a dick, Rogers. It's none of your fucking business how many orgasms I have." He's smirking down at you now, something in his eyes you've never seen before. "Let's just get this over with. I don't want to have to see your face any longer than necessary."

The two of you enter the ballroom together as planned, and heads turn almost instantly. The quiet gasps and turning heads boost his scolded ego more than nicely. But that's all it is. A soothing bandage over a painful wound.

Stark's infamous shindigs that rivalled even the most grand of galas, yet you are the only thing that matters to him in a room filled with expensive champagne and extravagant sculptures. He watches you from across the room, Bucky's latest debrief on Sam's irritating behaviour blending into the mindless background chatter.

You're done up to the nines, pretty hair twisted in some intricate up-do, and that dress. That fucking dress. He wonders if things would be easier if you knew how he really felt about you, that the trading of insults between the two of you is the only way he can resist pinning you against every available surface and fucking the attitude out of you.

You work your charm with everyone that comes up to you, offering you drinks and boring conversation. You know you're in charge, so do they, and so does he.

He spots you talking to a pretty redhead he soon recognises as Wanda, she's changed since he last saw her. But he much more notices the lingering stares and flirtatious touches, the way you lean into each other and laugh a little too loud. Jealousy is no longer a green eyed monster, but a blonde haired, blue eyed super soldier.

You happen to glance over at him in that moment, taking in his tensed jaw and white-knuckle grip on his champagne flute, expecting it to shatter under any more force. He watches as you smirk in his direction, and the go back to the conversation like he wasn't even there. Sam and Bucky pull him away to a conversation that is meant to be important and he loses sight of you for the rest of the evening.

The party starts to get a little too lively towards 11pm, the rowdy crowd excited about the looming new year. You find yourself at the bar, sick of your uncomfortable shoes, ready to get more than drunk, kiss a bottle at midnight and fall into bed with your vibrator once again. Someone slides into the empty seat next to you, speaking to the bar tender. You catch the 'and whatever she's having' and roll your eyes just wanting to be left alone at this point.

Your double vodka and cranberry is slid in front of you and you take a single sip before turning to the man next to you. He's attractive, with his full beard and long brown hair. There's something in his eyes but you don't care enough to find out that much about him. He shakes your hand firmly, introducing himself as Quentin Beck. You smile and thank him when he compliments you, you hum and nod when he tells you about his latest technological venture that sounds weirdly similar to Tony's, you smile coyly when he rests a hand on your thigh and offers to take you somewhere a little less private.

You're silently disappointed that this is the best you could do on a night like tonight but you're not one to look a fort horse in the mouth. He guides you through the crowd with a hand around your waist until the function room doors come into view and your excitement dims even further. Steve stands in the doorway, arms crossed and biceps bulging as he stares at Quentin and then his hand on your waste.

"Hey honey." He wraps his fingers around your wrist lightly, stopping you in your tracks. He stares down at you for a second too long, then diverts his gaze to Beck.

"Fuck off." Two words. Two are all it takes for Quentin to crumble.

His hand moves from your waist faster than you can blink and he's already being swallowed up by the crowd when you turn away from glaring at Steve. His fingers linger around your wrist but you shrug him off, and leave the grand ballroom stomping down to the elevator.

He follows you of course, right up to your door, pushing inside when you try and slam it in his face.

"Honey that guy was a creep."

"Don't 'honey' me you just ruined my one good chance of getting laid tonight." You kick off your shoes.

"Well I wouldn't call it a good chance..."

"What was that?!" You're about to fiddle with the zip of your dress but instead steve has your attention and an insane amount of audacity.

"M'just saying he wouldn't have been worth it." He pauses, sitting on your bed uninvited. "Doesn't look like he can find his car keys let alone please a woman."

"I guess I'll never know now." You scoff.

"Use me instead."

What in the sweet baby jesus?!

"How much have you had to drink?" You chuckle, and go back to working your zip.

"You know I can't get drunk. How much have you had to drink?" He retorts, reaching up to undo the zipper for you.

"Not enough for this to be a hallucination. What's in it for you?"

"An orgasm." Fair enough.

"Why are you doing this? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"What? No! I'm just trying to apologise for ruining your New Years hook up." He looks sincere, but then Steve never lies. You on the other hand, would be lying if you said you didn't want to jump his bones at least twenty three and a half of the twenty four hours in the day. And he's offering himself to you on a golden platter. Why turn. it down?

"Strip."

It's a simple word, but it holds so much power. Starting something that may just fucking ruin you. But you want it. He wants it. The easy route be damned. Steve is quick to discard his clothing, looking up at you expectantly waiting for your next request. You simply just let your dress drop, carefully stepping over the expensive fabric and slotting yourself between Steve's legs. His eyes widen when he realises you'd neglected to put on any underwear that evening. She reaches out to touch you, rest a hand on your hip but you slap it away.

"Lay back." You kneel over his hips, excitement fizzling on your skin as he rests on his elbows, taking up an insane amount of space with his broad shoulders and wide thighs. He doesn't move any further, a sly smirk on his lips and wonder in his eyes.

"I said I don't want to see your face, lie the fuck back." You have him under your thumb, and your pussy, when he lays back against the cotton sheets you crawl across his body and rest above his face. His hands grip onto the backs of your thighs, usually light eyes dark with lust.

"No touching." You thread his arms above him, resting forward and pinning them against the pillows. His response is muffled when you lower yourself onto his face. His tongue works wonders when he's not using it to talk and you definitely prefer it when he's not talking.

You grind yourself down against his pliant tongue, clit bumping his stupidly perfect nose with each thrust. You're taking what you deserve from him, what he owes you and you fucking love it. You love the fact that he could easily slip you underneath him, pin you beneath him and pull you apart but instead he's letting you use him, letting you grind yourself to an orgasm on his face.

"You're not so useless after all Rogers, fucking hell." His lips purse around your exposed clit and your thighs shake a little. You press yourself further against him, chasing your well deserved orgasm until you're panting above him half spent.

Lifting yourself off of him, you take in his flushed cheeks and blown out eyes. God he's pretty. Your hand strokes through his hair and he leans into your touch. Putty in your hands.

You reach back, your hands almost dwarfed by the impressive size of his pretty cock. You struggle to wrap your hands around him fully, but when you start stroking him slow but firm it doesn't matter. His face twists into one of pure bliss and his hips fuck up into your fist desperately. Deciding enough is enough you manoeuvre down his body, hovering over his painfully hard weeping cock. You drag him through your folds, almost slipping him in before bumping his engorged head against your clit until you're right on the edge of desperation and finally sink down on him.

You take him slowly at first, unable to stay quiet as he stretches you open. There's a slight sting but my god does it sting so good. Once he's fully sheathed you take a moment to accommodate, grinding down on him, twin moans coming from the two of you. You raise yourself up again, right to the tip and back down, slowly building the rhythm until you're bouncing on his cock, hitting spots you didn't even know existed panting for breath.

"You feel so fucking good." You whimper chasing your own pleasure, fuelled by Steve's. He fists the bedsheets, so obedient trying not to touch you, but you look so pretty and broken and you're touching yourself whilst you ride him, clenching down on his dick so fucking perfectly. He's more vocal than. you expected, grunting and moaning and whining.

"Fuck I'm gonna come. Steve." Your fingers roll your taught nipples between your fingers, pinching and pulling. Steve's hips stutter for a moment, but then he's right there with you, fucking up into your perfect cunt until you're shaking on his dick, grinding your clit against his pubic bone and falling over the edge.

He doesn't give you a second to breath, wrapping his strong arms around you and placing you flat on your back. You're breathless, your vision is still fuzzy but then he's pounding into you. Lifting your leg above his shoulder opening you up up to him even more. You're well and truly fucked. Not a single word or thought or even sound registering. You're just wide eyed and open mouthed and taking what he gives you.

"Not so cocky now are we, hmm sweetheart." His thumb flicks your clit once and you're coming all over again, a loud scream echoing off of the walls.

"There she is. So fucking perfect, taking what you need. Did I do well, did I satisfy your greedy pussy or do you still want more?"

"St-Steve. More." You sound so broken, so unalike yourself but you never want to go back to her when you can be this.

"Course you fuckin do. Play with your tits for me, that's a good girl." He thrusts slow but deep, your weak legs held in position by his huge hands. He relishes in your flushed face and smudged makeup. Your hair has foregone the confines of bobby pins and it's splayed out on the cushion behind you. You're fucking perfect.

"Who's cunt is this?" Your eyes lull into the back of your head when he delivers a quick sharp tap to your clit. "Tell me who's cunt it is and I'll let you cum."

"Y-Yours. Yours Steve."

"Good. And who's fuckin dick is this tearing you apart?" It's all too much, you're on the verge of crying from the overstimulation. "Who's is it?"

"Mine."

"Good fucking girl." He punctuates his words with his thrusts, picking up speed once more and rubbing small quick circles against your clit. Your tears do spill then, dark mascara running down your cheeks when you explode all over him.

He fucks you through the orgasm, pulling out of you when you begin to claw at his chest, leaving pretty marks all over him. He kneels over you, furiously stroking himself to completion until he cums in long white ropes all over your breasts, chest heaving and panting. He collapses next to you, silent as you try to catch your breaths and wrap your head around what just happened.

It shouldn't surprise you when Steve gets up to the bathroom and comes back with a washcloth, but it does. It leaves you stunned. You try not to show it though, nor do you give him a glimpse at how disappointed you are about leaving.

"Damn Rogers, you really know how to hate fuck." Steve's gaze is frantic, but mostly confused.

"Hate? I don't hate you." His eyebrows are pulled together so tightly you're scared they might just fuse into one another.

"Could've fooled me." You pull up your underwear and pull on his shirt foregoing the tight dress.

"Look. I don't. Hate. You. Do you get on my nerves? Sometimes. But I could never hate you."

"So what? You wanna call the way you've treated me since I got here a proclamation of your undying love." He's silent. "You can't be fucking serious Rogers."

"Don't be like that, you gave just as good as you got." You scoff, but it's the truth. "Every time I look at you I want to fuck you, every time I see someone even look at you I wanna fuckin... I don't know!"

"Steve..."

"You terrify me. I have all these feelings for you, but you're so... you. You're so gorgeous, you're potty mouth and you're strong and you don't take shit from no one, not even me. I'm an idiot, I know that and I don't expect a sorry to fix anything, but I need you to know that that wasn't a one time thing, I want you."

"Well fuck. You have feelings for me?" He nods, simple, effective and oh so Steve Rogers. "I thought. I don't know what I though. I walked in here and you just stared at me and left, and I guess I though you took one look at me and decided I wasn't enough. So I decided I was gonna prove you wrong."

"I think you're everything. You've certainly proved me right." He looks angry, at himself at and the situation, but mostly at the fact that you'd ever thought those things about yourself.

"Right pair of idiots we are." You mutter, trying to lighten the you're-not-sure-what mood. He pulls you into his lap, rough hand resting around your waist.

"Aren't we just." He whispers against your lips.

"How many people did you tell to fuck off tonight? Just out of interest."

"Bout 15." He mumbles and then laughs, "don't regret a single one of them though."

You surge forward and press against him. His lips are softer than expected and his movements are so slow, so tentative. You arch into him, greed driving your need to make up for the last few wasted months.

A loud bang erupts from outside of the glass windows, popping into a concoction of golds and reds and pinks, until the New York skyline is littered with individual fireworks displays.

"Happy New Year Rogers." You whisper against his lips, though it turns into a breathless whimper when he pulls your panties to the side. "You get on my nerves too by the way. Like a whole lot."

"Yeah yeah. Happy New Year."

#chris evans #marvel #marvel smut #smut #avengers endgame #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers #nomad steve #chris evans smut #steve rogers fic rec #mcu smut #captain america smut #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america #marvel fic

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perotovar · 6 months

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into the beat of the night (ch 5) "human fly"

gif by me

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: M chapter warnings: swearing, (2) ptsd induced panic attacks, discussions of drugs (cocaine), hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, this one is a little heavier y'all (but it's me so it's still soft) word count: 3.3k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta/co-writer: @scenaaario (seriously she helped so much with this chapter, pls send her some love ♥)

for notifications, follow @oakslibrary and turn on alerts ♥

series summary: frankie thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

Frankie, River, Santiago, and Benny were standing in line waiting to get into The Night Owl. Will had to work and couldn’t make it, but he let them know it really wasn’t his scene anyway and wished them all a good night.

River squeezed Frankie’s hand, looking up at him. “You’re such a trooper letting me get you all dolled up today,” they giggled, kissing his cheek.

“I’m surprised how good it looks on him, to be honest,” Benny smirked.

Frankie sighed and rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. He was dolled up by Frankie standards, and having a hard time not fussing with River’s hard work. They had slicked his hair back, and the gel felt like a helmet. He was hyper aware of the eyeliner now rimming his eyes and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He did everything in his power not to touch his eyes and smudge the thick kohl. Despite his discomfort, even he had to admit he looked good. His hair was smoother than any of them had ever seen it, and the eyeliner emphasized the complexity of his deep brown eyes. River’s eyes dragged over his broad shoulders and grinned at the borrowed shirt he now wore, the delicate mesh pulled taut over his back.

Fake jewelry adorned Frankie’s ears and neck, making River grin. Their eyes traveled down the broad expanse of Frankie’s torso and landed on his soft middle. Frankie was apprehensive about how tight the mesh shirt was, saying that he didn’t want his tummy to poke out too much. River’s kisses to the soft flesh convinced him to go with it. Their arms wrapped around Frankie’s middle and squeezed appreciatively.

“Y’know, now that I’m seeing you all put together like this, you kind of remind me of an older version of someone I used to know,” River hummed thoughtfully.

Santiago snorted and dug his hands under his armpits. “Ay dios mio…” he mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah. Kid went by Dio, but I guarantee he couldn’t tell you a single song by him,” River rolled their eyes, exhaling exasperatedly. “Ended up going to jail for stabbing someone.”

Frankie blinked before barking out a laugh. “That makes me feel great, Río, thanks.”

“No problem,” they smirked, getting up on their toes to kiss him properly, pressing their lips delicately to his so their lipstick wouldn’t smear.

The four of them finally stepped into the club, the walls bouncing with the music. Benny was like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide and excited as he took in all the people. He made his way up to the bar, Viper giving him a look before making him a drink, and Frankie grinned. “I think he likes the place,” he chuckled, looping his arms around River’s waist from behind and kissing their jaw.

“I think so, too. I hope Anya is here tonight.”

“Anya?”

River turned and smirked, putting their finger over their lips as they winked. “It’s a surprise for Benny. I’ve been meaning to find someone for her for a while now and I think he’s perfect.”

An amused look crossed Frankie’s features. He turned to say something to Santiago, but the other man was missing. Frankie furrowed his brows and looked around, one of the clip-ons slightly hitting his cheek as he turned his head. He scanned the room and his eyes finally landed on Santi, already chatting up a pretty girl with dark skin and bright, unnatural contacts in her eyes. Frankie turned back to River, grinning to himself. He’ll catch up with him later.

“You weren’t kidding about these Snakebites, Fish,” Benny’s booming voice brought Frankie’s attention back toward the bar. Ben handed Frankie a matching drink as he took a swig.

“They have other drinks, you know,” River snorted.

Frankie smiled before shrugging. He pressed his hand to their lower back as he guided them over to a cluster of tables. He bit his lip, searching for an empty one.

Suddenly, River gasped and took off, running over to hug a plump woman excitedly. Ben raised his eyebrows and Frankie made an I-don’t-know sound. He moved closer to the pair as River excitedly spoke to the woman, who was giggling loudly. She was really pretty, with a medium skin tone, and her round face bright and more heavily made up than River’s. She wore a lace dress that ended at her thick thighs, and heeled boots with spikes on them. Her hair was short and bleached a bright white.

River felt Frankie’s presence and grinned as he wrapped his arms around their waist, resting his chin on their shoulder. “This must be him,” the woman smiled, her voice soft but with an intrinsic power underneath. He could practically feel the confidence rolling off her in waves. “I thought you said he looked like a truck driver?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Anya, please,” River laughed, holding onto Frankie’s wrists. “He let me get him all dressed up tonight, I promise he does normally.”

Frankie sighed and hid his burning cheeks in River’s neck. He reached a hand out toward Anya, keeping the other secure around River’s waist. “I’m Frankie,” he smiled.

Anya shook his hand and grinned. “You’re being good to them, right? Because if you’re not, I will find you,” she threatened, eyes hard and serious.

Frankie gulped, his eyes going wide, and nodded jerkily. “P-promise.”

“Good,” she grinned. “Anya. And who’s this puppy?” She turned her eyes toward Benny looking over him with an unreadable expression on her face.

Benny was speechless, gazing in adoration at her. He held his drink close and smiled softly, but still didn’t respond, like he didn’t hear her.

“Benjamin,” Frankie mumbled, trying to cover it with a cough.

Benny snapped out of it and shook his head, cheeks red. “S-sorry! I’m Ben,” he smiled wide, holding his hand out for Anya to shake.

Anya looked at his hand accusingly, then looked at Frankie and River with a raised brow, and looked back at Benny. She took his hand and shook it. She must have determined he was a good one because her face softened, a smile blooming on her face. “Hi, Ben.”

River and Frankie exchanged looks before sneaking off to find a spot to sit. When they couldn’t find one, they decided to head for the dance floor instead.

“So, that was Anya,” Frankie laughed, hands on River’s waist as they swayed together.

River hummed and nodded. “Was I right, or was I right?” They smirked, taking a look at the two of them talking animatedly at the bar.

A softness crossed Frankie’s features before he pressed a light kiss to their forehead. “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Be right back, ok?”

River nodded and tapped him on the shoulders before going back to dancing.

Frankie made his way over to the club’s men’s room. As he stood at the sink, he analyzed his look in the mirror, deciding it was growing on him. He wouldn’t keep it, but he didn’t hate it either.

The sound of someone snorting in a stall behind him stopped Frankie in his tracks. He felt his entire body go cold as a shiver ran through him, his eyes slamming shut. He took a deep breath and held it, opening his eyes in time to see a man stumbling out of the bathroom, frantically wiping his nose. Frankie exhaled and looked down at his shaking hands, rubbing his thumb over the black nail polish. He took a minute to collect himself before he made his way back into the club, looking for River and the guys.

River was walking over to Viper from the dance floor and pantomimed drinking something. He poured them a glass of water and they drank it gratefully. They made eye contact with Frankie over the rim of the glass and they set it down, excitedly bouncing over to him.

Frankie felt a rush of warmth at the sight of his partner and his racing heart slowed a little, lacing their fingers through his own. River kissed his cheek before they walked over to where Benny and Anya were still chatting.

“I see things are going well,” River grinned, winking at Anya. Anya rolled her eyes, but smiled up at them. Benny looked at Frankie and did a double take, noticing the pinched look on his face before anyone else did. He caught Frankie’s eye, concern growing on his face. Frankie nodded, squeezing River’s hand a little tighter. Benny seemed to take that and turned back to Anya.

“I was just going to ask this lovely lady if she’d give me her number,” Ben rumbled, looking over Anya’s form appreciatively before landing on her face and holding her gaze. Anya’s cheeks warmed as she held her hand out for Ben to hand her his phone.

River turned to Frankie and smiled. “We should check and see if we can find Santi.”

Frankie swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart pounding, before he croaked out, “He’s probably making out with that girl he was talking to.” He sniffled twice.

River nodded and squeezed his hand, noticing the tightness of his features. The furrow in his brow seemed to deepen by the minute, and his gaze bounced frantically around the room. They could tell something was up, but didn’t want to press the issue. At least not here.

“I’ll go find him,” Frankie muttered quietly before walking off to find Santiago. He made his way over to the women’s restrooms, placed next to the all-gender bathroom, and smiled to himself. Santiago had the same pretty girl from before pressed against the wall and, just as Frankie thought, was heavily making out with her, her arms around Santi’s neck.

Frankie cleared his throat and grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. He was still shaking, but trying his hardest to suppress his trembling. Santiago pulled away from the girl, her lipstick smeared across his mouth.

“Hey, Fish,” Santiago mumbled, licking his kiss-swollen lips. “What can I do ya for?”

“Uh,” Frankie chuckled uneasily. “I think River and I are gonna head out. I, uh…” he shuffled on his feet a little. “It’s getting a little crowded, and I just…”

Santi turned serious, quietly whispering something to the girl before turning his attention back to Frankie. She waited patiently, smiling at the back of Santiago’s head.

“You okay, Frank?” Santiago leaned closer to his friend, placing a reassuring hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

Frankie gulped and nodded, looking down at his black boots. The warmth from Santi’s palm seemed to ground him. “Yeah, I’m just… tired,” he lied, forcing a smile. “I’ll text you, okay?”

Santiago narrowed his eyes, but nodded, giving Frankie a once over. “Alright. I’ll make sure Benny gets home.”

“Thanks, Pope.”

Frankie slapped Santiago on the shoulder before turning away to find River. He had to get out of here, and quick. His palms were sweating and it was getting harder to breathe the longer he stayed. The sound of that guy sniffing played on a tormenting infinite loop.

He hadn’t had an episode like this in a long time, and he guessed that’s why it was happening. He should’ve expected there to be something like this at a nightclub, but it still felt like it came out of nowhere . He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before grabbing River’s hand again.

“Hey,” they smiled, a pinch of worry on their face. “Everything okay?”

Frankie bit his lip and nodded jerkily. “Y-yeah, uh. Do you think we could go home?”

River’s heart skipped a beat at the insinuation that River’s apartment was home, for both of them. Frankie already planned on staying over at River’s that night. “Of course, babe.”

A genuine smile grew on Frankie’s lips and he nodded, kissing their cheek softly.

“I already told Anya and Ben to use protection and they nearly hit me for it,” River chuckled, walking Frankie out of the club and toward his truck. Frankie’s hands were still shaking as he grabbed for his keys. “You want me to drive?” River asked, holding out their hand.

Frankie battled with himself for a second before nodding, handing his keys over to them. “Thank you,” he mumbled, making his way over to the passenger seat.

The drive home was quiet. Frankie was obsessively picking at his nails, not used to having polish covering them. River kept looking over at Frankie worriedly, unsure what was going on. They knew he’d tell them when he was ready but they couldn’t help but feel useless at this moment.

Once they were inside River’s apartment, Frankie quietly untied his boots and went to the bathroom to clean all the stuff off his face. River got Jonsey his food for the night and went into their bedroom, changing into boxer briefs and Frankie’s Iron Maiden t-shirt. Once changed, they knocked on the bathroom door softly. “You decent?”

They heard a few sounds on the other side of the door, mostly of the fake piercings hitting the counter, before he answered shakily, “Yeah, c’mon in.”

River opened the door and smiled sadly at Frankie’s now-bare face. “There he is,” they smiled, stepping further into the small bathroom to hold his face. They kissed the tip of his nose and pressed their hands on his broad chest. “Go get comfy and I’ll be there in a sec, ok?”

Frankie nodded, almost on autopilot, and made his way into River’s bedroom to change.

When River made their way back into their bedroom, their own face now bare and hair pulled back in a loose braid, Frankie was already curled up in the blankets. His bare back faced them as he lay on his side, so River crawled into the sheets to wrap their arms around him. They cuddled his back close to their chest, rubbing their hands over his soft tummy comfortingly.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” River asked softly into Frankie’s curls, now freed from their gelled prison.

Frankie sighed quietly, lacing his fingers with River’s free hand. “In the morning? I promise I will, I just,” he paused. “I just wanna sleep it off first.”

“Of course,” River hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Frankie’s head. “I’ll be here.”

Cold. Heavy rain. A series of gunshots. And then, euphoria.

Frankie startled awake, covered in cold perspiration. He panted hard, trying to blink the room back into view.

River blinked awake, Frankie’s heaving chest rising and falling quickly underneath their hands. “Babe?” they asked, voice thick with sleep.

Cold. Heavy rain. A series of gunshots. And then—

“Frankie,” River’s voice came through clearly, sounding more awake. They tapped on his chest, rolling him onto his back and then pulling him up into a sitting position.

Black spots and blurred vision greeted him as he tried to come back to earth. “I—“ he croaked, starting to cough. He began breathing heavily, shakily.

River’s eyes welled with tears as they watched him, rubbing his back as soothingly as they could. What could they do? They thought about it for a second, then started humming a song softly.

Frankie pressed his large hand to his chest and his throat, trying to get his breathing back to normal. He turned his head to see if he could find someone familiar. When his eyes landed on River’s tired face, a tear fell from his eye. He didn’t want them to see this. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

River continued humming, rubbing soothing circles into Frankie’s back until his heart rate got to a steady rhythm. “Frankie?” they asked softly, eyes searching his pinched face.

Frankie startled a little, almost like he didn’t expect them to say anything. “Riv—“

“Shh, it’s okay. Just making sure you can hear me,” they whispered. They leaned over to kiss his shoulder, the hand not on his back coming up to hold the back of his own hand pressed to his chest. “I’m gonna go get you some water, ok? Don’t move.”

“Nuh,” Frankie mumbled, shaking his head quickly. He wrapped his arms around their waist and pressed his head to their chest. “N-no.”

A shaky breath left River’s lungs, but they nodded, cradling his face and rubbing his back gently. “Alright,” they sighed.

Exhaustion overtook Frankie’s body and he fell asleep. River looked over at their phone on the nightstand and picked it up; 5:28am. They looked at the photo on their lockscreen of Frankie smiling shyly and looking down. They sighed and put the phone down, looking back at Frankie’s sleeping face.

River could wait. They settled back against the pillows and watched the sky outside lighten to a dusty blue, the clouds glowing orange as the sun rose.

When Frankie opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the sun filtering in through the window. Dust motes floated in the shafts of light. His head was pounding.

“You’re awake.”

He lifted his head from River’s chest and saw their yawning face. “Yeah… You’re up early,” he mumbled, biting back his own yawn.

“I never went back to bed,” River smiled sleepily.

Frankie’s face fell. “God, I’m so sorry, mi río.”

River shook their head and sat up against the headboard of the bed. “No, you stop right there. I chose to stay up, okay?” They smiled, rubbing their thumb against his arm. “I wanted to make sure you slept.”

Frankie’s eyes welled with tears and he shook his head, looking down. He took a deep breath before speaking, wanting everything to come out clearly. “I don’t want you to not know what happened,” he looked up at them, big brown eyes glossy. “I don’t want to scare you again,” he whispered.

Heart melting and breaking simultaneously, River nodded in understanding. “Okay. I’m listening,” they said softly.

So, he told them everything. Joining the military at nineteen, figuring himself out. But also what the military did to him mentally, and how he dealt with that. Colombia. River didn’t say much, just taking the time to let Frankie get his thoughts out.

“I understand if this is like, a lot,” Frankie mumbled shakily. He shut his eyes and exhaled. “If you don’t want to—“

“Stop it,” River hummed sadly. “It is a lot to process, but I’m not worried. I mean, I’m worried, because this is something that’s still affecting you, but I’m not going to leave you over this.”

Relief flooded through him and he pressed his forehead against theirs. “How did I get so lucky?” he whispered, smiling softly.

“It was the New Balances. So hot.”

Frankie snorted, his shoulders shaking slightly until he barked out a loud laugh. “Shut the fuck up,” he giggled, tickling their sides.

River squealed with giggles, falling onto their back. Frankie kept going until they had tears streaming down their cheeks and he was hovering over them. They slowly caught their breath, watching each other’s faces quietly.

“Te amo, mi río,” Frankie hummed, cupping their cheek.

River’s heart stopped and they bit their lip. They looked down at Frankie’s collarbone, not answering right away.

Frankie panicked a little, his eyes widening. “Sh-shit, um, I’m sorry—“

“No, it’s okay,” River’s eyes shut as they shook their head a little. They held his hand against their face so he wouldn’t take it away. “I… I’m not sure I’m ready to… to say that back. But I want to. God, do I want to.”

Frankie exhaled shakily and he nodded, cheeks burning.

“It’s just… I haven’t been in a real relationship in a long time. I still… I still identified as a woman when I did. No one’s ever… b-been with me like… like this,” River gulped, finally looking back up into his eyes again. “It’s always just been flings and hookups.”

Frankie was quiet, processing what they were saying. “Okay,” he muttered. “I don’t want you to say it until you’re ready. I just needed to let you know,” he smiled softly.

River’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss them softly.

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 10 months

Text

Glitter and Crimson | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mention of sex

Author's note: I used the Glee mashup of Start Me Up/Livin' On A Prayer just because that was one hell of a performance... If you know what I mean...

Words: 2.645

It wasn’t like she wanted to keep a secret from her co-workers who had pretty much turned into family after two years of spending almost every minute of every day with. It was just that she wanted to keep that part of her life for her. Her little safe haven. Away from scrutiny, away from jokes, … Just something for her to enjoy in her downtime.

Even if that meant having to lie about it.

Even when she was called in on a case just as she was about to go home.

She hadn’t been able to change into her work clothes when the call came in, meaning she had to rush from the bar to the BAU in high waisted black shorts, fishnets and a black cropped tank covered with a mesh shirt.

“Woah,” Luke started as soon as she stepped out of the elevator. “Where’d you come from dressed like that?” He had a bemused smile on his face as his eyes scanned her entire being from head to toe. His exclamation captured the attention of their colleagues.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she grinned before grabbing her go-bag from her desk, wanting to go and change.

As she passed Emily, their unit chief, the dark-haired woman gave her a confused look. “Where are you going?”

Y/N stopped in her tracks and stared at Emily in confusion. “To… To change.”

“You can do that on the jet later. Briefing first. Now.”

Emily seemed more stressed than ever, telling everyone that the case had to be a doozy. Kind of disappointed and a little bit uncomfortable in her own skin, y/n followed her co-workers to the briefing room where Penelope and Emily explained the case.

While she tried her hardest to concentrate, she couldn’t miss the looks Spencer was giving her. His brows were furrowed in confusion before he’d relaxed and his eyes softened as he watched her. Y/N had never denied that she found the resident genius attractive. Neither had she denied sleeping with him that one time when they were on a pretty frustrating case that had riled both of them up. They just needed an outlet. So, when Spencer was looking at her like that, those feelings from that night resurfaced.

“All right, wheels up. Let’s go,” Emily concluded their briefing before all of them headed off.

In the jet, Y/N used her time to quickly change into some jeans and a shirt, stuffing her fishnets into her bag. Though she knew her co-workers were going to use their time on the jet to ask her about where she’d come from, she was adamant to keep it for herself. There was nothing they could say or ask for her to break her promise to herself.

“Do you think she’d have a second job?” she heard Luke’s voice before she opened the door of the small bathroom on the jet. “Like at a bar? As a stripper or something. Why else would she wear fishnets?”

Y/N froze and scoffed. Of course that was where Luke Alvez’ mind went to.

“No, that’s nothing she would do,” Spencer’s voice came next.

“You can wear fishnets for other reasons too, Alvez,” JJ argued.

That was true. Fishnets had always been such a sexualized item of clothing for some reason while y/n just thought they looked cool.

“Has she been struggling?” Emily questioned, “Financially, I mean. Why else would she have a second job?”

Shaking her head, y/n decided to put a stop to their conversation and walked out of the bathroom, shutting all of them up immediately. She decided not to mention it, not saying anything as she made her way to a seat next to Matt and across from Spencer and Rossi.

All of them looked at her, incredulous that she could just ignore all of it.

“What?” she asked, chuckling.

“When are you gonna tell us where you went?” Spencer asked, much to her surprise. He’d always valued privacy so much, not asking any questions because he knew if someone wanted to tell him, they would.

Y/N curled her finger as her elbows rested on the table that separated them, urging him to come closer. Obediently, Spencer leaned closer, just catching the ghost of a smirk on y/n’s lips before she whispered, “Never”.

“All right, crime-fighters!” Penelope popped up on the screen, saving y/n from any other questions. “Another body was found in another supermarket parking lot. The PD is expecting you,” she informed them before inching closer to the screen. “Has she told you yet?”

Rolling her eyes, y/n leaned back in her chair. “Oh my God.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Penelope giggled before disappearing again.

Even during the case, neither one of her co-workers could let it go. No matter who she was paired with, everyone kept asking questions. Some of them – Matt and Luke mostly – had started to guess, wanting to gauge from her reaction if they were any closer to the right answer.

Only Spencer had somewhat let it go when he asked a simple question. “Why don’t you want to tell us where you were?”

“Don’t you have one thing that is so special to you, you just want to keep it for yourself?” She answered his question with a question.

Spencer shrugged. “I mean, we spend so much time together that there’s not really anything you don’t know about me.”

“Exactly,” she responded. “We spend so much time together and know everything about each other that I just wanted to keep this for myself. It’s my little safe haven, my little secret. Just something for me…”

A short silence passed over them, wrapping them up in a comfortable hug and allowing Spencer to let her words sink in. Then, there was one more question he wanted to ask. One he deemed the most important.

“Are you staying safe?”

Y/N couldn’t fight the small smile creeping onto her lips. “Yeah, there’s nothing about it that could harm me in any way,” she answered, though it wasn’t entirely true. There were ways that she could get hurt, but then she wouldn’t be very good at it.

Nodding his head, Spencer offered her a smile. That was all he needed to know. If she really didn’t want to tell them, that was her prerogative. “I get that you want to keep this for yourself. I do. Just know that whatever it is, we would all support you.”

“I know.”

Y/N reached for his hand and squeezed it, letting him know that she appreciated him more than she could put into words. There was so much love for Spencer in her heart, he had no clue. He always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.

“So,” Rossi started when they were on the jet back home. Everyone else was either asleep or listening to some music, meaning no one could hear their conversation. “When’s the next gig?” he asked.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. He couldn’t know. There was no way. “Wh–H–How–How do you–”

A chuckle rolled off Rossi’s lips as he swirled the Scotch in his glass around. “You had a stamp on the back of your hand the other day, one I recognize from my club-going days. And the outfit you wore just kind of screamed ‘rock band’. I was pondering over which instrument you’d play. But then I remembered how you’d always be doing the air drums whenever we were listening to music in the car or at my house… You, my sweet, are a drummer and you’d just returned from a gig when the call about the case came in…” Y/N looked at him, blinking rapidly. “How close am I?”

Y/N scoffed, amused. “You… are one hell of a profiler.” She lifted her mug that held her now luke-warm tea and clinked it with Rossi’s glass. As she sipped her tea, she looked at the guy who was fast asleep on the big couch. Her heart fluttered ever so slightly as she watched him. He looked so peaceful, like he hadn’t just caught a serial killer.

She thought about the conversation she’d had with him, his words resurfacing in her brain. They would all support her. She knew they would, but maybe that was what scared her the most. Maybe it scared her that the people she didn’t even know two years ago would support her, come hell or high water. Or maybe she was just scared that they’d come to a couple of gigs and then start flaking, getting her hopes up and not seeing their familiar faces in the crowd.

“Tomorrow is our next gig,” she finally answered Rossi’s original question. As she raised her gaze to his, he was wearing a soft, proud smile, one that he would give Joy and Kai, too. “And I wouldn’t kick any of you out if you did somehow show up…”

Rossi understood that she didn’t want to get her hopes up, so he simply nodded his head in understanding before reaching for her hand and squeezing it in reassurance. Little did she know that he was already concocting a plan to surprise both y/n and his co-workers.

A plan he set in motion the next day. It was their day off, so Rossi texted everyone an address where to meet them for a drink, that they had something to celebrate. To say everyone was pretty confused when they set foot in The Atlantis was an understatement.

“Why did Rossi want to meet here?” Penelope asked when the team had gathered in front of the club.

“Where even is he?” Emily’s question was quickly answered when Rossi poked his head out the door.

He gestured for them to come inside. “It’s gonna start,” he told them as all seven followed the older man inside where the lights had dimmed.

“Where’s y/n?” Spencer asked, confused and slightly worried before his heart nearly jumped out of his chest over the sudden loud music.

“Start me upStart me up”

The spotlight directed their attention to the stage where a band had started to play. Five members, Spencer counted. One lead singer on guitar, one bassist, one lead guitar, one keyboardist and one drummer. His eyes widened when they landed on the latter.

“Oh my God, is that–” Tara voiced the same thought.

JJ’s and Penelope’s jaws dropped as they, too, noticed who was behind the drums. It was their very own y/n y/l/n. Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way her face was lit up as her head bopped along to the beat she was creating. The way her ponytail would follow the movements happily.

She was radiant.

“Close your mouth, Wonder Boy,” Matt joked, pushing Spencer’s chin upwards to close his mouth.

“You’re drooling, buddy,” Luke chimed in.

When the instrumental bridge hit, y/n’s eyes locked with Spencer’s. Amused and filled to the brim with confidence, she sent him a wink that had him blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, we're halfway thereOh, livin' on a prayer (livin' on a prayer)Take my hand and we'll make it I swear (yeah, we're almost there)Oh, we're livin' on a prayer”

“Livin' on a prayerYou gotta start me up”

The band finished their mashup of ‘Start Me Up’ and ‘Livin’ On A Prayer’, allowing the crowd to burst out in applause. The loudest of them were near the bar, cheering and jeering for their rocking co-worker. Y/N couldn’t stop the sense of pride mush up her insides. She could hug each and every one of them, squeezing them with love and appreciation.

It wasn’t until the band had finished their entire set that y/n was able to do just that.

She was welcomed with applause and cheers and shouts as well as a bottle of beer, handed to her by Luke. Sweating in places she had never sweated before after a gig, she happily accepted the beverage and took a swig.

“This is what you’ve been keeping a secret from us?” Matt asked, incredulously.

“Yeah,” y/n replied sheepishly, holding the cold beer against her hot cheek.

Penelope embraced her sideways, squishing her best friend against her cheek. “Oh, you’re so good!”

“Yeah! I wish we’d known sooner,” JJ agreed, nudging the drummer’s arm.

Shrugging, y/n replied, “I just wanted something for myself, you know? We share so much already, I just wanted this to be my safe haven.”

“What made you change your mind?” Matt questioned.

Y/N’s eyes involuntarily flitted towards Spencer. “The realization that you guys would support me, no matter what. We’re a family, whether we like it or not, and I figured you share everything with your family. Every little ounce of joy. Every achievement. Why should this be any different?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Emily said, raising her beer. Everyone mimicked her movement and clinked their drinks in the air.

After five-hundred questions about y/n’s history with drumming and how she’d ended up in the band, the team decided to call it a night. They had to be in the office early tomorrow, so it was better for them to go home and get a bit of sleep anyway.

“You want a lift?” Spencer asked when he noticed y/n yawning.

She looked up at him, debating her answer. “Yeah, that’d be nice, actually. Thanks, Spence.”

The two of them packed y/n’s drums into the trunk of his car before starting their silent drive up to y/n’s place. He helped her bring the cases up to her place, not saying a word to her. The sudden lack of conversation confused y/n. He hadn’t said much since she’d gotten off the stage.

“Spence,” she stopped him when he was making his way to her door once everything was back in her apartment. He turned to look at her, confusion and nerves written all over his face. Why was he nervous? “Are you okay?”

“Uhm, yeah, why?”

“You haven’t said much to me since I–” she stopped herself and shook her head. “Never mind.”

Y/N turned on her heel to grab her book from her handbag, wanting to read before going to sleep, but Spencer quickly stopped her. “You want to know why I haven’t said anything since you got off the stage,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, though there was something dark in his voice. “Because every time I even think about you up on that stage, in your element, so radiant, so fucking sexy –” the last words came out in a whisper and she noticed his eyes darkening. “I just wanted to kiss you senseless.”

“Kiss… me senseless?” y/n asked, feigning innocence as she moved closer towards Spencer. “Or… Fuck me senseless?”

Something washed over Spencer’s face but before y/n could discern what it was, his lips were already on hers. His hands held her jaw, his fingertips moving up to tangle in her hair whilst his mouth covered hers and moved in sync as soon as her brain had caught up with what was happening.

Already blindly knowing his way through her apartment, Spencer guided her towards her bedroom, only breaking their kiss once when he wanted to remove her shirt.

Y/N could’ve never predicted this outcome after sharing her safe haven with the rest of the team. If she had known, she would’ve done it sooner, just so she could have more moments like this with Spencer.

“If this is gonna happen every time,” y/n gasped while Spencer’s lips were busy on her neck. “I want you to come watch me every time.”

Spencer detached himself from her to look into her eyes. “With pleasure.”

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist:

@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings

Crossed out names means I can't tag you. Please check your settings! ❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

Note

I heard Punk! Steve and came running to your ask box 😂😅

Anyways tell me more please

Ofc Ally ❤️ I give you the origin of Punk!Steve.

After the events of 1985, The Harringtons never returned. They left a voicemail for Steve, something along the lines of bad investments, disappointments and don't call. Steve didn't hear it til he got out of the hospital. He broke down, went on a bender for a week that only Robin managed to pull him out of once she found his house.

They talked a lot, about childhoods and being misunderstood. Steve felt he could tell Robin anything after their time in the mall bathroom and so he did. Robin had brlught a book about the library about overcoming trauma. It probably hadn't been the books intention, but they burnt a lot of stuff that night. A big bonfire by the pool, chatting the precious lawn, Steve didn't care.

They burnt the couch, the pool chairs, his parents mattress, bits of his rooms wallpaper, shirts, that stupid car picture. Anything that his parents had given him that was meant to build him in their image.

Next was the bathroom. Clippers in hand Steve shaved the side of Robin's hair and she did both of his sides in return. Robin cracked a joke that no matter what they did to Steve's hair it still looked perfect. Steve wanted more. A trip the the drugstore provided an answer. A quick bleach and dye later and Robin and Steve giggled at the red tipped hair.

They weren't done, Steve never wanted them to be done, with every hour he felt more free.

"You sure this is safe?"

"No but I saw a girl do it in the bathroom at school and your room is probably more sanitary."

"OW WHAT HAPPENED TO 1 2 3!"

Steve thought the safety pins through his ears were cool.

"When you turn 18, were getting matching tattoos."

"Soulmates for life, dingus."

The following weekend they took a trip to Indianapolis. They checked out thrift shops and spray painted storefronts. Steve traded his converse for docs, his polo's for ripped and mesh shirts. Splashes of solid colour were added to his look. They ripped his jeans in the car. Steve hoarded pins upon pins.

Back home, Robin carefully lined his eyes in dark kohl. His eyes becoming sharp and calculated. He smiled at himself in the mirror, staring back he finally saw Steve, just Steve made completely by him.

"Honestly, looking like this I could carry around my bat."

"Would certainly be convenient next time we're captured by Russians."

Steve rolled his eyes looking back at her lounging on his bed.

"What're you reading?"

"Oh? Um it's a zine I picked up at the last store, you know...the one with the pink triangle?"

"Oh that one." Robin had been educating him about queer history as much as she could for a small town girl. "What's it about?"

Robin bit her lip, "Um well, it's about people like me, and people not quite like me, ya know? Like there's a whole bunch of labels out there, I just wanted to make sure mine fit."

Steve smiled, "And what did you learn?"

"Definitely a lesbian, sorry babes." Steve laughed in return, his feelings for Robin had shifted firmly to platonic and she knew that. "Here, you should take a look, will help broaden ya education."

Steve took the zine and started to flip through it. Inside it detailed genders and sexualities. Steve was intrigued to find out there were more than just boys and girls, but that wasn't what caught his attention the most.

Bisexuality

Steve's eyes seemed to linger on the page, almost for too long.

"Steve? You ok? If you're getting a migraine again we can read it later, no rush."

Steve pulled his eyes away, "No, um, no migraine, it's just, um..." Robin could easily pick up the hesitation in his voice, there was a slight tremor in his hands. She slowly leant over, taking back the zine.

"Oh, Steve."

"Just didn't know a person could be that."

"How does it make you feel?"

"Honestly, I feel more like me than I have my whole life. Thank you, Robs, for all of thos you know."

"Course, dingus, you're my schmuck for life, and... I'm always here if you need to talk about things."

Steve nodded, no words were needed now between them, there would be more days, more discoveries. But now, for now they could sit together, two broken kids feeling a little more whole.

Just Robin.

Just Steve.

Just Them.

#this became punk steve and steve learns anout bisexuality but i feel they would overlap #stranger things #punk steve #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #ficlet #punk steve harrington #punk!steve

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stardragongalaxy · 8 months

Text

Storm of Stygia

Pairing: Yunho x gn reader

WC: 1.5k

Trope/AU/genres: Fallen angel au, smut, Angst, fluff, s2l, elemental play, rough play, marking, biting, fingering, edging, corruption, 18+ MDNI

Summary: Yunho is a fallen seeking what's been lost to him, but when the source appears to be used to communicate, he finds himself craving more

Networks: @pirateeznet @cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire

Taglist: @abiaswreck @sanjoongie @kitten4sannie @kwanisms @starlitmark @twisted-tales-of-all @anyamaris @drunk-on-hwa

AN: This is a bit late, but this is for @flurrys-creativity 1004 Angel collab!! Please enjoy!! Story under the cut! Banner made by me!

Do NOT re-upload, repost, steal, or translate my works!! The characters are not the true representation and rather are face claims. Thank you!

Thunder rumbled in the distance before lightning covered the sky, striking down in multiple locations. One area near the woods, on top of an apartment complex, appeared to look like a man with lightning crossing his body into his eyes. Turning, he watched the humans leaving in vehicles except one who was waving, calling out goodnight from a balcony.

The fallen had watched you go inside curiously, hearing the doors close for the night, raising his head to the stormy sky listening to the boom of thunder. Feeling his wings ache for being so close to his power contained inside a jeweled necklace, he growled, feeling the urge to taste what will be his once again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Finally inside your room beside the dresser top, running your thumb over the large jewel between your fingers, feeling a surge of energy from it. Moving the necklace carefully this time into a wooden box on your night stand onto a silver hook in the middle, shining from the light of the lamp. However, before you could close the wooden and glass door to the jewelry case, a powerful gust opened the balcony doors making you turn quickly. Standing in the doorway, which the lamp only illuminated so much, was a man with six large ebony wings, pulsing with a faint glowing red to the veins and tips of the feathers.

Your eyes widened, standing up slowly, not believing that this being, what you assumed was a fallen angel of sorts with the low cut black tank top with a mesh shirt on top, leather pants, a trench coat, arm guards that end where the fingerless gloves began was in the same vicinity with you. The essence of battle ready and walking sin, leaving you a little more distracted than you'd like to admit.

"Who are you?" Questioning after you felt you stared too long. Watching his line of sight, turning slightly to connect the recent jewelry that was hanging in the box with a glare to you when you turned back when he moved to look at you instead.

" Yunho.." Moving a step closer raising his head "Naughty human, Taking what's mine and hanging it with the rest of your possessions after playing with magick. Did you really think nothing would happen?" Yunho questioned intently, answering your question with a teasing tone, tilting his head with a smirk and lightning traveling within his eyes.

You swallowed not realizing that the necklace you just hung up was connected with Yunho. "I didn't think anything of it" You whispered innocently, new to everything your friends were teaching you.

Yunho sensing your innocence moved closer to you, cupping your chin tilting your head up to look into his eyes. "You followed them blindly? The same mistakes humans make that could easily end your life"

"I…" You started only to have your voice caught in your throat. Yunho watched your eyes quiver, giving the indication of being hesitant and fearful. He clicked his tongue letting his hand drop from your chin looking you over once, stepping back afterwards.

You felt vulnerable under his intense gaze like prey watching a predator before the chase. Yunho stepped closer, wrapping his hand around your arm firmly to lead you to the chair having you sit down.

"I will say this once so listen closely. Give up the necklace and if you consent, I will teach and give you a taste of what could be. What you decide afterwards will set course. Deal?"

"What if I refuse?"

"You won't last long then" Yunho promised, which caused you to shiver with the threatening undertone when he curled his fingers. Taking a deep breath while deciding, You looked at him.

"What does this all entail?"

Yunho smirked, moving his hand, tilting your head with two fingers.

"I'll give you pleasure, teach you myself on the path you take on your own, and protect you. Do you consent?"

After a moment of silence, you made your decision. Biting your lip, you nodded and gave consent to the being in front of you.

Yunho felt relief at the consent. "Stay. It won't take but a moment"

You nodded, watching him head over and gently grab the necklace from the box, putting it on. Your eyes widened watching as Yunho's head fell back and wings spread out within the room as a large boom of thunder sounded making you cover your ears making you whimper. Still keeping your eyes on him, you watched his transformation. It didn't take long as he promised with a few things that truly made magnificent.

Yunho turned half way, locking his now vibrant purple eyes with yours. You looked him over, seeing black claws and his ebony wings bleed down into a vibrant fiery red with no glow in sight. You didn't even realize he moved until he was back in front of you.

One foot on the edge of the chair that you occupied, Yunho leaned forward with one hand gripping your chin to look up at him gently, caressing your cheek as you felt the static of his electrifying touch. Smirking at your expressions, he was mere inches from your face, his eyes lit ablaze at the night ahead.

Yunho leaned in close, centimeters from your face "First lesson" he whispered, taking your lips and meshing them with his to start off testing the waters.

Responding you moved closer, returning the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. He nipped, scratching your bottom lip enough to make them bead up blood from his fangs, but not enough to truly hurt you. Hearing your pained whine turn into a pleasured moan. His hands roaming your body taking in the beautiful shape, memorizing all of you. Yunho broke the kiss finally letting you both breath, pulling back to look at you.

"What are your thoughts?"

"I want more, Yun please.."

He chuckled not having to be told twice, using both hands picking you up from the chair, having you wrap your legs around him carrying you tight to the bed. Moving your legs he let you down onto the bed. His knee dropping down between your legs close to your clothed core.

"Are you sure you want to continue?"

He watched your eyes now with lust and uncertainty awaiting your answer on the decision.

"Please, I want to experience more.." You whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He hummed, raising his hand for the winds to close the balcony doors gently before he continued. "Lay back and relax. I'll go easy"

Yunho leaves for a moment getting a towel then coming back, not making you wait long. You did as instructed letting Yunho take the lead as he moved closer. Letting you pull down the night clothes to expose your core. He moaned at how wet you already were. He carefully pulled you up, putting the towels under you and letting you down which confused you, but you went with it.

He didn't give much warning aside from tapping on the thigh which caused you to spread your legs wider. He worked his first finger to let you get used to the feeling, pushing in and out slowly. Going on he added another finger going a little faster, moving a little at a time to find the spot. Hearing you gasp, he smirked, messing with where he hit, seeing you react. He pulled out when near climax, leaving you whining.

Yunho licked some essence off one finger and let you taste it from the other.

"The Night just started" He stated teasingly. Putting his two fingers in, adding a third this time, beginning again. Only sending you a few times gauging your reactions each time, smirking at how much he was corrupting you, enjoying every second. Yunho leans down by your ear.

"Now to give you one thing I promised" Whispering deeply, his fingers entering, adding four, but moving faster than anticipated adding light jolts of electricity for stimulation knocking the wind out of you. Finally, you arched your back, gasping then crying out Yunho's name, letting the waves of the intense orgasm overtake you, him riding you through it until you calmed down. He tilted his head, bringing his fingers into his mouth, licking off all your essence while you caught your breath. He smiled, seeing the streaks of black veins etched around his insignia on your inner thigh engraved from his own power. Proceeding to get you cleaned up afterwards watching you start falling asleep.

Tossing the towels into the hamper, he helped you into new night clothes and put you into bed. You kept your eyes open long enough for him to put a feather on the nightstand in front of the jewelry box beside your bed and lock your bedroom and balcony doors firmly. Coming back to you, he bent down to face level.

"Call me when you need me from the gift I left you"

"What about the board?" You slurred from being sleepy.

"Don't mess with the board anymore. It brings many bad things" he warned, standing up and moving his clawed hand to the lamp, watching you close your eyes, being the last thing you saw before Yunho turned the lamp off for the night.

#cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #ateez smut #jeong yunho smut #18+#ateez yunho smut

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hopepetal · 1 year

Text

Well... here it is. The epilogue of my boatem knights au fic! I have a few things to say/thanks to give before we move on to the actual fic.

This is my most popular series ever. Over the course of writing this I have learned so much, gained so many new friends, and had some of the best experiences of my life. I have been treated with such kindness and enthusiasm from the community that I have never gotten in any other community I have been in before, and it's blown me away. You all are the reason I continued writing, even as my life became hectic and my schedule became packed.

I'd like to give thanks to @applestruda for creating this au and letting me write this fic. Bee, you are amazing. I always get so excited whenever I see you around, and your ideas are so, so cool. You are so amazing and kind and you deserve all the kindness in the world. Love you Bee <3

Next, @stiffyck. Where would I be without you? I have been yelling at you in dms for the longest time, and you always match my enthusiasm, yelling right back at twice the volume. You are so fun to bounce ideas off of, and it's always great to meet people you mesh well with. Thank you for being such an avid supporter <3

And @beeboppo, because seeing your little phone drawings in my inbox always make my day. You are so funny and kind and I'm so happy I get to know you. Creating things with you is always so fun, and you always have so many ideas and thoughts. Much love <3 I appreciate you

Alright!! Now onto the fic!!

Masterlist

Scar woke slowly from a deep darkness that weighed him down, slowing his movements and his thoughts. Yawning, he brought his hands up to rub his face with his eyes still closed, stretching his arms above his head before finally opening his eyes. The first thing he noticed was Grian, sitting in a chair next to his bed. It seemed like the avian had fallen asleep on the side of Scar’s bed, resting his head on his arms as he snored softly.

As Scar blinked away the last tendrils of sleep, trying to reorient himself, he began to feel all the aches and pains that he associated with the day after an extreme workout. He felt like he had run five miles in a full on sprint, exhaustion weighing his limbs down along with the painful soreness that pulsed in his entire body. Gazing around the room, he noticed the large window next to his bed that allowed sunlight to stream in. Judging by the light level, it was almost sundown.

Glancing down, Scar noticed that he had bandages wrapped around his arms and judging by the feel, around his neck as well. He recalled how one of their captors- gosh, he had already forgotten their names- had held a sword to his throat in order to threaten him. That had led to Scar going feral and-

He inhaled sharply, hands clenching into fists as memories came crashing into him like a tidal wave. He recalled the taste of blood, the endless rage that had pushed him to brutally slaughter those who had dared to hurt him and his friend. He remembered the screams, the sounds of death all around him, and then the faint sound of Grian’s voice calling out to him through the rage that had consumed him.

A soft mumble pulled Scar out of his thoughts, and he glanced down to see Grian shift before slowly blinking his eyes open. Light brown curls fell in front of his dark eyes as the avian slowly sat up, yawning. Scar noticed how he had changed into a comfortable red shirt and grey pants, an improvement from those scratchy green robes they had been forced to wear by that stupid mercenary. “You pull that off a lot better than you do the half naked and dying look, I think,” he joked, his voice quiet and rasping from disuse.

A sleepy smile broke out on Grian’s face, though his eyes were filled with a sad kind of gentleness. “Hi, Scar.” He reached out to take Scar’s hand in his own, a hurt expression briefly flashing across his face when the other jerked away before he carefully put up a front of unbothered neutrality. “How are you feeling?”

Scar immediately began mentally cursing himself upon seeing Grian’s hurt expression. He hadn’t meant to reject the other knight so harshly, but he had been worried that he’d hurt Grian by accident, again. Nevertheless, he gave Grian a bright smile, trying to cover up those pesky emotions. “You know, my good man, I could be better! But hey, I'm here, I'm awake, it's a beautiful day, so there's that!” Oh, he was so trying to dodge the question. And Grian absolutely knew this, Scar could tell by the slight furrow in his brow.

Grian stood, and for a moment Scar was afraid that he had really goofed it now, that Grian was going to leave and never return, but all the avian said was, “I’m going to go tell the others you’re awake.” He began to walk to the door before turning back briefly, hand on the doorframe. “Are you okay with that?”

Scar nodded, and watched as Grian slipped out of the room. He barely had any time to get lost in thought before Grian walked back in, followed by Mumbo, Impulse, and Pearl. Immediately, Mumbo and Impulse began to scold him with all the air of two worried fathers, while Grian and Pearl watched from a little behind the two. It was pretty obvious that Mumbo was crying, despite the man arguing that he was not, there was just something in his eyes, he was absolutely not full on sobbing. Scar kept insisting that he was alright, sending glances toward Pearl and Grian every so often in a cry for help, only getting smirks in return. Traitors…

Once Impulse and Mumbo were finished going full-on dad mode, Pearl stepped forward and took the seat Grian had previously been sitting in. “You alright to give us a moment alone, boys?” she asked, and with a soft murmur of agreement the other three knights left the room, Grian hesitating for a moment before following and closing the door behind him. Once they had all left the room, Pearl sighed. The smile on her face dropped as she leaned forward, hands clasped in her lap. “Scar,” she began, “you are one of the strongest people I know.”

Scar chuckled slightly, trying to ward off the tension that had grown in the room from the sudden mood shift. “Thanks. Still haven’t beaten you at arm wrestling, though.” The attempt at humor was mostly to relieve that pressure in his chest brought on by anxiety.

Pearl cracked a smile. “That’s not what I meant, you goof.” Back to the more serious tone. “You are strong, Scar. You let yourself get captured.” She sat back, sighing quietly. “Why?”

Scar felt his heart sink, feeling as though there was a pit in his stomach. He turned his head away, trying to avoid eye contact. “I…” his voice cracked, and with it, his constitution crumbled. He couldn’t lie to Pearl. No one could. With a trembling voice and hands, he continued. “I hurt Grian. I hurt him really badly because of my- because of my stupid vex form and those stupid vex instincts and then if that wasn’t bad enough I went and got us both kidnapped-”

“Hey.” Pearl cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. “Do you wanna know something about me that I haven’t told anyone else here?” She gave Scar a tight smile, something akin to regret in her eyes. “I’ve hurt Grian before.”

Scar couldn’t help it. His eyes widened in shock. Pearl clearly noticed, because she let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Stabbed him with a sword. We were young and sparring, and, well, I underestimated my own strength. He has a scar on his leg from the incident.” She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I felt terrible when it happened. Swore to never pick up a sword again, can you imagine?” She gave Scar a wry smile, and Scar found that he couldn't imagine that. Pearl as anything but a knight was just... not possible. “Right? You see what I’m talking about. Eventually, Grian beat some sense into me. Not literally,” she clarified, seeing the look on Scar’s face, “I mean that he talked to me. We spoke about everything and worked it out. And now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Scar echoed faintly, his voice sounding far away. He wondered if things could really be the same for him and Grian. After all, not only had he almost killed the avian, but he had also gotten them both kidnapped, sick, and humiliated. Surely there was a difference. He really doubted his mistakes could be fixed with a little chit-chat.

“Hey.” Pearl interrupted, shaking Scar out of his spiraling thoughts, “I know what's going on in there.” She tapped her head with a finger, smiling gently. “I’ve been there before. Tell you what- how about I go get Grian back in here and we talk. Does that sound good?”

Scar nodded wordlessly, worried that if he answered the tears he was holding back would spill over. He didn’t deserve to cry or feel bad for himself. He was the one at fault here, he was the one holding everyone back. Noticing Pearl had left the room, Scar began to really panic. Oh gosh, what if Grian hated him? What if, what if-

Pearl reentered the room, pulling Grian along with her. Scar snapped out of his thoughts once more as Grian pulled up a second chair and sat down in it, Pearl sitting next to him. Grian was smiling at him, Scar noted, and bitterly wondered what he had done to deserve it.

Pearl clapped her hands together, startling Scar. He laughed and put his hands over his heart as though he had been actually terrified. “Right- sorry Scar- time to talk!”

And before he knew it, Scar was rambling, avoiding eye contact with Grian at all costs. “I know it's all my fault and I'm so incredibly sorry, I know you must be furious at me because I didn't only hurt you but I got us kidnapped too and they almost took your wings and it was so humiliating and then-”

“Scar.”

“And I understand if you want to kick me out from the knights I don't deserve it anyway and I'm so sorry that I was a burden and-”

“Scar.”

“-I'm sorry you've had to put up with me for so long and-”

“SCAR!”

Scar shut up.

Grian reached out and carefully took one of Scar’s hands in his own, as though he were afraid Scar was going to pull away again. Tenderly, he stroked the back of Scar’s hand with his thumb, smiling softly. “You made a mistake, Scar,” he admitted gently, eyes sorrowful.

Scar’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he looked away. This was it then. The moment where he got kicked out of the knights, out of the only family he had known for the longest time. It had been amazing while it had lasted, at least…

Grian continued. “That mistake was pushing us away when you needed us the most.”

Scar froze, looking up at Grian. Green eyes met dark ones, both shining with held back tears. “What?” he whispered, afraid of being too loud.

“Scar…” Grian gazed at him, and his eyes were every part compassion and love. “I forgive you.”

The dam broke.

Scar let out a heartbreaking wail, the tears beginning to flow as he sobbed. He felt himself pull Grian close, hugging him tightly and gasping out ‘thank you’s in between sobs. Grian’s arms wrapped around him, offering a comfort he had so desperately longed for during the past few days.

Later, Scar would follow Pearl and Grian out of the small room, eyes red and puffy but with a small smile on his face. They would all talk and laugh, before heading outside to spend the night under the stars, swapping tales and singing songs. Scar would be surrounded by his friends and their love for him, and would fall asleep long after the sound of crickets became the loudest thing around.

But for now, Scar would cry, and that was okay.

#my writing #boatem knights au #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft au #boatem fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #scar #grian #pearlescentmoon #pearl #mumbo jumbo #impulse #angst #hurt/comfort #welp. it's been an honor everyone o7 #i'm so sad it's over gjfgh #this series is my baby

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helplesslyblue77 · 1 year

Text

It Felt So Wrong(It Felt So Right)

Genre: Smut, minors dni

Pairing: Step Dad!Bang Chan x Reader, Step Bro!Felix x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Step-Sibling Incest, Step Dad!Chan, Step Brother!Felix, Smut, slight degration, Daddy Kink, use of slut, Moral Dilemmas but less than youd think because the author is lazy as fuck

Notes: its very much focused on the reader and there is no m/m action cause chan and felix r related and thats to much even for me,

ok so...you know how its like 3 am and you just had a whole cryfest about how knowone will ever love you and you are obsessing over men who dont even know you exist? and then you feel dumb and take a shower and chug an energy drink while you eat Pizza and smash out like four chapters of your WIP and one very dirty convoluted oneshot????

Yeah.

Anyway i literally cannot watch any clips from Bang Chan's lives the man makes me so Delulu its not ok.

The Title is from 'I Kissed a Girl' by Katy Perry, i love that song man.

You had just turned fourteen when your mother had come home, sat you down at the table, and announced she was getting married. You had not been surprised. You wished her well and snuck upstairs while she talked loudly on the phone with her friends, hardly sparing you a glance.

Your mother seemed to bring home a new man every few years, and at this point, you barely even cared.

And she barely spared a thought for you as well. You were well-fed and had your credit card, but you lacked the love only a parent could give you. Your mother was much too caught up in her pretty jewels and visits to the country club to pay you much thought.

She was selfish, your mother, and used her pretty face and ample figure to get whatever she wanted in life, whether it be money, clothes, or men, she could have it all. The other men your mother seemed to favor never really spared you a glance, too caught up in your mother's boob job to pay attention to her only daughter, so you really had no expectations when it came to this new man.

But when you were finally introduced, you noticed how he was different.

He looked at you, smiled at you, and acknowledged your presence unlike so many of the others had. He even brought you a gift, a pretty silver necklace with a small charm.

He was handsome, and of course much younger than your own mother. Christopher, he said his name was, and he smiled at you warmly, introducing his son to you. Felix was sweet, pretty with a smile like the sun and the two of you hit it off immediately, rushing indoors to play video games while your parents snuck off.

You pretended not to know what they were doing.

You adjusted well to the two of them, Felix transferred into your school and you showed him around, introducing him to your friends. He meshed well into your small group and in no time at all, you were happy as can be. You hoped they would stick around, your mother tended to trade off men very quickly., tossing out the old and bringing in the new every few years.

It was the first time you could remember hoping she didn't get a new boy toy, hoping that Chris and Felix would stick around. But then, in your Junior year of high school, it happened.

You remembered the frantic call from the hospital. Felix’s hand gripped your own tightly as you watched your mother's monitor flatline. You felt guilty, like maybe you should have felt more devastated, but truthfully, you weren't that sad.

You shed tears later, however, wetting the sunny yellow of Felix’s favorite t-shirt. It wasn't the fact that your mother was gone, no, it was your stepfather's devastated face that made you sob like a baby in Felix’s arms.

You hadn't loved your flighty, unreliable mother, but your stepfather had. Even though you all knew she had been cheating on him the last few months.

Your mother is dead now, and it was all in the past.

It all began on that very night, the night your mother died. Your seventeenth birthday had passed barely a few weeks before and you had fingered the pretty necklace they had given you as you ate. Your mother hadn't gotten you a present, but Felix and your stepdad had, and they had spent extra time with you when they noticed your mother was ignoring you as usual.

You remembered how Felix’s pretty face had lit up with a smile when he handed you the gift, Chris subtly shoving a card across the table.

They liked to give you jewelry, and you liked to receive it. It felt nice to be dressed up and you kind of understood why your mother liked it so much. The card had a few hundred in it, and a handwritten note from both of them, telling you how much they cared about you.

You had cried later that night, curled up in Felix’s arms as usual, and thanked him over and over. He had just laughed and comforted you as always. That night, you realized how nice it was to have people who cared about you, people who enjoyed hanging out with you, and who valued the things you had to say.

You dared to think that you were glad your mother was dead, so you could have a real family, all to yourself.

The next day, when your small family moved away from your mother's empty cold house, Chris(As he had insisted you call him) reassured you that they would always care for you that you were their family, that you could live with them as long as you wished.

You felt your cold dead heart, so hardened by your mother's uncaring attitude, begin to blossom in your chest. You noticed, for the first time, how pretty Felix was, with his blond hair and the freckles dotting his skin, how firm his chest felt from years of martial arts when he pressed you up against it. You noticed the caring way he looked at you, the way he comforted you when you were sobbing your eyes out over a dumb boy, or how he always made sure to buy you your favorite drinks from the store.

You noticed your stepfather's dimples when he smiled at you, his muscly arms when he lifted your things and carried them into the house. You noticed the way he would go out of his way to make your favorite foods when he saw you were down, how he didn't get a new girlfriend, probably because he thought you would be upset about it.

You noticed how they cared about you, but most of all, you noticed they were men. And it would plague your mind for years to come.

It started out innocent. Your heart sped up when they came to close, dreams of kissing plump familiar lips, blushing cheeks.

But then it became worse.

And the day of your eighteenth birthday, you awoke sweaty and panting in your bed, two forbidden names falling from your mouth.

You had never considered them as family, not really. Chris was your mother's new toy, and Felix was more of a friend than a brother. That careless attitude was coming back to haunt you.

So you left.

Packed your bags and went off to boarding school. It gave you a break from the suffocating tension that seemed to settle over the house with the loss of your mother. It made you feel guilty, here Chris was so broken up about your mother while you thirsted about him, fantasized about him bending you over the table and taking you ruthlessly. When Felix would smile at you, asking to cuddle and all you could think about was his pretty mouth doing other things to you.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Your twenty-first birthday was only a few days away when you returned from, settling back into your old room and your old routine.

Chris welcomed you back with open arms, hugging you warmly and stroking your hair. “Missed you babygirl.” He would murmur in your ear, and you tried not to shiver at the familiar nickname.

“Missed you too Chris.” With a pat on your back, he hoisted your luggage up and disappeared inside, arms flexing.

Felix tackled you in a hug next, pressing his lithe body into your back. He'd grown while you were gone, shoulder filling out and arms flexing as he hugged you tightly in a sweet back hug. You tried not to imagine what it would feel like if he was doing something else in this position. But this was Felix, he would never even imagine anything like that.

“Missed you Oppa.”

He kissed your neck, and you breathed in his clean scent of sunflowers and things you couldn't quite place. He smelled like home. You jostled against him, accidentally rubbing your but against him and he flinched, pulling away slightly.

You froze, it couldn't be, right? Your sweet innocent brother Felix would never…

He pulled away fully and you decided it was best to ignore it for now, so you grabbed his hand, leading him in.

He smiled at you, and you grinned back. “Dad and I made you a welcome back dinner, it's gonna be great.”

He let you lead him inside, the screen door slamming behind the two of you. You were home.

𝄑𝄑𝄑

You loved being back. The familiar smell of Chris’s cooking, your video game nights with Felix, and most of all, having a family again. But you still couldn't shake that tension. You knew you were the problem and it made you feel guilty. It was hard to cuddle on the couch with Felix when all you could think about was riding him right on this very couch.

It was hard to work out with Chris when you just wanted him to take you in the dirty gym over the workout machines.

But then, on the eve of your twenty-first birthday, when you were all gathered around the table serving the delicious chocolate cake you and Felix had made, you noticed something.

Maybe it was the way their gazes were focused on you, maybe it was the lighting, playing tricks on your brain, but you swore you saw a flicker of desire in their eyes. You shook it off, sighting your horny imagination, and enjoyed your cake, but you could never really forget it.

Over the next few weeks, you noticed things. Lingering glances, guilty eyes flicking away from your cleavage when you wore low-cut shirts when you had sunbathed out by the pool and Chris had come out, dragging his eyes away from your figure as he handed you a glass of homemade lemonade. Or the fact that Felix had laundry duty and some of your panties had mysteriously gone missing.

They both wanted you, that was obvious, but lingering doubts stopped them from just taking you, taking what they wanted. They seemed to think you didn't want them, but oh how wrong they were. They just needed a little push.

So you hatched a plan.

𝄑𝄑𝄑

Your plan was set in motion on a Saturday night. Chris had just gotten back from work, and you bounced over to him, all smiles. “Hey Chris, Felix is gone, and I really wanna watch this movie.” You pouted as he removed his coat, sending him those puppy eyes you knew he was weak for. “Watch it with me.”

He nodded, like the weak man he was, and met your sweet smile as you grabbed his hand, bouncing happily over to the couch and pushing him down. “Gonna go change.”

You make sure to wear your sluttiest pj set, a silk lace tank top, and some matching undies, and bounce back downstairs, plopping yourself down and cuddling up to Chris. “Ready.” Is all you said, grabbing the remote and starting the movie.

He coughs a little, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Aren't you a little cold? Your Pj’s are, um, small.”

You smile up at him innocently, standing up. “Maybe a little, but you're so warm.” You say, and plop down right in his lap. “There, problem solved.” You smile up at him and he smiles back tightly, hands automatically gripping your hips and adjusting you slightly.

You feel your pussy throb at that unexpected show of strength. You're going to go insane if one of your hot sudo family members doesn't fuck you this instant.

So you ramp it up.

Pretending to be cold, you move backward, jostling around on his lap intentionally. He grunts a little, hands on your waist making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

\You're winning though, you can tell when you move a little too much, and your but brushes up against something big and hard. He winces, opening his mouth to apologize, but his words dissolve in his throat as you grind down, head falling against his shoulder.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks, “We should stop.”

You grind your core directly on his length and you both groan. His hands move your hips, grinding them against him. He speaks again. “Tell me to stop.”

You can see the guilt in his eyes, the turmoil that wars within him so you shut him up with a kiss.

“Chris. Fuck me.”

He tries to resist, you feel him brace to pull away, and so you move falling backward off the couch and pulling him with you as you crash to the floor. If you were less horny you would appreciate how he protects the back of your head as you fall, but at this moment you just need his hands on you, his lips on your own, his cock inside you—

So you reach up, sealing your lips in a kiss. He kisses back immediately, his tongue finding its way into your mouth. The kiss is wild, passionate, and hungry, weeks of pent-up lust and longing culminating in this very moment.

He practically devours your mouth, hands ripping your pretty pj set in his hast as he rips it off. You whine in protest and he pulls away, kissing down your body. “Don't worry baby girl, I'll buy you another.”

Your core clenches at that nickname and you grip his hair, forcing his face down. He obliges, his hot breath teasing your wet core. His voice is a growl when he speaks. “So wet for me. Do you want my cock that much?”

You whine, bucking helplessly into the air. “Yes, want Daddy's cock.”

He chuckles, planting a sweet kiss on your clothed core as you writhe with need. “Such a pretty slut for Daddy.”

You whine and he finally pulls your panties aside, diving into your pussy like a man starved. The sounds that leave your mouth are sinful, moans and pants of his name ring off the walls of the living room.

You're so distracted you don't hear the sound of the front door slamming, Felix’s carefree humming as he makes his way down the hall, headphones blaring.

𝄑𝄑𝄑

Felix felt guilty that he couldn't watch that movie with you, but the school called and his professor offered him a chance he simply couldn't turn down.

As he arrived home, however, headphones glued to his head, he practically skipped up the path, Happy to see you. He slammed the door open, closing it just as loudly and tromping down the hall, towards the kitchen. He was hungry, there were probably some leftovers in the fridge. He opened the door to the living room and froze, not believing his eyes.

There you were, spread out on the carpet, naked. And that was his dad between your legs.

Felix froze. He couldn't believe this.

He had never been so jealous of somebody in his life.

It had started years ago when he had met you, to be honest. You were sweet and kind and irresistible to his teenage mind. And you liked prancing around the house in skimpy little crop tops and shorts and Felix was only a man. You were touchy too, always pressed against him and in his lap, and Felix had spent many a night huddled in his bed frantically jerking off as quietly as possible.

He still remembered that one time your little family had decided to go to the beach. Felix had suffered a lot that day, doing his best to not get hard as you pranced around the beach in that cute bathing suit, dragging him around as you usually did. And then you had asked him to put sunscreen on your back.

Felix might have died and gone to heaven that day.

It had only gotten worse and worse, and you got your heart broken by the jerks you dated. Felix knew he could have treated you so much better than those jerks, but he had accepted being there for you as you cried over those assholes, ignoring the throbbing in his chest and groin and comforting you the best he could.

But then you had returned home from boarding school. Felix had thought you couldn't get more pretty than you already were, but you had. Your figure had filled out and you had become more confident. Your clothes had become skimpier and your legs longer and everything about you was just meant to taunt him.

You were irresistible, and he knew his dad was feeling your effect too, but to walk into this.

Felix watched guiltily, his stomach roiling with jealousy and arousal and you gripped his dad's hair, bucking wilding into his face. He stumbled back, crashing into a coat rack. Your eyes shot up, meeting him and he looked away guiltily.

He hurriedly bowed, stuttering out an apology, but you stopped the flow of words, crooking a finger at him. He stared at you in disbelief, and you nodded. He bounded over, ever the happy puppy and you turned over, on your hands and knees, presenting your ass to your daddy. He grinned at you, as Felix gripped your chin, kissing you sweetly as he fiddled with the zipper on his pants. You helped him, releasing him from the prison his pants had become.

Your mouth watered. How was it possible for a cock to be pretty? He was large as well and you stuck our tongue out, giving it a hesitant lick. He groaned and encouraged, you took him in your mouth, gagging around his girth.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to his cock as his hands lodged themselves in your hair controlling your movements. You were so distracted you forgot about Chris, right up until you felt a hot heat brushing against your entrance.

Chris chuckled darkly, the head of his cock nudging the walls of your pussy apart as he spears you open. You moan helplessly around Felix’s cock as he bottoms out, his cock impossibly deep in you.

His voice is a rasp when he speaks. “Look at you, a perfect little slut for Daddy. Taking your step-brother's cock so good.” You clench and he laughs. “You like that?”

He begins to move, long harsh thrusts that you feel in your gut, and Felix begins to fuck your face as well. You feel used, like a perfect little fuckdoll.

You love every minute of it.

Chris leans over you, grunting those sexy words into your ear. “Look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well, like you were made for us.”

Felix’s pretty moans tangle with your own, creating a symphony of wounds. Felix speaks his voice full of wonder, “She’s so pretty, so perfect for us.”

Chris chuckles, slapping your ass as Felis whimpers.

You feel so full and perfect, your stomach pulsing with heat as you moan around Felix helplessly, trying to communicate with them. Felix speaks, his voice throaty. “I think she's cumming.”

Chris speeds up his thrusts. “You cumming around daddy’s cock you dirty girl?”

You moan helplessly and he chuckles, landing a harsh slap on your ass. “Felix, fuck her face. She likes it rough.” He nods, and obeys, gripping your cheeks and fucking you roughly. It's so unlike your sweet Felix, the kind boy with the sunshine smile, it makes you clench around Chris’s cock one more time.

Chris feels it and his thrusts falter. “You want Daddy’s cum?” You nod helplessly, tears streaming down your face, muffled moans

He flicks your clit and you come, screaming around Felix’s cock as he cums down your throat with a pretty moan. Chris grunts as he cums inside you, his thick cum dripping out of your hole as he pulls out. Felix lets your head fall forward, petting your hair as he pulls his still-hard cock out of your mouth.

He looks up at his dad, “Can I have a turn?”

You whimper in response, pushing him down and sinking down on his length, Chris’s cum dripping out of your pussy. You both moan as he bottoms out, the stretch of a cock burning ever so slightly as he bucks up into you.

Big dick jeans run in the family it seems.

You hear footsteps and Chris grips your hair roughly, pulling your face up to look at him. Felix grips your hips and begins to fuck you down on him and you moan as Chris speaks again. “Do you like being used, pretty girl? You like being our obedient little fucktoy?”

At your moan of acceptance, he chuckles, dropping your head and coming back around. You squeal as his fingers come in contact with your other hole, prying it open as he spits inside. Felix pulls you down into a kiss, still hammering inside you as his tongue fucks your mouth. Chris lines up his cock with your ass and without so much as a warming, bottoms out. You scream, overwhelming amounts of pain and pleasure rocking you.

You don't think you've ever taken so many large cocks at the same time.

Chris grunts, slapping your ass as he begins to thrust and matches pace with Felix as he grunts out, “Such a good little girl. Taking Daddy’s cock better than your mother ever did.”

You clench around him shamefully at the mention of your mother, your pride souring. He chuckles as Felix swallows your moans.

“I've wanted to fuck you since you got back, Felix too. You're so irresistible, baby girl.”

Your fingers are drawing scratches in Felix’s freckled back as you clutch him tightly, Moaning up a storm as two cock drill into you, rendering you dumb and speechless.

You almost feel like they're fucking your brain out, and you clench around them, feeling that ever-present coil in your stomach tightens.

Felix moves his hands, letting his dad control your hips and using them instead on your boobs, his lith fingers working magic on your hard nipples. You reward him by sucking hickeys into his pretty neck and he does the same, whimpering out your name as he bucks into you. You can tell he's going to cum and you are so close, almost there.

They both speed up their thrusts and Felix moves his hand, his fingers drawing small fast circles on your clit. With an embarrassingly loud moan, you cum, falling back onto Felix’s chest with a pant.

Felix follows shortly after, pumping his cum into your greedy pussy. His dad follows not long after, with an unfairly attractive grunt.

He pulls out, and you feel their mixed seed dripping out of your fluttering holes, down your legs and onto the carpeted floor of the livingroom, dirtying your mothers favorite rug.

Felix hoists you up, carrying you upstairs and settling you gently on his bed, stroking your hair as they clean you up.

There's a lot that needs to be talked about, but for now, you pull them down with you, cuddling up with them as you drift off, surrounded by the people who care about you.

originally posted on ao3 on 2023-05-29

reposted to tumblr on 2023-06-08

#stray kids smut #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #lee felix x reader #felix lee #skz smut #mariannacrxss

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starfirewildheart · 3 months

Text

The Wolf and the Flame

Summary:

sex, first time, tender, loving, hot, sex, be warned.

Chapter 10

Geralt and Naurel made their way back to the keep stopping along the way to kiss and tease each other. Once inside he took her hand and was about to start up the stairs when Vesemir put his hand on his chest stopping him. “You need to talk to Eskel, wolf, and work out the problem. I don’t know why the tension is there but it will only fester if it’s not addressed.”

Geralt did not want to have this conversation right now but respected Vesemir enough to listen. “I will try again but he…” Vesemir cut him off, holding a finger up in warning.

“I will tell you just like I told him. I am giving you one more chance to fix this yourselves but one more fight and I will bend you over the table in the dining hall and tan your hides just like when you were kids.”

Geralt could feel the heat in his face as a stunned embarrassment washed over him momentarily but he quickly composed himself. “I will try, I promise.”

Vesemir put a hand on Geralt’s should and smiled as he glanced at Naurel, whose hand was still clasped in Geralt’s then looked back at his charge. “You can do it later. Go,” he nodded his head to the stairs laughing when the two took off like teenagers.

Naurel was laughing by the time Geralt pulled her into his room only stopping when he kissed her. He pulled her cloak off and tossed it aside and did the same with his own without breaking the kiss. They swayed together like they were dancing until his hips came to rest against his small dresser. He sat back against the top of it and pulled her between his thighs as he reached for the buttons on her shirt. Her heartbeat was faster than a hummingbird and he could feel her trembling so he pulled back to look down at her. “Are you ok? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head but couldn’t look him in the eye. She was scared and didn’t know if she could tell him because she felt so stupid. “I want to, believe me. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

He pondered her words and how they didn’t mesh with her actions and came to a conclusion. “You’re afraid I will hurt you. Of course, it makes sense because I’m a witcher and I’m strong but I promise I will be easy with you. I will watch my strength when I hold you and..”

“Geralt, no.” She stepped back between his thighs and cupped his face in her hands. “I’m not afraid of you. I know that you would never hurt me and I trust you completely.”

The fact that she said those words with such surety made his heart quiver. “Then what's wrong?”

“I.. you…” she really wanted the floor to open up and swallow her right now.

“You can tell me anything, my love.”

“You’ve been with Yennefer and Triss and I’m sure a lot of others.”

“That was in the past. I love you and only you,” he reassured her.

She reached out and gripped in carefully, looking up at him through her lashes when he gasped. His eyes were lidded and glazed with desire and it spurred her on. Her experimental stroke was gentle and guarded not wanting to hurt him but he had other ideas. His large hand closed over hers adjusting the grip of her hand to a much firmer hold than she thought he’d like then he guided both their hands up and down the hard shaft. The veins below the skin felt like small ridges to her palm and on each downstroke, the wet, pink tip peeked out of the top. Something in her just had to know how it tasted so she gave the tip a small kitten lick. The moan he let out sounded heavenly and she wanted to hear it more.

Geralt forced himself to stay as still as a statue while she explored his body. He didn’t want to scare her and was trying to be patient and give her time to learn him. That was a task that was getting harder and harder by the second, literally. When he felt her tongue against his head he couldn’t hold back the moan and he nearly lost it when she looked up at him from between his legs. It was a sight he’d never get enough of. He had to grip the edge of the dresser when her mouth closed over him and she started sucking. Her tongue curled around his girth and sent a chill up his spine and a flame in his belly as she started moving her head. When she gently cupped his balls and rolled them in her hand he heard the wood of the dresser creek from his grip. “Fuck!”

Naurel continued sucking him getting brave enough to go deeper and deeper until she gagged herself. Making yourself puke on your lover was not in her planes so she adjust her depth and was quite enjoying her task. It wasn’t until she heard the wood of the dresser almost splinter that she paused and looked up at him, cock still in her mouth, in question.

“Fuck,” he moaned again at the sight and grabbed a handful of her hair in his right hand to anchor himself. “Don’t stop,” he urged. He was so worked up from all the sexual tension all this time that he was so close that he knew it would be better to go ahead and cum than he could take his time with her. His witcher libido never failed him. He’d be hard again in no time. It took all his strength not to give in and just fuck her mouth but it wasn’t long until he felt the coil in his belly and his balls start to tighten. Giving a gentle tug on her hair he panted, “going to cum” in warning. She didn’t stop and that was somehow even hotter. One last suck and he was shooting his seed in her mouth was a loud moan.

Naurel swallowed the bitter seed and continued sucking spurred on by the sounds he was making but they suddenly started to sound more pained than pleasurable so she let him slip from her mouth. The sight she was greeted with was the hottest thing she’d ever seen in her life and made her moan. Geralt, panting and boneless looking more relaxed than she’d ever seen anyone was a Geralt she needed more of. Getting to her feet she pulled him into a hug kissing his neck lazily while he recovered. It only took a few minutes before his grip on her tightened and he stood, spinning them so that she was now sitting on the dresser.

“You are amazing.” He grinned as he pressed his forehead to hers before kissing down her cheek and whispering, “My turn.” He kissed every inch of her skin as he bared it before standing back and admiring her for a moment. He held his hand out to her helping her down and then carrying her over to the bed. Once he laid her on the soft blanket he lowered himself over her. Kissing down her body he laved each breast sucking and teasing her nipples until she was breathless. He loved the way her body arched as he continued moving lower pressing kisses everywhere. Taking his hand he repositioned her legs so that they were spread and kissed the inside of each thigh,

Naurel had a sudden realization of what he was about to do and she quickly snapped her knees together causing him to move his head out of the way. “Umm, what are you doing?”

He grinned, “experiencing. Relax love,” he soothed and pushed at her legs again,

“Umm experiencing with your mouth,,,there?”

“Yes, if you will relax long enough. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“But umm…” she blushed wildly and gestured with her hands. “It’s umm all…”

“Wet?” He laughed when she blushed even redder. “I intend to keep it that way from now on. Wet and slick with your desire for me, ready to take me whenever the mood strikes,” he rumbled before delving between her legs and lapping at her folds.

She wanted to argue, to push his head away but his tongue was doing things that made her buck up against his face instead. His low humm of approval vibrated against that same spot and she couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out. Her legs seemed to have spread wider and lifted up of their own accord and Geralt took it as a good sign because soon she felt his blunt fingers joining his tongue. When the first finger slid into her it set off a sensation she’d never felt before. Everything seemed to drive her need to be filled, to get more touch, pressure, anything! She was a writhing mess by the time he had worked her up to three fingers and that burning coil of pleasure low in her body was taking on an entirely new feeling. It was like waves against the beach sending shock aftershock of pleasure through her as her body spasmed. “Geralt!”

By the time she clenched around him and coated his fingers in her release he was hard and dripping again as he pressed himself against the blanket for some friction. Once he’d coaxed her through her first orgasm he climbed back up her body. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

“That was…” she was breathless.

“Nothing yet,” he smirked and rubbed his hard cock between her wet pussy. “You ready love?”

“Please,” she rasped.

The slide in was wonderful. Sensations were on overdrive and she was so tight against him that he had to stop a few times so he wouldn’t cum. He kept kissing her and using his other hand to tease her nipples as he pressed forward but by the time he was fully seated the moaned gasps had turned into whimpers. “Shh love, that’s it. You’re taking it so good for me, So fucking tight around me,” he moaned as he reached between them and thumbed her clit.

It was a painful sting deep inside her as Geralt continued to fill her beyond capacity. She could feel him touching things deep inside her that nothing or no one had ever explored before and she wanted more but it hurt enough that she didn’t know if she could. By the time she felt his balls touch below where he filled her she was softly punching at his shoulder almost ready to tell him to stop but then he touched her clit again and it caused her hips to buck. The sensation was one she needed more of so she bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Geralt, please.”

“Please what, love?”

Her eyes flew open and the raw, powerful look in his eyes told her he was barely hanging on as well. “Please, fuck me.”

He growled and pulled her right leg over his hip so that she opened up more then pulled his hips back slowly before pushing forward again. Her moans urged him on but when her hips started raising to meet his Geralt knew he was about to cum. Wanting to be sure she came with him he reached between them and started rubbing circles over that bundle of nerves. She was so far gone that it only took a few times before she was cumming again soaking his cock with her release. Her body squeezed him impossibly tight and shuddered around him and with a few stuttered thrusts he came deep inside her as he bit the junction between her neck and shoulder with a growl. They stayed wrapped up together, kissing as they came down from their highs before he carefully pulled out and laid down next to her. He pulled her so that she was pressed to his side with her head resting on his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” she panted as she looked up at him. “I love you Geralt.”

“I love you too, kitten,” he beamed.

“We are going to do this lots,” she informed him.

“Humm,” he smiled as his eyes got heavy.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

@warriormirkwood

@mollymal

@secretdreamlandmentality

@salvawhxres

@dizzybee03

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix #the witcher

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sassykinzonline · 2 months

Note

Rank Naruto across the ages

ok...? objectifying naruto is my favourite pastime

10. Blank Period Naruto

he looks like a dork and a fed, this is what heterosexuality does to a mfer.

luckily he didnt look like this in real life, his face was still pretty round and his hair was longer. he did wear a jacket like that but with an orange uzushio shirt underneath, and orange and blue track pants like obito's.

9. The Last Naruto

he looks like hes in basic training. hate it. once again his face didnt look like that and his hair is stupid. naruto has never been one for fashion but he wouldnt dress like someone's dad at age 19, cmon now. its only slightly better than the blank period one because the scarf is a cute callback to his childhood.

8. Boruto Naruto

the outfit is fine. the haircut is awful. i like that we have matching capes. the face looks more like him than the others did. this one ranks higher than the others because of the dilf appeal but thats really all that redeems it. this scene too.

7. The Naruto that Loved me

after we lost our arms but before we got the implants. we spent a lot of time together before i left, so the manga/anime version of us feels very cold. he also wore a yukata during this time, not pants and a shirt. he said it was more comfortable that way. this is where they get closer to representing naruto as he is, so it ranks higher than the others even though im not too much of a fan.

6. Genin Naruto

hold your shocked gasps until the end. this is the version of naruto i had the most conflict with, it's probably the most painful and distant our relationship has ever been. even when we were apart as teenagers, i felt at peace with how i felt about him compared to this time period. it's just marked with fear, his obliviousness and his own problems with me and himself. but he was still mostly cute and soft here so it ranks high.

5. Enter, Naruto

the naruto you see at the start of the series. i kissed this naruto so there's sentimental value in him. but again, he really hated me and even though i thought it was funny i probably would've just preferred he didnt. the goggles are lame also.

4. Newborn Naruto

adorable and pure. i cried the moment he was born because i knew my life had changed. i want to protect him. he is my dream.

3. Naruto, the village Troublemaker

the naruto that started it all. a total dickhead. the birth of usuratonkachi. but somehow also always bringing me the peace i needed during the worst time of my life. the only reason hes here instead of 2 is because 2 was slightly cuter, but i wish i had been able to hold this version of him too.

2. Naruto, the village Pariah

i cannot understand how anyone can look at this cherub and push him around, pour water on him, scream, hit, and curse at him. he was somehow even purer than how he was as a newborn despite all the horrors he experienced as a child. the manga doesnt go into detail, the anime is more true to life but still doesnt even scratch the surface. there are still things i find out from him now that we're adults. this was the first time i saw him (except he was wearing a scarf then), and everything happened in a flash. the seed was planted in my heart.

Naruto, my hero

this is the naruto i fell in love with the moment i saw him. it's the naruto that blooms into everything he didnt exactly know he wanted, but what he did know he needed. when naruto and i die, this is probably the time period our souls will be stuck in. what else can i say about him? its the naruto who struggles the most, succeeds the most, hurts the most, hurts others the most, but we love the most because he is so human. and it gave us sage mode, which is super hot. and the general mesh shirt/half-naked beach babe vibe he gives off for a bit is also great for the eye. the naruto he is now is just a continuation of this one.

#ask #sasuke rp #sasunaru #naruto #sasunaru headcanons #this made me hungry

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sweetestofchaos · 1 year

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Hold On Ft. Jackson Wang

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff (?)

Warning: Anxiety Attack, Grinding, Jackson in a mesh shirt, Body Rolling...nothing too crazy

Paring: Jackson x Reader

Rating: Teen (17+)

Summary: What starts out as a rough night morphs into the night of your life.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Requested by the lovely @omgsuperstarg. Thank you so much for waiting and I hope this is okay. I wasn't sure if you were looking for something soft or smuty, so I went the softer route with a lil spice.

You were here, finally. Tonight, was the night that you would get to see Jackson Wang perform in person on stage. You were a little bummed that his VIP tickets sold out before you could get them, but it happens. You knew that it was a slim to none chance. Your tickets weren’t bad, you were still pretty close to the stage, if you got lucky, you could still squeeze your way to the barriers. Just in case you wore a pair of custom made nike sneakers. They were all back with green and yellow crystals mixed together on the checkmark. Your outfit was very simple, you didn’t want to dress too crazy in case it got a little too hot or someone got a little too excited. The last concert you got dressed up for, someone’s ring got caught up in the ties of your shirt and you ended up flashing half the people around you.

A black mesh onesie that had an open back and cinched at the waist was paired with light washed jeans with rips in the thighs. The bedazzled green and yellow chunky belt added a little extra to the outfit and pulled everything together as it matched the mismatched yellow and green diamond earrings you wore. You wore your hair in its normal style and settled on a simple black winged eyeliner, a pop of silver shimmer in the corner of your eyes, a rose gold highlighter and lined your lips in black with a tinted lip gloss.

As you finished getting ready, your phone rang and you saw that your friend from online was calling. The two of you meant online and just clicked, it would be the sixth time that you would see each other in person. She was able to get a ticket to Jackson Wang’s sound check and you offered to let her stay at your place so that she wouldn't have to pay for a hotel. You grabbed your car keys, snatched your phone from the dresser and answered it. You were hit with the sound of your friend breathing heavily and a muffled voice in the background.

“Hey, hey. Listen to me okay?” You quickly rushed out of the house and hurried to your car. “I’m on my way to you. I need you to breathe with me, kay?” You coached your friend through her anxiety attack. The phone sounded muffled for a moment before a new voice was on the line.

“Hey, um…this is Eddie. D-Do I need to do anything? Can I do anything to help?”

“Can you just stay with her, please? I’m fifteen minutes away. Is she outside the venue? God, I should have left with her.”

“We’re inside the venue. I passed her in the hallway and knew something was wrong.”

“Thank you, Eddie. I really appreciate you stopping to help her.” You glanced at the time on the dashboard and frowned. “If you're comfortable, she should have a bottle of klonopin in her bag, can you give her one. It will help with the attack.”

“One pill? Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll be there soon. Please call me back if anything happens. Her password is 4687, it spells Got7.”

The man, Eddie laughed lightly and a smile pulled at your lips. Good to know the stranger had good taste in music.

“Security just got here, they want to move your friend to somewhere safer that is not out in the open. What’s your name? They can wait for you at the front of the venue.”

You gave your name to Eddie and hung up, determined to not crash as you sped towards the venue to help your friend. You reached the venue and parked, nearly crashing as you swerved into a spot. You made sure that you had your ID, phone and bag before you ran into the venue. You rushed past the long line of people waiting to get in and gave security your name as they tried to stop you from entering the building.

“Right this way.” A guard led you into the building and you could hear the sound check starting up. You felt bad that your friend and the stranger, Eddie, were both missing it. The guard knocked on a door that had a do not enter sign on it and when the door opened you saw a young man that you didn’t know.

“Eddie?” You questioned and the guy smiled with a nod his head.

The two of you shook hands and you stepped inside the room. Your friend was curled into a ball on a couch with a bottle of her tucked into her lap.

“Oh, sweetie.” You walked over and sat beside her. Silently, you pulled her into your arms and smoothed your hand over her hair while you kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Eddie. I am so sorry that you missed part of the sound check. I can cashapp you for the trouble.”

Eddie waved you off as your friend started to cry into your shoulder. She muttered how embarrassed she was and you shushed her. She had nothing to be embarrassed about, these attacks happened to a lot of people and there was nothing wrong with it. Eddie chimed in with his two sense and your friend sighed. You helped her get herself together, thankfully you had some makeup in your bag and were able to touch her up.

“Do you want to stay or go home?” You asked your friend and she wanted to stay. She would call it quits early if she felt another attack coming on. The guard from before led the three of you to the sound check and another guard gave you an upgraded ticket so that you could stay with your friend in case something happened.

“The perks of being my emotional support human!” Your friend joked and you rolled your eyes as you melted into the crowd together with your new friend Eddie.

As people moved around, you slowly made your way to the front of the crowd and Eddie acted as your personal body guard as he made sure that no one touched your friend or got too close to her. You were thankful for him and the excitement for the actual concert started to hit once Jackson Wang disappeared from the stage. More people were let into the venue as the start time got closer and the same guard from before was in front of the barricade. He kept an eye on your friend and again you felt thankful for such kind people.

The whole venue was plugged into darkness and everyone screamed as the beginning note of 100 Ways started to play. Light slowly started to get brighter and smoke filled the stage before Jackson Wang himself appeared on stage. You thought your eardrums were going to bleed with how loud everyone had screamed. The set list was perfect, Jackson sang a lot of the songs that were your favorite. Your friend, Eddie and you sang along and danced your hearts out as Jackson threw his hips around on stage like no one business. The man looked good, dark make up on his face, silver blonde hair hung in his eyes and that black outfit…yeah mesh was made for him.

Water was thrown on the crowd, dancers interacted with those close to them and Jackson took a moment to address the crowd. His speech was nice, he spoke about himself, his hopes, his dreams and how he was feeling about himself nowadays. It was touching to know that he trusted everyone enough to share his thoughts and feelings so openly. After a few more songs, you noticed that Jackson had spotted someone. He kept coming over to your section of the crowd and interacted a lot more with those around you. Your friend touched his hand and you thought that she was going to die right there in front of everyone. Eddie was just as bad, the man almost dropped when Jackson tossed him a water bottle.

You were happy that your friends were enjoying themselves. At some point Jackson disappeared from the stage and the whole place went nuts. You blinked and it seemed like he just popped up in your section right in front of the barrier. He stood in front of you and grinned as he adjusted the mic by his mouth.

“Hey. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Jackson looked right at Eddie and you laughed, “He’s a friend. No boyfriend.”

“Really?” Jackson sounded surprised and nodded his head before he waved his hand. “Come on up!” He watched as the guards helped you over the barrier and he took your hand in his once you were safely on the ground.

You had seen videos of Jackson online where he had pulled fans up on stage and danced with them. It was wild and sexy. It was something you had dreamed about many, many times and now it was your turn. You glanced over your shoulder to look back at your friends and they were foaming at the mouth. Jackson led you on stage as the notes to 'The Moment' started to play and placed you in a chair in the middle of the stage. The moment you sat down the beat dropped and Jackson Wang was body rolling in front of your face. The black mesh shirt he had on didn’t hide anything and you drank in every inch of his pecs, abs and the thin patch of dark hair and disappeared into his black dress pants.

You felt hot, your face was warm and the music was so loud. Jackson was there in front of you and the next moment he wasn’t. He walked around you in a circle with the rest of his male dancers and you sat there numb and relaxed. So, he wanted to give a little dance, okay. Eye contact, and lots of it. Jackson didn’t look away from you once and you refused to back down from his challenge. He smirked as he dropped to his knees and body rolled slowly and when he rolled over and started humping the floor, his eyes were on you.

You bit your bottom lip and raised your eyebrow. Accepting your silent challenge, Jackson jumped to his feet and crowded your space. His legs were on either side of your thighs and he grabbed your face in his large hands. They burned your skin in the best way as he sang to you and booped your nose before he stepped away and started dancing again. The other dancers stroked your cheeks and winked at you as they moved about and you took it all in stride. A lap dance is a lap dance. Even if Jackson Wang was the one giving it, you weren’t going to back down.

Jackson came back in front of you and pulled you to stand up by your hand. The chair disappeared and it was just the two of you on stage dancing. He danced close, his body firm, sweaty and warm as he kept to the beat. You placed your hands on his shoulders and trailed them upward to the nap of his neck where you then fiddled with the ends of his hair and scratched your nails lightly against his skin. You felt Jackson shiver under your touch but his voice never wavered as he grabbed your hand and slid it down the length of his abdomen. He stopped just above his navel and you trailed your hands back, your fingers spread a little wider so that you could catch his nipple between them on purpose.

Jackson smirked and the song faded into 'Dead', where Jackson then grabbed your hand once again. He spun you around and pressed himself against your back as he sang in your ear. You felt his heart beating against your back and the warmth from his body seeped into your own. You were led into an open elevator and Jackson kept you close, as he pressed his forehead to yours, those icy blue contacts striking against his tanned skin tone. He continued to sing and you danced with him, giving the crowd more of a show than the rest of the fans that he pulled onto the stage.

You kept up with his body rolls and leaned into his touch. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he sang, “So, hold on, are you really dead to the world? Slow down, you're not really dead to the world.”

You swayed your hips to the beat as Jackson cupped your face in his hands softly, his thumb stroked the apple of your cheek. His hands went to your hips, his forearms rested on your sides while his hands hung respectfully above the small of your back. You hid your face in his shoulder and laughed which made Jackson rest his cheek against the side of your head.

“Right now, I'm about to take you to the house, be under covers, lovers, dead to the world. You told me never take your time in vain.”

The open elevator started to rise and you tightened your hold on him. You weren’t a huge fan of heights and your body tensed up a little. Jackson felt the tightness in your body and he pulled you into a hug as he finished out the song. His voice was strong and soothing in your ear as the elevator disappeared up out of sight. Jackson quickly turned his mic off and rubbed your back.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t ask if you were afraid of heights. Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I’ll be better back on the ground.”

Jackson huffed a small chuckle and held you tightly as the elevator started to come down behind the stage.

“You can hang back here if you want or go back to your spot.”

“My friends-”

“They can come back too! I wouldn’t mind hanging with you all after the show…if you want?”

As the elevator touched the ground Jackson pulled away from you and you grabbed his hand. He looked down at your hand around his and back up at you.

“We would love to hang out after the show. I’ll be here.”

Jackson grinned and you let go of his hand as he turned and told one of the guards to grab your friends. Jackson rushed off for a quick outfit change and a staff member offered you a chair. You accepted it and waited for your friends to arrive backstage. You saw them before they saw you and you rushed to their side.

“Oh my God!”

“Bitch…what the fuck?!”

Eddie and your friend were besides themselves as they gushed about how good you and Jackson looked together. You really didn’t mean to show out, you were just having fun. You didn’t want to waste a perfectly good opportunity to have fun, so you just enjoyed yourself and danced along.

“We got invited to an afterparty…”

“What?!” Eddie and your friend were dumbfounded. An afterparty? W-With Jackson Wang?

“What? He thought I was cool, and you losers are cool by default.”

#hold on #soc jackson #jackson wang fic #jackson wang sol #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang x black reader #got7 jackson #reader request

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

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you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

two. landslide

content (for this chapter): (kinda) religious imagery, food as love language, mentions of food, mentions of drugs and drug usage, mentions of death, a little angst from both of them, self-doubt, hurt/comfort, fluff, one bad (and explicit) joke everybody say thank you elvira, mentions of illness

word count: 7.4k

a/n: i'm so unbelievably happy about the response ch1 got, thank you all so so much

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

“I was lost when you found me. I know it might sound like a cliché, like something every couple tells each other. My life had no meaning before you, I didn’t know who I was before I met you, you made me into a better person, I started to live again with you–all that stuff that sounds overused, and pointless. But in this case it’s–I had a life before you, and it was a mess, I was hanging on by a thread just for Alba. But then you came along, quite literally sweeping me off my feet and it’s true, we didn’t do things the proper way, if there even is such a thing–knock it off, Miller, I’m not giving you the satisfaction either. But Mila, amor, my life only got better from the moment you came along, and I’ll never, ever stop being grateful–for you, for the fact you put up with me, and saw in me not the person I used to be, but who I could become. I’ve never been religious, but I do believe you’ve been my salvation.”

Frankie’s head was pounding, Alba’s tears now drying on his neck and shirt, her warm forehead pressed against the bent of his shoulder and her breath calming at last after hours of crying and screaming and trying to scratch her ear.

The house was a mess, multiple attempts at making the child eat scattered on every flat surface, covers she’d drooled over abandoned on the couch and on the chairs he’d tried to sit for a few minutes before she started screaming again, forcing him to resume his walking around rocking her against his chest.

With the throbbing in his temples, he almost didn’t hear the soft knocking at his door–so soft he for a moment thought he’d imagined it and had to wait out until he heard it again, still soft, but definitely somebody’s knocking. He wondered whether it was Alba’s doctor, coming back to tell him what an awful job he’d been doing all day with her, or his mother with one of her home-made remedies he wasn’t sure would be good for the kid or not.

“Mila?” she stood with her back almost to the door, as if ready to go down the steps, turning her head only when he called her name quietly. Her cheeks were red, hair half-piled up on top of her head, and a scarf covered the lower half of her chin. “God–I thought I called you, I must’ve forgotten to call you, I’m sorry, Alba–”

“I know, you did call me,” her eyes flickered to the sleeping child, expression softening. “Let’s get her out of the air, it’s alright.”

Frankie moved almost on auto-pilot at her words, backing inside the house until she’d slipped inside, too, and closed the door behind her, toeing off her shoes the same way she had that first night they’d stumbled inside his house.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated tiredly, his hand coming up to cover the back of Alba’s head when she shifted in his arms. “She just now calmed down, it’s been a long day and I can’t–I don’t think–”

“Frankie, it’s alright, I’m not here for our date,” she smiled gently at him, reassuringly, then lifted what he’d thought was her bag between them–it was a mesh bag, anonymous wrapped up items inside he had a hard time focusing on. “I brought dinner for you–figured you wouldn’t have thought of feeding yourself through the day, so,” she shrugged, glancing away almost shyly.

And she was right–he couldn’t even remember when he’d last taken a sip of water, let alone ate anything. Did coffee count? Had he had any coffee?

“I also got the blueberry muffins Alba likes–I think, hope. For when she feels better,” she added, her gaze drifting towards the asleep child.

“You didn’t have to,” he wanted to get closer, rest his forehead against hers and close his eyes for the first time since the previous night, when Alba had woken him up with her wailing.

“I know,” she nodded, and reached over with her free hand, her cool fingertips brushing his chin–there, then gone, bringing a single moment of clarity to his mind. “I’ll heat up your dinner, then get out of your way, alright?”

Words felt stuck in his throat, a gratitude he wasn’t able to express as she caressed his cheek again, one more reassuring smile that softened her eyes before she walked towards the kitchen–he followed shortly. It was a mess in there, too, and he almost apologized.

Camila proceeded on unbothered, resting the bag on the counter and shrugging off her jacket and scarf before beginning to fix everything–placing the dirty dishes in the sink, putting aside the various attempts of food he’d tried to feed Alba unsuccessfully.

“Can I–” he took a step in her direction and froze, unsure of what to do with Alba still in his arms, and also that he could be of any help with the drowsiness in his head. “Do you need anything?”

“Just go sit down now that she’s asleep,” she hadn’t turned on the light yet, which made Frankie wonder how she moved so effortlessly through the room. In the month they’d kept seeing each other, she’d been back at his house just one more time, to recover her jacket from that first night–it had turned into having a quick dinner with him, ruefully saying goodbye at the door. “I’ll manage, don’t worry.”

For the first time that day, Frankie wasn’t worrying. Still, there was a nagging feeling in his throat–an apology, a justification, worry in the shape of non-formed words–that melted away only when Camila stopped moving and lifted her gaze to him, brown eyes so soft he felt his breath stutter, his shoulders sag. It wasn’t the first time she had that effect on him, he noticed, a way of putting him at ease just with a look.

They’d gone out often after that first night, but always for a short time that left him unsatisfied, yet warm all over. Tranquil. They’d take a walk with Alba in her stroller and the moment she locked her arm with his, he felt like the day got better, brightened up. He’d drop by her workplace for lunch after his shift was over, a little before he had to go get Alba from daycare, and Camila would kiss his cheek as a greeting and goodbye, leaving him to rub the spot multiple times a day with a foolish grin on his lips.

Each time, she seemed to sense the moments he started to grow uneasy–he could never pinpoint the actual reason, he just knew a tightness constricted his chest and his legs tingled with the sudden desire of running away, mind screaming at him that was not where he was supposed to be, not with her. A hand on the nape of his neck, her head on his shoulder, or her gaze locking with his, and he could breathe again.

“Go,” she repeated, voice still gentle but a little firmer. He couldn’t argue with her then. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to, in any case.

Alba didn’t wake once while Camila was in the kitchen–in his half-asleep state, Frankie could hear her move around, the sounds of the stove and of water running in the sink, chairs moved to be put back into place. He should’ve told her to not bother, that he could do it later.

He didn’t realize his eyes had closed until he felt the shift of air in front of him–he went to tighten his arms around Alba, only to notice the absence of her weight on his chest. He sat up abruptly, stopped only by a hand on his shoulder.

“Frankie, it’s alright,” Camila was whispering, and she turned her head towards Alba’s cradle–she’d started to outgrow it, Frankie knew he’d have to replace it soon. “She rolled around a bit, but she’s fine.”

“I didn’t feel–” he looked down at himself, a blanket draped across his legs, similar to the one tucked around the sleeping child. Her face looked more serene, the red spots on her cheeks dimmed slightly to a blush pink. He exhaled, leaning back against the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“It was just a few minutes,” her hand trailed up from his shoulder to his neck and then his cheek, another reassuring touch that had his breath slow down a little. “I made guiso carrero, and there’s coffee ready in the kitchen.”

He picked up the scent of food and coffee just as she said it, sleepy mind catching on–when he looked around, the house had a semblance of order. He brought his hand over hers still resting on his cheek, turning to brush his lips against the sliver of wrist exposed by her sleeve–the smell of the dish soap lingered on her palm, and he closed his eyes with a frown.

“You didn’t have to clean the house, too,” he muttered, and a breathy laugh left her, reaching up to brush his hair back.

“I just did the dishes, Frankie,” she held his face in her hands for a moment, looking down at him with those soft, gentle eyes that made him feel like he could crumble at any moment. “Less for you to worry about.”

“Thank you,” he breathed out, wrapping his hand around hers–his was cooler compared to hers, and when he looked back up at her, she was smiling softly again. He pulled on her hand gently, tugging her closer as he straightened his back, and brushed a quick kiss to her bent lips as she caressed his face again, up to his ruffled hair.

It was a soft kiss, quick and shallow, a support to his words, a further thanking.

“Here,” she let go of him and, reluctantly, he let her move back towards the coffee table, picking the warm bowl to hand him. “You eat up, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” struggling with balancing the bowl on one hand, he reached up again to grab her wrist. He looked at the stew swaying in the bowl, then glanced up at her, his lips slightly parted. “Can you–could you stay? Just a little longer?”

“Of course,” she turned her hand so she could grab his, giving it a quick squeeze before moving to his free side on the couch, sitting down carefully with her legs folded underneath her. Frankie leaned towards her almost unconsciously, until his shoulder was pressed against hers, her warmth spreading all across his side.

Silence engulfed them–familiar and easy, interrupted only by the scraping of Frankie’s spoon across the plate. With each mouthful, he noticed how hungry he’d been the whole day, how much of himself he’d poured in Alba’s sickness.

The child would make a noise, every now and then, a small hiccup that had his head jerk to the side, his whole body tense for a second, two, and then Camila’s elbow dug in his side, rooting him. Alba’s doctor had told him ear infections were common in children her age, that more often than not it was nothing to worry about, it would even heal by itself in a few days.

Still, Frankie felt unnerved. Because Alba was all he had, the one thing he could hope he was doing right, and her ear-piercing cries had made his heart drop in his stomach where it still remained, uneasy.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted in a whisper after several more moments of silence, the empty plate abandoned on the coffee table. “I’ve never had to deal with her like this, I’ve never–it wasn’t easy when she was teething, but it wasn’t like this, and I don’t know–” he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering close as Camila’s hand wrapped around his, gently bringing it on her lap, fingers interlocking. “You managed to do more since you arrived here than I’ve done for the whole day.”

“I heated up some stew and cleaned a couple of dishes, Frankie,” bumping her knee into his, she turned her head to look up at his face, chin brushing his shoulder for a moment as she leaned in, then pulled back. “Don’t sell yourself so short, honey. She’ll be fine.”

Honey. Somewhere between their first night together and the third time they’d had lunch together, the nickname had started making its way into her sentences–the first time, Frankie had stopped dead in his tracks and hiccuped a breath, equally confused and endeared. He’d read the question in her eyes right away–was it too much?–and immediately kissed the tender word onto her lips again. He liked to feel her smile within each kiss.

“There’s something else,” though a hint of uncertainty colored her words, she didn’t exactly pose it as a question. And then, “what’s wrong?”

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he admitted in a whisper, and when he turned to look at her she was frowning, brows pinched closer and her head tilted slightly to the side. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here, with somebody like me.”

“Frankie–” at the beginning of her argument, he was already shaking his head.

“No, you–” he sighed heavily, and she squeezed his hand, interlocking their fingers together. “There are things I’ve done–things you don’t know about me,” he lowered his gaze to their hands, keeping his voice low. “And you should know the truth, but I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll leave.”

“Have a little more faith in me,” still with a light frown knitting her brow, she reached up to brush his hair away from her forehead, “would you?”

“I’m not–it’s bad,” unable to help himself, he sought her touch furthermore, leaning towards her, head tilted into her hand.

“Okay,” thumb rubbing against his temple, the other fingers interlocked between the short strands of his hair, she angled her body so she was almost facing him, elbow propped up above the back of the couch in support of both herself and his head. “Try me.”

“Mila–”

“I mean it,” a delicate tug at his hair made him look up towards her again, her eyes attentive and a little expectant. “Because I’m sure whatever it is that you’ve done in the past, whatever it is that’s making you feel as if you’re not deserving of–” she hesitated a moment, glancing at their still joined hands, “of this, or more, and whatever it is you think is so unforgivable, it won’t change my mind about who you are now. Nor will it change how I feel for you. I’m sure of it.”

Would it be better like this, he wondered? Rip the bandage off before she became too essential in his life, when he was still able to let her go. Perhaps. He wasn’t sure. He was tired, and scared, for Alba and for what his confession would mean to them.

He couldn’t look at her. But he owed her that. He owed her the truth. Before it was late for her, too. It was the least he could do–after all her patience, and kindness and–

“Look at me, Frankie,” she called softly, and his eyes stopped wandering. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Your past is your past–it can stay as such.”

“I know,” he lied–knew he was lying.

He knew that, whatever he decided, Camila would be fine with.

Which was why he suddenly felt so at ease, even with his fear–as long as she kept looking at him with that gentleness in her eyes, his only focus.

Which was why he needed to tell her, in spite of his nerves.

So he told her everything, tiredness aiding the words tumbling from his mouth alongside her thumb rubbing his knuckles and the attentiveness of her gaze. He told her about the military days and the boys, their bond. He told her about the afterwards, how hollow he felt, and about the cocaine, about losing his license–she knew he’d been a pilot already, just not the extent of it. He told her about Colombia, about Lorea and his money, choking up on his words a little when talking about Tom’s death.

He told her about Alba’s mother being pregnant when he left–how she hadn’t wanted to be, how she’d done it for his sake, the sake of their already failing relationship, which a part of him still thought was utter bullshit yet he couldn’t help be grateful for, because Alba was the only reason he’d managed to get some of his shit together after Colombia, to get clean, to keep going. And he told her he always felt like he didn’t know what he was doing, which terrified him, because he’d constantly heard about the parental instinct kicking in when needed and he feared it would never happen for him, that he would fail her.

“You do have that instinct,” was the first thing she said, a tentative smile on her face. It baffled him how she still managed to be gentle with him after all he’d said–he’d spoken, and she’d just listened. “That fear–you’re a good dad, Frankie. You’re good.”

“And now there’s you, too,” her lips turned in a half-pout, a flash of worry in his gaze. “Possibly the best fucking thing that has happened to me since Alba’s birth–and I’m terrified of fucking this up, too.”

“You won’t,” she spoke while a bright flush spread across her cheeks. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, Morales,” she added then, leaning towards him, her hand falling from his head to the nape of his neck.

“You’re too good to be with someone like me,” she scoffed at his whisper before pulling him closer, her hand cupped behind his head to guide him forward until she’d kissed him. Harsh, a little hasty, Frankie’s lips tingling as he freed his hands to reach for her waist to bring her closer, too, that single kiss enough to quieten his mind.

Camila pulled back just as his tongue darted out, a soft groan leaving him as he leaned further forward, his back protesting with the movement. He let his arms wrap around her middle, her knees shifting over his lap as he got her closer still.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he looked up, lips parted ready to argue, and she silenced him again, another hurried kiss that left him aching. “Nuh-hu, you’re too tired to have an argument about it now. Just take it.”

He chuckled then–low and hesitant, although amused, and tightened his hold around her as he lowered his head furthermore, until it was resting on her chest and he nodded, the movement barely visible but perceptible as she locked her arms around him, too.

“Thank you,” he said again in a breathy whisper. She hummed, fingertips scratching slowly up and down the nape of his neck, her chin coming down to rest over the top of his head, a twisted lock of limbs huddled in a corner of the couch.

“I was right, by the way,” he could feel the rumble of her words alongside the beating of her heart, eyes fluttering shut as if lulled by them both, and the smell of rosemary that lingered on her skin that he’d started dreaming of. “None of it changed the way I feel about you.”

Frankie had been to Camila’s apartment only twice–once he’d driven her back and had stopped at the door, a lingering kiss through a dance at the threshold, one step in and two out because he needed to go back home but he really, really wished he could stay; the second time, they’d stumbled inside and barely made it to the couch, barely made it out of their clothes, tangled together with soft laughter and softer sighs.

The third time, he stood with a bag in his hand, knocking against the chipped white wood as softly as possible–still, on the other side, he heard her groan and had to stifle a chuckle.

“Coming,” she called out, voice hoarse followed by a sniffle. The lock clicked after a few more moments, and the door opened just a inch to reveal Camila, wrapped up in a thick blanket, large framed glasses sitting on the tip of her reddened nose. She was frowning, leaning against the frame. “Frankie? What are you doing here?”

“I brought you some medicine,” he spoke softly, yet still she flinched, a little groan leaving her already parted lips. “And some of my mom’s ajiaco–pretty sure it was the only thing I would eat when I had a cold.”

“Oh,” her eyes, a little glossed, moved from his face down to the bag in his hand and up again, a tentative smile making its way on her chapped lips. “You shouldn’t have, honey,” murmured tiredly as she leaned a little more against the doorframe, her cheek pressed to the wood and eyes drifting closer.

“I know,” he shuffled forward, lowering his head towards hers. Her eyes shot open at his sudden closeness, stumbling back from him and pulling her blanket over the lower half of her face, shaking her head quickly.

“I’m gonna get you sick, stop,” her voice muffled, she stared up at him still wide eyed, rocking slightly on the spot with her arms tight against her chest. “Thank you. But go away.”

“Oh, baby,” Frankie chuckled, walking past her inside the apartment–he used the same soft voice she’d heard him use with Alba, a sort of cooing that imitated the child’s speech. She whined in complaint, trying and failing to stop him from closing the door behind him. He took advantage of her step back in his direction to lean down and leave a kiss against her forehead, right above the frame of her glasses, making her mumble again. “I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t get you sick–what about Alba?” she kept at it, walking after him as he headed towards the kitchen–she’d made coffee for him there and sat on the counter in an unbuttoned shirt and underwear, his frame slotting between her thighs as they spoke before he had to leave again. “Francisco,” though she tried to sound firm–and it worked more often than not, the mere mention of his name making him fumble to get to her–her voice was low and raspy, that whine clinging to her tone.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asked instead, placing the bag on the small kitchen table and retrieving the pot he’d taken at his mother’s when he’d dropped Alba off. Para que tu novia se sienta mejor, she’d said–to which he’d replied, stuttering a little, no es mi novia, mamá.

“Some toasted bread this morning,” she leaned her weight against the doorframe of the kitchen, taking a slow, deep breath that then had her clear her throat and stifle a cough, eyes falling shut again. “It’s fine. It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine.”

Frankie placed the pot on the stove and then, after removing his jacket, walked back towards her–with her eyes closed, she heard him coming and mumbled another complaint, trying to escape him. He held her with an arm around her shoulders, her hands pressed to his chest as he leaned down again and brushed his lips to her temple–he lingered there long enough she eventually gave up fighting him off, her entire body slumping forward.

“How’s the fever?” her skin was warm under his lips, cheeks flushed when he cupped his free hand over one, thumb gently pushing her glasses up.

“Still there,” she muttered, tipping her head back as if trying to get away from him–he could feel her pushing weakly against his chest, too.

“And how’s your head?” he asked, rubbing his thumb across the apple of her cheek.

“I haven’t had any complaints yet,” she retorted, making him snort softly and shake his head. Her eyes fluttered open, lips turning in a half pout before adding, “Sorry, I’m–”

“You need some sleep,” bringing both hands to her shoulders, he slowly guided her out the kitchen and into the living room.

“I was sleeping!” she protested, hands curling above his chest.

“Were you?” he glanced at her glasses, and the papers scattered on the coffee table by the couch. Camila huffed and pouted again, and Frankie stole a quick kiss to her downturned lips. “Off to bed.”

“If I go to bed, I’ll just spend the whole day asleep doing nothing,” she complained, managing to make a little more resistance as he tried to push her towards the bedroom.

“Good–you’re sick, you shouldn’t be doing anything,” he reached over and took the glasses from her face, taking advantage of her rapid building to gain more ground along the short corridor that led to her bedroom. “You lie down, I’ll eat up your soup–”

“I can do that,” he sighed, stopping them both in their tracks and taking her face in his hands, glasses dangling at the side of her head as he gently tipped her head back.

“I know you can,” eyes dancing across his face, she licked her lips and sniffled again. “But let me do it for you.”

“Frankie–”

“Camila,” he mimicked her pouty tone, lowering his face to hers–she held her breath when he got closer, and he almost chuckled again. Instead, he gave her a soft smile, brushing his thumb across her cheeks. “Why are you so against the idea of me taking care of you?”

“I’m not,” she blurted out–a tad too quickly, her gaze darting away before she cleared her throat. “I just–you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he repeated, “but I want to,” her bottom lip jutted out slightly, tired gaze softening. “And it’s not out of some sort of obligation because you’ve been nothing but good to me,” he bowed his head as she turned hers, his kiss landing at the corner of her mouth. “You deserve someone looking after you, too, y’know?” another kiss to the other corner, her head twisting with a soft sigh. “You stubborn woman.”

“First time I’ve been called stubborn like that,” she murmured, his palms gently pressing into her cheeks making her speech a little more slurred, her lips in a perpetual pout.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s not an insult,” her eyes fluttered open again–not sure when she’d closed them, even less sure of how they’d reached her bedroom without her noticing–her glasses had ended up on the drawer right at the entrance of the room. Frankie’s smile was still soft as he leaned in again, and she wrinkled up her nose. “I’m not letting you kiss me, Morales. You’ll get sick.”

“I’m willing to take the risk,” he shrugged lightly, and before she could argue again he pressed his lips to hers, purposefully sloppy, her hands coming out of the blanket as if to stop him–one of his hands slid to the nape of her neck, and the slow touch made her sigh, melting into the kiss. Unlike the rest of her body, her fingertips were cold brushing his neck. “And I like that you’re stubborn,” he murmured, following it with another kiss she submitted to. “Although right now I’d like it more if you got into bed and let me take care of you.”

She tasted as if she’d eaten too many lemon candies, sweet and sour equally, her lips chapped and her breath short when he moved away to pepper the rest of her face in kisses, feeling her hands slide up from his neck to his jaw.

“Okay, fine, fine,” she took a stumbling step back and landed in a seated position at the edge of her unmade bed, her lips turned in a pout again, the tip of her nose even more red as she tightened the blanket around herself, head tilted back as if to look at him, even though her eyelids were drooping already. “But if you get sick, I’m not nursing you back to health.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” he chuckled, slotting himself between her legs to press a kiss to her forehead. Camila’s shoulders sagged, an exhale leaving her as she leaned forward against him, hands shifting up his sides. “Should I go heat up the soup?”

His hand shifted over the top of her head, brushing down the start of her long, messy braid that was tucked underneath the blanket. Camila’s head fell to his chest with a soft hum, her whole body rocking forward and then back and forward again, balanced only by Frankie’s gentle grip.

“Yes, please,” she murmured after a moment of hesitation, face half-buried into the fabric of his shirt. He could feel the warmth of her skin even through the material, and let her linger there a moment longer, one hand on her shoulder and the other still over her head, massaging her scalp gently.

“Go on, scooch,” he said then, guiding her back towards the pillows. Camila curled up on her side with a sigh, curling her hands against her chest and tugging the blanket closer with a tremble. Frankie brought the rest of the covers that were rolled at the foot of the bed over her, waiting until she stopped shivering.

Back in the kitchen, he brushed past the rosemary plant she kept on the windowsill–he’d seen her crush some of it between her fingertips. She would carry the smell of it with her for the rest of the day, smearing it across his brow or mustache when she brushed his face–the one other night she’d spent in his bed, it had lingered in his sheets for days.

Camila had the covers up to her chin when he returned, eyelids trembling when she heard his steps but without opening her eyes, slowly tilting her head towards him.

“Are you spoiling me with food in bed?” she hummed, a tired smile on her lips.

“After all the hassle I went through to get you in there, I am,” he walked around the bed to get to her side, placing the bowl of soup on the nightstand, alongside the water and some medicine. “Surprising, really, since it was so easy to–”

“Don’t try to sweet talk me while I’m sick, Francisco,” she grumbled, shifting a little underneath the covers–when she looked up at him at last, her eyes slightly red rimmed, he was grinning and leaning towards her. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You started it,” he replied, one knee pushing against the bed as he shifted closer–Camila scoffed, then cleared her throat. “Can you sit up?” he asked then, brushing a loose strand of hair back from her forehead. She nodded, her eyes fluttering close for a moment before she pushed herself onto her elbow.

Frankie’s body pillowed her side, her frame slightly askew as she leaned into him with a soft groan, eyes screwed shut. The room was dimly lit, sheer curtains drawn filtering the noon light.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, slightly shaky hands coming out of the blanket to fix it over her shoulders, while he folded the duvet on her lap.

“A little,” he returned, without any other justification. She smiled tiredly, eyelids moving as if she was rolling her still closed eyes. “Food or aspirin?”

“Food,” he moved slowly, so that he could still support part of her weight as he took the bowl and carefully placed it in her hands. He wasn’t sure she’d realized how much she was leaning against him, and truth be told he didn’t want her to move. “Thank you,” murmured so low he wouldn’t have heard it if she wasn’t so close.

So he sat still as she ate, his gaze carefully trained on the light grip of her hand around the spoon–he spoke to her in the meantime, his voice soft as he talked about work, Santiago–who kept asking about her–and Alba, pulling a tired smile out of her every now and then. Camila made it half-way through her plate before her hold started faltering, cold fingers cracking softly and a light hiccup that threatened to make the rest of the food spill onto the covers.

“Alright?” he asked quietly, and she nodded, slow motions as she sank deeper back into the pillows. “Do you need anything else?” she shook her head with a quiet groan, letting him take the plate from her.

“Think I just need to lie down,” her voice remained low, a little nasal. “My head hurts,” she added, bringing one hand as if to shield her eyes.

“Here,” he curled one hand around her jaw, a gentle touch as he brought the aspirin to her mouth. Her lips parted with no hesitation, though wrinkling her nose as soon as the pill brushed her tongue–he brought the glass of water to her lips, too, tipping it back gently to help her drink as he supported her head.

She hummed when he helped her down again, settling more comfortably at her side as he fixed the blankets over her once more, back resting against the headboard–her head sinking in the pillows, she curled forward until her forehead was pressed into his side, one hand shifting up to rest on his thigh, his body working as a shield against the feeble light.

She’d felt on edge all day–the splitting headache slowing the work she was forcing herself to do, cold settling in her bones while she remained on the couch, stomach turning from emptiness because she couldn’t stand to fix herself a proper meal. Frankie’s presence had spread through her limbs like sunlight warming her, a newfound sense of safety that started in her chest and wrapped all around her with his arm around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and though her eyes hurt she still tipped her head back to look up at him–they were glazed over, slightly reddened, and Frankie looked back at her with a softness that made her heart beat a little quicker. “I’m sorry,” she added then, and he tilted her head to the side, confusion in his eyes.

“It’s just a cold, Mila,” he smiled, caressing the side of her neck and the shell of her ear, gently brushing her hair back. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“It’s just–” she curled her hand over his thigh once, twice, fingers shaking until he rested his other hand over hers. “You didn’t have to be here, or take care of me, I’m–”

“I told you, I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted her with a gentle voice, her hiccuping breaths pulling him a little lower on the bed–her head shifted over his chest, standing closer now. “I wanted to–I like being with you,” he squeezed her hand, offering her another smile. “Snot and all.”

She groaned at that, screwing her eyes shut and bowing her head as if to hide away from him. With a chuckle, he coaxed her to lean back again, shifting with her until he was resting fully at her side, one arm trapped under her and the other, still holding her hand, pulling her delicately until she was pressed against him.

“You have enough going on already,” voice low, she let go of his hand and curled her fingers into his side. “Last thing you need is me being a burden like this.”

“Hey,” he tapped under her chin gently, so that she was angled towards his face. “Look at me for a moment,” she was slow in opening her eyes, the pout returning to her mouth for a split second before she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing nervously. “You could never be a burden,” she scoffed, looking away, and he pushed his thumb into her lip to free it from her hold, pinching her chin at the same time. “I mean it, baby.”

She exhaled heavily, a shaky breath as she pushed herself forward and buried her face against his chest, arm curling fully around him to keep herself against him. He locked her in an embrace with a sigh, shifting so his chin rested over the top of her head, slowly rubbing her back as she shook into the circle of his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, voice muffled by the blankets and his shirt. He shushed her gently when she said it again, hand moving to the back of her head and brushing down, freeing her hair and wrapping his finger around the end of her braid. “Frankie–”

“You need some rest, sweetheart,” he chided, soft-voiced. “We can talk about it later, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I am so sorry,” was the first thing Frankie said when he opened the door. “I tried texting you but you must’ve gotten in the car already and–she ambushed me,” he looked over his shoulder and sighed heavily, his head dropping slightly.

“What are you talking about?” Camila frowned, mimicking his low tone.

“Cisco, déjala entrar,” a voice called loudly from behind him, and then he stepped aside–or, rather, was moved to the side. A woman stood by him suddenly, graying hair pulled back from her face and a big smile widening across her lips. “Ay, mírate–tan bonita.”

“Mamá,” Frankie groaned softly, to which the woman responded by backhanding him across the chest before smiling again, opening her arms towards Camila.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, eyes widening a little as her gaze darted between the two Morales. “Lo siento, señora, Frankie no me dijo–”

“Ah, no señora,” she scoffed, and promptly pulled her in a tight hug–Camila huffed at the impact, tentatively wrapping her arms back around her, her eyes turning to Frankie again. His expression looked pained, and she almost laughed. “Llamame Verónica, cariño–pasa, pasa,” she added then, shepherding her inside.

“Mamá, por favor,” Frankie closed the door and watched as the two women walked deeper into the house, his mother’s arm linked with Camila’s. “I’m sorry, I’ll fix it, I–”

“It’s alright, Frankie,” she said, looking over her shoulder with a gentle smile.

“Ah! See, Cisco?” his mother exclaimed, holding her a little tighter. “She has no problem meeting your mother,” she tipped her chin up, then patted Camila’s hand. “Él quiso esconderte,” she added then, lowering her voice in a mock whisper, and Frankie sighed.

“I wasn’t!” he protested, walking with them into the kitchen where Alba sat in her high chair. As soon as she saw them all walk in, she squealed and threw her hands in the air. “Wait, is that why you’re here?”

“Claro,” the older woman shrugged, her eyes following as Camila moved closer to Alba with a wide smile, letting the child grab one of her fingers as she leaned in and kissed the top of her head. Verónica hummed, seemingly pleased, and turned to Frankie with her eyebrows arched high. “¿Cómo sino iba a conocerla?”

“You could’ve asked,” he argued with a loud sigh, shuffling closer to Alba and Camila, her hand still held up by the child.

“I did!” she retorted, scoffing. “Few weeks ago, I gave you the ajiaco and asked when I could meet her, and you just brushed me off,” Camila’s eyebrows lifted slowly, her gaze moving from Frankie to his mother.

“Thank you for the ajiaco,” she said quickly, before Frankie could reply instead. Verónica’s expression softened again, a gentle smile that wrinkled her face. “Estaba delicioso.”

“Thank you, cariño,” she nodded her head, one hand over her chest.

“Mamá, Mila and I–” Frankie started, and got cut off right away.

“Mi-a!” Alba exclaimed, tugging on the woman’s hand. Verónica’s eyes widened, and Frankie’s head whipped around to look at the child as she squealed in delight. “Mi-a, mi-a,” she repeated, bouncing a little in her seat.

“What is it, nena?” Camila asked softly, lowering herself next to the high chair.

“Did she just–” Frankie looked between Alba and his mother, whose lips had parted slightly as she stepped forward. “Alba, sweetie, can you say that again?” he asked, shifting until he was crouching in front of them both. “Were you calling for Mila?”

“Mi-a!” she said once more, wrapping both her hands around Camila’s one. The woman frowned lightly at Frankie’s reaction, her gaze flickering between him, his mother, and back to the child again.

“Once more,” Frankie asked, his face split open by a wide grin. “Come on, sweetie.”

“I’m gonna go, mijo,” Verónica said softly, and he turned his head around.

“Wait, mamá, it’s–” she smiled softly at him, lowering herself to kiss the top of his head.

“Lo sé,” she told him gently, rubbing his shoulder. “Enjoy it–both of you,” she added, winking in Camila’s direction–she looked confused, still, and when the woman chuckled softly it turned into a deeper frown. “It was nice meeting you, Camila.”

“You too,” she said, though her voice sounded uncertain, watching as she walked out of the kitchen with one last pat to Frankie’s shoulders. “I don’t understand–”

“First word,” he breathed out, his eyes wide and shimmering as the smile did not waver from his face. “That was her first word–you were,” he said, turning to look at her.

“What?” Camila felt like the air had left her lungs, warmth spreading across her skin down to where Alba was still holding onto her, and her eyes widened, too. “Coño–sorry. What?” she repeated, words falling rapidly from her lips rapidly.

“I think she heard me say it so many times and it stuck,” he murmured–Alba was looking at them, her eyes attentive and shimmering, tilting her head towards one and then the other, still smiling wide. “Isn’t that right, honey? Will you try again?”

Alba’s only response was a soft babble, waving her hands around and dropping Camila’s. Frankie waited, expectancy bright in her eyes, but when the child just kept blabbering, he sat back on his heels and tilted his head.

“Is that alright?” Camila asked softly, lowering herself at his side.

“Well, she already said it more than once,” he shrugged lightly, his hand shifting blindly to reach for hers across the floor.

“I mean that it was–” she cleared her throat, hooking her fingers around his, “that it was me.”

“Oh, baby,” he said softly, shuffling closer to wrap his arm around her waist–the position was far from comfortable, the hard, cold floor under both their knees unwelcomed, and one hand each still lifted towards Alba’s high chair. “Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged lightly, leaning into his side. “This is still new, and it was her first word, I don’t–” digging his fingers into her side, he pulled in to kiss her cheek, impetuously. “It’s important.”

“Yes,” he nodded, peppering softer kisses down her shoulder. “And I’m glad it’s you.”

“Mi-a!” Alba exclaimed, leaning all the way forward across her chair–they straightened quickly, legs protesting at their kneeling stance as they faced a giggling Alba, both their smiles widening.

“I think she’s gonna abuse her new power,” he murmured, bumping his shoulder with hers. She chuckled, looking between the two of them, and Frankie turned slowly–head first, then his eyes. “My mom liked you, you know?”

“She’s nice,” she hummed, bumping her hip into his. “Did she really drop by because she knew I was coming?”

“Yes,” he sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry–and I wasn’t trying to hide you, I just–”

“I don’t think you could hide anything from her, Frankie,” Camila chuckled, bringing one hand to his shoulder and slowly letting it slide to the nape of his neck.

“No, probably not,” he sighed in defeat, tilting his head back into her hand. “Plus, she’s known about you since the first night.”

“Wait, what?” a little gasp left her with the question, and he laughed softly. “Frankie!”

“It’s not my fault, you were upstairs when she dropped Alba off,” he moved closer again, both his arms coming down to wind around her waist. “You said it yourself–can’t hide anything from her.”

“You know I won’t be able to face her again, right?” still chuckling he inched closer to brush his lips to hers–one kiss, two, one a little deeper than the previous one and so on.

“Too bad,” he mumbled between kisses that widened her smile. “I think you’re stuck with us, now.”

“Mi-a!” Alba added, as if to highlight her dad’s point, and Camila melted into a fit of giggles, the hand resting behind Frankie’s head pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

That same evening, when Frankie looked at his phone after Camila had fallen asleep on the couch–her head on his lap and her arm around Alba, keeping her in place–there was a single message from his mother: No la dejes ir.

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