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moonlinos · 2 months

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It’s so tasty, come and chase me

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of food

♡ Word count: 2.3k

♡ Synopsis: It’s your first birthday with Hyunjin as your boyfriend, and he wants to give you the best day since you were born. He racks his brain, wondering what’s the perfect way to impress you, and ultimately settles on surprising you with a homemade birthday cake. That’s romantic, right? Too bad you accidentally ruin his plans in the best way possible.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon (happy birthday! 🩷) Title from Red Velvet’s Ice Cream Cake bc we all know that song ain’t about cake. I quickly wrote this to try and get out of my writing slump, and I think it worked lol so I’ll hopefully be able to start posting other longer stories and requests in a couple of weeks 🧚‍♀️

You and Hyunjin began dating exactly two hours after your birthday.

Being acquaintances for long due to being in the same friend group, he’d been a part of your birthday celebrations for a few years. But you were never really that close — he’d always been too shy to approach you, and you spent an awfully long time thinking he hated your guts. It was a drunken confession that made you both realize the mutual crush you had been hiding for far too long.

Hyunjin cursed himself inwardly for taking so long to properly ask you out. He sat with your friends and discussed birthday plans with you, then watched as you enjoyed your surprise party. He had a pout on his lips throughout the entire night, desperately wishing he could openly hold and kiss you in front of your friends. The silly secret you both had decided to keep from them until things were official between you drove him to the brink of insanity. You two were skirting around the big question for a while, and it wasn’t until Hyunjin’s veins were flowing with quite a lot of Soju that he finally mustered up the courage to do it.

Only he was too late — it was already 2 a.m, and no longer your birthday.

“You’ll have to put up with me for another year if you really wanna be my boyfriend on my birthday,” you told him with a grin.

Hyunjin was determined to make your first birthday together as a couple unforgettable, even through simple gestures. These two days were incredibly meaningful to him; the day you were born and the day he finally got to call you his, one after the other.

Too bad the universe seems to love conspiring against him.

He put on his best near-death voice and faked coughs over the phone, trying to convince you he was sick. You were understandably worried, but he assured you he would be fine after taking some medicine. He needed alone time to figure out how to bake a cake, and your presence would be a tempting distraction.

Hyunjin was halfway through frosting your cake for the third time when the sound of his door being unlocked made him jump.

Perhaps it wasn’t the universe’s animosity towards him after all, but rather his own stupidity for not remembering that you had the code to his door lock.

He stood there motionless, feeling like a teenager who had been caught doing something wrong, his hand clutching the spatula tightly as you eyed him with confusion. You raised a brow at him.

“Weren’t you dying?”

“Why are you here?” Hyunjin all but whines, and you close the door behind you with a chuckle.

“I’m here because you told me you were dying,” you explain. “Why the fuck are you frosting a cake?” He doesn’t answer, and after a beat and a half, you grasp the situation and your mouth falls open. “It’s for my birthday, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin drops the spatula on the counter with a loud clink. “No.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You grin at the sight before you. “That’s so cute.”

“It’s not for your birthday,” He insists, promptly removing his apron. “I lost a bet and owe Seungmin a cake.”

You roll your eyes. “Hyunjin, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Fine,” He grumbles, glaring at the lumpy, messy frosting spread on the cake. He was so sure he was nailing it this time, but the more he looks at it, the more it looks borderline inedible. “I wanted to surprise you, be like super boyfriend material and bake your birthday cake myself. Turns out I’m fucking awful at it.”

“It’s not that bad…” Your voice trails off, the telltale rise in pitch whenever you lie betraying you. Hyunjin shoots you a glance, narrowing his eyes. “Okay, so it is a little crooked, and the frosting is a bit clumpy but I can fix that—”

He cuts you off, drawing out your name with a pout. “No, I’m the one who’s supposed to make you a pretty cake. It’s your special day, I should be the one doing things for you.”

“It’s not my birthday till midnight,” you argue, tossing your bag onto the floor and gently nudging Hyunjin to the side, making room for you on his counter. “Let me help.”

You take the spatula in your hands, ignoring Hyunjin’s loud protests and trying your best to smooth out the thick layer of frosting Hyunjin had spread onto the cake. Your brows knit together in concentration as your boyfriend continues to grumble beside you, eventually moving his nagging to the counter behind you. You hear the water running and the clinking of dishes as you finally start making progress, before Hyunjin’s hands are gripping your hips and pushing you against the counter.

You furrow your brows, ready to complain about him disrupting you, but he’s pressing his lips to your neck before you can mutter out a word. Hyunjin’s breath as he mumbles against your skin tickles you, your body instinctively jolting, causing your hand to slip and mess up the frosting (again).

“Hyunjin,” you berate him, and his only response is to hum. “This frosting is already borderline unusable, if you—”

“Hey!” He snaps, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “Don’t insult my frosting.”

“Then stop disrupting me.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, his body pressing against yours.

“You’re the one who ruined my surprise,” he corrects you, “So if you wanna decorate this cake so badly, you’ll have to do it while I disrupt you,” he mimics your voice. You roll your eyes while a huff of amusement slips from your lips.

“Be my guest,” you shrug.

Hyunjin simply buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips curling into a grin against your skin and igniting a smile on your own face. You bite the inside of your cheek, turning your focus back to the disastrous cake. But your smile only widens at the sight of the decorations thrown around on the countertop; heart-shaped sprinkles, various candles and your favorite candies. The image of Hyunjin clumsily following a recipe, his pretty face dusted in flour, making frosting from scratch simply to make your birthday cake more special has your heart swelling with love.

But just as you spread more frosting on the cake, your concentration is shattered by the sudden touch of Hyunjin’s hand sliding under your skirt and into your panties.

“Excuse me?”

“I told you I was gonna disrupt you,” he shrugs, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder. “But I’m sure it won’t work. You’re too focused on the cake, anyway.”

You scoff. Hyunjin really is such a menace when he wants to be — no wonder you spent such a long time thinking he hated you. Little did you know that behind his teasing and cold exterior lay such a sweet and sensitive man.

He remained still for a while, his hand nonchalantly cupping your cunt while he watched you try your best to make the cake look presentable.

“You missed a spot,” he points out, one single finger gliding along your folds. You hiss.

“Fuck off.”

Hyunjin chuckles, the digit now teasing your already slick entrance. You wait for a minute, then two, then three, but he remains still. Tightening your hold on the spatula, you buck your hips toward his hand, willing him to do something.

But he doesn’t, resting his chin on your shoulder with a lazy sigh instead.

“Is this your best attempt at disrupting me?”

He hums. “Focus on the cake, baby. Weren’t you so excited about fixing it?”

You can tell he is undoubtedly a bit upset at you. This cake was his birthday surprise to you, after all. You had essentially fucked it up, taking over the task without him even asking you for help.

So you nod slowly, turning your face to shoot him a small smile. “Can you help me? It’ll be better if we do it together.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips, and his finger finally pushes into you, your walls immediately clenching around it.

“I’d love to help you.”

With his other hand, Hyunjin scrambles with the sprinkles packet before finally tearing it open. Cursing under his breath, he watches some of the red and pink hearts escape from the packaging and scatter across the counter. You’re ready to tease him, but a moan swallows your voice as his finger curls inside you, pressing against the spot that has you almost dropping the spatula onto the cake.

Your hands grip the counter as another finger slips inside of you, then a third, all while Hyunjin casually dusts a handful of sprinkles over the white frosting. You could feel yourself leaking around his fingers, the heel of his palm grazing over your clit, and your vision goes slightly blurry watching how the heart shapes cascade from his hand onto the cake.

“I think those candies would look nice with the sprinkles, don’t you think?” Hyunjin asks, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to ripple across your entire body. You simply nod, too focused on the way his fingers stretch you, igniting a wildfire inside your chest with each pump of his wrist. “Could you grab the bag for me, baby?”

You nod and mindlessly reach out in front of you, until your eyes land on the bag sitting across the counter, just barely out of reach. You stretch out your fingers, but Hyunjin circles your waist with his left arm and pulls you flush against his body before you can get a hold of it.

“Hyunjin,” you whine, feeling the warmth of his chest as it rumbles against your back with a chuckle.

“Grab the bag for me, hm?”

You let out a shuddering breath and reach out toward the candy package, your body bending over the marble counter, the thick outline of Hyunjin’s cock pressing against your ass. As soon as your trembling fingers wrap around the bag, his hand leaves your cunt and pushes your soaked panties to the side.

He slides his length along your folds, hovering over your body, the swollen head of his cock catching against your clit evoking a heavy sigh from your lips.

“Go on,” Hyunjin prompts, “Let’s finish decorating your cake.”

Clumsily, you pull yourself up, forearms resting against the counter as you tear the bag open. With shaky hands, you slowly tip the bag over, lightly sprinkling the colorful candies across the cake. Until Hyunjin rolls his hips forward, plunging into you. Your breath catches in your throat as he fills you with his thick length, pumping into you in full force, causing your body to writhe in his arms and sending candies flying out of the bag, scattering across the cake and countertop.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” you grunt when his hand slides down your body to trace circles around your swollen clit. “The ca- the fucking cake.”

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh before pressing his lips to your neck, sucking the skin between his teeth, each thrust of his hips slamming your body against the counter. Your eyes flutter closed, a haze of lust wrapping around you while your climax ripples through your body. Hyunjin shudders as your cunt clenches around him, squeezing as he hastily rams into you, his grip on your waist tightening with each stroke.

“Gonna come,” he rasps in your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging your head back to look at him, his eyes completely clouded over. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you whimper, barely registering the way your fingers graze across the forgotten cake when you feel his cock twitch at your words. He mutters a string of curses through clenched teeth before flooding you with his warmth.

You slowly catch your breaths, Hyunjin pressing light kisses across your face with a contented hum as his cock slowly softens inside of you.

And then both your eyes land on the cake.

Somehow, the sprinkles melted, leaving behind a garish kaleidoscope of colors, and the candies adorned more of Hyunjin’s counter than the cake itself. The already sloppy-looking cake had three lines running across it, and the sticky white frosting clinging to your fingertips serves as undeniable evidence of your guilt. You grimace, mentally bracing yourself for the disappointed look in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Instead, his loud laughter you love so much echoes in your ears.

“That’s so fucking ugly,” he slurs between giggles.

You frown, turning to look at him, watching tears gather in his lashes as his laughter slowly fades away. He presses a kiss to your agape lips, wrapping both arms around your body before resting his forehead against yours.

“I love it,” he assures you after taking in your befuddled expression. “We made it together. Plus, we had a lot of fun doing it, yeah?” He grins before crashing his lips against yours again.

Your birthday party was the same as it has been for a couple of years; just you and your friend group gathered around your apartment’s rooftop. Except this year, you had the pleasure of watching people’s bewildered looks as they glanced at your birthday cake, proudly displayed on a plastic folding table.

“The fuck is that cake?” Jeongin asked, and Hyunjin burst out laughing as soon as the words left your friend’s lips.

After singing happy birthday, you were surprised to find that the cake — although an assault on the eyes — tasted quite good. You were quick to praise Hyunjin, who sheepishly admitted to using a store-bought box cake mix.

A while later, you two discreetly escaped the chatter and laughter from your friends. While you watched the stars, Hyunjin’s attention was fixated on the passing seconds on his phone. He counted down from five, and at the stroke of midnight, he pressed his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss.

“Happy one year together,” he whispered against your lips.

“Congratulations for putting up with me,” you beamed, and Hyunjin feigned an exasperated sigh, his lips curling into a grin.

“Can’t believe I’ll have to go through that again if I want to be your boyfriend on your birthday next year.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie, @vlctorriaa, @yongbokkiesworld, @kiensecent, @redstayrosie, @binniesbabygirl, @pynchkilledme

#stray kids #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #stray kids smut #skz #hyunjin fluff

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blurglesmurfklaine · 1 month

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Truth be told, Jack doesn’t remember the eight seconds he spent on the bronco’s back.

If any moon-eyed fangirls come up to him and ask about it, he plans on giving the standard blanket responses, like all he heard was the roar of the crowd.

In actuality, all he has are fragments from right before the livestock hands pulled that gate. It’s hard to forget that kind of anticipation racing through his veins, the sawing sound of rope pinning his riding glove to the back of the horse as Jack grit his teeth, ordering Racer to pull it even tighter.

Everything else, like the sickening crack from his head slamming against Midnight Train’s spine that made the audience cringe in horror, was told to him second hand.

The trainer who checked him out gave him a lot of medical jargon he wasn’t too familiar with, but Jack gathered the important stuff. No riding for three days, get plenty of rest, neither of which he has any intention of following. And of course, there was the whole spiel about concussions affecting memory.

Imprinted in his is the face of one of the pick-up men as Jack faded in and out of consciousness, stern and cool and steady. He can nearly still feel strong arms around him, keeping him from falling into the dirt of the arena, can still hear the New York accent reassuringly mutter, “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

So if Jack can’t stop thinking of the pick-up man who hauled his limp body from the horse into his lap, he’s chalking it up to brain damage.

He’s been named Rookie of The Year for Bareback Riding—Jack Kelly can’t afford to be distracted by any potential flings.

And still, every time he blinks, that face is waiting for him just behind his eyelids.

It’s the longest, most agonizing twenty-four hours before an opportunity to make a bad decision presents itself to Jack. He usually doesn’t make it that long. He also usually doesn’t go that long without visiting Dancer, but his body needed to recover after being thrown off that horse in the arena.

The first thing that greets Jack when he enters the stables is the very same face that’s been stuck in his mind since yesterday. The pick-up man is reaching up, brushing the soft golden mane of the quarter horse that pulled Jack off the bronco.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he greets, drawing up his most charming first-impressions smile.

“In the stables?” asks the pick-up man. Not an ounce of his attention dedicated to brushing his horse’s long blond mane is redirected to Jack. “Pretty sure this is the least fancy place to meet someone.”

“It’s as good a place as any to thank you. For yesterday.”

“I assume you mean when you got your ass bucked off of Midnight Train and I dragged you out?”

Jack scoffs. He should probably be accosted, but he’s only more intrigued. “That would be correct,” he admits.

“No need to thank me, in that case. Just doing my job.”

“Be nice if I had a name to the face that saved my rawhide.”

“And it’d be nice if you checked your staff sheet maybe once before you rode.”

Jack blinks. “Pardon me,” he begins, leaning an elbow up against Dancer’s stable, “but have I offended you?”

“Not yet.” His head twitches in annoyance. “But you’re a rodeo man. You’re bound to eventually.”

Jack crosses his arms. “I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

The pick-up man pauses and sighs, finally rewarding Jack with a look in his direction. He pretends not to, but Jack catches the way his eyes quickly scan him up and down. “David. David Jacobs. Which you’d have known if you’d check your staff sheet. You haven’t even bothered to give me your name, because you assume everyone already knows it.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t heard of me.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you, Jack Kelly,” David answers, turning his attention back to the silky mane he’d been brushing.

Jack looks up at the horse in question—a beautiful quarter with an unusual coloring halfway between brown and straight up golden. He steals another glance at David, head turned up in an admiration that’s reserved for the sacred bond between man and horse, as ridiculous as Jack admits that sounds.

Still, it’s quite the sight. David is quite the sight, beams of the setting sun reflecting off his green eyes, the shadows accentuating the perfect combination of curves and angles on his face.

“Gorgeous,” Jack finds himself muttering.

“Thanks,” David replies, completely missing where Jack’s compliment was directed. “Shimmer’s my pride and joy. If you should be thanking anyone, it’s her. She’s a bit of a social butterfly. Even broncs love her.” He turns his gaze to Which one’s yours?”

“The skittery one right next door.” Jack points out the appaloosa horse, Dancer, aptly named for the way she fidgets her feet when she’s excited.

David snorts. “Figures. Shimmer’s obsessed with her. I always catch them talking to each other ‘cross the stables.”

“Funny. I’m obsessed with you.”

David rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should be obsessed with brushing up your technique, and you won’t get your ass handed to you so often.”

“Ass handed to me? I made it to eight seconds.” He also ranked fourth in the semifinals. As a rookie. But he won’t bring that up right now.

“It’s going to take a lot more than eight seconds to impress me.”

“Let me take you out to dinner then, darlin’. Show you that I can go all night.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

Jack shrugs. “To be completely honest, I think I’m downright adorable, but that’s besides the point.”

He thinks he might see David’s mouth twitch when he returns his attention to Jack. “I don’t sleep with cowboys. Kind of a rule of mine.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, you spend a night with me and we won’t be doing any sleeping.” He chances hooking a finger under David’s chin and dragging his mouth dangerously close to his ear. It’s entirely too brazen and forward, but Jack doesn’t know any other way to be. “You think Broncos are the only thing I know how to ride?” he asks, grinning when he hears David swallow around a drying throat.

“You couldn’t keep me saddled if you tried,” David mutters back, and his breath against Jack’s cheek sends a shudder from his ear, through his spine, all the way down to his toes.

And then David shoves him. Hard. Sending Jack toppling over his own feet and sprawling out onto the ground with an incredible lack of grace.

“Like I said,” David calls back as he opens the gate to Shimmer’s stable and saddles her up. “Technique could use some fixing.”

The click of horse hooves trotting against cobblestone fading into the distance, Jack decides he’s unequivocally in love with David Jacobs.

#javid #javey #newsies #newsies uk #uksies #livelies #david jacobs #jack kelly #sup bitches im back #i went to the rodeo TWICE since i've been gone and i am a changed woman #I WANNA BE A COWBOY BABEY #also i will not be tolerating any Davey slander to be FAIR he has NO IDEA Jack had a concussion yesterday

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pearlesscentt · 1 year

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home

jaehyun x reader, 773 words, fluff

nights like this, you want nothing more than to forget about the day you’ve had and sleep peacefully in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms. however, nothing has been on your side at all lately. so there you were in the living room, the fleece blanket draped on the backrest of the sofa was soft against your cheek as you stared through the window.

scenes from earlier that day played in your head as you continued to watch the city ahead: from the alarm that didn’t ring, your phone that was only halfway charged because it got unplugged the night before, the coffee you spilled on your supervisor’s shirt then the fear of losing your job tomorrow shortly followed, your forgotten umbrella when it rained, the team dinner that you were forced to attend ending a little too late, and the long, exhausting bus ride home.

it was 2:37 am, and the sparkle that filled the cityscape from hours ago was long gone. You were watching an unremarkable view with nothing but grey and fluorescent lights. with a sigh, you scanned the room around you.

the record player perched on the ikea side table caught your attention, it still had the roberta flack and donny hathaway record on it. it was from a couple of nights ago when you and your boyfriend, jaehyun, were dancing and giggling to it as the both of you were preparing dinner, you smiled at the memory. then you remembered the weekend the both of you moved in: him calling out to you from the kitchen to show you a sloppy ‘i love you’ written on the cupboard with a paintbrush before covering it with sage green paint, and you, replying with an even sloppier heart on the living room wall that was soon covered in eggshell white.

an overwhelming feeling filled up your chest and the heaviness on your shoulders weighed down on you. there was the restlessness from the day but it was being overcome with a sense of relief that you get to be in a place like this, so you let the tears in your eyes well up. this sight will never get old and you will always love coming home to every little thing in here, no matter how long of a day you’ve had.

you were unsure of how long you’d been sitting there when the creak of the bedroom door distracted you from your thoughts, it was followed by soft footsteps. you bit your bottom lip to suppress a sniffle and quickly wiped your cheeks with icy hands.

"i'm sorry, did i wake you?" you croaked.

"just got cold," he mumbled.

"come here." you reach your arm out to him as he took a seat on the spot next to you. his chestnut hair was so disheveled that it resembled a bird's nest and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of it. "i'm sorry for waking you up."

he pulled you into him with a gentle tug. "there's nothing to apologize for," he whispered against your hair.

the knots of tension on your shoulders started to unravel as jaehyun started to trace circles on your skin, so you closed your eyes and let yourself get engulfed in the warmth of his arms. all the worries and pent-up exhaustion melted away with every beat of his heart that you could hear and feel underneath you. it was soft and steady. it meant comfort and assurance.

you wanted to apologize again for everything — for not being able to sleep, for waking him up, for making him feel cold, for the flood of tears, for this sight that you never intended for him to see — but he just held you. his touch unwavering and certain, telling you that it's okay, that he's there with you, that there's no need to hide because you're home.

jaehyun is the familiarity of the song humming from the record player sitting atop the side table he spent all afternoon trying to build. he is the serenity of the sage green kitchen cabinets and the lightness of the eggshell white paint on the walls. he is the fleece blanket haphazardly thrown on the sofa, always there within arm’s reach ready to keep you warm. you weren't sure how he did it; how he managed to take the forms of all the things that remind you of home.

but there you were at that moment, with all the exhaustion of your previous days and the uncertainties of days to come, irrevocably and undeniably sure of one thing — that if home was a person, it would be him.

nct masterlist | navigation ── reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated !

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lotsoflokilove23 · 10 months

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~Kissing In The Rain(18+)~{Part one}

(18+) = Physical Touch, Gentleness, Lust, Fluff,

It had been about a month since Tom had left for his trip, he was leaving to meet up with those who were involved in the next movie he was casted in. You had spent lots of your time, distracting yourself and keeping yourself busy, trying not to think about Tom who was halfway across the world right about now. Even your daily facetime calls and text messages were still not enough to express how much you missed him. You had one week left of waiting, he was supposed to arrive home in the next week, and you kept reminding yourself that it wouldn’t be too long until he held you in his arms again.

You were outside gardening trying to pull the thick weeds out of your garden bed, you sighed, running your arm across your forehead. About an hour later you lifted your head up, it sounded like someone's car had come into the driveway but you just shrugged it off, knowing it was probably just the people next door to you. You continue weeding the garden until you head your front door closed with a bang, you whip your head around, confused. You were sure no one was coming over today.

You stand up and take your gloves off and throw them on the glass table you had outside and turn around to face the door. A tall handsome man walked out the back door and gave you a huge smile.

“Surprise!” he said, chuckling as you raised your eyes with a confused look on your face.

“I- wha-” You slightly stuttered out, you shook your head and instead of finishing your sentence you ran up to him and wrapped your arms around him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until next week?” You asked, letting him go still confused.

“Let’s just say they let me go a little early.” Tom smiled, wrapping his arms tightly behind you.

You were just about to say something, when there was a loud bang in the air, you looked up to the sky as it slowly started raining out. You look at Tom and laugh, and he looks at you, like there was no other place in the whole world he would rather be than here with you.

The rain came crashing down, thick drops pounded like the beating of your heart as you looked at him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Tom said, even as the rain picked up and it started to downpour. Your eyes caught his and he couldn’t look away from you, You both smile, captivated by each other's presence, something you have been waiting for all month. Never had a moment been so perfect, never have you two lovers shared such an amazing moment. Tom moves closer to you, and the adrenaline starts pumping in your chest as the thunder roars overhead with the beating of your hearts. Tom pulls you in and embraces you in a wet hug, from head to toe, yet it was like nothing else mattered. Nothing matters at this moment, nothing except for you and Tom.

The clouds thicken and the sky grows dark, flashes of lightning shine against your pretty face. You both share tears of joy as the distance between you closes, the tears impossible to see against the rain. You can feel his breath as Tom moves closer to you, the warmth of his face, and the rumbles of the thunder.

“Y/n��” He mumbles under his breath, letting his forehead fall into yours. “Tom…?” You question.

He didn’t say anything, but he pulled you towards him and pulled your lips to his, they were warm and soft, just like they were before he left, only this time, his kisses were filled with hunger, and longing. Something he has missed doing since the day he left for his trip. He pulled you closer to him, his chest pressing against you, as your breathing got heavy, you ran a finger through his hair slightly pulling at it. Gods, you missed him, the feel of him, the way he ran his fingers down your sides, that shivered at his touch, the way his soft and warm lips felt against your skin, you missed everything about him, and being away from him for so long was the hardest thing you ever had to do.

Soon the rain that was pouring down on both of you had been forgotten as Tom swiftly moved the hair that was hiding your neck, and attached his lips to the exposed skin just below your ear.

You gasp as soon as his lips touch your neck and you can feel him smile against your skin, his body is pressed against yours as he pushes you up against the shed in the backyard. His lips never leave your neck. He moves his left hand and places it behind your head as protection from the hard wood of the shed, he slides his right hand down placing it at your waist gently giving you a tight squeeze, under the rim of your shirt, he grips your hips. His lips left your neck and he looks at you with his eyes, staring. He moves his right hand down your leg as his palm curves over your butt and down the back of your thigh, his left hand feeling its way down your body till both of his hands are tightly holding your ass as he picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, his hands holding you up and your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your lips crash together into a passionate kiss, you keep pressing your body closer and closer to his as you struggle to take a breath, not wanting to break away from the kiss. You slowly bite his lip and he pulls away and you can see the grimace in his face as well as the pleasure he had been waiting for the past weeks of being away. You can feel him growing hard beneath you, he pulls you away from the shed wall and walks back into the house, leaving a lustful kiss on your neck, he makes his way into the bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Tom softly lowered you down onto the bed, he leaned up, peeling his wet shirt off and throwing it onto the floor, he leaned down and kissed you more harshly, as you ran your hands down his hard muscular back. His hands fiddle with the rim of your shirt, you give a small chuckle, letting him pull it off and over your head, he chucked it onto the floor without a care and hovered over you. You ran your finger down the front of his stomach, earning a small groan from him.

“I want you…” he sighed, running a hand through your hair, “I want you so badly,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

Tags:

@lokischambermaid @jennyggggrrr @lokis-dark-queen @loki-and-randomness @chokeanddagger @anukulee @lokisgoodgirl @sarahscribbles

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theladyofdeath · 1 year

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Part 2 to drunk Rowan Christmas? :)

Part II to this prompt! A/N: Thank you for your request! I love a sweet, sloppy, drunk Rowan. I hope you enjoy! T/W: language

Rowan woke up the next morning and called Aelin. He recalled very little of it, considering his hangover was wicked, but he remembered that he called, remembered that he asked her out for Saturday night, remembered that she said yes.

Now Saturday was here, and he was stressed the fuck out.

A snowstorm had hit the city in full force. The roads were covered in a blanket of white. It wouldn't stop him. Nothing would stop him from picking up Aelin, from taking her on a date, but the roads were daunting. It wasn't his first winter in Orynth, he had spent plenty there, but he had rarely seen a storm this bad.

Even as the snow buried the earth, Rowan showered and got dressed in his finest suit. His finest suit consisted of a nice pair of slacks and a black jacket, worn with a black button down shirt. He always thought that black was a nice contrast to his hair, and he wore the darkness with dignity.

At a quarter to six, Rowan was getting into his car. Although he rarely drove through the city, he decided that a first date with Aelin was a good enough reason to get his car out of the parking garage.

The only obstacle was that the second he pulled out of the parking garage...he slid. The snow was so thick as it fell from the heavens that Rowan couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him. He had no idea if anyone was about to speed past him as he pulled onto the road.

And slid again.

It took about twenty minutes to make it a mile down the road, and Aelin lived halfway across town. At this rate, he'd get to her place at midnight. He'd even left half an hour earlier than he was going to, half an hour earlier than he should have, but it didn't matter. The weather was too bad.

And bad weather meant traffic.

A lot of fucking traffic.

Being the week before Christmas, most of the radio stations were playing Christmas music, and Rowan couldn't stand it. He was constantly flipping through the stations as he sat in his car, not moving, the heat on high and nothing to be seen outside of his windshield.

Another ten minutes passed and he was officially late.

Pulling out his phone, he found Aelin's number in his contacts and gave her a call. She picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"I'm so sorry."

Her quiet laughter sounded on the other end of the line. "Ditching on me?"

"Not ditching," Rowan quickly corrected, "A little late. Just...stuck in the snow."

"Is it bad out there?" Aelin groaned. "I was hoping it hadn't gotten worse."

"It's not good," Rowan said, windshield wipers going wild. "I'm hoping to be there soon. I'm sorry it's taking so long."

"It's okay," Aelin promised. "As long as you get here eventually."

Rowan drove another two feet before stopping. "Eventually."

They hung up and Rowan turned the radio up to try and distract from his self misery. Every second he spent stuck in traffic reminded him how much he hated driving.

By the time he made it to Aelin's, an hour had passed and a few more inches had stuck to the ground. After a poor parallel parking job, he was working his way through the blizzard. He felt like he was holding his breath until he opened the door to the lobby of Aelin's apartment complex and the heat hit him.

The lobby was nearly empty and he rode the elevator up to the fifth floor alone. When he made it to 5G, he knocked on the door and waited.

Aelin's hectic footsteps approached and when she opened the door, she was in a stunning red dress and...barefoot.

"Sorry," she said, laughing as his eyes went down to her feet. "I wasn't sure when you'd be getting here and my heels were killing me."

"It's alright," Rowan said, suppressing his smile. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Aelin looked over her shoulder. "It's okay. I actually had an idea to run by you."

"Yeah?"

She nodded and stepped aside. "Come in, come in. Please."

When Rowan stepped inside, he was hit with the scent of lavender and vanilla. Aelin's apartment was tidy and sleek, but welcoming. She closed the door behind them and led him into the kitchen.

"Considering it took you over an hour to get here, the last thing I want to do is get you back in the car," Aelin said, rounding her island before facing him. "There's a pizza joint across the street. I thought we could order for pickup, come back here and eat, and watch a movie?"

Rowan looked down at his slacks and jacket, then over at Aelin's dress.

Aelin lifted a humored brow. "You don't like that idea?"

"No, that's a great idea," Rowan said, hurriedly. "I just...you look amazing. And I should've brought sweatpants."

Aelin laughed, and Rowan loved the sound of it. "It's okay to look fine as hell at home. We can still go out if you want."

"No," Rowan breathed. "I like your idea. It sounds great."

With a flip of her hair over her shoulder, Aelin turned to her refrigerator and snatched a take-out menu off the fridge. "Alright, Whitethorn. What do you like on your pizza? And yes, if you say pineapple, I will judge you."

Rowan didn't get pineapple. He did, however, get every meat known to man on his pizza. Aelin settled for a simple pepperoni, and twenty minutes later, Aelin had slipped her snowboots on with her dress and they were walking across the street to the pizza place. By the time they got back to the apartment, their pizza had gone from burning hot to warm enough. They dropped everything on her coffee table and sat on the couch.

Rowan had slipped his shoes and coat off by the door and, even though he wore some of his finest, he was comfortable.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Aelin asked, going to the kitchen and pulling out a chilled bottle of wine.

"You're sure you want me drinking after the other night?" Rowan teased.

Aelin chuckled, pulling out two glasses from her cabinet. "I think you're an adorable drunk."

Rowan snorted. "I feel like you're lying."

"Oh, I never lie."

Rowan watched intently as Aelin carried two filled glasses into the living room.

"I feel like that's a lie, too," Rowan noted as she handed him a glass.

Aelin just grinned.

Being with Aelin was easy. It had always been easy. She was his best friend - his best work friend, anyways. Then again, in adulthood, he supposed a work friend was just as good as an everyday non-work friend.

They ate and talked about anything and everything. He already knew most things about Aelin, seeing as she talked his ear off every day between the hours of nine and five, but they got into the deeper stuff the longer the night went on. Once they were finished eating and on their second glasses of wine, Rowan had heard all about her childhood and her parents that had left her far too soon. Rowan told her about the deaths of his own parents and how he had been on his own since seventeen, working his way up the ladder in their corporation - slowly but surely.

Rowan hadn’t even realized that at some point during their conversation, they had become so close that they sat with their legs touching, Rowan’s arm draped around her shoulder. He traced her arm, her warm skin just beneath the sleeve of her stunning dress. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, thanks to the wine, and her eyes bright as she looked up at him and said, “You surprise me.”

Rowan chuckled as he looked down at her. “How?”

She shrugged, and he found the gesture adorable. “You used to play the drums in a punk rock band but also read Emily Dickinson. You’re a living contradiction.”

Rowan’s lips quirked. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” Aelin said, a hand sliding over his thigh. “Not at all.”

She stared at him, their eyes never breaking, and Rowan took that as a hint. Now was his chance.

He leaned down and kissed her. It was soft, tentative, but the second she responded, Rowan became undone. Aelin set her wine glass on the coffee table before wrapping her arms around his neck and finding his mouth, yet again.

Rowan dragged her on to his lap, needing to be as close to her as possible. She opened her legs, straddling him, as her tongue pushed its way between his lips.

He couldn’t help but groan quietly into her mouth as he kissed her again and again.

He had his boundaries. He wouldn’t sleep with her on a first date - even if he had known her for years. No, he’d save that for another time. Right now, this simplicity was enough.

Although he was pissed about the snow storm only hours before, he was sure as hell grateful for it now as he pulled Aelin down onto the couch and got lost in her kiss.

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bandontherunn · 2 years

Text

Waitin’ On You

(Josh Kiszka x F!Reader)

18+ minors dni!! 6k words (Warnings: Oral f receiving, unprotected sex, waking up to being touched? That’s all I can think of… also it’s soft as hell because I’m feeling so very soft)

It’s been an eternity since you’ve seen Josh, at least that’s what it feels like as you curl into the couch, one of his old shirts hanging loosely on your frame. In reality he’d only been gone for just over a month, but it could’ve been a year as far as you’re concerned. You sigh and glance out the window at the rain pattering the glass as you listen to your music play over the speaker in the living room. It was the very first playlist he ever made for you, and over the past couple years it had become a comfort to you, especially when he was away.

He was set to come home two nights ago and you had spent all day preparing. You cleaned the house, washed the sheets- took the longest shower, scrubbing and shampooing until you felt nearly perfect. You put on a movie and you were in the middle of lighting a few candles in the living room trying to distract yourself through the last two hours of waiting when he called you.

He apologized profusely, hurt evident in his voice and though you couldn’t blame him at all it still made your heart ache when he told you the flight had been canceled due to a tropical storm. It weighed you even more when he had said the next flight wouldn’t be for another two days. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, after that phone call you nearly broke down- you almost felt silly, it’s not like he was never coming home. It was just the feeling of being so close to him only to have it ripped from you was more than you wanted to handle at that moment.

It only lasted a few hours until you convinced yourself to get up and blow out the candles and head to bed. You can’t really recall the specifics of what you did to pass the time, all you know is that it flew by you despite the anticipation. That’s where you find yourself now, the candles lit once more- his playlist playing through the speakers.

Only difference between that night and now is that he would show up any minute, walk through the front door and wrap you up in his arms. He’d smell like places you’ve never been, his skin would be tanned golden from the southern sun, maybe his hair would be a little longer than last time. You liked it when his hair got a little too long and the way his curls would frame his face.

Your stomach flips eagerly when you see a set of headlights flash through the slats in the blinds of the front windows, the faint sound of tires on gravel would’ve been barely noticeable if you hadn't been straining to hear it. You crane your neck to check the clock behind you and perk up in your spot on the couch in time to see the bright circular lights flick off, the atmosphere out your front door becoming quiet again save for the rain.

Your heart rate quickens and a smile spreads across your face and you throw the flannel blanket off of your lap and bound to the front door in less strides than it would take usually. You grab the doorknob just as the door is swinging open and it surprises you enough to squeak out before looking up at him.

You fling yourself at him and he huffs a laugh as you knock into his chest, pushing him back halfway onto the front porch again. “I missed you too darling” he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

“I didn’t even say anything yet” you mumble into his shirt before pulling away to look at him. You both stumble back into the house and he swings his leg back shutting the door with his foot.

“You didn’t have to,” he smiles softly at you, his eyes looking all too tired in the dim light of the living room. “It smells nice in here” he notes, his eyes focusing behind you- most likely at the multiple candles lit on the various tables throughout the living room, and the corners of his lips tilt upwards slowly. “like home-“ he pulls you closer to him as his head falls into the crook of your neck, “god, I missed this” he breathes, sounding a little too somber. Your brows knit in concern, your hands rubbing up and down his back and you note that he is decidedly less energetic than you’d expected him to be.

You trail one of your hands up to the back of his neck and into his hair, holding him against you.

“Is everything okay?”

“Just drained baby” His lips brush against the skin of your neck as he speaks.

“Something happen?” You ask, though you don’t want to press too much.

“Not really, the flight just felt like an eternity, and sleeping in a airport terminal didn’t help much”

“I’m sorry babe,” You twirl a particularly coiled curl around your finger before pulling away. “The sheets are clean upstairs, why don’t you go shower and I’ll make you some tea?” You pose it as a question though it’s more of a command. He doesn’t object, a sweet smile spread across his features as his eyes flick over to the stereo.

“You're still listening to this?” He waves his hand up in the air, not needing to specify for you to understand what he’s talking about.

A tingling blush spreads across your cheeks and you rock back on your heels, turning away from him. “It’s all that plays every time you’re away” You say nonchalantly as you take a step towards the kitchen. His arm reaches out and you feel his hand circle your wrist, pulling you back to look at him. He lets go of your wrist and brings his hand up to cup your face and you lean into his hand, nearly melting into the touch of his palm against your face.

“You’re so good to me, you know that?” He says, tilting his head to match yours, his eyes scanning your face, lingering on your lips before locking them back on yours.

“You deserve it” you whisper back and he leans in, fisting his hand into your oversized shirt and pulling you closer until his soft lips brush against yours. You lean into the kiss and he sighs against your lips. You close your eyes and part your lips as he presses harder against you just before pulling away.

His eyes flick down the fabric fisted in his hand and he smiles knowingly at the old shirt draped over your body, the one he wore almost every day the year before you met. “I hardly think I deserve you” his voice is meek and it makes your heart flutter in your chest, you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Go get cleaned up baby, I’ll meet you up there” He nods and you both pull away. As he’s walking away from you, you turn and give his backside a small smack. It puts a pep in his step and he lets out the tiniest giggle as he looks over his shoulder, grinning back at you before disappearing up the staircase.

You head into the kitchen and start the tea, humming along to the faint music floating in from the living room. You make quick work of the task, stirring just the right amount of honey into the chamomile tea. You hold the warm mug in your hands carefully as you flick the kitchen light off with your elbow and start up the stairs.

As you reach the landing you can hear the water running from behind the door that had been left cracked open, thin wisps of steam ghosting out into the cool hallway. You can faintly hear him humming a melody of his own, something you don’t recognize- although it’s beautiful. You lean against the wall and listen for a moment, soaking in every ounce of his presence. It was things like this you missed most while he was gone.

Sure you missed being close to him, holding him while you watched a movie, or sharing quiet kisses underneath the covers- but you really missed just existing together. It didn’t bother you when you’d find the cup he left out on the counter or the way he’d leave the cap off the toothpaste. It was small things like that that reminded you that you weren’t alone. The absence of imperfection made you uncomfortable, the predictability of your own habits made you even more lonesome.

You aren’t sure how long you stood there for when you hear the water switch off, the metal sound of the shower curtain hooks sliding against the rod pulling you from your thoughts. You step away from the wall and into your shared bedroom, setting the mug that you didn’t realize was nearly scalding your hands onto the nightstand. You walk over to the bedroom window and crack it open slightly, the damp night air refreshing the small room. You cross the room and open one of the dresser drawers, shuffling through the various articles of clothing until you find his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants.

You turn to toss them on the bed when he walks into the bedroom, his hair still damp and dripping down his chest. The navy blue towel wrapped low around his hips effectively catching the rolling droplets of water as he motions to the pants still grasped in your hands.

“Let’s skip the clothes tonight, hm?” You look down at the pants and shove them haphazardly back into the drawer before shutting it.

“Okay” you mumble softly, making sure to hold eye contact as you start pushing up the hem of the shirt you’ve been wearing and pulling it off over your head. You toss it to the floor and look back up at him, stepping backwards towards the bed as his eyes rake up and down your exposed body. You silently slip under the covers and reach over, clicking the lamp off, the room now shrouded in darkness save the soft moonlight flooding into the window.

The angles and divots of his slender body create shadows down his form as he walks to the bed and he pulls the towel from around his waist, slipping into bed next to you. His body is warm as he pulls you into him, the musky smell of his body wash filling your senses. Your eyes fluttered at the scent, realizing that no matter how many times you washed yourself with that same soap to feel closer to him, it just never smelled the same as when it was mixed with his essence.

“I’m so glad you’re back home-“ you whisper, tangling your legs with his, “I think about you all the time when you’re gone, more than I probably should” You nuzzle into the pillow you’re sharing with him.

“You’re always on my mind” he whispers back, his fingertips running up and down your spine. “Even now- even when we’re this close” he presses into you more and you smile, squeaking as he squeezes your body tight against him.

You wrap your arms around him, your body running hot as you become aware of him growing half hard against your thigh that’s slotted between his legs. Your heart beats in two places at once as you slide your thigh against him again, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his neck. He hums low in his chest and you tilt your head up to look up at him with big, questioning eyes. His fingertips twitch into your back, pressing harder against your skin.

“Sweetheart you know how much I’d love to, how much I obviously want to, but I am so tired-”

“Let me take care of you” You whisper, brushing your knuckles against his hip bone.

He sighs and leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “and I want to love you right” he continues, ignoring your quiet plea.

“It’s okay” you kiss his skin once more before relenting quickly and letting out a sigh of your own.

“I love you” he flattens his hand out on your back, rubbing between your shoulder blades.

“I love you more” You close your eyes and his hand continues rubbing your back, soothing you into a dazed state of half consciousness. His breathing evens out and you drift off the steady rise and fall of his chest- remembering once again how easy it is to fall asleep in each other's arms.

⭐️🌙✨💤

Your fingers curl into the plush blanket that’s pulled up to your chin as you stir awake. As you gain consciousness you become aware of the subtle movement behind you and the light faltered breathing. Through the night you'd somehow ended up with his warm body pressed to your back, though his legs are tangling with yours just as they had when you fell asleep. His arm is draped over your waist as his thumb rubs delicate circles just below your belly button.

You shift your eyes to the clock on the nightstand next to you, it was nearly three in the morning. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness, the objects in your room quickly becoming noticeable in the dim moonlight. He moves again and that’s when you feel him, hard and pressing into your ass and he moves his hips ever so slowly against you, sighing quietly. His lips are so close to your ear that you can feel his breath gently stir the baby hairs at the back of your neck. You almost press your thighs together involuntarily, your arousal instantly making itself known between your legs.

You bite down on your lip and smirk, keeping quiet as you pretend to shift in your sleep, effectively pressing your ass further into his cock that is now throbbing against you. He groans louder than before, nearly giving up on caring if he’s quiet enough for your sake. His hand that is resting on your stomach slowly, almost hesitantly, slides up until his fingertips are pressing into the soft curve of the underside of your breast. Your breath catches in your throat in anticipation of his touch traveling up further.

Finally he slides his hand over your breast, palming it gently until he can feel your nipple harden against his palm. You sigh, letting your eyes flutter and his hand pauses, his fingers twitching against your skin. The ache between your legs is undeniable and you want nothing more than for him to slide his cock between your thighs. To feel him sliding against your heat, collecting your slick and offering any kind of reprieve.

He moves his hand again, after deeming you still asleep, and slides his thumb up until it finds your nipple, still hard and way too sensitive. He pinches it, softly a couple times and begins rolling it between his fingers. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at the sensation, and you feel your wetness start to drip out onto your thighs. You can’t suppress the soft moan that leaves your lips.

You feel his cock jump against your ass and his hand suddenly stops, once again pressing flat against your breast.

“Mama?” He whispers, pausing for a moment and when you don’t answer, the second half of his question comes out, “you awake?”

“Mhm” you respond, rolling your ass against him once again. “What’s wrong baby?”

“Need you” His voice already taking on a deliciously thick tone, if his words were palpable they’d be molasses. His fingers press into your breast, pulling you closer into him, his chest flush against your back.

“What do you need, baby?” You bring your hand up to your chest and place it on top of his hand, easily lacing your fingers.

He squeezes your hand gently, “need to love you”

You turn your body to face him, reaching your arm around the back of his head, threading your fingers through his soft curls. His eyes are open, wide and staring at you. You could almost describe them as innocent, if it weren’t for his cock leaking and begging, pressed between your stomachs.

“What happened to being tired?” You quip, gently poking your finger into his chest, right between his pecs.

“Can’t wait anymore” He pulls you closer until your lips brush against his. You melt together immediately, breathing deeply into the kiss as you get lost in each other’s being. You massage your fingertips into the back of his head as his arm wraps around your side, placing his palm flat against the small of your back.

Your legs slot together, knees hooking around each other as your hips slowly grind together. He pulls you into him as close as humanly possible without becoming one body. He sighs against your lips, and you feel so safe in this moment under the covers with him. His lips part, welcoming you in with the warm sweet taste that is Josh. The sounds of the night floods through your bedroom window that had been left cracked open.

You can hear the occasional car passing outside your window though it’s well into the night. You wonder what anyone would be doing out at this time in the middle of a Sunday night. Then you smile against his lips to imagine them driving by- completely oblivious to the sweet love being made just behind the walls of the little sage green house.

He sighs against you as you suck his lower lip into your mouth, holding it between your teeth. You run your tongue across it and his hips rut against yours, whines erupting from his throat as you tug on his hair. You drag your teeth along his lip as you pull away. You pull at his hair again and he lets you tilt his head back, exposing his throat and the way the adams apple bobs when he feels your breath against his skin. You lean in, pressing a delicate kiss to the hollow of his neck, then licking a stripe up it, tasting the heavenly saltiness of his skin.

“On your back baby” you whisper, your lips hovering his jawline. You prop yourself up on your elbow and untangle your legs from his. Immediately, he lays back making himself comfortable into the pillows. Once he’s laid out straight he tilts his head to you, looking up with expectant eyes. Your eyes search each other for a moment, as if you’re both commiting each other to memory, even if it was for the thousandth time.

“You are so beautiful” he whispers, reaching one of his hands up to caress the side of your face. His features were softened in the moonlight making him look more angelic than he already was, and you assumed it cast the same glow onto you.

“So are you,” You whisper back, your heart swelling when you see a slight smile tugging at his lips. You lean in, guided heavily by his hand cradling your face, “my beautiful boy” you whisper before leaning in and connecting your lips with his once more.

As you keep your lips pressed together, your hand slides down his chest, his muscles twitching and jumping under your delicate touch. You pass your fingertips over his hip bones and his tongue licks across your lips, his hips bucking up off the bed.

“Patience baby, let me savor you” You part your lips and immediately your tongues tangle together, once again your senses filled with the presence of him. Finally you wrap your hand around his cock and he rolls his hips up, moaning into your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat and your stomach tightens- “Who did this to you, hmm?” you tighten your hand around his painfully hard cock, giving it a few passes, covering it in his own precum.

In an attempt to respond to your nearly rhetorical question he groans, low and guttural. As his breath runs out it turns into a feathery moan and you pull yourself away from his lips. You leave with just enough space between you to dip down and press a chaste kiss to his collarbone before trailing your tongue down to his chest. Your hand keeps a slow rhythm against him, quiet pleads falling from his lips.

You place an open mouthed kiss against his nipple, flicking your tongue against his hardened bud. He whines out, grinding his hips up into your fist as his hand that was previously down by his side slides up your thigh, gripping into the soft skin.

You nip at him and he hisses through his teeth. You hum, laying your tongue flat against him to soothe the bite before lazily trailing kisses to give the other one just as much attention. You flick your tongue out against it, but suddenly jolt forward, moaning into his chest as his fingers slip up inside of you, curling immediately.

“Josh-“ you gasp, your body nearly caving over him from the sudden pleasure. His fingers slide effortlessly in and out of you, the motion making the most lewd noise. You hear him huff a laugh under his breath as he leans in to you, and you can only imagine the way your arousal is soaking his palm… maybe even running down his wrist. His lips ghost across your ear, his nose pressing into your temple.

“My turn, angel” he whispers and slips his fingers from you causing you to inhale sharply at the feeling. Your heart hammers in your chest at the control he seems to be taking, rarely seeing this side of Josh. You pull back and look up at him through your hair that’s fallen into your face in time to see him bring his glistening fingers to his mouth.

He opens his mouth, dragging his fingers down his tongue rather than licking them off before sucking them into his mouth slowly. His cheeks hollow around his fingers, his eyes rolling back. You can almost imagine the way his tongue is swirling around them, the way he parts his fingers slightly to lick in between them, not wasting a single drop of your honey. His eyes are heavy lidded and you watch slack jawed as he opens his mouth again, pulling his slick fingers from it. It feels so explicit the way the saliva strings from his lips to his fingertips and he brings them to your open mouth. You close your mouth around his fingers almost on instinct, still tasting yourself- tasting him.

“Lay back” he hushes, sliding his fingers off your tongue just as you start to suck on them, leaving your mouth with a pop. You groan, wanting to taste them longer, suddenly needing to devour any part of him. You lean forward in search of his lips but he places his hands on your shoulders, “huh uh- I said lay down mama, wanna taste you”

He lays you back, guiding you by your shoulders until your head lays against the plush pillow he had just been occupying. It smells like him, his shampoo, it’s warm and only adds to the influx of stimuli affecting your sensitive body. He places a kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, your eyes fluttering closed. You only open them again when he pulls away, starting his descent down your body. You keep your eyes trained on him as he drags his lips down your sternum, your stomach jumping as he gently rakes his dull fingernails down your sides.

Finally he looks back up at you, grinning as he pushes your legs apart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he can feel the heat radiating from between your legs, your pussy aches with want and the cool air hitting your soaked center makes you wiggle against his grip. His eyes cast down between your thighs, his teeth dragging across his lower lip. “Look at you, all laid out for me” His eyes flick back up to yours one more time before dipping down and making contact with your dripping cunt.

You moan and roll your eyes back as you feel his tongue lick a languid stripe up your slit. You whine, reaching your hands out to tangle into his curls as he starts swirling his tongue around your clit. Your body jolts against him as he repeatedly attacks the bundle of nerves with pointed licks, his hands gripping your thighs and holding them open for him. You nearly gasp his name as his mouth continues to work against you with such fervent energy, seemingly losing himself in you. “You taste so fucking good” he breathes agaisnt you between each pass of his tongue.

He continues to lick, his tongue flat and wide against you, rubbing you in all the right places. Warmth starts pooling in your stomach, the pressure between your hips ever growing. You arch your back and let out a lewd moan as his tongue suddenly slips down and slides into you, pressing into your walls.

With your fingers twisting tighter into his curls, you buck your hips into his mouth as he moans against you, the vibrations only adding to the electricity he was delivering to your core. The tip of his nose rubs deliciously against your sensitive bud, but not with nearly enough pressure. You experimentally rock your hips in different angles against his mouth, chasing your high. You push your hips up into him, his nose finally catching your clit with each roll of your hips. You cry out, quickening your pace.

He mumbles something against your aching heat, his words lost in your movements. He groans against you once again, sending hot pleasure coursing through you. “Fuck mama” he pants, pulling away, and you nearly growl, your fingers immediately pulling his hair until his lips make contact with your clit again. “taste so fucking good-“ he sucks the swollen bud into his mouth, his pillowy lips caressing it so delicately you feel like you could fall apart at the seams as he lets it slip from his lips. “Let me have it-“ he groans, turning his face into your thigh and nipping at the soft flesh. You whimper at the pain, though it’s disguising itself as pleasure. “fuck my face and give it to me mama- I need to taste it”

His hand slides up from his place on your thigh, his mouth attaching to your cunt, slurping you up fervently as if you were his last breath. The pad of his thumb presses to your clit, rubbing tight circles into it as his tongue slips back into you. Your body shudders in ecstasy as your back arches off the mattress, your hips bucking into his face. You cry out as he whines into you, likely feeling the way your pussy flutters around his tongue as the proverbial rubber band between your hips finally snaps.

Your eyes clamp shut and Josh grips your thigh hard with his hand as your orgasm hits his tongue. You writhe underneath him, overstimulated and fucked moans leaving your lips every time his tongue passes over your clit, lapping up every last bit of your release. His licks become slower and lighter with every pass and your hands fall from his hair twitching into the soft sheets at your side. Your chest heaves along with his as he pulls away, sitting back on his heels to look down at you, rubbing his fingertips across your shaking legs.

When you finally open your eyes he’s looking down at you, the white bed sheet is draped over his shoulders. His hair disheveled beyond fixing, his head is tilted slightly to the side and the slick across the lower half of his face all too visible in the moonlight. “Good Morning” he teases, his voice raspy, a grin tilting up a corner of his lips as he notices you watching him, your breath evening out. You reach your hands out to him and he smiles, crawling up the length of your body, until he’s hovering above you, the white sheet around his shoulders wrapping you two up in your own private heaven.

You run your hands up and down his chest, up to his shoulders and down his muscular arms that are holding his body weight up. He sighs and leans down into you, pressing his lips to yours in such a delicate manner it almost feels like the first time he ever kissed you. You taste yourself on his tongue, the mixture of him and you flooding your mouth as your tongues slide together. Your breaths mimic each other, coming out broken and desperate. He settles himself further between your legs and you feel the tip of his warm cock brush against you. You sigh further into the kiss and bring your legs up around his waist, pushing him closer to you. He pushes his hips forward, his swollen length sliding effortless against your folds.

“Can I have it?” He nearly whines, dragging his tongue slowly across your lower lip, “I want all of you, mama” he whispers against your mouth like a secret.

“You have me, baby” You tilt your head up and catch his mouth in a passionate kiss, your lips pressing together like they were trying to become one. Slowly, he slips inside of you burying himself to the hilt. Both of you moaning into each other's mouths as he stayed still for a moment, gauging just how much he could take. His arms tremble as he pulls back, and pushes into you again setting a slow smooth pace. He leans down further and presses his body flush to yours, his face falling into your neck as he continues his languid strokes into your tight walls.

“I love you” You whisper slowly into his hair, reaching up to drape your arms around his neck.

“I love you more” He whispers back, each word accompanied by a gentle thrust of his cock. You feel him smile against your skin before raising his head up to face you again. You match yourself to his rhythm, rolling your hips up against him, soft moans leaving your lips as the tip of him catches on the spot deep inside you that sends a tingle up your spine. Your eyes never leave his, seemingly speaking a thousand words between each other, but not comprehending any of it. Nothing makes sense besides completely losing yourself in his honey eyes, because feeling anything else in this moment would feel wrong.

The sound his hips make as they slap against yours, watching his brows furrowed and his mouth open in near silent moans as you clench around him particularly tight. The way your body reacts to him, the wetness between your legs running down your thighs and soaking the sheets more with every thrust. The way his whines send goosebumps up your arms, causing your nipples to perk up against his chest and rub against him with every movement you make together.

You angle your hips up further, locking your ankles around the small of his back, making his cock brush up against your sweet spot over and over again. You throw your head back against the pillow, his lips immediately attaching to your neck. His pace quickens enough to make your toes curl and your breathing becomes ragged once more. Josh nips at the thin skin stretched over your neck, licking it and sucking it, loving it. He hums as he presses his body up further, sliding deeper into you with every flick of his hips until the tip of his cock kisses your cervix. Your fingertips press into his back, your legs tightening further around him, urging him to take you further, constantly needing more of him. Your insatiable nature in this moment makes you wish that you could live inside each other's bodies. If it were possible you’d never let him leave his place inside of you, because it just felt that right.

The room is quiet and alive with sound all at once. Your moans blend together along with the sounds coming from between your legs, the sounds of the outside being drowned out by the sounds of the love being made between you. The brass headboard above you hitting the wall with a clink at every movement of his hips. The pressure between your own starts growing much faster than you can control until you feel yourself tighten around him, your orgasm threatening to spill over but his pace keeping you just on the edge.

The tip of him hits you just right with every pass of his cock, unbelievably hard and throbbing. Pressure continues to build inside of you with a desperate need for release you had never felt before, even with Josh. His head dips down, flicking his tongue across your nipple before taking it into his mouth. He suckles it slowly, resting his cheek against the pillow of your breast. You slide your hand up his neck to hold the back of his head as the pressure between your hips releases, slowly at first and then all at once.

Your clit throbs erratically as you throw your head back and cry out into the night. Your body tenses up as you fully reach your peak, a rush of warm liquid flows down your thighs, soaking into the sheets between your legs. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as you take in what just happened, as you throb around his cock.

His head snaps up and he looks at you in awe, his hips now smacking against yours louder, with the wetness you’ve shared with him. “Fuck baby” he pants looking down between your bodies and then back up to you, “fuck that was so hot- fuck you’re perfect” his breath is ragged and his hips start to stutter.

Your eyes roll back as he delivers a few particularly hard thrusts before burying himself to the hilt and breathing out a guttural growl that echoes in your chest as he spills inside of you. His hips twitch against you, his mouth falling open in a whine that sounds so heavenly you desperately try to commit it to memory. He leans his head down into your neck again and nearly collapses onto you, your legs trembling around his waist and your hands still in his hair.

He stays inside you as his body relaxes, the movements finally coming to a halt. You take a deep breath and lazily massage your fingers against his scalp as he presses the tiniest tired kisses to the side of your neck. When he finally pulls out, you can’t help but sigh, partly from pleasure but mostly in mourning- a greedy part of you wanting him to stay there inside of you until you both fall asleep.

He slides off of you, laying back beside you, a sheen of sweat covering his body- evident in the moonlight. He pulls you into him, despite the air between you feeling nearly twenty degrees hotter than the rest of the room. You knew he needed you close and despite the heat, you couldn’t say that you didn’t want him close either. He thrived off holding you afterwards almost more than he enjoyed making love to you. You laid your head against his chest and tried to get comfortable, attempting to tangle your legs with his, but you huffed quietly causing him to cast his eyes down at you.

“What’s wrong baby?” He whispers, pushing the hair that’s stuck to your face away from your eyes. You scoot closer to him, trying to avoid the mess you had made just minutes prior, though now it’s gone cold and all too noticeable.

“I want to change the sheets- but I don’t think I could stand up if I tried” You squeak out, your voice still recovering from the moans he elicited from you.

“In the morning mama, don’t worry about it” he soothes, smoothing a hand over your hair. It’s quiet between you two for a moment and you think he’s fallen asleep until you poke him gently in the side, his eyes cracking open again as he raises his eyebrow in question.

“Can you scoot over, I don't wanna sleep on the wet spot” you whisper and he laughs, a lot louder than you expected, a smile stretching across his face.

“C’mere” He moves over and pulls you in closer to him before using his other hand to pull the covers up around your body, effectively tucking you into his side.

“That's better” you smile softly and place a kiss to his chest. His fingers come up from behind you to tangle into your hair, the slow rubbing of his fingertips against your scalp and the euphoric yet comforting energy that radiates between you lulls you to sleep.

#Spotify #greta van fleet #gvf one shot #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiskza #gvf #gvf fic #greta van fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf imagine #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka smut #gvf smut #soft smut

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blackleatherjacketz · 2 years

Text

Torn

Frank Castle x Female Reader, Steven Grant x Female Reader

Summary: Frank gets jealous that you’ve moved on, especially when he finds out who it is.

Warnings: Territorial Frank, Jealous Steven, Infidelity, Implied Sexual History, Kissing, Exes Returning From the Past, Frank Castle Growling, Two Hot Marvel Men In The Same Room

Notes: This is purely self-indulgent so I’m sorry and you’re welcome!

Word Count: 1.5k+

Part 1 of Show Me

Read more MARVEL stories HERE! Read more Oscar stories HERE!

Tags: @acutecupidity @likedovesinthewnd @genevievedarcygranger @letsby @skittle479

Frank walks around your apartment as if it were his own, as if he were your husband returning home from the war instead of just a casual lover from your past showing up out of the blue.

You watch him pace along your floorboards, his boots creaking against the hard wood as the mere sight of him causes the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end. It’s electric, this inexplicable tension that stirs deep inside of you whenever he’s close by, ignited by nothing more than a look in his eye or a twitch of his lip. You hold your breath as he traces his fingertips over the back of your couch, outlines the pictures along your walls and fingers the liquor bottle you’d left open on the counter. He’s scouting, collecting little pieces of evidence about what you’d been up to this whole time he’s been gone.

“I missed you,” he whispers, addressing you without even bothering to turn around. He clenches his fingers into a fist to stop his trigger finger from twitching, pulsing it open three more times before shaking it out.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you admit a little too quickly, realizing only now that you shouldn’t have opened the door to begin with. You glance at your watch, manually taking your eyes off of him in an effort to redirect your energy. “What do you want?”

“I can smell him,” he grumbles, looking over at the two empty glasses on your coffee table, rings of sugary alcohol still sticky around the bases. “I can smell him all over this fucking place.”

“Really?” If he thought he could just waltz back in here after being gone for so long without an explanation, then he had another thing coming. “Who?” You decide to play dumb, folding your arms across your chest in disbelief. “Who can you smell, Frank?”

“Spector.” His whisper is a bit louder this time, the single word coming out in an angry growl as he turns his head to finally face you.

A rush of warmth floods your face and neck, his pinpoint accuracy coloring your skin a bright red as your heart sinks into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel this guilty, shouldn’t have this knee jerk reaction to defend yourself, but here you are, feeling like you’ve committed adultery against a man who’d left you high and dry.

“How’d you know?” Your voice is shaky, the mixture of emotions making it waver halfway up your throat.

“What’d you mean, how’d I know?” He huffs, dismissing the seemingly obvious answer with a wave of his hand.

You start to wonder if he’d spent hours holed up on the rooftop across the street, watching you through the scope of his rifle as Marc, Steven and Jake all had their way with you day and night. You wonder if he’d met Marc on the streets fighting some big bad together, only to pick up on something he said to follow him back to you. And then, for a split second, you start to think that he actually cares about you enough to offer an explanation for his disappearing act, that he was here to patch things up with you but got distracted by Marc’s scent instead. Each idea sounds just as crazy as the next.

Frank starts to circle his way around your living room, taking inventory of every window and door before eventually stopping directly in front of you. That undeniable tension continues to grow as he takes you in with those wildly intense eyes, holding you in place. His close proximity allows you to breathe in the deep sandalwood of his cologne, mixing in with his sweat as it brings up vivid memories of his hips buried beneath your thighs with his fingers in your hair.

“How long you been sleeping with him?” His full lips remain parted as he asks his question, stepping so close to you that his boots tap the toes of your shoes.

Really? Now he decides to care, to communicate verbally? Unbelievable!

“I thought you knew everything already.” You scoff, smirking as he closes the space between you even more.

“Oh, come on,” he teases, brushing your cheek with his knuckles before curving them under your chin. “He got a bigger dick than me, is that it?”

“Jesus, Frank.” You place your palm on his chest to keep him from getting any closer, trying your best to avoid answering his question.

“I go off on a mission and come back to you playing house with a man who dresses up like a mummy every night?” He smiles, a jeering look painting his features as he forces a laugh. “I mean, what do you see in that guy, anyways?”

“We’re not doing this, Frank.” You’re not sure who needs more convincing of that fact: him or you.

“Why not?” He feathers his folded hand down your neck and shoulder, the rough scar tissue on the backs of his fingers leaving a trail of goose flesh in its wake. A small smile starts in the corner of his mouth as your body reacts to him like it always does, quivering beneath his touch as he towers over you. He still knows just how to start you up; small, gentle touches on your most delicate areas before his hands and lips start claiming purchase over every inch of you, inside and out.

“This isn’t fair. You don’t get to do this, not now,” you repeat reluctantly, voice shaking a little bit less this time. You try to ignore the feeling his breath on your cheek sends down your spine, twisting your stomach in a knot that’s all too familiar. You have to continually remind yourself to stay strong as he cups your face in his hands, your deafening pulse pounding against his wrists. “You can’t come back like this just because you want to.”

“I know.” He rubs his thumbs across your cheeks, pressing the rest of his fingers into your hairline as he rests his forehead against yours. “I know, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head slowly, his nose brushing against yours as his lips creep closer to your mouth. “But I’m here now.” He breathes into you, tilting your chin up so that you have nowhere else to look but into his eyes.

That black tarry abyss nearly pulls you under, wrapping itself around you completely as his lips crash into yours. The forbidden temptation tastes like heaven and the bitter black coffee that keeps him alert, sweetened only by the salt of his skin and the iron from his wounds. A faint feral growl brews in his chest as he parts your lips with his tongue, pulling you in closer by the back of your head as if he were trying to merge your bodies into one.

“Frank, I can’t!” You manage to push him off of you for the first time in your life, your yearning body loathing your moral compass.

He lets you push him back, letting go of your face with hands in the air like the wanted criminal that he is. “Okay,” he nods, eyes darting over to the door as the sound of a key fiddles into the lock.

Thank God and Oh No cross your mind at the very same time as you hug yourself in an effort to calm your body down, leaning your back against the wall. Frank takes the hint and steps further away from you, staring at the door with bated breath. Both of you watch as the brass handle turns clockwise before breaking the threshold between here and there, the pressure in the air almost static. You aren’t sure who's going to be walking through that door in the next few seconds, and can’t exactly guarantee Frank’s safety.

“Right, what’s all this, then?” Steven looks at Frank and then at you, confusion knitting his brows together as he attempts to put the pieces together.

Oh, thank God, you sigh in relief.

“What’s with the accent, Spector?” Frank’s tone isn’t meant to come off as accusatory, but his default timbre is inherently aggressive.

Oh great, they do know each other, after all. Fuck.

“Spector?” Steven puts his keys back into his pocket and kisses your cheek, his eyes trained solely on Frank. “You a friend of Marc’s, then?” He shuts the door behind him, jaw clenching tightly as he undoubtedly consults his alter on where they could’ve seen this man before. “Afraid he won’t be in for a while, uh…” he pauses and squints at him, collecting more information before properly identifying him, “Frank.”

Speechless, Frank stares at the both of you in awe, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to make sense of the situation before he remembers to breathe again.

“Frank was just leaving.” You reassure Steven, leaning into him as he palms the small of your back. “Weren’t you, Frank?” You glare at him until he nods, pressing his lips together in a thin fine line.

“That’s right,” Frank relents, taking his time walking toward the door as Steven opens it again. His boots creak a little louder this time, the wood painfully straining under his tremendous weight as gravity pulls him toward the center of the earth. He pauses just before crossing through the door frame, looking at Steven like some sort of failed science experiment before saying “Keep her safe, yeah?”

“Not a problem, mate.”

#steven grant #frank castle #oscar isaac #jon bernthal #moon knight #the punisher #steven grant x reader #frank castle x reader

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dragonmuse · 2 years

Text

Valeria_Messalina commented “I now really want an AU where Izzy and Lucius are the same age and met young.” and an Anon had asked ‘What if Izzy had never met Faith?”

(The latter I couldn’t tackle because I just don’t think any good would come of Izzy never meeting Faith, BUT if he met Lucius instead of Faith.... Welcome to ‘Somewhere Only We Know” which is bulleted, but barely. this one got out of hand )

-It’s the summer of 1993 (you can move Lucius anywhere in time, but Izzy is a 90s kid in any timeline) and Izzy will be a junior. He’s spending the summer stocking grocery store shelves, running with Brandon and his friends to commit petty theft and generally trying not to be home as much as possible.

-Lucius is a sophomore, freshly plucked from suburbia and thrust into the city when his mother gets a new job. He spent the summer trying to figure out how to adjust to this new environment, finding he likes it better that he can get away from the apartment and be somewhere rather than taking aimless walks. He spends whole days at the movies, sneaking between theaters, relishing the air conditioned, popcorn scented bliss.

-But a boy has to eat and Lucius’ allowance is a joke and a half. His mother gets upset if he talks about working. He’s too young for that! So instead, he sharpens the skills he’d started honing in long lonely hours when he might get dropped at the mall.

-It’s so much easier to steal in the city where everyone is crowded together and he doesn’t look like much. His mother foists bland clothing on him, but with careful fingers he acquires bits and bobs. Black converse, loose colorful t-shirt and jeans cuffed at the ankle. Eyes slide over him as he picks his way through pockets.

-When his mother sends him to the store for a few essentials, he’s considering what he can fit his pocket when he spots another guy a dozen or so feet away. He’s reaching up, slotting a box on a high shelf, stark white t-shirt lifting away, showing off a stretch of skin. Lucius had tasted skin like that already. Right before they moved, he’d slipped into a dark room with one of the Kevins and learned a few things about himself.

-Distracted, Lucius hands walk for him, but he’s only halfway to sliding a candy bar into his pocket when a rough hand catches his wrist.

“The manager is at the top of the aisle,” the guy hisses. “Drop it and then pretend you’re talking to me.”

“Oh shit,” Lucius dropped. “Uh, hi. I’m Lucius.”

“Good for you,” the guy lets go of his wrist, but stays close. He’s gorgeous, Lucius quickly decides. Intense dark eyes, thick dark hair to match and he’s clearly strong. “You’re fast.”

“Yeah, I’ve had some practice,” Lucius draweld. There is an older man walking slowly by in a green apron.

“Not enough if you don’t know how to keep an eye out,” the guy eases back, waits for something, then his shoulders relax.

“Thanks for the save,” Lucius says and means it. Isn’t sure it sounds like he means it because sarcasm is his default.

“Yeah, whatever,” the guy snaps. “Just be smarter.”

“Got some tips?” Lucius attempts a flirtatious smile though he’s pretty sure it comes out pained. Probably just asking for pain.

The guy is oblivious either way, just takes another step back and reaches for another box.

“Use your fucking eyes.”

“Wow, insightful.”

-Lucius figures that’s the end of that, but then he starts seeing the guy everywhere. He’s standing on the corner with a group of guys dressed just like him, but he’s smaller than the rest of them and he’s never quite with the group, always along the edges, he’s leaving a convenience store, a cigarette over one ear, or walking with a little girl who’s in a swimsuit and looks like a grim version of him in miniature.

-Then he’s at the pizza place Lucius gets lunch from most days, eating alone with his head in his hand. He’s got a spectacular bruise on his forearm, mottled and dark.

“This seat taken?” Lucius asks and sits down across from him before the guy can say anything.

“What do you want?” The guy asks tiredly.

“Honestly? A smoke if you’ve got one after this,” Lucius bit into his slice.

“Steal your own.”

“They keep them behind the counter.”

“Except at Manny’s,” the guy rolls his eyes. “That’s why we all go there.”

“I moved here like three weeks ago, I don’t know this shit,” Lucius chewed and swallowed. “And I don’t know anyone.”

“Sucks to be you,” the guy crunched into a piece of crust, eyes sliding away from Lucius entirely.

“It does,” Lucius says lightly. “But you could make it suck less.”

“Why would I do something like that?” the guy snorts.

“Because I’d make it worth your while,” Luicus leans in with a smile.

The guy stares blankly at him. “How?”

“Wow. Okay then,” Lucius frowns, trying to figure out how to play this. His bag of tricks is very limited at this age. “Guess I read you wrong.”

“Read me wrong how?” And maybe that would usually be menacing, but the guy looks like shit right now.

“Are you...do you want some ice or something?”

The guy’s blank look shutters further. “No.”

“Okay,” Lucius turns his attention to his pizza instead. He feels a squirming discomfort all of a sudden. Something here is wrong wrong wrong and he has no idea what to do about it. If he even can do anything. The guy clearly wants him to leave, but Lucius hasn’t seen another person his age for more than a minute since they got here. “I’ll buy a cig off you.”

“Fine,” the guy concedes, so after they’re both done eating (in silence), they slip outside and Luicus gives him two bucks in exchange for one cigarette. They both light up and to Lucius’s surprise, the guy stays, leaning on the building with him.

“My mom’s at work,” Lucius volunteers because at least it’s company. Good looking, if sullen, company. “If you want to hang out.”

The guy stares at the tip of his lit cigarette for a second and Lucius prepares himself for the refusal. No guy like this one has ever given him the time of day and he basically had to bribe him to even share this awkward moment.

“Yeah,” the guy concedes.

“Cool. But I need a name. I only invite people if I know their name.”

“Izzy.”

“Izzy,” Lucius repeats dubiously. “Sure. Why not?”

The apartment isn’t fully unpacked yet. It’s smallish,smaller than the house had been, but Lucius' bedroom is on the other side of the living room from his mother’s instead of sharing a wall which is a big upgrade. Lucius’ bedroom has no boxes in it, he’s fully exploded through the space. All his movie posters (Cry Baby, Breakfast Club, Back to the Future, male leads all front and center) were up, clothes spilling out of his chest of drawers. His desk was stacked with books and sketch pads and the tiny television his mother had bought him as some sort of apology for the move.

“You wanna watch something?” Lucius offered.

-Izzy sits on the floor and Lucius goes to the kitchen, gets them both a can of coke and then after some hesitation, wraps some frozen peas in a bag. Izzy takes both with a bemused expression, but he drinks the coke and the peas go against his face with a soft sigh.

He falls asleep after an hour. Head resting against the bed. Lucius makes a decision that whether he likes it or not, this spiky asshole is going to be his friend.

-Izzy does not get a say in this plan, just has to deal with this lanky weird kid with fluffy hair and patchy facial hair showing up and offering Izzy cigarettes about as often as he's bumming them. He waits for him outside of the grocery store when he knows his shift is ending and talks at him. It’s all nonsense shit, movies and shows he’s watched, stores that he’s poked his endlessly curious nose into and wasn’t turned away because he doesn’t look like he might chew through your neck given the chance. And books, he reads a shitton and has something to say about every one of them.

“Gonna go broke buying that shit,” Izzy put in at the end of one long scrambling tale.

“That’s what the library is for,” Lucius scoffed.

“The library?”

“Oh my god, yes, come on.” And Lucius started walking away like he just exected Izzy to follow.

Brandon and the guys would be gathering at the construction site about now with a six pack and a half-assed plan. Izzy should head that way, be with the only people that he even halfway fit in with. Not with this ridiculous kid.

He follows Lucius.

He hasn’t been to the library since they did some field trip there in elementary school. It’s as dark as he remembered, but it also smelled kind of good. Like lemon cleaning products and cedar. Lucius waved at the librarian, who gave him a warm smile and sailed past into the stacks.

“Look,” Luicus plucks a book down and holds it out to Izzy. Izzy takes it.

“What is it?”

“You can read,” Lucius says tartly and then turns his attention back to the books.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up. I had just gotten over a serious illness that I won’t bother to talk about, except that it had something to do with the miserably weary split-up and my feeling that everything was dead. With the coming of Dean Moriarty began the part of my life you could call my life on the road.

Everything was dead, Izzy thought and despite himself, sat down to read while Lucius started piling books beside him. The afternoon wore on and they both stayed there in the stacks, only the pile of books between them

-The summer goes by like that. Izzy drops off little by little from Brandon’s group. He has the money from his job for now, cash in hand for the few things he actually needs, and a five-finger discount for the things that were out of reach. It’s actually more money in some ways because he wasn’t dividing up whatever he got with the rest of the gang. Either way, by August, he’s able to buy the secondhand bike from the guy down the street.

“Oh wow,” Lucius breathes out the first time he sees it, properly appreciative. “This is yours?”

“Yeah, got a license and all,” he says, pride curling in his voice.

“Where should we go?”

And Izzy hadn’t really understood they were a we, but apparently they were and he finds it hard to be upset about that.

“Wherever.”

They go out into the world. Lucius’ curiosity is contagious and there’s always something he wants to see. Some dusty museum or old house or once, very memorably, an outdoor theater showing of Shakespere that Izzy resists, but winds up watching raptly. Titus is a bloody, screaming mess of a show and with Lucius whispering cliff notes in his ear, he follows it easily enough.

-School starts again because time is cruel. Izzy still moves with Brandon’s crew, not willing to become a lone wolf just yet, but he finds himself unmoved by the older boy’s barking. He doesn’t see Lucius much during the day, their schedules opposed to each other. Every time he does spot him, he’s alone, shoulders hunched and usually trying to read if he’s standing still. Hiding.

In English, Izzy usually tunes out, but the summer of books shoved unceremoniously into his hands leaves him with opinions he never thought he'd bother having has had its effect. He doesn’t raise his hand (that’s for nerds), but he actually does write and hand in his essays.

...this is also possibly because Lucius finds him the first day after school hanging out at front, eyeballs Brandon’s groups with thin veiled distaste, looks at Izzy and says,

“Let’s go.”

And Izzy, frozen for a moment, waits for someone else to contradict that statement. But Brandon didn’t even hear it. A nerd like Lucius is a non-entity, barely worth the glance. No one says a word as Izzy walks away.

“I already hate this place,” Lucius informed him. “Let’s get something to eat.”

They do and then they wind up at Lucius place, Izzy on the floor, Lucius at his desk sketching and listing off complaints that Izzy has no counter argument too. The school is underfunded and shitty in a lot of ways. The adults are mostly checked out. Izzy has never done an extracurricular in his life, but sure those are probably limited and bad too.

And that just keeps happening. Izzy means to go and hang out at the abandoned construction site or lift some beer and drink it on his own. Instead, he winds up in the library or the pizza place or just sitting on Lucius’ floor actually doing his stupid fucking homework because Lucius is doing his with the serious look on his face.

“None of it matters,” Izzy grumbles, even as he let the math unspool from him in clean neat numbers.

“You’ve got to start applying to college next year, how can you say that?”

Izzy snorts, “Yeah, you got us confused. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll probably die here.”

“Wow, dark,” Lucius throws a balled up piece of paper at his head. “There’s scholarships and things. We’ll figure it out. You’re not staying here. Definitely not staying with your parents.”

Izzy hadn’t thought of it that way. Without the stream of illicit cash, he has no way of getting out really. The idea of continuing to live at home for an indefinite time.....

-Lucius does most things himself. Mom works or wants them done the wrong way entirely, so he makes his own lunch, does his own laundry and counts days until escape. New high school is just as bad as the old and after a few aborted attempts, he stops trying to make more friends. There’s a guy that he meets up with a few times, exchanges some lukewarm handjobs, but Lucius gives it up when the guy spits a name at him in the hallways. There’s no safety to explore.

Lucius does everything himself, but he’s not much use against bullies. He’s pinned down on the way to school one morning, normal assholes being assholes, but circling for blood. He considers shouting for help, but there’s no on around.

Until he hears the roar of bike and then he doesn’t have to say anything at all. It’s brutal, efficient and so bloody that he feels kind of sick actually.

“You good?” Izzy asks unconcerned, flexing one hand where a knuckle split.

“Did you kill them?” Lucius asks in return.

“No,” Izzy rolls his eyes just as one of the guys staggers to his feet and half stumbles away. “I wouldn’t wait around if I’d killed someone.”

“Oh that’s...sensible. You want a band aid or something?”

And Izzy doesn’t argue, just stands there and let’s Lucius wrap a beige bandage around his finger. The bandages Lucius started keeping in his bag for him, along with one of those ice packs you squeeze to activate.

“Thanks,” Lucius leans in, not really thinking about it, and kisses Izzy’s cheek.

“Uh, yeah,” Izzy stares at him, “sure....you want to ditch out?”

“Ditch...” Lucius stared at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“My mom would murder me,” but he’s intrigued. What’s one time?

They drive off and wind up down by the riverfront, Lucius shows off some improvement and nicks them snacks and drinks. Izzy leads him through an alley way and straight to a pier that sits over the water, rotted in spots, but safe enough at the edges. They sit together, feet dangling over the water. After they eat, Lucius takes out his sketchbook and starts scratching away with his pencil. Izzy watches the waterfront emerge, arching away from them. At the bottom, Lucius adds in their feet, Converse dangling next to battered boots.

“You’re good at that,” Izzy offers, possibly the first compliment he’s ever offered to him.

“Thanks,” Lucius gives him a bright smile. “This is what I’m going to do some day.”

“Draw abandoned shit with a juvenile delinquent?” Izzy drawls.

“No,” Lucius huffs, “hang out with a friend and do art and shit. I’ll make things for a living. Whatever I want to make. What about you?”

And previous to that question, Izzy’s entire concept of the future had been virtually non-existent outside of that one college conversation.

But he thinks about it while Lucius goes on drawing, adding in details and shading and things. Izzy listens to the water, the gulls, and the scratch of a pencil.

“I want to have a place with a door that locks,” he says so quietly that it’s practically a secret from himself. He doesn’t know if Lucius hears, can’t bring himself to look. “And get whatever food I want, instead of the cheap shit that makes my throat itch.”

Lucius leans a little on him, their shoulders butting together and Izzy, shored up, goes on, “I want to be good at something. Make good money.”

“You can do all that,” Luicius says with confidence. “I know you can.”

And Lucius is pretty fucking smart. If he knows it, maybe its true.

-They survive the school year. Izzy does become a lone wolf by the end, not in so many words, but he knows if he got in trouble now, there’d be no gang to back him up. His teachers give him good grades, then really good grades. He gets called to the front office and finds himself in front of a guidance counselor instead of a principal. There’s glossy brochures set carefully in front of him and soft words of encouragement instead of derisive dismissive ones.

-Lucius is very smug about it, but Izzy lets him have that. Lucius seems like he claws his way to the end of the school year with gritted determination and fatigue, collapsing on the shore without enough air in his lungs. It’s...not good, Izzy determines.

“Look,” he hands over one of the brochures that he’d snatched from the guidance counselor’s office even though it hadn’t been offered to him.

“What’s this?” Lucius took it.

“They do art classes all summer at the community center,” Izzy shrugs. “Bet your Mom would pay for it, if it’s educational or something, right?”

“I-yeah,” Lucius stares at Izzy like he brought him gold. “I bet she would.”

She does. The classes are during the day while Izzy is working anyway, so he just gets to finish out his day with Lucius waiting eagerly on the sidewalk, charcoal dust under his nails or paint spattered on his clothes. He does make friends there, but he takes Izzy with him to meet them like that’s just how they’ve always done things. Izzy doesn’t know how he feels about these other arty kids who take themselves either too seriously or are ridiculous to extremes. They have wild hair colors, piercings through bits Izzy didn’t know you could pierce and laugh like no one can stop them.

Some of the girls flirt with him and just like when the girls at school used to do it, Izzy is at a loss on how to proceed. He’s not really sure that he wants to. They’re fine, probably, but abrasive and forthright.

Worse is when one of the boys reaches out, runs a hand down Izzy’s neck and says,

“You’re really fucking cute. I’d blow you in a second.”

And Izzy...he just backs away and shakes his head. He doesn’t even turn him down with words, a creeping horror in his soul. How did this rando even know what Izzy barely let himself imagine?

“Fuck off, Brent,” Lucius swung in from wherever he walked away too. He slings an arm around Izzy’s shoulders.

“Fucking off,” Brent laughs easy and walks off. “Have fun!”

“You okay?” Lucius drops his arm.

Izzy squares his shoulders like he can’t still feel the hot brand where Lucius’ arm had been. Lucius had looked at him like Brent did, early on. He’d kissed him on the cheek too. Vaguely, Izzy knows that Lucius had no interest in girls. He’s watched him draw for a year, the men that raced out of his pencil like he couldn’t capture them fast enough.

“Are you gay?” Izzy asks.

“You can’t just ask that,” Lucius scolds. “You know how many times I’ve been asked that by someone that wants to put a fist in my face?”

“Could guess,” he nods. “But...”

“Yes, of course I am,” he huffs. “You had to know that.”

“I didn’t,” Izzy studies him. Lucius isn’t tough, except how he’s one of the toughest people that Izzy knows. Tough in a different way. He’s hard where it matters, doesn’t give an inch.

“Huh,” Lucius studies him right back. “That explains a lot, actually.”

“Does it?” Izzy is lost in his own thoughts. About what gay even means for fuck’s sake because it’s always been an insult leveled at anyone that’s not ‘man enough’ or acting boring or ridiculous. The word in his world just means ‘bad’.

But Lucius isn’t bad. He’s not weak. He’s not the butt of any joke. He believes that Izzy can be something and carries around a first aid kit. Never asks questions that Izzy can’t answer. He’s...well. He’s actually beautiful really.

“You alive?” Lucius checked, nerves in his voice.

“Okay,” he decides.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, you’re gay. We staying here or headed out?”

“...let’s go,” Lucius smiles at him, sun coming through clouds. “Can we go for a ride?”

“Yeah. Wherever you want.”

-The summer races away from them all over again. Izzy reads on his fifteen minute breaks, hiding out in the alley behind the grocery store, smoking and discovering the worlds that hide just behind his own. The books Lucius foists on him change a little, less beat poetry and classics, and drifting into modern strangeness, worlds of aliens or magic or weirder still books that seem mostly real and then something unexplainable happens around the edges.

In late August, Izzy reads Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez and he’s not sure how he feels about the book on the whole, but one line jumps from the page and attempts to strangle him right there in next to the fucking dumpster.

Tell him yes. Even if you are dying of fear, even if you are sorry later, because whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life if you say no.

Could you die of fear?

Izzy thinks about that, sitting on Lucius’ floor that night. He can hear Lucius’ mother in the other room, but she’s used to the sight of Izzy doing his homework on her son’s floor at this point and seems to just be happy Lucius isn’t lonely. She comes when she gets home, gives Lucius a distracted kiss on the top of the head, makes sure he ate dinner, offers them both a snack, then drifts away.

“She’d nag me if you weren’t here,” Lucius told him once. “But it’s rude with company over.”

Even in summer, she takes Izzy's presence the way she takes the bed while still being there: inconsequential.

So he’s there, on the floor and Lucius is at his desk, sketching instead of studying. And he’s a sketch himself, loose limbed and illuminated by the single bulb of the desk light.

Izzy’s life has been ruled with fear, and he’s so fucking tired of being afraid.

“Hey,” he says roughly and Lucius looks over at him, attention to his face, waiting.

And no matter how many books Lucius crams into his head, Izzy doesn’t trust words. Or at least not his own. He surges upwards, into Lucius’ space and Lucius never flinches or backs away. He’s still and calm until Izzy kisses him.

“Woah, hi,” Lucius pinks up entirely. “What?”

“I like you,” Izzy tells him, and it’s not pretty or neat. It’s not a quote or a poem. “A lot.”

“You do?” Lucius asks like it’s an impossible thing.

“I do.”

“Like...like me like me?”

Izzy nods once. Lucius needs nothing else. He presses up against him, holds Izzy’s face in his palms and kisses him with all that ferocious curiosity. His tongue sweeps into Izzy’s mouth which should be awful, but instead makes Izzy’s knees go a little weak and his has to bring on hand to the desk to brace himself up.

-”Have you ever done this before?”

“Never done anything before.”

“Wow, really?” “Never wanted to before.”

“But with me? Now?”

“Yeah, I want to.”

“Okay.”

-Izzy can’t stay the night. He doesn’t dare risk either of them that way, but he leaves at the last possible moment, takes a last kiss.

-The world changes. School arrives again, but Lucius doesn’t get dragged down. He has his art friends now, some of them in his classes and at lunch. Teachers have caught on that he’s sharp and there’s more challenging work. Izzy helps him with math and Lucius edits college essays. One crisp fall morning, Lucius insists on walking with him to the post office as they dump the carefully addressed applications into the box.

It’s Lucius’ address listed for returns. He gets the mail every day anyway and if Da were to see the thick envelopes, it was 50/50 if they’d get upended in the garbage or used as ammunition.

-”Look,” Lucius shows him when Izzy arrives at his house after dinner one night. And he sets an envelope the size of a folder into his hands. “That’s it, I bet.”

It is. Izzy opens his future on Lucius’ bedroom floor, surrounded by a basket of clean laundry, a pile of overdue books and Luicus himself, eager and bent over the paper.

It’s an offer, rich and generous. A ticket out that might as well be printed on solid gold.

“I told you,” Lucius wrapped arms around him, dragged him in and kissed his temple.

“It’s far,” he pointed out. “Really far.”

“You need to get far away.”

“Not from you,” Izzy swallows thickly.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

-Izzy goes to college with just what he can pack in his backpack and a duffel that he liberated from his parent’s closet. He’s got his bike, a thousand dollars in cash and not a clue what he’s doing. Lucius walks him to the train station and is chipper until Izzy boards and when he looks out the window, one last stolen glance, all he can see are the tears, unchecked and unheeded, pouring down his face. He has to turn away before his own answer them.

-College classes are easy, Izzy discovers, but the rest is hard. His roommate seems to have no trouble, pledging to a frat than disappearing into the frat house pretty much. He wanders the campus at night sometimes, chain smoking and lost.

-He takes math and engineering classes, but an English class catches his eye, about beat poets and he goes and sits and listens to other people tear at all the parts of books that make up his battered soul. It’s good, actually. To argue again. To have a passionate feeling.

- Calling Lucius isn’t very satisfying. There’s only one phone in the apartment, close to his mother’s room. They have codes and the like, but it’s not nearly enough. Instead, Izzy finds himself writing letters. He doesn’t always have much to say so he lets himself write them over the course of a week, picking bits of things that he thinks Lucius will like, questions that he would’ve asked if Lucius was with him.

Lucius writes back, letters fat with gossip, stories and pages torn from things that he wants him to read. When that no longer satisfies him, Izzy gets packages, filled with paperbacks. The books have letters and drawings tucked into them.

-At winter break, Izzy doesn’t bother going home. Isn’t sure he’s even welcome, actually, but he finds a hostel that’s cheap enough and he throws down his bag, then goes to Lucius as fast as he can. He finds him in the library, after hunting a few other locations. He’s put on another inch and there’s something a little more knowing in his eyes that Izzy can’t place. But he’s still very much Lucius and they kiss right there in the stacks, rough and hungry. They spend the next three weeks in a tangle, talking only when they pause to catch their breath.

- “Can I fuck other guys when you’re not around?” Lucius asks late one night. Too late for Izzy to still be hanging around.

“You want to?” Izzy asks.

“You don’t?”

“No,” he says with a frown.

“I don’t want to hurt whatever we have,” Lucius says cautiously. “But it’s different. From what I’d do. I think. I love you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

Not obvious to Izzy, actually.

“And you’ll...keep on loving me?”

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Sex just for fun sometimes, but you're serious business, Israel Hands.”

Someone that loved him hadn’t even made it onto Izzy’s list of things he wanted, but he decides that it was actually number one with a bullet and he has no interest in turning away from that.

“Yeah, okay."

-Lucius applies to the liberal arts college, twenty miles north of Izzy’s school. It’s a little disappointing that he won’t be closer, but it’s still a huge improvement. It makes Izzy feel better about staying on campus for the summer, cramming in more credits in between odd jobs.

-The art program at Lucius’ school is solid. He loves some of his classes, falls in with a decent group of people, goes to a club nearby that if it’s not labeled a gay club, might as well be and he picks up plenty of guys. It’s all fine...but when Izzy shows up on his bike, Lucius never hesitates to throw away his other plans. He would rather ride with him in the dark than a hundred other things.

-Izzy takes classes at every break that he can, overloads his schedule. He graduates in three years and takes it straight to work. He gets a job at a bank, straight-laced and dull, but a paycheck that gets a decent apartment in town and Lucius unceremoniously moves in, saying an entirely thrilled goodbye to the dorms.

-His plan was to make Lucius a comfortable life. Fund the art that pours out of him and make him a place so good that he’ll never leave. To that end, he’ll work a boring job and manage his money with care.

-But Izzy....he’s got this thing in his head. He tells Lucius over dinner one night, a dinner Izzy made and Lucius devoured happily.

“I keep thinking about this detective.”

“Someone I know?” Lucius asks playfully.

“No...not like that. He’s not even real. Just like a guy who solves crime and is...you know. Like us.”

“A gay detective?” Lucius’ eyebrows shoot up. “Like...a story?”

“Maybe,” Izzy frowns. “I mean, it’s just a thought.”

“What’s he like, your detective?”

“Mean, a little,” Izzy says slowly, putting words to the amorphous though. “I think he’s lost something. Someone. And he’s had a hard life. But he wants to do the right thing.”

“Yeah?” Lucius nods slowly. “Does he have a name?”

“Why would he need one?”

“So when you write about him, you have something to call him.”

“I- why would I do that?”

“Got to get it out of your head somehow,” Lucius reaches for a beer.

“Dunno....no. Dean,” he decides.

“Dean is good. Last name...”

“Buck. Like the knife makers.”

“Dean Buck,” Luicus smiled faintly. “What’s he look like?”

-By the end of the week, Izzy finds that he’s filled up half a legal pad with notes about Dean. He brings them home and Lucius reads through them. He asks more questions and it starts to become a game for Izzy to figure out answers. When Izzy wakes up on Monday morning, Lucius has already left for the day, but there’s a sketch on their little kitchen table of a handsome man in a gray suit, topped with a hat tipped a little forward over his face. Behind him a looser background, a city street.

-Izzy sits down with it over his morning coffee and starts writing.

And keeps writing until the very last minute before he’ll be late for work. But even there, he’s scribbling a little, starting to fill in details. That’s the day Dean becomes a little real to Izzy.

-He becomes real to everyone else too. Lucius graduates, and drifts a little, working at a local bar. He still draws and goes to art galleries, but he seems a little lost in a way Izzy can’t figure out how to help. Instead, Izzy sticks a manuscript in the mail with Lucius at his side like he did with the college applications years ago.

-The offer comes months later, so long that Izzy has written the next one already, feeding the chapters to Lucius, who edits them ruthlessly, but kisses him for every good metaphor and turn of phrase. And sometimes for fun, Lucius will toss off loose sketches of Dean that Izzy hoards protectively. Not just of Dean after awhile, but Christopher, Dean's lover, who curls around the edges of the story, a siren calling Dean home, saving him from his worst self.

The publisher is mid-size, looking for ‘daring outside the box’ stories and Izzy doesn’t think that’s what he’s written, but they seem to disagree. They invite him to the city and he goes on his own, Lucius has to work. An editor who seems more hair than person talks him through the first contract, explains everything. When they get to the cover art section, Izzy says,

“But I’ve got a cover already.”

“That’s not how it works,” says the editor.

Izzy pulls one of Lucius’ more complete sketches from the bag. One that even has some lettering on it. It’s Dean, seated at a diner, his head in one hand and a bruise livid on his face.

“Who did this?”

“Lucius Spriggs,” Izzy tells him. "He's a professional artist that I know well."

-They both get paid. Not enough to quit their jobs, not then, but Lucius is asked to do other covers and Izzy’s got an open-ended series. They work side by side now, Izzy at the bulky computer Lucius insisted they buy for him and Lucius at the drafting table that Izzy found at a garage sale.

-They would work side by side like that for the rest of their lives, though they couldn’t know it in those early hungry years. What Izzy knew was that he had a place of his own where the doors locked, good food (and an epi-pen, who knew?) and a man that loved him. When Lucius went home with someone else, Izzy had his other man too. Dean Buck, who was always in trouble, always a step away from heartbreak, but somehow always survived to stumble home into the arms of his lover.

#leda house and the kraken verse #goblin king and the pup #somewhere only we know

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loliwrites · 2 years

Note

What would Addi and Alex do when they have an heated argument and their kiddos witness and think their parents gonna have a break-up/divorce because of that?

GAWDDAMNNNNN Nony. Freakin' coming for me like this.

Ugggggh I am a product of a loud, noisy household. And let me tell you, being a product of that sort of household is brutal. Lord knows the hours my therapist has spent trying to get me to work through the fact that my childhood was loud and noisy. And the bad sort of the loud and noisy. It’s not loud and noisy with laughter and giggles and love. It’s loud and noisy with yelling and anger and outbursts.

I’ve written before that Alex and Addi take pride in the fact that they don’t have that sort of home. Their home is only noisy when it’s from laughter. There’s not a lot of raised voices or (passive) aggressive tones. But we also know those fics where the lovebirds have fought. And partners do fight. It’s okay to argue as long as you’re arguing in a healthy and productive way. If there was any inclination towards yelling before kiddos, I think that’s the first thing they’re adamant about abolishing once the kiddos are born. It’s not something that happens overnight. Sometimes something happens that just rattles one of them and the first instinct is to get a little worked up -- and perhaps a bit louder than they ought too. But because it’s something that Addi doesn’t want her kids to grow up around as she did (and that Alex didn’t grow up around that), it’s something they try to be conscious of all the time.

It would have to be about work, right? The thing that sets off the argument. Something like Alex said yes to a job and he’s beyond excited about it. It’s the type of project that comes around once in a blue moon and makes you happy to be alive and part of it. As soon as the offer came in, he gave an immediate -- albeit tentative -- yes. It’s made worse that Addi finds out about it by someone other than him. Maybe Alex had left his agent’s office and wasn’t picking up his cell phone, so his agent called the apartment (let’s live in a realm where they still have a landline). Addi’s been half-battling the kiddos all day. Maybe they’re on a break from pre-school/kindergarten, so they’re particularly rowdy because of all their free time. So when she hears the voicemail his agent leaves... something about what the shooting schedule will look like. A couple months in Lithuania. And another couple in Croatia. And just the thought that he’s going to jet off for at least four months and leave her to single-handedly parent two kids under the age of five -- without so much as a conversation -- sets her off. With the kids distracted by some arts and crafts that’ll be a nightmare for her to clean up later, and Alex not answering her calls either, she’s got some time to stew.

About two hours worth of stewing before he walks through the door a little inebriated... a little too lax for her liking right now. The kids run for him the moment he passes through the threshold. They’re ready for bed, acting like little angels now after Addi basically exorcised the demons from them in the bathtub. She can straight up tell he’s working with a nice little buzz and that sets her off a little more. He was out having fun, carefree, and she was winning the golden belt buckle for kiddo wrangling rodeo. Maybe she didn’t even think she’d bring it up tonight. She knows she’s worked up about it, and conversation now probably won’t be the most productive. But she tells the boys it’s time for bed, and they groan and ignore her because their papa just walked through the door. And instead of backing her up on it, Alex kind of ignores it too. So suddenly, the thing she had no intention of bringing up tonight, is halfway out her mouth.

One stern mention about bedtime later that finally clicks in Alex’s brain that he should give them a pat to get going, and the boys are stomping off. Just as they’re alone, but not quite out of earshot from the kiddos, Addi starts -- and it’s just a bit louder than she wants it to be.

“Lithuania! Croatia! Four months?! What a nice vacation for you. Sure, fuck my work, I’ll just stay home and take care of the offspring.”

“Sweetheart,”

Normally she loves hearing that term of endearment come out of his mouth, but right now it’s like all those times on set when some older man says it and it drips condescension. “Don’t sweetheart me! I’m so fucking done with you carelessly jetting off all over creation. You’re not thirty anymore. You have responsibilities. I need help, and you just seem content to leave.”

Now, because of the liquor, Alex is looking to match the fire and spice she’s coming at him with. “I’m not leaving, I’m--”

“What do you mean you’re not leaving! Does this look like Lithuania to you?! You don’t have to take these action blockbusters that whisk you off to some random country for a tax break.”

“But I want to!“

And if Addi wasn’t seeing red before, that just about does it. “And I want to be able to follow my productions to location too! But guess what, I stay here. I don’t leave you alone to parent singlehandedly. I give you ultimate consideration and you give me none!”

Though it’s been brief, it’s been a loud argument. She’s sure the neighbors below have gotten an ear-full. It’s then that she and Alex both catch a little movement in their periphery and find that their two little kiddos have been eavesdropping and witnessed the whole thing. As soon as they find themselves in their parents’ direct line of sight, they scurry off to their bedroom as quick as their little legs can take them. Now on top of being pissed at Alex, Addi’s pissed at herself for lashing out like she has. She scrubs her hands over her face to try and stave off any tears.

“I can’t do it,” she mumbles and stares at the floor, “it’s too hard.”

With that, she turns and heads off for the kiddos’ room to try and remedy any harm their argument created. To her dismay, they look shell-shocked. Curled up together in one bed, their eyes wide with the blankets pulled up to their noses. They’re still too young to really comprehend fully, but what they do know is that they just saw mama and papa explode, and they never see that. Alex steps into the room too, just as the older kiddo asks, “are you and papa breaking up?”

She doesn’t want to act like that’s an idea that’s terrible. It’s not great, but even within their own extended family there’s a lot of disjointed and separate parents, and the kids are just as happy. But the notion of that happening to their own little family unit breaks her heart a little bit. In her hesitation, Alex sits next to her on the side of the bed and rests his hand on her back.

“Sometimes mamas and papas argue. We’re not breaking up, buddy.”

The little nugget pushes the blankets down a little bit. “Then kiss and say I love you.”

Maybe Alex feels Addi stiffen a little bit and interprets it as her not wanting affection right now. He understands. “Buddy, you know we don’t touch other people’s bodies without permission,”

“But it’s mama!”

Just like he had to do with Addi when they began dating, Alex reiterates. “We don’t touch anyone’s body without their permission, right?

The older kiddo nods, and mimicking his older brother, the younger one does too. “Mama, kiss and say I love you,“

“Bud,”

But Addi twists her body to face Alex. They’ve both calmed down, they’re both seeing the other’s perspective a little clearer now. She nods, “I love you,”

A fleeting grin passes over Alex’s face. He cups his hands over Addi’s cheeks and kisses her. It’s not anything too much, and is quickly parted when the boys spring up and hang over their parents. Alex rests his forehead against Addi’s. “I love you, too.”

They don’t talk about it for the rest of the night, deferring to leave it for the morning when truly clearer heads prevail. Alex beat her awake the next morning and made the kiddos breakfast to allow her some time to sleep in. When she awakes and grabs her first cup of coffee that morning, Alex lets her know that he’s already called his agent and backed out of the deal.

#asked #anonymous #alex skarsgard drabble #alex skarsgard #alex skarsgard imagine #angsty al #hurricane addi #papa al #also putting this under #more alex and addi

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cherrycheridarling · 3 years

Text

never have i ever | t.h.

tom holland x reader

warnings: talks of smut, drinking, suggestive, swearing and angst.

summary: your fwb relationship with tom was still a fresh wound and his new girlfriend loved picking at it.

a/n: happy pride month!

wc: 2.3k

You had messed up. Tom had messed up. Thinking that you could sleep with each other and not get attached. Spending endless nights together, filling the room with moans and heat. All while promising 'no strings attached'.

Your feelings for him had developed halfway through your year long rendezvous. The way he would lace your fingers with his as he pounded into you. Whispering sweet praises in your ear, guiding you to that high that you craved and only reached with him. His gentle kisses that were a complete abstract to the way his fingertips dug harshly into your hips. Everything he did had you falling head over heels.

Tom tried to fight off his heart. Tried to deny the growing love he had for you, but it was futile. Your fingernails left marks on his back, reminders of his nights with you. When you kissed his lips and lightly tugged on his locks, it was as if you were pulling the strings of his heart. The way you would lock eyes with him as you both climaxed, he fell head first into you and couldn't get out.

Your sexual agreement with him was strictly confidential. Meant to be platonic. None of your roommates knew of the activities going on after hours. No one noticed when you'd sneak into his room at three in the morning or when he'd leave yours at seven a.m., tiptoeing back to his bed.

You could barely recall how everything began. The night was a blur of too many shots and discarded clothes. You were able to remember the specific words: "Just once." Ironically, you both did not keep your word.

You remembered the time when everything fell apart. When your 'no strings attached' agreement formed two strong ropes, connecting you and Tom. His forehead rested against yours, thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his high. Pornographic moans falling from your lips. Seconds later, he lost all control and let four heavy words slip out.

"Fuck, I love you."

You remembered freezing. Heart rate sky rocketing. You weren't sure if your ears were playing tricks on you, but by the look on his face, you knew he had really said it. He had left in a panic, frantically grabbing his clothes and storming out of your room. Leaving you nude, out of breath and utterly shocked.

Your friendship with him took a toll after that incident. Your late night meetings came to an abrupt end. You couldn't be alone together, awkward silence eating away at the both of you. You both coped with the tension differently.

You spent more time out of the house. Going to clubs, visiting friends, even going to the gym. Anything to stay away from Tom and the history he held.

Tom tried to move on. He got himself a girlfriend. A pathetic attempt at distracting his mind from you and your shared secret. She would spend the nights at the house. You'd hear giggling through the walls, bed creaking, moans being muffled by the drywall.

You tried to convince yourself that it didn't hurt, that you held no romantic feelings towards him. But it was fruitless, he engraved himself into your heart.

You barely knew his girlfriend. Didn't have any interest in getting to know her. All you knew was her name and what she sounded like in bed. Nadia Parkes. A fellow actress friend of his.

She was never kind to you. From the first day you met at Tom's birthday party, she sent you sharp glares. Anytime you walked into the kitchen or living room, she would cling onto Tom like a lifeline. As if you would snatch him from her.

She became good friends with the rest of the house mates, Harrison, Tuwaine, Harry and Sam. Spending nights playing board games that you opted out of joining in for. But sometimes the four boys would beg you to sit down and spend time with them.

That's how you ended up here. Six months after Tom's confession. Sitting in your living room with your roommates and Nadia. Glasses of alcohol in front of you. Trying to fight the tension between you and a certain brunette Brit.

"Let's play a game." Nadia spoke up, Tom's arm around her shoulder.

Harrison shrugged, "What game?" he paused the movie playing on the telly.

Nadia smirked, "How about 'Never Have I Ever'?"

The boys shrugged, not caring about the game, too much alcohol in their systems to protest. You, however, weren't in the mood to sit around any longer and watch their disgusting acts of PDA. You knew that with the amount of liquor the group had taken, the game was bound to be a filthy one.

You shook your head, "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night." you stood up before Nadia spoke again.

"Aw, c'mon, Y/N. Play a few rounds with us." she fake pouted.

You narrowed your eyes at her, opening your mouth to reply, but Harry beat you to it, "Yeah, you're barely around anymore. It'll be fun." the redhead smiled.

You cursed him for speaking up, his hopeful grin making you sit back down on the couch with a huff.

"Goodie! Who wants to go first?" Nadia clapped her hands excitedly.

Sam's hand shot up, "I'll go. Never have I ever gone skinny dipping in a hotel pool." he stated.

You looked around as Harrison and Tom took a sip of their drinks. You lifted the glass and sipped a bit of the vodka.

Tuwaine chuckled, "Did all of you go skinny dipping together?"

Before you could deny the theory, Harrison nodded, "Yup. When we were in Atlanta for Spider-Man, Y/N came to visit and we went down to the pool. Man, we were so hammered. I remember I woke up wearing Y/N's bra!" his explanation of the story made the group laugh.

Everyone laughed except Nadia. Tom gave a slight chuckle. You smiled thinking of the memory. Nadia had a stone cold expression on her features. You couldn't understand her coldness. You barely interacted with the girl, you failed to think of a reason why she would dislike you.

"I wanna go!" Tuwaine announced, "Never have I ever faked an orgasm." your eyes widened at his risqué words.

You chuckled a bit, "How would a guy fake an orgasm?"

"Like, make the noises, but don't pull out?" Harry's guess made everyone laugh.

All the boys shrugged as they directed their attention towards you and Nadia. You sighed before taking a long swig of the liquor, Nadia did the same.

"What?! With who?!" Harrison exclaimed at the new found information.

Nadia smirked, "My exes. Never with Tommy." she turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

You nearly gagged. At the nickname that he knew you hated. At the grotesque display of affection. You wished that the alcohol would take away your ability to see.

"I don't know why it's so shocking. Most guys don't really care about a woman's pleasure. That is why vibrators exist." you tipped your glass as they chuckled.

Tuwaine furrowed his eyebrows, "Then why hook up with the guy if he doesn't make you finish?"

You shrugged, "Well, you don't know that they're not gonna make you finish until you're already doing it."

You watched from the corner of your eye as Tom's gaze stayed on you. Most likely wondering if you ever faked an orgasm with him. You hadn't, but there wasn't any way you could reassure him at the moment.

"Hmm, I'll go." Harry hummed, "Never have I ever joined the mile high club."

You scoffed and took a sip of the drink again. Harrison, Tom, Nadia and Tuwaine doing the same.

"You guys are insane." Sam mumbled making you laugh.

The only reason that you were a member of the club, was because of Tom. But you wondered if you were the only reason he was able to say he was as well.

Nadia smiled a sinister grin, "I think I'll go next." she sat up, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She was sitting directly across from you, maintaining eye contact as she spoke, "Never have I ever had sex with an actor." she slowly lifted the glass to her lips and took a long sip.

Your breath hitched at her statement. The boys all locked eyes on you. Anticipating your next move. You chanced a quick glance at Tom who was subtly sipping his drink.

She couldn't know. Tom wouldn't have told her. So, where the hell did that come from? Was she making assumptions and trying to get an answer out of you? Or was she trying to brag? Sipping her drink, taunting you.

You let out a dry chuckle before bringing the rim of the glass to your lips and letting the alcohol run down your throat. There were audible gasps at your action. Tom diverted his gaze to the table in front of him. You watched as Nadia's jaw dropped. Pure shock written all over her face.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, "I knew about Nadia and Spidey over there, but who the hell did you sleep with?"

Harrison gasped, "Please tell me it's Tom Cruise."

"Come off it, mate. It's obviously Leonardo Dicaprio." Tuwaine rolled his eyes

You shrugged with a laugh, "Who's going next?" you yawned and relaxed into the cushions.

Sam gasped, "Let's narrow it down. Never have I ever slept with a Marvel actor." he smirked as everyone continued to eye you.

Once again, Nadia sipped and you followed. Another chorus of gasps came from your friends.

"She's taking the piss. She has to be." Harry said with an unbelieving smile. "Hemsworth? Evans? It has to be one of the Chris'"

"Tom help us out!" Harrison screeched.

You chuckled as Tom shook his head, "You'll never know." you sent them a smirk, "Who's next?"

"You're grounded until we find out," Tuwaine pointed an accusing finger at you, "But I'll g—" he spoke again before Nadia cut him off.

"—Me! I'll go again." she leaned forward again, examining your every move. "Never have I ever slept with one of the Holland brothers." she smirked again, thinking you had actually spent the night with one of the Chris'.

You figured out that she was definitely trying to brag, thinking that you wanted her boyfriend. She wanted you to know all about their sex life. She wanted you to know that he was hers, not yours.

You watched as she smugly downed her drink. Eyes locking back on you. You felt your irritation towards her taking over. Her pleased expression had your blood boiling. All rationality flew out the window. You no longer cared about who found out about your history with Tom. Wanting nothing more than to slap the smirk off of her face.

Your eyes gazed at Tom. He was watching your movements intently. Waiting for you to take a sip. He didn't care about who found out either. Having been fed up with Nadia's attitude for a while. He gave you the smallest of nods. You smirked, an equally sly grin, before letting the liquor burn its way down again. Wiping the excess drop on your lip with your thumb.

Her jaw fell again. Everyone gasped. All eyes on you. Tom awkwardly cleared his throat. Trying his hardest to suppress his grin.

"I didn't sleep with her." Sam spoke slowly.

"Me neither." Harry followed, "And I highly doubt she shagged Paddy. So," he trailed off.

Everyone's eyes landed on Tom. His scarlet cheeks were enough to confirm their suspicions.

"No fucking way." Harrison mumbled.

Before anyone else could react, Nadia screeched, "You slept with my boyfriend?!"

You rolled your eyes, "If you didn't want to know, you shouldn't have asked."

"You're lying." her eyes flickered between you and Tom, "Tommy would never sleep with someone like you." she spat the words filled with venom.

Her words raised a different level of anger in you. Everyone froze at the insult.

You shook your head with a dry laugh, "Is that so? You should get to know your boyfriend a little better then." you fake pouted.

Her anger was evident on her features. Narrowed eyes, furrowed eyebrows. Her whole face was turning red, "You cheated on me?!" she directed her rage at Tom.

His eyes widened, "No! This was long before I met you!" he defended himself.

Nadia stammered momentarily, at a loss for words, "S-so it's true? You slept together?" her voice was almost inaudible.

You smirked a sly grin again, "I'm many things, but a liar is not one of them."

You could see Tom stifling a laugh in the corner of your eye before Nadia erupted with rage, "How could you?! I let you live with my boyfriend and you don't tell me that you slept together? You disgust me." she spat the words at you.

Your anger raised, you stood from your seat, "You did not allow me to live here because I don't need your permission to live with my friends." you paused and stepped closer to her, "If I disgust you so much, please feel free to walk yourself out of my home. Because frankly, you disgust me."

Everything was silent. Everyone was processing the situation. Harrison and Tuwaine had stood up when you did, prepared to hold you back in case things turned violent.

Nadia looked to Tom, "You're going to let her speak to me this way?"

Tom looked between the two of you before shrugging mindlessly, "It is her home." he mumbled.

You could see Harrison and Tuwaine stifling laughs out of the corner of your eye. Nadia's face turned a darker hue of red.

"I-I gave you everything! And this is what I get in return? I loved you with all of my heart, Tom." she turned her gaze on you. "You two deserve each other. Absolutely appalling." Nadia turned on her heel and left the house with a harsh slam of the door.

An eerie silence filled the room as all eyes were on you and Tom.

"We were together for, like, four months." Tom spoke into his glass.

Laughter erupted at his words. The comfort of your flat mates filled the air. Eyes locked onto Tom's again as you mouthed the long awaited words.

"I love you, too."

His grin grew tremendously. Matching the smile gracing your lips. You basked in the moment until Harrison's voice screeched.

"Wait! When the fuck did you two sleep together?!"

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x osterfield!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland series #tom holland fic #tom holland girlfriend #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

hotel california- shangqi

pairings: xu shangqi x past widow!reader warnings: mentions of red room and just a lot of fluff about: sleepover request: clingy fluff with shangqi a/n: im obsessed with shangqi and widow!reader and although this isn’t really centered around that, i wanted to include it

time spent between you and your boyfriend had decreased dramatically ever since he became an official superhero. you went from seeing him and katy for over half the day every day to surviving on minute long phone calls and scarce lazy late night cuddle sessions because he had slipped into bed with you in the late hours of the night. the days that you would spend with only each other practically diminished, and the few hours you got with just each other were treasured like precious stones, stretched out as long as you both could until one or the other was called away.

which was why spending every second with each other on the free day you both had was so important. today was the first time in a long time when you both requested a day off— and actually got it approved. bruce and wong had sworn that the world would be fine without shangqi for the day, and your own team had assured you the case that had come in yesterday was in good hands with your most promising intern. the day was stress-free, your phones on complete silence—except for shangqi’s for emergent calls from nick fury for either or both of you, of course; you never know when a retired widow and the newest avenger are needed.

luckily, today neither of you were. and the skills engraved in you and shangqi were able to remain inside for the day.

your hands had been joined every minute you were in a crowd of people so you wouldn’t lose each other, desperate to savor every second together that you were gifted. frankly, you were both starved of each others’ touch for too long, and neither of you were going to take advantage of the time where you had the opportunity to enjoy it.

after sleeping in a little later than usual, you and your boyfriend had goofed around in the kitchen for a while, making a mess while you attempted to make pancakes, during which you both remembered that you weren’t exactly gifted in the cooking department. this was proven by the gross difference between your destruction of a pancake and shangqi’s own perfectly golden pancake. he had stifled a laugh but refused to let you throw away what you made, taking a proud picture instead.

the next few hours were made up of movie rewatching, ranging from the cheesiest rom-coms you could find to the newest horror movies you had missed. you must have missed at least half the movies displayed on the television from talking with each other and getting distracted by the other.

at some point, you both ended up on the sidewalk, heading to the only shop you knew of that sold the artisanal mango ice cream you had remembered you loved halfway through scream. shangqi had declared you had to have it, and punched in the destination in his gps before you were out the door.

your fingers interlaced without your notice, observing the beauty of san francisco while your arms swung in harmony and you asked your boyfriend how life avenger-ing was going.

“insane,” he answered, “the other day, i walked into a room and found freaking captain america brushing his teeth. i swear i peed myself when he waved at me like it wasn’t sam wilson standing in front of me and i didn’t just die inside a little.”

you laugh, pushing him lightly with your shoulder, “you do realize that’s how people feel when you wave at them, right? haven’t you ever seen the way little kids look at you?”

he blinks, “no.” he looks down at you, as if he’s just realized it, “holy shit, y/n.”

“holy shit indeed, shangqi. you’re a hero,” you squeeze his hand. “really hot one, too,” you add, fanning yourself with your other hand as you lean against shangqi’s side. “i’m dating a hero,” you gush, then pause, getting more serious. “you’re amazing, you know that? who else could defeat a huge organization that’s lived for centuries?”

he chuckles, squeezing you closer before pressing his lips to your forehead, “you, for one. don’t think i forgot that time you went mia and then i found out you were just taking down the red room with the black freakin’ widow.”

you pout at him, “can’t you let me compliment you for something amazing that you did?” you whine.

“i just give credit where credit is due,” shangqi shrugs, letting you pull him through the door once you see the sign to the store you’re looking for. “huh, i thought we still had a couple blocks to go.”

“you would literally be lost without me, shangqi,” you mutter playfully, entering the surprisingly crowded shop. “oh, looks like i wasn’t the only one with a mango ice cream craving, huh?”

you feel shangqi pull you closer from behind you, and you begin to walk further into the shop, only for your boyfriend to stop you after a few steps. “let’s not get separated, okay? you know what to do if you do.”

you sigh, shaking your head as you turn to look at him, “i’m not gonna do that.”

“we decided!”

“i was drunk— and honestly, i thought you were kidding!”

with a shake of his head, shangqi leads you further into the store, watching amusedly at your getting distracted by everything the store offered. he only lets go of your hand to open the freezer for the ice cream, but when he reaches for it again, it’s gone, your form lost among the crowd. he shuts the freezer door, ice cream in hand as he looks around for you, unable to find you within the amount of people.

you barely noticed that you’ve wandered off until your hand smacks a random womans’ arm instead of your boyfriend’s when you find a box of candy you’d been searching for forever. you apologize, craning your neck to try and spot your tall boyfriend.

“shangqi?” you call, but his name is lost in the sounds of varied conversations.

you get shoved onto one of the fridges, holding back your reflexes when you feel some random person grabbing your arm by accident. muttering a curse at the fact that you lost shangqi like he predicted, you look around, disappointed when you can’t find him anywhere.

“crap,” you whisper to yourself when you pat the empty pocket where your phone always was, remembering your phone is laying on the counter at your house because shangqi’s phone was all you insisted you needed. you groan when you realize what your only option is at the moment, palm already at your forehead in embarrassment, “how does it go…”

you go back to the nights of karaoke that used to be a normal night for you, unsurpised when the lyrics come back to you quickly. you start with a hum, “and i was thinkin’ to myself, ‘this could be heaven or this could be hell.’”

“then she lit up a candle and showed me the way,” you continue quietly, trying to build up the courage for what will surely be the most embarrassing experience of your life. “there were voices down the corridor,” you say a little louder, ignoring the strange looks you’re already receiving, “i thought i heard them say…”

“welcome to the hotel california!” you sing, song wavering in your voice, but clearer. “such a lovely place—”

you stop when you realize the whole store is quiet now, staring at you. you relax when you hear another familiar voice, turning when you realize where it’s coming from. “such a lovely place,” you mumble, about ready to just leave the place and wait for your boyfrend outside before you hear a familiar voice through the silence.

“such a lovely face,” shangqi sings, a huge grin taking over his face when he meets your eye.

sighing, you rush over to him, tightly grabbing his hand when you finally reach him and pulling him close to you, heading towards the cashier. shangqi smiles at the confused customers around him like a pop star after climbing off a stage.

“god, that is the worst possible way to find each other when we get lost.”

“it can’t be that bad if it worked,” shangqi shrugs, “and it worked very well.”

you laugh breathily, shaking your head as you get in line, turning to him. “i can’t believe i did that,” you grin. “we just performed for a store,” you realize.

“i hope someone got that on video,” shangqi tells you, “we could be next pop star power couple.” he kisses your cheek when they raise in a smile, but you catch his lips before he turns.

“we would be too powerful,” you tell him honestly, pecking his nose when you notice the customer front of you finishing up. “i say we should stick to private concerts, at least for now.” you say as you give the tired cashier a smile, paying for the sweets.

“hm, you’re right, of course.” shangqi agrees once you’re both outside, “i don’t know what i would do without you.”

“you’re lucky you don’t have to know, then.”

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pan-fangirl-345 · 3 years

Text

For You, And You, And You

Summary: As if falling in love with three people who are already in a relationship isn't bad enough, you start coughing up flowers a few months after you figure it out. Now you have a decision to make, but you don't think it's really much of a decision anymore.

TW: Blood, vomit, unrequited love (not really unrequited), angst, hurt (there is comfort!), swearing, mentions of overstimulation (not the s*xy kind), and mentions of panic attacks. These sound bad, but there is a happy ending, I promise.

A/N: I know that I have other things that I need to be working on, but this has been running around my head all day and it seems like a good idea.

Side notes: Sign language usage, hard of hearing Bakugou, ADHD Kaminari

If I have forgotten anything, please let me know!

YOU WATCHED AS Bakugou corralled Kaminari and Kirishima towards his room so that they could study together, laughing when Kaminari threw you a look that practically screamed, 'SOS'.

"What are you laughin' at, Princess?" Bakugou snapped, glaring at you. "You're comin' with us!"

"All my homework is done," you informed him, glancing at them over the top of your book. "I don't need-"

"You're coming," Bakugou repeated, grabbing his blond boyfriend by the collar of his shirt when he tried to escape, practically dragging him.

You stood, knowing full well that Bakugou was not above dropping his boyfriends in his room and coming back for you the way he had for Kaminari.

"Fine," you grumbled, stretching with a sigh when multiple parts of your body cracked and popped. "Just let me grab my things."

Five minutes later you were leaning against the wall of Bakugou's room, right next to the door.

You were, according the Bakugou, guarding the door in case his boyfriends tried to escape for whatever reason, but you were pretty sure that he knew that you were sitting there so you could make a quick getaway.

You didn't mind studying with Bakugou and the boys, but it was awkward for you, given the circumstances.

Bakugou, Kirishima, and Kaminari had been dating since the break before your second year of high school. Halfway through second year and they had settled into a rhythm of sorts after many failed attempts and a lot of backtracking.

It wasn't their relationship that made you uncomfortable though, it was the fact that you spent so much time with them.

Normally, spending time with them would be an honor, but being in love with them made things complicated.

Especially when they seemed hellbent on spending as much time with you as possible.

You propped your book up on your knees, finding your spot before you pulled your headphones on.

They were low enough that you could still hear the boys talking, in case they needed to get a hold of you for some reason, but still loud enough that you could hear the beat and the lyrics.

Two taps on your shoulder had you looking up.

Bakugou tapped his ears twice.

It had been a code you had worked out.

Because of your quirk, you sometimes needed to keep your headphones on as training, and when they boys tapped you twice and then tapped their ears they were asking if you needed them on or if you could take them off.

Good thing about being friends with Bakugou was that he taught you sign language, so you had a way to communicate with the three of them if you needed to keep your headphones on.

"What's up?" you asked softly- just in case Kaminari was still sensitive- as you pulled your headphones down around your neck.

Kaminari had fried himself during training earlier that day, and his senses became sensitive after he regained himself, not that anyone had figured it out until recently because he refused to be any kind of burden.

"Can you help Dunce Face?"

"Always," you said, scooting over to see what Kaminari was working on, careful to avoid contact. "Hey, Kami, what do you need help with?"

When he pointed you in the right direction, you started working with him once you made sure Kirishima was understanding what he was working on too.

Bakugou tended to work by himself and then check on the others when he needed a break or once he was done with his own homework.

There were times when he would help them if they asked, but Kirishima and Kaminari were both stubborn and thought that they shouldn't need the help, so they tended to wait until Bakugou took a break.

It was one of the reasons Bakugou kept you around when they had these study sessions.

You were almost always available when they needed the help and he couldn't break his own concentration.

You checked on Kirishima once Kaminari was on track again.

He had been making leaps and bounds when it came to his classes after these study sessions had started being a regular thing. Kaminari had too, simply because Bakugou kept them on track and he was able to teach them in a way that they would remember and could understand.

They still weren't high in the class rankings because according to Kaminari and Kirishima, "Todoroki, Bakubabe, Midoriya, Iida, Momo, and you are all some kind of mutant geniuses," but they were doing better than Mineta and Aoyama were.

Bakugou had earbuds in, and he was nodding his head along softly to whatever he was listening to.

You had made a collaborative playlist with everyone in your class except for Mineta, and they always added their favorite songs, or ones they thought you might like to it occasionally.

You now had a playlist over 60 hours long, and you were constantly being surprised by who added what. Not only had it been a good way to get to know your classmates, it had also been a good way to irritated everyone when you blasted it through the dorms.

You had separate playlists with Tokoyami, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, Midoriya, Jirou, Mina, Uraraka, and Shinso.

They were the ones that listened to music the most, and their interests aligned with yours more than you thought they would.

Shinso, who was going to be replacing Mineta- much to everyone's relief- was someone you had come to know through Kaminari, and you had never regretted a thing.

Kaminari tapping on your shoulder brought you back to the present, and you turned your attention to him, explaining a concept he didn't quite understand yet.

Bakugou was at his desk, and Kaminari was spread over his boyfriend's bed, while Kirishima sat near the head of the bed, leaning against it as he worked.

When Bakugou stood from his desk with a stretch, you finished up your explanation, making sure Kaminari understood.

You scooted back over to your spot when Bakugou sat down near his boyfriends.

You shut your book, leaning your head back against the wall as you listened to one of your favorite songs.

When the song was over, you glanced at the boys.

They seemed fine, so you stood and exited while they were distracted.

You shut Bakugou's door quietly, heading for your own room.

A tickle in the back of your throat had you pausing to cough into your hand and clearing your throat a couple of times.

You knew that if Bakugou thought you were even the slightest bit sick he would kill you, and harshly nurse you back to health with a lot of yelling and cooking.

You really hoped it was just a small cough.

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

NOT JUST A SMALL COUGH, you thought-panicked- as you stared at the three different flower petals in your hand.

Your cough had gotten worse over the last couple of weeks, but no one else seemed to have noticed, not even Bakugou, who was known for knowing when someone was sick even before they did.

You had heard of this.

Hanahaki, a disease born from unrequited love. A disease that would grow inside your lungs until a) you confessed and the feelings were reciprocated, b) you got the surgery that would take away the flowers and the feelings you had for the person(s), or c) you didn't get the surgery and the flowers slowly started to block your airway and injure your lungs and throat until you choked to death or died of malnutrition and dehydration from the damage to your throat.

A) seemed like the best option, but there was little chance of that happening.

You sighed, tucking the petals away in your suit pocket.

You knew you would have to tell someone about the problem soon, especially if they started to injure your lungs, which they likely would.

But for now, it would be your dirty little secret.

You had been going to the library after training, checking out books on flowers, trying to figure out what kind of flowers you were coughing up, since it might tell you who you were in love with.

You had a feeling, but you really hoped that you were wrong.

With further investigation, you found that you weren't wrong at all, quite the opposite in fact.

All three petals, despite being different colors were sunflower petals.

The red ones symbolized energy and passion, and while that one could have been for all of the boys, you knew that petal meant one of the people you were in love with was Bakugou.

Normally, people associated red with Kirishima, and while that was also true, you had a gut feeling that the red petals were for Bakugou.

The orange ones must have been for Kaminari then. They symbolized high spirits and happiness, and while Kaminari had his bad days, he could make you feel better even when he was having one of his bad days, and you loved him for it.

Which left the yellow ones for Kirishima. Goodness, truth, and endurance were definitely something you associated with Kirishima, and the brightness of the petal was a reminder as well.

You let out a shuddering sigh when the realization set in that you either had to confess and hope for the best, or get a surgery that would erase your love for them permanently.

"There you are Princess," Bakugou snarled softly and your jerked upright at the sight of all three of them standing there, looking worried.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked.

"You aren't in my room, for one thing," Bakugou said, eyes roving over your little workspace. "Taking an interest in botany?"

"Sort of," you said. "Someone's been leaving me flower petals, so I was wondering if there was a specific reason."

You had prepared the lie in case of something like this, you were just hoping that Bakugou bought it.

"Is that so?" he inquired, eyes sharp as they took you in.

Kaminari and Kirishima locked gazes over Bakugou's shoulder, some expression crossing both of their faces for a few moments before they went back to normal.

"So what are they?" Kaminari asked.

"Red, orange, and yellow sunflowers," you admitted.

You gave the boys a run-down of what they meant, but you noticed that Kirishima and Kaminari continued to share looks with each other, while Bakugou seemed to be scrutinizing your every move and word.

"I'm sorry that I missed your study session," you said after a few minutes.

"Don't worry about it," Kaminari said. "It's not like we're forcing you to go. We understand that you have other interests sometimes."

You noticed that he used the words 'we' and 'we're' and you wondered if that meant just him and Kirishima, or if that extended to Bakugou too.

"Still, I should have-"

"It's in the past," Bakugou interrupted. "Just make sure that you're at the next one."

"I promise I'll be there," you told them, smiling brightly, ignoring the urge to cough out more petals.

The amount of petals that you were coughing up continued to rise every week, and it was getting harder and harder to hide as time went on.

You knew that pretty soon, you would start coughing up full flowers instead of just petals, and that was what scared you the most.

You knew that you would have to go to the doctor soon, just to see how long you had before you were in serious danger, but you wanted to hold on for a little bit longer.

You wanted to hold onto the feeling of being with them for just a little while longer, before all that was left was the memory.

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

YOU SHOULD HAVE ACCOUNTED for Aizawa though.

Despite his normally disinterested nature, he had grown attached to your class in the time he had you.

You may have been problem children, but your class were his problem children, and he had made a habit of checking in on all of you at least once a week.

"Who is it?" he asked as soon as you sat down across from him.

He had called you into an empty classroom, and you knew what he was asking as soon as he said it.

You pulled the petals out of your pocket- cleaned and pressed, because what were you, an animal?- and said, "Take a wild guess."

"I thought I raised you better than this, (Y/L/N). No loud blonds and no problem children, but two of those three are all both of those things, and the other might as well be!"

"I know, but the heart wants what it wants," you murmured, taking the petals back.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I have a doctor's appointment on Monday, after class, so that I can see how long I have," you confessed. "After that, well, I guess the only option I have is to schedule the surgery. It's my best chance, even if it's gonna put me out of commission for a while, and there's a chance that it'll come back, everything considered."

"Have you tried telling them?" Aizawa asked.

"No," you admitted, shaking your head softly. "I don't want to burden them with this, and they want to be heroes, they would try to save me even though there's nothing they can do for me."

Aizawa nodded his understanding, but then sighed.

"In between your appointment and the surgery, if you need someone to talk to, Present Mic would be your best bet. He's gone through this before, and he's honestly better at talking with people about their feelings than I am."

"What happened?"

"In his scenario, he didn't need the surgery. I didn't need it in mine either."

Aizawa fished a ring on a chain out from under his capture scarf, and gave you a small smile.

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your own lips as you realized what this meant.

"I'm glad," you said honestly. "For the both of you."

"I want you to at least try to tell them," Aizawa said. "It couldn't hurt."

"I respect the hell out of you, Aizawa-sensei, and the same goes for Mic-sensei, but I'm going to have to say 'oh fuck no' to this one," you told him. "I really don't think that's a great idea."

"Well, I can't force you to do anything, but I really think that they at least deserve to know."

"I've started writing in journals," you admitted, pausing to cough petals into your hands before you continued. "I'll have someone give them out when before I get the surgery. Midoriya probably, he seems like the most trustworthy. Todoroki is another option. I want someone who isn't going to look through them."

Aizawa nodded, but he looked sad.

He laid his hand on your head, and it was comforting.

"I was hoping none of you would have this problem," he admitted softly. "I remember how horrible it was."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm just surprised that it was you, and a little disappointed."

"I'm sorry," you said again and Aizawa shook his head, removing his hand.

"You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/L/N), this kind of thing can never really be helped."

"I'm still sorry to have burdened you with this knowledge though. This kind of goes without saying, but . . . can you keep this on the downlow? I don't really want anyone fussing over it. The other teachers are fine, and they probably need to know, but I really don't want anyone other than that knowing."

"Are your parents aware of what's happening?" Aizawa asked.

"I told my mom, and she told Dad. He threatened to come, but I told him that it wouldn't do anything other than make things worse. They know about the appointment and the surgery since I'm a minor and I still need my parents for certain things regarding insurance and the like."

Aizawa nodded again, standing.

"You're free to go, and I promise to do what I can," he told you.

"Thank you Aizawa-sensi," you said, shaking the hand that he offered you.

"You don't have to thank me for this," Aizawa told you, looking for all the world like he would do anything to make the situation better.

"Still, thank you," you said.

He nodded, and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away down the hall.

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

"I heard that you have a doctor's appointment later," Bakugou said when you walked into his room for the usual study session.

"Yeah, I've been feeling a little bit off lately, and I was need of a physical soon anyway," you said.

"Are you okay?" Kaminari asked, taking your face in his hands to look you over for a moment.

"Kami," you murmured, putting your hands on his. "I'm fine. Just weirdly achy, it's nothing, I promise."

"It's enough that you're going to the doctor," Kirishima argued.

"You boys worry too much," you teased.

Your heart clenched at the sight and knowledge that they were worried about you. They worried about everybody, but this was a new level that you had unlocked recently.

"You're getting paler, and you've been coughing a lot lately," Kaminari argued.

"And you're getting slower during training. You took a hit from Racoon Eyes that you should've been able to dodge," Bakugou chimed in.

Damn, they really must've been worried about you if Bakugou was joining in.

"It's a cold," you said, exasperated. "It'll be gone in a few weeks."

"But-"

"Drop it," you snarled.

Kirishima and Kaminari flinched, going quiet, but Bakugou's eyes narrowed and he took a step towards you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, curling in on yourself, immediately regretting the outburst, "but you guys are making a huge thing out of nothing. So I haven't been feeling so hot lately, but there's not a lot you can do. Besides, like I said, I'll be fine in a few weeks. At the worst it's a virus that I have to fight off on my own."

Bakugou's eyes narrowed further, and you could still see the hurt behind Kaminari and Kirishima's eyes.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you told Kirishima and Kaminari. "I get bitchy when I don't feel great. That's not an excuse though. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Come here."

Both boys moved to hug you, and you smiled at them.

"You want in Bakugou?" you asked when you noticed he was still watching you.

His face flushed pink and he snarled, "Not a fuckin' chance."

"Come on Bakubabe," Kirishima teased, opening his arms, and Kaminari followed suit.

"I have no idea why I'm in love with you fuckers," he muttered, but he walked over and let his boyfriends bring him into your little hugging circle.

"Thank you, guys, for being worried about me, but if there were something really wrong, I would let you know," you promised, hating the way the lie felt on your tongue and the way your eyes stung with unshed tears.

You let yourself soak in their warmth for a little while, tucking that feeling away, making yourself memorize the way it felt, before you let them go.

They weren't yours, you reminded yourself. They weren't your boyfriends, as much as you wished that they were.

"Let's get this show on the road," you told them, smiling brightly.

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

"Miss (Y/L/N)," the doctor said when he stepped into the room.

"That's me," you told him.

"So I understand that you're here because you've recently gotten Hanahaki, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And, please correct me if I'm wrong," the doctor said with a wince, "but you've been coughing up three different colored petals?"

"Yes, one for color for one person," you agreed.

"Well, that's a problem," the doctor said, going over whatever was on his clipboard.

"Why?"

If this guy was going to be one of those assholes that had a problem with you loving more than one person, you were going to-

"When someone is coughing up flowers for more than one person, that dramatically decreases their time frame," the doctor said. "Loving one person means it's easier to avoid them until a decision has been reached about what they want to do. Two people is harder, but doable. Three people is hard, and given your current schooling situation . . . I'm sorry to say that my hopes aren't high."

You took a deep breath, or tried to, and let yourself take a moment to despair what was coming next, to think of worst case scenario before you steeled yourself.

"So what do we do?" you asked.

"Well, we have to do some tests on your lungs," the doctor said, "maybe a scan of some sort. I will also need to know the nature of your relationship with the people you are growing the flowers for, and their relationship with each other. It may affect the plant growth, and could sway any decision you make on your treatment plan."

"I'm getting the surgery," you told the doctor. "I made that decision before I even made the appointment. I've made the decision that I'm going to be selfish about this. I'm in the hero course. I'm going to graduate, and I'm going to help the people that need it. Not even Bakugou goading me into anything is going to get me to change my mind about this."

"Bakugou," the doctor mused, "is that . . . ."

"One of the guys I'm growing my flowers for? Yeah, he is. The other two are his boyfriends. I have a fucked up taste in partners apparently," you joked.

"Ah, you're one of those patients," the doctor said.

"Hmm?"

"You make jokes to help cope, and to try and put someone else at ease. You don't have to do that here. I am a Hanahaki specialist, I see a lot of people like you."

"Okay," you murmured.

After testing your lungs, and doing some scans, the doctor took you back to the original room.

"So, given the fact that you live in close proximity, and you have to spend a lot of time with all three of the various reasons, plus estimated rate of growth and your training routine . . . I'd say you have about a month left before you start heading towards red territory, meaning you have about a month before it starts becoming exceedingly life threatening."

"If I go into the red area," you began, "how likely is it that the surgery is going to be successful?"

"Depends on how far into the red you go," the doctor said. "Until about the halfway point, there are still high chances that it will be successful and that you will make a full recovery. Any further than that and the chances start decreasing dramatically."

You nodded, taking all the information in, processing it, tucking it away, applying it to situations that might happen.

"I can practically hear the gears turning in your brain," the doctor told you, giving you a small smirk.

"Sorry, habit," you said with a wince.

"You're taking this extremely well," he noted.

"I'm in Class 2-A," you told the doctor. "I've dealt with some bad people. Things like this don't faze me for long anymore."

"Fair enough," the doctor replied. "There's not a whole lot we can do for Hanahaki, even this early, so you just have to live with it until you set a surgery date."

"I have a vacation coming up," you admitted. "I'm assuming I have to go somewhere else for the actual surgery?"

"That's correct," the doctor said. "We aren't equipped for that here, we're just the starting point."

"Okay."

"I can give you the number for the hospital you can go to to get the surgery, and you can set everything up there or give them a phone call."

You nodded, taking the piece of paper the doctor handed you.

"I noticed that you came alone," the doctor said.

"Yes, I thought it might be easier this way. My parents aren't taking this well and the only people I felt comfortable bringing with me for this kind of thing are going to make it worse if I spend time with them, so my best bet was to come alone."

"I see," the doctor murmured. "Do your parents know that you're getting the surgery?"

"I told them, they know," you said.

"How did they take that?"

"Mom cried a lot, and Dad got mad and stormed away. They have mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the one hand, they're happy that I fell in love, they have reservations about it being who it is, but they could get over that, and they're upset that I have the disease in the first place. There's also the fact that getting the surgery has so many major side effects and they're skeptical. In the end though, they know that it's my decision, and I think Aizawa-sensei might commit murder if they don't let me make my own decision, and he made that very clear to me."

"So you have a support system?"

"Yes, quite a big one everything considered."

"Then you're free to go, but please give me a call if something changes."

"Thank you."

He nodded, sending you on your way.

When you got back to campus, the boys were there waiting for you.

You smiled when you spotted them, jogging over.

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

In the end, your routine with the boys didn't really change. You still trained with them, still studied with them, but when they started asking you to join them places, you refused.

First of all, you weren't going intrude on their time together.

Secondly, as much as you would have loved to spend time with them, the plant growth was something you had to take into consideration.

You had started journaling for them more, the red one was for Bakugou, the orange one was for Kaminari, and the yellow one was for Kirishima.

You had decided that Tokoyami was your best bet for getting the journals to the boys before your surgery. He likely wouldn't snoop, and he could be trusted to get the journals to the boys when he was supposed to, not before when they had a chance to try and stop you from doing what needed to be done.

You had yet to talk to the boys about the side effects that the surgery might have on your mindset towards them, but you figured you still had time to find a way to broach the subject with them.

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

YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

You were pushing it with your training as it was, and while you were getting stronger, your lungs were getting weaker and weaker as the flowers got bigger and bigger.

"You're pushing your luck," Aizawa said, frowning down at you.

"I'm fine," you growled. "Put me in the fucking brackets. I'm getting the surgery next week, I want to get in as much training as possible before I'm put on leave."

He frowned, and he was glaring at you enough that anyone else might've backed down, but you were going to hold your ground on this one. There was absolutely no way you were missing this opportunity because your body decided that it was going to be a bitch.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Bakugou, you're going up against (Y/L/N)."

"Bring it on Princess."

"Don't hold back Blasty," you teased.

"Do I ever?" he replied.

"No," you said. And that's one of the reasons I love you.

When you both climbed into the ring, you knew it would be a good fight. You had so much stored frustration that you could take out on Bakugou without fear of harming him.

Without use of your quirks, it was almost a fair fight.

As soon as Aizawa yelled, "Start!" you were flying at each other.

Blow and block, block and blow.

It was like a dance, and things were going well for the both of you, but then Bakugou got in an unblocked blow to your stomach.

Had that been with the added force of his quirk, you would've been on the other side of Gym Gamma, but without his explosions, it just made you roll to just inside the boundaries.

You struggled to pull yourself up in between the coughing, but you were having a rough time with it.

You managed to push yourself up with your arms, but you still couldn't breathe.

You couldn't hold back the torrent of flowers that spewed from your mouth from the force of the blow. You hadn't been coughing, so there was quite a build-up in your lungs, throat, and mouth.

Bakugou launched himself, seeing an opening, but a hand held out by you had him stopping.

"Is she puking?"

"Is she alright?"

"What's going on?"

You heard Kaminari and Kirishima rushing to your sides as Aizawa ended the fight, but you waved away their help.

You were still coughing, but you managed to push yourself to your feet, though you swayed dangerously into Kaminari's side.

You were panting by the time the flow of flowers and petals stopped, and you were leaning heavily on Kaminari.

"(Y/L/N), get to Recovery Girl," Aizawa ordered.

"No, I'm okay, I can still-"

"Go!" he ordered.

"I'm fine," you argued.

"Fine?" Kirishima whispered harshly. When you turned his eyes were dark and he looked like he might burst into tears. "Fine?" he asked, voice rising. "Fine? (Y/F/N), you just threw up like, fourteen full-sized fucking sunflowers! Not to mention the number of petals too! That's not fucking fine! That's having stage three fucking Hanahaki!"

Everyone in Gym Gamma stopped at that and swiveled their heads to look at you.

You blinked as Kirishima continued his little tangent. He was swearing almost as much as Bakugou, which had you worried.

"You should have told us," Kaminari murmured, voice tight with restraint. "Why didn't you tell us?"

He was crying, you realized when you turned your head to look at him. There were tears streaming down his face, and he looked devastated.

Bakugou was eerily silent, and when you turned your attention to him, you winced.

"It's not your fault," you told him.

You hated that pinched look on his face, warring between guilt, worry, and something you hadn't quite figured out yet.

Kaminari wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting your arm over his shoulder so that he could support you.

"Bakugou, listen to me," you ordered, clearing your throat a few times. "Katsuki," you demanded when he just looked at you with those glassy eyes and pinched face. "This is not your fault."

He nodded, dazed, clearly not comprehending what you were telling him.

"Problem children two through four are free to go. Get her to Recovery Girl," Aizawa ordered. "And don't bother coming back to class today."

Kirishima took you from Kaminari, carrying you bridal style, and you leaned into him gratefully, letting your body relax, sucking in as much air as you could.

"Why didn't you tell us? We could've-"

"Could've what, Denki?" you asked quietly, letting exhaustion take over. "What could you have done? My body has decided that it's going to grow flowers to try and get my love interests to notice me that way. It's growing flowers for emotionally unavailable people and there's nothing I can do except get the surgery."

"You still could have told us!" Kaminari cried, sniffling and furiously wiping his eyes. "We could've taken you to your appointments and tried to talk some sense into whoever it was and-"

He broke off into sobs and you reached out to lay a hand on his head.

"Come on Kami, if anyone should be crying right now, it's me," you said, having to take more breaths to get through the sentence.

"We should have- no- I should have noticed," Kirishima said softly.

"I didn't want you guys to notice because I knew you would worry about me. I didn't want you guys to have to worry about me. Besides, I had my decision made by the time I coughed up the first full flower. I'm going to be selfish and get the flowers removed so that I can keep saving people."

"It's our job to worry about you, (Y/F/N)," Kaminari sobbed. "We're your friends, we love you, we want to know about this kind of thing even if it's not killing you from the inside out."

"Sparky's right," Bakugou grunted.

Your head lolled to look at him, and he looked some kind of devastated.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," you said breathlessly, giving a small chuckle.

"You should've told us."

"Next time I'll let you know," you told them, closing your eyes as you leaned your head on Kirishima's shoulder.

As soon as Kaminari opened the door to Recovery Girl's office another fit started.

"Get her on the bed and give her a bucket," she ordered. "Unfortunately, I can't do anything for this. And in her current state, a kiss isn't going to do much. I'm sorry dear."

"It's alright," you choked out, coughing more flowers into the bucket Bakugou handed you.

Kirishima patted your back softly while Kaminari held your hair back.

"Who is it?" Bakugou demanded.

"Babe, now is not the time-"

"Who is it?" he asked again, much slower and softer.

"There's no point," you told him when the overflow of flowers stopped.

The boys helped you get comfortable and you closed your eyes, wishing the bed would eat you.

"They don't need me, they don't want me."

"Have you even tried confessing?" Bakugou snapped.

You realized with a small start that he was desperate and snapping because of it. He was mad because he felt helpless and he didn't know how to handle it.

"There's no point. Three different colored flowers."

"Three different people," Kaminari realized.

"It doesn't matter if two of them love me, if the third doesn't that means that their flowers will still grow. It might give me some time, but the end result is still the same."

It was quiet for a few minutes and you relaxed into the bed, trying your best to breathe through the flowers.

"(Y/L/N)," Bakugou eventually remarked.

"What's up Blasty?" you asked.

"I'm going to ask you a question," he announced, and you cracked an eye open to glance at him, only to find realization breaking over his face. "And you know I'll know if you're lying when you answer."

"Give it your best shot Blasty," you told him, closing your eyes again.

"It's us, isn't it?" he demanded.

"Ding ding ding," you sang exhaustedly, "we have a winner."

"Wait, what?" Kaminari asked.

"The flowers that I'm growing inside my lungs, they're for the three of you. Like I said earlier, emotionally unavailable."

It was quiet again before Kirishima whispered, "So . . . we did this to you? We did this?"

"No," you snapped, sitting up to glare at him. "This is not your faults. None of this is because of anything any of you did. Hanahaki is a result of a gene mutation."

"Can you . . . explain more in depth, please?" Kaminari asked.

"A long time ago, there was this clan of people who could control plants with their emotions. It wasn't a quirk, since they didn't exist back then, but it was more of a connection with the earth or something. Anyway, rage, anger, love, hate, it all fueled their powers over nature."

"Great, plant manipulation," Bakugou grumbled.

"Then they started marrying outside the clan and all that jazz. It's a recessive gene, but it was a big clan. Anyway, a lot of people have the gene, but they don't have the right circumstances to make anything happen because of it. Because it's a recessive gene, both parents need to have it before it becomes much of a threat. Only a few unlucky bastards will ever even have a chance of getting Hanahaki. There are other less deadly variants though, but Hanahaki itself is rather rare.

"Because of the gene, when my feelings got as intense as they did, it started growing the flowers for you. The way Recovery Girl explained it, my body grew them to try and convince you guys of my feelings or something. It's hard to explain when I don't completely understand what this is either. But in short, the flowers are for you and they'll only go away when you all love me romantically or I get the surgery and forget about you."

"So you're one of the unlucky fuckers that has both recessive genes?" Bakugou asked.

"You win again Blasty. Normally, when it's only one person, it doesn't progress as fast as mine did. They can be easily avoided and it can take years for it to get this far."

"But there are three of us," Kaminari jumped in. "And we all have to live together and train. You couldn't really avoid us, meaning it got worse faster than normal."

You nodded, swallowing harshly.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't expect it to get this far, and I certainly didn't want you finding out about it until after the surgery."

"But, now we can help!" Kirishima cried.

"No, Kiri, you can't," you told him. "I'm sure you've heard, but Hanahaki is only cured when the feelings are returned. Even if you wanted to help me like that, it wouldn't work. Besides, I would never ask that of you, of any of you."

"But-But that means that you have to get the surgery and forget about us."

You opened your eyes and cupped his cheek softly.

"You'll make friends with me again," you assured him. "Even if it seems like I don't want you to. Even if my attitude towards you guys changes, I'm sure you'll somehow find a way to draw me back in."

"There has to be something we can do," Kirishima whimpered, eyes welling with tears. "We love you, we can't lose you like this."

"It's okay," you murmured.

"It's not!" Kirishima cried, sobbing.

"Hang on," Kaminari said, getting that considering look on his face. "What if we said we wanted the flowers?"

"Huh? You lost me," you admitted.

"You said that your body was growing these flowers for us, right?" Kaminari asked, then continued when you nodded. "Well, I want mine. I want to take all the flowers that you're growing for me."

You were about to tell him that that wasn't how it worked, but the flowers in your chest decided that now was the perfect time to eject themselves from your body.

You coughed and choked as a torrent of orange petals erupted from your lungs.

Just as one wave ended, another began.

Tears stung your eyes and your throat felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside out, and your chest was constricting so much you thought you might pass out.

Suddenly, something much bigger was being pushed out of your lungs and up your windpipe.

Bakugou was shouting for Recovery Girl and the other two were panicking and trying to assist.

There must've been a stem this time, you thought deliriously.

You couldn't get enough air in.

Just as your vision started to go fuzzy around the edges, someone was easing the flower out of your throat.

You hacked and coughed and sobbed as leaves and roots tore up your throat, but then there was air in your lungs and you could breath better than before.

You choked on the amount of air flowing into your lungs again and slumped over the side of the bed, panting.

You spit blood into the bucket by your bed.

"Um . . . this definitely isn't natural," Kirishima whimpered after everyone realized that you weren't dead and that you were no longer in danger of choking on another plant.

You managed to crack your eyes open enough to see that Kirishima was holding a sunflower plant almost as tall as he was.

The base was stocky and thick, with a wide system of roots.

It branched off into at least six different stems, each with an orange sunflower at the top.

You forced yourself to swallow and managed to croak out, "Kami said," before your voice gave out.

"That's right!" Kirishima cried. "Kami told her that he wanted all of the flowers that she was growing for him."

"I didn't think it would actually work though!" Kaminari cried.

Bakugou settled you back against the pillows of the bed, brushing hair away from your face as the world stopped spinning around you.

"Can we try it too?" Kirishima asked.

You knew that the question should've been directed at Recovery Girl, but he was looking at you.

You mimed writing something and Recovery Girl handed you a paper and a pen.

Maybe later, you wrote, I think if we tried it now I would die. I was barely able to stay conscious this time. More back to back and there might be permanent damage to my throat and/or lungs.

Kirishima nodded, but there was something shining in his eyes that made you wonder what he was thinking.

Think a kiss would help now? you scribbled out, showing it to Recovery Girl.

She gave you one, and you relaxed into the pillows, letting the boys ask her questions.

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

YOU FELT BETTER WHEN you woke up, though not by much.

Bakugou was asleep by the side of your bed, arms crossed under his head. His arms were pillowed by your thighs and you wondered how long he had been there.

You shifted a little, reaching a hand out to run your fingers through his hair.

"Hey Princess," Bakugou murmured, shifting to look at you, grinning softly.

"What time is it?" you croaked, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

"Little after five in the morning," he admitted, sitting up. "That one kiss took a lot out of you. Eiji and Denks went to bed at about one. I couldn't sleep so I thought I would stay down here in case anything happened."

"You mean you had a nightmare and instead of waking them up you came down here to feel useful in some way."

He didn't say anything but the blush on his cheeks gave him away.

"You didn't have to stay you know," you told him. "Just because of the whole Hanahaki thing-"

"It's not because of the fucking feeling flowers," he grunted. "I would've done this whether it was my fucking fault or not."

"I already told you guys," you snapped, "this is not your fault. You couldn't've stopped this."

"We should've told you sooner," he whispered.

"Should've told me what sooner?" you asked. "If you guys aren't comfortable being around because I'm in love with you, then you don't have to stick around."

"No, it's not that," Bakugou told you.

"What Katsuki is tryin' to say," Kaminari slurred, stumbling in, looking more exhausted than you, "is that we love you too. And we had been talking about asking you to join us."

"We were talking about approaching you about being our girlfriend, but then you suddenly started not wanting to go places with us and we were worried that we were making you uncomfortable," Kirishima added, rushing to make sure that Kaminari didn't crash into your bed.

Kaminari forwent the chair at the side of your bed and instead climbed onto the bed next to you.

Kirishima rolled his eyes fondly, sitting next to Bakugou.

"Yeah, what they said," Bakugou grumbled.

"You guys don't have to force yourselves to try and care about me like that," you said, frowning. "It doesn't do anybody any good and hurts everybody involved."

"How can we show you that we care about you like that?" Kirishima asked. "Please (Y/F/N)."

"Do I really seem like the kind of guy to lie about his feelings like this?" Bakugou interrupted. "And do you really think I would let these morons do something like this?"

"Kind of," you admitted. "You all care about people enough to try and do that. Besides, I thought you were all gay."

"Demi," Bakugou grunted.

"Pan!" Kirishima chirped.

"Bi, obviously," Kaminari murmured from where he was burrowing into your side.

You blinked, processing this new information.

You were about to respond but Recovery Girl waddled in.

"How are you feeling, hun?" she asked.

"About as good as can be expected I suppose," you said.

"I contacted the doctor that you originally spoke to and he said that the only way the flowers would've come out of your lungs would be because the person you were in love with said that they wanted them and because they were in love with you when they said it.

"That being said, these other two want to give it a try. We would need a small space between flowers of course, since they did a lot of damage to you on the way out, because of how far along you are, but it should work, if you're up for trusting them."

You glanced between the boys and sighed.

"Alright, let's give this a shot," you agreed. "I still have the surgery scheduled, so if it doesn't work I can still go in."

"It'll work. And when it does, will you believe us?" Kirishima asked.

"It'd be hard not to," you told him, "the facts are right there."

"Good. We can start whenever you're ready," Recovery Girl told you.

"Let's start now, I want this over with as soon as possible," you said.

"Understood," she agreed, grabbing three pairs of medical gloves, handing them to the boys. "You boys might need these."

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

Roughly nine hours later and you were panting as Kaminari gently lowered you onto the pillows of your bed.

"How are you feeling?" Recovery Girl asked.

Like I just threw up my intestines, but they were covered in thorns, you scribbled out. But I can breathe if that's what you meant.

"A few kisses and you'll be well on your way," she said, not seeming to mind your snark.

Bakugou snorted and Kaminari looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Do you want us to stay?" Kirishima asked.

You can if you want to, but I'm not going to force you to stay if you don't want to.

"Do you want us to stay?" Bakugou asked, exasperated.

You hesitated for nearly a minute before you glanced down at your lap, nodding.

But you can go back to class if you want to. I know you guys have been here for forever and that you have classes to catch up with, you scribbled out quickly.

"We ain't goin' anyway Princess," Bakugou said, flopping down into one of the chairs next to the bed.

"Besides, Aizawa gave us a pass this morning," Kaminari added.

"You want us to stay and we'll stay," Kirishima told you.

You were in the middle of writing something but Bakugou snatched the pad out of your hands.

"Just accept that you're stuck with us darlin'," Kirishima said, tossing it over his shoulder.

Kaminari hummed his agreement, crossing his arms over your legs so that he could lay his head on them.

"When this is all over, and you're good to go again, we're taking you out, for real this time," Bakugou told you, mimicking his blond boyfriend and the position you had found him in early this morning.

Kirishima followed suit and you ruffled their hair before you nodded to Recovery Girl, who have you two kisses.

You were out like a light.

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

"Darlin'," Eiji called over the din of the party that was going on around you. "Your mom wants to see our party trick!"

You laughed, handing the cookie platter to your little cousin, who giggled, trying to look inconspicuous.

You weaved through the people mulling around and found all three of your boyfriends talking with your family.

"Are we going to have to do this at your parents' house too, Katsuki?" you inquired, hands on your hips.

"Probably, the hag loves this stuff," he muttered, but his tone was fond.

"What are we doing at Katsuki's?" Denki asked, moving to drape himself over your back.

"Our party trick," you said and he laughed.

"I don't see a problem with it," Denki chuckled. "I think it's pretty hot."

"It is, but that doesn't mean that he should have to do it every time we go somewhere," you argued.

"I don't mind darlin', really, I think it's kind of fun," Eiji said, grinning.

"I find it humiliating," Katsuki grumbled.

"That's because you can't lift Eiji yet," you teased.

Katsuki's palms crackled but his eyes were soft when he looked at you.

"Are we doing this or what?" Denki asked.

Denki, Katsuki, and you all walked over to Eiji.

Katsuki was on Eiji's left while you and Denki were on the right.

Eiji then scooped all three of you up in his arms and your family cheered.

You giggled, wrapping your arm around Eiji's neck to stabilize yourself.

When he set you all down your little cousins, and even some of the older ones, were begging him to see how many he could lift at the same time.

"Why don't we try it next time?" you suggested, getting pouts and cries of injustice. "Think of it this way, the next time we see you all, he'll be even stronger and he'll be able to lift more of you than he can now!"

That soothed them for the moment, but some of the older ones glared at you, seeing through your compromise.

"You just want to keep him all to yourself!" one of them said as the others dispersed.

"But he's my boyfriend," you argued, "so I know him better than you do."

"But you have two others!" your little cousin retorted. "It's not fair."

Denki was crying from laughing so hard in the background, leaning on a chuckling Katsuki.

"They're definitely related to you, darlin'," Eiji teased, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing you softly.

Your little cousin whined in disgust and disappeared into the fray and you sighed in relief.

"You must remember what that was like when you were little, (Y/F/N)," your mother teased. "You were the same way."

"I was not!" you cried, cheeks heating up. "I only argued because people kept telling me 'that's just the way it is' and I wanted a real reason why."

"Aw, imagine how cute little Lightning Bug was," Denki cried and you glared at him.

Soon all three boyfriends were on you about it and you groaned.

"You're all so mean!" you whined.

"But you love us for it," Bakugou argued.

"I hate it when you're right," you muttered, sending them laughing.

It had taken a lot to get to this point, but it was worth it, you decided. They would always be worth it.

#bakukirikami #kamikiribaku #kiribakukami #bakukamikiri #kirikamibaku #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #kaminari x reader #katsuki x reader #eijirou x reader #denki x reader #bakukirikami x reader #poly #hanahaki au #hanahaki disease

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cellophaine · 3 years

Text

Home With You

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3003

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: I figured I should give you guys a break from my smutty contents lol. And I just wanted to write an indulgent fluff piece.

As always, every likes, comments, reblogs, feedbacks and ask submissions are greatly appreciated! My heart goes into cha-cha-cha mode whenever I receive notifications from you guys (it's a happy mode)

Prompt requested by: Anonyomous (love you anon <3)

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"Matt?!"

You called out as you walked into his apartment; the exhaustion crept into your voice. His name echoed back to you in the empty place, a tell-tale sign of Matt's absence. You huffed out a frustrated sigh as you stepped out of your heels, padding into the living room on bare feet, much to your relief. You dropped your briefcase to the floor with abandon, planting face-first onto the couch, releasing another weary sigh. This was the third night in a row you missed him on his way out, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. At this point, it had become a regular occurrence. You felt like you barely saw him as of late. All you had was the little time in the mornings with Matt's body wrapped around yours in the bed. And it wasn't enough. How could it be?

Your workload as a paralegal at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz had picked up in the past few months. The pay was more than decent, but it resulted in more time assisting Jeri Hogarth in cases and less time spending with your boyfriend. The immense amount of guilt you felt kept building up, as you knew Matt was not happy about your situation, but he always knew what to say to make you feel better. You had spent time running around New York for researches, staying late at the office at Hogarth's requests.

The days would always end with you worn out to the bones. Matt hated how the job was clawing at you, chipping away a piece of you every day, leaving you stressed out and exhausted. But he was supportive anyway, understanding that it was your choice in the matter. And so, Matt was the only constant, comforting source in your life. He would be there every time you woke up, cuddling and kissing you, making sure that you had all your meals throughout the day, taking care of you when you couldn't do it yourself.

You dragged your enervated self into the shower, lathering yourself up with Matt's shampoo and body, indulging in his scent under the hot water. The clean smell of his soap in the shower steam helped relieve the ache of missing him in your chest. You had slept over his apartment every night. Still, ironic enough, you felt like you drifted away further from him, not of your own volition. Matt was the anchor that kept you close, but how long would it last? How long would he be willing to stay?

You patted yourself dry, walking into his bedroom, the air cool on your exposed skin. You opened the closet, pulling out a sweatshirt of his. You hugged it close to your chest, dropping your head low to inhale the smell of him. You pulled the shirt on along with his too-big sweatpants, tightening the strings at the waistband. You put on his socks, too, tucking them over the hems of the sweats, just like how he always did it. A habit of his that you had absorbed. A bittersweet thought struck you. Despite being in his apartment, often living in his space more than your own, you wore his clothes just to feel closer to him. He was close but never close enough.

You found your way to the couch again, plopping your head on the pillow. You curled into yourself, settling in a comfortable position. You didn't bother with dinner, for you craved something else. You just wanted him here. You wanted to spend every second you could get with him to make up for the time you had missed. You tried to stay up, waiting for him to come back. But the toll of the day pulled on your eyelids, luring you into sleep with much resistance from you.

A weightless feeling woke you from your sleep. You blinked sleepily; your hazy vision revealed Matt, still in his Daredevil suit, the helmet was nowhere in sight. His unseeing eyes radiated the comfort and affection you loved, and you hummed happily at the blessed sight of him. A smile pulled on the corner of Matt's lips as he laid you down on the bed, pulling the soft blanket over you. He brushed your hair off your eyes before leaning in, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled sleepily at his gesture, tilting your face up as his warmth left your skin. Your lips met his halfway, and you sighed into the kiss that you craved with the entirety of your being. You needed this, needed him; you yearned for him. Your hand found its way to him; his light stubble tickled your fingertips. You caressed his face, needing to touch, to feel him, as the kiss grew heavy. Finally, he pulled back from you with much reluctance, within your reach, just enough so you could hear his whisper.

"Have you had dinner? I left you your favourite in the fridge."

You pressed your head into the pillow before shaking your head, along with a muffled confirmation of his suspicion. His brows furrowed, and you quickly pulled on his jaw, drawing him closer. You resumed the kiss, and once again, Matt was the one who broke away. Lowering your voice in a soothing tone, you asked in the hope of distracting him.

"Do you have any injuries that needed to be looked at?"

"It was a pretty uneventful night. I know what you're doing, and it's not working."

He responded at once; his head shook slightly in disapproval. He knew you too well. You knew that. But you didn't want to get up while all you wanted was to bask in his familiarity, his warmth again.

"I had a very long day. I just want to go back to sleep, with you. Please?"

Your desperate plea tugged at his heart. His eyes softened as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Alright. But you will have a big breakfast, first thing when you get up."

You bit your lip, brows waggling at him, even though you knew he couldn't see that. A playful, suggestive tone glided into your voice.

"Oh, I definitely would like something 'big' for breakfast."

He let out a small laugh at your terrible tease.

"I'm serious. I was gone for a few hours, and you already neglected yourself."

"I promise. I'll be yours for the entire weekend. Now, can you get your ass in this bed, preferably naked? Pretty please."

He chuckled, standing up to pull his protective gear off. A few rustles later, the mattress dipped as Matt climbed into the bed behind you. He pulled you into his chest, pressing butterfly kisses on your hair. You turned onto your back, giving him easier access to your lips. He eagerly took you on your offer, pulling you in for a soft kiss, so soft that it made you melt into his embrace. He moved to kiss your cheeks, making his way to your eyelids, ending the kiss on your forehead.

"Sleep now, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

You turned to your side to cuddle into him, curling your hand behind his muscular back. You nuzzled your face into his firm chest, kissing and nibbling sleepily on the naked skin. You fell asleep promptly, grateful for the weekend ahead of you.

Your phone buzzed again and again on Matt's bedside table. You groaned, burrowing your face further into Matt's chest. The faint scent of blood and sweat, of Matt, infiltrated your senses through a daze. However, whoever on the other side stayed persistent; calls came in after calls. Finally, you untangled your limbs from Matt's with frustration, answering the call to hear Hogarth's voice on the other side.

"Where the fuck are you? Why didn't you pick up your damn phone?"

"It's… it's the weekend."

"And? This case won't go away itself. Come in now, or you're fired."

Your ears met with the dead tone from the other line. You fell back onto the warm bed, feeling like you could burst into tears. Pressing your face into the pillow, you muffled a silent scream. Matt propped on his elbow, caressing your back with the other hand.

"Stay here. Quit the job. You deserve so much better than how Hogarth's treating you."

You murmured.

"I can't. Her words have weight. She can really help me with my career. The pay isn't bad either."

"I know, but it's not worth it. I don't like seeing you bend over backward to every of her demand. I can feel your exhaustion every night. I hate seeing you so harrowed and stressed out."

You sighed heavily.

"It's not like I can quit right away. Not until I can secure a better job somewhere else. Rent in Hell's Kitchen is crazy. Until then, I'm stuck with her."

You moved around in the place, talking to Matt as you got ready. When you stepped out of the bathroom into the living room, dressed in your work attire, Matt walked over to where you stood, offering you a cup of tea. You smiled sadly at him, stroking his cheeks. Then, you raised on your tiptoe, kissing him swiftly before picking up your briefcase, making your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I can't drink the tea. I'm already late. I'll see you later tonight?"

Matt fell into silence; his head turned away from your direction. The mugs of tea in his hands stayed still and abandoned. You felt an awful jerk on your heartstring for leaving him like this. You spoke softly.

"I love you."

One moment of silence, then two. Matt reluctantly spoke, his voice small, barely audible.

"Love you, too."

You gnawed on your bottom lip in defeat, walking out the door. Your heart grew heavier with every step you took, carrying you further away from him.

When the elevator opened, you were working at your desk, just outside of Hogarth's office. You looked up just in time as the infamous P.I of Hell's Kitchen walked past your desk, sparing a glance towards you. You sprang up from your seat, running after her.

"Ms. Jones, I'm sorry, but you can't go in there. Unfortunately, Ms. Hogarth is not available at the moment."

Jones reeked of alcohol, but there was no sign of intoxication. She scoffed.

"I don't care if she's fucking another secretary in there. Step aside. I don't want to hurt you."

You stood in her path, taking your stance. Although preventing Jessica Jones from entering your boss' office wasn't your job, Hogarth made you do it anyway. She made you do many things that went beyond your responsibilities as a paralegal, as she always held her power over your head like an invisible sword, readied to strike at any given time.

Jessica rolled her eyes, sidestepping you. You stuck your foot out in her path, making her boot catch on your heel. She stumbled lightly, whirling around to face you.

"Seriously?"

You swallowed, shrugging.

"A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do."

"Maybe that girl should get another job and stop working for that monster."

Jessica quickened her pace, pushing the door open as you chased after her.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hogarth, but she …."

"… tired of your shit, Hogarth. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Jessica gritted out the words. Your boss sent a deathly glare at you.

"Leave us."

She flicked a wrist at you, and you closed the door behind you as fast as you could. You went back to your desk, speeding through your mountain of paperwork. About half an hour later, Jessica walked out with a menacing expression on her face, heading straight for the elevator. Jeri walked out about two minutes later, looming over your desk.

"If that happens again, I will personally destroy your little, pathetic career. You hear me?"

You nodded solemnly.

"Have them on my desk before 5."

Hogarth left you alone for the rest of your time there. You were done with the work at a little over 3 PM. You dropped it off, and it was refreshing to see a surprise expression on her face for once instead of the usual scowl you received. Then, you headed straight for Matt's place, couldn't wait to get back to your boyfriend, despite the little not-an-argument you had earlier that day.

He wasn't home when you got there. You sighed, afraid you had messed things up with him. After changing into something more comfortable, you sat down on Matt's kitchen table with your laptop open and a steamy plate of food Matt left you last night. You sat there, your fingers tapping away on your device for what felt like hours until you heard the sound of the door being opened. Matt walked in, dressed in his usual gym clothes with a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. His face was flushed, his hair stuck out adorably. You stood up, lingering at the chair. You cleared your throat.

"I'm… sorry for this morning. Are we … okay?"

You ached to hug him, to be gathered into his arms, to kiss him. Your bottom lip trembled slightly. You wouldn't know what to do if he said no.

He could sense your uncertainty with every word. His face softened at your vulnerable disposition, his arms opened wide, dropping his cane and bag to the floor with little care.

"Of course we are."

You lunged into his embrace, holding him tight as he picked you up easily, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You found his lips, pouring your heart and soul into the kiss. Eventually, you pulled away from each other as you gasped for air, your foreheads touching.

Matt lowered you down to the ground, still holding you in his arms, his hand caressing your spine in a soothing motion.

"I'm looking up other jobs. Hogarth is … horrible, and I'm always stressed out. You're right. It's not worth it."

"You know … Nelson & Murdock can use a helping hand."

Matt raised his brow at you; an endearing grin pulled at the corner of his lips. You smacked his chest playfully.

"As if I'm not helping you guys in my free time already."

You trailed a finger from the waistband of his sweats, ghosting over his abdomen and chest, ended your way at the pulse on his neck, stroking the delicate arc of his throat. Matt let out a small groan of pleasure.

"That means you already have an in with the firm."

You squinted your eyes at Matt while he feigned innocence.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I would love to have you there. We still have to discuss this with Foggy, but I think he'd be thrilled."

The earnestness in his voice was unconcealed. Working for Matt and Foggy was a tempting proposal, but you wanted to give it some thought first.

"Let me think about it."

The week started anew, with another visit from Jessica Jones. Only this time, you didn't cease your work pace, even as she walked past your desk. Jessica halted, looking at you skeptically.

"Why are you not stopping me right now? Did Hogarth call of her little guard dog?"

You looked up from your computer screen, giving her a nonchalant shrug.

"Nah, the order is still in effect. But I don't care."

The P.I gave you a nod and headed for Hogarth's office.

Before the workday ended, you were summoned by your fuming boss. Hogarth stood at her desk, a glass of whiskey clutched tight in her hand. She looked upon your entry, sneering at you.

"What part of preventing Jessica Jones from entering my office that you didn't understand? Do you —"

"I understand. I just don't care."

You dropped off the folder on Hogarth's desk. She narrowed her eyes at the manila envelope.

"This is my letter of resignation. I quit. I would say it was an honour to work with you, but that would be a lie."

You left the office that day feeling so much better than you had felt in months. There was a spring in your steps as you climbed the stairs to Matt's place. You walked in as an aroma of mouthwatering food being cooked engulfed you, welcoming you home. Matt was in the kitchen, facing the stove. You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Matt lifted an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. Then, he turned off the stove, fully angled his body to you and gave you a warm embrace.

"So you did it? How did she take it?"

"She was furious, Matt. She threatened to make sure I could never practice law ever again. Over and over. But I'm not worried. She can threaten me however she wants. I know the law."

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You're better off without her. And if she dared to do that, you wouldn't be alone. Foggy and I will have your back."

You hugged him even tighter, pressing your ear to the steady rhythm of his heart. You stayed like that for a moment as the sound of Hell's Kitchen played in the background. Matt buried his nose into your hair, peppering your face with kisses. Then, at last, he spoke up.

"So, have you given more thoughts on working for Nelson & Murdock?"

You made a tsk sound, tapping a finger against your lips, pretending to be in deep thoughts.

"I don't know. Wouldn't it make quite a scandal since I'm dating one of the bosses?"

"Considering the other boss already knows about the arrangement, no one else has to. We can keep a secret -"

Matt dipped his head; his lips brushed over the curve of your ear purposefully. The mere contact sent a shiver down your spine in anticipation. Finally, he released the last part of his sentence; his voice dropped dangerously low, dripped in an alluring invitation.

"- and have fun with it."

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock au #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #marvel imagine #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil au #daredevil imagine #daredevil fanfiction #cellophaine 100 followers event #no use of y/n

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