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spookyscarydemonbabe · 2 years

Text

Play date

A/N- This was one of my most recent Gareth fics so thankfully i didn’t have to try and recover this one 😅 i may or may not have a part 2 in the works 🫣

Summary- Gareth goes to pick up his little sisters from their friends place, and he definitely didn’t expect a girl to open their front door. a hot girl. in a bikini…

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None :)

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @ahzysauce

Words- 2.4k

Gareth knocked on the front door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.

His sisters were over at their friends house for a playdate, some other girl they knew from school, and he was asked by his parents to pick them up before it got too dark out. As soon as the door opened his jaw almost fell to the floor.

It wasn’t one of the other girls’ parents standing there before him, it was a girl. A hot girl, wearing a bikini top and a pair of shorts over the bottoms. At first he thought it was a joke, doing a double take to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things, making you giggle,

“Hi, are you Gareth?”

“Yeah…” He said quietly at first, his eyes snapping back up to yours to distract him from your exposed figure before him, “Yeah, hi, sorry. I’m here to pick up my sisters.”

“I figured, i’m (y/n), i’m Cassie’s older sister,” You said with a smile, opening the door for him, “they were telling me about you,” you said giggling again, seeing the littlest bit of blush creep onto his cheeks, “they’re all in the backyard, come on in.”

He stepped in, closing the door behind him and following you through the house to the sliding glass doors next to your kitchen. He could see a large pool with a wooden deck leading up to it, a few lounge chairs with some towels and pool toys scattered around them. You slid open the doors and approached the pool,

“Hey girls, your brother’s here to take you home.”

The three girls groaned in the pool, making their way up the steps and grabbing their towels to dry off,

“Can’t they stay a little longer sissy?” Your younger sister Cassie said, giving you the puppy dog eyes.

You looked back to Gareth, your hands on your hips,

“I guess it’s all up to you, you’re the one taking them home.”

He thought it over for a moment, weighing his options. He could either go home with his sisters and spend the rest of the night in his room, watching the same old slashers that he’s seen over a million times, or he could stick around for a little longer and spend time with a girl in a bikini.

“You know what,” he looked to his sisters, “i don’t think mom and dad would mind if we stuck around for a little longer.”

His sisters ran up to him and gave him a hug, getting his clothes wet from their still soaked bathing suits before jumping back into the pool. You giggled and took a seat on one of the loungers, looking back up to Gareth,

“You can come sit next to me, i’m not gonna bite.”

He gave you a soft smile as he sat next to you,

“So my sisters were saying stuff about me?” He said, fearing the worst. He knew his sisters were always nice around others but they’d tell his deepest secrets in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, nothing bad though,” You said with a giggle, “they told me we’re the same age, and when they were snooping around in my room they said you liked the same kind of movies.”

“Really? I didn’t know girls were into those gross slashers. Did you see Bad Taste? It came out a few weeks ago.”

“Of course i saw it! I love movies like that, my friends think i’m weird but i just think they’re cool.”

The two of you sat there talking about anything and everything you could think of, slashers, Hellfire, he even told you about Corroded Coffin and about what happened with Jason when Eddie went missing. You could still see a little cut on his lip.

“He threw you into your drums? He’s such a dick, i don’t understand how he gets away with the shit he does.” You turned your head to see the small cut on his lip, a little purple bruise still around it, “I’m glad you’re alright though, that looks like it hurt.”

“Yeah, it hurt like a bitch,” he said with a laugh, the littlest bit of pink on his cheeks, “i’m just glad this cut’s almost healed, i feel like it’s been there forever.”

“Well hopefully next time you come over it looks a little better.” You said with a gentle smile, your eyes darting back and forth from the cut on his lip to his eyes, seeing the blush on his cheeks get a bit deeper.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, next time your sisters are over i expect you to come with,” You said giggling, seeing how flustered he got, “i need someone to hang out with me so i’m not stuck babysitting them again.”

It was cute to see how nervous he got just from talking to you, and it was even cuter to see how pink his cheeks got whenever you giggled or smiled at him. You knew you were being flirty, and you were sure he knew it too, but something about him made you certain that he’d let you do it as much as you wanted. He was wrapped around your finger and you loved it.

“Yeah! Yeah, i’ll absolutely come with next time they come over-“

“We get to come over again?!” One of the girls said from behind him, the two of you getting lost in your conversation and not noticing that they had been wrapped in their towels, standing behind you two for god knows how long.

“I mean, yeah,” Gareth turned to his sisters, “if you guys wanna come over again soon we totally can,” he quickly turned back to you, “if that’s alright with you i mean…” He said trying to hide his excitement.

It was rare occurrence that he was able to talk to a girl this easily, but having a girl as pretty as you be so eager to see him again was definitely something new.

“Of course! You guys can come over whenever you want,” you look back to Gareth, “my parents love your sisters so i’m sure they won’t mind if you came along.”

“Can we come back this weekend?” One of his sisters asked.

“Is that alright with you?” Gareths eyes found yours again, and you could tell he was hoping you’d let them come back that soon.

“Absolutely you can! But no swimming next time,” though Gareth was excited to come back, he was a little upset he wouldn’t be able to see your figure so exposed to him the next time he saw you, “i don’t want us to be stuck out here watching you the whole time ok?”

“That’s ok, we can play with all my new barbie’s i just got for my birthday!”

“Can we go see?”

“Yeah they’re all up in my room!”

The three girls quickly ran inside, going upstairs into Cassie’s room, you shouted behind them,

“Be careful when you run in the house! Don’t get anything wet!” You giggled and rolled your eyes, “Sorry about her, are you sisters like that when they have people over?”

“Oh yeah, all the time.” He said with a smile, “i better go get them, it’s getting kinda late and i don’t want my parents to be pissed i let them stay out this late.”

“I’ll go in with you, i can always clean all this up tomorrow.” You stood up from the chair and grabbed the shirt that was thrown over the back of it, slipping it on before going to grab the pool toys and towels just to tidy up a bit.

Gareth was upset to see your figure covered up again until he saw the logo on the shirt,

“No fucking way, you like gross movies AND you’re into Diamond Head?”

“Yeah!” You said, your lips curled into a smile, “I love them, my dad was the one who got me into them a few years ago when their first album came out.”

The two of you entered the house once again, closing the curtains behind the sliding glass door,

“He’s got good taste,” He said following close behind you into the house, “what other bands are you into? It can’t just be Diamond Head is it?”

“Oh no, i love all kinds of bands like that,” you said with a giggle, “Girlschool, Anthrax, i’ve got a whole collection of cassettes upstairs, i’ll show you.”

You grabbed his hand and led him upstairs into your bedroom, hearing the girls in your sisters room just down the hall. He was surprised that you grabbed at his hand so quickly, and even more surprised when you were still holding it as you entered your room. And he was even more shocked to see how closely your room resembled his.

Posters of different horror movies and bands covering the walls, tapestries over your windows as replacements for curtains, a large pile of VHS tapes next to the tv in front of your bed and a crate full of different metal cassettes next to the stereo underneath your window. And then it finally hit him. He was in a girls room.

You dragged him over to your stereo and kneeled down in front of it, dragging the crate forward to look through the tapes as he sat next to you.

“Wow, you’ve got some good ones in here…” He said, moving the tapes around in the crate before him as you reached up to play whichever one was still in your stereo, turning the volume down so the two of you could talk over it.

“I’ve got some old ones and some new ones in there. I think i’ve got a few more over here too,” you leaned yourself over him, holding onto his shoulder for support, your chest close to his face making him blush as he tried not to sneak a glance at your breasts, “yeah, my dad let me borrow some of his older ones, we used to listen to a lot of these in the car when i was little.”

As the two of you rummaged through the tapes, talking about whichever ones caught your eyes, neither of you could tell that the other was sneaking glances. Gareths eyes kept moving over your face, taking note of every little detail and blemish, while yours were looking to his lips, looking at the light bruise surrounding the cut on his lip.

“What’re you staring at?”

Your eyes quickly moved up to his, not noticing that he finally caught you sneaking a look, making you blush harder than you ever have before. You finally realized why you loved seeing how pink his cheeks got as soon as he did the same to you. There was just something about Gareth that made you feel like there were butterflies in your stomach. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to interested in you, or that you could tell you were making him feel the same way he made you feel. No matter what it was, for a boy you just met, you knew you definitely liked him.

You gently reached your hand up to his cheek, moving your thumb carefully over the bruise around his lip,

“Just looking at this little cut,” you could feel his cheek beating up under your fingers, “i really hope it heals soon, how long has it been there?”

“Few weeks i think…” He tried his best to keep his eyes away from your but he just couldn’t help himself, “I’ve actually got a little bump on the back of my head still.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“Really? Where is it?” You slowly moved your hand from his cheek into his fluffy hair, carefully moving your fingers around his scalp to find it. He would never allow anyone to touch his hair like this, but you were being so gentle and careful with him, he knew you would be the only exception. Once your fingers found it he winced just a bit at the soreness,

“Shit, sorry, i didn’t hurt you did i?”

“No, no, you’re totally fine.” He said, giving you a soft smile.

It was silent between the two of you, only the sound of the cassette playing from your stereo could be heard but it felt like it was just the two of you there with nothing else around you, getting lost in one another eyes and not noticing that your lips were inching closer.

And closer.

And closer…

“Ew! They’re kissing!”

Before your lips had the chance to touch, the two of you snapped your heads to your doorway, seeing the three little girls giggling as they quickly ran back downstairs once they knew they were caught. You took your hand off of the back of his head, the thought of your lips almost touching being burned into your brain. Damn those little brats for ruining the moment.

“I guess that’s probably my queue to go.” Gareth said, standing up from his spot and reaching his hand out to help pull you up.

“That’s ok, it’s getting late anyways, i know you said you had to leave like an hour ago.” You said with a soft laugh.

The two of you made your way down the stairs, seeing the girls waiting by the front door for their brother,

“All ready to go?” He asked them, you standing behind him. The girls nodded and gathered their things up before you opened the door for them. You smiled and your sister waved goodbye to them as they walked down the driveway to their car, and before Gareth took a few steps out of the door you quickly grabbed his hand again,

“You’re coming with them next time right?” You said with a smile, gently biting your bottom lip.

“Yeah, absolutely, i promise i’ll come with them next time.” He smiled and before he knew it, he felt his face flush as you quickly pressed your lips to his cheek.

It was quick, soft, and nothing more than a simple kiss goodbye, but to him it was everything. You giggled seeing his reaction to something as simple as a little kiss on the cheek and you slowly removed your hand from his, wiggling your fingers as you waved to him.

He was too flustered to do anything and quickly waved back just as you shut the door.

As he walked to the car, he felt like he was walking on air. Not even a full day of knowing you and he felt like his whole world was turned completely upside down from just one simple kiss on the cheek. And he was more excited than anything for his sisters next little play date at your place.

All that mattered was that he needed to see you again. And soon.

_______________________________________________

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#stranger things 4 #stranger things #gareth emerson #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson fluff #gareth emerson x female reader #gareth emerson x reader

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miekasa · 3 years

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six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex.

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team.

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.”

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #eren x reader

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savorysatori · 3 years

Text

— 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. ✗

“choke me, spank me, look at me, thank me.”

— sypnosis: working as a maid in a new house is very exciting, you get the money and everything goes well. although, once you’re introduced to the son of the parents, everything goes down hill.

cw, warning: size kink (?), creep!ushi, pictures without consent, nipple play, gn!reader, non-con, somnophilia, sloppy sex, dry humping, praise, panty stealer ushi.

% wc: 2234.

↷ a/n: y’all have no idea how long this was sitting in my drafts, for fucking 5 weeks plsssss- anyways I hope you all enjoy! this was rlly fun to do. also! shoutout to daisy, this collab was really cool! congratulations on 1K bb. <//3

— @daisy-bakugo, PORNSCAPE EVENT! ilyy.

You were everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about.

[1,000.]

That’s how much they were paying.

It was enough to have you accept the job immediately. It was enough to have you choose between two of the slightly revealing maid dresses and enough for you to be standing in front of the wakatoshi mansion. Briefcase in hand with a bucket of supplies you were instructed to bring. Everything was just right, you were prepared to clean, everything would go well.

The frilly material of the skirt swayed around your thighs and glided against the softness of your thigh-highs. Glistening jewels of your gold bracelets glimmering in the hot sun shining down on your skin. The thin line of thread held up the damp clothes, shredding any of the excess water soaked into them. All of the Wakatoshi’s clothing were fancy. Gold lining stitched in the middle or at the end of the cloth, it was clear they were wealthy. But, it somehow amazed you when your eyes glided to the very end of the line — some shirts & shorts were childlike. Pictures of guns and cars were painted onto a black shirt, it looked like something a 5th grader would do. ‘Maybe they had a child?’ You didn’t know, you only met the parents. Folding up the dry ones, you’d stuff them into the cart and push them towards the other line of clothes swishing in the breezy wind.

You finished doing the daily chores, slipping into their kitchen that was designed well with a beautiful interior. Cold marble was felt up against your skin as you tipped the bottle of wine into your glass, clacking against it. Your glossy lips propped up against the cup and took small sips of the fruity flavor. It slid down your throat and surged a zing of bitterness back up to take in the taste, so sweet and yet so unpleasant at the same time. You’d lick the juice off your lips and place it down steadily on the counter, looking up to see a heady gaze sharped on you.

6’2 and steady build towering over you with dark olive hair — was the wakatoshi’s son. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Your body stayed still, unmoving. He wasn’t anywhere near a 3rd grader - more like a full grown adult. Tongue peeking out from your teeth to lick the dryness seeping between the cracks, your eyelids hooded.

“Uh- Hello! You must the wakatoshi’s son, I’m the new maid.” Extending your hand out to meet his; his hand stayed at his side, not seeming to shift to engulf yours. You’d drop it back beside you and nipped at your lip when the silence between you both continued.

“Well, I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you.. Ushijima! Your parents told me about you.”

You’d excuse yourself away from his intimidating gaze and close the door behind you. Maybe it’s a good idea to introduce myself another time.

The same look from before followed you out of the kitchen, watching you as you’d take up the laundry basket. His eyes kept gawking at your every move. Staring with every bit of emotion nobody could decipher, Toshi wasn’t a very talkative man and it was visible. He situated himself in the shadows and looked from above, staying out of any scandals his parents were exposed to. He did keep his eye on you. Stepping out of his secure area and making every note to try and approach you without seeming like a creep. His creep intentions did creep up back into his system when you started staying at his house, sleeping in a guest room 8 feet away from his room. It was easy; so easy to sneak into it when the moon raised in the dead of night.

Soft thuds of his feet against the carpet thankfully didn’t alert anyone, giving him the time to steal peeps at your sleeping state. Comforter pulled up. Oversized shirt to cover up the intimate parts of your body he dearly wanted to explore. Soft breaths left your pink lips to breathe it in again, his cock stirring at the sound of it. Toshi knew what was right from wrong, he knew that doing something like this would cost his life — but, dear god you were everything he dreamed of. He couldn’t stop now.

His calloused hands raised the shirt for him to be able to see your tummy, sliding his fingers down to the waistband of your panties. They were so simple and adorned your skin beautifully, keeping the heat between your legs warm just for him. His free hand unzipped his jeans and let them pool at his ankles, such as his boxers. You stirred slightly at the foreign touch, brows creasing forward. He stilled until you relaxed back into slumber, his fingers separated your thighs, and slowly slid the oozing head of his cock between them.

“Ah, princess, f-fuuck.” breath ragged, eyes shut closed to take in the bliss. Contentment streamed through him, his hips rocking against you to feel more, more of you. He was greedy. Toshi was insatiable, he wanted everything of you. He didn’t just want — he needed you. It was a plea. A whine for you, a need. The selfishness ran through his family, that’s how he inherited it. From his family. Was he ashamed? No. Not when you felt so good right now, not when he was about to reach the orgasm he was climbing to.

Sweat fanned down his toned chest, abs glistening with droplets of precipitation. His hips rocked forward one last time, cum spurting from his head and between the soft flesh of your thighs. It was sticky and slimy, rolling down to cover every little spot.

The sight of you sleeping soundly while his cum leaked from between your thighs, made the flaccid touch of his cock stir. You were just so pretty, a pretty little something he wanted to scoop up for himself. And he would do it with no trouble whatsoever. His hand slid down to grab his phone from the floor, lying face down. Toshi aimed right in the frame, snapping a picture for later. He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans and scurried away from your room, not bothering to clean up the mess of his dry cum smeared on you.

Pressing the ‘start’ button you watched the clothes in the machine swirl with bubbles of soap clouding over them. One hand on the machine and knocking it occasionally to make it turn on again. “Barely working.” You’d mutter.

Despite the Wakatoshi’s being filthy rich, their laundry room wasn’t at all cooperative. There were brown pieces of wood peeling off the wall with stains of what seemed to look like dry substance splattered on it. A bunch of plastic bags and socks were pushed to the corner of the room, dirty ones to be exact. Not much laid in the room other than the things you had listed — except for the posters of lewd manga hanging from the cluttered shelves.

The cool air of the basement door opening brushed up against you, your eyes drifting to see who it was. Standing there was Toshi. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His expression was the same as always, stern and uninterested. You were both met with the silence from yesterday, uneasiness creeping up back to you.

Bothering not to talk, you turned back to the machine to see it at twenty-one minutes. It was almost done and you could leave to wrench away from the awkward silence you were sitting in. You could still feel his presence, you knew he was there and it was uncomfortable. So many questions were left unanswered in your head, you couldn’t understand them.

The back of your skirt was flipped up to meet your back, his clothed length pressed against you. He was hard. There was no doubt he wasn’t big, and that was what made your eye sockets almost swell out. He slowly rocked the fabric of your panties along with his bulge. Fingernails digging into your hip and pushing you up more to gain more access and spread your legs.

“Ushijima-“ words of confusion scrabbled out from your mouth quickly, “w-what are you doing?”

“Shh.” He jabbed the curve of your back and made you lay pressed against the cold exterior of the rattling washing machine. His words flustered you, it provoked you to stay quiet. You had never heard his voice before and a situation like this only shook your brain into a deeper hole of complication. “J-Just — let me do this, let me try it out. Once.”

And you did. You let him try it just once, you let him delude into the fantasy he had been dreaming of. You let him do it. Once.

You calmed down from the aftershock of his tongue sending you to see stars, arms jerking when the feeling of his hot touch pressing your face against the door of the machine. Your fingers tightening around the handle and pulling on it slightly, cheeks swelling up with heat. The sounds of your whimpers and tiny jolts sent him to push along more, arm encircling around your stomach, his voice breathy against the shell of your ear. You were like a succubus, a being he couldn’t leave nor escape, so alluring, sweet and he had just met you not too long ago.

The smack of his cock meeting his stomach caused you to crank your head back, looking over to see a beautiful sight. Ushijima’s cock was thick, curving gently upwards. The skin was a light shade of cream, and the head was large, pink, expanding tip. “Ushi-“ your voice was wavery, unsure paring with it.

He’d shush you again, angling your leg up as his lips pressed a kiss to your glistening cunt. Toshi took notice of your expressions when he slid into the warmth delves; brows creased together and little words scampering out from your lips. Latching onto the handle and pulling it ever so often when he hit a certain spot, whenever the tip of his cock caressed against your cervix- it was so beautiful seeing you be reduced to a quivering, blubbering mess. A surreal sight he would only see.

“You’re so damn tight. So wet, so willing.. just like that baby.” The pump of his hips made you lose yourself over and over again, a mixture of sounds that were all kinds of slobbery and slurred due to your dizziness. His pace picked up with renewed energy, slick and wet sounds fill the air, sweaty bodies clamping against each other. The whines and pants of his name being drowned out, so pathetic- clinging to the latch and crumbling under his touch. It drove him like a mad man, his brain clattering, the way you took him in with no problem amazed him, you were so inviting and supple.

“S’too b-big! Ushi- ah! -“

The whines of him being too big impaled itself into his brain, your shivering body and cunt wrapped around all together had already made him blank out, now with your pleas, it caused a switch in his head to flip and jack-hammer himself into you. Pump after pump. It made your eyelashes flutter with droplets of tears risking to stream down the fat of your cheeks. His hands holding you firmly, brows furrowed with grunts flowing into your right ear. A grunt rippled from him as his cock throbbed harshly inside you, the feeling making him come undone right there.

“Just like that, ah, fuck you make me feel so good.”

Wrinkled skirt falling to the floor, his cock pulling out of you slowly with globs of cum dribbling out of you, he’d shuffle around till you faced him fully now with a perplexed look on your face. The shirt becoming loose as Toshi’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple, suckling and easing any leftover moans out from your throat. His hands placing you on the machine and attaching his lips back onto your nipple, tongue flat against your sweaty skin.

“Fuck, U-Ushi! holy- fuck, just like that.” Your back straining as you leaned back, gasping and threading your fingers through his hair to balance. Toshi wasn’t one with words, his statue being quiet and still. But, words poured out from his lips at the sound of your moans, when you were so good for him.

“So, good.. pretty. pretty, like a beauty.” He pulled off of it with a squelch, standing up high and cupping your chin to stare in your love drunk eyes. “You were so good for me, yeah?”

You nodded, vision hazy and eyes occasionally blinking to peer up at him with a blurry image. Your head rested in the crook of his neck, sniffling as he picked up the soiled panties from the floor and stuffed them into his back pocket. They were red and pink, swirly designs on them, he found them so cute. He slid your legs around him and walked out of the room, leaving the washing machine to rattle in the background with soap and water overflowing onto the ground.

Ushijima just couldn’t leave you after that day, he stuck to you like glue. Who could blame him? You were everything he wanted, everything he had fantasized about.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #pornscape collab!!👒#cw noncon #cw somnophilia #cw size kink

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

But professor… - c.2

Summary: Penny continues to have some questions about the assignment, but thankfully professor Marshall is right there to help her out

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next Chapter

My second criminology class, I was feeling a bit under the weather, but like the real die hard that I am, confusing to give in and rest (which would’ve be the better idea), I continued to go to class. I hid part of my face behind my scarf, while I would take a sip of my tea every now and then. I barely absorbed anything that class and professor Marshall must’ve noticed, because he didn’t call for me the entire class.

Thankfully.

But now I feel better and am going to make up for my lack of attention last class. While the the class can be pretty gore, it has become my favorite class, partially because I really like professor Marshall.

No wait, solely because I like professor Marshall.

I don’t want to admit it, but I kinda went out of my way to look presentable for class. I spend my entire life being invisible, unnoticed, but that’s not the case in this class. It’s nice to be acknowledged (I could do without Fitzgerald, who continues to creepily stare from a distance). I put on some lipstick, that matches my blush pink sweater.

Professor Marshall looks up from his notes when I walk in the lecture hall, one corner of his mouth curled up a bit. ‘Morning,’ he says, his tone low and brass.

‘Good morning,’ I say softly, walking towards my assigned seat. Since last class happened in a blur, I am going to pay extra attention to this one.

It is hard though, to focus. We have to understand the crime scene, trying to dissect what happened exactly. However, all the blood, fake or not, makes me want to vomit. I swallow hard and thankfully professor Marshall is skipping over me.

Until…

‘Miss Townsend,’ the professor says, ‘overlap between the victims. I want at four points.’

Four points? Is he for real? That’s a lot. I hate that I made a sort of good point the first class. I have to live up to that expectation now.

Think, Penny, think. ‘All victims are fathers,’ I start, ‘white collar workers and have a brunette wife.’ I try to remember what he told us about and what I read prior to this class. ‘They had affairs with someone they worked with, someone who worked a job that paid less than theirs.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

‘The killer has a type,’ I say, but from the looks of it, he wants more. ‘The victims are carefully picked out, maybe because… These men remind the killer of someone?’

He nods. ‘Exactly.’

I let out a deep relieved sigh, knowing that there is a possibility that he won’t pick me again. I see Fitzgerald looking over his shoulder, to basically gawk at me. He is going out of his way to say intelligent stuff during classes, but everything that leaves his lips is… Bullshit.

After the class ended, I stay for a bit, because of course I have another question. I might not be entirely stupid, but academically gifted is not applicable to me. ‘Professor Marshall,’ I say, as I walk towards him.

‘Miss Townsend,’ he says, ‘you did well today in class.’

‘Oh.’ Stupid me, blushing again. ‘Thank you. I have another question about the assignment.’

‘Why?’

Did he seriously just asked me why? I start to stammer a bit, taken aback from his retort. How am I supposed to answer that? Maybe just stick with the truth? ‘Because I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand?’

‘The case I chose,’ I say.

‘You have time at four?’ he asks. ‘To meet me in my office? I can help you out.’

I nod with a smile. I am going to his office! ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘Where are your glasses?’ he asks, placing the presenter on the table.

He noticed that I wasn’t wearing my glasses today? Is it because I look stupid without them? ‘In my bag,’ I answer. ‘I sometimes switch between lenses and glasses. Why?’

Professor Marshall shrugs. ‘Just wondering. See you at four. Sharp.’

✎ ✎ ✎

I knock on professor Marshall’s office door at four sharp (I mean, he felt the need to emphasis it, so I should be on time, right?) and he says: ‘Come in.’ I open the door, to see him sitting behind his desk.

‘Is that… a chair?’ I ask, pointing to the pretty comfortable looking chair on the my side of the desk.

Professor Marshall nods. ‘I didn’t want you to stand,’ he says. ‘Don’t get used to it though. I plan on removing this thing as soon as you leave.’ He smirks. ‘It gives me the creeps. I usually don’t like people hanging around in my office. Whether that is at NYU or the MPD.’

I take a seat and blink my eyes a few times. Gosh, I don’t think I have ever wore my lenses this long and they start to hurt a bit. Just keep them in for a few more moments. Be subtle. ‘My question is about the literature.’

Professor Marshall tilts his head. ‘Are you okay, miss— Penny?’

Apparently I’m not at all subtle. ‘Just my lenses, that’s it.’

‘You can take them out. Please, go ahead.’

Thankfully I brought my stuff with me and I grab my bag, searching for my glasses and lenses case. ‘The literature that is required for the assignment… There isn’t a list provided by you and I have a hard time finding some.’ I remove one of my lenses and continue to take out the other. Gosh, the relief. I put the glasses on and place both cases in the backpack.

‘I can email you a list of literature you can use,’ he says. ‘Why is it giving you difficulties?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, professor.’

‘Walter,’ he says.

Huh? ‘Excuse me, what?’

‘It’s after school,’ he continues, ‘so you can quit with calling me professor and start calling me Walter, okay?’

Walter. Seems so personal, so intimate. Not complaining at all, if I’m being honest. I nod. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

‘Why did you choose psychology, Penny?’ he asks.

That’s a deep question. It’s almost like a first date (if I have to believe the movies, because yours truly never went on a date in her life). Why does he even care? ‘My parents thought it was important I went to university. They wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, but I’m not that intellectually gifted. Besides, psychology might give me more of an idea of who I am or what I am. I traveled after high school, hoping to figure out who I am, but so far, no luck.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘And you think criminology is gonna help you with that?’

I chuckle. ‘No, it’s not. Originally, I wanted to go for the child psychology course, to see if I could understand myself better through that, but I missed the enrolling date. It was either criminology or animal behavior.’

‘Animal behavior? That’s a course?’

‘Mhm.’

He nods. ‘Well, you’re really good in criminology,’ he says. ‘We could’ve used you in the force.’

I run my fingers through my hair and smile nervously. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You noticed the droopy eyelid. Took detectives long enough before they realized that.’

‘Lucky guess.’

Professor Marshall leans back in his seat. ‘You’ve got to stop undermining yourself,’ he notes. ‘You are sharp, notice the details. You have a lot of potential, in this field or any other. I think you just don’t know it yet.’

My cheeks heat up. Is he saying what I think he is saying? ‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Really,’ he confirms. The professor keeps looking at me, but weirdly enough I don’t feel uncomfortable. ‘Tell me something what you want to find out about yourself.’

I clear my throat. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Tell me something about yourself then,’ he says. ‘Something that’s a foundation for who you are.’

I bite my lip and try to think of something. What is a foundation of who I am? ‘Well,’ I say, after contemplating for a moment or two, ‘I was adopted after I was left at a Catholic church doorstep when I was few hours old. I was brought to a hospital, where they found out I was a premature baby with heroin in my blood. They never discovered who my parents were.’

‘Oh, Penny,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He is sorry for me? I bite my lip, before I say: ‘My adoptive parents are sweet, they really are, but I’m scared sometimes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, because if I’m that unloveable at a few hours old, I bet I’ll become that later on, you know? Especially when they will find out that I might not even work in this field, because it’s not where my heart is.’

He places his underarms on his desk, folding his hands together. ‘You’re not unloveable,’ he says in a soft tone, ‘you could never be.’

I smile. ‘We’ll just have to see about that.’

The professor squints his eyes for a few seconds, almost as if he is trying to figure me out without asking anymore questions. ‘Tell me, what field has your heart?’

‘Cosmetology school,’ I say. ‘I know, a huge downgrade from this, but… I love stuff like that.’

He is smiling at me. ‘It’s not a downgrade,’ he says, his town a bit lower than before. ‘I bet you would be great at it.’

I clear my throat, a bit taken aback by the impromptu therapy session. ‘Thank you, Walter, for answering my questions. I feel like I’m bombarding you with questions to a point where it gets annoying.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it, you could never annoy me.’ He grabs a piece of paper and writes something down on it, as I stand up. ‘Here.’

‘What’s that?’

‘My number. If you have another question or anything else, you can always text or call me.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Of course I have another question. Is it inappropriate to ask this much time and attention of your professor? I almost think it is, but I really want to understand the assignment and my other teachers aren’t as nice as Walter.

While I wish I wasn’t doing this entire major, I do want to prove myself, especially in my criminology class. I don’t want to let him down.

Oh my, have I taken an interest in my professor? That would be improper behavior, right? Isn’t this totally illegal?

Well, my feelings aren’t and he does not feel the same way, so nothing will happen anyway. No need to think about the illegality of the situation when it’ll never get that far.

I grab my phone nonetheless and the piece of paper and add him to my contacts as Walter. I check his profile picture. It’s a slightly blurry photo of Walter sitting in a police car, but even through the blurry pixels, I can still recognize him. The same type of sweater. The messy curls, the beard and the deep frown between his thick brows.

Me: Professor Marshall, can I ask you something?

Me: This is Penny btw

Walter: What did I tell you, Penny?

Me: Oh, I’m sorry

Me: Walter

Walter: Atta girl

My eyes widen as I read his text, while my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh,’ I whisper to myself. This is making me slightly giddy. What is happening here?

Walter: What’s your question?

Me: I’m still having troubles with the literature

Me: You know what? I’m sorry, I am totally asking to much of your time and I shouldn’t do that.

Me: Forget it, I’m sorry

Walter: No, no, no, Penny, it’s alright.

Walter: I gave you my number, remember?

Me: Right…

Walter: The literature is your only question?

Me: Yes

Me: It’s just a lot and I don’t know which piece of literature is applicable to my case

Walter: You had case four, right?

Me: Yes

Walter: I’ll send you a list of the literature you can use

Me: You sure it’s not too much?

Walter: I’m sure

✎ ✎ ✎

During my counseling skills class I am in the back of the lecture hall and heavily distracted. This professor is incredibly boring and really enjoys hearing himself talk. However, I’m occupied enough. Since there is no on behind or next to me, I open another tab on my laptop, to see I have yet another message from Walter.

Yes, I said Walter. I’m not in class, so it’s not professor Marshall.

Walter: Still in class?

Me: Yes, still am.

Me: What are you doing?

Walter: Consulting on a case for the NYP

Me: Do you miss working for the police force?

Walter: I do

Me: Why aren’t you working for the police now?

Walter: I’m suspended

Me: Do I want to know what you did?

Walter: I may or may not have yelled at some guy, thrown around some chairs during interrogation.

Walter: Thanks to me we solved the case though

Me: Remind me to always be on your good side 😅 😅

Walter: You are, Penny

Walter: Don’t you worry 😉

Me: Do you enjoy being a teacher?

Walter: No, not in the slightest

Walter: How are your assignments holding up?

Me: It’s going okay… It’s just a lot.

Walter: I bet

Me: It kinda feels like I’m drowning

Me: Already

Walter: You need help?

Me: I can’t ask that of you

Walter: You didn’t ask, I offered.

Me: Okay detective 🙄

Walter: Did you just roll your eyes at me?

Me: No, sir, I didn’t 🙈

Walter: I can help you out, I promise

Me: Where?

Walter: My loft?

Me: Your loft?

Walter: Yes, I can pick you up from somewhere

Me: You have crime scene pictures around your place?

Walter: I’ll have them gone by the time you get there

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #asian ofc #penny townsend #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #but professor

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itjazzbicch · 3 years

Text

Lessons

Pairing: Santana x Fem Reader

Summary: The reader is the Princess of Long Island, now the women's champion in AEW. She had always been cocky and confident, that doubling now that she is champion and when she crosses paths with the Inner Circle, she isn't afraid to speak her mind, but also triggers Santana, her attitude wanting to make him teach her a lesson and put her in her place...

Warnings: SMUT!! (LIKE A LOT) (18+!!)

Requested by: Anon (Whoever you are, I hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 3209

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @jessiebean00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell @justamess44 @thatpanpal @hungmanhorsecarriage @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose

I DO OWN THIS GIF

Just when we all thought the beef between the Inner Circle and the Pinnacle would die down, it didn't. Which became a nuisance for everyone.

I had just won the AEW women's championship at Double or Nothing. My match should have been the main event! Not all of these childish boys bickering.

Inner Circle had some screen time, celebrating their victory, but of course, MJF tried to ruin that and their little moment ran up part of my time, and little did they know, they made a big mistake because the time they took was mine.

Everyone was a bit confused whenever they heard my music playing, strutting in my red bottom heels and brand-new black, cocktail dress and that new, shiny title over my shoulder.

"Aye, cut my music," I demanded, smiling at all of the men in the ring, all of their eyes on me, "Don't get me wrong. Inner Circle versus Pinnacle. You have had your shining moments. Your stadium stampede match, not bad at all. Nowhere near as good as mine, but not bad."

I was laughing at all of them, they were clearly upset by my words and I wasn't even done yet, sighing:

"You all are talented, but this feud, oh god! It's more stale than Shida's run as women's champion, haha! You guys got to have your Lion King moment at Blood and Guts, you had your pathetic excuse for a stadium stampede match. Now, get the hell out of here."

They all were exchanging looks, in disbelief, but I snapped some sense into them, my inner bitch coming out when I cocked my hip, scoffing, "Did I stutter? The princess of Long Island is here and I am your women's champion. Show some respect, let the real star here shine, and get the hell out of my ring."

Finally, one of them did something, Wardlow sitting on the ropes for me so I could enter the ring.

"Nice to see one of you have manners," I groaned, but smiling at Wardlow, "Thanks, honey."

"Congrats on winning the title," MJF tried to smile at me, but I always saw through his fakeness, just rolling my eyes, taking the center of the ring with my microphone.

I was ready to have my moment, addressing my victory, but Inner Circle was still in the ring and it annoyed me quickly.

"You boys sure are stubborn," I murmured under my breath, but let them have a moment whenever Jericho stepped up to me, saying:

"The princess of Long Island, Y/N! Nice to see that you're an even bigger brat now that you are champion."

Any time someone called me a brat, it never bothered me. I just smiled, being sarcastic like usual when I smiled at Chris:

"Thank you for addressing me by my titles. I really appreciate it. Now Chris, you know what it's like to be a champion here in AEW. You sure had your moments and celebrations while you were the world champ. Let the princess enjoy hers. Now, go make yourself useful and get me a bottle of champagne backstage and not that disgusting thing you call the bubbly."

The crowd had mixed emotions about me, but one thing I did know was that they sure loved it whenever I was making rude comments to someone and embarrassing them. Again, I went to the middle of the ring, expecting them to leave, but I heard behind me:

"Naw, shorty needs to learn a lesson."

Quickly, I turned around to see Santana in front of Chris, clearly pissed off. I didn't back down at all; I was the one to take a step closer, smiling in Santana's face. Even though I was smiling, I was pissed off too.

When I lifted my microphone, my New Yorker accent began to came out, making sure there was plenty of attitude when I scoffed, "I need to learn a lesson?"

"Yeah, you do and I'll gladly put you in your place!" Santana yelled at me, taking Chris's microphone, "We fought like hell at Double or Nothing. We fought for something a lot more important than a title! We-"

"That's exactly your problem!" I yelled interrupting him, all of them listening when I continued, "Here's the thing about wrestling. It's about wrestling and winning championships! Everyone wants to make alliances, make 'families' and that leads to failure! I've been solo my whole career and you see, everywhere I go, I got boys drooling, girls wanting to be me, always being booked, and most importantly, winning titles!"

Santana had nothing to say just yet, but steaming with anger whenever I added:

"For example, other than Chris, when the hell did any of you win a title here in AEW?"

I left a moment of silence, waiting for an answer but there wasn't any.

"Oof," I cringed, "That's what I thought. You guys think you're the shit but in reality, you're a bunch of losers!"

"Losers, my ass!" Santana snapped and seeing how angry he was made me laugh hysterically, but I snapped back into bitch mode, flashing my title, cocking my hip, and flipping my hair.

"My time is very expensive and you boys wasted enough of it. And Santana, you better watch who you're talking to. You're lucky I'm in my red bottoms and this dress or I'd show you how a champion does it right here in this ring."

"Is that right?" Santana smiled, licking his lip and getting in my face.

He was hiding his anger by smiling, but I smiled right back, inches away from his face, if I got any closer our noses would have touched.

"That's right," I whispered, "Unless you want to prove me wrong. Actually, it wouldn't be the first time I wrestled in a dress."

"I got you, girl," Santana smiled, backing away, "You just wait!"

"Don't keep me waiting too long," I smiled back, winking at him, but when I turned to the crowd, I rolled my eyes.

Finally! Finally! I had my time in the ring and I also sat on commentary for one of the women's matches. It annoyed me that Tony tried to keep asking me questions about what just took place between me and the Inner Circle, but I told him to shut up and he listened. Thankfully, Jim told him how he shouldn't piss of royalty.

Right after that match, I went back to my dressing room. A bottle of champagne was truly calling my name. Too much annoyance consumed my mind for the night.

"Y/N," One of the backstage crew members called out, a bottle in his hands when he approached me, "A gift for you."

"No way," I laughed, taking the bottle that was champagne, one of my favorites actually, "That stupid idiot actually got me a bottle!"

"Actually," The member murmured, a bit scared as he did interrupt me a bit, "Here's the note."

I took the note from him, reading it and it said, "From one New Yorker to another."

MJF maybe? I tried thinking of who would have left it behind. After what I said out there, it definitely wasn't anyone in the Inner Circle. Either way, I didn't care. I just took it and went inside my room, demanding from the crew member:

"A Champagne glass. Now."

That member did not hesitate and while in my room, I was just watching the show, opening up the bottle while waiting. After what felt like forever, I heard a knock on my door.

"Finally," I groaned, "It's open!"

That same crew member opened the door, but then someone grabbed it. I couldn't tell who it was, but I saw their hand taking the champagne glass and a small bucket of ice.

"Thanks, but I got it from here."

Santana? Well, I found my fellow New Yorker who gifted me with champagne.

"Aww," I smiled while sitting up, "I only asked for a glass and he also brought me some ice for the bottle. How sweet is that?"

Santana wasn't thrilled to see me and I made sure he didn't get away from my smart comments whenever I stood up, mumbling, "Only if he got here sooner."

Without any words, I took the glass and ice over to the small table where I had the bottle waiting.

"So, you came over here for a reason. Care to tell?" I asked, pouring a glass, "Also, nice choice."

"I already told you out in the ring," Santana sighed, his hands in his pockets while he came around the couch and to the table where I was standing, "Maybe now that you're not on camera with the crowd around you, just maybe your ego won't get to your head."

"You're funny," I whispered, giggling while taking a sip, "Nothing about an ego. I just know my worth."

"Chris was right whenever he called you a brat," He mumbled, becoming annoyed with me, but I stopped beating around the bush.

"As I recall, you said that I need to be taught a lesson," I reminded him, smiling, "It would be a shame if I passed up the offer, but I don't think this would be the place to have a proper wrestling match."

"You really think you can beat me in the ring?" He smirked, thinking I was crazy.

"I know that I can," I smiled, "You think I'm afraid to wrestle a man? I could take that world title off of Omega if I wanted to."

Santana just laughed at me, shaking his head when he said, "You're crazy."

"Not crazy, just very ambitious and self-confident. What's wrong with that?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow, "No matter what 'lesson' you teach me-"

I was sure we both knew what was going to happen next, so I made the first move, getting close to him like when we were in the ring, just inches away from one another, finishing with:

"It's not going to change a thing."

There was no fighting the smile that was creeping onto my face when Santana got even closer, towering over me but still keeping direct eye contact, leaning his head down a little, our noses almost touching when he whispered:

"You sure about that?"

"We just went through this. Go ahead. Try to prove me wrong," I chuckled, seeing him shake a little when I picked up my leg, my thigh running between both of his, whispering, "But be careful how you hold me. I'm not just a princess, I'm a weapon."

All of the tension between us shattered like glass, about dropping my glass whenever his lips hit mine like a truck. There was no way I could deny it, he was a damn good kisser and it drove me crazy, taking him by surprise when I pushed him against the wall.

His hands were tugging at my dress, pulling it above my hips. I was smiling more when I felt his large, warm hands sliding down, taking two handfuls of my ass, biting my lip, and making me gasp hard when he planted a firm, swift smack on my ass.

It had me breathing heavily and it fired me up. I took two handfuls of his shirt, whispering against his lips, "Damn, you trying to make me cum already?"

"You like that?" Santana smiled, getting a moan out of me when he hit me with another one.

After that one, I snapped, wanting to get down and dirty. His eyes were locked on me, smiling when I stepped out of my panties, letting my dress fall, staying in my heels.

"You must not have listened when I told you that I'm a weapon," I huffed, ready to go back to him, but he came at me, throwing off his jacket, sitting me on the back of the couch, his shirt going next, hands at his jeans when I pulled him by his shoulders into another kiss.

I hopped down from the couch the moment I saw his briefs, getting a good look for myself, liking what I saw, making the rush in me pick up the speed.

"I'm not known for being speechless, but damn," I chuckled, my hand stroking his cock softly, watching him bite his lip.

He let me have my own little moment of fun, but immediately after, he took me by the wrist, twirling me around so that I was facing the couch, bending me over it. The anticipation was killing me; Santana adding to it with every move he made, his hand around my throat, bringing my head back a little so he could whisper in my ear:

"It's time you learn your lesson."

"This seems like a very fun lesson if you ask me-" I chuckled, but ended up breathless, gasping for a moment, then biting my lip.

I felt his crown pop into me, having to stretch me wide with every inch that slid up, which was a good bit, hitting every sensitive part along my walls. I had to bite my lip hard, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing me truly moan just yet.

"Got nothing smart to say now huh?" He snickered, thrusting into me hard, keeping his hips pinned against me and that made the moans I was holding back jump out, "Come on, I know you have a loud mouth."

"Got damn you," I whispered under my breath, closing my eyes and just taking in the crazy good feeling, it becoming hard to handle how he was bottoming me out already.

It was hard to believe how hard and fast he could go for so long, my hands gripping onto the end of the couch, trying to rock my hips back into him, but his pace was a bit too fast for me, his hands at my hips, sliding down to my thighs a bit, squeezing them hard with each thrust.

Again, I tried rocking back into him and when I did, his crown went past my sweet spot, making my legs shake like hell, bending over a little further, burying my face in the couch cushion.

Of course, he had to add to it, slapping my ass hard, then taking my hair, pulling my head back.

"Trying to hide something?" He huffed, laughing a bit, but burying himself deep, making me moan out so loudly, barely pulling his hips back, then pounding into me, growling in my ear, "Everyone in this damn building is going to hear you screaming my name. There ain't no hiding it, Y/N."

I was already a moaning mess, but there was one thing I wasn't doing and that was saying his name. With the mindset I have, I didn't want to give him that satisfaction, but that mindset was broken.

Being in heels definitely didn't help my legs, they were still shaking like hell, Santana's hand still pulling at my hair when he leaned back, pulling his cock all the way down and slamming every inch back.

"Fuck Santana!" I cried out, not even trying to fight it anymore.

"Huh?" He huffed, pulling back on me a little more so that I was almost standing, "I couldn't hear you."

I could feel tears form a bit from the way every nerve in my body was burning. My whole body burning like a wildfire. All of the heat coiling up in my core, the burning making my knees weak; I was barely able to stand up and if that wasn't enough, my ass received another swift smack. It made me smile, my ass tingling and I could feel it steaming.

"You're fucking amazing, Santana," I praised, smiling with more moans, but he had me right back to whining and nearly screaming, using his foot to move my legs, spreading them a little wider, bringing me up all the way, his chest against my back.

My body was ready to fall like a game of Jenga, his hand sliding down my inner hip and rubbing my clit rapidly, his hips still rolling, using his forearm to push mine down, making his crown go even deeper. I was sure he was at my lower stomach, that's where I felt all of the impact.

All I could do was whine and moan helplessly, my walls beginning to pulsate hard and I was ready to let it all go, let my orgasm run free, but he started slowing down.

"Santana," I whined, trying to move my hips, "Don't do this to me."

"I'm not fully convinced that you learned your lesson," Santana scoffed, "But I'm about to find out."

He began to give me slow thrusts, but every single one was hard, still able to keep the sense of my orgasm around, almost triggering it, but not letting it happen. Sharp whines fell from my lips with every thrust, his hand still at my clit.

"Please, Santana," I asked, trying not to sound like I was begging, but that's what he wanted.

"Huh?" He teased, beginning to pick up his pace a little more, "I'm having a hard time hearing you. Especially with you moaning like that."

He knew I was ready to snap. I tried to fight it, but with every thrust, every moan, I was becoming desperate, his ungodly speed bringing my orgasm right back again and I didn't want it going anywhere; So, I gave him what he wanted.

"Please just-" I began, having to swallow my pride, "Please just let me cum, Santana. Please, please."

"That's all you had to do," He whispered, bending me over the couch again, lifting one of my legs and going so hard, but finally, with a super tight clench of my walls, wrapped around him so tight, I could feel every part of his cock slide up and when his crown went past my sweet spot again, I actually let out a loud scream.

"Oh, my fuc-" I cried, holding onto one of his hands for dear life, "Santana!"

My body was going crazy, shaking and tensing up at the same time. Santana actually helped a bit when he held me by the sides, feeding me some softer thrusts while all of the wet heat just fell out onto him, still getting some faint moans out of me while I was trying to catch my breath.

"Told you I was going to put you in your place," Santana chuckled, but I just ignored his comment for now.

My brain felt like it was lagging, my body ready to just drop and I even admitted that when I whispered, "And I thought wrestling was rough."

Santana heard me and laughed, leaning down, teasing me, "Aww, the princess can't take a few rough strokes?"

"I'm still standing ain't I?" I smirked, fighting through the shaking and standing up, "In red bottoms too."

"They ain't as red as your ass though," He noted, stroking my ass where he slapped it, and even, I laughed at it.

"I will admit," I sighed, swallowing my pride, looking back at him to say, "Maybe you did actually teach me a lesson."

"Trust me, whether if you admit it or not," Santana smiled, lighting tapping my ass again, kissing me when he whispered, "I know I did."

#wrestling #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling smut #wrestling oneshot #aew #aew imagine #aew fic #aew smut #aew oneshot #Santana #Santana x reader #santana imagine #santana fic #santana smut #santana oneshot #request #read and enjoy

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

all i want for christmas - isaac lahey

Hey crew! Happy holidays my loves 💓 whether you celebrate or not i hope you’re having a wonderful week! Here’s something a lil festive ;)

Enjoy + let me know what you think💓

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: none :) just fluff

Master list

It was that time of year again. The most stressful, crazed, chaotically wonderful time of the year. Of course, it was the annual McCall pack Christmas party.

The one occasion in which there was absolutely no getting out of, whether you were in Beacon Hills or not. The only day of the year where every single member of the pack would get to see each other all at the same time.

Since graduating from High School you’d all gone your separate ways, living your own lives and fulfilling your respective destinies.

Since you’d seen your beloved pack last, you’d been contently living a quiet life in a small town in England. It was pretty sweet, you lived in a spacey cottage and worked in a very quaint bakery. It was safe to say that being a werewolf in a tiny cottagecore village was a lot easier, and entirely less stressful, than being a werewolf in Beacon Hills.

But, as they all say; home is where the heart is.

Because you lived across the world, the Christmas party was the only chance you got to see the majority of your dearest friends, so you always kept the date.

Every year without fail since the pack had formed, December 23rd, Christmas eve eve, was strictly reserved for festive supernatural celebrations.

It had been a long day of airport lines, connecting flights and luggage collections but you were finally sitting in a cab on your way to Derek Hale’s loft.

There was always the unspoken dress code of “way fancier than you need to be” at these parties, it was a code that yourself and Lydia in particular took very seriously. Even if that meant slipping into a little black dress, your favourite pair of heels, applying a full face of makeup and doing your hair in an airport bathroom.

Which for you, was the reality. But regardless, you looked hot as hell.

The cab driver’s sleavy glances at you through the rear view mirror only confirmed the fact.

“Christmas party?” The middle aged man asked, looking at you more intently than the road.

“Mhm.” You replied, faking a sincere smile.

He let out a low whistle from between his thin chapped lips and rose an ungroomed eyebrow, “Someone there you’re trying to impress?”

Now that was the golden question. With a forced chuckle you brought your gaze to rest on the crescent moon glowly in the black sky.

There was someone there that you wanted to impress, as a matter of fact.

It was one of those fickle things. A will-they-won’t-they of epic proportions and it had been going on since junior year of high school. Sure, everyone loves a slow burn, Stiles and Lydia are a perfect example of this.

However, your fire seemed to be taking its sweet time catching alight.

Shaking the thoughts away you let out an exhausted sigh, “Unfortunately, yeah. There is someone I’m trying to impress.”

The cab driver let out a chuckle, “If ya ask me, if however it is doesn’t have to pick their jaw up off of the floor after seeing you they are a fool.” He told you, not trying to hide the looks of approval he was giving the neckline of your dress very obviously.

You couldn’t stop the booming laugh that left your painted lips at his statement, he was such a creep but he was definitely onto something.

“Who knows maybe this will be the year.” You said through a laugh. The driver nodded his head and then exclaimed cockily as he, thankfully, pulled up to Derek’s complex, “Yeah, and if not, you know where to find me.”

Trying your very best to contain your laughter at the man before you, you wordlessly got out of the car, grabbing your suitcase, which was full of presents, from the trunk.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful!” He called jovially through the passenger side window, you looked over your shoulder and gave him your best fake smile, “You too.”

As you began towards the building's entrance you lowered your tone, muttering a quiet, “Creep.” Under your breath.

The sound of suitcase wheels dragging against the concrete pavement echoed through an empty lobby area as you made your way to the rickety old elevator, trust Derek to buy the entire building but choose the loft on the top floor.

A bell sounded when the elevator finally arrived, you stepped inside and waited patiently for the contraption to carry you to the top floor.

When it arrived you could hear Christmas music booming from behind the huge sliding metal door that separated the loft from the hallway, there was a lot of excited chatter inside the loft so you assumed you were the last to arrive. Fashionably late.

Just as you were about to pull the door open, you paused and pulled out your phone, opening the camera and giving yourself one last look over. The status hadn’t changed since the airport, you still looked hot as hell.

Disregarding the anxious butterflies fluttering around your stomach, you took a deep intake of breath and plastered a genuine smile on your red lips and opened the door.

“Hello my darlings!” You made your presence known with an over the top false British accent as the pack turned to see who had just arrived. The second their eyes landed on you the whole room exploded with excitement.

Lydia squealed in delight, rushing up to you and pulling you into a tight hug. Your arms wrapped around her tightly and your smile widened when she began swaying you excitedly in her arms before pulling away. The strawberry blonde held you at arm's length, her eyes scanning you from head to toe then fixing you with a knowing smirk.

“Cute dress. Who is that little number for?” She teased menacingly, raising an eyebrow as if she didn’t already know the answer.

You’d missed her little games, but that didn’t mean you’d forgotten how to play along since you’d seen her last. You put your hand over your heart and looked at her dreamily, your horrible imitation of a British accent returning, “Why it’s all for you my love.”

It was then that Stiles broke the two of you apart saying, “Y/n, you’re my best friend and we share a lot of things but I’m afraid my girlfriend is not one of them.”

With a disappointed sigh, you shot your best girl friend a wink, “Forbidden love.”

“Shut up and gimme a hug already, God.” Stiles said in an exasperated tone, but the huge grin on his face betrayed his voice as he wrapped his lanky arms around you.

“Hey Sty.” You giggled, reciprocating his hug. When he pulled away you noticed the rest of the pack were now crowding around you at the door.

Scott stood like an excited puppy waiting to get to you and the second you laid eyes on him you felt excitement burst within you.

With a huge smile on your face you threw your arms around his shoulders, squealing happily as the alpha lifted and spun you around in his hold. It felt so good to be with wolves again, you already felt stronger.

“I’ve missed you!” You told him, your feet pressed back on the ground. Scott’s smile was so bright as he exclaimed, “You too! You’re the only one I haven’t seen since last year! How are you? Are you doing okay on your own? How’s England?” He fired out in the brotherly way he usually did, you couldn’t help the fond smile on your face as you patted his cheek reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Scotty. I’m all good.”

The next few minutes were spent hugging and catching up with the others, Malia, Derek and Peter had welcomed you home in the doorway with hugs.

“Where are the puppies?” You asked, referring to Liam and Mason.

“Kitchen. Liam is trying to find something that’ll make us all drunk.” Malia told you, looking at your suitcase with expectancy.

You motioned towards the case by your side with a knowing grin, “Ok, I’ll go get those two. Your names are on the presents that are for you.”

“Yes!” Malia cheered, pecking your cheek quickly then almost sprinting to the case.

When you got to the doorway of the kitchen you leaned against the frame, watching as Liam chugged a bottle of vodka, trying to get some kind of buzz from the liquid while Mason watched in awe, “I don’t see you for a year and suddenly you’re a frat boy.” You sighed out.

Liam stopped in his tracks and looked towards you, “Oh hey, Y/n” He greeted you with an adorable smile and Mason gave you a small nod of greeting and you nodded your head towards the living area where the others were exchanging gifts.

“There’s presents for you guys if you wanna go get them.” You informed them, smiling as they all but ran past you towards the gifts.

The kitchen was empty now, save for you and a half full bottle of smirnoff. Tiredly you made your way to the wooden counter opposite the door and sat yourself up on it.

As you swung your legs gently in the air, you took a moment to close your eyes and enjoy the moment to yourself.

The moment ended with a gentle knock on the doorframe, and when you opened your eyes, there he was.

Standing in front of you, in the flesh and all of his glory was Isaac Lahey. “You mind if I join you?” He asked softly, you gave him a smile and beckoned him over.

“‘Course not. Come in.” He smiled in return and casually made his way over to you, he hoisted himself up beside you on the countertop.

“I didn’t realise you were here yet.” You told him, eyes studying his face, he hadn’t aged a day since the first day you met him.

Even now, years later, he still maintained that youthful lost boy aura. The sparkle in his eyes never dimmed either.

Isaac turned his head to face you, a warm smile decorating his lips as he did so, “Sorry I missed your entrance, I had to change. I came straight from the airport.”

You nodded in understanding, “Me too. Changed in the airport bathroom though.”

He chuckled at that, you didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled across your body or how they lingered on the hem of your dress that had ridden up ever so slightly when you’d hopped on the counter.

When he caught himself staring he cleared his throat and looked away, when he was met with the look of knowing on your face his own erupted in a blush.

“You look…” He started but trailed off.

“Incredible? Amazing? Stunningly gorgeous? Come on, Isaac. Help me out here.” You teased, bumping your shoulder against his.

“All of the above.” He answered, equally as cheekily, he knee pressing against yours as he pulled something out of his back pocket.

It was a narrow rectangular envelope, he fiddled with it nervously before holding it in your direction, “I got you a present.”

You took it from him gently, “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to. Open it.” He urged, blue eyes glued to you as your fingers pried the envelope seal open.

As you pulled the contents of the envelope you looked to Isaac in confusion. It was a flight ticket to Paris for New Years eve.

“A plane ticket?”

Isaac nodded, blush returning to his face, “Yeah, I know you’ve always wanted to go and there’s the completely unrelated reason that I have an apartment in the city and would really love to spend new year’s with you.” He rambled on nervously and you smiled up at him.

“So you’re essentially asking me to come for a slumber party?” You grinned, giggling when he rolled his gleaming eyes at you. “I’m kidding. I’d love to come to Paris with you.” You told him, taking his hand in yours to stop it from fidgeting.

Isaac squeezed your hand in response, a happy smile on his face, “It’d also be a really great opportunity for me to finally admit that I’m in love with you.”

There was that fire you’d been talking about, after way too many years, it was finally lighting up.

“Good. That would give me a chance to tell you that I love you too.” You played along, biting back a shit eating grin as his face moved closer to yours.

You could hear Lydia behind the door, hushing the others as they all screamed along to “All I Want For Christmas Is You”.

“She’s been standing out there listening since I came in.” Isaac whispered and you only responded by sliding your hands up his shoulders.

Absentmindedly, Isaac’s arms wrapped around your waist as you continued to lean in closer, whispering, “Then let’s stop talking.”

Isaac’s eyes widened at that and he swooped his lips the rest of the distance to yours, murmuring, “God, I love that plan.”

His lips clung to yours while your hands moved to his hair. It had been a long time coming. After all the almosts and could haves, his lips were finally on yours.

The kiss was broken when you couldn’t hold your smile back any longer, Isaac’s lips were now tinted red from your lipstick but they were formed in a breathtaking smile.

“I think we should stop talking more. Like a lot more.”

“They kissed!” Lydia whisper shouted to the rest of the pack, who were pretending not to listen to the conversation happening in the kitchen.

Scott let out a celebratory “Whoop!” As did Malia and Mason.

“And! She’s going to spend New Year’s with him in Paris!” Scott clapped his hands together then, holding his hand out to Stiles, “Called it. Hand it over.”

Stiles grumbled, necking the rest of his drink before fishing a twenty out of his pocket and shoving it in Scott’s hand.

#isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf x reader #derek hale x reader #scott mccall x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #lydia martin #malia hale #liam dunbar

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

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A Game of Snake and Mouse

Merry Christmas, @livrever!! I managed to get you everything on your wish list ^^ I hope you like it!

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Santa exchange. I failed pretty epically as far as the sprint challenge goes, but I had a lot of fun writing this!

Read on Ao3 | Next Chapter

Viperion poked his tongue around his new fangs as he strummed his lyre and considered the lights of the Paris skyline against the black backdrop of the night. Ladybug had warned him that the longer he used a Miraculous, the more possibility there was for animal tendencies to bleed through into his civilian life. He had already started noticing a preference to bask in sunshine and a newfound aversion to cold. But fangs? He explored the sharp point carefully. Thankfully he had just started noticing these when he was transformed. If they showed up in his civilian life it was only a matter of time before someone noticed.

His fingers faltered on his lyre as he realized who he’d been thinking of. And how he’d thought she might notice. He’d been thinking of Marinette. He’d been thinking of kissing Marinette. And he’d been worrying that these fangs would get in the way of her soft lips, or if they might hurt her. He bit his lip on purpose and winced. Yeah, definitely sharp.

He shook himself to get rid of the image. It was a fantasy, nothing more.

He and Marinette had been getting closer ever since she’d passed the Guardianship onto him and revealed her identity. She’d been seeking him out more and more, under the guise of helping him transition into his role, but she usually ended up talking to him about whatever was on her mind. Her heartsong had been lifting bit by bit, shifting from the melancholy one he’d known, burdened with purpose, into something like happiness. Although there was still always a chord of uncertainty running through it.

Uncertainty of herself or of her decision to pass the responsibility to him, he couldn’t tell. Still, she’d never given him any indication that she wanted anything more from him. He was a friend, a shoulder, and a confidant. Nothing more, and he would never push it. So if he still heard her shy giggle like an echo in his ears, well, that was a fantasy, too.

“Hello, Viperion,” a sweet voice sang behind him. So maybe he hadn’t imagined that giggle. He’d know that melody no matter what mask she was under, but he still wasn’t expecting to turn and find Multimouse, swinging her jump rope tail as she walked up, her gray suit clinging to her like a second skin and the pink accents following her every curve. How had he never imagined Marinette with her hair up in twin buns like that? It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. Something in his expression made her blush, but she kept eye contact with him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she continued, although he could hear a nervous waver in her voice.

He chuckled at her joke and stashed his lyre before he stood to meet her, brushing off the seat of his suit out of habit. He didn’t miss the way her eyes followed his movement any less than she missed him noticing her lingering gaze.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair as a flush of heat started creeping up towards the edge of his mask. “I thought I was meeting Ladybug here tonight.”

“She thought I could take Mullo out for a run. You know, stretch my legs a bit.” To emphasize her point, she pulled her heel up behind her to stretch one quad, then the other. Her suit showed every taut muscle as she leaned to each side and he found himself swallowing thickly. Her eyes hadn’t left him, and a pleased smile was curling the edges of her lips.

“Yeah, sure.” His voice came out in a weird croak and he cleared his throat again. “Uh, how about I run by the Arc de Triomphe, and you take a route over by the Louvre, meet back at the Tower?”

She nodded and her teasing smile slipped into a grin. “Race you there.” She blew him a kiss before she ran the other way and dove off the roof to continue running on the next one.

For a moment, all he could do was watch after her. Was she… flirting with him? He looked down at himself and ran a hand over the scales that accentuated his abs. She’d seen him as Viperion before, and nothing had changed about his suit. Except… he touched a finger to the sharp point that was barely sticking out between his lips. He shook his head again. He was losing the race, which was probably the reason for her little display. He turned and got a running start before he threw himself off the roof, rolling when he landed to pop back up and keep going. The night air whipped against his cheeks and through his hair as he ran. If she wanted a race, she would get one.

When he reached the Tower, she was already there, reclined against one of the beams and idly swinging her leg. She smiled again when she noticed him and began climbing up towards the viewing area. Even though he knew the Miraculous afforded extra strength and agility, and that Marinette had been Ladybug much longer than he’d been Viperion, he still admired the graceful, confident way she swung her body through the air; it was so entirely at odds with Marinette’s adorable clumsiness.

Maybe that was the point, though. Maybe under this mask she felt less of the pressure of being Ladybug, but still had all of her confidence underneath a semblance of anonymity. Maybe that was why she’d seemed flirtatious earlier—not that she had been flirting with him, but if she was…

When his boots hit the platform, she was leaning over the railing, pretending she hadn’t noticed him. He couldn’t help but smile at her attempt at nonchalance, but he could still tell she was holding tension between her shoulder blades. As he took another step closer, she turned and leaned her elbows back against the railing instead.

“What gives, slowpoke?”

“Sorry, got caught up in a game of snake and mouse.” He smirked at her when her cheeks pinked in the light of the Tower. “You know how it is.” Time to test his theory. Boldly, he reached out to wrap her jump rope tail around his hand before he flicked it away.

“That game usually doesn’t end well for the mouse.” Her words were shy, but her actions spoke otherwise as she took a step closer to him and traced the bottom of his mask with the tip of her finger.

His breath caught in his throat. She was flirting with him. He licked his lips unconsciously, and her eyes went straight to his mouth. These were… uncharted waters. They’d have to talk about this. He’d have to ask her why she felt the need to hide behind a mask before she could tell him what she wanted. But right now, he had a growing curiosity to know what her lips tasted like.

His throat was dry, and he had to swallow past the lump that had formed before he was able to find his words. “Why don’t you find out?”

She swung her rope tail at her side as her gaze raked over him in appreciation. He dropped his eyes to her hand instead of her face to avoid the teasing grin that was widening with each second of her contemplation. The rotation of the jump rope was hypnotic as it blurred into a circle. He could almost hear it whooshing through the air, although it was competing with the frantic thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.

“How do I know you haven’t set your Second Chance? Stacked the odds against me?” she asked slyly.

He tore himself away from her spinning tail to find her eyes again. It must’ve been the effort of trying to follow the solid line whirling in a circle that was making him dizzy. Or maybe it was because he was barely breathing. He gulped in a breath of cold night air to calm himself. She raised her eyebrows and his hand flew to his wrist. He could. He could set his Second Chance now and if he screwed up, he could reset and get it right. As many times as he needed.

His thumb twitched at the snake’s head. This was a test. This had to be a test. Marinette—Ladybug—Multimouse. Multimouse. Would never suggest he use a Miraculous for personal gain. He sighed and glanced back up at her through his bangs. She was watching him intently, biting her perfect pink lip as she waited to see if he would or not. He shook his head and smiled.

“I only need one chance to catch you, petite souris.”

He dared to take a step forward, closing the distance between them. She giggled and looped her tail around him to pull him a step closer still until he was pressed against her.

“Is that so?” She was smirking at him. Marinette. Smirking. At him. “It seems to me it’s the other way around.”

He gulped as she ran her finger along his collar, dipping down into the hollow of his throat along with it.

“What’s the matter?” That giggle was going to be the absolute death of him. “Mouse got your tongue?”

“I wish—” he choked out. Multimouse blushed the same pale pink as the bottom of her mask. He swallowed thickly again. He hadn’t meant to say that. Although it was hard to misinterpret her signals right now, she still hadn’t said… “Sorry,” he started, “that came out wrong.”

“No, it didn’t.” She grabbed his collar and pulled him down to her. But she was too enthusiastic and his forehead banged against hers at the same time his fangs knocked against her teeth. He chuckled as she pulled away and clapped a hand to her head. Yup, still Marinette. When she had recovered, her eyes darted to his lips again.

He tested the pointed tips of his fangs against his tongue. “Yeah, those are new…”

She smiled again and pulled him back to her, gently this time, and although his fangs still got in the way, they fell into an easy rhythm and started ignoring them for the most part. Her hands slid into his hair as she pulled him closer, and his arm wrapped around her waist to do the same. Of all the times he’d wondered what kissing her would feel like—would taste like. Peppermint. He hadn’t expected peppermint. It was her chapstick and it made his lips tingle as he pressed kiss after kiss into those gorgeously soft lips.

He sucked in a breath when he felt her tongue brush against his lips, and he parted them slightly. Her breath mingled with his before her tongue slipped into his mouth and he closed his eyes to savor the sensation—the warmth of her mouth against the icy chill of the night air hitting the remnants of her peppermint chapstick that lingered on his lips.

“Ah!” She broke away with a gasp, holding a hand to her mouth. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what had happened until… oh. He’d gotten too excited that time and closed his fangs around her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” he breathed, and the word came out in a cloud of mist.

“It’s okay.” She pulled her hand away and her lips were still curved into a soft smile and he found that he couldn’t, for the life of him, stop watching them now. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, scraping against his fangs in the process, and he could still taste peppermint. Forever after that would be the taste that reminded him of Marinette.

She stepped back into his arms and giggled when his hands clenched unconsciously at her hips. “I… I kinda like it,” she continued breathlessly.

He sighed in relief and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “Really starting to wish I’d taken your offer and used Second Chance,” he muttered, although he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

She reached up to trace his bottom lip, taking extra time to outline the sharp points of his fangs. “But you don’t need a Miraculous to have a second chance,” she said, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. “If you want one.”

As much as he liked—no, loved —kissing her, that question was still in the back of his head and he couldn't help but wonder. Why the masks? Why the game?

“Marinette…” His breath came out in a soft sigh. “You’re killing me, here.”

Her brow furrowed, and she started to pull away. He opened his arms to let her, although the chill of the night crept into the space she had occupied. Her reaction confirmed a suspicion that had been hiding in his intuition the whole time. Something was wrong.

"Is it because I kissed you?"

"No, not the kissing, that was… well, more than I ever could have asked for, but I'm just…" He sighed. Out with it, Luka. "I'm worried about you."

“Why?” He barely heard her. The only indication she had actually spoken was the cloud of condensation that left her lips.

"Because… you kissed Viperion. As Multimouse." She took another step back and it physically pained him. "You could've kissed me any time you wanted. Just… why now?"

She turned away to hide the flush of red that rose to her cheeks. He was starting to worry he'd pushed too hard when she finally sighed and looked back at him. "I wanted to get something right for once. Every time I try as Marinette it spirals out of control and I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want it to be like all the other times I tried to confess to—"

She cut herself off just as she met his eyes. Viperion's eyes, tinged teal from Sass's magic. He schooled his expression and nodded. He understood. She didn't have to keep going if she didn't want to.

She blushed again and her eyes dropped to their boots, and the space she had put between them."I guess I still managed to screw up, though, didn't I?"

He shook his head and reached out for her hands. She put them in his and he pulled her a half-step closer.

"I'm still here." He rubbed his gloved thumb across hers as confirmation. "You can tell me anything, or nothing at all, and I'll still be here."

She was biting her lip again. “I was hoping you would use Second Chance,” she admitted. “For me, though. In case I chickened out or spazzed or—”

He leaned down to press another kiss to her lips, and she sighed as she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him there. He pulled away after a moment, but stayed close enough to let his lips brush against hers as he spoke.

“You can have as many chances to kiss me as you want,” he said, “as long as you never stop taking them.”

She pushed up on her toes to kiss him on each corner of his mouth, to the side of each of his fangs. She giggled as she touched her heels back down, and when her eyebrows furrowed this time, it was because she was thinking and not because she was worried.

“Are those there when you’re not transformed?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not yet.” An idea struck him as her words from before came back to him. His smile grew until it was a lopsided grin. “But I thought you kinda liked them, didn’t you?” He leaned down as if he would kiss her neck, but brushed his fangs against the sensitive skin there instead. She shivered and shoved him away roughly, pretending to pout again. He couldn’t help but laugh. She was too cute.

“Aww, come on, souris,” he said, baring his fangs in a wide grin. Her beautiful blue eyes widened as she realized he was teasing her. “What about our game?”

“No, uh uh.” She took a step back and put up her hands in defense, but she was smiling as she caught his tone. “I’ve decided. You win.”

He took one more step forward and she squeaked, taking them both by surprise. Her hands clapped over her mouth. Almost instinctively. Like she’d… done that before on accident. Oh no. He groaned, and a flush of heat started to creep up towards his ears.

“Don’t tell me that’s what’s come through for you,” he said. A slow nod, her eyes still wide. He laughed. “Yeah, that’s gonna cause a problem for me.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Her cheeks turned bright red under her fingers and she squeaked again when she caught his meaning. It was like an adorable hiccup, and it seemed entirely involuntary. He could not stop smiling. How was she so endlessly adorable?

After an intense pause where they were both frozen, each taking in the other's flushed face and embarrassed smile, he laughed again and cleared his throat. "Okay, I'm gonna…" he gestured behind him, even though he was pretty sure the Liberty was in the complete opposite direction. "Yeah. I'm gonna head home."

She nodded, her hands still locked over her mouth.

"I'll see you soon?" He ventured. Another nod. He managed to smirk at her before he took a step back, then another. She was still standing there, watching him, when he finally turned his back to make his way back down the Tower, thankful for the chill in the air against his flushed cheeks.

When he got back to his room, he flopped onto his bed and grinned at the ceiling. He could still taste peppermint, although he wasn't entirely sure if he had just replayed kissing her so many times already in his head that he was imagining the taste still on his tongue. He touched his fingers to his lips, as if remembering it for the thousandth time.

Experimentally, he stuck a finger in between his lips to test his canine tooth. It didn't seem any sharper than normal, and his mind was already racing towards kissing Marinette again without the cumbersome fangs.

There was no way he'd be getting any sleep that night.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb fic #ml fic #lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #vipermouse #viperion #multimouse #lbsc sprint fic challenge #panda sprints #fic title: a game of snake and mouse

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shrimpngritcakes · 3 years

Text

Buddie prompt #3: 9-1-1 & Lone Star crossover idea

I’m putting this idea here for someone to claim if they wish. It was originally posted on Ao3 (now with additions), but deleted it due to ToS. If anyone wants this prompt, please comment below so I can delete it after you copy it to prevent similar stories.

His breaking point was a kiss.

One he knew he wasn't supposed to see. With anyone else he would feel like a voyeur, but all he could feel was a dark emptiness opening in his chest.

With Eddie’s truck being in the shop for a tie rod that had broken while at work, sending Eddie into a storm of cursing in Spanish, Ana had picked him up for their latest date.

And dropped him off.

If was a horrible fluke that Buck had stood up to look out the window at just the wrong moment. He should have been in the spare bedroom asleep after a grueling 24 surrounded by all the things he had brought with him when he moved in all those weeks ago.

Buck makes his excuses to leave while Eddie is completely confused and trying to get him to talk. Eddie tries to call Buck but he doesn't pick up.

Buck goes to see Bobby and Athena. It all spills out, including not feeling wanted by his parents. Bobby thinks Eddie is being an idiot but keeps this to himself. He suggests a leave of absence for mental health. Bobby receives permission from his superior to place Buck on open ended leave after giving him a brief explanation of the situation. Ending with him saying to Bobby, “That poor boy. If I ever meet that boy's parents…”

Bobby answers, “Get in line, but there may not be anything left after Athena gets them first.”

TK is surprised to find a sleeping Buck in his Jeep in the parking lot of the 126. An off duty Carlos takes him back to his place where he crashes on the couch. Buck has a nightmare and Carlos talks him down.

Owen calls Bobby saying he has his boy and they'll take care of them. He has a plan and discusses it with Bobby. The whole absence makes the heart grow fonder concept.

“Is it mutual?”

“I’m not 100% sure, but…”

“You can't tell Eddie. Even if he begs for answers for his son, you need to stand strong. It needs to be him asking for himself. If this goes wrong… We'll take Buck in here. He'll have a home with the 126. It will take a while, but we'll help put him back together as best we can until he's back on his feet. He won't be alone.”

Bobby wipes at his face, “Thank you."

“Let's hope this works.”

Eddie is worried and confused why Buck never came home. His phone is going straight to voicemail. Now he isn't there for his shift. Another man comes in and introduced as Buck's temporary replacement. Eddie asks Bobby where Buck is, but he won't give him a straight answer. Eddie is shocked as Bobby's tone is harsh and he glaring at him. Bobby later apologized and explains that Buck requested that only he and Maddie know where he is. Eddie tries to dig, but Bobby just shakes his head with a, “I'm sorry, Eddie. I can't tell you.”

Eddie asks Maddie, but she just slams the door in his face. Chim doesn’t know as she's refusing to tell them where Buck is. Chim delivers her handwritten apology the next day to Eddie. It states Buck needs space from everything, but mostly leaves out the part about Eddie (only one or two things that hint, but it goes over Eddie's head).

Athena almost breaks down and calls Eddie a fool before storming away to her police cruiser. She doesn't know where he is because Bobby refuses to tell her (which she finds annoying yet commendable), but she was there for the why when Buck broke down. She'll apologize after Buck and Eddie return. Hopefully together.

Filler with Buck and the 126 and Carlos. Judd takes him out on a horse like he did Capt. Strand. Fill a pothole on how Grace and him are so accepting of TK's sexuality despite being religious.

A Facetime therapy session where Copeland assures him its okay to get away for a while.

Eddie doesn't quite realize yet that he's slowly losing it, but the others can tell.

Paul and Buck have a conversation.

Christopher asking where Buck is because it's movie night. Eddie doesn't have an answer.

Eddie rages in the station gym trying to understand. He almost gets it, but he thinks Buck is jealous of Eddie, not Ana. Cue Hen groaning under her breath, "You almost got it, Eddie. Come on. Keep thinking."

TK, Carlos, and Paul take Buck out to a club. TK talks absentmindedly to the bartender, even showing him/her a picture of Eddie from Insta. Word spreads about the "new guy," Buck. Others keep the “creeps" away from Buck. Buck loosens up a little while there.

Buck Facetimes Christopher on Carla's phone, only for Eddie to walk in just as Buck is hanging up. He sees Buck's panicked/sad face right before he hangs up. He tries to call back, but doesn't get an answer. Carla huffs and shakes her head. "Figure it out yourself, hun. I can't give you this answer. You need to find it for yourself." Cue Eddie even more confused. This is all just about Buck's parents and jealous over Ana... Isn't it?

Roller derby to cheer on Marjan with the bartender flirting with Buck, who is all kinds of flustered. Carlos, TK, and the others tease him mercilessly.

A massive fire where Buck offers his help. Paul gives Buck as sidehug in gratitude.

Eddie almost punching the mechanic because his truck still isn't done.

Marjan takes Buck out to do something crazy because she's Firefox. (Buck is still starstruck). Maybe skydiving or they race each other at wall climbing? Cue competitive banter.

Owen keeping Bobby updated on Buck.

Buck eventually asks for a transfer. Owen asks if this is what he really wants. Buck just shrugs and asks helplessly what other option he has.

(Optional: Bucks gets up quietly at night for a glass of water and stumbles onto Carlos and TK having sex/making out in the kitchen. Buck either flees in embarrassment or is stunned into watching with Carlos and TK aware that he's there. All parties awkward and/or embarrassed the next morning until TK bursts into giggles and laughter.)

Eddie's relationship with Ana is rapidly deteriorating. Christopher has a full on tantrum. Eddie has to koala hug him on the floor, after Ana brings him back home from a not very good date as Eddie's thoughts were on Buck. Ana tries to help calm him down but Chris screams at her about Buck not being around as much as soon as she started dating his dad. “I hate you! I hate you!” He yells her to get out. Ana still tries to talk. Carla snaps at her to leave. She still tries.

Eddie is spiraling. Flashback of that kiss he really wasn’t ready for, but Ana had asked. It dawns on him that that was the night Buck disappeared. Why would Buck leave because of that? Chris is repeatedly asking her to leave, but she's not listening. She's not listening to his son. He finally snaps and demands that she leaves. She storms out. Relationship dead in the water.

Carla can only watch as Eddie breaks from it all.

The original plan has failed, so it’s time for the final attempt. A blatant hammer strike to Eddie's head to knock some sense into him.

Bobby calls Eddie into his office. He shows Eddie transfer papers from Buck along with a list of Buck's possessions to be boxed and shipped. Eddie is speechless. Thoughts of Christopher and losing Buck. He's losing Buck.

He shows Eddie an email he received and Eddie slowly scrolls through, It's full of captioned pictures. Such as:

-Buck staring off into the distance on a horse.

-Buck curled on a couch looking lost.

-Buck looking drool-worthy in club clothes. The caption: “Holy sh@t! If I wasn't already happily taken…”

-Showing Buck blushing as someone talks in his ear.

-Smiling yet not reaching his eyes while dancing.

-Sitting with his head buried in his hands on the engine’s bumper.

-Helping man a hose at a large blaze captioned with “Yes, we had permission for him to be there.” Followed by a picture of someone (Paul, but Eddie can’t see his face as he’s looking at the ground and hidden by his helmet) sidehugging a sweaty dusty still geared up Buck around the neck with a hand resting on his head.

A video. It's Buck spilling everything curled up in someone's arms (maybe Carlos or Grace). “Why am I always alone! What about me?” Mentions of Abby and Ali. His failed dates. Everyone pairing up. Losing part of his sister to Chim after finally having her back in his life after so many years apart. “And Eddie! Eddie… Why does love hurt so much?” mentioning Chris. Etc.

Eddie is shaking. It finally clicks why Buck left.

One more video. It's Capt. Strand and the 126 facing the camera. He knows where Buck is now - Austin, Texas.

“Buck doesn't know we're putting all this together. He’s asleep. We may or may not have knocked him out with sleeping pills.”

They all lay it out for Eddie. Eddie feels all kinds of stupid and blind. “Now, you have a choice here, Edmundo Diaz…”

“Why… Oh my god. This entire time… ”

“Do you love him, Eddie? As more than a friend? Or am I signing these papers?”

A few seconds after Eddie runs out of the room, a sigh comes from the speaker phone. “I'll get things set up.”

“Thank you, Owen. For everything.”

“You're welcome.”

The whole firehouse going up in a cheer after Eddie floors out of the parking lot in his thankfully finally fixed truck. Hen is shaking Chim or vice versa.

Carla agrees over the phone to keep Christopher after Eddie blurts everything out to her, ending with a “Go get him, Eddie.”

“Did everyone see this but me?” Carla is laughing as she hangs up.

Buck sees Owen call TK over and whispering in his ear. Tk has an interesting reaction before running out of the room with his phone already to his ear.

Flashbacks as Eddie is scrolling through his pictures on his phone while on an airplane. How he missed it. How he didn't understand himself. His fall had been so slow he hadn't even realized it until it was almost, or maybe is, too late. His seatmate makes a comment on his happy “family," and it’s a kick to Eddie's already flayed emotions.

Judd is there to pick him up at the airport, which surprised him.

He's dropped off at a club. Judd makes a snarky comment after handing Eddie a hotel room key card through the window. Eddie rolls his eyes as Judd drives off laughing. The bouncer, having seen the Diaz blazoned on the back of his LAFD shirt, waves Eddie inside, skipping the line. The whispering starts as soon as he enters. Word had spread and they had been hoping for Buck. “Is that…”

“I think so.”

He's shocked as the crowd starts to part for him. The music lowers in volume. People are staring and he's embarrassed, etc., but he sees Buck, who TK has made sure looks phenomenal. Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and walks forward.

Buck is dancing between Carlos and TK. He feels Carlos start smacking TK on the back before they pull away from him. They’re both grinning so wide he suspects their faces are hurting. TK is not so quietly squealing in excitement.

A hand covers his eyes from behind. He immediately recognizes the body wash smell. “Eddie…”

Mini conversation/argument, neither realizing the club has gone dead silent, with Eddie yelling “Because I love you, you idiot!”

The entire club loses it with TK whooping, jumping with a fist punch, and laughing.

End there with a kiss, at the hotel room which may or may not get steamy, or Buck telling Christopher he's home with Chris tackling him to the ground.

#buddie #free buddie prompt

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hstyleshoney · 4 years

Text

Stay With Me - part one

AU friends with benefits but things get complicated, like they always do

word count: around 8.3K // angst, alcohol consumption, language

A/N: Hiiiiii! So, back in September I posted a preview kinda thing to a fic I was just casually writing and now I have finally finished it! Took a while but I’ve been going through some shit but now it’s done! It’s gonna be a two part thing (I think) because it turned out way longer than I first expected, and this part is still so long, woops. It’s the first thing I’ve written in YEARS so please be nice haha. (Also, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if some grammar is wrong. I’ve proofread it many times but it could still be bit off in some places.)

AND please let me know if you liked it and if I should post part 2 as well. Feedback is so so so appreciated because it’s been sooooooooo long since I posted anything and I’m scared hahah anyways..!

Hope you like it!

His lips were hot against her skin when he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Your place or mine tonight?”

She smiled to herself and her heart skipped a beat when she felt his warm body press against her back. The music was loud around the two of them and she could hardly hear herself think, yet his voice was clear as day. She turned to look at him and was met by his familiar warm grin as he looked right back.

“What makes you think I’ll be going home with you tonight?” she teased.

He snorted and raised his eyebrows, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling too much.

“Well, love” he started and spun her around so he could place his hands on her hips. She felt her cheeks flush under his stare as he pulled her even closer to him. He smelled like beer and tequila mixed with that cologne she loved so much. Her knees weakened and he smirked. “I think we both know you are.”

He was right.

But she wasn’t going to let him have that.

“It’s awfully bold of you to assume such a thing, Mr. Styles.”

“Is it though?” He was still smirking and she felt her knees weaken even more as his tongue poked out to wet his pink lips. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he would’ve heard it if it wasn’t for the loud music. Sweaty bodies kept bumping into the two of them on the overcrowded dance floor, which normally she couldn’t stand, but she was drunk. Very drunk and she was hungry and tired... and also in a huge need of a wee.

However, now Harry was standing in front of her.

So needless to say nothing else really mattered anymore.

His mere presence made her forget about all the people around them and suddenly her bladder didn’t seem so full after all. That’s the effect he had on her and he knew it. With his soft brown hair that curled so pretty at the tips, his smooth skin and green eyes; there was no way she wasn’t going home with him again tonight. He was the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on and he also wanted to take her home.

So who was she to say no?

“Yours then,” she replied and tried to not sound too eager. Harry squeezed her hips again as she finally confirmed they would indeed go home with one other again and pulled her even closer into him. His chest pressed against hers and she swore she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

“See that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” She rolled her eyes as she noticed his smug grin and as much as it pained her to do; she pushed him off, pointing a finger into his chest.

“We’re stopping to buy fries on the way though... and you’re paying!”

Harry laughed and agreed, but not before adding; “I can give you something a lot better than fries once we get back.”

And well… she didn’t disagree.

She wasn’t entirely sure when this thing between the two of them started, or how it started even. It was just one of those things that happened one night. Harry first came into her life when her flatmate Louisa started dating his mate Tom during their first year of uni.

The first time she met him they didn’t really speak to each other. It had really just been a case of her admiring him from afar as he was approached by a handful of women at the student bar. She thought he was probably the prettiest guy she had ever laid her eyes on and thought to herself that he was just way too cool to ever notice her.

It was obvious from the start, by just watching him, that he had an aura around him that drew everyone in. People, both boys and girls, flooded around him wherever he went. He was always the center of attention and she understood why. Because not only was he the prettiest guy she had ever seen, he was also one of the nicest guys she had ever met. At first she had just assumed he’d be an arsehole because to be fair she had never really met a guy that got as much attention as him that wasn’t one.

However, as Louias’s and Tom’s relationship grew more serious; the more all of them hung out and she started talking to him rather than just staring from afar. She got to know him and even though the two of them were quite different from each other, they still became good friends.

While she was more of a typical girly girl who enjoyed spending a little too much money on overpriced makeup palettes and listened to whatever songs were in the top list that week Harry was a little more into old school music, bringing up bands and songs she had never heard of before. He did all his shopping at different thrift shops. He wore weird shirts and painted his nails without caring what anyone else thought while she couldn’t even leave her house without checking with all her roommates at least three times if her outfit was okay. She loved scrolling through Instagram. Harry didn’t even have an account.

He was interesting, alluring and cool.

She just wasn’t any of that.

She wasn’t his type and he was simply just out of her league.

Until one night.

It was at the start of their third year at uni and they were out to celebrate their friend Jax’s birthday. To make a complicated story short, there had just been a ridiculous amount of alcohol consumed and when she told everyone she was leaving Harry stood up too and announced he’d come with her, and because everyone was so drunk, the two of them included, no one thought more about it.

They left the club together. Harry got them an Uber and when it stopped outside her house he got out as well.

Kisses were shared and clothes came off and the next day she thought she was still dreaming when Harry was right there next to her when she woke up. There was no awkwardness though as they shared a cup of tea and he made them a full English breakfast to cure their hangovers.

And then they did the same thing again next weekend and it kinda just became a thing. That was three months ago now and it was still nothing they really talked about. Which was fine; she didn’t really want to talk about it. Because what was she supposed to say? Whatever was going on between them was working and she didn’t want to complicate things.

She was fine with just waking up next to him every now and again. Especially now when the nights were getting colder it was just nice to have a warm body to snuggle up to.

It was an agreement that worked well for both of them, even if she did fancy him a little it wasn’t a full-blown crush and Harry kept calling her his friend so that’s what she also settled on calling herself. She knew she wasn’t the type of girl he usually went for and that somehow made it easier to keep her feelings for him platonic. He was too cool for her anyway.

This way she just didn’t have to swipe through tinder or chat some random guy up at the bar to get laid.

Louisa kept warning her that she was going to get her heart broken but it was just sex. Amazing sex. He made her feel like no other man ever had. Harry knew just how to work her and it made her lose her breath every single time. Her whole body was on fire anytime he touched her. She didn’t want to think about getting her heart broken.

“What time is it?”

Harry’s raspy voice startled her out of her thoughts and his body vibrated against hers under the duvet as he chuckled at her reaction. His arm was slung over her waist loosely and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, leaving goosebumps all over her skin.

“I dunno,” she whispered back and leaned into his touch a little more. The hair on his legs tickled her smoother ones and she could feel her skin sticking against his, but neither of them made any effort to move away from each other. It was still early though, that much she knew. The sun was barely shining in through the blinds in Harry’s bedroom.

“Hm,” he hummed and tightened his grip a little. “Can’t sleep?”

“Just thinking. “

“About…?”

“Nothing really.”

Harry hummed again but didn’t say anything else. They laid in silence while Harry circled his thumb over her stomach lightly. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Just the two of them, tangled in each other’s naked bodies and the sheets. She could feel a hangover coming over her slowly. Her head felt heavy and throbbed painfully against the soft pillows. There was a glass of water on the bedside table tempting her but reaching out for it meant moving away from Harry and she was just way too comfortable to do so.

It wasn’t long until Harry’s soft snores filled the room again and his thumb stilled. She sighed deeply, sleep creeping over her too. They were friends. Friends that slept together and cuddled. Nothing else. Just friends.

… but she really could stay like this forever.

The next time she woke up Harry wasn’t next to her anymore and the room was a lot brighter. A weak whimper left her lips and she buried her face into the pillow; the sunlight too much for her sensitive eyes and raging headache, which only seemed to have gotten worse.

Blindly she reached out for the glass she’d spotted earlier, but instead of actually getting a hold of it it was knocked over. It landed on the floor with a soft thud and her eyes shot open at the sound. Glancing down she noticed that, thankfully, the glass hadn’t broken into a million pieces, but unfortunately there was water everywhere.

“Damn it,” she muttered and fell back, hiding her face in the pillow again. Stupid water. Stupid hangover. Stupid everything.

Her head was spinning and her body ached. This hangover was going to be rough and she cursed herself for letting Jax and Beth persuade her into taking all those shots the night before. She knew it was going to come back and bite her in the ass today. Stupid Jax. Stupid Beth. Stupid shots.

Outside the bedroom she could hear Harry roaming around in the kitchen, talking to his flatmate Isaac and every now and then he’d sing along to the music playing softly in the background. She relaxed as she listened to his voice. At least there was something good about this morning.

And it was enough to eventually get her out of bed.

She found her black underwear at the bottom of the bed and pulled them on, stepping around the water she had just spilled as she got out and made a mental note to herself to fix that mess later.

The black strap dress and oversized blazer from the night before were stern across the floor and she stared at them for a long time before deciding she wasn’t in the mood to put them back on at this time. Looking around the room she spotted something very familiar. The yellow jumper she always wore when she slept over was hung neatly over Harry’s chair by the desk, waiting for her, and she smiled to herself knowing he’d put it there for her to wear.

Always so considerate.

“Jesus, you look like absolute shit,” Isaac teased when she eventually emerged from the bedroom and into the kitchen “Wild night?”

“Fuck off,” she groaned and walked straight past him and over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, downing it in pretty much one gulp. It spilled down her chin and onto the jumper, leaving a big wet stain, but she really couldn’t care less. Water had never tasted better.

“Ah, I’m just saying,” Isaac laughed. “You look like you got run over by a truck.”

“Feels like I was,” she admitted and slumped down on one of the chairs next to the kitchen counter. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again.”

“Ha! Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

The kitchen was surprisingly cold and she regretted not stealing a pair of Harry’s sweatpants before leaving his warm comfy bedroom. She let her eyes wander over to him and felt her pulse pick up. Harry was standing shirtless in the kitchen, only dressed in his regular Nike sports shorts, and she just couldn’t stop herself from staring at his tattoos and toned chest. The same chest she’d left kisses all over just hours ago and it gave her goosebumps just thinking about. He had a spatula in one of his hands and a cup of coffee in the other. As always, he was perfect and she looked like a mess. Great.

Harry smirked as he caught her staring, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked instead.

“Please.”

A minute later he placed a plate of eggs and some toast in front of her. The smell of it made her nauseous but she also knew that if she didn’t eat anything she was going to feel a lot worse soon. She’d much rather crawl back into Harry’s bed and maybe sleep for another hour or two, preferably with him beside her.

But now she had a plate of food in front of her that Harry had made and it would be rude to at least not try to eat some. So she ate in silence while listening to Harry tell Isaac about the previous night and slowly she realized that she had a few blackouts from the night.

Shit, how much did I drink?

She really shouldn’t have taken those shots. Her mother would have lectured her for hours if she knew about the heavy party nights that sometimes occurred, having a strong belief alcohol was indeed a gift from the devil himself. Alcohol and sugar. She had lost count of the number of books her mother had given her about healthy living and mindful thinking, and she was pretty sure she was getting another one for Christmas. Harry once found her hidden stash of books she’d put in the back of her closet and begged her for one. She happily gave it to him.

Harry would probably love her mother’s rants about the dangers of alcohol and unhealthy meals she thought to herself and almost rolled her eyes. She could picture it now; Harry and her mother sharing recipes with each other that claimed your life would be twenty years longer and ganging up on her about the lack of exercise she did. What a nightmare.

Yet, she had to ignore the warm feeling in her belly at the thought of Harry getting along with her mother.

“Alright well,” Isaac announced after a while and stood up. “I gotta get to work. Fuckin’ Jake called in sick so now I gotta cover his shift at the shop.”

“Sucks mate,” Harry replied while he shoved the last piece of his toast into his mouth. “At least you’re getting some extra cash.”

“Yeah yeah, something like that,” Isaac muttered as he dropped his dirty plate into the sink. “I’ll see you guys later. Hope you feel better party girl!”

She shot him a weak smile and a nod as a thank you. Her plate of food was still half full and the cup of tea Harry had also made for her was now cold. She just couldn’t force herself to eat more. Stupid shots.

“You really do look like you got run over by a truck,” Harry chuckled when Isaac was gone and she sent him a glare. “How much did you drink? Didn’t realize you were that drunk when we left.”

“I actually have no idea. I think Jax and Beth might have poisoned me.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “That explains it.”

“Mm.“

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, that’s okay” she told him. “Kinda just wanna go back to bed if I’m honest.”

“‘S your lucky day then,” Harry said and rose to his feet, offering his hand out to her. “Let’s go.”

She could have cried out of happiness when she finally crawled back into Harry’s comfortable bed. The sheets had never been more comforting as she pulled them up to her chin and made herself into a little cocoon. She never wanted to leave his bed ever again. “You are ridiculous.”

She peeked out at him from under the duvet and noticed him smiling down at her fondly, but his smile soon turned into a small frown. “Is that water all over the floor?”

“Oh yeah... that was me. Sorry,” she pouted.

“I repeat, you are ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes but she also knew he wasn’t upset when she noticed his little dimple.

He quickly cleaned up the mess she had created earlier and then jumped up to join her. The bed shook as he landed and she groaned as another wave of nausea washed over her. But having him next to her again made her forget all about it. He smelled so good. How did he always smell so good?

She rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled up his laptop and signed onto his Netflix account, picking the first random movie that caught his interest.

And that’s how the two of them spent the next few hours. Just laying in bed together watching random movies on Netflix with her dozing in and out of sleep for most of the time. Harry kept running his fingers through her hair, gently scratching the top of her head and it was probably the most soothing thing she had ever experienced.

Eventually, she started feeling better but made no effort to move or get up.

Not until he did.

“I’m gonna take a shower quickly,” he announced as the third movie finished. She followed him with her gaze as he got up and pulled out a pair of fresh boxers out of his drawer. Her heart beat a little extra. “You can watch something else if you want.”

“Thanks. Are you doing something later or?” she asked casually and pulled his computer onto her lap.

“Yeah, uh, I forgot I have a date actually.”

She’s pretty sure she forgot how to breathe then.

A date.

Harry had a date.

“Oh... “ is all she managed to say. Her mouth felt as dry as it did when she woke up earlier that morning and she racked her brain for something else to say. Unfortunately there was nothing. Harry stopped and looked at her.

“Is - I mean... um, is that okay?”

“What?”

She felt stupid. So utterly stupid but she just couldn’t find the words to speak. She felt weird, even though she knew he was technically only her friend and she knew they were not even close to being exclusive. But Harry was going on a date. Like a proper date. Not just hooking up after a night out. A date. With someone else.

“Are you okay with me going on a date... ?” he asked slowly, inspecting her closely and that’s when she realized she needed to say something fast.

“Yeah, no, of course!” she tried to laugh but it was more of a strange cackle coming out of her mouth rather than a laugh. Harry eyed her for another minute and she sat up. Her palms were sweaty and her cheeks hot. She felt like a bigger mess now than she had all morning. “Harry, we’re friends. Why would I care if you go on a date?”

Harry looked at her a bit startled.

“Well, because we-”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted before he could finish and cursed herself yet again for being so fucking weird. They were friends. She had no reason to not be okay with it. She knew she wasn’t his type. Of course he was going on a date with someone else. She knew this and she needed to get herself together before he wanted to talk about something related to the two of them and make things complicated. The thing between them wasn’t something they ever talked about and she refused to start doing it now. “I’m excited for you even,” she shot him the biggest fake smile she could muster. “Who is she?”

What a stupid question.

“Uh, a friend of Matt’s or something like that,” he shrugged, but he looked at her with uncertainty written all across his face; almost like he didn’t believe a single word she was saying. “I don’t know really. He set us up.”

“Cool.”

“Cool... ?”

Suddenly she doesn’t want to be in his bed anymore. For the very first time, she felt awkward sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, cool.”

“Oookay.”

Silence.

It’s uncomfortable and she knew she messed this up. Both of them were frozen in place and she had to look away from him before it was all too much. She was so aware of how her cheeks had turned into a deep color of red and she felt nauseous, only this time she knew it was not from the alcohol.

“I’m just,” Harry coughed in an attempt to break the heavy tension and she wanted nothing more than to disappear. “I’m gonna go take that shower.” He pointed awkwardly towards the door.

“Yeah, uh,” she said and tried her absolute hardest to get herself back together. To act normal. “I’m going to head home anyways I think.”

“No, you don’t-”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted him again. “Beth wanted to have pizza night and I should stop being such a lazy ass anyways. I have some studying to do before my lecture tomorrow too, soo... yeah, gonna head home.”

Harry looked at her for a moment, scanning her face after any other sign that something was wrong, but she managed to keep it together and he nodded.

“Alright, well I’ll see you around yeah?”

“Of course.”

When he left the room she let out a breath she’d been holding ever since Harry first mentioned the word ‘date’. She also realized she did not like the way she just reacted and that maybe, very possibly, Lou might have been right.

She was fucked.

For the next few days she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and his date. She wished she could go back in time and take back everything she said; wished she would have reacted differently. It was hard to think about anything else and all she wanted to do was to go and see him and ask him all about it. How did it go? Was she nice? What did they do? Was he going to see her again? Did they kiss?

And if she hadn’t been so embarrassed about her behaviour she probably would've done so, but she had no explanation as to why she’d been so weird and she was too scared to go deeper into her own feelings and find one. So as much as she wanted to see him she was also extremely terrified to do so.

But it was really eating her up.

She couldn’t focus on anything else.

And it was strange.

Before all this, she was sure of her feelings towards Harry. Sure he was attractive, he was nice and he made her laugh, but she thought she’d managed to keep it platonic. Now she just felt weird. Everything about their arrangement felt weird, and she didn’t know what to do. Deep down she knew there wasn’t much she could actually do about it. He went on a date and she was his friend. Friends with benefits. They weren’t anything exclusive. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She told him so herself.

Still, something felt wrong.

On Thursday night their whole gang made plans to meet up for their regular quiz night down at the pub and she stood in front of her mirror for an hour, preparing herself to see him again. She changed her outfit five times and rehearsed what to say when she saw him over and over again.

Only for him to not show up.

So instead of being squished into his side all night, she was stuck between Jax and Louisa and she found herself missing him. She didn’t even have to ask to know he was on another date, yet when Isaac confirmed it later she felt her heart drop down to her stomach.

Louisa glanced over at her when Isaac told them and she forced a smile, not ready to let anyone know about the weird feeling in her chest. Louisa also tried to bring it up on their way home, but she brushed it off with the same thing she always did.

“We’re just friends.”

But once she was home in bed it was harder to act like nothing was troubling her. Harry was out on another date and it shouldn’t be bothering her but it did. It bothered her a lot. He should’ve been right there with her, laughing along at their friends' jokes all night and then suggest coming back home with her.

Now he just wasn't and it felt wrong. It was only three months ago that he came home with her for the first time but somehow it wasn’t until now she realized that she may have gotten a little too used to it.

It was so stupid the whole thing. Like ridiculously so.

She knew from the first night that she would never be more than a few drunken nights to him. That his touch wasn’t hers to keep. It belonged to someone else. So why did it feel so weird now?

On Friday night, Beth invited a few people over from uni to their place for a game night and some wine. She joined them but decided to stay away from the wine. They played monopoly for most of the evening while gossiping about everyone they knew. It was nice. It was fun. She won at monopoly. But most importantly it helped her to not worry about what Harry was doing or who he was seeing. It felt like her brain got a long awaited break from everything and she slept better that night than she had all week.

It was on Saturday it all came crashing down.

They were all going out. The whole gang. As always everyone had shown up for pre-drinks at the house she shared with Louisa, Beth and Aliyah as it was the biggest one. Jax had as usual brought along a bottle of Fireball that he forced everyone take a shot out of. Beth refused to let anyone else control the music. Tom and Louisa were loved up on the sofa together. Isaac was in the kitchen mixing drinks for everyone while Aliyah complained about Beth’s choice of music. All in all it was a pretty typical Saturday night and it was all going well.

Until Harry showed up. With a girl.

She almost dropped her drink when she saw them and everyone in the room turned to look at her when they entered. Once again she had to force a smile to assure them she didn't care and more than ever before she tried to ignore the way her heart sank inside her chest.

And for some very odd reason; she was the first to stand up and greet Harry’s new lady friend. Maybe because everyone was looking at her and it felt like they were just waiting for her to start crying in front of everyone. She didn’t want their pity so she stood and shook this new girl’s hand, acting like everything was completely fine.

“Cleo,” the girl introduced herself with a cheery smile.

And that was about it.

After that she didn’t really talk to her anymore. That’s something she left for the rest of the group to do.

It was hard to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the evening and despite promising herself to not take a shot from Jax’s bottle of Fireball; she had three. The alcohol was warm as it made its way down her throat and she noticed Louisa watching her with worried eyes.

And Harry? She couldn’t even look at him. He tried to talk to her and start a conversation at one point but it felt like her brain was about to explode from anxiety so she quickly excused herself and hid in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

She tried her very best to be engaged in the conversations around her and she tried so hard to have a good time. Just like she had the night before. But with Harry right there with Cleo it was fucking impossible and she felt like a green little goblin watching the new pair.

Cleo was pretty much everything she expected her to be and more. She just couldn’t stop staring at them. Harry had a hand on her thigh and she was so polite to everyone. Just like him. She had tasteful tattoos all over and it was almost like the two of them had coordinated their outfits before coming over. Both dressed in checkered prints and matching colors of pink and red. She felt so stupid in her boring and basic black jumpsuit and her dull eye make-up.

Cleo was so effortlessly pretty and she just wasn’t.

It was a slap in the face just how right they looked together.

And it just got worse when they arrived at the club because under the flashing lights on the dance floor she saw how Harry leaned in and kissed Cleo. One of his hands was low on her back while the other caressed her face. Everything was spinning as she watched them kiss she knew it was not only because of the alcohol in her veins.

It hit her hard. Because a small, a very small, and naive part of her thought that maybe he’d still want to go home with her and not Cleo. But as she watched him kiss Cleo the way he used to kiss her ruined all hope she had ridiculously built up.

And maybe it wasn’t the kiss itself that hurt so much but more the fact that Harry was now with someone else and it was real. It was so bloody real. Just last week it was her and now he was kissing Cleo and had barely looked in her direction all night. And even though he technically hadn’t done anything wrong it still hurt and she was angry. Angry with him for kissing someone else, but mostly at herself for still wanting him. For wanting to walk right up and pull him away and take him home. She still wanted him despite everything, but she couldn’t have him.

So instead she had some tequila.

Except, tequila probably wasn’t the best company because in the wee hours of the night she regretted every single shot she had taken. The alcohol in her body made her stomach turn heavily and it was a miracle she even made it into a bathroom stall before it all came back up. Someone on the other side of the stall asked if she was okay but she could barely hear them over the loud buzzing in her ears and her own gagging.

It took her several minutes before she found the strength to get back up on her feet, brushing away the dirt from her jumpsuit, trying desperately not to think about all the germs she had most likely caught from resting so long against a public toilet seat.

As she exited the stall another girl looked over and she didn’t even try to pretend like she hadn’t just been throwing her guts up minutes ago. Instead, she splashed some cold water on her face and took a steady grip of the sink to keep herself standing up.

Fuck.

When she stumbled out of the bathroom a while later she had to lean against the walls to not fall over. The dim lighting in the club made it even harder for her to see where she was going and she kept bumping into bodies as she eventually made her way through the crowd.

Then all of a sudden someone grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Heeeey, party-girl, are you okay?”

The buzzing was still loud in her ears and her vision was blurry, but she still somehow managed to recognize the voice and the striking blonde hair. Isaac. As soon as she knew it wasn’t a complete stranger that had grabbed her she fell into him without a warning and he stumbled a little as he tried to catch her body. “Woah, steady on.”

She tried to talk to him. Tried to explain how she got to this point but no coherent words were coming out of her mouth and she had to use his whole body for support. He wrapped an arm around her and hoisted her up a little before taking a hold of her chin so he could get a good look of her face. She could tell that he was talking to her, his mouth was moving, but she had no idea what he was actually saying. It was too loud and she was too drunk. The club atmosphere made her stomach turn once more and all she wanted to do was to get out of there before she was sick all over again.

And somehow she managed to communicate that to Isaac.

The air was cool and refreshing when they finally made it out of the club and she was clinging onto Isaac as if her life depended on him. He had a strong arm wrapped around her as he pulled out his phone with his other hand to get an Uber. As they waited for it to show up Isaac slowly guided her over and sat her down on the curb next to the road. He crouched down in front of her and took a hold of her chin again. That’s when the first tears fell. She didn’t even try to hide it, once again too drunk and too sad to care if Isaac saw that she was crying. His eyes widened as he noticed.

“Heey, noooo, no, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

She didn’t know what to tell him. Everything was spinning too much to be able to think of what to say. The alcohol and emotions had taken over all of her senses and it was all just too much. There was only one explanation for her behavior tonight after all and how would she even begin to explain it to him? She had no idea. So all she said was

“Cleo.”

Isaac didn’t say anything in response but she was pretty sure he knew exactly what it meant when he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Nothing more was said as they waited for the Uber to show up and the last thing she remembered was crying about not having the key for her house.

The next morning was arguably the worst morning of her life, which seemed quite fitting as she’d had the worst evening of her life the previous night. Most of the morning was spent on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, head first down the toilet, regretting every single decision from last night.

This time though it was all her own fault. There was no one else to blame for all the shots she downed but herself.

It was embarrassing. So so embarrassing how drunk she got and how much Isaac had to take care of her. He had brought her back to his and Harry’s shared flat after they couldn’t find her key and realized she was locked out from her own home. She cried her eyes out in the Uber while Isaac tried to comfort her and when they got out she almost got vomit all over his new sneakers.

However, Isaac was nice about it all. He didn’t say anything and just helped her inside, put her down on the sofa, made sure she drank some water and covered her with a blanket. She couldn’t remember exactly what she told him but she knew she had talked about Harry and it was killing her.

But Isaac continued to be nice and he didn’t bring it up when he wandered in and said good morning.

“Y’alright?”

“I feel like death,” she confessed and her throat hurt a little from being sick all last night and earlier that morning. Isaac chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

She bit the bottom of her lip and struggled to look at him where he sat on the armchair opposite the sofa she was spread out over. She had known him for as long as she had known Harry, but she had never actually been alone with him in a room and now when she was sober she felt so stupid, and also so incredibly self-conscious because she knew her make-up from last night was smudged all over her face and she had vomit on her jumpsuit and all over her hair. It was the lowest she’d ever been.

“So um,” she grumbled. “Thanks for last night, eh... yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry for being a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac waved it off and smiled at her. “We’ve all been there.”

“Yeah, well, thank you anyway.” She still couldn’t look at him as she spoke. Because he knew. He knew her feelings for Harry had changed and she didn’t know how to act now.

“So much for never drinking again huh?” he joked lightly to ease the mood and she forced a laugh.

“Yeah, didn’t stick to that one, did I?”

Silence fell between them after that, but in some ways, it was a comfortable one. Isaac sat in his chair and scrolled through his phone as he drank his morning coffee while she just laid on the sofa and tried to collect her mind and emotions. He offered to make breakfast but there was just no way she was going to be able to stomach it. Water was pretty much all that her stomach allowed and she was barely holding onto that. It was early still and she could tell it was raining heavily outside as the raindrops drummed heavily against the windows. It was comfortable though. Pleasant even.

And then, out of nowhere, Cleo emerged from Harry’s bedroom and all the emotions from last night washed over her like a tsunami.

Plus, it felt like someone was playing a practical joke on her when she saw that Cleo was wearing Harry’s shirt from the night before.

“Good morning!” Cleo was as cheery as she was last night and looked even better. Issac nodded and greeted Cleo politely. To make things worse Cleo sat down in the other armchair and started a conversation. Time stopped as she watched Cleo and Isaac talk and it felt like someone suffocated her with one of the pillows. “Did you guys have a good night then?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off Cleo, who looked perfect even after a night out. Her hair was still flawless and her skin looked like it was glowing. It wasn’t ideal for anyone to see or be next to Cleo when they woke up after a chaotic night out and they themselves were covered in vomit. It honestly made her more nauseous than her hangover had all morning and she’d probably never felt as ugly as she did in that moment laying next to Cleo.

“It was decent, yeah,” Isaac said and then looked at her. His eyes filled with pity and she hated it. She hated it so much. “You?”

“It was super fun,” Cleo answered with a big smile. “Harry and I got in sooooo late though. We stopped to get some food down at that kebab place around the corner before we got in and I swear to God it was the best food I’ve had in my life! Thanks for letting me come out with you guys.”

And just like that, it was all too much. There was just no way she could sit there and talk to the girl who was dating the boy she had come to realize she liked more than just a friend. There was a lot she could do and put up with, but that wasn’t one of those things.

“Um, excuse me,” she mumbled as she got up from the sofa. Isaac called out her name but she ignored it. Her whole body ached and her head felt heavy. She had no idea how she was actually going to make it home in this state but she’d try her damn hardest, even if she was sick along the way it would be better than staying here.

Then she heard her name being called again.

This time however it was from someone else.

Someone whose voice she’d recognize anywhere.

Harry.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at her with furrowed brows, clearly not expecting to see her.

“Oh, eh, hey,” she managed to croak out and fought back the urge to be sick all over again. “I came back with Isaac last night.”

“You uh, you came back with Isaac?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes never leaving her as a small line formed between his brows. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it just as fast. The silence that fell between them then was defeating.

“I mean, I wasn’t feeling very well so he helped me out a little.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded and the corner of his mouth twisted into a small smile, but then it faltered just as fast. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” She knew she was being short with him and the look he gave her burned into her skin, but with tears threatening to fall at any moment it was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. Not with him. Not right now. “Look, Harry, I gotta go.”

“What?” he said and pushed himself off the door frame he leaned against, and as he came closer she took a step back. “You’re more than welcome to stay. It’s so early still and by the sounds of it it’s bucketing down outside. Stay for some breakfast. I was gonna make some pancakes.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait,” he called after her when she turned her back to him and got ready to leave. “Hey, wait a minute!”

She didn’t really care at that point though. Whatever thing she and Harry had was already gone and there was nothing that could make things worse than what they were now. She just wanted to get out and get as far away from him as fast as possible.

So she left without saying another word to Harry despite him calling her name.

- “Harry’s a fucking prick anyways,” Aliyah began and threw her hands up dramatically. “Like, is he just going to sleep with you one week and then replace you next week? No, fuck that. You deserve better.”

“He did tell me about it though,” she noted with a small sniffle and curled up further under her blanket. “I mean, he did tell me he was going on a date so it’s not like he lied or I don’t know... went behind my back.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still a prick,” Aliyah grumbled and slumped back against the sofa, arms crossed over her chest.

“Besides, we’re just friends, you know... ”

“You’re clearly more than just friends though,” Louisa added carefully with knowing eyes. “Like, I hate to break it to you but it’s pretty obvious you like him.”

“I... “ she trailed off not knowing how to respond to that. Because she knew she couldn’t keep denying it anymore. Not after showing up at her own house, drenched from the rain with red puffy eyes in last night’s clothes and without a key. No matter how scary it was to admit what she had buried inside her heart for so long it was impossible to deny it any longer. “Yeah. I do. I do like him.”

She let out a huge breath as she finally admitted it. It was strange, but also so right. The feelings she had for Harry was something she had buried inside for so long and it was freeing almost to now admit it out loud in front of her best friends.

“Maybe you should tell him that?” Beth suggested.

She almost laughed.

“That’s definitely not happening,” she shut down the suggestion straight away. There was no way she was telling him how she felt. Especially not now. “He obviously doesn't like me back, and besides he has Cleo now, and you know.. he’s like actually dating her and stuff so…”

“So what?” Beth cut in. “He might like you too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Me?” she scoffed. “Yeah, I highly doubt that.”

Beth shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think he might do.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore does it? He has Cleo now.”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” Louisa pointed out with a small twinkle in her eyes. Before she had the chance to object to the faulty statement the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed through the house.

“That’s probably the food,” Beth announced and stood up swiftly. “I’ll go get it.”

She gave Beth a small smile and wiped her wet cheeks with the ends of her blanket. As soon as she had left Harry’s flat earlier that morning she broke down in tears and called Louisa who offered to come to pick her up straight away but she declined, needing some time for herself before facing anyone.

But after showing up a mess, drenched from the rain in last night’s clothes after walking all the way home it was clear that she needed all her friends today. So Aliyah ran her a bath while Beth ordered food and Louisa went out for snacks and her favorite drink.

And she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Uhm,” Beth popped her head back in the living room and it was obvious by the look on Beth’s face that something was off. “It’s Harry.”

“W-what?”

For a moment she thought that maybe Beth was just taking the piss but judging by the confusion spreading across the room she quickly realized that wasn’t the case. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“You sure?” Louisa asked. “This might be the perfect opportunity to talk things through.”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “I can’t. Not now.”

“I’ll go talk to him!” Aliyah announced with fire in her eyes and leaped off the sofa in one go, only to have Beth stop her in the doorway.

“I think maybe I should talk to him,” she offered and looked at Aliyah with both her eyebrows raised knowingly. Aliyah only mumbled something under her breath but accepted Beth’s proposal and returned to her spot on the sofa without a fuss.

“You okay?” Louisa asked when Beth disappeared again to go talk to the boy who had her heart aching so badly. Louisa reached out to squeeze her knee gently when she didn’t respond. She just didn't know what to say; because she wasn’t okay. She was very much far from okay today.

Tears welled up in her eyes for the hundredth time and she shook her head and attempted to blink her tears away. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Louisa sighed and pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around her in a long hug. It was embarrassing really how much she had cried all day but she just couldn't stop. Never in a million years did she think she’d ever get so upset over a guy.

But it was Harry.

Harry who left jumpers out for her to wear after she stayed at his flat. Harry who made her breakfast in the morning and knew exactly how she liked her tea. Harry who made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Harry who rubbed her back after a night out. Harry who let her steal all of the duvet in her sleep even though he was cold too. Harry who texted her stupid jokes just because he knew she liked them. Harry who also texted her cute pictures of puppies because she loved dogs. Harry who made her feel like no man ever had.

Harry who was now with Cleo.

Cleo who was absolutely perfect for him. Cleo who probably went thrift shopping with him and helped him find silly shirts with crazy prints and knew about all the bands he always talked about.

Cleo who was just so much better than her.

Harry Styles 8:27 AM Heeeyyy are you mad at me?

Harry Styles 10:12 AM Hello?

Harry Styles 10:46 AM Ok so mad then? will you pls talk to me? don’t like the way you stormed off earlier :/

Harry Styles 12:01 PM Hellloooooooo? pls talk to me

Harry Styles 12:30 PM Isaac told me you were quite upset last night... did something happen?

Harry Styles 12:56 PM You’re making me a bit worried, did you make it home okay?

Harry Styles 1:15 PM I tried calling a few times but it’s not really coming through.. Are you okay?

Harry Styles 2:49 PM I'm coming over

Harry Styles 4:37 PM Beth said you weren’t feeling so well, I hope you feel better soon, make sure you drink loads of water! .xx

Harry Styles 11:26 PM Ok sooo, i dunno whats going on. i dunno if Beth lied to me today or not... i just hope you're okay. you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you right?

Goodnight .xxx

PART 2 ♡

Let me know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! <3

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry #harry styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles angst #my writing #fanfic #harry styles x you #hs #writing #harry fic #harry styles fic #stay with me #SWM

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 4 years

Text

@midnightwinterhawk has done it again. Here’s their fav apocalypse/dystopian fics! Enjoy.

Sterek

A Christmas Miracle by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas)

(1/1 | 5,033 | Teen)

Scott needs to get his pack beyond the border and away from the Hunters that are wiping out all supernatural creatures, but while he's trying he runs into an unexpected old friend.

Finding My Way Home by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 | 7,846 | Teen)

It took only three days for Derek to decide he had to go home. He couldn’t stay in New York. He had to head out and find Stiles. He knew it was insane, that it would take him days, weeks to get to Beacon Hills, but he didn’t think about that. He just found some paper and started making a list of what he needed.

One of his neighbours broke in while he was getting ready to leave. They came at him with a knife, intent on scaring him off so they could take what they needed. He insisted he was leaving and they could grab whatever once he was gone. It wasn’t good enough, because they were terrified and desperate. He didn’t think the guy had ever hurt anyone before—his name was Jerry, he worked in a bank, and was generally a nice person—but he seemed crazy enough not to worry about it this time.

He swung the knife. Derek caught it in his hand, stared Jerry down, and flashed blue eyes at him. Jerry had run, but Derek knew he’d be back with more people. He’d come back insisting Derek in apartment seventeen was one of those monsters they’d been hearing about. He needed to get out.

The New Real by Gia279

(22/22 | 68,906 | not rated)

This is some Sleeping Beauty bullshit.

It's a mad, mad world by ElisAttack

(11/11 | 73,627 | Explicit)

"They call him the Feral Wolf." The man laughs hysterically as Stiles backs away from him, fear coursing through his veins. "Feral Hale. Do you know why? Huh?" The man creeps closer, testing the restraint of his chains, white talcum falling from his skin, swirling in the air like the dust devils plaguing the wasteland. "Because he's fucking mad."

Or the one where Stiles is a prisoner looking to return home, but to do so, he may have to rely on a questionable drifter.

North of Salem by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas)

(12/12 | 85,152 | Explicit)

The world is ending in a fight between the supernatural and human worlds. On the front line there are packs that keep the threat at bay

The Circus at the End of the World by mikkimouse

(25/25 | 91,049 | Explicit)

Three hundred years ago, the world ended not with a bang or a whimper, but with magic.

Since then, magic has been outlawed, and the world has clawed its way back to some kind of stability, with people and shifters alike divided between living within the walled safety of the Havens, or the small, less protected outposts dotting the frontier.

Derek Hale and his sisters, Laura and Cora, are the proprietors of Hale's Circus of Magic, Monsters, and Mystical Wonders, known colloquially as the Circus at the End of the World. They and their ragtag pack ride the rails between the outposts and the Havens, performing for those who can pay (and some who can't). Their circus is a small haven in and of itself, a place of safety for those who have nowhere else to go.

It's a quiet life...until Stiles Stilinski joins the crew.

The circus has something Stiles needs—a ticket into the Haven of Santa Francesca. His father has been abducted, and Stiles is determined to get him back no matter what he has to do.

But Stiles has another secret, one that puts him and every member of the circus in danger.

And if he's not careful, it could get them all killed.

Radio Tower by HyperLittleNori (Shiguresan)

(12/12 | 130,176 | Explicit)

Inspired by the concept and stunning art by the talented Suis0u on Tumblr. Everything was different. The world he knew was gone. It’d been a long time since he’d started thinking he was probably one of the last humans on earth, that out there the only sentient beings were those that would devour him whole. He wasn’t sure why he continued with the radio broadcasts, continued to talk into nothingness. The only explanation was that there was a spark of hope in him yet that he wasn’t alone. The lonely safety Stiles has built around an old radio tower in the middle of nowhere is about to be broken. Stiles isn’t sure if Derek is a harbinger of chaos or hope at the end of the world.

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla)

(17/17 | 149,179 | Explicit)

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

Steter

A Light at the (Near) End of the World by ladyoneill

(1/1 | 998 | Teen)

The world he grew up in has ended in a supernatural war that devastated the human population. A survivor, Stiles lives a solitary, quiet life in Wales until there's a knock on his door.

To Go Faster Alone or Go Further Together by Faetality

(1/1 | 2,137 | Teen)

The world ended years ago, but they’re still living.

A Pack of Two by Divinae

(1/1 | 2,446 | Teen)

Stiles has lived alone for years.

Not by choice.

Everyday he waits... with hope.

The Devourers by Malapropian

(1/1 | 2,660 | Explicit)

It’s the end of the world, but Peter can’t complain. Not when his days start and stop with Stiles.

In Your Footsteps (I Will Walk) by cywscross

(1/1 | 8,873 | Teen)

It takes him months, but Stiles gave him a destination, gave him direction, gave him hope, and so he goes.

Trust in the End by ShebaRen, Tahlruil

(2/2 | 18,314 | Explicit)

Stiles had always kind of assumed that the end of the world was going to be full of fire and panicking people. Nuclear warfare had pretty much been his guess as to how it would all go, but he could be flexible on that. His only certainty was that it would be man-made, because people always messed things up.

He hadn't expected the end to be full of snow and freezing cold. He hadn't expected to be so alone while it was happening, hadn't thought he would be making a trek from California all the way up to - if his maps and bearings were right - Washington State. He definitely hadn't expected for it all to happen while his parents were away on a trip for their second honeymoon.

Thankfully he'd fallen in with a wolf who had saved his life and then hung around like a bad penny afterward.

Bite Down by EclipseWing

(4/4 | 27,586 | Mature)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

#teen wolf #sterek #steter #stiles stilinski #derek hale #peter hale #apocalypse #submission

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reyesstrand · 3 years

Text

let your heart be light

tarlos & firefam dynamics / teen+ / 2.6k

To be fair, TK wasn’t sure what to expect for his first holiday season in Austin. But he has his dad, he has his team, he has Carlos—and it’s enough.

@911giftexchange for @teaamfreewill — i hope you enjoy this AJ, and have a happy holiday season!!! 💗

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3!!

“It just doesn’t feel right without snow.”

Paul looks at him with that ever-present, all-knowing look in his eyes, before letting out a sigh and nodding. “You’re telling me, New York.”

“Like,” TK starts, fully aware that he’s gravitating into rambling status at this point, but he can never stop himself. He rests a foot on the bottom rung of the shopping cart, leaning his weight against the handle as Paul analyzes the nutritional facts on two different brands of steel-cut oats. “It doesn’t feel like the holidays without at least one storm that makes you question your existence.”

Humming in agreement, Paul puts one package back on the shelf and tosses the other in the cart, before hesitating and grabbing a few more of the pale-blue bags before they're good to move on to produce. When there's a comfortable lull in conversation, both of them crossing items off the list his dad's very carefully crafted for the bi-weekly shopping trips, TK lets his mind drift to holidays past.

His parents wanted him to grow up with both the tradition of celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas, but as he grew older, Decembers tended to blur into every other month. He'd always call his mom if he was working late, smiling down at photos she'd send him of her attempts to perfect her grandmother's recipe for sufganiyot, always making his stomach rumble. And, even if she was out of the city at the time, she'd always send him a box of homemade pastries and a card with a lengthy message inscribed inside that'd make him feel warmed from the inside out. And his dad would always make him at least come for a dinner on the twenty-fifth, even if dinner was just takeout eaten straight out of the cartons while they watched the Christmas parade he always recorded.

They were simple traditions, but they were theirs.

In Austin, TK's slowly getting used to calling it home. The snow thing had been the first to strike him, because while he's seen his fair share of strange Texan weather, not waking up to white covering every surface and bitter cold nipping at his skin has been throwing him for a loop.

"Earth to TK," Paul says, tossing him a bell pepper. TK catches it, rolling his eyes playfully at his friend. "We should start figuring out a place and time for the Not-Christmas dinner."

"Carlos offered his place," TK says, without thinking. Paul just grins at him.

"That seems to be going well, huh?" Paul asks, hip-checking TK as they walk side-by-side to the checkout. TK feels his face go warm, though he busies himself with adjusting the rolled sleeves of his black t-shirt, printed with the 126 crest over his heart. Paul just musses up his hair before ducking out of grasp for retaliation, sidling up to the cashier and offering his big smile at her while she begins to ring them up. "I'm happy for you, kid. We all are."

TK does smile at that, because it's the one shining light in all of this. He hadn't been sure what a holiday season with a new boyfriend would be like, especially when every single one of his friends were also friends with said boyfriend, but they've all been relatively tame. No shoving them under the mistletoe yet, which TK guesses is only a matter of time.

"Anyway," Paul says, and TK sticks his hands into his pockets, suddenly glad Marjan isn't here to poke at his pink cheeks.

"Anyway," TK agrees. "Carlos did offer to let us use his place, though. He suggested the twenty-second, so that way people could still go see their families."

"The twenty-second it is," Paul smiles, already typing the date into their group chat, followed by five question marks. Because Carlos thought ahead for these things, TK knows they're all already going to be on one of their twenty-four-hour off periods; Carlos works that morning but will be home by noon, and as long as TK has detailed instructions, he won't have a problem starting the food early.

A small knot forms deep in TK's chest, even though he knows there's still two weeks before the proposed group dinner. He just thanks the cashier after paying with the credit card his dad gave him before they left the station an hour ago, and they head back out into the sunny, barely-cool, snowless, December afternoon.

***

TK's just hanging up with his mom, absently kicking at a rock in the lot just outside the bay doors, when he feels someone creep up behind him.

He doesn't even blink, though, because he smells sandalwood and tangy citrus and is smiling before he feels familiar arms settle around him. He tells his mom I love you, too, and stuffs his phone in his pocket and leans back into Carlos' touch, for half a moment, before turning in his arms and pressing their foreheads together.

"Did you know you're impossible to shop for?"

TK grins, and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Carlos' mouth before pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "What a welcoming statement after not seeing each other for twenty-seven hours."

Carlos rolls his eyes affectionately, and tightens his hold around TK's middle. "I missed you, Ty."

"I missed you too," TK grins, cupping Carlos' face between his palms and finally closing the distance between them properly. "But I do take offence to that. I'm perfect in every way."

Carlos huffs a laugh against his mouth and presses in for one more kiss, before scraping his blunt nails against the fine hairs at TK's nape. "Believe me, I know, sweetheart."

He feels a pleasant ripple shoot through him, and TK's struck again by the fact that he gets to have this. He's close enough to see the flecks of gold in Carlos' warm brown eyes, and he wonders how it's only been three months because he feels like he's known him forever. He thinks of decorating with Marjan today and the sudden pang of homesickness that he couldn't quite explain.

"You okay?" Carlos asks, because he can read even the most microscopic of his expressions like the back of his own hand. TK covers it up with a smile.

"Yeah, of course," TK brushes his thumb along Carlos' jaw, before standing back, dragging his hand down the length of Carlos' arm so he could grab his hand and tangle their fingers together. "Come on, I'll buy you dinner."

"My prince," Carlos plays along, hand over his heart, but there's still a look in his eyes. He runs his thumb over the backs of TK's knuckles, and when TK squeezes his hand tighter, he gets a small smile in return.

***

They'd realized sometime between Thanksgiving and the first of December that they'd have to celebrate as a team, this year.

The non-denominational, coined-by-Mateo "Not-Christmas Dinner" idea was agreed upon pretty quickly, and TK is beyond excited to start creating new traditions with his family. But he's struggling, is the thing. He wouldn't ever mention it to anyone because he hates stressing them out, and though he has no urge to do anything stupid because for the first time in a while he's happy—like, really fucking happy—he can't help but to feel like everything has to be perfect.

It boils down to this: he misses his mom like crazy, even though she stayed with him and his dad for a couple weeks back in September when he was still healing. He's finally getting back on track with his dad, after long nights of hashing things out about his childhood. And he and Alex never did much for the holidays save for giving each other a couple gifts because they could never work out how to spend an equal amount of time with both of their families—which, in hindsight, is yet another element of the two and a half years TK lost to the man he thought was his soulmate—but now with Carlos he just wants things to be special. They already have plans to visit Carlos' mom and sisters on Christmas Eve, and Owen had lovingly coerced Carlos into a Strand family dinner on Christmas Day.

It just feels like a lot.

"Hey, are you okay?" Marjan asks, bumping his shoulder with hers as she strolls into Carlos' kitchen. The twenty-second kind of crept up on TK, and now he's here, attempting to hold down the fort while Carlos makes a last-minute trip to the store. His kitchen's a homey space, and, like the rest of his boyfriend's place, it's tastefully decorated with garland and candles and little angel statues that have been passed down through his family. There's a photo of the two of them on Carlos' fridge, pressed together at a pumpkin patch they'd spent a date night at back in October, and TK gets a little lost in the memory. Marjan has to nudge him a little harder to get him to snap back into it. "TK?"

"Oh, hey," TK smiles at her, and goes back to making sure that the green beans don't stick to the bottom of the pan. She claims a burner of her own to keep her tagine warm, leaning back against the counter with her arms folded over her chest.

"You're spacing out a bit," Marjan says, and when TK keeps his eyes trained on the vegetables he swore he could handle, she just makes a small noise and places a hand on his shoulder. "You've been a little quiet lately."

There's a pause, where neither of them say anything, before Marjan drops her voice a little and adds:

"Hey, you know you can talk to me, right?"

"I'm just—" TK shakes his head and bites at the inside of his cheek, turning down the heat to try and kill more time.

He doesn't know how to tell her—and the rest of them—that he's both so thankful for this family he's found and so, so terrified of messing it all up. Thankfully, he doesn't have to; there's a knock at the door and Marjan offers to get it, leaving TK alone with a soft smile. He sighs, and closes his eyes for a long moment.

***

After food has been served, and gifts have been exchanged, they all sit around Carlos' living room. The conversations overlap like they always do, and TK sits comfortably under the glow of the light from the tree and the warmth of Carlos' arm thrown over his shoulder. He's slowly picking at a piece of Grace's pecan pie, and he knows he should just let himself get lost in the moment, but he can't. He taps his foot at a staccato beat against the floor, and even when Carlos throws him a questioning look and settles his hand on TK's knee, he doesn't stop.

He finally excuses himself ten minutes later.

Carlos' place has a nice little backyard area, where they've all gathered for parties and after-work hangouts countless times. It's a little chilly as the sun's gone down, and TK sighs out loud and sees his breath puff out in front of him. He smiles just a little, and kicks his foot against the porch, dropping down onto the steps.

He's expecting Carlos to come after him; or maybe Marjan, or his dad. Instead it's Grace who settles down next to him, a hand splayed over her four-month pregnant belly.

"Honey," she starts, and TK ducks his head. His eyes burn, and he roughly sniffs. "TK. You don't have to hide whatever you're thinking from us."

He takes a deep breath, and scrubs a hand down his face. And then he says: "I don't want to bring down your mood."

Grace gives him one of her warm smiles. "TK, every day I'm reminded why you and my husband get along so well."

TK rolls his eyes and gently nudges her arm with his shoulder.

"Now tell me what's wrong," Grace says, and TK rubs the back of his neck before he starts talking.

He tells her everything. About how the holidays usually meant bickering with Alex. How it meant celebrating with both of his parents, sure, but also dealing with awkward dinners with their new significant others. About how he hasn't felt this good since he was a kid and he doesn't want to fuck it up.

"You could never fuck it up," Grace tells him, squeezing his hand that she's been holding between both of hers. TK meets her eyes and finds nothing but sincerity, nothing but the warmth and reassurance that always seems to be there. "Never. And know that all of us in there don't care about perfect as long as we have you, as long as we're all together. Now, I'm going to send that beautiful man of yours out here so you can talk to him, because he's been worried."

At that exact moment, they hear the telltale creak of the door opening; both of them glance over their shoulders and spot Carlos.

He moves to leave, lifting a hand in apology. "Sorry to interrupt—"

"I was just leaving," Grace says, getting to her feet and squeezing TK's shoulder for a brief moment. When she disappears back into the house, Carlos takes her spot, and wordlessly presses a lingering kiss to TK's temple.

"Ty," Carlos starts, and TK stops him in his tracks with a kiss.

"I'm sorry for being distant, lately," TK murmurs half against his lips, because even though he knows that Carlos has seen him pretty close to his worst he hates the thought of pulling him down; of making him unhappy. "I'm just—it's been so long since I've had this. And I've never had someone like you. I was so worried about not messing things up that I got in my head."

"Hey," Carlos whispers, getting TK to look him in the eye. "Please don't apologize, okay? We're all healthy, and here together—that's what matters, right? That I get to have you by my side through it all?"

Could you blame TK for surging forward to kiss him again?

When they part, TK whispers: "Thank you."

"What for?" Carlos asks, eyes glinting with confusion.

"For being you," TK says, knowing how it sounds.

Carlos shakes his head, moving to lace their fingers together.

They move in unison to press their foreheads together, and TK whispers, "I love you so much. I just needed you to know that."

"Of course I do," Carlos says, smiling into it when he kisses TK before speaking again. "I love you too. And I don't want you to feel like you have to—to hide what you're feeling."

TK just lets himself have what he wants, what he needs in the moment, and it's this: Carlos' mouth against his, again and again.

***

They re-enter the party ten minutes later, and all eyes are on them when they slip into the living room.

TK opens his mouth to make some big declaration, but Marjan catches his eye, and then Paul. Then it's his dad who dramatically clears his throat and points above the two of them.

Because, of course, there's mistletoe fastened to the doorway above them.

"I hate you all," TK mutters, to which Judd yells lies! and Paul yells something about getting on with it. So, TK does; he presses his palms to either side of Carlos' face and grins at him before closing the distance between them. There's a whoop from someone for effect, and then when they pull apart Marjan pulls him down next to her on the loveseat so he can be thrown into a conversation about fighting mall elves they'd had to deal with during a call yesterday.

Looking around the room, he realizes he had nothing to worry about at all. And, to be fair, TK wasn't sure what to expect for his first holiday season in Austin. But he has his dad, he has his team, he has Carlos—and it's enough.

#911giftexchange #tarlos #911 lone star #tarlos fic #my fic

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justatiredpotato · 3 years

Text

Set Me Free | Chapter 5

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 6,000~ Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, violence (kinda?), mentions of abuse

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

The next weekend you took Yoongi out to get a tag. Jungkook and Jimin took care of the cafe for the day, so you had the afternoon to take care of your errands. After extensive googling you found a shop on the other side of town that had a variety of choices, so that was your first stop.

The store had lots of hybrid supplies, and after browsing around for a bit you found the tags. Most were obviously made for collars, but a small display on the bottom shelf held the new earring-style. Yoongi looked through them for several minutes before holding up one for you to consider. It was a simple metal hoop with a pendant spike that held the tag.

The tag itself was just a small microchip that held all the ID information. You’d received Yoongi’s in the mail that morning. For several years the tags were actually used like pet microchips, placed under the skin. Thankfully that was deemed inhumane a decade ago, so tags were made wearable instead. The earring design made the little device far less noticeable, though some people still force hybrids to wear a collar. You thought it must be rather degrading, but Jimin liked to wear his on a choker.

Yoongi held the earring he’d selected up in the mirror and nodded approvingly. “This’ll work.”

“I like it!” you agreed. “It’s pretty.”

His face visibly reddened and you regretted your choice of words. You were about to correct yourself when you caught a trace of a smile as he turned toward the register. You followed him and purchased the earring. In the car, he used the mirror on the visor to replace his old earring with the new one. He tilted his head to assess the piece, then turned to show you.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t realize it’s a tag if I didn’t already know,” you said.

He shrugged, turning back to the mirror and nodding. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

On your way home you stopped at the store to buy soju and restock on a few snacks that Yoongi had gone through rather quickly. Saturday was your usual movie night with your family. You’d skipped it the previous week, not sure if Yoongi was ready for a big social gathering yet. But the boys really wanted to have a welcome party for him. Jungkook in particular seemed excited, saying he had a surprise. Him and Yoongi bonded quickly over the previous two weeks, Jungkook even came over a few times after his classes so they could play music together.

That night was going to be the first time all of your boys were together since Yoongi came to stay with you. Despite your nerves, you knew they would make him feel at home. Yoongi was quiet on the drive home, but you could tell he was nervous. His leg bounced rapidly, hands clasped in his lap.

“You’ll like them,” you said abruptly. You reached over and took his hand. “And they’ll like you. I promised I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, remember? This is my family, and that means they’re your family now too.” He nodded, meeting your eyes for a moment before turning to look out the window.

By the time you got back to your place you had about an hour before the boys arrived. Jimin and Jungkook were coming straight back after they closed the cafe. You tidied up and pulled out the take-out menus, then grabbed a couple of extra blankets for the couch and loveseat; Jimin and Jungkook liked to be warm. Yoongi puttered around after you, helping clean up and remaining more or less glued to your side until seven’o’clock rolled around.

A knock came at the door between the apartment and the cafe, and you hollered for them to come in. Two bunny ears peaked inside. The owner of said ears quickly followed as the smaller boy behind him pushed him through the door. Jungkook waved at Yoongi, who stood slightly behind you. Jimin smiled brightly. You flashed him a look; a reminder to keep it chill. He nodded understandingly and approached to pull you into a hug.

“How was your day, noona?” he asked, nuzzling into your jaw.

He pulled away and you ruffled his hair. “Good! How was the cafe today?” You glanced behind him to Jungkook. “I hope it wasn’t too crazy.”

Jungkook shook his head. “Nah. It was busy, but nothing we couldn’t handle,” he said, placing an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “Did you have a good time shopping, hyung?”

Yoongi glanced up at him and subconsciously fidgeted with the new earring. “Yeah, we found a tag that looks alright. So that’s good,” he finished awkwardly. He seemed so nervous, even with the addition of just one new person. You hoped it wasn’t too soon to be bringing everyone around. You didn’t have much time to worry as the doorbell rang. Yoongi trailed behind you as you went to answer it.

The rest of the guys stood on the step, holding what you assumed to be food.

“Jin-hyung and I grabbed takeout on the way,” Hoseok said, gesturing with two large bags with the logo of your favorite Thai restaurant on them. Jin held up a box containing even more takeout containers.

“You’re the best, Hobi! I’m starving.” You took one of the bags from him and stepped aside to let him in.

“He’s the best? What about me?” Jin asked, indignant.

“You’re alright,” you said. He pouted and you wrapped an arm around him, grinning.

Namjoon and Tae followed you inside. Tae went to the table to set down a box before hurrying back to you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, even his tail curling around you to keep you close.

“I missed you, noona!” he said, nose buried in your hair.

You laughed and hugged him back. “I missed you too, Taetae.” You hadn’t seen him since the night you found Yoongi. The tiger hybrid made a rumbling cough-like noise in his chest, which you knew meant he was happy.

After a moment, you turned to see Yoongi hovering awkwardly next to the kitchen island watching the whole exchange with his hands folded in front of him. Upon seeing everyone looking back at him, he quickly looked down to the floor and bowed politely.

“Welcome,” he said, directing his words toward the three human men standing around the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?” His voice was soft and polite, words oddly hollow. You hurried over to him, startled by the sudden shift in behavior. You wrapped an arm around his slight waist and waited for him to meet your eyes. He looked at you for a moment before seeming to come back to himself. He shuffled his feet, nervously and looked up at the guys again.

“Thanks, Yoongi, but don’t worry about us. We can grab stuff if we need it,” Jin assured him, heading to the fridge to grab a beer to illustrate his point.

“Yeah, hyung. We basically live here,” Joon added, ruffling your hair before walking over and plopping down on the couch.

Hoseok threw Yoongi a sunshine-smile. “So, Yeoji-noona tells me you’re a musician? She said you’re incredibly talented.” You shifted awkwardly, but didn’t remove your arm from around Yoongi just yet.

“Yeah!” Jungkook said. The bunny bounded over, childlike excitement in his eyes as he scanned the room. His eyes landed on the kitchen table and he took Yoongi’s hand to pull him that way. “I’ve got something to show you, hyung!”

Yoongi followed, ears twitching curiously as he eyed the box on the table. Jimin came to join them, sitting cross-legged on a dining chair. Everyone else observed quietly, curious, but not wanting to crowd Yoongi.

“I’ve been wanting to give you this, and hyung said it’d be a nice welcome present!” Jungkook said, gesturing for the older boy to open the package.

“Present? This is for me?” Yoongi asked. He glanced at you, as if looking for permission. You smiled and gave the tiniest nod of reassurance. Yoongi pulled open the box and slid out a canvas bag. He glanced up at Jungkook one more time before unzipping it. Inside was an electric keyboard. You saw Yoongi’s jaw clench and he continued to stare blankly at the instrument. Jungkook shifted from foot to foot.

“I know it’s not brand new or anything, but Joonie-hyung got me a new one for my last birthday and he said I could sell the other one if I wanted. I thought maybe you’d like to use it. At least until you get a new one. If you don’t want it I can take it back…” the boy rambled nervously.

Yoongi looked up sharply at those last words. “I- I can keep this?” he asked.

Jungkook’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah. It’s a gift. You’re really talented, hyung. It’d be a shame if you were stuck without a keyboard.”

Yoongi looked from Jungkook, to the keyboard, then back again. Then he surprised you all by pulling the younger boy into a hug. Jungkook stiffened at first, clearly surprised. But then he returned the hug, a bunny smile creeping onto his face.

“Thank you, Kookie. Seriously,” Yoongi said quietly. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

Namjoon appeared beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You blinked rapidly when you met his eyes; when had they started watering? Namjoon simply smiled before returning his attention to the men at the table. Jungkook spent a few minutes showing Yoongi some of the keyboard’s features while the rest of you set up the food on the coffee table in the living room. As much as you hated to interrupt, you had to call them away before the food got cold. Yoongi scanned the food on the table.

“I’ve never tried any of this stuff before,” he said.

“You’ve never had Thai food?” Taehyung asked, horrified. Yoongi shook his head.

You filled a plate with things you thought he’d like and passed it to him. His eyes widened as he took in the precarious tower of food. You might’ve gotten a little too enthusiastic with your servings.

“Jeez, noona. Leave some for the rest of us!” Namjoon teased. The other boys snorted, but you ignored them.

“Try these. If there’s anything you don’t like you can give it to me,” you said. Yoongi cleared his plate in record time, even getting seconds upon your encouragement. His lack of pickiness when it came to food continued to impress you. After you cleared the plates away you settled into your favorite spot on the couch with Yoongi on one side with his arm around your shoulder, and Jungkook on the other. Jungkook laid his head on your lap so you could pet his ears. You smiled as Yoongi took your free hand and laced your fingers together, resting his cheek on your head.

A contented sigh escaped you and you looked over your mismatched little family, catching Namjoon and Jimin exchanging a look. Jimin turned to you and you raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, but he just smirked. You frowned, looking to Namjoon instead. He chuckled and turned his attention back to the movie. Jungkook had selected some b-movie he read about online. It featured mostly bad special effects, bad acting, and cheap jumpscares, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

You could feel Yoongi already dozing, his breathing deep and even against your hair. How he could sleep through the loud musical stings that seemed to happen every twenty seconds you couldn’t fathom. Despite the poor production quality, you got pretty into the movie. Your attention was split between trying to keep up with the convoluted plot, petting Jungkook, and drawing soft patterns on the back of Yoongi’s hand.

When the film ended you shifted, giving Yoongi’s hand a gentle squeeze to wake him up. He blinked at you, looking around as you sat up and started clearing glasses and drink cans away. He stretched before moving to help you.

“Why don’t you sit and chat with the guys for a bit?” you suggested.

“I’ll help you, noona,” Jungkook said. He, Jin, and Namjoon helped you clean up while the other boys visited.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Yoongi fidgeted nervously in his seat, uneasy without you next to him. Jimin sensed the discomfort and moved to sit next to him. Tae turned to face the other boys from his spot on the floor.

“So, how’s it been? Staying with Yeoji-noona, I mean,” Tae asked.

“Good. She’s really good to me. I owe her a lot,” Yoongi said.

“From what I hear she doesn’t feel you owe her anything. I think the last few weeks she’s been the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time,” Hoseok said. Yoongi blushed, but failed to hide his smile at the statement.

“It’s definitely the happiest I’ve ever been,” Yoongi said quietly.

“Well we’ve been dying to meet you,” Taehyung interjected. “Jimin won’t shut up about you.”

Jimin’s tail flicked. “It’s just been so long since I’ve had another kitty around.” Yoongi finched, tail wrapping protectively around his waist. Jimin continued, not noticing. “I mean, Tae is a cat. But you can’t exactly call a tiger a kitty. I miss purrs and snuggles from my other kitty friends. Tae doesn’t really purr. He makes this funny coughing sound instead.”

“It’s called ‘chuffing’ thank you very much,” Tae protested. Jimin’s tinkling laugh filled the room as the two bickered good-naturedly, but Yoongi’s mind was far away. A voice echoed through his mind, but not from anyone in the room. The man’s voice came from memories he’d pushed away and tried to forget. He curled in on himself, ears flattening as he tried to push the images of his past away.

The tone of the guys’ conversation shifted and he thought someone might be calling to him but their words sounded like he was hearing them through glass.

“Hey, hyung.” A hand came to rest on his shoulder and his body reacted before his mind could. He lashed out with a fist, and flinched away from the person’s touch, toppling off the couch in the process. A yelp of pain and surprise cleared a bit of the fog from his mind and he glanced at the faces surrounding him, pupils blown wide as adrenaline coursed through him. Rather than being comforted by the reality in that moment, he only felt dread in the pit of his stomach.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You were laughing with Jungkook and Jin when you heard Namjoon’s shout of surprise. You whirled to see the boys suddenly quiet, startled expressions on their faces. You hurried into the living room just in time to see Yoongi getting off the ground and darting away into your bedroom.

“What happened?” you asked, turning to Namjoon for an answer. He held a hand to his cheek, the skin already bruising beneath it.

“I’m not sure. I came to check on them and Yoongi-hyung seemed… off. I must’ve scared him because he freaked out and hit me,” he said.

“We were just talking and then he got really quiet all of the sudden. Then when Joon-hyung touched him he just-” Taehyung trailed off with a shrug.

“Is he okay?” Jimin asked. He looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“I’m sure he’s okay, Chim. I’m gonna go take care of him,” you ruffled the boy's hair. “Jin, can you get Joon some ice?”

Jin nodded and led the younger man back to the kitchen while you hurried after Yoongi. You pushed open the door gently. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on.

“Yoongi?” you called softly. You scanned the room, but didn’t see him. “Sweetheart where are you? What happened?”

Your eyes fell on the door of your closet, which was slightly ajar. A sliver of sock-clad toe poked out. You approached quietly, not exactly sure what was going on, and opened the door. Yoongi sat on the floor, half buried in a pile of sweaters you hadn’t bothered to hang up after wearing them once.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. You crouched in front of him, leaning close to hear better. He flinched away as you drew closer and your heart broke.

“What?” you asked.

“Please…” he whimpered.

“Sweetheart, I don’t understand. What happened? Please what?”

“I messed up. I was bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t make me leave. Please,” he repeated over and over like a mantra. His ears were flat against his head. His whole body trembled.

“Oh, Yoongi,” you cooed, reaching out for him. He shrank away again, but you didn’t give up. “Yoon, it’s me. Please, can you come out?” He finally met your eyes, scanning your face for anger before carefully crawling out of his hiding place. When he finally accepted your outstretched hand you didn’t hesitate to pull him into your arms.

“I’m so sorry, noona. I’m so sorry. I was bad. I know I’m in trouble but please don’t get rid of me.”

“Sweetheart, I would never get rid of you.” You pulled him close, nuzzling into his hair as he tucked his face into your neck. “This is your home. And you aren’t in trouble. No one is mad at you.”

You sat quietly for a moment, just stroking his hair as he took deep shaking breaths, struggling to slow his breathing. When he seemed to have calmed down a bit you spoke again.

“Do you think you can tell me what happened?” you asked gently.

“T-that name. It just made me think of my old master,” he said the last word with venom in his voice. “Kitty, that’s what he called me and- and I just felt like I was there again. Back with him, at the club. And I- I couldn’t- It-” the panic seemed to be returning and you held him tighter, shushing him, trying to shield him from the rush of painful memories before they could overwhelm him again.

“Hey, hey. Slow down. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. You’re here, with me. I’ve got you.”

He nodded against your shoulder, clinging to you as if you were the only thing keeping him from drowning.

“Let’s get you off the floor, yeah?” you said, coaxing him to his feet and guiding him over to the bed. You tucked him in, pulling an extra blanket up from the foot to tuck around his shoulders and placing a soft kiss in his hair.

“I probably should go check on the boys,” you said, glancing toward the living room. You could hear them murmuring, discussing quietly.

“Wait.” He looked anxious at the prospect of you leaving his side. “Can’t you...” He couldn’t seem to get out what he wanted to ask.

“Okay,” you said. The idea of being away for him at that moment tore at your heart more than you’d admit. You crawled under the covers and snuggled up to him. He tucked his face into your neck; that seemed to be his favorite spot. What you weren’t aware of was that your scent was such a comfort to him, it was the only thing that could push the shadows from his mind in moments like this. You slipped your phone out of your back pocket.

You put your phone on its charger and wrapped your arm around Yoongi again.

“Are they mad?” he asked suddenly.

“What? No, of course not.”

You felt him sigh, breath warm against your collarbone. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled away from you to look you in the eye. “I know I’m in trouble. You have to punish me. I hurt your brother. And I could hear Jimin. I made him cry. So what are you going to do?” He averted his eyes, clearly expecting you to hurt him somehow.

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek to make him look at you. “Yoongi, you are not in trouble. Namjoon is not mad at you. He understands, in fact he was actually worried about you. And Jimin was only crying because he hurt you. He didn’t mean to say something that would upset you. He understands what it’s like to have things you’d rather forget,” you said sadly.

“Is-Is he still here?” Yoongi asked.

“I think so.”

“Could I-? I’d like to apologize,” he said. “To him and Namjoon.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you studied him. “Are you sure? You could talk to him after your shift tomorrow. You don’t have to do this now.”

“I don’t want them to worry.”

You scanned his face, but he seemed certain. You sat up, tucking a blanket tighter around his shoulders before calling, “Jimin, Joonie, can you come here for a second?”

Yoongi fidgeted with his fingers beside you, and you reached over and wrapped his hand in yours. There was quiet shuffling outside your door before a shock of pink hair and white ears appeared through the door.

“Hyung?” Jimin’s voice was even softer than usual, barely audible to your ears. He slipped through the door, Namjoon following cautiously behind him.

Yoongi cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m so sorry I hit you Namjoon. That was bad of me-”

Namjoon stopped him. “You have nothing to apologize for, hyung. It’s not your fault that other people hurt you. I’m sorry I scared you, even accidentally.”

Yoongi nodded his gratitude, thinking for a moment before turning to Jimin.

“And Jimin, I’m sorry I reacted like that. I didn’t mean to upset you...” He stopped short when he realized there were tears streaming down the younger man’s face. “Oh s***. Did I make it worse?” Yoongi said. He turned to you confused and concerned.

“No, hyung. I’m just so sorry. I-” Jimin sniffled and wiped at his face with his sleeves. “Can I hug you?”

Yoongi looked startled, but he nodded. Jimin practically ran over and sat next to Yoongi, hugging him tightly and burying his face in his chest. After a moment’s hesitation, Yoongi wrapped his arms around him. There was a beat of silence before a soft, melodic purr started to fill the quiet.

“I know what it’s like to have… bad things happen. And I’m so sorry I made you remember.” Jimin’s grip on the back of Yoongi’s sweater tightened. “If you need to talk about it, you can talk to me, hyung. Anytime.”

Yoongi nodded again, a purr started to echo from his chest as well as he tried to keep himself together.

Namjoon and Jimin left a few minutes later, and Yoongi settled back in with you. He fell asleep quickly after all the guys left. You snuck away as quietly as you could to wash your face and change into pajamas, but found yourself rushing to return to his side.

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Over the following months you tried to get Yoongi out of the house more. As the winter warmed into spring he went and performed in the plaza some days. One particularly sunny afternoon you had to go see your supplier since there was an issue with your latest order.

The two of you strolled casually down the street toward the restaurant supply company, window shopping as you went since your appointment wasn’t for another twenty minutes. Yoongi pointed out a couple of items in shop windows, and you filed away his preferences for later. He finished paying you back for the things you bought him a few weeks before, so you looked for any and every opportunity to spoil him. Not because you thought he needed it, but any time you were responsible for that gummy smile blossoming on his face it warmed your heart like nothing else.

You passed a shop on the corner a block from your destination and paused when you noticed him lingering by the window.

“Yoon? What are you looking at?” You turned and joined him at the window. It turned out to be a salon, not a shop. You looked Yoongi over. His hair had grown since he’d come to stay with you, to the point that he tied it up with one of your hair-ties when he was working on something.

“Do you want to get your hair cut?” you asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I should, huh? I actually like this.” He pointed at a poster in the window. The man in the picture had kind of a mullet going on. You couldn’t tell what color it was since the picture was black and white, but it was clearly a lighter color.

“This one?” You pointed at the picture, confirming. The cut wasn’t really your style. But if Yoongi liked it, that didn’t matter. He’d be adorable in any style. “Yeah,” you said encouragingly. “I think your hair is long enough.”

“What? No, I meant the color. I’d be cool to have lighter hair.”

“You wanna dye it?” you asked, surprised. You hadn’t expected him to be interested in something like that.

He nodded. “Do you think it’d look weird?” He suddenly seemed unsure, turning slightly away from the window, ears turning down slightly.

“No! I think you’d look cute in any color!” In your haste to reassure him you entirely missed the pretty blush that appeared on his cheeks. “You should try it,” you said.

He looked back up at the picture, contemplating. “Would that be okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. It’s your hair.” You laughed and ruffled his soft black locks with your fingers. “Do you want to do it today? If they have an appointment you can do it while I go to my meeting.”

His tail swished behind him, ears perked forward. “Really?”

“Of course! Let’s see if they have any openings.”

You entered the salon, the bell chiming cheerfully above you. “Welcome to Worldwide Handsome Salon! How can I make your day more beautiful?” the girl at the reception desk greeted you. You turned to Yoongi, waiting for him to speak.

“I’d like to have my hair cut and colored,” he said quietly.

The girl glanced from him to you. “Of course, we happen to have an opening in 15 minutes if you were looking to have it done today.”

Yoongi nodded.

“Great!” the girl chirped. “I’ll go grab one of our stylists for a consult.” She hurried off to do so. You and Yoongi took a seat in the waiting area.

“That works out perfectly! I’ll come pick you up after my meeting. Is that okay?” You didn’t say what you were actually asking, though you knew he understood what you meant. ‘Will you be okay without me?’

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good.” You took his hand, bouncing it happily on your lap. “I can’t wait to see what you do!”

The stylist emerged from between the rows of chairs and counters, greeting you with a big smile. He wasn’t very tall, but he still managed to be imposing. The lean muscle in his arms stretched the sleeves of his t-shirt, and he carried himself with more confidence and power than you would’ve expected from him. His hair was a shockingly pure platinum, and he pushed it back from his face as he approached to greet you.

“Hey! I’m Jackson.” He reached out to shake your hand, shaking Yoongi’s as well.

“He’s our best hybrid stylist,” the girl chimed in from beside him.

“I thought I was the best period, Irene,” Jackson teased. The receptionist, Irene, giggled and turned away.

“That too.” She bowed to you and Yoongi. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She returned to her place behind the front desk.

“I assume we’re doing something for you today?” He inclined his head toward Yoongi with a small smile. “Alright, what are we thinking?” He directed the question at you. You frowned at him before turning to Yoongi, again waiting for him to speak up.

“I want it cut and colored,” he said.

Again, Jackson glanced at you expectantly. “Do you know what style you want exactly?” he asked politely.

“Don’t ask me, it’s his hair,” you said, getting a little irritated. Yoongi, sensing this, took your hand and leaned closer to you, tail wrapping soothingly around your leg.

Jackson’s eyebrows rose, apparently surprised. “Sorry. You have to excuse me. Most people who bring their hybrids in don’t give a damn what they want.” He smiled awkwardly. “Alright man, what are we doing today?” He addressed Yoongi this time, giving him a genuine smile and seeming almost relieved.

“I was thinki-”

“Wait!” You interrupted him, pulling your hand free so you could cover your ears. Both men looked at you, startled. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Yoongi grinned and nodded, happily agreeing to your plan.

“Text me when you’re finished, and I’ll come pick you up. You have your phone and your card?” Yoongi nodded. You got him a debit card once he started earning wages at the shop so he wouldn’t have to carry everything in cash. The account was technically under your name, since hybrids couldn’t have their own, but shopping was a lot easier for him with a debit card.

“Alright, call me if you need me.” You leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. “Have fun!” you called as you left the salon.

Jackon observed how Yoongi watched you leave, brows raised.

“What?” Yoongi asked when he caught the other man’s expression.

“Nothing,” Jackson said casually. He smiled and glanced after you. “It’s just nice to see. You guys seem happy together.”

Yoongi colored, but couldn’t hide the grin that appeared on his face.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

After your meeting, you went to the coffee shop next to the Worldwide Handsome Salon. You tried to busy yourself reading over the documents your supplier had given you, but it was hard to focus when you could hardly wait to see what Yoongi had done. You hopped out of your chair a little too energetically when he finally texted, drawing an irritated look from fellow patrons you’d startled. You bowed apologetically, dropped your dirty dishes in the bus bin, and hurried next door.

Irene greeted you when you entered. “Hi! They’re just finishing up. I’ll let them know you’re here.” She got up and disappeared into the maze of mirrors and counters. A moment later she returned, Jackson in tow. He flashed you a proud grin.

“You know, I think this might be some of my best work.”

Irene nudged him with her elbow and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it has nothing to do with him being handsome to start with.”

Jackson waved Yoongi over and he peeked out from behind a mirror. Your eyes widened as you took in his slightly curly honey-blond hair. Yoongi measured your reaction, black ears twitching nervously as he stood before you.

“What?” he asked when you didn’t say anything. “Do you not like it?”

You broke into a smile and finally couldn’t hold back a delighted squeal.

“Oh my god I love it!” You stepped closer to him. “Can I?” You made grabby hands at him and he leaned his head down so you could reach better. Somehow, the light color and soft waves made his hair look even softer. Upon feeling it you found it was, in fact, extremely soft.

“Agh!” You made an exasperated sound, overwhelmed with affection for the soft boy before you. “You look so cute!” you cooed.

Yoongi pouted a little. “Jackson and Irene said I look handsome,” he protested.

“And handsome.” You nodded in agreement, scratching the base of his ears. He purred and leaned into your hand. “My handsome honey boy.”

Yoongi’s eyes opened quickly and you wondered if he disliked the nickname. But his gummy smile quickly reassured you before he wrapped you in a hug, burying his face in your neck. His purrs rumbled through his chest and into yours, tail swishing happily behind him. You chuckled, continuing to stroke his hair.

“It looks great,” you said, placing a soft kiss in his hair. You glanced up at Jackson and Irene. She was watching the exchange with her head resting on Jackson’s shoulder, starry-eyed. You blinked, coming back to yourself and stepping away from Yoongi.

“Thank you so much for taking good care of him,” you said.

“Anytime,” Jackson answered. “Please come again. We do women’s hair too, you know.”

Jackson took his leave as Irene walked you to the counter to pay. Yoongi swiped his card with a bit of pride, though you winced at the hit his funds were taking. You were happy for him, since you knew independence was important to him. But you still wished he’d let you take care of him a little more.

Irene smiled as she watched the two of you, Yoongi’s free hand firmly clasping yours. “You two are really cute together,” she said. “You don’t see a lot of human-hybrid relationships like yours. It’s refreshing.”

You looked at her dumbly for a second before realizing what she meant. “Oh! We aren’t a couple,” you said. Yoongi flinched beside you and released your hand to put in his pin number. Irene frowned, not convinced.

“What about you and him?” You nodded to the direction where Jackson had gone.

Irene blushed and stammered, effectively redirecting the conversation. “Jackson? We aren’t, like, official or anything. Just coworkers. And friends. He’s technically my boss, too.” She laughed awkwardly, busying herself getting Yoongi’s receipt. You let the subject drop, heart beating oddly fast. Were you seriously that worked up by the suggestion of you and Yoongi being together.

You glanced over at him. The muscles in his jaw were tight as he focused determinedly on reading the ingredients of a shampoo bottle he had picked up. You hoped the statement hadn’t made him too uncomfortable. One of your greatest fears was Yoongi feeling like he owed you that. From what little he’d told you of his background, he wasn’t used to having a choice. You’d never want him to be with you out of some ingrained sense of obligation.

Yoongi interrupted your thoughts when he spoke. “Thank you,” he said again, bowing politely. Then he took his receipt and quickly turned to leave. Irene gave him a sad smile as you hurried after him. What was that about?

“Yoongi, wait up!” you jogged after him. When you caught up you looped your arm through his. You examined his face, but his expression was totally neutral. You tugged on his arm to get his attention. “What should we do for dinner?” He gave a noncommittal grunt. “What do you feel like eating, honey boy?” His stoic expression cracked a little, even as he turned his face to hide it. You laughed triumphantly.

“How about meat? Hanwoo?” you suggested, knowing his weakness all too well.

His eyes sparkled at the mention of the dish, which the two of you reserved as a treat for special occasions. He nodded, finally rewarding you with a small smile. You tugged on his arm playfully and dragged him toward the alley housing your favorite barbeque restaurant, happy that any tension seemed to have faded.

#yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #hybrid!au #cafe!au #hybrid!yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #suga #bts #bts suga #bts yoongi

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polpoka · 3 years

Text

Birthdays

Shippings-Bapen/Pensen

Rating- K+

(Fluff)

Part 1

Basen wasn’t the type to celebrate his birthdays. It wasn’t that he regretted being born or anything, he just didn’t think it was any different from any day.

‘It wasn’t that special,’ he personally thought.

However, his lover didn’t think so.

“What! You- you don’t celebrate your birthdays!?”

Basen looked at him, confused.

“Yes? What about it?”

Pen looked shocked and got up from his partner’s lap.

“So many things!? What do you mean, ‘what about it’. A birthday is meant to be celebrated. How are you alright with just not doing anything special? What about gifts?”

“Gifts? I don’t need gifts. My family already does a lot for me.”

“Eh? B-but it’s your birthday!”

“So?”

“When is your birthday, anyway?”

“In a week. Why?”

Pen’s jaw dropped.

“ A week. And you tell me now.”

Basen just stared at him.

“You never asked.”

Basen was getting under Pen’s skin.

“...But you know mine.”

Basen however, had no clue as to what was happening.

“You told me yours.”

Pen huffed.

“You were supposed to tell me too, you know?”

“Was I?”

“You really-”

Pen sighed, sometimes Basen really got on his nerves, even though that was what Pen loved about him.

“I’ll be getting you a gift for your birthday. So, do you have anything you want currently?”

“Nothing in particular.”

Pen frowned at the lukewarm response.

“Fine. I’ll get you something I can guarantee you’ll like.”

“ Don’t get me a pen. Hyung already bought me one from Capital when he was visiting.”

“Tch.”

Pen grumbled.

That was the one thing Pen had guaranteed that Basen would love. He got up from the couch and looked the other man in the eye.

“I’ll see you in a week then.”

Basen looked a little confused.

“Why? You could still visit me. I rarely get to see you anyway.”

“I’ll be busy selecting a good gift and planning a party in a week.”

“A party is unnecessary.”

Pen ignored the last statement and walked out of the room, grabbing his coat in the process.

“That idiot,” he grumbled, before remembering his first meeting with his brother.

“Just like his brother.”

***

He walked through to the roads to take a closer look at the shops. Thankfully, he had the liberty to do so, since his secret bodyguards would be insuring his protection.

‘Being under disguise isn’t that bad.’

He then spotted something that caught his eye. A monocle.

He could imagine the younger man wearing the monocle and having a permanent scowl on his face.

Pen chuckled. ‘He would look hilarious in that, but it suits him. Weird.’

He hummed as he walked down the street, eying various titbits, varying from magical equipment to clothes to flowers.

Nothing seemed to suit Basen, and though there were numerous times he was tempted to buy something and get it over with, he remembered his words and sighed, bringing him back to his goal.

“What would he like?” Pen mumbled.

“Excuse me, sir, would you like some help?”

He turned to see a very professional-looking attendant.

“Yes, I would like to see something for a seventeen-year old boy. His measurements are xxx.”

“Is it for the young lord?”

‘This woman really does have a keen eye.’

“Yes.”

The woman however, despite her stoic face, was trying not to show how nervous she was.

‘This man...He’s the prince of the Breck Kingdom, isn’t he? That face is something I’d recognize anywhere, especially since we specialize in nobility. What is he doing here?’

“Please sit here and look at these.” She led him to a room which had the prototypes of the outfits, for the demographic, and handed him a list of the outfits.

Pen looked through the list of outfits and finally, after half a day, found something that would suit Basen.

It was a gorgeous coat which he was sure would look good on Basen. The shade of brown used, had a richer color,and a lovely germanium was used as the fabric underneath, the exact color as Pen’s hair. It had no embroidery and would definitely appeal to the younger man.

He smiled at the wonderful choice.

He walked out of the store, happy at the fact he had managed to finish one of the many tedious jobs to come.

***

He headed back to the residence that the Henituse estate had prepared for him to proceed with the plan, but Pen was a little too tired and, honestly just wanted to rest. He collapsed on his bed after his arrival at the designated room, and just as his eyes were about to close, he heard a knock.

He grumbled, and reluctantly parted from his comfortable bed to open the door and see who it was.

Pen frowned.

"Well, well, well, look who it is."

Basen looked down at his lover's feet, a little flustered and still confused at the response he got.

Pen noticed this. He really wanted to smirk at his victory at proving his point, but still kept a stoic face.

"Didn't I ask you to not visit me for the time I'm here?"

"B-but I didn't know that you'd be so stubborn on that point! It's just a birthday,"

Basen protested.

"Just a birthday? It was the day you were born. It should be celebrated."

Pen sighed. His rational side tried to reason with his emotional side. He knew that Basen was a different person, but he couldn't just let it go.

'Why does he not celebrate? It's his birthday. It's a day to be celebrated. Why doesn't he get it!?'

Basen was getting frustrated. He didn't understand what the problem was, yet he was being bombarded with these comments on his life, which he believed to be completely fine. Basen knew he wasn't an emotional person. He knew that he wasn't able to understand what his partner was feeling, and so did his partner know that he couldn’t.

He just couldn't help raising his voice;

"Just tell me what's wrong already! I don't get it! I don't get these things if you don't tell me, you know that!"

Pen's eyebrows loosened and he became stiff. Though, it wasn't often Basen raised his voice, Pen never liked it when he did. He paused for a minute, took a deep breath and got his thoughts on order.

"Come in."

Basen frowned, but went through with it, taking a seat where he thought it would be appropriate to sit as a guest.

Pen walked to the tea brewer in the room,

"I'll get the tea."

"No need. I won’t be staying here for long anyway."

Pen halted and went over to take a seat right in front of Basen. They both let their eyes search the other for a while to study what they were feeling, Pen felt sorry for driving his other half, as he called him so lovingly, to such a limit. His guilt started to overtake his anger.

"I'm sorry. It was my fault."

Unfortunately, Basen was irritated, which made his vision clouded. This wasn't something that he felt that often, but the situation was just so irksome.

He looked at him in disbelief and disgust.

Pen flinched at the gaze.

"It IS your fault. Prince, we established that. Moving on," he sighed,"I think I needed some time to myself, since you're going to act like that." He snapped, as he gestured towards the door.

Pen knew instinctively that Basen was losing his temper. The feeling was icky and seeped through his organs and through his bones, slowly creeping into his heart.

'No.' He started to wave his hands in panic and also partly because of the fear of the other man's rejection.

"Please-"

"See you later, Pen. Do not follow me.Well, you won’t. Since, you don’t want to meet me anyway."

He was cut off with those icy words, his name said with such disdain, he felt as if Basen was using his name as an insult in itself.

***

Basen got up from the couch and walked out of the room. He was hurt. Even though this was such a small thing, his mind couldn't register the way Pen had treated him. He had completely trampled over his emotions and way of doing things. He needed to be away from his lover for some time, to at least cool off.

It wasn't that these kinds of arguments weren't normal and a daily occurrence, they did bicker occasionally, but this time it had gone too far. Never had he expected Pen to follow his way of life, nor did he think Pen would want him to do so. Pen was a person who was not that accepting, Basen knew that, but still he believed that some things were different about them and those had to be accepted.

He walked down the staircase to find a maid or a butler.Instead, he saw a familiar face, yet found it unusual to see at home.

"Hyung!"

He walked quickly to close in on the distance between them.

The older man looked down at him with a cold expression.

"Basen," his cool voice responded.

"Will you be staying for long?"

"No. I'll be leaving after dinner.”

“Alright. I'll just let you know that Mother would like to see you.” Basen wasn’t surprised, since he was used to this.

He walked past Cale, who noticed that his younger brother who he wasn’t that close with, was odd. since he did promise Og! Cale to take care of his younger brother, he asked him about what happened, but not that much not to encroach on his privacy.

“You look depressed. Did something happen?”

Basen stiffened, but nodded and walked out of the residence.

Cale felt a bit concerned, even though he didn’t show it on his face.

***

Basen went into his room, all his energy had been sapped and he brewed himself some tea and took a seat on his bed. He gradually sipped on it, emptying the cup, taking his time. He huffed the steam coming out of the cup. He needed to calm his nerves. The tea he was drinking, Earl Grey, was also introduced to him by Pen. He unconsciously found himself smiling and remembering the times Pen had got him the tea, not to forget, the first time he had got it for him.

‘He was so excited,’ he thought, he looked at his reflection in the tea and frowned remembering the events that had just taken place. He felt the tea in his mouth go bitter.

“I need rest.”

He mumbled.

He quickly gulped down the entire cup and kept the cup on his side table, before falling over in his bed. He could feel a headache coming over him. He exhaled sharply.

“I’m tired. That’s all it is.” He mumbled, trying to ignore the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

His eyelids drooped, shutting his thoughts along with his eyes.

#tcf #tcf basen #basen henituse #pensen #bapen #trash of the count's family #prince pen #tcf pen #basen x pen #pen x basen

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actress4him · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 21

We get to bring in two new characters to the mix today! I won’t say who yet, you’ll just have to read to find out. :)

Read on AO3

Read on FFN

Day 21 - Chronic Pain

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: nudity (non-sexual), foster home mention

It was a bad day. A really bad day.

He had plenty of bad days, those came nearly once a month. Those he could power through.

But this was one of those days that thankfully, didn’t show up too often. He hadn’t had one this bad in probably a year or more. Certainly not since coming to space, which he was more than grateful for.

Curling in tighter on himself, Keith stifled a whimper with his pillow. He was pretty sure his roommates were already long gone, but he still didn’t want to risk anyone hearing him make pathetic noises. He needed to get up. It was getting late in the day, and he was still in the bed, and he was pretty sure he had a mission at some point to report for. If he didn’t get up soon, somebody was going to come looking for him, and then not only would he be in trouble, but he’d have to explain why he was curled up like a kitten with the covers pulled over his head and tear tracks staining his face.

And he didn’t even know. All he knew was that it hurt, and it had been doing so for his entire life.

Okay. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna get up.

Willing his right arm to move, he threw off the thin blanket. The air was cool, just like the other Blade members seemed to like it. Apparently Galra ran warmer than humans. He was generally cold at night, but didn’t want to be a bother by asking for another blanket.

Now he had to force himself out of the fetal position. He started with the left leg, stretching it out slowly, slowly. The ache grew the farther out it went, until he was turning his face over to keen into the pillow again.

The second leg he decided to do fast, just to get it over with. Throwing it out straight, he gasped involuntarily as pain shot through it. For a moment he just lay there, letting the aches settle until they were at a semi-tolerable level, then began the equally painful process of levering himself up.

By the time he was sitting up, he was close to tears again. Breathe, he reminded himself. Keep breathing.

All that was left was to stand up, walk to the shelf to get his suit, walk down the hall to the communal bathing room, get undressed, bathe, get dressed, walk back to his room to put his sleep clothes away, walk to the bridge, then go on a mission.

Yeah. Sure.

Never mind that each of those individual tasks felt like the equivalent of climbing Mt. Everest. He had no choice. He was a Blade, and Blades didn’t just let a little thing like pain stop them from doing their jobs. If he couldn’t do this, if he tried to get out of going out today, then they might decide he wasn’t worthy of being one of them. They would kick him off the base, and then where would he go?

Not back to the Castle. There was no more room for him there, not without kicking someone else more deserving out of their place. And even if he thought he could make it all the way back to Earth, there had never been anything for him there. Just an empty, lonely, rundown shack in the middle of the desert, and the only reason he had lasted so long out there the first time was the Blue Lion. She wasn’t there anymore.

Okay. Getting up.

Standing took three times as long as it should have. Walking felt like the floor was covered in spikes, and like someone was following him around stabbing him with knives all over his legs. His back wouldn’t quite straighten all the way, at least not without adding a few more knives to the mix, so his posture resembled that of a wrinkled old man. He managed to make it all the way down the hall without running into anyone, thankfully, since he was hunched over and moving at a snail’s pace, and also thankfully was late enough that he was alone in the bathing room.

Galra didn’t do showers. He had learned that upon first arriving at the base. Instead, they used large, square tubs that could fill with either water, dust, or some kind of blue goo, depending on the needs of the individual’s skin, scales, or fur. It had taken him a while to figure out all the different settings, and he had accidentally set off the dust and goo a couple of times in the beginning. Right now, he was hoping that some nice, hot water would be what his body needed to cope with the day to come.

It did feel good to start with. Certainly nicer than he had felt the whole day so far. Keith was able to stretch out his legs, arms, and back fully for the first time without excruciating pain...for a few minutes.

Then the cramps started creeping back in, seizing up his muscles, making him whine. Tucking his knees up under his chin, he let the tears come again. He was tired. And so tired of hurting. A normal day, a day where his bones throbbed but he could use exercise or just pure willpower to get past it and ignore it...that he was used to. He should have been used to these days, too. But they never failed to catch him by surprise and completely knock him off his feet, sapping all his energy and will to do anything but stay in bed. These days turned him into a pathetic excuse for a person, and that was to say nothing about being a soldier. He hated feeling so weak and useless.

The timed bath ran out, and the water began draining. Keith was left curled up in yet another ball, shivering, unable to summon the strength to climb out. The cold doubled the intensity of the pain. His jaw was beginning to add itself to the list of aches from clenching it so hard to keep his teeth from chattering, but he couldn’t even make himself reach over for his towel.

You’ve got to get up. Do you really want someone to find you like this?

As if reading his mind, the door swished open. “Keith?” a familiar, accented voice called. “Are you in here?”

Regris. He lifted a trembling arm finally, swallowing a grunt, trying to get himself covered before he was spotted, but had only made it to the top of the tub when his partner rounded the corner.

“There you are!” Regris stopped, taking in the empty tub, the shaking limbs, and the streaks of water down Keith’s cheeks that were probably very obviously not bath water, and frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith gritted out through his teeth. “‘m fine.” He continued trying to reach the towel, but his arm didn’t want to unfurl quite enough to nab it.

“Ya don’t look so fine, mate.” Crossing to the side of the tub, he snatched up the towel himself and threw it over Keith’s shoulders. “Are ya sick?”

“N-no.” Now he had to get up, whether he thought he was capable or not, so he gripped the sides of the tub with sore fingers and began to push, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the screaming in every inch of his body. “Told you. ‘m fine.”

Regris shook his head with a sigh. “Course you are. That’s why ya can’t even stand up proper.” Leaning down, he grasped Keith’s arm in his clawed hand and hoisted him up. While he did need the help, the sudden movement sent a wave of pain through him and he wasn’t able to hold in his cry.

The young Galra jumped back like he had been shocked, swearing. “What is it, mate? You’re injured, aren’t ya? Why didn’t you go to the med bay?”

“‘m not...injured.” Shakily, he adjusted the towel so it was wrapped around his waist, then gave in and grabbed onto Regris’ shoulder so that he could painstakingly step out onto the cold floor. “Don’t need th’...med bay. Doctor’s never did anything for me before. ‘cept tell me it was...just growing pains.”

Regris’ brow furrowed as he watched Keith slowly collect his clothing. “Well, what is it then, if you’re not injured? Ya look like somebody stabbed ya in the gut.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Feels...kinda like somebody put concrete in all my bones.” He paused, thought about that comparison, then added, “But it’s expanding concrete.”

“I’ve no idea what ‘concrete’ is, but if ya feel that bad then maybe you should be restin’ in your room.”

Keith shook his head. “Got a mission soon. Need to get ready.”

Regris groaned. “Don’t be bone-headed Keith, ya can’t go on a mission like this.”

Turning his back, Keith started shuffling back toward the door. “Pretty sure the...Blade of Marmora doesn’t give...sick days.”

“Pretty sure the Blade of Marmora doesn’t want someone who can barely walk on a stealth mission!” Regris called to him just before the door slid shut.

He was right. He needed to get his act together. If Kolivan saw him like this, he’d kick him off the mission for sure, and then it wouldn’t be long before he was kicked out of the Blade altogether. Especially if he found out that this was a semi-regular occurrence.

Making it back to his room, he sat down on his bed and attempted to put on his uniform. Ten dobashes later, he had managed to get it over his legs and up to his waist, and had then fallen over sideways on the bed to fold up and shake some more. That’s when a knock came on the door. He jolted, thinking to try to sit up, but the door opened before he could.

“Regris informed me that you were feeling ill. I believe that he may have understated the severity of your condition.”

Quiznak. Why did stupid Regris have to go and get Kolivan?

“N-no, no, ‘m fine, I told him I was fine.” He pushed himself up much faster than he thought would be possible, avoiding eye contact with the towering Galra while he tugged his uniform up further. “I’m not sick. Just...a little sore.”

“Keith.” The severity of the tone made him glance up for just a moment, but he couldn’t hold the steady yellow gaze. “We have worked together for quite some time now. I have seen you after the hardest of training sessions, when older, more experienced Blades have thrown you to the floor and against the walls repeatedly. I have seen you after missions when you were shot, cut with a sword, or caught in an explosion. These things would all cause you to be more than ‘a little sore’.” He paused as if for effect. “Yet I have never seen you like this, barely able to leave your own bed. Clearly you are suffering from more than simple sore muscles.”

Keith clenched his jaw again, his arms wrapped tightly around his bare stomach. He wasn’t going to get away with lying. Kolivan would see through any of it, and he couldn’t even think of a believable excuse to give him.

“It’s nothing,” he finally said quietly. “Just this...pain, that I get from time to time. It’s not usually this bad. I can usually work through it.” He lifted his head. “And I can today, too. I know this mission’s important. I’ll make it happen.”

“What kind of pain?” Kolivan asked, his voice almost as soft, uncharacteristically so.

Keith shrugged, though he immediately regretted it. “In my bones...my muscles...feels like...they’re being compressed. Like there’s not enough room in my skin for what’s inside of it.”

Kolivan nodded solemnly, not speaking for a moment. Inwardly, Keith was beating himself up for allowing his secret to be found out, waiting for his leader to break the news that he could no longer be a Blade.

Instead, he crossed the room and sank down gently onto the bed next to Keith. “This has been going on for a long time, has it not?”

Keith nodded slowly, still expecting the worst. “My whole life. Or at least, as long as I can remember.” Countless foster families, social workers, and doctors had dismissed his pain, telling him that he was being overdramatic and exaggerating the intensity. Eventually he had learned not to tell anyone.

Kolivan hummed in thought. “As a full-blood Galra, myself, I do not know much about this phenomenon. But I have heard that it is, indeed, very painful.”

It took a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in, and then Keith was too surprised to do more than stutter, “W-wait, what?”

“Growing pains,” Kolivan stated matter-of-factly, and for a tick Keith thought he was being dismissed again and he wanted to melt. “Many half-blood Galra struggle with it. It is much like you described - likely your bones are more like that of a Galra than a human, and are attempting to grow at the rate that matches. However, the outside of your body is very much human, and is holding them back.”

Keith just stared at him as his brain processed this information. Finally, somebody believed him. That in and of itself was almost too good to be true. And not only did he believe him, but he had answers? He knew why Keith was hurting? He still had so many questions, though, and wasn’t sure whether he could believe this quite yet.

“If...if it’s a half-Galra thing, then why didn’t Regris know what it was?”

“It all depends on not only what the other species is, but also what traits from each species you acquire from your parents. Others may struggle with different types of mixed blood related problems, while some, like Regris, seem to have no conflicts between their two halves. What you are experiencing is quite rare, but not so rare that I have not encountered it before.”

Biting down on his lip, Keith considered this. “Okay, but...I’m eighteen years old. Shouldn’t I be done growing by now?”

He could have sworn that Kolivan almost smiled at that, and kind of almost looked like he wanted to reach out and ruffle Keith’s hair. “In human years, maybe. By Galran standards you are still quite young, and Galra also continue growing well into their young adult years.”

Keith sighed heavily, hunching over himself further. “So in other words, I’ve still got a long time left to deal with this.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Kolivan stood. “But if you will accompany me to the med bay, I believe we will be able to find something to help you, at least on these especially hard days.”

Keith grimaced. “Thanks, but pain medication doesn’t work for me. At least not for this.”

Kolivan leveled a knowing stare at him. “Keith, when was the last time that you tried pain medication for this?”

“Um…” He bit his lip, realizing the answer. “Before I found out I was Galra…?”

“As I thought.” Kolivan held out his hand. “Come. I will assist you to the med bay, and once you have taken your medication I want you to come back here and rest.”

“But the mission -”

“Will be handled by others.”

“Kolivan, I -”

“You are ill. We cannot afford to have anyone on a mission who is at less than their best.”

Keith stared down at the floor. “I know,” he whispered.

“There is no shame in taking care of your health. Everyone must do so from time to time.”

A spark of hope replaced his disappointment, and he looked back up. “You’re gonna let me stay?”

Kolivan’s brow furrowed. “Of course. You have yet to give me a reason not to.”

Relief washed over him. Someone believed him, he was getting help, and he wasn’t being kicked out. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

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A/N: And Kolivan managed to make Keith tell him that being cold made it worse, so he gave him a ton of blankets for his bed. The End.

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