#this is gonna flop but let me be a space nerd for ONE DAY

[always-andromeda]

I'm Not Looking at Your Junk | Timothy Klitz x fem!Reader

Timothy Klitz x fem!Reader

Word Count | 6,206

Summary | Despite being an infamous prude, Timothy Klitz wasn't expecting it when you said you hadn't watched the sex ed tape he and his friends made during senior year. Little does he know, however, college has given you a chance to become a bit more experienced.

Author's Note | The way I love and hate this so much is ridiculous. I had to get this idea out of my head because it was just clawing at the inside of my skull!! Also, I called him Tim the entire time because I definitely would've been hella uncomfy in high school calling him Klitz all the time if this was an irl man??? I hope I did my man Klitzy justice because I love him so much. I am so nervous about posting this but fuck it!!!

Warnings | smut, (protected!) sex, loss of virginity, fingering, mentions of masturbation, mdni, please let me know if I need to add anything else!

You sighed as you flopped down on Timothy Klitz's couch. The cushions had flattened so much that you were only raised inches from the ground. Even though he was going to Yale, Tim and his two other roommates were set on spending the least amount of money possible to furnish the place. So when one of the guys found the couch free for the taking on the side of the road, of course he picked it up and had it hauled up the apartment stairs.

Tim didn't even know the guys that well. They were nice enough but obviously weren't his type of people. He was sure they'd drop out before the end of the year. But the two brothers were holding their own. Sent there with daddy's money, they'd refused to stay in the dorms where the campus security could bust them for underage drinking and the litany of drugs they were using. When Tim had found out that there weren't any dorm spaces left, he outsourced. The brothers wanted a third person to get in on the rent so they could spend more on supplies for their weekly parties. And with the meager pay Tim was making at his internship, their range met his budget.

On the bright side, their absences made it possible for you to visit more often.

You had your own dorm room but both of your roommates had boyfriends. Most nights you were stuck in your room listening to the sounds of intense lovemaking on the other side of one or two of your walls. That being said, Tim's sparsely decorated apartment with cracks in the drywall was clearly the better option to hang out in.

Tim wasn't complaining about it either. He'd known you since freshman year of high school and considered you one of his closest friends. Having Eli and Matt at his side made it a bit difficult to spend alone time with you. Any time Tim would tell Eli that he had to get off the phone because you were on your way over to his house, Eli would be wailing at the other end: Klitz, you better bang her. Or else I really might kill myself this time. In Eli's eyes, Tim was wasting a situation that was just dripping with erotic potential. She adores you, man. You could slap her ass in the middle of class and she'd thank you! Eli was so sure of himself.

Tim would never do that though. Sure, he liked you, but he couldn't imagine you seeing him in any similar way. You weren’t really the type to just hook up with some guy like it was nothing, especially if some guy was your nerd of a best friend. So just like every other weekend before, he shoved the video tape into the VCR and settled on the uncomfortable couch alongside you.

He'd found some horror flick at Blockbuster a few days before that he thought you’d get a kick out of. As terrible as the effects were in movies like this, the sight of even fake blood freaked him out. You made enough jokes to compensate for the moments where he got too queasy, but this one might be the death of him.

The dramatic title card flew towards the screen: Return of the Bloody Boogeyman!

Your face lit up at the text, already excited for what the night would bring. "You gonna tap out on me for this one?" you spoke teasingly.

He shook his head, brown hair flipping with the action, "You know, I am insulted you'd think I'm that much of a chicken." You laughed with a nefarious anticipation. You couldn't wait for when he would break and start gagging at the low budget visuals.

Of course it started with a completely clothed sex scene. Two teenagers packed into the back of a Cadillac convertible, gasping and moaning exaggeratedly. The black and white filter made it difficult to scrutinize what was going on in the darkly lit scene but the point was made very clear.

"God, it must have sucked having sex back then." you mused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not like people were casually hooking up all the time. You had to wait until you were married to some guy and even then, they'd probably be super disappointing in bed. But by the time you figured that out, you're locked in." You were talking with your hands now.

Tim wasn’t really used to talking about the topic of sex with you. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. "Yeah, that probably sucked." Agreeing would probably be his best bet, he decided.

"Now, we have whole instruction manuals to show us the way." You poked at his side. You occasionally teased him about the sex ed tape he and his friends had made on prom night. Though you'd been there that night, watching doors with Tim while Eli and his actors were filming, you had tried not to get too involved with the actual crew. The whole prospect was way too awkward.

It's kind of weird, isn't it? You had said to Tim as you two stood outside a classroom door, guarding it. Your voice was hushed with a tinge of anxiety behind it.

What's weird?  He said vaguely. 

I dunno, it's weird that right behind us are two pornstars just...hanging out in our English class... Tim had let out a stifled snicker. You all would've done anything to help Matt and Danielle out. But that didn't mean it wasn't super uncomfortable.

"Oh yeah, like that taught you some actual techniques." Everyone knew how reserved you'd been in high school. No matter how informative the video was, you were set on being as prudish as possible. 

"That tape didn't teach me jack shit." You spat.

Tim scrunched up his face and shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't think it was that bad. It wouldn't be selling so well if it was complete nonsense, right?"

"I wouldn't know how much of it is or isn't nonsense." You mumbled, finally having gotten to the end of your teasing. And Tim now got what you were hinting at.

He scoffed and looked at you with a cheeky grin, “You haven’t watched the video?”

“Why would I?”

“I dunno, I thought you’d have seen it by now. Everyone has.”

“I’m not everyone.” You gave him a pointed look that kept him quietly fiddling with his fingers for a few seconds, deliberating on if the matter was worth questioning further.

His curiosity got the better of him, “Why haven’t you seen it?”

“Oh my god, Tim, why do you even care?” You exclaimed.

“Nothing, I was just wondering why you wouldn’t have watched it. You were there when we filmed it.”

“I left the room for a reason.” You said indignantly. Tim stared, brow furrowed. Your exit from the library on prom night had been quite dramatic. You had watched April's manicured nails run down Tim's bare thigh and heard her comment on how cute he was. You saw the ecstatic smile that crept across his face. The nervous little blush that grew just beneath where his oval glasses perched on his pert nose.

Before that moment, you hadn't considered yourself possessive over him. But the way his eyes lit up at the comment made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you wanted to storm across the room and kiss him right on his stupid lips. But you weren't that girl then. What chance did you stand with him when he could easily land a pornstar? So you spun on your heel and left the room, grumbling something about checking the hall for chaperones from the prom. You didn't even get back in the limo with the rest of them at the end of the night, instead opting to go home with one of your other friends from homeroom. Then you never talked about that night again.

Though you most certainly were the type of girl who would angrily kiss him just to prove a point now, the memory made you feel that same seed of insecurity and inadequacy fester inside you. But Tim was still staring expectantly, waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Because I’m not looking at your junk, Tim.” You couldn’t bear to let your eyes meet his.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” You hoped that would end the line of questions he was throwing at you.

A few beats of silence passed. The movie still played but neither of you were paying too much attention to it anymore. How had the conversation turned to this? He was suddenly wondering if he was so repulsive to you that just the thought of him being naked could throw off your usual teasing mood entirely.

He spoke again. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

You were annoyed now. If Tim knew what was good for him, he would've let the matter go entirely. “If I’ve never seen it, how could I think that there’s something wrong with it?” You said matter of factly through gritted teeth.

For a guy who was so smart, Timothy Klitz got in his own way quite often in these situations. He still wasn’t sure how to navigate a discussion like this. At some point, he’d have to stop feeling those butterflies in his stomach whenever sex or genitals were mentioned. But sometimes he still felt like he had about the same level of maturity as a pervy thirteen year old.

“Everybody says it’s big. Is that scary to some girls?” He wasn't trying to brag about it, honestly. But if there was something wrong with his size, he was sure you'd tell him about it. You typically weren’t afraid to be blunt about things.

“Oh, fuck off.” You didn’t need to be reminded of what people said about him. You being one of the handful of people who knew that it was his dick being described as “The Meat Rocket 3000” was life ruining. Of course you’d had a crush on Tim for years. Ever since the moment he’d nervously asked if you had a spare pencil during Algebra class in freshman year, you were head over heels for the gangly little nerd. He had a way of awkwardly nudging his way to your heart. Having any sort of awareness or perception of his dick made being his friend absolutely miserable. It was so much easier when you were pretending he was a featureless Ken doll down there.

“What?”

“You’re such an asshole.” You rolled your eyes and began to shake your leg, the anxiety setting in. This conversation was getting too personal for your liking.

“I’m just stating a fact!” He threw his hands up in defense.

An idea popped into your head. Maybe now he would shut up. “Think about it this way: imagine if you were watching a tape where someone was groping my tits. You’d never be able to look at me the same way.”

He absolutely could not think about it that way. Because the idea made him almost painfully hard. Fuck, he’d thought about groping your tits (and all your other parts) many times over. Mostly while he was jerking off or if you sat too close to him on a movie night or if you looked up at him through your lashes. Almost anything could get him going, if he thought about it for too long. He tried to casually hide his erection with the pillow under his arm, hoping and praying to every deity possible that you hadn’t noticed it.

The room had gone deadly silent and you beat yourself up internally. Even as the movie's monster, dripping with thick, sticky blood engulfed the couple in the car, Tim was all clammed up. No theatrical gagging or jokes. You shouldn’t have even said it. Now he was picturing your tits and it made things too weird. You guys had been friends for so long that he probably saw you as an annoying sister at this point. And no one wants to imagine their sister's tits no matter how big and squishy they might be.

“Tim?” You asked.

“Huh?” His voice cracked like he was going through puberty again.

“You got really quiet...” Crickets. “I didn’t make it weird, did I?”

“No! Of course not. It’s not weird at all.”

“Then why does your face look like that?” His eyes were fixed straight ahead of him and his lips formed a thin line. He looked like he wanted the couch to engulf him entirely. But it was the crimson blush that had spread over his almost pained expression that sent red flags up in your mind. 

He cleared his throat and straightened his posture, “This is how my face always is.”

“Shut up, I know what your stupid face normally looks like.” You quipped back.

“Your face is stupid…” He muttered.

“You’re gonna make fun of me now?” You needed a way to escape the awkward conversation and loosen him up again. You needed to convince yourself that Timothy Klitz was just your friend and would always be just that.

“You started it!” His voice raised a little, sensing the challenge laced into the edge of your words. You both picked on each other like this. It kept up the illusion that you two weren't hilariously and tragically in love with each other.

“Oh, I’ll start something.” You pounced at Tim’s side where you knew he was most ticklish.

Tim’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t even let himself laugh when you nearly tackled him flat on his back. With your knees planted on either side of his thighs, he was on the edge of hyperventilating knowing that the impact was imminent. If you moved any closer, his hard dick was going to be touching your crotch and everything was going to be a fucking mess. And before he could push you off, it was happening.

“Whoa, what the fuck?” You flew back as if he had the plague and pressed against the armrest on the other side of the couch. He sat up quickly and covered himself with his arms. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” His voice went high pitched. God, you were going to hate him forever.

“Oh my god. How long have you had that going on?” You tried to let out a laugh but it came awkwardly.

“A minute or so…”

You replayed the past few minutes over. Maybe it was the movie? The kissing couldn't have been that suggestive. You couldn't even see anything that well. Besides, that was a while ago. It couldn't be...was it? Your eyes went wide, realizing what got him so worked up. And his avoidant gaze only confirmed your suspicion. He had gotten hard thinking about you. The thought excited you more than you could’ve dreamed.

He felt so guilty. Not even the humiliation rushing through him could make the erection go away; at the worst possible moment of his life, it was proving to stand the test of time. You were going to think he was such a freak now. You’d stop going to his dorm and you’d never look back. Who wanted a friend who imagined them naked and popped boners at the thought? But against his judgment, you were creeping forward again and making a home between his legs. He watched as your hand extended towards one of his, currently shielding you from the single most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him.

“What are you doing?” He questioned.

“Just give me your hand.” Your voice was hushed and a little shaky.

Tim stalled. What you had planned for him he couldn't have predicted. You couldn't have possibly been enjoying this. Your worried expression indicated to him that you would rather be anywhere else.

You started over with a slow breath. He was overwhelmed, obviously. But you had to at least try to keep going. “You trust me, right?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Then give me your hand, please,” He couldn’t tell if you were annoyed at him or…begging?

His hand shook a little as you took it and gently moved it towards your lower half. You guided him until his hand disappeared beneath your skirt and the pads of his fingers were pressed against your underwear. Your underwear, already soaked with slick. The groan he let out made his own cheeks go red hot. You continued to brush his fingers back and forth against your clothed heat and took sharp breaths, your eyes fluttered closed. He was losing his mind seeing how you were using him like this. This couldn't be real. Call the coroner, because he must have died and gone to heaven. Here lies Timothy Klitz, he couldn’t handle touching a vagina.

Your voice was a little higher now. “That’s why I didn’t wanna look at your junk.”

“Oh, shit.” He moaned.

“Yeah. Shit.” You gasped a little as he absentmindedly kept his hand against you.

“What do we do now?”

“I mean…I got you started…I’m sure we could figure it out.” Your finger teased the edge of the collar on his button up shirt. Your face had gotten so much closer to his. Your warm breath was fanning across his cheek and before he could fully process it, you were peppering small kisses along his jaw. When did you get this alluring? Tim could feel himself practically melting at your needy touch. But he had to have more.

Tim turned his head to the side to capture your lips with his. It started sweet with his glasses slightly fogging up. The kiss quickly became feverish when you mounted his hips once more, hovering over his bulge. When your tongue entered his mouth, he knew for sure he was a goner. This time he was desperate for you to touch him again. He whined into your mouth, clearly frustrated over the contact that you were just dangling in front of him. 

In a brave move, he laid his hands on either side of your thighs and pushed you down onto his lap. Immediately and with a soft gasp of your own, you ground into him and began unbuttoning his shirt quickly. His pale chest now exposed, you ran a tentative hand along one of his pebbled nipples. He laid his head back and you went for the kill, sucking on his bobbing Adam’s apple and leaving more kisses along his long neck. This was the sort of moment you had been stopping yourself from picturing for years. 

“God, Tim, you’re so pretty.” You whispered against his skin. That snapped him out of his daze pretty quickly.

“Can I touch your boobs?” He asked in the most nonchalant inflection he could muster.

You almost laughed at his tone. His hardening length proved he was anything but uninterested in this position. In your first few months of college you'd already become acquainted with a handful of college guys who didn't ask what they could do. They just did it in the heat of the moment while pressing you against a wall in some dorm hallway. But Tim had always been faint of heart, only diving into something headfirst if his friends were doing it too. Then again, you'd both changed a lot since starting college.

"You can do anything that you want to me." You finally replied.

He was certain he was dreaming now. You had been such a puritan and now you were letting him do whatever his filthy heart desired? He decided that if there was a god, they must really be looking out for him. 

Your oversized t-shirt had hidden your chest's true form, but now that Tim was tugging it over your head and tossing it away, he couldn't ignore how pretty they were. Your tits hung just perfectly on you, soft and waiting to be played with by him. He cupped one gently, circling the nipple with his long finger. It wasn't the first time he'd felt a boob, but this was different. 

Right behind that boob was your heart. And yours was a heart that he had fallen so hard for. You were so smart and knew just how to make him laugh. You watched every dumb documentary he wanted to watch with him. Even back in high school you would be in his room, sticking out the late study nights, determined to get into the same school together. Through everything, you'd been right there making him feel like he was cool enough to be around a girl like you.

He couldn't keep his cool anymore. "Fuck, I like you so much." He sobbed as he kneaded your tit in his hand.

You smiled and tilted your head, "You do?"

With his eyebrows pinched together, he was practically glowing, finally being able to say it to you, "Of fucking course I do. You're so cool that I can't believe you'd pay any attention to me. I-I'm just some guy."

Your heart was soaring. You'd always kind of hated the idea of him seeing you in a purely sexual light. With the way Eli watched porn like they were Sunday morning cartoons, you figured that mentality had to have leaked into Tim's own mind. Despite being good friends with Tim, Eli, and Matt, there was always a layer of removal between them and you. And you liked it that way.

As the token girl of the group, you had heard plenty of your old classmates gossip over which one of your nerdy friends was going to end up banging you. You were a tough nut to crack and wouldn't fold to any guy who would give you the time of day. So the school populace decided that the nerds you hung out with on a daily basis were the most likely to bag you before graduation. But you made sure to prove all of their bets wrong.

"You're not just some guy.” You cradled the back of his head in your hands, combing your fingers through his long, fluffy hair, “Besides, you're my guy." Your words were pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He was flabbergasted that he hadn't cum yet. Not even when your hand went down to start undoing his khaki pants. But, fuck, his end was too close for comfort.

"Wait, I'm gonna cum." He stopped you quickly.

"Already?" This was so wickedly delightful. "I haven't even done anything."

"I know. But I haven't ever..." He trailed off. Despite you being not even an inch away from his dick, he wasn't quite sure how to tell you he hadn't had sex. Luckily, he didn't have to explain it.

You stopped dead in your tracks. "You're a virgin? I thought you lost it on prom night?"

"Oh, uhhh...no..." That was the second most embarrassing night of his life. April had told him he was cute. So of course he'd taken her home. Before now, that was the most attention he'd ever gotten from a girl. 

But when they actually got inside, it took about twenty seconds into her giving him a hand job before he came. April explained that it was natural, especially for a guy so new to the whole game. And while he appreciated her reassuring personality, he was so crushed that it killed any arousal he'd had left in him. He didn't think he'd be a sex god, but with how often he jerked off he thought he'd be able to last longer than that.

Aside from all of that, you had looked so gorgeous that night in your glittery, floor length prom dress. The excessive eyeliner lining your waterline and eyelid was a little intense but quickly became more sultry when you were standing under the dim lights of the high school halls. He even found himself swooning when you kept tripping over your heels. It gave him an excuse to keep his palm on your hip the majority of the night. He concluded that night that that was as far as things would ever go. You'd both go off to college together and find different people and any idea of being with you would be long gone. But there you both were, at the precipice of a new chapter of your relationship.

"You're a virgin too, right?" he asked suddenly, sure that you would say yes and quell his nerves.

"Not exactly," You pursed your glossy lips.

"Shit, really?" You were pretty, yeah, and any guy would be stupid to not want you. But Tim hadn't expected you to have gotten around so quickly. Part of him still saw you as the girl who would shy away from allusions to sexuality.

You rolled your eyes. "It didn't really mean anything. Like my first few times were with Jason from Intro to Philosophy. But he never made me...finish?" Those had been disappointing times. You’d spent all of high school telling yourself you’d wait until college before letting a guy touch you. You were confident for some reason that college guys would be so much more mature about sex than any of your high school classmates. By now, you knew that you were very wrong.

Tim vaguely remembered you talking about a cute guy with that name. He'd been insanely jealous but had ignored the ugly feeling, convinced that nothing would come of your comments about him. You'd never pursued a guy like that before so why would you now? He wouldn't have guessed that the few nights you'd skipped out on movie night had been because Jason had been failing to make you cum. But of course Jason was just a clueless meathead who didn't think about your pleasure.

"I can try to make you finish." He said quickly, trying not to trip over the proposal.

"Tim, if it's gonna be your first time then I doubt you're going to make me-"

"I want to try. If I don't try, what kind of guy does that make me?"

You admired his sense of chivalry. What would be the harm in trying?

With your gentle, encouraging smile, Tim felt confident enough to let you keep undressing him. Butt naked on his own couch, he had never been more grateful that his roommates were party guys. There was no chance they'd be walking in on this. More exposed than ever, he was rock solid, cock bobbing against his abdomen.

The sight of him had your stomach doing backflips. You were so glad that this was his debut for you. His face had been covered in the tape. His throbbing cock paired much better with you being able to see his ruined expression, swollen lips parted in preparation. You grabbed a condom from your bag on the floor and ripped it open quickly. Tim was over the moon that it was you putting the condom on him this time.

When you pulled your panties aside and lowered onto him, the startling stretch made you hiss through your gritted teeth. You were sure he could split you in half just sitting there. Tim was right there with you, buried completely inside you, surrounded by your slick, silky walls. He wanted to move so badly but he knew he had to wait for you. You bounced once, testing the waters, your tits moving with you. When you landed again, you had to hold on tight to his button up shirt, still hanging off his shoulders.

Tim couldn't stay put, his hips were bucking up sloppily, thrusting impossibly deeper up into you. You got the hint and began to match his pace. You also came to learn very quickly that Tim was loud. He muttered a string of curses between low groans that bubbled in his throat. When the two of you were moving in harmony, he was seeing stars. For all of ten seconds after that, Tim was euphoric. Sweat dripped down his forehead under his bangs and it was just beginning to form on his upper lip too. Before he knew it, his climax culminated in a massive shudder of pleasure that coursed throughout his whole body, making him hold onto your hips for dear life. The last of his energy was spent cumming inside of you.

As soon as he went still, the arousal that had been building in your abdomen withered away. You couldn't say you were disappointed in him. If anything, it made you kind of proud of yourself. After a few seconds of listening to him groaning, coming down from the high, you dismounted him and dropped back on the couch next to him. Your skirt had ridden up during the experience so you adjusted it and rested your head on his bare shoulder, a small smirk playing on your face.

"That was fucking great." He breathed out.

"I'm glad." You looked up at the side of his face and placed a quaint, loving kiss on his freckled shoulder.

He was silent for a little while longer until he looked over at you, "You came, right?"

You giggled, "No, silly. But it's fine, I didn't expect you to make me come our first time."

Tim shook his head quickly, "No, it's not fine. It's not." He wanted to be good at this. 

Theoretically, he had all the equipment needed to get the job done. His technique was...less than ideal. He didn't want to be like that flake, Jason, leaving you all high and dry. 

"Hey, you don't need to beat yourself up." You said reassuringly and massaged his shoulder. You were leaning down to pick up your discarded shirt when Tim started to kiss up your shoulder to the back of your neck.

"Put that down," He spoke huskily, taking the shirt from your hands, "You don't need that yet."

You reclined back and Tim refocused his attention to your collarbone, "What are you doing?" You asked breathily. His hands roamed greedily up your sides, feeling up every inch that he possibly could.

"I said I wanted to make you cum." He whispered into the crook of your neck, "I just might need your help doing that, though." As assertive as he sounded, you detected his lack of experience and the nerves behind the words.

"Okay," You replied quietly. 

Tim adjusted so his back was against the arm of the couch. He nodded towards your bottom half, "Can you take those off for me?" So you stood, sliding your panties and skirt down in one slow motion, the garments pooling on the carpet as you stared into his eyes. Tim just stared and swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.

When you were done, he was motioning for you to sit between his legs. You followed his directions. Half hard again, you felt him press against your back. The sensation made you shiver a little. His mouth was giving light kisses on your shoulder and his long hair tickled the back of your neck.

"So, what do you want me to do?" He asked earnestly. He hoped that in your sexually active months on campus, you'd already discovered what you liked because he sure as hell didn't know what he was doing.

You thought back to his hand pressed against your heat and how divine his fingers had felt down there and blurted out, "Your hand. I want you to use your fingers” And then quickly tacked on, “Please."

He brought his hand around to your front, taking his time running his fingers down your abdomen until they were hovering over your cunt. You were on edge, just waiting for him to work some sort of magic on you. But you had to stay patient. You had to show him the ropes a bit. He was a novice in this area. So you placed your hand on top of his again, eager to be his guide to bringing you to your peak. You brought him to your folds, made him drag his fingers across them. 

You stopped right at the nub near the top, "Do you know what that is?" You asked faintly through a gasp.

Through his own volition, he flicked a fingertip over the bundle of nerves with the tips of his fingers, making you twitch a little in his arms. Making that sex ed tape had taught him just enough. 

"The clitoris?" He answered, all too happy knowing that he was right. He felt you nod against his shoulder.

"Then that means..." He trailed off and separated from your grasp, bringing his fingers back to your folds. He slipped one between them, covering it in your slick. The muscles in your cunt quivered, looking to clench around something substantial. Before any arousal could blossom there, he pulled his finger out and looked at the digit, glistening in the light.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he said under his breath with the smallest smile forming across his face.

Your frustrated voice broke his fascination. "Tim, baby, I know you're having fun right now but I really need you to do something now." The desperation dripping from the sentence made him more proud of himself than apologetic.

"Oh, yeah, shit. Sorry." He muttered. You managed a little giggle despite how exasperated he was making you. It was kind of cute, especially when you compared it to your other sexual encounters. He was such a dork. But he's your dork now.

You couldn't have imagined his long, thin fingers feeling so comforting. You hummed contently as you felt the flame deep within you begin to grow. When he got two fingers in, it wasn't quite as filling as his impressive length. But it would still work. As long as he kept pumping steadily the way he was, you had a one way ticket to cumming all over his fingers.

"Faster, please," You requested, your hips bucked into his movements, trying to get him deeper as his fingers barely brushed against your g-spot. He willingly obliged, quickening his pace, taking your whines to mean he was doing something right. But he still felt something was missing. He swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn't fuck up his rhythm as he took his thumb and started to rub rough circles around your clit. To his surprise, the contact made you throw your head back onto his shoulder and arch against his chest.

You gasped, "Oh, Klitzy, fuck, right there," For years you'd refused to call him by his last name like all his friends did. At one point, the nickname left you feeling uneasy, almost a mockery of how you felt about him. But now it seemed fitting. After all, that was the spot he was hitting with his thumb right then.

A shameless grin had formed on Tim’s flushed face as you sputtered bits of praise and curses at him. He was sure you were close when your voice broke. Never in all his life did he think he could have this sort of effect on someone. But, god, it left him knowing that it was you in his lap.

Your impending orgasm had your vision going white and fuzzy at the edges. You clenched your jaw, working through the intense impact that had your hips spasming against Tim’s thighs. You loved him. As you let out a final cry, you realized it fully.

All Tim could think about was how much he was enjoying all this. The scent of your perfume on your neck and sweat forming on your heated figure. The sight of your mouth gaping open, unable to hold back the strangled sounds of your pleasure. The filthy sound of his fingers moving in and out with that undeniable squelch. The feeling of your legs jittering against his and your cunt squeezing around his fingers as you released all the pent up friction. He would gladly do this all day if you would let him.

He slowly worked you through the aftershocks of your climax by languidly massaging your slit with his slick fingers. You were humming quietly, now sunken into the lazy tranquility of Tim's presence, occasionally jolting when he stimulated you too much. You felt boneless in his arms. This was paradise, you were convinced.

"Did I do good?" The question was quiet but brimming with delight in your ear. Like he knew the answer but was hesitant to let himself believe it.

You tipped your head a little further, realizing how much you'd slunk down in his grasp. "You've got to be kidding me." You exhaled heavily and shook your head.

"What?"

"You just want me to say you did good?" Your nose scrunched up.

"It would be nice to hear." He said hopefully.

You turned around to face him, resting shakily on your knees. "Tim, you did better than I ever could've imagined."

"Your imagination must be pretty boring then." He snickered.

"You idiot, just take the compliment." You cupped his cheeks with your hands and kissed him tenderly before he could give another smart ass response.

"Sorry I couldn't make you cum the first time." He apologized when you parted from him.

You simply laughed and bit your lip teasingly. "Maybe next time, Meat Rocket 3000."

#danonation #paul dano #timothy klitz #timothy klitz x reader #klitz x reader #the girl next door #klitz smut #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

[andtosaturn]

“Whenever I gaze up at the moon, I feel like I’m on a time machine. I am back to that precious pinpoint of time, standing on the foreboding – yet beautiful – Sea of Tranquillity. I could see our shining blue planet Earth poised in the darkness of space.” – Buzz Aldrin

50th anniversary of the first moon landing (21st july, 1969)

#this is gonna flop but let me be a space nerd for ONE DAY #moon landing #apollo 11 #space #nasa #lunar landing #science #idk how to tag this #* #*gifs

[willsimpforanyone]

Hey there! Hope you are having a great day!🙂 could u please write a Percabeth fic with badgirl!Annabeth and kind of Nerdy!Percy? Perhaps in 🛏 Percy flips the tables where he is SUPER dominant and he uses Annabeth’s kinks against her? Sorry if that’s 2 specific!

ooo an au and a smut? i'll do my best!

sidenote- i'm such a sucker for pet names so 'doll', 'darlin'' and 'babygirl' are gonna make frequent appearances

i don't think there are any warning needed

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

"Annabeth, please, I need to concentrate." Percy frowned at the papers in front of him, puzzling over the maths. Annabeth sighed, flopping on the bed, her black leather jacket creaking as she threw her hands behind her head.

"I'm bored, Seaweed Brain," she lightly kicked the back of his chair with a boot. "And you've been staring at the same problem for twenty minutes so clearly you are too." Annabeth leaned up on her forearms, blonde twists tucked behind her ear. "What, I'm not as interesting as marine biology?"

Percy chuckled, but his eyes stayed fixed on the paper. "You're plenty interesting, but right now I really need to figure this out, okay?"

Annabeth sat up properly. "Can I help?"

"You're a genius at architecture and ancient Greek, babe, but marine biology has unfortunately never been a hyperfixation of yours." Percy noted something down on the paper and Annabeth's heart fluttered at the petname. It wasn't often that her boyfriend called her anything other than 'Annabeth', 'Annie', 'Beth' or 'Wise Girl'.

The leather jacket was shrugged off and Annabeth was left in black ripped jeans and a tank top, sleeves dipping to her hipbones. "Perce, you gotta relax," she stood behind his chair and rested her hands on his shoulders. Her lips touched his ear as she leant down. "I know, for a fact, I can help with that."

Percy reached up and lightly stroked her cheek, but returned his attention to his damn work. "I'm serious, Beth, I have to finish this by tomorrow."

Eyes rolling, Annabeth threw herself back on the bed. Clearly, being subtle wasn't working. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Honey, I'm bored, and I want attention. Specifically your attention." She fixed her eyes on the back of his head. "I want it now, Percy. Get over here."

There was a tense pause. Percy's pencil stopped scratching across the page.

He sighed.

"You're so demanding."

...that was a different tone than Annabeth was used to.

It didn't matter, she was ready to be in control. Percy silently got up from the desk and neatly tucked his chair in, picking up Annabeth's leather jacket from the bed and placing it on the back of the chair. Annabeth made to stand up from the bed, but Percy's hand pushed her back down.

"No, you wanted my attention, right?"

Annabeth paused. This was different. "...yes"

"Then strip."

Percy's voice was deep, commanding, and Annabeth shifted slightly on the bed. "What?"

He placed his hands either side of her thighs, eyes focused on hers. "I don't think I need to repeat myself, baby, do you?"

Oh fuck. Annabeth was so screwed.

Percy backed away, arms folded and giving her space. She stood, uncomfortably aware of her slightly shaky legs, and somewhat inelegantly kicked off her boots. No reaction. She shimmied out of her jeans and tossed them on the floor. No reaction. She pulled off her shirt and tossed that too. About to pull off her bralette, Percy held up his hand to stop her.

"Sit up on the bed."

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Since when did you start giving me orders?" She loved this new side, but oh boy was she gonna make him work for it.

The dark smile on Percy's face sent electricity through Annabeth's body. "Since when did you start obeying them, darlin'?"

He moved forward, so close they were almost chest to chest. "Now, be a doll, and sit on the bed. Leaning against the headboard, if you'd be so kind."

Annabeth moved onto the bed almost before realising it. Her breath caught in her throat as Percy grabbed his shirt and pulled it off, revealing toned, lean muscles.

Percy's eyes were dark, a shadowy green that pierced into Annabeth's smoky greys as he knelt on the bed, lowering his head to press kisses down Annabeth's thighs.

Shaky breaths left Annabeth as he kissed closer and closer to the line of her underwear. He winked as he nipped at her skin, pulling a gasp from her. "What, no retort? No witty comeback, Wise Girl?"

"Fuck o-" Annabeth choked on her words as Percy licked a stripe up her clothed pussy.

"That's what I thought," he whispered and leaned up, taking the material between his teeth and dragging it down, lifting her hips to pull the underwear down her legs and throw them across the floor.

Annabeth's head was whirling. Her sweet nerd had a whole other side to him and she felt out of her depth in the best way.

She slapped a hand across her mouth as Percy flicked and writhed his tongue, stifling the moans that threatened to spill out. A sharp slap to the outside of her thigh jolted her body, and she looked down to see Percy glaring at her.

"Don't you dare."

He dove back in and Annabeth's back arched, hands fisted in the sheets as her eyes squeezed shut and moans filled the room. Percy trailed his fingers so slowly across her skin she almost screamed when he plunged them into her, the new sensation lighting her on fire.

"Perce, fuck, more!"

Immediately, Percy pulled away, leaving his girlfriend panting and whining. "I don't think you're in the position to make demands, babygirl."

Annabeth pouted. "What? You just stopped, why?"

"You demanded attention like a brat," Percy shrugged, sitting back on his heels. "And now I'm giving it to you, you think you deserve more?"

A shiver ran down her spine as Annabeth registered the tone and the fact that her sweet, usually submissive boyfriend just called her a brat.

"Tell you what," Percy trailed a finger down her stomach. "If you ask nicely, and be a good girl for me, I'll give you what you want." He smirked. "Sound good?"

Annabeth tried her hardest to not instantly say yes, to retain some of her dignity. She was the tough one, the one everyone knew not to fuck with, and now she was on the verge of begging her boyfriend to fuck her.

She nodded.

"That's my girl." Percy beckoned her to sit up and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into a fierce kiss. His lips were a soft contrast to his behaviour, and she smiled into the kiss.

All too soon, Percy pulled away, but kept his hand on her neck. "Now, darlin', ask me for what you want."

She swallowed any uncertainty. "I want you... I want you to fuck me."

Percy shook his head. "That sounds like a demand, babygirl. Try again."

The fucker wanted her to beg.

"...please, Percy, please fuck me, I'll be good, I promise!"

The dark smile that spread over his face settled a pleasantly tight feeling in Annabeth's lower stomach. Percy pushed her back so she laid on the bed, and he kicked off his jeans and underwear. "That's much better, darlin'." He reached into the drawer by the bed and withdrew a condom, tearing open the packet and rolling the latex onto his cock. He slid back in between her legs, head dipping into the crook of her neck. Annabeth pushed against Percy's hips as his lips made contact with her skin, and both moaned at the friction.

"You're so gorgeous, baby." Percy nipped at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake.

"Perce, please, stop teasing me," Annabeth looped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a sloppy kiss, pressing her body up against his. "I asked nicely, please, plea-"

Annabeth cried out and threw her head back as Percy thrust into her. He kept an unrelenting pace, and it was all she could do to hold onto him.

"This what you wanted, huh?" Percy's heavy breath was on her neck, his voice directly in her ear. "You wanted my attention, you finally got it, right?" Annabeth didn't answer, eyes closed and mind clouded with lust and pleasure. Percy slapped her thigh, snapping his hips into her hard. "Answer me, babygirl."

Annabeth shrieked. "Yes! Yes, this is what I wanted, Percy, thank you baby, I got what I wanted!"

Percy chuckled lowly into her neck. "That's my girl."

He sped up the pace, hitting that spot inside her that had her toes curling, stomach clenching, nails digging into his shoulders. "I-I'm so close Perce, don't stop, please please please don't stop-"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Wise Girl." Percy kept his movements consistent, only dragging a hand down Annabeth's body to rub circles in her clit.

Annabeth came with a scream, eyes squeezed shut and legs wrapped around her boyfriend's hips. Percy groaned deeply, reverberating in his chest as he spilled inside the condom, stilling his motions inside of her.

His arms shook with the effort to not collapse on top of her, and he gently pulled out of her. Shifting to the side of the bed, he let himself fall on the bed next to her. Removing the condom and tying off the end, he threw it expertly in the bin.

"Baby, that was just a whole new side of you, huh?" Annabeth smiled.

Percy blushed red, a stark contrast to just a few minutes ago. "Did you like it?"

She brushed his hair behind his ear. "It was new, but I did like it." She poked his shoulder. "My cute nerd has a dominant side, who knew?"

Percy grinned, and pecked her cheek. "Can I go back to my paper now, brat?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but smiled and shoved him off the bed. "Get back to it, Seaweed Brain."

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

i very much hope you enjoyed! this took me forever to write bc executive dysfunction is a bitch but thank you so much for requesting!

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackson imagine #annabeth chase imagine #percy x annabeth #percabeth #percabeth imagine #percabeth smut #percy jackson smut #annabeth chase smut #pjo

[hxseok-honee]

sundress || part 8

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 8] || weirdly normal

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : ['cause you're a one in a million // there ain't no man like you] streets x doja cat

taglist [open] :

@deepseavibez @thetrueghostqueen @reddeathraven @dingzerenistall @skyrro @unadulteratedlyunique @ramyagovindraj @itismochirice @wwhseokjin @drpepperobsessed @monamone @thekookiecorner @army-moa75 @burningupp-replies @lele-bb @pb-n-juju @red-kebab @heonsbebe @peachyyoongs @superloverpielamp @marifujioka @butterflylion @heyitsgigi @lochness-butmakeitsexy @miki-chi @cahowlkook @worshiphoseok @lilacdreams-00 @bongsbeforebibles @miriamxsworld @oasiswithmyg @peonyplace @annewrighthglc @calling-dips-on-j-hope @yoongiofmine @loveyoongles @instantspot @missmadwoman @x-xjaeminx-x @luvtaeha @vanillxangxl @renhold-nightspear @taeshuworld @lvrseok @supahumbreon

Saturday, 18 September, 4:33pm

“Sex?”

“No sex.”

“Not even a little bit of sex?! Just like, once a week!” Y/n lifts her head to level Yoongi with a glare, one that has him shrinking back and whispering ‘okay, no sex’. With a shake of her head, she’s dipping her head again, focusing in on the roll of parchment in her lap.

They’re sitting face to face on her bed, each holding some parchment and a quill as they try to ‘negotiate fair terms for their arrangement’, as Y/n had put it when Yoongi had complained about not needing rules.

Y/n’s making the final list of rules on her own parchment, Yoongi tearing off scraps of his and submitting suggestions, most of them sexual in nature. There’s a pile of rejects next to him, but he’s yet to lose hope. Ripping off another piece of paper, he scribbles ‘blowjobs?’ quickly and folds it in half, handing it over to her with a smile. She doesn’t even look up or open it, immediately crumpling it and throwing it back at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

Blinking once, he tears off another piece, unfazed - this one says ‘so no head?’. Somehow that one also hits him between the eyes.

“Okay — what do you think?” Y/n sits up straight with a smile, offering Yoongi her draft of the Rules List. He looks it over, eyebrows raised.

No sex!!

Romantic affection is to be kept to public situations as much as possible.

Saturday Night Routine is to remain untouched and untainted.

Min Yoongi must keep his scumminess to a minimum in private.

He finishes reading before looking up, eyes deadpan.

“You are so fucking boring.” Y/n scoffs, reaching out to take the parchment back, but he’s holding it above his head, grabbing for his quill. Quickly he scribbles a fifth rule, one that says “MAKE JEON JUNGKOOK SUFFER” in his chicken scratch. And then he looks up at her, another thought on his mind.

“We should have practice sessions.” Y/n furrows a brow, eyeing him with suspicion.

“What does that mean, and why do I already not like it?” He taps a finger on Rule #2, underlining the words ‘public situations’ lightly with his quill.

“We’re gonna be doing most of this stuff in public, so you’re gonna have to get used to getting freaky with me in public spaces. Library, broom closets, empty corridors and classrooms — that’s what I’m known for.” He looks almost proud when he says it, and Y/n can’t help her amused smile even as she shakes her head in disappointment.

“How are you so fundamentally gross as a person?” He grins back because she’s clearly fond of him, so he feels no shame in how he is, only explaining further.

“If the entirety of Hogwarts is gonna believe I’m taken and off the market, you’re gonna have to keep up with me, babe.” Y/n rolls her eyes, knowing he’s right despite not wanting to admit that. If Yoongi’s putting in the work to make it seem like he’s committed to her, she should at least meet him halfway. And Min Yoongi is a lot of things, but being a total sex fiend is what most people know him to be. She is gonna have to keep up.

“You realize it’s obvious you’re just trying to find somewhere to let out all your sexual frustration, right?” He doesn’t respond, only lifting an eyebrow, silently asking if she’s okay with that. After a moment, she’s sighing, pointing down at the list in his lap.

“Alright, fine. But we need rules for that, too.” He groans, throwing himself backwards onto her mattress dramatically.

“Why do you enjoy ruining every good thing in my life?” When she kicks at his thigh, he’s rolling over onto his stomach, flattening the parchment out in front of him so he can write the word ‘Sessions’, underlining it quickly. And then he looks at her.

“What are you comfortable doing?” She purses her lips, a smile dancing there, because she notices that he doesn’t make it about him and what he is and isn’t allowed to do. He makes it about her and respecting her boundaries. And she knows, by the way he’s tilting his head in confusion when she only smiles down at him, that he has no idea that he’s made that distinction. If he were anyone else, she’d be incredibly attracted to him right now.

But he is him. So she’s blinking that thought away, humming as she considers his question.

“Nothing below the belt…” He nods, writing as she speaks.

“Can I touch your butt?” When she lets out a noise of confusion, he’s looking up at her again. “Like, hand in your pocket while we walk, ass grabbing— that stuff.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. She nods after a moment, not seeing the harm in him doing that. “Sure? Not my boobs, though.”

Immediately, he’s flopping backwards onto the bed again, whininess coating his voice when he complains.

“But I already felt everything in the shower! What’s the difference—Ow! Okay!” She’s pushed her feet up against his torso, kicking at him aggressively until he’s rolled away to where she can’t reach him. And then he’s pouting, making grabby hands at her for emphasis while he continues, at a distance now where he can complain safely.

“You know I’d pick tits over ass any day! You’re just doing this to hurt me.” Y/n only smiles mockingly, reaching out to tap a finger on the paper.

“Don’t forget to write ‘no boobs’ there, too!” Yoongi grimaces, rolling back toward her and picking up his quill, angrily scratching the words into the parchment.

“Okay, anything else?” He’d made a big fuss about not being able to touch her boobs, but he’s already over it, and — again — Y/n finds herself full of adoration that Yoongi will never push her boundaries, already having accepted them even when he was complaining about them.

You’re just all bark and no bite, aren’t you?

“Actually, I do bite. I like biting. Why do you ask?” Fighting the urge to smack the palm of her hand to her forehead at the realization that she’d said that aloud, Y/n shakes her head at Yoongi, who seems innocently confused. He shrugs when she doesn’t explain, his eyes lighting up when he thinks of something.

“We should do kinks.” Y/n rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not—"

“Why not?! We’re gonna figure out what we like eventually if we’re doing these practice sessions, so why not talk about it?” He looks childishly enraged, his pout returning. She only laughs at him, shaking her head.

“Because we’re not doing anything sexual, so what’s the point?” He sighs, sitting up and facing her, crossing his legs as he goes.

“Kinks don’t have to be sexual, you big nerd. It’s not about the sex — it’s about the trust.” Y/n blinks, not having expected him to say something so serious.

“Okay… but if it’s about the trust, how are you acting on all your kinks with the other people? You don’t really know them.” He smiles softly, shaking his head.

“I usually don’t, actually. I just do whatever they want.” Y/n gapes at him, unable to believe that Yoongi had been holding back this whole time.

“So, if someone’s into choking—"

“It’s up to them if they want to trust me to do that for them. Obviously, I’d never go too far, but everyone’s trust thresholds are different. Mine’s just really high, so I always made it about them instead.” He shrugs while he says it, as if they’re talking about what he’d had for lunch and not the surprising weight he puts on trust in sexual situations.

“And you wanna explore that stuff now? With me? We’re not even together.” He tilts his head in confusion again.

“Yeah? There’s no one I trust more than you.” Y/n thinks her head might actually start spinning, because Min Yoongi’s brain is just not wired the same as hers. His ability to be both incredibly simple about his life outlook and shockingly nuanced about the inner workings of his mind — he’s more than just confident and sure of himself. He’s completely self-aware. It’s not the first time she’s been stupidly fond of him, but right now, she thinks he’s amazing.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n blinks, realizing she’s just been staring at him that entire time. She shakes her head, slightly dazed, not even noticing that Yoongi’s looking at her with suspicious eyes. Pointing back to the list, she clears her throat awkwardly.

“Yeah, sure, kinks. But — I’m not telling you shit, it’s embarrassing. Figure it out yourself.” Eyebrows flying to his hairline, Yoongi reaches for the quill slowly, uncertainly.

“For real? You’re down?” She nods, trying to move on already, but Yoongi’s not letting it go, even as he writes it down. “Like… a game, then? We just test shit and see how we react? Because I already know you like having your hair pulled—“

“Oh my— Yoongi!” He snickers at her embarrassment, shaking his head. She has no reason to be shy, he thinks to himself. I’m the last person she has to worry about.

“So…” He glances up at her from where he lies, his eyes full of mischief. Y/n eyes him suspiciously, because he’s definitely about to say something stupid.

“Should we start now, then?” Lifting himself up onto all fours, he starts to crawl over to her, a smirk dancing on the edges of his lips — one that’s hidden quickly by the hand Y/n’s planting on his face, stopping him from coming any closer.

“Get out of my room, Yoongi.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Redirecting, Yoongi heads for the edge of the bed, sliding his sneakers on before standing. “I’ll be back in a couple hours—“ Turning, he cuts himself off, leaning down into Y/n’s face and smiling fondly when she backs away, rightfully wary of him.

“Kiss, please.” She’s immediately glaring, and he’s pointing down at the list on her bed, affronted. “You said Saturday Night Routine has to remain untouched — I still have like 2 hours until then. Kiss, please.”

With an irritated sigh, Y/n leans up, cupping Yoongi’s face and pressing her lips gently to his. Even knowing he’s probably got something up his sleeve, she’s unprepared for him to nibble at her bottom lip, trying to deepen the kiss. Pulling away quickly, she’s smacking at his arm indignantly, glaring when he laughs openly, his shoulders shaking as he does. He leans down quickly, pressing one last kiss to her lips before ducking out of the way of her swinging fist, chuckling to himself as he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

“Don’t forget to choose something for us to watch while I pick up our food, okay? I’m not tryna let my dinner get cold because you’re indecisive.”

“That only happened once!” He shoots her a grin over his shoulder as he’s pulling her door open, his eyes amused.

“Love you!” Y/n rolls her eyes at the sing-song way he says it, responding with an annoyed ‘yeah, love you too’ as he’s closing the door behind him. She sits on her bed in silence for a few moments, vaguely disgruntled as she looks down at their list of rules and thinks about that entire conversation.

That was… weirdly normal.

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts texts #bts hogwarts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi texts

[clairenatural]

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

#destiel #deancas #punk!cas #nerd!dean #i didnt know how to end this lmao sorry!!!! #(also ik this isn't quite as punk as the typical punk!cas im sorry sadhakdsh) #but wow i love these two now #this took me back its been a WHILE since i read/wrote some good punk/nerd #thank u anon #they live in my brain now #my words #follower fics #alcohol mention

[spideyspeaches]

Inconveniences ↬ p.p

AN: This is a reupload from my old account!

An entry for @geminiparkers’s 1k writing challenge!

Pairing- College!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex :)

Wc: 1.7k

Masterlist || Taglist

1.

You didn’t understand what people saw in the Avengers. They were annoying and had no concept of personal space.

Or maybe those were just your thoughts. You’ve been living with them ever since quarantine started, finally able to convince your parents that you were capable of living alone, you were an avenger, after all. Well you weren’t really living alone, as the people in question along with your boyfriend, Spider-Man lived with you.

Never were you ever glad that May Parker, the angel, had allowed you two to stay together (without much embarrassment).

Back to the point where you got no privacy. For example:

“Peterrrr” you whined, elongating his name to get his attention. You had been horny all day long, craving some semblance of touch from your extremely sweet, hot, amazing, beautiful boyfriend.

He hummed, not even looking up from the laptop he was typing on. He was laying on his side, so you tried to shimmy yourself between the little space on the couch and him, only to grunt when he wouldn’t move.

So you tried something else, because fuck the Avengers you wanted a dick now.

“Petey petey pie,” you whispered, tracing his abs from under his t-shirt. You knew your trick would work, because you could feel them clench.

“Y/N, not here sweetheart.” He muttered, holding your hand while he continued to ignore you.

Pouting, you huffed and flopped back as much as you could.

“You promised you would be free tonight! Gah you’re such a nerd!” You whined, rolling your eyes when you saw Nat entered the living room.

At first she ignored you both, sipping at her milkshake and walking towards the kitchen.

“You chose me and not Harry remember? Thought you were into nerds not gonna lie.” He smirked, his voice low, the kind that had you clenching without a thought.

“And? Are you questioning my choices? Come on Petey you can do your homework later.” You said.

You climbed on top of him, your foot purposefully catching his dick. By now you were practically on his chest , tracing circles around his nipples.

Smirking, you continued to pepper his exposed neck with featherlight kisses, making sure to moan every now and then.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He clenched his jaw, huffing to show that your kisses were not affecting him.

“Well you’re being a party pooper, so I’m having mine.” You muttered, voice muffled as you slid your hands inside his t-shirt, scratching your fingers against his chest.

Grunting, he gently pushed you off, sitting up with his laptop on his legs, “Y/N this is important."

Mouth open now, you puffed your cheeks, folding your hands on your chest.

"Can you believe this dude?!” You shouted, looking at Nat while pointing at your smirking boyfriend, “he chooses homework over sex!”

***

2.

Sipping at your drink, you smiled at the scene in front of you. It was almost half a year under quarantine, and Tony had finally agreed to host a party, albeit an internal one with only the Avengers, and May, now that she was out of duty from the hospital.

“How’re you feeling babe?” Peter appeared, wrapping his hands around your stomach, resting his nose on the crook of your neck.

Sighing, you leaned onto his head, enjoying the way he kissed your neck, caressing your waist with his thumbs.

“I’m good, things are getting normal again, if only the president caught the virus, this country would be a much better place.” You snorted, feeling your back vibrate as he laughed.

“You hate him so much don’t you?” He said.

“He’s hate worthy.” You shrugged, turning around to wrap your hands around his neck, playing with the baby hair on the nape.

Leaning forward, you hummed against his lips, crading your hands through his hair as he pushed you into his chest, fingers playing with the hem of your pants.

“Someone’s gonna walk in on us.” You mutter against his mouth, moaning as his tongue attacks your lips, parting them hungrily.

Swaying with the loud music, you whimpered when he touched your waist, his fingers hot and leaving shocks, your pussy throbbing and gut coiling with anticipation.

Panting desperately, you pulled at his shirt, fingers scrunching in the material as he lifted you up, planting on the counter top as you wrapped your legs around his waist, effectively straddling him. Feeling his muscles rippling under the shirt, gave a throaty moan, huffing due to the lack of oxygen.

Sweat was already coating your foreheads, creating highlights on his cheekbones and reflecting off the lens of his glasses-

“Peter did you see my- Oh! Oh am I disturbing you? Why don’t you use the bedroom though, I don’t think Tony would like if you do it in the kitchen-"

"May! Oh my god-"

”-It’s okay honey, you’re not a teenager anymore-“

Falling off the counter top, you bit your lip, playing with the hem of your shirt, not meeting May’s eyes. You look at your blushing boyfriend, embarrassed at being caught making out in between a party.

"May, just go, please-”

“Um, sorry I was just leaving anyway, you know, I got work to do. Yeah. You both continue.” She smirked, nodding at you and sending a sly wink at you.

Shaking your head, you looked at Peter, twiddling your hands together.

“Sooo, wanna make out?” You ask.

“Yeah. Sure"

***

3.

The dishes clinked together, the noise echoing in the empty kitchen. Peter moved with agility, hands cleaning the dishes as he passed it to you who were putting them on the rack.

You saw him take a deep breath, biting your lips and gulping. You knew what was coming next.

Peter had always been protective of you, as a friend or as a girlfriend. He protected everyone who he loved.

"I’m sorry-"

"Save it. Take your meds and go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He grunted, nearly smashing the plates as you raised your eyebrows.

“Well be careful of the plates, they’re fragile.” You joked, heart beating fast as you contemplate his reaction.

“How are you so chill about all this?! You know you were reckless, and yet you do decide to not acknowledge the fact that you almost died!” He slammed his fist, nearly breaking the plate with his hand, a small piece did break, piercing his skin.

You jumped at his sudden aggression, your own anger building.

“I’m a big girl now Peter, I can take care of myself, I don’t need you to look out for me everytime I go out!” You snarled, curling your fist, “and you’re one to talk you hypocrite! You’re always so reckless during patrols, how is me getting blasted by a bomb in a fireproof suit, reckless when you get hit by bullets on a daily basis?"

"I stopped listening after you said you got blasted by a bomb, you’re not enhanced Y/N, how am I supposed to-”, he said voice cracking, “I love you okay? I can’t - I can’t lose you okay?"

Your chest ached at his hurt voice. Peter had lost a lot in his short life, his parents, his uncle, almost lost Tony. And now you felt bad about making him feel that way.

"I’m sorry Petey.” You said, taking his cheek in one hand, holding his suds filled hand in another, “You’re hurt."

He chuckled, looking at his hand where the broken plate had pierced it. Tony wouldn’t mind one broken plate, he was a billionaire after all.

"Yeah.” He said, sniffing and putting it under the faucet to get off any remaining blood. You watched in fascination as the wound closed up, not even leaving a scar behind as if you were watching a time lapse.

Rolling your eyes, you grinned mischievously, poking his chest with you fingers and snorting as he giggled, pulling you closer-

“Bucky! Give me back my cookie now or I swear to god-"

"Ughhh you guys do this purposely don’t you?” You groaned, glaring at Bucky and Sam as they stop in their tracks, looking at each other and smirking.

“We neither confirm nor deny your accusations.” Bucky said, plopping the cookie in his mouth and walking out of the kitchen as you bang your forehead against the table.

Why can’t people just let you be intimate with your boyfriend for one second?

***

+1

“Are you sure no one’s gonna walk in, Spider-Man?” You hummed against his lips, moving in slow motions as he caresses your bum.

“If they do, I’ll take care of it.” He rasps, squeezing your bottom and fingering the hem of your shirt shorts.

You were sitting in Peter’s bedroom after a full day of teasing him, because you were horny and desperate. Softly kneading your fingers through his hair, you whined at the feel of his bulge against your crotch, a wet feeling already seeping through those shorts.

Rubbing your hips faster against his, you huff, tracing his biceps and squeezing them occasionally as he moved down with his lips, slipping off your tank top.

“Thought you had super speed.” You grunted, urging him to go faster as he unclasped your bra before looking at you with a smirk, his eyes shining with mirth and lust.

“You were a bad girl today, teasing me every opportunity you got, it’s only fair if I get to do the same.” He said before squeezing your one boob and sucking on the other, a wet pop noise leaving his mouth every time he sucked on it.

Spreading your legs further, you shimmy out of your shorts, lifting Peter’s shirt up to get him out of it before he stopped you.

“Oh no, you’re not-” he started before the door opened with a bang.

“Did you guys-” before Tony could see anything, Peter produced his web-shooters and shot at the door, locking it for at least another two hours.

A muffled, “at least use protection!” Was heard from outside the door. Your face was burning with embarrassment, looking at Peter with an innocently terrified look on your face. He could hear your heart racing, and it was making him like, really hard.

“Now, where to begin.” He whispered, chills shooting up your spine, goosebumps appearing on your skin and the wet feeling intensifying between your thighs.

“Let me at least undress you.” You plead, lifting his t-shirt and unbuttoning his jeans simultaneously.

“No, you were a brat today, and brats don’t get a taste without punishment.” He smirked, flipping you so you hit the backrest, holding your arms up and…webbing You up against the headboard, “today I’m doing all the work."

And you didn’t mind it really. Like, at all.

#peter parker x stark!reader #college!peter parker #college!peter parker x stark!reader #college!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #spideygirl writes

[writersmorgue]

Nightmare Material

15+ for graphic descriptions of violence, blood, and gore

can be read as slash or platonic

not proofread

-

“SHUT UP DEKU! OH MY GOD, CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?!”

The common room goes silent.

“Woah, Bakubro, he just asked if you were busy,” Kirishima chuckles nervously.

Katsuki looks over to Deku who, as expected, already has tears welling in his eyes.

“Shitty crybaby, of course I’m busy can’t you fuckin’ see? Go bother someone who cares.”

Deku sniffles like the pathetic little child that he is, and nods, “Ok Kacchan.”

“Fuckin’ annoying ass-” Katsuki mutters, ignoring the glares as he stomps out of the room. Taking the stairs two at a time before slamming the door shut behind him, imagining the flinches of his classmates as he does so.

Fuck that fucking nerd, always looking down at him. Asking him for help on math of all things, when he fuckin’ knows that’s Katsuki’s worst subject. Fuck him.

The little shit shouldn’t even be here, he’s not on Katsuki’s level. Just gonna get himself killed.

After a few minutes of grumbling into his pillow, there’s a knock at Katsuki’s door, followed by a meek, “Blasty?”

He groans dramatically and flops over onto his back, propelling himself up with a few controlled explosions.

“Fuckin’ what-” He swings the door open and comes face to face with the entire idiot squad.

Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari all stand in front of him, Sero nervously wringing his hands, Kaminari avoiding eye contact, and Kirishima giving him a look.

Mina steps to the front of them, patting Kirishima’s shoulder as she does so.

“Blasty, you really gotta stop.” She stares him straight in the eyes, not backing down no matter how hard he glares.

“Stop fuckin’ what.”

Kirishima places a hand on Mina’s chest, stalling her step forward into Katsuki’s space. “You know what, Bakugo.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “Oh please, like the little shit can’t handle some yelling. I’ve seen discount hot topic make his ears bleed-”

“This isn’t about Jirou. This is about you. You need to sort your shit out.” Sero’s frowning, a rare sight.

“Oh?” Katsuki quirks an eyebrow, “Or what?”

There’s a tense silence before Kaminari sniffs. “Or- or we won’t be your friends anymore!!” He stutters, bottom lip wobbling.

The rest of the group nods, one by one giving him a last glance.

Katsuki stands there for a few minutes, mainly thinking, but also fuming

How dare they treat him like that, like trash. He’s not trash, and he’s not the bad guy. He’s just trying to save Deku before it’s too late. Stupid idiot won’t last a day in the hero business, even with his new freak quirk. All it’s good for is hurting the nerd.

“Stupid Deku and his stupid protection squad, fuckin’ blind idiots.” He grumbles, slamming the door and returning to his lair.

He changes his clothes, resigning himself to finishing his weekend at the gym instead of on next week’s homework.

Bakugo stomps through the common room on the way to their practice room, a few of his classmates shoot him glares but he’s ignored for the most part. Something noticeably purposeful since he’s not exactly being quiet. Even Kirishima refuses to acknowledge his presence.

Yeah, that hurts.

He runs for two hours, lifts for one, and finishes with core for thirty minutes before his post-workout cooldown ritual. Thoroughly satiated and tired to the bone, he heads back to his dorm. Ignored this way too, he doesn’t bother saying goodnight to anyone. Not that he would usually. Not that he misses Ashido’s “Night blasty!!” on his way up the stairs.

He doesn’t give a shit.

He scrubs at his body with his last bits of energy and brushes his teeth half dead on his feet. Exhausted, he flops down on his bed and passes out almost immediately.

…

Someone’s screaming.

Katsuki lunges toward Shigaraki, whose hand barely grazes Izuku’s neck.

Izuku? When did he ever call the nerd something other than-

“DEKU!!!” Oh, he was the one screaming. He blasts himself forward and pushes Izuku out of the way, his dusted skin flaking off into the breeze as green hair skids to a stop on the ground below.

“Damn BRAT-” Shigaraki mutters, angrily scrunching his hand in mid-air before turning his attention to Katsuki. “YOU.” He points a cracked, pointed finger at Katsuki.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it old man?” He snorts, preparing his arms to blast again, he can feel the resistance from his last jump.

“You saved the little shit,” Shigaraki mutters to himself, nails dragging roughly down his neck, “must have a relationship, must be close to my enemy. Must die-”

Katsuki raises his hand, palms crackling in defiance, but he’s geared to go anyway.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck goddamnit!” His one fucking chance to get a drop on the guy and he’s out of juice? Fucking really?!

He’s so caught up in his fury he doesn’t notice the mad glint in the enemy’s eye. The way he smiles brokenly, bloody tongue barely peeking out.

“Poor little hero.” He mutters.

Katsuki jerks his head up just in time to see five fingers inches away from his face.

Well, this was fun.

“KATSUKI-” There’s pressure on his side and he falls, belatedly realizing he was pushed out of the way.

He looks hits the ground hard, hearing the reverberated snap of his ankle as it breaks.

“FALL HERO!! FALL BEFORE ME! YOUR NEW GO-”

Shigaraki falls to the ground as Todoroki whacks him over the head with a piece of rebar.

HIs normally stoic expression is frantic, he’s got fresh tears streaking down his face, and his forehead is covered in dried blood.

He tears his eyes away from the downed villain as Kirishima comes to cuff him, and screams in anguish at the sight of Izuku- Something Katsuki is still trying to wrap his head around.

A startled, almost pained sound escapes Katsuki as he half limps, half runs towards his best friend.

...best friend?

“IZUKU!”

Izuku has long since crumbled to his knees, clutching what remains of the left side of his face. Still slowly crumbling away. Blood pours down his arm and neck, making it difficult to see, but the sight of his eye frantically widening as Katsuki sits next to him is enough.

He removes his hand and sobs, throwing himself onto Katsuki.

“Eih- hgo-” He chokes, blood soaking Katsuki’s own suit as he rocks them both.

“Shh, it’s okay, Izuku.” He whispers, making eye contact with a sobbing Todoroki, who nods in approval.

“Izuku you’re gonna be fine.” The shock has yet to remove itself from Katsuki’s voice, and his words are filled with cracks and sobs, but he hopes it’s what Izuku needs.

“Aa- aah” Izuku’s broken kacchan followed by a fresh flow of blood down Katuski’s neck.

“I love you, Izuku. It’s gonna be alright.”

Izuku whimpers, clutching onto the blond’s neck for dear life.

And then he goes limp.

Katsuki’s eyes bug out, and he pulls Izuku arm’s length away. The gruesome sight that greets him is one he’ll never forget.

Izuku’s left eye hangs loosely down the side of his mangled cheekbone and jaw. Katsuki can see teeth starting to crumble as the decay works its way through his face. His nose is completely exposed, with no flesh left. No cute freckles. No scrunch when he smiles. And his other eye, possibly the worst part, stares lifelessly at Katsuki. The last remnants of tears make their way down his face.

He looks… terrified.

He died scared in the arms of his abuser. Someone who never even apologized to him. For fucking anything. Some vile part of Katsuki reminds him.

He saved me because I couldn’t do my fucking job.

He thrusts Izuku’s lifeless body into Shouto’s arms, who lets out a heartwrenching sob. Katsuki scrambles back, and can vaguely register the sound of pink cheeks vomiting behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-” becoming increasingly more desperate with each utterance of the word, “FUCK!” Kirishima comes up behind him, picking him off the dust-covered ground and holding him to his chest. “This is all my fault!!!” He wails, “He fucking saved me, I couldn’t- this isn’t right no no NO-”

“Shhhh Katsuki-” Eijirou soothes him through his own tears, always the constant in Katsuki’s life. Well, after Deku.

Deku Deku Deku.

Dead Deku.

Because of you.

Katsuki takes another good look at Deku’s face where Shouto had freaked and discarded him on the ground. The unnatural bend of his arms, the bloody drool escaping his parted- if you can even call that a mouth anymore, his eyes.

And he screams.

He screams and he screams and he screams until someone shakes him so hard he wakes up.

Wait-

“BAKUGO!!! WAKE UP PLEASE-” Shitty hair screams at him, shaking his shoulders desperately as he thrashes in his sheets.

He stills, staring up at Kirishima with a shocked expression.

“Wh-”

“You were having a nightmare,” Kirishima explains, gasping for breath like he just ran a marathon.

Katsuki looks to the doorway where half of the boys in their class stand, expressions varying from worried to shocked.

He looks back at Kirishima, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat, “It- it wasn’t real?”

Katsuki looks to the door, half expecting to see Izuku there.

Missing an ear, you can see his tongue through his cheek.

Katsuki gulps, “Where’s Izuku?” He murmurs into the quiet room.

“Izuku?” Someone in the hallway mutters.

“Uh,” Kirishima catches himself before he can say something dumb, “Izu?- Uh- Midoriya is probably in his room. Didn’t think you’d want him here, but he knows. You kinda woke up the whole dorm.”

Kirishima has barely finished the sentence before he’s jumping out of bed, pajamas be damned, and sprinting toward the stairs. When he gets to Izuku’s floor he makes a hard right, Icyhot shouting something about being nice behind him.

Katsuki can yell at him later.

Running gives him time to think, and the more Katsuki thinks the more he realizes that his nightmare might as well have been a prophecy. Izuku would pull some martyr shit like that, but it was only Katsuki’s fault in the first place that he was put in that situation. He’s the only one to blame. Izuku had done everything right, and Katsuki managed to fuck it up.

Hollow socket, tendons hanging, blood turning his green suit a muddied brown.

Katsuki knocks on the door frantically, scared about what he’ll see when Izuku answers.

There’s some rustling from inside before Izuku peeks out, green curls messy from sleep.

“Wh- I thought Aoyama said you were having a nightmare.” His eyebrows furrow.

“I was,” Katsuki breathes, taking in how whole his rival is. “But it wasn’t real.”

He reaches out hesitantly and brushes an unruly lock of green out of Izuku’s left eye.

“Everything’s where it should be-” He chuckles almost in bewilderment.

He drags his fingers gently down Izuku’s cheek, tracing where the decay had rotted away skin, now whole.

A few of the classmates who followed him gasp in surprise when Katsuki clutches Izuku’s shoulders and buries his face in soft green hair. Completely breaking down as he sobs.

Izuku freezes, terrified of ruining the moment, even though he really wants to ask someone what the fuck is happening.

He gives Kirishima a questioning look as he hesitantly rubs along Katsuki’s back.

The redhead just shrugs.

“I’m sorry Izuku.”

Aaaand the damn breaks.

Izuku sobs as Katsuki clutches him tighter, their friends begin to awkwardly back out of the hallway after witnessing whatever that was.

“Wh- Kacchan?” He pulls away reluctantly, but he needs to see Katsuki’s face.

The blond’s eyes are red and puffy, same as his cheeks, but he’s dead serious.

“I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, you’re a really good guy.” He heaves in a breath, “And- I know you’ll be a great hero someday.”

“Kacchan… why?”

Katsuki looks away, “I just- thought about some things,” He doesn’t mention that the thinking involved seeing his classmate’s bloodied corpse, “realized how full of myself I am. You really did just want help on that math homework, huh?” He huffs, shaking his head at his past self.

“I did. What else would I have wanted?”

Katsuki sniffs, angrily rubbing at his eyes, “I don’t know, Izuku. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Izuku smiles sadly, “All I’ve ever wanted is to be your friend, Kacchan.

The blond nods, “Yeah, I think I see that now. Can- can we still do that? Be friends?”

Izuku beams, rubbing his own tears away and pulling Katsuki into another tight hug.

“There’s nothing I want more, Katsuki.”

#bakudeku #bkdk #platonic #romantic #krbk #kiribaku #eijirou kirishima #bnha #mha #bakugo katsuki #midoriya izuku #kacchan #deku #fic #my fic #crossposted on ao3 #tw body horror #shigaraki tomura #todoroki shouto #llyn writes shit #fanfic #bnha fanfic #nightmares #apologies #bkdk apology #not canon compliant

[gavin-plz-call-me]

Melted Ice Cream

TW: Internalized Acephobia, brief mentions of gender dysphoria and blood.

All Vincent wanted to do was cuddle on the couch with his boyfriends and watch a movie, but they had different plans. Them having sex without him leads Vincent to question his place in the relationship.

Fandom: Boyfriends (webcomic)

Use of Cannon Names: Prep-Vincent

Jock-Kevin

Nerd-Adrian

Goth-Felix

AO3

Words: 3K

The movie that Adrian had picked out was surprisingly really good. It was some cute slice-of-life anime movie that Vincent was sure would be a bit boring, not that he’d ever complain when he got to be in the arms of his boyfriends, but the characters were compelling and the storyline was phenomenal. Vincent was cuddled up next to Kevin, who held an arm around Vincent, drawing mindless circles against him as the four paid attention to the movie. This, Vincent decided, was the most perfect moment he had ever lived: watching a good movie and basking in the love of his boyfriends.

That didn’t last long.

It started off subtly enough, the couch moving slightly under Vincent as someone shifted their position, the quiet sound of a peck on a cheek. They were things that were so often just the background noise to Vincent’s life, that he could easily tune them out in favor of seeing if the girls in the movie would confess or not. Kevin’s arm slowly moved away from Vincent’s shoulder, he shuddered at the loss of warmth and finally looked up to see what was happening beyond the movie. Kevin’s retreated hand found its way to Vincent’s thigh, squeezing it firmly as he nibbled on Adrian’s ear. Adrian, who was currently making out with Felix, subtle moans already starting to form in his throat.

As appealing as the scene before him was, Vincent knew already that tonight was not the night he wanted to do this. All he wanted to do was cuddle up with his boyfriends and finish the movie, but they had other plans. Not wanting to impede their pleasure, Vincent resisted as Kevin tried to pull him off of the couch. “Not tonight guys,” He said, laying down on the couch, looking up at the men currently standing up, about to move to the bedroom, “I’m gonna finish the movie, you guys have fun.”

Kevin knelt down, his warm hand brushing the hair out of Vincent’s face, “Are you sure?” he asked, “‘Cuz if you’d rather, we can all finish the movie and-”

“No,” Vincent interrupted, he could already see the hard-on blooming in Kevin’s pants as he knelt down beside him, and Adrian’s face was already his signature shade of beet red as he gazed at Vincent too, they wouldn’t enjoy the movie now anyways, “go have fun, really.” Kevin gave Vincent’s face a good look for another few seconds before pressing a kiss to his forehead and disappearing into the bedroom with Felix and Adrian.

Vincent grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair, laying down on the couch. The heat from where the other three had been sitting moments ago was still there, but it was quickly fading. Vincent could finish movie night by himself, maybe get some cleaning done around the apartment, then, when his boyfriends were finished, he could cuddle up with them and fall asleep. That would be nice. The movie was getting better and better by the second, the girls having finally confessed, went on a date, which was currently being interrupted by one of their ex’s.

A loud moan of pleasure ripped through the apartment, covering up the audio to the pivotal scene. No one was louder than Adrian, that’s for sure, and while it was hot when he was participating, Vincent felt more like an annoyed neighbor than a loving boyfriend. He didn’t dare turn up the TV, though, he wouldn’t want even more noise complaints. The moans showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, so Vincent paused the movie, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door, locking it behind him. There was no way he’d be able to concentrate, let alone hear the rest of the movie, and with his relaxing night interrupted, he didn’t have the heart to clean. A nice drive would do him good. The blonde moved down the stairs of the apartment complex, into the parking garage, and clicked his key to remember just where he had parked. His car gave a satisfying beep that echoed through the enclosed space.

Vincent climbed into his convertible, whose roof was currently up, turned it on, and quickly made his way out of the garage and onto one of the main roads. Vincent rolled down his window, letting the wind fall softly across his face. None of the stations were playing anything that interested him, and Vincent didn’t feel like hooking up his own phone, so he turned it off, basking in the silence.

Silence rarely brings good things to a mind in crisis.

Bored, Vincent’s mind began to wander to his boyfriends. He hoped they were having a good time together, but it was hard to imagine any of those three could leave the others unsatisfied, so there wasn’t too much to worry about there. Did they miss him?

A sudden red light had Vincent slamming on the break, stopping his car, but not his thoughts. Did they miss him? Of course they did, the logical side of Vincent’s head said, but the more he thought about it, the more unsure he grew. They were probably having mind-blowing sex over at home, he probably handn’t appeared in their thoughts since the second they closed the bedroom door. Why would they? He wasn’t there providing them pleasure, he almost never was. For some reason, Vincent’s sex drive was just never as high as the others, he was always turning them down, day after day. It was only a matter of time before they stopped trying to include him, it was only a matter of time before they-

“MOVE IT ASSHOLE!” A scream accompanied by a cluster of honks brought Vincent back to; the light was green. Vincent slammed on the accelerator, taking off once again. He really shouldn’t be driving if he was going to keep getting distracted, so he signaled and turned into a parking lot, rolling his window back up. He leaned back in his seat, eyes gazing up at nothing in particular. Maybe he was broken. That had to be it. There was asexuality, but Vincent was sure that didn’t describe him. He liked sex, he wanted to have sex, at least every once in a while, and he thought his boyfriends were incredibly sexy, so what was the problem?

Tears began to sting in his eyes. The problem must lie within himself. They’d see that soon, wouldn’t they? He hoped to whatever gods were out there in the universe that they’d never see the problem, but Felix, Adrian, and Kevin were smart. They’d realize it eventually, and he… where would he fit in once they realized?

Tears free-flowed down his face now. Vincent didn’t bother trying to stop them, just letting himself silently cry. Thoughts swirled around his head, too frantically for Vincent to stop them. They clouded his mind as his tears clouded his vision. A sudden buzz of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts for a moment. He picked it up and was greeted by a picture of Felix flipping the camera off. Why was Felix calling him so soon? It was only...Vincent had been in the car much longer than he thought he had. Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose himself, Vincent picked up the phone.

“Vince, where are you?” Felix’s voice sounded in his ear with that slightly groggily tone his voice always got right after sex. Vincent could tell he was on speaker “Your keys are gone.”

“Yeah, I…” Vincent looked out the window, looking for an excuse that wouldn’t expose his hurt, “The movie got boring so I thought I’d get us some ice cream.”

“Ooh!” Adrian interrupted before Vincent could say more, secretly he was grateful as he could feel his throat beginning to tighten again. “Get me cotton candy please!” Kevin and Felix called out their orders, cookies and cream and mint chocolate chip respectively, after Adrian. Vincent hummed in acknowledgment, before letting out a quick “love you” and hanging up the phone. Something about their cheery attitudes made him want to start crying again, but he forcefully held the tears in, hoping his eyes wouldn’t look too blotchy when he got home.

Vincent quickly made his way through the drive-through, ordering the three ice creams, not bothering to order one for himself. His stomach was in knots, and the thought of eating made him more nauseous than anything. He turned the radio up, not particularly caring what blasted through his speakers, only wanting something to keep his mind away from dark thoughts. When he arrived back at the parking garage Vincent thanked his past self for putting concealer in his glove compartment. He quickly touched up his under eyes, masking the remnants of red that remained on his face, then finally left the car to take the elevator upstairs.

The living room to the apartment was still empty when Vincent finally unlocked the door, stepping inside. Vincent let out a slight shiver as a blast of cold air from the apartment hit him. He made his way to the bedroom. There he found Felix, Adrian, and Kevin cuddled against each other. Felix was dressed in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, Adrian in Kevin’s shirt, and Kevin in nothing but his underwear. Vincent was glad that they at least dressed before he came home, but the room, which still smelt strongly of sex with a bottle of lube haphazardly strung onto the floor, still gave away what activities they had been partaking in. Vincent handed out the ice creams, flopping into bed next to Felix when he was finally done.

Kevin reached over and stroked Vincent’s arm, “Didn’t you get yourself any, baby?” He asked through a spoonful of his treat.

Vincent hesitated for a moment before nodding, “Already ate it,” he lied.

“God,” Adrian called out from beside Kevin, “Cotton candy ice cream is the best.” He moaned in delight, savoring the sweet taste of his ice cream. Vincent slightly tensed at the moan, broken, his mind called out.

Vincent leaped out of bed, “I’m gonna go do the dishes,” he said, not facing his boyfriends. If he got one look at them he knew he’d cry again.

“What?” Adrian whined, “But cuddles? Dishes can wait.”

“I won’t be able to relax knowing the dishes aren’t done, I-” He tried to get more words out, but his breath hitched slightly. Praying his boyfriends didn’t notice, he quickly escaped the room for the kitchen. There really weren’t many dishes in the sink, just a few plates, cups, and silverware lay. It could have waited till morning, Adrian was right, Vincent knew that, but he turned on the sink anyways. The rush of water from the faucet did nothing to cover up his returning bad thoughts. Why couldn’t he be more normal? He couldn’t even eat ice cream with his boyfriends, couldn’t even cuddle up with them, and relax because his brain just wouldn’t stop thinking. His throat began closing in on itself as his hands shook from the exertion of keeping the tears inside. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t place that burden on his boyfriends. They were already burdened enough to have him in their lives, right?

CRASH

The glass that Vincent had been washing slipped from his hands unceremoniously and fell to the ground, smashing into hundreds of pieces. A piece ground horribly into his calf, leaving an angry red mark that began to bleed, but the pain of the scratch was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. The broken cup, as broken as him, would be yet another burden on Felix, Adrian, and Kevin. Ignoring the blood, ignoring the loud sobs that had finally begun racking his body, Vincent kneeled on the ground, trying to pick up the mess with shaking hands.

Before he could satisfyingly clean up his mess, a pair of hands grabbed his, forcing the glass back onto the floor. Vincent tried to pull away, the only thing on his mind was cleaning up the mess, not being a burden on his boyfriends, maybe they’d keep him around longer if he did this. “Vincent,” A voice called out, stern and full of concern. The blonde refused to turn towards the voice, just struggling to get to the glass, “Vincent,” the voice called out again, “You’re bleeding.”

Those words caused Vincent to snap back. He looked down through still misty eyes at his own hands, which were still being held still by the wrists. Blood was leaking out of his palms from the shards of glass that had embedded themselves into his skin, the blood dripped onto the floor and onto the hands of the hands holding his. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up, okay.” The voice from earlier, that Vincent finally recognized as Kevin’s, said softly into his ear. Vincent nodded, allowing Kevin to help him up and walk towards the couch. Kevin supported Vincent as he slowly sat down, then sat next to the blonde, keeping him close. Soon enough, Adrian came running in with the first aid kit, his glasses slightly foggy from the exertion of running around looking for it.

Felix grabbed the first aid kit from the nerd, kneeling down in front of Vincent and grabbing the worst injured hand. They all sat in silence for a while as Felix fished out the glass shards from Vincent’s hands with a pair of tweezers. Vincent whimpered from the pain, hiding his face in Kevin’s neck, reveling in the warmth of his presence. Tears continued to leisurely roll down Vincent’s face; tears from the pain and because of the lingering smell of sex that permeated around him. Adrian sat opposite of Kevin, rubbing the prep’s shoulder supportively. “You’re doing so good, baby.” Kevin was the first to speak, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. Vincent’s tears leaked out of his eyes with renewed vigor at the simple, loving action.

When his hands and leg were properly cleaned and bandaged, Felix placed gentle kisses against his hands. “This isn’t just about the cup, is it?” Adrian asked, cuddling closer to the crying figure, “You…you were acting off for a bit there. If you wanna talk about it, we’re here for you, Vince.”

Vincent really didn’t want to talk about it. He didn��t want the burden of his own brokenness, his own feelings, to be dropped on his boyfriends, but sitting there being held by the three men he loves more than anything or anyone in the universe, he couldn’t help it. “I-” Vincent choked on a sob, “Why do you guys keep me around?”

There was silence for only a brief second before Felix bolted up grasping Vincent’s face in his shaking hands, “Why would you say that Vince?” His slightly calloused fingers wiped tears away from the prep’s face.

“I mean, I’m broken.” Vincent averted his eyes from Felix’s, looking down at his own empty palms, “Who’d want a boyfriend who never wants to have sex?” The three other boys opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but Vincent only continued, “I mean, tonight, you guys were...were together and...and I could only think about how jealous I was. About how much I just wanted to cuddle on the couch with you guys, but...but if I told you to stay, you’d find out how broken I really am. Can’t have sex, can’t communicate, hell, I can’t even wash the dishes right.”

Felix’s hand slowed to a stop on Vincent’s face, “Look at me, sweetheart,” he said softly, gently encouraging Vincent’s face to move upwards, but he refused. “Vincent, please look at me, please.” His voice cracked slightly. At that sound, Vincent finally looked back up at Felix, whose eyes were now flooded with tears to match his. “You are not broken,” he said firmly, “and I will not sit here and let you talk about yourself like that.”

“But it’s-”

“You have always been there for me when I’m feeling dysphoric. When I look in the mirror and all I see is a girl, you’re there to help me find myself again. You shut me down when I insult myself, so like hell am I’m gonna sit here and let you do that to yourself.” Felix’s forehead met Vincent’s, whispering against it, “please let me, let us, help you see the you we see.”

Two more heads made their way towards Felix and Vincent’s, tears rolling down their faces as well, “We’ll keep you around forever,” Kevin murmured into Vincent’s collarbone, “You’ve done so much for us, you’re so good.”

“I’d never have sex again if it meant keeping you by our side,” Adrian sobbed, grasping Vincent’s shirt that had long grown damp from the four men’s tears.

Vincent wanted to insist that he didn’t have to do that, but his tears stopped his words. They were no longer tears of sadness, or fear, or self-hatred. They were tears of happiness. His boyfriends, the men he loves more than anyone else in the world, were there by his side. Vincent’s eyes may only see the bad in himself, but their eyes? They saw an amazing man whom they love, who may not be perfect, but who is? The flaws Vincent saw were perfections to them, and Vincent felt all that love at that moment. So much love, it was almost too much to bear.

After a while of crying together, Vincent finally spoke again, laughing slightly through tears, “your guy’s ice cream is probably melted.”

“Who cares,” Kevin said, “Who needs ice cream when we have you?” And so the boys stayed, enjoying each other's embrace, wiping each other’s tears, while the three melted ice creams and the broken cup lay forgotten until morning.

#boyfriends webcomic #boyfriends webtoon #boyfriends webcomic fanfic #Jock x nerd x prep x goth #TW acephobia #tw gender dysphoria #tw bl00d #hurt/comfort

[pascalpanic]

Prom Date (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: It’s approximately 2030, and you were in the graduating high school class of 2021. Your boyfriend, Frankie, is slightly older than you and doesn’t know that you never got a prom, a graduation, any of it. Being the sweetheart he is, he decides that he needs to fix that. 

Warnings: cursing, the tiniest allusions to Frankie’s drug problem and his ex-wife, cavity-inducing fluff

WC: 3.4k

A/N: Okay, this one goes out to the kids who don’t get the chance for prom because of COVID: that sucks. This is my fix-it fic for you! This takes place after the events of Triple Frontier mainly because I didn’t want to write Tom but as if it happened a number of years after it did in the timeline so it’s maybe around 2030 here and the heist happened in like 2028ish then? So Frankie’s the age he was then, separated from the mom of his kid, and getting maybe like 50/50 custody of her. Here’s my inspo for what Luna, Frankie’s baby looks like! Her mom is only briefly mentioned but that’s where the gray eyes come from, the brown wavy hair is all him 💖. Also, I think the nickname Thumper is adorable for little kids who have lots of energy (it was also my nickname as a baby) and so Frankie most definitely calls Luna “Thumper”. I also, naturally, have inspo for the reader’s dress and Luna’s, but the outfits are never described specifically so you can feel free to imagine what you want for their outfits! Additional note: I don’t understand children’s milestones so please just suspend your disbelief if Luna is doing something that’s not fitting for a kid of 22 months, oops. Biggest thanks to @lunasblipsandblurbs​ and @ilikechocolatemilkh​ for their help- there may or may not be two characters named after them in here ;) and as always, my trusty proofreader Miki (who’s a nerd and doesn’t have Tumblr)

Movie night was going as it usually did for you and Frankie Morales: the TV droned quietly in the background while you cuddled with him, sitting in his lap. The two of you chattered and made out instead of watching the movie. Somehow the conversation made its way to your high school experience. That was a long time ago now. Both of you were fully grown adults. Hell, Frankie had a baby, you were working on a Master’s degree, and the two of you lived in a house together. Your high school experience was far different from his, you two soon discovered. He had all of it; you had your junior and senior year during a pandemic.

Your boyfriend looks at you incredulously. “So you never had a prom?”

You shake your head. “I wish I did, but no. I cried so hard when they announced that it wouldn’t happen,” you admit with a sad smile. “My best friend and I still wore gowns and got dressed up, but we just took pictures in the park and ate Mexican food on the couch.”

“As much as that sounds like a blast, that’s so shitty,” Frankie chuckles and snuggles you closer to his chest. “Was all of your senior year like that?”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “Fully digital and everything. Didn’t even get the chance to go to my junior prom either.” 

“Jesus. And you had the shit luck to be born into the one year where you didn’t get either?” He asks, rubbing your back and nuzzling his face into your hair. 

���Class of ‘21, what a time,” you sigh. It was true- you were the one graduating class that the pandemic hit hardest. It had upset you at the time, but you had gotten over it by now. It was years ago anyway, that didn’t matter. “My luck can’t be that shit. I still have a pretty damn cute boyfriend,” you tease and lift your head, softly kissing his lips before breaking away and resting your head on his shoulder once more. 

Frankie pouts down at you. “But you got all of that taken from you! Senior year was supposed to be the time to slack off and have fun. I took, like, two shop classes and one on basic aviation. Didn’t do anything,” he laughs. 

“Even if I was at school, it wouldn’t have been like that for me, Frankie,” you chuckle softly. “I was taking a bunch of classes for college credits and everything.”

“I know, hermosa, you’re a nerd. Just play along with me this time,” he asks jokingly, jostling you around on his lap. 

“Frankie,” you squeal and cling to him, laughing. “Fine. Poor me, I didn’t get anything from my senior year. It has haunted me and made my life a living hell.” You give him a fake pout. “Is that better?”

A smile covers his face as he looks at you. “Much better. Because now that you’re upset, I’m going to get to make it better. We’re throwing you a prom.”

You immediately frown. “Frankie, we’re adults now. Prom is not important to me the way it was then,” you try to reason with him, but you know your boyfriend. If he’s got a plan, you can’t get him out of it. 

Frankie shakes his head and takes off his ball cap, setting it on your head teasingly. “Too bad. We’re having a prom for you, babe. You deserve it, a night all about you. Here, you know what?” He says, his face lighting up as another idea pops into his head. “We’ll do it for your birthday, since that’s coming up. We’ll have a birthday party-prom for you,” he says, absolutely beaming. 

“No, Frankie,” you start to protest, but he cuts you off. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll dress Luna up, I’ll rent a tux, we can invite the boys,” he offers and the more he talks, the more you have to admit that this idea sounds like a blast. Your frown slowly eases into a smile as he talks. “Oh, you like it, this is happening,” he laughs and kisses your head, pulling you close to his chest. “Babe, will you be my prom date?”

“It’s not the most elegant of prom-posals,” you tease, “but it’ll do. Of course I will.” You nod and beam up at him. He kisses your forehead and the two of you return to watching the movie.

-

When the day, your birthday, rolled around, your first order of business was queueing the music for the night. Frankie had decided it was your night, and that made it that much easier for him to pin that responsibility on you. It was to ensure you liked the music that was playing, he had said, and he had half-heartedly meant it. 

As you sat on the bed you shared with your boyfriend, bouncing his daughter on your knee, you filled out the playlist for the dance. “There better be some Fleetwood Mac on there,” Frankie says with a grin as he walks into the room, fresh from the shower. Luna, his baby, reaches for him excitedly and he picks her up. “And maybe something like Baby Shark for this one,” he teases and blows a raspberry onto her tummy, earning a giggle from his daughter.

You grin up at him and his little girl, laughing. “Luna’s only in it for the pictures, come on,” you say and tilt your head as you look at him. “But you’ll be happy to know that I put down The Chain as the first song of the night.”

“Yes!” Frankie exclaims and flops down on the bed next to you, Luna giggling as the two of them fall. She crawls over to lie between the two of you, enjoying being between her two favorite people. “Aw, is that your mama?” He chuckles, and you shake your head.

“Frankie, no,” you say and bite your lip for a second, looking away from the two of them. You know she loves you, and you absolutely adore her, but it hurts your heart that you’ll probably be nothing more than Dad’s girlfriend to her. “She knows that.”

“Hey, she knows the difference in you and Maria,” he shakes his head. “But that’s her mother, and you’re her mama, right niña?” he coos to the little girl and she giggles, burying her face in your stomach. It melts your heart. “Yeah, your mama.”

“My niña,” you murmur happily and pull her up to your chest, wrapping your arms around her. Luna relaxes happily as her head meets your chest. Frankie chuckles a little at the fact that your Spanish grammar isn’t entirely correct, but he doesn’t challenge your words. “Are you gonna tell me what your daddy is planning for tonight?” You ask her, teasingly nonchalant, before looking down at Frankie.

His face holds a little bit of a red flush. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he says, playing it cool.

“I know you too well, Francisco,” you tease and look down at him, rubbing Luna’s back gently. “You’ve got some kind of surprise plan for tonight, and I can’t tell what it is, but I know you’re planning something. You’ve got the worst poker face,” you laugh and cup the side of his face with your hand, enjoying the feeling of the stubble beneath your palm.

Frankie shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats, but you can feel the way his skin warms with the lie. “I don’t have anything planned that you don’t know about,” he tells you quickly.

You simply smile at him and rub the side of his face. “That’s a blatant lie, babe. But I’ll let it slide, since I know whatever surprise it is will be a good one,” you chuckle and press your lips to his. He smiles back and cups your face too. Luna makes a noise of disgust and pushes the two of you away. You both laugh at her action and smile down at the little girl, a carbon copy of her father save for her eyes. She takes her tiny hands and puts them on either side of Frankie’s face, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Oh my god, Luna,” you laugh. “Am I not good enough for your daddy? Is he breaking up with me, is that it?”  You ask teasingly.

“I’m getting you dressed up and treating you nice before breaking up with you, yes,” Frankie retorts sarcastically and rests his head on your shoulder, picking up his little girl and bringing her to sit between the two of you, perfectly fitting in the space where your thighs press against each other. 

“You never know,” you shrug with a smile. Luna grabs your face and kisses your nose this time, and your heart melts. “Aw, thank you. We’re each getting some love, huh?” You ask the little girl and tug at her wavy brown whale-spout ponytail. “Well, I think you and I need to get all dolled up, don’t you think?” You ask her and she giggles excitedly, babbling an affirmation in her little speech pattern. 

Scooting off the side of the bed, you kiss Frankie sweetly before picking Luna up. “Alright, Thumper,” you say with a mock groan. “Wow, you’re growing so much,” you say as you jokingly grunt at the effort of holding her. “You’re gonna be as tall as your daddy soon!” Luna protests that, giggling and playfully hitting your arm, mimicking what she’s seen her father do teasingly.

Frankie watches the two of you adoringly, his heart in his eyes. The two girls that matter most to him. “Hopefully not,” he shakes his head, chuckling and simply watching the two of you interact.

-

Frankie and Santiago did a wonderful job decorating, and the backyard is beautiful just as the sun goes down. Twinkle lights line the perimeter of the stone patio, and the night is a wonderfully warm dream, the colors of the sky absolutely stunning with tiny cotton wisps floating through. The boys are all dressed in their tuxedos, Frankie even omitting his traditional ball cap and putting some gel into his curls, and you beam as you and their dates take pictures of the four of them. They’re making the “delta” symbol with their index fingers and thumbs, naturally, since the Delta Squadron seems to be their favorite thing to call themselves. “You look like a bunch of sorority girls,” you call out over the already-blasting music, making Frankie’s face flush slightly.

“Santi’s hot as hell, but you sure got the cute one,” Lex, Santiago’s date murmurs to you, and you laugh at that. You wink at Frankie and he winks back, right as you press the button to take the photo. “Look at that, I mean come on,” she laughs and nudges your side. You two just met tonight, unsurprising since Santiago always brings new girls around, but you find her to be easy company. The Miller boys each brought a date, neither anyone you know, but the two of them stand separately. “And you, my dear, are just as cute as your daddy,” she grins down at the little girl holding your dress. “Okay, enough of these idiots,” she calls. “Time for couples’ photos! Moraleses, you first,” she says and scoots you (and subsequently Luna) towards the fence wall, decorated for the photos with fake vines, flowers and twinkling lights.

“We’re not-” you and Frankie both stumble nervously, avoiding saying ‘married’ or any word of the kind. You both give up as your eyes meet, and a smile falls across both of your faces. You give your head a little shake and the two of you dismiss it. The men disband from around Frankie and Luna runs to his side, him squatting down to pick her up. “Mija,” Frankie exclaims as she barrels into his chest, nearly knocking him over. “Don’t you two look wonderful, all matching?” he murmurs and presses a kiss to your lips before Luna groans and pushes your face away. 

You laugh, both at his words and Luna’s actions. The toddler had insisted that the two of you match colors; your dresses were different, but the same hue, and you both had absolutely beamed at the fact that the two of you were dressed similarly, especially when she informed you that she wanted to look just like you. “And you, in your tux,” you smile and break away, straightening Frankie’s bow tie. 

The group takes photos of the two of you as you converse and kiss, especially at Luna breaking the affection up with her tiny hands. You take pictures in different poses: where you stand now, Luna standing on her own, you and Frankie in the classic and cheesy prom pose, some with just you and him, him and Luna, just you and the little girl, who absolutely thrives under the spotlight given to her by the adults. Benny comments like she’s a model walking a runway, and she giggles, hiding her face in the tulle of your skirt. You keep an eye on the level of the sun in the sky, since Frankie’s mom is coming to pick Luna up later to allow the party to last as late as you want it to.

As the pictures are finished, you go to the ledge where you set your phone, starting the first song for the dance part. Just like you promised Frankie earlier, it’s The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. All of the boys holler excitedly as they recognize the song, grabbing their dates and starting to dance with them. Frankie picks up Luna and starts swaying her along to the slow beginning; naturally, with a father like hers, she already knows the tune and shouts along to the words.  You walk over to the two of them, singing already, and Frankie takes your hand, giving you a little twirl. You happily follow along, grinning at his little girl resting against his chest. She’s tired already, and you’re not surprised; despite the excitement of getting ready, it’s past her typical bedtime. He sets her down and she runs off to find her Uncle Santi, dancing with him, and Frankie takes you in his arms, singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs with you. 

As the song draws to an end, the second song comes on: a slow one, the song you and Frankie have always loved. His heart speeds up as he thinks about what he’s about to do. He signals behind your back to the older Miller brother, who finds his way to your phone and turns it down a little. You lift your head from his shoulder at the change in volume, clearly upset. “Will, why the hell did you turn it down?” you call across the backyard, and he simply shrugs, holding the best deadpan he can. Frankie pulls away from you, probably to go knock him upside the head, you assume, but the look on his face confuses you. “What?” you ask him, looking down as you notice Luna has once again attached herself to your leg.

Frankie takes a deep breath then grins at you, and your confusion is just as strong. You ask him the same question, tilting your head, and you notice that the rest of the couples have turned to stare at the two of you. “Mi amor, you know how much I love you, right?” He asks. You nod, a small smile on your face, still confused. “I adore you, with everything in me. The most important thing in my life, my little girl, she loves you just as much. I know I’m a difficult man. I’ve done some messed-up shit, been a junkie, been a recovering idiot basically,” he chuckles softly, “but you never care about that, just about who I am now. You’re so wonderful, so perfect,” he tells you, the softest smile on his face. Your heart starts fluttering. Where did this monologue come from? What is- oh, you realize, and the smile drops. His drops too and he pauses, but you grin again, even wider, and he picks up his train of thought.

“Do you have it, just like we practiced?” He asks as he looks down at Luna, who nods and giggles excitedly. She’s holding something, something she wasn’t before. “Buena, mija,” he nods and ruffles her hair. She hands the object to her father, quickly enough that you can’t see it, then runs off to clutch at Benny’s hand, leaning against him. Your heart stops in your chest as you see what he’s holding: a small, rectangular box covered in velvet. You go to say his name but the words die before they can exit your mouth. “Will you do me the honor,” he begins asking as he falls to one knee and taking your hand, “of becoming my wife, of letting me marry you and be with you forever?” 

Tears well in your eyes at the love in your heart, your face hurting from how wide you’re smiling. He opens the box to reveal the ring inside, simple and elegant yet stunning, just like the relationship between the two of you. You go to tell him yes, to affirm the feelings inside, but your voice breaks. “Yes,” you say, your voice watery and cracking. You nod frantically and he takes the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger. He stands and you immediately take his face in your hands, kissing him desperately and happily. You giggle into the kiss, and the men and their dates behind him break into whoops and cheers. You laugh as you break away, forehead falling to Frankie’s tuxedoed chest, before looking up through watery eyes and holding up your hand excitedly. Everyone cheers again and you laugh again too, hugging him tight. “Frankie,” you coo lovingly as you break from his chest and look up at him. “This is our senior prom. We��re just kids,” you joke. “You really want to marry me this young?”

That earns a belly laugh from him, shaking his head. “Shut up,” he teases back, spotting Luna’s excited bouncing. “Come here, Thumper,” he calls and waves her over. You both squat down and beckon her over, and she once again zooms into both of your arms.

“Mama and daddy getting married,” she squeals in her little baby voice and it melts your heart, her tone filled with contentment. You nod and squeeze her and her father tighter.

“We sure are, kid,” you laugh and stroke her head. “You’re gonna be my flower-girl-of-honor, right?” You ask and pull away from the hug. She nods excitedly. 

“Flower-girl-of-honor?” Frankie asks and tilts his head.

“Well, she can’t just be my flower girl, Frankie,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s my daughter, right?” you ask her, earning a happy nod. She agreed.

Later, Frankie’s mom indeed came and picked up her granddaughter, absolutely beaming and telling you that she was glad her son finally got the balls to propose. You had both laughed at that, thanked her once again for watching Luna for the night, and returned to the dance floor.

The party seemed to last all night, you and your new fiancé and the rest of the attendees having the time of your lives. “Well, this is the best prom I’ve ever been to,” you tease, grinning up at Frankie as the two of you slow dance. He just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and singing along to the words of the music playing. “Oh my god, it was a prom-posal,” you gasp as the pun hits you. “Jesus, why did I do that?” he groans sarcastically. “That pun is gonna haunt me the rest of my life now.” “Just like I am,” you sing happily, grinning so wide your nose scrunches. He laughs and shakes his head at that, but pulls you closer into his chest. “You just made a promise you’re not gonna wanna follow through on, Catfish,” you tease. “I’m gonna make your life so miserable.”

Frankie sighs at your sarcasm but smiles contently as he looks down at you. “I don’t think you could if you tried, hermosa,” he tells you before bringing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. 

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #benny miller #william miller #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia

[spencers-renaissance]

100

Summary: Spencer's an academic researcher who spends every morning at his local library. Derek just happens to drop by one Tuesday and ask the pretty boy in the classics section if he can help him find a book. Sparks fly.

Tags: library au, shy spencer, tooth-rotting fluff, flirting, coming out, spencer does not work at the bau

Pairing: Morgan x Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Read on AO3

Spencer’s working in his favourite corner of the library by 7.35am, stuck straight into his latest research paper while Katherine bustles quietly around the bookshelves, tidying and re-ordering as much as possible before the rush of people pour through the door. She’s probably his favourite opener. She’s calm and efficient and smiles warmly at him but doesn’t engage him in pointless conversation that distracts him from his work, although that’s not to say they haven’t had a few chats here and there. It’s a quiet moment of companionable solitude; the perfect environment for a productive early morning. 

He’s vaguely aware of a gradual increase in patrons, the ambient noise level rising ever so slightly as he pours over copies of an obscure ancient philosophical text he’d obtained from the local museum, annotating furiously as he scrunches his brow in concentration. It’s sucked him in enough that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he’s tapped on the shoulder, whirling around to face probably the most attractive man he’s ever met. Immediately, he flushes red, half from the embarrassment of over-reacting, half from the intensity of the urge to jump this man’s bones. 

“Hi, I’m sorry I made you jump,” the man chuckles, taking a step back to give him a bit of space. “I can’t find any librarians around and I noticed the philosophy textbook you have on your desk and thought you might be able to help me…” He trails off looking a bit awkward and uncomfortable, clearly out of his element. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Spencer says, a little intimidated but still very eager to spend any amount of time with the Greek god he’s just so happened to encounter on a random Tuesday morning. 

“You will?” the man asks, smiling. “Great. Basically my best friend went to an intro to philosophy class at the local community college, one of her many whimsical new projects, and is now obsessed. I was told in no uncertain terms to pick up as many books on the subject as I could before work this morning.” 

“Wow,” Spencer breathes a laugh, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Well, I don’t blame her, philosophy is a great subject. I’m working on my fourth PhD in it now, actually.” 

“What, you have four PhDs in philosophy?” he asks incredulously. 

“No, no,” Spencer smiles, looking down shyly. “My other three are in chemistry, maths, and engineering. This is my first in philosophy. Sorry that was misleading.”

“Looks like I asked the right person, then,” he grins. “I’m Derek.”

“Spencer,” he replies, blushing at the warm look Derek is sending his way. “We’re actually in the classics section, this is just my favourite corner. The philosophy texts are over here.”

He leads the way through the maze of bookshelves, arriving at the little alcove that houses the philosophy and psychology books. With a vague idea of what Derek is looking for, he dives straight into the shelves, combing through the spines until he finds a few options for his friend. “She should probably start with this one: Big Ideas Simply Explained and then move on to Think, which is one of my favourites. This one, How Philosophy Works, will be best if she’s a visual learner instead, and if you want something a bit more complicated, try Philosophy Made Slightly Less Difficult.” He piles on a few extra as he looks around for any he missed before turning around and gesturing that he’s done. 

“This is… amazing, thank you,” Derek says gratefully. “I don’t even know why she chose philosophy, it’s a bit random for a computer nerd, isn’t it?”

“Actually about 0.58% of all US college students graduate with a philosophy degree, so it’s not as uncommon as people may think. It’s the 89th most popular major according to last year’s data, but I don’t know the statistics for people with computer science degrees or careers learning about philosophy in an official or unofficial capacity, I’m afraid,” Spencer explains, hands moving expressively as he reels off his statistics. 

The mildly impressed expression that’s been pretty permanently painted on Derek’s face the whole time he’s been speaking with Spencer intensifies as he listens intently to his statistics. “Damn, pretty boy, you really know your stuff,” he marvels, eyes wide. “You some sort of genius or something?”

Spencer blushes furiously at that, ducking his head slightly. “Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

“No, that 100% qualifies for genius status,” Derek asserts confidently. “Not that I have any sort of qualification to rule on the matter, but in my eyes you are definitely a genius.”

“Thank you,” Spencer murmurs, blush somehow deepening at the unexpected praise from the man who will now occupy his dreams. “You seem pretty smart, too, though. What do you do?”

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Damn it. As if he couldn’t get any sexier. “Wow, that’s… impressive,” Spencer remarks. “Does your friend work there, too?”

“Yeah, she’s our technical analyst,” Derek explains, smiling fondly. “She’s amazing, you’d love her.”

“Well we’ve already got one shared interest,” Spencer points out, gesturing to the books piled high in Derek’s arms. Spencer would’ve collapsed by now, but he’s barely flinching under the weight of seven bulky philosophy texts. 

“That’s true,” Derek grins. “Speaking of work, though, pretty boy, I have to run, I’m already late. Thank you so much for your help, though.”

“No problem,” Spencer says softly, definitely not mournfully, as he watches Derek walk away to the check-out desk where Katherine smiles at him as he scans the books through, sending a discreet wink over at Spencer. He glares back jokingly before walking back over to his desk.

He continues working but he can’t help but feel emptiness sinking heavy in his stomach, the kind of a missed opportunity, of almost, of could have been. Immanuel Kant still gets his attention, but he’d be lying if he said that a decent portion of it wasn’t focused on hoping, praying that his path crosses with Derek again, that he’s not replaying every moment over and over in his mind.

⭐️

Derek is very late. He rushes into the briefing room where Penelope is already explaining the case to the team. Rolling his eyes at her pointed look, he dumps the books down on the table in front of her. “Don’t blame me, baby girl, doing your chores is what made me late,” he protests, taking a seat next to Emily. 

“Well, maybe you should have been quicker,” Penelope quips, before promptly moving on with the case at Hotch’s pointed glare. 

He barely has a moment to think about anything but double homicide until they’re mid-flight and the debriefing is finally over. Moving to the back of the plane, he looks out the window as he plays over the morning’s trip to the library. Spencer might just be the prettiest boy he’s ever met, and making him blush is probably the most fun he’s had all week. Bonus points for intelligence, of course, even after spending just a few minutes with him, he could confidently say he was a walking encyclopedia. 

On the drive from the library to Quantico, he’d thought about finding some ruse to go back the next day. Spencer seemed as though he knew the library well, like he spent a lot of time there. Maybe he could go back and actually ask for his number this time; he was gonna take that boy out on a date if it’s the last thing he does. Now, though, that’s going to have to wait.

“Alright,” Emily sighs, flopping into the seat opposite him and dragging him out of his head, “what’s going on with you?” 

“What do you mean?” Derek asks reflexively, feeling a little defensive. 

“Well you were late this morning, not unusual, but you’re not listening to music and instead choosing to stare pensively out the window. Plus, you barely had anything to contribute during debriefing,” she explains, raising an eyebrow. 

“Drop it,” he says, sending her a look, but it’s teasing and light-hearted.

“Oh my God, there’s a girl,” she gasps. “And not just any girl, you like her!”

“There absolutely is not,” he says truthfully, raising an eyebrow. He’s not exactly out to the team, not out of fear of how they’ll react but more because he finds coming out awkward and he’s never found the right time, really. 

“Suit yourself,” Emily teases, pulling out her phone to play online scrabble.

Derek just scoffs and looks out the window again, definitely not letting his thoughts wander back to Spencer. Definitely not. 

⭐️

Spencer walks into the library the following Monday with low expectations. He’d thought that Derek might come back in last week, if not to see him then maybe to return his friend’s books or find more for her, but his wish had been unsuccessful. Accepting that it was a chance encounter that would ultimately go nowhere, and reminding himself that Spencer Reid’s life was decidedly not like the movies, he unpacks his papers from his messenger bag in his favourite corner again and gets back to work. He’s over the moon with the headway he’s making on his paper, and he settles in for another productive morning of work. 

Just like last time, Derek creeps up on him while he’s completely in the zone, slipping into the seat opposite him, but at least Spencer doesn’t jump this time. No, he just feels his face immediately brighten, looking far too excited to see a near-stranger again. 

“Good morning, pretty boy,” he grins, laughing fondly at Spencer’s reaction. 

“Derek, you came back,” he says happily, putting down his pen. 

“Yeah, I had a case immediately after I came to the library last Tuesday and it was a tough one. We only wrapped it up yesterday so I have today off, a rare luxury,” he explains, and Spencer tries not to read into it too much, tries not to think that Derek is saying he would’ve come back sooner if he could, tries to take him at face value. 

“The exciting life of an FBI agent.”

“Not as glamorous as the movies,” Derek agrees.

“I’m, uh- glad you came back,” Spencer admits shyly, afraid of coming on too strong.

“Well, would you like to get dinner sometime?” Derek asks.

“Really?” Spencer asks, looking up at Derek with shock written across his face.

“Of course,” Derek chuckles. “I mean, I love Penelope, but if she wants more philosophy books she can get them herself. I came back to see you.” 

“You did?” Spencer’s still a little floored by Derek’s words, but slowly a warmth starts to bloom inside him as he realises what’s happening. 

“I did,” Derek smiles gently. “Now, about that date. How does tonight sound?” 

⭐️

Derek decides on his favourite Italian place to treat Spencer at and his cheeks hurt by the end of the night; he’s pretty sure not one moment went by when he wasn’t smiling fondly at his statistics or stories or blushing. He slips his hand into Spencer’s as they walk out of the restaurant, swinging their arms a bit, directing them down the street towards the 24/7 ice cream parlour.

“I love ice cream,” Spencer grins as they head inside, his cheeks red from the cold winter air and the copious red wine they’d had with dinner. 

“Who doesn’t?” Derek asks, leading him up to the counter. 

Spencer insists on sampling far too many flavours before deciding on cookies and cream with mint chocolate chip in a cone. He licks at it happily while Derek sits opposite with two scoops of raspberry ripple in a cup and forces himself to think very pure thoughts. 

“Thank you for this, Derek,” he beams over his cone.

“Oh, pretty boy,” Derek says fondly. “Thank you.”

Emily spots it the minute he walks into the bullpen the next day. “I’m guessing things are going well with her,” she smirks as she skids over on her chair, grinning wildly. 

He sighs as he sits down, looking up at her as he sets his stuff down. “With him, yes,” he confirms, smiling a little. 

She raises her eyebrows and pauses for a moment. “Wow, okay, okay,” she says. “Well, I hope I can meet him soon.” 

“Might be a bit early for that yet, Em,” he laughs, “but if things go as well as I think they will, that’s definitely on the cards.” 

(Five months later, when Spencer finally does meet Emily, she’s as annoying as Derek expects her to be but seeing his boyfriend’s face light up as he gets welcomed in the found family of the BAU is worth every drop of teasing, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.)

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid #moreid fic #moreid writing #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #my writing #moreid fluff #criminal minds fluff #moreid au #criminal minds au #library au

[halorocks1214]

2. “Stop this. You’re just hurting yourself.” And Alan and any brother please🥺

eeeyyyy this one might be my fave ive written so far, thank you anon :D hope you enjoy~

ill be accepting prompts until tomorrow morning, so get them submitted within the next 10 ish hours if you haven't yet and want to! the prompts are pinned at the top of my blog <3

... Weren't these calls supposed to be fun?

"Alan," John began, his tone a weird mixture of soft and firm. "Scott tells me you haven't been sleeping."

Carefully peel the edge of a band-aid off first to achieve an easier grip.

Leaning back in his desk chair, Alan looked out his window to stare at the moon. He's come to realize the moon is rather anticlimactic, and that's saying something being a space nerd. Then again, this is his fourth night of staying up, he might be just a smidge out of it.

Crossing his arms, Alan gave holographic John a cheeky grin, "Well, maybe I have, maybe I haven't, Scott certainly wouldn't know. Have you seen the zombie modes he's been in?"

John gave an eyebrow tilt so diagonal the Leaning Tower of Pisa would be jealous, "Gordon texted me about the same thing."

Ah, well, that wasn't the greatest, "Oh? He did?"

John's sigh bore right into Alan's soul, "He did, and judging by the fact that both of them suggested to me the idea of calling you about it gives me the impression that this isn't just a case of insomnia gone bad, otherwise they would have helped you solve it and you would have let them."

If you feel you need more gripping room, keep peeling slowly. It might burn a little, but if that helps you get it off quicker, it's worth it.

Alan twiddled his thumbs, mumbles barely loud enough for John to hear, "I mean, what are you going to do about it, come down here and tuck me in?"

John's tired face became more irritated, "Really? Is this how you're going to act?"

Alan released a deep breath, un-tensing his shoulders as much as he could given his current predicament, "Act how, Johnny? Like I'm the best astronaut in the world?"

Try not to hesitate while ripping it off, that will make it hurt worse.

John sighed, from concern or annoyance Alan wouldn't know, "Stop this. You’re just hurting yourself.”

"Then why is it okay for you to do it?!" Suddenly, Alan was sitting up in his chair and gripping the arms with ferocity. He wasn't able to smack his brother for his stupidity, so his chair will have to suffer his wrath for now.

You'll most likely be surprised at how quickly a band-aid can be torn off ones' body.

He seemed to be doing verbally okay, at least, if John's gobsmacked impression was anything to go off of. The hologram flickered a little as John sort of floated backward, like it was a step if he were on Earth, "A-Alan, you-"

"Virgil told me EOS had to wake you up twice during your guys' last call, twice," Alan continued forward, almost standing up at this point. "Not to mention our calls where you look like Penny dumped half her eye shadow under your eyes. It... it sucks, John. We don't like seeing you like this, I don't like seeing you like this, and I don't know how else I can get you to ask for help."

Silence rang throughout the room, throughout John's side of the call, throughout the entire world, maybe. It felt as if noise stopped existing at that very moment outside of their slightly labored breathing.

John seemed to be contemplating Alan's words deeply, trying to word his thoughts as best he could, "... And I'm the only reason you're staying up?"

Alan flopped back down into his chair, crossing his arms once more and huffing, "I mean... technically no. A few days ago my brain wouldn't let me nod off and I figured I could use it to my advantage."

The area where the band-aid was is probably stinging like a bitch now, but at least the appendage is off.

John hummed, flicking his hands around and pointing at things. It was then when Alan realized his brother was most likely clicking things on his holographic screens. Before the blond could ask what was up, John was looking back at Alan and grinning, "You remember that documentary you said you wanted to show me?

Alan perked his head up like an excited puppy, "Yeah?"

Noises of a space station door opening and closing was heard next, followed by the sight of John placing his hand on a wall to push him through the station itself, "I've been meaning to watch it recently. Wanna hunker down under the covers and watch it together?"

Alan shot up out of his chair so fast his shoes slipped off in the process, "Heck yeah! I've wanted to sit down and check that flick out for the longest time!"

Once the bleeding of a cut is finished, you should let it air out for a little bit so oxygen can reach the wound. That way the scratch can scab over quicker.

As Alan walked over to his bed, he kept the hologram display close to himself, "Thank you, John, I was worried you weren't gonna hear me out."

The documentary began rolling as John watched Alan slip under his covers, the astronaut doing something similar with his own bed, "I probably should be thanking you, actually, so thanks, Al."

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfic #alan tracy #john tracy #prompt request #answered ask #angst #my post #my fic #anonymous

[orangerosebush]

What’s in a name?

[ao3 link]

Juliet Butler was used to sharing. The weight of her last name. Her brother. Her space within the manor. It seemed that just by being born at this time, within this family, she was expected to follow a certain path in life that was so far tangled up in the Fowls as to not really be hers at all.

It didn’t surprise her brother when she sat him down at age 18 and told him she was going to try a crack at something new in America with the wrestling circuit, but it did surprise him when she came back a mere three years later. It was shortly after when Artemis checked into the psychiatrist in Haven — she had come to the clinic with Butler and Artemis, and she took the shuttle back to the manor with Butler.

Butler didn’t want to say anything too pointed. They’d have to talk about if she was here to stay for good eventually, but she had just gotten back; he knew that she was proud enough that she’d pack her bags again if she felt he was suggesting her experiment in the U.S. with carving her own path had failed.

So they didn’t talk about it. They both went on, carefully watching each other as they circled around the elephant in the room.

It had been a week since she arrived at the manor, and it looked like they could avoid the subject altogether if they tried hard enough. Their patterns during the day were certainly different enough that they could rely on their interactions being brief enough to make having a conversation about what Juliet was going to do easy to sidestep.

He was far busy enough trying to explain to Mrs. Fowl why her son was staying with a psychologist a few thousand kilometers under the earth’s surface. Neither the mental health conversation nor the magic conversation was going particularly well, he winced. Of course, Mr. Fowl was significantly out of the loop, but he’d never really been in any loop regarding his son. At least with Myles and Beckett, he could trust that Juliet was enough of a distraction from Artemis’ second leave of the family. Both the boys had noticed, of course, that their brother was gone again, but they were too dazzled by the newness of Juliet to ask either their mother or him about where Artemis was.

Butler leaned back in his chair, looking out of his room’s window at the sunlight. The clouds had cleared for the first time in a while, and the Fowl estate sprawled out across the surrounding acres of land. The wing that his room was in faced the old forest on the grounds, and he could just about make out the distant scene of Juliet and the boys by the pond at the edge of the trees. Juliet appeared to be allowing Becket to sit on her shoulders while Myles sat on the grass and looked at the water.

He smiled to himself, feeling the lines under his eyes crease upwards. From a distance, she could have been their older sister. Pulling his eyes away from the glass, he glanced back at the inside of the room. He sighed. Rolling his shoulders, he reached for the book he’d set down on his coffee table last night.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ The manor was quiet. Juliet paused at the bottom of the staircase, hand ghosting over the handrail. If she looked close enough, she could make out the scuffs that Artemis and her brother weren’t quite able to get out of the wall after the troll wrecked the hallway during the hostage situation. She exhaled slightly, a grin quirking the sides of her mouth upwards as she imagined Artemis getting snippy over her usage of ‘hostage situation’. “Please, Juliet,” she remembered him sighing a while back. “It’s rude to leave out the nuance of it all like that”.

She tightened her grip on the banister. Slowly, Juliet made her way up towards her room.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

There was a knock on the door. Butler set his book on his lap.

“Come in,” he called out, fully prepared to see Angeline.

The door opened cautiously, and there was Juliet, her hand lingering on the doorknob.

“Hey,” she scuffed her feet against the carpet. Butler blinked.

“Er, hi.”

They both stood there, self-consciously waiting for the other to say something.

“I took the twins outside.”

“I saw. They seemed to have a good time.”

Juliet shrugged, finally walking all the way in to the room. Letting the door close slowly behind her, she sat down gently on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I guess. They like the pond. I remember liking getting into whatever was muddiest on the property when I was their age.”

He grinned. Butler remembered taking Juliet outside to run before dark when she was young — she’d always had a wild child energy to her.

“Beckett reminds me of you,” he smiled. “He’s very determined to find trouble somewhere on the grounds I’ve worked so hard at child-proofing.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “They’re both troublemakers.”

“True,” Butler laughed, leaning back in his chair. Juliet grinned. She stretched slightly, flopping back onto the bed.

“It’s weird being back,” she sighed. “Like, I’m back in my old room, and what’s still up on the wall? The Spice Girls poster I had when I was, what, eight? It’s like a time capsule I don’t even want.”

“I’m sure most twenty-somethings coming back from university feel the same way about seeing the stuff they plastered up all over their room when they were younger,” he chuckled softly.

At that, she sat back up to look at him, putting her weight on her right arm. “I’m not most twenty-somethings, though. I didn’t even go to uni—“

Butler scrunched his face up in confusion. “Do you even want to go to uni?”

Juliet groaned, gripping the duvet in annoyance. “I don’t know if I want to go to uni, that’s the thing! I thought I wanted to go to America, be a wrestler, but then something happened with Artemis. And, a-and I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria with Mulch, and you know what I realized? I’d tried professional wrestling, and now I was bored! I love wrestling! I love my teammates! I love traveling and seeing new people, and getting to be Juliet instead of Juliet Butler. But I still woke up each day loving the gig a little less than I did the night before, and I can’t live like that. You know that, Dom.”

Juliet’s eyes were shining, and she loosened her grip on the bed sheets. Butler set his book down gently on the floor. Standing slowly, his knees cursing him, he moved to sit next to her.

“I missed you,” he said simply. “I’m sorry about America.”

She reached over, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I missed you, too.”

“I want you to know that you can stay as long as you need. I can also help you find an apartment nearby if what you need to is to be here without being here, if that makes sense.”

Juliet let out a small grin, retracting her hand from his shoulder to rub the wetness from her eyes. “I like my old room, but thanks.”

She grabbed a pillow, holding it on her lap and looking up at the ceiling pensively. “I don’t want to just be a Butler for Myles and Beckett, though. That’s never going to be me, I know that.”

“I know. I think the Fowls know that, too.”

Juliet nodded earnestly. “Cool. That’s good.”

“Thank you for talking to me about this, by the way,” Butler sighed, looking at her.

“I don’t care what happens — at the end of the day, I’m still your older brother. I want you to let me in when you’re hurting—“ Juliet scoffed, but he continued. “I know you’re not a child anymore, I know that! But I hate the idea of you feeling as though you have to go it alone because you need to prove something to the world,” he finished, eyes pleading.

The two of them sat in silence, the sound of birds outside filtering into the room the only noise in the room. Finally, Juliet sighed, leveling her gaze on him.

“Okay.”

He started. “O-okay?”

She snorted, throwing her pillow at him. “Yeah, okay, nerd. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Butler caught the pillow, laughing incredulously. “Okay!”

Suddenly, Juliet’s eyes widened. “I still have to tell my manager that I’m dropping out, shit”

Butler stared at her. “You didn’t tell him?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I think he knows, considering it’s been, what, a couple of weeks by now? But after you showed up,” she jabbed him with a finger pointedly. “I was so caught up in whatever end-of-the-world business Artemis had gotten us caught up in that I never gave my ‘official’ two-weeks notice, or whatever.”

Butler sat there in silence for a moment, thinking. “I… don’t think you should call him, actually.”

“Me neither.”

“I think he’s going to be pissed.”

“Wow, really? Because I think he’ll be psyched one of the best acts in the group just dropped out without letting him know. Dom, obviously I’m gonna get yelled at by him if I so much as look at my phone.”

A side of Butler’s mouth quirked upwards. “One of the best acts?”

Juliet sniffed. “I was being humble. I’m a Butler, it’s clear I’m the best.”

At that, he laughed, and she shoved him. “Shut up! I am going to let him know eventually. I’m telling Sam that I’m not rejoining the troupe tonight—”

“Sam?” Butler frowned, and Juliet stuck her tongue out at him.

“Don’t be annoying. She’s my teammate. You saw her and I sparring before you dragged me off to Haven. We’re scheduled for matches together, so she, out of everybody, deserves to know first about my decision,” she chided.

“I wasn’t prying!” Butler said defensively.

“Fiiiine, you weren’t prying,” Juliet teased. Butler rolled his eyes.

“So, she’s your teammate. That’s nice! I’m glad you have friends in the troupe.” Butler tossed the pillow back to its original place on his bed.

“Yeah, it is nice. She’s cool, you’d like her. It’s… stupid, but I already kind of miss her,” Juliet’s tone softened. Butler’s eyes widened slightly. Oh.

“You could ask her to visit sometime, if you’d like,” he offered, trying to be nonchalant.

Juliet hummed. “Maybe. I’ll see how things go tonight with her.”

With that, she stood up from the bed. “I’m going to get ready for dinner. I think we’ve had enough awkward sibling heart-to-heart conversations for today,” she grinned, and Butler knew that eventually, things would be okay. Maybe they wouldn’t go back to normal, but that was okay. He had his sister back.

Pausing at the door, Juliet turned to face him. “It’s nice to be back home with you, Dom.”

He smiled. “Love you, too, Jules”

Juliet grinned, closing the door after her, and Butler was left alone. The sun was starting to get low in the sky, and the light cast shadows across his room.

He picked up his book again, running his fingers down the spine to stop at the name of the author. Violet Tsirblou. The book was, in all honesty, quite bad. The dialogue was awkward, the plot stilted, and the characters alien-feeling. Butler felt the smile lines on his face deepen. Artemis must have written it when he was about ten.

Butler put his hand on the window sill, his gaze falling on the pond. Myles and Beckett. Artemis and Juliet.

It would all be okay, in the end. It had to be. Butler let his hand fall from the sill. Sitting back down tiredly, he opened the book to where he had left it.

#dont mind me just using r+j as insp for fic titles re: juliet #juliet butler #domovoi butler #artemis fowl #long post

[hopelikethemoon]

First Words (Javier x Readr) {MTMF}

Tile: First Words Rating: PG Length: 2100 Warnings: Fluff Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1993 after A Dance Owed.  Summary: Reader and Javier spend their last day in Laredo and it’s one of firsts.

@grapemama​ @seawhisperer​​​​​​​ @huliabitch​​​​​​​ @beccaplaying​​​​​​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​​​​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​​​ @livasaurasrex​​​​​​​ @ham4arrow​​​​​​​ @plexflexico​​​​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​​​​ @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​​​​​​​ @randomness501​​​​​​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​​​​​​  @roxypeanut​​​​​​​ @snivellusim​​​​​​​ @lukesrighthand​​​​​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​​​​​ @awesomefandomsunited​​​​​​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​​​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​​​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @ah-callie​​​​​​​ @swhiskeys​​​​​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​​​​ @u-wakatoshii​​ @space-floozy​​​​​​​ @cable-kenobi​​​​​​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​​​ @himbopoes​​​​​​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​​​​​​​ @frietiemeloen​​​​​​​ @arrowswithwifi​​​​​​​  @cinewhore​​​​​​​ @random066​​​​​​​ @uncomicalhumour​​​​​​​ @heather-lynn​​​​​​​ @domino-oh-damn​​​​​​​ @cyarikaaa​​​​​​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​​​​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​​​​​​ @yabby-girl​​​​​​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​​​​​ @punkass-potato​​ @coredrive​​​​​​​ @pascalesque​​​​​​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​​​​​​ @queenquazar​​​​​​​ @sabinemorans​​​​​​​ @buckstaposition​​​​ @holkaskrosnou​​​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​​​​​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​​​​​​ @jaime1110​​​​​​​ @katlikeme​​

“She’s gonna say abuelo before she gets either of our names right.” Javier said lightly as he walked in from the back patio, sliding the screen door shut behind him. “Wrapped around his finger.”

“Josie’s fond of her Peña men.” You retorted, glancing up at him for a second before turning your attention back to the tomatillos you had boiling on the stove. “I can’t say I blame her, however—“ 

Javier arched a brow at you as he walked further into the kitchen, “However?”

“I can’t help but feel like I’m being a little set up here.” You told him, reaching for the spoon and giving the pot a stir. 

“I told you I’d help.” He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth as he gave you a look. “But I know you know how to make it.” 

“I do know how to make verde. It’s simple.” You retorted, setting the spoon back onto the stone holder on the counter. “But I’ve made this for the two of us, not your extended family.”

You knew Chucho and Javier were just trying to make you feel like part of the family — because you were, but at the same time they’d inadvertently set you up for failure. 

“Hey,” Javier said lowly, hooking his finger into the belt loop of your jeans as he drew you away from the boiling pot. “They’ll love it.” He assured you, smoothing his hand down your hip. “You made a good impression at the wedding.”

“I figured the only impression I made was — that poor girl Javier accidentally got knocked up.” You taunted, cocking your head to the side as you looked up at him. “I’ve never had to do the extended family thing.”

“Me neither.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

You gave him a skeptical look, “You almost married a woman, Javier. You never met Lorraine’s grandparents? Her aunt? A weird uncle?”

He scratched at the back of his neck and glanced downwards, “Touché.” 

“That’s what I figured.” You grabbed the dish towel off the counter and swatted him in the thigh with it. “If you’re going to stay in here, get the blender out.”

You’d had a handful of serious relationships in your life, and every time they got remotely close to really serious you’d quickly found a reason to skirt out of it unscathed. 

Maybe you didn’t want to admit it aloud, but that was exactly what had happened with Lance too. Except it was paired with the sobering realization that you wanted Javier — who had seemed unattainable. 

Who never once gave you the impression that underneath his bachelor veneer, that he could be something like a family man. When you first met him you never would’ve imagined yourself standing in Texas in his father’s kitchen, making salsa verde because his tia was coming over to visit before you went home to Miami. 

“Baby, did you remember cilantro?” Javier questioned as he hauled out the blender and plugged it in on the counter by the microwave. 

“There are so many knives in this kitchen.” You shot him a look over your shoulder. “And don’t the neighbors have pigs?”

“Ouch.” He feigned injuring, clutching at his chest. “I might have to take my offer to take ownership of the verde off the table.”

“Ha. Ha.” You laughed humorlessly, shutting off the stovetop. 

Javier leaned against the counter opposite of you, arms folded across his chest as he watched you work. You could feel his eyes on you as you blended down the sauce in small increments, before pouring them into a bowl to cool. 

“You know, they all adored you.” He told you, once you shut off the blender. “Pretty sure they couldn’t figure out what you were doing with me, but that didn’t change that they adored you.” 

You smiled at him as you cleaned up the mess you had made, tucking the dirty dishes into the sink, “They’ve all made me feel so welcome. Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.” 

You recognized that some of the kindness was probably pity. You weren’t stupid — you were fully aware of the optics of the situation. 

Javier had a history of burnt bridges; a history that his entire family and the whole goddamn town knew about. You and Josie probably looked pretty flammable to them. If only they knew you’d been made flame resistant from all the bridges you’d set alight while standing on them. 

They hadn’t seen him in Colombia after Josie was born. They hadn’t been there through the years that mattered. 

Chucho was probably the only one who actually believed that you’d still be around next Christmas.

“Just one more night, baby.” Javier reminded you as he crowded in close to you at the sink. “Then we’ll be in Miami.”

You sank back against him and sighed heavily, “I’m looking forward to it being just the three of us again.” You curled your fingers around his arm as he curled them around your waist. “I haven’t spoken to my own brother in years. You can imagine how navigating your extended family feels.”

“You do it so well,” He pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Couldn’t even tell you were nervous.”

You elbowed him in the gut, making him swear as you twisted around in his hold. “Fuck off.” You taunted, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips before slipping away from him. “I’m gonna go see what Josie and Chucho are up to.” You gestured to the cooling dish. “Finish our verde.” 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and nodded, “I’ll be out there in a bit.” He told you as you slid the back door open and stepped outside onto the patio. 

Laredo was a nice change of pace from Colombia. Wide open spaces and a little peace and quiet. You almost regretted that the three of you would be moving back into an apartment in a few days. 

You tried to picture what a younger Javier looked like working on the ranch alongside his father. You’d seen the pictures in frames on the walls, the old high school graduation picture stuck on the side of the fridge alongside the pictures of his cousins and their kids. 

It was hard to picture him without the mustache, the worry lines, and the weight of life on his shoulders. 

You shielded your eyes from the sun, looking across the yard towards one of the horse paddocks where Chucho had Josie. 

You couldn’t picture Javier as a younger man, but you could picture Josie growing up here. Christmases, birthdays, family reunions. Snapshots of life that you couldn’t relate to. 

All you wanted was for Josie to have a normal childhood. A happy childhood. Two parents who loved each other, a stable home life, extended family members who cared. You wanted her to have everything you didn’t have growing up. 

You never wanted her to worry. 

“How are you doing, chica?” Chucho called out as he started back across the yard towards the patio. “You get that verde finished?”

“Javier’s finishing it up.” You answered, hugging your sweater around your middle as you moved to sit down in one of the chairs around the stone fire pit. “How’s Miss Josie?”

“Having the time of her little life.” Chucho bounced her in his arms and she giggled and squealed. “Give it two years and I’ll have her out there on one of my best mares.” 

You laughed, holding your arms out to take her as she tried to squirm out of Chucho’s hold to get to you. You could tell she was tired — but she was trying to soldier through it. 

“She’ll never want to leave then!” You kissed the top of her head as she flopped against your chest. “You’re going to need a nap before dinner.” You brushed your fingers through her curly hair as she sighed dramatically. 

“Javier was a natural in the saddle,” Chucho recalled as he sank down into a chair across from you. He gestured out towards pasture. “Not even two and I had him in the saddle with me, going out to check on the fence line after a storm.”

“You could probably convince me to let her ride when she’s three.” You offered with a short laugh, rocking her in your arms. 

“Deal.” He chuckled, adjusting his hat on his head as he sank back in the chair. “You looking forward to the big move?”

You shrugged, “I’m looking forward to being settled. It’ll be good to see our friends again. To get back into a rhythm.” 

“Never thought I’d see Javier settled.” Chucho told you, shaking his head slowly. “But it’s a good look on him.” 

“He’s a really good father.” You smiled warmly, looking towards the back door, you could just barely see Javier through the glass as he moved across the kitchen. “I know the situation isn’t ideal—“

“No.” Chucho cut you off. “Things happen for a reason. They always do. There’s no such thing as ideal or not. The two of you are good together.”

“Yeah, we are.” You agreed, kissing the top of Josie’s head again. “It’s all just very new for me.” You admitted. “The wedding was a lot.”

“Would’ve gone better if Javier had given his old man a head’s up.”

You felt your cheeks warm, “I know.” 

“Everyone was real impressed with you.” Chucho told you, “Javier was worried.”

You frowned, “He was worried?”

“That they wouldn’t welcome you with open arms.” 

“Oh.” You had assumed he meant that Javier has been worried that you wouldn’t fit in. But he’d been worried for you. “I really appreciated being included. I mean, I did show up unannounced.”

He waved a hand, “You know what you need?”

“A stiff drink?” You laughed. 

“A joint.”

“Excuse me?”

Chucho gave you a look, “You didn’t strike me as a tight ass like Javier.”

“I’m not.” Your brows furrowed together. “Just so we’re clear — you mean a joint joint, right?”

“Is there any other kind?” He questioned as he stood up slowly. “Old age takes its toll on you and I’ve found a bit of marijuana helps take the edge off.”

“I would agree but,” You gestured to Josie. “I’m still breastfeeding her. As tempting as the offer is.” You glanced back towards the house, “Does Javi know?”

Chucho shook his head, “Let’s keep this between the two of us.”

You grinned, “Now I really do feel like part of the family.” 

The back door slid open and Javier stepped out onto the patio. “The verde is finished and the blender’s washed and put back up.”

“Look at that,” Chucho clicked his tongue against his teeth. “He cleans too.”

“Funny, pops.” Javier retorted as he strolled over to where you were sitting. “Real funny.”

Josie perked up the second she heard Javier’s voice, scrambling to get out of your arms. “Da-da!”

Javier stopped dead in his tracks, looking between you and Josie. “Did she just—?”

“Can you say it again?” You questioned, smoothing out her curls as you turned her in your arms so that she was reclining back against your chest and facing Javier. “Can you say daddy?”

Javier knelt down in front of you, grinning from ear-to-ear at Josie. “Come on, princesa. You know you want to say it.”

She clapped her hands together, rocking back against your chest. “D-d-d!” 

“Say daddy.” You kissed the top of her head. 

“Are you going to say daddy, JoJo?” Javier questioned, tapping his finger against her nose as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “Say daddy.” 

Josie let out a shrill squeal, “Dada!” 

You grinned down at him, “Javi!”

“Ha ha ha!” Josie cooed, tilting her head back against your chest to look up at you. “Da da da!”

Javier gave your knee a squeeze as he met your eyes, “Baby, you’re gonna have to pinch me.” He glanced back at his father then, “You hear that pops?”

“I sure did.” Chucho smiled at both of you. “You know, I think I’m gonna take the truck out and check on some work I sent the boys to sort out this week. I’ll be back before they show up.”

“You need any help?”

Chucho shook his head, “You stay right here, Javier.” He gave you a knowing look, before heading back in the house. 

“Are we sure she said daddy?” Javier questioned as he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as she babbled nonsensically. 

“I am certain.” You assured him, your heart aching from just how happy you felt. The joy on Javier’s face made everything worth it. The nerves, the worry, the anxiety, the uncertainty. Those two people made it all worth it. 

This was the Javier that no one else saw. The Javier that was madly in love with the tiny baby girl that the two of you had brought into the world. The Javier that was looking forward to being a stay-at-home dad. 

“Now we’ve got to get you saying mommy.” Javier murmured to Josie as he bounced her in his arms. 

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[thewildsophia]

.Gauze. Clone High//Van Gogh x Reader

Trigger Warnings: Self-harm, brief talk about self-hatred

A/N: So I uh did a no-no and relapsed a few days ago after 15 days of being clean (which, I’m mildly upset about but not too much; I’m alright now too btw so don’t worry) and started writing this to calm myself down. I was debating if I should post this, (mainly because this is really just a vent for me) but eventually decided to finish and publish it so yeah, here you go.

Van Gogh x Depressed!Reader

Word Count: 2188

~~~~~~~~~~

You had tried everything you could to distract yourself -- to stop yourself -- but in the end it was all for nothing. You quietly sobbed as you felt the blood seep into your shirt when you wrapped your arms around your torso, bruises already starting to form on your upper arm where you had bitten them. Your nails dug into your sides as you held yourself tighter.

“This has to stop.” You thought as you slowly let go for yourself and sat up in your bed, not caring at the fact that you were getting blood on your sheets, “This has to stop. I can’t keep doing this.” 

You carefully stood up, making sure not to fall down from lightheadedness, and made your way over to your bathroom. You turned on the shower and stripped down while waiting for the shower to heat up. Once hot enough, you slipped into the shower and started cleaning yourself off. 

It hurt, it fucking burned, when the water ran over your cuts. You had to hold back a scream as the blood was dragged down the drain by the water. You grabbed the body soap and began cleaning your chest of your blood, trying your best not to get it on cuts. You didn’t bother washing your hair. 

When you were done, you turned the water off and dried yourself off, not looking at yourself once in the mirror. You dropped the towel on the floor and walked out of the bathroom to your dresser. You sluggishly clothed yourself before looking for your first aid kit. 

Normally you wouldn’t bother with covering them, opting to just cover them with a sweatshirt, but you had begun to do so after Van Gogh had talked to you about it. He was so understanding about it too; he knew that sometimes it was just too hard to stop, but had asked that you at least take care of yourself afterwards. 

You grabbed the bottle or rubbing alcohol and cotton balls, saturated the cotton with the alcohol and got to work. If you thought the water burned, you hissed as the alcohol hit your arms, feeling as if they were on fire. It took a while since you would constantly stop to calm yourself down but when you were finished disinfecting them you grabbed the gauze pads and gauze itself before covering them, tightening and securing them with self-adhering tape. You patted your bandaged arms before pulling a sweatshirt over your head and lying down. 

You only laid there for a few minutes before you slowly stood up and put your shoes on, stopping only to look at the time.

‘11:46pm’ it read. 

Did you really want to bother him this late? You hesitated before opening the door and making your way to his dorm. You knew he wanted you to be with him when you got like this. 

You stopped at his door, hesitantly knocking. He answered only a moment later, clearly still awake.

“Oh, Y/N,” He whispered surprised, “What are you…” He started to ask before stopping himself as he took in your form. Your hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles and still damp in some places, and your clothes weren’t in much better shape. He also noted the sweatshirt you were wearing, the one you’d mainly wear after you… 

“Did you…?” He asked trailing off while taking your hand and leading you inside.

“Yeah.” You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. You closed the door behind you. Van Gogh let go of your hand, leaving you standing in the front of the door, and walked over to his mini fridge. 

“Did you tend to them?” He asked while walking back over to you, handing you a cold bottle of water. 

“I did.” You answered, opening the water bottle and chugging some of it down. You took your shoes off before following him to his bed and sitting down. He sat down next to you, taking the half empty water bottle and placing on the nightstand next to his bed. 

“May I?” He asked while placing his hand utop you, teasing at your sleeve. 

“Go ahead.” You answered, feeling Van Gogh pull your sleeves back. Even if you weren’t looking at him, you knew that he had a frown on his face as he rubbed circles into the bandages with his thumbs. 

“Do you…” he began but hesitated, “Feel a bit better?” He finished and that when you looked over at him. Even though the lighting was dim, you could see the thin layer of tears that glazed over his eyes. 

“A bit.” You answered after a moment, “I’m sorry. I tried, I really did I promise, it’s just so…hard sometimes to stop myself from doing it.” You said with a quiet cry at the end. You pulled your arms away from him, pressing them to your chest before laying down on your side, facing away from him. You didn’t start sobbing like you thought you would, instead you just laid there, clutching your bandaged arms to yourself while tears silently fell from your eyes. You felt so heavy.

“Hey,” You heard Van Gogh whisper, suddenly right by your ear, “Don’t apologize. There’s nothing for you to apologize to me for.” Van Gogh brought your head into his lap as he threaded his thin fingers through your hair with one hand, rubbing your shoulder with the other. 

“It’s alright, I know how hard it is to fight the urges. I’m just glad that you’re, for the most part, okay.” Van Gogh said with a sad smile. You looked up at him and rubbed his cheek, noticing a tear fall from his left eye. 

“Don’t cry,” You whispered, “If you start crying, I’m gonna start crying and then we’re just gonna be a sobbing mess.” You said in an attempt to cheer you both up. He smiled before saying,

“Alright, I’m just…” He began, pausing, “I’m just glad that you’re-that you’re still here.” He finished and you felt the air leave your lungs. Your bottom lip started trembling and before you could stop it more warm tears began to flow from your eyes. 

“Christ, Van Gogh, don’t say shit like that.” You said while sitting up from his lap, rubbing at your puffy eyes. You felt him wrap his short arms around your waist and you sighed in his grasp. 

“Sorry,” He said, his words being muffled by your back, “But it’s true. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Your shoulders slumped down as the tension left them. You placed your hands over top where he had his around you, patting them in a silent plead to let you go. He, reluctantly, did and you turned yourself around to face him. He gently grabbed your hand again, turned it palm up before pressing soft kisses to the inside of your wrists. You stared at him for a moment, your face becoming unbelievably hot, before you giggled, pressing your other hand against his cheek.

“Stop it you fucking-NERD!” You laughed as he started chuckling himself, but didn’t pull away for you just yet. He continued pressing kisses up your arm until he reached the end of the bandages, which is when he looked you in the eyes. He moved his face away from your before kissing your lips. 

His lips were soft and warm while your were chapped and cold because of the dehydration and blood loss. You moaned softly into the kiss as his hand found his way onto your cheek and into your hair. You cupped his cheek as the two of you continued to kiss. 

It was soft and chaste and just everything you needed and before you stop him he pulled away, a smile gracing his pale face. You couldn’t help but smile at how he looked; he was cute yet handsome and you absolutely loved him. 

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Van Gogh asked, eyebrows slightly raised in question. 

“Not since this afternoon.” You answered. He sighed before getting off the bed and walking towards his kitchen. 

“Wait here,” He said, “I’ll see if I’ve got anything for you.” You wanted to tell him he didn’t have to, that you didn’t need anything, but the pangs of hunger that you felt stopped you.

“Okay.” You answered, grabbing your water bottle and finishing it off. He came back after a minute and handed you a poptart and another bottle of water. 

“Sorry, I don’t have much to eat here.” He said with a nervous chuckle. 

“It’s fine.” You said while opening the packet, “Thank you, love.” He smiled before recycling the empty bottle of water. He came back and sat down on the bed next to you while you ate your poptart. He leaned his head on your arm and rubbed your thigh with his thumb. 

You finished the poptart before getting up and throwing the wrapper away. Van Gogh had ushered you back and you returned to him, flopping face down onto his bed. Van Gogh made his way over to where you were on the bed and kissed the back of your head. 

“Come on, get up.” He said and you complied, heaving your body onto the bed and facing him. He scurried to the top of the bed, laid down and patted the space next to him. Taking the hint, you made your way next to him and as soon as you had stopped moving he pressed himself to yourself. His face was in the crook of your neck and he pressed a kiss to the soft spot on the bottom of your jaw. You giggled before wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his head, paying no mind to the slight itch of his bandages. He wrapped his arms around your neck, continuing to pepper it with soft kisses. 

He eventually stopped, and it was quiet for a moment and you didn’t like it. You never liked it when it was quiet. Made you think.

“Hey,” Van Gogh began, pulling you out of your thoughts, “Would you…like to talk about it?” He asked. You face scrunched in thought before you simply answered, 

“Not really; not tonight at least.” 

“Okay, that’s fine.” He responded. You subconsciously pressed Van Gogh tighter to you as the room when silent again. He seemed to take notice of this because he, in turn, pressed you tighter to him. 

“Hey, did you want to be held tonight?” Van Gogh asked and you felt your eyes water at the question.

“Yes…” You whimpered, letting go of your death grip on him. The two of you shifted before settling in a position where your face was now in his chest and his chin was now on your head. It was a bit awkward considering that you were a few inches taller than him, but you made it work. You breathed in his seemingly permanent scent of turpentine, MSC, and paint -- specifically oil. 

Your eyes began to water as you wrapped your arms back around his waist. You couldn’t help the sob that tore through your throat a moment later and it seemed that Van Gogh didn’t mine, running his fingers through your H/C hair. 

You began crying into his chest, not even trying to quiet it down, and Van Gogh let you. He continued to run his hands through your hair, whispering sweet comforts to you while you cried. 

It hurt, everything just hurt so damn much. You weren’t even sure why you were upset, why you were hurting, in the first place. What happened today wasn’t even that bad, but…considering the events of the days before today…

You’re not sure how long the two of you stayed like that, your face pressed to Van Gogh’s chest and his hands in your hair, but you did know that when you did stop you felt utterly tired. You were already exhausted when you got here, but now all you wanted to do was curl up with Van Gogh and sleep. 

“Do you feel better now?” Van Gogh asked after your sobs had died down. You nodded a ‘yes’ into his chest and felt him kiss your forehead in response, “Good.” 

“Thank you, Vince.” You whispered into his chest. 

“Of course, liefde.” He whispered back, resting his hands around your shoulders. “I love you, Y/N.” Your arms involuntarily gripped him harder, holding him tighter, as that familiar burn returned to your throat. That burn made it difficult to speak and you were barely able to choke out a response.

“I love you too, Vincent.” You tilted your head up a bit and managed to press a few kisses to Van Gogh’s neck, earning a chuckle in response. 

“Alright, alright,” Van Gogh started, pulling himself away from your onslaught of kisses, “Get some rest. You and I both know you need it.” You hummed in acknowledgement before responding. 

“So do you,” You pressed your face back into his neck, “Goodnight, Vince.” 

Van Gogh pressed one last kiss to your head before saying, 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#clonehigh #clone high #clone high van gogh #clone high vincent van gogh #clone high x reader #vincent van gogh #van gogh x reader #vincent van gogh x reader #thewildsophia writes

[lowkeyjustvibing]

Guess who decided to write more fanfic?

So I took those angsty IBVS headcanons, procrastinated for forever, and have finally figured out how I shall write this.

Also I decided to get some hurt/comfort up in here ‘cuz our favorite school king doesn’t deserve pure distilled pain without getting hugs.

IBVS by onebizarrekai

It was odd to say the least. Edward was known to be arrogant and boisterous, enough so that he drew the attention of anyone and everyone. So it was certainly confusing when the normally loud and proud school king slowly became much more quiet and secluded. No one knew what had caused it but after just a week Edward was an entirely different person. He was jumpy and hardly interacted with anyone outside of his inner circle. Easy to say, this caught the attention of many of the students.

“Hey, you know what’s up with Ed?” Chris asked, “I mean, he hasn’t shown up to any of the meetings and I rarely see him outside of class.”

“I dunno’,” Isaac said, not looking up from his sketchbook, “but yeah, it is a little weird that Mr. High and mighty is all secluded now.”

“I’m just worried.” Chris mumbled and Isaac gave him an odd look, “Hey! Don’t you dare. I just don’t want him to be hurt or something and we haven’t done anything to help him. I know you two don’t have the best relationship but you have to at least be a little concerned.”

After a moment of silence, Isaac sighed and set aside his sketchbook, “Alright, you caught me. Yes I’m a little curious about what’s up with the big guy, but what do you want to do about it? You can’t expect to just ask him what’s wrong and get him to pour out his heart or something. It was already difficult to get him to talk about like, anything aside from supernatural stuff before so I can’t imagine how sheltered about personal stuff he’d be now.”

“Well I’m getting the truth out of him one way or another.” Chris responded, standing up and grabbing his jacket.

“You should try asking Barry if he knows anything, he and Quinton are pretty close.”

Chris just nodded before waving goodbye and leaving to go find Barry.

-------

“I don’t know what’s wrong either.” Barry said sadly, “He doesn’t even come over anymore.”

Chris groaned in frustration, falling onto his back and frightening a nearby cat, “Great, so NO ONE knows.”

They both just sat there for a minute, neither of them wanting to break the silence.

“It’s just so frustrating!” Chris groaned, digging his palms into his eye sockets, “I mean, it’s not like the answer is just going to just waltz through the door!”

Suddenly, there was a loud bang coming from the kitchen and they both jumped. They glanced at each other and then tensed upon hearing the back door fly open and shut.

“Hello?” Barry called.

There was no response and Chris stood up, a fuzzy outline of a blade hovering next to his hand. Barry followed him as they slowly walked into the kitchen to see what was happening. 

“Hey!” Chris called, “Who’s there?”

There was a quiet sniffle and then a weak voice responded, “S-sorry for j-just walking in...”

Barry blinked a few times before stepping forward, “Ed?”

Sure enough, the once proud school king was hidden in the corner hugging his knees to his chest. He was shaking and breathing unevenly and looked like a mess.

“Holy cow Ed,” Barry muttered, walking over quickly, “what happened?”

When he tried to reach out to comfort his obviously distressed friend, Edward flinched back, “D-don’t t-touch me p-please...”

Chris stepped forward, “Are you OK?”

Edward shook his head, barely stifling a sob.

“Is there anything we can do?” Barry asked.

“W-water.” Edward croaked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

It was then that Chris noticed that the other was wearing thick gloves and extra layers.

“Are you cold?” He asked, “I can get you a blanket.”

Edward shook his head slightly and Barry returned with a glass of water.

“Here.” He said, carefully handing it to Edward without touching him.

After confirming that he wasn’t hurt or anything, Chris and Barry walked back to the living room to give him some space.

“Did you see how much stuff he was wearing?” Chris asked, “He looks like he’s planning to go to Antarctica or something.”

Barry thought for a moment, “He said he didn’t want to be touched, maybe that’s part of it?”

Chris nodded, “But it’s weird, he was never this paranoid about being touched. Heck, he used to drag Isaac into closets. What changed?”

“That’s something he’s going to have to tell us.”

-------

After Edward finally calmed down enough to talk, Chris and Barry began rapid firing questions at him.

“Are you OK?”

“What happened?”

“Why were you so freaked out?”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“H-hey!” Edward stuttered, “I appreciate the concern but just... One at a time or something.”

Barry was the first to speak, “What happened?”

This seemed to catch the other off guard, “Well, umm... I just- Umm...”

“Here,” Chris interrupted, “let’s break it down a little, did someone do this to you?”

After a bit of hesitation, Edward nodded.

“Who?” The other two asked simultaneously.

“N-” Edward flinched, “E-emo kid...”

“Nevin?!” Chris asked incredulously and Edward flinched again.

Barry only grew more concerned, “What did he do?”

“H-he’d catch me a-after school and beat m-me up...” Edward mumbled, seeming to shrink into himself, “I-it sorta’ became an e-everyday thing. I’d get out of class and h-he’d drag me off somewhere and...”

“Holy...” Chris muttered, “Edward I- Oh my gosh... I’m so sorry man.”

At this, Edward broke and started crying. It took every ounce of self control in both of them not to rush forward and comfort their friend.

Barry rested a hand on Chris’s shoulder, “I’ll take care of him, could you go talk to Nevin?”

Chris nodded, his worry instantly forgotten as he was filled with anger and determination, “Of course. Take care of him while I’m gone.”

And with that, he was off again, this time with a burning sense of purpose.

--------

Chris knocked on the door to the Jovel’s house (To be fair, pounding would be a better word). After a few moments, none other than Nevin opened the door. He looked bored and vaguely annoyed, like Chris had just inconvenienced him.

“‘Sup Chris?” He asked nonchalantly.

At the completely unfazed tone, Chris couldn’t help the slight flicker of a knife appearing at his side.

“Well,” He said through gritted teeth, “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

Nevin gave him a suspicious look, probably noticing his tone, before moving aside, “Then come on in.”

“I’d rather not.” Chris muttered.

“Oh?” Nevin responded, “But I insist.”

Chris finally snapped. He grabbed Nevin and after yanking him out onto the porch, pinned him against the outside wall. Before the other could even speak, there was a bright red blade inches from his throat. 

After recovering, Nevin finally spoke, “Oh, this was unexpected.”

“How DARE you.” Chris hissed, the knife edging just a hair closer.

Nevin gave him a confused look, “How dare I what?”

“You know what!” Chris spat, “Here, I’ll help you out. Two words, Edward. Quinton.”

Nevin looked at him for a moment before he burst out laughing. It took all of Chris’s willpower not to give Nevin a taste of his own medicine and beat him up.

“Oh I forgot about that!” He wheezed, “That was fun! Can’t believe you’re actually worried about that guy.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” 

“Oh please, inform me.” Nevin drawled, once again looking bored and inconvenienced.

Chris felt his eye twitch and he dropped Nevin, “OK, how about I give you a demonstration then?”

As the other stood up, Chris noticed that his eye had turned to the unnatural cyan color indicating that his powers were activated. Then, to his surprise, a thick black liquid seemed to materialize on his shorter opponent.

“You want a fight?” Nevin said, grinning wildly, “You got one.”

-------

Meanwhile, Edward was sitting with Barry on his couch watching a movie. It took a while, but Barry eventually managed to convince his friend that he wasn’t going to be hurt. Not long after that, Edward was practically on top of him, furiously denying that the action meant anything. About halfway through the movie, the front door slammed open and Edward screeched before falling off the couch.

“Chris?” Barry called and received an affirmative grunt in response. 

After hearing him struggle for a bit and mutter something about octopi, Chris finally walked into the living room.

Barry jumped up at the sight of him, “Holy-! I’ll go get my kit, stay right there!”

Chris groaned before flopping face first onto the couch. He was covered in cuts, bruises, and odd patches of black slime.

Edward looked worried, “Are you OK?”

“Peachy.” Chris responded, turning to look at him, “How ‘bout you?”

“Better than you I suppose.”

Barry got back with some medical supplies and started fussing over Chris. While he was getting cleaned up, Chris explained how he got into a fight with Nevin and “Taught that crazy goop lord a lesson”. Barry didn’t even question that statement, just telling Chris to go take a shower before he made even more of a mess.

“Want to finish the movie?” Edward asked after hearing the upstairs bathroom door close.

“Sure.” Barry responded, “Just let me clean off the couch first.”

-------

By the time Chris finally finished showering, realized he didn’t have spare clothes, and was supplied some sweats and a T-Shirt by Barry, it was already dark.

Chris swore quietly, “My dad’s gonna’ kill me when I get back. I should probably go before he gets even more mad.”

“Oh heck with your dad!” Edward shouted from the kitchen, “He’s gonna’ be pissed whether you go back now or a week from now! How ‘bout we all just hang out here for the night?” 

Barry shrugged, “Sounds good to me.”

Chris was dumbfounded, “B-but I need to-”

“Ah shut up ya’ nerd.” Edward said, sauntering out of the kitchen, “You already had quite the day so there’s no point in going home just to get chewed out by your dad.”

“Besides,” Barry interjected, “I don’t think he’d miss that you’re wearing someone else’s clothes.” Chris flushed slightly at that statement, “I’ll toss your clothes in the washer and you can go back tomorrow looking like nothing happened.”

“OK...” Chris mumbled, still embarrassed.

After Barry left to put Chris’s clothes in the laundry, Edward jumped onto the couch, bouncing once and then burying his face in a pillow. Chris just grabbed the blanket and sat down on the other side of the couch, wrapping himself in it. Then, to his surprise, Edward grabbed a corner of the blanket and yanked on it, pulling Chris (Who had a death grip on said blanket) onto him.

“‘M cold.” Edward muttered, yanking on the blanket a few more times.

Chris was conflicted and incredibly flustered. On one hand, he wanted that blanket and on the other, he wanted to apologize for nearly falling on top of his new friend. Edward didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he seemed quite content. It took a few moments of mental struggle for Chris to decide that being warm under the blanket was worth more than apologizing profusely. Barry finally got back, stifling a laugh at the sight of an unconscious Edward practically cuddling a very flustered Chris.

“Help!” Chris whispered.

Barry just grinned and sat next to them, “Sorry buddy, I’ve learned from experience that there’s no escaping Ed when he’s in a cuddly mood.”

With that, Barry grabbed a corner of the blanket and pulled some onto his legs before leaning up against the arm of the couch. Chris sputtered a bit before succumbing to his fate and deciding to just get some sleep, almost instantly passing out.

---------

Anyways, I’m too lazy to write it out but Chris totally wakes up to Edward and Barry acting like an old married couple and giving each other kisses while they’re cooking. But yeah, I decided to write some good ol’ Edward angst and accidentally turned it into a poly ship, so sue me. 

#general's fics #IBVS #Edward Quinton #Barry Price #Chris Jackson #This is probably so ooc #hhhhhhhh

[outerbankslut]

Here For You... JJ Maybank

Summary • One afternoon after seeing a certain blond pogue hurt you are left confused and worried for him. So you set out to figure out exactly whats happened to him or more like what happens behind the closed doors of the Maybank residence.

Warnings • Swearing. Cannabis abuse. Mentions of abuse(from the show)-And please if you’re going through anything like that please talk to someone. My doors always open if you need to talk <3

Word Count • 4.3k (Imagine)

Masterlist

(GIF isn’t mine, let me know if it’s yours)

    FLOUR ENCASED YOUR clothing as you finally slid the greased up tray into the oven, dusting your hands off after. John B and your friends were out on the boat for the day which you declined to have the day to yourself to bake cookies and do homework in peace without the likes of John B your brother and JJ your best friend. He stayed around a lot and at this point he basically lived there but you didn't mind. Truth be told, you had a big fat crush on the boy. But it was the opposite of all teenage love stories. He didn't love you back. You often found yourself happy to wake up and see the boy sitting around the house drinking beer or smoking a joint. He gave a sense of comfort in the house that felt so empty without your dad.

You and John B being twins shared most things—one being friends. You had known the blond since you were in third grade, and that was when the crush bloomed but you could tell by his constant hookups he didn't know nor reciprocate those feelings. He only thought of you as a friend.

Then there was Pope. Occasionally you worked down at his dads shop for extra money for rent if your uncle didn't come through with it as well as groceries since he didn't seem to care if you or John B starved. Pope was the sweetest and smartest boy you had met. When your brother refused to show you how to drive a boat the Pope showed you on delivery once. Though it got you in trouble with Heyward when you turned back up late to the shop.

And Kiara. She was a Kook. Got a taste of both sides of the jungle. The kooks didn't sit well with her so she ended up an honorary pogue. She was your best friend as soon as she joined the group since you'd never had a girl to talk to since your mum left and your house was filled with boys.

You sighed as you settled down atop the counter looking at your phone as you added a timer since the one on the oven was broken. It was all quiet apart from the low hum of the oven fan until a door was shoved open and stumbling footsteps walked round the house.

Everyone else was on the boat, so who the hell was this?

You picked up the wooden base ball bat from that leaned on the wall just in case and held your phone ready to call 911 and inched towards where the sound was coming from.

And the bathroom light was on, you furrowed your eyes brows in confusion.

Then when you pushed open the door you caught a flash of golden blond locks as the boy quickly turned around putting his shirt on quickly.

"JJ?"

A bruise had formed just beneath his eye and along his cheek bone, mixed arrays of blues and purples splashed with the cream colour of his skin. You gasped as you saw it. His lip was busted and there was a small cut just above his eyebrow.

You reached forward to get a better look at his face as you finger lightly grazed over the bruise and he flinched away slightly making you frown.

"Sorry." You pulled away looking at the boy who had nothing to say in that moment but normally was not the quiet type. "Wait, why are you here? I thought you were on the boat with the others."

"I decided not to go today. I—um, had to help out my dad with some stuff at home." His voice wavered as he spoke leading you to believe he was keeping something. Then he turned his eyes to you. "What about you? Didn't think anyone would be here."

"I have homework to do. But that's beside the point. What happened to your face?"

He panicked. You couldn't know. As much as he wanted to wrap his arms around you and just stay there forever in your safe arms he couldn't. He couldn't drag you into his mess of a life. If would be best if you stayed just outside of it. You couldn't get hurt because of him.

"Homework. And I thought Pope was the nerd." He was deflecting. You rolled your eyes at the act. Something was definitely up. If this was just a small run in with Rafe other other Kooks then why would he be hiding that?

You sighed deciding not to question him for a second. Though you wanted to know who did it so you could punch them, he could tell you in his own time.

"I can help clean you up, got some frozen peas in the freezer. And some antiseptic wipes for that cut. But after that I want to know what happened."

"You know, I forgot I've got to get back to work and stuff. I'll see you later, Lu." He rushed past you away from the bathroom he had sought refuge in, where he thought he was alone but the prying eyes of Lucie Routledge never once left his.

"Wait, JJ!"

But he didn't stop. He carried on until he was perched on his bike and you were walking down the porch stairs.

He ignored you pulling on his helmet though when doing so his shirt rode up slightly and you got a glimpse of how bad it really was. How bad his homelife was. Though you didn't connect the dots just yet.

You gasped with a hand over your mouth seeing bruises all down his side, a messy painting of purples, blues and greens mashed together. But before you could say anything he sped away leaving you in your thoughts about what the hell happened.

The rest of the night you filled the out the pit in your stomach with chocolate chip cookies and empty thoughts. Since then you couldn't concentrate on your homework having given up an hour ago just when John B came back with Pope and Kie.

Your brother barrelled into your room a cookie in hand and jumped onto your bed as you winced hoping it didn't break.

"Did you guys have a good day?"

"Yeah. Especially since you weren't there." He joked taking a hefty bite of the cookie just as you threw your pillow his way.

He noticed your expression after that. You were distracted and confused and seemed distant.

"What's up with you?"

You sent him a puzzled look. "Nothings up with me. I don't know what you're talking about."

He rolled his eyes before standing up and messing up your hair with his hand which you promptly slapped away. "Well if you want to talk then I'm just next door."

Except you weren't part of the thoughts plaguing your mind. It was JJ.

    THE NEXT DAY when everyone was round at the Chateau JJ didn't even look at you. His gaze was focused either on the ground or towards whoever was speaking except from you. You could never get him alone to talk to him since he made sure you were never alone in a room and would spark up a conversation with literally anyone before you could utter a word.

It was midday and you were out on the HMS pogue with them all sitting next to Kie. John B was fishing, JJ was smoking as usual on the other side of the boat, Pope was reading and Kie was on her phone while you were braiding your hair. If the others weren't here you would definitely be able to cut the tension between you and JJ with a knife. If he was going to ignore you for wanting to help him then so would you. Two can play at that game.

The others could sense something was wrong though and were choosing to ignore it. They could tell since JJ had only flirted with Kie all day. He'd willingly had a conversation about science stuff with Pope. And none of them had seen either of you speak a word to each other.

As you sat with your eyes covered by sunglasses and body clad in a purple bikini you heard a squeal emitting from beside you and turned to see John B tipping fish out of a net right next to you and Kie and you felt a small splash on your legs of water from the dead Sea life.

"Nice haul, dude. Look at that." JJ commented.

Kie grimaced scouting away as she moaned at the boy for putting it so close to her. "Ugh, John B."

"Been all bait for, like, three weeks." Then John B threw a fish at JJ landing beside him.

"Gross."

Then your brother turned to you holding a fish in his hand and you scooted further away practically laying on Kie. "John B, do not thr—"

You were interrupted by the slimy fish landing on your lap after it had hit your face. JJ erupted with laughter at that as you narrowed your eyes. Practically the only interaction he had today with you. You narrowed your eyes on JJ before turning to John B and throwing the fish back at him as he ran to the other side of the boat.

Then JJ tackled down at the bow of the boat laughing before Pope jumped on top and Kie joined.

"Incoming." You yelled as you flopped down on the four people pile hearing groans in response with muffled laughter.

"I think you guys squished my organs." John B muttered as JJ nodded but you couldn't help but lie there and wish that this would be the way your life was for ever. The boat adventures, surfing, island life and doing whatever the fuck you wanted.

"Uh... Lu?" Kie muttered nudging your side and you jumped off realising you had just been sitting and staring into space. You noticed JJ wincing slightly as you all got up and felt guilty. Though he did jump into it himself. Literally.

"Sorry."

"No problem, my lungs may no longer work but it's fine." John B said and you flicked him on the forehead when he sat up.

Kie looked to you as though she got an idea and smiled. "Food at the wreck? I've got a shift in like...an hour."

"Not gonna turn down food. Especially from the wreck my favourite place on earth."

"My dads not gonna give you a discount for ass kissing." Kie deadpanned to JJ who looked dejected as you laughed. "You can have leftovers from are lunch menu though if I can convince him."

"Score." He pumped his fist in the air and you rolled your eyes. This was going to be a long day if he kept this up.

    AT THE WRECK the table could not been more awkward. The only seats left were next to each other that both you and JJ were forced to take while the other three sat on the other side of the round table laughing and joking around. It was like they did it on purpose. You picked at the fries in the small basket while JJ entered the conversation and you kept mulling over yesterday. The thought of JJ hating you felt horrible—like you were about to throw up every passing second. It may seem an overreaction to him ignoring you all day but why else would he be. Maybe you did something yesterday. Maybe you said something wrong. Maybe you—

"Lu?" Kiara stared concerned from beside you. Maybe you'd been lost in your thoughts for too long.

"What's up?"

She pointed to your hand and you looked down to see in your ranting thoughts you hadn't paid much attention to anything else and had squished a few fries in your hand. "You murdered some poor fries." She pouted as you laughed.

"Oh. Oops." You dropped them into the basket and by impulse sent a fleeting glance towards JJ who stared at his own food eating slowly which was unusual for him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

Kie nodded in response slowly not really believing you.

"Okay, well I have to go start my shift now. So I’ll see y'all later." You all waved goodbye to the Carrera girl before finishing your food and heading back out on the boat from the docks by the wreck.

First it was dropping Pope off at Heywards to help his dad and then you headed back to the chateau, a silence among you until your brother coughed awkwardly looking between the two off you.

"Okay, none of us said anything earlier but you guys are acting weird. First it was you guys not speaking a word to each other. Then it was your fry mass murder. What's going on?"

"Nothing." JJ shrugged nonchalantly. Yep absolutely nothing was wrong. It was all fine and dandy.

"Whatever you guys want to think." John B shrugged not pushing anymore.

Once you got back to the Chateau John B docked up the boat just as JJ walked off down the dock to the house. You sighed. Could you give him anymore time? This couldn't go on for much longer. Surely.

    HE WAS STILL ignoring you the next day and it was just pissing you off now. So you stormed out to the porch where he had laid himself across the couch smoking. John B was out at work so it was just the two of you there and he was actively avoiding you.

"JJ!"

Still nothing. So you did something he would definitely respond to. You went up to him and before he realised, you had snatched the joint from his fingertips.

"Hey!"

"So now you talk to me." He scowled before attempting to take the joint back but you moved backwards sending concerned eyes to his rigid figure. "I'm worried about you JJ. You come in with bruises and avoid telling me why or letting me help you and then you ignore me all day yesterday. What's going on?"

His eyes softened as he focused his gaze on you and ran a hand through his hair turning around. And just when you thought he was going to open up to you he stopped the softness in his eyes dissipating into emptiness.

"What’s wrong is you just don’t know when to let off. You need to mind your own business Lu. You’re fucking annoying getting in everyone’s business all the time.” His voice was angry but it didn’t reach his eyes. The frustration didn’t reach those baby blue eyes. In fact they were filled with a sea of guilt and regret. But it was done now. He couldn’t go back now. And he knew he’d royally fucked up when he saw your face melt into a melancholy frown. But what did he expect?

So it was your fault. You were too nosey? But you were truly just worried about your friend. Is that a crime?

“Are you joking or something?” You laughed to ease the tension but the coldness in his face didn’t break. “You’ve been mad at me because I care? Your my friend, of course I care. I’m not going to apologise for getting into your business if it means that you’re okay.”

“It’s getting unbearable! You’re getting unbearable and annoying. I can’t—I just needed—need a break! So forgive me for not wanting to talk to you today! Because no one asked you to help them, it’s not your fucking place!”

“I know no one asked thats just what you do as a friend. You support them no matter what. Those bruises are clearly from something bad if you don’t want me to know. So I’m sorry someone actually fucking cares about you JJ!” Your voice raised towards the end but then cracked at the tears building in your throat suffocating you.

It broke JJ. He was causing this. He was the idiot that made you think you were anything less than amazing. But it was for your own good. Right?

Your best friend and unrequited love, thinks your unbearable and annoying and intrusive. And yet had never mentioned it all this time.

“I just need a break for a bit, I need you to leave me alone for a bit and so I can cool off. Is that too hard for you?!”

“What? Our friendship? You can’t just put something like that on hold. You can go fuck yourself cause when your ‘ready’ and ‘cooled off’ I won’t fucking care. Find yourself some new friends who don’t care about you cause it won’t be hard for me to leave you the fuck alone!” You spat at him. Was it too harsh? You were scared it was but he was harsh first. He didn’t say anything after. Just stayed quiet as you scoffed, salty tears sliding down your cheeks.

"You're a fucking asshole JJ Maybank." You shook your head and shoved past the boy. Your mind had completely forgotten about the bruises now. If he wanted to stay out of his business then so be it. You would remove him completely from your life.

The rest of the day you lounged around the house. After the argument you hadn't given JJ his joint back so you got high the rest of the time and it helped. For a few hours and then you were back to mourning your friendship. Thinking about all the good times you’d had. All the times when he didn’t seem to hate you. The blond hadn't resurfaced. He left just after the argument going somewhere but obviously you didn't ask.

It was days after that and you were laying in your bed that was pressed up beside the window and staring at the sky thinking about the blonds words over and over.

A loud knock startled you out of your gaze and you looked down to see the figure of the boy you had been thinking about all day. Your eyes settled on him narrowed and blazing until you saw his face. Littered with more bruises than the day before. More than you could count.

He stood looking so much smaller than any other time than you had seen him. His eyes were watery and red and you could see him trembling slightly. You immediately wanted to take him into your arms and hug him tight. But would he want to?

You quickly went and opened your window allowing him in as you scooted backwards in your bed. When he got in you immediately went and hugged him not even asking for an explanation this time. He was upset and hurt and what he needed then was comfort not an interrogation.

As soon as your arms wrapped around his body he shook with sobs his tears running down your shoulder.

You rubbed his back and made soothing circles as tears of your own leaked out. After 10 minutes he moved away looking down not feeling like he could even look you in the eye after earlier and him crying to you.

"I'm so sorry, Lu. I didn't mean to hurt you and I didn't mean anything I said. I just didn't want you to know. I didn’t want you to know—to see how weak I was. I wanted to push you away so you wouldn't get involved in my messed up life." You nodded slowly as more tears fell. Tears of relief but also sadness. Sad that he didn’t think he could come to you. To confide in you and that instead he pushed you away in the worst way possible hurting you both.

JJ felt like shit. Emotionally and physically. He couldn’t believe what he had done to you days earlier. It was like his mind was in autopilot not allowing you to do anything by watch as you both argued.

He still avoided your gaze until you softly put a hand under his chin lifting his gaze to your as you smiled sadly at him. "It's okay J. I just wanted to make sure you were okay so I could help or stop it somehow. But right now there's more important things than that and I need to get some first aid stuff."

Just as you got up his hand reached out to yours holding it softly and stopping you in your tracks.

"It was my dad."

You froze tears gathering at the hoarseness of his voice and the crack that echoed when he said it. His dad. Though you never liked Luke Maybank, you never thought he would stoop this low. Beating his own child. It would take a lot of willpower not to go over there and give him a taste of his own medicine. The one person that’s supposed to take care of him. To love him. Beats him instead.

You didn't say anything except hug him once more time. Holding him tight but careful around the bruises areas. The thought of his dad putting those bruises and scars all over his body made you sick to your stomach. How dare he. How dare he think he had any right to lay a hand on his child like that.

You left when he sat perched on the edge of your bed no longer crying. It broke your heart since JJ was a tough nut to crack half the time. But this was obviously going to be his breaking point. It would be anyone’s.

You gathered all the thing you'd need and took JJ to the bathroom careful not to wake John B as you did.

"Tell me if it hurts okay?" He nods and you take an antiseptic wipe towards the new cut on his cheek dabbing it gently to clean it. There was another cut on his arm and his split lip which you cleaned as well as the boy stared at you intently. You felt redness spread across your cheeks as you finally looked into his eyes.

"What?" You asked and he just shook his head a small smile appearing.

"I'm just realising how much of an idiot I was pushing you away this morning. Your my best friend—no you're more than that and I shouldn't have done that I just didn't want to get you caught up in this mess."

"Exactly JJ. I'm your best friend. A best friend is meant to be there for you in moments of weakness or through things like this. I don't care about being caught up in all this I just care about you. I’m here for you. Always." You carried on cleaning his open wounds carefully. JJ realises in that moment. You were the one person who stood by him when he got beat up in 4th grade by a bully or when people were hanging up on him and you stood up for him. You stuck around when he did crazy shit that the others didn’t stick around for. He realised that as much as you were there for him, he wanted to be there for you. He wanted to be loved by you. Not by his lowlife dad. Or his random Touron hookups. He wanted them to be you. Always you. He loved you.

"I love you." He spurted out and you stifled a gasp as you stood silently, your hand frozen in air millimetres from his face as you stared at each other. The way he said it didn’t sound like just a friend I love you. It sounded like something more. Some more which you reciprocated but you didn’t think there would ever be a day when he would say that.

"I love you too." You laughed it off.

"No Lu, I—I love you more than a friend."

“I love you more than a friend too. JJ Maybank.” His eyes widened in happiness the corners of his lip turning up and stretching as he grinned despite his split lip.

He looked like he couldn't believe it. But you had been crushing on him for longer than you could remember but you always thought it was one way. That he thought of you like a sister or something.

But maybe this whole time you had both been oblivious to each other’s blatant feelings. At least it was out now.

He placed two hands softly on your cheeks and gently pulled you in closer smashing your lips together. You could taste the metallic blood of his cut as your tongues brushed over each other’s but you didn’t care. You both pulled away breathless as you smiled into his touch. JJ looked dazed. Though the thoughts of his injuries still plagued your mind as you pulled away running out of the room to get an ice pack and some tylenol.

The bruises running down his body made you more angry by the second. But you couldn’t be blinded by that. Keeping a level head for the boy was what was important.

When you came back the boy grinned shaking his head.

“You didn’t need to get me that. What we just did was enough of a pain reliever. Though it did make me wanna relieve myself in another way if you—”

“JJ. No.” He pouted as you said that like a sad puppy.

“Another time?”

“Yeah whatever.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. Somehow even through this JJ managed to smile and joke around. He had his bad days. Like the last. But he was strong. And you loved him for that. “I’m always here for you if you need me. In that way and any other way. Also you’re not going home.”

“Of course, Milady. Why don’t we go watch Netflix and—”

“Do not finish that J.”

“Awe, come on.”

Note • This is so long Jesus. And it took me so long to finish writing and edit and I still kinda hate it but I don’t think it’ll get better than this. Oh well. Oh I forgot that when I was writing it I gave them a name rather than y/n and I cba to change it now.

#jj maybank #jj maybank obx #obx #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx jj #obx imagine #jj x reader #jj outer banks #jj #outerbankslut #jj x you #jj maybank outer banks #outer banks jj maybank #jj obx #jj obx imagine