#and ‘i know me saying that probably already has you more wet than you’ve ever been for him period’

[captain-hawks]

sorry not to gas him up but oliver could confidently get you off with (1) single finger

[dollyichi]

JUST SHUT UP!

kirishima eijirou always talks you through it. maybe a bit too much. ᯓ★ 1.8k words. m—dni. f ! reader / established relationship / f!ngering / unprotected (don’t be like them!) / reader’s very impatient and a little mean / sappy in one bit / not proofread

eijirou who’s doing his best to ignore his own cock that’s all twitchy and needy. already leaking with so much pre his cute red boxers had a big damp spot that you unfortunately couldn’t see. you’re laying on your chest with your ass up for him. face buried into the pillows as you bite into the cushion every time his fingers teased your hole.

however, he’s so fucking talkative it’s pissing you off. “baby you touched yourself lots didn’t ya?” he says with a huff, angling his fingers to that sweet spot you like so much. you groan into the pillow, grasping on the sheets. “you’re so wet and soft you don’t even realize i have three fingers in.”

“h-hahh! kiri just put i-it in… f-fuck-” you’re so sure your mouth is covered in your own spit from how long he’s kept you in that position. kneading your ass with one hand, fucking your pussy with the other. his fingers always felt better than your own and anything you use on it but it’s never enough when he can just fuck you with his dick.

“you mad at me baby? you don’t call me kiri remember?”

wasting so much time, unnecessary riling you up when you’ve been ‘so good’ for him preparing yourself so he could just jump you when he came over but no, he’s taking his sweet, sweet time prepping and fingering you as he pleased.

“don’t bite the pillow baby, i wanna hear you.” it’s so condescending almost. leaning over, whispering in your ear while his fingers continue to reach further and further. “come on, tell me how much you like it, wanna hear you some more.” this was probably the third time he’s ever fucked you ever since you’ve been together. the first time was nice, the second time was even better. a week has gone by and he was just so occupied that you made yourself busy.

you’re sick of doing it all alone and even when you mewl and whine, telling him whatever he’s doing ‘isn’t necessary anymore’ he refuses and tells you “awe hold on a little more i gotta do this for you baby~ just wanna take care of you.” and you huff and squeal, hiding your face away because you’ve really had enough. “searched up on it so i can make you feel even better.”

you really wonder how he gathered so much confidence in just a week when the past two encounters were him acting all shy. but then again, he could say the same for you. suddenly pulling him in a kiss and turning around so he could finally hold and touch you… though less holding as you wished.

he’s touched you so much you’re more sensitive than ever. you’ve lost all strength in your hands while you knees start to shake. “fuck baby your pussy’s so naughty. even louder than that pretty mouth of yours.” you don’t even know if your eyes are rolling back cause you’re so overwhelmed or frustrated. “you’re taking s’damn long eiji…” you croaked out, trying to lower your hips so you could turn around but he gets grip on you.

“hah… wanna fuck you so bad.” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers to get some type of release. “wanna do it like this baby? or you wanna see your boyfriend make a mess of you?”

“wan-want to see you… eiji… p-please?” you ask with tearful eyes, looking back at him while your mouth quivers. he immediately gives in when he sees the drool at the corner of your lips. he pulls out his fingers and it’s still so slow.

he turns you around with ease, laying you down properly. kissing you all over your face, moving your hair out of the way. “i’m sorry baby i teased you too much didn’t i?”

you click your tongue, “you’re a d-dummy.” he chuckles, bringing his hand to your face that’s covered in slick. “you looked so good i wanna eat you out.”

“i’ll kill you if you make me wait again.” you sneer.

he takes his cock out of his boxers, teasing them in between your folds while he sucked on his fingers. “hahh baby you taste so good.”

“bet you’re just gonna gush around my cock when i finally put it in.” you wished he just shut up. “look how easy my cocks gliding through, so damn wet.” god you really wanted to shut him up.

so you swat his hand away from his own cock, lining him up yourself and pushing slightly, already engulfing his tip inside. he’s already moaning when he gets the feel of your walls clamping around him. “n-no baby~ i didn’t get to put a condom!”

you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and he had no choice but to move. his inches getting further and further up inside. breathy moans escaped his lips cause you’re still so tight even when he fingered you longer this time.

when he’s fully in a whimper escape his lips. ducking his head at the side of your neck, staying still for just a little while because he was sure he was gonna cum right there. “s-shit… your pretty little cunt’s just so good for me baby. s’too good for me.” your wrap your hands around him. a hand rubbing the back of head. it was sweet, as if you were the one comforting him. but you never recalled caring even a little bit.

you move by yourself, bucking your hips upwards, making sure you feel all of him. “s-s’big eiji~” he hisses when he’s balls deep in. and you’re moaning so sweetly whenever his tip hit that extra special spot that only his cock can reach.

“hnghh no baby don’t move y-yet~ just wait a little bit-“ as if you were gonna listen to him like he refused you earlier. your grip on his is just so deliciously tight he’s really gathering whatever strength he has in his head to not cum. definitely not manly when his lover doesn’t cum first.

“please s-stop baby i’ll move okay? we’ll p-pace it out together.” and you don’t listen. again pathetically rutting up against him. but he stops you just in time with his hands on your hips. pushing it down while he tries to distract himself by the wallpaper you have in your room.

you groan in his ear, whispering how much you needed him. complaining about how much he teased you, how he’s wasting so much time. “eiji just fuck me.” god even your voice alone’s gonna make him cum.

eijirou takes a breath through his nose, proceeds to leave kisses at the sides of your head as he finally thrusts.

in and out, in and out. you’re already scratching at the skin of his back. “h-ahh you love this baby? w-when i- when i f-fuck you like this?”

you hum, knowing your voice would break if you even muster up a sentence. your eyes flutter when he angled his hips. he’s just so deep inside. “could do this forever you know? fucking into your pussy.”

“pretty baby say my name so i can fuck you e-even harder.” he grunts. breathy and short while he’s busying his mind. it was a week for him you know? a week without you—he didn’t think he’d be this reactive to you. “e-eiji~” it’s so adorable to think how you were acting all mean earlier. “mhm baby. gonna fuck you so well to make up for lost time.”

eijirou’s jaw clenches with every thrust, building up the momentum, hips rolling against your that has you weaker and weaker. the sounds of your sex all wet and gushing around the room while the creaks of the bed echoed. you were sure of it that if any of your next-door neighbors were at home they’d hear you both fucking like rabbits. he’s fucking into you so hard you’re almost worried that the headboard would snap in half.

“i love you so much baby.” he’s so damn cute. you couldn’t help but sniffle on his shoulder. burying your face at the crook of his neck while he continued to exclaim his affection.

you admit, your impatience was just a facade under all that sadness you built up over the week. one message a day, no calls, an empty bed space, a lonely dinner—you’ve missed him so much. touching yourself was even worse because all you could see when you close your eyes is your lover talking to you. finally in such a warm embrace you’re hearing him. but in your defense, he just talks to much (you don’t hate it though!)

just a few more thrusts you knew the tight knot in your tummy’s going to snap any second. the more frantic you’re grasping onto him the easier he knew just how close you were. “tell me how it feels baby~”

“i love it!” was all that got out of you. repeatedly in between soft screams and whines. sobbing underneath him while you’re waiting for your release. “th-think i’m gonna cum too baby.”

“k-kiss… together…” he smiles, cupping your face to kiss you. smashing your lips against each other.

hips start to stagger. thrusts getting sloppier, sounds getting wetter. you’re both moaning on each other’s tongues that you had to pull away, “hnnghh! cumming! eiji!”

“i’m here baby, i’m here, let it all out. cum for me- cum for me baby.” and it hits you, crying out while you pull him onto your chest, walls gushing and twitching around him who’s fucking you through your orgasm. “you’re so perfect fuck.” his breath hitches when you clench around him again. your eyes continued to flutter, still in your own high.

“just a little more okay?” you whimper, this time no longer able to respond verbally. letting him use you despite how much it’s overwhelming you, how you could feel your slick and his tip hitting with his every movement, how his skin turned sticky against your because of the sweat.

kirishima rolls his hips a little more before pulling out swiftly. pulling you in a kiss while he jerked himself off, “gonna- g-gonna cum baby.”

you’re getting all worked up again seeing him desperately jerking himself off. “you’re so sexy eiji.” was the last thing he heard before his cock squirting pretty thick white lines of his cum on your tummy.

he plops down beside you and you play with the cum on you, slowly scooping them up with two fingers, sucking them off on your mouth and eijirou watches you with a gulp.

teasingly you tell him, “awe eiji~ you taste so good.” returning the ‘favor’ from earlier. he’s put himself in a trap, all out in the open like this. you just had no choice but to eat him all up again, this time with his mouth shut.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : ohmygod writing this was like... i was in a trance. pls do not mind the minor mistakes it's like just typing one word after the other i just wanted to let this out!!!!! anyways i miss him so much actually can we please talk about him more >< also tried a gray theme for this one lmk if it’s nice ><

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, “it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can’t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[luveline]

Sorry if you’ve done this already, but if you’re taking Spencer Reid requests I would love to see one where his wife is struggling with morning sickness and he takes care of her. He has all the medical facts on deck and is the sweetest. 😊

“Morning sickness is super common.” A hand on your back. “It’s not known what the cause is, but they think it has something to do with low blood sugar.” He rubs your shoulder. Fingers spread, a slow side to side. “Because your hormones are changing rapidly, the body isn’t as efficient in processing your blood sugar.“ 

“Spence,” you say, breathing hard with your face in a toilet bowl, “that doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“What about if I told you that it’s worse with twins?” 

It’s interesting.

You’re not having the most exciting of pregnancies. Some people get pregnant and feel that connection to the baby instantly, their foetus the size of a strawberry and somehow a whole world. 

So far yours just makes you sick. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Probably not.” 

Spencer hoists you back from the bowl. He clambers off of his knees to close the lid, flush, and turn to the sink where he washes his hands. You put a hand on the lid, not so sure you’re finished throwing up, but Spencer tends to know. He’s a good guess. 

“Here, dove,” he says softly, offering a face towel wet with warm water. 

He tried to wipe your face down himself last time and you couldn’t hide how much you didn’t want him to do that. He’s kind, and the gesture is sweet, but you’re feeling less human than ever lately. An in depth analysis of your face isn’t in the books for him. 

You hold the towel in both hands and drop your head. 

“Let me help you up.” 

“I’m gonna just live here, actually.”

“I don’t think so. You’re too cute to live on the floor,” Spencer says, not even slightly ironic, “you have to live in bed like every other adorable woman.” 

“I don’t feel adorable.” 

“You wouldn’t. Your organs are moving and your skin is stretching, and the valves in your veins are becoming fatigued.” 

“Awesome.” 

Spencer holds both arms out to you and helps you stand. Your head pulses, forcing you to rest your head against Spencer’s arm for a few seconds while you come around properly. 

“You’ve never been this beautiful, though,” Spencer says softly, “you really do glow.” 

“Thanks,” you say, your laugh muffled in his shirt. 

“It’s because your blood flow has increased all over your body. Maybe. It’s probably just because you’re you and you’re having our baby and…” Spencer lets his head drop gently atop your own. “You know. You’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Even when I’m sick as a dog?” you ask. 

“At all times… you know what I said earlier, about your blood flow? You know what else that causes?” 

You bring your arms up to curl them protectively behind his neck. He takes your waist. “What?” you ask his neck. 

“Your heart doubles in size.” 

“That happened when I met you.” 

“I think being pregnant has made you flirt more,” Spencer says fondly. 

“Nope. Just a side effect of all these certified Reid facts.” You know what he’s doing, distracting you from your nausea with other things. It’s working slowly, and you appreciate the effort. You might not feel a big connection yet to your baby, but you never feel alone.  

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: pre-seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, roommate au warnings: spencer and reader are roommates !!! reader wears Miss Dior. a/n: so very sorry for not posting in so long! got busy with extracurriculars and uni started up again :( big thank you to @januaryembrs and @hotchfiles for reading through this first !! wc: 1.04k you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

Spencer officially joins the BAU late July once he completed his time at the FBI academy. It wasn’t necessarily fair for the other agents who hoped and prayed that they would be the lucky someone who would get to join the extremely elusive Behavioural Analysis Unit upon graduation, especially because he was the one who was chosen by name by the esteemed Jason Gideon. It also wasn’t necessarily fair to get home after four long egregious months of constant movement and firearm training to his roommate.

“You’re home!” 

He grimaces a little bit, dropping his heavy suitcases and bags at the doorway with a heavy sigh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’d bet! You’ve got more things than you left with!” You’re beaming, taking his new FBI registered duffle bag out of his hands and into the living room. “Your hair is so long now.”

“I feel like a wet dog,” he grumbles, pushing the strands out of his face. “Were you okay with rent? I’ll pay you back and everything–”

You laugh, shaking your head and pulling him to sit on the couch by the wrists. “It’s okay, Spence, relax. One of my friends needed a temporary place to stay, so I really only needed to pay a couple weeks of rent by myself. You’re probably starving, aren’t you? I’ve got pizza on the way.”

His cheeks burn at the contact, his throat going dry and his head almost as if it’s about to explode. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you repeat, beaming. Your fingers tug at the FBI windbreaker he’s sporting– big on his shoulders and long at the hips. “This is new. You went shopping without me?”

“Gideon insisted I get more FBI uniform,” he explains hurriedly, “he said it’d made me feel more ‘official’. They didn’t have any more in my size.”

“It’s cute! Give us a spin, Walter.” 

He does it half-begrudgingly, rising from the couch pillows and doing an awkward spin. He used to be used to it, before he went away for four months to train at the academy. He’ll need to get re-used to it, he supposes. 

“You look very official,” you say with genuinity, grinning ear to ear. “Got anything else?”

His nose scrunches in distaste as he sits back down. “There’s meant to be more?”

“The uniform isn’t just a jacket, is it?” You ask with furrowed brows. “The bag is a nice touch, though.”

“They said that I should get the polo, but I don’t think I’d ever wear it,” he explains, going through his things. They’d all need a good wash, he decides, throwing his clothes onto the floor. “There isn’t a uniform policy at the BAU, though. Just to be clean and tidy.”

“You’re already a pro at that, aren’t you, Walter?” 

His cheeks glow at your jest and he kicks at the pile of clothes at his feet. “You don’t think I’m weird, do you?”

“Weird for… being clean and tidy?” You blink, poking at his shoulder. “If that’s what weird is, then I hope there are a lot of other guys who are weird.”

“That’s an oxymoron.”

“Exactly.” He catches your smile as you speak. “It’s not a bad thing to be different. You know that, don’t you?”

“In theory,” he responds vaguely.

You huff, “You ought to remember it with that big brain of yours.”

“There’s no significant correlation between brain size and intelligence,” Spencer reminds you again, shrugging his jacket off. “You should remember that, too.”

*** 

It’s an incredibly cold November morning, just a couple of days after Halloween, and Spencer has been tearing up and down the apartment in search of his windbreaker. The team are set for Alaska this time around, and though his sweaters and wool socks provide some warmth, it was nothing compared to the inner pockets of his FBI assigned windbreaker that hold heat warmers. 

“Have you seen it?” He asks hurriedly, rushing through the living room. “I need to leave in three minutes or I’ll miss my train–”

“Seen what?” You ask, frowning as you fill his travel mug with hot coffee and sugar. “What are you looking for?”

“My jacket,” he explains halfheartedly. “You know the one.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, moving to the bathroom and pulling it off the hook. “Spencer?”

He visibly relaxes, taking it from your hands with a hint of embarrassment. “Oh.”

“You let me borrow it after you picked me up from the Halloween party, don’t you remember?” The corners of your lips quirk upwards in jest as his expression shifts into that of realisation. “I put it behind the door so that you could find it easier. Not that it helped, clearly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks pink in the light. “Thank you. See you later.”

“See you later,” you agree, and he’s already out the door, his jacket and travel mug in tow.

*** 

“Good morning,” JJ says, her bright blue eyes drowsy with sleep despite her greeting. “Are you guys ready to go?”

Spencer nods, zipping up the windbreaker and snapping the buttons together. Even in Virginia it’s still freezing. He doesn’t want to imagine how cold it’d be in Alaska. 

“Someone smells nice,” JJ chirps with a grin. “Is that– is that Miss Dior?”

“What?” Spencer sniffs, frowning. “Who?”

“The perfume?” She repeats the name, her brows flushed together. “I’m not crazy.”

“Is that Miss Dior?” Hotch asks in bemusement, sniffing the air. He looks at Jennifer with a mix of appreciation and a nod to say good taste. “Haley used to wear it all through college.”

“I’m not wearing it,” JJ insists, shaking her head with a laugh. “Spence?”

He’s barely paying attention to the conversation, frantically Googling an image of whatever the hell Miss Dior is. He’s met with the familiar rectangular bottle with pink liquid and a bow on the neck, something that he’s seen on your dresser multiple times. 

“My roommate,” he groans, covering his face with the palms of his hands. “She borrowed my jacket a couple days ago.”

“Ooh, a lady friend,” JJ snickers, “and she borrowed your jacket. How gentlemanly of you.”

Spencer sends you a long text message about the importance of not spraying perfume on clothes once he gets off the jet.

reblogs are always appreciated !!

you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

[aajjks]

Baby Daddy (m)

synopsis. you’re the prettiest ever.. he can’t help but breed you senseless.

warnings. ëxplïcït sèx, brèèdïng kïnk, unprötèctèd sèx, cryïng, mèntïön öf blèèdïng, röügh sèx, fïngèrïng, báby trâppïng, yändèrè tôji, pössèssïvènèss, hè cälls yöu èvèry pössïblè nïcknämè. mömmy kïnk, DÄDDY KÏNK.

note. he’s so 🫠😵‍💫😵‍💫… enjoy. Please keep in mind my smut writing skills are not the greatest, but I tried please share feedback x. GIF not mine credits to owner.

“Come on baby.”

He says as he trails his lips all over the skin of your neck, Toji knows you like it, the way you’ve got your eyes closed as he peppers sloppy wet kisses all over your neck gives it all away.

Or maybe it’s because he’s got his knuckles buried deep inside your dripping heat as he pleasures you with his fingers, your struggling breathing has got him almost cumming but he will hold on.

Your naked breasts are so perfect and your tear stained face looks like a masterpiece, Goodness you’re fucking gorgeous and he knows that.

That’s why he can probably lose you to someone else.

“Baby… please make my wish come true.” Whispering in your ear, He smirks as he increases his pace, curling his fingers deep inside you and he hits a spot because of the way your eyes roll back into back of your head.

You’re so weak for him and he hasn’t even really fucked your yet. You’re about to cum for the second time, he can feel it, you’re trying to say something but no words are able to come out of your mouth.

But he knows your body language better than anyone and he can do anything to make you feel good, and tonight he wants something from you and he’s going to make sure that he gets it.

“Aww baby, you gonna cum?” He keeps on working his magic with his large thick digits buried inside you, you moan so weakly, “Okay… you can cum.” The thing he loves the most about you is the way you’re so submissive and obedient you have him wrapped around your fingers and you don’t even realize it.

God, he loves you so much.

Toji is sweating and he curses under his breath when he feels you cum undone on his fingers, you whimper and mewl as you bury your face in his neck, shit he’s not going to last long either.

He’s so weak when it comes to you and his self-control immediately goes away whenever he fucks you.

“Oh, you feel good? Huh? Tell daddy, now baby tell me.” Your hair smells so good and your body is everything.

Your chest is so plush soft compared to his large hard chest, Goodness, he is so turned on right now.

So Toji lets you come down from your high and it takes you a few minutes, your orgasm must’ve been mind blowing for you to react like this, but it just strokes his ego even more.

Only he can make you feel this good.

“Yn… now it’s daddy’s turn.” When you give him the confirmation, and you know he smiles and satisfaction, he is completely naked, and soon, he pushes you into the bouncy soft mattress, the silk bedsheet is a mess but he couldn’t give two fucks.

He needs to cum in you and knock you up. and he’s told you that already even though you haven’t given him an answer, but he cannot wait anymore, he just been with him for years and the way you are so maternal around children, and even around him and his son from his first relationship, he knows that you were born to be a mother.

The mother of his children.

“Baby… now be a good girl for daddy and spread your legs.” He instrusts you as he climbes on top of you, your eyes are very glossy, and your mouth is all swollen, it’s even bleeding a little but he’s always been a rough kisser.

You’re so pretty, all for him, You close your eyes and take a deep breath, you look so breedable right now, his little Princess.

Toji knows it’s not going to hurt, so he starts to insert himself inside your wet cunt, and you shake a little because you can never get used to his size.

He’s big and he knows but you only bite your lip as you wait for him to fully settle himself into you, and as soon he manages to do that, you start moaning again, and that’s all he needs to go fully insane.

The way you trap his dick inside your pussy is magical because you’re so right that he can’t really move but you encourage him to move so he can make you feel good once again.

“A-Ah..” he groans once he finally mages to move and he’d merciless with his thrusts, your breasts bounce with every sensation and your noises are unstoppable.

He doesn’t want you to stop, “oh baby yes please keep moaning my name like that… I love y-you so much,” he buckles his hips and they’re into you, as deeply as he can.

He’s about to cum.

“G-Gonna breed my princess all nice & good- so she can give me a pretty baby… yeah?” He leans his face closer to yours as he feverishly pulls you in for a kiss.

His kiss is impatient and sloppy. You’ve got your hands wrapped around him and he’s really going to cum.

It’s insane how much you love him, and he knows that you might probably never leave him, but what is the guarantee? You see he’s been a little paranoid about you these days what is better than to make you a mother of his child?

“F-Fuck yn..” he breaths against your lips and he’s panting. “Gonna make you pregnant- you’ll look so pretty all swollen with my baby in you, eh?”

He teases you and you whine. Toji groans as he finally feels himself letting go and you whimper as he paints your walls white.

He’s cumming so hard that his shoulders are shaking while you dig your hands in his skin, yeah make him bleed, “oh mommy you’so good to me.” Slurring out, Toji pants,

He calls you mommy and you’re blushing.

And after a few minutes, The shaking of his shoulders comes to a halt and you’re both exhausted, panting, he grabs your body so you’re even more close to him

And of course he doesn’t pull out. You’re not on your pills.

This is more than perfect, because right now? You’re full of his cum.

“Gonna fuck you every single hour until you’re pregnant, yn. So make me a daddy soon, Princess.”

[rayveneyed]

cw; suggestive / softcore smut, alcohol consumption (possibly dubcon), inappropriate workplace relationships, cisfem!reader

nanami kento is too old for fucking.

he tells you this at 1 am — in not quite as many words — a few too many somaeks in, lethargic and slow from the length of the workday. there’s enough alcohol in his system to have him silk-loose and soft, cursing more freely and allowing vulgarity (or what he considers vulgarity) to grace his ever-so-polite tongue.

you’ve never heard him like this before; you’ve never heard your straight laced coworker utter anything more than a family-friendly expletive (drat being a recurring character — old-fashioned, but endearing). but his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and his hair is mussed, and the blush of intoxication is rising to his sharp cheekbones — and yes, he curses. it almost sounds elegant when he does it. rolling over his tongue in his poorly-lit living room, where he’d only bothered to turn one lamp on; gathering with his voice like balls of cotton wool deep in his chest.

you yourself have had one too many drinks — that is why you find warmth pooling in your stomach at the sound of his confession, at the sight of his face illuminated in honey-soft light. after all, you’d never let the barrier of strained, charged professionalism drop otherwise. you’d never accept kento’s sudden invite for a nightcap after a night already filled with drinking, surrounded by tipsy coworkers at a local izakaya; you’d never let him help you slip your heels off, deft fingers unbuckling the strap from your ankle and lingering just long enough for you to notice. you’d surely never sit so close to him on his fancy 1.5 million yen couch — and you’d never, ever entertain the comment he’d made, one that he never intended for you to hear in the first place.

“what was that?” you say, coy, as if the comment hadn’t twisted something horrid in your gut. (as if you weren’t imagining him flushed from top to bottom, panting against your neck. it’s the alcohol, you’re sure of it.) “you’re too old for all that crazy stuff? like what?”

his adam’s apple bobs. he’s sitting slumped low next to you, his head hanging backwards against the back of the couch and his gaze somewhere on the high ceilings above your head, like he can’t face you. pretty. handsome. “sorry. i was just thinking out loud.”

“i know.” you take a sip of your own somaek. “but we’re both adults here, right? i mean, i agree. i’m not as flexible as i was at 20.”

his laugh is more of a surprised huff — like he’s just as surprised as you are that your conversation has steered into such uncharted territory. perhaps he’s surprised that he’s even responding to it — but he does, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. his thigh presses against yours through those infernal khaki slacks. “mm. me neither.”

you shoot him a cheeky grin. “you were getting folded like a pretzel, i presume?”

another laugh, tinged with incredulity this time. “mm. something like that.”

you both sit in silence for a moment. his apartment really is lovely — the kind of apartment you only get when you’re as diligent as nanami, putting aside money for years and steadily working his way up the hierarchal corporate ladder. high ceilings and a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows opposite his couch; a kitchen with a granite island; fancy furniture straight from an interior designer’s wet dream. it’s all neutral greys and browns, cozy and elegant and refined, and suddenly you wonder what his bedroom looks like. you take another sip of your drink.

“getting older’s not all that bad,” you say, almost offhandedly, speaking more to the tokyo skyline than your drinking companion. (you bet he has a double-king with fancy 500-count cotton bedsheets. probably some trinkets. man stuff like shavers and cuff links and aftershave.) “i like it slow anyways.”

a strange, choked sound leaves your drinking partner, and your eyes shoot over to him. you’re suddenly mortified at your careless blabbering — but drunk enough for your embarrassment to be eclipsed by a prideful ignorance. “huh? nanami-san, are you okay?”

he stares up at the ceiling once more. his throat bobs again. a slight blush has dusted the tops of his ears — but before you can linger in it, his eyes suddenly flicker to meet yours. you’re almost taken aback by it — the intensity with which his brown eyes suddenly bore into you, the sullenness and modesty from before pushed aside for something newer. something rawer. “…forgive me for my forwardness—”

“you’re forgiven.”

“—but, i…”

you swallow. he still hasn’t looked away. your breathing has stilted, stagnant and pressing, in your lungs. you fight the urge to press against the point where his thigh meets your own, already on the verge of squirming under his heady stare. “but…?”

straight-laced nanami kento breathes deeply, his chest moving with the force of it, and as his breath shudders out of him, he bites out: “i really want you, right now.”

your heartbeat rushes in your ears.

“but we’re coworkers,” kento continues, like he’s been sitting on it for a while — like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. his hand — the one not clutching his glass, the one laying on top of his thigh, flexes. “it’s unprofessional — completely inappropriate. i should be written up for simply confessing this to you.”

“but we—” you swallow around a dry throat — all moisture in your body seemingly gathering between your legs, hot and thrumming and nowhere to go— “we’re not working right now.”

a beat of silence.

kento finally looks away from you, and you can breathe again. you grapple with the sudden influx of air in your lungs, the anxiety of misstepping broiling in the pit of your stomach. while you internally struggle with yourself, nanami sets his somaek on the coffee table, before slumping back again.

“i suppose we’re not.”

unsurprisingly, kento does not make the first move. he just sits there, one arm behind his head and the other laying limp at his side, his chin tilted towards the sky and his eyes shut as if to sleep. it’s not in a way that might be construed as arrogance — this isn’t your high school boyfriend sitting back and waiting for you to pull down his pants — it’s pure and utter indulgence. climb over him if you want. kiss him when you want. cross the imaginary line drawn in the sand when it suits you — regardless, he won’t ever touch unless you explicitly make it clear that you want him to. desire curdles in your stomach, almost painful, and it's all you can do to scrabble onto your knees beside him.

before your anxiety takes control of your faculties — before you allow your cowardice to seize your limbs — you swing a knee to the other side of his hips. you're straddling him, close enough that you're sure you're sharing the same air, and — fuck, he's much bigger than you'd anticipated. he doesn't have the wiry, lean stature of the average salaryman — somehow, between sleeping overnight in the office and drinking at izakayas almost nightly, kento's frame is sturdy and large, muscular. like he works out often. you don't know how he does it with the long hours he puts in, but your thighs almost ache with the stretch of his hips between them — and pressed right against you, right where you're sensitive and aching and perhaps a little too needy, is his clothed cock. the slacks do little to camouflage the shape or hardness of it — in fact, you swear you feel it twitch when you seat yourself against it.

kento's eyes flutter open. his cheekbones are slowly reddening, his glasses hooked low on his nose bridge. his arms twitch where they lay, like he was about to move to hold you and thought better of it. you wish he didn't think better of it. "hi."

you give a little smile, hopefully looking less like you're brimming with excitable energy than you actually are. his lips really are quite close to yours. if you just leaned forward... "hi."

they're not chapped, his lips, but not shining with lip balm. they're soft looking and slightly pink, naturally down-turned in a way that makes him seem grumpy most of the time. but they're quirked up in a little smile, now, and all you can think about is how they might feel against yours. your lip gloss has long since rubbed off, between drinking and eating and drinking again, but would the remnants of glitter smear against his lips? would he come away tasting cherries?

kento clears his throat.

"i have to be honest with you," he says. he adjusts his glasses smartly, the way he does at the office, the way that has all the your female coworkers swooning. "i'm… passed the age of doing things no strings attached — that is to say, if—”

heart suddenly swooping in your chest — delighted at being indulged, of having your affections returned — and brain whizzing along like a child who's had too much sugar, you connect your lips with little fanfare. you're perhaps too enthusiastic — prodding his mouth with your tongue as soon as he'll let you, leaning forward until your chests press together and you can almost feel his heart beating through his skin. his lips are soft, after all. soft but weathered, moving so pleasantly against yours — and then his hands squeeze at the plushness of your hips, his teeth take your bottom lip between them, and—

you're panting when you pull away. panting and flushed and hot all over, barely an inch between you for fear of distance. you’re hot where you’re connected, so filled with nervous, excitable energy you think you might wither; nanami’s grasp on you, steel-tight and warm, does little to help. it’s all you can do to give yourself a second to recuperate, chest heaving — and nanami seems just as bad off. the usually well-kept salaryman looks a mess underneath you, with his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded, and his breathing uneven — even then, though, his eyes are far too intense for you to calm any.

“to be honest,” you say, "i’m — i’m a little too old for that, too, kento."

another small smile. the gap between you is filled once more. you both call in sick that morning.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 9.1 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: lots of music links, ROADTRIP!!, some hurt/comfort at the beginning, a damn near comedy if I must say so myself, Spanish parts (if wrong, please correct me), lots of fluff, Buc-ee's shenanigans (I love that store), Miguel drives a Range Rover (hot, I know. Tyler got that MUNYUN), some jealous Miguel (MY FAVORITE), a hint of jealous reader 🫨 (she has a storm coming lol), simp Miguel if I'm being honest, 18+ so MNDI, male masturbation, wet wet fantasies, both reader and Miguel are h word for each other

word count: 7.1k, damn near proofread (this is only one part of the behemoth)

I did some research on MLE, yachts, superyachts, dolphins, and water activities for this chapter. 🤠 Hopefully, it shows! The yacht size I imagined is somewhere in between a regular yacht and a superyacht/megayacht. I built a Range Rover just for GR!Miguel you guys. (thanks to my irl besties and @slushycoookie once again 🥰)

Prev | Next (Part 9.2) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who comes back home after nearly a week of bliss with you. He floated all the way home from dropping you off with Tyler’s people.

He made them wait much longer than they needed to when he decided to makeout with you next to the black Suburban. 

Only a few more weeks before he could see you again. 

GymRat!Miguel who is met with his mom sitting on the couch with just the tv glowing on her. 

His steps were too heavy to sneak past her, so he just sighed and settled down on one of the plush chairs. 

“I see you’re home,” she says. Her eyes don’t move from the Golden Girls episode playing softly. 

“Sí, mamá.”

“How come you didn’t tell me where you went?”

“Gabriel told you where I was. I’m sure you asked him.” Miguel was tired already. 

“He did, pero eso no fue lo que te pregunté.” (but that’s not what I asked you)

“Ma-”

“Mijo.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“And you’ve sat so far away. Like I’m going to hurt you. Miguel, I asked you to come home. You didn’t respond. You didn’t call. You didn’t even speak to me when you came back a few days ago.”

Miguel stared at her face, willing himself not to get emotional over this. 

“I acknowledge that I should have let you know where I was. I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to say something I would regret.”

Conchata finally turned to look at Miguel. Her first-born. The life given to her after so much turmoil. 

She could still see the little boy that would cry at the drop of a hat. She could still see the little boy that would dry up his tears if Gabriel started to cry with him, just to comfort him. The little boy with so much room in his heart. 

She can see him now, face ridden with sadness. A face that she knew too well. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, mijo.”

“Well, you did. Again. I’m used to it. This isn’t a new feeling. What is new, is you acting like this towards someone else close to me.”

“I-”

“Let me finish, ma, please. You’ve never been a parent that cares about how I’ve felt in regards to anything. You have made decisions for me without a second thought without ever considering how I might feel. You’ve also never been the type of person who hurts someone else for no reason. I’m sorry I’m not with someone you picked, but I’m not sorry for loving her. She is everything to me. If I were to fall, there’s no doubt in my mind that she would be there to build me back up. She’d probably even break my fall if I couldn’t stop her.” 

Miguel stopped to look up, willing himself not to cry. 

“What you said to her brought something out that she hasn’t felt in a while. You broke her in a way that I promised myself I never would. I wanted to present her to my family in a positive light, to show her off. I didn’t expect you to be ecstatic about her, but I did hope that you could at least open your heart up once you met her.”

He looked off, tears escaping from his eyes. You’re in a better position now, but he won’t know if that donner will creep back up on you, making you hate yourself for something that’s not your fault. He remembered the pain in your voice, how kept it in until you were with him and away from the manor. He hated it. 

“But instead, she was met with two people who paid her no respect. Two people that brought her turmoil. I expected Kron to be horrible, look at how he talked to you, but not you. You were supposed to be better. You didn’t see how much you hurt her, I did. It’s like we prepped for nothing but a shitshow and I should have followed my gut and kept her to myself a little longer.”

Miguel sniffed, wiping at his nose in hopes that it would stop the urge to cry. 

Conchata let the silence rest. Nothing but the TV and her son’s sniffles filled the room. 

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”

Miguel turned back. Shocked that she didn’t put up much of a fight. 

“I just,” she paused. “There’s no excuse for how I treated her. She didn’t deserve it and if I could go back and change my behavior, I would. I think that I was just overwhelmed. Upset because my baby is growing up. He’s moving on and I can’t hold him in my hands anymore. I don’t tuck him in anymore. I don’t have to check under his bed for monsters. He doesn’t need me to do anything. So this shift is hurting me, mijo, and I took it out on the wrong people. For that, I’m so sorry.”

Conchata was a hard-cased woman. She stuck with her opinions, even if they were blatantly wrong. She was proud and vocal. She never let people see her crack or fall under pressure. So, seeing her like this, begging for Miguel to understand her, was a rare moment for Miguel. 

“Ma, me growing up doesn’t stop me from being your son. I’m still here. I’ll still rely on you, but I want you to have a break too. You have to let me grow. I won’t live here forever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you. I’m glad you were able to express this to me, I just wish you could have said so sooner.”

“Lo siento, mijo.”

Miguel got up to get closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, too easy to forgive her. “It’s ok.”

He leans back and kisses her forehead, heart mending by the smallest of stitches. “You still have to apologize to my girlfriend, though.”

“I will when I see her again.”

“And we need to go to therapy.”

“George has already told me.”

“And I want you to make me some ceviche. And tamales.”

“Bueno.”

“And tres leches.” 

She sighed, but squeezed him tighter. “Don’t curse in front of me again, and I’ll consider it.”

“Gracias, mamá.”

“De nada, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel who goes to sleep with his body feeling a lot lighter. The weight of his relationship with his mom lifted a little off his shoulders.

GymRat!Miguel who has two grand master plans that he’s been setting out for months: eating you out and making your first time together special. 

He’s been overthinking every detail like a maniac. The peaches from the fruit bowl have been disappearing to his room for research purposes only- and a snack of course. 

He once ended up on the girl side of Tik Tok where they complain about everything guys get wrong when pleasuring them. He had been thoroughly reading the comments and taking notes here and there. He didn’t really need the tip about making noise though, he already does that just thinking about you. So many times has he had to stuff his mouth when jerking off. 

He also had a few tabs open in incognito mode. That research is only done in the deep of the night. 

Right now, he’s sitting at his desk reading some article about listening to your partner’s body and his mind can’t help but to wander off. Will you grip your thighs around him? He hopes so. He could die that way. Will you be vocal? Will you tell him if it’s too much? Will you guide his head and pull his hair? 

That last question has him gripping his sweats in anticipation. No doubt when you scratched at his back in the hotel room, he was reeling from the sensation. It was like a reward for him whenever you feel so good, you’re too unaware of what you’re doing to him physically. Too lost in bliss to register the marks and pain you’re leaving on him. You just want him to give you more. 

Miguel drops his pen and pushes the heel of his palm on his growing bulge. 

“Fuck.” Every time about an hour or so into researching, his head is full of you. He imagines what it’ll be like to finally taste you, to be inside you. 

He remembered how wet you got with just a little rubbing. Your body was so responsive to his movements and he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if you guys upped the foreplay. 

Miguel leaned back in his chair, arm over his head. He dropped his hand in his sweats hand gripping at the base of his erection, exhaling deep as he gave it a few pumps. 

Your hands on his chest. Your arms around his neck. Your nails scraping his back. Your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your breath on his lips. 

You opening up for him. You dripping down his fingers, down his legs, down his face. You screaming out his name loud enough for the entire neighborhood to file a complaint. You in whatever position he puts you in. He could hold you up. Maybe have your legs in the air or stretched out on the bed. He could have you grabbing for the sheets, the headboard, him. His head in your chest, in your pussy, in your ass. 

Pre-cum spilled onto his stomach, rolling down his shaft. Would you let him go that far?

He doesn’t know what’s worse, the cold showers and teeth-marked arms at the beginning of the relationship or his constant daydreams of your body connecting with his that kept occurring regularly. 

Maybe you felt the same way too. That was a new thought. 

Do you wonder about your first time together? Were you just as excited as him? Do you get wet at the thought of him inside of you? Do you have to stop everything and find pleasure like he does? Were your fingers enough or did you need more?

Miguel continued to move his hand up and down, squeezing occasionally to mimic what you might feel like. 

He’s groaning into his elbow, hips lifting from his desk chair. 

He could almost hear your voice in his ear. Begging, praising, crying out, stuttering. 

GymRat!Miguel who cums as Gabriel slams through the door. In a matter of 15 seconds, Miguel covers his drenched chest, shoves his sensitive dick back down, and grabs napkins to try to wipe away at his hand. 

Nevermind his shirt is now ruined. 

“What the fuck are you looking at and why is this picture showing a seductive pomegranate?”

“Why the fuck are you opening my door without knocking?”

“I did knock! I did our special knock plus a freestyle! I thought you were dead, Miguelito.”

Miguel’s heart felt a little tug despite its rapid tempo, “’M not dead, Gabri. Just busy. I didn’t hear you.”

Gabriel snickered when he got closer to look at his laptop. “I can see why. These tabs are a dead giveaway.” 

Gabriel reached over to stare at Miguel’s notebook. 

“These are some good tips! You shouldn’t expect her to taste like sweets, though.”

Nothing in his notes indicated that, but Miguel wanted to be offended for you anyway. 

Miguel gave Gabriel a hard side eye, mouth set deeply down. 

“I really wish you would get out of my room.”

“Oo, you should buy a rose. Dana loves that thing.”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever freaky shit you and Dana get up to, Gabriel.”

“You’ve caught me in more embarrassing situations, I’m just trying to lighten the mood! I also suggest those candy panties-”

“I’m not putting candy on- Gabriel. Can you please stop talking to me?”

“Miguel, this stuff is important!”

“¿Por qué eres así?” Miguel mumbled. “Ok, yeah. I get it. But you can chat to me about this after I’ve switched shirts.” (Why are you like this?)

“Fine, I’ll come back. Ten minutes. Then we must have a healthy chat about how to have fun safely.”

Gabriel skipped back to the door singing Candy loud enough to be heard as he went back to his own room. 

“Strawberry! Raspberry! All those good things! Violets and gumdrops that’s what you’re saying to me, me, me.”

A black hole would be nice to save himself from this situation. 

GymRat!Miguel who jumps out of his bed the day of the “Yacht Weekend.” Gabriel is dead set on calling it the “Yachty Pawty” and Miguel thinks that’s unbelievably stupid. 

GymRat!Miguel who has to go and pull Gabriel out of his bed to get him to get ready, his body stretching like a ferret. He’s never been a morning person. It’s like his brain didn’t start computing until noon. 

GymRat!Miguel who jogs around the neighborhood to kill time. The weather is a lot cooler in the morning plus it gives Gabriel time to come to reality. He waves to the son of one of his neighbors who gawks at him as he passes by. 

Were his shorts giving away too much again? He didn’t feel a draft. 

He looked down at his crotch. All good. 

GymRat!Miguel who calls you while he stops to take a water break. 

“Amor!” His voice is bright and his smile is radiant, watching as you squint at the screen.

Your cheek is squished against the pillow and you’re wrapped up in your covers. 

“Hey, Miggy. It’s so bright there.”

Your voice was scratchy, a sign of how deep in sleep you were. You were so fucking cute. 

“Are you running?”

He placed his phone on a nearby bench so he could stretch. “Yeah, I’m taking a break.”

He went into a deep lunge, stretching his body low to the ground. 

You went quiet for so long, Miguel thought the call dropped. 

“Baby? Did you go back to sleep?” Miguel asked.

“No, I’m still here. Those pants are,” you started to shuffle your phone. “Really short.”

“Really?” Miguel stood up and looked down at his pants. They did cut off high up his thighs, but they were good for running. Plus, he got hot easily, so he needed as much wind on his skin as possible. “They’re comfy.”

“Mm hm. Can you turn around for me?”

Miguel turned, confused but willing. 

“Got it. Thank you, my muscle bear!”

“What did you just do?”

“Took pictures of your ass. It looks great. I’m gonna hold it real good later.”

Miguel laughed and grabbed his phone. 

“Can I hold yours, too?” He wanted to do way more than hold it. 

You smile sleepily at the camera. “I’ll think about it.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets you stay on the phone while he runs back to the house. 

“You’re just going to hear the wind and me breathing for a few minutes.”

“And I’m fine with that! It’s like boyfriend ASMR. Peaceful.”

GymRat!Miguel who ruffles Gabriel’s hair when he gets back home. He’s staring at the wall and shoveling cereal in his mouth at the slowest pace known to man. 

“Buenos días, hermanito!” (Good morning, little brother)

“Mm.”

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower to cool off for once and not because he’s having explicit thoughts of you. 

GymRat!Miguel who chugs down a protein smoothie while he waits for Gabriel to come downstairs. 

GymRat!Miguel who answers the door to Dana. She’s got some shades on and a purse with the same texture as a croc. 

She peers over her shades. “You’re looking put together!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to impress your girl! What do you have planned? A dinner on the horizon? A spa date? Oh! No! Another shopping spree?l

Yes. No, but he should arrange that. And absolutely not. He’s not Tyler. 

“No,” Miguel squints. “But how can you tell?”

“You’re easy to read, big guy. Even when you think about her your eyes turn into hearts. When have you ever thought to wear a button down for a roadtrip to the beach?”

“Touche.”

“I’ll figure out what you’re up to. I have my ways.”

She twirls and runs up to Gabriel’s room, leaving a waft of strong perfume after her. 

With that, Miguel knew it would be at least another 45 minutes before he could get on the road. 

GymRat!Miguel who does his special knock on Gabriel’s door. 

“I’m opening it, so you fiends better have your clothes on.”

He swung the door open to the disheveled couple. Dana with her hair astray and Gabriel breathing eerily hard. 

“Seriously, guys? I need to go by the airport.”

“I was just waking him up!” Dana says with a voice that was much hoarser than it was an hour ago. 

“Well,” Miguel put a hand on his hip in a way that anyone could tell he was Conchata O’Hara’s son. “Are you awake, Gabri?”

Gabriel’s face was as red as a tomato as he shook his head no. 

Miguel pitched his voice higher to mimic his brother. “Ten minutes. And then we can have a conversation on time management and respect. Except it won’t be “safely” because I’m going to hurt you.”

GymRat!Miguel who finally backs out of the driveway in exactly ten minutes. Gabriel is rubbing his arm in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. Dana is grinning from ear to ear. 

GymRat!Miguel who hands Gabriel the aux. He might be a silly boy, but his music taste is immaculate.

GymRat!Miguel who almost has to hurt Gabriel again when he doesn’t want to get out of the passenger seat. 

“Why do I have to move?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not grounds for anything!”

Dana pokes her head over the console. “Gabie. Read the room. He wants to grip on to his girl while he drives with one hand. Show off.” 

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you and grabs your bags at the same time when he sees you. The cars around are loud, honking sporadically. People are walking and running to catch cabs or get to their loved ones. Workers are trying to direct the traffic. 

It all quiets down when he meets your eyes. 

“Hola, mi amor.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close. “Hello to you too, my love.”

You smile up until he presses his lips against yours. More and more pecks follow after that. 

He holds his nose to yours, completely enraptured by your presence. 

“Oh my god, let’s go!” Gabriel shouts from the car, pressing his palm against the steering wheel. 

“You’re not the one driving, pinche pendejo!”

You giggle and stand on your tippy toes to try and see over Miguel’s shoulder. You’re still too short so you lean sideways. Miguel melts. 

“Just a few more and we’ll be done Gabriel!”

“Fine. For you, I’ll let it slide.”

You stand back up straight and kiss Miguel a little more. 

GymRat!Miguel who does reach over and grip your thigh. If Gabriella and Troy weren’t in the back belting, he’d hike his hand up further. 

“Right now I can hardly breathe!” Gabriel pivots his head towards Dana dramatically, water bottle a faux mic. 

“Oh! You can do it, just know that I believe.” Dana is touching his chest dramatically. 

“Are they always like this?” You ask, laughing a little at their antics. 

Miguel groans in annoyance. “Yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly sprints out the car when he parks by a pump. He’s been riding for a bit and he needs to stretch his legs. 

“Miggy, you want something from the store?” 

You’re standing next to the car, the wind blowing your hair back. Your jacket blows away a little, showing off the tight little outfit you’re sporting. You’re beautiful. 

He wants to break you down in the front seat of his car.

He swallows the thought. “I’ll come in there soon, don’t worry.”

You walk in the giant gas station and head immediately to the Icee machines. For the best possible experience, you should wait until it’s time to go before buying it. 

As you’re walking along the wall wondering what flavor you should get, you feel a tug at your arm. 

You turn to see Dana with some bottles in her hand. 

“I don’t know what he’s planning, but trust me when I say, you should take these.”

You frown as you take the cranberry juice. “Um.”

“I’ve been around those two long enough to know when one of them is up to something. I mean Gabriel hasn’t said anything off, but look at how he’s bopping around the store.”

You turn and look. 

He is indeed bouncing more than usual. He’s so tall that if he puts even more pep in his step, he might just break a hole in the ceiling. 

“Ok,” you turn back to Dana while fighting a laugh. “So they are planning something. What does that have to do with me and cranberry juice?”

“Gabie tries his best to use bro code, but I quite literally suck the information out of him sometimes. He caught Miguel looking at lots of articles about pleasuring his partner. With his mouth. That’s all I know for now.”

Your heart picks up. He was still going on about that?

“That might just be a coincidence.” 

“He’s wearing damn near beach attire with his hair styled. He held onto your thigh for an hour, even when the turns got tough. He stared at you walking into the store even until he couldn’t see you anymore.”

You bit your lip. “Those last two things are standard Miguel behavior.”

Dana huffs and spins you around. 

Across the store, you could see Miguel and Gabriel huddled over something. Miguel with his eyes focused and Gabriel animatedly explaining something. Every once in a while, Miguel would nod and roll his eyes up as if he was mentally checking on something. 

You sigh and turn back around. 

“Do they sell pineapples too?”

GymRat!Miguel who looms over you while you and Dana are looking at some cakes. You look up at him, pressing your head against his chest. 

Miguel kissed your forehead when you beamed at him. 

He looked over to Gabriel who was also crowding Dana and shouted, “¡Vamos!”

In a matter of seconds, Miguel had lifted you and brought you to the middle of the store where the workers were cooking up fresh meat. 

You squeal in shock and laugh on the way over. Miguel’s not even struggling. 

Gabriel on the other hand huffs as he places Dana down. 

“You need to work on that, babe.”

“I can lift you when I want to!” Gabriel replies, petulant. 

“For like one minute maybe. Why don’t you start working out with Miguel?”

“No thanks.” They both said in unison, almost carbon copies of each other. 

Really, if Miguel didn’t work out, or if Gabriel did for about a year, they could definitely play off as twins. Only subtle things separating them, like Gabriel’s freckles, softer face, and slightly shorter height and Miguel’s less curly hair, thicker eyebrows, and deeper voice. 

In your eyes, their bond was precious. You wondered what their baby pictures looked like. 

“You guys are so cute,” you say, reaching up to squeeze both of their cheeks. 

They both melt the same way in your hands. Miguel’s face is only a little bit hotter against your palm. 

GymRat!Miguel who presses up against you while you both check out. You stay nonchalant and talk to the cashier like normal, but you could feel Miguel’s heartbeat through your thin romper. 

Every breath he took molded on your skin, his chest rising and falling against your head. 

He kept steady hands on your hips and waist, only moving them to pay for your snacks. 

The cashier would take not-so-subtle breaks to stare up at him, face getting redder after each glance. 

You could only think “me too, girl.”

He really did look good today. His shirt was open a little lower than normal, his shorts loose but tightening around his thighs with every step he took. His hair was slicked back with a few strands falling loose and shades sat perfectly on top of his head. A chain danced around his neck, the color glowing on his pretty skin. He was tanner than usual, the sun making him glow after so many morning runs. 

To top it off he smelled really good. You wanted to lick him. 

From how slow the cashier was moving, you knew she was ready to take a lick too. 

You took moments like this in stride. Especially when Miguel was pressed so hard against you, you could feel his dick at the small of your back. 

Still, when people still tried to hit on your boyfriend or gawked at him even when you caught them, it was hard not feel frustrated about others thinking he can be taken from you. Or just ignoring you. 

More often than not, Miguel would bring you back down to earth with some action to let others know that he’s taken. 

Today, it was a kiss to your neck and a smack to your ass followed by his hand rubbing circles in the same spot. 

He grabbed the bags in one hand and your hip in the other. 

You looked back to the cashier scanning the next customer far more aggressively than before.  

GymRat!Miguel who eats half of his sandwich before starting the car back up. 

You still place the other half in front of his mouth, feeding him occasionally. 

He just smiles before and after each bite. Giddy with attention. You wipe his mouth to stop sauce from spilling from his shirt. 

Miguel almost turns the car into turbo drive. 

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to the beach an hour or so later. It’s late Thursday afternoon, so the sun is still shining bright. 

Gabriel is excited to finally be free from the tight back seat so he uses the opportunity to blast music from Miguel’s stereo. 

“C’mon, Dana! Dance with me,” Gabriel said, pulling her out of the back seat and bringing her to the front of the var. “Let’s have a twerk-off.”

You can’t stop the laugh that spills out of your mouth. You couldn’t imagine either of them shaking anything. 

“I can not twerk and you know it!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t shake. Don’t be shy now!”

You and Miguel get out of the car to stretch, Miguel watching the two over the hood of the car, unphased. 

Gabriel turns to you with a glint in his eyes. “Can you twerk?”

You were ready to shake your ass on a yacht after some liquid courage, but you didn’t mind a little dancing beforehand. 

You hurried to the front before the song was over and put your hands on the hood. You bend over with an arch in your back and move your ass to the beat of the song. 

You hear Gabriel shout, “Oh shit! Go, go, go!”

Dana sprints, nearly bulldozing Gabriel to stand behind you and catch it. You laugh at the two and bend even deeper, encouraged by their cheers. 

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes nearly pop out of his head when you bend over. 

When did you learn how to do that?

He’s stunned for a second until he reaches inside the car and turns the radio off. He’s going to kill Gabriel. 

Miguel hurries to the front and picks Dana up by her armpits to move her aside. “You guys are wasting my gas and neither you or you are CashApping me shit.”

He straightens you up and pulls your risen romper back over your ass. He stands behind you like a bodyguard, arms crossed and frown deepening. 

“I don’t know what you think we’re going to be doing on this yacht, but all of my girls are throwing it back. You need to prepare yourself, Mig.” Dana scoffs, mostly offended that Miguel just removed her from a dream spot. 

“Yeah, Mig. Be mindful of why you were invited to the function,” Gabriel turned his nose up and wrapped his arm around Dana. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, m’lady.”

Gabriel bowed to you and you curtsied back with a fake dress. The two of them walked like royalty to the trunk, gathering their bags. 

GymRat!Miguel who stuttered trying to explain himself when you turned to him. 

“Is it going to be a problem for you that I’m dancing with others?”

“No!” he said way too fast. 

You gave him a look with your eyebrow raised. 

“You just,” he paused. His voice got quieter as he played with the strap of your romper. “You never danced on me before.”

He had a pout on his face, mouth turned like a duck. 

“Oh my god, Miguel. I can dance on you if you would like. You just have to ask.” He was so cute. You’ve never seen him get that jealous before. 

You kind of want to play with him some more. 

“Can you dance on me later?” he asks, not daring to meet your eyes. 

“Of course.”

You giggle as you kiss his cheek. His pout slowly disappearing from his face. 

GymRat!Miguel who is greeted by the enthusiastic captain with a shake that moves his entire arm. He’s a jolly little fellow, cheeks rosy and his mustache curled on the ends. He was also strangely stocky. He reminded Miguel of Santa Claus if he took vacations in the Bahamas when he’s not at the North Pole. 

“I take it you’re Mr. Stone’s son, yes?”

“That would be me.”

“Excellent! Excellent. Your father has told me quite a lot about you. You sure do take after his height. My name is Captain Barrett and I’ll be steering the boat for you youngins this weekend. Me and your father go way back. And between you and me, I was better lookin’!”

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, trying to move the conversation along. 

He finally looks past Miguel and sees the three of you standing there. 

“And who might you three be?”

“This is my younger brother, Gabriel. His girlfriend, Dana.” 

“And this is my girlfriend.” Miguel moves by your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders. His tone is full of warmth as he says your name. 

“It’s nice to meet you all. Will you all be in our cabins this weekend?”

“Yeah, this is four of the ten staying on board. The others won’t get here until tomorrow at noon.”

“Is Kron supposed to be joining you all too?”

Miguel stiffens, his grip on your shoulder a little firmer. 

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Perfect! He ruined my other boat and it took me ages to clean it up. Hopefully, you’re nothing like him.” Captain Barrett does a little pleading gesture with his hands. 

“Welp, follow me and I’ll show you on board!”

GymRat!Miguel who is still stunned by the amount of things money can buy when he sees the yacht. He’ll never get used to the life of luxury that Tyler introduces to him. 

“Holy shit,” Gabriel mutters as he stares up at the black and wooden beauty of the deck. Dana elbows in his side, telling him to be polite in front of the captain. 

“Welcome to Black Jack.”

There were crew members there to hand out fancy smoothies and grab everyone’s bags. 

You had seen yachts on some of your old high school classmates’ Insta stories but this was beyond. 

“I’d like to introduce you guys to the crew. They’ll be assisting me to give you youngins a good time.”

Captain Barrett ran down the line and you all greeted every person. Miguel made mental notes of their names. They’ll be getting close with all of the surprises he had planned for you. 

“And this is my son, Blake! He’ll be helping me up in the cockpit.”

Miguel stopped to shake his hand. 

He was like the textbook definition of a pretty frat boy. Tall, but not O’Hara tall, tan, and handsome. He smiled and showed a straight line of teeth, dimples peeking through. 

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Kron’s really not coming?”

What’s with people asking about that dickhead today?

“Nope. Just us and our friends. If he does come, it’s news to me.” 

Blake went to shake your hand and it was like he started to glow under the sun. His smile went up to his eyes and he mimicked the heartthrobs in the movies Miguel’s cousins watched growing up. 

“And who’s this?”

“My name is-”

“My girlfriend,” Miguel said before you could even finish. 

You looked up at him in shock, laughing it off. “That too, but I have a name.” You respond to Blake and shake his hand. 

Miguel doesn’t like how his eyes scan your body. It was subtle, but he caught it. 

Even as you all finish up greetings, Blake is still making moves towards you. The type of flirting that probably flew over your head, but Miguel has been around enough guys like him to know exactly what it was. 

 “So is this your first time on a boat?” Blake asked you while he guided you guys to your room. 

“No, actually. But it’s definitely my first time on a yacht, especially one this huge.”

Miguel followed behind with Dana and Gabriel.

“Is this your first time on a boat?” Miguel mocked Blake quietly, mouth scrunched up. 

“‘La envidia esta flaca, porque muerde y no come,’” Gabriel replied. “You’re turning green from your neck, bro. He’s just being nice.” (Envy is thin, because it bites and does not eat.)

“No, he’s definitely flirting,” Dana quipped. “He’s not even paying the rest of us any attention.”

“Thank you, Dana. And Gabriel, don’t ever quote a Spaniard to me again.”

“How do you call that flirting? He’s not even-” Gabriel paused as Blake laughed really loud at something that you said with his hand guiding you way too close on your ass. “Ah shit.”

Miguel stomped towards you two, yanking Blake’s hand off of you and replacing it with his. 

“I think we’ve got it from here. You can show those two where they’ll be staying. Thanks,” Miguel nods his head towards Dana and Gabriel with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Right,” Blake responds to him with a blank face. “I’ll see you up on the deck.” Blake winks at you before walking further. 

“Don’t kill him, Miguel,” Dana pats his shoulder as she walks by. 

“You’ve got my permission to hurt him if he touches me one more time though,” you say, snuggling close to Miguel and patting at his chest. 

“So, I’m killing him. Got it.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches you twirl around the VIP suite. 

“Miguel! This is so beautiful! Look at the view.”

“Oh my god! There’s a walk-in closet!”

“There’s a bidet! How’d they fit that and a shower in here?”

Miguel leaned on the doorway, watching you comment on every little thing. 

You made sure to start to spray everything with Lysol, a habit from your mom when traveling. 

While you were in the bathroom, Miguel got out one of his first gifts of the night. 

It was another keychain to add to your collection. He’s been working hard to have this weekend make up for the awful dinner night. 

He placed it on the bed and started to open his bag to grab his pajamas. 

“What’s this?” you ask, coming out to spray the bed. 

“Just a little gift for you.”

“Aw, this is so cute!” Your voice gets higher as you take in the little legos. “They even look like us! When did you get these?”

“I got them made about a week ago. You like them?”

“I love them! Thank you, Miggy.”

GymRat!Miguel who wants to moan when you walk out. 

You guys are going on a double date with Gabriel and Dana at a casual-not-so-casual restaurant farther in the city. That didn’t stop you from getting all dolled up. 

You walk to him on the bed, standing in between his legs. 

“Amor,” Miguel said, rubbing his hands up and down your backside. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you,” you responded, careful to not run your hands through his hair. It was a comfort for you, but you didn’t want to ruin it. 

Instead, you bent down to kiss him in the quiet of the room. The sun was still out, but a lot dimmer than before. Little patches of sunlight caught Miguel’s eyes. The color was so deeply brown, you swore you saw speckles of red throughout. 

He moved to sit you on his lap, glancing over every detail of your body. 

“You’re making it harder for me to want to leave.”

“It’s funny that you say that. You’ve been walking around like you’re straight out of a beach movie. Chest out and legs for days.”

Miguel blushed and put his head in your chest, bending you back and holding you so you won’t fall. 

“What are you hiding for? It’s true!” you laugh as Miguel seemed to burrow his face deeper. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to call me out.” He was just trying to impress you, per usual. 

GymRat!Miguel who gets nervous on the way to the restaurant. It was one of those immersive experiences with projections on the plates that told stories with the meals. They were pretty cute to Miguel and he figured that all three of you guys would love it. 

The only thing is, he pulled some strings with Tyler to add an extra animation in there. He’s not sure how much that cost, but he’s glad he didn’t have to see the price. 

GymRat!Miguel who side-eyes Gabriel when he just about screams as the little chef walks across the animated place. 

“He’s so tiny!” he whisper-shouts. “So precious!”

By the time the first course comes out Gabriel is fighting tears. 

“Control it, Gabri,” Miguel says, rubbing his back. 

“I’m trying. I really am.”

GymRat!Miguel whose heart blooms when you laugh at one of the scenes. The little chef is squabbling with a giant shrimp and losing the battle. 

GymRat!Miguel whose heart speeds up when the special animation starts up. 

Only the two of your plates are lit up. There’s a river of chocolate that separates the two. From Miguel’s plate, there’s a little version of him that calls to your plate. He watches as your eyes grow when a mini you climbs on top of the plate and yells back. Your character throws him a kiss, sending a pink flutter across the river. The wave of it goes straight to mini Miguel’s heart who in turn, falls backwards dramatically. 

The real you lets out a watery laugh at the scene, eyes looking at Miguel briefly in shock. 

Mini Miguel jumps back up and gets to work, digging around the plate to grab biscoff cookies from the chocolate ocean to make a boat. While he works, your character wanders around the plate cutely, tidying up the area for his arrival. 

When the boat is finished, Mini Miguel uses a giant spoon to steer the boat, singing out brightly the closer he gets to you. The mini you is jumping up and down, cheering him on just like you do in real life. 

Once he gets to the edge of your plate, you lean close to give him a kiss. He climbs from the boat onto the plate and spins you around. You giggle in his hold until he lets you down. 

From there, he starts to use the spoon to drag a chocolate message across the plate. He takes confident steps, spreading the brown syrup across the plate with ease. 

“Tú eres mi luz.” (You are my light.)

When he finishes it, you both sit at the edge of the plate, feeding each other scoops of chocolate from the giant spoon. They both look up at you to wave, the Mini Miguel cheesing extremely hard as he waves both arms. 

The animation fades away in a wave of browns and pinks, the waiters bringing out the actual plates of food. 

The floodgates open when you’re presented with the same chocolate message, a slice of chocolate biscoff cake, and little chocolate decorations of the mini you and Miguel. 

“Oh my god, the spoon is here too,” you say with emotion, picking up a chocolate coated spoon. “Miguel!”

You don't know what to do. You keep fanning your face in hopes to stop the tears from coming out and ruining the light makeup you had on. Dana hands you a pointed napkin and you thank her while holding your head back. 

Gabriel is a mess, faces wet with tears. His cheeks are round as he blows out air to control his breathing. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, mi amor,” Miguel’s face is ridden with worry as he reaches across the table to grab your hand. He looks to Gabriel and sighs, “You either, hermanito.” (little brother)

“I’m good. I gotta just,” Gabriel waves a hand in front of his face cutely. “Just gotta get this out. If you’ll excuse me.” 

He gets up to shuffle to the bathroom. 

“I better go help him out. He gets a little delirious when he cries like that,” Dana says, rubbing your shoulder as she leaves the table. 

Miguel wastes no time to sit in Dana’s seat, taking the napkin from your hands and wiping carefully at your tears. 

“I love you. So, so much,” you say, resting your face in his hands. “Everyday, you find new ways to surprise me. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m just…”

You pause, waving your hands in the air, unable to express how you felt. Just thinking about it has the tears spilling over again. 

“Hey, hey,” Miguel chides, catching your tears again. “If you keep crying, I’m going to cry.”

“I can’t help it, Miguel! You made a cookie boat to get to me. How can I not cry?”

Miguel reaches to kiss your cheeks in hopes to help you subside the tears, “I know, baby, I know. But to answer your first thought, when I think of you, the ideas just pour out of me. You’re my first true love, so I don’t know all the ends and outs of a relationship, but I do know what it feels like to be loved. I just want to extend that feeling to you.”

You stare in awe and the man sitting next to you, eyes glistening as you take in his words. 

“I think I need another tissue.”

Miguel laughs as he grabs one to pat at your face again. 

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the cake while you feed him scoops of ice cream when you’ve calmed down. You can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night. 

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.2 here!

a/n: This is half of the chapter, but I had so much fun writing this! (mostly because I was not doing my actual work while writing half of it), especially Gabriel's silly ass. Like, it was super duper fun. Writing jealous Miguel was also great. There's so much stuff about reader that he was unaware of and I've been imagining him sitting at a table and yelling like Kendrick when it all plays back in his mind.

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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[buzzcutlip]

( this is carmenberzattosgf on my main!!)

Time for a horny request 🚶‍♀️I’ve been thinking HEAVILY on a fwb situation with lip while in college 🧎🏼‍♀️ and when he hears you went out with some frat bro he gets so jealous and it’s a “I can fuck you better than him” type of situation

You know I love Lip! This one is for you, Olive 💌

Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader Explicit 800+ words

Never in a million years would you guess that Lip Gallagher is into you. He’s annoying, cocky, loud, and probably a borderline alcoholic and criminal—exactly the type of guy your parents warned you about. That’s why you find him so attractive. Secretly.

He likes the bad boy reputation, and you know him well enough to know that it’s mostly an act. You’ve had a soft spot for each other ever since the first year. He would help you with trigonometry, and in return, you would pick him up when drunk in faraway bars. The friends-with-benefits situation is another level to your friendship.

Lip’s room is dark when you stumble in, and he instantly pushes you toward the bed, tackling you down into the sheets. They smell and feel fresh.

Your puffer jacket disappears with remarkable speed, as well as your cardigan. Lip’s quick and efficient when he’s getting you out of your clothes, like always. He just seems a tad more frantic tonight.

“Hey,” you try to slow him down when he’s attempting to get his hand in your panties without unbuttoning your skinny jeans. “What’s gotten into you?”

Lip only looks up when you tug at the collar of his shirt.

“The captain of the lacrosse team, really?” he says, and suddenly everything makes sense.

You throw your head back as you laugh. “I didn’t know we were exclusive.”

Lip bites at your bare neck, hard and mean, and you frown. “Yeah—but I’m still the best.”

You roll your eyes and pout, staying quiet as Lip gets up and switches the light on. Even if you wanted to be shy, there’s no option like that with Lip—he wants to see you and everything when you fuck.

---

The third time Lip tries to kiss you, your hand springs up, getting a good grip on his chin. “No kissing,” you hiss, eyes narrowed.

Lip has his long fingers inside you, reaching for your G-spot for the past twenty minutes, teasing you meanly. Every time he brushes the spongy bit of flesh, you tense, feeling like you might come at that moment. Or pee yourself; the sensations are so similar yet different that you can hardly tell them apart. But Lip withdraws his fingers, leaving you empty and wanting. Because Lip promised he would fuck you so good that you will never want anyone else. His words, not yours.

“If you want to occupy my mouth, then let me blow you,” you say crudely, knowing it won’t shock someone like Lip Gallagher.

“This is about you,” he reminds you seriously, then smirks.

It’s always like that with Lip—an easy banter, joking and silliness until it turns to desperation and passion and need. You never catch the exact moment of the transition.

Lip takes his sticky fingers out and pushes your top up, revealing your belly and bra.

“Did he take the time to touch you like this? To touch your tits?” Fuck. You arch into his mouth as soon as Lip pulls your snug sports bra above your breasts, freeing them. He knows how sensitive they are, how crazy you get when he pays attention to them.

You moan in approval as he starts licking the soft flesh, pulling on one of your nipples with those wet fingers. Wet from you.

“If—if this is about me—” you get out, voice breathy and hoarse, “—would you please fuck me already?”

Lip keeps massaging your tits, kissing and biting all over them, and grinds his groin against yours. He’s still wearing his jeans and the denim drags roughly against your naked center. You’re not very far away from begging.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Lip taunts you from somewhere between your knees, obviously needing to dominate the moment. You must be louder than you thought. Usually, with Lip, you try to stay pretty quiet. The grip you have on his hair tightens minutely, and Lip groans.

It’s not often that you fuck missionary—your aversion, not his. The problem—the good problem—with Lip is that his dick is the perfect shape for your vagina, or something, and when you have sex face to face, laying down, the head of his cock hits perfectly the right places within you. So usually, when you don’t want to come in the first three minutes, you have to really concentrate.

He doesn’t let you have your way tonight. “I wanna see you.”

You try to wriggle from underneath him, but Lip holds you fast. “Lip,” you grunt, pouting.

“I wanna see your face when you come. When I make you come.”

You blush, hard. You’re not surprised to hear Lip’s dirty talk. You’re surprised that it affects you this much. Maybe there's more at stake here than just another night of physical connection.

“I’ll make it so good,” he babbles while putting a condom on.

And he does. Makes it so, so good.

[lunarriviera]

under the skin meta: The Monologue™ (part 1)

[spoilers for s2 in general and ep 20 in specific—which, trust me, you really don't want to watch out of order. it's worth waiting for this one.]

if you’ve seen The Monologue, you understand. this is why tan jianci fans are somewhere on a spectrum from chronically bitter to unendingly distraught about never not yet getting to see him play gu yun in sha po lang/winner is king. if uts were a north american prestige drama, tjc would have just handily won an emmy. as it is he’ll probably just be in a bunch of romcoms and do more goofy stuff on hi6, and that’s fine too. i guess we’ll always have “wet the bed.”

where was i oh right The Monologue. this will be long but it’s possibly the most glorious moment in this entire drama so here we go.

to build up to it, tho, we need backstory: namely, season two's gradual unraveling of shen yi. we know he can’t sleep well and has ghastly nightmares about a little girl he didn’t save, mostly because he didn’t consciously know she was in any danger. in her red dress, like the little girl in schindler’s list, she stands out, tragic amidst the desaturation, and shen yi makes a variety of horrified faces about having failed her. (horrified faces seem to be his main ones this season, which is partly what makes The Monologue so exciting.)

anyway shen yi has already been pretty thoroughly harrowed by this particular case as it is, having been the one to figure out (of course) the serial murderer’s ritualistic pattern and motive. shen yi turns his most Horrified Face to du cheng to warn him that the next victim's in danger, and they have this exchange, which will be important later.

(what du cheng says is 别担心, which also gets translated as "rest assured"—like, don't let your heart be uneasy. i got this.)

so du cheng takes off to save the victim, and shen yi goes back to his office to do…actually, what does he think he’s going to do? some paperwork, a little light filing, maybe sharpen some pencils? instead he predictably goes into a glass-shattering fugue state, and imagines the little girl. this begins the monologue scene, even though it all takes place in shen yi’s head. pls indulge me by watching it again, bc i assume you’ve already seen it anyway, and my god it’s such a gorgeous piece of face journey that ALSO sets up what’s to follow.

in some ways this compressed little piece is even better than what comes after. the way he FLIES to her and FALLS to his knees, just rushes up to her stammering and devastated and PROMISING he'll save her this time. honestly it destroyed me, i watched it like 5 times in a row before i could even move on. the unheld-back generosity of this brief performance, the way he’s completely focused on her and then just FALLS APART, it snapped my heart like a carrot stick.

me, a fangirl: SHEN YI SHEN YI NO BB NO PLS SOMEONE HELP HIM me, film nerd: huh fascinating never seen an actor's lips shake before

so now he understands what he needs to do. what he MUST do. having had this revelation, shen yi shows up at the killer’s door, creepy-smiling at him and barging inside. and then he delivers The Monologue, ten solid nearly-uncut minutes of sheer batshit insanity.

shen yi rants. he raves. he paces and pivots and gestures, he thinks aloud, he surmises and expostulates and revises and reverses and exclaims and delivers each conclusion with rabid glee. he scowls and shouts and is sinister and grins and is just one thousand fucking percent unhinged.

we have never, ever seen shen yi like this before, and thank god, because he would scare people on the regular, and he’s scary enough as it is. why do you think he wears all those baggy pastels and smiles so sweetly. why do you think he tries to pass as an unassuming twink, it’s because if people knew what was really going on inside his head half the time, they’d be screaming crying passing out. (tho the beauty of shen yi is: he also really is just an unassuming twink.)

anyway there i was, like a bonehead, stupidly trying to screenrecord this scene before i realized it would be like fifty gig of fire emoji, and then my hands fell limply at my sides, bc it dawned on me what was actually happening. sort of like that moment in “free churro” when you realize bojack horseman really is going to keep giving this heartbreaking eulogy for the length of the entire episode.

because The Monologue is virtuoso. it's tour de force. this is the kind of thing they play at the oscars during your "in memoriam" clip reel. this is what undergrads copy for their audition pieces. this is some heath ledger shit. it's jack nicholson in the shining, al pacino in scarface. this is about one inch away from brando.

as a result of all this, shen yi has the serial killer (whose name is ge yutian by the way) eating out of his goddamn hand within like half a minute, absolutely spellbound—which is the entire point. if shen yi doesn’t convince him, all of this glorious sorcery is for nothing.

(the guy who plays ge yutian is good too, a perfect scene partner for this. he picks up every cue and lets tjc have all the room he needs.)

just a few more notes on the performance, both tjc's and shen yi's:

1. where it really goes off the rails is when shen yi shrieks, DAMN POLICE! and ge yutian JUMPS in alarm. this not only made me laugh (him being so bonkers that he actually frightens a serial murderer!) but is also the moment when The Monologue stops being "aw haha such a fun thing for an actor to get to do" and “…jesus christ what the fuck am i watching." look how i couldn't even get a non-potato screencap. it's from this point on that shen yi is possessed.

2. because he has to show that he identifies with ge yutian, that the killer can and should trust him because they think alike. but that’s just the old “FBI profiler eventually becomes his prey” cliché, so there’s more to it. he also has to convince ge yutian that his ideas, shen yi's, are ge yutian's ideas, from the inside out—and therefore he's the right candidate for the sheng role. and finally, that it's precisely his ability to act, to be a strong performer, that makes him the right choice. that it’s shen yi who’s most suitable, thanks to his convincing mimesis of ge yutian’s highly suspect “thought process."

3. to really pull this off, even as shen yi builds him up (cf. ge yutian clapping enthusiastically, enthralled by this flattering vision), he also has to tear him down. so he plays two roles at once: ge yutian and an unknown theatre critic—who’s also shen yi, because he’s still the righteous officer of the People’s Police, here to inform ge yutian that his vision is sick and twisted, and not anything his gentle-hearted lover would have wanted, not her way of being in the world.

4. finally i would argue that shen yi's admittedly shaky s2 state here suddenly seems a lot more bolted-on. a few viewers have worriedly described The Monologue almost as some kind of psychotic break but honestly i read it as so very controlled and so very deliberate. while he’s desperate (must save victim this time. must not fuck it up again.) he’s not deranged. he absolutely knows what he’s doing.

i'm sorry to say part 2 will follow. but to conclude for now:

• actors are witches. • 16:9 can no longer contain tjc’s talent this man needs 1.85:1 • you hardly ever get to see someone just NAIL IT TO THE WALL like this, what a time to be alive • (and these were long takes too. there wasn't that much editing. that was all him. and you can see three uncut minutes of it here) • pls watch under the skin for some unexpectedly fine acting as well as ofc crime drama, ensemble comedy, weird art historical facts, and captain du cheng (jin shijia), who alternates between being a giant goofball and an aloof occasionally scary badass. also they’re in love.

[vanyatas]

omg hii !! can you write a clapton smut where the reader (a girl) turns him into a pathetic whiny mess ? like overstim or violently riding him im begging you 😭 ik he seems to talk a lot when hes around ppl but i think he would be sooo obedient during intimate moments 😵‍💫

no ur so true say it with UR CHEST !!!! FUCK !!!!!!!

EDGING.

Clapton davis x Fem.Reader

tags: Whiny Clapton (😋), Blowjob/Handjob, Dom Reader (MUAHAHAHAH), Edging, Overstimulation, Begging, Cum eating.

Always let me know if i forgot anything!!

Clapton Davis was probably the most popular guy in school, Already naturally gorgeous, Laid back hipster with no fucks to give, Kind and charismatic, it’s hard not to be when it comes to him naturally, Bold and optimistic, usually just confident all around.

He knew all of this about himself but. Here he is out of breath, tears threatening to leak out of his eyes, gripping onto your forearm as you’re repeatedly swiping your thumb across his already pleading cock head. Whines and whimpers, Pleads and cries for you to just let him cum as he’s doing everything in his will not to twitch and thrash around.

He remembers how he got here, he remembers hearing the teacher praise you about how you have the highest test scores of everyone in the class. How his ears rang when Mr.Kendall said Clapton should start taking after You.

At the time he was too busy trying to make Ione laugh and trying to impress her. Lighting the beaker in front of him, just for the fire alarm to go off and soaking the entire class in water.

At first he just laughed. It was a bit silly even if he knew something stupid, Then a bright smile etched his features as their teacher placed the graded test on his soaking wet desk. A blocky A was shining directly in his eyes. “Woah an A, Thank you!!” However as soon as he spoke those words the teacher leaned down to erase it into an F.

A defeated look replaced his features. His eyes lingered over to you as you try to wring out your jacket and save your homework and papers.

Another smile fell onto his face, The bell rang and he skipped his way over to you, a slightly startled expression he was met with.

Conversing with you, his mind was stuck on one thing. This was going to be too easy.

Yet here he is, Notes and practice tests scattered across the bed and floor as he’s staring directly at you. His mouth was completely soaked from his own drool, No matter how bad he wanted to cum it felt so fucking good being edged.

You’re cooing in his ear about how good he was doing and how gorgeous he looked being this slutty mess for you, your free hand wiped his drool away placing a kiss on his mouth and on his face.

Immediately he had reciprocated but stuffed his face in your neck, gripping onto your waist and your arm. “Mmmfmf Fuck Please. I wanna cum. I wanna cum so baddddd! Please please p-please let.” interrupted by his own loud whimper hiding his face deeper into your shoulder. “Y/N. Please ffuck. Please let me cum.”

His voice was strained, his neon teal shirt was soaked in his sweat. You’ve been at this for hours. He genuinely can’t believe he’s losing his mind over someone who he initially wanted to convince to cheat off of. You were pretty, You had the nicest voice ever, You were sweeter to him than any other girl he’s met. Easily he was slipped into this sort of submission after he kissed you. Felt your hands gently pawing at his chest and arms. Which lead you to your current situation.

“Clapton you’re doing so well for me.” You purred into his ear. Another swipe at his tip and he gasped grabbing at you tighter, if he even could. “You’ve held out for so long I think I can spare a bit of mercy.” you teased which made him feel even more light headed if he even could.

He felt you remove your hand off of his dick and he whined softly at the loss of contact. You gave him a small kiss on his nose and whispered. “Lay on your back.” he was at the start but he has found himself on his side trying to buck his hips into your hand.

Doing as he was told he felt his face get hot. He was still hard. It didn’t help to see you moving between his thighs which made him whine at just the sight. His body shivered as you started to place kisses against his length. One of his hand moved to hold your head very softly, just petting your hair and moving it out of your face. You were very pretty and he couldn’t help but bend to anything and everything you did.

Your hot mouth had encased itself around him and he let out a loud yelp. Your tongue softly flicked and moved around his weeping tip. “PleasePleasePlease Fuck.” he cried covering his eyes with his arm as his grip on your hair tightened. Tears spilled from his eyes, This feeling was too much but he didn’t want it to stop.

Your head bobbed lower taking in a majority of him in, with every move of your own he let out loud moans and pants, he doesn’t know how much more he could take.

You could tell, the way his hips bucked into your mouth out of instinct and his dick twitching and leaking unholy amounts of precum against your taste buds wasn’t unnoticed. You pulled your mouth off of him for just a second, soft kitten licks against him. “You can cum anytime you want gorgeous.” you whispered loud enough for him to hear, your mouth instantly wrapped back around him.

Clapton wasted no time, Gripping your head with both of his hands his eyes shakily stared at you as his bottom lip quivered, “Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Oh my god!” he basically shouted out as he finally was able to finish. he threw his head back and let out a soft whimper almost filling your mouth too much.

Wiping away your drool you swallowed before pushing yourself up to lay right next to him. He was still breathless. you wrapped your arms around him which he, without a second of doubt shoved his face between your chest and curled into you.

This made you giggle softly, stroking the back of his hair you kissed him all over his head which he leaned back to let you kiss his face, placing a million everywhere he just smiled at you lazily obviously exhausted from the relentless teasing you gave him.

“Can we study tomorrow? I’m so tired dude.”

Another giggle.

“Of course Clapton.”

————————

i need him so fucking bad chat i want him to skate across my mouth with HIS.

[butlervibesonly]

𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 || Austin Butler

• Summary : It is yours and Austin's 10th anniversary, and it's not just any kind. Austin wants this anniversary to be the best anniversary ever, and as you probably might know — he's going to be successful.

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : Nothing more than a fluff

The sky is painted with shades of pink and gold as the sun sinks toward the horizon, casting a warm glow across the beach. It’s a quiet spot that Austin and you stumbled upon years ago, early in your relationship, and it quickly became one of your favorite places—a little hideaway where it feels like the rest of the world disappears.

It's actually yours and Austin's 10th dating anniversary. You guys met in your early teenage years, on the set of some series that was your early start of acting career. Since the moment Austin's eyes met yours, there was absolutely no doubt you two fell in love completely.

As today marks 10th anniversary, he suggested this beach outing earlier, insisting on going in time to catch the sunset. He even packed a little picnic for the two of you, spreading out a soft blanket on the sand, the sound of waves lapping against the shore filling the quiet as you sit together, sipping wine and sharing stories from the day. Austin’s been holding your hand the entire time, his thumb gently tracing circles along your skin, and every so often, you catch him looking at you with a soft, almost undescribable expression.

As the sun dips lower, casting that magical, golden light across everything, he suddenly stands, reaching down and offering you his hand with a small smile. “Walk with me, love?” he asks, his voice a little softer than usual. You take his hand, letting him guide you closer to the water, where the waves gently wash over your feet. "Oooh, it's cold!" you giggle as the cold wave of ocean hit your legs. You were wearing beautiful white dress, they were little longer, so you hold their hem so they wouldn't get wet.

For a moment, Austin just holds your hand, looking out at the ocean as if gathering his thoughts. Then he turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. Austin takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours as he begins to speak. “I remember the first time I met you,” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “I remember thinking… I’ve never met anyone like her. You walked in, and I knew, even then, that my life was about to change. And every day since, you’ve been the best thing in my life.”

You feel a warmth rise in your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as he steps closer, holding both of your hands now. “I’ve thought about this moment so many times, honey,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion.

“How I’d tell you just how much you mean to me. How every day with you has made me feel more complete than I ever thought I could.” Austin says, his eyes shining with something so unspoken, yet so bright.

"I don’t think I ever really knew what love was until I met you, Y/n... You’ve been my sun, my laughter, my reason to wake up every morning with a smile. You’ve seen me at my best, with your support and brightness. And even at my worst, and you were there, being a shoulder i could cry on, my strength. And everything in between, and through it all, you’ve been my safe place."

Austin pauses, his eyes softening as he watches your reaction. Then, he slowly lowers himself down onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. Your heart skips a beat, and you clasp your hand to your mouth as he opens it, revealing a sparkling ring that catches the last rays of the setting sun.

"I really want to spend my life making you as happy as you’ve made me. I want to be there for every little adventure, and woah — there were already plenty of those small or big adventures!" he makes you giggle through your tears. "I want to be the one you lean on, the one you laugh with, the one you come home to, always. So, here I am, asking you, to let me be the person who gets to love you forever, because, Y/n, I can't imagine life with anyone but you."

His words are like blanket for your heart. The warmth and honesty that his speech brings is totally unbelievable and you already love this moment more than anything.

“Y/n, will you marry me?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with love and hope. Your and also his eyes are filled with tears as the moment fills both of your heart.

You can barely speak, as you nod. “Yes,” escapes your lips, almost sobbing. Austin's face lights up with the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen as he slips the ring onto your finger, then stands, pulling you into his arms. He kisses you, deeply and softly, the two of you wrapped up in each other, standing in the golden light as waves crash around you.

When you finally pull back, both of you laughing and a little breathless, he holds your face, gazing into your eyes with pure love. “Forever,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping the tears from your face. "I can't wait to be yours, forever." you kiss him passionately.

"I love you, so much."

"I love you too, Austin."

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - a Christmas chapter

I've been planning on getting back to these two for a while, and then I had a brain spark and poured out 10k words in two days... The story starts up a few years after the end of The Pilot and his Girl and the story will make more sense if you've read that. I hope you enjoy revisiting these two as much as I did!

Frankie Morales x F!Reader in The Last of Us Warnings: Listen, it's TLoU, expect canon levels of violence and gory details as always. Word count: 8.5k

His low, soft, whisper slips into your dream as his warm hand gently strokes your back, “Time to wake up, cariño.” 

When you don’t stir, the warmth of the bed, and his solid chest against your back, too comfortable to give up, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, moving his lips to your neck, along your jaw until he can reach your mouth and breathe softly against it. 

“C’mon, hermosa, wake up, I need to get going,” he whispers again, and you can feel the soft scratch of his mustache against your lips. 

“No…” you mumble, “it’s too early, Frankie.” 

“I know, but I have the early patrol shift and you told me to wake you up before I left.” 

He’s wrapped his arm around your waist and is pulling you against his chest, almost enveloping you under him. As he continues to press wet kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your mouth, you slowly wake up, squinting up at him as he smiles. 

“Morning, mi amor.” 

“Morning, fish sticks.” 

He chuckles at that, his grin making the corners of eyes crinkle, deeper now than when you first met him, over twenty years ago, both his patchy beard and chocolate brown hair shot through with more silver every year. But he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, your Frankie. 

“I’ve got to go, I’m meeting Gunnar down by the stables in ten, we’ll be back in two days. We’re going to the mountain resort up by Jackson Hole, make sure it’s still in one piece after that storm.”

“Ok,” you mumble, “stay safe, come back to me.” 

“Siempre, cariño, te amo.” 

He presses another kiss to your lips as you pull your arms from under the covers and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer. 

“Love you too, Frankie.” 

Your hand shakes as you raise it to knock on Joel’s door, trembling as you step back and wait for him to open. His heavy boots thump across the floor behind the door and you see his shadow in the window pane before he opens. 

“They're not back yet, Joel,” you say before he has time to greet you, “It’s been five days and they’re not back yet.” 

“The storm delayed them, they’re probably on their way back already,” he says as he lets you through the door. Ellie is lounging on the couch in the living room, book in hand, but now she looks up at you. 

“They should’ve been back by now, even if they had to walk the horses,” you object, “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this and Will and Benny are out on patrol too and I can’t wait until they’re back.” 

“You want to go out to the resort and find him,” Joel says, leaning against the side of the couch and crossing his arms as you pace in front of the fireplace spreading warmth through the room. 

“You’re the only one I trust to do this with, Joel,” you reply, “I’m asking you to come, but I’ll go on my own if I have to.” 

“If you do that, Frankie’s gonna kill me when he gets back,” Joel says, and you know he’s only half kidding. Frankie would never let you leave Jackson alone, he’s never even been completely comfortable with you leaving on patrols without him. Years of training has made you almost as capable as the ex-Delta Force men, and you’re definitely one of the best snipers in Jackson. But despite that, Frankie never likes it when you leave Jackson, especially without him. 

“I don’t want to go alone, but I can’t just hang around here and wait for them to maybe come back, I’m leaving in an hour,” you cross your arms, mimicking Joel’s stance as you stop in front of him and give your ultimatum. 

“Hang on, when is Will and Benny due back?” He straightens up and drops his hands to his waist, challenging your determination. 

“Tomorrow evening. But I’m not waiting until then, because then we can’t go until the morning the day after and then it’s been another two days. I’ve left Jack with Eve and the kids.” 

Joel sighs and rubs a large hand over his face, glancing over his shoulder at Ellie who shrugs. 

“I’m fine on my own, I’ll eat at Tommy’s. You should go, she sounds serious about going on her own.” 

Joel sighs again and shakes his head, “Ok, fine, meet me at the stable in half an hour, I’ll get my pack together.” 

The snow is thick on the ground as you leave the Jackson gate behind. Only a few patrols have left Jackson since the storm cleared. Will and Benny set out almost immediately with a large party, heading for a nearby settlement that had requested help just before the storm hit. Another small party had headed out towards the radio tower to clear the path up to it. And now you and Joel trudge through the thick snow, your horses kicking up clouds of white as their breaths steam. 

Your nerves are frayed, it feels like they’re on the outside of your skin, chafing with every movement as you look around the snow covered landscape. The snow forces you to go slow, sparing the horses and protecting them from any hidden obstacles, your fingers drum against your thigh as you ride behind Joel. He’s got his heavy backpack on, his usual rifle in front of him and he lets his horse pick a path through the snow at its own pace. 

It takes you most of the day to get close enough to actually see the ski resort high up on the mountain side. Joel’s been telling you that you’ll probably run into Frankie and Gunnar as they make their way back. Then he tells you to keep an eye out for horse tracks heading towards Jackson, there’s a chance Frankie and Gunnar will take another route back and you might miss them. But as the miles slip by and the resort comes into view, he doesn’t repeat himself. Instead you see him double check his rifle and scan the surroundings with more vigilance and you know he’s beginning to worry. If Frankie and Gunnar were ok, you would’ve at least seen their tracks by now. You clench your fist inside your glove and bite back on the panic that’s creeping up your throat. You need a cool head now, you and Joel need a plan to approach the resort and tackle anything that you find there. 

“Hopefully they’re just snowed in,” Joel says, “it looks like the snow’s thicker up there. Let’s take that trail up,” he motions to the forest and turns his horse. There’s no visible trail between the trees, but you know there’s a narrow one that curves up around the resort and comes down to it from behind, hiding you from anyone inside the resort. You ride in silence, vigilant, as the horses make their way up the increasingly difficult hillside. Finally Joel halts his horse and dismounts. 

“Let’s walk from here and lead the horses, we’ll leave them just out of sight, just in case.” 

You don’t ask why ‘just in case’, you just nod and hold the reins with one hand, your rifle with the other. 

The back of the resort has only a small row of windows and they’ve been boarded up for years. That’s still the case as you and Joel peek out from behind the last of the thick trees. Nothing stirs and you can see no tracks as Joel motions for you to tether your horse to the same tree as his, and then you both make your way towards the back entrance. It’s locked when Joel silently presses down on the handle, and with a few quick hand gestures he leads you around the corner of the building, up on the back end of the large viewing balcony. You’re moving silently, the snow muffling your footsteps, but you’re also leaving tracks behind and while Joel’s got his focus forwards, you constantly check you back, making sure no one approaches you from behind. 

The large viewing balcony wraps around almost the whole building and a huge glass sliding door leads into a large lounge and bar area. Out of sight from anyone on the inside, Joel risks a glance over the balcony edge and quickly pulls back his head. He waves you back a few steps and you silently retreat until you’re at the locked back door. 

“Two armed guards, seven horses, one of them is Frankie’s. Gunner’s body is by the fence,” he whispers through gritted teeth, “We need to go back to Jackson and get more men.” 

“What? No, there’s no time, Joel,” you hiss, “We need to take them out and get to Frankie now.” 

“There’s at least six of them, we can’t-” Joel says but you interrupt them.

“We take the two guards out silently, then either go in through the front or we get this door open and take the rest from behind.” 

“Listen, I know you’re panicking and want to rescue Frankie now, but we need to be strategic about this, or we’re risking our own lives here,” Joel says but you’re already shaking your head, you can feel the quiet rage that always settles in your bones before a fight, it’s building up inside you. Benny called it your ‘mama bear rage’, it makes you act and move with determination as you do what’s needed and take down any threat. The adrenaline set in afterwards, making your hands tremble, but while you were aiming your rifle at infected or raiders, you never flinched. . 

“Cover me or go back to Jackson, your choice, Joel,” you say and pull your pistol, flicking the safety off. Before he can protest, you’re on your feet, quietly making your way down the stairs on the side of the balcony, down to the area in front of the main entrance. 

The two guards are facing the perimeter fence, about ten feet apart. As you approach, the snow masking your footsteps, you draw your hunting knife. The man flinches as the cold steel meets his neck but it slices him open in a heartbeat and with a gurgling sound he goes limp. The second man turns at the sound, and you quickly aim and fire. He drops, staining the snow crimson red. The gun shot is loud in the quiet mountain area, echoing for miles, and you quickly take cover to the side of the door. Joel’s caught up with you, and he takes up position on the other side. His face is thunderous as he glances at the two men, you know he’ll give you hell about this later, but you don’t care. All that matters is that you need to find Frankie and make sure he’s safe. And if he’s not…you stop your thoughts there. There’s no room for that. 

The door swings open and a man steps out, his rifle raised. Joel grabs it and swings him around, slamming him against the wall, his hunting knife deep in between the man's ribs just over his heart. A shout goes up from inside and a second man storms out, gun raised, but your rifle butt hits his temple and he drops like a rock. You don’t have time to check if he’s still alive, so you put a bullet in his head and turn back to the door. You can hear scrambling noises inside, but it seems no one else is prepared to run outside right now. 

“Get the prisoner,” someone hisses, “don’t let them get to him.” 

That’s all you need to hear, crouching low you peek around the corner for a second before you whip your head back. 

“Cover me,” you mouth at Joel, and you see him open his mouth to object just as you turn the corner, still crouched low. One man is hiding badly behind a lounge chair, and opens fire in panic as you step inside. Your first shot hits him in the chest, the second in the gut. You leave him bleeding out behind you as you crouch behind a couch and cover the way forward as Joel comes inside and advances. 

“Should be only one man left, I saw him go down that hallway,” you say in a low voice and Joel nods, taking the lead this time. You know he’s pissed at you, but he won’t let you handle this on your own. He clears every doorway before moving down the hall, and as he sweeps the second to last opening, someone from the inside takes a shot at him, the bullet splintering the wood as it hits the door frame two feet from Joel’s head. 

“Put down your gun and kick it over here and you’ll get out of this alive,” Joel calls to the man inside and is rewarded by a second shot. This one hits the opposite wall of the hallway. 

“You’re only wasting bullets, you’re outnumbered,” Joel calls again.

“Keep him in there, I’m finding Frankie,” you hiss, crouching low and zipping past the open door. Another shot rings out but it goes wide again as the man fires in panic. 

You scan the final room but it’s empty, just a small storage room, but there’s a door at the end of the hallway, a padlock keeping it locked. With the butt of your rifle, you smash the lock with two sharp hits, and wrench the door open. Stairs lead down from the doorway into a dark basement and the light switch on the wall does nothing. With a low curse you pull out your flashlight and attach it to the strap of your backpack. 

“Frankie,” you call into the darkness, your flashlight only illuminating the stairs, the rest is still pitch black. 

“Careful,” Joel warns from behind you, “no telling what’s down there if that door hasn’t been opened in some time.” 

“But where else would he be?” you ask, still shining your light into the basement, “our friend back there was heading in this direction.” 

Another shot rings out and Joel curses. 

“You ok?” you ask, glancing behind you at Joel, who nods. 

“Yeah, he just got a little bit too close for comfort that time.” 

“Just deal with him, I’m going down. If there were infected down there, they’d be attacking by now.” 

“Fuck, just...wait…” Joel hisses but you start descending, gun raised as you take slow steps down the stairs. From above three quick shots ring out and then you hear Joel quickly come down behind you. 

“You and I need to have a serious talk about tactics,” he hisses as he reaches the bottom of the stairs at the same time as you. 

“Just watch our backs, Joel,” you hiss back, scanning the empty room with your flashlight. 

The basement isn’t very big, and has been clearly used as storage since after the outbreak. Thankfully there’s no sign of cordyceps growths as you spot a door at the back. It’s got a heavy looking cross bar and you quickly step over to it, giving the door a light tap. There’s no response from the inside so you holster your gun and lift up the iron beam. Behind you, you hear Joel take a couple of steps closer and you know he’s got his gun at the ready, covering both the door and the stairs. 

The door creaks open and something stirs in the dark room as your flashlight illuminates the space. A mix of fear and relief fills your chest as you recognize the shape of the man slumped by the back wall, his arms suspended above his head, keeping him on his toes as his head hangs heavy between his shoulders. 

“Frankie,” you gasp, holstering your gun as you run over to him. Joel moves in from behind and swings his own gun and flashlight over the room. It’s empty apart from a broken chair in a corner. 

Frankie groans as you reach him, putting your hands on his chest to hold him up, taking some of the weight off his wrists. Even in the dim light you can see that they’re rubbed raw from the rope that’s twisted around them. 

“Joel, cut him loose, I can’t reach,” you call over your shoulder and Joel steps over quickly. 

“We’ve got you Frankie, stay with me, baby,” you say, gently cupping his cheek to lift his head, trying to make him look at you. He moans again and opens one eye, the other is plastered shut, swollen and bloody from a cut in his eyebrow. 

“Can you tell me where you’re hurt? Can you stand?” you ask as Joel saws through the ropes. They give and Frankie drops, only Joel’s strong arms stop him from crashing to the floor. Carefully you both lower Frankie to lie down.

“Cariño…” he mumbles, trying to reach for you, and you take his hand, gently untying his wrists and discarding the rope. 

“I’ll make sure there are no surprises,” Joel says, “Do what you can for him quickly, we need to get out of here now.” 

He leaves the room and you hear him go up the stairs again as you shrug your backpack off. 

“I’m here, Frankie, I’m here,” you say, “I’ve got you, and we’ll get you out of here. Just tell me where you’re hurt, can you walk?” 

“My leg,” he groans, grabbing his thigh, and you notice the sloppy bandage soaked through with blood, that explains Frankie’s pale complexion. “Got shot, they stopped the bleeding but it fucking hurts.” 

“I’ll clean it out properly once we’re away from here, but I need you to lean on me and walk out of here, ok?” 

He nods, closing his eyes briefly, “I knew you’d come,” he mumbles, “I kept telling you to not come but I knew you wouldn’t listen.” 

“Yeah, you know me better than that,” you grimace “but don’t pass out on me now, I need to get you on your feet, ok?” 

He nods again and seems to pull on some last vestige of energy, groaning with pain as you help him to his feet. He sways, but you hook your arm around his waist and hold him steady as he leans on you. It’s slow going, but as he limps, you get him to the stairs. Joel is standing at the top, keeping watch. As he hears you coming, he moves forward, and Frankie slowly makes his way up the stairs. The effort saps his strength halfway and he stops. 

“Wait, just need a second,” he huffs, breathing heavily as he leans on the wall. You tighten your grip on his waist and give him a small hug that he returns. 

“How long?” he asks, “I think I passed out for a while and I lost track of time in the dark.” 

“Five days since you left Jackson,” you reply, “Almost six, it took me and Joel a day to get here because of the snow.” 

Frankie nods before he takes a deep breath, “Ok, lets get up these fucking stairs.” 

It takes a few more long minutes before you’re finally at the top, Frankie grabs the door frame with white knuckles and in the last of the daylight filtering in you can see the sheen of sweat on his face. He’s pale and clammy, the blood loss and pain taking a heavy toll on him. You glance down at his leg and see fresh blood seeping through the dirty bandage. 

“Just a little bit further, then we’ll get you on a horse, Frankie,” you say, carefully brushing a strand of hair from a cut on his forehead. You can see that he’s taken a beating, bruises are blooming on his face and his bottom lip has been split, blood dried into his beard, and from the way he’s moving, he’s probably taken several punches to his body too, apart from the gunshot. 

“We’ve got a problem,” Joel calls in a low voice, just as you get to the doorway into the lounge area again, “riders returning and they’ve seen the bodies outside.” 

From beyond the still open door you can hear several voices calling out and you hurry to help Frankie to the floor behind one of the couches. 

“Give me a gun,” he hisses, and you hand him your pistol. 

“I’ve only got half a mag for it,” you say, “ and two mags for the rifle.” 

“Keep it, you’re the better shot,” he replies. He winces as he crouches and looks over the edge of the sofa. You can see that he’s white knuckling the pistol, trying to keep his hand from shaking. You glance over at Joel who looks worried, Frankie will be all but helpless if you have to put up a fight. 

Joel has taken cover behind the sofa on the right, and together the three of you are covering the front door. But there are bound to be other entrances and you’re glancing around the big room, there’s no way to know if you’ll be flanked. 

“If anyone comes through the door, you shoot first,” Joel says in a low voice to you, “Let's not waste bullets. I’ll follow up if there’s a second guy.” 

You give him a thumbs up and look over at Frankie. He’s leaning against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. Outside you can hear the men getting ready to move in, and on impulse you bend down and press your lips to Frankie’s. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth as you pull back, “don’t die on me.” 

“I love you too,” he mumbles, peeling his eyes open to look at you, “Just kill those fucker for me, cariño.” 

Something clatters on the floor in front of the sofa and you hear Joel yell. 

“Down! Get down!” 

Frankie grabs you, pulling you down with him and a loud explosion reverberates through the room, your chest, your eardrums, making your ears ring as you cough and gasp. Frankies hands are digging into your arms, keeping you pressed to him until you can look down and meet his wide eyes. He’s covered in white dust and so are you, the only color in his face is a fresh trail of blood from his split eyebrow and his brown eyes. 

You can’t hear anything, you’re trying to push yourself up but something heavy is keeping you in place and you’re struggling to get it off you. Frankie shifts under you but you’re still pinning him to the floor. Suddenly the pressure is lifted and you draw a deep breath, but the relief is short lived, blinding sharp pain shoots through your head and everything goes black. 

Frankie feels hands grabbing him before he sees them, the dust in his eyes making them sting and water. He blinks frantically to clear them, his ears are ringing and he needs more of his senses to work, he needs to get up and get you to safety. Someone grabs him under his arms and forcefully tugs him backwards, into the light and he can see more clearly, he blinks again and tries to get up but rough hands shove him down. He can’t fucking see where you are, he felt you move just after the explosion, but now he can’t see you. 

“Stay the fuck down,” a harsh voice snaps through the ringing in his ears, “Grab the other two, get them outside, this place looks like it’s about to collapse.” 

Frankie feels himself getting dragged backwards again, out through the door and into the frigid cold air. The person dragging him drops him on the ground and turns him over, forcing his arms behind his back, ignoring the loud groan he lets slip as the movement shoots pain through his injured leg. Zip ties are tightened around his wrists, rubbing against his already raw skin.  

“Put him against the fence,” someone orders and again he’s yanked up by his arms and hauled over to the chain link fence surrounding the property. He manages to sit up as he’s dumped on the ground again, his arms at an awkward angle behind his back. His leg is throbbing and he can feel more blood trickling down into the snow, but he’s pushing it to the back of his mind as he sees you getting dragged out from the building, two men struggling to pull Joel out after you. Your body is limp and the man has a strong grip on your upper arm, pulling you carelessly across the snow. Frankie can see blood dripping from a gash on your head and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s trying to stand up, protesting at the way you’re being handled. 

“Leave her alone, get the fuck away from her!” he yells, bracing against the fence as he pushes himself to his feet. 

“You should know better by now than to talk back,” the man sneers as he drops you to the ground and yanks your arms behind your back, using zip ties to secure them too. 

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Frankie spits, and the venom in his voice makes the man flinch as he catches a glimpse of Frankie’s face, eyes black with rage. He finds himself quickly again though and grabs you, shoving you up against the fence a few feet from Frankie, before he steps over to Frankie. He pulls his gun from his waistband and presses the muzzle against Frankie’s temple, forcing him down onto the ground again. 

“Who’s she to you then, huh? Girlfriend? Come all the way up here to rescue you?” 

Frankie bites back the insults he wants to hurl at the man, it won’t help. Through the pain in his leg, the cut on his head, and the blind panic he’s fighting to control, he tries to regain a cool head, figure out how to get you out of this. 

“C’mon, buddy, don’t go all quiet on me now,” the man taunts, “Who is she?” He glances back at you, slumped against the fence, still unconscious, and grins, “Who is she?” he asks again, backing up and now he’s got the barrel of the gun pressed against your temple. “Tell me who she is and I won’t kill her right here on the spot. We don’t need her, keeping three people alive is too much trouble, we only need one of you to talk.” 

Frankie can’t think straight, can’t collect his thoughts, all he sees is the cold metal pressed against your head. 

“She’s my wife,” he presses out, struggling to get to his feet again, but a man comes up behind him and aims a vicious kick to his knee, and he goes down again. 

“Keep her alive, I bet he’ll talk to keep her safe,” the man says, “Kill the other guy.” 

The man who’s got the gun holsters it again and looks over at Joel, he’s been ziptied too and shoved up against the fence further down. He’s glaring at the two men aiming their guns at him, “He’s awake, lets see what we can find out  from him and then kill him. We’ll stay here tonight and then follow their tracks back to wherever they came from. We’ll keep these two for now.” 

As soon as the two men leave, Frankie grits his teeth and forces himself to scoot over to where you're slumped against the fence. If he could only get the zip ties off he’d figure something out, but he needs to wake you up first, make sure you’re ok. He doesn’t like the way you're sagging, it looks like the way you're sitting is stopping you from breathing properly, he nudges you with his uninjured leg, giving you a kick. 

“Cariño, wake up,” he whispers, “c’mon, wake up.” 

He shoves you with his shoulder, trying to push you upright and he hears you cough, so he shoves you again. 

“Wake up,” he hisses sharply, “c’mon, baby, I need you to wake up.” 

He hears you groan and finally, he draws a deep breath of relief, you sit up, blinking your eyes as you clear your head. You cough again, spitting blood, there’s a cut on your lip, but it looks shallow, thankfully. 

“Frankie…what happened?” you groan, trying to sit up straighter. 

“Lean on me, cariño, stay up right,” he shifts so that he can support you as much as possible with his hands tied behind his back, “They had an explosive, dynamite I think, nearly took the fucking roof down.” 

“Where’s Joel?” you ask, your head dropping to Frankie’s shoulder as you try to look around. 

“Over there, by the fence. Cariño, I need to get out of these zip ties, do you have your knife on you?” 

You lift your head, it’s heavy and you’re not sure you can follow what Frankie is saying, as a lump on the side of your head thumps painfully. 

“I had my knife…” you mumble and you feel Frankie moving, trying to reach the sheath clipped to your belt. 

“It’s still there,” he whispers, “I need you to move so that I can grab it, I’ll cut you free first and then-”

He stops short when a roar goes up from Joel. One of the men is leaning over him and Frankie can’t see what he’s doing, but it’s making Joel howl in pain. 

“Just fucking tell us!” the man yells before Joel groans loudly and curses.

“Fuck you!” he snarls, but his voice breaks and Frankie sees him slump forward. 

“We need to be fast,” he whispers back to you. 

“Frankie, look!” you gasp, and he follows your gaze, the glint of a scope is all he catches before a shot rings out and all hell breaks loose. Two more shots ring out, two men dead in the snow, a third one clutching his shoulder and bolting for cover before another shot takes him out. Suddenly two masked men on horseback come charging in through the open gate, taking the remaining men by surprise. Horses whinny, shots ring out and the guy who dragged you out, runs towards Frankie, but the man on horseback throws himself from the saddle and is on him in a few long strides, tackling him to the ground. 

“Fucking get him!” the other man calls from his horse, and Frankie breathes a sigh of relief. The voice is unmistakably Ben Miller’s. 

Will only snarls as the man’s neck snaps under his strong hands, slumping into the snow and he doesn’t even give him a second look, just leaves the body on the ground as he rushes over to you and Frankie. 

“Fish, hey, you ok?” he asks, instinctively reaching for his first aid kit as he sees Frankie’s leg. 

“Get us untied, Will. Thank fucking God you showed up.” 

Will quickly cuts the zip ties while Benny clears the rest of the area. From the forest Tommy comes jogging, his sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. 

“All clear?” 

“Yeah, all clear,” Benny replies as he cuts Joel’s zip ties. 

“Thanks, man,” he says, “You guys showed up in the nick of time.” 

You’re gingerly touching your head, there’s a big lump there and Frankie takes your chin and carefully tilts your head to get a look at it. 

“It’s bleeding, but it’s not deep,” he says. “Will, clean it out and patch her up.” 

“I will, man, but right now, your legs takes prio, we need to stop this bleeding.” Will is ripping up the fabric and inspecting the wound.

“As soon as you can, we need to move,” Benny says, coming over and watching Will disinfect and wrap clean gauze around Frankie’s leg, “We’ve got spare horses, we should try to get as many of them as possible back to Jackson.” 

“We’re on it, got your backpack too, Frankie” Tommy calls from behind him. Joel’s on his feet, cradling his left arm, but helping his brother tether the horses together. 

“What happened to Gunnar?” Will asks Frankie, who shakes his head. 

“We got attacked during the storm, Gunnar was standing guard but I think they got the drop on him because of all the snow. I woke up with a gun in my face and Gunnar dead by the door.” 

“I’ll get his body,” Tommy said, “We’ll get him back to Jackson.” 

It doesn’t take Will long to finish giving Frankie’s leg a temporary fix, then he quickly cleans and closes the gash in your head. Frankie groans as Will helps him into the saddle of one of the new horses, and you stay close to him with your own horse. He’s very pale and you can tell he doesn’t really have much energy left as he sways in the saddle. 

“Will, we won’t make it back to Jackson before nightfall, what’s your plan?” you ask, knowing the older Miller brother always has two or three back-up plans. 

“The old restaurant down by Blacktails Pond, we stay there overnight.” 

“Ok, good, we need somewhere safe to rest for a few hours.” 

Will glances over at Frankie, who doesn’t seem to be aware of the conversation. The last of his reserves were used when trying to get out of the zip ties, now, in relative safety, he is slipping back into the stupor you found him in. 

Setting a steady pace, you all begin the long trek down the side of the mountain. You stay close to Frankie’s horse, eventually taking hold of its reins as Frankie slumps in the saddle.

“Will, hold up,” you call, halting the group, “Joel, take my horse, I need to ride with Frankie.” 

Joel’s been riding just in front of Frankie, now he looks back at the pale looking man who seems barely aware of his horse stopping. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open and there’s a sheen of sweat on his skin that, considering how cold it is, shouldn’t be there. 

Will gets off his horse too and gives you a hand up on Frankie’s horse. You settle in behind him, taking the reins from him as you wrap an arm around his waist and make him lean back against you. 

“I’ve got you, Frankie,” you tell him in a low voice, and he gives you a barely perceptible nod. Will’s got his hand on Frankie’s uninjured leg, and he’s looking worried. 

“Don’t let him fall asleep, keep him awake,” he says, and the concern on his face makes you scared. Will is the one who is the most experienced medic, working with his wife Diana in the Jackson clinic, if he’s worried about the state of Frankie, it’s not a good sign. You don’t say anything but meet his eyes and he knows what you’re silently asking, the fear is clear on your face. 

“We need to get to shelter fast,” he says, “Just keep him awake.” 

You nod and take a steadier hold of Frankie, finding his hand and wrapping your own around his fingers, squeezing them tight. 

“Keep holding my hand, Frankie, don’t let go,” you tell him, tucking your chin into his shoulder as you nudge the horse into a walk. 

“Never,” he mumbles, and you feel his hand squeeze yours, it’s light, but it’s something and you cling to that as Will leads the group towards the old restaurant. 

Wyoming winters days aren’t long, it’s pitch black and late by the time you get to the restaurant. The temperature has dropped and you can feel Frankie shivering under your arms. You squeeze his hand but he doesn’t respond, and you urge the horse forward. There’s enough of you to risk a fire once you’re inside the restaurant, Frankie needs to get warm, there’s no other way. 

While Benny and Will clear the restaurant and make sure it’s safe, Tommy helps Frankie off the horse and takes both Joel and Tommy holding him up to get him inside the old, dilapidated building. You bring in the horses and leave them tethered in the spacious foyer and then hurry after the men. 

This is a well used safe house for the Jackson patrols so it’s well stocked for any eventualities and the windows have been blacked out. You’ve spent several nights here, even days, when you’ve been caught by a surprise storm in the treacherous Wyoming seasons.  

You quickly begin building a fire in the big fireplace at the back of the front room. There’s always a good stack of firewood next to it but only when there’s enough of you to properly guard the place do you risk lighting it. Now you desperately need it, Frankie needs to get warm, get fluids in him to combat the blood loss, get his leg properly cleaned before it gets infected. You’re hoping it’s only the blood loss making him unresponsive, if he’s got a serious infection, you’ll need to get him back to Jackson and you’re not sure he can handle that. 

You glance over at where Joel and Tommy have put him down on a mattress on the floor near the fireplace. Honestly, you’re not sure he’d even survive the rest of the ride back to Jackson like this, but you try to shove the thought to the back of your mind. It doesn’t work though, it still sits there, making your hands shake and your eyes burn. Your vision gets blurry as you hastily light the dry logs, tossing more on as the fire roars to life. Putting up the fire guard, you grab Frankie’s mattress and slide it closer to the warmth. 

You kneel next to his head and take hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly, “Stay with me, Frankie, come on, you can’t go to sleep yet,” you urge him as you prop him up against your lap. “Benny, he needs fluids, melt plenty of snow over the fire.” 

“Sure, I’m on it,” he replies and jogs after Tommy who’s taken up the first guard shift by the entrance. 

Will kneels next to Frankie’s leg and starts unraveling the bandage, “I’ve got alcohol to clean it out but I don’t know if the bullet is still in there. I need to check and it won’t be pleasant for him,” he looks up at Joel who’s come over to the fire, “I need the two of you to keep him as still as possible while I check.”

Joel kneels next to Frankie and takes hold of his leg, keeping him steady while you hold his hand. Frankie’s breathing deeply and you can see him steeling himself, this won’t be the first time he’s had to suffer painful first aid out in the field. 

Will holds a pair of forceps in the fire for a few seconds and then douses them in alcohol before leaning down over the gunshot wound in Frankie’s thigh. 

“Ok, Fish, you know what I have to do and it’s not gonna be pleasant, just keep still for me, ok?” 

“Payback for when I pulled that shrapnel from you back in -05?” Frankie snorts weakly and Will chuckles. 

“Something like that. Ok, here goes, I’ll be as quick as possible.” 

You’re not squeamish around injuries and blood any more, but you can’t watch as Will begins to search for the bullet inside Frankie’s thigh. Instead you look down at Frankie and concentrate on letting him squeeze your hand tight. He’s grinding his teeth, biting back groans as droplets of sweat begin to form on his forehead. 

“Stay with me, Frankie,” you mumble, and he looks up at you, his fingernails digging into your palm. You keep your eyes locked on his as you see Will angle the forceps from the corner of your eye, “Just stay with me, baby,” you whisper, squeezing his hand back and he gives you a small nod, the lines deep between his eyebrows.  

“I can feel it, I’ve almost got it, Fish,” Will says, and Frankie moans loudly, just as the bullet slides out of his leg. Fresh blood flows out, but Will drops the forceps and quickly presses down with a compress. Frankie is panting hard, taking deep breaths as he curses in Spanish under his breath. 

“That’s the worst part done,” Joel says, picking up the bullet, “and it looks like the bullet is whole, no pieces left behind in you.” 

“Not the worst part I’m afraid,” Will grimaces, “I’m sorry, Fish, but I have to clean it out with alcohol. You ready?” 

“Just get it over with,” Frankie growls, tightening his grip on your hand as Will pours the liquid over the wound. He can’t stop the yell of pain that rips through him and his body trembles. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he roars, slamming his empty fist down onto the floor. You bend down and stroke his forehead, pushing back the damp curls that are plastered to his skin, squeezing his hand tight. He’s sweating bullets now and whimpering as Will wipes around the wound. 

“Almost done, baby,” you whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple. He inhales deeply through his nose, holding his breath as the alcohol burns.  

Will puts down the bottle and inspects the wound, “It looks good, Fish, it doesn’t look infected. You’ve lost a lot of blood but you haven’t passed out and the bleeding has stopped. We need to get plenty of fluid in you, Benny’s melting snow so you need to keep drinking. We’ll get some food in you too and then you should get a good night’s sleep with your girl, and you’ll feel better tomorrow. We’ll see if we can ride back, or if we need to stick it out one more day.” 

Frankie nods, relaxing his grip on your hand, and you carefully flex it behind your back. You’re pretty sure he’s bruised it, but you won’t say anything. 

“Thanks, Will,” he mutters, leaning back against you, and sighing deeply, “some water would be great, I’m fucking parched.” 

“I’ve got ya, Fish,” Benny says and hands him a canteen, “And I’ve got dinner heating up, I’ll bring you a bowl when it’s done.” 

Frankie nods as he guzzles the water, gasping as he comes up for air. 

Joel gives Frankie a clap on the shoulder and goes to check on Tommy as Will cleans off the forceps and packs it away. 

“Let me check your other cuts, give them a clean” he says to Frankie, “ and then I’ll check on you too,” he looks over at you and points to your split lip that’s swollen and bruised. 

Frankie only sighs and puts down the canteen, letting Will tilt his head towards the light of the fire.  

“So what happened?” he asks as he dabs alcohol on the cut above Frankie’s eyebrow, the one that’s caused his eye to swell shut. 

“Everything looked normal when we got to the resort, nothing out of place. The gate was locked as usual,” Frankie says, “Then the storm hit and we got snowed in but we still took turns keeping watch. The plan was to leave on the third day once the storm cleared. The third night, I took the first watch, then Gunnar took over half way through the night. The next thing I know, I woke up with a gun pressed to my head.” 

“They killed Gunnar straight away?” Will asks and Frankie nods. 

“Yeah, they must’ve caught him unawares, I never heard any gunshots. They dragged me out and showed me his body, told me they’d kill me too if I didn’t tell them where we’d come from. When I didn’t tell them, they beat me up, and then shot my leg.” 

You tighten your grip on his hand, and he feels it, giving you a small smile and squeezing your hand back.

“It’s ok, cariño, you got to me in time, I knew you would.” 

“I was worried when you didn’t come back after the storm,” you say, “I made Joel come out with me because Will, Benny and Tommy had already left.” 

“Yeah, how come you guys showed up?” Frankie asks Will just as Benny drops down beside you with two steaming bowls of what looks like camp stew. 

“Drink more water and eat this,” he interrupts, shoving the bowl into Frankie’s hand. He takes it and gives Benny a grateful nod. Will moves over to you, and starts dabbing alcohol on your cuts.

“The settlement we went out to check on, they’d been attacked,” he says, “and we found a couple of survivors who said they were headed to Willard’s Rest, so we left a few guards behind and headed over there. Just as we approached, we saw a group of them ride off towards the resort. Tommy, Benny and I tracked them, the others stayed at Willard’s to take care of the rest of them.” 

“Joel and I took down six of them when we got there,” you say, “but as we were getting Frankie out, the rest of them showed up. They threw dynamite into the building and nearly took it down. It was lucky you showed up when you did.” 

“We had a bad feeling when we saw where they were heading,” Will replies, “We knew Frankie and Gunnar had gone up there before the storm.” 

“So that was the last of them, at the resort?” Frankie asks between mouthfuls of stew. 

“Hopefully,” Will says, “We’ll find out more from the rest of the patrol when we get back to Jackson,” he replies, getting to his feet, “Listen, we’ll talk more tomorrow, I need you to eat and then drink the rest of that canteen and then sleep. You’re gonna feel like shit with the blood loss for a while so get as much rest and energy as you can.” 

“Alright, Ironhead,” Frankie says, giving Will a sloppy salute that makes the tall blonde smirk and shake his head. 

“If he’s cracking jokes, he’s feeling better, take care of him, hermana,” he tells you, “make him sleep.” 

Benny follows Will and you set down your empty bowl, handing Frankie the canteen of water. He downs the rest of it and then lies back as you get your sleeping bags, thankful that Tommy thought to grab Frankie’s bag from the resort. Zipping them together you help Frankie wiggle into it as he curses at the pain from his leg. 

When he’s comfortable you curl up next to his good side and rest your head on his chest. Underneath your ear you can hear his heartbeat. It’s faster than normal, racing as his body struggles to cope with the blood loss, but at least it’s strong and steady now. Frankie puts his arm around your back and pulls you closer as you rest your hand on his waist. 

“You scared me, Frankie,” you mumble, “I almost-” 

“Sshh…” Frankie whispers, his hand caressing your back, his large palm warming you, “Don’t think about ‘the almost’, I’m here, you found me and you got me out.” 

You nod against his chest, but your mind is still racing. 

“I wish…” you begin, but trail off and Frankie moves his head to look down at you. 

“What do you wish, cariño?” he asks softly. 

You sigh, trying to control the tears that are burning your eyes, but you can’t suppress the small sob that escapes. 

Frankie immediately shifts, wincing slightly, and wraps both arms around you, one hand cupping your cheek as his thumb rubs across your skin. 

“Talk to me, hermosa,” he whispers, gently kissing at the tears that are slipping down your cheek. 

“I…I wish…I wish this whole thing was just a bad dream, that it didn’t happen,” you murmur as Frankie continues to caress your cheek. 

“The patrols are always a risk,” he says gently, “But it’s what keeps Jackson safe.” 

“I don’t mean just this, I mean all of it, the outbreak, the infection, all of it,” you say, your voice shaky as you lean into his warm hand, “I miss our life before this, it was so short, I wish we could’ve had a normal life together.” 

Tears well up faster as your mind gets stuck on the image of the house you’d signed for just before the outbreak, all the plans you had for it, the pool, a hammock, barbecue in the backyard, painting Lucia’s room, Frankie making rough sketches of the bed frame he was going to build. 

“Cariño…” Frankie whispers, hugging you closer as he kisses your forehead, “I miss all of that too, I miss Lucia every day, I miss all the memories we never got to make together, with her, and just you and me, I miss it all the time,” he leans back a little so that he can look at you, tear stained and red eyed, “But I’ve told you before, I’ll take any life with you, and if it means I have to live through the apocalypse, so be it. You and Jack are the only ones that matter. ” 

“I wish we could’ve had a proper wedding,” you mumble, closing your eyes as Frankie tucks you in closer to him, his hand finding the back of your head and lightly caressing your hair, “In our new house back in Arlington, get Will do make that pork shoulder he did at Denny’s cabin.” 

“I know, bebita,” Frankie says in a low voice, “I wish we could’ve had that too.” 

You listen to his heartbeat as he continues to stroke your hair. After a few minutes his hand goes still and you hear his breathing even out as he falls asleep. It takes you longer to get your mind to shut down, the image of Frankie strung up in the basement, head hanging heavy between his shoulders, fills your vision when you close your eyes. The fear you felt in that moment, those few seconds when you didn’t know if he was alive or not, it seems to grip your heart even though he’s safe with you now. You hate how tenuous your grip on life is now, and how used to it you’ve become. You both go on patrols regularly, and although you’re still worried when he’s gone, and you know he’s worried about you, over the years the risk of something happening seems to have diminished. Or maybe you’ve been lucky. And then this happens, and suddenly the fragility of your life with Frankie and Jack is thrown into stark relief. You came so very close to losing Frankie this time, and the fear that has simmered down during the safe years in Jackson comes back with full force. 

With a sigh you bury your head against his neck, breathing him in, as he mutters something in his sleep and tightens his hold on you. He honestly reeks of sweat and blood, but you don’t care, he’s alive and warm underneath you and that’s all that matters. You try to memorize this feeling, his smell, his heartbeat and arms around you. One day he’ll be gone, or you’ll be gone, and then you want to remember this, being safe in his arms as he sleeps peacefully next to you. 

Part 2

[runninriot]

written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Day 10

prompt: first kiss | rated: T | cw: underage drinking | tags: Robin, Steve & Eddie are friends, confessions, coming out

“What d’you mean you never had your first kiss?”

Oops. Did he say that out loud? Shit. Eddie knew he should’ve gone easy on the rum. But they’ve been running around town all afternoon to buy Christmas presents for the kids and when they finally made their way back to Steve’s, the idea of having some rum-spiked hot cocoa to warm them up from the inside sounded great. And it was - up until now.

Now, he’s being reminded of the fact that alcohol loosens his tongue, makes him say things he usually would keep to himself.

“Uh, yeah? It’s no big deal.” Eddie tries to play it down, tries to ignore the heat spreading uncomfortably in his cheeks.

“No. Hold up. Eddie, are you really telling me you’ve never kissed anyone? Not once?” Steve’s eyes are huge and Eddie searches for mockery in them, finds only honest confusion.

“Well, Steve. Not everyone starts their slutty era as young as you did,” Robin defends him. Maybe because she can sense how embarrassed Eddie feels. Maybe because she knows something about him that Steve doesn’t.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Keep making fun of me but- I can’t believe it, Eddie. You’re 19 and no one has ever been worthy enough for you to kiss them?”

The way he phrases it makes Eddie’s insides twist into a knot, makes his heart flutter at the notion of Steve actually thinking anyone had ever wanted to kiss him.

Because the truth is that no one has.

“What can I say? Maybe I’m just waiting for the right one.” Eddie laughs, makes it sound like a silly joke to hide the fact that in another universe, the right one would be sitting right next to him. Not in this life, though. He’ll never know what Steve’s lips taste like.

“I’d rather not had my first kiss at all than the one I got. Middle school, Jackson Hughes. Planted one right on me, wet and sloppy. Ugh, guess that’s when I knew I don’t like boys.”

Steve shoots her an alarmed look.

“It’s okay, Steve. He knows,” Robin answers his silent question, obviously referring to Eddie knowing about her being a lesbian.

“Oh. G-good. That’s good.”

“Takes one to know one.” Eddie chokes on a laugh.

FUCK!

Did he really just out himself in front of Steve?

As if his earlier confession hadn’t been enough to throw him off, the look on Steve’s face now is even worse. Not like- he doesn’t look disgusted or anything. More like, surprised. His facial expressions going from confused to… soft? So soft in fact, that Eddie suddenly has a hard time breathing.

“Oookay. That was awkward. Moving on. Who wants another?” Eddie quickly jumps up from the sofa, waving his empty cup at the others, not even waiting for their response before he makes his way to the kitchen.

He needs to do something, needs to get away. Splash some cold water into his face to cool down, sober up. Maybe getting another drink isn’t a good idea, after all.

Eddie braces his hands on the edge of the counter, drops his head down and sighs.

Shitshitshit!

Yeah, nope. He should not get another drink. Not if he doesn’t cut out his own tongue first. He already said too much, already confessed too many things for one evening. What comes next? Telling Steve that he’s hopelessly in love with him?

Over my dead body.

No one needs to know that. Especially not Steve. So, yeah. Definitely no more rum for him. He should probably go home and hide under his blanket until the end of days or at least-

“Eddie?”

He turns around quickly, trying his best to steady himself.

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s eyes are warm and his voice is gentle and Eddie just wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Yeah. Just needed a minute. That was not exactly how I planned on telling you.” Eddie laughs but it sounds strange even to his own ears.

God, you’re pathetic.

The other boy steps closer and Eddie feels like he’s frozen in place. His heart beats like crazy when Steve stops only inches away from him, so close now that Eddie can feel warmth radiating off Steve’s body.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, too. A-about me.”

Eddie thinks he can feel, hear, and smell the wires in his brain short-circuiting. His mouth drops open, eyes blown wide in disbelief.

What?

“I’m… bi. Apparently.” He shrugs his shoulders and smiles shyly at him.

“Th- that’s. Cool.” Eddie stutters, doesn’t really know what to say when his mind offers nothing he can share.

Steve likes boys? Maybe I have a chance. Maybe he likes me too? Shut up, Munson! He’s so pretty. I want to kiss him so badly...

“And I-“ Steve bites down on his bottom lip as if he’s trying to prevent himself from talking.

“I wanted to tell you for a while that I-“

Eddie knows he’s being delusional but he can’t take it anymore. He needs to know.

“I like you, Steve. A lot. I-“

Steve's whole face lights up and Eddie's head is spinning.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t know how exactly it happens or who starts it but somehow he finds himself glued to Steve’s lips not even a second later - his hands in Steve’s hair, Steve’s hands wrapped around his middle, their bodies pressed against one another so close that he thinks he can feel Steve’s heartbeat in his own chest.

Eddie must’ve died and gone to heaven because he is kissing Steve and Steve is kissing him back and it’s nothing like anything he’s ever felt or tasted before. A tender brush of lips, a hesitant tongue asking silently for permission, Steve’s hot breath on his face, the sweet little noises they both make… it’s like a dream come true.

And yeah. If waiting 19 years got him this - he'd do it all over again.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Chapter 1 Gun has a new neighbour. Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

It’s not that weird, is it? 

Knocking on a neighbour’s door that you don’t know on a Friday evening, asking for a screwdriver as your kitchen sink is flooding, damp t-shirt sticking to you and a wet streak through your hair.

No. You shake your head. This resembles nothing like a terrible cheesy porn scenario. It’s fine. This is fine.

(And really, you should know who the maintenance people are in this building… Frankly. It’s your first night in this seriously upscale building. Do they even have maintenance people or is it just personal butlers?)

You self-consciously try to run your hands through your hair, already knowing you look desperately out of place in your new home.

But, god bless her soul, your estranged grandma has pretty much set you up for life. Leaving you a decent inheritance and an apartment in Gangnam. So what if it came with a dodgy sink where the water isn’t so much leaking as gushing out. 

No problem.

You have all the world’s information at your fingertips and countless NewTube tutorials. A lifetime of frugal habits and a can-do attitude means you’re not going to spend more than you need to.

So here you are.

Outside your neighbour’s door.

Putting off looking like a weirdo while every second your new apartment could be resembling more like a swimming pool.

You take a deep breath, steeling your resolve and ring the doorbell.

A faint chime from inside reaches your ears and you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And just as you’re on the verge of leaving and trying someone else, you hear footsteps. Which, you think with unease, sounds irritable. You didn’t even know footsteps could sound irritable.

The door cracks open, just slightly, and the man peering through the gap narrows his black eyes at you. Needs must; you’ll just casually breeze past that.

With what you hope is a winning smile, the words tumble out. 

“Hi, I’m your new neighbour. This used to belong to my grandma but I’m here. Just moved in! Funny story actually, she didn’t take too good care of it so now I have a leaky sink. You can probably tell,” you signal to the state of your hair and clothing, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off, words short and terse. “Why are you here?”

“Oh… uh, do you have a screwdriver I can borrow? Flathead please.”

The guy takes one more look at you and shuts the door.

Excuse me? Did he just? Wow.

You’re not really sure what to do, because who doesn’t lend their neighbour a screwdriver? You shuffle your feet, contemplating if you should try the neighbours on the other floor. But what if they shut their door in your face too?

And maybe you should have called a plumber or maintenance already like a normal person. But they likely won't get here for hours. Hindsight is a bitch.

Just as you’re about to skulk away, trying to concoct another plan, the door opens again. Fully this time.

“Here,” the man says, now revealing himself to you and handing over a toolbox.

Holy shit. You take in his tall lean frame, pretty sure you can see his muscles and abs through his shirt what the fuck, the strong jaw and the hair which is this side of mussed, obviously relaxing after a long week. He looks about your age and might be the hottest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Cheeks flushing, you stammer your thanks and after he gives you a slight nod (was that a smirk?), you take your leave.

.

.

Fuck fuck fuck. It doesn’t work. Fuck NewTube and fuck this sink.

What if it floods fully and leaks through to the apartment below. You can’t afford to pay for damages of whatever fancy shit you may or may not have broken.

Your neighbour' door opens for the third time this evening, and the guy holds his hand out expectantly for his toolbox. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. You move it a touch out of reach, a hostage of sorts, as you start to ramble again, this time tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m so sorry but I couldn’t fix it. Is there a maintenance or plumbing number you can give me?”

He frowns, your words sinking in and checking out your sorry state.

“Is this going to damage my apartment?”

“No?” The question mark is loud.

“Tell me what is wrong with your… sink.”

You mutter something about hopefully just a leaky valve. Which should be oh-so-simple to fix, according to your troubleshooting skills. Perhaps that is as lacking as your handiness.

With a sigh, he grabs the toolbox out of your hand, fingers brushing yours too quickly before you’re able to comprehend what’s happening, and moves with confident strides towards your place.

.

.

Gun, he answered after you asked his name. You thought he didn’t hear when you asked the first time. The second time he hesitated, a little shifty with his body language. As if his name is a secret.

And as he ducks under your kitchen sink with a screwdriver, head almost fully shoved in the cabinet, vascular forearms showing with his sleeves rolled up, tinkering with something or another; you wonder if anything ever looks out of place in those arms, held in those fingers.

His shirt, which looks painfully expensive with a designer logo plastered all over it, is completely soaked through (dear god, those were his abs that were showing clearly through), now looking tantalising transparent and clinging to his torso.

With his arms lifted, it rides up. Showing a pale strip of skin. All hip bones and muscles and fuck. Fuck.

This is your home. Yours. How are you so incredibly flustered in your own home?

“Wrench.” comes his voice, low and silky. 

“Uhh…” you rummage around and hand him the adjustable tool.

A twist, a creak, and the water slows.

Drying up to a slow leak, then a few drips, then… nothing.

Is this guy an angel or what? Your survey the puddles, body sagging with relief that in hindsight it isn’t too terrible. No lasting damage.

Gun stands up, dusting himself off and you gush your thanks. Pouring your gratitude.

His black eyes shift to you, aloof and apathetic.

“Don’t mention it. It’s a one off. I’m not in the habit of doing favours.”

Huh?

Your jaw hangs open at his attitude as he makes a swift exit without giving you a second glance.

So much for him being an angel.

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

For you, @phoebepheebsphibs ~

Raph barges through the fifth lab door of the day. It’s sickening that this place has so many areas filled with experimented on animals. The sweetest, most innocent ones he could think of turned into violent, bloodthirsty monsters.

And Mikey was trapped here somewhere with them.

He runs past several cages. Claws and arms poke out from them, attempting to draw his blood. He’d like to help them, but there’s not much he could do, and Mikey takes priority above all else.

Calling out for his brother doesn’t garner much response. He probably wouldn’t be able to hear him over all the sounds each mutated animal is making.

Roars.

Growls.

Yowling.

……Whimpering?

He stops in front of a cage, seeing something cowering in the corner. It was too dark to see it in there.

Raph thinks that this must be an animal they haven’t mutated yet. Maybe it would be alright to help just this one.

He breaks the lock off and carefully opens the cage. The whimpering stops and suddenly he’s lunged at. Raph barely has any time to react or even scream from how fast it moves.

A squeal of fear escapes from his mouth. Luckily, his kindness isn’t rewarded with a mauling. The animal clambers onto his shoulder and perches on top of the back of his shell.

There’s no opportunity for him to even see it.

He’s guessing it’s friendly, though? It hasn’t spilled any of his blood yet. Raph sighs. The place it’s taking is Mikey’s.

“Alright, you can stay up there, but I need to go find my brother.”

The animal lets out a confused noise.

Raph holds onto it like he always does with his brothers when they’re hitching a ride on his shell and begins walking.

“His name is Mikey. He’s got spots and the biggest smile you’ll ever see. Mikey’s also super talented. Kid can bake, draw, and dance better than anyone.”

The animal squeezes him slightly. Raph can feel it wagging a tail. He wonders why it would get excited about what he’s saying but he knows he’d probably never get an answer.

“I love him. A lot. I’d do anything for him. We used to be even closer, but….older brothers aren’t so impressive to younger ones when they’re way more…..talented. Anything I do to protect him just seems like I’m tryna to be annoying to him. It’s fine because I love him and I won’t stop doing it, but I….just miss being cool.”

He feels something wet on the back of his neck and shudders.

“Ew! Did you just drool on me!? Come on!”

Sad, pitiful noises make him realize that he guessed wrong.

“Hey, sorry for saying all that….you’ve probably been through enough already.”

The animal rubs his cheek on the top of Raph’s head.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not sad. Not as long as I find him.”

The animal rubs more as a response.

Raph smiles and continues walking. As he does, the animal begins trying to turn him a certain way. It’s confusing, but then he starts to think that maybe it knows where Mikey is.

Or he does until it leads him to an exit.

“I can’t go without my brother. Here, you get out, you’ve probably been trapped long enough.” He attempts to get the animal off but it refuses.

“Listen, I can’t-“

He suddenly hears the sound of a bunch of cages opening.

Change of plans.

He takes off running with the animal still held tight on his shoulders. Either the other animals are fast or he’s slow because they’re catching up fast.

The animal on his shoulders wriggles around a lot.

“I can’t let you down! They’re still coming!”

The animal doesn’t stop, eventually worming its way out of his grip. It lands behind him so he whirls around to finally get a good look.

No.

He can’t have been so stupid.

The animal now in front of him has claws, glowing red eyes, and spots.

“M-Mikey….?”

Mikey smiles sadly, shyly, as if he’d been caught stealing cookies instead of pretending he wasn’t mutated and hiding it.

Then, he turns to face the other mutated animals.

“No! MIKEY!” Raph screams.