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yeojaa · 4 years ago

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come over, pt. i

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. explicit. tags. this is pwp. smut in the forms of: kissing, oral (m/f), fingering, deepthroating, hickeys, protected sex. use of the pet name shy girl. wc. 6.2k. beta reader. @hobi-gif and @snackhobi aka the loves of my tiny life. author note. this is an adaption of an rp with my beloved @velvetwicebang. while the writing is all my own, i owe so much to loma for inspiring me and being such a wonderful partner. 💛 if you enjoy this, feedback goes a long way. tysm for reading! (and yes, there will be a second part.)

You’ve been friends for thirteen months, classmates for another three before that. You’ve worked on countless projects together, watched him fall off a roof, and have had to bail him out of campus security’s grubby little hands. Your friendship is easy, based on mutual suffering in Professor Kim’s class and long study dates spent in the library. He smuggled you chocolates in his pockets and you brought iced coffee to the 8 a.m. lecture you shared.

You’re not sure why you’re riddled with uncertainty now then, every nerve ending shot, lit up bright like the still-up mini Christmas tree sitting in the corner of your dorm room. (You know you should take it down but it’s so cute, slouched ever with a tiny gold star-shaped bell hanging from the end.).

Spending time with Jungkook was normal - a part of your weekly routine - but then again, you hadn’t somehow developed a weird little crush on him until recently.

(If you think hard, you could probably pinpoint it to a night a few weeks ago when he looked particularly good, fluffy powder puff of hair stripped of shadow and gleaming gold beneath the warm lecture lights. You’d never had a thing for blonds but he made it look good - surprising you when he’d dropped into his seat beside you and winked in response to your surprise.)

(It’s something you can't tear your thoughts from now, that infuriatingly charming smile burnt into your retinas. It sits at the forefront of your mind, stealing your attention from the movie that's playing on the television hung across from your bed. One of those blockbuster flicks, because who didn’t love gratuitous action and lens flares?)

A hand reaches for the chip bowl propped between you - homemade chex mix, because you’ve been obsessed with the recipe since discovering it a few weeks ago - and you flinch away when it brushes the hand that's already in there.

"Sorry!" You squeak before coughing, a quick-witted (but not altogether believable) attempt at hiding the sudden heat that flares across your cheeks. The same hand disappears between your knees, fingers curling into the soft throw laid over your legs. You tell yourself to relax at least three times before speaking, peeking at your companion from beneath a fringe of sleep-tousled strands. “Stop stealing all my chips.”

The boy beside you only grins, tosses that lazy smile in your direction before turning his attention back to the explosion on the screen, entire expression lit up by the fireworks that explode in flashes of colour.

You think you’ve gotten away with it - that he hasn’t noticed - and then he’s speaking again, pointedly staring forward, seemingly unbothered. (You know better though. Jungkook’s infuriating like that, picking up on all the little things despite the fact that he’s a dumb boy, too good at reading between the lines when he barely studies.)

“You’re blushing.”

The callout is, well, uncalled for.

You choose to ignore him at first, opting to shove two chocolates past your lips. They’re unbearably sweet, minty and cold - your favourite - and the richness spills across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum as your teeth buzz from the sugar. (Note to self: thank Jungkook for the chocolate later.)

“You’re blushing,” you retort once you’ve swallowed, cheeks puffed out and a dent gathering between your brows. “I’m just—“ Hand waves wildly - nearly hits him in the face with how wobbly it is - and you pretend-glare at him, faux affront laid in spades. “—hot.”

It comes snappier than you mean it to, spoken in something close to a pout. You aren’t actually. The campus is notorious for having garbage heating, floorboards more akin to packed snow in the dead of winter. It’s just annoying. You refuse to be another one of those girls.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with said girls. It’s more an issue with Jungkook, stupidly handsome and charming and far too popular for his own good. People already told you all about Jungkook’s escapades - even though you often heard them from him firsthand and in gruelling detail. One of the downsides to being friends with someone who, for all intents and purposes, carried the title of campus heartthrob.)

“Pay attention to the movie.” The same hand reaches for the mix again, careful to avoid brushing his this time. You think you’ve succeeded, snatching up a piece of pretzel, morsel halfway to your mouth when it drops to your lap.

The same lap that suddenly has a hand on it, palm warm over your knee.

If you’d thought your nerve endings were shot, now you knew they were. Every inch of skin was on fire - heat shooting up your spine and over your neck the moment his hand comes in contact with bare skin. Damn your need for comfort, damn your choice to wear shorts, damn his freaking hot tattooed hands—

You almost yell at him. The sound’s on the tip of your tongue when you bite down, stare trained wholly on the movie and the blood that splatters across the screen..

Really, you shouldn't be surprised. You’ve known Jungkook for nearly two years - okay, not quite. You’ve heard all the rumours about him, the whispered words that sound something like playboy and flirt and be careful. You know and yet you’ve found yourself in this situation, desperately trying to figure out what the hell is going through his mind as you stare straight ahead, refusing to move a muscle.

His profile is picture perfect from your periphery; he's focused too, acting like he's done nothing wrong. Sly as a fox, as always.

“Still blushing,” he repeats conversationally, as if he’s commenting on the colour of the sky or how cold it is in your room. Not as if he’s got a hand where it shouldn’t be, ink spilling over his skin in pretty patterns, burning the shape of it where he touches.

"I didn't blush.” It’s a retort made for only argument’s sake and even then, without weight. Feather soft and feeble in an attempt to keep your voice level. It's hard when you’re burning up, a livewire settled where you feel him. "I'm not blushing."

It's a lie - you can feel the flush, embarrassment flooding from your cheeks all the way down over your chest. It’s an inferno beneath your skin, lava coursing through your veins.

It spreads further and further, blooms somewhere new when his hand drifts lower, tracking across the soft inner of your thigh. Doesn’t cease even when his hand does, palm firm over your leg, the ghost of a touch passing so close to your core you can’t help but jolt. It’s as if he’s rearranged your pieces, mixed them all up. A brush of his finger over your clothed entrance feels like it hits you right in the chest, snaps your heart to attention. It roars to life, thundering madly, pulse erratic when he repeats the gesture, with that much more pressure.

You’re dripping, you realise to your horror, cotton of your thong sticking to your skin, grey of your shorts made darker by the arousal that spills over the one not-so-innocent digit.

A part of you wants to run from the room. Nearly do, heart hammering in your chest when Jungkook's face is suddenly too close, the warmth of his breath stifling against your neck. It feels good, anticipation and desire fizzing in your stomach like fountain pop. (The movie theatre kind, that’s somehow flat and too bubbly all at once.)

"Kook." You mean to say it reproachfully, with a hand pushing his wrist away. Instead it comes out like a whisper, a soft sigh of his name that sounds almost needy, laced with worry and anticipation that makes you want to tear your own hair out. Fingers remain locked around bone, other hand digging into the blanket and the linen beneath it, searching desperately for some form of composure beneath the material.

For the first time, you hazard a glance - know it’ll be bad for your own well-being - dropping your stare to where his hand rests. (You have to admit - you like the sight of those tattoos, a stark contrast to the unblemished softness.)

Like it almost as much as his kisses, the first of which lands exactly where you want it most. Delicate, polite, right on the junction of your jaw. A sigh escapes before you can help it. "Shy girl,” he coos, teasing in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’m not shy,” you huff - try to, anyway, around the kaleidoscope of butterflies that are threatening to choke you. "We're watching a movie." You’re trying to redirect his attention, even as you’re desperate for it, even as you think you’d give your whole heart for it.

You’re this close to combusting, eyes widening the moment he extracts his hand and tucks it back into the bowl of chips. A part of you wants to yell at him - for starting this in the first place but mainly for leaving you high and dry, turned on and soaking through your underwear.

(It’s not fair, but then again, you’d never expected them to be. You’ve seen the rules Jungkook plays by - namely those of his own creation. Term paper due the next morning? He’d somehow pull it out of his ass that night. Break something at a house party? He’d be let off with a smile and a wave, those doe eyes of his utterly lethal when paired with his pout.)

“Watch the movie then.” He sounds almost bored, utterly unbothered as he seamlessly slips back into the proper role of friend, classmate, study partner.

"Let's." Without tossing another glance in his direction, you stare straight ahead, own hand delving for snacks. So what if you very purposely brush your fingers against the pieces he's just touched, popping the pieces into your mouth before slotting your thumb against your tongue, cheeks hollowing around to suck the last bits of salt and butter off.

Despite your nerves - you’re hoping he's watching - you readjust, bringing knees up, crossing legs until one is resting atop his own thick thigh. The full of your bottom lip disappears between your teeth, worried to within an inch of its life as you shift beside him, seemingly manoeuvring your shorts into their rightful position.

(You’re not. They’re hitched higher than they were, barely worthy of the title of shorts, more akin to a belt. So revealing it’s almost uncomfortable, wet of your arousal sticking them to your skin.)

(Two could play this game.)

(Maybe him better than you, but still.)

You know what you’re doing and yet you’re somehow surprised when he’s suddenly disappeared from your side and situated himself in front of you, eating up too much of the space on your small double bed. “What’re you—“ The question disappears in the same moment he does, unable to track his movements when Jungkook slips forward, pressing his mouth over yours.

You’ve kissed a lot of people. (Okay, not a lot, but enough.) You were a senior in college, where kissing was like talking and fucking happened more often than dating.

You’ve never kissed Jungkook before.

Why hadn’t you?

His lips are terribly soft, pink and pouted, slanting across yours as if he’s trying to devour you. There’s no semblance of delicacy, nothing gentle and sweet like those brushes against your neck. They’re forceful, demanding payment in full when his tongue glides over the seam, seeking entrance despite the fact that you think he might’ve slipped in anyway.

There’s not a single wall he couldn’t break down, not a lock he couldn’t pick. Not with how he moves, purposeful and reassured, tongue sliding over yours, sucking it into his mouth as if it’s something he does every day. (Which it very well could be - just not with you.)

“Shy girl,” he repeats with a mouth filled with affection, praise that pours over you honey sweet and sticky. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The thing is, you’re not pretending. You’re half-afraid this entire moment is going to explode into a thousand pieces, a dream shattered by reality. You hope it doesn’t. Couldn’t bear it when he feels so nice, hand spanning your waist, tucked beneath the safety of your shirt and the fleece blanket between you.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” There’s something in his eyes, something that coils heat in the pit of your stomach. You swear you can see the devil sitting on his shoulder, gleeful little smile rearranging his features. “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

Did he? Of course he did. Had, even before you’d known him.

(You’d grown comfortable, though. Found a way to separate the popular heartthrob from your friend.)

But you’ve lost your marbles, gone certifiably insane when you make a noise that sounds nothing like you. Because you’re once again far too interested in the way Jungkook’s touching you, manhandling you as if you’re some sort of puppet. It really shouldn’t turn you on so much, slick coating your bare thighs when he guides you onto your back, pushes you back against your too many pillows.

He’s your friend and he’s told you all about the way he fucks girls until they can’t walk.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same treatment, though.

The moment Jungkook’s mouth finds your skin - sensitive and soft and so close to your soaked core - you keen, hands immediately flying into his silky head of hair. It threads between your fingers like fine silk, filaments of gold overlaid in colour by the movie that still plays.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, entire body arching off the back of the bed in an effort to bring some form of relief. You can’t help the heat that burns your cheeks or how you sound, begging and pleading as you tug gently at his blond roots. “Don’t tease me.”

You’re not asking very nicely but you figure Jungkook will give in. It’s his fault, after all.

His fault - which you don’t mind when he hooks fabric aside and drags his tongue across your slit, the flat of his tongue arching your back from the bed. Can’t mind when he does it again, rounded nose bumping against your clit. You’re trying to stay just a little bit decent, moans soft and caught between your teeth. You’re practically biting a hole through your lip in an effort to stay quiet, hands curled into fists. Gold spills between them and you imagine it hurts but he doesn’t stop, only works harder to drive you crazy.

Of course he’s good at this. Too good, if you’re being honest.

You’re dripping, legs trembling in his firm, unyielding grip. There's molten heat building in your stomach, creeping up your spine, and with each pass of his tongue over your sensitive core, it only expands. You want more - need it - and almost beg when he catches your clit between his teeth. A breathy baby spills out on accident when your eyes meet, gaze half-lidded.

It’s bad for your health, how good he looks right now, chin slick, lips rubied and pretty like jewels. “Shy girl sounds so pretty.”

There's something about his praise that completely ruins you, the words dragging a delighted, sexpot moan off your tongue. You want him to tell you how pretty you are now and later, over and over.

You want to be his pretty girl.

"I want you. I need more," you whine, hips rutting desperately, slick messy across your thighs and shining across Jungkook's mouth. He smiles then - brighter than the sun, utterly radiant, so devastatingly handsome you swear your brain short circuits - and then he’s doing exactly as you’ve asked.

He eats you out like it’s an art form, flicking his tongue over your clit with practiced precision, sucking the pearl between his lips. When he grazes his teeth over it - just the lightest pressure - you jolt, the feeling of a finger sliding into you stealing the breath from your lungs.

He’s always had nice hands, big broad palms and long fingers. They reach places you could never hope to, stretching you deliciously when he sinks another in alongside the first, exploring you with ease. The sting is slight, the fullness overriding any pain, further dulled by the suction of his mouth on your clit.

He even hums when he finds the spot he’s been looking for, hooking his fingers against it and pressing. (You swear you see stars; you know you feel him smile, lips spread like butter over your skin when you sob.)

You can’t help yourself, writhing and moaning, trying to ride his face with a desperation that has your chest heaving. It feels so good to have him between your legs. You almost miss the appearance of his other hand - in view for but a moment before it disappears past the waistband of his sweats. Dark as they are, pitch black like most of his clothing, it’s impossible to miss the way he touches himself. It has you even needier, pussy clenching at the thought of him fisting his own hard cock.

“Do you want a hand?” You ask as if you’re doing him a favour and not salivating at the prospect, eyes wide, blinking down at him from behind thick lashes.

“Fuck.” He’s sin incarnate, undeniable when he sheds his sweats, kicks them off with just one hand, other still slotted snug against your pussy. He never ceases his movements, fucking you on his fingers even as he sits upright, leaned back on his calves. “You want a taste? Shy girl wants a big fat cock in her mouth?”

There's something about hearing him so turned on, the expletive shooting a dizzying bolt of desire straight between yours legs. You’ve seen Jungkook worked up - he was awfully competitive, after all, dominating most intramural sports, breaking PR records in the gym - but it's something else completely when he's making you drip cum all over his hand.

"Wow.”

Jungkook's cock is pretty, flushed and glossy from the pre-cum he spreads with his thumb, massaging over the tip like it owes him something.

You want to taste it.

A contented hum rolls off your tongue at his question, though you don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. His ego's big enough without it and you’re much more interested in stroking something else. Still, you lean into his palm, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of it when he threads his hand through your hair, gathering it in his fist.

Then without looking away, your mouth falls open, tongue peeking past your lips to lick a fat stripe up the length of his cock, from base to tip. It's hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum better than candy. You hum again, swirling your tongue around the head, and keep your gaze locked with Jungkook's, almost smirking when you drag your tongue over his fingers, gently grazing the edge of your teeth against the pad of his thumb.

“Please.” You’re usually far more reserved, not the kind to ask for more until you’re three months into dating and certain of where you stand. You simply can’t help yourself now, the feeling of your own wetness painting your skin, making you clench around nothing. "I need it."

The groan that comes sounds more like Christmas, a gift given by Santa Claus himself. It filters into your ears and has you grinning up at him, not even bothering to hide the pride that flutters your lashes and has you pursing your lips around the head of his cock.

When he speaks again, it’s dangerously quiet, low in his throat, laced with whatever same emotion that seems to shackle your limbs. “Open up, ____,” he instructs, though he offers little time to adjust, guiding his cock forward, stuffing your mouth full. “Show me how bad.”

You don’t mind. If you were to speak, it’d practically be a prayer, tongue tracing the veins that run the length. A chorus of yes please more when he takes just as much as he gives. You love the power that comes with Jungkook speaking so filthily, drunk on it when he continues, spewing filth in time with each rock of his hips.

Lips seal around the swollen head each time he withdraws, cheeks hollowing around the tip. Tongue passes over his fingers again before your hand rises, fingers curling around his wrist to pull his own away. (You probably shouldn't - it's too romantic - but thread your fingers through his in the same instant you sink down upon his cock, taking him halfway before pulling off with a pop!)

"Do you think you'll last long enough to fuck me?" You’re pushing his buttons on purpose, just like he had yours during the movie.

Something close to a snarl comes, a growl that reverberates out of that big cavernous chest of his, and he grips your hair tighter, tries to hold you still as he grins down at you. The expression is so at odds with the warmth in his eyes, the boyish tilt of his head.

You repeat the motion again and again, taking him a little bit deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, reflexively swallowing around the intrusion. He's still so long and thick you haven’t even taken him all, drooling around his length, breathing through your nose and pushing past the desire to gag. Then you relax your jaw just a little more, humming when your nose brushes the neatly groomed patch of hair at his base.

Your free hand slinks across his thigh, nails digging into the meat, delighted by the flex of muscle and sinew beneath your hand. He's so hard, both on your tongue and beneath your touch. It prompts you to shift forward just a bit more - you can feel the slick on your thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with each movement - and trace across his thigh to gently palm his balls.

If you could speak, you’d probably ask for more. For Jungkook to use and abuse your throat as much as he wants. As it stands, you can only moan around him, spit and his pre-cum smeared over your lips.

“Look at you.” He’s talking to himself, lost in his own world as he fucks into your mouth, soothes the pad of his thumb over your cheek. You adore the way he sounds now, dazed and a little messed up. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, ____.”

You can’t do much more than look up at him, batting your lashes when he compliments you, dragging your tongue everywhere you can reach as the head of his cock batters the back of your throat. It's not an easy feat, drool all the way down your chin, trailing down your neck and staining the silk of your camisole.

At some point, you’ll need to pull off - get a proper breath of air - but not now. Instead, you swallow around him, savouring the feeling of him filling your mouth, and squeeze gently at his balls. When you wink up at him, it's half-hearted and with moisture in your eyes, lining lashes in the form of little gemstones.

You do it again and again, moaning lewdly around his cock before it gets too much, pulling off of him with a gasping breath and tears down your cheeks. “Is it my turn yet?” You’re only half-joking, made needier by the soreness in your throat, the same you want to feel so desperately between your legs. Pressing a sweet, chaste peck to his head, tongue dipping into his slit to gather the pre-cum that leaks out, you offer the sweetest smile you can, saccharine sweet and soft.

“Your turn?” The way Jungkook snorts is derisive, playful. It pulls straight off his tongue - which finds yours, swapping spit as he guides you back to the bed. Teeth collide, lips grown swollen by the intensity of your kiss, and you startle when he nips hard at the bottom petal. “I thought you were shy.”

“I am,” you retort, returning the gesture, biting into the curve of his jaw with surprising repose. Colour blooms beneath the edge of enamel, a smattering of colour that makes you smile, eager to leave more.

Which you would do, if Jungkook weren’t stripping before you, peeling his shirt from his front, tugging it over his head in that weirdly hot way that somehow all boys did. It reveals skin in a single fluid pull, clothing discarded to the side before he levels you with a smile of his own, one that stirs to life the dimple in his cheek, eyes squinting with the intensity of his delight. He looks deceptively sweet this way, nothing like the demon who’d just stuffed his cock down your throat.

You’re not sure which version of him you like best.

Seeing him now, dressed in nothing but that absurd, devilishly handsome grin of his, you’re not prepared. You’re unsure where to look, gaze bouncing between the tattoos that crawl up his arms and span over his left pec, down the neatly defined ridges of his abs, and all the way back to his swollen, shiny cock.

“You’re drooling.” Of course it’s something he’d say - because he always knows what to say, plucking perfect words from thin air. The casual banter calms the rattle in your chest and refocuses it on his face that’s too close, looming over yours as his hands make quick work of your clothes, shedding the fabric from your form with deft, measured movements.

You’re ready to say something teasing - anything to distract from the fact that you’re still ogling him - when he catches you in another kiss, softer this time, infinitely sweeter. Suddenly, you’re shy - which really makes no sense, given what’s transpired.

"Don't make fun of me," you mumble, as bashful as you were during the movie, embarrassment burning across your cheeks. Arms rise to cover what little of your chest you can, folding around his broad palms that encompass them whole, tweaking at the straining buds.

“I’m not,” Jungkook reassures against your lips, face dropping into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles against you, sucking affection into the column of your throat, shamelessly laying a wreath of lust into the delicate skin. You wonder whether he can hear the stutter of your pulse, the reaction his next words elicit. “You’re pretty when you do it.”

You can’t quite pull your eyes away from his face, shrouded in lemon tart, so good-looking it’s unfair; his broad back and the muscle that threads it, undulating with each movement; or the way his thighs flex between your spread knees. You’re dragged through heaven and hell by the brush of his lips, each glide overstimulating your senses to the point of no return. You’re still burning up, all the foreplay leaving your legs like jelly, cunt dripping with need. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Probably not the best thing to say with the position you’re in but the reality of the situation is hitting you and you’re feeling a little vulnerable. Want an answer that’ll soften the sharp edges of his teeth, the intoxicating glint in his stare.

“No, just you.” Whether it’s true or not, you can’t say for certain. You hope it is - wish upon a star for it, laying all your hopes and dreams into the constellations in his eyes. They’re lovely, winking down at you from the darkest depths, guiding you home.

You don’t mean to scoff - really, you don’t. It comes of its own accord, spilling forth like a glass too full.

“You don’t believe me?” He sounds almost offended, the picture of innocence when he reaches down, hand scrambling about for pooled black fabric. Comes back up with a packet between his index and middle finger, held aloft like a prize.

How can you when he’s ready to devour you whole, primed to feast as he rolls the condom over his length, stroking himself once, twice, gaze never wavering from where it rests between your legs.

“Always prepared.” It’s scathing but somehow tender, too mesmerised by the way he fucks into his loose fist. You’d say more - maybe make a flippant comment about his reputation - but can’t find the words when he’s teasing you, swollen head tapping teasingly over your core. It feels like too much, leaves you breathless when he hikes your legs up and nearly folds you in half.

When he presses into you, the sound you make is sinful, a moan you can’t help. Jungkook’s so fucking big you’re sure you’re about to split in half, pussy clenching tight around the sudden intrusion. “Oh my god,” you whine, hands coiling into his hair, trying desperately to relax, the sting of the stretch battling the pressure that builds as he sinks further in. “You’re so big. I c-can’t—” You’re starting to babble nonsense and he hasn’t even begun moving yet, lips hot over the sweat-slick column of his throat when he bows, burning his presence into the grace of your neck. A hickey of your own creation blooms right where your mouth is, right over his shoulder. The salt of his skin distracts you, makes it easier to accommodate the fullness. “You feel so good, Kook.” You rock experimentally beneath him, clenching tight as if to draw him deeper. “Please, move,” you beg, aiming to form another bruise beneath his skin.

The first thrust chases all the breath from your lungs, a gasp ricocheting off your tongue and into the minimal space between you. He's absurdly big, stretching you out so well that every stroke feels like heaven. When he pushes back in, snaps his hips in that easy, effortless motion of his, you’re making the most obscene noises, words lost to his hair as he lavishes your tits with attention.

B-big! is all you manage to squeak out. It sounds like that, anyway. With how he's filling you, it's hard to speak coherently; you can practically feel him in your throat. (Or maybe that's just from choking on him earlier. You’re not really sure.)

Hands find their way around his neck, over his shoulders, periwinkle-painted nails leaving light etchings in their wake. They bloom colour over his back - not too hard, careful still, motor skills barely functioning - before you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him recklessly close as the pressure builds and builds, flooding your abdomen in heat.

There’s slick all across your thighs. You can hear the wet sounds each time Jungkook slips almost all the way out and then rocks back in. It's terribly messy and so hot but you’re greedy, drunk off the feeling of having this Adonis break you in half. "Harder, p-please." Eyes wide, you tug gently at the soft strands at the nape of his neck, meeting his with a flutter of your lashes. "Please?"

He acquiesces without hesitation, fucks you harder, deeper, like an animal in a rut. Grinds against you with each thrust, pushing you to your limits. Even has the audacity to push further, until the strain in your hips conflicts with the pleasure skipping up your spine, melting you into a boneless mass.

You’ve never felt like this, stretched out and used. You’re used to gentle lovers, sweet - if not boring - lovemaking. The way Jungkook's pounding into you is unheard of and you’re loving it, his name whimpered on a feedback loop. A steady Kook, Kook, Kook that twinkles in your ears, inarticulate and pleading as you rock shamelessly against him.

“You like that, ____?” It’s a question for his own ego, something he knows but asks anyway. (It’d be impossible not to know the answer when your cunt’s sucking him in, coating his cock in a pretty sheen.)

You’re nodding dumbly, breathless, eager to meet him each time he snaps forward. (It’s not easy like this, practically prone beneath him, twisted into a pretzel.) "Like it so m-much. Feels so good.” You can’t stop smoothing open mouthed kisses over his fluffy hair, basking in the sunshine that radiates off him.

There's an ache starting between your legs, pussy swollen around his thick length. You’re grateful for your natural flexibility, the hot yoga sessions you’d entertained on-and-off for years. You’re sure you’d feel it in your legs too, knees pushed all the way up by your ears, if not for that.

But still, you’re defenceless, made to experience each and every thing he has to offer: every vein and ridge, the head of his cock reaching so deep it's almost too much. With each stroke, Jungkook’s brushing against the sensitive spot that has pleasure skyrocketing, blossoming like a rose garden in spring. "R-right there," you manage, rolling your hips purposefully, nearly crying each time he brushes against your g-spot.

“Right there?” He parrots it back, infuriating and adorable, the teasing tenor dripping over you like raindrops. They settle beneath your skin, sinking into your bones as he rears back just enough, enough to steal a kiss that’s far more tongue than it needs to be.

It’s almost as if he’s trying to drown you, sink you beneath high tide.

Spit descends down your chin, trails over your neck and it’s a little gross but you don’t care. The attention he’s giving is shameless, passed over your cheeks, your throat, your breasts. He gives and gives, both with his lips and the praise that comes unfettered. “Perfect,” he hums, sucking your nipple into his mouth, worrying the bud until it’s straining and puffy, too sensitive when he kisses you again and your own thigh brushes against it. You whimper at the feeling, pulling softly at his hair, unsure whether you want less or need more. “So sensitive. Such a shy girl. Such a pretty girl.”

Every word of praise has you beaming, nearly purring with delight despite the pain that comes when he puts you through the same once more, laving over the other bud with abandon. He's sweat-slick, beads of it running down his neck, over the mosaic of bruises you’ve left behind. It's almost embarrassing how dark his throat is coloured, a dozen reminders left all over his skin.

(You wonder how long they’ll last, how many days will pass as the colour shifts, changing like autumn leaves. Whether they’ll still be there at your next lecture, if he’ll wear them with pride or cover up beneath one of his big baggy sweaters.)

(You hope it’s the latter.)

(Maybe he’ll let you give him more.)

(Maybe he—)

There’s a change of pace and you’re crying out, hiccupping with each thrust, the head of his cock finding your g-spot with unbearable, unrelenting precision. Clawing at his arms, long nails digging into the firm muscle of his biceps, something between a sob and a plea rolls off your tongue, over and over. "So big. It's too m-much.” And yet you don’t want him to stop, punch drunk from the way he reaches deep and pulls you tighter against him, hips risen off the bed.

You’re begging again, eyes rolled so far back in your head you can hardly focus, the coil in your stomach pulled so tight you know it's about to snap. When Jungkook laughs - a sweet giggle that proves his duality - you clench almost painfully, tears finally spilling over.

One last brush against your most sensitive spot, one last thrust of that monster cock, and you’re peaking, coming so intensely you feel as if you’re soaring. Everything's suddenly so much more wet, release soaking into the linens beneath you, coating your thighs and his legs and dripping between you.

You’ve never come like this before, without some sort of direct stimulation on your clit. It’s pleasurable in a different way, severing all your sensibilities, explosive in its magnitude. It tingles beneath your skin, flooding all your senses.

"Kook—please—come for me.” You’re rocking up, forward - trying to, at least, folded as you are - singing his name, pleading for him to fuck his cum into you (momentarily ignorant to the fact that you’ve been responsible, a thin wall of latex separating you from your fucked out fantasy).

Despite the sensitivity, you’re clenching around him, eager to bring him to his own high. You want to feel him come apart above you, eroded into a mess like you are.

He’s just as pretty reaching his peak as he is at any other time, handsome face screwed up as if he’s reached nirvana, bliss slacking his features the longer he rides it out, bucking into you as he fills the condom and still doesn’t stop. It’s almost unbearable, oversensitivity spilling into pleasure until he leisurely grinds to a halt, stops the inconsistent pressure against your bundle of nerves, the assault on your fluttering walls.

When he collapses against you, whole face squished between the valley of your breasts, you can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and endeared. “Are you okay?” You don’t mind where he is, weight comforting, skin sticky on yours. He’s unbelievably warm - a blanket fresh from the wash and yet so much better, lulling you into a sense of security.

“Better than okay,” he murmurs against your chest, smothering open-mouthed kisses over skin, snickering when you jolt at the feel of his teeth over your nipple one last time. “You’re welcome.” It’s an indulgent, facetious expression of gratitude, one that you haven’t asked for. You laugh all the same, ducking your head into the crown of spun gold atop his head.

“You too.”

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years ago

Text

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

#sickfic #whump #sickfic prompt #whump prompt #cold whump #lol i rewrote this four times #can i just be chill about whump #no #no i cannot #also it’s cooler today #fall means whump weather #I don’t make the rules

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years ago

Text

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.1

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.2

Beautiful artwork was created by @starstruck-loner! THANK YOU SO MUCH SWEETIE I LOVE IT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Snow freckled the chilly January day lightly, like powdered sugar over a freshly baked pastry, sticking to each layer effortlessly and creating a blanket that completely covered the woods and the cabin nested between the trees. The atmosphere was still and stiff, like frozen icicles that were not going to start dripping any time soon. The air was bitter and unwelcoming, which was probably why no living thing was outside today. Today was the perfect day to burrow and sleep and keep warm with your own body heat.

A crack through space-time cut through the air. The crushing of tiny ice particles followed as two twelve-year-olds ran, one chasing the other, as the time-tape was heating up and buzzing. “This thing is getting hotter! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!” Mabel attempted to save her palms from burns by bouncing the tiny machine between her hands.

“What are you doing?!” Dipper demanded as Mabel bounced the tape-measure too hard and her twin reached a hand to catch it. He managed to catch it perfectly, like an athlete catching a baseball, and then was gone in a flash of baby-blue lightning.

Mabel’s eyes widened in sheer panic and she held her arms as a gust of wind blew and nearly froze her to her core. It felt like her skin was being pricked by mean sewing needles. She looked around wildly for her brother, for him to come back to this time and place immediately, because surely he would use the time machine to come back, but seconds ticked by and she was still alone.

Puffs of smoke decorated the wintry scene as she held her shivering body and looked at the shack. It wasn’t as colorful and welcoming and loud as the shack Mabel remembered, but she made herself consider that it was because there was no big sign or tourist-y things, and it was winter. Then a light turned on, the hall if Mabel remembered her summer home correctly, and the door opened.

The hope that Mabel had in her chest of seeing her great-uncle was gone, and replaced with fear and confusion. This man looked very much like Stan, though much younger, quite chubby and youthful, wearing a black t-shirt and blue plaid pajama-pants. He had the same face as a young-Stan, but with a more pink than orange nose, a cleft chin, fluffier hair that reminded Mabel of her’s when it was short, and different glasses.

Mabel didn’t know what to do or how to react or how to feel. People change a lot when they age, sure, but this much? It was possible this person wasn’t Stan, but who else would look so similar to him and live in this house? Maybe this is the guy who lived here before Stan, and they just happen to look very similar. This is Gravity Falls, and though she and Dipper were still new to the town, it was a weird place where something like this could happen.

It also came to Mabel how odd the situation was for the man: a little girl was standing in a sweater and skirt outside his house in the winter. Would he try to send her home? She had no home to go to. She didn’t know what year this was, but if it was a time Stan didn’t live here, it must have been way before she was born, maybe even before her parents met. She was stranded.

But the man looked at her sympathetically and he seemed kind and worried. He grabbed a trenchcoat and called gently, “Hello. Are you okay?”

Mabel bit her lip. His voice was definitely not Grunkle Stan’s. A gust of wind made her shiver and her teeth chatter, and the man stepped into some slippers and walked up to her, draping the trenchcoat over her shoulders. “There there, that’s a very nice sweater, but it doesn’t seem to be keeping you warm, is it?”

“N-No.” Mabel shivered. “I… I used breathable yarn for…” She stopped. She was going to say how she used breathable yarn for the warm California weather, but she decided not to.

“You used?” The man repeated, rubbing her shoulders to try to make the trenchcoat work faster. “You made this?”

Mabel saw his excited grin and she smiled nervously. “Y-Yeah. I knit sweaters.”

The man bent his knees in front of her and studied her sweater. She held out an arm so he could see and his brown eyes sparkled. “That’s very impressive! I love sweaters!”

Mabel gasped happily. “C-C-Can I m-make you one?!”

The man looked taken back, but chuckled and stood. “Of course, but first let’s get you warm. How does hot chocolate sound?”

“Y-Yes, p-p-please.” Mabel shivered, and allowed the man to walk her into the house.

It was scaringly like the Mystery Shack, but so much was different. It was the same layout, the same house, but there was so much that was different. A coat rack stood by the door, holding a white lab coat with black rubber gloves in the pocket, some safety goggles like the ones in Mabel’s science classes, and Stan’s fez. Mabel stared at it. Well, okay it probably wasn’t Stan’s fez, but it was a maroon fez with a golden fish and a black tassle.

There was a wood-burning stove alive in the living room, with a small box full of wood by it and a tiny stool. Instead of Grunkle Stan’s armchair, there was a red-velvet couch, a large writing desk, and the room was decorated with books, desks, papers, and jars and experiments. It was all strange, but warm and cozy with the fire going.

Mabel smiled as the man pulled out the tiny stool and gestured for her to sit by the stove. She obeyed and the coat was removed from her shoulders, but quickly replaced with a dark-green blanket.

“There, do you mind warming up here while I make your hot chocolate?” He asked, draping his trenchcoat over his arm.

Mabel shook her head and held her cold hands in front of the stove. “Thank you.”

The man smiled. “You’re welcome.” And he turned and left for where Mabel knew the kitchen was.

Sitting alone and feeling better as her body was getting warm, Mabel thought it all over. This man was clearly not her Grunkle Stan, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nice or couldn’t help her. Any minute Dipper was going to come back for her, but until then she had to stay where she was. That’s what grown-ups told her to do if she was ever lost. Stay where you are until you’re found.

By the time Mabel was very comfortable, the man returned with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and handed one to the girl. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mabel sipped and hummed in delight as the man sat on the floor next to her.

“You’re very welcome.” He sipped his drink and added, “Now then, I have to ask, what were you doing out there? Did you get lost?”

Mabel’s face dropped and she nodded. “Uh, huh.”

“Hm, very well. That can easily happen when playing on a snow day.” The man said with a smile. “Why don’t I call our parents and we can arrange to have you back home safe?”

Mabel swallowed nervously. She bit her lip, looking down at her mug. She didn’t know what to say to that.

The man looked at her and noticed how scared she was. “Is something wrong?”

Mabel looked up at him, was met with a kind face, and whimpered, “I can’t call them.”

The man smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you won’t get into too much trouble. Maybe a little, but it’s for the best to call them so we can get you home soon.”

Mabel shook her head and squeezed her stinging eyes shut. “They’re… not around.”

The man’s face dropped as Mabel scrubbed at her eyes. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Mabel only replied with a sniff and she sipped her hot chocolate.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” The man asked. “I’m sure there’s someone out there worried about you.”

Mabel bit her lip. “M-My brother… He’s still out there…”

“Is he lost, too?”

Mabel shrugged.

“Well,” The man held his cleft chin in thought. “I’m sure he’s out there looking for you. Perhaps then you should wait here until he comes here, and then we can send you to your guardian.”

“It’s just us.” Mabel muttered. “Just us.”

The man smiled. Mabel hoped he believed her brother was much older than her, or at least old enough to take care of her. That way she wasn’t really lying, just letting this man believe what he wanted to believe. Nothing wrong with that. “Okay. Still, you may stay here until he finds you.”

Mabel sniffed and wiped her nose with her sweater sleeve. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Ford.” He said and held out a hand to her.

Mabel smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Mabel.”

“Mabel, huh? That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at their hands and her eyes widened. One, two, three, four, five, s-...

Ford pulled his hand free, his cheeks reddening as he sipped his hot chocolate, but Mabel was grinning at him happily and she gasped with joy, “You have six fingers?!”

Ford blinked at her, reminding Mabel of a startled owl, and he cleared his throat. “Um, y-yes. It’s a birth defect.”

“Nuh, huh! It’s cool! Can I see, please?” Mabel sat her mug on the floor by her feet.

The researcher didn’t like people staring at his hands, but this young girl wanted to look, it appears, in admiration, so Ford hesitantly gave her his hands and she held them lovingly, her eyes sparkling like stars.

“Wow! That’s neat! No wonder your hand shake was so friendly! It’s a whole finger friendlier than normal!” Mabel was then reminded that Dipper’s journal had a six-fingered hand on it.

The girl’s eyes widened as she wondered if she was meeting Dipper’s idol. It was possible. The journal Dipper had dated it in the 80s, and Dipper said that the author mysteriously disappeared. As exciting as it was to meet the Author of the Journals, all it did was put Mabel more at ease. If anyone can help her, he can.

Ford laughed and gave her hands a soft squeeze. “I like you! You’re weird.”

Mabel grinned, distracted from her thoughts and grateful for it. “I like you, too, Ford!”

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #timestuck au #ford and mabel bonding #MORE SWEATER-TWINS BONDING #ford pines #mabel pines #time travel

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laketaj24 · 5 years ago

Text

Marked II

Author’s Note: Hello, people! I hope all is well out there! Here is a second part of Marked! I hope that you enjoy it! Let me know what you think! My taglist, requests are open, but I’m slow with the writing here lately. I apologize!

Pairings: Alpha!Henry Cavill x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Dub!Con, Masturbation, Omegavers, Smut

Henry Cavill M A S T E R L I S T

The room smelled of fresh pine, maple syrup, and eggs, a delightful thing to wake up to in your own house and not a stranger’s. You shift beneath the red covers, sitting up in the bed and staring at the plate in front of you. Henry had cooked; there was no walk of shame when breakfast was involved. “About time, you woke up.” The groveled voice of Henry sent sensations down your body, last night still lingered down your body. The kisses on your thighs, the bite mark on your chest. Everything raged for him.

“I didn’t mean to stay the night.” But you were not going to apologize, the sheets were soft, the food was hot, and so the hell was he. The plate called your name, and you answered, picking up the white plate with a blue rim and the fork.

“I don’t mind, I called into work, had some other things I wanted to do.” Henry cocked his thick brow and smiled. “You seemed to sleep pretty well.”

“Yeah.” You started with the bacon, savoring the sweet and salty flavor before clearing your throat. There was no doubt something in you had changed in one night. “So, where do we start?”

“I’m sorry?” He looked confused, but you were not convinced.

“You bit me…” The oversized shirt hung from your shoulder, already making it easy for you to show him the bit mark mid-chest. “Called me… omega,” You swallowed the remaining bits of your bacon.

“That’s what you are, omega.” Henry was a well-toned type of animal, his muscles flexed with each move he made, and he was bulk. And now, for some reason, the only thing you could think when he was near you was how his weight would feel on top of you.

“I don’t know what that is, and nor do I want to hear about it. I want a formal apology for you biting me, and I want you to put on a damn shirt.”

“Am I bothering you?”

“Yes.” You started on the eggs, closing your eyes as you savored the first bite swirling with butter and just the right amount of seasonings. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome.” He shook his head. “Get some clothes on, pet.”

“Pet?”

“Yep.” He turned from the room and headed down the hallway that seemed narrow in comparison to him. “You have a few minutes to get dressed, and we are leaving.”

“To go?”

“Hurry up,” Henry added.

It was odd being across the street from your own home but dressing somewhere else. He had been nifty while you slept, using your keys to get clothes from you all the while hiding them from you so you could not go home. You hopped quickly in the shower, equipped with a glass door. It was evident that he was watching; you could not determine if you were pissed or happy to put on a show. The soaps appeared to be all-natural, the smell of the oils hitting your nose, adding a sense of calm to everything, even though you were anything but calm.

Henry had chosen another dress; you pandered between it being easy to access or the sight of your legs, being the reason why he chose them. Either way, you put on the ivory dress garnished with pink and yellow flowers with a smile, this dress made you think of home. There was no hope to comb your hair; he wouldn’t have known the right supplies anyhow. He waited stoically on the bed as you dressed, admiring you as a wolf would his prey, eyes narrowed and tongue sliding across his lips.

“See something you like.”

He chuckled. “That cocky attitude has to disappear before we head to the Den.”

“The Den.”

“You’ll see.” He stood from the bed, revealing the simple outfit he’d chosen for himself. A white t-shirt the clenched onto those muscles like a glove and dark denim jeans that perfectly hugged his ass. Damn if you weren’t near salivating yourself. “Come on.”

The Den, it was nowhere near the one-way street downtown, like everything else. It was ‘up the way,’ as he said three or four times when you asked Henry. He liked to sing, though every note was offkey; you wanted to watch him do it. He had not one care in the world other than you, and one day in or not, it was more than any of the other men you dated had to offer. The windows were down, and the woody smell only grew stronger the further you drove down the backroad.

“I shouldn’t trust you this much, you know?”

“And why not?” Henry glanced from the road to meet your eyes.

“You could be a killer.”

“I would have killed you already if I were a killer.”

“Some wolves like to play with their food.” You quipped.

“Touché.”

The Den appeared in your view; it was an ominous as you pictured. A cabin-like bar with people standing outside around fire pits. Country. You liked the aesthetic, wasn’t precisely sure if you wanted to be a part of it. He opened the door for you, taking your hand in his to help you step out of the truck.

“Henry.” The hulk of a man walked over to the two of you, burly and covered with hair.

“Jason.” He smiled.

“Omega.” He bit his lip, “She is nearly in heat.”

“I know,” Henry whispered as he walked towards the door, he left you standing alone while he started to converse with Jason.

Every free eye in the area was on you, and the whispers had started. “Scared?” The friendly voice startled you, but he was there to catch you, chocolate eyes met yours as soon as you found your balance.

“No, for what…” You shrugged. “I don’t know these people.”

“But they know you, omega.”

“Okay… what the fuck is an omega?”

“Well, you’ve been marked.” He pointed at the bite mark on your chest. “Your scenting too.”

“Get the fuck away from her.” Henry barked, and the guy scrambled away with his hands up. “Why didn’t you come with me?”

“You left me standing here!” You growled. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

They all looked as if you had broken the law, disgruntled and in awe, everyone but Henry. “You have a fucking cub’s mouth.”

“Cub? Look fucker and all of your equally fucked up friends…”

“She needs training.”

“Enough, Y/N.” Henry was in front of you in a few seconds, he pulled at your arm moving you up the steps and into The Den. And the inside appeared not to be what you thought, there wasn’t a dancefloor, a stage or even a full bar. There was a small bar, no dance floor, just a long hallway leading to a few different rooms.

“Henry.” You whispered.

“Shut up.” He answered once you were to the room. He pushed you inside, and there was nothing fancy about the place, just a bed.

“Why am I here?”

“Because,” he touched your neck. You’d started sweating. The drip was on his fingertips and took them in his mouth, closing his eyes and then growling. “You’re mine.”

“Bullshit excuse, and also no the fuck I’m not.”

“I marked you.” Henry touched your chest. “I made sure the entire pack knew to fuck off…”

“Pack? Omega.”

“Yeah, piece it together.” He moved towards you, shrouding you in his height, his presence in general. His eyes flickered amber, and those beautiful canines made their appearance. Henry had made the thing known; he took what he wanted. He delved his fingers under the line of your panties and groaned. Why the fuck did you go weak when he was around you? They pulled the delicate fabric, and his teeth nipped at your neck. His tongue swiped the sweat, and you felt him hard behind you, instinctively you pushed your ass on him, and to your surprise, he stepped back.

“Since you have no fucking manners, I’ll make you wait.”

The sunset after a few hours, the golden hue of the room faded into the dark, and the only thing that could genuinely be heard was the rustle of the leaves outside the window door along with the occasional bustle of laughter from the men outside. It was no light, or at least you could not find one, you even clapped twice with hopes it would trigger the lights to come on, but there was nothing, just darkness. There was an innate part of you that wanted to try to break down the door and run, but from the looks of the guys in the house, they would not have allowed that to pass unnoticed.

There was no service in the god forbidden place, any call you’d tried would not even ring. You’d given up two hours ago, but your phone had not been rendered useless yet. Music was your only comfort in the place.

The smell of honeysuckles was prominent, a scent that you hadn’t smelled in years. The sweet floral scent was soothing; you stretched out on the bed, parting your legs. Hunger. It had been a while since you truly valued yourself, took the time to give yourself pleasure. This was good as time as any. Your fingers start first exploring the smooth slope of your legs, the curves and dimples all accentuated by the slow pace you’d made for yourself. You’d enjoy yourself, even if he didn’t want to.

You were already wet, pushing your legs together for a moment, and you had drenched your panties and tossed them aside. Moments of last night flashed before your eyes, Henry had a way about him, that fucking muscled body over yours was the first. He had a way of commanding what he wanted, and he hadn’t said one fucking word. You traced over the sore areas of your thighs, the place he’d been anchored in for half the night, and then to your pussy. You were swollen at the thought, pulsing for him. You dipped your fingers into yourself, noticing how you dripped down the curve of your ass without even starting. Fuck.

The slim fingers plunged into you, and you moaned. Fuck, you should have been doing this from the start. The melodic sounds of the Summer Walker filled your ears; Girls Need Love fuck the words the song gave a feeling that was unmoved. Your nipples hardened against your bra, feeling fuller as you gripped them with your free hand and plunged back into your pussy with the other. Your walls were tighter, hungrier than you’d ever noticed. You slipped out, and you wasted no time pressing them upon your clit, rubbing in planned circles. If your clit was a safe, you knew the combination to get you where you needed to be.

Maybe you didn’t notice the door open because your eyes snapped shut, perhaps you didn’t give a fuck who saw you, but the bed dipped down as Henry sat at the edge of it. You couldn’t stop, him being around made it mandatory that you came. You rode your fingers, pushing them back into you, winding your waist before finding a rhythm that suited you.

You didn’t halt when you felt him in between your legs, the heat building as you worked harder, and then it boiled over when his long tongue met your clit. You came, the cum gushed out of you, and your head swirled. The bed was wet, but Henry didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer, sucking at your clit and then lapping up the sweet slick that came from you. You knew now that the distinct earthy smell was him, as it intensified the closer he got.

His inhaled. “Making you mine was the easy part.” He said.

“You didn’t ask.” You said through labored breath before yelping again.

“An alpha doesn’t ask an omega. He claims her… is that not what you want?”

“I want to know more about you,” Your confession was drenched in lust, your fingers pulled at the curls in his head.

“You’re so sweet Y/N.” He sucked at your clit again, this time riling you to nearly cum again just from that, but he didn’t. You were wound tight, nerves tingled throughout your whole body, and all you wanted was to have him inside you again. Henry cupped your breasts, squeezing them to near pain and then releasing.

You sucked air through your teeth as he moved over the mark on your chest, and only moans can escape after. He tugged at your nipples, twisting, and edging the pain, then he would stop. Lap the juices from your pussy up again and laugh when you whimpered in defeat. He infuriated you.

“Don’t you want me to fuck you, Y/N.”

“Please.” Was it proper to beg, plead for this man to give you what you wanted? “Please, Henry. Fuck.”

In response, he hovers over you and plants a soft kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself; the sweetness resembles the same honeysuckles that had filled the air. What the fuck was going on? His mouth brushed down to your taut nipples, the beard tickling while he sucking at them for a moment, and then his teeth made an appearance biting until you squirmed away and then moving to the next. “I want to mark you again.” He whispered. “I want every fucking person in that room over there to know that this sweet pussy is mine.”

“Do it.” You moaned.

He grinned down at you; the sly smile was full of satisfaction and a carnal lust you’d never experienced. “I will, pet.” He pushed your legs further apart and found the spot that suits him well. He had on no pants, the heat of his heavy cock hung right on your thigh, there was no patience in you. You reached down, taking the weighted cock in your hand then lined him up to enter you, one hard stroke would be all it took to get there.

“Fuck me.” You begged. “Please.”

Henry obliged, thrusting into you so hard the headboard knocked back in response. The mewl that came from you only ignited him more. He slammed into you again and again. It was a moot point to beg for harder or faster because he knew when you wanted it. His pace was untamed, animalistic as he pinned your hands above your head and fucked you.

“Please, don’t stop.” You panted on the precipice of another orgasm. You’d lay beneath him all day and get fucked if it felt this exhilarating. “Please.”

Henry didn’t stop; he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to. Never had he been inside someone that fit him this perfectly. He wanted to mark you again, make you know he was serious when he said you were his. He flipped you on top of him, and he slipped out. You were so wet it was hard not to slip out. He didn’t mind. He liked it.

You didn’t pause the fucking, mounting him and placing your hands on his chest to anchor you. You bounced on him watching that perfect mouth form an O each time you sunk and took more of him than he thought you could make. He pushed the limits fucking you back, and all you could do was throw your head back and take it all.

His moans were louder now; he gripped your hips, guiding you over his cock, he wanted this to last longer, fuck you until you couldn’t stand was his goal since you could handle it. Your pussy clenched around him like a velvet glove, and a scream erupted from you. He was swelling; you loved it when he got bigger. You didn’t even think that it was fucking possible, and here he was fucking growing harder, longer, and bigger inside of you.

“You want this cum in you, pet?”

You shook your head vigorously riding the high of your climax, plus the way he felt inside of you when he came was unexplainable. “Please.”

Henry slammed up into you, knocking you forward so that you were on his chest. He loved to grip your ass to make you meet his strokes. He was fucking you faster, growling like the animal he had grown to be with you, and then it happened again. His cock swelled, he locked into you, and he came with a carnal noise that triggered you again. Fuck he was perfect if this was what it meant to be marked… then you wanted it every fucking day.

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fan fiction #laketa j writes #alpha!henry cavill x reader #alpha!henry cavill

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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The Daughter of Aphrodite | Leo Valdez

Hello Lovelies! So I was inspired by my classics class and figured hey, what better than to write about Leo Valdez to make the cravings go away? This is my first Leo fic and I decided to take up a third person perspective because it felt right. It’s really fluffy and I hope you all enjoy! Until next time, all my love!

Description: Leo and y/n have been pining after each other for too long. Her friends help her come up with a plan to get close to him, now she has to cross her fingers that her mother, Aphrodite, doesn’t step in.

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Female!Reader

Warnings: Absolutely none

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags: FLUFF

(Pics not mine but mood board is :) )

Her hands were covered in dirt, a trait most uncommon to a daughter of Aphrodite. Somehow, though, she wore it like a pair of silk evening gloves. Her hair was messy, thrown in a bun atop her head, but every strand that fell around her face seemed as though placed by the gods themselves. Even in chaos she was perfect.

Leo leaned precariously against a two by four, watching the daughters of Aphrodite and Demeter replant the gardens around camp. Well, more like the daughters of Demeter and one daughter of Aphrodite. The rest of the Aphrodite sisters were lounging in the sun, avoiding the mud. He couldn’t help but smile when one of her friends gingerly rubbed some dirt off her face. He could almost hear the girl scold her. Always getting your hands dirty, hun.

“Just talk to her already man.”

“I have, multiple times. At least a couple times a day.”

Jason ran a frustrated hand through his hair, watching as his friend watched the girl he loved from a distance. Everyone at the camp knew how Leo felt, everyone except her. She was every bit as pure as she was kind. Not to mention loving, gentle, and patient. She was everything he knew he needed and, even more so, everything he desperately wanted.

“You know what I mean.”

Leo turned to his best friend, a lazy smile plastered on his face, “I know, man. I will.”

Jason only grumbled before heading off. Leo always said that. Clearly he hadn’t followed through yet. Not that it mattered. No one was exactly raring to go head to head with the boy who could light his entire body on fire. His girl would remain his girl until he could work up the courage to, well, make her his girl. Still, Jason just wanted his friend to be happy.

Leo watched her for another moment before heading off to do what he was supposed to be doing; fixing the door for the sons of Ares.

Across the green, musical giggles filled the spaces between the chatter. Her laughs were contagious, the Demeter girls rolling around in the plots they were supposed to be filling with hydrangeas, clutching their stomachs with red faces. The other girls, her sisters, also laughed, just a little more contained. They sipped on pink lemonade, twirling the straws in dainty fingers.

“So you’re telling me,” Arabella, a Demeter daughter with wayward curls, barely contained a chuckle, “you have never been kissed.”

Dawn, one of y/n’s sisters, chimed in with a few of her own runaway giggles, “don’t forget the best part: she’s never been kissed because every time a boy gets close, mother steps in!”

They collapsed again in another fit, filling the camp with some much needed life. She smiled sweetly, cheeks blushed like an angel, giggling right along with them. It was funny after all. She liked making her friends smile, it made her feel warm inside.

“Is it really true? Every time a boy has gone to kiss you Aphrodite has stepped between it?’

Her voice was pure honey, slow and sugary, “oh yes. One time, right as a boy leaned in, a bolt of lightning struck the ground, right at his feet. I’m not sure what she told Zeus to get him to do it. Mother has her ways, I'm sure.”

“Well,” the giggles died down but the atmosphere remained light, “if you could kiss any boy here, without Aphrodite striking him down that is, who would it be?”

Her eyes widened a touch at the question. One boy immediately swam to her mind but she brushed it away quickly, her smile still neatly in place. She knew for a fact that he wasn’t interested in her like that so there was no reason to offer his name to the group. Regardless, though, her heart still fluttered for a certain son of Hephaestus.

She coiled a loose strand of hair around her finger, her charm bracelet jingling gently on her wrist, “hmm, I’m not sure.”

Her sisters eyed each other cheekily before peering around the camp. When their gaze landed on precisely who they had been looking for, they giggled a collective hum.

“How about him, hun? Would you kiss him if you could?” Daisy nodded her glass across the field.

Her eyes wandered with her sister’s gesture, past a couple of younger campers playing a game, to a boy fixing what looked like the door to the Ares cabin. Silly boys, always rough housing. That cabin had to have the window fixed just last week. Her eyes lingered on him a little longer than they should have considering she was trying to convince her sisters that she didn’t like him. Her soft lip pulled between her teeth as he ran a hand through his hair.

Giggles erupted around her again, pulling her from her daze with heated cheeks, “Leo? He would never kiss me.”

The giggles only increased. Her eyes shifted quickly to the Ares cabin, hoping to Zeus that her group wasn’t causing too much of a scene. She wasn’t so lucky. Her eyes met Leo’s brown ones from across the lawn, her nose instantly burning. She tried to look away, she wanted to. Well, she thought she wanted to, at least, but his eyes held hers in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

She bit her lip again and he smirked, his lips pulling tight in a way that should be a crime. His skin caught the light like a gem, shining from his labour in the hot sun. When he noticed her eyes, drawing over his face and arms, his grin widened and her heart stuttered dramatically. When he winked at her and went back to work, her heart stopped.

“Oh, hun,” Arabella’s hand swept under her chin, pulling y/n’s focus from the fire boy, “you’re clueless, aren’t you? Have your sisters taught you nothing? That boy is smitten.”

Sarah Beth, her eldest sister, huffed indulgently, a teasing smile on her rosy lips, “oh we tried, Ara, trust us we did. Sis is helpless. Blame it on mother.”

Y/n whined, the sound like one of Apollo’s harps, “what do I do? I’m cursed!”

Even in her torment she giggled, rubbing her cheek affectionately in Arabella’s palm. Arabella smiled lovingly, an idea sparking as she pulled y/n’s face back up. It was a foolproof one, too. Arabella looked at her wide eyes, watching them dart across the green to the boy she was clearly head over heels for. Yes, it needed more than anything to be foolproof.

Arabella poured a fresh glass of lemonade, taking extra care to mix enough ice with the pink liquid. She plopped a straw in it, stirring it once, twice, three times before shoving it in y/n’s perfectly polished nails.

Her eyebrows scrunched, a cute confusion laid over her features, “I have lemonade, Bella.”

Arabella had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, “it’s not for you,” her eyes tilted to Leo, “he looks thirsty, hun. I think he wants a drink.”

“I don’t think lemonade is what he’s after,” Sara Beth didn’t look up from her own drink but her cat like grin said it all.

Her sisters had to stifle another wave of giggles as she gingerly passed the lemonade back and forth between her hands, contemplating whether or not to go to him. When she looked over at him for the hundredth time in an hour, she made up her mind. It was now or never.

She stood, much too gracefully for a girl with a heart racing a mile a minute, and took a deep breath, “please, mother, do be nice. He’s a lovely boy. I really like him.”

“Go get him, tiger,” Arabella nudged her gently towards the mechanic, a proud smile on every girl in and around the flowerbeds.

The walk across the green felt like it was never ending and much too short all at the same time. Every step that she took towards his crouched figure she debated downing the liquid herself and then running away. But no, she couldn’t. He was like a magnet, drawing her towards him with ridiculous ease. He didn’t even know he was doing it, that was the worst part. The tips of her ears felt hot, her feet stopping a few feet away from him. Oh, gods, what did she get herself into this time?

Leo’s hands stalled, a flowery scent curling around his face and clinging to his skin. He closed his eyes, breathing in as much of it as he could. That had to be what heaven smelled like, he just knew it. Like chrysanthemums and honeydew. Yes, he knew for certain. He drew another breath. Gods, he couldn’t get enough.

“Hey, Leo,” her voice went high, her words like unintentional poetry, “whatcha working on there?”

Why did she say that? She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. So silly, what did it look like he was doing? When she opened them Leo was looking at her, a loose grin on his lips, a glint in his chocolate eyes. Her chest squeezed fervently.

“I’ll give you one guess,” his eyes glanced to the door before landing back on her, peering at her from his seat on the ground.

She scrunched her nose at him, trying not to giggle as he stood to face her, “oh ha ha, very funny.”

Leo laughed easily, a sound less honeyed than her own but still so sweet, “that’s my job. Well, when I’m not picking up after Ares’ sons. Can you believe they split the door in half?”

She glanced up at him, her doe eyes dancing over his tanned skin and black curls, unable to fight the butterflies that bounded inside her chest. He really was something. She held the glass a touch tighter when she breathed in his motor oil and nutmeg scent. She was certain this was what Olympus smelled like, not that she’d ever been.

“Honestly yes, I can,” she met his eyes again, sucking in a small breath when they drew down her body to the drink she had yet to hand over.

His eyes flitted back to hers and darkened a touch, a knowing smirk plastered on his lips, “say, is that for me, cariño?”

Her cheeks flamed and she knew if she lifted a hand to them they would be hot to the touch. How fitting.

“Erm,” she stalled, pulling her lip between her teeth once more, her eyes shifted to the grass at her toes, “I thought you might like some lemonade? If not that’s ok! It was silly of me, I’m sorry, I can just-”

Leo’s hand closed around hers, pulling the glass, and by default her, closer to his heady nutmeg chest, “I’d love some, thank you.”

His voice had lost its playful edge, only the soft warmth remained. He lifted the glass to his lips, drawing her hands with his as he took the first sip. She could practically hear her sisters swoon from across the grass. Wow, she’s really doing it isn’t she? Way to go, sis! Her whole body heated this time, her neck to her toes consumed by lapping flames. It was intoxicating.

Leo took the glass from her hands and set it on the step beside him, the taste of strawberries pungent on his lips. When he glanced back at her, he ran his tongue across his lip. The light hit her in a way that was entirely ethereal, clinging to her skin in a way that defied the laws of physics. It was maddening, like standing next to one of the muses themselves. God’s when did this ever happen to someone like him?

“It’s my sister’s recipe,” she fiddled with her fingers, lost with what to do without the glass to hold onto, “I hope you like it.”

He closed the small gap between them even more, pulling her fingers into his. Her heart skyrocketed, his hand was warm and calloused. His fingers fit too perfectly into the spaces between her own. Was it normal to be this breathless?

“It was sweet,” he squeezed his hand in hers, his voice carefree but low.

He slipped his other arm around her waist, thanking the gods for wherever his courage was miraculously stemming from. She practically buzzed in his arms, her melon and flower perfume melting around him. He bit the inside of his cheek. Was it perfume, or was it just her supple skin?

“I like sweet things,” he mused, revelling in the way her eyes widened, catching his innuendo without missing a beat.

Her mind was stuck on his hand. It was on her back, low on her spine, his fingers lightly tickling up and down. She avoided arching into his fingers. It was heavenly. He was good with his hands and it showed.

Her eyes brushed over him once more, stopping on his lips for a millisecond too long, “she makes muffins too.”

He tightened his arm around her, drawing the daughter of Aphrodite against his chest. Gods, she was soft.

“I don’t want muffins, cariño.”

Now or never, Leo. He leaned his head down, his nose brushing hers sweetly.

Please, mother, let me have this. She tilted her head up, her hands sliding up his chest.

Leo’s lips found hers at the same time her hands circled his neck. His lips were slow, testing to see if she would kiss him back, as if it was even an option for her not to with the way the flames, his flames, were licking at her skin. How did he do it? She felt like the sun; his lips tasted like fire and recklessness. And strawberries, a bushel of them.

She took his sweet kiss, savoured it, and then slammed her lips back against his, slipping her hands into his raven locks and tugging-- hard. He moaned softly against her sweet lips, giving in to every demand her mouth challenged. How could her lips be sweeter than the lemonade? He clutched her harder against him.

She pulled back only when her lungs demanded it, leaning her forehead against his heaving chest. She took the staggering lack of lightning as a good sign as a dizzying warmth filled her chest. He pressed his face against her hair, nuzzling against her sweetness lovingly. He had been waiting forever for that and he wasn’t about to let her go just yet.

Her fingers slid back down his chest, curling around his shirt, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you, Leo.”

What? He pulled his head away from her hair, staring into her doe eyes confused. And then he laughed, a full laugh that had his whole chest shaking and hers as well, before drawing his lips back to hers. He tugged her bottom lip between his lip, his hands squeezing her hips fiercely. She’s mad, beautiful but out of her mind. Gods.

“Cariño,” his lips brushed over hers, his words mingling with her breaths, “I kissed you. And trust me, I wanted to. Believe it or not, I don’t owe anything to the Ares’ brothers. You, on the other hand, have all my time at your disposal.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer before closing his lips over hers. There was a lot of lost time he was more than ready to make up for.

Meanwhile, across the green stood Jason, Sarah Beth, and Arabella, their heads close together but their eyes glued to the Ares cabin.

“I’m taking credit for this,” Jason and Arabellas’ voices mingled, proud and in sync.

Their eyes flashed to each other, “no, I did this!”

Sara Beth just giggled lusciously, twirling the straw of her own lemonade in lazy circles.

#Leo Valdez #Leo #Valdez #leo valdez x reader #the heroes of olympus #thoo #leo valdez imagine #Jason #grace #Jason grace #aphrodite #hephaestus #imagine #reader insert

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detectivehannibal · 4 years ago

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Warm Beverages

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Brief sexual reference.

Requested by: @no-homo-hank

Prompt: hey!! excited to see you’re writing again 🥰 honestly anything fluffy would be great with hannibal ,, im craving somethin soft. maybe some winter cuddling and hot chocolate making? thanks!!

Word Count: 1,064

“I take joy in being busy.”

The snow was steadily falling from the gray sky outside the comfort of your home. Little white flurries and decorative snowflakes fluttered through the air, sticking to every surface outside. The ground was coated with the cold snow that was expected to continue well into the next day. It was dreary, miserable weather. There wasn’t much to do other than stay inside and have a day to yourself. You were perfectly fine with this.

Hannibal, though, wasn’t a fan. He was extremely active, and he preferred to be occupied as often as possible. The fact that he was stuck inside with nothing to do was a bit maddening. However, it helped that you were staying over and keeping him company. If you weren’t there, you were convinced he’d get himself into something he didn’t need to.

The living room was possibly the coziest room in his home. He always kept it clean and always had a fire going when it was cold outside. You were perfectly content to lounge around on the sofa with him all day. He had finally accepted that he wasn’t getting out of the house today, so he settled in nicely.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as you snuggled further next to him, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The only sounds in the room were coming from the crackling fireplace and the occasional house creak. Even though Hannibal was more at ease now, he began to get a little shifty after a while. You looked up from the book that was nestled in your hands, holding your place. You looked up at him, knowing he was getting antsy.

“It’s only been half an hour since you sat down.” You announced.

“I’m aware.” He mumbled.

He had done just about every chore and task he could possibly do around the house. The laundry was folded and put away, the windows were so clean you could almost accidentally try to walk through them, the counters were spotless. He had done everything.

You returned your attention back to your book, but soon put it away when Hannibal’s heavy sigh interrupted you.

“Do you need something to do?” You asked sassily.

He didn’t say anything. He’d rather die than admit a weakness. You laughed heartily and tapped his shoulder playfully.

“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go make us something?” You suggested.

His eyes brightened as if that was the best idea he had heard all day. He scampered into the kitchen, almost taking you off of the couch with him. The living room grew quiet again, but you caught the clatter of pots and pans every now and then. You were able to finally finish your chapter peacefully, and just in the nick of time too.

Hannibal returned soon enough with two mugs with some sort of steaming liquid inside. You tossed your book side, sitting up and reaching for one of them.

“Okay, chef. What do we have here?” You asked.

The scent of chocolate filled your nose, a delightful rush coming over you. You sat with your legs folded, Hannibal taking his previous position once more.

“It’s heated cocoa powder with milk, vanilla, and sugar.” He explained.

You raised a brow.

“You mean hot chocolate?”

He shrugged.

“Yes.”

You laughed again, sipping gingerly. You groaned happily at the feel of the warm beverage filling your belly and spreading over you. He really knew how to make anything. The sweet taste was heavenly over your tastebuds. Even Hannibal was impressed. His arm raised to invite you back to his side, to which you obliged.

“Do you think you can handle sitting here long enough to let yourself finish your drink?” You asked jokingly.

“Of course I can. I don’t lack self control.” He stated.

“A day off isn’t a bad thing, Hanni. You could use it.” You countered.

“I take joy in being busy.” He explained.

You couldn’t argue with him there. He was very prideful in being busy and successful. As he should. He worked hard for everything. He drained the rest of his drink in record time, you scoffed as you slowly sipped yours.

“I know you do. I just don’t like it when you overwork yourself, you know?” You expressed.

“I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that I know my limits,” He told you; “I’m well set as long as I can find something to do.”

You could feel his stare on you. He liked to take in your presence. It made you nervous in the beginning, but you eventually learned that was one of his many love languages. You knew that everyone showed love differently. Hannibal seemed to tap into all of them. He surely was an acts of service kind of guy. He also showed physical touch and words of affirmation. He was kind of the full package.

His gaze raked over your eyes, your skin, the way your sweater brought out your best features. You were a perfect human being to him. He never thought of you having physical flaws, or any flaws for that matter. You were almost too perfect in his eyes. He craved perfection. He strived for it. It was no wonder he was drawn to you. You were everything he had ever wanted.

His hand fiddled with the hem of your sweater as he watched you. Your lips gently wrapped around the rim of the mug as you took your final sip to empty it. He felt his heart jump when suddenly your eyes met. He watched your pupils shrink in size as you looked away from the light of the fire to look at him.

He casually took the empty mug from you, setting it aside as if he hadn’t just been staring at you. He kissed you before you could ask any questions, the taste of chocolate still prevalent. You shifted to straddle his hips, taking his face in your hands. His arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him. You broke away briefly, your lips just barely touching his. You felt his heartbeat racing through his loosely buttoned shirt. Knowing him, he could probably smell yours.

You seductively spoke before delving back into him, ensuring that you’d be busy at least for the next hour.

“I think we just found something we can do.”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #Hannibal TV #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter imagine #detectivehannibal

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armysantiny · 4 years ago

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Hot Cocoa and Crushes - LJN

Pairing: Jeno x gender neutral reader // NCT (Dream)

Genre: fluff, comfort, drabble

Includes: Texts, hot chocolate, Daegal, Chenle mention, work, non idol au, friends to lovers, confessions, teasing, Chenle being a matchmaker

Word count: 1009

Warning: there’s mention of eating habits, comments on said eating habits

Rating: PG

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @kafenetwork, @ficscafe, @dreamwritersnet, @neoswitchnet, @nct-writers

Tagging: @teeztheflag, @the-rooftop-fight, @cherry-hyejin || Taglist Form

An: This is for @alicanta77. She’s been having a not-so-good day and I wanted to brighten her day up a little :) (Also I legit forgot what species Daegal was but hushh)

Waking up to a barrage of texts from their mother complaining about everything under the sun was not the way y/n had expected to wake up that morning. Not at all. Especially when said complaints mentioned their - technically pretty healthy - eating habits. Their mood soured, y/n got round to deleting the texts as they got ready for the day, trying to put it behind them as they ate breakfast. They had work to do and being in a bad mood was not going to help.

Video calling Jeno as they tried to get some work done for the day, y/n sighed as they relayed what they had woken up to to their best friend. Nodding as he listened, Jeno made a mental note to call Chenle and ask if he could look after Daegal for the day.

“I’m so sorry you had to wake to that y/n-ah, although I do have one question.”

“Oh? What is it?” Taking a moment to look away from their computer screen and towards their best friend - and crush, although they weren’t exactly willing to admit that to themselves yet - y/n raised a brow, an amused smile on their face when they recognised that look in Jeno’s eyes. One that meant that he had something up his sleeve.

“Are you free right now? I’m gonna come over~”

“Oh, sure! I’ll clear up a little then, don’t take all the time in the world, alright?” Hanging up the call when Jeno gave his signature eye smile in reply, y/n began to lightly clear up their apartment. It wasn’t exactly messy, but there were definitely a few things that needed to be rearranged.

Meanwhile, Jeno had hurried over to Chenle’s house after briefly texting that he wouldn’t mind looking after Daegal for the day. The younger of the two led Jeno inside with a confused laugh, a sound of realisation following soon afterwards. Jeno was going to see y/n. No wonder he was in such a rush.

“Daegal-ah! Come here~” Calling after his ‘daughter’, Chenle laughed when the small dog rushed to his feet, quickly pawing at Jeno’s legs when she realised who else was there. Picking her up, Chenle gently ruffled behind her ears and smiled. “You’re going to spend some time with Uncle Jeno, okay?”

“Thanks for this Chenle-yah, you’re a life-saver.”

“I know~,” Chenle hummed as he placed Daegal in her carrier and handed her over to Jeno, “oh - and tell y/n I hope they feel better~.”

“Will do!”

“Those two need to hurry up and confess to each other...”

Standing outside of y/n’s apartment, the rush of butterflies that overtook Jeno as he knocked on the door caused him to exhale heavily. As long as he didn’t mention the ridiculously large crush he had on them, the 21-year-old was pretty sure that everything was going to be okay. When he heard the door lock turning, he rushed to try and hide Daegal behind his back, a grin on his face when he was face to face with y/n.

“I have arrived, your highness~” He joked, a playful wink on his face as he walked inside.

“So I’m royalty now huh? How courteous of you, Sir Jeno~” Y/n fired back, laughing at their own antics. Tilting their head when they finally realised that he was holding something behind his back, y/n opened their mouth to ask, but soon closed it when a cute bark rung through the apartment. A hand to their face as they laughed, y/n looked Jeno in the eye, giggles dressing their voice.

“Lee Jeno, are you telling me that you went all the way to Chenle’s house and brought Daegal with you?” They asked, still in amused disbelief even as Jeno nodded, put the carrier down and let Daegal out. The cute bichon scampered around the familiar space before running to y/n as they brought Jeno to the kitchen. Offering to make him hot chocolate as they were already making one for themselves, Jeno accepted, joining y/n by the counter.

Sat down in the living room with their favourite drama playing and Daegal playing at their feet, the pair held a comfortable silence, despite the air heavy with a question neither were going to bring up. And neither of them were going to, until Chenle texted y/n, a cheeky nod to getting them to confess to Jeno. Seemingly pausing the film out of nowhere, y/n set their drink and turned to Jeno, the other mirroring y/n, a confused look on his face.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah - yeah, everything’s fine. You’ve been great today, coming over and bringing Daegal with you and all.” Exhaling, they pulled on their sleeves as they continued, “There’s just something I should probably tell you, before I bury it any further.”

“What - what is it? Should I be concerned?”

“No, not really - at least I hope you won’t be. The thing is, I’ve...I’ve been thinking about our friendship, and I’ve been wanting more.” Jeno could swear he was hearing things for a moment, because it sounded as though y/n had peered into his heart and started taking the words out of his mouth. Keeping quiet in hopes that his hunch was correct, the corners of his lips grew into an ever-bigger smile.

“I...I want you to be my boyfriend, Jeno.” Holding their breath as they waited for a response, y/n’s eyes widened as they were engulfed in a hug, Jeno sighing in relief.

“Do you want to know how long I’ve been wanting to ask you? To be mine?”

“How long?” Y/n asked, a curiosity in their eyes that only made Jeno fall more in love.

“High school senior year, y/n-ah, but I was too afraid you didn’t want that.” He admitted, ignoring the heat rising to his face. Giggling and reaching over to ruffle his hair, y/n shook their head.

“Gosh you’re so cute. I guess this makes it our first day, huh?”

“That it does~ thank you for loving me, y/n-ah. I love you.”

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wolfs-hunt1 · 4 years ago

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Wolf Kisses 1

Pairing: Stucky x Shapeshifter reader

Summary: Steve and Bucky are out in a mission when they find a lone giant wolf that had been hurt (I can’t do summaries, this sucks I have no idea what to write here)

Word count: 2063

Warnings: mentions of blood, Steve and Bucky are in an established relationship already

A/N: Just a small series, I’m not sure how big it’s going to get or where exactly I want to take this, but I hope to figure it out this week while writing the next chapter, but hopefully, I’ll keep to the schedule and post the next one next week.

Tag list is OPEN

— — — — —

Despite the warmth of the tactical suit, the cold was still nipping at Steve’s extremities. Bucky was huddled up on a blanket, vibranium arm outside so as not to risk touching the freezing appendage to his skin at all.

The small cottage they were holed up in did nothing to stop the howling wind outside, the snowstorm making them have to call off the jet and stay at the safe house for more time than they had planned.

They had just returned from the mission when the snowstorm hit, almost cutting communications with the rest of the team before they could let them know they would be staying until the storm blew over.

The cottage only had a small bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a dresser pushed to the side, and an even smaller bathroom, that connected to the bedroom and living room. One of the walls of the living room was a pantry and the other, pushed a bit in, was a small kitchen. There was a small wood burner and a beaten-up couch on the otherwise baren room. It was a comfortable living space for one person, but for the two super-soldiers, it was a tight fit.

Steve was spacing out, looking outside the window for the whisps of snow rushing on the wind, a warm mug of hot chocolate between his hands. He only nodded once when Bucky told him he was going to bed and kissed the top of his head, ruffling his messy hair before leaving the room.

A loud crash on the outside made Steve jump to his feet in a second, Bucky rushing from the bedroom a few seconds later.

“What was that?” he whispered to the blond, trying to take a look out the window but seeing nothing more than the falling snow.

“It seems to have come from the shed.” Steve moves to the door, picking up his shield in the process, and slowly opened the door, snow blowing inside the small space until Bucky closed the door behind him on his way out. There was a fading trail of fresh blood on the cristal white snow, leading to the shed on the back of the house, making the two super soldiers get ready for a possible ambush.

The trail was getting thicker, despite the falling snow trying to cover it up, and of a sudden, there was another crash, followed by whimpering howls. This made them both rush inside the small shed, logs for the fire were strewn across the place, having fallen from their previous neet pile, a mass of fur with dark red streaks across it was lying on the floor.

The small space was flooded with light once Bucky reached for the overhead bulb, allowing them to see what had happened. A greyish wolf, bigger than normal, was squirming on the floor, a hunters trap on his back leg, ripping the flesh apart with every movement the creature made. It started to growl at them once they tried to approach it, but despite the halfhearted snaps of its maws, the wolf didn’t make an attempt to push them away.

Steve was cooing gently at it, and whispering they weren’t there to hurt it, while bucky approached the serrated trap, and after making sure the wolf was distracted by Steve and not looking his way he put his fingers around it and pulled, opening the rusty thing up while the wolf pulled his leg closer to his body from the pain, loud whimpers and cries blending in with the wind blowing outside.

“We have to clean up that wound or it will only get infected.” Bucky says, while Steve crouches down and gently picks up the wolf, bringing it to the couch inside. Bucky rushes to the pantry, picking up the medkit and some spare sheets they can use so as not to stain the couch with the warm blood rushing out from the wound.

Bucky lays down the sheet so that Steve can put the wold on top of it, it’s body bigger than the couch itself. They open the packaged of gauze and the bottle of antiseptic so they could disinfect the wound properly. The silver fur of the wolf was tacky and clumped at some places, like it had been running through the woods and not sidestepping any obstacles.

The gaping wound is deep, almost ripping the entire muscles until it reached the bone, it would need sticking, and urgent medical care. The best they could do was stitch the bigger gaps and wrap it up so that they could take it to a vet once they were out of the cabin.

Once the wound is properly taken care of, and wrapped in gauze, they try to give some water to the wolf and feed it tiny bits of beef they found in the freezer laced with pain meds. They both go to bed late that night, but they wanted to make sure the wolf was in the least pain possible.

They are both dead asleep, Steve’s arm slung over Bucky’s chest, and their legs entwine when they wake up with a start. A heavyweight being dropped on them both and fur smothering their noses. The wolf, a female they had found out, was laying on top of their chests, snout trying to go under the blankets for more warmth. A small whine came from her when she couldn’t get inside the blanket enough.

Steve started to chuckle at the sight of the big wolf behaving like a child and tried to pry the blanket so that the wolf could get in the bed with them. “You need to get off if you want…” and just as if the wolf could understand them she climbed off from them and waited patiently on the side of the bed for Steve to open up the blanked and she could snuggle to Bucky’s side. Bucky smiled and buried his face on the soft fur of her neck, hugging her closer to his chest.

Bucky was getting cold. Which was odd because he distinctly remembered falling asleep between soft fur and the furnace that was Steve. He could still feel Steve at his back, but the warm fur he remembered raking his fingers over was gone. He opened his eyes to see the empty space in front of him. The sheets were stained with blood and that made his heart run faster, taking off the covers and speeding to the living room.

She was there, on the floor, chewing a piece of beef, bandages bloodied and coming off. He let out a breath and reach forward, petting her behind her ears. She let out a little throaty sound and went back to heating the raw meet.

“Gonna have to change that…” he sais pointing at her leg. “Don’t’ bite my hand off, I only have one left and would like to keep it that way.” he jests chuckling and the wolf lets out some puffs of air, almost like laughter. He looks at her for a while. It wasn’t the first time she had acted weird, but he had never really been so long with a wolf to know what was standard behavior or not.

He grabs the medkit from the couch and started to work on her leg while she ate, at least her mouth was busy, and that could prove less chance of bites on his behalf. Steve wakes up not long after, kisses Bucky, and moves to start on coffee for both of them. The storm was still raging on outside, so they would have to wait longer before the jet could pick them up to return home.

Not that Bucky minded. He and Steve hadn’t had alone vacations in a while, and this could be their alone time. Well… alone plus a wolf.

Once the coffee was made Steve and Bucky sat cuddling on the couch and just talking when they notice the wolf limping to the front door and scratching on the wood, letting out a gruffed bark and looking at them pointedly.

“I think she wants to be let out Steve.” Steve sighs and disentangles his body from Bucky’s, walking to the door and opening it just enough to let her slink out, but not enough to let the snowflakes in, before he closes it back up. She stays out for about twenty minutes before they hear a muted scratching sound.

Only the next day does the storm starts to show signs of stopping, and so they arrange for a jet to come to pick them up, and also tell Tony that they’ll be taking an injured wolf back with them.

They spend their last day just randomly making out on the couch or in bed, reminiscing of the days they were reckless teenagers and did the same. She didn’t come to sleep with them that night, staying in the living room looking sadly out one of the windows.

—

Back at the compound, the wolf is rushed to the med bay where they start working right away with reconstructing the tissue of her leg. Steve and Bucky have debriefing all afternoon so when dinner arrives they are more than starving. They help Wanda and Nat set up the table for the team and help her unbox all the food that had just been delivered. They were all too tired to cook, so take out was their best bet.

When the elevator dinged and Tony stepped out, everyone took a moment to look.

“Look who I found trying to chew through the door.” he starts walking to the table when he noticed the wolf isn’t moving from the interior of the elevator. “Well, c'mon Fang we won’t bite.”

“Fang?” Bucky asks, a scowl on his face.

“Well, he needs a name.”

“First, it’s her, and second, Fang is a terrible name.” Bucky crouches and looks at her, metal hand outstretched in her direction “C'mon girl.” at that incentive she slowly takes a step from the elevator, and after a few more she starts running to him. Littering his face in kisses when she’s close enough. Once Bucky straightens though, it’s only a matter of seconds until a flurry of fur is rushing to the other side of the living room and gluing herself to the glass overlooking the city. “Look’s like someone is smitten with the overview.” he jest before joining the rest at the table so they could have dinner.

“What did the vet said about her leg?” Steve asks Tony while he plates some salad.

“Well, thanks to our medical equipment she’s basically all healed up. They just want to keep her for a couple more tests and to make sure she’s all healed up and she’s ready to return home.”

“Oh.” Bucky deflates, looking at the wolf excitedly wagging her tail while looking outside. He wouldn’t exactly admit it, but the time they were together in the cabin during the storm felt comfortable like he hadn’t felt in a while. Despite being friends with the others, their friendships were always a bit strained in the beginning, he wasn’t at ease. But with her, he felt like he usually felt when with Steve, peaceful and calm. But he understood they couldn’t keep her. She wasn’t a pet, she was a wild wolf and probably had a pack to return to.

“Tests?” Wanda questions, ignoring Bucky’s downwards spiraling thoughts.

“Well, her size is unusual, she’s double the size a wolf should be, and she did behave weirdly with the med team, almost like she understood them all, so she must have some higher intelligence we want to test for.”

He stays quiet all throughout dinner after that, and once he finished helping Sam do the dishes he goes to sit in the lounge sofa to cuddle up with Steve that was playing with the fluff ball currently at his feet. She jumps on the couch and makes a display of laying fully stretch on top of them both making them laugh and rub her belly and behind her ears.

They leave her in the living room of their shared apartment when they call it a night. But they wake up just enough to feel her paw at the cover to snuggle up in the middle of the two, falling asleep with them after a while.

Part 2

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #fluff #wolf #My writing #shapeshifter #stucky x reader #stucky #steve x bucky #steve x bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years ago

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Chilled - Spencer Reid x Reader

WARNINGS: I mean, this is a cm fic so theres gonna be some gore involved, but nothing too insane. If you do get squeamish really easily though, this might not be the fic for you?

The air finally started to have a certain chill to it, one that no matter what you wore, you felt it in your bones. That paired with your day job left you feeling no warmth, not even if you were lit on fire yourself. And now, in the middle of January, you and the team have to travel to North Dakota, of all places, for a pretty touchy case. Since it was an above average winter, snowstorms were pelting the state at a quite alarming rate. This posed the perfect opportunity for the unsub they were hunting - as they would dump the bodies in huge snow drifts. The local authorities only started to find the bodies when snow started to develop an off putting color.

“Remember to bundle up my lovelies, you are going to be braving some serious sub zero tempetratures! I don’t want any of my favorite agents turning into popsicles.” Garcia says as she’s handing out the files to everyone at the round table. Peeling back the manilla folder, you almost wish you hadn’t. The discoloration on the snow was perfectly nauseating and what made your heart drop more was the shape that the corpses were in. There was clear evidence of asphyxiation and stab wounds on the body and, however, something didn’t feel perfectly right about the way that the person died. Not being able to put a finger on the thought, you slid the manilla folder into your bag and stood up like the rest of your team.

“C’mon, Y/N/N, better get going, yeah?” Derek asks, waiting for you to start walking. You nod and start walking out with everyone else, only for you all to get stopped by Erin Strauss. “Hello agents, before you leave, we wanted to leave you all with something.” Standing up on your toes to peer over the guys in front of you - seriously, did Hotch, Morgan, and Reid have to be so tall? - you get a look at what she and some of her own agents were holding. Pristine new FBI jackets with those classic faux fur lined hoods were folded in her hands along with what looked like windbreaker sweatpants. “So you don’t get cold.” Erin states plainly, passing the clothing out to the squad.

“Wow, these are great!” Emily said excitedly, threading her fingers through the faux fur.

“And to think I packed three different windbreakers,” you joke, taking your time to unzip the jacket and slide your arms through it. You sigh and as the material instantly makes you feel a lot cozier.

“Jackets like these were actually first invented somewhat recently in 1936,” Spencer starts.

“‘Recently’?” you quip, flashing Spencer a smile.

“They were invented by a man named Eddie Bauer who almost lost his life to hypothermia when he went on a mid-winter fishing trip.” Chuckling a little, Derek patted Spencer on the back and jogged quickly to the plane due to Virginia’s January chill.

“If you're cold now, Morgan, I don’t know how you’re gonna react when we step out of the plane in North Dakota!” JJ laughs, earning a nudge from Emily.

Finally, everyone piles onto the plane, taking up seats and instantly turning on the seat warmers. You settle gently in the window seat of the two-seater, and Spencer quickly joins you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, motioning to the seat to your left.

“Not at all,” you smile. Both you and Spencer considered the other as good friends, maybe even best friends. You started a mere two years after Spencer did. Since the two of you were around the same age - him a few years older - and were newer to the force, you found instant solace and comradery in the other. Over the years, you and Spencer became a lot closer. Whether it was caring and being there for him when he had his dilaudid scare or either of you sleeping over at the other’s houses when the nightmares became too much, you developed a strong relationship full of trust.

“All I’m saying is that if we get there and it looks like the frozen planet Hoth, I’m going to be pissed.” You joke as the plane starts its descent.

“Oh come on Y/N, pretty boy will wrap you up in his jacket to keep you warm.” Derek said, ruffling Spencer’s hair. A light blush graced both of your faces as you began to gather any strewn files.

“Let’s not tease, Morgan, Capisci?” Rossi says, giving you a gentle smile. Rossi was always nice to you. He provided a much needed parental figure at the BAU, giving you tough love or a gentle guiding hand when needed. Soon enough, the squad was able to leave the place and be driven over to the local police precinct. The details that the police chief had were dished out to the team and talked over multiple times. It was tough, to say the least. They had no leads, no suspects, and no new facts.

= 3 Days Later =

Energy for the team was at an all time low. The heating was starting to slowly die, new bodies kept showing up everyday, and you were still no where close to finishing this investigation.

“Let’s go over everything again.” Hotch begins, his statement being said for the third time within 2 hours. “The victims are buried beneath at least 2 feet of snow, it takes between 1 and 3 days for anybody to recognize anything’s up, and there are stab wounds and evidence of asphyxiation…” Hotch droned on which led you to faze out a bit. All you could think of were your cold body, your cold feet, and your cold ass fingers. That’s when you realized something.

“O-oh my God.” You say, standing straight up as you re-examine the pictures. All eyes in the room turn towards you, curious. You start to pace the room as you hold the crime scene photos in your hands. “I know that there are stab wounds and asphyxiation evidence, but neither of those are what killed them. The wounds are in non-fatal areas of the body and the asphyxiation wasn’t severe enough to fully kill them.” You say, your mind going miles a minute.

“So what are you saying killed them?” JJ asks, leaning forward.

“Hypothermia,” you breath out, “the stab wounds prevent the victim from getting anywhere too far and look at the frostbite on the hands,” you say pointing to the darkened limbs.

“It’s progressed far enough to make your hypothesis possible.” Spencer says, standing up as well.

“Okay, so where could the unsub be keeping his victims in a place remote enough to leave them out in the cold?” Rossi asks, looking between you and Hotch.

“Garcia?” Hotch simply says, listening into the speaker on the table.

“Already there captain, I’m sending you the locations now.” Penelope sends three different locations to the squad making everyone gather around the computer.

“Alright Prentiss and Morgan go to the first one, Reid and L/N to the second, and Rossi and I will take the third, let’s move!” He says quickly. Everyone gathers their things and you and Spencer share a look and nod. Each duo climbs into their own car equipped with cold weather tools and sped off to the different locations.

“Great find Y/N,” Spencer says, giving you a reassuring look. You flash a weary smile at him and step on the gas, speeding off to the location.

The place looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie. There’s an old raggedy windmill on the left of a shabby wooden cabin, bordered by huge fir trees.

“My God, this place is terrifying.” You murmur, pulling your gloves on and your gun out of your belt. Spencer is on your right as you start to slowly make you way towards the building. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a tiny little shack just south of the windmill. “Spence, you take the house and I’ll take the shack, okay?” you whisper, making sure that no one else but him could hear you. Spencer looks a little shocked at you.

“Y-Y/N, are you kidding? We need to stick together on this!” He says quietly, grabbing your hand. For some reason, neither of you are shocked at his action. You only squeeze his hand tighter.

“I’ll be fine Spence, I promise. We’ll get a cup of hot chocolate after this, okay?” You say, giving him a small grin. Spencer nods back giving you a smile as well.

“Yeah but you’ll just ruin yours with too much whipped cream and cinnamon. It totally defeats the purpose of the hot chocolate.” He quips back. You give him a quiet laugh and nod, squeezing his hand one last time before you head towards the shack. It was a ways away from the main house making your trek a little longer than Spencers, but you finally made it to the small wooden building. You drew in a breath as you began to see footprints with small bits of red in them. Your gloved hand reaches for your flashlight. You jump as you hear increasing steps behind you and turn around quickly, aiming your gun and squinting your eyes until you realize it was nothing but a deer passing by behind you.

Be cool, Y/N, you’re fine. You’re good.

You kick open the door to find the unsub about to attack a near naked girl, knife in hand and a wild look in his eyes.

“FBI stop what you’re doing right now, drop the knife!” You yell. The man turns around to face you, knife still in hand and charging towards you. You fire a quick shot to his leg making him stumble, kick away the knife from his hand, and cuff him. You finally turn your eyes onto the girl who was terrified. “It’s okay, you’re okay now,” You say, helping her stand. That’s when you notice the condition that she was in. Her lips were almost purple now, the rest of her skin turning blue. You shrug your jacket and long sleeve shirt off of you as fast as you could putting both of them on her. You stuff your gloves on her hands and shimmy out of your windbreaker pants, leaving you in nothing but athletic shorts and a tank top. Screw it, you could bear these sub zero temperatures in these clothes for a few minutes, this girl needed warmth. An instant chill settled into your bones making your teeth chatter in seconds. You shout for Spencer as you help the girl to the door and make the unsub stand up, dragging him in front of you. Your friend finally came into view, running at full speed towards you.

“Y/N, oh my god, are you okay?” He asks you. You nod as you let out a sigh, already knowing that your lips are starting to stray towards periwinkle. You could see the rest of the team running towards the shack. Derek took care of handling the unsub while Emily helped the girl back towards the vans, surely to help try and heat her up.

“I’m pissed,” you chatter out, causing Spencer to raise an eyebrow. You roll your eyes and start rubbing your hands along your bare forearms, trying to generate any kind of warmth. “This place looks exactly like Hoth, and Morgan is gonna end up being right because I would kind of love to have your jacket right now.” You chatter-laugh, one of the weirdest sounds to ever come out of your mouth. Quickly nodding, Spencer starts to shed his jacket off of you, but stops halfway. “Spencer what the hell are you doing, my fingers are all already numb, it’s gonna hurt like hell to warm them back up.”

“I actually have a more efficient idea, but we might want to go into the car first.” Giving no complaints, you and Spencer raced back to the backseat of a car, waiting for him to blast the heat. He does so, but it’s still not warming you up.

“Is this seriously what you had in mind? Because I’m still feeling like a popsicle and Garcia will be very made to hear that.” You say chuckling nervously.

“No, it’s this,” Spencer says, opening the front of his jacket. He brings you close to him and rezips the jacket, making you pressed right up against him. Not that you would go around talking to it about just anyone, but he was built underneath that cotton gray shirt.

“Sp-Spence what are you doing?” You whisper-yell quietly, your cheeks burning up.

“Skin to skin, it’s one of the quickest ways to get warm.” What was interesting was that you weren’t really opposed to being in this position with Spencer. Actually, you kind of really like it. You get to feel his heartbeat and snuggle your head under his chin, which makes Spencer flush this time.

“Spencer,” you whisper, causing him to glance down at you.

“Yeah?” He murmurs back. You feel his heartbeat quicken, affirming what you were hypothesizing.

“Can you hold me?” You ask. He had never heard your voice speak so softly and so… lovingly. He felt special being able to hear you like this, seeing you like this. He always loved the fact that the two of you were such great friends and were able to confide in eachother, but he wanted more now. He wanted to see you like this a little bit more. So, he did as you asked and wrapped his arms around your cold frame, dismissing the cold that transferred into his body from yours. After a few minutes you were starting to feel a lot better but made no effort to leave. Instead, you snuggled into him more and let your hands splay out against his chest. You heard him hum lightly, pressing you further closer to him.

“Y/N.” He whispers this time.

“Yeah?” You respond, looking at him. The two of you make eye-contact and make no effort to break it.

“Can our hot chocolate outing be considered a date?” He asks, his face now mere inches away from yours. You nod instantly and bring your face closer to his.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, bringing one of your hands to cup his cheek. Spencer doesn’t even wait to nod, he just closes the gap in between you. The kiss was sweet and tender, like gingerbread cookies right out of the oven. Spencer now brings both of his hands to your cheeks and deepens the kiss, making you melt into him. Things were starting to get a little more intense, that is, until the door to the car opens causing snow to blow onto the seats.

“HEY! IT IS FREEZING OUTSIDE AND-” You cut your words off as you see Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss looking at you and Spencer, all with smirks on their faces. You see two faces turn a little more frustrated, digging into their pockets and fishing out twenty dollars each. Emily smirks and takes the bills from JJ and Morgan, earning groans from the two of them.

“Y’all seriously couldn’t pace things?” Stumped, you look at them with your mouth hanging open.

“You bet on us?” Spencer says, his voice raising in volume.” Chuckling, the three of them close the door to the car leaving just you and Spencer, flabbergasted.

“So how about that hot chocolate now?”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reader x spencer reid #y/n x spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #cm #spencer x you #spencer x reader

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years ago

Text

ACOTAR, Feysand ~1.7 words, just a little thing for the holidays.

Home for the Holiday

A fire cackled happily in the hearth as Feyre moved around the living room of the house. She strung garland from the fireplace, keeping the ends from the sparks that fluttered out on occasion. Lining the mantle were stocking hooks and ceramic snowmen.

Leaning over one of the half empty plastic bins, Feyre pulled out a few cheap decorative pillows declaring Let it Snow! and Ho! Ho! Ho!

They were the same pillows from years past. Ones that should most certainly be tossed out and exchanged for new ones, but these were the first decorations her sisters and her had purchased after their parents died. And Feyre couldn’t bring herself to toss them out just yet. Besides, Nesta might kill her if she tried.

“Okay, the hot cocoa is ready!” Elain called out from the kitchen.

Feyre glanced over to see Elain poke her head around the corner. She wore a terrible disarray of mismatched pajamas combined with an apron that had reindeer prancing around on it.

“Thanks, Elain,” Feyre said, she smiled and turned back to the oil painting she had made last year of an angel.

“You want your usual peppermint?” Elain asked, her painfully kind smile alluding to something akin to pity.

“Sure,” Feyre said, if only to get Elain to stop making that face at her.

Elain disappeared and Feyre sighed heavily.

No matter what Feyre had tried the past few weeks, nothing seemed to put her in the mood for the holidays. No amount of baking, shopping, decorating, family time had made a difference.

All because her boyfriend couldn’t be there for the holiday. He’d recently accepted a job promotion, which was wonderful, but it required him to move out of Veleris and to Hybern. Once, Rhysand had sworn he would never leave Veleris, the city he loved so much, but Amarantha had made a far too appealing offer apparently.

Feyre took a deep breath. At least they’d managed to skype yesterday. It wasn’t the same of course. Christmas Eve without him was turning to be unbearable and Elain’s doe-eyed stare was not helping.

Maybe she should just go to bed.

“Merry Christmas!” Nesta called out. She entered the house with a loud bang, followed by a curse. “Hell. I might have broken Lucien’s present. Oh well.”

“Be nice!” Elain yelled. She rounded the corner with a giant mug that she handed to Feyre before going to help relieve Nesta of some of her many bags. “Geez, Nes. How much crap do you have.”

“Some of it’s Cassian and Azriel’s,” Nesta grumbled. She flipped her braid over one shoulder as she hurried the rest of the way into the house and dumped the bags on the couch. “They had something to take care of. Probably a prank. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cassian tried to stuff himself down the chimney.”

“Maybe he should,” Elain mused, “it might actually cheer Feyre up.”

“I’m fine,” Feyre insisted. She punctuated her words by taking a long sip of cocoa, whipping cream staining her upper lip. “We’ll skype all day tomorrow...when he’s not in a meeting.”

“Who does that woman think she is, not letting her employees have time off?” Nesta said. She pulled presents from the bags and began arranging them beneath the tree. “I mean I know we don’t really celebrate Christmas, but it’s a holiday. It’s family time.”

“He’s the project leader for this really important account,” Feyre sighed. “He loves his job.”

“He loves you more,” Nesta said.

The words were so sudden and unexpected that it took Feyre a moment to register them.

“What do you mean?” she asked her older sister.

Neta shrugged as she finished placing presents under the tree.

There was nothing else to say on the topic as Elain demanded a sister picture, followed by a heated discussion of which Christmas movies they watch first. It was barely eight o’clock, but they all seemed ready to delve into whatever tradition they could get their hands on. Or maybe it was just Elain and Nesta trying to distract Feyre from Rhysands absence.

While they were in the middle of one movie, Lucien arrived. He’d finished up his shift as a nurse in the ER earlier than expected.

“We’re just getting to the good part!” Elain told him as he came over to sit on the floor just in front of her. Despite there being plenty of space on the couch, he still was in the habit of avoiding being closer to Nesta then necessary.

“Where are the others?” Lucien asked. “There’s a storm coming in. It started snowing while I was on my way into the city.”

“What?” Nesta demanded sitting up straighter. She paused the movie and looked at Lucien. “It’s snowing?”

Feyre looked to the front window, where indeed, snow could be seen in the distant street lights. A white Christmas for certain.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Lucien was saying.

Nesta was having no part of that, however. She had her phone out in an instant and was calling Cassian.

“He knows how to drive in the snow, Nes,” Feyre said. Her sister held up a hand to silence her.

Rolling her eyes, Feyre stood and gathered empty mugs of hot chocolate to take to the kitchen. Apart from the tree and the small tea lights dangling over the kitchen counter, the house was dark. But not in the miserable sort of way. This was the kind of dark that exuded warmth and hope.

The fire had died down hours ago and was not smoldering, keeping the house toasty.

As she set the empty mugs in the sink, Feyre looked out the window just above and watched the snow falling in thick folds through the night. It made her all the more grateful for being inside right now, but she just couldn’t get over the seed of loneliness in her heart.

She couldn’t cry about it now or else Elain and Nesta would try and cheer her up and it would ruin their Christmas Eve. Rubbing a hand over her face, Feyre filled the empty mugs with water so they would be easier to clean.

Just then the front door burst open and Cassian’s booming laugh broke the silence.

“Merry Christmas!” He shouted.

In the living room, Feyre could hear feet pounding and knew Nesta was jumping up to engulf her boyfriend in a hug. She listened as boots were kicked off and Cassian made a loud noise of pain, likely in response to a punch from Nesta.

“Where have you guys been?” Elain asked.

Cassian didn’t respond. She heard when Azriel entered and took his sweet time to close the door behind him. She would need to put on a thicker pair of socks.

Making sure her eyes were clear, Feyre rounded the corner from the kitchen.

“Do you guys want some hot chocolate?” She asked and then stopped in her tracks.

Because not only were Cassian and Azriel there grinning like five-year-olds but a third person was there too.

Feyre slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, because there disheveled and jetlagged and still breathtakingly handsome was Rhysand.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

Unable to hold herself back, Feyre ran to him, flinging herself in his arms. He caught her easily and held her tightly against him. Tears leaked from Feyre’s eyes as she buried her nose in his neck. Despite the long three months apart--his touch, his scent, everything was so, so familiar.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, tears unabashedly slipping down her cheeks. “I thought you said you’d get fired if you came back.”

Rhysand cupped her face in his hands beaming down at her with his brilliant violet eyes.

“It’s hard to fire someone when they’ve already quit,” Rhysand said. He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged.

“You what?” Feyre gaped at him. “This is your dream job, Rhys.”

“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not really.”

Around them, their friends and family got distracted by other things to allow the couple time alone. Someone started the movie back up and a Christmas song was playing in the background.

Feyre fisted her hands in Rhysands jacket, unwilling to release him yet. She still couldn’t believe that he was here before her. Nor could she fully grasp what he was telling her.

“I couldn’t keep working there,” Rhysand said. “Not for her. Not in that place. Not so far from you.”

Feyre bit her bottom lip, shaking her head. “You love your job.”

Rhys’ response was automatic. “I love you more.”

No matter how often she heard them, the words still sent a thrill through her. She laughed lightly and looked away from him to where Azriel was stoking the fire and Cassian drew Nesta in his arms as they sat on the couch. Elain leaned her head on Lucien’s shoulder as she mouthed the words along to the movie that played in the background.

The house was full of love and family for the first time in a long time. Feyre had spent so long searching for these feelings of peace and comfort and now she had them. She didn’t want to do anything to alter them--to diminish them.

But she also couldn’t let Rhys walk away from his work.

“Rhys,” she began.

His warm hand slid to cup her chin, gently tugging it up. It took her a moment to meet his gaze. Mostly because she was, again, tearing up.

“Everything about that job was tearing us apart,” he said as he leaned his forehead against hers, “and I refuse to let that happen any more.”

Feyre surged forward and kissed him. There was so much they needed to figure out now. So much to talk about and plan. But for now, she was content to kiss him. Content to be with him, with her family.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Feyre darling,” he said.

And it was. It was a glorious night together with snow falling down outside, the fire roaring in the hearth, and they were all together.

.end.

thanks for reading!

tags: using my general tags

@tottenhamboys20 @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival

@my-fan-side @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#feysand #acotar #acowar #acofas #acomaf #the fanfic no one asked for continues #the fanfic no one asked for #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

Note

Oooh maybe there was only on bed at a sky resort with Calum and the rest if the band is making bets of when feels are confessed

Lol, here we go another confessional pool. Love to see it. Reader Insert CW: Mentions of death/lost loved ones.

Enjoy Christmas 2020 Blurb Mastelist

Enjoy my full masterlist!

_________________

Ashton and Calum are the first to head to the check-in. The rest of the guys are pulling out their last bits of luggage from the truck. You trail in the middle, still laughing at Luke’s fumbling on the snow. But soon the wind chill creeps up through your jacket and you contemplate heading inside and grabbing your spare key.

From the counter, as Ashton sorts out the keys needed, Calum glances out to the front door. You’re standing right near the doors, doubled over. He knows it’s you standing there too, can tell by the hiccup of your laughter that’s just muffled enough that Calum can almost belief it’s his subconscious playing a trick on him. “Are you sure you’re okay rooming with them? It won’t be too weird given the whole you not telling your feelings for them because they just lost their brother and you don’t want to seem too insensitive.”

“You make it seem like I’m being weird about this?”

“Calum you’ve had feelings for forever. Yes, they lost their brother this year but you’ve been there for everything. You’ve been nothing but respectful. But they’re doing a lot better. They came on to this trip to have fun. Try to get back to normal because everything and everyone at home keeps treating them as fragile.

“Ashton, it just doesn’t feel like the best time.”

“And will be the right time? When will you every have the best time to tell them your feelings, mate? Because I don’t think there’s ever been a best time in life. There’s only ever now or never.”

Calum shakes his head. “Right now is not good,” he utters and then grabs his bags. Sure, you and Calum had been close for a while. He had been there for a lot. But he couldn’t risk it. This Christmas was going to be hard on you after what happened and there was no way Calum could even consider dumping his feelings on you at a time like this. No, this is the time for you to have some fun. That’s all he needed to focus on.

“Looks like it’s me and you,” he teases, dangling the key in your face.

“Hmm, I guess you’ll do,” you laugh. Michael, Ashton, and Luke watch the two of you trek across the resort to your room.

“Do you think they’ll confess anything on this trip?” Luke asks.

Ashton sighs. “I don’t know. I think Calum’s overthinking the whole thing. But I also get it. He doesn’t want to push them. I hope the universe is cooking up something.”

“I got dibs something happens tonight,” Michael laughs.

“Ah, you are a betting man. I’m saying tomorrow,” Ashton counters.

“I don’t know,” Luke tacks on. “Calum’s been super careful about all this. I think possibly by the end. Gonna need a little bit of romance sparked before anything happens.”

The snow crunches beneath your boots but you’re thankful the house isn’t that far from the check-in. Inside, you thankful to see a bit of warmth or heat had been on previously. There’s a fireplace in the main area. You trail down the hallways to unload your suitcases before settling in. As Calum cracks open the door, a singular bed stares back up at him. It’s a queen sized bed. There’s space, but there’s only one.

“Have you seen a ghosts?” you asks, noticing the way Calum freezes.

“Oh-I-Sorry.”

He steps into the room and then you wheel your bags in behind you. You look up to the bed and your heart races. You thought for sure your room would have at least two beds. But it’s okay. There are worst things that could happen. Like you waking up in Calum’s arms. Fuck. “So which side do you want?” you asks facing Calum’s practically still frozen pose.

“I’m not picky,” he counters.

You pick the left and drag your suitcase over. You manage to find where the thermostat is located and turn it up just a little after unwrapping yourself from your winter gear. You explore throughout the house too, finding the kitchen and seeing how much space there is. The fire place doesn’t seem too complicated but you don’t mess with it too much. The backdoor opens up to the yard. It’s covered in snow too, but something about the tree lines and the dusting of the snow covering the land for as long as the eye can see. It’s breathtaking.

The rest of the guys come in then, partners with them. But you stay at the door, watching. You wish you could take a photo to do it justice. You wish you could take even a shitty phone picture and send it to your brother. And you could--in theory. Because he was on your plan and you haven’t removed that line yet at all. You could text his phone. It would deliver. But it would never be seen. And that’s how you know you’ve been standing too long.

You return to the room, faintly hearing the other guys and their partners settling into their rooms, just as Calum steps out of the bathroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and just sweatpants on for the moment. The sight doesn’t shock you, but it does make you freeze for just a moment, not ready to see it and you duck your head digging into your suitcase.

“Everything alright?” Calum unearths a sweatshirt but he doesn’t miss the way you disappeared.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

You head into the shower next and let the steam billow around you. The heat nearly scorches your skin, but you almost like it. You enjoy the fact that it reminds you you’re still alive, you’re still feeling. It’s Christmas time. You should be having fun. The house is decorate in garland and wraths there would be Christmas cheer being pumped into your veins but as it stands, there’s just trying, pretending just a little, just enough that it feels like something.

The sheets don’t even feel real when you slip into bed. It feels like you’re drowning. You lay there fore a moment, trying to grip onto the sheets to ground yourself. But it just all feels too clean, too stiff, too not lived in. And you’re still drowning. You sit up, suddenly aware of the sweat dripping down your back.

“Hey,” a soft hand caresses your arm. “what’s up?”

You look over to Calum who’s turned to his side. “I-I can’t sleep.”

“Talk to me.”

“It’s the same thing as always,” you sigh. “And I don’t want to bore you with those details. Yet again.”

Calum sits up. “No, bore me. Yet again.”

You sigh, scrubbing over your face. “It’s okay, Calum. Go back to sleep.”

“Alright, get up,” he sighs and slips out of bed. You don’t move, unsure of what his plan is. He holds out his hands and waves his fingers. “Seriously, c’mon. Get up. This calls for hot chocolate.”

Giving in, you pull the sheets off your body and take his hand. His hold is warm and the two of you pad softly through the door. You hold onto his hand, trying not to conjure up anything in the shadows. The kitchen is the only light source and you settle at the counter as Calum finds mugs and a packet of hot chocolate. He knows he most definitely added it to the list that Ashton sent to everyone and Calum made sure to add that.

The spoons click against the ceramic mug. The steam escapes into the chilly air. “So,” Calum starts, leaning across from you. “Tell me. Everything.”

“I’m pretending,” you answer. “I am pretending. And sometimes I’m not sure I’m convincing myself.” Calum nods in understanding, watching you take a sip of the drink. “Some days are easier than others. I don’t know--something about that bed, it all felt fake. I hate that feeling. I don’t know. It just--I need to be okay with not being okay. And I am most of the time. It’s just sometimes, like right now, it makes me realize time just keeps going. And I want to go with it too, it’s just hard.”

“What could I do to help?”

“You’ve done more than enough,” you say, taking his hands. “More than enough.”

Calum nods again, trying not to memorize the way your hands feels wrapped around his again. “You know I’m here for you. What if,” he pauses and catches of the sight. “What if we slept on the couch? No fake bed.”

You look over your shoulder and inhale deeply. It is not a small couch but it is also not a very large couch. “Oh, Calum, no, I couldn’t.” But before you can say much else he’s taking your hand and dragging you towards the couch. “It’s so small,” you counter as he settles down on the couch.

“Good thing I’m comfy,” he returns. You sit next to him, careful of the hot chocolate still steaming in the cup.

“Calum, really, you can go back to the room, I’m okay by myself.”

“Nah. I won’t stand for that.” He guides you into his chest, and it’s just sitting, cuddled up next to each other. And you manage to finish the beverage but you don’t last much longer against sleep nor can you give into the way Calum’s wrapped you into his arms. At some point, he stretched out across the couch and you cuddled up on his chest. And maybe there are blankets. But you’re not sure. The only thin you’re sure about is that this doesn’t feel fake anymore. This doesn’t make you feel like you’re drowning.

“I told you it would only take the night,” Michael laughs, watching to two of you cuddled up on the couch.

“If that’s a pool you guys ran about confessing feelings, you're shit out of luck, Clifford,” Calum whispers. You haven’t woken up yet, or so Calum assumed, and he doesn’t want to move too much. He’d rather let you sleep even if it meant he has to lay there for an extra hour or two or three. You need the rest.

“I’m still in luck,” Luke adds on.

“Me too,” Ashton quips.

“I told you nothing was going to happen this trip because they need to focus on healing, and getting back to normal not me or my feelings for them,” Calum hisses out again, scooting up every so slightly on the couch. You don’t seem to be aware or bothered by the movement.

“You like them. Just admit it. It would all save us a lot of trouble,” Ashton giggles.

You try not to snort, you really try not you. The whispers of Michael and Luke woke you just a little but it was the rumble of Calum’s voice was the one that kept you up for sure. Calum freezes, eyes widening at the feeling of you shaking against his chest. It goes quiet in the entire room when the rest of the guys notice the panic too.

“Luke,” you start, pushing up from Calum’s chest. But you don’t look away from Calum’s panicked face. “I hope everyone brought cash for you.”

It’s in slow motion as you stretch up and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth, close enough that it almost connects but just far off the mark that Calum knows. His heart races and he cups your face. “What was that for?”

“Thank you. I like you. And I know it’s a fucked up time in my life. But you are really cute and you care. So I wanna try just give me some time.”

A shadow casts over them and when Calum glances up there’s Ashton holding a mistletoe. “Kiss and make it real,” he laughs.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood 5sos #h writes #h writes christmas 2020 #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #5 seconds of summer #Luke hemmings #Michael clifford #Ashton irwin

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themadlostgirl · 4 years ago

Text

When It’s Cold (5)

*I had different, spicier, plans for this chapter and then the characters took off with the plot and had fluff instead.*

~~~

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

I had been way louder than I meant to. My body was pleased with the after effects of masturbating but my mind was paying the price. I had been peacefully asleep until another naughty dream of Felix entered my subconscious. It was late so I figured he was asleep and I could get away with being a little loud if I got a tad overwhelmed but I had thrown caution to the wind right at the end when I screamed his name.

Hopefully he hadn’t heard but it did nothing to assuage my worries. I need to get a handle on these hormones. Maybe I would feel more in control if I got something. The store sold condoms. At the very least if it turns out that he does want to have sex one day I can be prepared. I set out early that morning before Felix woke up and grabbed a box of condoms as well as some feminine products. I had forgotten I even got a period until I came to Storybrooke and time started its toll on my body which meant my bloody, crampy, moody friend was back to wreak hell upon me.

Maybe that’s why I had been so horny lately. PMS can be a hell of a hormone tornado.

I got back to the house and was happily walking back to my room to drop off my purchase when I heard music coming from the kitchen. Damn. I didn’t think Felix would be awake yet. I tried to sneak past but he caught me halfway through.

“There you are,” Felix said, “I thought you were still in bed asleep. Where’d you go?”

“Quick run to the store,” I waved the plastic bag in my hand.

“I’m making eggs, do you want any?”

“Oh sure, I’m gonna go drop this stuff off in my room first.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, “Oh wait,” he gestured for me to come back.

“Yes?”

He pulled me in for a quick kiss. “Just wanted to do that.”

“Sap.” I tweaked his nose.

I raced up the stairs and dropped the condoms in the drawer of my bedside table and stuffed my feminine products under the bathroom sink. There. Now come period or play time I was ready!

I went back downstairs and sat down with Felix for breakfast. The snow outside had really piled up. On my trip into town I saw a lot of kids out in their lawns making snowmen. Felix and I have stayed cooped up inside this entire time. Maybe we should go have fun outside too. Our entire lives used to be spent outdoors before we came here after all.

I mentioned as much to Felix and he shrugged saying it sounded like fun. We got dressed in our winter attire and I raced out into the snow. “Felix, help me roll!”

“Roll what?” he asked.

“I’m trying to make a snowman. I’ll get started on the lower section, you get started on the middle.”

“Alright then,” Felix stooped down and started rolling a ball.

I got a pretty big base done and Felix came over with his slightly smaller ball to stack on top of it. Felix started rolling the head while I gathered some rocks and sticks to decorate it with. “Arm here, and here, rocks for eyes and a nice rocky smile and ta-da! Snowman! Isn’t he a handsome devil?”

“He’s a pile of snow and rocks, darling.”

“Well how about this,” I dug my finger into the face of the snowman and dragged it down. “There, now he looks like you.”

“You’re hilarious.” Felix rolled his eyes, “He’s a little too short to be me though.”

“Nope. He’s a perfect copy.”

“Well you know what this means.” Felix started backing up, “If there are two of me that means one of us has got to go.”

“Felix! Don’t you dare!” I yelled, “Don’t kill Felix Junior!

“There can only be one!” Felix ran and tackled the snowman breaking all our hard work in half. “I reign victorious!”

“You are a terror!” I grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at him. “I will avenge you Felix Junior!” The snowball hit him right in the head. He stood up and gawked at me.

“You really wanna have this fight, little girl?” He asked as he picked up the discarded head of Snowman Felix. “We’re gonna have this fight!”

“No!” I started running away as Felix raced after me. The severed head of our snowman held high above his own head. I felt the force of it hit me in the back and I went tumbling to the ground.

“Gotcha!” Felix was already forming another snowball.

“Oh no you don’t!” I quickly made another ball and hurled it nailing him in the face. “For Felix Junior!” I started making more snowballs as I got up and started pelting him.

I was laughing my head off as Felix and I dodged around one another throwing snowballs. I got too close once and he grabbed me shoving a clump of snow to my exposed neck! “No! No! Cold! Cold! Cold!”

I dropped to the ground and Felix fell with me. He was hovering over me, that wide smile that only I ever got to see, bright on his cold stung face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Our battle lay forgotten as we sunk into it. His face was cold but his mouth was hot as he kissed me back.

“Truce?” He asked.

“For now.” I shivered, the cold and wet of the snow starting to get to me.

“Cold?” Felix smirked.

“A tad.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” He stood up and helped pull me to my feet. “Let’s get back to the house where I can keep you warm.”

“I like the sound of that.” I held close to his arm as we made our way back to the mansion. I changed into my comfiest and warmest clothes and heated up some hot chocolate for Felix and I. We sat down in the living room where Felix already had a fire going. A bunch of cushions and blankets littered the ground.

I sat down and cuddled up next to Felix. We sipped our hot chocolate while the fire crackled and music from the record player played softly in the background. Outside the snow fell in delicate flakes. It was a moment of pure bliss.

“Did you ever think we’d be like this?” I asked.

“Like what?”

“Cuddled together like we’re old lovers.” I smiled, “I certainly didn’t when I first met you.”

“A lot has changed since then though, hasn’t it?” He matched my smile and planted a kiss to the crown of my head.

“Yes, a lot has changed.” I sighed, “It almost makes me not want to go back to Neverland. I’m just so happy being here...with you.”

“You don’t want to return to Neverland?” Felix really looked at me now. “But it’s our home.”

“I’m not saying that I never want to go back to Neverland I’m just saying that I am really enjoying this time where it’s just the two of us. No other loud boys getting in the way. No hunting for food or sleeping on the hard ground. No bathing in a pond. It’s comfy here. Safe.”

“The privacy is nice,” He traced his thumb along my cheek, “I like having you all to myself.”

“Home can be anywhere we make it. Why not make it here?”

“Is that what you’d want?” Felix said, “To stay here and grow up? We’d become boring adults. The one thing we hate more than anything.”

“I don’t think either of us could be considered boring, adult or not.” I chuckled. “I don’t like the idea of growing old and dying but if you’re there along with me getting wrinkles and grey hairs then I fear it a little less.”

“That’s a big change. A big commitment. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I don’t think anyone is ever ready to grow up. It just sorta happens. It’s the passage of time.”

“Does this mean you’re done looking for a way back to Neverland?”

“We’ve been searching for weeks. We’re going on two months and we have made no progress. Absolutely none. I think it has to do with the fact that we’re happy here. We’re not looking as hard as we should because we have a good thing going already. Tell me, Felix, if we found a way back to Neverland tomorrow, would you want to take it?”

“Would you be coming with me?”

“That’s not fair. You’re asking that cause you know I would come with you regardless. I am asking if you would stay here regardless of if I was here or not.”

“Wherever you go I go. I know that’s not the question but that’s my answer. You want to go back to Neverland we go back to Neverland. You want to stay here and grow up then I’ll be right by your side for that too. We’re in this together now.”

“Felix, I--” my brain tried desperately to catch up to my heart. What was I feeling? Was this love? I don’t remember the last time I felt love. I can’t even be sure that what I’m feeling right now counts but it is the closest to love I know I have ever felt. That didn’t mean I was ready to say it out loud though. “I am so glad that I have you.”

“I’m glad I have you too.” He kissed me slowly.

The rest of our day passed in a warm haze of dreamy sighs and feather soft kisses. We barely moved from our spot in front of the fireplace. Felix got up to heat up some leftovers for dinner and came to sit back down. The night was growing late and I felt myself nodding off. I didn’t want to return to my lonely bed though. I wanted to remain right here.

I rested my head on Felix’s shoulder and shut my eyes.

~~~

Felix hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the living room. But he didn’t have much choice after you fell asleep on him. He hadn’t the heart to wake you up. Not that he would have dared move from that spot in the first place. It was such a stark contrast to the hormonal hours of makeouts you and he had engaged in over the past several days. Today was all soft touches and meaningful words.

He was surprised when you said you wanted to stay in Storybrooke but what was more surprising was that he wanted to stay here with you too. Wherever you went he would follow. If that meant staying here and growing old then he was proud to do it.

He played with your hair as you slept. You had cuddled up right next to him and next thing he knew you were fast asleep. He gently reclined so he was laying down as well. You curled into him even more. Your head resting over his heart like a pillow.

What he wouldn’t give to go to sleep like this every night. Maybe he could. From the way you talked and how easily you fell asleep next to him maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing his bed. He didn’t even think about how else that could be misconstrued. Sex was an afterthought to the peace that was having you next to him. Your face relaxed and soft snores escaped past your lips.

“I adore you.” he whispered to you as you slept. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and fell into a dreamless sleep with you in his arms.

---

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#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat felix #ouat #neverland #peter pan ouat #roommate au

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years ago

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Warmness [Ron Weasley x Reader] - Heloise’s Christmas Calendar - Challenge

December 2 – Warmness [Ron Weasley x Reader]

Title: Warmness Pairing: Ron Weasley x Reader Word count: 1.7k Published: 2 December, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: On a dull, rainy winter day, the only thing you need is your boyfriend, Ron Weasley and a cup of hot chocolate. Challenge: [x] [x] Notes: It’s part of Heloise’s Christmas Calendar where I post something each day from 1 - 25 December. I have also written this piece for @jamilelucato and @whack-ed‘s A Very Harry Potter Christmas Challenge with Day 2′s prompt

Warming up with a hot chocolate.

Heloise’s Christmas Calendar Masterlist

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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It’s been quite rainy and dull in London recently. Everything seemed grey, dark clouds taking over the sky, bright colours long gone from the horizon, no sun to warm up the coldness, to dry off the wet grounds.

In the winter, people expected snow and colourful lights hung around the city. Roads covered in white silk, trees holding the heavy white substance, fairy lights decorating the houses, shops covered in all the Christmas ornaments.

But instead it was grey, dark and dull. You didn’t start decorating, nor did you start preparing for Christmas. It was too early for you and the weather didn’t give you the usual Christmas joy just yet.

It was freezing outside and so was inside. The heating was barely working, and it didn’t seem to want to budge even when you used magic against it. You wrapped yourself up in two layers of your boyfriend’s sweaters and a burgundy blanket that usually laid across the end of your bed. You cupped the hot chocolate in your hands, enjoying the warmness it sent through your nerves, its steam heating up your face as you took a sip of the hot beverage.

You sat on the window-seat in your room, listening to the heavy rain outside, the raindrops furiously attacking your window-seal. You held onto a cup of hot chocolate, warming yourself up from the spreading cold weather.

You liked rain, it made you feel melancholic, it made you think, it made you remember all your stupid little decisions, all your happy moments and what would come in the future. For some reason the rainy season always offered you a dull, but calming time in your life, where you just sat down and reflected on the decisions you have made, the feelings you have harboured, the happy memories you have experienced.

Although it was dark and colourless, it relaxed you, it gave you a silent comfort, which you gladly accepted as busy thoughts were swirling around in your head.

You weren’t particularly sad or lonely, you weren’t happy or enthusiastic either. You were just lost in your thoughts and it seemed to be the right thing to do.

You didn’t realise another presence in the room, nor did you hear him clear his throat. The only time his presence seemed obvious to you was when his arms wrapped around your torso and he hinted a small kiss on your temple.

You smiled at the feeling of his hair tickling your cheek, his lips gently touching your skin, his arms tightly wrapped around your body, his natural scent finding its way into your nostrils, making your body relax against his naked chest. In contrast to the cold you felt, shooting through your bones, his body was warm, almost too hot for such cold weather.

“Are you alright, love?” He asked, his voice hoarse from waking up late. Indeed, it was a lazy day. It was dark and least productive. You didn’t have work, nor did Ron, both of you looking forward to a day of doing nothing, which was long awaited.

“Of course, just thinking.” You replied with a sweet smile as you turned back to meet his curious blue eyes and messy ginger hair.

You loved his hair when he woke up, his locks reminding you of a bird’s nest. It was comical, but somehow it also meant home to you. Each time you saw his messy morning hair, his subtle stubble, his wrinkled pyjama bottoms and the way he rubbed his tired eyes, made you feel home. His mere presence made you feel as if you have had everything in one person. A friend, family, love, partner and home. He didn’t even know, but he was your everything.

“About what?” He asked as he moved around you and held your hand to help you off the window, taking your hot chocolate and placing it on the side of the window-seal.

“Just memories, feelings. I guess I’m just thinking about everything.” You chuckled, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. “I am making no sense at all, am I?” Ron chuckled at you as he lifted your head with his index finger, his sweet smile making your lips curl involuntarily.

“Nope. Not at all. But if it makes you feel better just keep on thinking about whatever you want.” He chuckled as his arms sneaked around your waist, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as you placed your hands on his naked chest. “Can you just come back to bed and keep thinking there?” He asked, his voice muffled by your skin.

“Don’t you want to do something more productive?” You asked and he lifted his head, looking out the window, his face turning into a grimace.

“I’m not leaving this house today.” He shook his head, his face still deformed.

“We don’t have to leave, but we could do something, we could come up with something.” You tried to convince him, but he didn’t seem to want to agree.

“The only productivity I plan on doing is holding you in my arms. Love, I understand you want to do something, but it’s been weeks since we have had the same day off. Can we just lay in bed all day and-“ you waited for him to continue, but the boy froze. You frowned at his unexpected behaviour, even more so as a large grin started appearing across his face. “Love, just stay here.” He instructed you and quickly let go of you, grabbing his bathrobe from the hook on the door and running down the stairs of your house.

You stood in your room, looking around, complete confusion taking over you. You walked to the bed, sitting down on the edge, your foot slowly tapping on the ground, waiting for Ron. The minutes seemed to pass rather slowly, your boredom making you groan. You let yourself fall on to the bed, your hands laying across the silky cover, your eyes fixed on the ceiling.

What Ron was planning seemed to be getting to you and you just wanted to investigate. You stood up from the bed, wrapped your bathrobe around you and started tiptoeing over to the door, the wooden floorboards creaking under your weight. The door was loud as you tried to slowly open it, avoiding being caught by the ginger boy.

You pushed your head out of the little crack between the door and its frame, hoping to hear or see something, but instead a loud squeaky sound left your lungs as you found yourself face to face with Ron.

“I knew you would be spying, love.” He chuckled as he got hold of your hand and started gently pulling you after himself.

“What were you up to?” You asked, but the boy just shook his head and chuckled at your curiosity.

“That’s for you to find out.” He snickered as he led you towards the living room. You frowned at the secrecy, knowing Ron wasn’t keen on keeping secrets. You let him guide you, waiting in anticipation of what made him so abruptly disappear, but you didn’t have to wait for long to find out.

He stepped aside as he walked into the living room, leaving you with a clear view of the place. Your eyes widened in surprise, your lips parting involuntarily.

The room was originally warm, it’s colours mainly consisting of red, burgundy, orange and gold. But this time, it was more than that. Ron placed tiny candles around the room, lighting up the place in a warm yellow and orange colour, reminding you of the sun. The fireplace was heating up the room, the wooden logs crackling in the fire. A yellow and red plaid blanket covered the carpet in front of the burgundy couch, two cups of hot chocolate and little sandwiches placed on the tiny table beside the blanket.

It was warm and romantic, something you didn’t know you needed, but now that it was right in front of you, it made you break into a happy smile as a tiny teardrop left your watering eyes.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked worriedly as he saw the tears appear in your eyes. You nodded furiously and pulled him flush against you, kissing him lovingly, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours and his arms around your body. It was an intimate moment each time you kissed him, but the warmness surrounding you made it even more cosy.

“I’m just very happy, Ron. This is beautiful.” You smiled again as you looked around, your cheek laying against Ron’s chest.

“I hoped you’d like it.” He spoke. “I even prepared some muggle board games.” He pointed at a little box on the table, making you chuckle. You remembered the muggle toys as you played with your family on a similarly dull day. “Both lazy and productive.” He grinned happily as he kissed the top of your head.

“I love it, Ron. I really do love it.” You lifted your head from his chest and stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him again, trying to convey how much it all meant to you, how proud you were of him and how much you loved him.

You walked over to the blanket and waited for Ron to sit down, before you got comfortable between his legs, your head laying on his chest. He offered you one of the cups of hot chocolate and you immediately took it from him, enjoying the hot beverage sliding down your throat. You didn’t feel the coldness anymore.

Ron reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers as he placed a tiny kiss on your temple. You turned back around, looking into his loving eyes, before you closed the gap between you, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours.

“Thank you so much.” You whispered against his lips as you turned back to watch the fire battling with the wooden logs, swallowing them gracefully.

“Anytime, love.” He replied as he hinted a small kiss on your cheek, making you smile.

The moment was just perfect, and you were happy to add another beautiful memory to your collection for another dull and rainy day.

Harry Potter general taglist: @inkhearthes @hufflefluff-writer @fific7 @haphazardhufflepuff @kalimagik @accio-rogers @queendcnn @harrypotter289 @nebulablakemurphy @iliveiloveiwrite @mytreec @chaoticgirl04 @idont-knowrn @mayaaa-l @imboredandneedalife @pregnant-piggy @prongsies @holdupwhat @ravenclea @kashishwrites @izzytheninja @timogtrrz @wassup-peoples @levylovegood @msmimimerton @bbeauttyybbx @kiwi-sloan @moatsnow @pandaxnienke

Christmas Calendar taglist: @a-classic-eye

Harry Potter - Golden trio era taglist: @nhcwdw

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Thank you ^^

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#Heloise's Christmas Calendar #averyharrypotterchristmas #ron weasley #Ronald Weasley #Ron x Reader #Ron x Reader imagine #Ron x Reader oneshot #Ron x Reader fanfiction #ron weasley christmas #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader fanfiction #ron weasley x reader imagine #ron weasley x reader oneshot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction

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ameliyaahn3 · 4 years ago

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13 days series : Day One, 20th December.

Genre : Fluff, Comfort, (lame ass one) Humor.

Warning : Things get heated up at end but nothing shocking.

Word count : Around 1k800.

Summary : Akashi bringing his empress to his chalet for christmas holidays but it's also his birthday. What will Y/n prepare for him ?

Akashi Seijuro × Reader.

Even then, you weren't used of that life of luxury and comfort with Seijuro : whatever you would salivate for, he was capable to give it to you twice or in a matter of a minute -if that's not even too much-: what was for sure something you can't even dream of in your wildest fantasty. And as the wealthy man he is, once again Seijuro impressed you by bringing you on vaccation at his family chalet.

Snow was surronding the beautiful and big place when you stepped outside the car, a warm and refined hand holding your fingers at the same time. You turn your head to see your boyfriend smiling what does make you instantly excited as his eyes are slightly shining at your view. Your blood going trough your veins so fast, you can't help but wait to drag Seijuro into the house and listening to whatever he has to say about it.

You know his chalet to be somewhere he would at least visit once a year and as a place full of funny and innocent chilhood memories that conted by him would just sound so interesting. As the cold started to hit a little bit too harshly on your faces, Seijuro finally decided to guide you to the traditional house, maids and butlers behind with your baggages.

" Pleased, my love ?" You nodded positively, a grin forming on your lips, " How I could not ?" the majestous tree were absorbing your soul.

"I know that you're not always comfortable with my wealth and all thoses prestigious places but I hope this time you won't feel any discomfort being here." The way he talks so smoothely drives you naturally to look at his charming face, what do distract your attention from the unique landscape. However do you regret it ? Not even one second.

" I can't be bothered by a place that is like home for you." You said, your stomach feeling like there butterflies in it despite it does make 9 months you're together. Sensations conservating pretty good like an old bottle of wine, it's really something to be in couple with this man.

" I wish you would think of my gifts as the furnitures then." You chukle a little bit at his come-back, not bad actually but how could you not feel weird when he's offering you expensive jewerly and dates on the only motive that you're his lover ?

" Sei..."

" Because I can't imagine a world that I would truly enjoy without you, you deserve the best, Y/n. Though I've fallen for your independance, since we're one, everything mine is yours, you should not being ashamed of anything."

Seeing you opening your mouth to try to justifiate your attitude, Akashi shut it with his own, deposing a small peck on your lips that destroyed all trace of a logic and inteligent answer in your mind.

What a drag... How would you return him all he give to you the same ? Nothing that you can buy can value even the smallest thing that he had already offrered you, but it was his birthday tomorrow and except of your present you couldn't think of something appropriate to express your love to him.

" Shht, my dear. You know I'm right." He says with a smirk.

Besides making you feel like the first days, Seijuro know also how to make you pout like a child despite that you're supposed to be decently mature.

" That's not fair..."

────────── · · · · ✦

In front of the chimney, you observe the fire dancing, your head lies on Akashi shoulder's as he's taking a pause on his book and that a cup of hot chocolate is between your hands. It was for sure one of the most relaxing moment you ever had in the past 6 months, forgetting about school, work or whatever were drowning you down in general it was inexistant here.

" That table... I used to play on it a lot with my mother."

" What kind of games ?"

Akashi smile when he hear sincere interest in your voice, not surprised of your curiosity when it involve him even for the silliest subjects. It was one of the reason you were with him afterall and not another person.

" Cards games mostly and even if I was a child, I don't remember having similar struggles winning against my mother than anybody else till now."

" So she was an high level player ?"

" Surprisingly not and she would admit herself that she was even quite unlucky, I used to not understand why I had so much difficulties with her but now it's pretty clear that I was inconsciously doing of sort to play with her more."

" It's adorable but insulting at the same time, i don't know how I would take it if I was in her position. You didn't do this with me right ?"

"..."

His laugh makes you felt like death has suddenly taken your body and your diginity with it.

"Maybe you can try to found out yourself ?" He put his book aside, amused by the situation.

" I've never felt so insulted in my life... Seijuro affront me right now, one one." Determined by your pride you still kept your calm and called him more in a playful tone than anything else.

" You won't be mad at me when you will find out how I play with you Y/n?"

" I can't promise that... i've been believing that I was good at shogi during more than a year!"

" And you're good."

" But how do I know for real now ?"

"Alright, alright... let's play then. Even if you finish to be angry at me that wouldn't last long."

" Wha-? You know that you're irresistible and you makes benefit of it on me ?! That's vicious... and I love it against my own agreement. How do you do ? That's disgusting."

" You're doing this to me everyday, Y/n."

" No i don't..?"

" You definitely do."

You don't even bother to pursuing that thing and sit in front of the said table with cards that you found around. Today was the day of truth.

────────── · · · · ✦

After losing 13 rounds in a row you didn't bother to test Akashi again and let him with his undefeated title. But most importantly, while playing against him you didn't saw something that would say he was holding back on purpose, what surprised you and comforted you a little bit on your own skills.

After that, you decided to take an hot bath and you had a sumptuous diner which by the way makes you felt really heavy. Filled Up and clean, there was nothing that you would need in the moment and so time went by and at the end you wanted to sleep. The Emperor led you to your shared room and before letting your body enjoy a restful night, you took initiative of a cuddle session. Making soft contact with Akashi's skin, your fingers doing small circles on his palm hand and forearm.

As sleep is slowly taking you away, your boyfriend whispers lovely words in your right ear and stroke your back, plunging you into another world : Watching the snow failling gently in the window with the elegant lights of the room while being under thoses pretty sheets with Akashi Seijuro beside... Everything looked like a dream. You took a look in the direction of your hidden gift, thinking of how you would make it memorable and your eyes closed despite a sudden excitation and vague of ideas that poped in your head last minute.

During the whole night, it was like your soul aspired to wake up early and so you slept easily but as if you're body is schedulded, first hour in the morning, 5:45 am you were awake and as you were quiting bed stupid flash of the game yesterday evening came to your head making you thinking that Akashi pitiyied you because of small action in his game, you pipe that idea away and focus on your tasks.

First step was the more difficult one but you managed to get out the bed without being noticed. You wanted to make breakfast for him but also as he would wake up, wish him an happy birthday quite special with his present in your hands.

Maids bringed the bouquet of roses you requested and helped you cooking food. You had so much plans for his birthday... If you remember well, there was that Power Point waiting in your draft explaining how perfect he is and why he should be happy, healthy and live so much years more. But you didn't carry on that idea as that wasn't amazing enough and that in fact that would be just you acting as a fangirl of your boyfriend during an hour at least.

You watch at the time, knowing that your lover used to being awake around 6:30-7:00 also on weekends while during winter even the sun doesn't rise that early.

You walk into the room, taking your gift quickely and in silence, posing the plate of breakfast that you tried your best to please him with. Well, you look at him to see that he's sligthly waking up, a smile grows on your lips.

Once you see one of those red orbs open, you heart skips a beat, Akashi sit on his bed a genuine smile as he see you.

" Good morning, Y/n."

and you can't help but kiss him.

" Happy birthday Seijuro!"

As you crash your lips in a sweet and chaste manner yet still filled with an unquestionable passion, you give him roses and put on evidence the breakfast. The smell of roses mixed with delicious plates increasing Akashi joy even if he doesn't show it in an obvious way.

" You didn't have to do this, Y/n... But it makes me really happy, Thank you."

" Do not thank me yet..! I haven't given you everything and you deserve the best."

You lay on his hand the package, letting him being curious to what is it. After taking a glance at you, he decide to open your gift and see an antique but expensive -for someone of your class- watch with his and your initials, because the clock is foldable when you unclip it, you can see a picture of his mother that you've put.

Akashi seemed quite touched and took your hand in his, a soft and nostalgic expression on his face.

" I obvisouly can't offer you one of the newer and expensive jewerly but I was sure that this one would be at your liking."

Emotional value combined with an utilitarian purpose, not to mention the style.

" And it is, you did well Y/n. It's until now the most valuable item I have in my possesion... I will cherish your present."

" And I will cherish you... Doesn't it sounded like a weeding vows ? Haha... However I will cherish you for real and in all the way possible so even if I can't give you as much as you do in terms of material... My affection would value at least as much if it's not even a lot more."

You said that while coming closer to him, eyes full of desire and of need to proove your love. Akashi put all thoses object you bring in bed on the nearest table as a more lewd expression took place on his face.

" Convince me."

And you were already under him.

" Maybe this one would be my favorite birthday."

#akashi seijuro #knb #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basuke #anime #manga #akashi seijuro x reader #happy birthday #i love him without my consent help #really i can even try to not like him #i love him more than i would admit #13 days

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