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mooncakesofpan · 2 years

Text

A MILF

Teen dad!Billy Hargrove x Teen mom!hopper!Reader

Summary: Over hearing some of the moms in Hawkins can cause you to have your doubts.

A/n: sorry it took so long to put out another part to this. Also i think ive mentioned this before Reader is Adopted.

Warnings: teen parenting , fluff, non sexual nudity(reader is breat feeding), mentions Neil's terrible and abusive parenting, established relationship, strong language, Billy threatens to beat Mikes ass, She/her pronouns

Word Count: 1.3k

Stranger things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

Something about the middle-aged women and their own vendetta with you because of Billy and your’s child Victor, always rubbed you the wrong way. You had told El. you would pick Miked up on your way to Billy’s cause the group was gonna go biking to the arcade from there.

You got to the Wheelers and saw the group of moms huddled around the lemonade stand on the warm day of Holly. they all recognized your truck. you had tried to keep it down low but secrets are hard to keep in a small town. No one had seen you for a good few months you trying to avoid being seen on the way to doctor appointments, but when you had Vicky you looked different. It was hard to miss you around town with a stroller and a baby or the fact that sometimes you would have to drop Vicky with your dad to go do things. It didn't take long for theories to come to the surface and the truth to come out once Vicky was seen with Billy and the noticeable similarities were mainly Billy’s pretty eyes and, his widow's peak. You pulled up and Vicky was asleep so you opened the door and stepped out to ask Ms.Wheeler to get MIke while the ac ran in your car. You could feel the eyes of the neighborhood moms as they spoke about you. “Hi Ms. wheeler can you let Mike know I'm here to pick him up,” you say with a smile. “Yes of course hun,” “Of course” you could hear the other moms behind you "To think getting pregnant so you thank goodness my daughter would never be so irresponsible,” one mom said. “She must have slept around a lot and it finally caught up to her,” another whispered. “She's not a very good mother I hear, Marcy told me she sees her all the time alone around town and doesn't spend nearly enough time with the baby,” one of the moms says. You rolled your eyes getting back in the truck, it stuck to you. Were you a bad mom? Sure you were new to everything but you thought you were doing well considering your situation. The times you were seen without Vicky he was either with billy or with joy so you could shop for you El., and your father. You were drawn out of your head by the sound of a door slamming, seeing Mike go out his front the door and walk to your truck “Hey Mike,’” you say smiling “Hi Y/n” he gets in and looks at Vicky. sees the baby is miraculously still asleep. You take your guy's ride to the Mayfield-Hargrove household in somewhat silence Vicky wakes up about halfway there not too fussy more or crying cause he was hungry. “Sorry he must be hungry but we're almost There," you say feeling slightly embarrassed about the fact that Vicky was hungry and you still had about 10 mins left in your drive. your insecurity setting in. Sure it was just a 14-year-old who probably didn't care but in your head, the fact you didn't stop and weren't immediately feeding the baby was eating you a bit. Even tho you were less than 10 minutes away from Billy's. “Oh it's fine,” Mike says shrugging. You finally get into the driveway and Mike says thanks while hopping out while you grab the backpack with Vicky's stuff and pick the fussy baby up. “I know I'm sorry Vicky I know I know mama's gonna get you some food,” you saw Max walking out the door billy in tow his shirt slightly unbuttoned “Hey hot stuff, woah someone upset,” Billy says chuckling a little as he walks up to the two of you. Leaning in to hug you careful of Vicky. “Yeah uh let's get inside he's hungry,” you say as Billy kisses your forehead. He grabs the bag as you head inside you hear the sound of your door slamming close. You get into his room and he closes the door. you laid the crying baby down on the bed trying to slip some of your top off to try and feed Vic. Billy could tell something was upsetting you probably from the way looked like you were gonna cry outside in front of your car or the fact you still looked like you were gonna cry while trying to get Vicky to latch on which seemed to not be going so well. Vic not latching on was frustrating you more Tears filling your eyes. This entire day was hard on you, and the more the day went on the worse felt. Billy could see the tears welling up in your eyes and decided that he should probably do something other than stare at the situation in front of him. "Okay doll let's try something else huh?” Billy said lifting Vic out of your arms carefully. “Lean on the pillows,” he says. The few pillows on his bed propped up you lean up more against the pillows on the wall the pillows are nice and soft surprising, and defiantly new in the teen boy's room. He closed the blinds a little more allowing a little light threw and turned off the lights so that the room was a bit darker and put a cassette in the player but kept it on a low volume. The room became calmer allowing you to relax a bit. “Now while Vic Feeds your gonna tell me What got you all fussed up,” you nod there was more success the second time trying to feed Vic. “So I was getting Mike and-” “That little Dip-Shit didn't say anything I have no problem beating a 14-year-old as-” Billy says leaning up from the spot he was laid back on, on his bed. “No! no, he didn't say anything, I was gonna say I was asking Ms.Wheeler to call mike out and some of the other neighborhood moms were there and they started talking about me, and it's just-, Billy am I a bad mom?” the words were followed by tears running down your face. Billy looked at you with confusion written all over his face. “You a bad mom? Doll, your probably one of the best moms to ever grace this earth, one of the hottest fucking moms too,” Billy swears ”Language,” you say looking up from Vic's little face “an absolute MILF doll” you felt warm by Billy’s words. The smirk on his face on top of his flattery was enough, to create butterflies. “Your so attentive to Vic, you juggle taking care of you, Vic, your sister, and pretty much your dad while you're at it too, it would be a damn shame to call you a bad mom when you take such good care of our kid. I don't want you believing that crap okay, you're a good mom, you understand?” Billy says seriousness laces in his voice. “And you still find time to do stuff with those kids bad mom my ass” he mumbles the last part. The reason for your falling tears changed with Billy’s words. “Thanks, Billy” “Only statin’ truths Imma go grab you a snack” Vic in true baby fashion had fallen write back to sleep with some milk in his system. You had swaddled Vicky up and placed him in the crib in Billy's room and you had laid down your head in Billy's lap when he got back. "I'm sorry I try to block that stuff out but sometimes it just gets to me," you say softly as you feel Billy's hand rubbing soft circles on your cheek. It was moments like this you wouldn't have it any other way your boyfriend could be a little rough around the edges but he cared a lot for you and Vicky. He was determined to be a better man than his father. "Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault," he said plainly. A toothpick sticking out of his mouth that he had been chewing on. You leaned into his Touch. "Thanks, Billy,"

dad!Billy taglist:

@and-claudia @daringvixen @justarandomflowerchildofthenight

Let me know if you would like to be added or taken off the taglist

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove fanfic #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #x fem!reader #x female reader #x reader #xreader #fluff #fanfic

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Lust — Kaz Brekker

Gif by @kitsyoung

Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”

“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”

“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”

Smut prompts:

1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”

33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.

Word count: 5k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.

And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.

From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.

Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.

Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.

All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.

He was your kryptonite. In all senses.

And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.

Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.

Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:

I know the perverted things that you are thinking.

And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.

It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.

If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.

Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.

It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.

On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.

He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.

Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.

Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.

His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.

But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.

Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.

"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.

To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.

“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.

Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.

Good!

“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.

“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.

“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.

You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.

He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.

“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.

“I'll driver you.”

His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.

You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.

Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.

Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!

Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.

Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.

At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.

“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.

He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.

“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.

However, you didn't make things any easier for him.

"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."

Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.

Mine.

“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.

“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”

Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.

“James?”

“Yeah, the blond guy who…”

"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."

The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.

Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.

He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.

The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.

He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.

Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.

You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.

His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.

Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”

It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.

In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.

“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.

Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.

"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.

"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.

You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.

The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.

Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.

In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.

“Please.” You beg.

Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.

You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.

“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."

You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.

You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.

"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.

Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.

"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."

But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.

“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”

His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.

"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.

"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.

"Yes, S-sir."

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.

His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.

Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.

Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.

Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.

"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.

You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.

"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."

Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.

"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."

The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.

A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.

"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.

In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.

You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.

"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.

You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.

He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.

Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”

You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.

“Yours”

You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.

“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.

so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O

#kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x kruge #kaz brekker au #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #shadow and bone smut #inejgayfa #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Rut.

Pairing: Malleus/Reader (Twisted Wonderland)

Written for a lovely anonymous commissioner.

Word Count: 2.0k.

Synopsis: It’s hard for a human to learn about fae biology, especially from fae themselves and their distaste for the topic. So, when you agree to help your careful, composed boyfriend deal with his upcoming rut, your expectations might differ from reality.

TW: Afab!Reader, Dubious Consent, A/B/O Dynamics, Overstimulation, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink, Slight Corruption Kink, Mentions of Blood, and Knotting.

Lillia said it was kind of like a vacation, for Malleus.

It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was more of one than you’d gotten from the other Diasomnia students. When prompted, Silver only shook his head, mentioning ‘medical needs’ and something about the fae hierarchy, and Sebek was too flustered to say much of anything, going red as he told you not to talk about things so vulgar, whatever that was supposed to mean. Lilia’d laughed, though, when you asked him why Malleus went off-campus every few months, always returning a little less irritable than he had been, when he left. He’d explained that, among a certain type of fae, this type of practice was normal, almost ritual. Hormones clouded judgment, urges beginning to overwhelm coherent thoughts, and Malleus just needed a few days to clear the fog, preferably as far from a brittle, breakable human as he could get. Just for caution’s sake, of course. Just to be safe.

But, you weren’t just a human. You weren’t breakable.

You were Malleus’ human, and that meant you were safe.

He’d been hesitant, when you offered to help during his next rut, but by the time his eyes were glazed over more often than not, his opposition stopped at a half-hearted warning and a disgruntled huff. It was almost strange to see him so out of it, his usual composure dulled and watered-down into a hazy, tired awareness. Even now, kingdoms away from Night Raven, he could barely seem to stay on his feet, taking any excuse to drape his arm over your shoulders or nuzzle into your chest or, in this case, slot himself against your back, his chin coming to rest against the back of your head as you bent over, supporting yourself against the stone windowsill. You didn’t push him away, obviously. You weren’t sure he’d be able to stand, if you did.

So, you admired the view as he made himself comfortable, keeping your eyes fixed on the landscape below. Malleus’ chosen safe-haven was scenic, to say the least, an isolated tower miles away from the nearest village, surrounded by woods and cliff-sides and little else. Even with a pane of glass separating you from the outside world, you could still see the breeze rustling through leaves, hear birds singing in the distance, practically feel the sunlight, just bright enough to make you squint. You were here for Malleus, of course, but you hoped you’d have some time to explore. Just a few hours, towards the end of the week. Hopefully, he’d be--

“(Y/n).” A whine pulled you out of your thoughts, drawn out and throaty, so unlike his usually poise. You were caught off-guard, but you still managed to chuckle, your smile only growing wider as he bent down, rubbing his cheek against the side of your neck as he went on. “You… you’re so beautiful, and you smell really--” He cut himself off before he could say something he’d regret. “You kept me waiting.”

Now, that was your Malleus, the bratty prince you knew and loved. You crossed your arms in front of you, leaning into the self-made nest as his hands found your hips, holding you in place as he ground lazily against your ass. It was a jerky motion, eager and unpracticed, but neither of you seemed to mind. “No need to rush,” You chided, playfully, rolling your eyes. “We’ve got plenty of time. At least help me find a bed, first.”

Something ripped, a sound like tearing fabric, and suddenly, you could feel cold skin against yours, clamping down around your waist in an iron-clad grip. “I’ve been patient enough.”

You didn’t have time to argue. Whatever thread of restraint Malleus was still holding onto snapped in the space between one second and another, and by the time you’d opened your mouth, he was already growling, barely remembering to let go of your waist before lifting you off your feet, dropping you onto the windowsill unceremoniously. You were stunned, for a moment, too surprised to do anything but clutch at the square edge and let your legs dangle off of the stone slab, but Malleus didn’t seem to have a similar problem. He was already falling to his knees, sharpened talons cutting through clothes and skin alike, leaving red, angry lines across your now-exposed thighs and Malleus, pressing fleeting kisses into the damage by way of apology. You almost stopped him. Part of you wanted to, in your stupor, if only to ask him to slow down, but this was supposed to be about him. If he needed to…

Your logic faltered quickly.

Oh.

His mouth was cold.

It felt strange. You almost couldn’t register it, even as he lapped at your cunt like a man starved, his tongue thinner than it should’ve been, longer than it should’ve been. It was alien in a way that made you more sensitive, more prone to writhing as he traced shapes into your entrance, to mewling every time he paused to tease your clit. It was a graceless sort of rhythm, a pursuit with the sole goal of getting you to buck against his face, to squirm, to do whatever you could to bring him closer. You tried to bite back your whimpers, incessant and hitched whenever he found a new spot to abuse, but your resolve broke as soon as you felt Malleus’ tongue fuck into you, drawing out a shaking, unabashed moan. It was too deep. Already, it was too deep.

You didn’t think, only lurching forward, latching onto the first thing you found - his horns. They were solid under your palms, smooth and so easy to squeeze, the pressure alone enough to make Malleus groan, the slight vibration only forcing you to hold him tighter. It didn’t seem to hurt. If anything, it only spurred him forward, two fingers soon taking his tongue’s place as he drew away, barely giving himself time to take a staggered breath before he was lavishing your clit, sucking on it, making that abrupt, awful, agonizing tension all the more unignorable. All the more terrible, in the blissful way Malleus’ touch happened to be.

He didn’t stop when you came, when your thighs clamped around his head and your entire body went tense. He didn’t even slow down, not until the sensation was more painful than pleasurable, not until you’d taken to pulling his hair, not that it did anything to deter him. Overstimulation came and went, pangs becoming constant, electrical jolts before all of it seemed to fade, leaving you trembling and shivering, barely able to hold yourself up. It felt painful. It felt great. You loved him, but you might’ve been beginning to hate him for it, too.

When he was done, when he was finally done, he kissed you. Your slick coated his chin, and you could taste yourself on his lips as they crashed against yours, the gesture hot and heavy and more aggressive than it had any right to be. There were going to be bruises tomorrow, on your legs and your waist and your jaw - his thumb digging into your skin just a little too harshly as he stopped you from pulling away, but if Malleus cared about the aftermath, he couldn’t find the strength to show much concern. With a nip to your collarbone, he was standing, towering above you with an expression somewhere between anger and concentration. For a moment, you let yourself linger on the irony - his shirt was still half-buttoned, his pants barely edged downward, while your clothes were torn to shreds, cuts and scrapes littered along your thighs and calves. By the end of the week, you were going to be a mangled mess. Malleus would be lucky if he’d even taken off his boots, by then.

Unsurprisingly, his voice did little to ease your concerns. “You’re already so worked up,” He teased, using the pad of his thumb to push an idle, painstaking circle into your clit, if only to watch the way you tried to squirm away. “Such a delicate little thing. How do you expect to take my cock like this, my love?”

You never got a chance to answer. One second, you were opening your mouth, the next, your breath was caught in your throat, an airy gasp taking the place of anything you might’ve said. There was a sting, and you couldn’t choke down the ragged, uneven sob you let out as he bottomed out, his hips soon slotting against yours. Malleus hushed you, a hand coming up to entangle itself in your hair, encouraging you to lean into him. To enjoy this, or to be aggregable enough to let him enjoy it for you. “It’ll only hurt for a second,” He assured, his tone soothing. “Let me take care of my mate.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Despite everything, you couldn’t help yourself. “I’m… I’m your mate?”

Malleus only chuckled, letting you bury your face in his chest as he pulled back, starting with short, shallow strokes. It was less of a comfort than it should’ve been, every slight motion only making you feel smaller, only making you feel more full. His patience must’ve been running short, though, because before long, he was hissing through gritted teeth, pumping into you like his heart would stop beating if he so much as slowed down. You swore you could feel him in your stomach, in your throat, every keen and every rut only making it tighter and hotter and worse. What little composure you’d managed to regain was gone in an instant, replaced with something malleable and desperate and needy. As eager to take as Malleus was to give, in his current state.

He was no better, but somehow, it seemed like he was. He was just so much taller than you, so much stronger, it almost felt patronizing when his teeth ghosted over your neck, his canines soon burrowed in the sensitive space just above your jugular. Even after he drew back, after he made sure your shoulders were riddled with those same bleeding, burning puncture wounds, his lips lingered against your skin, the contact muffling his words. “You’re so perfect,” He muttered, more for his sake than yours. “A perfect mate. My perfect mate. Perfect to--” He was interrupted by a stuttered grunt, low and animalistic. “Perfect to breed.”

In his defense, you didn’t object. You couldn’t have, not with his hand wrapped around your throat, not when your back was suddenly flush against the windowsill, your legs wrapped around his waist, every thrust so violent, it felt like he was trying to fuck your cervix rather than your pussy. Moaning wasn’t an option, anymore. Pitiful, whiny little sounds escaped before you could choke them back, making your cheeks burn and the slick, wet clicks slowly filling the room impossible to block out. “P-Please.” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but you were sure you needed to beg. Malleus’ grip tightened, but you didn’t know if it was a signal to go on, or a sign that you should do anything but continue. “Malleus, please, I love you, I can’t--”

“Quiet.” He was growling again, but this time, you didn’t have to guess why. You could feel it - stretching your cunt, leaving you babbling and clenching around him, your vision going white and your back arching as he split you open on something too heavy, something too big. “Just take it,” He grunted, finally bottoming out. “For me, love. Just- Fuck--”

It was hot, more than anything. Smoldering, scalding, filling you up to the brim as the tension broke and Malleus slumped forward, panting. You were too disoriented to do anything but stare on as a small, reflexive smile tugged at the corners of his lips. This time, his kiss was soft, something feather-light and distant, barely tangible enough to lean into, but you tried regardless, whining as he pulled away. You couldn’t bring yourself to mourn the loss, though. You needed to sleep. You needed to rest. Or a bed, at least, something softer than stone and mortar. He must’ve needed a break too, after that. Anyone would, fae and human alike.

And then, Malleus started moving, and you had to wonder how long this week would really last.

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tetsurobunni · 3 years

Text

Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker

☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words

☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya

☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel

☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)

☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))

hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit

You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.

This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.

He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.

You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.

Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.

Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.

You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.

Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.

You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.

Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.

A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.

“You look like shit.”

That was not Kita.

“Suna? what the fuck?”

“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”

Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please

“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”

You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.

The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.

Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”

“What.”

“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.

Infuriating.

“You’re shivering.”

It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.

“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.

He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.

“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”

You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.

Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.

You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.

“Hey, you okay?”

Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.

“Hey, hey now, look at me.”

The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.

“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”

Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.

Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.

This is purgatory.

You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“S’fine.”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.

Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.

“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”

You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Like I care.”

“Yea, okay princess.”

You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.

This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.

The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.

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

You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.

You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.

A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.

“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”

A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.

“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.

“Yea...how did you-“

“I pay attention.”

Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?

“You look good in my clothes.”

So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.

“Should wear ‘em more often.”

“Shut- shut up.”

“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.

“A little. Still feel like shit.”

“Look it, too.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.

“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean, hm?”

You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…

“That bastard.”

“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”

Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-

“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.

You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.

After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.

“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”

“You’re going to catch my cold.”

“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.

what the fuck did i do to deserve this?

You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.

“Y/n.” You ignored him.

“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.

“What, Suna.”

“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.

“Why am I any different than anyone else?”

“Because…”

You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”

Okay, now you were annoyed.

“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”

“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“

“Would you shut up for one second and think.”

You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.

“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”

It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.

“You...you like me?”

“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”

All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.

i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.

“You are a menace, Rintaro.”

“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Oh shush, ya love me.”

“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”

“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”

“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.

“Hate you, too.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#fanfic #suna rintarō #suna x reader #suna rinatro #suna x you #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader

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felialani · 2 years

Text

Close to Home

I did it. I actually wrote something. I am proud that I finished this tbh lmao. I wasn't sure if I could write the Traders, but it was actually quite fun. Tho I'm no native speaker. Mistakes may be made.

Word count: 1,594 Warnings: death and near death experience. 6.1 spoilers eventually idk.

Feli Alani and how she got saved from Nald’Thal during the 7th umbral Calamity.

Restlessness had been felt for days. Tension vibrated in the air and everyone seemed to be just waiting for the unstoppable fate. It didn't matter what the leaders of the city-states said to calm the people. The sky was on fire, and no one could gloss over that with honeyed words. Hardly anyone had returned from Carteneau and the battle with the Garleans was still dragging on and on.

In East Thalanan, people were drawn to Camp Drybone. Most in the area lived in the city, but those who came from the villages sought shelter in the church. The feeling was hard to describe. The Immortal Flames stationed only sporadic soldiers around the camp to keep the crowd calm. Most of them were still at war with Garlemald, and many Brass Blades wanted nothing to do with the refugees from Gyr Abania.

Feli was sitting on a caravan. The Miqo'te girl looked at the blood-red sky. Her parents whispered quietly to each other, so she wouldn't overhear what they were talking about. They too, for lack of a better solution, were on their way to camp. The vehicle bumped over the dusty desert floor. It had not rained for days, and it was very, very hot.

A few hundred yards away, a couple of trees jutted out of the ground, deep into an abyss. The burning wall. It owed its name to the deep red light it emitted every evening at sunset, and what was normally a pretty sight was obscured tonight by the threatening sky.

One could see the moon. Bigger and clearer than ever before, it was making its way toward the earth. Feli wondered if Dalamud had a will of his own. She did not understand what was going on or why the moon decided to keep falling. Menphinas loyal hound. Did the goddess forsake us? Did the twelve?

Despite she didn't know much about the religion of her tribe, she knew what the moon meant to them. But they were in Thanalan now. It is the realm of the Traders and Azeyma, the Warden. What if they are watching over us now?

This question was answered with a deep rumble. Felicitas forced herself to look away from the red moon and turned to her mother. „Feli!“ The Miqo’te pulled her daughter close. The planet itself seemed to tremble. She could hear hoof beats as a herd of Myotragus jumped on the street. At the same moment a flock of birds was startled, and a second rumble went through the very earth below.

„We need to get to the camp!“ She could hear her father say as she watched the moon shattering. Slowly at first. Crack after crack, but as clear as day. Dalamud was far away, and yet the shard that first hit the ground made the earth shake again, many times more violently than before. Still – the worst was yet to come.

„Seven Hells!“ Feli does not remember who cursed, she could only remember a roar - wild and raging, it pierced the air. She could remember feeling nothing at that moment. Just watched in shock. Watched the dragon hatch from the moon as if it were an egg. Watched as Dalamud crashed to the ground and broke into thousand pieces. She watched as comets flew over her. The child could no longer see the dragon, but the hellfire that was now raining down on them.

She was only shaken out of her state of shock when the ground broke away from under her, and she heard her mother scream. Then she was overcome by a terrible fear. Feli reached for her mother's hand, but it was nowhere to be felt, and then realized that she could no longer see anything. The ground was churned up, and the dust floated thickly in the air. The child coughed as she breathed in the sand and the smoke.

"Felicitas!" The voices could only be heard muffled. She felt that she had fallen on hard ground, but before she could pick herself up, part of the earth shot up right next to her. Feli cried out. Rock crumbled down on her, and then suddenly it was terribly hot. One of Bahamuts killing fires hit not far away and made a sickening sound.

Feli could see nothing and could hardly breathe. She could no longer hear her parents' voices, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She backed away and bumped into a hot stone. A corrupted crystal, freshly born from the earth. The Miqo'te child hadn't even noticed, but tears were streaming down her face and the heat was almost unbearable. She would die here. She was quite sure of that.

______

"Thal, please..." said Nald, watching the moon shatter.

"We are not here to intervene, only to observe, brother."

Nald knew his brother's words even before he spoke them, they sounded cold and distant, but he could feel the pain behind Thal's words.

"So we are abandoning our children yet again."

In separate forms, they flew across the realm. White feathers adorned Thal's eagle body, just as black feathers adorned his brother's.

"You know our task is far greater than this. This will cost many lives, but our children are strong. They will endure."

The world below them was pure chaos. The Traders could feel the fear the Calamity brought. The souls cried out by this forceful rejoining. The destruction of a world strengthened the souls of these children and weakened the soul of the Mothercrystal. Hydaelyn's influence enfeebled once again.

"You sense it too, do you not?" It was not so much a question as a statement. This feeling a reunion of worlds brought was indescribable. So much dead, so much destruction.

But there was also something else - a dark presence. Stronger than before and yet pure in its own way. The twin gods know that the power of Zodiark was nourished by this blight.

"This is the last one. It has to be. She can not take it much longer." Nald said, and Thal muttered something in agreement. The keeper of the realm of death landed on the remains of a destroyed caravan. The air shimmered with heat, and he wondered if it was wise to stay here. The unstable ether was forming around his animal body, and he could not estimate how much it would take to reveal his true form to the mortals. Still, something bothered him.

Not far away, he could make out two figures in the dust. Lifeless, they lay there, in a position of mutual protection. But the fire of the Primal had burned them alive.

„Thal?“ His brother landed right next to him, watching over this lifeless people with a sense of guilt.

"A mortal." Was Thals answer, that let his twin brother in confusion. And then he could hear it. A soft but heavy breathing nearby. The traders flew side by side as they found a child huddled under a wall of newly emerged crystals. She was covered with dust and ashes and her breathing was getting weaker by the second. She was dying.

It was one thing to weigh the souls of these poor children on the scales. To take them to the heavens or hells, but another to watch them die. Nald closed his eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of it.

"Brother, should we really just watch?"

Thals gaze was still on the child as he hesitated. He could feel something that irritated him, and even more so that his brother didn't seem to notice.

He took off his animal form and assumed that of a man. Thal's dark skin shimmered almost golden in the fire of the apocalypse, his white hair was loosely braided over his shoulder and his eyes represented the blue flames of his true form. His brother watched him. He could feel what irritated him, but Nald wanted to hear it. Never before had they interfered with a mortals' life.

"Why her, why here?" Nald asked.

"She was not born to die here." Thal whispered. "I can just feel this is wrong."

"More wrong than the death of our other children?" Nald did the same as his brother as he took human form. He had the same dark skin that shimmered golden against the red sky. Long dark hair that fell down his back and warm, fiery eyes that matched his brother's cold blue.

A brief pang of anger coursed through Thal, as if these lives were not dear enough to him, but just one look at his twin was enough to appease him. Neither of them took this burden lightly. Of that he was sure.

"If I am not mistaken, it was you who wanted to interfere." Thal teased.

His brother sighed and bent down to the girl. Her breathing was now shallow. Nald took her carefully in his arms. The smoke from her lungs was easily removed, as was the dirt from her skin. But he could not heal the scars this day had left on her soul. Gently he lifted her up. It would be another hard time for her. The Calamity made her an orphan and when she woke up she had to understand what had happened. And above all, Nald'Thal was not someone a mortal liked to face after almost dying. But his heart swell when the unconscious child clung to him.

"This is right. I know it is."

Thal didn't answer, but he smiled. "Come now, brother, we have our duties. Take her with us for now, we shall see what comes when she awakens!"

#I didn't wrote in ages #hope you enjoy #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #miqo'te #keeper of the moon #nald'thal #ffxiv endwalker #final fantasy #ff14 oc #endwalker 6.1 #writing #fan fiction #the twelve #myths of the realm #final fantasy xiv spoilers

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anystalker707 · 3 years

Text

You wish (1/2)

Pairing: Frank Iero x [non-binary, afab] Reader Word counting: ~ 2 200 Genre: Enemies to lovers Summary: Reader is the only one who doesn't take Frank's shit, but all the bickering eventually turns into flirting.

Requested on Wattpad

A sigh escapes my lips as I finish cleaning the last glass and put it under the counter along with the others before setting the cloth aside. It's going to be a busy night because, apparently, a band is going to play in the club tonight and that usually brings a lot of people in. On the other hand, at least Mikey is helping me today – let's hope he doesn't fuck up with anything, but if he does, it's Gerard's problem and not mine, after all.

"Hello," a guy greets as sitting down on one of the stools.

I raise an eyebrow at him, glancing at his clothes; white, with a hand drawn black symbol on the shirt. Probably someone from the staff considering we haven't opened yet. The club is empty apart from me, the cleanse people and the ones putting the stage up. "Hi."

"A beer, please." He presses his lips together into a smile, watching me moving to grab what he asked, pouring the drink into a glass before I set it in front of him and throw the can away. "Thank you..." It's clear he wants to know my name, but I don't say anything, carrying on with my job, and proceed to clean the empty area of the counter. He frowns. "What's your name? Nice to meet you, I'm Frank."

"I'm just the one in charge of the bar," I reply simply. Giving attention to everyone isn't something very wise to do and something I didn't learn easily; most of the idiots sitting around the bar will just insult me in the moment I reject them or say gross things, so talks certainly should be avoided. Even if it isn't from a customer.

"Aw, you're not funny!" His words don't sound genuine tho, the disappointment is hidden under certain amusement. "'Bet you don't have many clients while acting like that!"

Cool, just like predicted. To be honest, getting rid of this stain here is more interesting.

"Hi, hi," Mikey greets and I glance back to see him walking in with a smile, "oh, hey, Frank! Didn't know you'd be the one playing here tonight!" He moves to next to Frank leaning his side against the counter. I observe them for a brief moment – so Mikey knows the punk, huh?

"Yeah," Frank replies excitedly, "Gerard could help us with it, so..." He shrugs, smiling. "Didn't know you work here, either."

"I don't," Mikey chuckles. "I just help here once in a while."

"Laze around, you mean," I add, glaring at Mikey. He gasps, widening his eyes, but I speak up before he's able to say anything. "Not to mention that your last time here costed us two glasses, you butter fingers. Thank hell Gerard is the only one to be scolded!"

"C'mon, you know how difficult it is to handle these," he groans. "You're just being annoying."

"And rude," Frank adds under his breath. "'Won't talk with me."

Mikey raises an eyebrow at Frank before chuckling. "Not surprising. I wouldn't talk with you either if you showed up like that, even more knowing how you can be—"

"Stop, you're supposed to be helping me!"

"(Y/n) is just this way, c'mon!" Mikey shrugs. "And you're annoying. I bet they were just doing their work." He glares, moving to serve Frank a can of soda this time after he pushed his glass forward while muttering something. I can't help but to glance at them with an amused smirk, having fun in watching how Frank shoots me a bitter look and Mikey is being suspiciously nice today.

"Cut off the sweet talk, Mikey," I say as approaching them, putting the cloth away for real this time. "I'll love you more if you work more. And you." I turn to Frank. "Yeah, you're annoying."

While Mikey chuckles, a long and dramatic whine comes from Frank. "You just met me! You're the annoying one! And even rude!"

"I don't go around attacking people for free, Frank." I shrug, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. "And insulting me because I didn't do what you wanted me to? What are you, five?" I hold back a chuckle, rolling my eyes. Part of what I'm doing is because I am not going to take his shit, but it is also entertaining seeing how Frank can react.

As predicted, the night ends up being quite agitated, but Mikey and I do have a break during the concert since people focus more on the music instead of getting drinks, what gives us the opportunity to pay attention to it too. It's a bit difficult seeing them – LeATHERMOUTH, that's the name – because of the low stage and huge crowd, in a way most of what I can see resumes itself to Frank jumping around like crazy, though he sometimes disappears in what I presume to be kneeling on the ground and my suppositions he has any sanity left are erased when I see him with the cable wrapped around his head. Cool.

Frank returns after the show is over, asking for a drink and, once again, using that shitty attitude that I do not take.

Through the time, Frank's band makes more shows in the club and, if it wasn't for Mikey there – consequently –, I probably wouldn't be sharing any word with him again. He is annoying. It is literally impossible to talk to him for longer than five seconds without being attacked and receiving a rude remark, even if it turns into some kind of weird flirting through the time.

I suppress a sharp sigh when seeing Frank approaching after another show came to an end – even so, it's still early in the night and another band took over when they left the stage.

"G'night, what d'you want?" Pete, who is also working in the bar today – because Mikey couldn't make it due to something related to Electric Century, if I'm not wrong –, is free and approaches Frank in the moment he takes a seat on a stool across the counter. Thank hell, maybe I don't have to deal with the dumbass today.

"I actually want (y/n) to fix me a drink, thank you," Frank replies without any pity and I need to hold back a chuckle at Pete's reaction; Frank smirks a bit as meeting my gaze.

Throwing the Cosmopolitan in the glass, I push it towards the woman, finally moving towards Frank. "Hey, rat, good concert. Would've been better if you weren't there." I grin, leaning forward on the counter with my hands on the edge of it.

"Very funny!" He rolls his eyes, twisting his mouth a bit. "I bet watching me performing would be the best part of your night if it actually wasn't talking with me."

"You wish, you're always counting the seconds to come here annoy me," I breathe, shaking my head. "Anyways, what do you want?"

"I'm actually not up for much alcohol today..." Frank hums thoughtful as looking at all the drinks behind me while placing his elbow over the counter and resting his cheek against his palm. "I was going for a Manhattan, but fix me a Spritz instead."

"As you wish," I mutter while moving to grab the bottles I need then coming back to prepare the drink.

"So, Mikey isn't here today?" Frank asks and I slowly nod in response.

"Yeah," I reply after a moment, having been focused on getting the right quantity of each drink in a way it isn't too bitter or too boozy, just as he likes it, "apparently he had something else to do, so we fixed someone else." I mix everything before throwing it inside a glass with ice, adding a rosemary branch for the looks, and push it towards him. "I needed to endure you moaning your ass off on that stage all by myself, unfortunately."

Frank snorts as taking the drink, shaking his head to himself. "Shut up, you wish you were the one to be making me moan like that." He takes a sip of the drink and raises his eyebrows lightly, quickly taking another sip of it.

I roll my eyes, not worrying if my reaction is dramatic as I pretend to gag. "I actually wish I was the one wrapping the cable around your neck, y'know?"

"Aw, babe," Frank groans, looking up at me from under his eyelashes, "I'd love that."

The words set a silence between us for a moment, in which I glare at Frank with disbelief and he's got that fake innocent look on, batting his eyelashes while looking at me. His look gives me this weird feeling in my chest, but I look away before I can identify whether it's good or bad, cursing under my breath at the same time he starts laughing.

"You're terrible," I tell Frank, moving away once seeing a guy taking a seat.

"A Paloma, please," the guy asks and I nod, moving to do as asked.

"I'm the best, actually," Frank replies in his usual smug tone and I can't help but to laugh, sarcastically agreeing.

"Here." I hand the guy his drink, sighing as moving to take a few empty glasses away from the counter and hand it to Pete so he can go clean them.

"Thank you, baby." The guy winks at me and here we go again. I ignore him. "What's your name? You a cutie, aren't yah? When is your shift over? Maybe I could take you home," he insists, but his words just turn into a background noise that I try to ignore as moving to the back to put away the bottles I've used. "Oh, you gonna play it difficult? 'Bet you—"

"Can you please leave them alone?" Frank's voice cuts in and I need to glance back to make sure I'm not making things up and there is Frank, glaring at the guy. "C'mon, man, if they're not giving you attention, that's a no. Accept it nicely and don't make it obvious how frustrated with yourself you are."

"Who even do you think you are?" The guy retorts bitterly.

"I'm just—"

"Y'know what, I'm not coming here anymore," the guy grumbles to himself and just downs the drink before he stands up and disappears among the crowd. Frank and I share a confused look before shrugging.

"Thank you, I guess," I sigh as walking back to Frank, leaning on the counter with my forearms over it and we're about the same level. I observe him for a moment, thinking about what he did, and there's this feeling in my stomach again. Butterflies? No, no, no. Not for him. I try my best to not let him know about what's going in my mind, not looking away from him.

"Don't worry." He smirks and that's just Frank. He's always smug and convinced of himself, not afraid of saying what he thinks or feels. What an idiot. For real, I like it. "You deserved it."

"Honestly, I don't know how to react," I confess, "because, since we met, it's been sounding like you're going to throw me from a cliff in the moment you have the opportunity to."

"I'm not like that, (y/n)," he breathes, eyes drifting down for a second as he bites back an awkward smile. "I, um— You're actually really nice. I just like fucking around with you." He shrugs and looks down at his glass, playing a bit with the remaining ice cubes. I keep observing him, not replying, so he looks at me again, raising an eyebrow.

Y'know what? Fuck it.

I glance down at Frank's lips and a red tone immediately takes over his cheeks with it, but I just lean in and am actually surprised by him meeting me halfway. I can still taste the Spritz on his lips, faintly, what ends up irrelevant under how nice and surprisingly soft they feel against mine. His mustache brushes lightly against the skin under my nose, tickling it, something I try to ignore as cupping his face and deepening the kiss as he places his hand over mine.

There's this feeling in my stomach again, followed by a nice tingling sensation that goes down my spine while a warm sensation fills my chest. Okay; it feels right, for once.

"I'm driving you home," Frank mutters against my lips, a bit breathless, just like me.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I smirk a bit as we gaze at each other for a moment and I'm not sure about what'd happen next, but we are interrupted by Pete before I can find out. Idiot.

"Stop making out and go back to work, (y/n)," he calls from the other side of the bar and I sigh heavily, rolling my eyes as I move towards the couple who just approached the counter. "I'm going to tell Mikey about it!"

"You are not going to tell Mikey!" I glare at Pete before turning to the couple, asking what they want and quickly putting myself to prepare the two Martinis.

______

Part 2

#frank iero #fanfic #mcr #my chemical romance #mcr imagine #emo #emocore #frank iero imagine #frank iero x reader #leathermouth #enemies to lovers #mikey way #gerard way #ray toro #fan fiction #writer #my work #my post

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lavendersuh · 4 years

Text

what a feeling

johnny x fem!reader | badboy!au, too much fluff | 2.4k words

warnings: mentions of nicotine addition, alcohol

based off of this moodboard and au idea created by @neo-cult-ure!! thank you luv for allowing me to play around with this au idea! I originally wrote this bc i loved the idea and just wanted to self indulge in some writing a few nights ago. I probably could’ve fleshed this out more, but i’m in the middle of exams so i probably shouldn’t even be writing fic rn haha (fair warning tho there is so much fluff help) hope u enjoy!!

~~~

“I need your help.”

Haechan looks up to see an unexpected face peering over him. It wasn’t every day that resident bad boy Johnny Suh was asking a drama student for something. While the two of them ran around in slightly similar circles due to their mutual acquaintances, Haechan can’t remember the last time he spoke one-on-one with Johnny.

“What do you need my help with?” he asks curiously, as he shuts his locker.

“There’s this girl.” Johnny says, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “She’s different, Haechan, I need your help.”

Johnny has always been the most confident person Haechan knows. He always admired him for that, but now it appears that the tall boy has a rosy tiny covering his cheeks, along with a sheepish smile.

“My help? I can’t imagine being much help compared to Jaehyun… isn’t he your wing man?” Haechan responds.

He begins walking away, heading for his next class. He didn’t hate Johnny, nothing even close to that, but he was a bit suspicious of why he was coming to a self-proclaimed nerdy, drama student for help.

“This is different…” Johnny mumbles as he catches up with Haechan, “Do you know that diner a few blocks from here? The Neo Zone?”

Haechan looks over at him, “That neon, throwback place? Yeah, the theater kids go there after practice sometimes.”

“There’s a waitress there.” The older boy says, “She’s pretty, her laugh is like a song, Haechan, she’s perfect.”

“The problem, then?” Haechan asks. Johnny didn’t seem like the kind of person to have trouble with the ladies.

“She wants nothing to do with me.”

Haechan can’t help the laugh he lets out, “Did your usual flirting not work out for you?”

Johnny wasn’t a terrible guy, in fact, he could be very respectful (despite the cheesy pick-up lines sometimes), with a nice sense of humor and friendly smile to go along with it. But he had some bad habits. He refused to buy a helmet for his precious motorcycle. He smoked more than he should. He wasn’t always present during school hours. But underneath the leather jacket and torn up jeans, the boy wasn’t all that bad. He loved to flirt and fool around, but he never took things farther than someone wanted.

Johnny frowns at Haechan’s laughter, “I was hoping you could help me. She’s interested in 80s films, and I know you’re into stuff like that. You have a huge collection, don’t you? Could I borrow The Breakfast Club? Sixteen Candles?”

“Yeah, I can lend you some of them this weekend.” Haechan stops in front of the door to his next class, turning around to look back at Johnny, who’s grinning with appreciation.

“But Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna take more than just flirting and watching her favorite movies. You gotta get to know her.”

Johnny throws him a classic smirk, his confidence returning to his face, “Will do, Haechan.”

~~~

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn around without Johnny seeing the roll of your eyes. After his shameless flirting last weekend you knew he would probably be back.

His flirting wasn’t creepy; it was actually a little bit flattering. You couldn’t count on your hand the number of men that had spoken their fair share of sleezy comments to you. Johnny’s flirting was refreshing (but maybe that was just because he seemed to be your age instead of thirty years your senior). He asked about your favorite movies when you had mentioned liking 80s films. He complimented the sneakers you painted yourself.

But alas, he was also a walking stereotype, with the leather jackets and motorcycle parked just out front. When you waited on his table last time, you nearly coughed over the smell of nicotine that followed him around.

“Hi, Johnny,” you say, leading him to a booth in the corner, laying out the menu on the table.

“I watched some of the movies you told me about,” he says, smiling brightly at you, “Got any more recommendations?”

You can’t help but feel a bit flustered at the fact that he watched some of the stuff you recommended. He was paying you a lot more attention than you had previously thought.

While you take his order and bring out his food, Johnny flirts and makes jokes. You can’t help but smile at some of the things he says, despite yourself. By the end of his meal, you bring out his receipt, showing him the list of movies you wrote on the back in black pen.

“Thanks! Maybe I could take you out and we could talk about them sometime?” he asks, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

You roll your eyes at him, “You’re gonna have to do more than just watch my favorite movies for me to change my mind about you.”

“Am I really that bad?”

“You aren’t bad, Johnny. I just feel like I deserve more than just someone who smokes and rides a motorcycle without protection.” You say, walking off to ring up his order and get his change.

He huffs as you walk off. What was he to do?

~~~

‘This is stupid,’ Johnny thinks to himself as he pulls up to the diner, a week and a half later. He was driving Haechan’s car, but that wasn’t the only thing he had borrowed.

When Johnny had reconvened with the boy, Haechan told him he needed to change up his act in order to impress you.

And somehow this is how Johnny ended up walking into the diner with a dorky sweater and his hair neatly combed on a Friday evening. The neon sign of the diner glowed into the car, casting shadows on the funny pattern of the sweater.

He felt so stupid, but he was also kind of desperate. It was Haechan that had come up with the plan after suggesting he dress a bit nicer.

“I don’t know if I have any ‘nice’ clothes, Haechan,” Johnny had told the other boy.

“Then you can borrow some of mine!” Haechan looked up at how tall his friend was, “Or maybe my brother’s…”

Johnny knows he went overboard but he also really wants to see your smile again. He supposes it’s worth it.

“Welcome in,” you say, but as you turn around, you pause, “...Johnny?”

He smiles, reminding himself that he can be confident without the bad boy clothes and aesthetic. “Does your shift end soon? Could I take you out for ice cream?”

Somehow you can’t help but find the outfit change endearing, so you find yourself nodding. The boy was clearly trying to impress you, so you should at least give him a chance. And ice cream sounded excellent after a long shift. It couldn’t be all that bad, could it?

~~~

It ended up being quite nice, actually.

Johnny took you to an ice cream shop on the edge of town, leading you to a picnic bench after getting two cones of ice cream. As the sun fully slipped away and the stars started to come out along the purple sky, you both discussed movies, the future, your favorite foods, everything.

He was a good listener, holding eye contact and asking questions, full of attention. He told lovely stories when he wanted to, as well. You couldn’t help but find yourself to be a bit drawn to him when you finally gave him the time of day. His humor, his soft smiles, his contagious laugh. It was clear to see it would be easy to fall for someone like him.

It was hard though, knowing the reputation he held. He did risky things, a cigarette in one hand, his motorcycle keys in the other. From his stories, you knew he cut class. He never wore a helmet, either.

Just because he wore a nice sweater and borrowed a friend’s car didn’t change these things.

“I hope we can do this again, sometime.”

Johnny lightly holds your hand as he stands outside of your front door while dropping you off.

You looked up at him, his face soft under your front porch light. There was so much hope in his eyes, hope for the idea that you would give him more of your time, more of your smiles.

“Oh, Johnny,” you say, slowly, “This is really sweet, but this isn’t you.”

He looks confused for a moment, protesting, “Of course, this is me. I just cleaned up my act, like you said.”

You frown, “Sure, I did say that, but you changed all the outside pieces of yourself.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks.

“What? Johnny, no, of course not!” you exclaim, “I don’t care if you have this ‘bad boy’ act, and drink, and ride motorcycles. I just hate that you are so careless with yourself. You smelled like smoke every time I saw you. You never wear a helmet. You refuse to go to class sometimes. It hurts me seeing someone so bright, someone I’m enjoying getting to know, do nothing but hurt themselves.”

You squeeze his hand, hoping to offer some form of comfort while you speak your truths. “Just cause you changed your clothes doesn’t mean you are changed for the better.”

“What are you saying?”

“I like you, Johnny. You.” you say, taking his hand in yours, “Not this dressed up, masked version of you. I just want you to care about yourself. So I can care about you, too.”

Things are quiet for a moment, as Johnny stares at the ground. Finally, he looks up at you, an unknown flicker in his eyes.

You let go of his hand, “You have some stuff to work through. You’re sweet, Johnny, and I’m happy that we’ve gotten to know each other. Please call me when you figure things out.”

You go inside, leaving him frozen in place.

~~~

“Has Johnny come in lately?”

You are startled out of wiping down tables at the diner when you hear someone speak to you. You look up to see a honey-haired boy, who you recognize as Haechan, one of the drama club kids from school.

“You know him?” you ask, your eyes narrowed.

“Yeah,” Haechan rubs the back of his neck, “We’ve become friends recently. He told me he liked you. Asked to borrow some movies and stuff.”

Realization dawns on you that Johnny had probably gone to Haechan to get some guidance. The thought makes your heart squeeze. You’d been curious about where Johnny was getting the knowledge from. You recall Haechan being in the after school film club as well.

“He stopped coming in a while ago,” you say, “I gave him my number after we went out once, but I didn’t hear from him.”

You try to keep the feeling of sadness from washing over you, but you’re surprised at how affected you are by Johnny’s absence in the past few weeks. While his flirting could be a bit relentless sometimes, there was no doubt that he respected you through all of his charming antics.

“Hm..” Haechan seems to be deep in thought at your words.

You ask him if he wants to order anything, but he declines, thanking you for the offer before leaving nearly as soon as he had entered.

~~~

“Hey.”

You look up on your way out of the diner after your shift, startled by a voice. Johnny stands in the parking lot, next to his motorcycle, a soft smile across his face. He has his leather jacket back on, but surprisingly, you notice he has a helmet tucked under his arm, too.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, walking up to him, “You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Thought I’d come stop by,” he grins. “I heard you missed me.”

You look down shyly at the pavement, “I never said that… but yeah, I guess.”

It was a surprising feeling as you confessed that small truth to Johnny. It was boring around the diner without his conversations and flirting words. It felt nice to let those words out.

Johnny leans behind him, grabbing another, smaller helmet, “Wanna take a ride? I wanna take you out for another date. I even bought you a helmet. Hope you’re not scared to go a little fast.”

You nod, unable to keep the smile off of your face. It was nice hearing Johnny’s bluntness again. He seemed more relaxed, more comfortable with himself.

You run over to your car quickly, shoving your bag into the backseat before walking back over to Johnny. You climb on to the bike behind him, feeling him place the extra helmet on your head. While he adjusts it, his fingers brush across your face, sending chills down your spine.

Once he’s back in position, you boldly wrap your arms around his torso, letting your head rest across his jacket. You take a deep breath, expecting to smell the nicotine that follows him around, but his leather jacket smells fresh.

“Did you quit smoking?” you ask, as he turns on the motorcycle.

“Yeah, I quit after our date,” he explains, “I was kinda unbearable for a while there… That's why I didn’t come into the diner. After a while, I figured you woulda forgot about me.”

You let out a laugh as he pulls out of the parking lot, “How could I ever?”

You both ride along in silence, aside from your nervous laughs as the motorcycle speeds through traffic. You notice the elevation getting higher as he rides outside of the city.

Finally, he pulls off next to a scenic outlook overlooking the metropolis. The sun is starting to set, casting shadows along the buildings, along Johnny’s face. You can’t tell which you find more beautiful.

“I want to thank you.” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you to look at him.

“For what?”

“For caring about me. I didn’t even care about me.” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

You smile up at him, his soft words making you bold. You lean in, kissing his lips in response. After you pull back, Johnny wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the warmest hug of your life.

It seemed simple, really. As the sun set with an orange glow, marking the end of a day, it also marked a new beginning. It left you both with a warm feeling. And what a feeling it was.

#nct-writers #neothestars #neo-constellations #johnny x reader #johnny x you #nct x reader #nct x you #johnny scenarios #badboy au #johnny #nct #johnny suh #my writing

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hughiecampbelle · 4 years

Text

Something There (Matt Murdock Drabble)

Character/s: Matt

Word Count: 652

Tag List: I don't think anyone wants to read another therapy fic lol

A/N: I still don't have wifi, but I'm gonna waste data for this... So okay not to get tmi? But I've been having really bad paranoia lately, on the verge of delusions. To the point of being so scared I can't sleep. It's just another symptom of everything going on, and though I've been dealing for a while, it's been really bad lately. I'm trying to get a grip on it, but I'm tired. I really am. And honestly the best therapy sometimes is writing. I hope to be more on track soon, tho. Just know if you're feeling the same way, if you deal with the same thing, you're not crazy, I understand, and I'm always here if you wanna talk. Always. 💜💖💜

Summary: Matt doesn't understand, but he wants to 💕

Gif Credit: @mrssylargray :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The scream is there, bubbling up your throat, on the tip of your tongue. Muffled by the pillow over your face, by your own hands melted across your mouth, stifling the frustration, the exhaustion, the madness. Rational and irrational identical, playing games because they can, because they like to see the look on your face. The pain, the tears, fragility. You want to yell, but at who? What? The eyes in the windows glowing white, the claws screeching across the glass, the footsteps growing near, the voices, the whispering, the constant hush of the outside world bleeding in, none of its fucking real. None of it. Suddenly the cracked, aching bones of your skull are synonymous with the walls of your home. Something, someone, always trying to get in, get out, you're not quite sure anymore. Sliding off the bed, to the floor, where there is stability, a constant, tucked into a tight ball, wondering when it would all stop.

What it would take to make it stop.

It didn't start like this. Nothing ever did. A passing thought, a fear, something gnawing at your skin, not yet drawing blood. The doors, the windows, all of it locked. Checked. Twice. The curtains drawn, your eyes careful, cautious not to touch the the panes. Something could be there, stating back, waiting and watching. Almost there, but not quite. Not yet. Thorough, you argued, catching him watching. He didn't have to see it to pick up on the littlest of things. The constant click, click, click of the locks, the shuffle of your pacing, the smallest of buzzing as you turned on the bathroom light, letting it stream through the bedroom ever so slightly. An accident at first, you rationalized, denied, too comfortable in bed to turn it off. He didn't say a thing, believing you, wanting to, because he wasn't sure what the truth meant. Not for you, or your future.

And then, it became routine. The locks, the lights, the lies.

When the sun sets, the Terrible Things come out. Safe in the dark, the quiet, the still of the world, when everyone is asleep. You loved him, but you hated him, hated them. They didn't see it, hear it, and that's what made it even scarier. You lay beside him, your fists balled, heart thumping, threatening to break open your ribcage, your breath shallow, quick. You try to match his breathing, you do, but he doesn't know what's coming. You don't grab out like you used to, shaking him from his dreams, insisting someone is trying to get in. The door is locked. An alarm has been set. The door barricaded. A new thing, for safety. Books at first, sliding across the floor. The laundry basket, too full. For once, you were grateful for his disdain for chores. Anything you could find, to keep the door shut. Just in case. In case of what, though?

Matt could feel it. All of it. The flinching, the whimpering, the wincing at the things that weren't there. The rigidity of your body under his touch, reaching out without warning. You weren't sleeping, not more than an hour or two. Pretending to, though. Every time he moved, shifting, readjusting, he could feel you awake, tense, waiting for the sky to fall. He didn't know why. He didn't know why he kicked a pile of books by the door, why you were so sure to keep the lights on for as long as possible, why the very idea of leaving your home, your room, after dark made you choke up, your voice shaking as you tried to find another excuse. Too tired, too busy, too late. How could you explain? How could you tell him the truth when there was no truth to tell? Nothing was safe anymore. Inside the walls, the closet, the shadows, your own head.

Sharing the same bed, and yet world's apart.

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing. jjk x named f!reader. a bit of jhs x named f!reader (but not really)?

genre + rating. rockstar!au. e2l (exes n enemies!). general flangst? anguf? a blend of angst and fluff, tbh. mainly angst tho.

tags / warnings. sibling dynamics, introspective sadness, talk about not-so-healthy relationships (obviously), dumbass!jk, asshole!jk, jealous!jk, how many more jk tags can i add?, a silly reference to scott pilgrim. nothing serious.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif aka the loml!!!

wc. 3.1k

chapter four.

You and Yoongi don’t fight. It’s always been a point of pride - something to look at and smile on.

That must be why it feels so terrible now, with his knuckles blown white and enough rage to start a war simmering within his veins. You’ve never seen him like this: a world away from your soft Yoon, your best friend, your beloved brother.

“Yoongi, really--”

“No. Stop saying that.” Despite the fact that you know his anger isn’t directed at you - that you’re the farthest target in his mind - it still hurts, like getting caught in friendly fire. Pinpricks of guilt spill across your skin, nerve endings shot to hell by the way his mouth curls and tears, venom laced between his teeth and draped across his tongue. “He came here and you didn’t tell me? I told you - I’ll kill him.”

Hyperbole, you’re sure, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters. A little oh no for a boy who doesn’t deserve it - whose silhouette still carves a spectacularly painful hole in your chest.

“I didn’t want you to worry--” It’s not an excuse. It’s not meant to be. You never lie to Yoongi. Frankly, you don’t think you could.

“You’re my sister.”

It’s enough of a rebuttal that you’re reduced to silence. He’s right. You’re family; family don’t keep secrets.

“I’m sorry,” you try again, feeble and emphatic.

There’s an unbearable distance between you - a sea’s worth of sadness that rocks the rickety boat you’ve built. You can practically see it stretching on and on, sweeping you further and further from his safe shores. It’s an awful feeling.

“You’re my sister,” he repeats, suddenly so tired you worry for him. For once, he looks that much older than you, as if five years have forced passages of experience within his pages. “You can’t hide things from me. Who’s going to be there for you if not me?”

You want to rebuff him - insist that you’re stronger than he gives you credit for - but you know it’s not what he means. More than anyone, Yoongi believes in you. He sees your strength even when you can’t see your own; he’s been that strength more times than you can count.

The reality of your situation isn’t lost on you.

He’s the only one who knows everything you’ve been through. A diary in living breathing form, full of your most shameless secrets, your deepest worries, your worst heartbreaks.

“I know.” Apology threads each syllable, stitches them neatly to each other. The sincerity is blinding, bright white and earnest. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

The smile he offers is rueful, twisting the edge of his mouth in a manner you’ve adopted over the years. You return it without thought and then, all at once, the expanse is closed. He’s laughing - a sound that doesn’t ring true in the way you know it should - but it’s a laugh and you know everything is okay.

“Still worried,” he returns with a quiet sigh and flick of his wrist.

You’re with him in a breath, curled against his side on the couch you’d cried yourself to sleep on just days ago. While you’re both far closer in size than you’ve ever been - you were always a tiny kid growing up, even against Yoongi’s own slim frame - it’s reminiscent of your childhood and being caught beneath haphazardly strewn sheets and disorganised chaos in the form of blanket forts.

Dry lips find a home against the side of your head, his arm dragging you to warmth. “You’re an idiot, you know.” He says it in the way only an older brother can - with all the frustration and love in the world.

You do know, intimately well, how idiotic you are. Have been. Seemingly always will be.

“I know,” you mumble, sad into the raised hood of your sweater. “But I made him leave.” It sounds like a child begging for praise - to be told they’ve done well. You won’t deny you need it now.

Good is the first thing Yoongi says, a little flippant and with a hard set of his jaw. More comes when he catches your expression and the way the dent forms between your brows, the tiny pout of your lips. It’s the same face you’ve made all your life - one that hits him right behind the ribs like a Whack-A-Mole game at the carnival.

“You did good, Vivi. I’m proud of you.” They’re bandages, sticky and adhesive on the stitches Jungkook’s visit had torn open. “You’re great and he’s…” There are words he’d like to use - a million scathing adjectives to paint the asshole in technicolour - but he knows better. Knows you can’t take it, at least not right now. “He doesn’t deserve you. You get that, right? You’re better off without him.”

You nod against his side but offer nothing further. The silence speaks worrying volumes.

“You’re not going to answer him again, right?”

Some half-mumbled non-committal response comes. Yoongi wants to tear his own hair out. Better yet, he wants to tear yours out. Instead, he blows a long exhale through his nose, free hand coming to scrub across his face. When will you learn?

“I’m scared.”

It’s so quiet even you hardly hear it, ear tucked against the cotton of Yoongi’s flannel. You think, for a moment, maybe he’s missed it too. Then he squeezes you a little tighter: a silent reassurance.

“Seeing him again just brings back so many memories.” Every other word is muffled but it’s the most you can do. Courage is carried quietly - too loud and you’ll shatter it. “I thought three years would be enough. It should be, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question; Yoongi still debates answering it, just for his own sake.

“Maybe he’s changed. Or maybe I’ve changed. It could be different.” It’s a clandestine belief and one you shouldn’t speak to life - especially to your brother. It spills forth of its own accord, wrong for so many reasons but begging to be asked. You have no control over it and the hope it sows somewhere within your chest.

“You can’t actually believe that.”

It’s infinitely more scathing than Hoseok’s reaction, tearing out of Yoongi’s mouth like a bullet. You can’t help the way you frown, brows drawn and lips pursed. You’ve known Yoongi your whole life. Reading between the lines feels like you’re fucking stupid but you know it’s not quite so harsh. A frustrated you dumb idiot, maybe.

“Don’t make that face.”

“I’m not making any face.”

“Yes, you are. It’s the same one you made when I embarrassed you on your first date. Also the one you made after you threw up all over Hoseok’s shoes the first night you met him.” The recollection doesn’t help your cause - you’re grimacing even more deeply, chagrin spilling into misery in the form of red hot heat over your cheeks. “Don’t resent me for being realistic, Vivi. You know he hasn’t changed.”

The silence is childish. You know that.

“You can’t fix people.”

He arrives with flowers. Two full bunches of your favourite blooms - pretty peonies in shades of coral and lavender. They’re heavy in his arms, held so gingerly it’s almost comical as he extracts himself from the vehicle he most definitely should not be driving. He wonders whether you’ll be home - if he’ll get to see your expression when he presents them to you. He hopes you’ll light up, brighter than the sun in the sky and better than any nightlight.

What he doesn’t expect is someone walking up the sidewalk, gym bag slung across his shoulder like he’s getting ready to settle in for a long night. Short - atleast a few inches shorter than himself - with a stupid face that makes Jungkook want to punch it. Dumb shoes, too. Who the fuck wears Off-White Jordan 1s in that colourway?

There’s a permanent scowl etched across his face as he watches from behind the tinted comfort of his car, single hand caught around the edge of the door. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s perhaps crushing the stems cradled in his arms, inked knuckles blown white around quickly crumpling brown paper.

Maybe he’s your neighbour. Or maybe he’s going to the other house or maybe—

No, he’s definitely walking right up the front path.

The words are out before Jungkook can stop them, shouted into the quiet afternoon more loudly than he anticipates. “Hey!”

Dumbass with the face turns, full of surprise and wandering eyes. He hesitates halfway up your stoop, looking stupider than ever as he looks around for the source of the voice.

Then his stare falls on the brunet with his hands full and it’s like a flip has switched - mouth hardening into a line that raises the hairs on the back of Jungkook’s neck. He’s glaring at him (or something close to it).

Seriously - who is this fucker?

“Can I help you?” Hoseok speaks far more reasonably, at an octave that doesn’t shatter the peace of the residential neighbourhood. He’s still caught on the steps, fist tight around the strap of his bag as he studies the man - no, boy - that jogs up to meet him, two rungs the only thing separating the two of them.

“Do you know Vira?”

A part of Hoseok flinches at Jungkook’s casual use of your name - like he knows you or deserves to address you like an old friend. This kid really was clueless.

When he speaks, he’s perfectly composed, tension held tight behind his teeth. “I said, can I help you?”

Jungkook bristles at the response, some snarky comment threatening to knock the other off his apparent high horse. He barely catches it, grinding it down into a fine powder beneath his molars. He has to tread lightly here.

“I’m a friend of hers.” Not a lie, per se. You two were friends; after all, you’d come when he’d called. That meant something, right? Had to.

“A friend?” Disbelief slips into place, evident in the tone of Hoseok’s voice, how his brows shift beneath his chestnut fringe. He knows better than to believe Jungkook - has heard all the heartbreaking stories - but he can’t quite keep the worry from worming it’s way into his thoughts. They settle uncomfortably, just beneath the surface. “Is she expecting you?”

Everything about Hoseok makes Jungkook hate him. From the sneakers he wears to the watch on his wrist - understated, all gold, more expensive than a nerd like him should have - there’s something undoubtedly punchable about him.

It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that he’s seemingly close with you. Definitely not.

“I was going to surprise her.” The flowers are held aloft, gesticulated in the best manner Jungkook can manage with his arms so full. “I didn’t know she was expecting you.” It’s a cheap tactic - recycling words - but he can’t think of much else beyond fitting his foot into this guy’s mouth.

“She’s not.” Sharp, sparse, with no hint of indulgence. Hoseok’s not about to get into a verbal sparring match with Jungkook. It’s not worth his time.

He is, however, going to put him in his place - and easily at that.

“She’s still at work.” Slim bundle of keys rise - two unassuming and one for an Audi. Perhaps unnecessary but Hoseok takes great pleasure in the other’s expression.

Tch is Jungkook’s first thought before the second smacks him straight in the face. He has a key to your place? The fact rubs him all the wrong ways despite the fact that he has no right to be bothered; it isn’t his home any more - hasn’t been in years. It still hurts, though, right behind his ribs and all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

Is this how you felt all those times?

Something like nausea builds in Jungkook’s stomach, throwing acid up the walls of his throat. It burns and strings, licking painfully all the way into his mouth. His teeth ache - buzz uncomfortably - and his tongue feels suddenly far too heavy. He wonders if he might choke on it.

Then, slowly, in a voice he doesn’t recognise. Too soft, years younger, uncertain. “Can you give these to her?” He hates it.

He hates even more the way Hosoek looks at him, with such pity Jungkook wants to curl it around his fist and break the older man’s teeth with it. It’s something he’s seen a handful of times - from you, from your brother, from his worried mother when she thinks he doesn’t notice. It never gets easier.

It forces him into a position he hasn’t been in in years: weak.

“I don’t think so.” By how calmly Hoseok speaks, it’s almost as if he’s commenting on the weather or passing along a banal bit of information. It’s far too nonchalant to be breaking Jungkook’s heart, splitting it cleanly in two.

“Why not?” Jungkook’s petulant, a child denied his favourite toy, forced into time-out.

That’s not for you screams Hoseok’s expression. She’s not for you. “I’m not comfortable with doing so.”

The sinking feeling hasn’t stopped for Jungkook. It goes and goes until he wishes he were six feet under, buried under ground as low as he feels. He should leave. He knows he should leave - if only to stop the discomfort that’s gripping every nerve, twisting them like an elbow about to snap.

“Anyway.” There’s boredom working its way into Hoseok’s stare, relaxing the shape of his mouth until it falls wide around a short, terse sigh. “If you’re friends, you can get in touch and drop them off later.”

He’s done playing gatekeeper - can feel his frustration bubbling to the surface in a way he’s not about to entertain. He nods once, dismissive, before turning away from the so-called rockstar that seems terribly small and the farthest thing from it.

“Goodbye.” Then he’s disappearing into your home, leaving Jungkook on the steps with his tail between his legs.

You return home three hours later - blissfully unaware of what’s transpired.

You set your dinner on the kitchen island, deftly unpacking takeout boxes as Hoseok hurries to your side to help. You don’t mind when he bumps into you, knocking his hip against yours with a heart-shaped smile.

It burns a little brighter than usual. “Good day?”

He hums in response, sneaking a yellow tomato from the salad box he’s just popped open. “Something like that.”

“Something like that?” You can’t help but echo him, a pretty parrot with shining eyes and a silk bow in your hair. “Don’t play coy, Jung Hoseok.” A digit closes the minimal distance between you, finding purchase against his side - right where he’s most ticklish.

He shrieks, nearly upending the fries he’s tried to dump onto a ceramic plate.

“Hey!” Hands swat, then fold, catching your fingers between his in an awkward hand-hold. “Keep your hands to yourself, Vi.”

“You don’t complain normally,” you retort. You’re not wrong. Skinship with you is one of his favourite things, fourth only to his dog, dancing, and a certain green-labelled soda.

“Well, today’s a special day.”

Hoseok really doesn’t know where he’s going with his words - only hoping that he’ll find their destination somewhere along the way. He doesn’t want to tell you too soon, all too aware of how the mention of your ex will bring this perfect moment crumbling down. He wants to hold it, perhaps a little too tightly, for as long as he can. He thinks he’s doing you a service, giving you these few extra minutes.

“Oh yeah?” You’re twinkling eyes and pealing laughter, so far removed from the bag of bones and sadness of only days prior. It’s hard to believe there’s something broken inside of there - tucked right behind your breastplate and out of sight.

“Yeah.”

You wait for him to continue, opting instead to fill the silence with mouth noises. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. He always does.

“Jungkook came by.” It comes halfway through a bite of a french fry, the carb nearly bringing you to an early death when you choke on it. All at once, everything spins, as if just the name is enough to upend your entire world. Hoseok’s clapping your back, rubbing soothing circles over the cotton of your shirt, and you’re struggling to find words or breath - heaving around the sudden heaviness.

“What?” So small, it’s hardly a word.

“He was here when I got here.” You’re not oblivious to the careful way he speaks, choosing his words with utmost care. You don’t miss his grip either, gentle and unyielding at your side - as if he might steady you beneath the sudden tidal wave of emotion.

You do well, keeping your voice level once you’ve found it again. “And? What did he want?”

Hoseok does you the great service of pretending as if he doesn’t hear the hope in your voice. You’re grateful for that.

“He came with flowers.” Not quite a laugh comes - more unimpressed and derisive than amused. “Two bouquets, actually.” You can feel him studying you from your periphery, his careful stare trained on your face and the dozen emotions that run rampant through it. “Your favourite flowers too.”

Your laugh matches his own, though far heavier, as if the sound won’t form without immense effort. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” It’s a word you’ve heard a lot tonight. It feels right. One syllable to encompass every feeling you can’t properly articulate. “He asked me to give them to you.”

It should surprise you but it doesn’t. Jungkook’s never been one to ask - instead taking what he wants - but it’s still funny. Of course he’d ask that of Hoseok, as if the act itself weren’t terribly strange, the flowers an unwelcome, begging apology. Jeon Jungkook only did what he wanted - etiquette be damned.

“I don’t see them anywhere.”

“I told him I wasn’t comfortable doing it.” There’s a touch of pride, glimmering gold painted over consonants and vowels. It’s understated in the way that Hoseok always is - not how he looks, but is; you’re drawn to it nonetheless, squeezing your fingers around his own in a silent thank you.

“I hope it wasn’t weird.” It must have been. It’s still the thought that counts.

Hoseok hams it up, scoffing like it’s just been another day. “Weird? Of course not. I have to deal with my friend’s horrible exes all the time. I’m practically Scott Pilgrim.”

“Does that make me Ramona Flowers?”

“No - but you’re my flower.” He says it in jest, only to make you smile, because he knows you need it right now.

You try not to think of how you prefer Pumpkin, instead.

tag list. @jalexad @aa-ronpa @kookiesbreaky @celestialflamefairy @xjoonchildx @pars-ley @seokjinssi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @patpus @dazedjjk @koozui @jinhitwhore @always-wishing-for-rain @neverthefirstchoice @snackhobi

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andshedoesitagain · 4 years

Text

Taking care of you.

Spencer Reid x Reader Words - 2440

@paracosmoses asked - “ Hey, Dylan! I hope you're safe 💚 I absolutely melted while reading "I'll carry you", so I wanted to request a reid imagine (totally fine if you don't feel like it): reader being a bau member who had confessed feelings for reid and he'd rejected them (even tho he felt the same). One night out at a karaoke with the team, reader gets drunk and sings like goodnight n go/imagine/rem (i'm just a sucker for ari but thought i'd be fitting), and they talk.. Idk i'm terrible w plots but i trust you hehe.”

///Thank you so much for this request!! I hope you’re safe too and thank you for the compliment, writing this was a lot of fun and the plot you came up with was great!! So I hope you enjoy it :) ///

Warnings - Alcohol & Vomit

It had been no surprise when you and Spencer had gotten paired up to do a late shift, paperwork that had been piled up for days, mysteriously placed on your desk just as everybody was rushing out the door to get home. It wasn’t like you minded much though, you practically spent every waking moment with your curly haired teammate, having become close when you had first joined the BAU, and the others had obviously taken notice.

Looking up from the last file in front of you, you were met with a gentle smile and a hand stretched out your way, raising a brow you let out a confused chuckle. “Yes?”

“I’m going to walk you home,” Spencer stated, his hand still outstretched. Taking a quick glance to the file, you quickly signed off on it before swivelling your chair to look at the man in front of you. Shaking your head amusedly, you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “You don’t need to walk me home, I know we live close, but I imagine you’re wanting to get home as much as I am.” You said, picking up your jacket and bag, looking at him over your shoulder.

“No, it’s okay, I like knowing you got home safe anyway.” This made you smile, looking back to the ground to avoid him seeing the small flush on your cheeks. “Okay, if you insist,” dramatically you dragged out your words, gazing at the small smile on his face as he pulled on his own jacket.

You had spent most of the walk joking around with him, trying to ignore the fleeting bumping of hands, or how he’d pull you to the side when you were just away to walk through a puddle. Every little thing making you overthink, although you did your best to dismiss the butterflies in your stomach, although they only continued to build as you contemplated the confession on your mind.

It wasn’t until you finally reached your front door, did you feel your chest begin to ache. “We’re here, and your safe, so I think I’ve done my duties,” Spencer joked, your own little chuckle slipping out.

Taking a deep breath, you felt a surge of confidence. “I uh, I have something to tell you.” The words came out quick, rolling out your mouth before you really had a moment to think about them. Spencer nodded, taking his hands out of his pockets. “I don’t want this to change anything about us, I just need to tell you, to just get it off my chest, okay?”

Reid nodded, his expression soft except the slight furrow of his brow. You took another deep breath. “I have feelings for you.” As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back up, even more so when Spencer looked to the ground, avoiding your eyes completely as he tried to slink away. For the first time you felt like you couldn’t read him, and it almost hurt.

“I-I’m sorry.” The words hit you like a truck, a type of blind confusion you weren’t used to smacked across your face. Spencer still hadn’t look back at you, “I can’t, it’s just not—” As he stuttered his way through his words, you cut him off, nausea and embarrassment both taking over your body.

“It’s fine, never mind,” you weakly laughed, “just pretend I never said anything, I’m tired, that’s all, not thinking straight.” He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Taking that as your queue you turned around to open your front door, the shaking in your hands causing you to fumble with your keys, “shit,” you mumbled in frustration.

As you got the front door open, you turned to Spencer who stood still in the same place, a look of guilt painting his face, “goodnight, Spence,” voice cracking you smiled at him before closing the door.

The next few days were difficult, a new type of stiffness now surrounding the both of you, and you had taken every chance you could to avoid being alone with him, in truth you felt guilty, having drove the wedge between the both of you in the first place. Despite the tension, Spencer still sent you soft smiles from across his desk, and you still found a cup of coffee placed on your own desk every morning, the same little smiley face drawn on as he usually did, but things still felt different.

Your other teammates had also felt the subtle shift of atmosphere, them all send quizzing looks your way, JJ even pulling you to the bathroom at one point to talk. Awkwardly you stumbled through what happened, although instead of the look of awkward sympathy you had been expecting to get, she instead held one of confusion, biting her lip as pushed her hair behind her ear, muttering a quiet, “well that doesn’t make sense.” Though she quickly brushed it off when you brought it up.

“Let’s go to a karaoke night,” Penelope randomly proposed that night, your team all pursing their lips sceptically, “aww, come on, it’ll be fun, and it’ll be a nice change of scenery from our usual bar!” Looking at you almost pleadingly, you titled your head slightly back at her before sighing.

“Sure, I’m up for it.” Sitting back in your chair, you smiled at Penelope who clapped her hands excitedly, glancing over you caught a pair of brown eyes, Spencer gingerly staring at you before looking over to Penelope.

“I’ll come too,” Spencer said trying to play it off nonchalantly as he was met with the others looks of confusion. Soon enough the others agreed, and you found yourself driving towards the quaint but flashy karaoke place.

Everybody had ordered drinks as soon as they got in, and you hadn’t held back, practically throwing them down as you sat with the others, causing Derek to pat you on the shoulder, “woah slow down there, kid.” The others also took notice of your quickly emptying glasses, Reid looking at them like he was counting them before shooting a slightly worried glance your way.

One by one your team went up and sung on the karaoke machine, everybody clapping along with whatever song even if it was slightly out of time and messy. Resting your face in your hand, you smiled happily and slightly drunkenly at Penelope while she sung up on the stage, hollering as your vision danced and blurred.

When she came down, she accepted a round of high fives from everybody at the table, before JJ spoke, “C’mon Y/N it’s your turn now!” They all clapped and gently nudged up to the stage as you staggered slightly, laughing as you clambered on to the stage.

Absentmindedly you scrolled through the little screen containing the songs until you found one you knew, “I love this one!” You exhaled grinning over at your teammates who were all still shouting their words of encouragement.

The music kicked in through the speakers and you found yourself swaying to the music, every few moments squinting to look at the screen through fuzzy eyes. “Tell me why you gotta’ look at me that way, you know what it does to me,” you sung into the mic, your gaze searching for a familiar head of curls, locking eyes as you continued. “I got you, I got you dreamin’, close your eyes and your screaming.” Staggering through the words, you still swayed not looking away from Spencer, whose cheeks were almost as red as yours.

Cheering still rung throughout the room, “Oh why’d you have to be so cute, it’s impossible to ignore you, ah,” all shyness was abandoned due to your stomach full of alcohol, “why must you make me laugh so much, it’s bad enough we get along so well, just say goodnight and go, oh, oh, oh.” Spencer hadn’t taken his eyes off you, shifting in his seat as worry slowly furrowed into his brow, stressfully watching as you continued to stagger and sway.

It wasn’t until you felt a burning in your throat did you pause, stomach churning as you rushed off the stage. You had practically thrown yourself into the bathroom, retching over the toilet for a couple of minutes, before sliding down the wall, dizzy and your body aching all over.

Catching a glimpse of your self in the mirror, you saw how red and patchy your face as well as how swollen your lips had become. The bitter taste of alcohol and vomit coated your mouth, as you just rested your head against the wall, your eyes fluttering close tiredly.

A gentle knock from the door, alerted you, “it’s occupied right now,” you croaked out, your throat still scratchy and sore. Despite your words, the handle slowly went down, and Spencer poked his head around it, eyes widening as he looked at the state you were in.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Kneeling beside you, he placed his hands on either side of your face, feebly you rolled your eyes open.

“Hey Spence, not really,” you slurred, “I’m really drunk and really sorry,” as nonchalantly as you spoke, your face still scrunched up in his hands, reaching up to pull on his sleeve you spoke again, “like really sorry that I ruined everything, and I’m really sorry I’m in love with you, it’s okay you don’t love me back, really it is.” Eyes beginning to water, Spencer’s own eyes widened once again.

“Hey, hey it’s ok,” pushing your hair behind your ear with his finger, his tone was soothing and careful as he spoke again. “Let’s get you home, okay?” Although his words weren’t really registering as you just wanted to fall asleep right there and then, you nodded letting your hand fall to the ground as you let go of his sleeve.

Practically lifting you to your feet, you put your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes once again, as you both walked out of the bathroom. Placing you on a chair, you heard mumbles coming from him and your other co-workers just being able to make out, “…taking her home…” the rest all sounding garbled in your head. Your jacket being placed over your shoulders, you felt hands calmly pushing your arms into the sleeves before moving away. You could also just make out Penelope’s voice near one ear, as well as feeling a small kiss being placed on top of your head, and even with your eyes closed you pulled a tired smile.

Before you knew it, you were on your couch, the moments from the karaoke place to your house missing from your memories. Opening your eyes once again you smiled at Spencer who was knelt in front of you his voice fading in, “…Y/N hey, here’s a glass of water, take a few sips for me,” his voice was patient and soft as you took a drink, the water cool against your hot throat. “Awesome,” he said as you placed the glass down.

Blinking a few times, you surveyed your living room, “How’d I get here?” You asked, looking back to him.

“I drove you, but you have to get some sleep now, can you get your jacket off while I go and find a bowl?” You nodded in reply pushing the jacket from your shoulders and dumping it on the ground. Hearing some clambering, Spencer emerged back bowl in hand, he placed it down by the couch, hoping you’d take initiative if you were going to be sick again. “Okay, lie down on your side, slowly,” he directed, his tone still patient as you shuffled around and lied down, Spencer adjusting the pillow under your head.

“Are you gonna stay?” You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Of course,” you heard just as you slowly slipped to sleep.

As soon as the sun hit your eyes, you groaned, your head pounding violently as you pushed yourself up onto your elbow. Looking down your eyes squinted at the blanket tucked around you, even more when you looked down to the shoes still on your feet. However, you couldn’t help your expression of shock when you looked over to the other couch in your room, Spencer splayed out across it, yet facing you, fast asleep.

He also still had his shoes on, his jacket placed neatly over the back of the couch. Swinging your legs over the couch, as silently as possible you pulled off your shoes, before tiptoeing over to where he was. Sitting next to him you softly poked his shoulder, “Spencer,” he continued to sleep, “Spence, wake up.”

Finally, his brown eyes fluttered open, slightly bloodshot, purple bags standing out under his eyes. Sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes, smiling warm-heartedly at you, “hey,” he whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile back, “good morning.”

“Are you feeling better?” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down.

“My head feels like it’s on fire,” you laughed timidly, pushing your own hair behind your ear, memories of last night slowly pouring in. Gasping you put your head in your hands. “Oh my god,” your eyes darted back up to him, cheeks red, “I am so sorry about last night, I don’t know what I was thinking, just forget anything I said…or did, oh god.” You placed your face back into your hands, too embarrassed to look at him.

This time he took one of your hands away from your face, “no, I’m sorry.” Looking to the ground in thought, “when you told me about how you felt, I didn’t know how to respond, or how to feel,” slowly he rubbed small circles into your hand, as you listened intently, “I never expected you to feel the same, so I tried to push away how I felt about you.” Gradually, your eyes widened, your mouth dry.

“You feel the same way?” The words came out slowly, like you were still processing them while you spoke.

Spencer mumbled, “yeah, and I should’ve told you that night, I don’t even know why I didn’t, it was just all so shocking, and then it felt like you were avoiding me, and then I thought it was too late,” he rambled, your expression softening. Without thought you threw yourself into him, wrapping your arms him in an embrace, “I would totally kiss you right now, but even I don’t wanna taste my own mouth right now.” Laughing, he held you tight, pulling back to push your hair behind your ears with both of his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“This’ll do for now.” He mumbled, matching your grin and soft eyes.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n

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moonlitwings1 · 4 years

Text

Pumpkin Patch

“That one’s too small, Billy,” Max huffs, turning her head back to focus on the pumpkin in front of her. “You can’t carve on that.”

“The fuck you know about pumpkin sizes?”

“Ms. Cris said it has to have a large enough surface so it’ll be easy to carve.”

“Then get that one,” Billy says, pointing to a large yellow pumpkin. He was getting impatient, it’s been ten minutes now, just waiting around for Max to choose a fucking pumpkin. They’ve been looking at row after row of pumpkins. Not to mention that he’s freezing his ass off. He’s wearing a button down with most of the buttons popped open, so that’s not helping his case, but if he’s going to freeze to death, might as well look hot while doing so.

Max turns to look at the pumpkin he’s pointing at, and sighs like she’s tired of his shit, which pisses him off immediately. If anyone’s tired of anyone’s shit, it’s him. “That’s the ugliest color, Billy.” She’s not wrong. It was an pasty yellow color.

“Don’t care. You’ve got 10 seconds to chose a pumpkin or we’re leaving without,” he says, already starting to push past her.

“Wait! How about this one?” she asks, pointing at the one she was just examining. Without hesitation, he grabs the pumpkin and holds it under his arm like a football.

“Great. Let’s go.”

After paying for it, he takes Max by the arm and leads her to the car, hitting the gas before she even closes the door completely.

“You’re going to help me carve it out, right?”

His head snaps over to her. “What the fuck? No.”

“Mom said-”

“I don’t care what your mom said. I’m telling you no.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her toss her head up in frustration, banging it against the headrest.

“I’m not allowed to carve it without an adult, Billy!”

“You’re 14. I’m sure you can handle a knife fine.”

“Tell my mom that!”

He doesn’t bother to reply, choosing to focus on the icy roads ahead of him. Dangerous to speed on, but that’s not going to stop him. He hears her let out a high-pitched noise that sounds awfully like a whine. He can’t help the snort that comes out. This is a dumb thing for her to get frustrated about.

“Please, Billy. I need it for school tomorrow. I promise it’ll be fun. We can decorate it and stuff. I’ll even give you part of the prize if I win.”

“Prize?”

“Yeah! They give a candy basket each year to the winners. I’ll give you all the chocolates if you help me.” She’s talking faster now that she realizes she’s gotten his attention, only a matter of time before he loses interest.

“You’ll give me all the chocolates and I don’t have to drive you anywhere for a week if you win.”

She hesitates at that, mulling it over. “Deal. But you actually have to help me, not just sit there.”

He snorts. “We’ll see.”

-----

They started with gutting the pumpkin first. Billy had pulled a large, white sheet over the table so Susan won’t blow a gasket when they inevitably spill pumpkin guts all over it.

"Go grab a knife, Max,” he says, watching as she rushes to do what she’s told. It’s amusing watching her scramble for it. He’s pretty sure she’s scared that one wrong move will get him to ditch the project. She’s not wrong.

He grabs the knife from her and starts carving out the top. Max stands there silently while watching, ready to do anything he says. His little apprentice. Ironic since this is supposed to her project.

“You know what you’re going to carve this into?”

Max shuffles her feet. “Um, I have a skull stencil we can use. I wanted to make one that looks like your tattoo.”

He grunts at that, too focused on cutting the top open.

“It doesn’t have a cigarette tho,” she presses on. “I was thinking we could stick one of yours in the middle of it.”

“So you want me to help you with this dumb shit and give you one my cigarettes that I paid for with my own goddamn money?”

“...Yes?”

“Not a chance in hell,” he smirks, pulling at the stem.

“But-”

“Got it open,” he says triumphantly, holding the stem out in front of her. “Go get some ice scream scoops.”

She clambers away and comes back with two in hand along with a bowl. He takes the bowl from her and gets to work, nudging her to do the same. In 10 minutes, they’ve gotten the pumpkin pretty scraped down.

“Ew. Look at all the guts,” she says, poking at the bowl.

“Save them. Maybe Susan’ll want to make use of it.”

Max nods. “I’ll get the stencils.”

He’ll let Max do the tracing herself. If he’s being honest, his arm hurts from all that scooping. Getting the top off the pumpkin put strain on his arm. It's harder than it looks, ok?

He hoists himself up from the rickety chair under him and pulls out a cigarette and his lighter. “I’m going out to smoke,” he mumbles as he passes Max in hallway. He doesn’t wait for her reply before pushing the door open and slipping outside.

---

“Billy!” he hears Max shout from the inside. “I’m finished!”

Ten minutes pass too fast, he thinks. Sighing, he flicks the cigarette butt onto the driveway below him. He’ll probably get shit for that later. He walks back in to see Max focusing with her tongue sticking out from between her teeth, fixing the messy edges with a marker. He reaches out to ruffle her hair, chuckling when she tries to shove his hand off of her.

“What’s next, shitbird?”

“We have to carve it now, dumbass. What do you think?”

He scowls at her for a long moment before flicking her nose. “Lose the attitude.”

“Ow, Billy!” she whines, rubbing her nose with one hand and pushing him with the other. “That hurt.” Whiney bitch. He didn’t even do it that hard.

“Hand me the knife.” She gives him a glare before shoving the knife into his hand. He has zero experience in pumpkin carving so this won’t turn out well. Especially since Max didn’t want to help him by choosing an easy design. The skull she had drawn on seems simple enough, but it has way too many teeth to carve individually. He’s not too worried about it though; he’ll just make some adjustments.

Max sits beside him and watches him, her chin resting on the table. "Do we have candles?”

“Probably. Why? You can’t bring them to school unless you want to start a fire.”

“I know, but I want to put one inside the pumpkin when halloween actually comes,” she says. “It’ll look spooky to trick or treaters.”

Billy looks up at her. “You’re still allowed to go trick or treating?” Max got grounded a couple days ago for sneaking out when Neil was home. For all his talk about respect and responsibility, he can’t even watch his own step-daughter.

“No,” she sighs. “I wish. That’s why I wanna win this. So I can still have more candy than all my friends without even going trick-or-treating.”

He stares at her for a moment. There’s no way she’s serious. When she just glares at him harder, eyes squinted, he laughs. “That’s why you want to win? So you can have more candy than all your little friends? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard today.” Sometimes he forgets that Max is just a kid that stresses about dumb kid stuff.

“’s not stupid,” she mumbles, but it sounds weak. “I just want candy.”

“Couldn’t tell,” he chuckles, bringing his focus back to the task at hand. One wrong move, and it’ll turn into shit.

----

...many wrong moves later...

“Maybe we could put a hat on to cover it up?”

The pumpkin looked horrifying and not in the intended way. The eyes and nose were ok, a little too boxy, but they weren’t terrible. But the teeth. Oh, the teeth. He could say it was an artistic choice but even that wouldn’t be able to excuse it.

“Hat’s not going to do shit to cover up the front, dumbass.”

“Well it’ll distract from...all that,” she says, hands motioning towards the pumpkin.

“You know, this is your fault for making the stencil so detailed.”

She turns to look at him, mouth agape, indignant. He wishes he could take a picture of that face and frame it. “Wha--my fault?! It’s your fault for not being able to follow the stupid stencil!”

“Who puts teeth on a jack o'lantern, Max? Jack o'lanterns don’t have teeth. They have fucking gaps in their mouth.”

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to look like a jack o'lantern. It was supposed to be a skull but you botched it,” she huffs, crossing her arms across her body. “Now it looks like a skull that needs braces...or dentures. You made a grandma skull.”

Normally, he’d see red with an ungrateful, bratty attitude like that, but even he has to agree with her. Laughing, he replies, “True. Ya got me there, but why the fuck did you think I’d be able to carve tiny fucking teeth?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, dropping her arms. “I guess I thought you had potential or whatever.”

“Now why the fuck would you think that?”

She laughs. A genuine one too, and try as he might, he can’t push aside the pride that fills his chest from making her laugh.

She shrugs, “Good question.”

They sit there in silence for a minute, admiring their monstrosity. Billy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

“Go get a piece of tape. If we’re going to have a grandma skull, might as well make it a badass one.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to give me a cigarette that you paid for with your own ‘goddamn money,’” she snarks, putting words into air quotes.

He scowls at her. “You better get that tape quickly before I change my mind.”

She rolls her eyes before leaving in search of tape. Ungrateful brat. She comes rushing back with a piece of tape on her finger that he snatches up. He sticks the cigarette on the lower part of the mouth and tapes it down. Still looks shitty.

“Wait!” Max says, looking like she just had a lightbulb moment. “I could say this is what happens when you smoke.”

“Maxine, what the fuck.”

“What? It’ll be a lesson to all the students, and my teachers’ll will be impressed. Isn’t teeth rotting a side affect of smoking? That would work for this. Also, just so you know, rotting teeth isn’t the only side affect. There’s also the risk of bad breath, lung damage, yellowing eyes...” she goes on, counting on her fucking fingers for God’s sake.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

She grins at it him. “What? I’m just saying how it is. You should quit. Maybe that’ll help your bad breath.”

Billy scoffs. He does not have bad breath. That little bitch is making shit up, and she didn’t look a bit remorseful. That’ll change soon enough. “You gonna apologize for that?”

She snorts, “No.”

Ok then. “You better start running, Max.”

“What?”

“Five, four...” Max looks at him in horror, eyes wide.

“Billy, it was just a joke.”

“Three...”

“I’m sorry?” Well, too late for her apology now.

He stands up, looking down at his watch for dramatic purposes. “Two...” The count down seems to be working because right as he was about to say one, she sprints off towards the direction of her room. He cackles before chasing after her, but it’s just for show. Her reaction made it worth it. Max is squealing like a little kid, reaching for her door and closing it right before letting out a final high-pitched scream.

“ASSHOLE,” she yells.

“SHITBIRD,” he yells back, holding back laughter.

---

The next day, he drives Max to school with the pumpkin held securely in her lap.

“You think you’re gonna win?”

“No,” she laughs. “Have you seen it? It’s too ugly to win.”

“No candy for you then, huh?”

He sees her shrug from the corner of his eye. “Probably not. But I don’t really care anymore. My friends’ll give me their shitty leftovers.”

“You’re still sharing with me, though. And I don’t have to drive you anywhere today.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

----

High school ends 30 minutes before the middle school so that leaves Billy sitting in the car, waiting for Max. He looks at his watch. If he leaves now, he’ll be able to make it to the convenience store and back in about 20 minutes. He wants to pick up some candy. Not for Max. No. Halloween’s tonight. It’s best to be prepared. Neil was probably going to go tell him to pick some up anyways.

Mind set, he starts up the car and heads off to Melvald’s, grabbing two large packs of candy. The labels listed different types of chocolate. He thinks about Max always begging him to pick up a chocolate bar for her when he goes to get gas. Max likes chocolate...but he’s getting chocolate because it’s popular, not because of her. Everyone likes chocolate, right? He’s sure the trick-or-treaters will be incredibly delighted.

He tosses the two bags of candy into the backseat before heading off to pick up Max.

---

“Any luck?” he asks, pushing the passenger side door open from where he’s sitting since Max’s hands are full, holding the pumpkin in one hand and her skateboard in the other.

“No,” she grumbles, getting into the car, and shutting the door. “Some prissy girl won first place for her stupid princess pumpkin.”

“Sounds lame.” He didn’t expect her to win. That grandma pumpkin was mediocre at best.

“It was.” She lets out a sigh and tosses her skateboard in the back without looking, pausing when she hears the loud crinkle of plastic. Shit.

“Is that for me?” she gasps, already turning her body around completely, reaching into the backseat. She’s kneeling on the seat, hunching over the shoulder of it.

Billy swipes at her hands and pushes her back into the seat before she can get her dirty hands on the bags.

“No,” he says, starting up the car, and pulling away. “They’re for the trick or treaters tonight.”

There definitely weren’t going to be enough trick or treaters to actually take all two giant bags of candy. They don’t live in a very popular neighborhood.

“Oh, but there’re two bags of candy,” she pouts.

“So? Dad told me to get two.” Lies.

“How come we didn’t give out candy last year? I thought Neil said it was the devil’s holiday.”

Billy snorts. He forgot about that. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? Go ask him.” He prays to whatever God out there that she doesn’t actually go and bug Neil about it. That won’t end well.

“There’s gonna be leftovers,” she muses. He can feel her staring at him with wide eyes. It’s making him uncomfortable, and he squirms in his seat a little before turning to glare at her.

“And?

She’s pouting obnoxiously now, giving him a puppy dog look. That shit won’t work on him. “Can I have the leftovers? Please?”

“You still owe me candy,” he says. “I should be the one eating them.”

“We can split it!

He pretends to mull it over. “Fine.”

“Yes!” she squeals, triumphant, pumping her fist up in the air, but it hits the car ceiling.

“Watch it, you bitch,” he snaps, but he’s not really mad. He’s just trying to cover up the smile that’s tugging at his lips. This is stupid. He can’t believe he’s smiling over this shit.

“Ooo, can we get dressed up?”

“Hell fucking no, Maxine. Don’t push it.”

“But it’s Friday! Neil and Mom will be out on dinner and I have an extra eye-patch. We could be pirates!”

Ok, being a pirate didn’t sound like the worst idea. It could give him an excuse to walk around shirtless. Plus, he could show off to all the mom’s taking their children trick-or-treating. Maybe Steve’ll come with his gaggle of kids...

“Fine, but I’m not driving you for two weeks now.”

He laughs when Max lets out a dramatic sigh. Tonight’ll be fun. He expects stomach aches and candy wrappers everywhere. Maybe even smashed pumpkin bits, if she’ll let him. They have an axe in the shed. He could put on a horror show for her. The victim? A grandma pumpkin.

#eeeek i have posted it #billy and max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #stranger things #sibling bonding #i love that shit hehe #my works #sorry for this INCREDIBLY uncreative title lol #i hate coming up with them so i was just like #here #this is the title now and idc #also sorry bc ik my writings a little rusty #especially since its been months haha #thanks for sticking with me for that long :')

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